#those who loved him left - either by choice or by force

[bishovapls]

⚠️ Major Thunderbolts spoilers ahead - Part 2 ⚠️

This is another Yelena-centric Thunderbolts post, but this time it’s actually full of praise, because despite everything I said about Alexei, I genuinely loved the movie.

Just a heads up: there are definitely more spoilers below the cut than in the last one.

ANYWAYSSS.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Yelena in Thunderbolts. The film obviously never says it outright, but what it shows is one of the clearest portrayals of passive suicidal ideation I’ve seen in a long time.

From the very beginning, Yelena feels like someone who’s stopped actively trying to survive and has instead defaulted to just… existing. There’s this sense that she’s waiting for something to finally knock her down for good, for a reason to stop fighting, for a moment when it’s okay to let go and maybe see Natasha again.

Take the absence of Fanny, for example. It’s such a small detail, but it says everything. That dog wasn’t just a companion; she was a sign that Yelena had once tried to ground herself, to make a life. If she gave Fanny away, that hurts. If she abandoned her, it’s even worse. Either way, it marks a point where Yelena stopped trying to tether herself to the world.

Consider the jump. She drops from a skyscraper in sweatpants into a building with armed guards like she’s got nothing left to lose. This isn’t bravery; it’s a silent surrender, a middle finger to survival itself. She’s not expecting to die; she’s just stopped giving a damn if she does.

There are those moments when she shuts her eyes and takes slow, steady breaths. Death is close, maybe even certain, but she’s unnervingly calm. It’s the kind of calm born not from courage, but from numbness. When you’ve played out your own death so many times in your head that it just becomes another chore to endure.

Then comes the memory of her in the bathroom, where her past self forces alcohol down her throat. It’s violent, it’s deliberate. It's punishment. It’s proof of how deep her self-loathing runs, how she’s tried to numb it over and over. Another version of herself flirting with destruction, choosing to risk potentially dying alone and wasted rather than facing the endless ache of hating who she is and what she’s done.

There’s also the choice she makes to walk into the void, knowing she might not make it out, knowing no one would blame her if she didn’t. But she does it anyway. She doesn’t walk in like a hero. She walks in like someone who’s got nothing left to lose, and someone else’s life suddenly feels more important than her own.

The truth is, she’s not enough on her own. None of them are. It takes all of the Thunderbolts to pull Bob back, not by beating darkness with power, but by showing up and refusing to let go. That’s the real fight, the one where survival is a group effort and no one walks away unscathed. That’s what saves him, and that’s what begins to save Yelena too.

Each of them, in their own way, understands that void. Some have crawled out of it. Some are still stuck in it. But they see it in each other, and instead of turning away, they reach out.

That’s what Thunderbolts nails. The truth no one likes to say out loud: people don’t just pull themselves out. Survival isn’t something you muscle through alone. Sometimes it takes a room full of other ghosts, all just barely standing, locking arms and refusing to let each other fall.

This film could’ve been about powers or punching or spectacle. Instead, it chose to say something gentler, and far more powerful: sometimes surviving means letting people in. Sometimes it’s not about fighting harder; it’s about not fighting alone.

[agentbluefox]

“It is lonely never to have been loved, only devoured” -Rosemary Sutcliff, Sword at Sunset

[jaylver]

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) — P.SH

SYNOPSIS: Loving someone was easy, but losing them without knowing the truth was far from easy. How Park Sunghoon returned into your life wasn’t the same as what you had in mind. The heartbreak you experienced over the years he was gone had materialised and was haunting you wherever you went. Dealing with your emotions wasn’t enough when Sunghoon was there, waiting for your love. You knew you had two choices to overcome this: either to regret loving him and lose him yet again, or to rediscover your love for him.  

PAIRINGS: writer!sunghoon x editor!afab!reader

GENRE: exes to lovers, angst, romance, slow burn, forced proximity

WARNING(S): mentions of drinking/alcohol, profanities, (lots of) miscommunication

WC: 25k

PLAYLIST: we can't be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande, back to friends by sombr, the great war by taylor swift

AUTHOR'S NOTE: first fic of 2025! a quite lengthy one too! can't believe time is passing by so quicky, and i haven't been posting since november TT hope you enjoy this one where i (tried my best) to pour every emotion into! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver 2025 all rights reserved

How did you end up standing in front of your first love after years of not crossing paths?

It should've been just like any other day where you came to work with a cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the day of endless typing and proofreading to end, but somehow, the universe always had a way to surprise you. This surprise, however, was an unfortunate one that would take years for you to recover from. 

“Y/N, meet Park Sunghoon, the author of ‘Chaconne’,” your boss, Miss Lee was smiling ear to ear at eight in the morning at the prospect of having one of the country's biggest authors to be in her publishing house. “Sunghoon, this is Y/N L/N, chief editor. She'll be working with you for your new novel,”

No matter how you tried, you just couldn't reciprocate her enthusiasm. Even if you tried to put on a smile, the muscles on your face failed to cooperate with your mind and it only resulted in a deeper frown forming instead. There, standing before you wasn't the famous author that made a name for himself through his breakout novel, but in actuality, it was your first love, Park Sunghoon.

The same man who left you stranded when you needed him most. The very man that broke your heart and left it in pieces. Those teenage years spent together praying for a future where you and him would chase your dreams side-by-side had gone to waste. To you, it looked as if he was the one who succeeded the most out of the two of you. Was it resentment or anger? It didn't matter what it was, after all it was no use denying that there was an underlying grudge you held for the man who achieved everything he wanted after leaving you with no explanations. After those long years of not seeing him in person, fate managed to play him into your life. How funny.

Sunghoon doesn’t look equally excited to be working with you either. He, too, had an expression that was far from enthusiastic. There was a slight tinge of guilt that you sensed, unless it was a figment of your imagination that told you so. He could barely meet your eyes, an uncomfortable unfamiliarity about him hung in the air. 

No, he wasn't the same Park Sunghoon that you knew. He was probably a stranger. Despite knowing him well in the past, you couldn’t bear to cling onto the small hope that he was who he used to be. If he was, he wouldn’t have left the country without telling you in the first place and proceeded going no contact till the point where the news became your source of confirming he was alive and well, living too well while basking in fresh money from his newly published book. 

“N–new novel?” you looked over at Miss Lee, trying your best to mask the panic in your voice. Out of many publishing houses, must he really choose the one you worked in? What happened to the one publishing his previous books? The question marks were probably written all over your face at some point.

“Yes, a new novel,” Miss Lee affirmed, the unwavering smile sitting perfectly on her expression. “Sunghoon here is planning to publish his new book next year. It’s called ‘Wait For Your Love’. Isn’t that exciting? Anyway, I’ll leave him to you to explain the content, you’ll be working together starting from today onwards. By the way, meeting starts in five minutes, we need to discuss everything about the new book,”

“Right, I’ll get ready,” you watched as your boss disappeared into her own office, heaving a sigh of relief now that she was out of sight and you could finally drop the act of being nice. If anything, you were feeling everything but nice. You met Sunghoon's eyes almost in an instant, the awkward silence filling the space between you and him only made the atmosphere worse. 

Out of decent respect, you bowed your head a little and left to head back to your own workspace, hopefully taking advantage of that five minutes to sort out your thoughts. You took one step forward just to be stopped by him calling your name. The sound of your name coming out of his mouth was something that you dreamt of for ages. However, hearing it in reality seemed to have crushed every part of your fantasy.

“Hey Y/N,”

You turned around, slowly and cautiously. In that split second, a million possible scenarios played out in your mind. Maybe he was finally going to explain himself for leaving you, or what if he was offering an overdue apology? An unmistakable feeling of anticipation and hope swelled in your abdomen. It was all wishful thinking.

There was a faint smile on his lips. The look in his eyes said otherwise with an icy barrier that prevented you from reading him further. He truly has changed. Other than the freshly dyed hair and being a couple inches taller, he remained physically the same man from your past that returned to your life recently, the only difference was that he wasn't someone you knew anymore. 

“I look forward to working with you,”

He was the first to draw the line. 

Just as he's always done, from the point where he disappeared from your life till pretending as if you weren't his first love, he's drawn an invisible line that you failed to realise, an indicator for you to know that you were no longer needed in his life. 

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat, blinking back the tears piercing your eyes, the corners of your lips twitching in spite. “Right. I hope everything will work out smoothly.”

Truth be told, you wished you had quit your job instead of facing Park Sunghoon once again.  

There wasn’t a day in your teenage years transitioning to your early 20s where you hadn’t wondered what exactly went wrong, specifically between you and Sunghoon. 

There were countless times you found yourself stuck in endless thoughts of whether it was you who was the one that drove him away. How could he do such a thing to someone he loved? Was it ever truly real? The hurt you experienced was immeasurable, it left a deep cut that was taking forever to heal. Over the last four years since Sunghoon’s departure, you were practically spending your days alone. You were too afraid to get close to anyone to start a serious relationship, neither having the energy to attend those stupid blind dates your friends proposed. All of them were deemed worthless to you anyway, because as much as you hated, dreaded to admit it, some part of you still longed for Sunghoon. 

Now that he was actually here, back in your life, crashing into you and your already fragile mental state with no prior warning, you didn’t think the same as before. You wished he had kept his distance from you. Actually, you wished he had stayed far away in the foreign land he was residing in. 

Luckily for you, it was another Wednesday with a cup of coffee drunk halfway sitting next to your laptop, overly preoccupied with a pile of work to settle to even think about Sunghoon for a second, that was until you were met with your actual task which you should be tackling instead of doing other things in order to avoid it. The bright screen of your laptop displayed the bolded italic letters, ‘WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE’. Just from the title alone, it ignited an odd sense of ill feelings that dreaded you to scroll down further. 

“Hey,” Yunjin tapped you on your shoulder, pulling a chair to sit next to you. She was your coworker that has transcended the tier of being just work friends. You could still remember the first time she introduced herself to you where she accidentally spilled coffee over a newly bought carpet in the office and proceeded to get away by lying. From the point where you promised her you wouldn’t snitch, you somehow built a strong friendship with her.

“What’s up? Lunch break isn’t until an hour later,”

“I know that,” Yunjin broke out in a small smile at the fact you thought she was about to pull you to some new cafe she found. On the contrary, food wasn’t on her mind. She nodded to your laptop, the screen on display with Sunghoon’s name under his book title. “I want to ask about the author,”

“Sunghoon?” 

Yunjin raised an eyebrow at you, looking both inquisitive but also interested. "You say his name so naturally,"

"Do I?" you unconsciously bite the insides of your cheek, a habit you’ve grown to have whenever you are anxious. His name alone was enough to send a wave of anxiety through your bones. It also didn't help that Yunjin pointed out how his name rolled off your tongue like second nature. “Whatever. What's up with him?”

“Were you guys … from the same highschool?” the pause in Yunjin’s sentence before finishing it whole almost caused your heart to stop. You expected her to confront you about your past with Sunghoon knowing how well she utilises social media to her will. Did she manage to dig up your past that you tried so hard to escape from?

“We were,”

“Did you know him well?”

What’s with the sudden interrogation going on?

“Somewhat,” you supposed being vague was the safest way to dodge her question, and it seemed she had taken the bait too.

“I saw you in his old post. You were with him and a bunch of other people too,” Yunjin shrugged, mentioning that ever so nonchalantly, but all you could do at that moment was feel the horrors of knowing she’s seen the picture of you and him together. You were more surprised he kept a remnant of you in his account that he barely posted on. Now that he had gained a reputation for himself, you expected him to have deleted his old posts, but you were wrong. 

“Oh, right. We had mutual friends,”

“Is that so? What was he like? I’m down to get some inside scoop of a famous author’s past,” she raised her eyebrows, displaying a cheeky smirk that told you she was up to no good. Between work gossip was definitely one way to fuel passionate energy for the rest of the day.

“He’s…” what could you even say? Tell the truth about how great of a person he was to you or lie and say something he wasn’t? Either way, that version of him solely existed in the past, there was no longer any credibility to your words if you were to compare the person he was in present times. “He’s alright, I guess? Don’t know him that much,” 

Lies. 

“I was thinking you’d have much more information on this guy. He was in America for years before coming back. No one really knows him much, huh? There’s barely anything about him,”

“I guess you can put it that way.”

Avoidant couldn’t last forever. It was proven by Sunghoon’s presence and his draft waiting for you to be edited once you got back from lunch. The screen was still stuck on the front page just as you’ve left it, only then finding a small bit of courage to scroll down to where the main content lied. Staring at the number of pages you had to read through had pulled a groan out of you, and oddly enough, whether it was a coincidence or not, the three numbers of the total pages was also the date of your birthday. Maybe it was a strange coincidence the same as angel numbers were, except you chose not to believe in whatever hidden meaning it has behind it.

Adjusting the pillow behind your back, you settled into your chair for some hours of reading. The story began with two characters in their youth who befriended each other after an interesting accident, getting closer as they spent more time together, and before you knew it, feelings developed. All of those brought a saddening sense of reminiscence to you, every feeling evoked from his words was strangely familiar, even the characters and storyline were somehow relatable in some ways. How weird. 

The more you read his story, the distance between you and the screen of your laptop only becomes smaller. You couldn't believe what you were comprehending and the things your eyes were reading. It was a retelling of your life story with Sunghoon that was replaced by fictional characters that had turned into a plot that Park Sunghoon could manipulate into whatever he wants. The confession between the characters, their first date, them in college together, every one of those specific scenarios were exactly what you experienced in the past.

Were you just a short, momentary phase in the story of his life?

This was the story that he's planning to publish? Was he playing some sick joke on you by coming to your publishing house in the first place? To let you know that he's written a story about how you and him first met leading up to the part where he left? If this was a way of him explaining his side of a story through fictional characters in some alternate universe, then it's a shit way of saying sorry. 

Slamming your laptop shut, you swallowed down a groan that was threatening to escape. You closed your eyes, wishing you could stop thinking about the draft that brought back a flood of memories that you missed. Even then, you couldn't help picturing those moments you had together, there was a bitter taste in the roof of your mouth at the constant haunting of Park Sunghoon. 

You had no choice, there wasn't any other way to face this. So, your hands moved according to their will, picking up your phone and finding the contact under the name ‘Author Park (BLOCK AFTER)’. One press of a finger and it started to ring. For the first time since his reappearance, you didn't feel an impending sense of doom or even the slightest of weariness. Blinding rage at his audacity played a role in it. 

“Mr Park, I have some things to discuss with you about the draft.”

Sitting before your ex lover, now a renowned author that you're working with was a foreign and incomprehensible concept. 

Agreeing to meet up at a cafe was probably a good choice. The awkward silence between you and him was masked by the loud conversations in the vicinity. He took a particularly long, loud sip from his cup, earning a furtive glance over the laptop from you. 

“Mr Park, I think there are some … issues about the plot,” you slid your laptop over to him, making sure he's reading every highlighted sentence along with your careful annotations and remarks. 

Other than the obvious fact that he was basing the story off of his life with you as a focus, there were actual plot developments that you needed to address with him. One of them was a major plot hole where the main character, Lee Eunhyeok, disappeared out of the blue, thus introducing a new character as a second male lead for a certain time being. How cliche. 

Sunghoon pushed your laptop back over to you, an impassive look on his face that you couldn't read, unable to determine what he was thinking or even feeling about your opinions on his story. Sure, you wanted to write out every curse word you knew and pour your heart out the moment you finished analyzing the story, but for the sake of keeping your job and staying professional, you would rather not do so. 

You took his silence as an initiative for you to continue, scared of any possible outburst, though you knew it was unlikely with Sunghoon's personality. Despite the fierce look he had on all the time, he has a gentle heart that would never change. 

“Mr Park, I think you shouldn't—I mean—reconsider making some adjustments to the part where Eunhyeok leaves Saeon's life and a new lead appears. It's quite a massive plot hole that might be deemed unfavourable,” you were trying your best to remain as courteous as you could. Frankly, the thought of the main character disappearing and making his appearance years later was hitting too close to home. But why should you be surprised at this point onwards? Sunghoon was the one who took inspiration from the pain he caused, not even bothering to add some closure for the characters that neither you nor him got.

Fingers drumming softly on the wooden table, Sunghoon seemed to be collecting his every thought as he stared at you for a split second then averted his gaze to a potted plant that sat at a corner. A sigh escaped his lips. "You're right, Miss … L/N," there was a hint of reluctance when he spoke of your name with formality, as if it somehow pained him to act unfamiliar with you even though he was the first to push you away. “I'll make some adjustments and send them to you over the weekend,”

You nodded slowly, not expecting him to have gone with your idea that easily. Job's done for the day, you thought. You had pictured him to be a little more resistant towards your constructive criticism or at least fight back with an argument, but he didn't do either of those you envisioned. 

“Thank you for your time today, Mr Park. I'll take my leave now, and I'll see you at the next meeting.”

The sharp scrap of your chair against the floor filled the silence that followed. You had your laptop packed up, your bag held tightly in your hands, prepared to leave at once to escape whatever this awkward and suffocating situation. You were already standing, ready to take your leave when Sunghoon said your name, the ring of it sounding just like the last you've remembered in the past. Soft, careful. 

“Y/N,” he started, following suit to stand as well, seemingly much more intimidating compared to him sitting. You held your breath, not daring to let out a single word that might interrupt what he was about to say. As much as you hated to admit it, you still held onto a ridiculous amount of hope that some miracle would happen to you and Sunghoon, especially at times like this where Sunghoon reminded you of the person you once knew. 

“H–how have you been?”

You blinked. Once, then twice. It was something out of a scenario you've imagined one two many times. How have you been? Are you doing well? Those sort of questions were what you armed yourself to face if you happen to run into Sunghoon with the condition that he somehow had the decency to talk to you. Well, this was playing out exactly how you wished for it to be. Answers such as 'I'm doing good, great, fantastic actually. I'm the chief editor too' that you prepared for this day only ended up dying in your throat. 

How were you to answer his question either? It was simply agitating to see him acting as if nothing had happened. Pretending like he hadn't ruined your life before this then coming back to play the role of an old friend, what was he truly hiding? You wished you could understand, you wished you had a reason to understand.

“I'll be done with the next round of editing before our team meeting.”

There was nothing left to hide the coldness in your voice and the sadness that flowed in your irises. Just as he had done before, it was your chance to draw the line as well. The more you created a distance between you and him, the closer he was trying to get to you. 

Maybe everything would've hurt less if you went back to the days where you were stuck wondering whether Sunghoon remembered you rather than pretending like you don't know each other at all.

“You're seriously going to stay here to complete your editing?”

The clock had struck five o'clock on the dot, just in time for everyone to pack up and leave for the day, except for you. It was a new week, another day in the office, yet you couldn't stop thinking about the last private meeting you had with Sunghoon at the cafe. Him sending his newly edited draft to you over the weekend only spurred you into further madness as though he's announced his existence was not a figment of your imagination. He was a thorn stuck to your side, annoyingly and frustratingly stubborn. 

That perfectly explained why you were feeling a massive block when it came to editing his story. Nothing could go through your mind when you read through his freshly edited story that contained new content and back stories. Your brain was as blank as a sheet of paper. The moment you thought of his story, you'd think of him, and that pathetic 'how are you' which you brushed off. 

Who told you that it'd be a great idea to say you would be done with the editing before the meeting in two days? You were suffering the consequences of your own actions now that you were stuck with a non-proofread script.

Bidding farewells to your colleagues was almost as if you were bidding your freedom goodbye as you watched them leave one by one until nobody else was there except for you. The worst part of all was that you were the one willing to stay back, because you knew if you brought your work back home, nothing would be completed after a long day at work.

The sun outside of the window eventually set, the dark hues of pink and purple faded into a bleary black sky with stars accompanying your lonely figure. It should be dinner time for you, you should be thinking of what you eat, but fatigue was the only thing pricking you and enticing you to sleep.

So, that was exactly what you did. Head laid in your arms, you slept before your laptop that was wide open, not even bothering to shut it off even though the brightness was bothering you. A power nap, that was it, a ten minute recharge that would spring you back into action then you'd only think of dinner, right!

Wrong.

You've slept for an hour. It was past eight, close to nine, and the sole reason you got to know was because someone had woken you up. That 'someone' happened to be Park Sunghoon. At times like this, you couldn't but think if he was simply a part of your dream, but then his feathery touch was too much for it to be just a dream.

“Y/N?”

It took some effort for Sunghoon to shake you awake until he heard a groan from you, one eye opening just the slightest to realise where you were and who you were facing. Though groggy, your back straightened out of pure shock and impulse, 

“Sunghoon—I mean, Mr Park?”

The small falter in his expression went unnoticed by you in your haggard state, still unable to get the sleepy state out of your system. Sunghoon, however, felt a pang of disappointment at you maintaining your formality, though he chose to shake it off. 

“What time is it?” 

“It's close to nine,” 

Nine? Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the thought of your power nap turning into a full blown nap time that turned another day into unproductiveness. A sigh left your lips, deciding to let go of your mistake, and your focus was now on Sunghoon, who you just realised was squatting in front of you. At this angle, you could finally see his face fully. The mole of his nose sat prominently as it always did, the faded freckles which decorated the expanse of his cheeks were a telling of how time slipped past both of you. 

“Drink some water,” he handed you a bottle of mineral water, making an attempt for you to stop your gaze intensely lingering on his skin that made him crawl in discomfort. You carefully accepted without any questions asked, taking a big gulp.

“What are you doing here?” You set the bottle down on your desk, piercing eyes following his every move as he stood up to his full height. You didn't mean to cut straight to the point, but your bluntness definitely caused a slight rise of awkward tension. 

“I texted you and you didn't answer, so I called you, but you didn't pick up either. I asked your colleague and she told me you're here,” his hand reached for his shoulder and rubbed it softly, an unconscious habit of his whenever he got embarrassed or uncomfortable.

“You called?”

His eyes widened a little, just a fraction that you didn't seem to have seen. There was an abashed smile to his face. “I—uh—wanted to ask you something,”

“Is it urgent?” You shifted in your seat, back aching from the sleeping position, but it didn't bug you as much as the reason behind Sunghoon's sudden appearance.

“No, not exactly …” he muttered, trailing off for a bit and pressing his lips into a thin line as he figured what to say after. “I just wanted to see you,”

The silence was practically deafening. What Sunghoon failed to realise was the weight of his words that befall onto you. As simple as a slip of a tongue that confession might be, in the context of the history you had with Sunghoon, nothing about what he said was simple or casual. 

“Have you eaten dinner?” Taking advantage of your lack of response, he managed to switch the topic even if it pained him to see his words rebounding off of the walls you built around yourself. 

“I haven't,” admittedly, you had the urge to run away like how you always did whenever you were met with an awkward situation, but given the effort Sunghoon was putting, you gave him a chance. Besides, your stomach was about to betray you for the hunger you've put it through. 

“Me too,” a beat passed, his hand that once rested on his shoulder travelled to the back of his neck, the sound of your breathing was loud enough to fill the quietness lingering in the air. “Do you … want to grab dinner together? I can pay,”

There was an edge to his voice, as if he was trying his best to persuade you into joining him for dinner. Was it desperation that you saw flickering in his eyes or were you just mistaken? You didn't understand why he was bothering to get close to you after years of being apart that he caused to happen in the first place. 

“You don't have to be so nice to me,” it was quietly uttered, another unconscious barrier you put up against him. 

Sunghoon averted his gaze away from you, looking out of the window and letting out a small sigh. He turned back to you, a hint of hurt present in those once shining eyes of his. “But I want to.”

There you were, sitting opposite him once again in a restaurant close to your office which you frequented, waiting for your food to arrive as another round of spine crawling silence sets in between you and him. Should you be the first to speak? You couldn't figure out what to say, or where you should even start. The many unexplained questions that lulled in the air contributed to the quietness. Neither of you were willing to budge, not one bit. 

Sunghoon let out a rather strained cough, then proceeded to take a big gulp out of his glass of water. You regretted not ordering any drinks, you needed something to gulp down for some faux confidence as well. 

