#where is the sight of skies without the glass between them

[cat-with-a-keyboard]

i am........... not well

[upsidedownwithsteve]

hello! hope ur doing well! love ur writing and excited for the blurb weekend!! was wondering if i could request number 2 and 8 from the pining list with steve harrington? love the way you write him always!! thank you!!!

“doing something nice for the other impulsively,” and “getting flustered when the other is nice to them.”

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Everyone knew about your crush on Steve. Everyone— well, apart from the boy himself. You weren’t sure how you could possibly hide it, your eyes wide and cheeks hot everytime he was near, words caught in your throat when he spoke to you and god, it took too long for you to be able to settle in his presence.

Which is why you’d taken to sticking to Robin’s side when he invited everyone around to his pool, the summer too hot and too sticky for doing much else. The Indiana heat was borderline cruel that year, endless blue skies pretty and relentless, no clouds for the sun to hide behind.

So everyone piled in to the Harrington’s backyard, swimsuits already on under shorts and baggy shirts, sliders and jelly shoes kicked to the side as everyone stripped at the sight of cool, blue water. Eddie had a radio playing, a somewhat playful argument between him and Nancy ensuing as music choices were discussed and Jonathan took to the shade, pulling a book out of his bag, a vibrant yellow bucket hat that El had gifted him pulled low on his brow.

Then Steve had made his way around you all, shirtless and with a baseball cap shoved on his messy hair, backwards and sporting a hockey team you didn’t know much about. He was already so tanned, prettier than normal with more freckles and flushed cheeks. The sight of him made your breath hitch, shoulder squaring off as you watched him hand a beer to Eddie, another to Jonathan.

Beside you, Robin snorted, shaking her head and watching you from behind cherry coloured sunglasses. You’d set up camp with her on the other side of the pool, heads burning from the sun but your feet dipped in the water, both of you smelling like chlorine and sunscreen.

You frowned, already waiting on the teasing that naturally came. You played dumb regardless, staring at your feet in the water, your skin a shade of blue, the lines of your toes rippling. “What?” You already sounded so defensive.

“Nothing,” Robin snorted. But she pushed her shoulder into yours, sticky with heat and lotion. “Just wondering when you’ll be able to look at Steve without absolutely falling apart.”

Your scowl deepened along with your embarrassment. But you feigned ignorance and watched Nancy fish out her lemon water from her bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed.

Robin just hummed, grinning she stared across the yard. “Interesting.”

“Seriously, I do not fall—“

A shadow fell over both of you briefly before a broad shoulder brushed your own. Steve sat down next to you despite there being more room next to Robin, the heat from all his bare skin making you so, so aware of his proximity. You blinked, lips still parted from talking but the words had died off on your tongue. You felt the familiar creep of warmth along your chest, up your neck.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, his smile too kind, too pretty. “I brought you a drink.”

Instead of a cold can of beer, like he’d handed the boys, Steve offered you a glass. One of his mom’s fancy ones with the patterns along the side, a rosy pink tint to the liquid inside. It was filled with ice, fizzing and bubbling and it smelled like lemons and cherries. It even had a circle of the yellow citrus floating on top, summer in a cup.

It felt hard to talk when you took it from him, fingers brushing and you felt like a kid, like a teenager, a crush that was achingly awful, all consuming and gut wrenching.

He was so pretty and so close and—

“What’s that?” Robin peered over your shoulder, still grinning, looking particularly pleased with the situation she got to witness. “Where’s mine, dingus?”

The boy glared at his friend before he shrugged, all nonchalance and he gestured to you with cheeks more pink than your juice. “It’s just something I mixed up, alright? And you like beer, okay? You can grab a can, your legs work.”

You weren’t sure what made your heart beat faster, the fact that Steve had remembered you didn’t like beer or that he’d went out of his way to make you a drink that was more than a glass of soda.

Robin scoffed but she moved regardless, water dripping on your knees as she got up and walked around the pool, glaring at Steve as she went. “I see how it is,” she told him. “S’real cute, Steven. You could be more subtle next time.”

You were burning, you were sure of it. And Steve seemed to feel the same because he was red now, the tips of his ears scarlet and he flipped Robin off before she disappeared into the kitchen.

And then you realised you were alone with the boy. Something that didn’t happen often, something that you usually tried hard to avoid because you were floundering, both hands clasping the freezing cold glass and god, god— you were so aware that your body was mostly bare, your swimsuit green and suddenly too tight.

Steve’s naked chest was alarmingly close, moles and freckles dotted across sunkissed skin and with a smattering of hair, his arms corded with muscle you hadn’t really seen before, brushing up against yours as he glanced over at you.

He looked shy. Was Steve shy? Was that possible?

You realised you were staring a second too late, eyes flickering back to the pool and you tried not to cringe, or do something stupid, like tumble into the pool and float to the bottom.

So you slipped the straw Steve had placed in your cup between your lips, taking a sip. Bubbles touched your tongue, lemon and cherry and sweetness and tart filling your mouth. You hummed, taking another long drag and you could feel the boy smiling.

“D’you like it?”

You nodded, barely able to lift your head to meet Steve’s gaze but when you did, you were so glad of it. He was beaming, looking too pleased as you took another sip and his knee was bumping against yours, his hand on the pool edge and close to your thigh.

“It’s delicious,” you managed. “You didn’t have to though, I could’ve had some water or—“

Steve waved away your words, nose wrinkled and he tutted. “Nah, what? S’no big deal.”

It was. It was a big deal.

It felt momentous, actually.

“Did you make more?” You dared to ask, feeling brave with the sun in your eyes and Steve’s leg against your own. The water didn’t feel so cold anymore. “For everyone else?”

Steve couldn’t hide his smile then, lips pressed together and eyes crinkling as he shook his head, looking guilty and handsome for it. “No, just you.” He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret. ���Don’t tell the rest of them, but, I like you the most.”

You felt hotter than the sun.

[luna0713hunter]

A shoulder to cry on

Shanks x reader

Summary : Shanks was older than you,with lots more experience. But when it came to the love between the two of you,age never really mattered.

Warnings : none really,hurt/comfort (my favorite),mention of phantom limb and arm lose, age gap relationship (i mean,its Shanks,who wouldn't want him),pet names,reader is referred to 'baby girl' and 'princess',fluffy and happy ending!

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You always loved Shanks.

Ever since you joined the crew;and saw how awfully kind the older man was,there was a little feeling in your heart that you couldn't shake.

Shanks was amazing;he never fought unless necessary,he was always kind toward his crew and even strangers. He gave you a home when you lost your own and shared his food with you when you didn't have much to eat.

You always loved Shanks. But you hated how selfless he always was.

You remember the day Shanks came back to your ship with his coat hanging loosely on his left arm. When he sat down with pale skin and cold sweat running down his forehead;the blood pooling around him,you remember crying your eyes out.

But Shanks only laughed and patted your head, telling you 'its just a scratch.'

And you were too young back then,but the mere sight of Shanks biting down on a dirty rag to keep himself from screaming while the others tried to stop the bleeding by tying bandages around his severed limb,was enough to make you sob in one of your crew mate's arms.

After that,you became attached to Shanks by hip.

You wouldn't let Shanks go anywhere alone;he was going to the market?you were there. He was going to deal with some other pirates? You were fighting back to back.

You grew up with Shanks,around him and others until you forgot how your life even was before meeting the man. And to be honest,you didnt want to think about a life without Shanks.

It was one of those days again;where the weather was slightly stormy, dark clouds covering the sky and forcing you guys to berth and a chance to reload. As your crewmates take this opportunity to get drunk shitless and have fun,you stay behind on the ship to watch out for any unwanted guests.

It was a day like this when Shanks lost his arm-

A loud sound of something crashing to the ground and breaking made you jump to your feet as you rushed to the source; stumbling on your steps,and your heart beating out of your chest. Only one thing on your mind.

Shank Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks Shanks -

When you finally reach Shanks bedroom,you dont even think about knocking before bursting through the door,your heart almost jumping out of your chest when you see the state the man you love is in.

Shanks never really told anyone about his Phantom Limb. On days like this;where the weather was stormy and the skies cloudy,the pain of his lost arm would always come back.

But Shanks was Shanks. Never even once telling anyone about it;just smiling and going on with his day. And you,who were hopelessly in love with him, noticed every little detail about him.

So seeing him like this;sitting on the ground while clutching to what was once his arm under his coat;his face pale,sweat coating his skin and his breaths uneven had your heart tearing apart.

Because to you,Shanks was a god,and gods weren't supposed to kneel,or feel pain.

But you weren't anything if not a devoted believer.

There were glass shards of his favorite bottle of wine on the ground were the dark red liquid was spilled.As your knees hit the floor at his side,Shanks raises his head shakily and when his eyes finally manage to focus on you,he gives you a pained smile.

Just like that day-

"Hey princess," and your chest hurts when his voice breaks slightly, "what're you doing here?"

Your hands hover above his shoulders before finally resting them on him;your touch ever so gentle in fear of hurting him.

"Shanks," and when you see him smile at the sound of your voice,your eyes blur with tears, "Oh, Shanks..."

As your name spills from his lips in a whisper,you finally break.

You sobs are loud and tears stream down your face,when your fingers start to card through his sweaty red locks.

Shanks pulls you in his lap with his other arm around your waist;his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hip as he rests his face against your palm.

"Baby girl," his voice is gentle,like he's scared to make you cry more, "why are you crying,my angel?"

You shake your head and since you cant form a coherent response,your eyes drift to his hidden severed arm.

And Shanks, immediately understands.

His hand moves up and wipes away your tear;his calluses fingers making their way to the back of your head to pull you closer. When your forehead hits his shoulder,Shanks starts combing your hair soothingly;while you feel his lips press against your temple.

"Baby girl, princess,my love... I'm alright. I swear,it doesnt hurt anymore."

"b-but," you take a deep breath,trying to talk without breaking down again, "you always get like this when the weather gets bad."

Shanks raises an eyebrow and looks down at you, surprised.

"how do you know that?"

"i always know everything about you,Shanks."

That has him quiet down and his hold tightening on you slightly.

"oh," he breaths "baby girl,how long were you keeping it in for my sake?"

You only shake your head and dont reply. But its enough for Shanks to know.

Since the very start. Since the day he lost his arm.

"beloved,listen to me." When you raise your head and meet his eyes with your red ones,he gives you the brightest smile, "there's my beautiful girl." He kisses your forehead,and then rests his own against yours, "i love you so much. More than you could ever imagine."

The confession has your eyes widening,before your cheek flush deep red. Shanks only chuckles and pulls you impossibly closer. He eyes your lips and wets his own with his tongue,and when he speaks next,his voice is barely above a whisper.

"can i kiss you?"

And a single nod is enough for him to press his lips to yours.

The kiss is sweet,just like Shanks. And although short,its enough to take your breath away.

It was everything you ever dreamed about.

"y'know," he tells you as soon as you pull back,a small grin on his lips upon seeing your dazed expression, "i know a way to help with my pain,if you're willing."

"yes," comes your immediate reply, "anything for you."

Shanks laughs and his eyes softens,and the sound makes your heart beat faster but lighter.

"i desperately crave some cuddling,now that i know my feelings are mutual."

The request has you giggling as you both lay on his hammock, with his arm protectively around you and yours resting on his chest.

To feel his heart beating. Safe and alive.

Shanks closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh that has you kissing his cheekbone.

"i love you Shanks. More than the seven seas and the whole universe."

And when with closed eyes,he once again locks his lips with yours,you know you'll be ok.

You wont ever let anything happen to him. Ever again.

[miabebe]

I Am What I Am (IV)

A man of the shadows and a woman who belonged in the skies - fate could not have brought two more different people together. But was this fate or was this a choice?

Pairing - Im Changkyun x OC, Kim Mingyu × OC

Word Count - 9.9K

Warnings - guns, mild violence, mentions of blood, death, mild exhibitionism but not really lol I don't know how else to explain it but basically people think they are having sex in the bathroom?

Chapter summary - Every coin has two sides that cannot see each other but Na bi has finally seen them both. Yet, rather than the coin being tossed, it was her that was being spun between two worlds - She had to crack them before they broke her.

| Previous chapter | Masterlist |

When Na bi's eyes fluttered open, the stars stuck on her ceiling were gone.

She blinked at the plain concrete, brows slowly pulling into a frown. That can't be right. She would never remove them....

The bed under her was a lot softer too. The room felt warmer than usual, there was a strange smell of damp wood and lilies, and the crakling of a fire was the only thing audible. Rolling onto her side, Na bi raised her head, looking around, eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness. She could barely see anything except the silhouettes of furniture placed around a room - a room that was definitely much bigger than her apartment......that's when she realised, eyes widening.

She was not home.

Instantly scrambling between the black and grey sheets, she sat up, forehead breaking out into a cold sweat as she frantically looked around in the darkness. Panicking at the lack of visibility, she slipped out of the warmth of the bed, reached for the floor length curtains of the nearby windows and pushed them open, biting back a gasp.

Trees.

Thick and tall and lusciously green trees as far as the eye could see, the vibrant colour eventually blending into black shadows. Birds sat perched on branches, some flying around, circling the bark and then up into the sky. The late afternoon sun struggled to seep between the canopies, barely illuminating the forest floor that was nothing but mud and roots.

She was in the middle of nowhere. She was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Trying not to let the realisation terrify her, Na bi took a step back and then two, finding herself in the centre of the large bedroom. Her head began to spin as she turned, looking around, eyes falling on all the contents - a king size bed against a stone wall, a fireplace burning away wood, a set of stairs leading up to what seemed like a small loft, a huge mirror beside a small study space, books lining the shelves, couches placed below them and finally, finally, a door. Finding her only way out of here, without thinking twice, Na bi sprinted towards it.

She didn't know what exactly she was expecting on the other side, but for some illogical reason, it was not a house. To be specific, it was a corridor lined with a glass railing, opening to the view of an elegant, unfathomably large living space, ominously coloured in shades of black, grey and green.

Surprisingly, Na bi nearly lost herself in the beauty of it all - the way the rugs and couches were arranged, the way it all led into a simple, efficient looking open kitchen, the way the roof was almost two floors tall and high. She stood entranced, till her wandering eyes fell on the floor to ceiling windows that spanned across the space and the view outside - the forest.

Heartbeat picking the pace again, she turned on the heel of her foot and rushed down the stairs, the edge of her long dress dramatically caressing each step. Eyes immediately finding the large oak doors at the far end, she ran towards it, pushing them open with all her might, only to be welcomed by the sight of more trees. Taking one last glace at the house behind her, she submerged herself into the woods, trying to run away as far as possible.

And Na bi ran for what seemed like forever.

She had no idea what she was running from or where she was running to, but for miles, all that was around her were trees, trees and more trees. She tried screaming for help but it only dried her throat up. Her bare feet were now a collage of mud and twigs lodged in her soles, her dress formed a shredded trial behind her as they got ripped by the bushes and her whole body was cold and sore, begging for relief, for an escape. It was only when she could no longer breathe that she finally stopped running, panting as she gripped the sides of her hips, looking up at the barely visible sky, praying.

For what Na bi?

All of a sudden, as though her dormant brain had just woken up, Na bi compelled herself to think about what she was doing. As though her body was stuck in a flight response, she had just been running and running, without so much as trying to figure out why. Ignoring the searing pain in her head, she racked her brains, trying to recall the last of her memories. She remembered going to the grocery store today. She remembered being chased down an alley. She remembered the phone call. She remembered a black van....

Na bi took mindless steps, wandering further into the forest. That black van, where had she seen that before? Why did it seem so familiar?

She didn't ponder over it for long - she couldn’t when her ears caught the sound of water. Desperate for hydration, she ran in its direction, pushing her way through the forest floor, feeling the mud get looser beneath her feet and the air get cooler, stronger. As she made her way out of the last of the branches, her feet landed in the soft golden-white sand of the beach, eyes falling on the gentle waves going to and fro from the shore.

Na bi felt every cell of her body freeze. It was a beach.

She was standing right in the middle of a beach that stretched endlessly on either sides, curving away at the corners. She was standing right in front of the sea coming up to lick the sand one minute and going back to meet the sky the next. She was standing right in the middle of possibly the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen - the sun slowly making its way across the pink sky to sink into the waters for night. It was all so mesemering and stunning except..... Seoul didn't have a beach.

It was at that moment that she felt her head spin uncontrollably and before she knew it, she was one with the softness of the sand. Staring at the clear blue sky, hair fanning out behind her, dress blending into the golden sand, her eyes slowly found the darkness she was running away from.

When Na bi's eyes fluttered open, the stars stuck on her ceiling were gone. Again.

She stared at it, wondering if she was stuck in some strange time loop - she had the same pain in her head, felt the same softness of the bed, saw the same greyness in the ceiling. But one thing was different this time - this time she smelt whiskey and roses.

Raising herself on her elbows, she blinked her heavy eyes open, which didn't have to struggle to adjust, not with the all lamps turned on. The curtains were open as she had left them, except it was pitch black outside, like night had finally fallen. Pushing the thick duvet off her, she swung her legs off the bed, wincing in pain as they touched the wooden floors. She looked down at her feet to see they were no longer covered in mud and sand but had white bandages wrapped around, the execution of which was honestly-

"Mediocre at best, I know."

Na bi turned at his voice, eyes falling on his broad back as he sat crouched by the fireplace, poking the firewood ambers. His presence didn't surprise her. The whiskey and rose scent had already told her he was here.

"It can be better." She muttered as he stood, brushing the ash off his hands and tucking them in his pocket as he turned towards her.

"Ms. Baek."

"Changkyun."

She breathed in the sight of him yet again.

He was dressed in a black shirt, black slacks, matching the ambience of the room. His hair was falling down into his eyes like he needed a little trim, his face beautiful as ever. Na bi gripped the sheets hard, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. He walked up to the bed, getting on a knee before her, picking up her foot as he studied it, his fingers softly running across the sole. He then reached for a box she hadn't noticed by the wall and slid it onto her lap, opening it to reveal a pair of white sneakers.

"For whenever you wish to leave."

Na bi looked down at the new shoes that seemed to be exactly her size.

"How did I even get here?" She glanced at him who seemed to be inspecting the other tiny cuts and bruises she sustained on her arms, thanks to the multiple twigs and thorns in her way. "Where am I?"

"In my house."

Na bi blinked at him, shocked. "Y-your house? This is your house?? This is where you live??"

"Yes, yes and yes." He answered, counting diligently, as he got up and walked to the shelves.

"It's...." Na bi followed him, stopping at the centre of the room, taking it all in once again. Earlier she had missed the many details of the room - the tiny gold accents hidden everywhere, the splashes of green amidst the heavy tones of black and grey, the random placement of tiny tables and books and empty vases here and there. She didn't realise how minimal yet luxurious the whole place looked, strangely homely yet forbidding. Na bi was never really a fan of dark colors but somehow, she wasn't so repelled by the sight around her. "It's so beautiful."

"Thank you." Walking up to her, Changkyun held out an ointment, looking pointedly at her wounds. "Apply this twice everyday to avoid scarring. My doctor strongly recommends it."

Na bi took it, turning the tube in her fingers, recognising the medicine approvingly before raising her eyebrows. "You have a doctor who's not me?"

He chuckled, cocking his head. "I need someone who'll be by my side till the end. You're not going to, are you?"

Na bi felt her heartbeat in her ears. His question seemed to holder a greater depth than he meant, yet his eyes as usual, remained unreadable. But she had her answer. Stepping closer to him, she grabbed fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt on either sides of his waist, earning a curious look, but he didn't stop her.

She pulled the tuck out of his pants, dragging the shirt up his body, ignoring his sculpted abs as she moved closer to him, breaths mingling in the loud silence, gaze fixed on each other. When she finally tore her eyes away, she looked over his shoulder at the mirror behind him, catching sight of the knife wound she had once tried to heal. It looked better, but definitely not at its best.

"You're not going to make it till the end without someone like me." She pulled back, hands slowly letting the fabric go, eyes meeting his again. "I would've done a much better job."

"I don't doubt that." He replied, stepping away, but not taking his eyes off.

"Is that why I'm here?"

He shook his head, amused. "You sustained a mild concussion earlier today Ms. Baek. Clearly, its affecting your otherwise impeccable analytical abilities."  He smoothened the fabric of his shirt slowly. "Let's start over. What is the last thing you remember? Before you got here this afetrnoon?"

Na bi stared at the dark wooden flooring, trying to recollect the scene once again.

"I was coming back from the grocery store when I had this strange gut feeling that I was being followed. I looked around and there was no one, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being watched. I started walking faster, then I noticed footsteps getting louder behind me so I began running and suddenly about 5 to 6 men appeared, chasing me down the alley. I tried to call the 112 for help and I was around a corner when a black van stopped right before me and pulled me in...." Na bi trailed off finally piecing it together. Of course. "Wonho. It was Wonho's van." She sighed, rubbing the spot on her head that she had knocked against the door when she was forced in. "So I've been kidnapped yet again."

Changkyun let out a small laugh, walking away from her to the table, pouring a glass of water. "You've been rescued yet again Ms. Baek."

Na bi blinked. "From whom?"

"I'm guessing the same people who attacked me." He walked back, handing her the glass. "It seems you too have been compromised."

"But.... but I thought it was all over?" She took the glass from him, frowning hard. "I thought they didn't need me anymore since they already found you."

"Figured me, yes. Found me? No." He glanced at the darkness outside the windows, turning to it. "Perhaps they were trying to get a hold of you so they could bait me into coming out of hiding."

"You think they wanted to get to you through me?" She scoffed, taking a sip. "Why? What could I possibly mean to you?"

"I believe they've identified you as someone I care about."

Na bi looked at Changkyun in the reflection of the windows only to find him already looking at her. Someone he cared about.

She cleared her throat, looking away. "So you're telling me they might know who I am, where I live, all of it?"

He hummed in response, nodding.

Na bi cursed under her breath, downing the last of the water. "So what do I do now? How am I supposed to go back home? That place isn’t safe for me anymore."

"I can have more men stationed around for your safety." Changkyun offered, taking the empty glass from her. "They can guard your house, even accompany you when needed-"

"I've seen what these people are capable of doing Changkyun, to both you and your men." Na bi placed herself between him and his reflection. "I may not be particularly afraid of dying but I sure as hell am not willing to lose my life over something this insignificant to me. There has to be a better option."

She could see the way his jaw tightened, hand gripping the empty glass tight.

"The safest place for you now is probably right here, in my house but I can't possibly ask you to stay."

Na bi swallowed the phantom lump in her throat. "Why?"

"Ms. Baek, my house is no better than a prison, if you can't already tell." He looked over her shoulder pointedly. "There's no life here - it's quiet and dark and lonely. Don't be fooled by the magnificence of the things around you. This place can, quite literally, be hell."

Na bi stared at him, once again failing to read his expression. Hell?

"But you live here."

He nodded.

"Then I can too."

"Despite seeing what's out there?" His head inclined curiously. "That was just the beginning-"

"Doesn't matter what's out there or in here." Na bi curled her hands into tight fists. "Right now all I know is that if I want to be safe, this is my best choice, you're my best choice. I can't trust anyone else."

"Can you trust me?" He smiled at her cockily. "I thought you had no reason to."

Na bi felt her heart thumping in her chest. She didn't have a reason. Not a single one.

"I'll..... take my chances." She drawled slowly, looking at him side eyed. "Unless you don't want me to stay..."

"Then I wouldn't have offered."

"Right." Na bi let out a deep breath, looking around. "So I guess..... I guess I'll be staying here then, till you sort things out."

Changkyun gave a single nod.

"I'll need some of my things though..."

"Whatever you need will be arranged."

"And uh... should I stay here? In this room or?"

"If its to your liking." He slipped his free hand into his pocket. "There's another guest room down the corridor if you're not comfortable here."

"No no, I think I'm fine. I don't mind...."

She trailed off into a loud silence. A few days ago, she didn't know if she would ever see him again and now suddenly, she was living with him, in his house? Oddly, it was all aligning too well, too easily.

As she tried to navigate through the silence, she watched him, also at a loss of words. What was going on in his head?

"I have to go Ms. Baek. I'm-"

"Y- you're going?" Na bi stuttered. "Oh I....I just wanted to ask if-"

"In due time." He promised, walking back to the door. "You need rest and I have business to attend to."

"I know, but I was just wondering if....." She took hurried steps towards him, halting abruptly as she caught her reflection in the mirror, her question drying up in her throat. That floor length, flowery dress was most definitely not her style. Or even her dress. "Did you.... did you change my clothes?"

Changkyun smiled at her, amused. "There's a lot you're yet to learn about the this place Ms. Baek." He raised the empty glass at her mimicking a toast. "Welcome to Asphodel."

And with that he shut the door behind him and disappeared.

Na bi shut her eyes as the warm water of the shower ran down her body, taking away all the mud, sweat and tears.

She was crying.

The moment she stepped into the shower, unwarranted, tears just began flowing down her cheeks. She wasn't particularly upset or sad or hurt by anything, just.... tired. Tired of it all. Tired of always running, tired of never being allowed to stop, tired of never being able to take a breath in peace. Everything had barely just fallen into place and she was already exhausted.

Scrubbing a very sweetly scented soap down her body, she cleaned herself, wondering if it will truly wash away all that was dirty about her. She didn't like anything about the way things had turned out. She didn't like Changkyun walking back into her life again. She didn't like having to stay in his house. She didn't like any part of what she was about to do. But with a mask on her face, she pushed through it, knowing why it was necessary to.

When she opened her eyes, everything around her spun again and her empty stomach attempted to throw up nothing. She needed to get over this concussion as soon as possible so she could function at her best again. She needed to get it together.

Wrapping a towel around her body, she vigorously rubbed another one into her wet hair, catching sight of her reflection in the large mirror above the sink. She looked worse now that she was cleaner - the dark circles stood out more, her eyes were swollen and empty, cheeks sinking into her face. Leaning forward onto the ledge of the sink she stared at herself, whispering.

"Get it together Na bi. You need to get it together."

Knowing she had no other clothes in this house, she settled on wearing the same long dress again, wondering who's it was. If she wasn't wrong, she hadn't woken up in this dress the first time. She was definitely wearing something red - she remembered catching sight of it in the reflections of the windows and in the pieces that lay torn on the forest floor. This dress didn't have a single rip on it, it wasn't the same.

The walk in closet beside the bathroom wasn't the same either. When Na bi went past it about half an hour ago, she was certain it was empty but looking at it now, her jaw dropped. Every shelf was full. There were dresses, pants, blouses, all kinds of footwear, bags, accessories, and in the drawers, even neatly folded innerwear. That wasn't even the surprising part - it was the fact that nearly everything in here was blue. There were a hundred different shades of it splayed before her, some light, some dark, some patterned, but all of them were most definitely blue. He still remembered.

Na bi felt her lips involuntarily curl into a small smile as she walked in slowly, getting a closer look of it all. It wasn't all her style and every piece looked new, like the kind who's price tag carried a number way too big. On the ottomon, there were more things laid out for her use - a neatly folded nightgown, a fresh set of white bandages, and a bottle of shea butter body lotion, the only scent she ever used. He....noticed?

Her smile slipped away from her as his words rang in her ears. I believe they've identified you as someone I care about. Everything in this space was a testament of that. But why on earth did he care about her? How did he manage to arrange for whatever she needed and so much more? Why did he even bother?

Ignoring the bandages and lotion, she grabbed the nightgown and changed into it, taking one last look at herself in the floor length mirror, sighing, reminding herself yet again.

"Get yourself together Na bi."

When she walked down the stairs of the loft, back into the room, the smell made her insides turn ravenously. On the table was a plate of hot kimchi rice, the scent so alluring, that the moment she laid her eyes on it, she rushed to devour it, not caring for the way it burned her mouth. Breathing in relief as life flooded back into her, she sank onto the couch nearby, chomping away on the unbelievably delicious meal. Glancing at the clock, she realised this was her first meal in over 24 hours - her day had been a whirlwind for a while now.

Everything was supposed to end 10 days ago. Changkyun was gone, the threat on her life was gone, the whole fiasco was over. All that she was left to deal with was her idiotic month long suspension.

At first Na bi was furious about it - it was unfair, illogical and no one was even willing to listen to her side of the story. But eventually, she got around it - afterall, she was finally getting a break. She had the time to spend on herself, to catch up on those shows she stopped watching years ago, to make her home a more habitable place, perhaps even shift to a nicer neighbourhood, closer to the hospital. She could now try to learn making something other than the damn kimbap, she could peacefully listen to her favourite artists, she could maybe date once again.

Na bi's throat tightened as she thought of Mingyu. Following her suspension, he had been the sweetest person possible, constantly checking up on her, making sure she was doing fine, even cheering her up with a handmade pretty bracelet of butterflies that was now missing from her hand. Na bi felt like she was finally finding solace in a decent, appropriate person, even looking forward to going out with him, curious to learn more about him. It was on her fourth date with him that things changed. Forever and for good.

They had gone to his favourite pizza place just the day before for what he called the best pizza in the world. Na bi had to agree, it was truly better than any pizza she had before. In fact, it was so good and she had focused on gobbling it down so fast, she barely remembered the conversation he was trying to have with her. Now they were out at her favourite restaurant, an Indian place in the middle of the city and as usual, the food was absolutely delicious.

Na bi wasn't a huge fan of cocktails, and considering they had quite a lot of beer just the day before, she straight up refused the drink Mingyu ordered for them. He insisted, asking her to just try it once and to her surprise, it wasn't too bad. In fact, it was nice enough for her to finish a whole glass in one gulp, making her head immediately spin. As she tried to pull herself together and stared at Mingyu who turned to order another glass..... everything clicked into place. Everything finally made sense.

