#The furthest distance in the world Is not between life and death But when I stand in front of you Yet you don’t know that I love you Th

[saturnsbabyboii]

⚝Pluto Through the Houses⚝

(Brought to you by Sailor Pluto)

(I apologize for the wonky layout and writing. This one took it out of me for some reason)

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Did you know that Pluto was only discovered in 1930? Many associate it with mystery and darkness. In astrology, Pluto is said to represent our dark side or shadow self, as well as humanity's. As the furthest planet from the Sun its orbit around the system takes around 248 years, and due to its eccentricity, it can take between 12 to 31 years to pass through a sign. Pluto rules Scorpio and the Eighth House, and it is considered the last of the transcendental planets and the higher octave of Mars.

The energy of Pluto may not be obvious, but its effects can be overwhelming. Pluto is associated with transformation, regeneration, and rebirth. Although Pluto's influence can be unpleasant, it is effective. It compels us to discard the old and embrace the new, and we must be prepared for this change. Otherwise, we may find ourselves trapped in misery. Pluto challenges us to transcend our limitations, undergo a process of redemption, and emerge stronger as a result. Despite its creative abilities, Pluto also has a destructive side. It governs the underworld, crime, and subversive activities such as terrorism and dictatorships. Pluto represents secrecy and concealment of hidden activities. Nobody can deny Pluto's power and intensity, as it also rules atomic power. Its energy is often directed toward the masses and their collective actions. Pluto urges people to look inward and explore their subconscious, even if it's frightening. Pluto has a way of pushing people's buttons.

The planet Pluto symbolizes intense changes, mutations, removals, sexuality, attraction, influence, and confidentiality. It brings destruction that leads to rebirth, trauma, and hidden mysteries. It represents things underneath the surface, the subconscious, violence, power, control, obsessions, desires, dictators, sadistic individuals, death, kidnapping, coercion, viruses, waste, violent characters, powerful and instinctive, and possessing hidden strengths. Pluto governs Scorpio and is related to sexual organs and excretion.

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⚝Pluto in the 1st house⚝

When Pluto is located in your first house, it suggests that you possess a commanding aura and possess a fervent and fervid personality. This planetary position indicates that your body is robust and can endure considerable strain. Nevertheless, having Pluto in the first house comes with difficulties. It suggests that you experienced a traumatic event during your childhood that has had a profound impact on you. Planets that are located in the first house are highly influential and have a potent influence on the physical realm.

Pluto in the first house has a big impact on the native's personality and self-expression. Someone with this placement typically possesses a strong desire for transformation and renewal in one's life and the possibility of profound psychological insight and understanding. Those who have Pluto in their first house may desire control. As such, they develop a tendency to assert their power in their relationships and interactions with others. They must remain aware of their proclivity for manipulation and direct their energy toward constructive and positive endeavors. When meeting new people, you may feel as if you are an outsider. This could be because you feel different and excluded as if you have a special purpose or reality. As a result, you may approach the world with caution and a desire to keep a safe distance between your true self and the outside. This is to avoid being duped or caught up in the plans of others.

Pluto in the first house also indicates that you may have been subjected to significant trauma and emotional pain as a child, which can cause you to emit an intense and dark aura that others can easily detect. People tend to perceive who you are, ignoring anything other than your physical appearance or any superficial traits, mostly out of fear. You have a magnetic personality that makes a strong first impression. When people meet you, they either love you or hate you, and some may even be irrationally attracted to you. Here, Pluto gives you power through charisma. With Pluto in this position, you may be perceived as powerful, intense, and mysterious, which may cause some people to be suspicious of you. Others may notice your strength, but you may prefer to be reserved and secretive, valuing and protecting your privacy.

Pluto, being the furthest planet from the Sun and shrouded in darkness and mystery, is comparable to people with Pluto in the first house in that they are difficult to understand, even for those who have known them for a long time. In astrology, Pluto is associated with power and control, and a strong Pluto in the natal chart can indicate a control freak or someone obsessed with power. With Pluto in the first house, the issue of personal power becomes especially important. Pluto in the first house indicates that you discover power within yourself, and it is a fundamental aspect of your identity for people like you. You learned early on to protect and save yourself because you were forced to find your power when you couldn't rely on others. This placement makes you extremely resilient, but despite what others may think, you frequently feel insecure.

You have a fear of rejection or not being accepted for who you are, which is likely a painful experience you had when you were young. Pluto in the first house can also indicate a very strong ego and people with this placement often find it difficult to forgive others. This placement can make you vengeful and uncooperative when feeling opposed or controlled, especially if you have difficult aspects. However, because your natal Pluto is in the first house, you have above-average regenerative abilities, which means you can experience deep renewal several times throughout your life, even when most people are unable to. This is true both physically and mentally.

You may have endured significant trauma that has affected you in various ways throughout your life. The first house represents a person's early years, starting from their birth, and Pluto's positioning in this house could signify a challenging childhood experience. Many individuals with this placement may have encountered abuse and violence, particularly during their formative years, were born prematurely, or were themselves set up for a controlled life since birth. Pluto is a planet associated with the darker side of astrology, making it complex to navigate. Although not always violent, it often is. In the first house of the natal chart, Pluto typically points towards power struggles that may have occurred within the family during the individual's childhood. Perhaps their parents exerted dominance and exploited them in some way, as this is a common manifestation of Pluto. Such early experiences can have a long-lasting impact on a person's life, similar to how a nail leaves a hole even after it is removed from the wall. Pluto can cause profound wounds in the soul, and some people with Pluto in the first house may find it difficult to recover from such profound pain.

If Pluto is negatively aspected in the chart, the individual may exhibit irritability. However, if Pluto is positively aspected, the individual may possess strong healing abilities and be able to help others effectively. By working through their issues, they can inspire others to do the same and lead by example.

⚝Pluto in the 2nd house⚝

The presence of Pluto in the 2nd house can lead to profound transformations in their relationship with their possessions, finances, and self-worth. This placement often signals a strong desire to establish control and power over one's material resources, which can have both positive and negative effects. On the one hand, it can result in great financial success and the ability to accumulate wealth and resources. On the other hand, it can lead to an unhealthy fixation on money and material possessions, which can cause significant stress and anxiety. It's crucial for individuals with Pluto in the 2nd house to strive for a healthy balance between their desire for control and their need for emotional fulfillment and stability.

Individuals with this placement typically keep their wealth and financial status hidden and may appear more modest than they are. They possess a resourceful and intuitive understanding of how to manage finances and make assets yield profit. It's worth noting that many wealthy individuals have Pluto in the 2nd house due to this placement's association with extreme financial success.

This position denotes a strong desire for material possessions and financial success. When you want something, you want it. People with Pluto in the second house are obsessed with what they want. They can devise brilliant plans to achieve their financial objectives, but they can also find ways to obtain what they desire in other areas of life. Pluto is the planet of authority. When it is placed in the second house, you feel the need to control your life, as well as the ability to control others through money. Regarding people as your possession and treating them as such. This could be a problem in your relationships. A natal Pluto in the second house indicates that you want to be in charge of your finances and that you can be secretive about money. Here, there is a lot of conflict between mine (the second house) and yours (Pluto and the eighth house), giving proclivity to want what others have, as well as, wanting something just for the sake of owning it.

Individuals with Pluto in the second house may tend to hold onto material possessions and people due to a fear of letting go. This can lead to an overly materialistic mindset and a failure to recognize the importance of non-material aspects of life. Pluto's placement in the second house can also bring painful life lessons related to material possessions, with the goal of teaching individuals to let go and not prioritize money above all else. Those with Pluto in the second house may struggle with self-esteem and a belief that their worth is tied to their wealth. This may stem from childhood experiences of financial crisis and feeling undervalued. However, they need to learn that their value as a person is not defined by their financial status. Obsessive spending and self-destructive behavior may also be manifestations of this placement. Overall, it is crucial to recognize the potential fears and subconscious issues associated with Pluto in the second house and work towards healthy ways of managing them.

It's very likely that you've faced financial challenges during childhood. Your family may have experienced financial difficulties or lacked financial management skills, resulting in the deprivation of possessions or resources. However, these early struggles can be a powerful motivator for you to strive for financial success later in life. Pluto's influence is strong and resilient, making it difficult to overcome. But with this placement, you have the ability to conquer financial obstacles and turn debt into wealth. A natal Pluto in the second house can manifest as resourcefulness and transformation, which are common traits found in the charts of successful and wealthy individuals. This placement may also make you rebel against the norms and authority figures imposed on you as a child. Buried anger and frustrations may surface during times of crisis. In extreme cases, this placement can lead to greed and a willingness to do anything for money and power. A natal Pluto in the second house can indicate a career in research, banking, managing money, taxation, or investments. But because Pluto also rules the underworld in astrology, this placement may also suggest involvement in sex work or crime. You may earn money through partnerships or even inheritances if supported by the chart.

⚝Pluto in the 3rd house⚝

Your communication style can be intense and transformative. Your words hold a lot of weight and may have a powerful effect on those who hear them. However, this can also lead to power struggles and communication breakdowns in your relationships. It's important to find a balance between expressing your truth and respecting others' perspectives. Remember to listen as much as you speak and be open to learning from those around you. The third house is associated with siblings, early childhood, primary education, and your immediate surroundings. Pluto in the third house indicates that you are a deep thinker with a powerful mind. However, you may struggle with direct or blunt communication. Connecting with others may have been difficult for you as a child, which has left an impression on you as an adult. With Pluto in the third house, you are attracted to what is concealed and what is left unsaid. You understand the hidden machinery and what is secretly at stake when communicating with others. Your communication takes into account underlying information, and you are aware of the subtle quirks and changes in others' body language and speech.

Having Pluto in the third house may indicate a challenging start to your life, with some individuals experiencing traumatic childhood events. However, it's important to note that several indicators in the chart must be present for this to be the case. When Pluto has harmonious aspects, its effects are much lighter. People with Pluto in the third house often keep family secrets and may have intense or dark relationships with siblings. They may also use code language or have an interest in the local underground scene or criminal activity. 

For some individuals, trauma may have occurred within their peer groups or school environments. This can result in deep emotional wounds, feelings of isolation and misunderstanding, and potential speech problems that require therapy. It's common for those with this placement to feel like they don't fully fit in and to encounter power struggles or betrayal. 

If Pluto in the third house has hard aspects, there may be difficulties with neighbors or relatives and a higher risk of accidents. However, harmonious aspects can bring strong and beneficial connections with friends and family. It's important to be cautious when driving or in traffic.

There's a possibility of experiencing family bereavement, specifically the loss of siblings. The third house in your natal chart represents various people in your life, including your siblings. As such, your relationship with your siblings might be strained. You may perceive them to be self-centered, powerful, or even dangerous. If there are hard aspects to Pluto from Mars, Saturn, or Uranus, it can indicate rivalry between you and your siblings. Pluto is linked to power struggles, which can manifest in your relationship with your siblings or relatives. People with this placement may have experienced verbal abuse from their family members, and often have a sarcastic sibling or family member. On the other hand, if your natal chart shows harmonious aspects with Pluto in the third house, it can indicate a powerful sibling who acts as a protector in your relationship. You may hold them in high regard, and your siblings may initiate a transformational process in your life.

You possess a strong grasp of the power of communication. This placement implies you are selective about what you share with others and have the ability to keep and uncover secrets. You are also skilled at collecting data and piecing together small bits of information. You have an inquisitive and powerful mind, with a tendency to obsess over thoughts, overanalyze and not give up until you find a solution. However, this thinking process may differ drastically from those around you, making it difficult to connect with your peers. At times, you may come across as blunt or shocking to others. An unevolved Pluto in the third house may suggest an aggressive personality. These individuals do not sugarcoat their feelings and can manipulate others through their words and gestures. As they mature, they become extremely persuasive communicators. This placement indicates a fascination with taboos and mysteries, such as the occult, psychology, death, sex, and crime. Individuals with Pluto in the third house are life-long learners, often learning best on their own. They have a highly analytical mind and are avid readers.

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⚝Pluto in the 4th house⚝

The placement of Pluto in the 4th house indicates that your family or home environment may have been the site of intense power struggles or upheavals, leading to deep psychological transformation and rebirth. You may have a strong desire for privacy and control over your domestic affairs, which can sometimes cause you to feel isolated or emotionally distant from others. It is important to address any unresolved emotional issues from your past to create a stable and nurturing home environment for yourself and your loved ones. You may feel a sense of distance and difference between yourself and your family, and you may not always feel in perfect harmony with those around you. However, this uniqueness is also your strength and can drive your personal growth. You may feel that you hold a truth that eludes ordinary people and those in your circles, making you difficult to label or define.

Individuals who have Pluto in the fourth house often have a history of coming from troubled families, which may include domestic abuse or violence. This placement can be challenging to interpret in the natal chart, and it typically indicates that their childhood circumstances were less than ideal. Unfortunately, these patterns often repeat themselves in their adult home and family life, leading to power struggles, particularly with one of their parents/caregivers. These conflicts leave a deep wound in their soul, and the rage is frequently buried in their subconscious, subtly controlling their life. Moreover, many individuals with Pluto in the fourth house have some karmic heritage to work through before they can create a loving and supportive family environment. Ideally, the fourth house should serve as a place of safety and support for a child, but this is not always the case when Pluto is present. People who have Pluto in the fourth house frequently experience struggles early on and might come from unstable families. This placement often indicates that they perceived their fourth house parent as dictatorial, controlling, or even manipulative. Additionally, Pluto in the fourth house with hard aspects can indicate domestic violence or abuse. Therefore, the presence of difficult aspects here frequently indicates a troubled parent. The fourth house represents the mother, and this placement usually represents a domineering one. In extreme cases, the parent may be narcissistic, and their desire to control their child might persist even after they have moved out and grown up. Furthermore, individuals with Pluto in the fourth house rarely receive the emotional support that a child requires, forcing them to learn how to be emotionally self-sufficient at a young age. Power struggles and controlling behaviors are common in these relationships, and subtle manipulation is also possible, occasionally leaving an individual feeling emotionally unfulfilled. This positioning suggests emotional baggage, often buried in their memory, preventing them from being emotionally fulfilled, particularly in the area of home life. Therefore, it is necessary to get rid of this baggage to lead a happy family life.

To achieve true freedom, it is crucial to address any challenging relationships with family members. As Pluto in the 4th house individuals end up developing a tendency to become domineering and controlling during adulthood subsequent to their upbringing. This trait can manifest in a more direct manner for those with harmonious aspects. It is imperative to confront and overcome these issues to avoid causing harm to others. If left unaddressed, individuals with hard aspects may become bullies or even abusive, with this negative behavior being concealed from those outside of their inner circle due to Pluto's placement in the fourth house. Unfortunately, domestic violence can occur within their own homes. Even if they are not abusive, they may end up with a manipulative, controlling, or violent partner. The fourth house represents where power and authority are sought after in a birth chart, therefore for those with Pluto in the fourth house, power struggles may transpire within their homes. However, they possess the power to break the cycle of generational trauma and change their entire family's situation.

If Pluto is in your fourth house, it could mean that you struggle with your sense of self, often feeling disconnected from your family and ancestors. This placement may also indicate a family secret that sets you apart from them. Acceptance of oneself can be difficult for those with Pluto in this position, and seeking psychotherapy or a supportive relationship can help. Harmonious aspects can make this work easier. Additionally, this placement can manifest as an intense patriotism, radical ideals, or religiosity in later life that is followed by a lonely old age, where the native may isolate themselves or be abandoned by family members. Alternatively, natives can develop new forms of family function and support for themselves and others. Pluto in the 4th is also an indication of creating a powerful family/household.

⚝Pluto in the 5th house⚝

You might experience a strong urge to express yourself creatively and actively pursue intense experiences related to love, romance, and sexuality. This placement can also trigger obsessive and compulsive behaviors in these areas, which must be handled with caution to avoid adverse outcomes. Despite these challenges, Pluto in the 5th house can instill a sense of personal power and charm that could assist you in achieving your aspirations and desires. It's crucial to maintain a balance between self-awareness and self-control to navigate this placement successfully. Passion, love, and art might appear elusive and mysterious to you, leading you to be drawn to perilous or unattainable love affairs and harboring concealed emotions. Childhood memories may have a special significance for you, shaping your understanding of love and relationships.

Individuals with Pluto in the fifth house possess a strong personality. However, if Pluto is afflicted or there are challenging aspects between the Sun and Pluto in their natal chart, they may have a big ego. This placement signifies a passionate and creative nature but with a tendency towards melodrama and self-centeredness. Those natives find excitement in taking risks in their romantic lives and often possess a strong will and a daredevil spirit. However, a negative manifestation of this placement can result in a struggle for authority. People with this placement feel the need to receive recognition and become the center of attention. Failure to do so may lead to frustration and jealousy. As a result, they may become easily irritated if they do not receive the attention they desire. The negative side of Pluto can manifest as envy or jealousy, so if they feel ignored, they may act childishly.

They possess a strong inclination towards creative pursuits such as art, movies, music, and literature. This is due to the influence of Pluto in the fifth house which amplifies one's desire to express themselves. Individuals with this placement may have a preference for a darker artistic style, and find leisure in hobbies such as deep dives, gambling, and exploring risky arts forms. However, Pluto's obsessive nature may not be ideal for such activities and may lead to addiction and extreme losses. 

Moreover, Pluto's qualities may be embodied by your father if certain aspects of the Sun and Pluto in the birth chart support this. Pluto's energy is directed towards the matters of the house in which it is located, which can be overwhelming and exhausting. It is essential to find a balance to overcome Pluto's dark traits. If successful, you can become a fascinating and charismatic individual, well-suited for creative endeavors, art, and making societal contributions despite feelings of inadequacy.