“I just wanted to ask you how your progress is doing,” Sunghoon spoke out of the blue, breaking the icy silence that formed. “That's why I texted you in the first place. I added quite a lot,”

The feeling of your heart dropping to the pits of your abdomen shouldn't be bothering you, but it unfortunately did after Sunghoon revealed the reason for his visit. You were to blame for expecting something more from him, thinking he might've come to tell you a more important thing that wasn't related to work. Alas, you were disappointed to know he wasn't there to explain himself. You should expect less from him. 

“Oh,” you bit back a frown, remaining tight lipped. “Quite frankly, I haven't really started yet. I'm having a little editor's block,” you bowed your head, smiling apologetically.

“Don’t be sorry, I understand. I experience writer’s block too, it’s only natural to be stuck sometimes,” he waved his hands frantically, a panicked expression plastered on his face. The small details as such made your smile progressively sadder, every little thing about him was the same as it was before, reminding you of his specific habits and motions he’d do at different times. “It’s not the content that’s the problem, right?”

Everything about the content of his story was a problem to you. How he managed to feign ignorance about the inspiration of his story despite being the creator behind it was astounding to you. You hated it. You hated pretending everything was normal, that he was just someone you’re working with and not your first love. In the end, you remained as a coward that was scared to confront him anyway.

“I haven’t fully reviewed it yet,” you said dismissively, hoping your food would arrive sooner just so that you could stop this conversation from progressing. 

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgement, nodding a little. “What do you think about the story so far? Or about the characters?”

If you could let out a scoff at that moment, you would’ve. The sheer audacity of him to play games with you was an indirect slap to your face. There was no way he had zero idea of what he was doing or the meaning behind his words. What was Park Sunghoon doing?

“I think Eunhyeok is an asshole,” your eye contact never once wavered, neither were you backing down from the fight he initiated from the start. “He abandoned Saeon when she needed him most, then disappeared without a trace just to come back and expect her to accept him back. It’s quite confusing, really, his character and the way he thinks,” you swallowed, pausing for a second to gather yourself. “I just wish I could understand him,” you put on a small smile in an attempt to diffuse the tension right after seeing Sunghoon's furrowed eyebrows. Surely you didn't touch a nerve … right?

“I agree,” you tried to mask your shock from his response, thinking he would've attempted to redirect the conversation away from the fact that you indirectly called him an asshole. The smile he had on his face was small, but it had a twinge of guilt and sadness to it. “Saeon went through a lot because of him,”

You were glad your hands were out of sight from Sunghoon with the way they were clenched into tight fists, turning nearly white, indents of your fingernails were probably formed on your palm. “I'm sure what she needed most is an explanation from him,”

“Do you think she hated him at some point?”

There was a suspenseful pause that gripped onto your skin, finding yourself unable to open your mouth to say something, literally anything. He had struck bullseye at landing on your weakest point: the unspoken grudge you held against him for leaving. 

“I think she has always hated him ever since he left without saying anything.”

If there was a hole that would swallow you whole during dinner and teleport you back home, you would've climbed into it as quickly as you could. The atmosphere surrounding you and Sunghoon throughout dinner could only be described in one word: unfortunate. Stemming from the unresolved tension created from the short conversation you had while waiting for your food, neither of you wanted to talk anymore, both of you were still soaking in the responses from all the questions asked. 

“Thanks for the dinner. I can pay you back—”

“There's no need, Miss L/N. I was the one who invited you out for dinner anyway,” he shook his head, smiling. “Treat it as a token of gratitude from me for your hard work,”

“Well then, thank you. I appreciate it,” for the first time ever since his return, you smiled with full genuinity instead of those awkward, half sincere smiles you put on out of courtesy.

Sunghook waved his hands, shaking his head a little. It was a common thing for him to do as a response to people thanking him. Another part of him that stayed the same. “How are you heading home?”

“I drove to the office today, and my car's just around the corner. I can walk back,”

“In the dark? I'll drive you back to the office,” his words had a finality to it, determined to not take ‘no’ as an answer.

“You don't have to. You've already paid for dinner,”

“And put your life at risk? I'm not doing that, especially not to you, Y/N,” 

You didn’t know what came over you when he uttered your name with some ounces of emotions you never knew he would still harbour for you. Longing, desperation and guilt, a total mix of tragic feelings that bled through his voice and piercing into your heart. He had no rights for showing you his weakest parts after all the things you’ve been through because of him. 

“Fine. I’ll come along.”

The car ride lasted no more than ten minutes, yet that short duration you spent in his car felt longer thanks to the uncomfortable atmosphere that never went away. Years ago, you’d never once thought Sunghoon’s presence as bothersome, not even the slightest, it never occurred to you that one day you’d find yourself wanting to implode instead of spending another passing second next to him. 

The line drawn between you and Sunghoon for the sake of professionalism was turning into a blur. Sunghoon was doing his best to salvage whatever that was left of your ruined relationship while you put everything in maintaining a tall wall between you and him. His efforts, to you, were in vain despite his determination. No matter how he tried, nothing could return to how it was back then. 

You and Sunghoon couldn’t be friends. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you unbuckle your seatbelt once the car comes to a stop, turning to look at Sunghoon with an appreciative smile. “And also for dinner,”

“Like I said, it’s nothing. I hope you’re not overworking yourself,” there it was, the shred of worry and care that overstepped a boundary you set. It would’ve hurt less if he was cold to you, and yet, he was still the same as ever, soft hearted and always looking out for others. For once, just this one, you wished he gave you a reason to hate him, but he was only making it difficult for you. “I’ll see you at the next team meeting,”

“Right. I’ll make sure I’ll have some progress in the editing,”

Sunghoon nodded, another round of silence filled the spaces around you and him. You took it as your queue to leave. “I’ll get going now then. Drive safe. Goodnight,” you reached for the handle, hoping to get a breath of fresh air and away from the stifling tension that has yet to be resolved, but a hand stopped you. It was Sunghoon. 

You looked down at his hand that rested on your shoulder, then you met his eyes that widened in both shock and panic. He retracted his hand away, averting his gaze for a moment from pure awkwardness and letting out a cough to diffuse the situation. 

“Is there … anything?” You stared back at him, curiosity filled your expecting gaze. Sunghoon didn't respond at once, choosing to stay quiet for a few seconds without taking his eyes off of you.

“I … I just wanted to say I’m sorry,”

“What?”

Sunghoon's jaw was tense, his grip on the steering wheel was tightening as each second passed, knuckles gradually turning white. He knew he couldn’t turn back on his word now that he’s said it. “I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused, for letting you go so easily and giving up. It's just … there’s a reason behind all this,”

You should've ran out of the car right before he had the chance to stop you. 

A part of you had high hopes for where this was heading, that you were finally getting the apology and explanation that you deserved, but the other part has long given up on wanting or needing to know. You find yourself struggling between the two, yet you knew what you had to do.

“You don't get to do this right now,” you murmured, barely audible enough for him to catch and almost as if you were saying it to yourself.

“What?” 

“I don't need your apology,” you found some courage at last, your tone combined with the straightforward response was harsh and absolutely throat-cutting for Sunghoon to hear. Unbeknownst to him, your heart was breaking despite being the one to say the cruel truth. “Let's just maintain this professional relationship while your book is still in progress,”

“Y/N, please—”

“You know we can’t be friends,”

You should be used to the amount of uncomfortable and suffocating silence by then, but nothing could prepare the sting you got from your own words. It was painfully true, the fact that your connections with him couldn’t just be “casual” or platonic, neither was it easy to shift from something deeper to something more casual or distant. You couldn’t see him as a friend, not after having history together, one that was too deep to disregard.

Sunghoon couldn't even get the rest of his sentence out, mouth closing to digest what you had just thrown into his face: a reality ever so cruel and blunt where the pain of being together overwhelmed the pain you experienced while apart.

“But I'd like to just pretend … that maybe we can—that we have a chance,” 

“What chance is there now when you never once gave me a chance from the start?” You brushed a hand through your hair in frustration, mentally chanting positive affirmations to yourself so that you wouldn't be the first to break. “Look, I–I think we should talk about this some other time, maybe after we're done with your book. You should sort your thoughts out first. For now, let's just be professional,” you paused, gouging his reaction that was hard to decipher. “I'll get going.”

Sunghoon didn't respond, mainly because he couldn't bring himself to, feeling as if his lips were sewn shut from either embarrassment or a mix of guilt and shame. He merely nodded, and you took it as a sign to leave, closing the door shut in his face as you slipped through his fingers once more. 

He could cling to his papers and pen, writing as many stories as he could with the perfect ending that he couldn't recreate in his reality, but in the end, it wouldn't bring him back to the time where you were by his side.

We can't be friends. Sunghoon just had to accept the fact that he was at fault for letting you go even if you didn't know the actual truth behind it.

Things weren't the same as it was before.

Hell, it never once was the same between you and Sunghoon in the present ever since he came back, but the entire interaction that night only turned the dynamic into something worse. Throughout the entire team meeting with Sunghoon in the room, you couldn't fix your attention on anything. Your mind would often drift to Sunghoon and the memory of his desperation or the part he almost revealed the truth constantly plagued you with the reminder sitting at the other end of the room. 

Right, the truth. He wanted to tell you about it, or it was implied that he wanted to. You were close to finding out the reason behind his erasure from your life. Alas, it was your ego that won over your heart, choosing to let Sunghoon bathe in the consequences of his actions first before you could reach your desires.

“How was work? You look extra dishevelled these days,” Minjeong, your roommate and life-long best friend since high school, brushed a finger through your hair, then took a seat next to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled at the last part she added, suddenly craving for a beer to drown away your sorrows. “It's just some work stress,”

“Didn't you mention you were editing Sunghoon's book?”

“I did,”

“How's it going? Sunghoon, that's what I mean,” Minjeong was picking her words carefully, you could tell. She was the only person to have seen you at your lowest point when Sunghoon left, being the witness of you and Sunghoon's relationship throughout high school and even coming to your defence by dialing his number the entire night that he left. The least you could do was be honest to her about how you felt when it came to Sunghoon. 

“It's … rough,” you exhaled sharply through your nose, letting your true exhaustion bleed through your voice. “His new story's about me … about us, actually,”

“No way!”

“That's why I'm going insane,” you groaned, throwing your head back to lay your head on the headrest of the couch. “I'm reliving our every moment together through editing his story,”

“That's evil,” she shook her head, placing a hand on yours in an attempt to provide some comfort. “I'm going to beat him up if I see him. How could he do that to you? And also for leaving without telling any of us,”

“He tried to explain himself the other night, he apologised too,”

Minjeong scooted closer to you, eager to dig out more information from you. “Then? What did you say?” She pressed on, staring closely with full expectations. 

“Nothing. I didn't really accept his apology and I told him I'll hear him out another time,”

“What?” She shrieked, body fully jerking backwards from the shock that coursed through her. Somehow, she managed to regain her composure. “You know what? Good on you. I would've done that too,”

“Would you?”

Several changes of expressions flashed across her face, ranging from deep consideration to disgust. “Maybe?”

You chuckled, shaking your head knowing there was little to none truth value to that. “Is it a mistake? Drawing a line and keeping a distance?”

Minjeong pursed her lips thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “Honestly, you're entitled to do that until you're ready and your heart is fully healed. After all, he was the one who broke it in the first place.”

The whole entire situation was pathetic. Minjeong has already seen you losing it over Sunghoon in the past, you couldn't believe she would be getting a part two as well. However, you and her were no longer in your teen years, which meant Minjeong had an excuse to drag you to her favourite club as a getaway even if it meant you had to be stuck in hell.

“How is this going to make me feel better?” You were referring to the bodies of people dancing in one place, the stench of alcohol and smoke lingering in the air, the unfavourable vibe of being in a club itself was present with the loud music screaming into your eardrums. 

“Get drunk, then there's no need to think anymore,” Minjeong pointed to her head, giggling, but it was more to herself. 

“You're a really bad influence,” you mumbled, clutching onto her forearm for both physical and mental support.

The place she led you off to was the bar, ushering for you to take a seat next to her designated spot (you had no idea how and why she had one). You let her take the initiative by ordering her favourite drinks, then listened as she poured her heart out over the loud music that distracted you. Her plan was working. At least the music was too loud for you to hear your own thoughts.

“I didn't think this would be your favourite club,”

Minjeong made a face, shrugging. “It's one of my favourites. A colleague brought me here, and even though it's not the best, I still find myself coming back. It's weird,”

You hummed, finding her words ringing in your mind, feeling oddly close to your heart and the emotions you had. “That's lowkey really deep. Are you drunk already?”

“Ha-ha,” she let out dryly, completely unamused, but still cracked a smile after. “I wish I was. This is a call for some more drinks!”

You were mostly on the sidelines trying to control Minjeong with her alcohol intake, consuming only a few shots and calling it a night to be the designated sober one. At that point, you wondered if it was you or Minjeong that needed to destress the most judging from the difference in manner.

The time has come for you to end your night and find Minjeong to take her home before she ends up regretting it in the morning. The dance floor was packed with people, it took you barely a minute to give up your search and give yourself another five minutes to catch your breath. You lingered around the area, walking past booths occupied by groups of people.

There was a particular group that attracted your attention, a voice piercing through the loud music which you knew too well who it belonged to. Minjeong wasn't on the dance floor grooving her worries away, instead she was busy screaming at someone drunkenly. You were going to ban her from coming out ever again.

You rushed to the booth, seeing Minjeong's back while a man loomed over her figure. Was it her ex? There was no reason for Minjeong to get herself into fights when she was too cowardly to raise her voice up at someone in the first place. It didn't matter, all you needed was to pull her out of there or else something worse might happen.

“You fucking bastard—”

“Minjeong!” You yelled over the music, hoping that she somehow managed to hear you in her drunken state. Grasping onto her arm, you made sure she was intact physically. She was fine, eyes a little bloodshot and makeup slightly smudged, but other than that, she was fine. 

“I'm sorry—” you turned to the person she was yelling at, only to find yourself unable to continue speaking. You were not fine. “Sunghoon?” Minjeong hadn't seen her ex, it was your ex that she ran into.

“Y/N,” your name left his lips in a hushed, breathless manner, as if he was having a hard time comprehending that you were there and that you had actually said his name without some formality that he scorned. Despite that, the cold, piercing look in your eyes never wavered once while you stared at him.

“I'm sorry about Minjeong. She's a little drunk,” you wrapped a hand around her waist, letting her lean onto you for support as she slipped in and out of consciousness, blabbering incoherently. 

“I figured. I didn't expect this to be my first time meeting her again, especially not here,” he sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor for a moment, pondering. “I didn't think you'd feel … that way about me,” he looked up at you, this time with an expression you couldn't read.

Your eyes widened a bit, mostly in panic and confusion. “What? What did she say? She's drunk, don't take her words seriously—” you averted your gaze over his shoulders for a split second, catching some of his friends looking, but you didn't miss the girls that were in the group, particularly a girl that sat next to an empty spot you assumed to be Sunghoon's. She was the same girl you saw on one of his friend's posts online, posing next to Sunghoon in almost every group picture they had.

You sucked in a sharp breath, rushing to say something before Sunghoon had the chance to do so. There was a gutting feeling to you that you hated, it wasn't foreign, more or less something you've grown to adapt around Sunghoon after he came back into your life. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your—” you couldn't help but spare another glance behind him, the girl was staring right at you, “—fun. I'll be leaving, please don't take any of her words seriously, she's drunk. I'll tell Minjeong to apologise in the morning.”

“Y/N, wait—”

It was cruel for turning away and practically running into the crowd with your drunk friend to escape your ex, you'd admit it, but you'd rather get blackout drunk than to face Sunghoon for another second with his friends around. The chilly night air was welcomed into your lungs once you stepped out into the open, realising it was almost one in the morning. Minjeong was slightly more sober after you forcefully had her chug a bottle of water. She was seated on a curb while you looked through options to call a cab. 

“Y/N,”

What you expected was Minjeong calling for you, but the last you recalled, her voice wasn't deep and masculine. Your head snapped towards the source only to be met with the same person you were trying your hardest to get away from. The exhaustion was clear in his face, the worn out expression he had paired with the lingering smell of alcohol hung on him definitely got some pity points out of you. You sighed, your voice suddenly trapped in your throat as you didn't know what to say. Unlike you, it seemed Sunghoon did know what he would like to say.

“Are you really going to leave like this?”

“What?”

“Are you going to continue being cold to me?” Sunghoon's breath was shaky, the question he held in for far too long was actually leaving his lips, the slight smell of alcohol traceable. “Do you hate me?”

“I—” lost for words was what you were experiencing. The amount of times you've pictured yourself having a confrontational conversation with Sunghoon ended up turning into a waste. Nothing could've possibly prepared you for the moment where it actually happened, and you were the complete opposite to what you imagined yourself to be. “I–I don't hate you,”

“Then why are you treating me like you do?”

There it was. He had successfully touched a nerve. “Are you seriously asking me that? Sunghoon, you were the one who left me without saying anything. You came back thinking I'm going to be jumping when I see you? What do you want me to say? That I forgive you?”

“Can you please give me a chance to explain myself,”

“No, Sunghoon. Actually, I wish life was back to the times where I find myself thinking about you instead of having to face you. It’s much harder this way—to live pretending like we don’t know each other, to know you left me and embarrassed me, to make me feel like I’m not enough for you. So, no, Sunghoon, I want to move on and you’re only making it harder to,”

You were almost catching your breath at that point. The pain in your heart was much bigger than the feeling of your fingernails digging into the skin of your palm. It was impossible to hide your vulnerability by then, your upper lip was quivering and the hairs on the back of your neck were standing upright. 

The whole situation was laughable, you were going into a state of frenzied disbelief and shock, something not even alcohol could induce but purely from the audacity of Park Sunghoon. “Okay, I admit it, I never got over you, so what? But I've learnt to live with the pain of knowing you're never coming back,” you were turning into a pile of pitiness, your voice becoming smaller just as how you felt as you poured your heart out. “Why are you back in my life, Sunghoon? I never asked you to come back,” the last part nearly came out as a desperate sob, the amount of mental fatigue was overwhelming. 

Sunghoon opened his mouth just to close it after a beat. He was speechless, practically unmoving from the effects of your emotions slapping him in his face. Defeated, that was how he looked, shoulders slumped and eyes brimmed with tears that were threatening to flow out at any moment. “I never … I never meant to let you go in the first place. I should've never left, but I was too selfish,”

Your frown deepened, practically etching fine lines into your skin. “What? What do you mean?”

“It was my father, you knew how he was, always obsessed with the family business, he was the one who made me pick. Either I was going abroad or he was going to force me into a marriage with another woman to strengthen the family's business,” he let out a laugh, sounding nearly maniacally as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Funny, isn't it? Sounds almost like a plot from a movie. But that was exactly what I had to face, and I know it's selfish. It's just … I didn’t want to lose you completely, and I didn’t want to make it harder for you so I left without telling you. It was one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my life, I realised I still lost you in the end,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Feeling betrayed was an understatement. Certainly, that was a tough pill to swallow. You thought Sunghoon's father, despite being the cliche epitome of a rich, strict businessman, had accepted you as Sunghoon's partner. Instead, it was the contrary where he rather Sunghoon marry someone on his ‘level’. For a second, you mistook yourself for the main character in some low budget film.

“I thought it would be easier if you hated me instead,”

“Well, congrats, you got what you wanted,” you scoffed, taking a step back when he tried to get closer. Distance was what you needed in that moment, not closure in any shape or form, all you wanted was to be away from him. “I'm sorry that happened to you, but I don't think anything could change or fix the damage that's already been done,”

“Wait—”

You were already backing away from him, another excuse for you to run away yet again like a coward that didn't wish to face reality. Wasn't this what you wanted after all? The real truth being revealed on a random night where Sunghoon was slightly buzzed and your friend was on the verge of blacking out was the last you wanted. There was no space for you to absorb the truth, so you chose the easier way out by running away. 

Calling Minjeong's boyfriend, Jaehyun, was the best decision you made right before Sunghoon appeared. He seemed to have answered your prayers and arrived just in time to pick the two of you up. You did feel bad for calling him this late in the night, and you swore to buy him lunch as a way to pay him back. 

By the time you hoisted Minjeong up, wrapping a hand around her waist and letting her place her support on you, Sunghoon had already made a few cautious steps towards you two. You met his eyes, body facing him despite the weight that was about to crush you, not that it could compare to the weight of his gaze that fell onto you. 

“Sunghoon, let's talk about this another time, please? I need time to think, and editing your book isn't helping all that much with this whole … pile of something,” you were making wild gestures with one hand, a frenzied look to your face. “Go back to your—” you paused, the faint memory of the girl coming back to your mind for a beat, “—friends.”

Sunghoon couldn't respond, all he did was watch your figure disappearing into the car of some other man that he didn't know. You left him out in the street, many unspoken frustrations that were unable to be poured out through alcohol stuck with you like a sore thorn. Jaehyun turned to ask if you're alright, but you shrugged it off, though knowing you were the complete opposite of just 'fine'.

You didn't know how to forgive Sunghoon. That is if you could even find the courage to forgive him in the first place.

Whoever initiated a team dinner with Sunghoon should be out there watching their backs. 

You hadn't seen Sunghoon ever since that night. The last time you heard his name was when Minjeong told you about her lengthy apology to him, and that was it. He didn't turn up to the publishing house either, most times you had to communicate through email—yes, email—in order to get a hold of him. That was how bad it got, straight till the point where your boss asked you of his whereabouts. You could tell he was reluctant to show his face again. Just the same as you were in avoiding him. 

That was until a scheduled team dinner at some fancy restaurant to celebrate the progress of Sunghoon's soon published book. The hours leading up to it was dreadful to say the least. You hadn’t felt this way since your petty fight with Minjeong over the last slice of pizza. It was the horrible gut feeling where you knew you had to either confront or be confronted. Both of which were equally despised.

“Once this book is out, our workload will be less,” Yunjin stretched her arms, letting out a yawn while adjusting in her seat. “I’m glad everything is in its final stage now, all there’s left is the printing, and it isn’t our job!” she laughed gleefully, shooting you a knowing wink that you responded with a smile.

Once everything was over with Sunghoon’s book, would the ties between you and him finally become severed? Was there a chance that after this fateful reunion, things would return back to normal? For him to come into your life and mess things up again then leave was quite unfair for you. There was no other chance but to find a way out of this, as much as you hated confrontations. 

Speaking of confrontations, the seating arrangements seemed to have set you up for a perfect opportunity. Not only was it a roundtable, but Sunghoon was also somehow pushed to sit to your right, leaving you no space to run like how you always did. 

“Heard the food here is good,” Yunjin whispered to you, flipping through the menu with a happy smirk, totally in blissful ignorance of the blaring ‘SOS’ screaming in your eyes. “I think I’d like to order this one…” she trailed off with the look of gluttony, whereas you were aimlessly staring at a specific bowl of rice in the menu, trying to not make it obvious that you were bothered by Sunghoon’s presence.

The longer you sat there pretending he wasn’t literally next to you, the more suffocated you felt. This wasn’t the way to go. You knew that you had no choice but to be the person to speak up first, to officially break the ice and ease the odd tension even if you weren’t the type to do so. It was either that or a lifelong torture of living with the truth that you left the relationship to die.

You breathed in deeply, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Hey, Sunghoon—”

“Sunghoon!” your boss announced her presence with a shout of Sunghoon’s name, barrelling into the room and making a bee-line towards the man sitting beside you. As expected, your voice was naturally drowned out by your boss, his attention was focused on your boss’s attack of praises and excitement. There you were, stranded and shrinking back into your shell. 

That was what you got for trying.

You shouldn’t be bothered by the constant glances from Sunghoon all throughout dinner, but you were. Living up to your reputation of being stubborn, you persisted to ignore his advances. The glances, the occasional accidental skin contact, you feigned ignorance to all of them. Being the first to reach out and failing, you no longer dared to do it again, and instead, Sunghoon was forced to come crawling back.