Mingyu. Police officer Kim Mingyu. The seemingly sweet, innocent Kim Mingyu who was handing her another drink. A drink that tasted the same the night she first met him, the night she first went out with him, and every night he insisted she drink with him.

Third time is fate Dr. Baek.

"Mingyu."

He looked at her, eyes innocently big, features molded in question.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah sure, is something wrong? Are you-"

"Not here." She got up, nearly toppling her chair as she began walking away. Mingyu looked confused till he saw her head towards the washrooms, his expression changing as he followed. Hesitating, he stepped into the ladies room where she had disappeared into.

"Na bi, I shouldn't-"

He choked to a stop as his eyes fell on her standing right in the middle, sliding her thong down her legs from underneath her dress. Ignoring his absolutely stunned expression, she walked past him, hanging it on the handle of the door as a very evident symbol of what was about to happen inside and shut it. Mingyu watched as she walked back, softly brushing against his shoulder and slid onto the granite counter of the sink, beckoning him closer. Mingyu took a wavering step towards her.

"You wanna do it here?......"

His words drowned out as she pulled him by the collar, smashing her lips onto his, making him groan against it. At first he didn't respond, holding himself back from causing a scene in a very inappropriate place but when she softly bit his lower lip, Mingyu couldn't stop himself anymore. Running his hands up her thighs under the dress, he gripped them hard, pulling her closer, right against his chest, wrapping her legs against his waist as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

They had kissed after their dates, in the car, on the streets but it was nothing like this. She hadn't felt him like this since that night in the bar. The thought of their first meeting twisted something inside her guts. How did she not realise? There was no such thing as a coincidence, eveything happened for a reason.

Moaning against her skin, Mingyu moved down her jaw, latching himself against her neck. Na bi let her hands wander down his chest, trailing them to his back, finally, finally getting hold of what she wanted.

The look on Mingyu's face was of pure betrayal when he stepped back realising what had happened - when his eyes fell on the gun in her hands, the one she just pulled out of his holster. Na bi looked at it before looking up at him, face looking equally betrayed.

"Na bi, that's dangerous. It could-"

"I'm not an idiot Mingyu, I know what a gun does." She caressed it carefully before raising it, pointing right at his chest, making him flinch. "I, however, don't know what you do, which makes you more dangerous."

Mingyu frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"I was a fool to not see beyond your sweet little boy act." She cocked her head at him. "You've been drugging me."

His Adams apple shifted as a drop of sweat rolled down his neck.

"That's not true."

"I know my tolerance Mingyu. I know what alcohol does to me, I know how much I can handle. Yet every time I had a drink with you, things just did not go right. I had less control over myself, my actions were more impulsive," She recalled that night she kissed Changkyun - it was the first night she met Mingyu. That night, when she had that ridiculous dream about him, that was also after meeting Mingyu. "I thought I was losing it. Turns out its been you all along."

Mingyu exhaled, defeated. "I can explain-"

"You can explain drugging me?" She looked at him incredulously. All this while she had only suspected but his attempt to clarify confirmed it. "Mingyu, aren't you a cop? How could you-"

"I'm not."

Na bi felt fear grip her throat. Mingyu ran his hands through his hair, kicking wall behind him frustrated, making her flinch and grip the gun in her hand tighter.

"But you came to the ER that day. You were wearing a uniform....."

"I am a cop, but not really. I....." He looked at the gun still pointed to him and pulled out a badge from his pocket. "I'm a member of the NIS, National Intelligence Service of Korea and I've been working undercover as a cop because I'm on a mission. A mission to get Seoul's infamous, or rather I should say, barely known mastermind," He walked up to her, eyes surprisingly narrowing in accusation. "I.M."

If Na bi wasn't already sitting, she was certain she would have felt the ground slip beneath her feet. Changkyun? Mingyu was looking for Chankgyun. Through her.

"Who-"

"You can drop the act Na bi, I'm aware that you know him." He leaned closer. "I know a lot more than you think."

Na bi stared at him, speechless.

"I was hoping everyone was wrong. I was hoping that you were not one of them. I really hoped...." Mingyu stared at the gun in her hands. "Perhaps I was wrong."

"What do you mean?" Na bi felt her ears turn hot, as panic rose in her and she finally lowered the weapon. "You think.... you think I'm with him?"

"You did side with a criminal-"

"I did not side with anyone."

"Did you not let his men escape from the hospital?"

"No! God, no, I had nothing to do with that-"

"Did you not let him hide in your house?" Na bi's mouth hung open, unable to say anything. "Did you not let him safely leave from there?"

"You're reading everything wrong." She slid off the surface, when Mingyu moved away from, like her inability to give any answer had given him all his answers. "It's not like that-"

"Did he or not stay in your house?"

"He was injured. He came to me bleeding, I gave him a few stitches." She looked at him desperately. "I'm a doctor Mingyu, I just did my job-"

"Why didn't you call the cops?"

That was a question many people had asked her. Changkyun, Seokmin, she herself and now Mingyu. Every time she didn't really have a valid answer.

"He was right there, he would know!" She justified, covering up her actions. "My life would be in danger. I'm sorry I wasn't able to think beyond myself-"

"Is that the only reason?" Mingyu neared her, making her take a scared step back. "Not because you're working for him?"

"No!" Na bi looked at him incredulously. "Of course not. Why would you even-"

"We found bullets in your house Na bi." He clenched his jaw. "In the kitchen drawer. There were bullets that belong to the make of a gun that, forget legal, is not even found in this country-"

"You searched my house? How could you-"

"You were helping a criminal!" Mingyu raised his voice, the sharp sound of it nothing like she had ever heard before. "You chose to protect him, a man who's responsible for what happened to your friend. You chose to-"

"My friend?" Na bi's eyes widened. "You... you know about Ana?"

Mingyu leaned against the door of the stall behind him. "Ana was the reason it all started."

He took a shaky breath, taking his phone out, scrolling through it, before holding it up. "She's dead."

The moment her eyes fell on the image, Na bi instantly felt everything in her stomach violently turn. It was her. It was Ana lying on the ground, lifeless, blood all around, her wrists slit. Both of them.

Na bi leaned against the wall behind, to stop her knees from giving away.

"When....when did that happen?" Her voice barely left her. "What happened?"

"The day after our second date." Mingyu recalled. My men have found lead on Ana. "It was I.M."

"No." Na bi whispered. I will do what I can. "How can it be him, he promised-"

"And he's the epitome of goodness so of course he'd stand by it, right?" Mingyu looked at her scoffing. "You see that, the slits on both her wrists? I'm sure you're not unfamiliar with that in the ER. That's his signature, Na bi. That's how he kills, by letting his prey slowly bleed to death. That's how Tartarus functions."

Na bi frowned, confused and overwhelmed. "What's Tartarus?"

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. "You don't know Tartarus?"

Na bi swallowed the bile rising in her throat again, feeling anger course through her veins. "For the last fucking time, I don't know a damn thing. I don't know anything because I have no part to play in any of this. Why won't you believe me?"

Mingyu stared at her in thought for a bit before he continued. "Tartarus is I.M's secret organisation, made of criminals, assassin's, fighters and many others. They wreck havoc in the city to get what they want and if they don't, then they kill, using their signature move to send a message." Mingyu sighed, "Tartarus used to be run by the Blackjack before he was taken down in the WipeOut. We assumed after his death the organisation would have crumbled but it seems to have shifted to a new leader and is operating more ruthlessly and more efficiently from the shadows." Mingyu stared at himself in the mirror, his voice strained with anger. "They've been showing us hell for years now and we barely know anything about them - who I.M is, how to identify the people working for him, where they operate from, what-"

"Ana knew." Na bi whispered softly. "Ana knew who he is. She knew where to find him."

Mingyu frowned at her. "How would Ana know?"

"I don't know. He doesn't either. He said he wanted to find her so he could ask her himself. He said he had a lead on her location that night but...."

"Perhaps he's gotten the answers he wanted" Mingyu mulled. "and then got rid of her, now that she's of no use-"

"Don't talk about her like that-"

"You're mad at me? What about the man who actually-"

"I know!" Na bi slammed the granite. A violent desire to claw out her own skin ran through her body. She saved a murderer. If she hadn't perhaps Ana would still be alive. Perhaps she would've been okay. It was all her fault.

"How did you...." She looked up at the man before her. "I need you to start from the beginning Mingyu. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

Minyu held out his hand slowly. "Give me the gun and we'll talk."

She looked at him disbelief. "You really think I'm with him?"

"I don't, I want to believe you're innocent because my gut says so. I've been waiting to hear your side of the story, I promise but, " He sighs. ".... please, let's just put the gun aside."

Na bi shook her head. "I've had enough placing blind trust in people. The gun stays with me. Either you talk or I use it." She raised it, pointing at his chest once more. "And don't doubt it, I know how to."

Mingyu stayed silent, staring at her like he was weighing his odds.

"A few weeks ago, a missing report for Ana was filed at a local police station." He started. "When the cops investigated, they felt her disappearance was suspicious so they sent the case to us. Most cases that disappear for too long tend to be linked to I.M and usually, we either find them dead or our investigation reaches a dead end. As usual, without much hope, we began investigating on our own, following her trail when one day, surveillance noticed a woman broke into her house." Mingyu looked at her pointedly. "You."

Na bi frowned at him. "Those people in her house that day were....you guys?"

Mingyu nodded. "Local police. We had them keep the house under observation, as a part of protocol. Usually it doesn't lead to anything significant but that day, we saw you. More suspiciously, as we tried to go after you, you were picked up and rescued in a flash, making us wonder how you might be involved in all this."

Stupid Wonho and his stupid black van.

"We found your fingerprints on the closet and managed to identify you on our database. We wanted to get a hold of you first without making a legal scene, just to verify facts before taking any action but you were guarded 24/7. There were people who always had their eye on you, who were always looking out for you, it was nearly impossible. We couldn't approach you as investigators and that's why I met you in the bar."

Mingyu looked at her guiltily.

"There's a serum being developed by the R&D team at the NIS. It's still in its trial stage but it supposedly has the ability to selectively depress the nervous system, allowing people to lower their inhibitions and be more...." Mingyu swallowed, speaking faster. "...willing to speak, willing to tell the truth. We wanted to extract information from you with that but that night, you ran away."

Na bi recalled the events that followed their first meeting. She had shot a man. She had barged into Changkyun's hideout. She had thrown herself at him like he was all she wanted. God.

"The next day the ER escape incident happened and our suspicions that you were tied with I.M were confirmed." Na bi opened her mouth in protest but Mingyu continued. "I know you said you have nothing to do with it but there were too many things pointing at you. We also knew that he was out there somewhere, unguarded and perhaps injured in the same fight as his men but the very next night, we received intel that he had gone back into hiding. That was on the night of our second date where I gave you the serum again. The night you tested my knowledge about the mafia. The night you didn't let me in your house."

Na bi shook her head, sighing in defeat. Everything was perfectly fitting a very, very inaccurate picture.

"Since that day, we established that you were one of his people and that we probably couldn't get any information from you directly. The plan was that I would continue to pursue you and given your suspension, we'd have both time and a sympathy factor to get closer and I would be able to find out more about I.M but here we are...."

"How convenient for you, that my suspension would align so well...." Mingyus face continued to look guilty and Na bi felt her ears grow hot. "You had me suspended."

"It was my team leaders doing." He confessed immediately. "I swear, I didn't know that was the plan...."

Na bi felt a pure, unadulterated desire to put a bullet through him and everyone who had walked into her life the last few weeks. She had become a joke, a toy for everyone to play around with, to use as they wished. If there was no knocking on the door, her anger would have perhaps started her mass elimination with Mingyu.

"Five minutes!"

"Miss, I'm afraid this is not allowed-"

Na bi walked up to Mingyu, and harshly stepped on his foot, her heel bruising the middle of his foot and covered his mouth, turning his loud shrieks of pain into muffled groans. The person on the other side of the door instantly shut up.

"Five. minutes." She repeated as Mingyu looked at her, hurting. She didn't feel sorry. It was his stupid low inhibition, truth telling serums fault.

"Now," She removed her hand and stood back, as he straightened himself, wincing. "Let me tell you the truth."

And Na bi told him everything. Her accidental kidnapping, her being set free, her being stalked, revisiting Changkyun, him coming home, him leaving to find Ana. Everything. Everything except his name. That sounded like venom in her mouth, she couldn't bring herself to even say it.

"That can't be right." Thankfully, Mingyu spoke only after she was done. "He kidnapped you accidentally, then let you go. You went to Ana's house and he let you go. You revisited him at his hide out and he still let you go? He even came to you when he was in danger? For your help?"

"I told you, he was using me as bait so I was his safest choice. And apparently using me has become a very common mode of action these days-"

"Na bi, Tartarus is a massive underground organisation of hundreds of people. They lack humanity, they have no regard for rules, and they are in every inch of the city. Are you telling me a man with all that in his disposal, needed your help?" She blinked at him, lost in thought. "He's one of the most powerful people out there, even if there was a threat to him or he was in danger, trust me, eliminating it is not hard. There's clearly something else he wants...."

Though Na bi had an idea where Mingyu was going with this, she still asked. "What?"

"You." Mingyu stated like it was the most obvious thing on the planet. "All this while we wondered why I.M would choose someone like you to be on his side, now it makes sense. He likes-"

"Stop, stop, that's not possible." That night they were making out, Chankgyun stopped her. Everytime they looked at each other, he never seemed like he wanted more. Everytime she felt the slightest of sparks between them, he would always pull away. Changkyun was definitely not interested in her. "Trust me, I'd know if he felt like that."

"Think about it. Saving you so many times, having his men look out for you, opening up to you, listening to what you say, that's... that's a man who's interested." Mingyu stared at the design on the floor, brain working fast. "His world is different Na bi. Its not as simple as yours or mine. I think he was testing you, seeing if you'd actually be able to fit in his life and you do. Not only did you throw yourself at him-" Na bi winced at the choice of words. "-proving that you too were interested, you also saved his life and you let him escape. You're exactly what he's looking for." Mingyu looked at her, a strange something brewing behind his eyes. "And we have to make use of that."

If Na bi heard the word use another time from anyone's mouth, she swore, she would put a bullet through them.

"You said you're not on I.M's side right? That you were just trying to save yourself and not protect him?" Mingyu looked at her eagerly and she nodded. "Then prove it. Help us. Come on our side and help us take him down-"

"No." Na bi stared at Mingyu like he was insane. "None of this is my business, I was never supposed to be involved in any of this in the first place. I've barely gotten out of all this alive, if he even gets the slightest clue that I might be helping you, he'd have me killed-"

"How about for once," And the next set of word were too harsh for Na bi to even hear. "Just once, you think about someone other than yourself? Do you know how many lives you can save if he's gone-"

"That's not fair." She said softly. "I am in this mess because I cared about Ana. I am in this mess because I cared enough to save a dying man despite knowing he was not a good person. You're taking to me about saving lives? I'm a doctor Mingyu, I do that anyways."

"Then do it for Ana." His eyes looked softer now, almost like they were begging. "Don't you want justice for her? Don't you want to punish those who did that to her?"

Na bi felt her heart thumping in her chest.

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you too have feelings for him-"

"What is wrong with you Mingyu-"

"You did admit to being attracted to him-"

"Attraction is temporary, fickle feeling. It's barely something you allow to cloud your judgement. " Na bi looked at him incredulously. "I don't know the man, I don't have any feelings for him, I never can." Disgust rose in her chest at the memory of Ana's lifeless body. "Not with someone like that. Just beacuse I couldn't keep it in my pants on a night that, let me remind you, you drugged me, it doesn't mean-"

"The serum only lowers inhibitions Na bi," Mingyu reminded her. "The choices are still yours."

"It was merely a primal response of a woman to a man." Na bi crossed her arms decisively. "But I am an evolved being Mingyu, I can differentiate between what's right and wrong."

"Then you'd know it's right to side with me." He moved closer to her. "That you should pick my side of this fight."

Na bi stared at Mingyu thinking about the last few days of her life. She was at the edge of a rabbit hole and if she let herself fall, there was no way out. No way back. She didn't want to get trapped again. She really didn't.

A sudden knocking frightened them both, making them jump in their skin, turning to the door.

"Sir, I'm afraid if you don't come out, we're going to have to call the cops."

Na bi sighed annoyed and finally handed Mingyu his gun which he immediately stashed away. She turned to the mirror, haphazardly arranging her fringes and smudged her lipstick at the corners, looking at his reflection.

"Would you rather people assume we had sex or have them find out that man from NIS, at gunpoint, confessed to drugging and violating the privacy of an innocent woman's life?"

Mingyu immediately unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and ran his hands through his hair, neatly messing it. Giving him an approving nod, Na bi went over and opened the door to a bunch of waiters, security guards and a suited man.

"Ma'am, I must tell you-"

"We're done and we're going."

Na bi brushed them away, grabbing her underwear from the handle and tucked it in Mingyu's back pocket, widening everyone's eyes as she walked away. Mingyu followed, muttering a bunch of apologies, joining her as she stood by the empty road, looking down it.

"I think we are banned from ever coming back here." Mingyu looked over his shoulder at the manager angrily shutting the restaurant door behind them. "I'm sorry, you said it was your favorite-"

"There's a lot more things you should be sorry about that I've not heard an apology for."

"Na bi, I really am sorry, for everything. I was just doing my job." Mingyu insisted. "You know what's that like."

Na bi stared at the far end of the one way street.

"So will you help us?" He eyed her from the side. "Please, just think about it-"

"Help you how?"

"We'll figure that out. As long as you say you'll help, I'll talk to Jihoon. I'll convince him that your innocent and we'll formulate a plan. I just need you to assure me you'll help."

He looked at her so expectantly, though Na bi didn't owe him anything. But she did owe one person.

"For Ana." She turned to him. "Only for her. Only because I want answers for her."

The relief on Mingyus face was like no other. He immediately fished for his phone, mumbling a bunch of things under his breath. Na bi didn't care enough to hear - she had enough for the day.

When the cab approached, she flagged it down and got in without so much as looking at Mingyu. That was the second last time she saw him.

The last time she saw him was about five days ago, at the Chinese place downtown who's address Mingyu had texted her. The moment she asked for him at the counter, they led her to the "special seating in the basement" which turned out to be a long corridor of doors, ending at a storeroom fermenting wines of various kinds.

The table in the centre was illuminated by a dull lamp throwing light on all the papers and maps and laptops lying askew. Men in black jackets stood around it whispering in hushed voices, while the men in green stood in the shadows behind, holding their rifles agaisnt their chest. Na bi felt something cold trickle down her neck.

"Lover boy, your girl made it."

She turned to a man just about her height, walking past her to stand next to Mingyu, who she had just noticed. The bigger man flashed her his usual canine smile which she did not return. She wasn't here to exchange pleasantries.

"What is this place?"

"NIS special operations office." Mingyu answered, approaching her. "One of many. This is the branch we use for-"

"Sure, why don't you tell her the exact coordinates of all our other operative locations too?" The shorter man began flipping through the files before him, barely looking at her. The hostility towards her was not hidden.

Mingyu flushed, looking embarrassed. "That's Jihoon, team leader." He whispered. "That's just the way he speaks. He's a bit-"

"Bit of an ass." Na bi completed loudly for him, getting Jihoon to finally look at her.

"You have quite some nerve." He crossed his arms, anger evident in his voice. "I see why I.M would pick you."

Na bi rolled her eyes turning to Mingyu. "I'm not sure why I'm trying to help if your all-knowing team leader doesn't even trust me."

"Trust is earned Dr. Baek."

"Like you tried to earn mine by spiking my drinks every chance you got?" She raised an eyebrow at Jihoon. "Or by having me suspended for no damn reason?"

Jihoon was just about to retaliate when Mingyu stepped up, concerned. "Jihoon, I trust her. Her side of the story aligns, it makes sense. You said you trust my judgement." Jihoon rolled his eyes, turning back to his files. "Na bi, please give him time. We've been seeing you as an enemy for days. It's not easy to accept you on the other side of the fight." Na bi stared at the unbothered man before her and nodded unwillingly.

"Let's make this short and quick." Jihoon pulled up a chair before her, sitting with a manspread. "You can start with telling us everything you know about I.M"

Na bi stared at him angrily as Mingyu pulled up another chair for her and hurried to diffuse the situation.

"Jihoon, she doesn't know anything about him."

"She's met him, is there really nothing of value she can offer?" Jihoon leaned, interlocking his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "As far as we know, you're the only one who's ever seen him, Ms. Baek."

"Dr. Baek." Na bi corrected, deeply disliking the way he spoke to her. "I can describe how he looks, how vivid is your imagination on a scale of 1 to 10?"

"Save the smart talk for the sketch artist Dr. Baek." Jihoon scoffed. "We should arrange for one by next week. In the meantime, you can enlighten me about some other details, any clues that might help."

Na bi sunk into her chair, gathering her thoughts. She didn't really know that much about Changkyun. He had a lighter that be never seemed to part with, he smelt like whiskey and roses, he could tell if a gun was loaded by its weight, he wasn't a picky eater, and he was good at doing dishes. That was about the depth of her knowledge, none of which were helpful.

"I uh know the address of the warehouse that I was taken to the first time I was kidnapped."

"They might have abandoned it once you rediscovered them." Mingyu pondered.

"Yeah.. but you might find some clues there?"

"They wiped a whole hospital clean of their existence." Jihoon added. "You think a warehouse would be spared?"

"There's no harm in trying." She gritted between her teeth.

Sighing, Jihoon handed her a notepad and a pen, allowing her to scribble the location down. One of the men in black walked up and took it from her as the team leader whispered instructions in his ear.

"There's a man named Wonho, who is his right hand of sorts. He frequently roams around in a black van, that's what they used to kidnap me. Twice."

"A name and a car colour is not enough Dr. Baek."

"Well that's all I have." She snapped. "We didn't exactly sit and exchange life stories."

Jihoon stared at her, then Mingyu.

"We need to get her to him." Jihoon grabbed his phone from the table. "She knows nothing, but if she's by his side, she might learn more."

"What do you mean?" Na bi's eyes flickered between the two men.

Jihoons eyes scanned her up to down. "I hear you're his latest love interest-"

Na bi rolled her eyes. "He's not in love with me."

"In love, attracted, infatuated, whatever, I don't care. The key word is interested. If he's taken an interest to you and you have his attention," Jihoon cracked his knuckles. "then that shall be our weapon. You shall be our weapon. We'll put you right next to him, perfect to find and feed us intel - where his headquarters are, where his hideouts are, crucial details of his organisation-"

"You're asking me to pretend to return his apparent interest in me, collect information about him discreetly and report it back to you?" Jihoon nodded at her, like it was obvious. "You're insane. I agreed to help you, not kill myself. If he finds out what I'm up to, I'll be dead in an instant."

"Are you saying you disapprove of my idea Dr. Baek?"

"No, I'm saying that it's outright stupid and doesn't consider the risks that it holds for me." She sat upright. "I'm sure there's other things I can help with. We still don't know why and how Ana got involved in all this. Since I know her, I can work with Mingyu on that-"

"Dr. Baek, since you're so eager to give suggestions, let me remind you what exactly your position here is." Na bi could see the pulsation in Jihoon's temple. "You are still a suspect of being I.M's aid, proven by the fact that we found your fingerprints in Ana's house and bullets in your own house. The only thing saving you from being prosecuted right now is Mingyu's willingness to take your responsibility and your ability to help us. Should you back off now, imagine the effect that would have on your life? On your career?"

Na bi looked at Mingyu in disbelief. He didn't meet her eye as Jihoon continued.

"You will be prosecuted. You would be going in and out of court for years, trying to prove your innocence, only to be trampled by the judicial system that functions purely on hard facts and evidence, which I have. Have you considered these risks for yourself?"

Na bi felt like air was knocked out of her lungs. "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm reminding you." Jihoon threw her a photo of the bullets laying stashed in her kitchen drawer. "This is as important to you as it is to us. I hope you will start to take it as seriously."

Na bi stared at the picture in her lap. She never should have hidden the bullets from Chankgyun. One stupid, stupid move and she was trapped.

Picking up the picture, she ripped it, earning a glare from Jihoon and an inaudible, concerned whisper from Mingyu. She had no way out.

"I don't have any way to contact him." She threw the pieces on the floor. "How will I find out anything?"

Jihoon looked at Mingyu who got up immediately, walking to the table.

"If our theory of I.M taking a fancy for you is right, he must still have his eyes on you." Mingyu started. "It shouldn't be impossible for you to get a hold of him again."

"If he still has his eye on me, anything we try wouldn't work." Na bi wondered how on earth this man managed to work in intelligence. "He would have seen me hanging out with you for days now, and given your genius undercover role was that of a cop, he's not going to try and approach me anymore."

"Cops aren't a threat to him." Jihoon interjected. "Majority of the cops in Seoul don't even know about I.M and the ones that do, work for him anyways."

Na bi's eyes widened. "C-cops work for him? A criminal?"

"If good men were purely good, evil wouldn't exist Dr. Baek. How do you think the man has been able to stay so powerful? He's got his people everywhere." Mingyu nodded at her in agreement. "More frustratingly, there is loyalty for him everywhere. Over the years, any of his people that we've managed to get a hold of would rather kill themselves in custody than reveal anything about him.... That's why you're our only way." Jihoon looked at her very differently now. "The only thing that can take him down is betrayal. That's what you need to do."

Na bi gripped her thighs to stop them from shaking. It was getting all too much. Too much.

Jihoon got up, joining Mingyu at the table. "What was your plan?"

"We need to make him believe her life is still in danger." Mingyu started slowly. "If he truly cares, like we assumed, he will try to protect her again. We can start from there."

"And if he doesn't?" Na bi walked up to him, standing on the other side, glancing at his paperwork. "What if he doesn't fall for it? Or if he doesn't try to protect me again, then?"

"I bet my ass this would work." Jihoon clicked his tongue at Mingyu's choice of words, making him apologise before he continued. "We have back up plans. If not this, then-"

"Sorry, boss." The black jacket man from earlier returned, making all three of them turn towards the door. "I have intel. I enquired about address she gave. It's an old warehouse that stores spare parts of cars. It hasn't been used in years but a week ago..." He looked at Na bi then Jihoon. "There was electrical issue, a faulty wire that led to sparks and... the place caught fire. It's completely burnt down, there's nothing but ashes."

Jihoon glanced at Na bi who let out a shaky breath. She knew what his stare meant - she really was the only way out. She was their only solution.

That's how barely five days later, true to their plan, albeit at a much earlier time than she was informed, she found herself being chased down the alleys. And exactly as Mingyu predicted, Wonho 'rescued' her yet again, bringing her just where she had to be - right by Chankgyun.

She scrapped the last of her food off the plate, forcing it down her throat though all she wanted was to throw it all up. She needed to eat, she needed her energy - things were only just beginning. She had only entered hell today.

Tomorrow, she was to begin her mission to take down its king.

Next chapter

[throwaway-yandere]

"If you truly loved me, you should be dead." (Yandere Hitman!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: shoutout to rin for giving me that wine prompt, general for making me simp more, and ana for indirectly giving me that final push to write abt dain again lol. Maybe I enjoyed this way too much. Sorry for the b&w manga panels lol.

unreliable summary: Dainsleif– a well-known ex-hitman– recently discovered that his deceased spouse might be alive. Whether or not that’s good news is entirely up to his mental state to decide.

Cw: yandere themes, mafia au, religious themes, major character death, violence, UNRELIABLE NARRATORS, mentions of cancer, and grief mixed with suicidal thoughts. Hurt/no comfort. Please PLEASE prioritize your mental health first before consuming dark content. you matter first and foremost.

“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect, 6:00 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.”

—---

“Get in.”

“B-But what if!–”

“Just get in, Thoma.”

Dainsleif uncapped his hip flask as Thoma trembled at the foreboding skyscraper in front of their smaller and seemingly insignificant stature. He’s not bothered by Thoma’s reaction, besides–

What sane person wouldn’t be intimidated at the sight of a hotel run by criminals?

The Heavenly Principles is a chain of hotels established by the Abyss Order. It is also regarded as a haven for those with blood-stained nails– but never freshly coated hands. The Snezhnayan branch is the cruelest and most frigid one. They won’t bat an eye if you had arrived after a “job”, but it is most certainly a problem if you conducted “business” inside. It’s a neutral territory for the underworld with several ground rules. Rules that, once broken, would result in what is referred to as “ex-communication”… and no one wants the Adjudicator to hunt them down. 

As fate would have it, the infamously retired assassin turned "Bough Keeper" aided a corporate bodyguard inside. Thoma spoke about how the Adjudicator was looking for his Lady without ascertaining the reason why. To soothe the "pup"’s nerves, Lord Ayato kindly asked his old friend Dain if he could drag Thoma to Lord Arlecchino. If Dain knew how finicky the lapdog would be, he probably would've turned the favor down.

"Why are you so sure he's not after Ayaka?" Thoma boldly asked.

Dainsleif refrained from sighing.

The only reason Thoma wasn’t afraid of Dainsleif was that the retired hitman made an oath to his spouse that he would never kill again once they were married. Nowadays, Dain’s income relied on mundane “clean-ups” or sometimes disarming bombs. He dismantled himself from his old responsibilities and became the Abyss Order’s errand boy. Currently, his job is the lowest rank yet he remains respected. As the Bough Keeper, his job is to clean up and handle disputes as long as it doesn’t result in the death of any parties. 

A bit similar to Thoma’s line of work, but the bodyguard loathes that comparison. In his point of view, Dainsleif’s eyes are terrifyingly empty when compared to his. Thoma fears his eyes. It reminds him of the time he rowed a boat to Inazuma from Mondstadt. Being stuck in the middle of the sea is not what rattles him, it’s when Thoma gazed and saw the difference between the water and skies was heavily blurred, unable to pinpoint where the ocean ends.