The fifth house defines your love life, indicating a passionate and intense nature described by Pluto. You give your all in love and expect the same from your partner. Individuals with Pluto in the fifth house often seek powerful and intense partners. This placement implies a lack of interest in superficial relationships. In romance, you tend to embody Pluto's qualities or choose partners who do. Negative aspects of Pluto, such as possessiveness, jealousy, obsession, and power struggles, may arise in your relationships. As a result, your relationships tend to be Scorpionic.

Pluto in the fifth house often transforms through romantic relationships, leading you to become a different person in the presence of your partner. This placement suggests an intense love life, with a strong focus on passion and sex. Pluto represents intense attachment, vulnerability, and intimacy, qualities you seek in a partner. Sexual kinks may pique your interest if Pluto is in this position. On the other hand, this placement can also imply betrayal by your lover and even traumatic experiences in extreme cases. Plutonic relationships may be part of your experience, with manipulative partners or yourself as the manipulator in the relationship.

The position of the planets and signs on the cusp of the fifth house can reveal information about your first child and your attitude toward them. If Pluto is located in the fifth house, it suggests that having a child will bring about a transformation in your life. Your beliefs may be challenged, and you may need to make changes. A child born under this placement may have a strong personality, especially if Pluto receives positive aspects. However, difficult aspects may indicate that your child could be challenging to manage, potentially leading to power struggles in your relationship. Overall, this placement indicates that you have a close relationship with your children and are protective of them. But be careful not to be too possessive or controlling, as this could lead to rebellion from your child.

⚝Pluto in the 6th house⚝

If Pluto is in your sixth house, you may have a strong attachment to your daily routines, which are essential to your well-being. If you're unable to follow your routines, you may become stressed and anxious, and sometimes even display aggressive behavior as a way to cope. Your adherence to rituals may seem morbid or obsessive-compulsive to others. You may experience a transformation and gain wisdom and power in areas governed by this house, but it may also lead to power struggles, deep fear, and even trauma. It can be a difficult area to navigate, with no easy way out. To make the most of this placement, it's essential to acknowledge the hardships and confront your inner demons.

You might have a tendency towards manipulation. Pluto is associated with vast distances and hidden worlds, while the 6th House deals with clearly defined social functions and areas of action. This creates a paradoxical and ambiguous social role for you. Your demeanor may be unsettling on a professional level, and your hidden function may be effective because it is insidious and concealed. The placement of Pluto in the 6th house is believed to bring intensity and transformation to your daily work routine and health habits. People with this placement may have a strong desire for power and control in their job and may be drawn to careers that involve working with the darker side of human nature, like psychology or forensics. However, they may also struggle with issues related to power and control in the workplace and may need to learn to channel their energy more positively and productively.

It's crucial to avoid conflicts with colleagues or being pushed around by superiors. Instead, strive to establish a healthy and secure work environment. You may find yourself drawn to Scorpionic jobs that involve other people's money, death, crime, sex, investigation, psychology, research, or healing. It's crucial for individuals with this placement to find work they are passionate about. However, Pluto in the sixth house can also bring challenges, such as rivalries with coworkers or difficult relationships with bosses. Harsh Pluto's aspects may indicate a dictatorial attitude towards others in the workplace or a controlling coworker. As an employer, you may come across as intimidating and threatening to your workers. This placement can lead to clashes and power struggles in your work life. You may be a perfectionist who dislikes wasteful practices and responds poorly to criticism. You can also be possessive and competitive about your work. Pluto in the sixth house indicates a need for freedom and space to work effectively. Some people with this placement change jobs frequently due to conflicts in the workplace, leading to hardships but also growth opportunities. A well-aspected Pluto in the sixth house can signify great power and effectiveness in your work, as well as a talent for cutting through the superficial and getting to the heart of the matter.

The sixth house also governs the area of health. When Pluto is placed in this house, it can often push individuals to work so hard that their health is the only thing that can force them to take a break. This can result in health issues caused by high job pressure. Pluto in the 6th house can indicate a tendency towards obsessive or compulsive behaviors, particularly related to diet and exercise, which can affect your physical well-being. It is important to maintain a balanced and healthy approach to health and avoid becoming too fixated on routines. Power struggles at work can be a challenge for some. However, one positive aspect of Pluto in this placement is its strong regenerative ability. While individuals may be able to function on little resources for a time, it's important to strive for a more balanced lifestyle by paying attention to diet and exercise.

This placement can also indicate mental health issues such as phobias or anxiety. When Pluto is affected by hard aspects, individuals may experience mysterious health problems, chronic illnesses, or eating disorders. In these cases, it's crucial to seek professional help to overcome health issues, as well as gain psychological insights and guidance to improve daily life.

By embracing transformative experiences, even mundane activities can become intensely engaging. Adopting a powerful daily practice, including daily cleanses and developing healthy habits, can help transform your life. However, it's important to avoid becoming deeply involved in work unions or criminal activities and to stay focused on the task at hand without becoming obsessed or overworked. By embracing a powerful and balanced daily routine, one can regenerate their health and vitality and become a positive influence among coworkers.

Finally, the sixth house also represents pets. With Pluto in the sixth house, some individuals with this placement may have unconventional pets, such as snakes or spiders, and other powerful exotic animals. Meanwhile, others may prefer to have a very well-trained pet for hunting and/or sports, such as dogs or horses.

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⚝Pluto in the 7th house⚝

If Pluto is in your 7th house, it may indicate intense and transformative experiences in your close personal relationships. This placement suggests a desire for power and control in partnerships, which can lead to problems with manipulation or possessiveness. However, it can also result in deep and meaningful connections, as well as opportunities for growth and healing through these relationships. It's important to be mindful of the potential for power struggles and to strive for balance and mutual respect in all partnerships. This placement may suggest that you are drawn to a Plutonic personality, someone who has Pluto in their first house or is a Scorpio rising. This can apply not only to romantic partners and spouses but also to business partners and close friends.

The seventh house plays a significant role in marriage and relationships. When Pluto is located in the seventh house, it suggests that committed relationships can bring about a transformational process for you. Your life changes drastically after marriage, and you learn important life lessons through your relationships. Overcoming challenges in these relationships helps you find your power. However, Pluto in this position can make your relationships intense and dynamic, with strong emotions and a need for passion.

Unfortunately, deep bonding can be blocked by fear, and power struggles may arise. You may crave intimacy but be scared of it at the same time. It is common to experience control issues in relationships with Pluto in the seventh house, which can lead to a lack of balance. To make the relationship work, you need to learn to stand up for yourself and be treated as an equal. You may be attracted to dictatorial partners or be dictatorial yourself. There's a desire and appeal for uneven power dynamics and control. The seventh house is associated with harmony and balance, and a natal Pluto in the seventh house can achieve this by undergoing transformation. It is important to be aware of the possibility of abuse or domestic violence if harsh aspects to Pluto are present.

The seventh house is related to business partnerships and public relations. If you have a natal Pluto in the seventh house, it is advisable to avoid fast-paced partnerships, especially if it receives hard aspects. However, a well-aspected Pluto in the seventh house can be useful in working with the public. This placement is beneficial for individuals working in marketing, politics, law, or psychology, as it provides insight into human nature. Nevertheless, it is essential to behave appropriately with this placement, as Pluto is an unpredictable and erratic planet. A harmonious aspect to Pluto can help you understand people intuitively and excel in many professions. However, it is crucial to remain clear-headed and skeptical about relationships, as Pluto in the seventh house can bring secrets to light and damage your reputation. It is best to view relationships as temporary and not get too attached to them. You understand the illusory nature of social codes and keep your distance from relationships, especially intimate ones.

If you have a natal Pluto in the seventh house, it may indicate a deep-seated fear of forming close bonds with others. While you may crave the intimacy and security of committed relationships, you may also be hesitant to fully invest in them due to issues with trust and betrayal. This fear may even attract untrustworthy partners, leading to a pattern of unhealthy relationships. You may have experienced trauma related to committed relationships in the past. To find balance in your relationships, it's important to establish a sense of power dynamics. With Pluto in this house, there may be a struggle for power between you and your partner. It's important to choose partners who have a well-integrated Pluto, as those who live in the lower octave of Pluto can exhibit negative traits such as possessiveness and jealousy. Your relationship may have darker themes if your Pluto is afflicted, but easy aspects can indicate a strong-willed partner. Remember that you have power within yourself, and by finding it, you can break free from being a victim. Your seventh house planets may reveal parts of yourself that you don't identify with, and Pluto here suggests that you may not feel your power or be able to handle it. This may lead to an unconscious relinquishing of power to your partners.

⚝Pluto in the 8th house⚝

Having Pluto in the eighth house is a noteworthy placement. Scorpio is the natural ruler of the eighth house, which is a familiar place for Pluto. However, having an eighth house placement doesn't necessarily mean an easy life. From a young age, you are conscious of the darker aspects of life. With Pluto here, power holds great importance in your life and is often obtained through crisis, pain, or trauma. If you embrace the positive aspects of this placement, you can become a source of support and guidance for others, showing them that there is always a way out of difficult situations. This is a highly influential placement that can lead to professions with such specialty and mystique. Think of someone that is a psychiatrist for other psychiatrists, a mortician for other morticians, or a private investigator with psychic abilities. You desire something that involves exploring the depths of the psyche and the journey of the soul's evolution. It can also lead to complete psychic and soul makeovers or even the ability to resurrect one's own or another's soul. This placement has the potential to be both a necromancer and a grim reaper, if you believe as such, but it can also awaken a renewed passion for life. 

Individuals with their natal Pluto in the eighth house are known for their ability to overcome obstacles. Planets located in the eighth house tend to manifest themselves during times of crisis. This placement suggests that you possess a significant inner strength that you can rely on. The presence of Pluto in the eighth house can result in powerful transformations and intense experiences related to shared resources, intimacy, and psychological growth. It can also indicate a deep desire to explore the hidden aspects of oneself and others and to comprehend the mysteries of life and death. Additionally, it may suggest a potential for power struggles, manipulation, and obsession in relationships, as well as a tendency to attract intense and transformative experiences.

However, with awareness and conscious effort, this placement can also lead to profound healing, empowerment, and spiritual growth. It is important to approach this placement with respect, integrity, and a willingness to confront one's shadows and vulnerabilities. People with this placement are often drawn to taboo topics and the occult, such as life after death and magic. They may also have an interest in morbid things or horror movies, as they are fascinated by mysteries. However, this placement can create both a fascination with and fear of death.

Pluto in the eighth house also indicates that sexuality is an important aspect of your life, or that you have experienced painful and traumatic events related to it. If Pluto has easy aspects, individuals with this placement may have a high libido and be extremely passionate, even obsessive, about sex. With aspects from Mars or Saturn, they may be drawn to role-playing or have an obsession with violence. These individuals prefer to dominate in relationships as Pluto here is thrilled by power. Simultaneously, they may be afraid of being vulnerable and experiencing intimacy, as this placement can indicate trauma related to sexuality, betrayal, and trust issues. Rage may also be buried in the unconscious of individuals with this placement.

Individuals with Pluto in the eighth house possess a natural knack for psychology and can easily see through people's facades. Pluto has an all-seeing eye, making it impossible to keep secrets from those with this placement. However, despite their insight into others, these individuals tend to keep their secrets close to their chest and have likely learned from difficult experiences. They may struggle with intensity and obsessiveness, finding it challenging to let go and recognize when enough is enough. These tendencies can lead to complicated and tumultuous romantic relationships with emotional and psychological manipulation. Pluto in the eighth house can also indicate a willingness to use any means necessary to achieve their desires, especially when challenged or frustrated. Those with this placement may excel in finance-related careers, such as banking, financial advising, accounting, and investing. However, caution should be taken with Jupiter-Pluto aspects as this placement may also indicate involvement with criminal activity or the darker sides of Pluto's influence. Individuals with hard aspects to Pluto may encounter complications with inheritance or experience power struggles related to money within their family dynamic.

The eighth house is a crucial space in your life, though it may not be visited often. It is here where significant events occur, triggering a profound transformation process within you. If your natal Pluto resides in this house, you may experience more of these moments than the average person. This can make you a skilled sailor, as the saying goes, for a smooth sea never made one. You may find relationships unsatisfying unless they push you to the brink of psychological or emotional death. It's possible for you to feed off other people's trauma to recharge your batteries and demand peak experiences in intimate relationships. However, this can also make you a demanding or controlling partner, someone who wants to know all your secrets and personal information. Probe-like behavior can make others uncomfortable, and you may overestimate your psychological understanding while underestimating your psychological complexes. Remember that just because you have access to someone's secrets doesn't mean you understand them completely.

Individuals with this placement possess exceptional resilience, capable of enduring even the harshest of events. Pluto's influence here grants above-average regenerative abilities, allowing for survival in dangerous situations. However, one's interest in darker subjects may attract potential danger. A well-aspected Pluto, particularly in conjunction with Saturn, may indicate longevity. This placement may also bring about psychological challenges, requiring a purging of negative thoughts and attachments to break free from the karmic wheel. Though such transformations can be painful, they ultimately lead to great personal power. It is important to avoid becoming overly convinced of one's own opinions and adopting a dictatorial approach with a natal Pluto in the eighth house.

⚝Pluto in the 9th house⚝

Pluto in the ninth house indicates that you possess higher intelligence than most people. You have a natural curiosity about how the world operates, and you want to delve deeply into its workings. Your mind is deep and inquisitive due to this placement. This placement of Pluto suggests that you will undergo a profound transformation in your belief system and philosophical outlook. You may develop a keen interest in spiritual and metaphysical matters, as well as a desire to explore various cultures and ways of thinking. This sometimes results in a challenging and intense journey of self-discovery, but ultimately, it leads to a deeper understanding of yourself and the world. It is crucial to remain open-minded and receptive to new ideas and experiences if you have this placement, as it can lead to significant personal growth and transformation.

Individuals with Pluto in the ninth house have a keen ability to detect inconsistencies within the belief systems of those around them. This placement can transform travelers into spies and wise individuals into skeptical philosophers. You likely have little interest in rigid moral codes and commonly accepted explanations. Instead, you relish challenging traditional ideals and prefer to develop your concepts, even if they may not always be clear. Your analytical approach to exploration, travel, and discovery is often detached and critical, bordering on indifference. Superficial explanations are not enough for you, as Pluto urges you to delve deeper into the core of a matter. With this placement, you possess a powerful mind and frequently question beliefs instilled in you during childhood. Your belief system and perception of the world undergo deep transformation multiple times throughout your life. You possess a probing mind and can see beyond surface-level information, making you drawn to foreign religions and philosophies. There are often several soul-searching phases in your life that ultimately lead to profound transformation. While this placement primarily relates to mental transformation, some individuals may struggle with embracing change. Failure to recognize when you are wrong can hinder personal growth, but the ninth house's emphasis on expansion encourages growth. Being a mutable sign, Sagittarius, the natural sign of the ninth house, embraces change. Pluto, however, can be tyrannical and dictatorial, making it challenging to accept new ideas with hard aspects. You value honesty and directness in expressions and interactions with others but may struggle with feeling misunderstood. Those with Pluto in the ninth house may be captivated by foreign languages and cultures and often feel a sense of not belonging to their place of birth. A well-aspected Pluto in this placement can find power through contact with other cultures, while some may even spend a significant amount of time abroad.

With Pluto located in the ninth house of a person's natal chart, their personal philosophy holds great significance. This placement indicates a lifelong learner who is eager to educate themselves without necessarily relying on traditional institutions. As a result, subjects like religion and psychology may pique their interest, and they may possess a natural talent for research and investigation. However, a potential danger of this placement is the tendency to impose their beliefs onto others, which may lead to fanatical or bigoted behavior. It is crucial to avoid becoming dictatorial if they gain power in their communities. On the positive side, individuals with this placement may make inspiring teachers and have the courage to challenge outdated beliefs. Nonetheless, they may encounter difficulties with higher education, and some may drop out of college or experience study breaks. Furthermore, this placement can manifest as authority issues, but it can also support a career in education or research. 

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⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

⚝Pluto in the 10th house⚝

When Pluto is in your tenth house, you'll develop a reputation as a powerful and influential individual in the world. You may find yourself engaged in power struggles, particularly in your professional life and interactions with authority figures. This is because the tenth house is associated with career and public image. Your ambition and drive to succeed are noteworthy, and you are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve your goals. However, you may feel like success is more difficult to attain than it is for others, particularly if your natal Pluto in the tenth house is harshly aspected. 

Having Pluto in the 10th house can lead to significant transformations and power struggles in your career and public image. It may compel you to confront and overcome deep-seated fears or power dynamics in your workplace. While it can also inspire a strong desire for success and recognition, it is important to be aware of any negative aspects of your ambition. With Pluto in the 10th house, it may be necessary to let go of old habits and embrace a new path that aligns with your true purpose and values. Overall, this placement can be both challenging and empowering, providing opportunities for growth and personal development in your professional and public life.

Pluto is a challenging planet in astrology, often bringing about difficult and even traumatic experiences in the areas it affects. With Pluto in the 10th House, you are skilled at navigating crises and complicated environments. Your progress in professional and social settings is subtle and unique, as you excel at operating behind the scenes and detecting weaknesses and false values. You are driven by your self-interests and have a scheming mind, making you a formidable partner in any venture. 