At the end of the night, the team insisted on having drinks at a bar downtown, but you decided to call it a night and declined their invitations. They didn’t know you had already promised Minjeong to a session of binge watching ‘Sex and the City’. The front of the restaurant was crowded with you and your team, still stalling for time by having lengthy conversations before making the journey downtown. 

“Hey,”

You spun around, quick enough for the wind to be knocked out from your lungs, abruptly facing Sunghoon head on with nowhere to hide. It was hard to place a finger on it, yet you had a feeling he was hiding his emotions despite always wearing his heart on his sleeves. Was he trying to create an imaginary boundary? 

“Hey,” you said softly, slipping a hand into your pocket to hide your nervousness and easing the chills running through you. “How have you been? I … didn’t see you in a while,”

“I’ve been fine,” he nodded, following with a pulsating silence that was eating you alive. He kept his answer short and simple, leaving room for discomfort only. There was a moment of uncertainty, not knowing which one of you would be the first to speak. That was until Sunghoon took the initiative to start the conversation. “Look,” one sharp inhale of a breath, he steadied himself. “I’m sorry for the other night, really sorry … for dumping all of that on you,”

“It’s fine. I think it was time for me to learn the truth,” you shook your head, looking at anywhere but him. “This is probably not the best place to talk about this, but after you avoided me for a while, I had lots of thoughts about … us,”

Sunghoon winced at the harshly thrown word, ‘avoided’, even though it was mostly true. He stayed silent, aware that there was no rebuttal to deny that he had done that. “I can’t bring myself to forgive you completely, Sunghoon, I hope you understand that. It may take time … for the wound to heal,” you paused, the tension in his shoulder yet to disappear as he waited for you to continue. “But I don’t want us to end. I missed you, I really do, and I don’t want to lose you again,” 

The wall was starting to crack, emotions began to stream into his eyes like watercolour on a wet paper, the conflicted furrow of his eyebrows spoke louder than words did. “You won’t lose me again. Never. I’m here to stay,” he reached out for your hands, and you let him, powerless against his touch. At that point of time, you were glad you were standing in a corner and away from your coworkers. 

“I still love you,”

Those words came out of his mouth almost like a spear to your heart. Despite knowing deep in your heart that he always did, hearing it from him was different compared to your imaginations. You froze, shell shocked and wide eyed. The only sound you were hearing was the hammering of your heart against your ribs. He still loves you. His voice echoing those exact same words played in your head, and for a moment, you wondered if you had even heard him correctly. Maybe you had misunderstood, or perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you.

Your eyes searched his face, hoping for a sign that he was joking, but there was none. His expression was serious, vulnerable even, and that made it all the harder to breathe.

The weight of it pressed down on your chest, too much to bear, yet too real to ignore. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You were scared to say anything, to confess that you weren’t on the same wavelength as he was, to admit that the spark of your love for him wasn’t as bright as his. There he was—still standing before you with all those unspoken feelings laid bare.

This couldn’t be real. Not after everything…

“I’m sorry,” he dropped your hand, momentarily panicking from your lack of response, eyes widening at what he had just said. “I shouldn’t—I—you’re probably uncomfortable—I don’t know—” he turned into a stuttering mess, and again, an invisible wall started to build between you and him again. 

You shook yourself out of the state you were in, sheepishly mustering a smile that did nothing to salvage the situation at hand. “It’s alright, I’m totally fine and I’m not uncomfortable at all. Just a little … shocked,”

Sunghoon attempted a smile that ended up too stiff and asymmetrical, his body language was blaring red. Oh God, how did this turn from bad to worse? He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his voice quiet, almost to himself. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird or anything... I just—” He stopped himself, breathing out in frustration, unsure of how to put his thoughts together. “I don’t know how to explain this... I guess I just thought... maybe... if I said it out loud, it wouldn’t be something I regret not saying later.”

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing down at the ground before looking back up at you, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry if that was too much. I didn’t want to make you feel like... like you owe me anything. Or like I’m putting pressure on you.” His eyes flickered away for a moment, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I just—honestly, I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

You swallowed, similarly not knowing how to handle his sudden outburst of a confession. 

“You don't have to say anything, I understand. I'm not expecting you to reciprocate, all I want is for you to know,” Sunghoon wore a sad smile, an attempt to mask his actual feelings. To you, he was easy to read like an open book, it was hard to know the truth and pretend that you didn't. 

“Sunghoon—” you started slowly, bracing yourself to say whatever that came to mind, ignoring the confused thoughts playing in the back. What were your actual feelings when it came to him anyway? 

It was never truly hatred to begin with. Resentment was probably the most fitting. As time passed, with the interactions you had together, everything boiled down to be a confusing mess. You didn't know what Park Sunghoon meant to you anymore.

“Sunghoon! We’re leaving for the bar! Come on!”

The voice of your colleague calling for him interjected at the right time. You were saved from having to reply while Sunghoon was saved from knowing the truth. Either way, you didn't wish to be confrontational at all, not when your thoughts were in a mess from his sudden confession. 

You and Sunghoon exchanged a brief look, an awkward one where you both realised it's time to depart. More likely, it was an official end to the conversation that either of you wanted out of for separate reasons. 

“I—I think—” Sunghoon nodded over to your colleagues, offering half a smile. 

“Right, right, you have to go,” you let out a small laugh to fill in the still air. “It's alright. Go, have fun. I'll talk to you soon.”

Sunghoon casted a rather reluctant glance at you as he walked away, whereas you stood rooted to the ground watching him leave. Your words rang in the back of your mind, you doubted if you'd ever get the chance to talk to him again, especially after the entire conversation you had.

The night ended up turning into a sleepless one as you tossed and turned in bed, wide awake and haunted by the face of your ex together with the words he said. All you wanted to do was address the problem in the room, not creating a larger one that blew up in your face. He still loved you after all this time, while you only grew larger resentment in that period of his absence, it just seemed unfair to you for not knowing. 

A loud knock on your front door brought you away from your string of thoughts. It was then followed by your door bell ringing, alternating between the two and it became an annoying combination that assaulted your ears in the dead of the night. Groggy, and rather annoyed, you got out of bed to check who was bothering you through the peephole. 

The figure on the other side of your door was slumped against the wall, eyes barely open. Yet, there wasn’t any mistake in recognising the person that terrorised you both day and night. “Sunghoon?” you half-shouted, scared to open the door as you didn’t dare to face him, maintaining your position at the peephole, monitoring his every movement. “Hey, are you okay—” your hand was nearly on your doorknob until he spoke, sounding sluggish but panicked.

“Don’t. Don’t open the door,” he was almost begging you, the desperation in his voice was evident, and so was the fact that he was very likely drunk out of his mind. You wondered what exactly was his thought process when it came to calling a cab straight to your place. The hand you had on the doorknob remained there, but you didn’t have the strength to turn it. “I … I just wanted to hear your voice,”

“What?”

There was a moment’s worth of silence. You took a look through the peephole, seeing Sunghoon slumped against your door, unmoving. You thought he was unconscious and had fallen asleep somehow, but when a choked sob sounded past his lips, you figured it wasn’t that simple. You called out his name again, palm pressed against your door, feeling rather helpless, but also too much of a coward to burst straight through your door and face him crying.

“I–I’m sorry, I’m a mess, fuck,” he mumbled, still audible for you to hear and distinguish the pain in his tone, as if every word he said to you was physically tormenting him. “I’m just scared,”

You paused, slightly dumbfounded. “Scared? Of what?”

“Of losing you,” he sounded as if he had given up on trying to hold the truth back, letting his vulnerability take over the lonesome hanging in the cold night air. “I tried so many times, to fix things, to make us … us again, but I think I’m just fucking things up instead,” his hands curled into a fist, resting on your door. “I know I’m selfish for wanting you back, I’m aware that I don’t deserve you … but I can’t let you go,”

You couldn’t let him go either. Despite the initial burning hatred and resentment you had for him and what he did, you realised those feelings gradually dissipated the longer you were with him. All those times where he poured his heart out, revealing the truth and what not, you came to a conclusion at last: you had finally let go of your past grudges. Although it was true that you weren’t as cold as you were to him, you still found yourself having a hard time opening up to him. The trust that was built over the years was broken the moment he left, as for now, time was what you needed.

“Please … please … Y/N,” Sunghoon let out a sob, louder than the last, the alcohol seeping into his system and taking charge. After all these years, Sunghoon remained an emotional drunk. Some things never change, do they? “I won’t ever leave, so please … don’t leave me too,” 

A deep sigh left your lips unknowingly, your hand fell from the door knob, suddenly breathless and powerless against yourself. You’ve never seen Sunghoon in such a state, weak and pathetic in contrast to his composed self. The walls you tried so hard to maintain between you and him were crumbling in front of you, before you knew it, you had fallen into a deep hole that you couldn’t crawl out of. There was no turning back, not after you pulled your door open, facing a pair of blood-shot eyes.  

Sunghoon didn’t expect you to actually open the door, to witness him in a dishevelled state that was embarrassing to the human eye. Even in his drunken mind, he could remember your every feature that seemed to have engraved itself into his memory. There was a round of silence, you were trying to gouge the situation standing before you while Sunghoon was stunned into quietness. 

Thinking straight wasn’t your first option, instead you did something you would only dare to do if you were drunk. You reached out for Sunghoon’s arm, grabbing onto him and pulling him in with every ounce of your strength. He crashed softly onto you, and at a speed faster than he could process, you embraced him into your chest, wrapping your arms around his larger body. 

You could feel him freezing into your embrace, the touch that was once so familiar to him needed some time to get used to. It didn’t take long before he melted into you, letting his head fall onto your shoulder and engulfing you closer to him with his arms. The position was oddly intimate, but you didn’t mind it at all. Your hearts were much closer than it had been in years, both physically and mentally. In fact, you hadn’t felt this way in a long time, a specific feeling that only Sunghoon could rekindle. 

No words were exchanged, but you understood much more than before. Sunghoon’s arms tightened around you, scared that you were a figment of his imagination, that you were going to leave just as he had feared. Your hand reached for his head that rested on your shoulder, slowly and carefully making the initial move to stroke his hair. 

“I’m not leaving, Sunghoon,” you whispered, hoping that he was sober enough to process your words and take it into account. “I’ll always be here,” you paused, blinking away a sudden wave of tears that threatened to fall out of nowhere. “Just … just don’t leave me, you jerk,” 

He removed his head from the crook of your neck, pulling away ever so slightly, just enough to face you, barely minding the small gap between you and him. “I promise, I promise I won’t ever make the same mistakes. I’ll be by your side for as long as you need,”

His words, though shaky, settled in your chest like a comforting weight. For some reason, he managed to say the right things that caused the past to wither away gradually from your mind. But the reality of the moment hit harder than you expected. You weren't sure what would come next or if you could fully trust him again, but right now, in this fleeting moment, it didn't matter.

Neither of you dared to break eye contact, holding each other tightly, terrified to let go. All of a sudden, those past months where you acted cold to one another seemed to be much further than imagined, as if it never happened. You stared deeply into those saccharine eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity, mixed with exhaustion and regret. A part of you wanted to pull away, to keep your distance, but you didn’t. For once, you let yourself breathe, let yourself lean into this fragile connection, even if it was built on broken trust.

“I forgive you, Sunghoon,” you started off slowly, cautiously, picking your words one by one. “But, you’ve got a lot to prove, and I don’t know if I can forget everything right away,” you paused, feeling a tightness in your throat, “maybe we can start over. Maybe.”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened, the momentary glaze over his eyes were gone, a telling sign that he was somehow much sober than earlier on. A faint, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’ll prove it to you. Every day, if I have to.”

You nodded slowly, still unsure of everything but knowing one thing for certain: this was not the end. There was too much history, too much love, even in its broken state, for it to end here. You and him couldn’t be friends, not when there was something more than that existed between the two of you. 

As cliche as it sounded, you knew fate had a play in hand. There was no denying that life led him back to you. Despite all odds, there you were, holding onto the warmth of his embrace, discarding the questions left to be answered after for a glint of hope. A fragile hope that, perhaps, things could still be fixed, even if they never fully returned to what they once were.

For now, you stayed in his arms, while he couldn’t bear to let you go, waiting for your love to return the way it used to be. 

In the next month, with Sunghoon’s book being officially published, the office had turned increasingly busy managing the marketing, promotions, sales and much more. Each department was scrambling to settle the piling work, including the editors, who were thrown into the mix to help out the rest of the team. That meant you were equally busy too.

First, it was the book launching party. 

Sunghoon seemed to have a loyal local fanbase, garnering a full house that sat patiently waiting for him. The cheers were indeed loud once he entered the room, his handsome face paired with great writing skills definitely was one way to be favoured by the crowd. He took a seat on the chair situated in the middle of the mini stage.

“I’m grateful that you’re all here to celebrate the launch of my new book. I believe it’s one of the few books I’ve published here since coming back from America,” he paused, eyes flickering, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s also a book that I wrote based on my experiences here … ” in a room filled with strangers and staff, he managed to find you in the midst of them, eyes locked onto you and the silence somehow thickened. 

He averted his attention back to the crowd, and cleared his throat, his voice was noticeably softer now, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “… I wrote this book with a lot of personal feelings, a lot of things that I’ve been holding onto, and some of those feelings, well…” He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh before his eyes flickered back to you, the intensity unmistakable despite the crowd around you. “Some of those feelings are about a person who's meant a lot to me. One I might never be able to fully explain how much they’ve impacted me, and sometimes…” He hesitated, then smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he was hiding something. “… sometimes you just hope they’re listening. Even if they don’t always know it.”

The room was still, the noise from the crowd seemingly muted. It felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you, that the people in the vicinity had disappeared. His words hang in the air with unspoken weight. Sunghoon’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, the faintest twitch in his lips betraying the emotion in his tone.

“I guess, in the end,” he continued, lowering his voice just a little more, “it’s the things you can’t say out loud that end up being the most important to you.” He quickly shifted his focus back to the audience, his smile returning, but the brief crack in his composure lingered like a delicate thread between you both. “So, that is why I dedicate this book to my first love,”

The shock didn’t just pass through the crowd of readers, but also in the group of staff standing around you. You were lucky that nobody else noticed his tunnel vision that was trained on solely you. It didn’t need a second thought to know that he was referring to you. Just as you were his first love, he was also yours, it should be a no brainer that the book he wrote about the two of you was dedicated to you. 

Sunghoon cracked a smile, breathing out a small laugh to ease the collective shock in the room. “I hope this book resonates with you, for those who experienced an unforgettable romance with your first love and stay up thinking about the endless possibilities. Pour your regrets, sadness and anguish into this book,” 

His gaze wandered over the crowd, but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at anyone, he was making an effort not to stray his gaze to your figure. However, old habits are hard to die. His eyes, those familiar eyes, drifted back to you once again, the intensity of his stare never breaking, making the room feel even smaller, forcing you into an imaginary corner.

“Sometimes, the people who mean the most to you… are the ones who leave you with all the things you wish you could’ve said,” Sunghoon continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, but still reaching you as if the words were meant only for your ears. “But I think… I think that’s what keeps the memories alive. It’s not about the things you lost, but the things you never got to say.”

His hand hovered over the microphone for a second, fingers brushing it lightly, and for a brief moment, the faint tremor in his hand betrayed the calm composure he was trying to maintain. The air between you felt charged, an unspoken tension that made it hard to breathe.

“I guess we all have our regrets. But it's how we carry them, how we turn them into something meaningful, that makes all the difference,” he said with a slight shrug, a soft, almost sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His gaze lingered on you for just a heartbeat longer before he shifted his attention back to the audience. It was then you could breathe properly again. 

The tension remained in the room, thick and unspoken, as the silence stretched just a bit too long before the next round of applause broke it. His speech was moving, sure, but to you, the meaning behind every word was deeper than what it seemed, following you around throughout the day like some pesky itch.

The event rolled by with questions answered, a short reading session and book signing. You and your team were tasked to run around setting things up, making sure everything was in place so that the event would run smoothly. Thankfully, it did, and your hard work had paid off. Being occupied for most of the time, you momentarily forgot about Sunghoon and what he said, unbeknownst to you, it was sitting in the back of your mind waiting for you. 

At the end of the day, you and your colleagues were working hard to clean and put things away, loud laughs and noisy conversations filled the empty venue, replacing the crowd from hours ago. The atmosphere was only heightened when Sunghoon made his presence known, hands carrying multiple bags of take out coffee. “Thanks for the hard work! Here’s some coffee, my treat,” loud hollers followed suit in celebration of free drinks, he bowed to those around him, lending a helping hand to carry the boxes while the drinks were taken from his hands. “I’m having a small party tomorrow night to celebrate the release of the book, and I hope every one of you will be there too. Don’t worry, food and drinks are all prepared,”

The thought of another celebration had pleased your colleagues and brightened the entire mood despite the tiredness. Coffee was passed around just as the job was done. Instead of heading home immediately, everyone chose to stay for a little more to chat and finish their coffee. You, on the other hand, lingered in a corner to arrange the books in a box. In reality, you were mostly using it as an excuse to hide and think. Turns out, Sunghoon’s words never left your head once, and the intensity of his eyes had burned itself into your memory. 

It was then you were startled by a tap on your shoulder, basically spinning around to see who it was. Speaking of the devil … Park Sunghoon stood right before you, a cup of coffee in one of his hands, the other retracted in a blink of an eye. Seeing him right after thinking about everything he had said felt like a whiplash, or quite close to a slap to your face. 

“Coffee?” he extended the coffee cup towards you, wearing a wry smile. 

You accepted his coffee, taking a quick sip to hide the embarrassment from showing on your expressions. “Thanks,” you replied, lowering the cup from your face, swallowing at the unexpected awkwardness that grew between the silence. One glance at him, you met his eyes, the silence suddenly became less uncomfortable, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Hey,”

Sunghoon couldn’t help smiling, being much more transparent with you than yourself. He shook his head, amused. “Hey,” 

“Good job today, Author Park Sunghoon,” 

“You too, my dear editor,” 

The softness in his voice and the genuine smile he had shouldn’t have tugged at your heart strings, but it did, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. The moment you decided to break down the walls and opened your heart to him was when you realised there was no turning back. 

“I’m expecting you at my party tomorrow. No backing out,” he continued, pointing a finger sternly at you. 

You let out a quiet laugh, mostly at his action, totally unaware of the fact that his eyes wavered for a second, his smile faltering at the realisation that you were laughing, and it was because of him, even if it was merely a giggle. “I’ll be there, don’t you worry,”

Sunghoon cleared his throat, coughing a little to bring himself back to reality. “I can’t wait,” he was casual when saying that, but to you, it only made you wonder what exactly he meant by that. 

You bounced on the balls of your foot, hands crossed, waiting for the right time to speak your mind. It seemed the opening to that conversation was there for you. “So … that was a nice opening speech,”

Sunghoon’s eyes slowly turned wider at the realisation, recalling all the things he had said in his speech, wincing—more so cringing—that he had to be reminded of it. He was stalling, holding back and contemplating his next response. “I meant everything I said,” he inhaled sharply, searching your face for any message to decode. “This book … it’s more of a letter to you. The things I wished I said, they’re all in there,”

“I know,” you set the coffee down, your fingers lingering on the warmth of the cup, trying to steady yourself. “Of course I know, I read it all,” you heaved a breath, unable to tell if you were picking your words correctly. “You’ve got a funny way of asking for forgiveness,” you tried to smile, making an effort to lighten the tension. 

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, responding with a weak smile, but the attempt was futile once you saw him looking away, suddenly avoiding your gaze. For a moment, you could see the vulnerability and hurt in his eyes. He was no longer the confident, composed man he tried to project during his speech. Instead, he was just… Sunghoon, your Sunghoon. The man who had once meant everything to you, now standing before you, laid bare in a way that you weren’t sure how to respond to.

“It was probably a shit attempt at it, wasn’t it? I couldn’t even face you properly until this book,”

“I mean, it did somehow work, didn’t it?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, finding your response a complete 180 to what he had in mind, a flash of surprise crossing his features before he let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. His shoulders seemed to relax.  

“You think so?” he asked, his voice laced with both uncertainty and a hint of hope.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Yeah, I do. To be honest, I was surprised that you wrote about us in the beginning—actually, I was pissed, to be precise—but the more I read, I could tell you were trying to find a way to fix us through the characters. I’m glad you actually did try, and it wasn’t just in writing. That means something to me,”

Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, as if processing your words. He seemed to be searching for something more—more validation, more understanding—but when his gaze softened, he looked away again, as though the vulnerability was too much for him to bear at the moment. There was an unspoken desire for something that you and him shared in that second, a mutual comprehension passed through the air, which was going back to the way it always has been, to stop the awkward, uncomfortable silence and return to the times you were carefree with one another.

“I never wanted to be the guy who hurt you,” he said, his voice low, close to whisper, more so a silent confession in disguise. “I never wanted to be the one to screw things up so badly that I’d lose you. But I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” your answer was blunt, piercing through the stillness. Sunghoon’s gaze snapped back to you, his expression unreadable for a beat before his lips parted, as if to say something in response. But he paused, swallowing the words. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. You studied him for a split second, carefully reaching out and placing a hand lightly on his arm, a small gesture of reassurance. “But I thought we’d agree on putting it in the past, to start afresh,”

Sunghoon’s eyes softened as your hand touched his arm, the familiarity of your touch brought a sense of assurance to him, easing the tension that had built between the two of you. “You’re right. What matters most is right now, and the future,” he placed his hand on yours, a gentle smile gracing his features. “I’m just happy,”

You raised your eyebrows in question, head tilted slightly at his random outburst. “About what?”

“That we’re … us again, even if it’s not fully,”

A breath of sigh escaped your lips, a faint smile rested on your face, eyes sparkling just the slightest under the bright lights. “Took us a while, but at least we're here,”

Sunghoon nodded, his fingers brushing against yours, the intensity of his gaze was unwavering. There was a lingering spark straying in the air between you and him, the entirety of this—him being so close to you, basically holding your hand—was far from casual. If anything, it was hard to ignore the sound of your heart beating hard in your chest, or that tingling sensation up your spine. 

“H–hey, this coffee’s pretty good,” you slipped your hand away from his touch, turning your head to the other side so that he wouldn’t see you panicking. Heat crept up on the back of your neck, spreading to your cheeks, painting you a blushing mess. It was a curse to be too aware of what’s happening to you. “So, tomorrow’s party. What time does it start?”

“Seven,” Sunghoon replied simply, squinting his eyes at you, noticing your change in behaviour. He got closer to you, leaning in to scrutinise your face, unaware of the gap barely existing between you and him. “Are you okay—”

“Great! Fantastic, actually,” you breathed out, forcing out a laugh to cover the fact that you were far from just ‘okay’. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? I need to finish some stuff and head home. Great job today,”

“You don’t seem that great—” Sunghoon stood firmly with his deduction, only to be met with your dismissiveness. Unlike you, he was blissfully oblivious to the effect his insignificant actions had on you, and that it wasn’t just a friendly interaction between two ‘friends’.

“I’ll get going now, bye!” you held tightly onto your coffee, waving at him with a tight lipped smile. 

“Bye?” That was the last thing you heard before slipping into a storage room, the confusion in his voice still ringing in your ears. You left a very dumbfounded Sunghoon stranded, all to find yourself breathless after the whole conversation that seemed to have sucked out every bit of your social energy.

The realisation has finally hit you and was slowly sinking in. This was the first time you felt your heart racing again after years, the type where you get giddy and nervous over a small interaction till the point it becomes hard to breathe. That was what Sunghoon did to you, your first love, your first heartbreak, and the first to mend your broken heart once more. 

Just as quick as your hatred grew over the years, the feelings you had for him were equally fast in returning back, the same feeling that never once left, staying stubbornly rooted, waiting for you to discover it again. 