That uncertainty makes anyone shake. They’d rather not make an enemy of a man who is one more step to having nothing to lose.

“If Adjudicator Cyno were out to get her, he would’ve surely ended her life by now,” Dainsleif answered, walking without as much letting the bodyguard catch up. “It’s far more likely that he has business with me and not your lady.”

The adjudicator would surely look for him in the next 3 hours.

“But My Lady has–”

“Not caused actions that'll make the Abyss Order turn against her whatsoever.” 

Dainsleif stopped by the tinted glass door and Thoma exhaled deeply. They had been walking for hours since the ex-hitman refused to take a taxi. He claimed that a walk would be safer for Thoma. Assassins don’t act kind towards bodyguards, so seeing Dainsleif march beside him (rather, in front of him) is more than enough to secure his safety. 

“Rest assured, once you talk to Arlecchino you’d realize that he’s not after the Himegimi.”

“A-And I’m supposed to be more relaxed by the possibility that he’s after her brother instead?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Because the Adjudicator wouldn't thoughtlessly kill the person who runs the Heavenly Principle's Inazuma branch. I'd appreciate it if you think critically.”

Katheryne, the receptionist, opened the hotel's door. She welcomed Dainsleif in, but if her hair was any longer she would’ve slapped her locks against Thoma’s face with how quick she was to turn and disregard his presence. 

“Good afternoon, Sir Dainslief, Thoma,” she said in a monotone voice. Her lack of honorifics when addressing the bodyguard was noticeably rude. “Please, do not wait around outside, come on in.”

The hotel looks even more spacious and positively regal inside.

Thoma had anticipated that a place where "lowlives" would find sanctuary would be horribly run-down and neglected, but he cynically understood that money talks—and crime speaks louder. His skin crawls at the idea that the blood money used to construct this infrastructure served as its fundamental foundation, but he lacks the courage to say it.

“So… Do you come here often?” Thoma whispered.

Dainsleif blinked– and Thoma can barely determine the subtle shock on his face.

“... Yes. Yes, I do.”

Dainsleif proceeded to advance toward Katheryne without explaining why he was taken aback by that question.

Thoma normally takes the front line during security disputes in the Kamisato Esate, but this hotel is a very different situation. If the act of clinging onto Dainsleif’s toned arm won’t disparage the Kamisato Clan’s reputation, Thoma would’ve done that in a heartbeat. A few oddballs gave him the side eye, and a ginger-haired man almost charged at Thoma with a makeshift lance before putting it away when he saw Dainsleif.

“Holy shit. It’s the dead Twilight walking!!!” The ginger greeted with empty eyes. “Where’ve you been, comrade?! And what’s with the news we just heard? You gave Skirk an aneurism.”

Dainsleif took a sip of his pocketed Death After Noon with a look in his eyes that screamed “Here we go again.”

“Your concern for me is flattering, Childe,” Dainsleif spoke, bored. “I’m only here for personal matters.”

“Is he a relative of yours?” This “child” squinted his eyes, piercing them against Thoma. “Must say, he looks like a total greenhorn.”

Thoma raised his hand, “I’m–”

“That’s not worthy of your concern, and don't bother him.”

Thoma was grateful for Dainsleif’s nonanswer. The way he phrased it had implications that he might be a VIP and therefore untouchable.

“Alright then, who am I to disrespect a legend’s wishes?” The “child" patted Dainsleif’s shoulder. 

“In any case, welcome home for the last time, comrade.”

Dainsleif diverted his gaze. 

“Home?”

This place is not his home, he refuses to let it be so. The scent of cocoa truffles, the messy watercolor-ed desk, the bulletin board littered with red threads, and scattered impulsive notes about a character’s dialogue– where is it? Is this stiff hotel Dainsleif’s home when there’s no sign of life– no sign of them? In here, there is no bed to fix, no brushes to dry, no markers to cap–

and no insomniac spouse to forcefully tuck into bed at 2 AM. 

A strained laugh exited Dainsleif’s throat, and a burning sensation in his eyes nearly reminded him that he does have emotions he cannot bottle underneath a cool facade. Yet, as that laugh reverberated in the otherwise silent lounging area, the ex-hitman steeled himself. That phantom coil in his chest dissipated and was replaced by something hollow. 

Midnight cuddles and drinks with his spouse, watching their eyes crinkle as they ramble about their last horror piece, pulling them closer just to see the stars in their eyes. That scenery? It was his home. It was what street musicians dub like Venti would as happiness. Not the silence after slaughter– not the quiet of the Principle's lounging area. 

The Bough Keeper closed his eyes and answered the two oblivious men with a flat voice. 

A “home” to get back to... 

“I… no longer have a home.”

He's already reached his journey's end. All his bones await now is death himself.

For only death can lead him back home into (Y/n)’s arms again.

Dainsleif sighed. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Childe. Do svidaniya. Extend my greetings to Skirk if you have the chance, and when you try your hand at hunting me down: do your best.”

—-------------

“Found you."

The woman of the hour smirked as she peered over her shoulder. Her luxurious locks of short dark-streaked albino elegantly hair swung as she faced both Dain and Thoma. 

“Oh? Well, it’s only because I wanted to be found.”

Dainsleif sat at one of the chairs unperturbed while Thoma tried not to squirm as the Heavenly Principle’s Snezhnayan branch proprietor– Lord Arlecchino– organized her documents. The enormity of Thoma's situation was lost on her. Arlecchino's face was barely wrinkled, a sign that she takes pleasure in her job. Despite carrying out a task that required undivided attention, her piercing stare dug holes in the wall clock. Her lack of focus relieved Thoma, but only for a fleeting moment.

3 hours more, huh?

Arlecchino fished out a paper from her desk pile.

Never been one to beat around the bush, she laid the facts drop-dead on the table with a loud thud.

“(Y/n) is alive, and Her Highness expects that both Dainsleif and Kamisato Ayaka know where they are.”

…

Dainsleif didn’t utter a word.

“E-Excuse me?!” Thoma gasped.

Dain’s spouse died years ago. Much like a cat leaving the house when it knows it will inevitably shake hands with death, (Y/n) vanished when they knew the next month would be their last. Their family on their mother’s side had always been riddled with cancer and similar illnesses. When they muttered sweet phrases about how they wanted his last memories of them to be of them smiling and cheering him on– Dainsleif didn’t question the validity of their death. 

So for Arlecchino to say such a thing is a bit…

“There’s no way! Sure, (Y/n) was close friends with the Kamisatos– but My Lady cried during (Y/n)’s funeral. Ayaka had always been honest to a fault– she wouldn’t have been able to lie, act, or keep a secret like this–”

At least, that’s what Thoma assumed. All he has is word-of-mouth from his master and the Darknight Hero’s associates. The Dawn Winery isn’t the most reliable source unless you’re trained at fact-checking rogues and fabulists’ crude testimonies. Thoma may be a streetwise man, but he always exuded naivete when surrounded by men like them.

Dainsleif cut him off immediately. 

“Your rambling is as banal as Katheryne asking for “Dinner Reservations” after business. Worse, yours suffer from how unwarranted they are.” 

Thoma went silent to both Arlechinno and Dain’s immediate relief. The two understood it as Thoma perceiving a threat, but in reality, the bodyguard just wasn't aware that “dinner reservations” meant cleaning up a crime scene.

“Where is (Y/n)?” The ex-hitman looked at Arlecchino nonchalantly. “If that intel was real, where are they now?”

“Y-You can’t be serious, Dain!” Thoma gawked. “Your spouse died long ago–”

“Where are they now?”

Silence filled the room as the assassin repeated his inquiry with accentuated obstinacy. Dainsleif knows his spouse better than them so Thoma cannot question the widower’s line of thought.

(Y/n) (L/n), may not have been an official criminal in the eyes of the underworld, but they were guilty of multiple accounts of rebellion, sedition, and illegal associations. They penned propaganda in literary mediums and had repeatedly given out tactics on how to dismantle the current system under a 4-lettered pen name, “████”. His spouse was devious by nature and a long-winded conversationalist– which emphasizes a noticeable stark contrast when seated beside their stoic husband. 

If they were alive, they must be watching this conversation while suppressing a smirk.

(Y/n) was the type who would laugh at their own funeral. An expiration date made more sense to them than a promise of forever. Fixity made them uneasy. Dainsleif cannot trust others to share a domestic life with them when he is wholly aware that they’ll die from their hereditary illness. (Y/n) sought thrills more than comfort, which is a reason why he can't cross out the possibility that they had grown bored of their marriage and used their health as an excuse to–

No. That’s an awful line of thinking.

(Y/n) loved him. 

… Surely, they did? 

"Don't lose your composure, Twilight. I'm not saying this so you could drown yourself in grief with fire-waters. I’ve heard word from Pantalone that they’re likely in Sumeru City during the Sabzeruz Festival, but as (Y/n) loved to say–”

“Information always travels faster than people,” Dainsleif closed his eyes, tasting the words as if it was his deceased lover that imparted them themselves. “That leaked intel is as reliable as wet tissue paper.”

(Y/n)’s insight in regards to trends had been prescient– which is a kinder and less pessimistic way to say they likely already knew the adjudicator had been trailing them for some time. Runaways follow oft‐trod paths to free-trade zones– his spouse would be no exception.

That is, of course, if (Y/n) is alive.

But they’re not.

Dainsleif refused to believe it.

If (Y/n) (L/n) truly loved him, they wouldn’t be alive right now. 

“Let us temporarily assume that your spouse is alive for the foreseeable future, Dain,” Arlecchino said, noticing Dain’s subtly pained expression. “For the sake of formalities– are you aware of the repercussions you will face if they were?”

“Repercussions…?” Thoma’s eyes widened.

Dainsleif shook his head.

“If it’s as I suspect, then this is a tragic state of affairs.”

“Indeed,” Arlecchino placed a hand on her hip, subtly pushing away her coat to signify her slotted holster. She tilted her chin up menacingly at Thoma. 

“Since you can’t catch up, Mister Kamisato Estate Representative, allow me to spell everything out for you– Dainsleif would be formally announced as a “sinner” in the next 3 hours.”

Thoma’s eyes widened, unlike the man who was affected by the news.

“HAAAH?!?”

Dainsleif sipped his flask again, unbothered.

“Sinner” describes individuals who have been banned from all services, resources, and relationships with other members of the criminal underworld. Sinners become a target for any individuals who wish to kill them with a large bounty placed on their heads. And an ex-communication ordained by the Heavenly Principles is a guaranteed high payroll. When it’s the Abyss Order that hands the cash, you’d get more than enough to secure more than a handful of assets. The moment that occurs– Dainsleif would have to run and find connections that would help him plead his case.

They would surely goad everyone with tenfold the normal amount given the Twilight Sword’s intimidating repertoire. 

Dain found that amusing.

The nickname “Twilight Sword” he carries is not reserved for anyone else, but mortal arrogation would surely take a jab and see if they can steal the only life he can’t take away.

He’d laugh now if he weren't depressed.

Killing the Twilight Sword, huh? Even he fails to accomplish that.

"That's unreasonable! The sins of a spouse can't be shared–"

"Why don't you keep your mouth shut, blonde?"

Arlecchino snarled.

"Read the room. No one is giving you a turn to speak."

…

Dainsleif cleared his throat, “Back to the matter at hand; Her Highness is under the assumption that my spouse was– or is– conspiring against the Abyss Order. Which, I reassure you, is unlikely given how their last book is an anti-fascist novel with The Crane being alluded to as the protagonist.”

It didn't make sense for (Y/n) to betray the mafia when they were part of the cog that overthrew Osial, Ei, and the rest. 

“... The Crane?” Thoma muttered to himself.

Arlecchino sighed gutturally, irritated.

“You might know her as Shenhe. She’s the assassin that overthrew the ex-Capo, Osial,” Arlecchino answered Thoma. “Strange that you don’t know her. I’m certain she had helped with renovating the Kamisato Estate before.”

Thoma answered with a small voice, “I do know Shenhe as my Lady’s friend, but I don’t recall having her help us with our last renovation…”

“But you should’ve remembered that. After all, cranes are the best kind of bird to help you lift planks.”

…

…

…

“... None of you got the joke too? Don’t even think about disparaging me. The joke is not mine, it’s the Adjudicator's.”

Thoma frowned, “I’m sorry, I think it’s too advanced–”

“Stop.” Dainsleif whispered urgently, “Don’t let her explain it. We’re wasting time.”

—-------------

“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect: 2 hours and 30 minutes.”

—-------------

“There’s a fourteen million bounty on your head now, Dain,” Arlecchino said. “If I were more heartless, I would’ve easily planned something. Fourteen million is an impressive starting price.”

“Thank you.”

“P-Please don't thank her. She admitted that she wants to kill you," Thoma begged in a hushed whisper.

As if he doesn't want that to happen.

“Although you have been a loyal customer, I can’t provide any services once the timer runs out,” Arlecchino deadpanned. “You’re a brave one. Sauntering into my hotel when assassins are waiting to strike. It’s as if you have a death wish like my former colleagues.”

“I’ll take my leave then.”

Dainsleif stood up and prematurely exited the conversation, leaving two acquaintances behind.

Arlecchino chuckled. Always up on his feet, that one. She looked at the person who left. It’s clear to her that Thoma does not know what he intended to do next. Thoma fiddled with his fingers, staring blankly. 

"It's rude to stare. If you have something to say, spit it out."

Thoma cleared his throat.

"Lord Arlecchino, I was hoping to find out more about My Lady's safety…"

Arlecchino rolled her eyes.

“I’d rather you figure out the truth for yourself. (Y/n) taught us that indoctrination is not education before they ‘passed’, but since I happen to be in a friendly rivalry with Lord Kamisato, I’ll give you your damn reassurance and advice."

Arlecchino grabbed Thoma’s shoulder tightly. Thoma stiffened at her harsh touch, but his determined eyes impressed Arlecchino.

"Ayaka is fine, and Ayaka will be fine."

Arlecchino slid an envelope against his chest. He winced awkwardly at her cold touch and fumbled to receive it. 

…

…

After reading the letter, Thoma sighed in relief.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes. Yes, Lord Arlecchino."

"Good."

No one outside the room knew at that time what the letter contained except for Lord Kamisato. But in 2 hours, the world would know soon enough.

"And lastly, I know you're tempted, but stay away from Dain. He's a dead man and most of all–" Arlecchino breathed between her teeth. 

“He's unreliable. His view on his relationship with (Y/n) is tinted with a rosy hue. His memory has all but faded completely regarding what transpired. And sometimes, liars get fooled by their own lies. See for yourself.”

Thoma’s eyebrows knitted in an instant. Arlecchino didn’t give him a turn to speak and opened the door on his way out.

“Focus on your issues, Kamisato Dog. Ad astra abyssosque.”

—------------------------------------

“Dainsleif, Excommunicated. In effect in 4… 3… 2…”

“1…”

“Dainsleif: 14 million. Open contract is now in effect. All services have been suspended.”

—------------------------------------

“Halfdan.”

“Dain.”

“Please let me do this.”

Dainsleif hummed non-committedly.

His new enemy is none other than Halfdan: an old friend back when he served in the military and also the same brother-in-arms he dragged along to become freelance hitmen. Thanks to the fall of multiple governments, Khaenria’hns had to vicariously live through dirty work to survive. To cope, Dainsleif mercifully persuaded Halfdan down this route with a gifted gun for him to take.

And it’s the very same revolver now aimed at Dainsleif’s forehead.

“Capo Pantalone denounced two possibilities from this scenario: one being your spouse had turned traitor and the other would be that they were a double agent this whole time,” Halfdan quietly mused. “And if that were the case, they fear what that makes you." 

“And that’s why you’re here?” Dainsleif spoke between labored exhales, clearly worn out from the numerous assassination attempts against his life moments prior.

The world they walk on is liquefied and weightless, never a flat one. Most are content to kill, but not to live– never to dream. Here in the underground, capitalism plays in a greater uneven field. Assassins, elites, common folk– such titles make no difference. Whatever bounty pays moderately might shoot higher the next hour while others might drop lower than the corpse themselves. 

Which led Halfdan to make the worst decision of his life.

An ex-hitman who refuses to kill does sound like an easy target on paper.

Dainsleif gritted his teeth. 

If Halfdan knew Dain's barrel was empty, he would be dead right now.

Still, not everyone would be bold to make an enemy out of the Bough Keeper.

Especially not when he memorized every hitman’s fighting style, moves, and preferred weapons.

"Evidence suggests that you’re an accomplice. Did you help them?"

“I did not help them– because (Y/n) was not a traitor.”

“Then who else could’ve ratted out all the Abyss' trade routes?” Halfdan said robotically. “It’s a win-win situation for (Y/n) if this whole mess is true. They’d get recognition for their work and potentially have you dead after your ex-communication.”

"Do you know where they are? Where (Y/n) is?"

"You're at the end of my revolver and that's what you're asking?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"Not at all," Halfdan closed his eyes. "Not at all."

"I take it you don't have a clue."

"I know that (Y/n) has been the brains of Archon Kusanali's return to office– possibly her second sage. Whatever that is."

That can’t be right. His spouse hated superordinate roles.

"For someone who was told their dead spouse might be alive, you're surprisingly calm, Dainsleif."

"Forgive me, I try my best to remain composed twenty-four-seven," Dainsleif sardonically replied. "It was a requirement of my previous profession."

“Right… Being a hitman must’ve been tough. Can’t imagine what it’s like,” he chuckled.

Halfdan fired first.

Dainsleif sprinted, hiding behind the alleyway's bricked stores. With his finger hovering above the trigger, he had momentarily forgotten who was after him. As Halfdan carefully scanned the area, Dain tied his blonde hair up loosely, courtesy to how his late spouse nagged him about how it helps keep loose strands out of his eyes during "business hours". 

Three warning shots followed. 

"Senior, can't you go easy on me? Just this once?" Halfdan mumbled.

Now that the gun was pointed at him, it came to both their minds that they don’t know one another as deeply as they thought. Not in the traditional sense of knowing their names and faces, of course. It dawned that neither talked about themselves as soon as they became hitmen. The Heavenly Principles– whether it’s the Snezhnayan branch or the one Lord Ayato’s running– was like their version of two lost samurais’ dilapidated shelter. They’d talk and bond while it rains– but they’ll never converse outside that haven.

Dain pursed his lips, glaring at the corner of his eyes... 

It’d be too easy to kill him.

There’s a crack in the wall that can easily target Halfdan’s temple. Should he pull the trigger, he would be dead without another word. His blood and brain matter would paint the alley’s wall like vague graffiti and there’d be one less person off his case. 

But Dainsleif didn’t fire his gun.

“Senior”? Don’t make him laugh.

"I'm not your senior anymore, Halfdan."

Dainsleif jumped out of his spot–

And took his shot too, without any intent to kill.

“NGAH–!”

Halfdan gasped sharply, biting his bottom lip as blood gushed from his left arm. He slid back behind the post immediately, afraid to get close to Dain. Besides, anyone can see a rifle's imprint on Halfdan's cheek. 

He's a sniper. Close combat is not his forte.

Unfortunately, Dainsleif used to be a spotter.

“Shit, Dain! What the hell?!” Halfdan tearfully begged. “W-Why are you fighting back? Aren’t you tired of this world?! Aren’t you just waiting to die?!”

Dainsleif’s eyelids lowered.

He doesn’t know the clear answer to that himself.

Until a thought occurred to him.

“I.. Want to carry their memories.”

“... W-What?”

“I wanted to carry on living, for them,” Dainsleif said. “For (Y/n).”

He realized that as long as he was alive, he could keep (Y/n)’s memory alive. He can continue to tell stories about them– to cherish the memories they shared and to honor their legacy. With a newfound sense of purpose, Dainsleif made a silent promise to himself and his deceased spouse. 

Hence, Dain would continue to live, not just for himself, but for them. He would carry their memory with him wherever he travels and he refuses to forget their warmth. With that, he gripped his gun, feeling resolute. It’s a long road ahead, but he can carry on, for (Y/n) and for himself. As it turns out, he still had a purpose and a reason to keep going.

His memories of (Y/n) are enough for him to stay alive.

Dainsleif glanced at the crack in the wall.

He reasons that he will be fine if Halfdan dies. Dain had killed many of his former allies before he was wed. Many did oppose his marriage with (Y/n)– worse, many thought they could kill his beloved for it to occur. Killing an old friend tonight wouldn’t be his first.

Dainsleif sighed. He could use his dagger, but he wanted Halfdan's death to be quick.

‘I’m sorry, Halfdan.’

But he did not feel sorry.

Dainsleif loaded his gun.

2 bullets.

That should be more than enough.

‘You’re going to have to be my first kill after 7 years.’

—------------------

As Dainsleif fended off greed-blinded men, Thoma found himself in another nerve-wracking dilemma. He stood inside one of the private rooms in the Heavenly Principles, unflinching. The sharp yet muted shrill of a spoon grated Thoma’s ears, but he remained standing, vigilant yet afraid. 

Hard to speak when it was the adjudicator himself that stirred the cup.

The adjudicator, Cyno, is a dreadful shadow to have. Unlike the Bough Keeper, he had deep-set eyes that looked to be calculated at all times. Thoma was most terrified by the adjudicator's reputation for having unwavering determination. His job is to be both feared and respected in equal measure. If Cyno wills it, Thoma and Ayaka would be nothing more than mere bodies between him and his goals. 

If it’s true that (Y/n) managed to escape Cyno more than a few times, then he ought to get some tips on how they do it. Cyno cornered Thoma so effortlessly before he could leave earlier.

"Coffee?" Cyno offered. "Don't worry, this isn't the same drink Dain prepared for (Y/n) every morning."

Thoma raised an eyebrow.

What does that mean?

“No thank you sir, but I appreciate the gesture.”

Cyno nodded.

“Let me be clear: I am here to adjudge your master, not you. So if my subordinates found evidence against her, I shall be the one that weighs those scales.”

Thoma already knew that and that threat was never going to provoke him.

If Thoma tells him what the letter contained now, it'll only make the Kamisatos more suspicious.

“I understand, sir. Would that be all?”

“Course not,” Cyno said. “Thoma, I’ve got a question to ask.”

“Go on, sir.”

“Did you ask Dainsleif for help earlier?”

“... Yes, sir.”

“Good,” the Adjudicator nodded. “I value your honesty– and are you sure you don’t want coffee?”

“Yes sir– and I’m sorry for asking for his assistance, I didn’t–”

“Know he was going to get excommunicated, I’m aware,” he muttered. “But that’s an old excuse.”

Cyno sipped his cup, his eyes locked on Thoma's. Thoma tried his best to avoid his gaze but found it impossible. The Adjudicator had a way of making people feel small with just a single look.

"You're brave," he said. "But bravery can’t save the Himegimi. Only the truth can. So where is he?" 

Thoma's heart raced as he tried to come up with a response. He knew he had to be careful with his words, or he might end up endangering not just himself, but Dainsleif as well. 

"I don't know where he is," Thoma said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Don't lie to me," Cyno's expression darkened, slamming his cup against the table. It shattered, making Thoma finally flinch at the sound of its impact. 

"We know you've been communicating with him. You're part of his and his spouse’s rebellion against the Abyss Order."

“I genuinely don’t know where he is and I'm not part of any rebellion,” Thoma’s voice cracked. “Lord Ayato just ordered me to communicate with Lord Arlecchino and had Mister Dainsleif tag along, please believe me.”

The Adjudicator went silent.

He scoffed.

“Damnit.”

Cyno understood through experience that Thoma wasn’t lying. He ran his fingers through his stressed-white hair, eyes closed. 

He unlocked the door.

“Fine, you’re free to leave.”

Thoma blinked, hesitating to do what was commanded.

It’s as easy as that…? 

He’s not going to interrogate him further? Wasn’t he supposed to probe into what he knows about Dainsleif or why Lord Ayato sent him to Snezhnaya in the first place? Won’t Cyno give Thoma the chance to tell him that he went all the way here because he feared what he plans to do to Ayaka?

It can't be over just like that.

Wasn't he after Ayaka?

What's going on?

Why did he give up that fast?

All the effort he went through… Just for that?

That’s all the big scary Adjudicator has to say?

Thoma combed his hair up.

Was Lord Ayato right? Was he really just paranoid?

Whatever was on Thoma’s mind– he spoke none of it. He discarded every doubt. Above all else, he was glad that everything seemed to be over.

As Thoma turned to close the door behind him, he heard Cyno mutter something barely a whisper.

“If I am to weigh the souls of others in this world as an Adjudicator, then I must also place my own soul on the scales to be judged in the same manner, but…”

Thoma closed the door before he heard him finish the rest.

“(L/n), despite being a wrongdoer, I wonder if you had a point…” Cyno said.

“... Maybe it’s time we dismantle the current system and rely on the government– Kusanali– once more.”

Cyno didn't drink the coffee he prepared for Thoma. Instead, the adjudicator grabbed his case and left the dubious drink be.

—--------

Thoma thought that was the end of it, but fate had other plans.

He was on his way back when he stumbled upon Dainsleif, soaked in blood. It was a complete coincidence that Thoma had taken this particular route, and he can’t tell whether that was a blessing or a curse. Knowing that Dainsleif possesses incomparable mental fortitude to carry on fighting despite his weakened state, he approached him warily. Thoma was warned already by Arlecchino not to get involved, yet he can’t just leave without a proper thank you. As he got closer, Thoma saw that the man was mumbling incoherently.

"Eli…” 

Thoma blinked. Is he calling for Ellin, the rookie hitman?

“Dain…?”

He’s lost in his thoughts. 

Dainsleif was morbidly aware that feelings of grief should've surfaced, that he should be mourning the loss of an old friend. Once again, he tried to summon some kind of emotion, any reaction to his Halfdan's corpse. But he felt nothing. No sadness, no anger, no regret. What he felt was frustration only after his failed attempts. Dainsleif was unable to shake off the sense of detachment that had taken hold of him.

Halfdan was just another person who failed to kill the “Twilight Sword”.

“Eli, lama sabachthani…?" Dainsleif muttered.

"Huh?"

Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani: those were the words his spouse said when they were incredibly ill. 

It meant "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"

As he gazed at the scene of Halfdan's death, Dainsleif heaved a heavy sigh. He was aware that he had to face the facts of his predicament, but he wasn't sure how he should press on. The deafening silence prevailed. Now that he had to deal with isolation and social rejection, his longing for (Y/n) rekindled sevenfold. He knows that it's near impossible to continue living without his spouse.

But finding them?

That should be easier.

"Y-You should take a rest, Dain," Thoma frowned. "I know you haven't killed anyone since today, so maybe you should seek shelter and steel yourself for now."

“I can't, and there is no need for that. No other Black Serpent assassin danced with grief more than I.”

Dainsleif swiftly picked up the knife from the ground, masterfully twirling it until the blood was wiped clean.

“But when I got back to work– I suddenly felt a small amount of relief from this suffering.”

He stabbed the knife back into the corpse’s chest like a toothpick. The blonde carved the knife down the ribs with sheer brute strength. Blood coated his fingers and as he curled it deeper inside Halfdan’s chest, the blade disappeared.

Dainsleif laughed. 

The manic blonde’s crooked grin widened.

Thoma didn’t gag at the sight of Halfdan’s corpse– he was used to the sight– but he gulped as he saw Dain’s expression.

His "terrifyingly empty" eyes suddenly had something murky fill the void. 

Dainsleif lost it.

“That high didn’t last. Even now, I can feel anguish permeating my entire being. There is no “undoing” their death, such a line of thought inflicts only agony. (Y/n) had become an integral part of me– slowly but surely replacing my sins with a tenderness one cannot attain in the underworld. They did say that grief comes in waves, but how long will I have to stand ashore until a crash large enough would drown me to sea?”

Thoma drowned out his musings. They were bound not to make sense in the first place.

He's not mentally stable, and he doesn't expect him to be. Dain just found out his dead spouse might be alive and killed a friend in under an hour. Thoma would be insensitive if he forced him to compose himself.

Dainsleif let the handle go.

“Can’t you understand why I’m so desperate to find even a sliver of my beloved?” He laughed. “Why I never took assassination requests from the Abyss Order after their death? Why I’m more than willing to kill again? The answer is simple–”

Suddenly, it’s harder to breathe.

The ex-hitman stopped.

His smile weakened as he spoke, “Thoma… (Y-(Y/n)... I want (Y/n) to take me back in their arms as a corpse.” 

Dainsleif breathed in shakily, his tears obstructing his speech. He clenched his fists above the table, arching his back as he avoided the bodyguard’s concerned gaze. Thoma could practically see his sobs as Dain’s entire body trembled from a depleting mix of ineffable exhaustion, sadness, and longing. He had bottled these emotions for long enough. 

He always had nowhere else to go– no one else to turn to. But nowadays, it felt different. All because he foolishly trusted that maybe this time someone would be able to kill him…

Maybe this time…

The bodyguard rubbed his back, which only served to make the lonesome man conceal his weeping. There's nothing Thoma can do other than provide useless ministrations. To save the last of the ex-hitman's dwindling pride—if he really cared for such—he can only frown and look away.

Dainsleif trembled.

He doesn't know how to cry.

So he cried clumsily.

“I-I’m tired… of taking my own life.” 

—----------------

“Dainsleif, open contract. Increase: 20 million.”

—----------------

[Eight Years Ago]

“So, Dain,” they awkwardly voiced with a warm smile. “Do you come here often?”

Does he come here often? Of course, he does. He “worked” here– but no ordinary citizen should know what business goes down in Wanmin restaurant. 

And he knew (Y/n) frequented this restaurant too.

Dainsleif laughed.

It’s true, Dainsleif stalks them. 