When considering career paths in your natal chart, there are many factors to take into account. However, with Pluto in the tenth house, it is one of the significant influencers. Possible career paths include psychology, investigation, research, surgery, politics, or other fields that involve hidden information. If there are other indicators in the chart, it may even indicate involvement with criminal activities. As you do your inner work and resolve your issues, you may find yourself drawn to a career in the medical field, as Pluto supports regeneration. This placement also lends itself well to careers that require extensive research or attention to detail, making you a great investigator. 

While Pluto can bring about unforeseen ups and downs in your career path, it also gives you the ability to bounce back and even reach greater heights. However, success with this placement takes time and patience, as the tenth house is naturally associated with Capricorn and Saturn, the ruler of time in astrology. As you mature, you learn to accept that permanent success takes time and to trust in the process. 

People with this placement are often ambitious and have a strong desire to achieve their goals. However, it is essential to develop a healthier and more respectful relationship with time and to avoid using force and power to get what you want. Through the struggle to recreate yourself, you will find your power and ultimately achieve success.

The placement of Pluto in the tenth house of your natal chart may indicate some conflict in your relationship with authority figures. If you feel that you have been treated unfairly, you are not afraid to stand up for yourself. This placement could also suggest that you may become an authoritative figure later in life.

The tenth house is also associated with the parental figures in your life. While traditionally, the father is associated with Saturn and the tenth house, any paternal figure, role model, mentor, or caregiver can be included. Pluto in the tenth house could indicate that the parent represented by this house was authoritarian, domineering, or even dictatorial (especially with hard aspects to Pluto). You may have felt intimidated or afraid of this parent, and they may have had a position of authority that was respected or even feared by others. If there are harmonious aspects to your Pluto in the tenth house, this parent may have had a strong personality, was determined, and had a strong will. They may have been an important influence in your life, teaching you strength and how to cope with challenges. Alternatively, if there are hard aspects to your Pluto in the tenth house, you may be at risk of becoming tyrannical, arrogant, selfish, or overly controlling with your power.

In addition to learning to cope with authority figures, this placement also suggests that you need to learn how to use your power in a healthy way. If you use your power for good, you may become a very powerful figure in your community. However, it is important to remember that with great power comes great responsibility. It is important to avoid becoming too domineering or controlling and to use your power constructively and positively. People may see you as mysterious and reserved, but also as someone who always has a trick up their sleeve.

⚝Pluto in the 11th house⚝

If Pluto is in your eleventh house, it's in the area of friends and organizations. This planet's mysterious and dark side can make it tough for you to fit in and compromise, but you can learn a lot from your interactions with groups of people. Pluto's placement in the 11th house can have a significant impact on your social life and relationships with friends and acquaintances. You may feel a strong urge to join groups or organizations dedicated to social change or transformation. Your desire for power and transformation can drive your relationships, and you may be drawn to those who can help you achieve your goals or further your agenda. However, it's important to avoid letting your desire for power and control take over your relationships with others. Keep a sense of balance and perspective in your social life and relationships, and be mindful of how your actions can affect others.

The eleventh house is closely associated with social groups, clubs, and organizations. However, it encompasses more than just your relationship with society. It also represents the universe's support for you and everything that comes into your life. Individuals with Pluto in the eleventh house may struggle to identify their goals clearly, even though they are ambitious and seek great achievements. Nonetheless, Pluto in the eleventh house suggests immense power to transform your dreams into reality. This planet is intense and influential, capable of magnifying things. When used effectively, it can be an excellent asset for fulfilling your hopes and dreams. People with this placement are future-oriented, often to the point of neglecting the present. Pluto in the eleventh house can lead to a preoccupation with ideas and difficulties in executing them in the present. Once conquered, however, this tendency can make you unstoppable. If Pluto is well-aspected in the eleventh house and in harmony with Jupiter, it can indicate potential wealth acquisition. The eleventh house is also associated with money, specifically money earned through your profession and cash flow in your life. Pluto can contribute to financial success with harmonious aspects, but hard aspects may suggest a willingness to do anything to achieve one's goals, even if it involves immoral means. It can also lead to difficulties in managing money.

Based on the placement of Pluto in your eleventh house, it appears that your interest lies in the study of people and their social behavior. You are fascinated by group dynamics and social phenomena, and you strive to comprehend how people function. This helps you understand yourself better as well. You are drawn to criminal groups, cartels, secret societies, large-scale covert operations, and other similar organizations. However, you are also aware of the negative impact these groups have on society. You have an intense desire to control your social relationships and are known to struggle with building and maintaining friendships. You can be highly intense and may have experienced betrayal or a traumatic event related to your friends in the past. As a result, you tend to be guarded and find it difficult to trust others. You prefer to be alone than in bad company and prioritize maintaining power and control in your social circles. If someone has hard aspects to Pluto in their natal chart, they may exhibit dictatorial or domineering behavior when in a group setting. This can create tension, and it's important to strive for balance. It's necessary to adjust your beliefs and attitude towards groups of people. Although you have a strong desire to belong, achieving this can be a long journey. With Pluto in the eleventh house, you crave acceptance but often feel lonely even when surrounded by others. It can be challenging to fit in and find your place. Despite feeling like a loner, it's important to learn how to connect with others and build a network. Unfortunately, some people with this placement may experience traumatic events, such as abuse or betrayal, that force them to reexamine their beliefs about people and society. Through these experiences, however, they can gain wisdom and learn how to heal themselves.

Having Pluto in the eleventh house can bring loyal and supportive friends who have strong personalities like you. You can discuss topics that others may find morbid, such as the occult or life after death. Friendships with Pluto in the 11th House are dynamic and evolve over time. Your conception of the world and ideals are not absolute but rather emphasize the futility of principles and ideas. Your most significant relationships always maintain a degree of mystery, and you distrust universally accepted truths. Your network helps you achieve your goals and learn about various aspects of life. You may find your power through understanding group dynamics, and can even take on an important role in an organization with this placement. Harmonious aspects of Pluto in the eleventh house suggest powerful and supportive friends who can help you turn your dreams into reality. However, with hard aspects to Pluto, it is important to be careful about who you associate with, as envious friends who do not have your best interests at heart may try to manipulate you or bring trouble upon you. Additionally, it is important to respect others' opinions and not think that you know everything best. Pluto in the eleventh house may also draw you to social causes or humanitarian work, and can even make you a powerful and revolutionary leader with well-aspected Pluto in this placement. However, some people with a natal Pluto in the eleventh house may also become members of secret groups or have secret friendships, and there may be indicators in the natal chart for social anxiety.

⚝Pluto in the 12th house⚝

If Pluto is located in the 12th house of your birth chart, it could indicate a strong connection to your subconscious mind. This placement suggests that you may have a desire to explore the deeper aspects of your psyche and inner world. You may also have a fascination with spirituality, mysticism, and the occult, as well as a yearning to understand the workings of the universe on a profound level. At times, you may feel like you are struggling with powerful forces that are beyond your control, which can lead to intense dreams or nightmares. However, with Pluto in the 12th house, you have the potential to harness these energies and use them for personal transformation and growth. It is important to note that this placement can also indicate a tendency towards self-destructive behaviors or escapism as a way of avoiding intense emotions and psychic energies. By confronting these challenges head-on and integrating them into your conscious awareness, you can unlock a powerful source of personal power and transformation. With Pluto in the 12th house, you may have a strong connection with mysticism, ordeals, and the afterlife, and possess exceptional sensitivity. When expressed negatively, this configuration may lead to an interest in macabre subjects and paradoxical sexuality, as well as a tendency to perceive ghostly enemies. However, when expressed positively, it encourages you to attribute a transcendental value to your actions, thoughts, and life.

Pluto in the twelfth house suggests that you are restricted from finding your power. Tapping into your power is not impossible, but it requires a lot of work and developing self-awareness. This placement often indicates anxiety and detachment from your deep desires. This placement suggests that you find it hard to identify with things represented by Pluto, such as power, sex, and violence. Planets in the twelfth house are not integrated into your personality. You possess all the power Pluto gives us, but it is locked up in the twelfth house, hidden from you. You are blocked from accessing it. In other cases, you unconsciously try to sweep this planet under the carpet. Pluto in the twelfth house can indicate that you were told not to be powerful as a child. Perhaps power was said to be immoral or bad, and you learned that it is unsafe and unethical to want it. The same is true for sexuality. People with this placement have a strong sexuality, but they often feel ashamed of it and they are aware of their desires only on an unconscious level. This placement can indicate problems with your sexuality. Pluto in the twelfth house is often a sign of unhealthy power dynamics in your childhood. Perhaps one of your parents was dictatorial and domineering, while the other parent could not express their power and took up the role of the martyr. This placement can indicate abuse in childhood. This can be emotional, physical abuse, or sexual. This experience can be suppressed in the subconscious, but it is often the root of self-destructive behavior.

If you have a natal Pluto in the twelfth house, you may have a fear of losing control. Control is very important to you, and although the planets in the twelfth house are repressed, they have not disappeared. You may unconsciously fear that Pluto will be set free. This placement suggests that you may experience power struggles in your mind. You may be hard on yourself and tend to beat yourself up. You may also use shadowy, manipulative tactics to gain power, such as playing the martyr or emotionally manipulating others. You may not even be aware of these mind games, but others may feel them. If there are hard aspects and other indicators in your chart, Pluto in the twelfth house can indicate crime or prostitution. People with this placement often struggle with low self-esteem and may feel helpless or lack self-confidence. A strong Sun in your natal chart or harmonious aspects from Mars can help counteract this. A well-aspected and well-placed Pluto can give you a lot of strength, but when it is located in the twelfth house, it is hidden from you. If Pluto is close to the ascendant, it may indicate a traumatic birth or near-death experience. Hard aspects of Pluto in the twelfth house can also indicate trouble with sleep or nightmares. Pluto in this placement may explain suffering through startling and dark dreams.

You may tend to be reserved due to your placement in the twelfth house. While this can be a natural inclination, it's important to be mindful of not suppressing your emotions. Finding ways to de-stress through physical activity can be a helpful outlet for any tension or pent-up emotions you may be experiencing.

It's worth noting that a strong emphasis on this house in your birth chart may make you particularly sensitive, both emotionally and physically. Additionally, if Pluto is also in the twelfth house, there is a potential for psychosomatic illnesses. This placement can also cause feelings of anxiety, not belonging, or unworthiness. In some cases, individuals may even use illness as a way to avoid coping with reality.

To address any potential challenges related to this placement, it's crucial to find balance and address any unconscious guilt that may be present. Pluto in the twelfth house can lead to self-punishment or attraction to toxic partners, so it's important to learn to let go and spend time alone. Meditation and spiritual practices can be helpful in this regard, as well as developing a talent for psychology and a natural insight into human nature. By focusing on these areas, you can help ensure that you can navigate any challenges that may arise in a healthy, productive way.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Bye Cunts <3

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - three

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: nothing

Word count: 3.8k

Author’s note: there are two povs here and I didn’t add who’s they were on purpose *cue evil laughter*

Ari-Hengot means ‘my leader’ in Draconic (based on the very unhelpful google search I did so if it’s wrong it’s not my fault)

series masterlist | two

taglist: @blackbirdwitch22 @alyeskathewave @learisa @screechingfangirlaf @oh-gods-its-a-dragon @globetrotter28 @mostlymarvelgirl l @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

The words spoken by the sick and ignorant spread like wildfires; drawing close to any unattended wilting blade of grass and engulfing the field in a raging blaze within minutes. What happens now is a question on the lips of every poor farmer as they watch their life’s work burn to nothing but ash and broken spirits. No amount of water and tender hope can rebuild the life that’s been destroyed in seconds. 

Much is the same with the towns where the cowardly king’s words are as revered as their holy books. 

 “Where is she?”

A woman stared off into the distance, looking through the thick trees and towards the small village where the girl lived. The man who had spoken off to her side huffs at her silence, growing impatient with her and the cold wind that sends another shiver down their spines. 

“In a small cabin towards the back of the village, the furthest side from us,” she finally answers his question as she looks back at him, her violently red eyes blinking rapidly in adjustment. 

He tries not to flinch at the unnatural glow of her eyes but fails miserably as he speaks, “Is there anyone with her?”

It’s her turn to huff, “You couldn’t have asked me that when I was looking?” “Well I never said to look away. You did that on your own accord.”

Rolling her eyes, she looks back towards the village. 

“It looks like there are two men next to the door but that’s all I can see. We need to get closer if you want me to see more.”

“Of course, I need you to see more than that.” 

The woman narrows her eyes at him and he looks between her and the cabin. 

“You have a horse or legs if you feel inclined to actually do any work,” he gestures to both items and then points towards the village, “Get to it.”

“Haha very funny,” she sarcastically laughs, yanking her horse’s reins to the side and leading it away from her male companion. 

“Wanda,” he calls after her, his horse not trailing far behind hers. 

“No, you absolute ass. You dragged me to this cold barren, disgusting, foul…”

He cuts her off, “Wanda.” “No, do not interrupt me,” her head whips toward him, her headscarf slipping down to reveal a wave of red hair as she rips into him with her words, “You dragged me here, teased me like I’m a commoner, and then demanded things from me while still expecting me to cooperate. You’re dumber than a donkey if you think that I’m going to walk or force my horse to do so in the snow just to see a few more feet than I did before. I'm not doing it. Work with what I gave you or go scout it yourself!”

When she is done and can see past her rage, all she sees is his stupid smirk and she kicks her horse, demanding to be taken far away from his smug attitude. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbles under his breath and takes off after her. 

Wanda, the red eyed and haired woman, dismounts her horse the moment she reaches their base camp and passes off the reins to a lowly soldier who grumbles at the leather that falls into his lap. Marching straight through the small camp of seven tents, she pushes aside the heavy red fabric that make up the center tent and storms in without a care in the world. 

“If you ever put me with Samuel again, I will send a wind storm into your tent and rip you from your bed the moment before you finish with a woman,” Wanda sneers at me. 

I glance up at her with a ghost of a smirk before looking back at the papers and writing something on a map that is nestled on top. 

“Excuse me,” she demands as she marches to the table, “Did you hear what I said?” “I did,” I answered without looking at her and looking at his maps. 

“Are you going to say anything?”

I don’t respond as I continue to write and draw on the map, charting out our journey home. 

“Wanda, I was joking,” her riding companion and my second in command, Samuel, calls after her as he pushes into the tent, taking note of her irritated state and my unbothered one. 

“Get out,” she nearly barks at him, pointing at the entrance as her red eyes flare and a breeze sweeps in, “now.”

Samuel shakes his head at her, ignoring her as he walks over to the table and brushing past her as he does so. She physically recoils, causing her headscarf to fully fall and scoffs at the brazen touch. She looks wild with her dirty hair spilling out around her and her sanguine eyes narrowing at him.

“Ari-Hengot,” Samuel starts, “I asked her to tell me if anyone was in the house with the girl and all she gave me was two men but wasn’t able to see anyone else. Is it really so wrong of me to suggest she gets closer if that’s what she needs to be able to see more? I feel like that’s pretty reasonable.”

“You told me that I had legs and that I could walk. In the snow.” 

The two start to argue like children in front of me, causing me to drop my quail back into the inkwell and straighten myself to my full height while I clear my throat to get their attention. 

“Wanda, Samuel,” I warn, his voice low and commanding before looking at Wanda, “Can we move tonight or do we need to wait?”

“Yes, it looks like there’s only one person with her at all times. We should move tonight before they start to notice someone’s been watching them. It’s only a matter of time before they see a group of brightly colored tents close by,” Wanda snipes as she stuffs her hair back into her headscarf and pulls her thick red coat around her tighter.

I nod  in approval of her answer regardless of her sass. I’ve never cared if she lashed out on me, disrespected me the way a soldier should never do to their captain however she wasn’t really mine to wield nor could she control me. Regardless of our dynamic lieutenant and captain, We have a long standing agreement to never use their status or titles against each other. Being the daughter of a well respected human ally to the Dragonborn and a newly appointed lieutenant, Wanda was known to have a tongue that could cut like the cold winter wind and soothe the wounds when she wanted. I had learned very quickly to stay in her good graces to protect myself from her wrath and she, in turn, protected me from the crushing weight our leaders gave me. 

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Samuel argues, growing angry that I would so casually accept her appraisal of the situation without a second thought. Him and I may have known each other for several years longer, it is still Wanda that has made any headway in our mission. 

“You didn’t ask what I thought. You assumed that because I could only see to the girl that I would say no but,” she turns back to me, “we should make our move now. We only have the snow storm for a few more days and after that, we won’t have cover anymore.”

“Samuel, you may leave now.”

He makes a noise of annoyance about how Wanda’s word always outweighs his but leaves nonetheless. Both of us will soon hear how wounded his ego is but for now it’s not our concern. 

“And your visions?” I ask once I’m sure that Samuel is gone and no longer in earshot. 

Wanda flinches but shakes it off as she occupies her hands and mind with a thread on her coat, “It has to be tonight and soon or we lose hope of getting her altogether.” Getting the confirmation that I need, I round the table and come to stand before her. Placing my large hands on my arms and pulling at them, I silently ask her to look at me. 

“You’ve done well,” I mummer to her, a smile wide on my normally frozen face. 

She wrinkles her nose at my praise but accepts it nonetheless. Peeking under my arm she spots the map that I’d been working on. Fear and anger rise up in her as she looks over what lies behind us. 

The map is of our lands, stretching as far south as the Unsea and as far north as York. The tiny village that we are encamped by sits in the northernmost mountains of York, placing us deep within enemy territory. 

A dotted line marks a route back to Devora and she gasps at where the route has to cross through. 

“Are you trying to get us killed?” she almost shrieks as she pushes under my arms and points at my handiwork which does mark a path through certain death. 