You would admit, Sunghoon did pick a perfect place to have his private party. That wasn’t the point though. The focus was mainly on the restaurant being the favourite restaurant that you and Sunghoon would go to in your high school years. This time around, you had access to the bar unlike before, which seemed to be forever ago. That showed how long you’ve been avoiding places which reminded you of him, something you wouldn’t admit to.

The place was the same as you remembered, the dim lighting accompanied by jazz music playing in the background, the entire venue provided an ambiance that proved to be the reason why you loved it there in the first place. It was hard to deny that you were feeling nostalgic the moment you stepped in, bringing back many memories whether you liked it or not. 

On the way to the private room, you walked past the spot that you and him claimed, a table by a large window. The memory of you dragging Sunghoon here every weekend, hogging the spot by the window, ordering a set meal to share came rushing into your mind. Mixed emotions bubbled in the depths of your heart, secretly longing for those great old days to return even if you knew it was impossible. However, it was possible to start something new now that you weren’t on bad terms with him, and that was how you remained hopeful. 

You were brought back to reality once you realised you had stopped in your tracks, staring blankly at the empty table, reminiscing about your past like an idiot. Embarrassed, you rushed away and found the private room while cringing without a pause, finally feeling more relieved when you saw your friends and colleagues. 

“Hey!” Yunjin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a low effort side hug to which you reciprocated. The mood in this room was similar to the outside. The same dim lighting complimented by a soft background music, trays of food already prepared, catered by the restaurant itself. There was a banner hung 

“Look who’s here, our dear editor,” her attempt to hype you up was responded with cheers from the group, earning an exasperated eye roll from you. “Enjoy this party, okay? You’ve worked hard,”

You had indeed worked hard for this book. Having to put up with the realisation that it was written about you, then needing to deal with your ex in the whole process of it, you surely deserved a Pulitzer prize just for your efforts. You simply nodded at her words, knowing that nobody here would ever find out about the truth behind the story in Sunghoon’s book and the experience you went through because of it.

“I’m going to go grab a drink, excuse me,” you smiled politely at the rest of them, then carefully escaped from the circle of your colleagues and out of the door, releasing a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in. Walking out into the open space of the restaurant, it was much busier and larger than you recalled it to be.  

You settled yourself into a stool, glancing around and seeing most of the seats were occupied mainly in pairs. Were you the only one alone here? More reasons to be drinking. Being completely lost in thought and spacing out at the bartender making drinks for the customers prior to you, you didn’t notice a figure slipping into the seat next to you, sneaking a glance at you and proceeding to follow your line of sight.

“They’re a bit busy, aren’t they?” 

You didn’t even flinch at the sudden intrusion, already knowing who it was without needing a second guess. Turning your body to face the person next to you, you stared at him with a deadpan expression, completely unfazed. “Hey,” Sunghoon greeted you softly, smiling sweetly at you, as if your presence had graced him, disregarding the pointed look you shot at him. 

“I didn’t see you just now,” 

Sunghoon pursed his lips, resting both his arms on the counter, leaning into it, shying away from your gaze for unknown reasons. “I was walking around here,”

“Leaving your own party?”

A snort came from him in response, the corners of his lips were pulled higher than a second ago. He was amused, shaking his head at you. “I came here to relive the same feeling I had years ago,” a second of silence passed, as if he was letting his words sink further into the open wound. “The same feeling I have whenever I’m with you,”

You couldn’t tell if your heart skipping a beat was a normal reaction or whether it should be one. However, one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t something that occurred to you on a daily basis. There was a hint of unspoken yearning buried deep in those pupils of his, the additional mention of the past only brought a shift in atmosphere around the two of you. “I walked past our table,”

You were unconsciously holding your breath in, waiting for his reaction, unknowingly looking forward to what he has to say. He didn’t respond immediately, seemingly deep in thought at that fleeting moment, an unreadable smile on his face. “So did I,” he shifted in his seat, adjusting to his comfort, his body was now facing towards you more. “It’s still the same as before,”

“I remember those times we were here,” you said slowly, tip-toeing on the edge, testing the waters to make sure it was safe enough for you to dive into the topic. “I would drag you here so many times till the point where it became our go-to dating spot. You didn’t even try to fight me about it and accepted it,” you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the mention of those fond moments, letting a genuine, wide smile naturally creep itself onto your lips.

Sunghoon never once took his eyes off of you, scared that even if he blinked for just a second, he would miss the look of your smile, the carefree smile that you allowed yourself to express around him unlike before. His attention squared in on you, memorising every part of you like life depended on him to do so. “I remember,” he nodded mostly to himself, pressing his lips in a flat line. “I knew I stood no chance anyway,” he laughed, resisting the urge to fully burst out laughing at the change in your reaction. 

You crossed your arms, scoffing, but still remained a lighthearted smile. “Hey! You’re saying it like I forced you,” 

Sunghoon shrugged, choosing to rest his head on his hand, the look in his eyes were unwavering, making you gradually turn smaller under his gaze. You couldn’t describe it, yet you knew it was there, existing in the air. There was something between you and him in that second, in that conversation, and it was far from being just a casual talk. “I just wanted to be wherever you were,”

His words hung heavily in the space between the two of you, almost uncomfortably so, adding another layer to the thick tension that seemed impossible to get rid of. It shouldn’t hit you hard, the simplicity of his words shouldn’t be something you interpreted differently, but the only thing it did was sink deeply into your skin, prickling you just the same as needles did. 

He searched your face for any sign of a response, whatever it could be, but you failed to react, both physically and verbally. Your mind betrayed your senses, rendering you helpless against Sunghoon, against your fragile heart. There was desperation painted in the edges of every feature, calling out for you to give him a sign, any sign, to assure him that he hadn’t crossed any invisible line.

You opened your mouth, wishing you had a proper response ready, but in reality, you had no idea what you could say to him. He was the same person you were with in this restaurant many years ago, yet it only seemed you were sitting with someone you could barely breathe around. You realised it then, a picture clear as light, that no matter how you tried to start afresh with him, you couldn't brush off your past together, not when deep connections and feelings were still present. 

“Excuse me, what would you two like to order?”

Your attempt at trying to say something was futile. A part of you was glad that you were interrupted by the bartender, the other part just wished you had the courage to reply to him instead of freezing and cowering whenever he makes your heart jump. The bartender’s appearance was the only chance you had in breaking eye contact with Sunghoon, diffusing the heavy load pressing in on you, releasing a shaky breath. 

“One cosmopolitan and one scotch on the rocks,” Sunghoon stole a glance at you, noticing your expressions falling, deciding to take the initiative to order on your behalf. He casted another look at you, seeking approval to which you nodded in validation, mind already wandered off to someplace else. That wasn’t what surprised you, in fact, it was him knowing your usual drink order despite barely drinking together. 

The bartender wasted no seconds in getting to work, leaving you and him alone once again to bask in the aftermath of the conversation. There was a moment of silence weighing on the both of you, waiting for either one to break it. You chose to be that person, wanting to fix the cracks you caused for turning everything into an uncomfortable mess. 

“How … How did you know? My order, I mean,” 

Sunghoon shrugged, leaning his weight onto the counter, keeping both his arms resting on the surface of it. He remained facing forward, not immediate in turning back to look at you. “The team dinner. You ordered a cocktail, and Yunjin said ‘again?’, then I heard you saying it’s your usual order,” he stated plainly, as if it was common information that everyone should know. “You’ve always drunk the mocktail version of it when we were together too. How could I forget …” his voice faltered, fading into the faint chatters around you. 

“Right,” you breathed out, fiddling with your fingers, keeping your gaze on him, even if he wasn’t ready to meet yours. “You …” you stopped, the words were suddenly stuck in the back of your throat, hesitating to come out. “You still remember everything about me, even after all these years apart,”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything at first, waiting for a few seconds to pass slowly, agonisingly, silently suffering in his head while you couldn’t find a way into it. He dropped his head, breathing in deeply to fill his lungs with air, ignoring the way his heart clenched. He finally turned his head, meeting your eyes that were begging for a reply. A weak, half smile was all he could muster. “Of course I do,”

I still love you.

Those words automatically translated themselves into your head. The same sorrow, grief, and even longing hung in his voice, cutting deep into your heart. You stared at him, recalling the last time you were here with him, innocently thinking that everything would last in the future. If only you could turn back in time to tell yourself that you would be sitting with him in uncomfortable silence instead, looking at each other for some sort of a sign that never worked.

“Here are your drinks,” the bartender cut in, placing your drinks down in front of you, the pink of your cocktail shined under the lights hanging over your head. You and Sunghoon both expressed your thanks in return, hands reaching out for your drinks and wasting no time to take a big gulp of them. 

Setting your glass down, you stole another glance at Sunghoon, watching his face scrunching up at the strong taste of his whiskey, a quiet hiss followed after. You never knew Sunghoon would be a guy who likes whiskey, it was something you couldn’t picture. It only made you wonder what else you did not know about him, what he grew to like or hate over the years, or if he was still fully the Sunghoon that you personally knew. 

“So, how were your years in America?”

Sunghoon pulled a face, both a reaction to your random question and also a response signalling that it wasn’t a positive experience. He sighed, using one finger to trace the mouth of his glass. “Lonely, I guess?” He wore a smile that was enough to tell that there weren’t many happy memories regarding his years abroad. “Truthfully, I never really connected to the people, the culture and the country. I figured my heart was still stuck here,”

You nodded, absorbing his emotions like a sponge, feeling a tinge of sympathy for him. Those years of cursing him and holding a severe grudge against him, you’d never once thought that he was hurting too, that he had to go through something he didn’t want in the first place. The resentment was built up from the lack of knowing and misunderstanding. Years, valuable years were wasted over being kept in the dark. “I wonder how things would’ve turned out if you never left,”

Sunghoon partially stiffened, not expecting the topic of possibilities to be thrown into his face, a sensitive subject that he often mulled over about. “It would’ve been different. For starters, we wouldn’t be here talking about what-ifs,” he laughed, though it was weak. “I couldn’t settle down. It was hard, knowing that I left many people I care about here,” there it was again, a pause that made you hold your breath, counting down seconds till his next word. “And that I left you too,”

You offered a brief smile, one that fell just as quick as it appeared, finding yourself having no energy to try and fake one. The hurt in your eyes mirrored his, the difference lied with the reason behind it. “What matters most is that we’re both here now, right?” your hand unintentionally crept closer to his, twitching in wishful thinking that you could just hold him, even for a second.

“You’re right,” he hummed in agreement, the look of affection flashed across his expression for a quick second, just in time for you to be totally oblivious to it. “At our favourite spot too,”

“Well, cheers to that.” you held up your drink, staring expectantly at him. He chuckled at your actions, finding it rather amusing. A genuine smile pulled at his lips, he held his glass up, clinking it with yours to produce a short-lived sound. Shared laughter poured from the two of you, mixing into the taste of your drinks, the unbearable atmosphere from earlier on was long forgotten.

The night was young as everyone would say, just like your coworkers who yelled for more drinks once you and Sunghoon returned. Nobody questioned it, neither did they notice you and him disappearing for a strangely long time. You were certain, no one else could sense the lingering yearning you grew to have after your drinking session with him, or the way you stared at him from across the room for longer than a second, minutes even. 

Everyone was oblivious, too engrossed in the luxury of partying to take a hint, while you and Sunghoon were overly aware of each other and the burning ache you had for one another. 

Sunghoon has been officially reintroduced back into your life as days go by. Before you knew it, he had imprinted himself onto your day-to-day life, returning to the times where his presence alone was a norm to you. You didn’t question it when he picked you up from work, called you out for lunch or even dropped by your house for a casual dinner. None of those seemed out of the ordinary to you anymore, though it did take months for you to get used to the dynamic.

“So, what are you writing nowadays?” It was another Friday evening in Sunghoon’s car, sitting in the passenger seat after work, contemplating your choices for dinner. You looked over at him, watching him maintaining his concentration on the road ahead, taking more than a minute to process your question.

He raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips, thinking of his response. “I haven’t been writing. Well, not yet,”

“No wonder you have so much time to pick me up for dinner,” you snarkily muttered, feeling his eyes roll without having to confirm it personally. 

“Is this your way of thanking me?”

“I’m very grateful for my personal driver, Park Sunghoon,” you said dryly, poking his shoulder teasingly, stifling your giggles. Sunghoon took a brief glance at you, but he said nothing in return, shaking his head and smiling to himself. “Where are we going now? It’s a bit too early for dinner,”

“It’s a place I’ve been wanting to go for a long time,”

You frowned, confused at the lack of information and vagueness behind his reply. “What?”

“It’s a botanical garden. I heard the flowers are blooming,” 

The confusion in your face didn’t entirely dissipate, only increasing at the fact that he had a whole plan to bring you to a garden in the first place. This was completely out of character for him, you didn’t recall him being someone who liked gardens or nature. “Are you … stressed?”

“Why’s that your first assumption? I’ve just been doing some thinking, that’s all,” his fingers drummed slowly on the steering wheel, the music in the background seemed to be drowned out the longer your conversation went on. “I’m fine,” he turned to cast a reassuring smile, a sign asking for you to trust him and move on from the topic. “I was thinking we could get some fresh air and a nice scenery,”

“You sure do have many things up your sleeve.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything in response, merely shrugging with a silent smile on his face. You glanced out of the window, letting the music overtake the space between you and him, watching the evening sun slowly set now that it was spring. Thinking back to last spring, everything you were experiencing currently was a complete one-eighty to then, you wouldn’t even be sitting with Sunghoon in his car at that time.

The chilly air bit at your skin, the only warmth provided was from Sunghoon as he walked closely next to you, shoulders occasionally bumping each other, but neither of you dared to acknowledge it. Even with the sun hiding behind the horizon and sunlight was scarce, the flowers in bloom were as beautiful as you had in mind. 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” you kept your eyes trained on the flowers and plants you walked past, not sparing a glance at him. You were afraid that if you did, that if you met his gaze for just a second, you might not be able to contain some hidden emotions that you’ve been trying so hard to hold back.

“What’s with the sudden gratitude?”

“No idea, I’m just grateful that you bring me to places that I thought I’ll never go to,” you stopped in your tracks, right by a small land planted with tulips of different colours. “I get to experience new things with you all the time,” you turned to face him, a genuine smile accompanied by your sparkling eyes was enough for his heart to swell in satisfaction, though he did not let it show on his expressions.

“I’m glad then,” he hummed, staring at the tulips with newfound interest, unfazed by your lingering eyes at him. “They’re really pretty,” he nodded at the flowers, the variation of colours were dimmed down by the dark, but it happened to be oddly more fascinating under the street light.

“Yeah, they are,” You wished, at that moment, in that split second, that you could tear your eyes off of him. He was just as delicate as those tulips, the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Spellbound, that was what you were. Your heart was only increasing in speed, inconsistently skipping a beat at the thought of him. How long were you and him going to stay in this state where the lines between being friends and lovers were blurred?

He seemed to sense the energy coming off of you, or maybe it was your unwavering gaze that pierced into his soul. Turning his face, he met your eyes at the right moment, an electric wave passing through the air around you. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Freezing like a deer in headlights, you realised he had caught you in the middle of the act. You were shameless, but thoroughly embarrassed, feigning ignorance that he could possibly see through. “Huh? Like w–what?”

“I don’t know,” he was relentless, even if he didn’t say it, you could feel his stare on you, pressing you to fess up. Classic Sunghoon, he knew what he was doing and he enjoyed teasing you, the grin on his face was clear evidence. 

“It’s just because—” you paused, fighting inner thoughts to come up with an excuse. Seeing the smug look on his face while he stared expectantly at you for your answer was close enough to induce an annoyed eye roll in you that you managed to hold back. “I’m cold,”

Sunghoon tilted his head to one side, making a face that sent a clear message: he wasn’t fully convinced. Nevertheless, he didn’t sound it out, wordlessly peeling the scarf off his neck, then proceeded to wrap it around yours. An action as simple as this shouldn’t have caused you to freeze, automatically holding your breath until it ended, but it did. 

“Why didn’t you bring an extra layer? You don’t do well with the cold anyway,” he focused on fixing the scarf properly before averting his eyes back to you, to meet yours, a hint of sincere worry along with disapproval in them. A gust of wind that came after brushing against the strands of his hair softly, the mole on his nose resembled a lone star in the sky.

“You’d be cold too,” your hand flew to the scarf, mindlessly touching it, as if you were still in disbelief that he had personally put it on you. 

“I’ll be fine,” he waved your concerns away, shifting on his feet. “How about we get out of here and have dinner?” he threw an arm around your shoulder, an action so natural as if it was a muscle memory, slowly moving you away from the flowers and back onto the walking path.

“Sounds good.” All you remembered from that moment on was an awakened feeling which made its presence loud and known, staying with you for longer than you thought: love. It was quietly creeping up on you and waiting for its turn to get into action. The urge was becoming stronger as time passed. With Sunghoon’s being there in your daily life, you could barely avoid him, holding back was just a torture. 

The torment was becoming worse when he sent you home that night, relentlessly denying your rejection in walking you to your door till the point where you had to give up for the sake of avoiding an argument. He was stubborn, adamant that he was going to see you safely go. Sunghoon was making it harder for you to escape his grasp, even though he was completely unaware of your internal turmoil that struggled to come to terms with your actual feelings.

“Thanks for walking me back. You didn’t have to, genuinely,” you were at your doorstep. It was already late, the corridor was empty, leaving you and Sunghoon to some privacy. He shrugged, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.

“I want to, Y/N,” he said earnestly, shaking his head at you, occasionally averting his gaze away. “Let me do this for you, okay?”

“I don’t want to trouble you,”

“How is it troubling to me when I never once complained,” he raised an eyebrow at you, trying his best to get his point across. You knew he was right, there was no chance for you to fight that. After all, he was the one insisting. It was you that wasn’t used to his act of service, though it’s been the same since you first knew him. 

“Fine. You win,” you scoffed, yet your smile betrayed the annoyance in your voice. The staring game you had with him lasted longer than it should have. You could point out every delicate feature of his that you liked from the top of your head with the way his face was basically imprinted on your mind. That was when you realised his scarf was still wrapped around your neck, giving you an excuse to look away from him. “Oh, I just remembered,”

You grabbed onto the scarf, pulling it off of you in a swift motion, but instead of giving it back to him immediately, you took a step forward, closing the distance between you and him. Sunghoon didn’t move, barely budging one bit, his eyes following your every move like a hawk, breathing turning more shallow as seconds passed, anticipating your next move. 

You ignored the sound of your heart pumping noisily in your ears, trying your hardest to avoid his gaze, focusing on the scarf alone, moving your hands quickly to wrap his scarf around his neck, making a loop to secure it tightly on him. Even then, you didn’t dare to look at him, choosing to turn your head towards the empty corridor. “Your … scarf,” you didn't remove your hand from the cloth that was properly placed around his neck right away, another additional layer creating a barrier to his heart. 

“Thanks,” Sunghoon said slowly, his eyes searching fervently for yours, only to be avoided at every given chance. He could feel the heaviness weighing in the air, an invisible string tied around the two of you was getting tighter, pulling you closer to him. A chill ran up your spine when you felt his stare intensifying, as if he was desperately calling for you to stop avoiding his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, drawing your attention back to him. “Look at me,” 

His words were a powerful command despite his gentle tone, convincing you to follow without a second thought. You met his eyes, blinking faster as if it could magically make him disappear. Those brown irises stared back at you with furrowed eyebrows, wandering every crevice of your face until he could find the reason behind your avoidance. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I really am,” you assured him, attempting to sound as believable as you could, adding a smile to the equation so that he wouldn’t question you further. It was true, you were flustered simply because of him, and no, you didn’t want him to know, but it was hard for you to hide. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” you were about to drop your hand from his scarf, but his hand appeared, grabbing onto yours, holding it close to his heart.

“Stay. Just a little longer,” his voice was low, a quiet confession escaping his lips no matter how he tried to hold it in.  

A genuine smile replaced the one you forced earlier, pulling the slightest chuckle out of you. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow anyway,”

“But it’s different tonight,”

So, you weren’t overthinking all along. There was truly something in the air at that moment, undeniable and alive, forcing you and him to acknowledge it even if you didn’t want to. From the second you stepped onto that garden with him, you knew you were in deep trouble. Those feelings you suppressed for months, denying their truth, had only returned to bite back at you. It was then you rightfully realised it: you still had feelings for Sunghoon. You still loved him, but you were scared, terrified that you had missed your chance considering months had passed.

You decided to do something that you could never imagine yourself doing in a million years. Taking advantage of the situation along with the momentary silence, you leaned in, inching your face closer to his, letting everything occur naturally. Sunghoon has always been sharp, quick to get the memo, this was another testament to that fact. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head, bending his body just enough for you to reach him without any challenge. 

This was it. You were about to kiss Park Sunghoon. The months worth of built up tension, silent cries of desperation, a hidden confession you couldn’t bring yourself to say, all of those were going to be melted into this kiss. A kiss that wasn’t as simple as it seemed to be. Instead, it was a promise, a seal to an end to the push and pull that the two of you were stuck in. Just a little bit more, you could practically feel his lips—

“Y/N! What are you doing out there?” the voice of your roommate, Minjeong came from behind the door. Unexpectedly so, the door was ripped open after, your soon-to-be-evicted roommate was standing there, hand on one side of her hip, staring accusingly at you and Sunghoon as though you were guilty of a crime. 

You pushed yourself from Sunghoon, slipping your hand from his, almost choking on your spit from how fast you tried to remove any remnants of the ‘almost kiss’. The suspicions were only more obvious, but you couldn’t be bothered to care about that, thoroughly embarrassed and cringing on Sunghoon’s behalf. Being caught by a roommate wasn’t a bad thing, unless that roommate happened to be Minjeong, your best friend that cussed your ex out, and also listened to your endless rants about him. Now, that was the problem.

“Minjeong, hey,” your tone was the complete opposite to your eyes that were furiously shooting daggers at her. “This isn’t the right time to appear,” you mumbled quietly to her, nodding over at Sunghoon without being too obvious. Disappointment with a pinch of confusion was what you could describe her expression at that precise moment, withholding any judgements that were saved for later. “I’ll come in after I say my goodbyes, okay?”

Minjeong had no other choice but to close the door even though it was written all over her face that she was against the idea of leaving you alone with Sunghoon. Once you heard the door closing behind you, that was only when you let out a sigh of relief. Facing Sunghoon again made you wish a massive black hole would appear to swallow you up. He, on the other hand, was smiling at you. Whether it was out of awkwardness or he was just secretly laughing at you, there was no telling which one it was. 

“Sorry about that. She has really … bad timings,” you bit the insides of your cheek, fiddling with your fingers anxiously. Kissing him meant no return, but a close call of a kiss was far worse when you could barely explain yourself.

“It’s nothing. She’s probably worried about you,” Sunghoon shook his head, offering an assuring smile that did nothing to soothe your anxiousness. Well, there was your attempt at going for a kiss that ended up in a ditch. “Don’t worry about it,” his eyes flickered between your fidgeting hands and your face, noticing the change in your expressions. He reached for your hands, holding them tightly in his. It was sudden, but not too surprising. “I know,”

You looked up at him, a glint of hope sparked in your eyes, your heart picking up speed, threatening to escape your chest. He … knew? Sunghoon was unwavering, a look of determination flashing across his features. “I know,” he repeated, doing everything he could to ease your worries. Even with the lack of explanations, you understood him, needing no more than that to know he has been aware of you and your heart all along. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”  

“Alright,” you squeezed his hands, a way of thanking him and also for a seek of reassurance. “Let’s leave this for a proper time,” 

Sunghoon nodded, rubbing his thumb softly against your skin. “It’s getting late. You should get going. I think Minjeong is too protective over you,”

You scoffed, the thought of your roommate only haunted you with those new memories. “She just needs some time,” you were referring to the time at the bar where she nearly skinned Sunghoon alive if you hadn’t interfered at the right moment. Who knew what she would’ve done with her out of her mind? “Anyway, goodnight. Text me when you’re home.”