He initially believed they were just an extroverted student who had nothing better to do than to talk to the stranger they kept sitting next to on the bus. He was so exhausted from "work" that his initial impression was of (Y/n) was a loud and brazen scholar. Since the bus they boarded frequently had a TV, they were always open to talk with him about delicate subjects like the daily news about the syndicates without displaying any expressions of disgust. Although they didn't agree with everything he stated, they showed maturity by holding their ground. They praised him for his noteworthy thoughts while criticizing him for his blatantly generic statements. Dainsleif was almost sure they were part of the "industry" he works on–

Until he saw the collage of their friends and professors as their lock screen. Dainsleif realized two things at that time.

1) They like to write.

2) Their favorite mentor was Professor Aether. The “Traveler” who would inherit the Abyss Order if the Abyss Princess dies.

So it’s no wonder they knew a lot about human trafficking. 

Something about their easygoing attitude and quick wit struck a chord with him. He found himself laughing along with them, feeling a sense of rare ease and comfort. And whenever they said their goodbyes when boarding off the bus, Dainsleif felt a sense of anticipation, a feeling that this was something special. 

And now he "knows all that he needs to know" about (Y/n) (L/n).

Upon realizing that he was staring (they were waving a hand near their face), Dainsleif cleared his throat.

“I enjoy the wine here.”

“Thought the light was about to take you to the other side,” (Y/n) teased. “Anyways, yeah, you know my friends Stella, Jude, and Shiro? They like it too. Can’t catch me drinking though– I just order the sardines pasta here while they get red-faced drunk.”

He sneakily glanced at the menu and silently noted how that order appears to be the cheapest meal. If Dain pitied his date, he made no mention of it. Uyuu restaurant is for the rich and the shady and based on their humble hand-me-down shoes, both descriptions eluded them. 

“Well-off friends?”

Dainsleif already knows the answer. 

"Eh. We all know both rich and getting-by folks, don't we? As long as we can pay our bills, it doesn't matter," they shrugged. “Still… I’m REALLY sorry that you dressed up for me, Dain.” 

They pinched their forehead.

“Look– I don’t know what on earth Rin told you, but I’m not worth this effort. You look incredibly dashing in that suit and tie by the way– but your date is wearing their sister’s Converse right now. If you want me to leave and enjoy your meal alone, just say so– you can even tell everyone that I’m just some charity case college student you fed or something. Fine by me, no problem.”

Dainsleif snorted slightly. While there’s no doubt in his mind that his salary can afford someone’s student loans, the last thing hitmen would do with their monthly pay is invest in multiple scholars.

“Would you feel better if I said I just arrived from work and had no time to change so I 'didn’t' put in any effort…?”

“Kinda,” they croaked pathetically and bowed their head. “But now that you phrased it like that, I can't tell if you're lying for the sake of my feelings, huhu...”

But that uncontrollable sunny smile on their face doesn't show any hint of genuine remorse. Dainsleif reciprocated their smile. (Y/n) is getting more comfortable being in Dainsleif’s presence than before, and Dainsleif seems more open to sharing things about himself– albeit not enough to spill about his true occupation.

His occupation…

Dain tried not to think about it whenever they're on a date, but he can't help it sometimes.

When, he wonders. 

When will he find someone that is close enough to actually kill him?

This job was starting to get stale…

If it weren't for (Y/n), he sees no reason to even get out of bed anymore.

(Y/n)... Right, (Y/n). Of course.

Dainsleif stopped himself from grinning widely.

He's on a date– he should be more attentive.

Dain looked at them again, finding himself naturally concentrated on their mannerisms.

“... Why are your hands in your pockets?”

“Oh– I learned from one of my professors that people look more confident when they have their hands in their pockets, if and only if they have a thumb out, apparently.”

“And this prolonged eye contact we’re having?”

“My poor attempt at applying what I’ve learned, yes.”

Dainsleif laughed.

“You’re very easy to listen to.”

They frowned. 

“Sorry… I tend to overshare sometimes.”

“Why are you apologizing? I appreciate that you’re being yourself,” Dainsleif said. “Better than honeypotting someone in a relationship.”

“You’re right, sor– I mean, yeah, you’re right.”

A waiter passed by.

“One– Two Death After Noon please, boss,” Dainsleif said. 

(Y/n) chuckled humorously, "I suppose I'd also drink a lot if I ended up going on a date with someone like me."

"Glad to hear it. Let's have a drink together."

"Aight– wait, what?"

Dainsleif attempted to pass the glass to (Y/n), but the moment their hand reached the stem–

Splash.

"Oh sh–! I'm so sorry!!!"

Dainsleif blinked.

"Oh my Goodn– I'm so sorry, my bad. I'm–"

"It's alright. Hand me some tissues."

"Sorry…" they cringed. "I'm– I'm a little out of it, lately. I didn't mean to spill that all over– ugh. I'm such a disaster today, what the heck?"

Dainsleif chuckled, almost inaudibly. He didn't move from his position, letting the wine soak his jeans. 

"You don't need to worry, I'm used to this."

They tried not to visibly react to that statement. 

Use to what, exactly? Having drinks spilled on him? 

What kind of life is Dainsleif living for that to happen often enough times for him to get "used to this"? Are people constantly spilling things on him? 

"...Workplace harassment?" (Y/n) muttered, not realizing Dainsleif heard it.

His heart leaped as he quickly glanced at himself to check for visible wounds or scars, but snapped out of it when he felt something light against his clothes. No matter how wrong it could appear in public, it seems that (Y/n) awkwardly grabbed the closest tissue box to dab it out (and this action was motivated by how dry cleaning was expensive that year).

"(Y/n)–" he cringed as they continued.

"Please wait."

"You should be more focused on yourself," Dainsleif cleared his throat, with his ears and cheeks slightly red. "Y-You're wearing white."

"Oh…"

They pulled the hem of their clothing. The wine soaked them as well but they were too engrossed to notice it. (Y/n) scowled.

"I'm– yikes, I'm irredeemable at this point. Whoops," they laughed somewhat nervously. “You’ve done it, Mx. (L/n). This is our last date, I guess.”

Dainsleif didn't say a word.

He just stared, looking directly at their splattered clothes. Unlike (Y/n), he didn't jump to helping his date clean up. Dainsleif covered his mouth and breathed in shakily. It was strange. Instead of feeling annoyed or frustrated, he found himself staring fondly at (Y/n) and their almost equally stained clothes.

This stain… It looked like…

They expect him to laugh at their clumsiness or berate them at worst, but when they gazed up, those slapdash daydreams evaporated. Dainsleif looked dazed. 

… Blood.

“Dain?”

They looked up at him, doe-eyed and confused. Without hesitation, they cupped his cheek, checking his features.

“Dain? Are you feeling alright? You’re spacing out a lot today.”

Dainsleif couldn’t stop staring.

This scenery was almost perfect. Almost. It just needed one small tweak:

It shouldn't have been wine. (Y/n) would look breathtaking if they were covered in the blood of the men he killed to get a chance to date them.

He looked at his stained clothes and smiled.

Maybe, just maybe,

(Y/n) (L/n) will be the one who can kill him.

—-----------------------------

[PRESENT]

Dain stumbled towards a house with a small inteyvat garden, his body aching and his clothes still stained with blood. He lifted a weak hand and knocked on the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support. He shook his hip flask, disappointed that the alcohol was already empty. Not that he needed it to ease his wounds. Thoma already helped Dainsleif patch up a bit, but left in a hurry knowing that the Adjudicator might see his act of “treason.” 

After a few moments, the door creaked open and a blonde man peered out. 

It was Professor Aether, a kind yet unassuming man who taught at multiple universities– including (Y/n)’s. Despite being the Abyss Princess's kin, he lived a relatively lowkey life in the suburbs after he stopped traveling. Aether looked Dainsleif up and down, his expression unreadable. 

"You look injured," he said flatly, without a hint of concern in his voice. 

Dain struggled to keep himself standing. 

"I am," he said. "Traveler, I’ve been wrongfully excommunicated and I need your help."

Aether nodded as if he had expected that news. Still, he refused Dain entry to his house. “You didn’t honestly think I’d help you without a second thought, right?”

Dainsleif took a deep breath, “I have served and will be of service.”

The sinner then pulled out an object from his pocket and shoved it down Aether’s palm.

Aether raised an eyebrow, concerned.

Visions is a round metallic insignia formally recognized by the Abyss Order that signifies a blood oath. The debtor has their bloodied fingerprint pressed inside the shell. This vision had Aether's fingerprint, and he owes Dainsleif.

“A vision? Do you believe a blood debt will make me help you?” Unlike before, his voice was warm but distant.

“I helped you find your sister– you can help me find my spouse in return,” Dain glared. “Sinner or not, you owe me. I’m certain (Y/n) is alive– and I’m sure you know where they are. You shaped them into the tactician they are now. If there’s anyone who can figure out where they are, it’s you. So take me there.” 

Aether closed his eyes.

There's no way he can reason with him.

This is no longer Dainsleif he's talking to– but a husk of a man.

“Fine.”

The professor also pulled something out of his pocket. A blue syringe, none other than one of Dottore’s concoctions, Dain believes. He did not question why he had that in his possession. Foolishly, he did not question if it was an anesthetic or a lethal injection either. What mattered more was (Y/n)’s location. Nothing else.

“But you’ll have to be asleep for it to happen,” the professor commanded exasperatedly. “Do you understand?”

“Why?”

“Because they wouldn’t believe I didn’t help you out otherwise,” Aether scoffed. “So just knock yourself so I can tie you up.”

Dainsleif rolled up his sleeve.

“Do what needs to be done.”

Aether administered the drug.

—-----------

Dainsleif slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing just as Aether warned him. The room spun slightly as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the distinct Inazuman patterns that covered the walls. The intricate designs were a mix of cloud shapes and leaf motifs, all in shades of blue and white.

This must be the basement of Uyuu restaurant. Dain didn’t expect he’ll be able to (Y/n) here– and if this was one of their base locations, that must mean Ayato is on their side. That’s another surprise he didn’t see coming. These all must’ve been Archon Kusanali’s idea– or maybe it was that government official, Al Haitham?

Whatever, it didn't matter. At least Dain was expecting to be tied down and he was right, he reminded himself. Dainsleif took a deep breath and calmed himself. The ropes dug painfully into his wrists as he struggled against them, squirming to find weak knots that bound him to the chair. No luck. 

“Evening, Twilight Sword… Do you come here often?”

Dainsleif stopped struggling.

He looked up, dazed.

Perhaps “enchanted” might be the right term.

Although Dainsleif could barely discern their face from this lighting, he can just about make it out from the shape of their silhouette. 

“To this day, you’ve faithfully done your duty as a loving husband– how can a person ever find a man better than you?” The shadow smiled cheaply. "Is that what you wanted me to say?"

The shadow tilted their head up, and a red glint refracted from a familiar pair of tinted glasses. They pulled out a chair and sat in front of him, chuckling angrily as they did so.

“I’d rather not. I’d rather ask how much can I pay you to die.”

Dainsleif coughed.

“... (Y/n)? My beloved, is that you?”

The abyss smiled back.

“I importune you to perish, and you call me 'beloved'?” They laughed sardonically. “Isn’t taking bounties your entire shtick? Why ignore me? Don’t tell me you had a sudden aversion for death.”

They rolled their eyes.

“You’ve encased me in your penthouse, locked me up, stolen my brushes and pens away– and lied to the rest of the world that I had cancer like my relatives when I didn’t and still don’t. So don’t call me beloved. You don’t have the right.”

Their voice was buttery smooth as if seducing him– yet it would be foolish of him not to notice the sharpness of their words– the bitterness it latched onto. It sounded like the truth, but Dainsleif believes they were nothing but lies. 

Dainsleif cringed. 

“But you do have canc–”

“Fucking bullshit!” The person slammed the table, but years of experience didn’t make the retired hitman flinch. “I was NEVER sick!!! You desperately wanted me to be– because– because YOU didn’t want ME to LEAVE!”

“You always talk about how I’m fucking corrupted– how I can’t be cured– how I’m terminally ill when you’re the one slipping poison in my coffee every fucking day!” They ranted. “You didn’t want me to live, Dainsleif. You wanted me to be sad and– and miserable like you are."

He heard nothing. 

That’s not true. None of their words add up.

They loved him– (Y/n) loved him.

Didn’t they?

… Then again, didn't Dainsleif have awful memory?

“Every night, I prayed you’d be dead,” the shadow said, calmly. “And every morning I woke up, I was disappointed. It doesn’t help how your expressionless face is always the first to greet me.”

Dainsleif knew (Y/n) liked challenges– there's no way they want him dead. That's what the promise was for, right? The reason why they made him swear to never kill again once they're married was to make life a bit more exciting. That's what it was, right? 

They're not trying to get rid of him from the very beginning, right…?

They clapped.

Dainsleif instinctively closed his eyes as the rest of the lights fiercely illuminated the entire room. Slowly, his burned eyes fluttered open, and his heart beat again after seeing the shadow’s face. 

It was (Y/n)'s.

It was his beloved’s.

The same face who wrote the letter Thoma read earlier– the same bastard who schemed to prove the Kamisatos are "not involved" with the anti-mafia stunts they've pulled but not their supposed “spouse”.

"I know what you're thinking, and I know I can't kill you," they scoffed. "So I had to resort to some underhanded tactics. Getting you excommunicated was the best one. If I can't do the job, I'll give others a damn good reason to do it for me instead."

Dainsleif chuckled softly.

Adorable. What a kind gesture.

"You underestimate yourself. You can kill me if you just try."

They snorted.

"Best joke I've ever heard from you, Dain. Dry humor suits you."

"I wasn't joking."

"I know you weren’t," (Y/n) clicked their tongue. “I know one of the reasons you kidnapped me was to make me competent enough to maybe kill you someday. Hah. At least I can say that I tried.”

They scowled. Patronizingly, they tore their gaze away from him and instead looked at what was inside the room. Dainsleif was not the same. He couldn’t tear his gaze away to notice how he was trapped inside the Uyuu restaurant’s weapon room.

For the first time in years, Dainsleif smiled like a child.

Dogs like Thoma would never be able to understand what it’s like to have such a strong connection with someone that isn’t your master.

He could no longer care if they (Y/n) was the one that shoots him right there.

In fact, he wouldn't mind if (Y/n) died too.

Haha… Hahahaha….

They had always been dead to him for years now.

Dainsleif finally remembers everything clearly.

(Y/n) had never been "dead", he was just angry that they escaped successfully.

Angry to the point they were actually dead in his eyes.

“I don’t know why the Professor brought you here all tied up– but I’m growing impatient at just the sight of you.”

So is he.

Dainsleif chuckled. One other thing he expected was that Aether will send him here with the intent of killing him. Shame, however, that Dainsleif saw that coming from miles away.

(Y/n) stepped closer and Dainsleif frantically pulled at the ropes, feeling them loosen. Dain had to keep going. He needed to break free. 

“Farewell.”

As (Y/n) reached out to grab their gun off the table, Dainsleif surged forward, throwing his weight against the ropes and snapping them. He stumbled to his feet, the chair clattering to the ground as he grabbed at the gun faster than they could. The patrons of Uyuu restaurant are completely unaware of the drama that had taken place below their feet, chatting and dining as usual.

“Tch!”

With years of experience behind his back, Dainsleif knocked the gun out of (Y/n)’s hand, sending it skittering across the floor. (Y/n) lunged for it, but he tackled them, driving them both to the ground. 

(Y/n)’s eye twitched and they can tell Dainsleif was equally pissed. But even when he had them pinned on the floor, Dainsleif remained careful on how he should hold them down. That unspoken act of “love” makes them want to vomit, but there was no time for that.

Even so, something about his stare seemed off.

It's as if he wanted to drag them down.

It's as if he wants them to be as dead as him.

(Y/n) jolted upon seeing his eyes.

In an unexpected string of luck, (Y/n) kicked him off and wrenched the gun away from Dainsleif.

They pointed it at him.

Dainsleif did not take a step back or forward.

As (Y/n) preps the gun, like souls intertwined by fate and time, they both had one thought in mind:

“If you truly loved me, you should be dead.”

(Y/n) fired.

BANG!!!

…

…

…

They shot him.

They shot Dainsleif. 

And they know they shot him because they felt his blood pressed against their body.

But they blinked.

Lord– all (Y/n) did was blink.

"Y-You finally know how to fire a gun."

Dainsleif has nothing to be proud of in his own life, but he can still be proud of them. 

There's no way for (Y/n) to miss the wetness of his gunshot wound. Not when he's holding them into a tight hug. Despite bleeding out, his firm hand cradled the nape of their neck, humming contently. Dainsleif thought to himself that a shot from (Y/n) did not feel painful in the slightest. It almost seemed like an injection. 

No… Something isn't right, why is he so close…?

Their stomach burned.

And they can almost hear his smile. 

"Thank you, my beloved. I was tired of taking my own life…"

If he can't have them alive, well…

Dainsleif pulled out the dagger behind their back.

No one should be able to have (Y/n)'s corpse too.

Dain kissed them.

He traced his wet thumb against their cheek, painting their face red with his fingerprints.

Dainsleif grinned.

"I love you."

They choked out blood out of pure disgust. Their strength was ebbing away.

Haha… It’s almost like… They actually have stomach cancer…

Their vision began to swim and they felt their consciousness slipping. (Y/n) saw blood seeping through their clothes, staining them dark red. Tears streamed down their face as they realized what had happened. Dainsleif stabbed them. They tried to cry out loud, but their voice was weak and hoarse.

The blood on their clothes… It almost reminded them of their seventh date. The wine, his dazed look…

(Y/n) would laugh humorlessly if they could.

In their last moments, (Y/n) learned that it took strength to cry… to scream out the pain buried within their stomach. But they had no strength left and they dropped their gun. 

Their only option was to wither away.

Dainsleif kissed their neck sloppily– (Y/n) couldn't tell if it was saliva or blood. The taste and scent of blood filled his senses. Surely from both of them. Maybe this is what Dainsleif meant when he spread rumors about his spouse constantly going through hemoptysis. Bleeding from the mouth does count as a sign of a terminal illness, doesn't it?

His thoughts are curt. His breathing is short. Yet, his unhinged eyes were near immortal.

Dainsleif no longer cared about his own life– not when the person he lives for wanted him dead.

The weight of their "atonement" falls on (Y/n)'s shoulders as Dainsleif weakly knelt along with them. As their vision dies out, he tightens his hug, hungrily leaning into their dwindling body heat.

Dainsleif was right.

They do look beautiful soaked in the blood of their enemy.

"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Even in death, he will not leave them be. 

They sobbed.

No…

But they were so close…

In their final moments, (Y/n) could only look up at the ceiling and cry.

They clutched their feeble freedom and life, staring into the abyss as though it can provide them solace to answer the question:

"E-Eli… eli, lama sabachthani?"

[macaroonff]

🌧The Bus Stop- Bang Chan

Repost...

Genre: Strangers to acquaintances, first sight (curiosity, not love),fluff Pairing: Bang Chan x Gender Neutral Reader Content Warnings: None imo, do let me know if there's any Word Count: 956 words Song Rec: Another Day- Stray Kids

Your butt was wet, and if it hadn’t been for the bus stop’s glass cover, you would’ve been drenched from head to toe.

The bus stop seemed to be more of a curse than a blessing. While it protected you from the rain, its waterproof seats kept piling on water while you made the mistake of sitting on it.

The roof had the raindrops falling onto your shoes while most of them continued sliding down the sides into the irregular patches of sward and while your eyes trailed along the falling raindrops you couldn’t help but compare the weather’s spontaneity to your repetitious life. Where monotony silenced whatever sparing plans you made.  

Within this unvarying life of yours was a man, standing in front of you, his black umbrella now put down on one side and his earphones dangling from a zip pocket. You’d notice him on evenings, when he’d board the bus before yours, dressed in a simple monochromatic outfit. A black hoodie with sweats and a big laptop bag which he tries to hide.

It wasn’t strange that you took an interest in the man, because he was the only other person waiting for the 16:00 o'clock bus route. It was an untimely hour with the lack of office goers or students. You’d rather work from home but you’d usually have to visit the studio to finalise designs and communicate with your colleagues. 

The rain didn’t want to stop and your bus hadn’t arrived. Even your solar-powered watch was mangled. The only thing that let you know that time wasn’t stopped were the crows on the tree, and the restlessness of the man beside you.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t as nervous as him, judging by the way he played with his toes or rubbed the inside of his palm. It would be better if you were to start a conversation. It’s not like you could ignore him forever.

So you do, and in the dumbest way you possibly could.

“Nice weather isn’t it.” you blurt out without a thought.

That was not the kind of ice breaker you were going for. As if it wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t nice weather at all. It was disastrous.

An awkward silence is hung about in the air and as if to confirm your thoughts, the man simply looks at you, looks back at the rain, then towards the cloudy skies and gives you a small smile.

“It’s good weather for staying inside I suppose.”  

You were thankful he was being pleasant about it, and didn’t mark you as a complete fool.

You look back and forth between your damaged watch and his black phone, unsure of what to say next.

“Erm, what time is it? My watch is damaged because of the rain.” 

“It’s 6pm.” he replies.

It had been two hours since you were waiting here, and you could tell as your legs felt numb and your bottom, as mentioned previously, was soaking wet. You slowly take off your jacket and wrap it around your waist to cover whatever might show.

You weren’t sure how to continue the conversation, so you leaned back against the chair with your eyes closed. 

“Y/n is a pretty name.” the man says softly. You turn towards him, to find his eyes scanning your work badge. You murmur a small smile before your eyes feel heavy, despite your urge to stay awake.

He must've noticed this because he hands you his earphones, motioning for you to listen to it.

A slight crackle erupts before the song is playing, and you hear a humming similar to the voice of this man. His subdued humming against the rain made it easier for you to find sleep against the hard glass wall.

“Go ahead and sleep, I’ll wake you up when your bus arrives.” he offers generously.

And so he did, you weren't sure exactly when, as he nudged you out of your nap. You weren’t expecting to find yourself on his shoulder, drool covering the corner of your mouth. A light cough and a thanks was what you blurted out as you could see the faint outline of your bus. You looked back at him, wondering if he would take the same bus as you. 

“What about your bus? Is it delayed?”

“Ah it arrived twenty minutes back, but it’s ok because my place is an easy walk from here.” he answered.

You look back at his earphones in your hand, puzzled.

If his house accessible from here, then why did he wait for longer than two hours, why did he miss his bus route? So many questions were racing around in your mind.

“Why-” 

“Just because.” he says as he smiles, a smile that told you everything you needed to know while still being secretive, a smile that made you feel comforted in the uncomfortable rain.  He picks up his black umbrella as well as his laptop bag on which you saw a nametag that read.

“Christopher Bang”

And before you could get on the bus, you reach out to him “Mr Bang, your earphones” you offer garnering the most genuine smile you could. 

He mirrors your expression, where his dimples revealed his lopsided smile while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Keep them. Oh also call me Chris” he replies after you board the bus, and you couldn’t help but wave him goodbye from the window.

"Well see you tomorrow Chris," you whisper to yourself, fascinated by the way his name rolled off your tongue easily.

You weren’t too disappointed when he started fading out of your view once the bus started moving. Rather, excited by the possibility of seeing him again.

[kinok0s-writings]

A late Valentine's Day gift for @bones-of-a-rabbit, I hope you and anyone else who reads enjoy!

The Sea-star and the Eclipse

The waves pushed against the wooden vessel sailing through them with a playful vigor, emerald waters choosing to be pacified this morning with their lulled sway, the breeze lax as it barely pushed against cared for sails, -one could blow against them and it would have the same effect. The wind carried the calls of ocean borne creatures, the morning gossip of nereid nymphs and the lull of a siren's call if one truly focused, the sun began its slow climb into the sky while letting those under its rays feel the warmth sought after as the seasons changed over seas. The sea itself held an enchanting shine this day, her usually murky waters held an appealing blue undertone to compliment the emerald shine she chose to wear today, a shade able to rival the richest of dyes, the skies holding a few clouds golden with the residue shades of sunrise and a calming tone blossoming from a fading magenta. A jovial tune joined the drifting gossip in the breeze as it rumbled out of your chest, attention occupied elsewhere while you searched through the horizon using your trusted spyglass; a beautifully crafted object made of cared for wood, combined with selectively chosen sea glass, and branded with a family crest that now only belongs to the lone sailor. It took the instinctive steadying of your body and a learned patience with the waves, but eventually after some moments had floated past like jellyfish caught in a riptide you could make out your targeted location in the near distance, a smile of anticipation emerging from the sight. Putting the tool away in the side of your belt you left the forecastle deck to change tack quickly lest you dared to miss the few and far in between gusts of crisp ocean air able to actually help move you to your destination. The captain’s ship wasn’t as small and nimble as most merchant boats come by, yet it wasn’t as large and regal as the militia or even pirate ships, your home upon the water was a perfect compromise of all the other vessels tied up nicely into one design. It was the most desirable for a sailor who wanted to hold more wares in the hold than other merchants, yet still keep it small enough that it was manageable with your lone person, all while holding onto some of the mobility others could only dream of. Of course that didn’t mean living on your lonesome upon this ship was anywhere close to being able to be described as easy work, often you would have to stay up and spend several sleepless nights battling with Poseidon, but it was what you preferred. Even though you could, you never would be able to settle down for an easy life, where was the fun in going through day by day if not with a challenge, albeit a challenge of routine? Admittedly, it was this very mindset that led you to more of the questionable adventures, like swimming in the ocean’s harsh waters for artifacts she tried to hide from your curious reach, or sometimes taking the paths no right minded captain would take without a death wish. If it wasn’t blatantly obvious by the occasional scar that decorated your skin, death was a mistress you often danced with for simply the thrill of the tale, and you've yet to stumble in your waltz together. While steering the rudder you held a concentrated gaze in your illuminated eyes, the sunlight reflecting the water's shine within your focused hues, giving a passionate effect to the emotions you refused to hide from the world, as you directed your ship towards the craggy cliffs, confident in your ability to traverse the waves.

Despite the misleading friendly name the cliffs had, no sailor wanted to sail through the anxiously narrow gap between them unless desperate, for it was rumored few if any passed through the cliffs alive, often by a trip only to be finished by a crew member having to man the decks alone without captain. Anyone who has listened to the drunken sailors at inns knew of the creature that populated the sharp rocks, living in underwater caves by the pass, killing off most of those who did manage to make it through unless they gave an offering to appease it. The matter at hand simply came down to whether those listening would believe the tales or not, and the fact they were brave, -or stupid, enough to physically sail through despite the warnings. You personally had come across creatures of myths while living on these waters before and lived to tell the tale, so rumors of a rampaging monster within the waters of the cliffs carried in the distant wind, you couldn't refuse the opportunity to find fact from fiction. It was your first passing through when you met him, and it was a memory you'll always look back on with a laugh, even if you couldn’t share the situation with any drinking buddies.

You could feel the adrenaline flooding into your fingertips as you grew closer to the craggy cliffs, knuckles going white with how tightly you held the wooden wheel, it was time to test if rumors were really just mere rumors, and hopefully make it out alive to tell the tale. The dark clouds over head were overlooked by your anticipating eyes, and you seemed to disregard the fact that the scent of geosmin had become stronger than a mere handful of moments ago.

As if mirroring the memory, the captain pushed themselves into motion, watching the currents keen eye as you shifted to try and pull your boat away from the jagged rocks that upturned like claws trying to carve into the wooden walls, an attempt to reopen healed scars. They were black and the water made them look oily, even in the beautiful light of such a nice day often forcing the you to run from the locked rudder wheel, -done by wedging it with an angled stick, to the ropes of the masts. It looked like such a tiring workout, but by simply observing your movements one could see the practice etched into every step, be it from how steady you pulled the ropes into place to how swift each footfall was, holding swift purpose in every action. You kept running through your routing to steer yourself into the near needle like opening leading to the cave that only those willing to face the rumored sea monster, a place nearly having gone undiscovered if not for by mere chance.

You grit your teeth while trying to make sense of anything through the pouring rain, raindrops falling so harshly it might as well have been hail striking your body to create such a similar stinging impact, you've nearly lost your footing several times already. Nearly stumbling you heard wood creak and were reminded of the fact you were far from happy with how close your dear ship has gotten to being pierced with those gnarly claws. It wasn't supposed to be such a cutthroat tango with the mistress, but to stumble like this when you had such a reputation to uphold was fiercely irritating, with only you to blame. The signs of the changing weather had all been there, you were just too caught up in the possibilities, making the storm feel as if had been sudden. Nearly out of anguish you sputtered liters off your lips and shook your head like a wet dog trying to get rid of the never-ending mask of rain and seawater, but it was during the shaking did your eye catch something. Was…was that a tail? It was a striking color, shaped like no fishtail you've ever seen, and it looked to have headed port, -directly into the cliffs, which was only odder due to the fact proceeding starboard was the way to leave, wait, no that wasn't as perplexing as you originally thought. Taking a hand to wipe a new layer of water off of your face, drops sticking to your eyelashes like dewdrops on spider webs, you directed the focus you could spare after the creature and where it vanished, searching with a newfound urgency, only to be rewarded with the sight of a small opening leading into what looked to be a cave large enough to shelter you for the night. It was risky, and whatever you saw could ambush you and your ship, but it wasn't as if you had many options, every other possibility washed away with every falling raindrop slapping your skin, the wind biting into your matted clothing and hair; you were going to be lucky if you didn't end up getting sick after this. Steeling your disposition you quickly changed tack to steer into the suffocating tight space, feeling as if you were drowning as the rain continued its cascading torrent while being shoved with a bullying force by the stressed waves. Despite it all though, with the new objective in mind, it was you who intertwined their fingers with a confident grip, taking the lead of the dance with lady death, refusing to go down without a fight.