“He’s been found in their capital, ” I state as I join her at the table’s edge. 

“Well then congrats to the Coward King,” she scoffs, “but what business do we have going through there?”

I look at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “We’re going to get him on our way back.” “No we are not.”

“And why not?” “It’s…” she pauses, searching for a valid reason to avoid the capital city of York, Brookshire, “your personal vendetta against him is not a reason to risk all of our lives. We will be killed as soon as we are within sight of their walls. 

“I’m sure we can devise a way to get in,” I tell her while I start to cover the map, “and it is not a matter of my personal issue with their king. It is a matter of political correction.” 

“Political correction? Have you been taking lessons with Stephanos?” 

I offer her a small smirk instead of words as I rub at the spikes on my jawline, my scales reflecting the fire’s blaze at Wanda. 

“I shall ask again; are you trying to get us all killed?” 

I don’t drop my smirk but add to it with a shrug,“Isn’t that how all great military leaders die? In search of a great treasure for their people? ” 

Wanda scoffs at her captain’s undesirable need to prove that I am the best, “We are not treasures. We are people no matter what they say.”

“Ah but you Wanda are the greatest treasure that this world has to offer,” I tell her while I grip her shoulders. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, you know that,” she sighs. A shiver passes through her and it’s then that I am reminded of how…fragile humans are. York is not a warm place; both in manners and climate but here in their mountain range it is far colder than anything that Wanda would’ve experienced before. Her entire body shakes when the wind brushes through the tents and pushes her way to the front when there is a fire. Some of the others have taken to giving her warm clothing or fabric they find when we pass a village. A few times she’s come to my room at night and wordlessly crawled in, hoping that she would find a pocket of warmth in the thick blankets I collect. 

Outside of the tent, I hear Sameul shouting at the others, demanding they be ready within the hour. Footsteps crunch in the snow and horses protest against the cold beneath their feet. This new country is nothing like any of our homelands and it proves to be a worthy adversary as many of us fail to conquer or even assimilate to its conditions. During our nearly year-long expedition, we’ve lost nearly half of our party and things do not look to be any better if we can’t get to her. Soon. 

“Praised be the Sfant!”

An elderly woman cries as she shuffles her dying husband out of the small cabin. A hovel really is a better term for the bare shelter that I’m being housed in held captive in. With only two rooms, one being a tiny bedroom and the other the main living quarters, I have little room to practice my ‘gifts’. Although my guards, my captors truly, have clasped thick cuffs wrists to prevent me from leaving. The first time I attempted to run, a thin red string had connected me to my guards and led them directly to me. 

I learned to ignore my desperation for freedom rather quickly afterwards. 

I try to smile at the woman and allow my body to slump when she is gone. The ache in my bones has not gone away since I woke up in that freezing tower room. Pepper, all too gleeful, explained to me that immediately following my fainting spell, the guards on Anthony’s command attacked the Dragonborn and ‘rescued’ me from the ‘bastardly demons’.  My mother had been lost in the battle but Anthony miraculously survived and managed to use her death as yet another example of Dragonborn violence towards York. It became clear with the more I was told that it wasn’t a Dragonborn sword that killed her, it had been a human one. 

I’ve grown to believe that it was Anthony’s however I have nothing but hatred and vengeance to support my claim. 

Two men, tall, pale, and unnerving, are slumped in the two chairs that were left in the cabin. The taller one, a man with cropped golden blonde hair and a beard to match, is watching her intently with light eyes that unnerve me when I meet them. The other is a dark haired man with similarly cropped hair and facial hair is picking at his fingernails with a knife. 

Jonathan, the blonde, stands and places a table in front of the door as an alarm if anyone were to attempt to break in. He tosses a piece of bread to Brock, the dark haired one who gestures towards one of the rooms with the bread as he speaks to me, “Time for bed.”

I can’t help when my eyes roll on their own at his request and instead I decide to clean the altar around me instead. Candles, herbs, and jewelry as well as a book lay around my kneeling body, artifacts from the ineffective ritual I’d just performed. The woman had begged Jonathan and Brock for days to let her husband be seen by me but the two men merely waved her off in hopes that a person with a bigger purse would come by. Finally after sitting at the doorstep day after day, I took pity on her and allowed her in before the assholes could say a thing. 

Her husband had been poisoned, the woman claimed as she wiped at his sweaty brow and held him. One look at the black veins that crawled up his neck and were threatening to overtake his face let me know enough; the man had been poisoned but there would be no way for her to heal him. I could only offer remedies to ease his pain and end his life swiftly in his sleep. Dabbing oil on his temples, lips, and behind the ears would ensure that his death would come before the woman even made it to her own hovel. 

“Y/N, now,” Brock snaps sternly, his dark eyes beginning to rage at my brazen actions. 

I quickly turn my head, the chains and strings of gems that hang from my diadem swinging as I do so, “I’ll go when I’m finished cleaning.”

His eyes flash for a moment before he stalks over to me and rips me up by my arm. He knocks over countless expensive remedies and breaks what he didn’t spill in the process but he shows no concern for it all, not that he ever did. His grip on my arm is bruising and steel- like so I can’t tear myself free. Again my jewelry and other adornments clang together in a painful symphony as I’m dragged across the room; a stark reminder that I am nothing but a living doll to these people and to Anthony. 

“You do as I say and quickly,” he grinds out through clenched teeth before slamming the door on me, leaving me in the dark and alone. 

I let out a frustrated cry as I tear the undoubtedly priceless jewelry from my body and hair. Letting it clatter to the ground, I resist the urge to break it any further by stomping it or picking it back up to throw again. I’m left in my cuffs and thick layers of robes and dresses I’m forced to wear to look the part of their saint, the Sfant of the Great Rebirth. The heavy fabric becomes suffocating and I tear them off next, shedding the black robes that were embroidered in white and gold before nearly breaking off the buttons to the outer black gown. Similar to the robe, it too is embroidered with white and gold threads but within lays the signature blue of York. A part of me is tempted to burst out of the room in my chemise and throw the foul articles of clothing into the fire but I know I would not be fast enough. The foul men outside would hear my movements before I even made them and would stop me. 

Instead, surrounded by the fineries of my captors, I crumple to the floor and cry into my hands. I cry for the people that I cannot save, the people that have died to protect me, for the people that I will inevitably fail, and for the girl that died that night. I cry for the life that I once had where I was insignificant, for the life that was stolen from me when I was bound to the Dragonborn, and for the life that I am forced to live now. I cry harder as the pendant against my sternum weeps and pulses wildly, screaming out to its other half to no avail. The pain and sadness that lives instead of its milky heart has never faded in the year since it was given to me. For an entire year I have felt my very soul being torn in a thousand directions and yearn for the one they all lead to. 

 I hear the scuffling boots of the men outside my door, no doubt muttering to themselves about how pathetic I am and I wipe at my nose with the back of my sleeve. I get to my feet and gather the reminders of my imprisonment before Jonathan opens the door. Ever the quiet and observing man, he narrows his eyes at me and then scans the room before shouldering in with Brock not far behind. It turns my stomach rotten at the idea of having to sleep in the same room as them but there is no alternative. The first week I had been with them, I tried to escape only to be met with a heaving Jonathan clad in only his pants on the other side of the window. Ever since then, he’s slept under the window and Brock slept in front of the door, leaving me with no way out. 

Brock smirks at my state, puffy eyed and barely dressed, and goes to make a filthy comment but Jonathan shoots him a stern glare and the comments stay in his mouth. I should have thanked him for his “protection” but is it really protection when he helped take my captive? 

Regardless of his part in my capture, I find myself drawn to him. He is the better looking of the two, tall and corded with muscles from years of training. When he enters a room, he has to duck to avoid hitting his head on the door frame. Since that night I had tried to escape, the sight of his broad muscular chest has not left my mind but I will it away. Instead I try to focus on the stubble of his short beard. Only a mask of stoic duty and harsh words live on his face but sometimes a small smile will take their place. I might have found myself peering at his full pink lips and then up to the pale blue eyes that hide beneath his lashes and thick brows. 

But this is not another life and now only malice lives in my heart for him. 

Jonathan jerks his head towards the small bed against the wall, silently telling me to climb into bed before Brock forces me to. Not wanting to suffer another bruising grip, I drop the items in my arms at the foot and climb in. I can feel him roll his eyes at my child-like behavior but he doesn’t say a word as he settles onto the cold floor beside me. Brock wishes us both a goodnight laced with something that makes my skin crawl as he too settles in. I quickly turn to face the wall and curl into a ball while my blood pounds in my ears. 

Sleep doesn’t find me nor does rest in any form no matter how long I lay there. It feels like hours have passed when I hear something. Beyond the fire crackling and the men’s breathing, I can barely make out the soft crunch of hoofs on snow. My breath catches in my chest as the sound gets louder and the pendant begins to grow warm, nearly vibrating in nervous excitement. I clasp my hand around it as I force my lungs to slow down and try to regain my nerves. The buzzing in my hand has to mean one thing and if I am correct, Brock and Jonathan stand no chance. 

A powerful stream of wind whips through the cabin and pins them to the ground, awakening them within seconds from the force. Instinctively I shoot up in bed and am met with the sight of a person covered head to toe in deep red cloth, leaving only their thin pale hands and unnatural red eyes to be seen. I’m so swept up in the stranger’s eyes that I fail to notice men pouring in around them. One thin pale hand removes the cloth covering her face to reveal a woman who’s beauty far outweighs any person that I've ever come across. 

A human woman stands before her. 

A human woman who commands Dragonborn Knights as if she’s one of them. 

The woman cocks her head as she looks over me on the bed and says something in Draconic to a familiar hulking Dragonborn knight beside her. Jonathan growls at their words and struggles against the red wind that keeps him pinned in place. 

With a smirk fitting for a snake, she says, “Hello Sfânt Y/N, we’ve come to take you home.”

[amyrafierceblade]

"Windrippers have evolved into two groups; Forest Windrippers and Cave Windrippers. The main difference between these two aren't so much genetics or inbreeding, because the two subtypes are not a separate species from each other, as much as build, flight type and dietary needs.

Forest Windrippers have evolved into being more stocky, stout dragons with wings better suited for distance flying and hovering, they have shorter snouts, smaller but broader ears, pupils that are more likely to be round instead of slitted, and a wider sclera/smaller iris to accompany their tendency to be in brighter areas, as well as the fact that they are more likely to live off of fresh game, common berries like blueberries and blackberries.

Cave Windrippers, however, are lean and lythe, disheveled and even boney/starving looks being common on a healthy specimen. Their heads are very narrow, able to fit into smaller spots for smaller prey, as well as defined cheekbones, double collarbones(present in both Forest and Cave, its just the first and second set of collarbones are more visible), and hind legs much longer than their front legs + wings are more built for acting as a second set of arms/stabilising/balance for when they stand bipedal instead of quadpedal. They also have longer tails, thinner wings built for gliding and darting, and they survive off of scavanged meat like bats, cave lizards, or, if they're lucky, a Maxillian Hell Beast(who's flesh is toxic and they've learned how to cook it enough with their flames to lessen/negate the toxin) as well as some cave berries(also semi-toxic, you have to stomach through those for years before being able to actually eat them comfortably) and, occasionally, halite rocks which are more used as a snack or supplement than anything else. Their pupils are larger, able to slit further and smaller while expanding wider with less sclera, more iris, and they have phenomenal night vision from living in low level light conditions on the regular.

The earliest known diversification of these two types is around ~18000 or so years ago (examples being: Phantom[Cave, and Gnash[Forest]) as the species started moving from the caves out into the world, however a regression occurred for the Windrippers who stayed(were forced) in the caves, and instead their evolution directed them for cave life instead of forest life.

Both types are wary of water, as it can soak into the stretchier part of their wing webbing(located between the furthest and middle "fingers" of the wings[not to be confused with the thumbs]) and cause extreme pressure + added weight and drag a Windripper to a drowning death in a large enough body of water."

I remade my species base, they kinda changed a lil since the last remake. I've given up on drawing sexual dimorphisim, whoever uses this base gets to hassle with that bit.

Semi-Open species, just ask my permission before making a character. I'll have you read the entire species information beforehand, but otherwise they're free to make, bases free to use, and fully editable per needs/requirements of the design. Don't sell/trade without letting me know though(not permission, just more of a heads up sort of thing), and I do get the option to buy back any character I sell that the purchaser decides they want gone(only if the person is selling the character though, I'm not gonna haunt your dms or emails going "i wanna buy that character back from you" if you still want the character)

At this point, I'm rambling, but uh, yeah, have a look.

[thaopham196]

The furthest distance in the world

Is not between life and death

But when I stand in front of you

Yet you don’t know that

I love you

The furthest distance in the world

Is not when i stand in font of you

Yet you can’t see my love

But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both

Yet cannot

Be together

The furthest distance in the world

Is not being apart while being in love

But when plainly can not resist the yearning

Yet pretending

You have never been in my heart

The furthest distance in the world

Is not

But using one’s indifferent heart

To dig an uncrossable river

For the one who loves you.

Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)

[linfeier]

By The furthest distance in the world

Is not between life and death

But when I stand in front of you

Yet you dont know that I love you

[shadowbriar]

Cherry - Fred Weasley

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 1.8k Notes : This story was posted first on my Ao3 account.  Inspired by Cherry by Harry Styles. Fred thought that by distancing himself, he could do more protection than damage. What he didn't know is that from this separation, she might have found another man to lean in to. Gif credit to staywithmeforevr.

Fleur and Bill’s wedding was exquisite to say the least. Everything was aesthetically beautiful, complimenting the handsome couple who are now taking their first dance as man and wife. With everything happening to the world lately, such an intimate wedding is surely a sweet antidote.

She was approaching the younger Weasley brother who was standing on the side, his hands folded to his chest. She slid her hand in between those folds, locking their arms before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiles softly, returning a small kiss to her temple.

“They’re beautiful.” she says, watching the bride and groom “Your family surely knows how to host a wedding.”

The boy remains quiet, taking her hand and planting a small kiss on her knuckles.

“What happened to George’s ear?” she asks, watching the other twin curiously “Did you both get entangled in a nasty mischief again?”

He smiles lightly, eyes looking sorrowful, “You can say that.”

“Well, perhaps I could heal him. I’m learning a lot of healing spells and methods right now. Perhaps I could grow his ear back.”

“That won’t be necessary, Love.” he says fast, trying to calm the topic down “I suppose George likes it that way. Mum could finally differentiate us now. The lost ear has got its own charm, don’t worry about it.”

Fred hates lying to her but keeping her further from the truth seems like his best option right now. The less information she knows, the less she would be of a target. Although, with the fact that they are still together, she is prone to be aimed by the Death Eaters.

That, he’s working to fix too.

He has been trying to find a way, a lie, to tell her so that they could break up. He loves her dearly, there’s no question in that. But if being far from her means that she would be better protected, he would go as furthest as he could and keep his broken heart to himself. Watching George bleed on the sofa that night from the ambush they had after transporting Harry was a more than enough nightmare for one life. He wouldn’t be able to survive watching her anyway near such danger.

Fred’s thought was interrupted when a bright silver orb came falling from the canopy. Its beauty was met with worry and fear from the people. Murmurs and disquiet shuffling of the guests were building more tension. Fred protectively stood in front of her, bracing whatever it is that may come.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

Fred takes out his wand, his other hand keeping her behind him. Dark shadows were flying around, casting jinx to people as they went. Everything turns fuzzy and cold. Fred could feel the girl behind her pushing his hand away, wanting to fight too, but he couldn’t risk her. If he has to cast a petrifying spell on her to make her stay where she is, he would.

He would do anything to make sure she was safe. Anything.

____

Fred stood at the side of Diagon Alley. The drizzling rain and light fog made his heart even more gloomy. He watches the couple laugh and walk down the alley before entering a jewellery shop. He could see from the window outside that they were ring shopping. A happy smile never leaves her face.

It has been a few months since their abrupt break up. Fred never told her this, but after everything that has happened to him and his family, he couldn’t postpone any other day to break up with her. He knew that each day passed would mean greater danger approaching and he couldn’t risk having her by his side when the war happens.

And so he had to lie. He had to lie to her, saying how he’d been seeing someone else because of her busy schedule with the healing training. He needed to make her hate him so that she could continue her life, continue her dream to become a healer, and move on. Live a life without him. At least, until the war is over.

But right now, watching her being happy with another man makes him sick. He wanted her to be safe, but not like this. He hates seeing her giggling at another man’s joke because that was what they had, that was what he did.

He is indeed a selfish man.

____

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was completely filled with new patients. Injured wizards and witches from the war arrive like a tidal wave. Junior healers like her were deployed to help, when on normal occasions, such a junior shouldn’t be allowed to treat seriously injured patients. But the hospital was short in hands. Any extra pair of wands are welcome to help.

She was helping a wailing patient before spotting a familiar redhead, running in the hospital with his family as they pushed the bed. Their faces covered in blood and tears, mouth praying for the safety of their family member she has yet to see. So she calls for another healer and mediwizard to substitute before running to the direction of the red headed family.

An unprofessional act on her part, but this family is as close as her own. She has to go.

“George!” she calls as she reaches the family, pushing the bed with them “What happened?”

“Fred. Please help him.”

That was all she could hear before the bed was pushed to a room where only healers and mediwizard are allowed. She was shaking, hands covered in his blood. Fred’s body was covered in deep cuts, his body having light spasm from all the blood he’s losing.