“I will. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Minjeong was relentless, practically hunting you down for every single information possible once you entered your supposedly safe home. She was still mildly unconvinced about Sunghoon even though she was willing to hear you out, worried he might break your heart once more. Instead, you were convinced you were the one breaking your own heart from holding back longer. 

There were many things you were scared about when it came to starting a relationship once more, fearing the existing uncertainties and doubts hidden behind the curtains to stand in the way of you and Sunghoon. However, there was one thing you were wholeheartedly certain about, and that was you loving Sunghoon in every stage of life.  

You were a mess.

Ever since that night, you were sure you had left many things hanging and unsaid. The kiss that was meant to happen turned into dust right before you, making the complications between you and Sunghoon worse than it originally was. Not to mention, you haven't seen Sunghoon since then either. The promise of seeing each other the next day went into the gutters when the two of you were coincidentally roped into matters from your jobs. It didn’t stop there. Your busy lives resulted in days of not seeing each other, taking a turn from your usual routine.

Truthfully, there were times where you wanted to pour your heart out over a text message. The overwhelming thoughts you had accumulated in the days you and him were apart was eating you alive. ‘Hey … I think I like you’ surely, a message such as that wasn’t going to suffice. You were stuck in a limbo, going back and forth between having the confidence of confessing to none. In a nutshell, you were petrified out of your mind to face your fear: coming to terms with your feelings. 

Tossing and turning in bed has become a habit when the worries seem to pile up with time. You still had the last message of Sunghoon stuck in your mind as you lay awake, considering the meanings behind it that you were convinced you were overthinking about. ‘Let’s meet tomorrow, no more excuses this time, it’s a must’ since when did he turn into such a clingy person? Or was there some ulterior motives hiding up his sleeves this time around?

You slipped out of bed, pulled a hoodie over your head and headed straight for the front door. It was an impulsive decision to be leaving the comforts of your home in the middle of the night, you knew that, but you also needed some fresh air to think. Your feet brought you to a spot you’ve neglected for a long time, the overhead bridge close to your home. It has been years since you last crossed it, either choosing the long way to walk or drive just so you could avoid the memories resurfacing. 

The overhead bridge was the place you would often cross to head home when you were in highschool. Coincidentally, you and Sunghoon were connected by that bridge. He lived on the other side of it, creating many excuses that walking home with you was on his way home as well, knowing it was the complete opposite, but eventually you gave in, which ended in you and him going on many adventures after school. At the end of every day, your time with him ended on that overhead bridge, though you spent at least half an hour purely talking before going your separate ways. 

Now that you were there again, you found it much surreal that years have passed and nothing has changed. It was as if the memories you made there with Sunghoon were frozen in time, that this place has become an artifact which proves the existence of you and Sunghoon’s relationship. Just by standing there, you could see every scenario you experienced playing out right in front you. There was once where you and Sunghoon did nothing but just share your secrets until the time of your curfew arrived.

“You’re here?”

You wondered if you had accidentally thought about Sunghoon too hard to the extent of you vividly hearing his voice in your head. Overlooking the quiet cars passing by on the road under the bridge, you didn’t turn your head immediately, listening carefully to the sounds of footsteps approaching first, only then you dared to look over to the direction of the source. 

“You’re here too,” your eyes weren’t tricking you, even though you doubted yourself for a second. His figure in the dark was dimly illuminated by the street lights, the familiar rhythm in his steps exposed himself to you. He stood beside you, resting his arms on the railings, staring up at the night sky.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied, shoulder brushing gently against yours, mindlessly leaning closer to you. “I thought of coming here. I live near my old home anyway,” he shrugged, averting his attention back to you, an intensely inquisitive look flashing across his face. “What’s your reason?”

“I needed to think,” about you, about us, specifically. 

“Something’s keeping you up?” 

“Well …”

“Or is it someone?”

He surely knew how to read minds, didn’t he? 

You masked the initial shock from showing, covering the guilt of hiding the truth and turning it into impassiveness. However, your silence with the addition of avoiding his gaze gave away the impression that you were, in fact, hiding something from him. He could read you like a book, painfully so. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Sunghoon continued to egg you on, crossing his arms, moving his face closer to fix his eyes on you, scanning your expressions to determine an answer. “Is it someone at work causing trouble?”

“Not exactly. There’s no one, Sunghoon. I’m just worried about work,” you waved him off dismissively, hating that the person you had in mind happened to be the same person questioning you as well. Sunghoon leaned back a little more, creating a small space between you and him compared to earlier.

“You’re not seeing anyone?”

You raised an eyebrow at that, frowning just the slightest. “No. Are you?”

He shook his head, exhaling quietly. “I don’t think I’m interested,”

“What does that mean? You’re going to stay single forever?” you teased him, nudging him a little, yet internally, you contemplated the meaning behind his words. Did you truly lose your chance?

“It means, I’m not looking for anything now. Well, at least I haven’t found the right person anyway,” he shook his head, sounding equally dismissive as you did. “How … Why did you think of coming here out of all places? I thought there’s a nice park below your apartment complex,” he was quick to change the topic at hand, although you found it odd, you didn’t complain. You didn’t want to know more when your heart was already fragile because of your worries over him.

“I thought it’d be nice to revisit an old place,” you breathed in deeply, appreciating the quietness of the night, leaving you and Sunghoon in your own bubble, the world seemingly revolving around only the both of you. “I haven’t been here in many years,” 

“So, did coming here after all these years somehow cleared your mind?”

“Not exactly,” you were being completely truthful this time. With Sunghoon’s sudden appearance and the resurgence of old memories, you were far from sane and having your mind straight. However, him showing up right at the moment of you thinking about him was a sign and also a confirmation to your everlasting questions. “But I did find an answer,”

“Oh, really? That’s good then,” Sunghoon glanced away, unaware of your eyes lingering on him, focusing on the way his chest moved up then down, letting the comfortable silence engulf you and him. You didn’t mind the fact that his side was basically pressing into yours, the warmth from his body provided an invisible blanket wrapped around you. The sudden sound of a yawn coming from him disrupted the ambiance, his sheepish grin met your amused chuckle.

“Ready to sleep?”

“Seems like it,” he let out a genuine laugh, looking a little apologetic. Sunghoon rested his head on his arms, glancing up at you, a soft twinkle in those eyes as if you were his world, cradling you in the reflection of his pupils so that you wouldn’t leave his sight for even just a second. “I’m not ready to leave yet,”

“We’ll see each other tomorrow anyway, you demanded it,” you pointed a finger at him, watching his smile turn wider at your direct call out. “Do you have something planned?”

“Of course, I do. Who do you think I am?” he was confident in whatever he had in mind, the smugness in his face said it all. You could see it wearing off in just a split second, letting a slip of his actual emotions. “I thought it could make up for the days we didn’t see each other,”

You blinked mindlessly, allowing the meaning of his words to marinate in your mind, processing the weight of it all. Flickering eyes stared back at him, you put on a nervous smile that was trying its best to hide the fact that you were panicking about the urge to say something you wouldn’t. “You’re acting like we’re something,”

Sunghoon shrugged, raising his eyebrows at you, not showing much of a change in his expressions. “But we’re not exactly nothing, aren’t we?”

“Touche,” you nodded, suddenly grateful that it was mostly dark enough to hide the flush in your face. “Get your beauty sleep tonight, I’ll see you in the morning. It’s the weekend, you should be sleeping in,”

Sunghoon straightened his spine, holding onto the railings, shifting on his feet. “Fine, fine,” he was rather reluctant, doing double takes between the night scenery before him and you, his eternal sunshine. “So, I guess this is a goodbye for the night,” he tilted his head slightly, staring at you with a sense of hesitation, as though he wasn’t ready to part.

“It’s a temporary goodbye, don’t be dramatic,” you clicked your tongue, narrowing your eyes at him.  

Sunghoon laughed softly, mostly humoured by your reaction. He lowered his gaze onto the floor for a few seconds, hiding the affection that filled his irises, before he met your eyes once more, an unreadable look took over instead. “Goodnight, Y/N,”

You smiled, a sudden wave of deja vu hit you, the memory of your past coming back to you in a rush. There you were, at the same place, together with the person that was there by your side years ago, an identical replay of your nightly routine where you bid each other goodbye before parting ways. 

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon slowly nodded, taking a few steps back, his eyes never leaving you once. He raised his hand, waving goodbye, to which you reciprocated, an uneasy feeling creeping up on you knowing you had yet left things incomplete, the things you wished you said were buried in your heart again. The moment he turned his back on you, you wondered if you had missed your chance of saying what’s on your mind.

From wanting to settle your emotions quietly, and very much alone somehow turned into an answer that was always there for you to discover and realise: you were not going to let Sunghoon slip away again. You opened your mouth, hoping something, anything would just come out and pull him back, but there was nothing. He was getting farther, with every step he took, you followed, your feet instinctively bringing you closer to him, your heart naturally seeking for him.

“I love you,”

The eight letter word poured out from the deepest parts of your soul, reaching his heart through a single thread connecting you and him together. It wasn’t the first thing you had in mind, and yet, your heart confessed the secret it's been holding onto for far too long. You stopped in your tracks just as Sunghoon did, the silence becoming deafening when neither of you said anything in response. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, hell, his face wasn’t even facing you. There was only room for you to imagine his reaction in that fleeting moment. 

“I love you,” you repeated, a little more louder this time, as if saying it once wasn’t convincing enough. In your case, you were still in denial that it ever left your lips. Lowering your head, you could only place your attention on the ground, not having enough courage to face him. “I thought that if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get to say it again. I’ve been thinking about us, and I didn’t want to lose another chance, another year without you. I was scared I’ll lose you completely, that your heart would be someone else’s—”

Heavy footsteps cut through your voice, a sense of urgency followed with every step taken to get to you. You couldn’t finish your sentence, mind instantly turning blank when you saw his shoes directly in front of you. Still, you didn’t look up, you couldn’t bring yourself to, not until Sunghoon’s hands met the side of your face, palms resting gently on your cheeks, tilting your head upward, lips crashing into yours without any prior warning.

The initial shock gradually withered away, you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into him. The walls were no longer there, you had fully, wholly given your heart to him, no longer afraid of him breaking it again. The feeling of his lips wasn’t something you’d forget easily. An overwhelming amount of desperation, longing, and love that the both of you had were silently exchanged, the vulnerability was raw, finally understanding that you could fully love one another without anything standing in between, not even the past and the grudges it held.

A choked sob left your lips, the tears were flowing before you could find the strength to hold it in. Sunghoon only deepened the kiss, pulling your trembling body closer to him. There was a weight of his emotions as his lips moved against yours, you could feel it, the desperation of his own to heal whatever pain that was inside of you. 

You pulled away for a moment, gasping for air, the heaviness in your heart becoming more apparent, the tears flowing down your cheeks were met with Sunghoon’s thumb, softly caressing the expanse of your face, wiping away the tears that brought pain to his heart. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not. I’m still in love with you, Sunghoon. I’ve always wanted to tell you this, but I couldn’t find the right time, and I was scared I’d lose you … again,”

Sunghoon stared at you with an infinite amount of admiration, as if you were the sun in his darkest days or the prettiest painting in an art museum, the only person that was made for him, an undoubtable fact that he was wholeheartedly certain about. You were his past, his present, and his future, a mark in every timeline there is in his lifetime. “I love you too. I haven’t stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. You’re my person, you’ll never lose me,”

His eyes were red, brimming with tears, but he didn’t allow a tear to fall, maintaining a smile, though it was weak. You held onto his hand, feeling it shake under your touch. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re my person too,”

“I wish … I wish I could give you back the years you’ve spent resenting me,” his voice was weak, defenceless against the emotions that overwhelmed him. “I wish I could’ve been there, so that you didn’t have to be in pain because of me,”

“It’s okay, Sunghoon, really. The past can’t hurt us anymore, and it doesn’t define us either,” your hand travelled to his face, cupping his cheek. “What matters most is we’re us again,”

Sunghoon breathed deeply, letting out a shaky breath. His eyes flickered, a faint smile appearing in the midst of his tired face. “So, does that mean we’re officially back together?”

“Yes, we are. Back to how it always was,”

He slipped his hand away from yours, instead, he threw his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace, holding onto you tightly. A part of him was scared that everything was just a dream, that you would disappear in any moment. “You’ll always be a part of me, a part that cannot ever be erased,”

“That’s good, because you also make up a big part of my heart.”

His laugh was enough to erase the bittersweet pain that you felt from erasing the past and starting a new path with the person that took up most parts of your life. He was always there in your life even when he became a memory, there was no way in hell you could ever replace him, not in a million years, not in this lifetime of yours.

From the day you saw him again, you had a feeling he was never leaving, not anymore. After all, the ones that were meant to be a part of your life would come back to you, while those that don’t would never cross paths with you ever again. In Sunghoon’s case, he was the one that was meant to be in every stage of your life, whether it was physically or just mentally.

You and Sunghoon could never be just friends, because the two of you were already predestined to be lovers. 

“You’re going to let that go, right?”

Just because you and Sunghoon were officially back together didn’t mean that there was a change in your dynamic. You were still continuing on with your life as usual, Sunghoon had started writing his new book, and once it’s time for you to get off work, his car would already be there to pick you up. Nothing has changed except for the title of your relationship with him. 

Telling Minjeong about it should’ve required a mental preparation beforehand. There you were, in your apartment, eating take out with an addition to the duo, Park Sunghoon, who was being interrogated by an old friend. You were the bystander having to witness everything unfold, occasionally getting embarrassed by Minjeong’s antics that Sunghoon found amusing in the contrary.

“Right, that time in the bar where you came up to me and cussed me out,” Sunghoon laughed, clapping his hands at the memory. It was hard not to let out at least a giggle at that. Somehow, the most complicated times of your life were far, far away from you, becoming a laughable memory for you and your friends to reminisce about.

“I was drunk!” Minjeong tried to fight back, knowing it was a losing battle against her.

“It was funny, I’ll give you that,” Sunghoon pointed his chopsticks at her, shaking his head when Minjeong started to mumble incoherent things under her breath. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hold it against you. You’re an old friend anyway, and I get where you were coming from,”

“I never got to formally apologise to you though, I swear it was eating me up. How about I pay for our drinks the next time we go out?”

“Sounds like a deal.” Sunghoon nodded in satisfaction, glancing at you to catch your reaction, eyeing you stifling a laugh. He raised an eyebrow at you, to which you shook your head in response to his unspoken question that you understood without a doubt. His eyes lingered on you for another beat before looking away, a faint smile resting on his lips.

Dinner ended with a new promise to meet up for drinks that was enthusiastically met with collective agreements. Instead of the usual routine where Sunghoon walked you home, you decided to follow him till a certain distance from your apartment complex. Despite his rejection, you still clung onto him, leaving him no choice but to let you walk him home, even if it was midway.

“Thanks for joining us for dinner,” you had your arm looped around his, sticking your side to his, close enough to be compared to a koala clinging onto a tree branch. 

“I was scared she’d come for my head,” Sunghoon jokes, but realistically speaking, you shared the same worry as he did, knowing how Minjeong disapproved of him after your breakup up till the time he returned, the memory of her confronting him at the club was concrete evidence to back up your worries.

“I was scared for you too,” you laughed even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t slip, unaware of the look he had in his eyes. Sunghoon smiled at you, not because he found your response funny, but seeing you laugh was all he needed for his heart to feel full from contentment. 

“I made a dinner reservation at our usual spot for tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up after work,” Sunghoon was always pulling the most spontaneous plans when you least expected it, this time wasn’t an exception either. 

“It’s specifically our table, right?” you remembered that night at the restaurant where you and Sunghoon escaped the entire party just to be with each other, ignorant to the fact that you and him were building something stronger than the whiskey he had. 

“Who do you think I am?” 

“Right, the one with many tricks hidden up his sleeves,” you heard him chuckling under his breath, not before long realising that you were already at the foot of the overhead bridge. The both of you slowed down your steps, eventually stopping, standing before each other, hands still tightly holding onto one another. 

“I guess it’s time to end the night,” Sunghoon squeezed your hand, not missing the frown slowly forming on your lips. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer?” 

“If I do, I don’t think I would even make it home. Is that your master plan?” he pulled your hand, closing the distance, letting you fall into his embrace without a pinch of shame. You, on the other hand, weren’t expecting his bold action, landing with your hand planted on his chest, heat crawling up the back of your neck till your face. “I’ll make sure tomorrow’s better than tonight,”

Steadying yourself on your feet, you made sure to land a slap on his shoulder first before thinking of a response. Sunghoon simply smiled, seemingly proud of his own impulsive act. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he pinched your cheek, eliciting a genuine laugh from you, a smile appearing on his face right after as if it had turned into a natural response. For a moment, the two of you stood there with barely an inch in between, thankful that there wasn’t anybody around to intrude, basking in each other’s warmth. Neither of you were ready to say goodbye, though knowing it was inevitable. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you whispered, as if seeking a kind of reassurance that only Sunghoon’s confirmation could provide.

“Of course,” Sunghoon squeezed your hand one more time, assuring you once again. His touch was gentle, the gaze he had on you was something irreplicable,  just as his feelings were for you. “Goodnight, Y/N,”  

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

He kept his eyes on you for another moment before he slowly let go of his hand, leaning in to press a kiss on the top of your head. As he backed away, waving, you watched him with his promise swelling in your heart, some sort of anticipation building on its own, already looking forward to the plan he had in store. 

You knew that as long as you had him by your side, spending the rest of your days with him in your life, your world was going to be much brighter than it had been with him in it. 

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[happyyyandcrazyyy]

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

or

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

or

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 @demitriacalynn (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

R.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: What's your Poison?

Jason Todd's life has always been hectic. Or is tragic the better word? It certainly felt like that was a better way to describe it. Life was bursts of happiness and love for as long as he could remember, but it was often too short and quickly overshadowed by everything he loved being twisted into his worst nightmares.

His mother's lullabies, which once soothed him to sleep, would turn into her humming as she came down from her high, staring with unseeing eyes.

Bruce's warm compliments for pulling off a tricky maneuver would scatter in the wind as he pulled the triggers on the scum of the city, and all he heard from his father figure were swears to bring him in.

His childhood adoration for swimming, the few things he liked when school was out, would drown him in his memories of the liquid green he hadn't stepped foot in a pool in years as an adult.

It was more of a surprise to find that reading still offered him comfort as if he were the same scared, poor little boy who would do anything to escape his reality. Maybe that's why he made it his mission to visit every bookstore in this godforsaken city.

Maybe the magic wasn't the same, and he didn't lose himself in the words, or his passion for it wasn't as all-consuming as it once was. But it was the one thing from his childhood life that hadn't managed to ruin.

This is why he chose to go to Ghost Zone, which opened near the heart of Gotham's nightlife —only three streets away from Ice Lounge—despite doubling as a bar.

It sold drinks alongside books, and the menu featured cocktails based on book characters. At the last meeting, one of the men in the Red Hood gang was talking about it��or rather, the pretty owner. The spitfire had been unwilling to strike a deal about protection money, but his boys knew better than to force the owner's hand.

Jason didn't like bars.

He went to them when his friends invited him out, but these places felt horrible. Either he found people who thought they were untouchable by the world and made terrible choices because of it, or he found people who were so broken by the world that the bottle was all they knew.

Just like his old man.

The idea of being anything like Willis Todd left such a bad taste in Jason's mouth that he had never touched alcohol in his life.

It wasn't the kind of preference people usually liked him having at a bar. He's had plenty of women grow offended that they couldn't tempt him into a drink, not to mention the men who were suddenly brave enough to mock him for it.

Drunks, in general, annoyed him. They were too loud. Too much. And most times, you had to babysit them like an overgrown toddler.

So going to a bar, even one doubling as a bookstore was going to be a pain. Still, Jason pushed through the door, letting it slam close behind him and sealing away the neon lights, thumping music, and the echoing laughter from nearby nightclubs.

Thankfully, the Ghost Zone didn't seem very busy. In fact, Jason could see that he was the only customer in the building.

The bar ran along the left side of the room, more like a traveler than anything modern. Tables and chairs were nearly lined up in front of it. A lone man was cleaning some glasses with a cloth, dressed in a pretty green vest over a long black sleeve and black slacks.

He glances at Jason with sky-blue eyes, shimming with gentle light. "Welcome,"

"Hello," He responds, walking to the bar and checking the menu. There wasn't anything listed for none-alcoholic, which made him grimace.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man asks, stepping in front of Jason and flashing a pearl-white smile. It, annoyingly, lacks any fake costumer service tilt to it, meaning this man was able to appear genuinely happy to serve people.

Those were the worst kinds of salesmen. They sucked someone dry of whatever coins they had before the client even knew what was happening.

Jason knew to be wary as he grunted, "I was told this was a bookstore."

The man didn't even blink as his smile grew. He placed a small menu on the bar counter between them while pointing his thumb to a nearby stairway. "Books are on the second floor. You're welcome to pick one up and read here so long as you buy a drink if you're not looking to buy an entire thing."

There it was. The catch.

Jason doesn't bother hiding a grimace as he waves a hand. "Nah, I'll just browse. If I see something I like, I'll buy it."

"Alright. Let me know if you need anything, " the man says softly, going back to his glasses without care. Jason notes that they resemble roses as the employee holds one to the light. It shimmers slightly, catching a ray that bounces back on the man's face, making him glow for a brief second.

Jason whips around, wondering why he is staring when he should be looking at books. He scurries up the stairway, not looking too deeply into it. On the second floor, he finds bookshelve after bookshelve lined and organized neatly.

Babs would adore how well-kept everything was. As he starts browsing, he hopes this trip wasn't a waste of time. There are titles and authors he's never heard of, not even a money grab of new releases. Even after pulling out his phone to check reviews, Jason discovers that not a single one of these books is sold anywhere else.

They are all exclusive publishers of Ghost Zone. This is odd because even if it's local authors, there are some reviews and proof of the author somewhere. Usually, the lack of anything would have alarmed him, but instead, it fills him with the desire to read every single copy.

Jason soon finds himself with a stack of books. After walking through the entire second floor twice to ensure he didn't miss anything else he may be interested in, Jason encounters a little sign written in neon green.

Please make a book purchase at the bar below.

As he stumbles his way down to the bar, he can't help but feel as if someone is watching him. He glances out of the corner of his eye and manages to catch what appears to be a shadow of a child running and disappearing into a wall.

Huh. The Ghost Zone is haunted.

Well, all of Gotham is haunted. Jason is from one of the most haunted places in Gotham, and the ghosts in Crime Alley are never nice, but they can never harm anyone if you don't acknowledge them. It was a rule to always pretend you didn't see anything, and like any good Crime Alley kid, Jason did just that.

"Have you found everything you were looking for?" the man asks with a smile once Jason places his stack on the bar. He quickly starts scanning them with a ray gun.

"I did," Jason mutters, looking everywhere but the man who seems to have started glowing under his flower lights. He was beautiful in an almost untouchable way.

His hair almost flashed white for a brief second as he reached for a bag for Jason's books. Man, it's been a while since his last date. He was starting to see things if he was that distracted by a pretty face.

"Hey, since you are my first customer to buy some books, I was wondering if you would like a free drink?" the man says, giving the books back to Jason. He leans on the counter a little, giving Jason an almost taunting grin. "Tell me, what's your poison?"

"I don't drink," Jason replies, bluntly stepping back but not because of the offer or the grin. That child made of shadows was watching them from the backroom. Jason did not like that it followed him.

The bartender smiles. "I promise it will taste better than anything you've ever had."

"No, thank you." Jason stays firm, eyes trained on the bartender, but words aimed at the shadow child.

"Pity." The man sighs, leaning back. The shadow child vanishes, allowing him to relax a little more. Whatever that was, it lost interest in him. "I could make you a mocktail?"