The sailor slowly steered the ship portside, that jovial tune leaving your lips again with the near careless smile keeping the corners of your mouth upturned, a wordless noise encouraging itself the more it progressed, the few avians using the crevices in the rocks as nests seemed to even join in. It felt as if you've cut through the tight gap a hundred times, feeling none of the first time stress as the rocking waves passively pushed the vessel into the mouth of the somewhat hidden cave, the gold wrung out of they sky by now with the happy cobalt blue having taken over. Soon the bright sunlight was muted into dimmer tones, -which by all means was still fairly bright, by the stone ceiling engulfing your ship like a greedy frogfish, and the captain could hear another join the tune, a voice much more gifted when it came to songs in your opinion. Your smile could only brighten as you carefully lowered the anchor and raised the sails to tie them off, listening as another body moved through the echoing water, every sound reverberating throughout the rocky walls. Once you were sure all was set so your home didn't try to get close and personal to the dark minerals surrounding you, you leaned over the railing to look at the just as if not more than happy ocean borne waiting for you to notice he was present. Said companion once realizing you were indeed focusing on him,- a realization you could visibly watch as the smile filled with nothing but friendly pointed teeth broadened, opened his arms with expectancy, wanting you to jump into his arms so he could carry you down as you've done several times beforehand. The admittedly very appealing option could only make you laugh softly in appreciation even as you shake your head in refusal, disappearing to gather a rope ladder with delight when your large friend is in such a good mood. The thought was tugging at the back of your mind that it was nearly hilarious how today of all days would be so much of quite literally smooth sailing as it has been, even taking the time to excitedly recall your plan while you disappeared into your quarters to gather a large basket set aside in preparation of the hours to come. Taking but a momentary pause to make sure something specific was tucked safely within it, an object with enough weight you had to use genuine effort to move it, -a stark difference to its typically smaller near weightless counterparts, and enough meaning that could have easily doubled the energy spent carrying it alone. You made sure to keep a quick pace, not wanting to let your long tailed companion be forced to wait more than necessary, and the pleased trill that greeted your descending figure was enough reassurance to tide over your clouded mind for the day in comforting waves, as if the threat of fog had been blown away all at once. Steadily you scaled down the ladder until your feet were firm against the flooring, keeping you waist deep in the cool ocean water, occasional fits of warmer temperatures flowing in until shoved away lazily, the basket now being held above your head and pointedly away from the other. The aquatic creature moved to happily follow the land borne, curiously trying to reach for the basket and see what was packed only to be swatted away playfully, followed by a tutting click of your tongue, laughter upon your lips.

"Ah ah ah! Patience, you'll see what's in there soon Eclipse, but first, I have to ask, have you ever heard of valentine's day?"

A thoughtful expression passed across his features as he thought about the question, but it was obvious his mind was filled with sluggish minnows this morning, until eventually a defeated huff escaped him before he went with plan b, mischief in his scales. You knew it was coming, but still you couldn't hold in your amused chuckles as large webbed hands wrapped themselves around your being, easily lifting you up out of the water to be set tenderly on the rocky shore, -an area out of reach of the sea that was more of a mini island than shore, soon a large frilled head pressing into your side with a pair of dilated pupils; you still don't know how he learned to do such powerful puppy dog eyes. You shook your head as you gave one of his hands a pat, silently asking to be let go as you lowered the basket down beside your lap before you gently pet the sides of his head, pretending to look stern even if you both knew you were a sucker for the basilisk's ways. His continued to poke and tug on you like a curious child, tilting his head in your hold every now and then as he humored you, trying to keep your attention on him so you would give in when he obviously had no answer, that or he just wanted you to tell him so he can see the inside of the basked sooner. You were usually a lot more stubborn with these situations, but you decided that the suspense was truly killing him, -especially as the dramatic guppy made it very clear that was in fact what was happening, and chose to show him mercy, although it was sooner than you figured he could have lasted, only early noon. You could hear his tail splashing the water in despite his mocking show of withering away, all it took was a couple pats calling for attention before he revived himself, eager to hear what you were about to say.

"Well, Valentine's day is a day where we celebrate our loved ones. Couples, friends, and oftentimes family members will trade each other gifts to show their love and spend time together, a day of letting each other know they care. Many even use it as the day to confess romantic feelings. I can't say I know how it all started, but I can say I know its a lovely day to have a celebration, and I couldn't think of any better way other than to spend it with my favorite mate."

You couldn't help but watch fondly as he visibly registered the words, watching you speak like a child happy to learn, hanging onto every syllable with the same merit of climbing a cliff, and it was endearing to know just how important you seemed to be to him in order to stir this reaction from him. The fondness turned into giddy amusement as you watched his bewitching eyes widen when he realized the telling of your plan, specifically the fact you were going to give him a gift; you figured you’d give it after you both ate the arrangement of dishes you cooked the night prior, that way you both would be full enough to laze about comfortably The cry of a passing bird cut through without much disregard, evicting a chorus of responses, the comforting smell of the sea floating aimlessly in the cave not being overwritten by the aromas of the food in the basket, even coercing some curious feather bodies to see if there was slivers they could steal. It was relaxing, and staying with your favorite buddy you couldn’t feel any more at peace, because as much as you wouldn’t admit how you oftentimes felt on the ship one your own, -you were alone not lonely, there was something so charming to have such an intelligent being want to spend time with you as much as you did, curious of each other’s worlds. The lull of the waves bumping into the rocks around the two of you held a specific pattern, a reassuring sound telling of the power they had, even as you could distinct the noise of the strong tail hitting them, splashing with a happy sashay that reminded you of a dog off on mainland, and you distinctly had the urge to pet him just as much. Instantly you did what you could to sear these waking moments into your memory, it all was so vibrant even in the shade of the rocky shelter holding it all in its cupped palms, you couldn’t imagine forgetting how every breath shared between the two of you was filled with such content, it may as well come out of a myth. But, in a sense, that’s what he was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Chuckling you nodded in excited reply to his metal observation before turning away to begin setting the day’s activities out around you, pulling out the several containers of dishes, -most of the contents was food to appease your basilisk friend’s appetite, until you got to a collection of books. Once the leather bound bundle of stories were stacked behind you you grabbed the final thing inside, only you may have made a slight show of quickly hiding it out of sight nestled in your lap once you realized how he was intently watching everything pulled out, and the confused ‘mrr’ that sounded out as his head nudged your legs with gentle hands attempting to discover what you had hid made it worth it. You both were obviously encouraging each other with playful prodding, -something that could only make you appreciate the friendship you have somehow more than you already do, before you finally gave him a shove laughing, hiding the object under your jacket as you somehow had ended up onto your back in the small battle.

“No, that's your valentine’s gift! Now listen here you overgrown noodle, I figured we can eat the food I slaved over in the kitchen to make, then I'll give it to you, alright? Now come on, the sooner we get started, the more daylight we have to finish off that one book and start a new one."

After you situated yourself back into an upright position you wasted no time in uncovering the plates of food, the warmth they gave off instantly getting sucked away into the breeze, curious birds very noticeably edging themselves over in a horrid attempt to be sneaky with the presence of such a dangerous predator. The smile on your face began to slip though as you realized Eclipse seemed to go still, you couldn't even hear the splashing of his tail, so you looked up with slight concern, wondering what was swimming around in his head. What you saw didn't exactly reassure you either, there was a shadowy glint in his eyes, one you knew almost too well, and you tilted your head to try and get his optics to focus back onto you. His eyes were one of the many characteristics you loved about him, the optics that had undoubtedly taken the lives of so many before you, but you could never bring yourself to fear those enchanting colors, the way the specks of violet bled into the near golden orange like spilled paint. They just drew you in like the light bouncing within carved gemstones, and you were alright with that. What you weren't alright with was how his thoughts looked to have bit into his tail like a parasite, the vice grip in their jaws must have been uncomfortable as he began slowly sinking into the water, an action that stirred you into getting up to approach him slowly, hands outreached for his own. Shadows of dark whispers had begun swirling in your own mind nipping at your thoughts and despite how the day had been going you couldn't help but wonder if his sudden change in demeanor was due to something you've done, did you offend him? Were you too forward in assuming he would want to spend the entire day with you? Did you use the wrong words to describe your intentions again?

"Hey big guy, penny for your-"

Your words were cut off as his gaze locked into your own, nearly knocking you breathless as it felt as if he only just then remembered you were there, and then suddenly swam away like you had hollered at him. It felt like one of those shadows gave up for nibbles and instead took a bite of you to swam off with him, your hands still left in the air as you were frozen, watching his figure disappear into the fingers of outreached minerals, only able to register, yes, he did in fact just leave you to your own devices, as the only remnants of his presence were the disturbances in the water he so swiftly glided through. You had half a mind to chase after him be it by swimming or by rowing in the yawl, but even at your best you were a beached flounder compared to the ribbon eel in his natural element, your hands lowering in defeat as it dawned you all you could do now was to hope he returned. You were sure he had his reason for leaving you, surely he would be back, but even if you came up with enough reasons to overflood the seven seas it didn't make it hurt any less, you could only angrily shoo the birds stealing scraps of the food to vent out your confused anger. Not at him, but to you. You went ahead and planned ahead that the two of you would stay together well after the moon hung over your heads so even the stars hear your tales and wordless songs that could hold more meaning words would have ever given them, you planned this without him. You should have asked, you shouldn't have just jumped ship assuming he would be fine with it, sure the day was perfect for you, but was it for him? You should have run it by him beforehand to make sure he could tell you in the off chance that he was uncomfortable with the fact, instead you just sprung this upon him blinded with the image of smiles unable to leave your faces. Your thoughts turned against you, murmurs of berating words leaving your lips as you audibly cursed your stupidity until you decided that pacing around putting the sailors at the bars at mainland to shame would do you no good, especially if Eclipse decided to return. Your efforts of sailing here and preparing for this day have already been spent with the intent to stay over night and by Poseidon's trident, you were going to enjoy your planned stay with or without your anticipated guest. The overwhelming swarm of shadows couldn't keep up with you long enough to begin infiltrating your school of thoughts, you wouldn't let them as you busied yourself with the distraction of tasks that had to be done, probably looking like a curious reef fish exploring new spouts of coral. A blanket was cast across the rock floor, -out of reach of any rising tides, with a small tent made out of other blankets and a few pillows to cover you and the food; you had begun to grow tired with shooing away those thieving birds, you hadn't rung them a dinner bell and so help their bloodline if you barely miss getting poo'd on again they were going to be tomorrow's dinner. When you had done all that you could find needing to be done you decided that it wouldn't hurt for you to revisit one of your favorite list of fables with the dishes you never got to eat, even if you never touched the ones set to the side for a certain basilisk as they were drizzled with doubt, would he return to eat his serving?

The sunlight once seeping into the cave in powerful beams had crawled more into the waters than against the walls, the sun itself having slipped lower into the horizon as your fingers combed through the cared for pages and traced the leather cover, hues focused on each words that painted a lovely story in your mind's eyes, -a story needn't be grand and outlandish to be considered good in your opinion, when a bit of light was reflected into your gaze. Pausing you set the book to the side, your attention now on the object partially covered by the jacket you had shed in the spur of your work as your hands moved closer to retrieve the object, the black glossy surface triggering your very instinctive 'oo, shiny' reaction to the light making it sparkle, -the realization elicited a small amused smile on your lips. The surface was cool to the touch, but it wasn't biting, and despite it being larger than others, it felt comfortable to hold in your palms with a good weight. You turned it around in your hold absentmindedly, a finger tracing the the flaws caused by age forced into the strange surface that shone like metal, before moving onto the runes etched into it, markings that you knew you couldn't even attempt to comprehend. It was a language that, like the artifact itself, was from an era lost to legend. Your placated mind began to stir with mixed emotions, your hope had begun dwindling as the shadows made from escaping sunlight grew larger, and you even wondered if he would like such a gift, let alone know why you thought it had such importance. A small spiteful part of you was tempted to simply toss it into the waves and let him find it on his own, -their slow pace had lost the calming appeal to now seem just downright antagonistic, but you instead tucked it back under your jacket in favor of the plate holding biscuits before returning to bury yourself back into familiar arms of the old superstitious myths you believe wholeheartedly. You let time flow past while you read, the sun feeling to move like a drifting jellyfish with reckless abandon, the tides had slowly begun to rise while reaching for the moon, - not quite high tide yet, as the waves gained more momentum in their lazy dance. You had since lit a lantern to brighten the pages of your second book, the first having been finished long enough for a chunk of this one to have been read, when the sounds of water stirring forcefully met your ears, causing you to immediately perk up. With scales vibrant enough that even in the darkening waters you could see every perfect imperfection, a crown of frills and horns making his head look like a sun, and a tail long enough it could wrap around the width of your ship twice, you watched as the creature you were far from certain would even return cut through the water effortlessly in order to approach the shore you were nestled on top of. As he rose from the water you sprung to your feet, ready to get answers and apologize in the chance you truly had done something wrong, giving him no chance to swim off again before at least hearing you out with every step you took.

"Eclipse! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry if I had upset you, why'd you swim off like that? I was scared you weren't coming back."

You didn't really expect much, so when he quite animatedly hid something behind his back with two of his arms sporting a bright grin of someone who had a secret to share, it probably was one of the least scenarios you could have seen coming once he returned. Seeing your confusion a low chuckle rumbled from his chest as his other set of hands began to make gestures, specific motions slow enough that you could pick up, and once you did the emotion you could recognize most among your internal near-overfilling pot was pride. Had he been practicing? After a few moments of processing you suddenly felt bashful for how quickly you had assumed the negative side of things, running a hand through your hair with a sigh before making eye contact with those gems you treasured more than any rock you could find in the sea.

'Needed gift for mate.'

"But you didn't, I wasn't expecting, actually, you know what? I can't wait. Here's an idea, knowing how excited we both are to see, why don't we exchange our gifts now and eat later, don't move alright?"

You chuckled at the reluctant yet happy nod you received, knowing he probably wanted to go first but the anticipation of his own was more than enough to sweeten the deal for him to go along with your small demand. You pointedly decided to ignore how despite the chill becoming noticeable in the breeze without the light of the sun to warm its touch you could feel how your cheeks grew warm or the fact that with just the simple action you couldn't keep the smile off your face. You kept the jacket draped over his gift to keep it hidden until the last moment, and while you turned to approach them again, you hesitated as the air left your lungs. He was watching your every move intently, the gleam in his eyes made his powerful gaze have a lovestruck appearance, it was such an unbashful raw emotion put on display for your eyes and your eyes only to see it made your heart flutter in an unmistakable way. Filling your lungs with air again you gave him a genuine smile and pushed yourself forward, unable to hide the fact that the mere presence of the ocean borne could dispel any worry clouding your being, a ray of sunlight that scared off the unwanted shadows and the glow of the moon that gave comfort to the lost sailors. As you got close enough he extended a hand after noticing how it took both of yours to hold whatever was under the jacket, and once in his palm you pulled the clothing off like a magician. hilariously enough his palm had dwarfed the object to look like the usual versions of it, but after a curious coo you weren't sure he realized escaped him you immediately began to give him some context, missing the vague flash of recognition in his eyes.

"Remember that one tale, the sailor and the moon? Well you know how the moon gave him that device to guide him to the love of his life, right? As I was sailing one day I was swept into uncharted waters that took me to a lagoon, and things started to feel familiar like I had seen them before, or at least heard of it. Well I fished around in this waterlogged head of mine and by the time I could see the pieces of sunken timber I realized I knew where I was not in the sense I had been there before, but instead because I had read about it. I did some swimming, -don't give me that look I made sure it was safe first, and came across the compass seemingly from myth."

While you spoke it was if the world silenced itself so nothing would interrupt you as you changed your focus from his face to the artifact in question, excitedly opening it and pointing out everything you've discovered about it after countless hours spent examining it since you pulled it from the wreckage, from the strange runes to the small things that was just as described in the tale. Of course you were fully aware of the possibility it was just random compass, after all it wasn't uncommon for replicas to be made from the old sea tale, -a tribute of admiration and oftentimes luck, but the sheer amount of coincidences in simply finding it alone was enough to make even the most pessimistic old sea dog to believe. As you talked, there was that heartwarming expression again, the one that made you feel like you were the brightest star in his night sky, the basilisk eagerly nodding along with your words in matching fascination, all as you were once again teaching him a new world with your mere fingertips. He looked on in what you dared to recognize as loving, your eventually realized your own expression must have been just as admiring as his own because when he realized you were finished talking after waiting for you to add something only to catch your gaze it looked like he was nearly overwhelmed with emotions. You could feel your breath catch in your throat as he leaned over with lidded eyes to press your foreheads together in what felt like a tender gesture of affection, and your heart tripped over itself as you could only press against him in similar fashion, only giving a slight nuzzle before taking a step back. In the excitement you nearly forgot this was a trade, -you weren't the only one, and it seemed that with a quick assessment between the two of you, it was only you that truly had the bashful awareness, his own adorable blush visible but he was so unwavering it looked like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you attempted to play it off by leaning over his shoulder in a half attempt of peeking at his clutched hands. Quickly he moved the other way and pulled it even further out of sight, the light of the lantern growing brighter than the natural source of light besides his ethereal hues, and even though you had spent most of the day in a fret on your own, it was moments like these that made up for it. You couldn't hold in your laughter as he mocked you earlier in the day, clicking his tongue in a 'tsking' manner before shifting the mysterious object into one palm and getting closer to you, the waves voicing their disturbance while forcefully folded into themselves as he leaned to grab a wrist with two hands, -guiding them into a bowl with his own moving to cup yours, and another covering your eyes. His hands were warm as they nearly engulfed your own, a strange softness to them as he gently held onto you even after something smooth and round was set into your awaiting palms just as the anticipation had begun poking too harshly into your patience reserves. You could hear his smooth breathing as your fingers grasped onto the object, every shift both felt and heard, and just as you were about to voice an impatient question he lifted the hand restricting your sight, killing the words on your tongue to replace them with a gasp of awe. In your palms was perhaps the biggest pearl you had ever seen, it was the size of a large orange with the weight to match, with colors you've never imagined to see on such a gem. The usual milky surface was instead composed of the abyss the deep dark parts of the twilight waters were made of, but while the last bits of the sunlight were sucked into the orb you could see the iridescent shine of violet and yellow tones, as is the sunset itself had dusted its colors into the flawless sphere. Your eyes began to sting with your very own saltwater at the beautiful gift as you moved, -the pearl clutched to your bosom with both palms cupped around it like it was but a delicate egg, looking at your observer with a smile so bright your cheeks hurt before kissing his cheek.

The blush that accompanied the dopey smile made up of friendly sharp teeth assured you the taste of seawater on your lips was worth the while as you admired your basilisk valentine. Carefully balancing your new prized possession in one palm you used the other to grab one of his hands to take him to your tent, big enough to be Eclipse proof, only to let go as you situated yourself in your resting area close to the dark waters. He followed immediately after, arms hugging your legs with his head resting upon your lap, the lantern's flame proudly being the both of your only light source as it illuminated both of your enchanted expressions, you had fallen under one another's spell and even though it wasn't easy neither would dare to complain. The moon had taken over by now, the stars speckled into the night sky were reflected so brightly you could see them shimmered in the restless waves, even as the near completely blackened emerald color was engulfing any chance to seeing whatever may lurk within. With Eclipse at your side, -or on top of you in the specifics, you couldn't really have a fear of the sea and her dangerous spawn, not when you were able to look at possibly one of her most life threatening children with such love and be have it be returned. The rest of that night you spent in each others presence lying by or on top of each other sharing food, reading stories, even coming up with new songs for the breeze to hear, until eventually you had fallen asleep to dream of the memories you've made today; shortly he joined you in sleep's embrace after watching your peaceful figure longingly with nothing but admiration. Land and ocean borne slept together that night, both unaware of the opened compass whose arrow spun until pointing at both of them, knowing their destination has been completed; connecting them with a love that the tides and the moon couldn't rival, a love to be as eternal as the sea.

[ashiemochi]

anubussy - xiii (i)

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

prev -> next

The Berkeley Hotel Richmond, Virginia.

It had been several hours since the fall of Glenn Arias – since he’d last seen her.

After the vaccine was distributed all over the infected streets, Chris asked Leon to trust him to get So Ah to a safer place to recover. Understandably, Leon refused, snapping about how he almost witnessed her die right before his eyes. The BSAA operator would keep his voice low, wary eyes glancing at his team in case they’d hear them.

“What, Chris? What else are you keeping from me?”

“I’ve said what I could, Leon – the rest is on her. Now, you either let me get her help, or we could just stay here and argue while she gets worse.”

“You think after months of not seeing her, I’d just let you take her? According to what you told me, she’s been out there hunting your men down. What’s to tell me that you won’t take her back to the BSAA? Huh?!”

“Goddamn it, Leon – keep it down! I’m trying to help her here; you included. Let me take her. I’ve got someone who can get her patched up without HQ knowing. She’d want the same thing.”

The subconscious girl was still whimpering, seemingly better but god knows how long it’d take for her ribs to mend back together. Leon couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, watching some masked-up man approach them and pick her up to take her to his car. Chris had to hold his arm to prevent Leon from even attempting to go, giving him a firm look.

It was as clear as the skies during a hot summer day; Leon had just gotten his wife back, and he didn’t want her out of his sight for a long time again.

That was around five hours ago. It was close to midnight and still no update. His throat had gotten used to the stinging sensation of the cheap whiskey. The glass clanked on the wooden coffee table a bit too harshly but honestly, he didn’t care. 

Leon trailed his eyes to the wedding band in between his thumb and index, staring at it. He was still in his attire, minus the jacket. Having entered his hotel room, his legs beelined to the kitchen, the first thing in mind was the alcoholic beverage in his fridge.

It was his last night in this hotel room, having to be at the Whitehouse for a debriefing tomorrow afternoon. He’d probably have to move back to Washington DC where his mansion was. It didn’t feel like home, which was why he left in the first place. Something or someone was missing from it and put him on edge for days.  

Twirling the silver wedding band, Leon tilted his head to the side. He really didn’t know what to believe about So Ah. After years of knowing her, this was unexpected. He should’ve figured something was suspicious about those frequent ‘mini-missions’ she had been getting after their honeymoon. 

Even during their little vacation, he’d always catch her on the phone and she’d sound hushed so he wouldn’t hear. When asked about the call, she’d wave him off, telling him Jaehyun was being Jaehyun.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Tons upon tons of questions he had were unanswered, leaving them to roam around his head like some measly fly during an annoying hot day. Right now, she clouded his mind; her well-being. 

Knocking at the door took his attention away, a silent hum emitting from him when he turned his head towards the door. It wasn’t room service because one, he didn’t order any, and two, the housekeeper would announce that it was room service. 

The knocks came back but were hesitant as if they were worried about being annoying. It was three knocks with a second of silence between the second and the third one. 

Releasing a hefty sigh, Leon slipped on the ring as he made his way to the door. He unlocked it and swung it open. As if he was in the mirror chanting Bloody Mary three times, So Ah stood in front of him, her clenched hand frozen in mid-air.

His eyes widened subtly in surprise, not expecting the visit. It seemed as if she was just as dumbfounded to be at his door. 

She wore a white short-sleeved shirt, with the said sleeves being pale pink, tucked into her light blue circle skirt. For her simple white sneakers, she went for a pair of ruffled socks. With the night being breezy, she wore her brown cardigan. 

She was still injured but a lot better. A bandage patch was on her cheek, and with most of her wounds being internal, Leon could only assume they were all healed and wondered if there were more gauze wrapped around her body.

“Uhm… Hi.”

✠✠

“How did you know where I live?”

So Ah lowered her arm to join the leather jacket folded over her other arm – the good one. She swallowed thickly, shifting slightly from one foot to another.

“Chris told me.” 

More like she was stubborn enough. Once she had woken up with Piers sitting nearby with the laptop over his lap, she instantly noticed Chris across from him. At that moment, she thought he was going to take her in but instead, he explained what he told Leon. 

And at first, she couldn’t breathe, almost panicking, yet she forced herself to catch her bearings for the sake of her ribs. In a split second, thousands of what-ifs rushed to her head. Leon knew about what she had been up to for months. It rattled her heart, filling her up with dread inch by inch that she felt suffocated. 

Chris only reminded her that he hadn’t mentioned a single thing about the tracker and kept what he told Leon as vague as possible. He was leaving her to do the explanation, and he gave her the address when she asked for it. Piers, as always, helped her get to the hotel undetected with a tilted smile; “Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

And she knew he was right – she was basically stepping into the lion’s den. 

“Can’t that man ever stop gossiping.” Leon rolled his eyes at her answer and moved further into his hotel room, leaving the door open for her. 

So Ah hesitantly entered the room, letting her eyes dart around. It was a fancy hotel, so she wasn’t surprised by the elegance of it all. The colours were ranging from beige, gold, and brown to white, ocean green, and garnet red. 

The hall was spacious as she watched him go to the main room and it was bigger than the hall itself. That was all she could see from her spot.

“No, I uh, I asked him.” So Ah answered, looking down at the jacket over her arms as if just noticing it, and she gestured to it, “I wanted to see you and uhm, return this.”

Leon stopped in his tracks and turned around, darting his eyes to his jacket and then up to her. Almost like a predator, he approached her; slowly. Every step he took mimicked her thudding heart. His piercing eyes didn’t leave hers for a second, towering over her. His presence itself was emitting heat and she wanted to drop her cardigan for a breather. 

With his chest practically brushing hers, he reached behind her to shut the door, nearly having her cornered. Something about Leon being silent was so unsettling. His face always spoke a thousand words before his lips would reveal anything. The tension was growing more and more the closer he stayed. 

His perceptive azures caught on her hitched breath, knowing she was growing flustered. As quietly as he approached her, he took the jacket from her and moved away. Her personal bubble shook at the emotions stirring up inside of her and she found herself able to breathe again. 

So Ah shut her eyes for a moment to let out a silent sigh, bringing up her hand to wipe the heat rushing to her cheek as she followed him into the room.

The unmade bed was facing the flat TV along with a long couch and a smaller one surrounding a coffee table. From her spot, she saw a room leading to a simple kitchen with all the basic necessities and to her right was what she assumed would be the bathroom. 

Behind the curtains was a sliding door leading out to a beautiful balcony. What caught her attention more was the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table along with his single glove and a glass cup.

Leon tossed the jacket over the couch, rounding it to get his bottle and he raised it up towards her, offering her one. She shook her head, politely refusing it and he shrugged, picking up his cup. 

“Suit yourself.” He sat down on the couch and filled half the cup up.

Clenching and unclenching her hands, she started, “Leon… I’m not only here to see you. I…” She trailed away, unsure of how to go with this, “We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Leon hummed, taking his first sip of many and gesturing to her hands, “Kind of figured with all the nervous shifting you’re doin’ over there.”

Her eyes dropped down to her hands, seeing them fumbling with one another anxiously. Damn him and his observant eyes. She released her hands, trying to appear more relaxed despite the storm in her nerves. She didn’t know what to expect from him.

“I… I’m assuming you know where I’ve been.” So Ah said, frowning when he wouldn’t look at her. 

“On a murder spree?” Leon asked as if it was just some casual Friday plan, “Yeah, Chris told me a thing or two – told ya’ he’s the gossipy type.”

She watched him down his shot and pour another, “Did he tell you why?”

“No, said that part would be on you.”

“Right. Yeah, of course.” So Ah quickly replied, nodding as she went up to him, “You deserve to hear it from me.”

Leon stared up at her, blinking at her sudden jumpiness to be the one to explain everything. She truly did believe that it was up to her to clean up her mess. She knew he wanted to hear everything from her – from the trusted source – and she wanted to give him that. 

Hiding back his relieved smile, Leon leaned back against the couch as if getting comfortable – manspreading and all. He signalled to the couch in front of him with his free hand. 

Hesitantly, So Ah went to sit down, keeping a straight posture as her anxious thoughts were refusing to let her relax for even a second. It was like she was set on a pedestal at some museum; nothing but a statue in front of her husband. There was no need for her to keep up her false pride. It never did her any good.

Leon kept his sharpsharp eyes on her behind his glass cup, hissing under his breath at the taste of his whiskey. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Han.”

Ouch.

“Okay, uhm…” She shifted in her seat a little as she began to reveal, trying to pick her words as carefully as possible, “What happened was out of my control or anyone for that matter. I went on several undercover missions to expose a corrupted government alliance but it went bad… Horribly bad.”

“They knew it was me and…” She found her hands gripping the edge of her skirt, “And they were going to hurt my family, and everyone I care about.”

Leon’s brow twitched when her eyes located his as she said that last bit.

“So, I had to… I had to go into hiding.”

“With no call or nothing?” Leon shot back, not buying her story, “A little ‘hey babe, I’m alive, by the way! No need to think that your dear ol’ wife had died’ would’ve sufficed.”

His voice choked up at the end, nostrils flaring with knitted brows and he avoided her saddened gaze to take a bigger gulp. So Ah frowned deeply, pushing herself to the edge of her seat. 

“I wanted to tell you, Leon. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see you.” She pressed on pleadingly, needing him to understand, “But if they had known that we were still in contact, they would’ve come after you.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at her, lowering his glass cup, pointing out, “I’m hearing a lot of they but still no names. Who’s they?”

Ice water washed down her spine, straightening her up once again. The chip beeped silently beneath her skin at the mere thought of the alliance. 

Still too scared to reveal everything, she trailed her eyes down to the coffee table, voice coming out in a whisper, “I… I can’t say.”

Leon scoffed incredulously, a sarcastic smile on his face as if delighted by his expectations being reached, “Great, more fucking secrecy. Okay, different question,” He brought the cup up to his lips, “Who was in your team?”

So Ah visibly winced, eyes shutting for a moment. She reminded herself that he had the right to be mad, bringing her legs together as a feeble attempt to close in her bubble more. Or maybe an attempt for something else because hearing him swear was–

“It wasn’t necessarily a team.” She said, “Just me and someone else.”