She didn’t know what to do. Her fingers were trembling as the mediwizard started to cut his clothes, giving better sight of his wounds. She was never one to freeze from a gravely injured patient, but to see someone you love laying on the bed, fighting for their life is a completely different scenario.

“Don’t worry, Fred,” she whispers softly to him, trying to convince herself too “I’ll fix you.”

____

Fred couldn’t tell how long he has been hospitalised but the growing stubbles on his face signalled to him that it has been more than a week. His body was sore, but a lot lighter than how he would have expected from the serious injury he suffered. It was painful but a lot more bearable than how he imagined it would be. Perhaps he should thank his healer for doing such a wonderful job rectifying his body.

Not long after he was conscious, a familiar person came in. Her green healer robe was all crumpled. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, her eyebags more visible than he could ever remember. She looks evidently exhausted but once she locked eyes with him, her burden seems to evaporate.

“Morning,” she greets with a smile.

Fred couldn’t return her greetings. He watches her intently, trying to figure out if she was real or was it just his head playing games with him. Or perhaps he died and now sees her as he’s entering the gates of heaven. Either way, he’s glad to see her.

“Your chart is looking good,” she says as she looks at the clipboard placed on his bed side “Your vitals are stable, your wounds are no longer bleeding.”

Fred couldn’t care less about her examination. All he wants to do is to touch her, no matter how painful it is for him to move his body. He needs her close after everything that’s happened. He needs to be sure that she’s there, with him.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Weasley?” she asks softly, a smile plastered on her face “I had to patch you up good, I hope you don’t mind some scars later when they’re healed. I’ll find a way to make them less visible, I promise.”

“Are you real?”

The girl smiles, taking his left hand and giving it a light squeeze, “I’m here, Mr. Weasley.”

“Why are you calling me, ‘Mr. Weasley’?”

“Well, because you’re my patient and I’m your healer. I have to be professional, hence.”

“Couldn’t you just call me how you used to?”

Her smile fades for a little while before returning as a pained one, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Right,” Fred nods, dejected “You’re with someone else now.”

She was torn. George has told her everything as they wait for Fred to wake up. She now knows why Fred’s demeanour changed drastically in the past month before their breakup. She knew something was amiss, but she couldn’t find the word to ask him. He’s always seemed so out of reach then, and now she knows why.

Perhaps a little bit too late for that.

“Are you happy?” Fred asks, looking worried and hopeful “Does he make you happy?”

“Fred-”

“Do you call him what you used to call me?”

She lets go of his hand, now fidgeting with her own fingers as she tries to find the words. This isn’t a conversation you have with your patient who’d just been comatose for a week and nearly died from severe wounds. But it’s not everyday either that you had to save the life of someone you loved.

Someone you love.

“We’ll discuss this later when you’re better.” she says with a smile.

“I just want to know if you’re happy.” Fred says fast, taking a hold of her hand again before she leaves her seat “Tell me you are and I’ll be content.”

Her inside was falling apart. She loves him terribly and it kills her to know that she’s now tied to someone else. She thought she’d moved on but after watching him on the brink of his life that night, she knew that her love never changed.

“Fred,” she calls softly, a sad smile still apparent on her face “I know why you did what you did. George had told me everything about it and I can’t- I can’t think of a greater love than what you’ve done, though it hurt me in the process.”

The boy remains silent, an apologetic smile evident on his face.

“But I can’t- I can’t call my engagement off just like that. I need time to process this. I need time to process us.” she explains sorrowfully “And right now, I can’t think of anything else but to heal you. So can we please discuss this once you’ve recuperated?”

“If I remain in pain, will you tend to me?”

She smiles, caressing his hand, “You are my most special patient, I will tend you as long as you need me to.”

With one last squeeze, she stood from her seat and excused herself. Fred watches her walk away from his room, heart wrenched in pain greater than the one he feels physically. As she walks away, he knows that he has lost her for good. He has successfully protected her, yet fails to protect his own heart.

A cost he doesn’t think he could ever pay for.

[rayofsunas]

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy. 

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening​ 

​

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude 

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly 

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was. 

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti. 

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared. 

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed. 

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case. 

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character 

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response. 

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.  

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time. 

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance. 

“I can’t help but think about what they did.” 

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa. 

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment. 

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action. 

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.  

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was. 

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily. 

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic. 

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop, 

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you. 

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort. 

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?” 

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.” 

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him. 

“You always wait for me, darling.”

- 

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh. 

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried. 

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.” 

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded. 

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-” 

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood. 

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-” 

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff. 

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now. 

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.” 

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times. 

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas 

[jaeiheim]

The Furthest Distance In The World

The furthest distance in the world Is not between life and death But when I stand in front of you Yet you don't know I love you

The furthest distance in the world Is not when I stand in front of you Yet you cannot see my love Rather, when doubtlessly loving each other Yet is fated not to be together

The furthest distance in the world Is not being apart while in-love But when I cannot resist my yearning Yet pretending That you were never in my heart

The furthest distance in the world Is not pretending you were never in my heart But willingly digging upon the cold heart An uncrossable river for the beloved

So the furthest distance in the world is not among distant trees It is between same-rooted branches Yet can never lean nor touch

So the furthest distance in the world Is not in the separated branches It is between the distant stars As their paths can never cross

So the furthest distance in the world Is not when stars can never cross But it is when they align But only leaving A memory of brightness

So the furthest distance in the world Is not the light that is fading away It is this coincidence That we are not supposed to love

So the furthest distance in the world Is the love between the Fish and the Bird While one is lingering over the sky The other can only look upon in the sea

The Furthest Distance In The World By Zhang Xiaoxian (Translated by me)

[kiasnocturnality]

Hi! Sorry if you have answered this before but, how do you go about picking characters' names? Do you have any advice(because the ones you pick are very pretty)?

It really depends on the characters background! Alois, for example, I chose from a list of popular French names from the 15th century (along with the rest of his family). I like to delve into the meanings of names too and they can either set me on or put me off the name. For example, his sister Yvonne was going to be called Blanche but then I realised I couldn't call her Blanche Leblanc 'White TheWhite'. I liked how Alois means famous warrior bc he comes from a renowned family and is the only surviving heir to it.

Nasana was made from a name generator (big up Fantasy Name Generators, I love you) and I just really likes the sound of his name! Something about the consonant, vowel, consonant, vowel pattern made his name sound slithery almost? Which I thought suited him as a naga.

Takeshi was honestly just from a list of Japanese names that I found and liked and edenspetals said she was fond of the name so, true friend I am, I let her make that final decision for me on Take's name.

Desdemona was just pure interest of the Shakespearian heroine. I spent two years studying Othello and I really liked Desdemona! Her and my own Des are two very different women but I like the tragic connotations of the name (ill fated/unfortunate) as it's believed sirens are born from tragic/violent deaths. I was actually torn between the names Desdemona and Adrienne (fittingly meaning 'dark lady from the sea') but I left the final choice down to my friend itseivwhore who went for Desdemona!

Aphaeleon is just a different spelling of the astronomical term Aphelion which is simply a word meaning when something is at its furthest point of orbit away from the sun. I like the idea of Aphae's design centring around solar imagery (where the sun represents what is good and holy) while his name means he is the furthest point away from the sun (and therefore holiness) but he tries to act as though this actually means he is even holier, refusing to see that he is at his Aphelion from holiness while he talks about how he is purer than even God himself. (sorry I said holy a lot lmao)

Va'ariniel took me an hour to come up with. It's a completely mad eup name but I knew I wanted her to have a strong or even slightly uncommon letter as a main feature in her name such as a T, V or Z. I was also set on the fae siblings having apostrophes in their names because it's quite uncommon in everyday life and I think it helps to express the differences/distance between our own world and the fae court. I wanted her name to have lots of vowels to make it sound softer and more dainty/elegant like a faerie and the -iel ending I took from female Tolkien elves because I think he created an idea that that name suffix in fantasy is quite feminine. Va'ari's gender plays a key role in her life as she can be overlooked as a woman so I wanted to highlight something feminine in her name for that very reason.

Taruqu'uinel took me half the time to come up with and I had help from itseivwhore again. I've always loved the name Taruhuinn since I read Children of the Water on Wattpad years ago and I just really likes how such an elegant/fantastical name could be shortened to something as sweet and almost childlike as Taru. Taru as a nickname sounds much more playful than Va'ari and I wanted to use that to express how much more serious his sister is as he's still much more naïve than she is. I then wanted to make the name sound more serious so I added on a harder sound like the 'k' sound that is caused in the -uqu- part of his name. The apostrophe I have explained above in Va'ari's name explanation. The -inel was then similarly taken from Va'ari's name but for different reasons than why Va'ari has that very feminine-sounding ending. itseivwhore suggested that I make their names sound more similar to express their familial relationship and so it seemed appropriate that his name contained a similar sound/ending to his older sister.

I hope these individual explanations helped you a bit! Lists of names from time periods, name meanings, name generators, friends' opinions, existing character names, focuses on different sounds and their connotations all play key parts in how I name my characters!

[ven7s]

between life and death, there was you

— akaashi keiji x gn!reader ; wc. 0.8k ; genre angst

warning: death

some sort of detergent-like smell with undertones of an artificial lemon fragrance fills the stuffed hospital wards— the smell is distinct and akaashi can tell that if the lemon undertones were real it would be stale.

faint beeps from tall machines sound like echoes from one white wall to another. there's the sound of crying in one room while another holds laughter and joy.

finally, another slow minute reaches the finish line.

tucked away in the furthest corner of the colorless room is you. your hands jitter, eyes glancing around only to end up at the face of someone you don’t want to see — akaashi keiji.

a struggling breath pierces through your lips as your attempt to reach out deems a task too much to ask. your hands flutter down like a dead weight as if to imitate another defeat.

he takes your hand in his instead and watches you: you’re so frail, and you’re skin now makes you look inhumane. you look nothing like you used to a year ago: full of life and color.

the sound of chattering nurses picks up in the distance, and a single tear leaks from the crevice of your eye with a following attempt to lift your head once more to get a better view of the outside world.

only forty three seconds have passed, yet you’re just so, so tired.

“the doctors says they’re not sure,” akaashi pauses and his gaze turns to the iv bag that's connected to your body, “not sure about how much..time you have left.”

you stare at the wall instead: it’s the outcome of the failed attempt to look outside.

akaashi fiddles with the engagement ring on his finger, his eye unconsciously ends up on the ring that matches his on your finger. it looks so shiny and bright on you, a stark contrast from what you look like right now.

you don’t say anything- you can’t say anything, at least not in this state.

another wave of nausea arrives and lingers like the salty breeze fresh from an ocean wave.

akaashi sucks in a breath, then stands up. he leans in and kisses you on the forehead.

“i love you,” he whispers, for a second he feels your breath on his neck, almost like you’re saying ‘i love you’ back. it lingers for a moment.

akaashi blinks away his tears and straightens up, “i’ll..see you later, alright?”

the same day, akaashi is asked to come in and collect your belongings.

he leaves the room with a closed fist thats shaking and eyes watery.

the next day, you’re pronounced dead. passed away in your sleep.

when he finally enters your room it still has that detergent-like smell — not like he was expecting anything different anyway.

with a deep exhale, he starts looking around the room.

on the table in front of the tv is a book you said you had been meaning to complete for the past year. he sees the bookmark poking out, marking that you had only been able to read a bit more than half the book.

in between his search, he hears the nurse whispering to each other: one talks with pity for him while the other is confused of the shockingly calm nature he’s in.

with a sigh, he ignores the comments and continues to look around.

in the cabinet next to one side of your bed are your shoes. he remembers the day you had gotten that specific pair: you had looked so happy, beaming about how it was customized to your favorite color. he looks around the room with one last glance and finally notices a tin box underneath your bed.

when he opens the box he sees it filled with post-its. with a confused look, he sits down on the bed and sifts through each one.

‘i can’t wait for our wedding. i already started planning! it’s a secret though, you’re probably going to nag me that it’s too stressful.’

‘today was my third day into chemo. we’ll beat this together, okay?’

‘you looked more sad than usual today :( don’t worry. i’m going to get better soon!’

‘today, i felt more tired than usual.’

‘it feels weird to know i’m going to die in the next year.’

‘i wish we were able to get married before all of this.’

‘i never got to finish that book :(‘

he watches as your handwriting gets messier and messier, almost to the point it becomes illegible.

‘my back hurts a lot haha.’

‘i wish we could have built a family’

'maybe there's still hope :)'

‘i feel tired.’

‘keiji, i love you.’

the notes are the final blow.

in seconds, akaashi starts to weep. it’s uncontrollable and it’s loud.

all alone, in the furthest corner of the — now empty — room, akaashi holds the post-its in his hands and sobs.

through the years of promises to always be together, akaashi keiji is left with fragments of you in the form of wrinkled up post-it notes.

[when-they-write-stuff]

3. I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

- -

IF DEREK THOUGHT ABOUT IT, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. The glow of bright blue eyes, the plumes of smoke rising into the air, the look in his sister’s eyes as they gradually bled to red. 

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. It was some kind of dance, slow footsteps to the music of one thing becoming another. Act one was the mistakes and act two was the consequences. The pain, the death, and the ruin.

It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was alone in the world. He was alone and there was no one left to tell him what happened next.

For a little while, at least.

It hadn’t always been like this. No, once Derek’s life had been his family, his friends, and the feeling of right, safe, and home. All of that was long before the smell of perfume on his clothes, the imprint of red lipstick on his cheek, and every horrible thing that continued to happen after that.

At some point in his life, everything changed. Derek changed.

And it was all bad until it wasn’t.

“You know what they call people like you?” Stiles asked, plopping down onto the couch at his side. Derek gave the boy a flat look, closing his book slightly, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice, shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth as he flipped on the TV. 

Derek sighed. “No, Stiles, I don’t. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles glanced over at him, eyes going from the book in Derek’s hands to his face, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Nerds.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles said, smirk growing. “Derek Hale, the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills, is a nerd. Whoever would have thought?”

Derek rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his book. Beside him, Stiles snorted and returned to crunching chips obnoxiously loud, flipping to the first channel that was playing something superhero-y. Derek tried to ignore all of that, glaring down at pages. 

Once upon a time, he just would have growled or maybe shoved Stiles off the couch in retaliation. Or, most likely, Stiles never would have been allowed to hang out in his loft at all.

But it’d been a few years. And Derek didn’t feel like doing any of that. Instead, he suppressed a smirk and focused harder on his book.

Then Isaac came into the room and gave them both a strange look. “The energy in this room is so weird. What did I miss?”

Derek instantly tensed and he gave the beta a warning look; which Isaac didn’t even seem to notice. But Stiles’s scent just flared with confusion and he glanced away from the TV, giving the beta a look that was one of pure judgment. “Energy, scarf-boy? Really?”

Isaac’s eyes flashed gold. “Watch the nicknames, Stilinski.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

Isaac bared his teeth. “I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles said, barking a laugh. “You’re as scary as a rabbit, scarf-boy. But Stilinski throat-ripping is Derek’s job, remember?”

This time, the look on Isaac’s face was one of mild horror and when he glanced over, Derek just rolled his eyes, burying his face in his book again. And his ears totally weren’t burning just a little. They weren’t.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, voice a bit smaller as he inched toward the kitchen. “Sure.”

Stiles snorted in triumph at that, stuffing another mouthful of chips into his mouth. And sometimes, Derek wasn’t sure if he was awed by how easily the boy could ignore certain things around him, or if he were slightly worried.

Maybe relieved. Relieved made more sense.

“Dude, Derek,” Stiles said, elbowing him in the side. Derek snapped out of his thoughts, giving Stiles a red-eyed look, but the boy ignored him. “This is my favorite part of the movie. Now tell me honestly, Batman or Superman?”

Derek didn’t answer, giving Stiles a flat look. But Stiles just elbowed him again, pointing toward the TV, and Derek slowly followed his gaze.

“I don’t know, Stiles. What’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference? What’s the difference?” Stiles gave him a wide-eyed look. “Oh my god, you’re the absolute worst, Sourwolf. I can never forgive you for that sentence. Did you really just say that to me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. Superman.”

“I’m so offended.”

“You wanted an answer.”

“No, correction, Sourwolf, I wanted the right answer. And that was Batman one-hundred-percent.”

Derek shook his head, trying to return to his book. Except, he couldn’t remember when he had gotten another ten pages in and Stiles was pressing up against his side much too close now, still muttering his displeasure. The boy’s scent was an unfair distraction and Derek swallowed a growl, glaring at the words that didn’t make sense anymore.

What had Isaac even meant? Strange ‘energy’ in the room?

“I need some air,” Derek said, shoving himself up. Stiles floundered to the side and shot him a look of pure confusion, but Derek ignored it. Because dammit, he couldn't think clearly and— and fucking Stiles.

“I’ll be back,” he practically growled out, grabbing his jacket and keys. And Stiles’s protests were left at his back as the door of the loft slammed.

Derek didn’t know when exactly he changed. It might have been gradual. It might have been slow.

Right now, it was fucking Stiles.

-

Stiles found him in the diner all the way across town.

Derek was honestly more than surprised to see the boy poke his head in through the door, grinning when his eyes landed on where Derek sat in the furthest booth. He didn’t even have a chance to react before Stiles was plopping down opposite him, that stupid grin still on his face.

“If you were hungry, Sourwolf, you could’ve just said something. My dad’s on a shift tonight so I’m making dinner alone.”

Derek’s chest automatically tightened at that. But Stiles didn’t even seem to notice, picking up the menu in front of Derek and surveying the options.