Jason thinks it over, then shrugs. "If it's free."

"Great. I'm Danny, by the way. Based on the novels you picked, I think I know just what to get you." Danny twirls a wine glass shaped like a rose in his hand, and Jason is suddenly hit with the urge to never leave as the man trains glowing green eyes on him. "Have a seat."

He drops his books at his feet, stumbling towards the bar stole in front of Danny.

It takes his family three days to realize he's gone missing and five for the Red Hood gang to notice, too. But Jason doesn't mind. After tasting the best thing that's ever touched his taste buds, he's having fun mixing drinks with Danny at Ghost Zone.

Danny, for his part, seems grateful to have Jason around. Apparently, Jason is keeping the ghosts away from Danny- that might have something to do with the Pits being anti-death liquified- and hired him on the spot after Jason drowned his drink and begged him for more.

[foreverdolly]

࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 5 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 6.6k

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“Move.” 

He was like an impenetrable wall. 

You attempted yet again to step around Feyd, your outstretched hand just barely brushing against the door before the man turned his body, blocking you from the exit. He stood with his arms crossed, using his much larger frame as a barricade. After the. . . events that transpired last night, the only thing that was on your mind was freedom. You needed breathing room, if only for a few minutes. Feyd had been your shadow for the last three days. He hadn’t left your side even for a second. 

You wanted to trust him, even against your better judgment, so you tried to believe that it was only because he wanted to protect you. There was still that overly cautious voice nagging at you, telling you that he was looking for weaknesses to use against you later. His all-seeing eyes could be sizing you up, making note of how many bites it would take for him to swallow you up whole. The last thing you wanted was to be consumed by this place. . .  Consumed by him.  

The events that had transpired in your guest bedroom four days ago had your suspicions rising, and you needed to be certain that you were just paranoid before you could even begin thinking about your fast approaching wedding ceremony. 

You had feared your impending fate for the entirety of your life. That had always been the one thing that frightened you most, and yet here you were, bruised and battered. It was crazy to believe that there were people on Geidi Prime that were worse than Feyd-Rautha. . . and yet here you were, depending on him for safety. You needed answers. 

How had the guard even entered your room in the first place? 

“I won’t tell you again. Move.” Your jaw ached, teeth grinding together as you tried to keep yourself from striking him across that cocky face of his. 

The skin between his brow bones wrinkled ever-so-slightly as he stared down at you. It was almost as though he was scolding a small child, watching them flail and cry after their punishment had been dealt. Last you had checked, you’d done nothing wrong. Why were your basic rights being revoked after the attempted murder? Why did it feel like you were the one paying the price? 

“Either you come with me and train or you stay in our room until I grab you. You have two choices. Pick one.” The pale Na-Baron almost seemed bored of your antics and you couldn’t blame him. 

You’d been fighting him every chance you got ever since he had forced himself on you last night. A silent vow had been made right then and there: you were going to make his life a living hell, only stopping once you deemed he had done his proper penance. 

“I like neither of those options. Watching you train has done nothing for me. I want to learn-” 

“You don’t need to learn how to fight. Is it not the husband’s duty to protect his wife?” He tilted his head to the side, staring down at you with a hint of concern in his eyes. 

Why was he so obsessed with the idea of protecting you? The most he did while the two of you “trained” was block your onslaught of attacks. Gurney wasn’t afraid to hit you in the sparring ring, even if you ended up injured and butt-hurt. He was blunt and told you the ways that you could improve yourself, meanwhile Feyd had been treating you like you were made of porcelain ever since the assassination attempt. You hated it. With your vocal cords still fried from the strangulation, you were made all too aware of the fact that your fighting skills were subpar. 

You’d tried goading Feyd into attacking you head on many times, but no matter what you said he still held his punches. The difference between his treatment of you and other’s was startling. Someone could look at him wrong and he was immediately jumping down their throats, ready to strike with lethal precision. 

“One day you will have to leave me alone, if even for a few minutes. . . and what then? You can’t always be there-” You were trying desperately to explain, and yet he would hear none of it. He looked almost offended by what you were saying. 

“I will always be here,” He was quick to interject, eyes suddenly wild. “I won’t let anything hurt you again.” 

Realistically you knew that your heart shouldn’t be pounding the way that it was. 

Still, there it was, hammering away in your chest. Every once in a while it was almost as though that dark veil that he had cast over himself was lifted, revealing someone entirely new to you. Someone, as much as you hated to admit it, that was entirely too likable. Loveable, even. His constant changes in personality were starting to give you whiplash. Was he someone completely different when he was around you? Or was he just trying on different faces to see which one you liked better? 

You clenched your fists at your side, trying hard to calm your raging emotions. His actions last night were completely barbaric, and yet you couldn’t forget the softness of his lips. The warmth of his mouth over yours had plagued your dreams and made it impossible to sleep. It was insane of you to feel this conflicted about something. You should hate everything about this man, and yet here he was, promising to be your protector. More than that, he was promising to stick around, which was arguably more terrifying. 

“I’m going then. Will you not be coming with me?” He unfolded his arms, reaching a hand out for you to take. 

It hung there in the space between you two, his pale fingers twitching. For a second you contemplated taking it. Regretfully you realized that you had something that you needed to look into. 

“I’ll stay here,” You faltered when you saw the hint of rejection in his eyes as he let his hand fall back to his side. “My bruises are tender today, so I’ll just take a bath.” 

Why were you trying to make him feel better about your refusal? This was all too confusing. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you in an hour.” And with that he turned on the heel of his boot and walked through the door, careful to close it tightly behind him. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, moving forward so that you could press your forehead against the cool metal. It felt good against your flushed skin. 

“I won’t leave until I hear you slide the lock into place.” His deep voice was muffled behind the thick barrier between the two of you. 

You closed your eyes tightly, sliding your hand against the door until you found the lock, clicking it soundly into place. It must have appeased him, as you heard his retreating footsteps just a second later. 

Time ticked by as you waited to be free of your newfound guardian. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in the hallway sneaking around. Feyd would surely side with his uncle if you were to tell him all about your suspicions, so you’d rather just investigate on your own until you had solid evidence. You wanted to believe that you hadn’t been set up to die, and yet you had this intense gut feeling that this all went even deeper than that. 

Why would they make good on the promised engagement if they just wanted to kill you? It’s not like you were any real threat, other than the fact that you had been blessed with your mother’s gifts. As you were now, you were basically useless, which was a very hard pill to swallow. 

Slowly you unlocked the door, scared that the sound might alert someone. You had slipped the knife you had stolen during your first dinner on Giedi Prime into your belt, hiding it under the flowing black gauze of your blouse for good measure. Even if you were caught, you needed some way to protect yourself. 

The cold metal bit into your skin as you slid the door open, reminding you that you were safe. You will never let anyone hurt you like that again. 

This time you will be ready. 

Two rights and then three lefts. You had memorized the way to go in order to get to the left wing for this very reason. The Baron’s defenses would be tight, but his office would be relatively empty around this time. It was just about lunch, and according to Feyd he would retire to his personal quarters. If you could distract the guards for long enough to slip in, riffle around for information, and then get out. . . you’d be home free. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your skirt as you walked through the hall, training your expression to one of stony indifference. Modeling it after Feyd’s, you briskly made your way, hoping that the guards would be confused enough to let you pass without so much as a second thought. 

‘I belong here.’ You lied to ourself, trying to bolster your confidence. 

A few men in uniform turned to look after you, but no one stopped you. The way to the baron’s office was completely new to you. Feyd had never taken you this deep into the left wing before- only to get to the grand-hall to show you where the ceremony would be held. It was as large and foreboding as all of the other rooms on the giant estate, but the onyx floors had a certain shine to them as though there were flecks of quartz sprinkled throughout. You didn’t want to admit it at the time, but it was a rather extravagant place to get married. 

You’d nonchalantly asked if the Baron lived in the left wing seeing as the architecture was seemingly more grandiose. He couldn’t have known that you would try to make your way in this direction on your own because he had let it slip: the baron and his office were located very close to the grand-hall. 

“What are you doing over here?” The man’s voice was deeper than Feyd’s, though he was half his size. 

The guard at his side looked to be twice your age, and yet the expression in his eyes made you think that he wouldn’t think twice about ripping your head straight from your shoulders. 

“The Na-Baron asked me to come and get you two.” It felt awkward using Feyd’s title, stuffy even. 

The two blinked a few times in disbelief, looking you up and down as if you were an insignificant worm. It was almost like you could hear their thoughts. You were nothing but a pitiful Atreides, so what were you doing taking orders from someone as important as your soon-to-be husband? They doubted that he would ever confide in you for anything other than warming his bed. 

“He told me that the two men standing in front of the Baron’s office were needed in the training room.” The sooner they were gone the better. 

Their eyebrows furrowed in confusion, slowly looking behind them at the large door they were currently standing in front of. How would you know that this was his uncle’s office unless you were explicitly told? 

“Did he mention why we are needed?” There was still a hint of distrust in the older man’s voice, but it was far overshadowed by fear. 

Feyd was unpredictable. Unpredictability and psychosis made for a dangerous combination. 

“Another guard confided in him yesterday. Said that the two of you said something disrespectful recently and that he wanted to personally have a word with the both of you. I don’t know anything more than that.” You wanted them so frightened that they would completely abandon all reason. They needed to be gone long enough to give you time to properly search the place. 

You watched as their pale faces went a sick shade of pale purple. The two looked like the gossiping type, and if their expressions were anything to go off of then you must be right. They were quick to bow their heads in your direction before jogging off, muttering curses under their breath. 

A second. Two seconds. Three. . . 

You opened the door as slowly as you possibly could, praying that it wouldn’t make a noise. You waited to see if you could hear any movement, wondering whether or not the inside was being watched as well. Thankfully you heard nothing. The room wasn’t as massive as you had been expecting. It was just about as large as the first bedroom you had been placed in was, but somehow it looked even darker. It still had the strangely textured walls and beautiful floors, same as the grand-hall, but there was something unsettling about it. The only light coming in was through the large window that was located in the middle of the room, but the world outside was a slate gray, so even that was dim.  You didn’t have time to look out the large window, no matter how curious you were about your new surroundings. There was something that you had to do. Making a decision on how you should go about this whole predicament was paramount, and you refused to do it after the wedding. 

There was still time to try and contact your parents back home if you had suspicions of a possible murder plot. 

The Baron’s desk was neat, not a speck of dust marring it’s matte black surface. You weren’t looking for anything in particular. . . just something that would put your mind at ease. Confirmation was needed, one way or another. Either Feyd’s uncle was innocent or guilty. Of what? You weren’t quite sure yet. 

You riffled through the papers that sat on the middle of the table, careful to stack them up exactly where they once were. The information in them seemed useless to you. Financial documents- most of them discussing the retrieval of spice. Never once had you stepped foot on Arrakis, so you found them slightly boring at worst and mildly interesting at best. It was then that you started tugging at the very few drawers, knowing that you would be found at any second. There were no sounds emitting from the hallway, but that didn’t mean anything. Most of the people on this planet were freaks of nature it would seem. You suddenly began to doubt that there would be any evidence here of all places. 

Asking the guard that attempted to kill you and his accomplices questions would have been the best route, but your fiance had acted rashly before you even had the chance to catch your breath. The time to give up on your investigation was near. Seconds had turned into minutes. Your heart was pounding up in your throat, making it hard to breathe as you opened the last drawer. 

It turned out that it wasn’t a drawer at all but a small cabinet. You had to crouch down and squint your eyes in the dark to see inside. The contents would have been useless to you in most cases, but something caught your eye. . . and terrified you in ways that you couldn’t quite put into words. 

It was a cabinet filled with marked- 

“Did you see his face? It looked like he was surprised to see us.” The male’s voice had you standing up so fast that a muscle in your neck twitched, resulting in a dull pain shooting up the base of your head. 

You were about to be caught. Any second now they would be back at the door, and where would you hide in the hallway? The billowy skirt that the ladies in waiting had brought to Feyd’s room this morning nearly sabotaged you as you tripped by the door. They were just around the corner, only a few steps away from his office now. 

What would happen if you were caught? Would the wedding be called off? Would you be punished severely? 

You closed the door as quietly as you could behind you, running in the opposite direction that the two begrudged guards were coming from. You only skidded to a stop when you saw that this hallway was also heavily guarded, their backs turned to you. 

This was the worst case scenario. You were running in the opposite direction where you had come, which meant that you had absolutely no clue where you were going. There was no way that you would get out of this without some sort of formal permission, and two guards were already suspicious of you. Oh, and you couldn’t use the Voice if things started going south. 

If you could sink right into the floor, right in this moment, you would. 

The cabinet in the baron’s office was filled with keycards, each labeled with numbers that must correspond to each room. Only two were missing- two keycards that belonged to a room that had been organized on the wall of the right side of the cabinet. Left wing and right wing. The guest rooms were located in the right. 

There was no way that was a coincidence. . . not when you were staying in the right wing the night that you were injured. You had been given a keycard at the very beginning of your stay. Not even your ladies-in-waiting had a way to get into your room by themselves. They had to knock on the door and wait for you to unlock it from the inside for them. 

So if you had one keycard. . . then who had the other? Had someone broken into the Baron’s room just the same as you had, perhaps?  

A sudden grip on your wrist had your mouth falling open, your lungs seizing as you sucked in a breath, your body's natural reaction being to scream. A hand was quick to press to your mouth, muffling whatever sound you could make. The hand belonged to someone tall, their body hard against your back as they ushered you into a small space. They pressed a button on the wall, and all you could do was watch in horror as the door slid closed behind the two of you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

It was pitch black in whatever tight space he had dragged you into. A closet, you surmised. Still, you could hear that his teeth were clenched as he spoke to you, voice deep and low as he whispered. 

Feyd. You hated the fact that you were so relieved that it was him. His presence here meant that you were safe. All you had to do was come up with some sort of lie as to why you were here. Walking alongside him wouldn’t dredge up any suspicions. No one would be the wiser if they saw the Na-Baron giving his soon-to-be bride a tour around the grounds. 

His chest was pressed tight against yours, and suddenly you found it hard to take in a single breath. It felt as though he might press himself straight into your ribcage. . . and maybe you really were going crazy, but you wouldn’t mind it if he did break you. The smoky, spiced scent of him was clouding your judgment. 

You were no longer yourself. 

“It’s none of your business.” You whispered back, trying to make your tone just as ferocious as his was. It lacked bite though, and he seemed to catch the way that your voice faltered ever so slightly. 

“Getting yourself killed the second that I look the other way. . .” He scoffed, and you wished so badly that you could make out his features in the dark. His body moved ever so slightly, as though he was leaning his head back in exasperation. “Do I need to bind your hands and ankles every time I leave the room? Are you that incapable of being without me even for a second?” 

“I got lost.” You hissed, the lie sweet on your honeyed tongue. You were getting better at being despicable. 

“Well, that’s too bad,” His voice softened, almost as though he was speaking to a child. “Getting lost in these halls isn’t hard to do.” 

His grip on your wrists tightened to the point of pain, and for a second fear flashed behind your eyes. You hadn’t feared Feyd since you first arrived on Geidi Prime, and it was as though you were being brutally reminded of just who warmed your bed at night. He could kill you with his bare hands if he wanted to. Those strong fingers were currently immobilizing you now, leaving bruises on your wrist where he held you so ruthlessly. 

“You’re a clever little mouse. What are you doing outside of my uncle’s door, hmm?” His hand freed one of your wrists, instead opting to grip your jaw so that he could move your head up. 

Could. . . could he see you? The breath loosed from your lungs and all you could do was squint your eyes, begging them to adjust to the darkness. He was in his element here, lost to you in the shadows. 

“If the guards caught you then they could deem you to be a spy. You would have been beheaded before I had time to get to you, and I’m sure that they wouldn’t have notified me before the killing took place. They know. . . how I am with you.” He chose his last words very carefully, faltering before he sounded the words out. 

“And how are you? With me, I mean.” You regretted the words as soon as they passed your lips, and yet you were curious. Were you nothing more than a pet to him? A plaything for him to take off of the shelf whenever it suited his mood? Perhaps he saw you as nothing more than a conquest.

Your hand shook as you began digging into your side, searching your belt for the handle of the blade that you had been carrying during your explorations of this labyrinthian prison. Slowly you pulled it out, pressing it against his side. 

You felt his muscles jump under his shirt as he realized you were now brandishing a weapon. His grip was still vicelike around one of your wrists, but he moved again, slowly looking down at his side to see exactly what it was that you were now threatening him with. 

“I could snap your neck right now.” 

“But you won’t.” That was the only thing that you were sure of. It was the only truth that you were clinging onto: Feyd Rautha would not harm you. 

He moved your head to the side, the blade pressing hard into his side as he leaned forward, squeezing the breath straight from your lungs as his hard chest pressed pressed pressed into yours. Your breasts felt as though they might burst and your heart right along with it. He placed a kiss on the side of your neck, causing you to jerk in surprise. 

The knife dug into his side and you paled in horror as you realized what you had done. He groaned, the noise echoing in your ear due to your very forced proximity. You needed space. You needed to breathe. 

“No. I wouldn’t,” His breath was hot against your cheek as he slid his nose along the expanse of your neck. “Not ever.” 

It felt as though something was being pulled taught in your heart. At any second it threatened to tear free. He had galvanized a strange sort of reaction from you- one that you were wholly unfamiliar with. This was all too new and all too much. 

“Let go of me.” Your voice shook pathetically, and while it was a command. . . truly, you were begging him. 

“You’ve finally learned to tolerate me. Or is this developing into something that you weren’t prepared for?” There was something in his voice. . . something that you were entirely confident that he was incapable of displaying: feeling. “Is that why you haven’t been able to look at me since yesterday?” 

“I-I’m angry at you. Why do you think that I would be able to even stomach looking at you after that?” 

He pulled away from your neck, the blade of the knife dislodging itself by a few centimeters with the added distance. He groaned again under his breath, his hand moving your face yet again so that he could get a good look at you. Your jaw ached as his fingers dug in ever so slightly. 

“No, this isn’t the face of anger.” He sounded sure of that. 

And it scared you that he was right. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried desperately to see him in the darkness. Still, all you saw was black. 

“Then what is it? If you know so much then tell me.” 

“I don’t know. . .” And for a second you thought that you might have won this round somehow. “No one has ever looked at me the way that you do.” 

Your lips parted in shock as you stared up into the darkness. Did he always have to pull the rug right out from under you? Just when you were finally starting to get your bearings, he made you feel so unstable. If both of your hands were free then you would have tangled them in your hair. The arm that gripped your weapon slackened, the blade clattering to the floor beside you. 

“Then I feel sorry for you.” Your eyes pricked with tears, so you closed the useless things. Still, after all of this, you refused to let him see you cry. 

“I know.” He whispered, his voice so gentle that you could weep. 

“And I fear you.” 

“I know.” His forehead pressed against yours. 

“I don’t want this.” 

“I know.” He nuzzled against you, his grip on your wrists finally loosening. He must have known that you wouldn’t try to get away from him. 

The fucked up thing was that it felt as though your feet had grown roots, tying you to the spot. All it would take was one good shove and you would be free of him and the closet. And yet. . . 

And yet. . . 

“I could have sworn I saw someone over here.” The voice outside in the hallway made you jump, your eyes shooting open. 

You hadn’t been as careful as you thought you had been. Feyd’s earlier statement was coming back to haunt you. They would have you killed, uncaring as to whether or not you even made it into the bastard’s room. Whatever purpose you had for being in this area would be nefarious in everyone else’s mind. What were you even doing here in the first place? Your suspicions were unfounded, and more likely than not you would have found absolutely nothing to substantiate them. Would your parents be able to retrieve your body? Or would they just burn you without even sending a letter back home? 

Feyd’s hand slid up the base of your neck, gripping at your hair. Did he not understand how much danger you were in? Maybe he didn’t care afterall. His knee slid between your legs, forcing them open. 

“What are you doing?” You gripped at the back of his shirt, trying to pull him away from you, hoping that there was some place in this cramped space that you could hide. The voices were getting even closer now, searching for where they thought that you might be hiding. It was only a matter of time before they found you. 

“Saving your life.” He captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his hand sliding out of your hair so that he could begin undoing the front of your blouse. You could hear the sheer fabric of your tunic ripping beneath his hands in his desperate attempt to get to you. 

All you could do was grip onto him for dear life, unable to free yourself to even utter a cry. You were unsure as to how doing this would save you, but you were losing the ability to care much at all. If these were going to be your final moments then so be it. 

So you gave in to the desire. You gave into the wanting and the needing. You fed the ache that had been plaguing you. 

Your lips moved against his, parting so that you could fully taste him. His hands felt firm on your chest as he finally was able to tear you free of the cloth. The air was cold on your hot chest, and yet his hands were scalding against your skin. You tried to remind yourself that none of this was right, but it wasn’t working. His tongue lapped at the roof of your mouth and your own brushed up to meet his. 

More. More. You needed more of him. 

Your hands shook as they began pushing up at the fabric of his training gear. The breathable fabric stretched as you pressed your hand against his chest, finally allowing yourself to feel the hard planes of his muscles. You felt his stomach tighten as your fingers glided along his skin. You were unsure as to what you were searching for, but your body was acting on pure instinct. Your fingers reached up and up until they finally slid free of the fabric at his collar bones only to wrap around his throat.

He groaned into your mouth, his thumb brushing against your nipple. It hardened in response to the sudden attention it was getting. His knee pressed further against your thighs, spreading your legs out further for him until he was finally at the apex of your thighs. His hand flew from your breast to your hips, moving them for you against him. The friction caused your head to roll back against the wall behind you, disrupting the kiss as pleasure rocked through you. Never in your life had you ever felt anything quite like this. 

He continued to rock you back against his thigh, and while you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on your face. He was watching you intently, hell bent on doing whatever it was that he wanted to do to your body. You were unsure of his goal and yet you didn’t care. Something was building inside of you- a sound, a cry, a sob. . . you weren’t certain. It just felt so good. Too good. 

He must have seen your lips part and was quick to press a kiss against them in an attempt to muffle the sound. Your knees felt weak beneath you, and if it wasn’t for his dutiful hands that gripped at your thighs then you were sure that you would have fallen ages ago. 

You remembered how he had felt against you the other night and you wondered if that was a reaction that you had somehow unknowingly caused. You wanted to feel him again. You wanted to know whether or not he was enjoying himself, so you freed his neck and instead pressed your hand against the front of his pants. What had gotten into you? What were you even doing? 

But he was hard against your hand and that was enough for you to begin rocking your hips against his knee without his prompting hands. 

The feeling of your tiny palm cupping him through his pants was more than enough. His hips jerked forward, his eyes flying open at the realization that the object of his lifelong obsessions was willingly touching him like this. He was going to fuck you in this closet if the two of you weren’t found. Feyd didn’t want it to happen like this. . . but he was losing what little control he had left. 

He loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you he loved you. 

“I-” 

The door flew open the second he opened his mouth, the bright light momentarily blinding him. His body moved on its own, Feyd’s hands moving from your hips up to your shoulders so that he could turn you, using his body to shield you from view. His chest moved up and down rapidly as he gulped down breaths, trying hard to calm himself and his pounding heart. 

There was an unfamiliar man holding the door to the closet, eyes wide as he took in the site of the two of you. It took him a few seconds to really register what was going on in the small broom closet, and then another to fully grasp the fact that he had made a grave mistake. 

“I-I-I had no clue it was you, sir.” The uniformed man stepped back, trying to show the Na-Baron respect. 

You watched in real time as something pure and terrifying bled its way into Feyd’s expression. It had chills running up your spine. 

“Turn your gaze away from her.” His voice was so low that you could barely understand what he was saying. “Now.”The other male quickly got the hint, turning his entire body to face the other direction. His back was ram-rod straight and you watched with a slack jaw as his knees began to quiver. 

You wouldn’t want to turn your back on a rabid beast either. 