“Lemme guess, can’t say?” Leon assumed with a snide and she darted her eyes at him for a moment. 

“Piers.”

He froze at this, actually surprised as his brows shot up, “Nivans? He was a part of this?”

She kind of shook and nodded her head, “Yeah, he helped keep me hidden and all that.”

“That’s a twist,” Leon huffed as he leaned forward to set his empty glass on the table, “So, I’m guessing Chris did know everything from the start. Even though he helped with the missing case… Damn bastard.”

So Ah blinked, brows furrowing in confusion for a split second as he poured himself a cup, “I’m sorry, missing case?”

“Yeah, you were gone for almost a year, remember?” Leon took his cup and returned to his usual position, leaning back against the couch, “Or did it slip your pretty head?”

Silence filled the air when he picked up on the pain in her face. So Ah chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, closing her eyes for a second or two to lower her stress levels. She didn’t want to open Pandora's box to reveal everything she had done. She came into this hotel room and suddenly it felt like an FBI had taken her to the questioning room.

In a way, that was what happened.

Leon sniffled once, changing the topic. He knew of her tendency to grow unresponsive when the situation gets a little too much and right now, he wanted her to respond to every question. He wanted her to keep talking. 

“How is Nivans helping you with this?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and bringing up his leg to rest his ankle over his knee.

“He manages the research on the members of the department, deletes any security footage of us, uhm…” She stopped for a moment to think, “You know, keeps me under the radar.”

The corner of his eye twitched, voice coming out accusatory, “And your role in this is killing those innocent men.”

And like a rubber band–

“They’re not innocent!” So Ah snapped, cinnamons wide – and she froze. 

Leon blinked at her outburst, reading the fear and disgust in her eyes. Slowly, he set his foot down, lowering his drink down to set it on the table. It was more than evident that she was on edge under his perceptive stare. 

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” Leon commented lowly, watching the way she tensed up.

So Ah released a breath. He was always a lot better at interrogation. It was part of his job anyway. She came here seeking forgiveness like a weeping man at the church’s confession booth. The need to spill everything just to ease her heart to beat normally was immense. 

What didn’t help was Leon treating it like a detective looking for answers. He needed information as if he was on a tight schedule, cornering her in every part of her story, assuming the wrong things just to let her correct him; Leon knew what he was doing. 

“Those men…” So Ah muttered, her voice deepening a little, “They’ve done terrible and inhumane things. Maybe they didn’t deserve death but they sure as hell don’t deserve anything less.”

Leon questioned, “Didn’t think of informing a higher authority? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Her hand automatically shot up, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. She didn’t even know if she had the guts to trust any government worker at this point. 

“Not really…”

“So treason was the right solution.” Leon raised a brow, giving her a stern look; she was coiling up.

“It’s not…” She started, racking her brain for anything but the room felt suffocating, “There was no other way.”

No, don’t shut me out again.

“Then tell me, what did they do?” Leon leaned forward, voice dropping to a desperate tone to coax the truth out of her, “What is this alliance? What happened, So Ah?”

He needed more answers.

Her lips quivered, almost relenting but she stopped herself. Breathing in shakily, she stood up, shaking her head as if defiant – no, something was holding her back.

“I can’t tell you, Leon. I–I’m sorry but it’s too risky.” She apologised then motioned around her with her eyes, “I shouldn't even be here.”

Silence filled the empty space as Leon stared up at her, watching her move away from the table and stop close to the hallway. His lips parted, utterly disappointed. The walls she had built up were keeping him at bay and it was frustrating to be on the other end. Anger rushed through his veins, sending tremors down to his hands – especially when she refused to meet his eyes. 

She was lying again; hiding something again.

A harsh scoff emitted from him, slamming the glass back down once he downed the whole thing in one go. Her eyes followed him when he stood up, a deep scowl on his face as he started approaching her. 

“And you think that’s enough? Enough for me to put my mind at ease?” Leon scolded, narrowing down his iceice eyes at her, “So Ah, you left. For almost a goddamn year, and then you come in here, give me some vague fucking answers, and expect me to be over the moon?”

So Ah stepped back silently, attempting to hide her teary cinnamons, brows curling in the middle at the overwhelming emotion. She hatedhated being yelled at – it always made her want to enter her shell like a scared little turtle. 

It only made Leon’s glare harden at her silence, continuing even when her back hit the wall.

“Our vows meant that less to you, huh?” Leon spat, hurt evident more than ever in his face, “I thought you died, So Ah, because I know how dangerous undercover missions can be. I’ve been to something similar yet I always, always, manage to send you a message.”

“Because I know you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He asked, trying to read her avoidant eyes before scoffing.

“Of course, it doesn't.” His voice dropped to a lower tone, growling as he stared her down, “Since all you do is run.”

Her heart was taking hit after hit, her glistening eyes widening when he turned around. He walked back to the table, leaving her by the wall. 

She didn’t want to lose him. She was doing everything in her being to keep him safe; but turns out, it was pushing him away day by day.

“Leon, I–I really tried, but–” So Ah’s stammers weren’t doing her justice, and Leon cut her off, stopping her from even attempting to come close.

“It wasn’t fucking enough, So Ah. You left me. No matter how hard you try to twist it around. You. Left. Me.” Leon snapped, jabbing his index finger at himself, not even trying to hide the ache in his shining eyes. 

“Please, I…” So Ah took another step, visibly guilty and afraid. Hesitant even. She was horrified, but not of him. 

All the days being stuck at the BSAA’s lab were returning, tormenting and reminding her of why she did what she did. All in the name of love she convinced herself. She had to go down that road. Now, she was scared to even think about all the lives she took – and what would those corrupted scientists do once they find out she was back to her husband. 

Leon picked up on her panicked state, furrowing his brows suspiciously, “What are you not telling me?”

Yet, all that fear kept her mouth shut, caging her bottom lip in between her teeth. In a way, she hoped he’d be able to figure everything out by just looking into her eyes. He was perceptive, anyway.

Leon blinked at her quietness, shaking his head, “All this time and you never really trusted me, huh?”

“What – No, I do trust you!” She shot back, desperate for him to give her more time, “It’s just–”

He wasn’t having any of it. 

“Then spit it out.”

So Ah couldn’t help but feel the world darkening around her and silencing her when Leon dropped his glower with a heavy sigh, “All those years together, down the drain…” 

A clear indication that he gave up. His shoulders slouched as he picked up the bottle. So Ah was holding back a whimper, wringing her jacket's sleeves so hard that she might as well tear it when he turned around to head to the bathroom.

He barely waved at her without looking, voice sounding heavy with grief and distraught, "Close the door on your way out, will ya? I've got somewhere to be tomo–"

"There's a chip in me."

The words tumbled out before she could even think about it, spilling the truth so quickly. It stilled Leon in his spot and he partially turned to look at her, shock seeping into his frustrated mask. 

"... What?"

Her eyes avoided his, shutting them tightly as she stared down, internally muttering and praying that this was the right choice.

After years and years of hiding it, maybe all they were was empty threats. She never wanted to lose Leon, she wouldn't even dream of it. Seeing how he was treating her, all the scolding, the snide comments; it hurt her. 

What was worse was when he cared for her after defeating Arias. He was always there no matter how many times she had let him down. Every fibre of her being was trembling widely.

He turned around completely, repeating his question with confusion knitting his brows in the centre, "What did you just say?"

“The men at the alliance… They thought it’d be better to keep an eye out for me to monitor the virus,” She explained quietly, turning around and gathering her hair over her shoulder to reveal her nape. 

The obvious painful bruise was spreading like vines on a tree, coating and painting her nerves in darkish purple, close to black. It enunciated her spinal cord. 

“They added a… A safety measure in case the virus gets active again, but during our mission in China, it sort of came off from the damage it sustained… The damage I took.” So Ah dropped her head as if ashamed of the memory, unaware of him setting his bottle down and approaching her, “It’s been there ever since.”

Leon asked, his eyes unable to leave the sight of her neck, “How long?”

“... A while.”

“I need more than just a while, sweetheart,” Leon shot back, “How long has it been there?”

“A few years now…” Her voice grew heavy, keeping her teary eyes focused on the painting in front of her, “Closing in on… On eight.”

Leon’s eyes widened at that revelation, racking his brain as to when it happened. He’d known her for almost nine years – that only meant the chip was implanted when the incident happened.

“That’s right after the…” Leon trailed away when she turned around to face him, nodding as she knew what he was referring to – the night she lost her life.

H-Outbreak.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Her hand went to the back of her neck to soothe the pain, muttering, “They threatened they’d hurt my family… They’d hurt you,” She glanced at him with a soft sigh, “Like I said, I had no other choice.”

So Ah took him for granted. 

Whilst she pulled him away from his horrible days and nights, Leon never went back to those tiring times. but Leon saved her a lot - numerous times.

The H-Outbreak

The pharmacy with the grieving father

The Eastern Slav Republic mission.

Her panic attack when the dreaded nickname from her late family doctor was uttered.

The Tall Oaks incident.

The entirety of the China mission.

All of her breakdowns when she'd be overwhelmed by everything.

Leon was always there and that was where he stayed. Yet, she strayed off to a new low. He didn't seem to care though, silently heading off to save her once again despite being in a dark pit himself.

Leon had her back, trusting her with his life – assuming she had his back as well. He knew she did. The disbelief and denial when he wanted her comfort but didn't find it was strong.

Someone forced her to turn her back on him for his safety's sake. Leon was a selfless man – and she didn't deserve him. 

Or so she believed.

"Who are they?"

So Ah was hesitant, lips opening but not saying anything. They held her tongue in the most horrible of ways. 

To her dismay, Leon’s patience was running thin.

“So Ah,” Leon ticked his head to the side, clearly growing frustrated and more livid than ever, and took a couple steps towards her. 

She stumbled back at the dangerous look on his face, her breath hitching in her throat when the wall stopped her from moving any further. 

God damn these cliches.

She tried to reason, but he really wasn’t having any of it anymore, “Leon, you know I can’t–”

"Oh, I think we're way past secrets now,” Leon let out a fake chuckle, his glare not faltering one bit, “So, who are they?"

“Le–” 

Leon’s voice dropped an even deeper octave, rage beginning to boil under his tone, “Who the fuck are they, So Ah?”

His form towered over hers with ease, having tilted his head down to force eye contact. His broadbroad chest was practically heaving with his audible breathing which made his voice just as such; breathily. Oozing with protectivity and seething with anger, the girl had no choice but to reveal, staring wide-eyed up at him.

“The BSAA.”

Leon’s brow twitched at the information, narrowing his eyes down; after everything he had seen with the government right after he had to let them take Sherry away, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. 

“The virus won’t reactivate, it’s been radio silent for years,” Leon said with a deep scowl forming on his lips, “What do they want from you?”

There was no need to hide anything back now – if the worse outcome happens, she’d take all the guilt. But if something were to happen to him, then she’d have to let her murderous instincts take over. 

It’d be eerily easy because then she’d have nothing to lose. Seeing red was what would be the end of her.

“The H-Virus.” 

Leon blinked, the crease between his brows deepening, “H-Virus?”

“The one Arias wanted to first release to the city,” So Ah spoke quietly as if afraid a BSAA spy was listening in, “It was by pure coincidence that I found the same man who created it.”

Guilt was starting to bubble within Leon; he knew there was something off about all those regular checkups. Every day or night, she’d return home exhausted and would only reassure him that she was just training hard. 

It was all going to be okay, she kept saying. 

“Where is it now?” Leon asked.

“Gone. I had it destroyed.” She replied, tearing her eyes away from his, “It was the only sample so, I don’t think we’ll be seeing it anytime soon.”

Leon didn’t like her avoiding his eyes again. Having been around her enough, he was more than aware of her tendencies and habits to cower from confrontation. She was obviously scared out of her wits, telling him all this – but he needed her to keep talking.

“Did Chris know any of this?” Leon questioned, raising his voice a bit to catch her attention once again – which he did.

So Ah shook her head, “No, he found out just before we came to you at the hotel.”

While Piers was keeping tabs on her, Chris was initially shocked when he was informed about the tracker and how they have been treating her. Even more when his soldier revealed the lives she had taken.

Leon's jaw locked as he moved back, emitting a quiet exhale from her. His hand went up to his hip, the other going to his stubble, recognizing the way she looked so small. 

It was like she was back at Green Life during that awful year. Back then, she was as oblivious to anything as possible, running around in that facility and looking for scraps of information to tell her where to go and what to do.

Right now, she knew every horrible thing and she chose to deal with it on her own.

Something told him it has got to be her guilt for all those victims and broken families of the H-Outbreak. Despite all those therapy sessions and going as far as joining the government, the poor souls of that outbreak hung over her head like vultures. 

This was her punishment, being a lab rat probed and poked, and observed like a hawk.

So Ah inhaled shakily, approaching him slowly, "I know I should've told you–"

"Damn right you should've." Leon cut her off, turning to look at her with sharpsharp azures.

“But I had to try and get rid of it on my own… I’m tired, Leon, I’m so tired…” She continued as she stopped walking, remorse weighing her voice down to a whisper, “I don’t want to go back there again. It feels so alone, fighting a battle I can't seem to win. And I wanted to come home to you so bad, but…”

She trailed away, casting her tearful cinnamons down, “I’m sorry.”

Leon didn’t say anything, chest heaving slightly at the sight of her. It had been soso long.

Ever since he saw her for the first time in months, all he wanted was to grab her face and kiss her till they've got no air left in their lungs. It was igniting something in him that he hadn't felt in such a longlong time. The urge from when he looked at her in Colorado was returning.

It was not fair.

So Ah released a sigh, looking up at him with a look he couldn't quite read, but it was clear she was trying to take the blame once again.

"I understand if you still want to sign the papers, it won't make me love you any less..." She looked away, attempting to hide her teary eyes and using her sleeves to wipe any rolling ones, "Ugh, I fucking ruined everythin–"

Leon kissed her to shut her up.

It was so not fair.

[mekandawn]

@daily-writing-challengeWords: Forgiveness / ShadowflameDate: May 21 Day: 1

"But! If you are heading to the titan vault, then I'm the person you want on your team!" Rannan declared and Caythaes immediately turned to stare him down. The human had been rambling nonstop since Fate had brought him back from the Sundered Flame camp, and while they recognized that it was a trait they also shared, they were getting exasperated with listening to him put his foot into his mouth.

"I know a lot about the titans! And Tubes over here? He knows a lot about it too!!" he continued, barely pausing long enough to take a breath and let someone else talk. 

"They already have a titan expert," Caythaes grumbled as they stared Rannan down. It should have been obvious to the human that Caythaes was there as an engineer- they had their work overalls on and their belt was laden with belt pouches and all the tools of the trade, but apparently Rannan didn't take the time to pay any attention to his surroundings.

"Oh!" the human exclaimed, pausing to blink owlishly at Caythaes as if just noticing their presence for the first time. "Oh wow, I didn't see you there, sorry! Are you with the Dragonscale Expedition?"

"No," Caythaes huffed, feeling their ears go flat against their skull as they nodded towards the pair of Dracthyr walking at the front of the little group. "I'm with Fate. I overheard her and Ebyssian talking about a titan vault, and I wanted to go see it."

"Indeed," Ebyssian cut in, his deep voice soothing some of Caythaes' fraying nerves. They were not, by nature, the sort of person who involved themselves in the work of Champions, and even without Rannan's constant chatter, just being out in the open in the middle of the Zaralek Caverns made them anxious. "Fate speaks highly of their skill with titan technology. Still, we do not know what sort of obstacles stand between us and the vault, so I suspect that having two experts will be better than one."

"Brilliant!" Rannan chirped and Caythaes felt their ears go even flatter, bending at the centers to run parallel to the ground. Fine. This was fine. They could be civil. They just had to tune Rannan out and focus on the work in front of them.

It worked right until they got the door open and Rannan demanded to know why Emberthal hadn't told them she had access to the vault.

"Obviously she didn't know!" they snapped at the same time she said the same in kind, and Rannan looked between them with utter confusion written on his face. 

"How was I supposed to know?" he asked, and Caythaes pulled him to the side to explain how the Dracthyr as a whole experienced partial memory loss,

As it turned out, approaching Rannan as a teacher made tolerating his presence a whole lot easier than trying to outright ignore him had. In fact, the pair of them got so caught up in discussion that Caythaes didn't notice that any time had passed until Fate came barreling out of the vault at full speed, murder written in every step.

"Oh, that's not a good sign," Caythaes observed, pointing after her as their ears tipped back worriedly. "I… should probably go deal with that, I think."

"Oh, yep. That does not look good at all," Rannan agreed, adjusting his glasses as he peered at Fate's rapidly vanishing figure. "You should definitely go after her before she's out of sight, but--" 

He was interrupted by the sail-like boom of the dracthyr's wings catching air as she took off, "--She's moving awfully fast. I don't suppose you have wings?" 

Rannan was clearly joking, and Caythaes took great pleasure in the startled yawp he let out when they launched into the air in a scattering of fiery feathers.

Over the years, Caythaes had practiced their flying to the point where being in their phoenix form almost felt natural. They'd soared through the open skies of the dragon isles alongside dragonriders and racers from time to time, and while they might not have been the best at staying away from stray branches or avoiding rocky outcroppings, they were pretty proud of their speed.

Despite this, keeping up with an angry dracthyr who knew exactly where she was going was a lot harder than anticipated. A few too many twists and turns around pillars and close calls with stalagmites left them disoriented, flying in circles until they realized they could still hear Fate screaming.

Non-stop.

All the way across the cavern.

Horrifying as it was, it made keeping track of her a lot easier, and Caythaes took off with a renewed sense of determination. They caught up with her just in time to see Sarkareth disappearing into Aberrus.

"Get back here, you cowardly son of a skink!" Fate bellowed as she charged after him, racing past the gaggle of adventurers and black dragons assembling nearby. With a sigh, Caythaes dove after her, shifting back into an elf before they could collide with the ground. 

Hitting the ground running was not enough for Caythaes to get to Fate before a black dragon covered in adamantine plates rose up and belched out a throat full of shadowflame. They skidded to a halt in the doorway and watched, wide-eyed and heart in their throat as it engulfed Fate's raging form, utterly blocking her from sight for an eternity that could only have lasted seconds at best. As the flame faded away and the dragon crowed in triumph, Fate's smoking body collapsed to the ground, her cries of anger replaced with helpless screams of agony.

Distracted by its own gloating, the dragon didn't notice as Caythaes scampered across the floor and knelt at Fate's side, frantically snuffing out the flame as best they could, but with their experience using fire magic, they couldn't truly keep the fire from coming back. They would have to treat both shadow and flame at the same time.

What they were about to do wasn't the best decision they'd ever made, but as far as Caythaes could tell, they didn't have any other choice. If they left Fate behind to go get help from Ebyssian - or at least a shaman skilled enough at working with the earth to recreate his process - there was a high chance they'd return to a charred corpse or worse.

Besides, Caythaes had experience with both shadow and fire magic. Sure, they were far more skilled when it came to pyromancy, but as a Priest of the Zenith, they'd learned from the teachings of the Dusk and the Dawn. In theory, they could handle this. If they couldn't, well…

Going up in a swell of shadowflame would have been a really cool death painting. If only they had spoken to Vixannya about it sooner.

Caythaes took a deep breath and braced themself, humming softly to help block out the sound of Fate's agonized screaming. Objectivity and composure were the first things one needed when pulling on the Void, and they couldn't let her pain distract them from their work. The humming became a soft song as Caythaes began to tease the shadow out of Fate's mind, their voice becoming more dissonant and multi-tonal as they pulled more and more of it into themself.

Just come with me... If you're wanting somebody... Just call my name... Just come with me... I'll be there... Believe me... I'll keep you safe... Just come with me...

It came slowly at first, nothing more than a steady trickle of soft whispers Caythaes could easily ignore as they worked to snuff out the flames consuming Fate's body and restore the worst of the damage, but as the fire receded and Fate began to recover, her screams changed in timbre from pain to defiance.

"NO!" she bellowed, lurching upright and grabbing Caythaes' head in both hands. Her eyes glowed furious green as Fate forced Caythaes to meet her gaze, the rest of the world falling away into darkness as she stared into their soul and snarled, "Never again, do you hear me? NEVER AGAIN."

Caythaes could not keep their composure any longer. They could no longer be objective. The whispers roared in their mind, drowning out all other sounds, their own voice twisting and flowing between them, melodic and sweet as it sang, "You can live happily, just turn the key... We can be free... Just come with me..."

Underneath it all was one wretched, terrible, deep, rich, resonant, honeyed voice that purred, "Oh, my Devoted One, how I've missed you…" chilling them to the core.

Then nothing.

Silence.

Not even the sound of ringing in their ears.

Somewhere behind them, muffled shouting became hurried footsteps, then a hand on their shoulder shaking them as someone said, "Caythaes, are you okay?"

Pin.

Caythaes blinked at her small, round, worried face until the rest of the world returned and they could see Roki frantically working his restorative magic over Fate's prone body. She was alive, her chest and shoulders rising and falling with steady breaths but her black scales had turned a deep, ruddy red and the white mane of her hair flowed from dark purple to glowing, fiery orange. 

Scarred, irrevocably changed, but alive.

What did they look like, then? Caythaes wondered. Looking down at their hands, they found them unchanged; one fully mechanical and the other still ruddy at the fingertips and evening out to a faint tan just past the wrist. Had they somehow escaped the corruption? Had they handled it better than they thought?

Something moved over their neck and shoulder, a slithering sensation that sent shivers down their spine. Reaching up, they could feel it nestled within the waterfall of their hair - one single slim tentacle. Hastily, Caythaes pulled a hair tie from a belt pouch and began gathering it up, ignoring the way their hair now glowed the same dark purple and fiery orange way that Fate's did.

"I'm fine," they assured Pin, giving her the best smile they could muster as they tied the tentacle out of sight within the confines of their hair. "It's fine. Everything's fine. It's going to be okay."

"Ugh," Fate agreed, stirring just enough to slap a hand over her face. "Ow…. everything hurts."

"Everything is going to be okay," Caythaes repeated, the whispers in their head echoing the words in a thousand different tones and voices. If it isn't, I'll make it be…

[tuulikannel]

Solar: But if it was a happy story where nothing happened, there wouldn't be a story. :/ Me: But this! Why is it so! Why do stories need to have conflict and bad things happening ;_; (says one who loves dark stories)

And this brought to my mind that I've had this discussion before, with one friend, when we concluded that it wouldn't be much of a story if all you do is sit on a mushroom and glitter. (this had something to do with fairies, I think…) (hey, we had this discussion… uh, 14 years ago….)

And then I wrote this on the spur of the moment! (unedited, me from 2009 is sorry for any potential language mistakes or whatever) It's been buried in the comments of my DW journal all these years XD

In the deepest forest lies an old, old fallen tree, covered with moss and mushrooms. A dark-watered river runs by it, rippling softly on its way over rocks and stones. This is a quiet, peaceful place; the rippling water, wind in the branches, occasional bird song are the only sounds ever heard there.

One morning an unusual sight could have been seen there, if there had been anyone to see it. In the forest's shadows, one of the mushrooms growing on the fallen tree seemed to glitter. A closer look would have shown the non-existent observer that it was not the mushroom that glittered, but a tiny, winged girl who sat on it. She sat there, hugging her knees, staring into the dark waters of the river. A long while passed, the sun slowly crawled up and lightened the shadows, but her sparkling was still quite clear. She watched the sunlight reflect on the waves, making the water sparkle the way she did, and smiled a little.

"Laila!" A sudden shout cut the silence. "Laila, where are you?"

She sighed, glanced toward the voice but didn't move or say anything. After a short while three small winged people much like her appeared from the forest, two of them boys, one a girl.

"Hey, there you are! Aren't you coming?" They landed on the mushroom around her. "We were waiting for you! What are you doing just sitting here?"

"Waiting?" Laila asked softly, confusedly, fingering her fine spiderweb dress. "Why?"

"Why!" The girl fairy took wing, rising up in circles. "Why? Didn't we agree we'd go to steal the dragon's treasure today?"

"I… ah." Laila blinked. "I'm sorry, Ann. I really didn't think you were serious about that."

"Of course we were!" another of the boys exclaimed. "So, shall we go now?"

"I… I don't think I will. And maybe you shouldn't either…"

Ann snorted, still flying in circles. "I swear, you'll start growing moss one of these days, just like that tree. Why don't you ever want to do anything?"

"I do," Laila protested. "Just… not today."

"Fine enough." Ann landed on the mushroom next to her. "We can go without you. Just glitter there on the mushroom if that's what you want to do."

Laila just shrugged, and the trio rose up into the air. "I really don't understand why you want to tease the poor dragon," she shouted after them as they flew away. "Why can't you let him keep his diamonds?" She sighed. "As if they were diamonds, anyway… just pieces of glass. And it's not a dragon, it's a salamander… Don't scare him so he drops his tail!" She considered a moment if she should get up and go to warn the poor lizard but decided then that he could most likely take care of himself. It's not like he hadn't experience with foolish young fairires…

So she lay down on the mushroom and stared at the pieces of sky she could see from between the branches. A few white cotton clouds drifted there… one of them looked in fact a bit like a dragon when she tilted her head. She closed her eyes and rose in her mind to the skies to battle the cloud dragons.

[find-the-devil]

III. Sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Robin lay in the grass outside with a dewy glass of cold water in one hand, watching passing animals and tufts of pollen as Ennis tended to his plants, removing them delicately from their place in the rotting crevice, unrooting each with gentle fingers at their bases. He took larvae, worms and beetles from where they had buried themselves and placed them first into the soil-lined opening without a word. The new wound, maroon and chestnut in color and fresh, burst from the inside with dirt and mud that smelled of new rain. 

The sun hung lower in the skies, yellow, as it began to sink behind the tree-line. The pines stood, thin and stable and tall, black in the light, casting their shadow over the corn husks ebbing in the clement breeze that carried the scent of wheat with it. Ennis rid himself of the earth that clung with moisture to his hands, wiping them on the front of his jeans, leaving a streak of brown down his thighs that quickly dried and turned a dustier shade in the evening heat. The stalks shivered as a stronger gust of wind shook even the trees, stoic towering at their rear like spire towers, wooden and alive. 

“What do you do with the rejects,” Rob started, gesturing with a wide, imprecise motion to the first body almost entirely rid of plants. “None of the bodies the townsfolk found were this decayed, we usually get ‘em around bloat.” He picked a tall blade from the ground that stuck up above its neighbors, absently twirling it between his thumb and index finger. Ennis sighed heavily, wiping some grit from his brow with the back of his wrist as he sat back in the grass. He kicked off the large, robust brown shoes he wore, rolling his shoulders and looking intently at something that fluttered in the branches above his head. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, detective. I get rid of them, simple as that. I don’t think too hard about covering my tracks either, my side of the woods is empty and no one goes in the field anymore.” Ennis replied, breathing in the sweet scent of his freshly displaced flowers with content, easy flowing breaths that opened his chest, like a mother opening the blinds with gentleness for her newborn. The sky glowed the color of peaches and salmon meat, stars seeping down from a wound straight above, where night hung a delicate purple and flowed down without haste among the orange and yellow. Clouds rolled, wispy and fine like cotton stretched thin. 

A squirrel fell from a tree somewhere at the edge of the woods. It broke its frail neck on impact and died without a peep, unseen, unheard and unknown by either man that sat looking just beyond the blackberry bushes. 

“I don’t know who you are.” Robin stated plainly, taking a small sip from the water in his hands. The ice touched his lips, turned them a pinker hue that matched the color above. 

The cold felt as if it seeped into his ribs as he swallowed, before being overtaken by the heat in his gut, freshness lost to the burn of his stomach acid. 

“Makes sense,” he began, shrugging his shoulders, briefly losing sight of whatever he tracked in the trees “You’ve never met me before last night. I'm Ennis. That’s the end of it. I’ve never thought much of a family name.” he finished, reaching for the glass of water, without tearing his eyes from what skittered in the leaves. 

“Careful, it’s slippery." a pause "I gather you know who I am, you read the story about my retirement.” he remarked, looking at the man as he took a drink from the clear glass. 

“I’m no good with names, I recognized you from your photo. You’ve got stubble now.”

“Yeah, thought I’d shave for the picture, not sure why, only the crones read it, really. And you, I guess.” he explained, rubbing the short, grey scruff on his chin absent-mindedly as he watched the stars come into view, white against the yawning purple of space. “Name’s Robin, well, Rob. My father’s was Hugh Hughes, if you can believe it.” he offered. Ennis gave a hum in response as he shifted to watch the treeline instead.  Rustling and pitter-pattering from within the corn could be heard faintly. 

Something wailed amongst the stalks, high pitched and cut short with a gurgling sound too quiet to perceive. 

“What hunts foxes?” Rob asked, heart rate suddenly accelerated.  

“Better hope it was the coyote, I’d not like to deal with another cougar. They don’t stray far from the treeline, most of the time. But once…” he trailed off, rising to his feet, taking the discarded pair of shoes that lay in the grass. “I’m heading inside. Gives the night birds a chance to peck at the feeder,” he tapped the long metal cylinder that hung from a hooked hanger just above the back door “Or find mice. Either way, I’m not one to bother their dinner time.” he said, helping Robin stand with a strong arm, nearly flinging him upwards as if he weighed only as much as a bag of grain. 

The light from Ennis’ room shut off, the crack of light beneath the door extinguishing without warning. He had given Rob a proper pillow, stuffed with quail down or something of the sort. The foundations creaked in the wind. Trees were hidden in the dark, but come night he heard them swaying in the wind.  

Sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh. 

The sound called for quietude.  

A breeze hummed through the forest. Wood groaned, jostled by the strong, hearty draft as branches moved as if floating on the current.  