“And I have to point out that the curly fries at Mel's Diner fifteen minutes down the road are way better than here, but I’d still be down to split a plate. This place does have better milkshakes, though, if that makes you feel any better. Which— hey! How do you feel about ordering milkshakes too?”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

The boy finally looked up, scent sparking with surprise. Derek clenched his jaw, holding the amber-eyed gaze, and Stiles dropped his eyes after a long moment, wetting his lips. “I’m bothering you?”

Yeah, Derek nearly said. But the word caught in his throat at the last moment and he settled for a flat look, to which Stiles squirmed under.

“I can totally go, dude. I think I’ve got… something in my freezer at home.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Once more, Stiles looked surprised. But this time, a little amused too. “I had Isaac sniff you out, Smartiewolf. Then I kicked him out of the car and I’m pretty sure he’s still moping on the side of the street somewhere.”

Derek blinked. Stiles grinned.

“Dude, I’m joking. You forget that I have to keep an eye on my dad and the meals he sneaks during work. You literally come here all the time.”

“You… what?”

Stiles shrugged. “I hang out in my car around lunchtime over the weekend. My dad thinks because this place is across town, he’ll get away with it. But let’s be honest, that only worked for like, three weeks. He always looks a little too pleased when he comes home after sneaking a burger.”

“I don’t even know what to do with that information.”

Stiles’s eyes danced. “The point is, you’re always here. And I’m definitely the smartest one in the pack, Sourwolf. Besides Lydia. But I put two and two together!”

Derek stared at him for a long moment. His head spun but no words formed. But then thankfully, thankfully, someone cleared their throat to the side and his attention snapped sideways to see the waitress.

She smiled, eyes going between them. “And what can I get you two?”

Derek didn’t even open his mouth before Stiles was handing her the menu, that little grin back on his lips. “A plate of curly fries and two vanilla milkshakes.”

The waitress nodded, turning away. And as she moved back across the room, Derek turned his attention back to Stiles. “What?”

“Er… was that okay, dude?”

Derek honestly didn’t know what to say. So he just nodded and Stiles sat back, scent flooding with satisfaction. 

“Great. Cause I’m also like, seventy-percent sure my dad might attempt picking up a grease-filled meal for his shift tonight and if I can catch him in the act, then that's another victory in my book.”

“Right.”

There were a lot of things about Stiles Stilinski that Derek just didn’t understand. From the first time he’d met him— and been oh so tempted to rip his throat out— to all these years later when he was still figuring the boy out. And this was definitely one of the moments.

But sese, it wasn't the distance or the milkshakes that had brought Derek here. No, it was the memories of Cora messing with the jukebox that used to be across the room, or Laura moving around, taking orders in her waitress uniform. It was homework spread across the table in front of him while he waited for his mom to come pick him up for basketball practice.

It was the prelude before act one. All the memories of a life he’d nearly forgotten in the years that had passed.

Stiles was talking about something, but Derek was barely listening. Instead, he looked at Stiles and wondered why nothing about the boy’s presence felt… wrong. It wasn't intrusive, Derek didn’t want to flash the red eyes or rip his head off.

It was the memories of the past. The smell of vanilla and fries as the waitress came back with their order. And then Stiles, looking at him with bright amber eyes.

It was the strangest of changes.

Derek glared down into his milkshake and tried to tell his stomach to stop feeling so weird.

-

Avoiding Stiles Stilinski really wasn’t as easy as Derek had hoped it would be.

Or, avoiding might not be the right word. Derek just made sure he wasn’t at the loft when Stiles was supposed to come over. He steered clear of the boy at pack meetings and made sure to pair him up with Scott or one of the other betas during the weekly patrols. He claimed the chair furthest from the TV during pack movie nights and excused himself to bed early when it seemed like no one was going to go home that night.

But he wasn't avoiding Stiles. And it wasn’t weird.

Boyd told him it was weird.

“In three years, I’ve never been put with Stiles on a patrol,” he said. “Do you know what we talked about all night?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Boyd crossed his arms.

“The weather.”

Derek couldn’t help but wince at that. Though, to be fair, that wasn't the worst pairing choice he'd ever made. He’d put Erica and Isaac together due to separating Erica and Boyd, and that had ended with Isaac coming back to the loft with a broken tennis racket stuck around his neck. Derek hadn’t even dared ask for the story behind all of that.

“You’re avoiding Stiles,” Boyd continued, bringing Derek back to reality. “And everyone knows it.”

“I am not.”

“Even Scott knows it. And he’s generally clueless.”

Derek clenched his jaw, glaring at the opposite wall. Then, reluctantly, he swallowed his pride. “And Stiles?”

“Have you even caught his scent lately?”

Derek had been doing his best not to. Not to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Boyd sighed. 

“You should pay him a visit. And bring curly fries.”

Derek really didn’t want to do that. But before he could say anything, Boyd was walking away. And wasn’t Derek the alpha here? He scowled at the beta’s back and then slowly glanced toward the loft door, fishing the Camaro keys out of his pocket.

He was the alpha here. He would make the decision whether or not to visit Stiles— and it wasn’t like Boyd had made any good points.

One hour later, Derek pushed open Stiles’s window and climbed into his bedroom, a bag of curly fries in one hand.

Stiles was working at his desk, muttering under his breath. But the moment Derek placed a foot on the floor, he was jumping up with his pen pointed out threateningly. Except, then recognition flashed through his eyes and the boy’s shoulders slumped a little.

For less than five seconds. And if remembering himself, Stiles’s eyes suddenly flashed again and he straightened right back up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Derek?”

Derek pulled himself the rest of the way into the room and wordlessly offered the bag of curly fries forward. Stiles hesitated for a moment before taking it and giving the contents a sniff. Then his eyes flicked back up, narrowing, and he pulled the bag protectively into his chest.

“Okay, so you brought food. Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Why would I apologize?”

The words slipped out before Derek could stop them and he instantly hated himself. Stiles clenched his jaw and Derek finally caught the scent in the room— that other than fries.

Dejection was probably a pretty good word for it. Dejection mixed with anxiety and a hint of anger.

Derek swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles didn’t say a word, still glaring at him. Glancing down at the floor, Derek shuffled his feet.

“I shouldn’t have started avoiding you.”

“What the hell was up with that?”

Internally, Derek fought the urge to turn around and pull himself right back out the window. He figured that would probably cause more problems than it would fix and he really didn’t want to have to go through this again. Ever.

“Derek—”

“I just needed to think,” Derek said, cutting him off. Stiles drew back a little, gripping the bag of fries tighter, and Derek sighed, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. “It wasn’t you.”

“It— it wasn’t me? What is that even supposed to mean, Derek?”

Honestly, Derek was still figuring that out.

“I swear to god,” Stiles said. “If this is some sort of ‘it wasn’t you, it’s me’ speech, I’m never going to talk to you again. I’ll probably be confused as hell and more than a little concerned about what’s going on in your wolfy brain, but I’ll still never talk to you again.”

That was one option, Derek figured. Then he hated himself for that thought.

Stiles stared at him as Derek stayed silent. And it was like the boy was pleading with him now; silent and strained, knuckles white and eyes searching Derek’s face for any hint of an answer.

Derek’s mind spun. Stiles’s shoulders drooped.

“Go away, Derek.”

Fuck.

Before Derek could stop himself, he took a step forward. Step one. Hands in fists in his pockets, heart thudding against his chest. It had been weeks since he’d been in Stiles’s room and it all crashed over him as familiar, and home, and right.

“I don’t want to,” he said, then hesitated. Stiles blinked.

“What?”

“I don’t want to,” Derek said again. “Go, be gone. Not be around you.”

Stiles’s heart audibly skipped a bit. Derek swallowed hard.

“I like it,” he said. And why the hell was this so hard? Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Derek took another step forward. Step two. “I like being around you.”

Stiles’s scent was anxious and confused now and the boy nervously licked his lips, not moving from the spot where he stood. Derek tried not to follow the action, gathering himself up to take one step closer. Step three.

“I like you, Stiles.”

Silence.

That’s what crashed over the room as Stiles stared at him. The urge to flee the room struck Derek the moment the words came out, and he stuffed his hands right back into his pockets, hunching in on himself.

Silence was all there was. Stiles continued to stare at him and Derek couldn’t even hear the boy’s heartbeats over the white noise filling his ears. 

Fuck.

“Never mind,” Derek said, the words suddenly spilling out. “Never mind, forget it.”

Before he could stop himself, he was turning around and heading back to the window. Forget the avoidance strategy— he might just have to leave Beacon Hills altogether. Go back to New York, find a job fixing up old cars again.

But then there was a hand on his sleeve, keeping him from taking another step and Derek froze. The window— his escape— was only a few feet away.

Slowly, Stiles pulled him back and Derek didn't fight, turning around to face him. Amber eyes and a mole dotted face.

Soft lips that were barely containing a small smile.

“Derek,” Stiles said, the smile slowly growing bigger. “Did you just say what I think you did?”

But Derek was rooted to the spot and just like that time back at the diner, all those weeks ago, he had absolutely no voice.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, stepping closer. “Sourwolf?”

“Your fries are going to get cold.”

Yeah, that’s the first thing that left Derek’s mouth.

Except, Stiles’s face just lit up and he laughed, the sound like wind chimes in the breeze. There was a new scent in the room and Derek could have melted as feelings of happiness washed over him. Stiles’s hands slipped down to Derek’s own and the boy's fingers brushed against his, before threading through them carefully.

Derek’s chest tightened and it felt so weird.

“Derek,” Stiles said, eyes dancing. “Do you know what they call people like you?”

“No,” Derek whispered. Where had his breaths gone? “No, Stiles. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles beamed, bright and wide. He tilted his chin upward before leaning forward, breaths warm against Derek’s skin. “Adorable.”

Had it been any other day, any other moment, Derek would have fought tooth and nail against anyone ever calling him adorable. But then Stiles’s lips were brushing against his own and Derek all but fell into the touch, the feeling, any rational thought leaving his brain.

Adorable. Huh.

Maybe he could be that for Stiles.

-

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. Losing everyone he loved, turning into something he didn’t recognize. It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was all alone in the world.

He'd been alone for so long.

But then one day, Stiles Stilinski took his hand. Took his hand, kissed him softly, and showed him how to dance again.

- -

A/N: so, I’m very late to these prompts, but I finally have some motivation again! I hope this prompt came out (late) but alright @jbbarnes​ <3 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {Epilogue}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Fluff, 

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

NOTE: DO NOT COME FOR ME. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the public ripped Chris a new asshole when the odds seemed ever not in his favor, they massacred Ana once the facts were revealed. When it came out just how low Ana had gone in her efforts to get your husband, the world turned into a colder place. The tabloids ran endless pieces on what a horrible person she was. They were relentless when it came to nitpicking not just her behavior and actions, but they even went in on her acting. You could have said you felt bad for her, but you didn’t. Not one bit.

 The support that came out for you and Chris was heartwarming. Everyone seemed to want to wrap the two of you in a cocoon of support and love. You received well-wishes from fans and supporters, and even celebs sent floral arrangements, all expressing their support for you. The narrative that was spun was the diabolical plot of Ana and jilted ex Christiano who concocted a plot that was to end with Ana getting Chris and Christiano kidnapping you. Most of the details were released to the press, though you and Chris had both tried to keep as much of it under wraps as possible. Neither one of you wanted to continue dealing with it. You just wanted to move forward and focus on better things—happier things.

 Because Christiano had broken into your home and attempted to cause harm to its residents, Chris’s actions were seen as self-defense, and Chrisnao’s death ruled an accidental result of self-defense. Though the White family were distraught once they were faced with the severity of Christiano’s actions and continued plans, they didn’t have the heart to put you through any further trauma. You’d suspected it was Christina’s doing, and a floral arrangement from her a few weeks after the incident proved your suspicions.

 You’d been friends with her first, and it was a friendship that survived the end of your relationship with Christiano. This was her way of letting it be known that her brother did wrong. A month after the incident, her statement shed light on Christiano’s mental health and revealed he’d been struggling for several years since the break-up. She made no apologies for his actions and didn’t try to make him seem like a victim. She was adamant about letting the full truth be seen. She did offer an apology to you, Chris, your families, and your children.

 For her part in the plot, her actions of physically trying to kill you, not knowing you pregnant at the time, was what sealed Ana’s fate. She was sentenced to jail, and it wasn’t entirely the sentence of a privileged woman. It was one of a criminal who showed no remorse for their actions. She was given nine years behind bars, and because she was living and working in the US on a visa rather than citizenship, after the completion of her sentence, she would be deported to Spain. 

Even film studios were distancing themselves from her at record speed. All the roles she had been considered for quickly changed their views and voiced wanting you to have the roles. It was sort of poetic to you. She hated you because you were black, and you didn’t deserve all you had, including your career and husband. In the end, she was the absolute furthest from your husband, and now everything that was hers would be yours.

 You and Chris were on a flight to Massachusetts two days after the incident. Neither of you were suspects; there was no reason for you to remain in LA, so you quietly packed up what you wanted and made arrangements to pack up the house for the foreseeable future, then went where both of you felt like you belonged. You left any details about your career plans to your manager to close. Everyone seemed to understand the want you had to step back from work and Hollywood, especially when the news was out that you were going to be parents.

 That was the only thing Chris seemed to care about. He was on a mission to keep you comfortable, happy, and taken care of. From the minute he carried you over the threshold of the home he’d built for you, it felt like a fresh start, a new beginning meant just for the five of you.

 He was there beside you every morning, patting your back as you vomited because of your morning sickness until you were four and a half months along. He was there for every single appointment. He read every book you did to prepare for the remainder of your pregnancy and life with twins. He was there preparing you lunch every afternoon, there massaging your feet and back at the end of every night. He was there to lather on the cocoa and shea butter to your growing belly. He was there to compliment every stretch mark you received because of your quickly stretching skin. He was there to kiss each of them while telling you how much he loved each and every tiger stripe, as he called them. He was even there for you when none of your clothes fit you, and he offered you all his cable-knit sweaters, hoodies, sweatpants, and button-downs.

 When your belly became so big you couldn’t see your feet; he put your shoes on for you. When you couldn’t get up without looking like a beached whale, Chris was there to carry you wherever you wanted to go. There rarely went an hour that went by where he didn’t strip you to worship your body as if you were his scripture, and he worshiped you and you alone. Not a day passed where you didn’t feel loved, desired, and protected.

 Through it all, you decided that therapy was beneficial and a powerful enough tool to bring you back together that you wanted to continue. Dr. Danquah was thrilled having the two of you as clients again and, because of your progress, saw no need for you to see her more than twice a month to keep the lines of communication and the roots of love and passion ever strong. The love you felt for Chris and the connection you felt to each other only deepened throughout your pregnancy.

 Just when you thought you couldn’t love him anymore, he did something to prove you wrong. Every day you found something more to love. If it wasn’t his fun-loving nature that was on display every time he played with Dodger, it was his outdoorsy adventurism with the way he bounded from the bed once the sun rose to drag you on another of his nature walks so he could photograph the trees or the hills. If it wasn’t his romantic side with how he prepared candlelit baths every night that posed as a prequel to dinner by candlelight and the most passionate session of lovemaking, it was his undercover, not so undercover freak antics with him wanting to christen every single room in the house and a few spots outdoors with your lovemaking. At nights when he thought you were sleeping, you heard him talking to the babies as he caressed your stomach. That was what you loved most. His sheer love, devotion, and adoration for his children and the strong protector that resided in him. he was the only one for you.

 “Push Riah.”

 “Don’t fucking tell me to push. You push!”

 Chris snorted, and you wanted to kill him. His hands rubbed your belly before he kissed your jaw from his position behind you in the tub in your bathroom.

 “I can push with you, but you have the babies in you. You have to show them the way.”

 You groaned, and it echoed in the hallowed bathroom.

 “You can do this, Uriah,” Lisa encouraged, giving your shoulder a firm squeeze.

 You looked across to your mother, who nodded, hoping to steel your nerve. Chris kissed your ear.

“Come on, dragonfly. You got this. Bring our babies into the world so we can spoil them.”

 And you can change all the poop diapers?”

 Chris snorted again. “I don’t recall making any such promise.”

 You squeezed his hand with everything you had. He groaned and hissed from the pain.

 “Ah, ah, wow. Okay, I see my error. Yes, all poop diapers that you don’t want.” You released his hand, letting him relax somewhat.

 “Use that, baby. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts, and I’m sorry.”

 “This is your fault,” you pointedly accused.

 “Yes. My fault. I take full blame. I’m sorry.”

 “You owe me so big for this, Evans.”

 He nodded, agreeing with you. that was when the pain intensified at levels that made you regret choosing a natural birth at home.

 “Oh fuckity, fuck. So big, Evans!”

 “You’re crowning. Do you want to come over here and catch your baby, dad?”

 Chris moved from behind you and got into position between your legs. His eyes widened, clearly seeing the baby’s head. The excitement around you was palpable, and it gave you a burst of energy to get the baby out. You grabbed your knees, hunkered down, and pushed because whether you were supposed to or not. Your scream was loud, and the screams of those around you picked up. They shouted to you, encouraging you to keep going and not to stop. The look on Chris's face suddenly changed, and you saw the tears in his eyes.

 “Oh my god, Riah, I can—I can see—oh baby, I can see a face. come on, Dragonfly, one more push.”

 You screeched out and fought through the intense burning you felt, and in seconds the crying of a baby echoed in the bathroom.

 “Aah, oh my god, Riah, it’s a girl. She’s here,” Chris elated as tears rolled down his cheeks.

 You smiled widely as Chris held your daughter and cut her umbilical cord before he placed her on your chest.

 “Oh my god!”