“Just get me out of here. Please.” You spoke as quietly as you could, covering the scraps of material that used to be your blouse tight to your exposed chest. 

Killing the random guard in plain sight would attract a small crowd. You watched as Feyd weighed his options, and you bet that the two blades that were still strapped to his back were calling out to him. 

Silently Feyd pulled you out of the closet, holding you so tightly to his chest that your arm became uncomfortably pinned against you. 

The two of you walked through the halls silently, his eyes burning holes into the faces of anyone that even glanced in your direction. The embarrassment of being so exposed in front of everyone had you crawling out of your own skin. No one had seen you naked before- aside from the women that had been tasked to take care of you over the years. All you could do to try and keep yourself from crying was stare down at the floor, watching the pale man’s black boots make their way soundlessly through the halls. Everything he did was so graceful it seemed. 

The blood drained from your face as you were suddenly reminded of the fact that he had seen your chest completely exposed. He’d felt you, kissed you, and pleasured you nearly to the point of your undoing. 

And you had let him. You put up no resistance at all. 

Even worse, you wanted him to do all of those things to you. If you hadn’t been caught then how far would you have let things continue? In that moment you realized that you would have let him take you. You knew yourself well enough to know that you would have let him take your virginity in a broom closet. 

“No one is looking at you,” He seemed to sense your sudden mortification somehow. “I promise. I’d kill them otherwise.” And you knew he was telling the truth. He was probably taking an internal tally of anyone that started for too long, only so that he could circle back for them later. 

All you could do was nod your head and follow him down the hall, stopping only when he reached into his pocket and grabbed his own keycard, letting the two of you back into your room. 

You kept your chest covered with your hands as the two of you broke away. You knew that it was pointless, but the moment was gone and your panic had returned tenfold. 

“Now tell me,” He turned to face you and you watched as his lips turned down at the corners in slight disappointment when he noticed your sudden modesty. “What were you doing over there? Be honest.” 

You couldn’t be honest and it pained you to know that. Feyd was still a Harkonnen. He was loyal to them, not an Atreides. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You were answering a question with another question, but you needed to know. Urgently. 

He licked his lips, as though he was being reminded of the moment. “No one would ask questions.” 

Anger struck you hard in the gut. He had used the moment as a distraction? You felt like an idiot, already regretting the fact that you had allowed him to use your body like that. 

“I didn’t mean to take it that far. It’s becoming harder and harder to control myself.” He must have noticed the hurt in your eyes. “I want you. Not because we are getting married. . . but because I want you.” He was being uncharacteristically emotional today. 

You weren’t sure what that statement truly meant, but it seemed heavy- heavy enough that you felt the need to be more forthcoming with him. 

“I was trying to make my way into the Baron’s office.” A half truth, then. It was easier than telling him everything. “But it was locked.” 

Feyd’s eyes never left your face. They were much softer than they had been in the hallway, almost as though all of the hatred had melted away completely. He looked at you like he cared for you. . . and that was scary. 

“I don’t know why it hurts so much. . . but it does.” His voice was flat, almost as though he was distracted while he continued to watch you. “I know you’re lying to me. My uncle’s office is only ever locked after dinner, which is for safety reasons.” 

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

“Only my uncle has clearance to get into that room. The guards in the left wing only ever act on mine or the Baron’s orders. They’re all loyal to a fault. . . so tell me. Did you get into his office?” 

You completely ignored his line of questioning, distracted by something he had said. 

“So none of them would allow someone other than the Baron himself to enter that room?” Your voice shook with fear, your eyes widening as all the pieces started coming together. 

“No,” He looked confused as your lips parted in a silent scream. “What? What is that face for?” 

You felt more alone than you ever had in your entire life. He was out to kill you. . . There would be no escaping this place alive. Your parents had been set up and had given you away to murderers- 

“The guard that tried to kill me. . .” You couldn’t keep your voice from shaking. “What wing did he belong to?” 

Feyd’s muscles went rigid beneath his shirt, as though he was just now coming to some conclusions of his own. “The left.” 

The breath was knocked from your lungs as the full weight of everything crashed into you. 

You were stuck on an alien planet with no way home, Feyd Rautha was going to become your husband in just two days, you wanted Feyd so badly it hurt you. . . 

And his uncle was plotting to kill you. 

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

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[venusbyline]

Envy ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 02, oct.

— pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: breeding

— summary: After Jaehaerys' murder, Aegon needs a new heir. His sister-wife is incapacitated by grief and you are the perfect choice to carry the next king.

— word count: 3.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 2nd day, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), Targaryen!reader, dark!Aegon, breeding kink, dubcon, loss of virginity, degradation, blood, creampie, sexism, overstimulation, slapping, sadism, dom!Aegon, sub!reader, minor Helaegon, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n

— crossposting: AO3

We must to say that Aegon II being furious about the murder of his heir was an euphemism. He ordered all ratcatchers should be executed and he wasn’t worried at all about the negative impact this might have on his image as King. He didn't care if the commoners would consider him a cruel man or not, he wasn't worried if the Small Council or even his own mother would give him an unbearable lecture.

Seven Hells, Aegon was the King. He sat on The Iron Throne. He should have the right to decide how to deal or not with grieving for his son. His little boy. His heir. His Jaehaerys.

Aegon needed an heir. He needed someone who would be dignified of sitting on The Iron Throne. Someone who would be brave and strong like Jaehaerys could have been if he had lived long enough to be an adult. Someone who wouldn't be so fragile and stupid like Jaehaera would probably be over the years. Someone who would be a man.

He needed breed another boy and ensure his bloodline on the Throne. However, just one look inside the shared chamber was enough to see that Helaena couldn't stand it. Even with the candles already out, Aegon could see her disheveled hair and the way she was lying on the bed, curled up like a ball, her big eyes staring at the windows of the room. She wasn't sleeping, but she didn't look alive either.

At worst, Aegon could force her into the act. But he wasn't in the mood to be so cruel, at least not with Helaena, not like this anymore. Despite doesn't loving his sister-wife, Aegon knew she was suffering too. Maybe even more than him. She was traumatized and it was clear. Having sex with her in that state would be exceeding a limit that he already promised himself wouldn't happen again. Not with her.

The King sighed, closing the door and leaving Helaena alone for her sake. He walked aimlessly through the castle's hallways for more than five minutes, trying to think about any alternative to that whole mission.

When he saw one of Alicent's maids walking around with a pile of dresses in her hands, a slightly macabre idea crossed his mind. The young man held the woman by the arm, while staring at her scary face with a cold gaze. "Take my other sister to my special accommodation. Immediately. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, unless you want to end up hanging just like those bastards rat-catching."

Aemond's twin sister was a complicated little thing in Aegon's life. You were sweet and naive like Helaena, but unlike his sister-wife when they were forced to marry, the youngest girl cultivated real affection for Aegon. Even more than for her own twin.

"Brother?" You asked confused as soon as the maid left you into Aegon's forbidden room with a worried look. You didn't know much about that specific chamber, just that Aegon didn't allow anyone to enter there without his permission. You had also heard many whispers through the hallways that indicated sometimes Aegon brought his favorite courtesans there to get more pleasure, away from the chaos of the brothels on the Street of Silk.

Your eyes narrowed, analyzing the dimly lit place with a keen curiosity, until you finally heard your older brother's voice coming out of the shadows.

"Rytsas, my little dove. You look beautiful tonight." Aegon whispered with a hoarser voice than usual, lighting some candles that were nearby.

The girl blushed at the routine pet name, smiling softly at her brother. "Kirimvose, Your Grace." Then you watched Aegon's tired face and swallowed hard before speaking. "I want to express my profound condolences about Jaehaerys again..." The same speech he had heard most during those last hours filled Aegon's ears and he grimaced, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing you were just being kind and genuine. His beautiful and sweet little sister...

"Enough. We won't talk about my son's death now." Aegon murmured, trying so hard not to sound too cold, and gestured to the large bed next to him. "Sit with me, my little dove. I need to talk to you..."

You furrowed, fidgeting with your fingers by a bit of agony. Things were really weird that night. When your mother's maid called you with some urgency saying that the King wanted to see you, you thought Aegon just wanted someone to talk about Jaehaerys's grief. You were one of the few people who seemed to understand his suffering and the weight the crown was bringing to his mind. But now, being inside Aegon's forbidden room didn't seem like very appropriate, especially when Aegon wasn't in his best mental state.

"Brother... I don't know if-" Aegon interrupted you with a shout.

"DON'T YOU DARE QUESTION MY ORDERS!"

Your violet eyes filled with tears as you nodded and moved to the mattress, sitting next to your dear brother. That wasn't normal. Aegon never yelled at you like you were a mediocre servant. You were his favorite person... "Look, darling, I didn't mean to yell at you..." Aegon began, sighing and caressing your cold fingers. "I just... I need your help, do you understand? I need you to listen very carefully and not interrupt me. No stupid questions until I finish explaining myself."

Aegon took his sister's silence as a good sign and took another deep breath, moving his free hand to your delicate face, his calloused thumb touching your soft skin.

"You know how much I love you, hāedar. You're my favorite sister and I would never want to cause you any harm..." He whispered, his fingers playing with one of your blonde curls. Aegon didn't have much opportunity to see his sister with her hair unbraided, as Alicent always insisted that her daughters just undo their hairstyles during bedtime. And here he was, biting his lip as he watched how beautiful you looked without those stupid hairpins. "I don't want to hurt you, little one... The thought of hurting you in any way doesn't make me proud. I would never want that..." Aegon moved close enough so that his mouth were close to your ear, one of his hands still touching your chin and the other one playing with her blonde strands. "But I guess you know me well enough to know that I will spare no effort in punishing you if you don't understand me or don't obey me."

Aegon noticed how his sister was shaking, sitting on the mattress and trying hard to keep her eyes on him, trying her best to pretend to be confident despite the situation. The realization of what you could face was starting to become clearer by the minute, and you didn't know how to feel. Angry? Hurt? Afraid? Horny?

"I need an heir, my little dove. I need a son to sit on the Iron Throne after my death in the future..." Aegon practically purred in his sister's ear, the fingers that was touching her chin starting to go down to her collarbone, quite exposed by her nightgown "I can't let my bloodline end."

"But Jaehaera..." The girl tried to argue, but Aegon pulled roughly a strand of her hair, forcing her head back and making her whining with surprise and pain.

"I told you not to interrupt me with stupid questions until I finish speaking. Are you deaf?" Aegon growled impatiently. "Only a mindless king would allow a woman, such a stupid, fragile and influenceable creature to be part of the line of succession and rule a kingdom."

You swallowed hard, his words reminding you of Rhaenyra, your half-sister who you barely got the chance to get close to before the war. "Jaehaera's just a little girl, a child."

Aegon snorted, rolling his eyes. "And in the future she will be as foolish and fearful as Helaena always was. A daughter will always follow the same fate as her mother. It's inevitable. You women are born premeditated to suffering and failure. There's no other path for all of you than the pain of never be good enough."

Not knowing what to do, the princess bit her soft, pink lips, each piece of the puzzle that fit together making it harder for her to reason. Aegon smirked, feeling horny at the sight of your thoughts working hard to understand the complexity of what he was about to ask.

"Helaena's incapacitated at the moment, perhaps forever. I can't sleep with her in that state, it would be cruel for both of us." His argument made you nod slowly. In fact, you really didn't want your older sister to submit herself to a carnal act under such conditions, especially during the mourning phase. "I need a dignified Lady to bear my heir. A fertile, pure girl, with platinum hair. No one will ever even know that the boy will not be a result of my marriage with our sister."

Aegon distanced himself for a few seconds, analyzing you over from top to bottom, admiring your satin nightgown. He moistened his slightly chapped mouth, the feeling of his body starting to react to the sight of you was very tempting. So beautiful to the point that he even forgot Jaehaerys for a while, as well as forgetting his obligations as King and the only true need to bring another heir.

"Have you had your first... Blood, right?" Aegon questioned, and his rosy cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you. He was embarrassed to ask about such a feminine subject, even though he knew it was necessary to know if you were able to bearing children for him. Otherwise it would all be a waste of time. At least that's what you thought.

"Yes, lēkia, I had. A few years ago I started to... Flowering."

The smirk on Aegon's face returned just as quickly as his hands began to touch the soft skin of your thighs, the calluses on his fingers making you sigh by a mixture of surprise and hesitation. "That's great, little dove. Now I need you to be a good girl for me."

Aegon dreamed about fucking the youngest princess so many times that it was impossible to count the number of promiscuous dreams on his own fingers. He always imagined what it would be like having his face buried between her legs. What it would be like eating her out as she trembled and came on his face. What it would be like seeing her gag as he fucked her throat hard until those beautiful, innocent eyes filled with tears.

Ever since you grew up, Aegon dreamed about defiling you. Corrupting you. Making you his. His property, someone no other man could touch unless they wanted their necks cut off. However, nothing in the entire world could compared to that intoxicating feeling of power, knowing he wouldn't only take your virginity, but also do something much more prestigious than that... He was making you the mother of his new heir. He was giving you the honor of carrying the next Targaryen King in your own womb, the one who would succeed him and sit on the Iron Throne in the future.

"F-fuck, hāedar... You're squeezing my cock so hard..." Aegon chuckled amidst the moans, holding his sister's legs on top of his shoulders so he was sure she was feeling every inch with each thrust.

You grabbed the bed sheets, the dim lighting in the room making it difficult for your vision to stay completely focused. All you could see through the unfamiliar haze of pleasure was Aegon's body moving fast as he held your legs up, his heavy hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs by an attempt to steady himself. Despite everything, you knew he was holding back from being too violent.

"A-Aegon..." You whimpered, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. "It feels so good..."

Another low mockery escaped Aegon's lips. "It feels good, doesn't it, little sister? I told you..." He smirked almost devilishly, now only using one hand to keep you in that position, the other pressing one of your breasts as you squirmed due his rough touch. "Seven hells... I can't wait to see your tasty breasts full of milk, very hefty..."

You couldn’t help but moan again at Aegon’s dirty words. The image he placed in your head, making you arouse as you pictured yourself carrying the next Targaryen King in your womb, your body molding itself to bring him into the world.

"Oh, did you like that?" It was Aegon's turn to moan, almost whimpered, when he felt your pussy reacting to what he said, your walls practically crushing him. "You spoiled little cunt... Are you enjoying picturing yourself carrying my heir? And perhaps even more children?"

When you didn't answer him immediately, due to your brain that was still trying to get used to the pleasure and discomfort that was being fucked for the first time, Aegon caught your attention with a slap on your face with considerable strength, to the point of his wedding ring causes a small cut on your warm cheek.

"ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!" Aegon ordered with a hoarse yell, stopping moving his hips, as a way of punishing you and at the same time attracting your attention to what he was saying.

"M-my apologies, My King!" Your pathetic whimper sounded like music to Aegon's ears, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a mischievous smile. "Yes, I am... I'm enjoying picturing myself like this..."

Your admission was all he needed to keep fucking you. But Aegon already seemed bored by the same position, turning you onto your stomach with agility, barely giving time for your brain to process what was happening until he had returned inside you, the chambers filling with your surprise moans as his cock fills you again.

“Shit, I could fuck you for hours…” Aegon gripped your hips tightly, your skin starting to feel sore. "I bet you always envied Helaena for that, didn't you, little sister? You always envied the fact that she's the queen consort and for the time being you're nothing special... Just a stupid little princess."

His provocation caused a pang in your heart. Well, in a way, that was true. You knew the heavy burden that Helaena had carried since she was a child because she was forced to marry the older brother. Sometimes you heard her venting about how happier she was before she was a queen... And now because Jaehaerys' murder, you were sure that being married to the King brought more harm than good. And yet, you envied her.

"You're right..." You admitted with a bit of tears in your eyes. It was a confession you wanted to keep secret until your death, but you knew it would be impossible. You felt how Aegon's cock was starting to throb inside your pussy. The sounds he made and the faster but more irregular lunges indicating how close to the limit he already was. If you didn't tell him the truth soon, you would probably get more slaps on the cheeks. Or worse. "I envied her... I still envy her..."

Aegon let out an almost guttural growl, his fingers moving to your scalp, where he pulled violently, forcing your head back and also arching your back. "I'm going to put an heir inside your hot little pussy, do you understand me, you fucking whore? I'm going to cum inside you until my seed starts dripping out because you will be so full. And you're going to take every drop, then you will thank me for getting you pregnant, do you understand?" He growled in your ear and started fucking you deeper.

There was no concrete response, your body was focused on shaking and writhing with the pleasure that abruptly hit you, but Aegon interpreted your orgasm and your silent and desperate moan as agreement, enjoying the feeling of your pussy squeezing him even more than before, spilling all of his essence inside you afterwards.

You remained unfocused, your vision blurred and your heart racing. A few minutes passed before Aegon withdrew, a gasp of pleasure escaping his lips at having the gift of witnessing your little hole dripping with his seed and a few drops of blood too, consequences of the loss of your innocence. He ran his finger over your center, ignoring the tremor in your legs and bringing the exotic flavors blend to his own tongue and tasting it.

"Are you alright, my little dove?" Aegon whispered with a soft voice, a contrast to his previous behavior. He watched you nod slowly, your lungs straining to bring your breathing to normal. Aegon smiled, laying down next to you and pulling your sweaty, shaking body to snuggle on top of his chest. “You did very well, little sister… You were so good for me. Such a good girl." He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "What's a good princess supposed to say after getting pregnant by the King?"

Your cheeks heated up as you processed his speech. "Thank you for breeding me, Your Grace." Your words came out breathless and tired, but Aegon's smile widened and his hands caressed your belly.

"You will look so pretty pregnant with my heir..." His lips touched your neck, giving you goosebumps. "My future heir, my legacy..."

You just nodded, about to close your eyes before he stopped the sleep you were about to fall into. "We will try this every night until we're sure you're pregnant."

"And what about Helaena?" You managed to question, confused about how your sister would react to all of this.

Aegon looked at the wall, considering some alternatives for a while. "Helaena won't be a problem for us. If everything goes well, in a few months I will be free to get married again." He said, staring at the tower closed window, both of you hearing the soft breath of the night wind. He cared about Helaena, even if he didn't show it, but perhaps that was better for everyone, especially her.

Your eyebrows furrowed for a few seconds, your heart aching for the macabre meaning of what Aegon was promising to you.

"But what if... What if something goes wrong? What if I get pregnant with a girl?"

Aegon looked at your after hearing the whispered question. His gaze was cold, as if it could tear your entire soul apart. You expected curses or anything even more violent and brutal. However, Aegon surprised you when he ran his thumb over his tongue. You didn't understand why he did that, until you let out a low whimper when he pressed the cut on your cheek, the spit on his finger burning your newly bruised skin.

A faint but sinister and almost disgusting smirk appeared on the King's features. "My dear little sister, if you disgrace me by becoming pregnant with a girl instead of a worthy heir... You will suffer a far worse and more painful fate than poor Helaena." His voice was bittersweet, like a calm threat. Perhaps you were right to envy Helaena after all.

HOTD Edition - Masteslist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 17)

TW: yandere behaviour, ethical violations regarding therapy.

They were being perp-walked. Karl and his friends were being perp-walked for what they did to you. Apparently, Batman had heard about your case and found proof, and that was enough for one of them to rat out the others. Hopefully, they wouldn't go to Arkham. Joker would eat them during role call.

"How are you doing?" Tim asked.

"I'm fine," you said.

"You can be honest with me. I'm your brother. Brothers have a special way of making things feel better."

"Whoever made that rule never met you, then, did they?" you snarked. "Go drown in a coffee cup."

"It's not nice to say such things to your sibling, Y/N."

"It's not nice to ignore your sibling, Timothy."

Tim could feel the tears welling up. Now he knew how Dick could run crying out of your room. You were brutal.

"We can look after you, you know. You just need to let us into your heart."

"You guys locked me out first. I'm just honouring your unspoken agreement."

"Seriously? That's it? Well, that's doable!" Tim glomped you in a tight hug. "I'm spending all day with you to acclimate you to physical affection!"

"Hi, Dick," you choked out.

Tim paused, hand on the outside of your wheelchair. "I'm not Dick."

"Then stop being so clingy. It's gross. You all had your chances, and you missed them. Stop crying over the bridge you burnt."

And with that, you left your brother in your room, smiling slightly as he texted Batman.

Y/N is bugged. Send her to the therapist.

*_*_*_*_*_

Bruce took you to a therapist named Dr Tripp, who specialised in children who had gone through traumatic events. "You're going to love going to therapy, Y/N," Bruce said. "And we'll know how to take care of you. You can be part of a family. You can be with us."

"Those options are mutually exclusive, Bruce. Be part of a family, or be with you."

"Little one, it's impolite to call your parents by their first name."

"Alfred was much more a parent than you ever were, and I always call him by his first name."

Bruce bristled, while Alfred drove onwards. His smile reflected off the rear view mirror. "Alfred is not your father," Bruce reminded you.

"I'll let you have that. Alfred raised you, after all. Technically, he's my grandfather."

"Y/N, we are going to make it up to you. We will raise you into a loving, kind person."

"I was already loving and kind. Living with you raised me out of it."

"Your stop, Y/N," Alfred said. "Allow me to help you out of the car."

Alfred helped you out of the car, covering up how his back ached from hoisting you. He loved you dearly, and wanted your eyes to shine again. He felt sick at the thought of your siblings forcing themselves into your life. Your siblings had deluded themselves into thinking that they could solve you, find what you wanted.

"You're going to love going to therapy," Alfred promised. "You'll have somebody to talk to besides me and Duke. His name is Dr Ambrose Tripp." Alfred patted your head gently as you were wheeled into the office.

"Where will you be?" you asked.

"Waiting for you outside. The therapist will not tell your father or siblings what you say to him. It will remain confidential."

"Thank you, Alfred."

*_*_*_*_*_

"So, Y/N, what brings you here?" Dr Tripp asked. He looked like a dorky but fun teacher that ran a Dungeons 'n' Dragons campaign, with his tweed jacket with garish yellow elbow patches.

"Lots of things, but the catalyst is the beating," you said. And then the words spilled out.

How your family had ignored you and dismissed you. How your siblings didn't consider you one of them for a reason that they would never give, while your only biological sibling treated you with disgust and anger for making him not the only blood child of Bruce Wayne, as if you had a choice.

You got no respite at school, either. You tried to work hard so you could impress Alfred, but then your classmates hated you for showing them up. You toughed it out for ages and just figured you could handle it until they jumped you at the bus station.

How your family were vying for your affection when you came out of hospital, in a place that just felt too little, too late. They'd had years to bond with you, and it felt sickening that they only wanted you after you were broken.

"Y/N, have you ever heard of insecure attachment?" Dr Tripp asked.

"No," you said, feeling like a child.

It was now the doctor's turn to talk, as he explained how insecure attachments could be formed when a child had an unreliable or neglectful parent. You were insecure-avoidant, someone who withdrew from emotional closeness and insisted on self-sufficiency.

"There are exercises and therapies to combat this, but the damage will always remain. Trust exercises, regression therapy, and even hypnosis have all been proven to work in cases such as yours," Dr Tripp said. "Would you mind if I talked to your father? It might be best to see where these patterns originated from."

"Go ahead." You waved a dismissive hand about it. "I'm not sure how he'll respond to therapy, though."

Oh, how you wished you'd never given that go-ahead.

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[girltriestowritestuff]

Royal Arrangements, Chapter 1

Telemachus x Reader

“She’s not here for romance. He’s not ready for a crown. But fate has other plans.” When your mother announces your engagement to Telemachus—yes, that Telemachus, son of Odysseus—you expect politics, not apologies. But the prince turns out to be more awkward than arrogant, more kind than kingly. And you? Well, you're not exactly the swooning type.

an-thank you to @thatoneguythatwatchesgayporn for this idea! Hope you like it.

You could immediately tell something was going on when your mother asked to speak with you. Privately.