Rob felt as though he sat in the throat of someone speaking. Their voice rang out deep, low, melodic and commanding like a mournful piece played by cello in an empty auditorium. It snaked around the house and wormed through the corn stalks that shivered and whispered to each other. The leaves rattled against one another like beads falling quickly down a rain stick. Whistling, faint and solitary twittered out with a chipperness and glee unbecoming of the elegiac calm that defined the night. 

The bird was found quickly by one bigger, silent in the air, that flew on wings wide and lengthy, with extended feathers that fluttered like long grass blades on their tips. With plumage that mimicked pale tree bark, it had hid on a perch above, swiveled its round head and pinpointed the merry song of the boastful mockingbird, taking it out with talons pointed, smooth and precise, with a motion unseen, unheard and unknown. 

The mockingbird would re-emerge some time later as a grey pellet cobbled together from undigested remains of itself and other birds, individuals indistinguishable to the average eye and unimportant to that which had consumed it. Its eggs, laid some time later in the season than is typical, fault of a colder, prolonged and wearisome winter, would lay in an empty nest. Nearly formed chicks would remain unhatched. A gust of wind would soon shake them from their perch some feet from the grassy ground. A fox would claim each broken body and take its find to a den that hid itself from view within the crowd of pines. 

The sound of a wave, a ruinous force of nature, rushed through the pines, bending them, stripping them of their driest needles that trickled to the forest floor. The wave was thunderous, destructive, imposing, violent and immense. Vast as the forest and field it destroyed with impunity.

Robin let the noise carry him into rest, water rushing past his ears as his senses dulled and the night returned to calm.

[seraphimart]

( Its best to hear the song while reading )

Diablo Rojo

Rose sat tied down in a wooden chair as she watched the crazed scientist paced around the room, his gun waving about. He tossed papers on the ground and smashed tubes that were in his way. It looked like a medical storage room, with plenty of different types of experimental vials tossed and disorganized. Her mission was to kill him and gather a few vials for testing.

Once the man had his back turned, she easily snapped the rope in half and tackled the man down. He was actually stronger than anticipated as they fought over the weapon clenched in the man's hand. It fired off a few rounds in the struggle, smashing the glass containers and a few vials, purple and pink liquid splattering all over the white walls.

The man bent his arm to try and aim at her head, she struggled to keep it away, the gun wavered between them. Rose yelled with exertion as she shoved the gun back towards the man, before he pulled the trigger in his haste to shoot her. Blood soaked her turtleneck as well as covered part of her face from the large wound where half the man's head should be.

She bent over one of the counter tops, and gagged, spitting blood that wasn't even hers. She continued to dry heave, wiping her spit with the back of her hand. As she started to stand up she caught sight of a flickering light hidden behind a few thin blankets.

She leaned forward to reach the edge of one of the blankets to pull it off revealing a handmade explosive, fueled by some of vials. This man knew they were coming for him, and the only way to protect his life's work was to destroy it all.

"Oh, shit.."

She quickly turned and used the bud of the gun to shatter more containers holding in the vials, as she started to gather some of them up, placing them in her pockets and any other place she can hold them. She kicked the sealed door open, it fell with a loud thud when suddenly the alarms started to ring, the lights dimmed as the red emergency lights flickered on.

She didn't have time she needed to leave now. She ran through a corridor, every hall looking identical to the last, making it difficult to truely find a way out. Rose looked back and forth between a junction she stumbled on, not sure if she should go right or left. What made her decision for her was the deafening explosion from the previous room she was in. It rumbled the whole facility, the lights flickered off, the only thing visible was the bright orange, of the firebomb eating everything in its way.

Rose's face paled when she realized what it was. She didn't have time to think which way was correct and took the left corridor. She picked up the pace, the fire behind her destroying everything as it grew closer and closer.

She smashed through doors, without breaking her stride, her heart racing with the fear of being burned alive. "Shit, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

---

"We need more water aimed towards the north end of the facility!"

"Hurry, block the pathways so it won't spread!"

Miyuki watched everyone work to contain the sudden explosion. She was searching for a certain assassin but couldn't pin point the red-hair. Instead she spotted Morgan off to the side helping with equipment to keep the water flowing.

Since their truce they've been helping one another, it's still a bit rocky between them but for Rose, they'll put aside anything. Miyuki ran up to the cop.

"Jones! Have you seen Sinclaire? I can't find her."

Morgan turned to look at her, confused.

"I thought she was with you?"

Miyuki frowned at that. This doesn't sound good. "You don't think she's still inside?"

Morgan cursed. "Shit! You can't be fucking serious?"

Morgan shoved her coat off and her shirt leaving her in a sports bra.

"I'll go get her, manage the others." Morgan hunched over, a deep growl escaping her throat. Purple veins starts to spread throughout her right arm, crawling up her neck and covering part of her eye. Large blood soaked wings tore through skin, and expanded in all of its glory, feathers floating gracefully about.

Morgan crouched as low as she can, before leaping off the ground and into the sky, flying into the flames of the burning facility. Miyuki watched her go, hoping for the best.

--------

Rose ran towards the sliding steel door, however the doors started to close as an emergency protocol. Her shoulder smashed into it, denting but not opening. She placed her fingers in the crevice of the door, and tried to pry it open, feeling the heat of the fire get closer to her position.

When her fingers kept sliding off, she knew she was completely and utterly screwed. She would've used her energy to smashed through it easily, but most of it was already used and what she has now is what she's using to get away from becoming fried machinery.

She turned over her shoulder and saw the ball of fire inching towards her within seconds, causing her to panic. She slammed on the door. "Open the fucken door! Fuck!"

She turned around and praced herself. The ceiling above her crashed open, a figure landing in front of her and in one quick motion picked her up, then leaped out. The flames crashed where they were standing mere seconds before, and followed them up.

Rose looked at Morgan, shock written all over her face. Morgan looked at her for a second, but then kept her eyes focused on the exit. The redhead looked back down only to curse.

"Oh, shit! Can't you go any faster?"

"You think I'm not trying to go as fast as I can fucken go?" Morgan growled, trying to get her wings to fly them faster. The flames started to flicker towards her feet as well as Rose's.

"Godddammit!" Rose tried to put out the flames as it licked up their legs, burning her hands. Rose kept patting the flames out but more kept burning, crawling up their legs.

"Rose, fucken do something!"

"I'm fucken trying!"

The fire caught her arm, spreading more and melting the fabric onto her skin.

They burst out of the facility, flying straight up in a ball of flames, as it licked and burned their skin. Miyuki's eyes widened in horror only able to watch as the burning ball of fire started to crash down. They had glided towards a frozen over lake, cracking the ice with the force of their fall, as the two bodies became submerged in freezing water, putting out the fire like a match.

"We need medical assistance now!" Miyuki ordered as she ran towards the crater of ice.

[tealthepixel]

Part two finished! a bit longer than the previous one

Journey to Greatness

part 2: Bounty hunt

The door opened one last time for that night, with the two elementals back at home, the sun and orange skies took leave as they made room for the cold moon and its dark clouds, they walked into the living room and from there they went to their separate rooms, putting their equipment and found resources into their respective chests and quickly changing into their nightly attire, they both finish their waking moments saying “good night” to each other from their rooms and proceed to go to bed.

The sun rose anew, dark skies replaced with the warm orange yellow and blue skies, birds chirped their morning anthems, and Plasma woke up, invigorated from a good nights rest, she took off her woollen blanket with speed and got up from her bed ready for a new day, taking quick steps past the living room into the kitchen to make the morning meal.

She goes to the wall where two chests and a set of drawers are positioned, she grabbed two light grey smooth stone plates and places them on the dark stone kitchen top, and goes back to the chest next to the drawers, she opened it with vigour and inside there ware all sorts of fresh ingredients, forever kept at a cool temperature by the base filled with light blue ice crystals, she grabbed four eggs, quickly closed the chest and went back to the kitchen top. Face filled with determination, she cracked two eggs for each plate, dazzling them with a bit of the local sunflower oil from the wood bottle that was on the kitchen top, and broke a portion of a salt cube that was resting on another plate, crushed it between her hands and sprinkled it on over the eggs, to finish the procedure off she grabbed the plates with her palms under them and heat them up until they were cooked at her desired level, she puts them on the top and went to her brothers room, slowly and quietly opened the door, stuck her head through and said excitedly:

-”Good morning!”

Her announcement is followed by an abnormal silence,

-”Electro?” she asked one more time, receiving silence again and without other options she decides to investigate.

Few steps in and his room, consisting of wood walls and glass windows seemed a lot larger than hers at first sight, but there was overall little leg room due to the clutter in it, tables filled with researcher equipment, brewing stands, empty potion flasks on the tables and some on the ground, chest overstuffed with a mess of plants and equipment, at the end of room Electro can be seen on his chair sleeping head first onto his other research table, with the rose and dirt from yesterdays adventure still in its jar, a small pile of papers with messy ink writing and his glasses next to the pile, concerned, she went next to him and nudged him a little to wake him up.

Like a bear awoken from their hibernation, he groaned while lifting up his head, his “hair” is messier than before but its more consistently keeping its shape, he rubbed his tired face with his hands but it didn’t seem to help much with his fatigue.

-”Electro?” she asks again

An acknowledgment could be heard from the elemental, but muffled by his hands.

-”You alright?”

-”Oh yeah, I am,” he responded, failing to ease her concern “just a bit tired I suppose,” he followed, while looking up at her from his chair.

-”You should probably sleep some more, its pretty important,” she replied, he looked at her with eyes half way shut, she continued “and if not then I made you some breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry, you’ll need it more than me” she added.

With his fatigued tone he chuckled and thanked her.

-”Ill be heading to the central market in a bit, got some stuff id wanna do, if you need something, you know how to contact me,” she said while beginning to leave the room.

-”Don’t forget to take your sword,” her brother replied, “You never know what can happen there” he added. “Alright alright, I will” she responded, and added sarcastically “ill take some health flasks as well in case I almost die for buying some stones,” he chuckled again.

A few minutes went by and she was almost ready to go, she opened her equipment chest and put her sword and hilt onto her leather belt, with a few small healing flasks attached next to it, she grabbed her rune bracelet with an empty slot in its middle and puts in a small green rune and instead of a tunic, she put on a simple white silk shirt, lastly she puts on her adventurer boots and went to the front door.

She yelled “Ill be back in a few hours, guard the house while I’m gone, okay?” she added, which is followed by a loud yet tired “Okay,” in return.

She left the house and passed through the local market, a few “good morning”’s and “how are you?”’s get exchanged between her and the neighbours and town’s folk, before making a straight line to the central market, the calm lone dirt path slowly changing to a mixture of dark stones and pebbles, signifying her arrivals at the Hambsburg Central Market, at the outskirts, long stone paths and many cross roads were ahead, leading to various markets, homes of the towns folk, black smiths, outside traders, and other goods and services as far as the eye could see, she walked some more and the ground vibration were building up with the sounds people walking, the clanks of guardsmen armour, hammers hitting anvils, horse shoes hitting the ground, and squeaks of carriage wheels sustaining the weight of goods, she advanced even more, with the noises of people chattering, disputes of trades and purchased items all overlapping more and more where only the yells and shouts of merchants proposing their services could be heard:

-“Need yer amour polished? I can get it done for ya for 40 golda piece.”

-“New ores gott’n straight from the lands of Wind Fall fer the lowest prices you will ever find!”

-“Need the perfect weapon for battle? The finest blacksmith in the land can do it for just 100 gold!” and other announcements.

Looking around she could see all sorts of people of varying shapes, sizes and classes, some being knights, swordsmen, archers, thieves, you name it, but Plasma ignored most of these, keeping her focus centred on the middle of the road, with an occasional stare at what products were offered at the stands and tables. She finally arrived at the centre of Hambsburg Central Market, the pathways she walked upon were entirely made of stone of varying colours, from grey, to dark grey, and even darker grey, the place was much more crowded, proving difficult to reach ones destination, the Town hall was proudly standing tall, there was also the town’s news board, big wooden rectangle decorated with designs in yellow paint, with all news and events going on in there which was located a bit far from the Town hall but close enough, there were markets selling goods of visibly much higher quality and price, market stands far larger and decorated, having the tapestries of different designs signifying at a glance the goods sold, metal bars, potions, runes to name a few, this side was patrolled by guards far more frequently.

She managed to bump her way out of the crowd to reach the news board, she caught her breath from the challenge and finally looked at the board, she observed anything that could be of interest of her, top-left part of the board was filled with “monster hunting” type tasks of varying quantities rewarding some low rewards “defeat 50 skeleton archers, reward 20 gold” “defeat 60 slimes, reward 25 gold” the mere thought of dealing with them was enough to make her look at the rest of what the board had to offer, top-right of the board had recent information, the likes of guild joining petitions, advertisement for goods or services, news reports of recent events happening in the lands, wrote by several news groups like “The Royal Letter” or the local “Hemb-News Group” and others, uninterested in that she looked farther down the board on the bottom-left side, containing active events, like the “flower falls” event with increased the flowers and general herb growth during the month, she began to lose hope, she looked at the bottom-right of the board containing all information on the towns recent bounties on people, for the moment there were only 3 papers:

“Bounty: Vorichi Ironhood, Wanted Alive” the paper had a crude drawing of a blank faced demon-like figure with its bounty being stated as “50 gold”,

“Burner Bill: Wanted Dead or Alive” the page had a head shot drawing of some man with crazy hair and big glasses, it was drawn pretty well, though the paper had a slight burnt corner with a bounty of 120 gold on him,

And the last page had written “Joe Jameson The 12th Wanted Alive” having a photo of a simple man in a normal set of clothes with additional lettering under the wanted text “Please he’s just a young boy, he’s very lost without his mama, he’s gotta be back home by 7pm for his dinner :( “ with a written bounty of 25 gold

She put her head between her hands,“Demon dude, Pyromaniac, and lost child, great.” she said as her hands were muffling the sound, making a groan of realization at how useless that had been, but grabbed a copy of each image from the trays under the board and wrapped them up neatly in her pocket, and decided to make a turn back to her home.

On the way back home she didn’t manage to get too far from her original position due to the a sudden change of background noise, the normal sounds of people talking, boots hitting the stone and pebbled ground, and armours clanking, was overshadowed by an amalgamation of sounds resembling an argument that was trying to die down which could be heard on her left side, she stopped, looked around said direction, where between the wall of people, traders and blacksmiths there was an empty opening around the length of another market stand, from where she was she could see that the opening was visibly dirtier, the lesser amount of grey pebbles starting to get surrounded by pesky weeds sapping the energy from the visible soil and having dark green moss around the corners.

She decided to get a bit closer to the opening, the arguing sounds began to die down, this time with some reassuring chatter being heard, she tried to make her presence unnoticed by staying around one of the stands next to the opening, upon closer inspection it could be seen that the chatter was shared between 3 hooded figures standing in a triangular shape, the 2 of them were dressed in almost identical clothes, long dark-brown tunics with visibly stitched on pieces of fabric, topped with a black leather vest, dark leather boots, and dark brown cotton pants, one of them had a brown drawstring pouch filled with something heavy dangling from the belt, the other, had a visible short hilt with a handle poking out on his belt most likely resting a pocket knife of sorts, the last one wasn’t dressed too differently, but Plasma’s eyes insisted on a look of familiarity towards them, even though they wore almost the same attire only that the long tunic was replaced by a short long-sleeved black one with a hood, with the only differences being the complete dark face mask they were wearing, two black horns protruding from the hood with one seemingly cut in half and the other having a blood red colouring trickling from its tip, and a rather long and lanky tail with a sharp triangle at the tip with sparks of red originating from it and running down the rest of the tail, they weren’t in an advantageous position, since they were cornered by the other 2, but the calmer tone the conversation had seemed to break and escalate fast with the 2 getting visibly agitated, until the long tailed figure managed to break the barrier the two were forming and made a run for it while holding a smaller dark blue pouch in his hand.

-“HE’S TAKING OUR SHIT!” yelled the man with the pouch on his belt, while violently pointing his index at the running figure, “SOMEONE STOP HIM,” he added.

Before the fugitive managed to make his successfully getaway past the mass of people, his path gets surprisingly blocked by a huge stone-wall brute, the lanky tailed figure gets knocked back a bit due to the impact, the brute could be seen wearing the same attire as the other two, only in larger size. All the activity in the town stopped in an instant, chatters ended, hammers stopped mid swing, and carriages stopping in their tracks, the people began to form a large circle around the confrontation, with Plasma having a first row stand at the scene, the other two began to make their advances and stopping when they were at a good distance from the face masked thief, the hooded figure holding a pocket knife begins to speak:

-”Give us back our stuff and we’ll act like nothing happened,” quickly after he said that he gets smacked in the back of the head by the figure with the pouch, an annoyed whisper can be heard between them “are you kidding me? ‘Like nothing happened’?? don’t you see the entire god damn town around us? Let me handle this,” he cleared his throat and shouted “Give us back the pouch buddy…” he took a knife straight out his pocket and begins to show it off, its a cleansilver knife, visibly sharp enough to cut air and had such a glossy surface, that every ray the sun could send on it would reflect, “or else,” he smugly added.

His demand is answered by a long silence, that gets quickly interrupted by a snap of the fingers of one of the figures, the 2 start charging in screaming as the large brute began to throw a heavy punch at the lanky thief, which he dodged making the brute create a crater in the pebbled road glueing his fist in the ground, as they reached closer in for a strike, the thief quickly wrapped his tail around the leg of the silver knife wielding bandit and pulls towards them, making him fall onto the ground dropping his knife, the pocket knife bandit tried to get a strike in but tripped on his partner’s body head first, then the brute that was still unsuccessful in freeing his fist, got climbed upon by the thief, the brute tried to smack him as he climbed up with his other hand, only to miss and directly strike his own empty skull, making him fall graciously on the other two creating a loud rumble, making even some of the distant animals flee farther into the forests.

The crowd was silent, the only noise being heard was the rumble of whatever was inside the horned thief’s dark blue pouch, and their steps as they went in to grab the bandits heavy drawstring pouch, he attached it to his belt and continued to walk in his original direction, only to be quickly startled by the rapidly approaching sounds of armours rattling as the towns guards arrive, “Stop right there criminal scum!” said one of the armoured swordsmen.

The thief can be heard sighing, only to then shout in an annoyed tone “I did you idiots a favour” as he once more began to run away past the still stunned crowd, but not Plasma, she had a look of determination in her eyes that she wont let this person get away without an answer, shortly after she too began to run in the same direction, trying to get to the lanky thief.

The guards looked at each other for a moment, “so, what now?” asked the armoured swordsman, his mates looked at him in confusion at his question “they’re supposed to stop dead in their tracks when we say that no?” he added, swiftly getting smacked in the helmet by the chief guard, “No you idiot, half of you run in that thief’s direction, the rest of us will put these bandits where they belong”.

The chase was on, with Plasma hot on the thieves tail, dodging and making her way past the available crevices between the wall of people, trying to keep the thief in her field of view, the longer they ran, the more the road got emptier, the stone path slowly turning into it’s dirt counterpart, the amount of people reducing with every step, the sounds of chatter and trades growing ever so silent as the numbers of old and empty market stands, old empty cottage houses, messy overgrowth and crossroads leading to dead ends grew.

The only noises being heard were the clinks and clanks of potions on her belt, the loud steps of the two runners, and their breath of the growing heavier by the step, until in an instant the horned figure made a sharp right turn behind one of the decaying houses, with plasma doing the same.

She entered the narrow path, slowing down her pace and looking around for the thief, they were gone, but in her rush she didn’t immediately realize the filth she was in, varying shades of green and murky dark blues were everywhere, on the dirt she was standing on, the stone walls of the broken down house she was behind of, that had moss covering most of the available crevice, but before she could make a complete understanding of the place, a dark snake-like tail made its way from behind the stone wall, wrapped around her right ankle, and quickly pulled in the wall’s direction causing her to fall face first onto the ground, dazed, she tried to lift herself up, her attempt was in vain as she got tackled by the masked thief, it spoke in a tired and frustrated tone:

-”Okay hero, why the hell-”

The speech got interrupted by Plasma managing to free one of her arms from their tackle, striking the side of their head with her elbow.

-”OW,” they responded to the blow, quickly trying to touch the part struck, giving Plasma the opportunity to turn the tables on her side and get atop the thief. The thief trying to break free asked in frustration:

-”What the hell do you want?!”

-”This.” she answered stronglly, while using one of her hands to remove their mask.

The face mask was removed, which caused a brief moment of silence to be shared between them, under the mask there was a visibly shocked and confused demon, with a rounder face shape and chin bestowed with a slight sharpness to it, that had a skin tone lighter in colour than his pure black mask:

-”Demon dude??” Plasma asked shocked while still holding his mask.

-”Uhh? Pink lady?” he asked in confusion.

During their standstill, the sounds of clanking armours rapidly approaching could be heard, their stand-off gets quickly interrupted by the demon’s tail wrapping around the elementals stomach and getting pulled off of him with force, they both get up, stare at each other and as the sounds of the approaching guards, they silently agreed to hide somewhere.

Both went inside the wore down house through a massive hole in the wall, they waited while staying at a distance from each other.

The guards finally arrived, they looked around for a while before the swordsman spoke, with a slight annoyance sprinkled in his tone:

-”Damnit, I think they got away,”

One asked curiously “And are we.. not gonna pursue further?”

The swords man laughed and replied ”Are you insane? You wanna go father than this? Be my guest man, but I’m going home,” the other guardsmen vocally agreed in unison, and began going back on their tracks and as they left, the sound of chatter and clanking armours began to fade.

As Plasma stood next to the hole in the wall, she began looking around the broken house, although the house was still courageously holding its shape, the signs of ageing were clear, the hole in the stone wall, the hay roof being held by tired beams of old wood, broken down windows, the decaying wooden flooring being invaded by a mixture of overgrowth and cobwebs in every corner and for some reason an old table and chair were there as well

The demon looked through the worn down window of the house to make sure the guards were gone, before he took a seat onto the wooden chair

-”So, care to explain why you were chasing me?” he asked while fiddling with the dark blue pouch he stole from the bandits.

-”Well it was mainly for an answer,” she responded

-”An answer?” he repeated, baffled, “well this better be a damn good question,” he added, “Go ahead,”

-”Are you Vorichi Ironhood?”

His fiddling with the pouch abruptly stopped, “Vorichi Ironhood,” he repeated in a low tone as he looked into space,“I haven't heard that name in ages,” he added, he looked at her and asked “What makes you think I’d be this ‘Vorichi Ironhood’ that you’re looking for miss?”

She took out one of the, now crumbled, wanted posters from the news board and showed it to him “This” she commented.

He got up from the chair and took the crumbled paper out of her hand, “A wanted poster?” he said, he began to whisper parts of the poster under his breath “ Bounty … Ironhood … Wanted Alive … 50 gold- 50 Gold??” his face was stunned, before he said out loud in a shocked and disgusted tone, “Are, all the crimes I’ve committed here only worth 50 gold??” he looked at the paper for another second before disappointedly handed her back the paper while saying under his breath in disbelief, “50 gold, 50 gold, 50 Lord Damned Gold??are you kidding me?!” he looked at Plasma in an attempt to prove a point “I’ve had towns where the bounty on me was over 500 gold just to find me, to find me, not what’s the price of a silver bar,” he groaned while sitting back on the chair with his hands on his face, he asked:

-“Was this really the only reason you came after me?”

-”Well at first yeah,” she answered honestly “But I think your personality is worth far more than 50 gold maybe at 350 gold I’d reconsider.”

-”Thank you for the generous price range” he replied sarcastically “So is there anything else you’d like to know?” he asked, “before we say goodbye and never speak again?”

-”You said you do crimes, what kind?”

Voirchi grabbed the dark blue pouch stolen from the bandits and dangled it by its string in front her “I’ll let you guesss” he answered.

-”Alright, you steal, what’s next?”

-”Well simply put: once I steal, I sell it and give the gold to those in need.”

-”Oh” she was surprised by the answer, “So you’re like “Steal from the rich, give to the poor” kind of thief?”

-”Eeh not quite,” he put the dark blue pouch on the table before he grabbed the brown pouch off his belt and smugly shook it a little, “I do take my cut during the process,” he said.

-”Oh,” a slight tint of disappointment could be heard.

-”Gotta keep myself afloat somehow,” he responded.

For a moment she got interested in the dark blue pouch and asked ”What in that pouch anyway?”

He chuckled for a second, “Peaked your interest huh? Well lets see” he proceeded to open the pouch, revealing a bunch of small rocks, of varying sizes and shapes, with some symbols engraved in them

He went ahead and began explaining while fiddling with one of them in his hand “You see these runes? There were “found” in the dungeons on Wind Fall, they sell for a pretty penny, though kind of stupid for anyone to sell them here since they’re too high level for the common town’s folk, these sell far better up north of where they were “found””

Confused, she asked “How do you know all this?”

-”Straight from the source, the idiots realized their mistake and so when one person got interested, they did anything to make a trade, good thing I was there,” he smugly laughed, he continued, “Say, during our little confrontation, I noticed you had a rune bracelet, am I wrong?”

She quickly touched her wrist to make sure it was still there, and nods.

He began searching through the pouch while continuing the conversation, ”So, Level 1 forest rune huh? I’d be a good time to change it don’t you think?”

Before she could say her answer she got cut off when the demon found what he was searching for:

-”Here, catch,” he said while he threw a rune at her, she fumbled a bit but managed to get a good grip on it, it was a rune about the same size as the one she already had on her bracelet. The rune was small, warm and rectangular in shape and made of smooth stone but had ragged edges in certain corners, a quick look at the top and she could see some engravings on the rune, small and carefully engraved.

She was unsure what they meant but the heat it was emitting and its reddish glow was a dead giveaway.

-”A fire rune?”

-”You bet, noticed your whole flame hair thing you got going on, so why not” he explained.

-”Well, thanks” she said.

There was a silence between them while he tied the pouch and attached it to his belt, preparing to leave though the hole in the wall.

-“Wait, can I pay you for this?” she asked the leaving demon.

-”Nah, don’t worry, I got a few to spare so its free of charge,” he answered, shorty after he added “Oh and trust me, that worth more than 50 gold”

She looked at her bracelets forest rune, before exchanging it for the fire rune and began going back home.

A few good minutes of walking go by, and as the sun and its clouds were preparing to exchange places with the moon and its stars, she finally arrived at her beloved home, she gently opened the door, and just as gently closed it once she got inside, she gets startled by her brother’s exited voice

-”Plasma!!” he gets a good grip on her arm before saying just as excitedly “I have to show you something!” a quick run to his room, past the tables and messy papers everywhere, she gets brought to the table he slept on that morning, the table had two glass domes sitting close to each other, one with just the dark rose, looking the same as when it was first found, with the bulb standing tall, seemingly planted in some new soil, and the other one having all its original purple withered dirt.

-”What is this?” she asked.

-”Science!” he responded with an electric flair in his eyes “Watch,” he said.

He began moving the two domes away from each other and the effects of this action had an immediate impact on the rose, with one step closer to perishing with each increase in distance, making the stem no longer able to hold the bulb up straight even if it was trying its hardest, “And now” the scientist added, he then began moving the domes closer and closer to each other, the rose could be seen quickly rejuvenating as though death gave it another chance at life, the elemental watching this for the first time let out an audible “wow.”

-”I know, I made the same reaction the first time!” he responded. ”Now we’ve got something on our hands,” he began to let go of the domes and quickly tried to tidy up around the table during which he suggests to his sibling “So with this information I’d like to make some more visits to that forest, not tomorrow but soon, care to join me?”

-”Absolutely.”

[seasonsbloom]

swimming into you . bob

PART ONE : he's so pretty (when he goes down on me)

pairing ; bob floyd x female!reader

synopsis ; things between you and Bob are strictly business: he’s your backseater, and that’s all there is. Until he offers to help you let off some steam and you find out just how pretty he looks between your thighs…

wc ; 6k

warnings ; 18+ only; explicit language, angst, panic attack, reader definitely has PTSD, mentions of past character death

note: this has no smut which might be a surprise after the first part, sorry. but this needed off my chest, so... idk. i hope you enjoy it anyway, please don't be disappointed

desertsagecelestial aka sol i STILL owe you my life

Your life is a downward spiral, a maelstrom that pulls you ever deeper towards rock bottom, a rollercoaster on an eternal decline, a plane mid-crash, a…

“I swear to god, Spec, you’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met,” Phoenix says, squinting at you over the rims of her sunglasses. “And I know Hangman personally.”

You can’t answer because you’re staring at those Ray Bans, and it’s making you think of Bob’s glasses in that bathroom, lenses fogged up, metal pressing against your naked skin, makes you think of sliding them up his nose, and then you’re thinking of his fingers and his tongue and his voice against you, and…

“Bro, are you dissociating?” Phoenix has tilted her head sideways. “Do I need to get you a doctor? What the hell is going on?”

It’s a sunny day, but that’s not surprising in California. You’re in the common room, lounging on nondescript beige couches. Outside the glass front, somewhere in the sky, Rooster and Hangman try and fail to shoot down Maverick. The radio crackles with the static of their comms, spitting out their taunts in endless circles nobody listens to anyway.

The other pilots are on standby in the hangar, and Bob is… god knows where. You hate that you’re so attuned to his every move now you notice even when you don’t know where he is. Part of you wants to write it off as the blind loyalty that comes with flying a two-seater, but you know that’s not true.

For a moment, you just look at Phoenix. Then you say, “Do you think Bob is good in bed?”

She blinks at you. A moment passes, then another, then…

“Specter, what the fuck?!”

You shrug. “I’m just asking.”

“Jesus.” Phoenix rubs the balls of her hands across her eyes like her head is about to split apart. “Why would you ever ask that?”