 She was perfect, with a full head of hair that was the color of Chris’s and cheeks so plump you were tempted to pinch them. You only had a moment to place a kiss on her forehead before you felt another stab of pain that made you shout again. The second midwife took the baby from you so you could focus on pushing out her sister.

 “She’s right there, Uriah. You’re doing incredible, baby,” your mother informed.

 “I’m thinking three good pushes, Uriah.  When you feel the urge, push.

 You instantly felt the urge to push and returned to your previous position and pushed as hard as you could. This push was just as painful as the first one, but you felt this push accomplished more.

 “Good push, her head is out. One more, and she’ll be out,” your first midwife said.

 The look on everyone's face was one of anxiety and excitement. The sounds of your first daughter’s cries had died down, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was your panting, screeching, and grunting.

 “Fuuuuuck!”

 You managed to push your daughter out, and her cries filled the bathroom. Soon, it was not one baby crying but both of them.

 “You did it!”

 Lisa and your mother both kissed your cheeks and forehead, happily congratulating you and telling you how well you’d done while the midwives cleaned the babies to bring them to you. When Chris came up beside you, your mothers backed away, giving you a few moments together. Chris kissed your forehead.

 “You’re incredible. You did so good, dragonfly. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you once, then twice, and nuzzled his nose against yours.

 “I love you so much.”

 “Did someone order two perfect babies?”

 The midwives placed your daughters in your arms.

 “This is baby A; she was born first and her sister.”

 Your tears flowed freely as so much emotion filled you. Love in it’s purest form washed over you.

 “Chris. They’re beautiful.”

 “Of course they are. They look just like you,” Chris said, kissing your temple.

 A comfortable silence fell between you as you admired your newborn daughters.

 “Any decision on names?”

 You smiled and ran your thumb across the baby’s brow in your arm.

 “Yeah. How do you feel about Nova and Rae?”

 Chris’s face lit up as his smile spread so wide that you wondered if his face would split in two.

 “I love them. Nova and Rae Evans,” he uttered. You nodded and couldn’t help but choke up, seeing the emotion on his face.

 “Chasing dragonflies,” he whispered the meanings of the names you’d discussed weeks ago before his lips met yours for a tender kiss.

 With his forehead pressed to yours, he whispered again. “Rumor has it you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

 You smiled and looked at him before pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss. “Rumor has it you’re a DILF.”

 Chris laughed so loud it startled your babies, making them stir and cry. You joined in laughing with him, unable to keep your sublime happiness under wraps any longer.

 “Rumor has it you two will have siblings in record time,” Lisa said slightly above a whisper.

 Everyone in the room laughed, not knowing how true those were most likely were. You and Chris gazed at each other with longing and love in your eyes. When Chris kissed you again, this time taking his time to do it properly, completely and heartily, you knew his mother’s words would be the truest spoken.  

                                             The End!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

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@koko-michelle @sophiasotherdaughter @maeleeme  @mauvecherie​ @jbrizzywrites​

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. Please check that you are taggable. I’m sorry.***

[skye-huntress]

RWBY Panel 2021 Reaction

I figured why not. I was up at three in the morning to watch the panel just for even the smallest sneak peak or news of Volume 9 so I might as well throw out my reactions and thoughts into the void of the internet.

Let me start off with the biggest non-news, the lack of date for Volume 9. In the back of my mind, this was something I feared to expect. Between the pandemic, the blackouts, and probably a lot of other disrupting forces I am not aware about, it’s not reasonable to expect CRWBY to be at the same place with every upcoming volume every year. Similar for the Volume 8 Soundtrack, though for that I wasn’t expecting to hear any new updates on.

I am interested in the new game, Arrowfell, though I will admit that side-scrollers are not a style of game I’ve ever found compelling. It’s RWBY though, so of course I am going to check it out. They never said anything about what platforms it would be on though.

Now for the sneaky peak:

I’ll admit, that first half of it was intense. It really brought everything back, the anxiety, the near-panic, the anticipation of what would happen. It felt fresh seeing it from Ruby’s perspective.

Maybe seeing Yang’s fall happen in realtime will get people to lighten up on Ruby and realise that she couldn’t have really done anything, but I doubt it.

It is interesting to see how the edges of Ruby’s vision light up when she’s trying to call on her silver eye powers. I’d wager she experiences other sensations as well when its working and not just the sudden fatigue we see her go through after the fact.

So Neo is still attacking Ruby on sight despite the fact this path may have already sealed both their fates. I feel I should say this, I don’t think there is any reasoning with Neo. If she’s half as smart as she thinks she is, there’s no way she genuinely believes Ruby is responsible for Roman’s death. She went after Cinder first for a reason. She’s angry and in pain, and she needs someone a little easier to stab than a rogue maiden to take out her frustrations on. Ruby’s just a convenient scapegoat for Neo. One way or another, it will end this volume.

Oscar, Yang, Penny. These are all people Ruby has failed recently. Oscar was captured and tortured and Ruby didn’t even hear of it until afterwards. Yang took the blow meant for her and was the first to fall. Penny is the Maiden and it was Ruby’s job to protect her but now she is at Cinder’s mercy and that bitch doesn’t even have the word in her vocabulary. I feel this is the volume where Ruby has to confront her failures and increasing doubts about her leadership. We’ve been building up to it for a while

All alone and unarmed on a shore, in a strange place in another world. Nothing to do but keep moving forward.

At the very least, that she landed in the same realm we saw Crescent Rose suggests all or at least some of the Fallen have ended up in the same place.

Predictions

For Ruby, I think this will be a critical volume for her. All sorts of negativity has been building up with her for a while now and with her current situation, the fate of her friends, and when the news of Penny’s death inevitably reaches her, something is going to give. This might be a break from the plot but it is also a break for Ruby to reevaluate her leadership, her choices and how she’s been handling basically everything. How this changes her will likely determine the direction of the show and how the protagonists confront Salem going forward.

For Weiss, this could also be a big volume for her. For one, she’s gained and lost a lot this volume. Atlas, for all its faults which caused her to leave it twice, was her home, and now it is rubble and those of her people that survived are now refugees in a Kingdom they are not necessarily welcome. She confronted her father, and was working on her relationship with the rest of her family, but is now separated from them. She wasn’t as close with Penny as Ruby, but she lost her, too, and now her sister has the same target on her back and is probably doomed to suffer the same fate sooner or later. She also thought she lost her other family and it will be bittersweet to find herself stranded with them if when she can find them again. It’s been a rollercoaster for her.

While on this note, I think we are due for a heart-to-heart between Ruby and Weiss. Ruby recently had a talk with both Blake and Yang about her leadership, but I think Weiss has the best chance of actually reaching her. After all, Weiss was the first one to openly express doubts about Ruby being a leader, and it was also a position she once coveted for herself. Weiss is the sceptic turned believer, and she’s not afraid to call things as they are, so I think she is and always was the best one to talk to Ruby about this, which is why I think they never had this conversation before. Now that Ruby is in this critical stage, of course this is the perfect time for her once reluctant and now devoted partner to put in her two cents.

Since everything went down with Adam and her relationship with Yang improved, I haven’t been quite sure where Blake’s character arc will go from there. When Yang fell, she nearly completely lost and it clouded her judgment. After her talk with Nora, I wonder if Blake herself needs to reevaluate if perhaps there are parts about her own life and wellbeing that she has neglected since she and Yang have gotten closer. Perhaps it’s a time for her to reevaluate her priorities, which doesn’t necessarily mean distancing herself from Yang but it could still mean she puts more effort into herself and her other relationships, especially with Ruby, Weiss and Jaune.

Yang was the first to fall and everything went to shit after the fact. She stopped a sneak attack on Ruby but she couldn’t stop Neo or Cinder, and she was not there for her team or Penny. That moment is probably also too familiar to what happened with Adam at Beacon for Yang’s comfort, not that I think there was anything she could do better in either situation besides simply being faster. I don’t know what Yang’s response to everything will be, what effect this will have on her. Plus I can’t forget that she’s probably suffering a concussion right now.

As for the Bees, despite all they’ve been through and even with the split that happened last volume, they were still closer than ever. There’s a mutual respect there for each other’s decisions. If one is going through something, the other will be there to talk them through it or even simply be a shoulder to cry on. If this is a situation that they’ll be stuck on for the foreseeable future, at least they have each other and there are worse places they could be stranded in. Despite everything that happened or maybe even because of it, it might seem the perfect setting and timing for some confessions and more.

Now to Jaune. He certainly hasn’t had it easy. From the start, he was the furthest behind among his peers, and now he’s been licensed earlier than most of them. Pyrrha helped him a lot with that, and was the first to believe in him and she was taken from him, and it seems he came to terms with that since Argus. He didn’t let his grief blind him and he stayed on task with the evacuation, and he wasn’t reckless when he did confront Cinder. He did everything right, but it wasn’t enough to save Penny and in the end he had little choice but to respect her dying wish. It had to be done, I don’t blame him for being put in that position, but it’s still got to hurt. It’s also so appropriate that his weapon, one of his most important tools as a Huntsman, was broken after spilling innocent blood, almost like a punishment(?) for his “betrayal” to what a Huntsman is suppose to be. He’s going to carry this until the day he dies, and now he has to face his friends, especially his best friend whom was the closest of all of them to Penny.

Finally Neo. Like I said, I don’t think she can be reasoned with. She abandoned any sort of rationale a long time ago, and it will take more than words to shake her out of it, if it’s even possible anymore. I doubt there will be a peaceful solution to this conflict, it feels too similar to what went down with Adam towards his end. He also refused to back down, he too insisted on making Blake his scapegoat, and despite being given every chance to walk away, he persisted until his death. Time will tell if Neo can avoid that fate, but my doubts about that have only strengthened since the sneak peak.

As for Oscar and the others, I already had my doubts about whether we’d see them at all. The way CRWBY talked about this volume, it seems clear that this is our break from the main narrative so I doubt we will be seeing much of Vacuo yet. I am more than okay with that, it’d be good to take a break from the main plot and focus and our main girls again and we’ll get more of that with a significantly reduced cast.

[glenncoco4]

Heat

A/N: Pre-All In Densi. Rated M.

••••

She steps over to the bedside table, flicking on the small table lamp as the sound of his water drenched shoes squish against the old shag carpet. The loud pounding from her heart fills her ears when the door shuts. Ever since last night things between them have been a bit off, maybe its because of her reaction to finding out that Grace, Deeks’ girlfriend of eight months, got a job offer in New York. Or maybe its because every time he’s tried to speak to her today, she’s found an excuse to leave or change the subject. Probably both.

Now the problem is is that there was a case in Big Bear that needed NCIS’ attention and they were the only ones available. It was about 3 hours into their drive until Deeks finally worked up the courage to ask her what’s going on when a loud pop sounded and the SRX jolted. 

So here they are, in a small roadside motel, drenched from head to toe with no service and no car. Luckily for them, the last room available was a twin room, but there’s definitely no escaping her partner’s interrogation now. But it doesn’t mean she can’t try. ”You can take the shower first.”

His eyes haven’t strayed from her since they left the SRX stranded on the side of the dark mountain road. She’s shivering and all he can think about is her reaction last night. The pure anger she was trying to hold back, but more than that he could see the hurt in her mismatched orbs. The lost little girl that had been let down so many times before he came along.“No it’s okay. You should go.” 

“Deeks, just go.” She signs in resignation. The thought of freezing to death sound so appealing right now because if she’s dead at least she won’t feel this gut wrenching ache inside her soul anymore. 

“Listen, Kens, I-“

“Just forget it, Deeks. I know I was out of line.”

She can feel the dread wash over her as he tells her the news. There are so many things she wants to say but its a question that she fears the answer to that leaves her lips. “So you’re going with her, aren’t you?”

“I-“

Not giving him time to respond for the anxiety of what his answer may be, she quickly cuts him off. “I should’ve expected this.”

His brow furrows as he watches turmoil filled anger fill her eyes. “What?”

“You chasing some tail to another state.”

He’s gobsmacked, what in the hell is her problem? She’s never had a problem with Grace before but now apparently she’s just some blonde bimbo and he’s a douche thinking with his dick. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Well, you know what, Deeks? You go…you abandon the people that depend on you, that need you.”

There are tears forming in her eyes and it breaks his heart. Everything is just so screwed up and he’s not sure what to do, well he is, he’s just not sure what the outcome will be. He could lose his best friend. “Kens-“

“No, I gotta go.” She takes a shake breath before turning to the door and with one last look, says the words that feel like ice picks to both of their hearts. “Goodbye, Deeks.”

He looks up from his phone as the bathroom door slowly opens and a gust of steam fills the room. She trails out in sleep shorts and a tank top, her teeth still chattering as she makes her way over to the fire place. He tries to distract the awkwardness in any way possible, awkwardness that has never been apart of their relationship until now. “No service. I can’t believe this.”

“I can.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“It means-it means nothing. Never mind.”

“Kens.”

“What?”

“What were you fixing to say?”

Taking a deep breath she realizes that maybe this is a good thing. Maybe getting this out in the open will help her move on even if she doesn’t want to. Turning around, her eyes meet his cerulean blues, those eyes…those eyes are one of the things she’ll miss most about him. Crossing her arms around her chest to try and keep herself steady, she wills herself to get this out. “It means that things tend to go horrible for me in life. First my mom left me, then my dad died, and I was out on my own for so long that the next time I trusted someone, he left me, too. I was closed off for so long and then you came along and I really thought-I really thought that you would be here to stay. When you came along all those other people that left hurt less because I had you. You were here and made me feel like I mattered. That I was worth a damn. I just really thought you’d be the one that stayed.”

He can feel the tears pooling in his eyes as he quickly throws the covers off him and stands up, closing the distance between them. He wants to reach out to her, take her hands and never let go, but stops himself. “Kens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now but what happens if Grace takes that job in New York and you follow her?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I know. You’re gonna follow her and eventually get married. Meanwhile I’ll be here, living in my studio apartment, probably die getting eaten alive by my hoardings, knowing that the man I love is on the other side of the country, living the dream I had for us with some other woman.” Her eyes go wide when she realizes the words that came out of her mouth, she intended to let him know how she felt but not that much.

His eyes go wide at her confession. He can feel his heart rate pick up speed because Kensi doesn’t do this. She doesn’t let her emotions be known to the world. “The man you what?”

“Nothing. Just forget it, Deeks.” Teeth still chattering, she quickly makes her way to the furthest side of her bed and hurriedly hurries herself into the covers before switching off the lamp. “Goodnight, Deeks.”

She tosses and turns for about 10 minutes, finally landing on her side as the sound of the crackling fire fills the room. She can sense movement on his side of the room but brushes it off, figuring he’s getting up to go to the bathroom when suddenly the comforter on the other side of her bed is pulled back and the bed dips. Her eyes go wide as he comes up behind her, his arm going around her waist and nothing between their bodies but the thin material of her sleep shorts and his boxers. The feel of his already stiffing member against her ass making her pussy wet.“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’re shivering.”

His breath is warm against her ear, sending even more desire through her body. She tries to hold back the moan from leaving her lips and urge to grab his cock because there’s still one thing in the way of this truly happening. “Look, I appreciate it, but I’m sure Grace wouldn’t.”

“There’s no more Grace.”

She quickly spins around in his arms, mismatched orbs opened wide in shock. “What?!”

“We broke up.”

She can feel a new surge excitement run through her body at his words. He’s not leaving. He’s staying. “Please tell me you didn’t break up with her over the phone earlier.”

“Of course not.”

She looks at him quizzically, trying to hold back from straddling his hips and having her way with him. She needs answers first and then she’ll have her way. 

“We broke up last night after you left. I was going to tell you today, I just couldn’t find the right time and then we got stranded.”

“But why?” Her brow furrows in question. 

“Well, for starters she wanted me to go with her to New York and my body can’t handle those long winter months.” A smile spreads to his face as she smiles and her forehead finds his chest. The vibrations of her laughter, sending a thrill through his body. “But really, it was because I realized something.”

She pulls back, her magnetic eyes full of hope and yearning. “What’s that?”

“I’ve never been able to just be with Grace, you know just sit in silence and be with her, really relax.” He brings his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across her olive toned skin…this is the moment. “Everytime I’m with you no matter how much noise or how little, I feel at peace just being near you.” 

“You-you do?”

“I love you, Kens.”

Her heart begins to hammer and she can’t resist any longer as her lips find his in a desperate, earth shattering kiss. “I love you. I love you so much.”

He can’t hold back any longer, especially with her pert nipples poking him through her top. His hand traces its way down her stomach before his fingers latch onto the hem of shorts and pull them down around her knees giving her the chance to kick them off completely before he’s shimmying out of his boxers.

His hand wraps around her thigh and spreads her leg open, giving him the perfect view of her already soaked pussy. Cerulean blues find mismatched chocolate orbs as he licks his lips, sending a bolt of electricity through both their bodies. “I want to taste you…but first-“ 

She watches as he takes hold of his hard cock, rubbing the tip through her folds before he carefully slides into her, making them both moan as a pleasure neither have ever experienced before encapsulate all their senses. Lifting up her top, to reveal her breast, her hands wrap around each one, letting out another moan as he continues to drive into her over and over again. 

His lips find hers in a hungry kiss. God, he loves her so much. If he could spend the rest of his life like this with her, he would. He works his way from her lip to her jaw, down her neck, eventually finding her chest. As he continues to drive into her, his eyes find hers telling her what he needs. 

She sees what he needs in his eyes and moves her hands away from her perky breast giving him the go ahead. And as soon as she does, his lips find her pert nipple as his free hand massages the other. Euphoria. Euphoria is the only word she can think of to describe this feeling.