You’d had “talks” before, usually about responsibilities or etiquette or who you were accidentally offending at court this time. But this one felt different—heavier somehow. You felt it in her voice, in the way she wouldn’t quite meet your eyes when she asked.

Still, you followed her down the corridor. What else could you do?

You walked into her room, where she was already seated neatly on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap like she had to physically restrain herself from fussing with her skirts. She looked like she was rehearsing something. You didn’t sit down yet.

"There's been some news from Ithaca," she said, her voice gentle, almost too gentle.

That was the first red flag.

You narrowed your eyes a little. “Should I be alarmed or surprised?”

“That depends,” she said, pausing like she wasn’t sure how much to say. “How do you feel about marriage?”

You blinked. “That’s… a leap.”

But she didn’t answer.

You crossed your arms, a defense more than a gesture. “Is it being forced on me because someone actually wants me, or is this a politics thing?”

She gave you a familiar look—part fond, part tired, part amused despite herself. “Don’t be clever.”

“Too late.”

She sighed, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “My love, I know you don’t want to marry—”

“To whom,” you interrupted, “and it’s fine, Mom.”

It wasn’t fine. You were not “fine.” But you’d learned long ago that saying so didn’t change much. And she looked like she didn’t want to do this either.

Your mother hesitated, the way she did when she was about to say something that might shatter whatever peace you had left. She looked at you with something like guilt in her eyes.

“To Telemachus,” she said at last. “Son of Odysseus.”

You blinked. “As in Ithaca Telemachus?”

She nodded.

You let out a breath through your nose and ran a hand down your face. “Of all the names you could’ve said, that one’s… bold.”

“He needs legitimacy,” she explained softly. “The suitors are circling like vultures. Penelope can’t hold them off much longer. He needs to be king.”

“And I’m supposed to make him one?” you asked, dryly.

“You would make a fine queen,” she replied.

You stayed quiet, chewing on that. Being queen wasn’t the problem. Being a pawn was.

Still, you sat down beside her, letting your weight sink into the mattress. You were nearly twenty, but in that moment, you felt closer to ten—tired, uncertain, needing a mother more than anything else.

“I’m not saying he’s a bad choice,” you said carefully. “I’m saying… I never had a choice.”

Your mother wrapped her arms around you. It wasn’t one of those tight, desperate hugs, but a steady, warm one. Like she was trying to hold everything together just by holding you.

“I know this isn’t the life you imagined,” she said into your hair.

You gave her a small, sad smile. “I stopped imagining a long time ago.”

She squeezed you gently. “I’ve spoken with Penelope,” she said. “She says he’s… kind. Thoughtful. Not rude like you might think.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, what, he probably reads poetry and apologizes too much?”

Your mother chuckled—real and soft, like it snuck out before she could stop it. “Would that be so bad?”

“No,” you admitted. “But I’ve played these games before. I know how kind eyes can lie.”

She nodded, her expression serious now. “He’s not a game.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t,” she said. “But I believe in him. And more importantly… Penelope believes in him. That means something.”

You leaned into her shoulder. It was oddly comforting to know that Penelope, a woman known for her patience and wisdom, was vouching for this boy.

Boy. That’s what he was to you. Just a name, a story, a set of expectations dressed in royal robes.

You’d grown up on stories about Odysseus—clever Odysseus, cunning Odysseus, the man who tricked gods and toppled cities. What kind of son would that man raise?

What kind of boy accepts a crown with strings attached?

What kind of prince agrees to marry a stranger?

And what kind of man would he turn out to be?

You didn’t say yes. Not yet. But you didn’t say no either. That was something.

“I don’t want to be the answer to someone else’s problems,” you said, quietly.

“You’re not,” your mother said. “But you might be part of a solution.”

“That's a lot of weight to put on someone who didn’t get to choose.”

“I know,” she said again. “But sometimes, the only power we have is how we carry what’s given to us.”

You sighed. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t make it easier.

Still, part of you—the part that had grown cautious but not yet completely bitter—was curious.

Curious about a boy raised in a broken kingdom. A boy trying to become a king in the shadow of legends. A boy who might be just as trapped as you.

Maybe he was more than a name.

Maybe you were more than a tool.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of your story, but a strange, unexpected beginning.

[barleyo]

Make the Most of Freedom.

Father! Sukuna X Daughter! Reader (smut)

A/N: can you tell i'm going through a sukuna obsession right now? ^_^ he's literally my everything currently, and i love him as a father

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), slight mentions of abuse and forced marriage, sexism and heavy misogyny, oral (f receiving)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Your father was decent enough to you, as fathers went. None were particularly good, but you had recently heard gossip of a man who married his daughter off to the town's local pervert in her eighteenth year, convinced by a lump sum of silver, so, certainly your old-fashioned, stern father was a lucky draw. For all the so called "decency" your old man had, though, he had a certain distaste for women. Girls more so. 

Perhaps it was when your mother died that he gained this sneering mentality on the opposite sex. Likely that being left with you, a girl he was forced to raise on his own, was what caused it. Either way, Sukuna's affections for you only ran so deep.  Not abusive, necessarily. Distant was more like it. Neglectful where it mattered most, you often thought, but diligent in your personal matters. 

He practically had a legion of homebound spies to keep him up to date on you.

Choices were not something you often got to make in your life. Every day seemed to be planned out down to the second for you. Servants crowded you and equated you to a pampered house pet. Practice this, say that, eat this, but definitely don't eat that. Look this way. Look there. 

Do not look at him. 

Boys were a nonstarter. Romance was hardly allowed to be the subject of your fantasy. If Sukuna could gain a monopoly on your mind and control your every thought, he would. Without a second thought. He could not, though, so luckily for you, you could peer around a wooden beam on the veranda and watch one of the younger servant boys walk around your father's estate. 

To catch a glimpse of a boy was a rare treat with how often Uraume, on your father's order, tasked you with some type of busy work or etiquette training. Still, you enjoyed your cheeky voyeuristic moments. You savored them, knowing that the spare moments you had to yourself were your only chances at feeling normal. 

Normal girls at your age had other normal girls to chat with about boys. Normal girls had suitors and gentleman callers. Normal girls' pursuers did not disappear randomly after attempting to court them. Normal girls did not have fathers who were feared across all lands. No, that was a you-problem. 

Then again, normal fathers did not love their daughters as much as Sukuna loved you, despite how terribly horrid he was at showing it.

Like every other day, you were aimlessly trapped inside your home. Perhaps not trapped. There were plenty of places to go—your father owned more land than any man could reasonably need—but where else would you go? Outside to be teased by the sight of assorted servants and concubines enjoying the simplicity of their lives? Or, perhaps you could go to the servants' quarters, where Uraume would grill you on your posture and wipe nonexistent smudges off of your face. As wonderful as those exhilarating options sounded, you felt that staying inside the four comforting walls of the main house would be in your best interest.

You leaned against the sliding door parked at the entrance of the house. Trailing your fingers gently over the wooden frame, your found that the door was slightly ajar. A careless servant must have left it open, and you must have been too lost in your thoughts to feel the cool draft wheedling through the crack. Your finger pads pushed against the doorframe to slide it shut, but a familiar voice stopped you. 

That boy. That wonderfully, blissfully ignorant boy. 

You envied him on a few days, but desired him on most. In essence, he was free. Freer than you, at the very least. He seemed your age, but he walked with the experience of a man your father's age. You wondered if he knew things you did not. If he could teach you—touch you.

Sukuna disliked the younger boys that worked on the estate. Lazy, the lot of them. Lazy and easily rousing to the otherwise whorish women who worked with them. You assumed your father simply did not like people, with the way he had a complaint for every make and model of society. 

Women were inferior sluts. Girls were stupid and vapid. Men were arrogant and audacious. Boys were impure little bastards and something you would have nothing to do with under his roof.

He made that very clear when you attempted to ask about leaving the estate with the boy. He pleaded for you to ask your father, and stupidly, you did.

Your father looked at you with what could most plainly be described as disgust. Shame, you would say, if you thought your father was capable of feeling any. 

"Leave?" 

You knew you made a mistake the second the words left your mouth. No phrasing or tone change could have saved you. 'Leave,' 'home,' and 'you' were words Sukuna wouldn't tolerate in the same sentence, unless of course the sentence was: 'I shall never leave home or be away from you, father.'

"For what?" he asked, clenched hands resting on the top of the table. Uraume, knowing what was about to happen from the guilt-stricken look on your face, had disappeared into the servant's quarters right after presenting dinner. "That boy?"

Such venom was spat in the word. Such degradation forced into a single syllable word. You bit your tongue for a moment, feeling offended on the behalf of your tawdry crush. 

"Why, I have half a mind to lock you up. He is the one who had put these ideas into your head, isn't he?" Sukuna asked between bites of his dinner. The idea angered him to his core, but the idea of such a pathetic man-child attempting to take his only heir was humorous enough to keep his temper even enough to eat. "You probably think you love him, right? Foolishness."

He scoffed and waved his hand at you dismissively, nose crinkled. After a thick gulp of his wine, he continued, practically speaking to himself as you fumed silently in embarrassment. 

"He's just a boy. Swine, really, and you—" his eyes sharpened— "are not to see him again."

That shattered any hope you had left. The small window of freedom you had, the small glimpse of a future, was snatched. 

"That is not fair!"

Childishness, as Sukuna had expected. He sighed and ignored you. What he hadn't expected was the quick, flagrant backtalk you spat out. 

"He isn't just a boy. He's a man, and I am a woman now," you said, voice rushing to match the pace of your furious mind. "I'll leave whenever I want to. If I want to go into the city with him, I will. A woman can choose..." you trailed off, obviously not being as experienced as an independent woman as you claimed to be. 

Sukuna's expression never shifted. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—he simply stared at you, his gaze sharp, predatory. The silence hung heavy in the room, oppressive, thick with the weight of unspoken things. His eyes bored into you like a vice, until you began to regret every word that had left your mouth.

"You are a woman," he said loudly, his voice a low rumble of danger and fact, "it's what I hate most about you. Just like any other woman, look at how you turned out. Spoiled. Pampered. I'll bet a whore too," he added, peering down at your body for a beat too long, seeing the way the silks trapped your matured form. "Is that why you set yourself out to leave? Lover-boy knocked you up like some common whore?"

You could tell by his tone he didn't actually think so lowly of you, but the relentless taunts broke you. Any pretense of womanhood shattered under the embarrassment of father chiding you. 

"Well, who will want you now, hm? Not a pretty, little virgin anymore. See what boys do?" Sukuna stood and pulled you up by your shoulder, forcing you to his level. 

"They ruin you."

If boys ruined you, what did men do? With your father's hands digging into your hips and with his tongue attacking your rosy clit, you reckoned that they saved you. 

Yes, saved. That was the word for it, when Sukuna's spit baptized your dripping cunt, you felt saved. How such a feared, demonic man could make you feel such heavenly things, you knew not, but that wasn't what was important. What was important was that you could hardly remember the name of the once tempting boy you had fought so hard to go with. 

Many nights after the argument with you father, you tried to force yourself to leave. You made it to the door each time, sometimes further into the garden, before returning back to your room. Your scarce knapsack was unpacked quickly and you tucked yourself back into bed like nothing had happened. 

The night that you made it to the estate gates, you ran back home as fast as your bare feet would take you. You clawed at your father's bedroom door, splintering the tips of your fingers as you cried it for him to let you in. 

You would admit it. He was right. As always, regretfully. You were a stupid girl with the dreams of a woman and eyes bigger than your true appetite. As you sobbed into your father's robes, sick gratification crossed his features. 

"Not your fault," he mumbled between your thighs, licking agonizing stripes through your folds. "Y'never learn. I know."

Your body laid bare before him, showing every curve and blemish, every sin clear as day, you seized and rocked on the mattress. Your blood was hot and your chest was uneven. 

Inexperienced and needy, you gave into your father the second his hands slid down your panties. You let him guide you. Your shepherd, his sheep. Your white wool was his for the taking, and he harvested with interest. He took all you had to give. Ever noise you could make, every gasp, he stole from your chest greedily. 

He could have you, all of you. Nobody else could match him in that moment. As your cunt melted into his mouth, he peered at you through heavy lashes with pure ownership.

How could you ever leave the man that finally made you a woman?

[loredrinker]

Lavellan Joining Solas in the Fade - the Least Risk for Thedas in the Long Run

Solas, as a former spirit, is a man who has to navigate emotions rather than embody them.  

Solas: A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them. Varric: But he isn't a spirit, is he? He made himself human, and humans change. 

His life seems to have been one of extremes. And spirits reflect so who he surrounds himself with matters - or lack thereof considering what isolation does to him.  

Like all humans/mortals, Solas’ has to deal with emotions but as a former spirit who embodies and reflects, then the presence of someone who understands him (sees him) is important.

Simply put, he needs help processing his emotions. (Don't we all though?) 

Logically, the best thing for Thedas in the long run is for Lavellan to be with Solas in the Fade. (Any high approval Inquisitor really - because they symbolize connection, friendship and some non-romanced Inquisitor players really cared for Solas.)

In the Atonement ending where Solas goes alone, he enters the Fade with a clear purpose and a healthier state of mind. This is good, yet Thedas is left to trust that his atonement will lead to lasting stability. Even with his resolve, Solas will still be alone in what he sees as a prison of regret. While he may have found some measure of peace upon entering, Thedas can only hope that years of isolation do not erode his convictions.

The Fade is fluid, shaped by thought, belief, and emotion. Left alone, Solas alone defines his reality – so what happens if, over time, his belief in himself wavers? If his purpose falters? 

I believe Lavellan’s presence benefits both Solas and Thedas - she is a safeguard.

By being there, Lavellan acts as an anchor. Her presence prevents him from slipping too far in either direction, giving him someone to share the burden of his emotions - and hers as well. How many times do we feel better when we talk out our feelings with those we love?

Solas created the regret prison – that's how he sees it. But Lavellan changes its nature by refusing to see it as a prison at all. It’s why she tells him it won’t be terrible if they’re together. She reframes his exile, turning it from a sentence into something else - a path walked alongside someone. 

She sees him as a man capable of change echoing what Varric says: "...and humans change."

If she refuses to see him purely as a monster, if she holds to the truth that he can remember his original purpose and find redemption through atonement - then the Fade prison will bend to that belief. Which means eventually, I believe they can find a way out of it. If spirits mirror what they encounter, then being in the Fade with Lavellan means Solas is continuously reflecting someone who loves him, who challenges him emotionally, who refuses to let him forget his humanity. Someone who sees him. 

Lavellan was forced into the role of Herald, then Inquisitor - eventually accepting her path. She made decisions that shaped Thedas, choosing what was best for the world over personal preference or wants.  So how lovely, that a personal choice rooted in love now finally aligns with her role as a leader, continuing to protect Thedas. 

[spacedace]

In the Odyssey the axes were arranged so that she would be sitting behind them, so that if any of the suitors truly had managed to string Odysseus' bow and make the shot, the arrow would strike her in the heart.

And there is so much in that, already, but there is so much more in all the greater context of Penelope and Odysseus' marriage.

Even before Odysseus came to Sparta with all the many suitors looking to win Helen's hand, he was clever enough to know that a King with no bride price to offer from a tiny, almost insignificant island like Ithaca would stand no cha ce of winning Helen's hand. He had never intended to we'd Helen. He had been there to make connections, and to win the hand of another beautiful Spartan princess.

He forged a deal with Helen's father to help him see Helen safely married without fear of those not chosen shedding blood, in exchange for just the opportunity to try and win Penelope's hand. And with his swift speed or swift mind, he did so.

They were not a love match then. Just two practical people, who understood the way the world they lived in worked. It was duty that had Penelope alight into Odysseus' chariot, to be drawn away to his ship and across the water to what would be her new home.

When her father, heartsick that he might never again see his beloved daughter again, chased after them and stopped them outside the city gates, began his begging, I think that was when she fell in love with her husband. Her father, one of the most powerful men in the Greek world, begged them to stay, offering this strange, trickster she had been married to all that any man could ever dream. Wealth, connection, the promise to make Odysseus his heir and with such an oath see the King of Ithaca instead one day become Co-King of the much greater Sparta.

Did she think that this had been part of her husband's plan, I wonder? Odysseus, grandson of an infamous shape-shifting thief, great grandson of the trickster thief-god Hermes. More than clever enough that he must have known all her father would give up to keep her close. Did she think it all a ploy to get what he truly wanted?

But no. No, cunning Odysseus, clever Odysseus, loyal Odysseus, he wanted none of those things. His father had only him as son, Ithaca without him would be left abandoned. He was a trickster, but he was steadfast in his devotions. He would not be swayed from his duties to his kingdom.

But he hadn’t made that choice for her, either. Even though he could, even though as her husband it was his right to carry her away with him across the sea. He did not take that choice, but turned and gave it to her instead.

He would return to Ithaca, but he would not force her to come with him. He would not steak her from the place her heart lie. If she wanted to stay in Sparta, with her father, he would return her to her father's home, would bear her no grief or ill will, only the consideration of her choice.

How could she not love him then? How could she not love his clever mind and loyal heart and the respect he gave her that no other man living or dead - her father included - would ever had even considered granting her even a portion of?

She left with Odysseus that day. She made her choice. And these men that roamed the halls of her palace like jackals and snakes, would not take that from her.

She would sit behind the axes.

[avatarofthearchives]

Michael calling Jon "Archivist" really hits my brain in all the right ways because:

On an analytical note: Michael calling Jon "Archivist" is very likely a Michael Shelley choice instead of a Distortion choice. I say that with a pretty good amount confidence because Distortion Helen notably calls Jon by his name, even in Season 5 after he has become a full-fledged Avatar of The Eye.

So I feel safe saying that it's what's left of Michael that calls Jon "Archivist." Personally, I think that's interesting enough information on it's own, but I do have a few more thoughts.

On a speculative note: I wonder if a large part of him calling him that is because, to Michael, the fact that Jon is now in Gertrude's role is far more important than any personhood he has. It doesn't matter who Jon is. It only matters that he's connected to the Institute and the women who betrayed him.

On an analytical note: I think it's interesting that Michael downplays Jon's humanity by calling him his role instead of his name...just like how his name got (metaphorically) taken when he was forced to play the role of "The Distortion" instead of just simply being allowed to be Michael Shelley. I wonder if that's a conscious factor that plays into Michael calling Jon "Archivist", or if it's just meant to be a parallel.

Either way, I think it's an important note on their dynamic, and I do love to take those. After all, the few times Michael and Jon interacted in the series fed my Magnus Archives hyper fixation like a five-star chef. So I am always very eager to analyze them.

[ursemma]

Guilty as sin

Nate Archibald × F!reader

Summary: How can I be guilty as sin? Without ever touching his skin?

Warning: angst, masturbation, little smut.

Pt 2

We're just bestfriends right? So why do I imagine him being on top of me, or holding my hand while walking down the streets of nyc?

I looked at him as he arrived with Blair at the kiss on the lips party, they looked so happy together. But I can't help but imagine myself with him.

I shook my thoughts away as I see Blair making her way towards me, she's my bestfriend I can't do this to her, "heyy y/n! You look fabulous!" She compliments me and pulls me into a hug.

"thanks B! You look fabulous too!!" I returned the hug, and we pull away as we see Serena making her way into the party.

"what is she doing here?" Blair asks as she glares Serena's way. "I don't know but whatever it is it better not ruin the party" I sighed feeling defeated, their catfights honestly gets my energy drained.

I watch as she goes to find chuck, and Nate stands besides me, "hey everything's fine? You look tired." He asks as he offers me a glass of champagne, "yeah I'm fine, just drained from everything you know?" I looked into his eyes as I answered him, and saw his gorgeous face, those eyelashes, those blue eyes, the little freckles, and his lips- omg.

I looked away as I felt those feelings creeping into my mind, "you know you can count on me right?" He reassured me, while pulling my face towards him to face him.

"I know Nathaniel, it's just, you know those catfights between Blair and Serena, and how I'm the one left hanging in between them needing to make a choice when I just want everything to be back as it was before." I took a deep sigh and replied as I felt butterflies in my stomach. I wasn't lying but I wasn't telling the truth either.

"yeah i know but it's not going to be how it was before, atleast not anytime soon. But don't worry, you have me okay?" He said with a sincere look in his eyes, "I know" I gave him a weak smile.

Soon Charles and Blair came, "care to dance with me Nate?" Blair asked him for a dance and he joined her.

"you should tell him you know" chuck said as he watched me look at him with a longing eyes.

"he doesn't feel the same." I sighed as I took one more shot, only chuck knew how I felt about him, how? I don't know.

"you never know." He encouraged me, that's what he's been doing since a long time.

"he's with Blair, Charles and they look happy!" I protested, honestly when it comes to confessing, I'm not good at it.

"are they though? We all know Nathaniel doesn't feel a shit for Blair, he's doing it for his family's sake." He instead me and tbh he wasn't wrong, but what about Serena, now she's back he'll be with her ofcourse.

"Charles, Serena is back. We all know he loves her. I don't stand a chance, unless and until I'm willing to be a rebound which I'm not."

"okay fine, I won't force you but promise me to do something about it."

"only if you tell Blair how you feel" I said with a smirk and I watch his face turn pale.

We both knew alot of things about eachother, including our secret crushes, which no one knew.

We're like brother's and sister's, shocking right? The first girl who Charles bass didn't tried to bang out of respect?

I gasped as I felt wet kisses trailing down my neck, and then sucking my skin leaving a hickey.

"oh my" I tried to breath when the kisses went down to my Naked breasts and nibbling my skin and sucking my nipples as they harden.

The heat in between my legs was growing and so was the tension.

"I need you" I moaned louder as I felt my panties get wet, "yeah what do you want darling?" He said while going down on me.

"you, everything give it to me." I said while breathing heavily, "okay" he smirked and started to tease me with his mouth.

"don't tease!" I gasped when his mouth met my clit, stroking and sucking it slowly.

He started abusing my clit with his mouth, while his hands were circling my skin.

"oh my Nate I'm gonna cum" as I reached my climax I felt the door being knocked.

"miss y/n!! Wake up you're going to be late!" Dorothea shouted.

I groaned as I woke up from my slumber, and I remembered what I dreamt of.

Flushing in embarrassment I pulled my duvet over my face, "miss y/n!!" Dorothea shouted again.

"yes dorthy I'm awake!" I responded her letting her know that I'm alive.

I felt the heat between my legs growing hotter and hotter.

Should I? Fuck it.

I went into the washroom and put two fingers inside my clit massaging it, hoping for some relief.

I imagined Nate touching me, and I left a moan at the thought.

As I was pleasuring myself I suddenly heard my phone ringing and I groaned at it, and picked up without looking at the number.

"y/n?" Fuck it was Nate, in his morning voice. I felt myself getting wetter and gasping for air.

Even his voice had this effect on me.

"y-yes Nathaniel? You need something?" I tried to maintain my composer.

"hey what happened to you? You sound not so fine?" He asked with his voice filled with concern.

"nothing just the morning workout you know" I replied quickly, "okay if you say so, I was actually wondering if you want to come with me and Blair in our limo? The route of her and your house is same that's way" he asked me, I thought for a while and decided it's better to stay away, "actually I'm running late today so you guys go ahead I'll come on my own" "okay I'll see you then" "yea" and I hung up.

I decided to get freshed and leave for school.

I got out of the limo and looked around and saw Blair and Nate walking together.

"sight to sore eyes isn't it" I turned to see Chuck looking at them, "indeed" I replied and we started walking together.

I felt rush of emotions. Embarrassment, love, lust, heartbreak and mostly guilt.

He's my bestfriend's boyfriend and one of my bestfriend and yet I'm here imagining us together.

But mostly, without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

Is he written mine only in my mind? Is there not even 1% of hope for us?

I shook my thoughts and sat near Blair, looking at her exchanging looks with Nate and chuck and I eyed eachother knowingly.

I sighed and thought about everything, why does my life has to be complicated.

.

.