Because he ate me out in the Hard Deck’s handicapped bathroom, and I think it broke my brain, permanently altered my body chemistry, changed my actual life…

“Just… I don’t know. I was wondering.”

“Well, stop wondering,” she suggests. Then she gives you a suspicious look. “Did something happen between you two?”

You turn your gaze to the window, to the contrails like smoke signals on the canvas of the skies, to the roaring of engines that’s become your lullaby, to the sight of Bob crossing the airfield. Something in your chest hurts. Everywhere you look, he’s already there.

“No,” you say. “Nothing happened.”

+

The first time you met Bob, you looked right past him. There were bigger fish to fry here and bigger things to look out for, and Hangman was grinning at you and saying something stupid, so you walked by him without even realizing he was there. 

He’s got a habit of that - flying under the radar.

“Yo, Specter.” Phoenix draped herself around you, pulled you against her chest. You were both giddy to see each other again, to fly together once more. “This is Bob. He’s your new backseater.”

You don’t remember much. Remember only that he wore glasses and was smiling at you with something eager, something hopeful about his face. Remember looking away immediately, nodding once.

“Don’t try to get in my way up there,” you told him, and then you turned away to beat Hangman at darts.

Ignoring the way his face fell. Ignoring Phoenix nudging you. Ignoring the sinking, tumbling, crashing feeling in your chest.

It was the beginning of the end, and you knew even then.

+

Sometimes you think Rooster knows.

He’s always been kind to you, kind enough to keep you hoping at the same time it tells you not to dream too much. He’s kind to everyone, anyway.

“Why’d you wanna be a pilot?” he asks, waving down a bartender and putting both your drinks on his tab.

For a moment, you think about telling him the truth. All my life, I’ve been dreaming of flying away. All my life, I’ve been dreaming of escape.

It seems too much. You’ve never told anyone.

So you just shrug, take a swig of your beer, and say, “I like the thrill.”

Rooster laughs. “I know what you mean,” he agrees, winks, knocks his bottle against yours.

And just like that, the door is opened again. You dream the dream a little longer.

Part of the Rooster appeal, part of why you suspect your crush is so persistent, is that there’s no way it’ll ever happen. All of the thrill of the fall, with none of the fear of the impact.

+

“We need to talk about it.”

You’re fastening your helmet as you stride across the runway towards your plane. Maybe if you walk fast enough, you’ll be able to shake him.

“No,” you growl, but it’s diminished by the fact that you’ve been struggling with your clasp for a good minute. Your fingers are shaking too hard for you to get a steady grip.

Bob hastens his steps and catches up with you easily. His shoulder rubs against your own, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Specter,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Floyd.” It doesn’t matter how angry you sound. It doesn’t matter how the irritation boils and burns in you. Inevitably, inexplicably, your mouth always begins to form the Big Boy anyway, and then you’re back in that bathroom, back with him, and in your head, you pull him closer instead of pushing him away, and something about it makes you feel like crying. “It doesn’t matter.”

You stop by the plane. Bob’s lips purse, and he looks down at his feet, shoulders pulled almost all the way up to his ears.

“I just think…” he begins, then stops himself.

Payback and Fanboy walk past, getting to their own aircraft, and they’re laughing and chatting—jovial, easy, light-hearted. You envy them. You can’t remember the last time things didn’t feel heavy to you.

Only that’s a lie too. You do remember. It was with Bob Floyd’s face buried in your pussy and your mind somewhere off in the stratosphere.

“Shit,” you curse, frustration coursing through you, fingers still fumbling with the damned clasp, and fuck it all, you just want to fly, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to feel, you just…

Bob knocks your fingers out of the way and closes the clasp for you. Suddenly, he’s so close you can smell him again—your chest burns.

“Specter,” he says, voice soft, “we need to discuss it.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“You promised we wouldn’t talk about it,” you whisper. He seems to want to say something else, but you can’t. You just can’t do it. The fear is there, and it’s making your head spin. “Please, Bob.”

Something about those words is choked. Raw.

He looks at you for a moment, brows furrowed, eyes gentle, and then he nods. Steps away. Doesn’t say anything else.

You climb into the plane and wonder when, oh, when, did it all get so complicated.

+

Phoenix looks at you like she thinks you’re going to fall apart right where you sit. You hate it. 

“You can talk to me, you know?” she says softly, leaning across the table in the mess hall, deep enough her chest almost ends up in the mashed potatoes. “You don’t always have to keep everything inside, Spec.”

It’s not true. That’s your first thought. You can’t talk to her, can’t talk to Bob, can’t talk to anyone. No one, you know this, is going to understand you now.

Your second thought is that you’re a horrible person. Phoenix is kind and genuinely wants to be your friend. She’s been extending hands across canyons for years now. But you just can’t take them. Too afraid you’ll drag her down into the drop with you.

“I hooked up with Bob,” you say, even though you should be telling her something else.

She obviously doesn’t know what to say to that. Opens her mouth just to close it again. Then finally settles on, “Why?”

Part of you wants to say you were the one who told me to let off steam. But this one, you can’t blame it on her. Can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug.

But you do know. That’s the problem.

You think of him on his knees in that bathroom. You think of him at your back in the air. How he breaks you apart. How he puts you back together.

“You know,” Phoenix says after an incredibly long time. “I always thought you had a crush on Rooster.”

It makes you laugh, even though it isn’t funny. Not even a little. Not even at all.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, so did I.”

+

“So, Bob,” Hangman says, grinning in a way you can’t describe as anything other than villainous. If he, too, had a mustache, he’d be twirling it right about now. “Who do you prefer flying with: Phoenix or Specter?”

This was a horrible idea. Evenings at the Hard Deck should be barred for you from now on.

“Oh, come on,” you groan, going for nonchalance even as something inside you goes taut.

Bob looks decidedly uncomfortable, twisting his beer bottle around in his hands, fiddling with the soggy label, not looking at anyone.

“Uhm.” He shrugs. “They’re both good.”

Hangman’s having none of it.

“Nah, nah, nah, none of that diplomacy shit, Floyd. Gotta pick one.”

Coyote, always the shit-stirrer, claps a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Yeah, bro. Who’s your best girl?”

Before responding, Bob casts his eyes down towards the floor, clears his throat. His glasses are riding low on his nose again, and you sink your fingernails into your palms to stifle the instinct to reach over and push them up for him.

“I guess… well, Phoenix is more consistent. Specter always… she’s a…. she’s a li…”

“Say it.” The words just burst from you before you can remember deciding to say them. Bob looks up then, eyes wide and face open. Your voice is venomous, and you feel like a rattlesnake about to strike. “A liability. That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Bob and you just stare at each other.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, voice gone soft. He’s going translucent as you speak, blending back into the chaos of the crowd.

“You didn’t have to.”

Everybody’s staring at you, but you keep your chin held high.

“I’m going home,” you say, and then you leave.

++

“You’re going too steep.”

Bob doesn’t have much hope that you’ll listen to him. You never do, apparently, unless he’s got you pinned to public bathroom doors.

It’s like a fever dream to him now, that night. Impossible that he was ever so close to you when all there is between you these days is distance and feelings tangled like thickets of thorns. When you won’t talk to him and won’t look at him, when it doesn’t matter what he says or asks.

Unsurprisingly, your answer is almost instantaneous. “We’re fine.”

The first time Bob met you, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

You were beautiful, in your uniform, under the bar lights. Beautiful and bright and brilliant and as decidedly out of his reach as the moon. You didn’t even look at him twice, not even after Phoenix introduced you. Drifted into his life and out of it like the specter that gave you your callsign.

And Bob never believed in love at first sight, still doesn’t, but there was something there, something beneath the thin veneer of arrogance you wore, you still wear. Something just under the surface, he thinks nobody but him sees—something he wants to keep as his secret.

You’re brilliant. The best pilot he’s ever met (even if half his friend group would balk at the idea), determined, clever, cut-throat. Stubborn to a fault. Witty and funny and always ready to stand up for yourself. The complete opposite of him.

Most of the time it’s admiration and curiosity, and then sometimes, it’s something else. When you slip from untouchable Ice Queen to something softer, when you lose yourself in the sky, in a book, in his touch in a bathroom at the Hard Deck… when you feel like nobody’s looking, that’s when Bob thinks he might love you.

Bob is a pilot. He gets up into that sky, and sometimes he deludes himself into thinking one day, one day, he’ll fly high enough, stretch far enough, and then finally, he’ll reach that moon. It’ll never happen, of course. The moon stays firm, beautiful and bright and brilliant, and achingly, eternally lonely. Never his to have.

The plane keeps climbing, steady, steady, steady, and Bob can barely breathe.

“Specter,” he chokes out. “Come on, girl.”

And then suddenly, abruptly, tipping like a pendulum, the plane falls. It’s an almost artful arch at the beginning, a ballerina angling her body towards the ground in a jump, and it leaves his stomach hanging somewhere above his head.

Then something changes. You keep falling.

“Specter, time to pull up,” Bob says, twisting to try and find Mav. Where is he?

There’s no answer.

“Specter,” he repeats, thinking you’re ignoring him for another reckless stunt, for another moment of you trying to recapture glory.

Still, you don’t respond, and that’s when he realizes something is horribly, terribly, awfully wrong.

“Specter!” he calls a third time, and now there’s a note of panic creeping into his voice he’s sure the others can pick up on over the coms. “Specter, you with me?”

The ground keeps hurtling closer. You keep silent.

“Bob.” That’s Mav’s voice, over the comms, right in his ear. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Bob gasps, and he’s breathless, he’s chafing, he’s… “She’s not… Specter!”

“Is she in g-Loc?” Rooster asks.

Rooster, Bob thinks. He twists, searching the horizon for his friend, but he can barely see anything. His vision has gone blurry.

And you’re still, still, still spinning towards the ground.

“Specter,” Bob says again, and he’s never known fear like this before. Not the first time he flew on his own. Not when he and Natasha had to punch out. Not when Mav and Rooster went down. Not ever. “Specter!”

And then he’s just saying your name, your real name, your first name, the one he’s said a million times in his head and never out loud, straining against all the buckles as if he can reach you, stretching out his arm over a distance impossible to breach.

“Bob!” That’s Rooster again. “Bob, you gotta punch out, you gotta eject now!”

I can’t leave her. That’s all he thinks. I can’t leave her, I can’t leave her, I can’t…

And Bob isn’t religious, never has been, but he’s saying, “Please, wake her up, please, God, I’ll do anything, please wake her up, please….”

You come to with a gasp like tires screeching on the asphalt, like a choir of angels or something, and then you’re pulling up, you’re getting the plane back on track, you’re…

In his ear, you’re saying, “Sorry. I… sorry.”

Bob sobs.

+

He knows you won’t acknowledge it before you land. He knows you’ll play it off, smile about it, laugh like nothing happened.

But he saw the tremor of your hands. He heard the fear in your voice. You can’t hide because he’s seen too much of you. Because he knows you, even if you don’t want him to.

“Specter,” he says, racing after you across the runway towards the hangar.

Everybody’s there, standing in a crowd near the doors. Pale faces, drawn with a panic that should be familiar by now, that’s part of this job. A panic nobody ever gets used to.

“I’m fine,” you say. You’re smiling, but it’s strained, and it’s a lie. He knows it is.

And Bob is angry. Angrier than he’s ever been with you because it’s not fair, not fair that you’re shutting him out, always shutting him out when all he wants is to hold you, be there for you, love you…

“You almost died!” Bob calls, voice rising, and he’s pretty sure there are still tears on his face. At least his cheeks feel wet.

Everybody’s looking at him. He can feel their eyes on him.

Usually, it would be enough to make him want to draw his head all the way between his shoulder blades, but not right now. Not with that feeling still simmering in his belly. Not with the feeling of that plummet still in his bones and the echoing silence of the cockpit in his ears. 

You stop. For a moment, you gape at him. Then you say, “You would have died, too.”

He’s shaking his head before you’ve finished, frantic, saying, “I could have punched out, you were in g-LOC, you would have died, Specter, this isn’t funny, this isn’t a game, this is real….”

“I can handle myself,” you say, but something about your voice is chafing.

“I think what we just saw,” Rooster says, face solemn, arms crossed in front of his chest, “proves that even you can’t always handle yourself, Specter.”

By your hips, your hands clench and unclench into fists. Your whole body seems to pulsate to a rhythm nobody but you can hear, shoulders heaving, head nodding up and down.

You’ve always stood apart from them, even as you stood right next to them. Never letting anybody in.

I can help you, Bob wants to say. You don’t need to carry it alone.

But you’re shaking your head, pulling the helmet against your chest. Stand on that runway, a step from him, a million miles from him.

“I’m fine,” you insist one last time. Voice like a wind chime. Face like a ghost.

And Bob thinks it might be time to let the moon go.

++

A week later, Hangman goes down.

Birdstrike, both engines on fire, ejectejecteject, static on the radio, fire streaking across the sky, then the parachute opening and the wind howling and him floating, light as a feather, towards the ground.

You’re out of the room before you can hear how it ends. Stumbling through the hallways of the base like a sleepwalker, like a toddler, like someone on the verge of a terrible thing.

It’s growing in you, something you can’t name, something that mounts and mounts and…

In a corner, next to a water fountain, you crumble like a ragdoll. Fold yourself into a neat square of limbs, knees pulled all the way up to your eyes, face pressed into the space between them.

The panic flares into your body like electricity, tingles down your spine and into your legs, tugs at your hands and feet. And your chest is full of it, of that anxiety and that memory, so full the feeling crowds against your ribcage, threatens to snap the bones. There’s no room for oxygen.

I’m going to choke, you think. I’m going to…

“Hey.”

You know it’s Bob without looking up. You couldn’t do it anyway, even if you tried. Your muscles won’t listen to you, not now when your body belongs to the anxiety.

“It’s okay,” Bob whispers. He’s crouched in front of you, you know this because you can see his shoes through the gaps between your knees. Angled like a V, straining towards you. “He’s fine. Hangman’s fine.”

It should bring relief, but it doesn’t. You shake your head, forehead still smashed against your knees, and your skin tugs against the patellas.

No, you think. I can’t do it. Not again, not again, not again. Please, god, make it end, just make it stop, I can’t, I can’t, I…

“I can’t,” you say, and you don’t know what you mean.

All you can think about is the crash. The gravity pulling at your chest. A canopy exploding above you. The pain of that dislocated shoulder. And then the emptiness, the aching, endless emptiness of the after. The guilt, the grief, the fear, the fear, the fear.

“Can I touch you?”

Bob’s voice is so soft, even with the underlying current of firmness. Just like it was in that bathroom. And it should be an oxymoron - for someone to be so tender, for someone to be so unyielding. But it’s not, not with Bob. Bob, who seems to contain true multitudes.

You nod because you can’t find your voice.

He draws you into his arms, right there on the floor. Hands on your back, tugging you against his chest, urging your head into the space below his chin. He’s so warm, and he smells nice, and he’s everywhere.

“Easy,” he whispers. “It’s alright. You’re okay.”

And then it’s just him. The steady beat of his heart instead of the screaming of warning systems. The smell of his aftershave instead of the smoke and the gasoline. His fingers pressing into your spine instead of the straps cutting into your shoulders.

Bob holds you together until you can do it yourself.

You draw back, slowly, almost reluctantly, and the moment his touch is gone, you miss it like something intrinsic to you. Miss it like a limb.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him. You can’t look at him.

Bob exhales.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Can you… explain it?”

You suppose you should. Suppose you owe it to him after these weeks. After everything you’ve put him through.

“It… it scared me,” you whisper. It takes a lot to get that out, to admit that there’s anything, anywhere, that could scare you.

You don’t want Bob to know. You want Bob to think of you as someone above things like fear, someone strong and brave and whole. But it’s just all too much. You’re eroding, crumbling, tumbling off the tightrope you’ve been walking for so long.

If someone like Hangman, someone brilliant, someone fantastic, someone who burns brighter than life, can go down… then what about you? What about Bob?

“The rest, too.” At your questioning look, he elaborates, “Explain all of it to me.”

You could keep pretending you don’t understand him, but you’re too tired. Something about the panic has made you fuzzy, has blurred your edges, and you just want it to be over. You just want to be rid of everything clogging up your chest.

You want to feel again what you felt that night in the bathroom with Bob. You want somebody to carry the burden with you, so you won’t feel it dragging you beneath the surface of the ocean all the time.

“I killed her,” you say finally. The words are barely more than a whisper, but they burst from somewhere at the very core of you. Something you’ve kept hidden from view for years.

Bob pauses. Stares.

“... What?”

“I killed her,” you repeat, voice watery, hands shaking. “My last backseater. I killed her.”

He opens his mouth only to close it again—shifts his weight where he’s still sitting on the ground. Your knees are almost touching.

“Spec…” he begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“Everybody always said it, you know? That I was a wildcard, that I just… did whatever I wanted without thinking about others. Everybody but her. She’d always say, oh, you just don’t understand her, she’s brilliant, she knows what she’s doing, she….” You have to stop yourself, have to suck in a breath that sounds like you’re drowning, like your lungs are filling up with water. “And then one day we had a fight. She said that I… that I didn’t listen to her up in the air, that I always trusted myself more than I trusted her, and she… she called me a liability.���

Something in Bob’s eyes shifts, something like understanding flutters across his face, but the dam inside of you has broken. The river rushes without stopping.

“So I decided to prove her wrong. I wanted to go right, but she told me to go left, and I did. We got into a jet stream. I lost control of the plane. We had to eject. I made it, and she didn’t.”

You pause then. Blink against that horrible, unforgiving, brilliant sun outside the window. Your cheeks are wet.

“She was my best friend, Bob.” Your voice breaks, and you fold in on yourself, deflate. “She was the only one who ever believed in me. I knew her since we were eighteen, we did everything together, I only started flying two-seaters so I could fly with her, and you have to understand, I would have… if I could have changed it, if I could have died instead of her, I would have, I wouldn’t even have thought about it, I… And I know I’m not a… not a good person, I know I’m selfish and mean, and I hurt people all the time, and I know I hurt you, but I just… ” You trail off. Your voice is barely more than a whisper. “She was my best friend.”

It’s not nearly enough to explain what she meant to you. It’s all you have.

Bob doesn’t answer for a long time. When you finally find the courage to look up at him, you brace yourself for the inevitable: shock, disgust, disdain.

You find none of it.

Bob looks at you with a tenderness on his face that punches all the air out of your lungs. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” he asks, voice soft.

It’s almost helpless, the way you can do nothing but shrug your shoulders.

“It’s not…” You can’t look at him anymore, afraid you’ll do something stupid, afraid you’ll kiss him or tell him something you won’t be able to take back. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Bob’s brows furrow.

“Of course I care,” he says, as matter-of-factly as if he’s chatting about the San Diego weather. “I care about you, Specter. I always have.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It tugs at you with ice-cold fingers, even as warmth spreads through your stomach. And it scares you, hearing him say that. He shouldn’t care about you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long, long moment. “I’m sorry for… at the Hard Deck, I think I needed somebody, and you were there, and it… I used you. I’m sorry for it. I made a mistake.”

When you look at him next, something on Bob’s face has changed. Some window that was previously thrown wide open is shut. He looks down towards his shoes, glasses sliding slowly, slowly towards the tip of his nose.

“Up in the air,” he says finally. “I get it now, I think. Why you don’t listen to me. But I… Don’t you trust me?”

Hearing him say it hurts somewhere at the very core of you. In the grand scheme of things, in the great failure of your life, Bob is probably the person you trust most.

“I do,” you whisper, shaking your head. Folding your fingers in your lap and biting your lip so hard the sting distracts you from whatever is going on in your chest. “I just… I trust myself more. I have to trust myself more.”

Bob is quiet for a long, long moment. Then he nods.

“I understand,” he says, but it sounds like he wants to say something else entirely. “Can we just… let’s be friends, Spec. Please.”

And he sounds tired. The kind of fatigue that goes bone-deep, that travels over days and nights and weeks, the kind of fatigue you carry with you wherever you go. You know how that feels.

It’s a horrible thought just how much you’ve hurt Bob, and so you’ve never allowed yourself to think it. Have brushed it off and brushed it away, under beds and under carpets and into handicapped bathrooms with broken locks. Have pretended you couldn’t tell in the cockpit, pretended you didn’t see it in the mess hall when his face fell after another scathing remark, another dismissal.

All the way, you told yourself you were doing it for him - it’s not good to get close to you. You’ve never learned how to build things, grow things. All you know is how to ruin them.

So you say, “I don’t want to be your friend, Bob. I want to be alone.”

Behind the sheen of his glasses, Bob’s eyes are wet.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” he says, finally.

And then he gets up, walks away, and leaves you behind on the floor, a town buried beneath a landslide, a meteor crater, a canyon of sand and rock, and the lone survivor clawing his way over the edge.

+

“Nat says you have a crush on me.”

Rooster gives no greeting, simply slides into the unoccupied seat by your side with those words. He’s broad enough that he dwarfs the rickety chair, the Hawaiian shirt so out of place in the beiges and grays of this military base.

A week ago, maybe you would have been embarrassed. Now, you can barely muster a shrug.

“What’s it matter?”

Rooster raises an eyebrow. The television room is deserted save for the two of you - some movie is playing with the volume all the way down, but you haven’t even been paying enough attention to tell if it’s a romantic comedy or a slasher.

“It matters,” he says. 

You shake your head, staring down at the packet of gum in your hand. The whole room smells like mint.

“I wasn’t ever going to act on it,” you say, “that’s why it doesn’t matter. It’s just… there. It doesn’t change anything for you.”

Rooster is quiet for a moment. And then he says, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Hm?”

“The way you think it does,” he elaborates as if that clears it up. “You think you can just walk through life and not affect others. You think if you’re just mean and closed-off, if you never let somebody in, you won’t matter to them. That you won’t hurt them. That then they can’t hurt you. That’s not how it works, Spec.”

You exhale. It feels a little like he’s just pried open your chest, pulled all your most private, darkest thoughts into the world.

“I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s like this.” Bradley leans forward, sun-tanned hands reaching for you across the gray, gray expanse of the table. He doesn’t touch you, but he leaves his hands palms-up, an offering between you. “There are people here that love you, Spec. Even if maybe sometimes you don’t deserve that love. And you have the power to hurt them, just like they have the power to hurt you. You’re already in it. You’re just pretending you’re not.”

You grind your teeth. It’s too much. You can’t do it.

Eject, eject, eject, your mind is screaming at you, but it’s like you can’t find the cord.

“Bradley…” you begin, without knowing where you want the sentence to end.

“And you don’t have a crush on me.”

He says it like it’s a fact. He says it like he knows you better than you know yourself.

You’re beginning to suspect he might have a point.

“I think I know when I have a crush,” you say quietly.

“No, you don’t. Otherwise, you’d know you’re head-over-heels for Bob. Otherwise, you’d know he’s loved you since the first time he’s seen you.”

You think of Bob - Bob on his knees at the Hard Deck, Bob’s voice pulling you from the deepest, densest darkness of your life, Bob silhouetted by the unforgiving sun as you splintered into shards of glass right in front of him, as the contents of your life spilled across his feet and drenched him in your night.

It feels like being pressed into the seat at take-off - anticipation, fear, relief… You’re on the verge of something.

“Specter.” Rooster leans low across the table, his face in your field of vision. Kind eyes, kind mouth, kind face. The sort of kindness you don’t deserve. The sort of kindness that rips holes into your life and your resolve and your heart. “You don’t really want me. You just want to want someone and not be afraid they’ll hurt you. You just want to want someone without it being real. Because then it won’t hurt.”

I already know this, you want to tell him, but you can’t. Something about hearing it from him, something about realizing you’re not half as complex as you always thought you were, is strangely reassuring at the same time it makes your stomach churn.

“And you’re scared to want Bob. Because that would be real. Because that could hurt.”

Bob Floyd, who is so much kinder than you ever deserved. Bob Floyd, who has your back. Bob Floyd, who loves you, even when you don’t know how to love yourself.

“It already does, though,” you whisper, your voice impossibly small, your eyes burning. “It already does hurt, Rooster.”

And Rooster smiles. The sight of it plants a hope inside you you didn’t think you were capable of anymore - a sapling fighting its way through concrete. 

“That, Specter,” he says, “is how you know it’s real.”

+

Bob is crying when he opens his door.

He stands there in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, without his glasses, hair no longer slicked back but curly and soft, and you remember sinking your fingers into it, remember wanting to ask what conditioner he uses, remember…

“Do you love me?” you blurt.

Bob blinks and opens his mouth. His cheeks are wet.

“I…”

You don’t let him finish.

“Because I don’t know if I love you. But I know that I like you. And I know that I’m scared, Bob, I’m so fucking scared. Every day of my life, I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll die because I trust you, and I’m scared that you’ll die because I don’t trust you, and I’m scared that maybe I could love you, and I’m scared that you’ll hurt me or that I’m always going to keep hurting you and I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do with all this fear, Bob.”

And then it’s Bob, the WSO. Bob the pragmatic. Bob the fucking best boy you’ve ever met.

He nods, says, “I know.” And then he takes a deep breath. Goes on, “You don’t need to know any of that stuff. You don’t even have to not be scared. Spec, fuck, I’m scared. I’m scared of how much I like you, and I’m scared of how much you’re hurting all the time, how tightly you keep that all locked up. I’m not asking you not to be any of those things. I’m just… I’m just asking you to talk to me. Let’s figure it out together.”

When he says it like that, it seems almost easy. Simple. Logical.

“For the record,” you say, voice a ruin, and you’re pretty sure you might be crying too, “I don’t think it was a mistake. What we did at the Hard Deck, I mean. I think it… I think it may have been the best decision of my life. I don’t make a lot of those.”

And Bob smiles. Steps to the side and opens his door to you.

“You wanna come in?”

You do.

In his bedroom, with his arms around you, it’s almost enough to pretend you’re whole again. It’s enough to know you’ll get there someday. To a point where you’ll know how to grow things instead of ripping them out of the earth. To a point where maybe, finally, you’ll deserve that love Bob hands out so freely.

In his bedroom, with his arms around you, it’s a little like drowning. It’s a little like flying.

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

[smoochkooks]

—prologue: october sky

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 751 words

summary: it’s october, the sky today is clear and cloudless, just like your love for certain raven-haired boy. first is abnormality, second - a cruel reality.

chapter one

October is a very distinctive month.  

There's no better word to describe the aura it emites. Some people might say it is a perfect template of human's life. October's a silhouette of autumn and the last, remaining memory of hot summer days. Then there will be nothing but grey skies and skeletons of trees, pulled out straight from Caspar David Friedrich's paintings.  

So October is, in fact, a good representation of the way how un unavoidable cycle of life goes for humans. We breath the very last remains of pre-fall air, while walking down the alley that could only be described as autumnal. But we know this state is temporary, that soon those paths would be hollow, dirty and covered with rime, when the first morning frosts will come.  

And this cycle is unstoppable, whether we want it, or not. Humans live like there's still summertime behind their backs and easily forget rainfalls are ahead of them. Even though they have been through it a couple of times, even though they are aware that good things don't last forever, they still yearn for the sunshine picking through the branches when days become shorter and winter's hiding behind a corner.  

Today though, the sky's clear and cloudless. 'Rare sight', 'Abnormality' say headlines appearing on the morning news. Temperature reaches seventy-two degrees and if you didn't know any better, you would've thought that somehow, miraculously, you fell asleep yesterday and woke up six months later, in April.  

But it's October, and wherever you lay your eyes on, there's no sight of upcoming fall.  

There's a bunch of envelopes you've pulled out of your mailbox grasped in your hand while you enter your apartment. Carelessly, you kick off your shoes and throw the letters onto your coffee table. You don't pay attention to that–you already know what's written inside them. It's this annoying time of the month when bills arrive one by one and flood your mailbox until you decide it's time to empty your bank account again.  

It's not until hours later, when you're sat on the couch, looking over them, that something catches your eye. Among plain, white envelopes there's one that stands out. It's beige, your name written in the corner in black ink and... nothing else. No address, no post stamp. Someone knew exactly where you live and purposely left it in your mailbox without delivering it in person. It's almost like you're thirteen again, opening your first ever Valentine's Day card; girls rounding your table and giggling while you're reading the silly poem over and over again.  

Inside the envelope there is, in fact, a card. You've seen them multiple times in your life before. Your parents stash them in one of their drawers because it's 'a nice memory'. Until today, you've never received one yourself.  

A wedding invitation.  

You're cordially invited to the wedding of Jeon Jungkook and Kang Soojin.  

You've never really understood how the world can crumble in front of one's eyes. How everything else can disappear in a matter of seconds and you suddenly feel so, so small and the world is bigger and cruel and devoid of justice. As you're clutching the sheet of paper between your fingers, you feel everything around you breaking into pieces. It's like you've been living behind glass walls and someone decided to smash them. Now they're falling apart around you.  

All you hear is shattering.  

The design on the invitation is pretty. Sentences printed in a swirly font, decorated with eucalyptus leaves and shiny, gold ornaments. Nothing too posh or extravagant, beauty in its simplicity.  

You've seen it before. The combination of green, white and gold Jungkook showed you with a grin on his face what it feels like years ago now. Of course he designed them himself. There’s no way he would let anyone else do that when he spent years in college pursuing an art degree. Theres no way he wouldn't execute a vision he imagined for his wedding.  

You should've seen it coming and frankly, you did. Sooner or later, you knew this day would come. Until today, you've been lying to yourself. Becoming a victim of your own, unrealistic fantasies. Now, the plain evidence of your foolishness is right in front of your eyes. The last flicker of hope vanishes as a lonely tear lands on the paper.  

It's October, the sky today is clear and cloudless, just like your love for certain raven-haired boy. First is abnormality, second - a cruel reality.