It doesn’t take long for both of them to come undone. Years of pent up love and desire giving them pleasure beyond comprehension to anyone but them. They let out one more unified moan of glory before he pulls his softening member from her drenched heat and plops down on his back next to her. 

His arm finds its way around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as her own arm finds its way around his abdomen. He places a kiss to the top of her head, relishing in this moment, the sound, the smell, the feel of her sweaty body pressed against his. 

“Will you love me like this forever?” She tilts her head back with an openness shining in her eyes. An openness that she’s only let him see.

“Only if you promise me the same.”

A soft smile spreads to her lips as she slowly nods her head. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we.”

His forehead finds hers, their eyes dancing with passion, ecstasy and the most pure love known to man. “Yeah, we really are.”

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

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[yoondoze]

coin toss | jjk

you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.4k

genre: soft and hard angst, mafia/detective agency au, complicated exes (?)

warnings: language, violence, blood, character death, sexual implications, little bit of gore, jimin has a weird hatred of yoongi idk don’t take it seriously, mentions of torture, grief, too many italics

a/n: long time no see everyone, hope you’re doing well! this story was inspired by my favorite anime, bungou stray dogs (it’s got a soukoku type beat & you’ll recognize some structures). it’s my first back in a while, and it’s also the longest piece i’ve written, so i hope you all enjoy it! <3

To be called to the Boss’s office for a quick word is almost always a sealed exit ticket from this world. One, because regular meetings of necessity are always held in the boardroom and discussed amongst the executives. Two, one on one meetings mean no witnesses. You’ve been there once before and barely made it out alive. To make it out a second time? The chances are practically nonexistent. 

The room feels less like an office and more like an 18th-century study, a dark academia dream with the coffee-toned furniture and ceiling-high shelves stacked with books. The only sign of modernity is the pristine silver laptop sitting perfectly on his desk. The guards to the side of the room look straight ahead, no indication of how this will end for you.

“My dear, good to see you,” The Boss purrs, eyelids falling into tender crescents as you place yourself gently on the cushion of his ornate bergère. Typically there are two of a kind that sit across from his dark oak bureau, but at this moment one has been removed from the space so yours could be positioned parallel to his own chair. 

The Boss has an intimidating air about him. From the gentle yet feline-like movements that look like they mask something sinister, to his signature verbosity that’s almost professorial, he’s the perfect paradigm of a godfather.

“And you, Boss. It’s been a while.” You maintain a cool tone, not breaking his eye contact. He was a dog that could smell fear and would drag it out of you if he thought it could sate his twisted desire for control.

He sighs as his cheshire smile fades. “I don’t like beating around the bush, as I’m sure you know. You... must have heard the rumors of a third party organization stepping foot in this city, yes?”

The whispers started only days ago, and the most you heard was only an assumption from another underling at the bar. Considering how much people loved to gossip and how boring it got around here, you were just going to brush it off. However, if it was enough to bring you here, it had to be something worth your attention.

“Yes, it’s been floating around.” You clear your throat. “Is it something to be worried about?”

He puts his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, sucking a breath through his teeth. “This has happened before, when a new group tries to disrupt our hold on the functioning of our territory, and we have always squashed them from the picture quietly. But unfortunately, those who call themselves the Syndicate play dirty.”

It seems as if things were not heading in the track you imagined when being escorted on the long walk here. But then he orders the guards at the sides of the room out, and your heart jumps to your throat.

As the large doors close behind them, he resumes talking.

“Last week, twenty-two of our men were killed and one taken during a weapons exchange with a western group...who we thought were a western group. All they left behind was a handful of playing cards.” His wrist flicks up suddenly, a black card tucked between his two fingers. The shine on the back glints under the dim lamplight. He stares in disdain.

The nervous habit of jumbling your fingers started up in your lap, asking, “Who was it?”

“Underlings of the Syndicate,” he brushes past, holding up a single finger before continuing, “The key is that the missing one was a trusted man in our central intelligence unit. He was carrying knowledge of our expansion plans within the next year. When backup came, he was gone. Intelligence then reported that the Syndicate was also responsible for the crisis of our allies in the Midwest, Fox Lodge, two years ago. And a year before, the Federacy in Europe. They crumbled in a matter of weeks.”

The man sweeps his dark hair from his forehead, an undetectable motive flaring in his eyes, the one person you could never read. 

“Simply,” he shrugs, “this fish is too big to fry on our own.”

You couldn’t help but swallow. “And that means…?”

“I’ve spoken to the director of the Detective Agency. A temporary ceasefire has been agreed upon... Similar interests, a common enemy, you see.”

Existed an extensive list of things that did not have the capacity to surprise you anymore in this life. But a ceasefire? That was impossible; The Detective Agency and the Mafia had always been at odds like a fated grudge of the gods above. The fighting had been continuous for all your time spent in the organization.

“I know,” he nods, “It is a miraculous thought. But they have the resources and we have the manpower. While it would be great to let Syndicate take them out for us, we would ultimately be next on their list. Cooperation is our best bet.”

And the thought of what this conversation may be coming to strikes you like lightning on waiting sand. “I thought you didn’t approve of betting, Boss.”

“Hmm… I see you’ve caught on,” he says pensively, a smile rising on his face as fast as it disappears. “This gamble is one I have much faith in. It used to be our ace in the hole, you remember?”

Weakly, you mumble, “I do.”

“You must realize that our situation is grave. I would not suggest it if there was another way. In the kindest manner I can put it, dear, your willing partnership is required.”

And there’s the kicker, the whole reason why. A sick feeling seethes in the pit of your stomach, makes you want to gag or throw up or pass out. You have a choice, of course, but not a real choice. To clarify, it was agree, or be squashed out quietly, as Boss liked to say. On the off chance you would choose death over discomfort, he had to call you to his office for safe measure. 

“I understand, Boss,” is all you could manage. 

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Though we have all turned a bit sour since Jeon’s departure, I’m sure you are capable of uniting for the sake of our city. I wouldn’t mind if you killed him after the mission is complete, either, but I will leave that up to your judgment.”

The name is awkward coming off his tongue, even with the chuckle he throws in to lighten the mood, implying an air of distance and estrangement. 

Jeon. That bastard. The thought of working with him… incredible. It was silly of you to think that you’d never see him again while fighting for control of the same city, but there you were, awestruck and in embarrassing shock. “Thank you, Boss. I’ll do what is needed.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be calling a meeting tomorrow with the other executives and we will talk about the plan. You are excused.”

With an obedient nod, you are lifting yourself from the chair and heading toward the door, the sound of your heels muted on his burgundy carpet.

“Oh, and dear?”

You pause, turning your head over your shoulder and clearing your throat. “Yes?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he traces his thumb along the blade of his knife, glinting in the dim glow of the moonlit window. “You know I trust you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without a falter in his expression, he makes a swift movement with his wrist. Before you can blink, the blade flies past your ear and lodges itself in the door in front of you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A threat not to be taken lightly.

“Of course.”

As you tread down the hallway on your way out, you can't help but chastise yourself. How dumb could you be? Of course he would try to intimidate you like that. Any other day, you could have sensed it and caught it before it even parted with his palm. That was how it was supposed to be, as the renowned Scorpion, right? Was the thought of Jeon and having to see him again so debilitating that you let your guard flounder like that? Pathetic.

Hopefully he’d only take it as a slip-up. Take it as a respectful allowance and understanding as opposed to weakness. If you were losing your skills, your value was lost, as was your privilege to live.

The ride back to your apartment is the worst you had in years. Even the radio station you listen to regularly for mind-numbing background noise has you wanting to burst. The traffic lights make you want to scream, the sound of the air pushing past the open window has you bubbling with fury, the blinking advertisements circulating building perimeters driving your mind blank. Somewhere in a moment of clarity, you know it all starts with fear. 

Truth was, you and Jeon were partners once. In crime, the trump card the Mafia put down to play dirty, no way to get around you. In tandem, a menacing duo, the bold and the lethal, the Lion and the Scorpion. In the sheets, from time to time, after a few too many drinks or a few too many flirty looks on a sober night. Two sides of the same coin. But that was then, in a different time and a different world, and in a way that you hated how your mind had retained him so perfectly in his bitter absence.

☆☆☆

To be honest, the atmosphere of the first meeting really couldn’t have been any better than expected. It’s the furthest thing from civil, of course, but it can be considered a blessing that everyone participating was still breathing.

For protective purposes, office space had been rented out for a few hours for the intents of the meeting. There were only eight of you gathered in the small space; From the Mafia, the four top executives and from the Agency, the VP and three head advisors. One of them, none other than Jeon himself. The president and the boss stayed out for this meeting in an attempt to lower the tension, which was certainly an effort taken. Personal affairs mixing in would have resulted in at least one dead body within the first thirty seconds.

While there is some sort of discussion occurring around you, you are only focusing on how pathetic you feel in that you’re actively avoiding Jeon, as well as the discomfort in the pit of your stomach that appeared as soon as he did. You always thought that you’d be strong and bold the next time you met, but now that the time has come, you’ve let yourself down. Seeing him face to face after all this time is a reminder of everything you’ve been pushing to the back of your mind for years.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk isn’t sure what the playing field looks like just yet. He’s resting his head on his fist, sneaking a glance at you when he can and wishing you’d speak up so he’d have a good reason to look at you for longer than a blink, but you’re awfully quiet. He hates to think it might be because of him.

“We received an anonymous tip this morning about an underground base in the Coral District. Supposedly, there are multiple entrances from bars in the surrounding area, creating a tunnel system.” Namjoon, the VP, pushes his glasses up and closes the manila folder in his hands he had been referencing. “As our only lead, I think it is in our best interest to take a look.”

Namjoon is by far the most uptight man you had ever met. A little pretentious, of course, but in a way that almost made him cute. His calculative nature made him a good asset, but you couldn’t imagine how much of a bore he must have been in his daily life. You could bet without a doubt that he had been the most opposed to collaboration - if not by the countless moments he had spent sighing in your past encounters, then surely by how his condescending tone went into overdrive the second he sat down.

Yoongi, one of your fellow executives, states plainly, “That means nothing.” He seems more focused in the dirt tucked beneath his fingernails than the meeting at hand.

“It’s anonymous. For all we know they’re trying to trick us,” adds Yeji, personality plagued with suspicion. She doesn’t want to be here as much as you do, but she’s trying. Yeji is scrutinizing and not impressed by the image of naivety that stems from such a simple deduction, and that’s on top of her personal problem with the righteous narrative of the detective agency. You don’t blame her.

“And for all we know, it could be useful. The people of this city are our eyes and ears.” Jimin shoots back, stare unwavering. “It’s not like we should just ignore it. Do you have anything better?”

The strain in the air is almost unbearable, pulling up the hairs on your arms with all the tense energy circulating. It’s as if lightning was about to strike any second. No one says another word, only dirty looks being exchanged between headstrong personalities until a defiant knock comes to the door, startling the aggression into temporary submission. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, the only movement he had made this entire time. You only shrug at him.

“Who is it?” Namjoon asks, standing from the table.

“Just clean up. I’m here to take out the trash.” Silence engulfs the space like a dense fog hanging in the air, until the man behind the door calls again, “It’ll only be a second.”

Hesitantly, Namjoon makes the call for him to come in. All eyes flick over to the man, who cautiously enters the room with a nervous laugh. He is clueless to what he’s walking into. He waves a hand of greeting before fetching the bin from the corner of the room, taking it to the main dump on wheels in the hallway. After a few shuffles and plunks, he comes back in to put it in its place.

Namjoon adjusts his tie and clears his throat as he sits down again, resuming the meeting.

“I don’t care what we do as long as we can be done with this,” Taehyung mumbles, resting his head on his palm with half-mast eyes. He’s practically falling asleep, like a cat resting in the sunbeams pouring through a window.

Wendy, another advisor, rolls her eyes at him, responding with a scoff, “Of course you don’t care…”

“Oh, like you’re such a saint.”

The boardroom erupts into yet another argument, different groups spitting words at their own personal targets. All you can do is sit and listen, your hope for this mission decreasing exponentially as the seconds tick by. At least if it didn’t work out, you won’t have to see Jeon again after this.

“Creep,” mutters Yeji under her breath from the chair next to you. She had been removing herself from the argument like you save for a few special dramatic sighs and trivial insults that you didn’t condone, but didn’t exactly scold her for either. After all, she is the closest thing you have to a best friend.

“Huh?” you inquire wisely. “Who?”

She tilts her head to the hallway. Your head whips around to see the janitor through the walls of windows walking away with a peculiar bounce in his step, one he most certainly did not arrive with.

“What’s his problem?” you whisper, leaning in.

“I don’t know, but he was laughing to himself while they were arguing. He’s probably just another weirdo,” she snubs with a sigh. “You know how people are in this city.”

Though you had a slight feeling of discomfort from the commencement of the meeting, since stepping foot in the lobby of the building even, you simply brushed it off as paranoia, or nervousness from who you were about to see. But it just seems too strange to ignore anymore. Wasn’t the building supposed to be completely empty today, aside from those in the conference taking place right now? Your instincts scream at you through a closed mouth, wariness freezing your limbs, but why?

You hold your hand up discreetly as you stare at the simply dark grey bin across the room. It’s the only thing that seemed out of place - besides the meeting table and chairs, the room is completely empty. The pristine board room, black and grey and sparkling clean. And then, the cheap plastic bin.

The argument settles when Yeji whistles, getting their attention. 

“What’s wrong?” Wendy asks obliviously before you shush her with a raise of your pointer. All focus zeroes in on the bin… and that barely noticeable line trailing from it to the door handle.

One tick is all you need to hear.

“We gotta go, now,” you state, standing up hurriedly from your chair. Chatter and confusion ensue again as you drag it behind you over to the floor-length window. You pause, narrowing your eyes at the distance down from the second story. Considering there were no other exits from the room and you suspected that no one here was a part of the bomb squad, it was the only way to go. You drawback, hands gripping tightly around the armrests and hoist it up, swinging it around your side. it effectively shatters the glass, the piercing noise as shards clatter to the floor making you squint. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing? Do you know how much that’s gonna coast?” Namjoon shouts, becoming frantic as you further knock the glass out from the surrounding area.

“They knew where we were. Look at the bin,” you explain quickly. Their surveillance of you averts to where you had been looking moments before, realization dawning as their sight finds the transparent cord set tight.

“Taehyung, you first.” The boy trails to the make-shift exit without question, blond locks bouncing in front of his face as he hurries over. Carefully, with a hand on the frame, he peers out to see what he’s working with. He’s made do with worse before. He lowers himself out onto the ledge one foot at a time, cautious not to cut himself on the jagged glass poking out. With a deep breath, he commits to the jump and launches off, landing cleanly on the flower beds below.

He cranes his neck up to you with disgust written all over his features.

“It’s new still,” he complains with a frown, toeing the dark mulch which must be fresh and with a rotten stench. You don’t have the time to admonish his behavior as you usher the others out, keeping an eye on the bin and the hallway. Yeji is out next, hitting the ground lightly with Taehyung’s guiding arms.

You fish a compact walkie from your pocket, tossing it down to her. “Find the janitor. Evacuate anyone else you see. Channel Six.” She catches it with ease, only providing a nod before sprinting off around the corner, ponytail whooshing behind her. Namjoon, now on the ground with Jimin, spares a word with him before Jimin takes off after Yeji to catch up. 

“You run a well-oiled machine, Y/N. I’m impressed.” Jeon’s voice from beside you grabs your attention, to which you can only hold his eyes for a moment before breaking it off. He stands smugly with his arms crossed in front of him.

He immediately cringes internally at the way it comes out. It was just supposed to be a compliment, genuinely, but the tinge of complacency in his voice took it all away. The way you don’t respond clamps his heart, but only pushes out more awful dialogue with an inappropriately playful tone.

“What, you’re just gonna ignore me?

Swallowing your nerves, you insist, “Get down.” Now, of all times, he chooses to chat you up? The chipper attitude had your nails imprinting half-moons to the base of your palm.

But he can’t stop himself. Even as he reads your growing impatience, he acts like a whiny toddler, emphasizing, “No, no, ladies first of course.”

“Get down.”

He’s trying not to let your firm edge get to him, playing it off with, “God, so cold. You’re hurting my feelings-” “Get down, Jeongguk!”

The once fluid movement of the world slows as you shout at him, your own voice becoming muted as you listen for it. A blinding light bursts from across the room, ripping through the walls and bursting the glass like balloons, growing brighter and brighter as you watch. In a split second you’re falling, tearing through open air while barely sensing your entanglement in something soft before hitting the ground with a blunt stop.

He had pulled you into him instinctively as the blow forced him off his feet, but the regret is instant in Jeon’s mind as he struggles to move. Not for grabbing you, but for the stupid words he couldn’t close the dam on as they poured out. The threat completely left his mind in the effort to get you to respond to him. He wants to smack himself, but his body hasn’t had the chance to recoup yet. 

You groan, body practically frozen in ache. Rolling off of him, you rub your lids and scratch the hair out of your face, looking up to see smoke pouring out of where you just stood moments before. Jumping to your feet, you brush the small shards of glass from your clothes and ignore the dizziness, aiming to put as much distance between the building and you as you could, but not before pulling a disoriented Jeon to his feet to take him with you. He’s coughing and clutching at his rib, your weight hitting him as an extra beating once he had landed.

Collapsing on the curb out front, you try to catch your breath. That bastard. If it weren’t for his necessity to uphold such a jackass mentality, you wouldn’t have needed the extra painful push out of the building. Without even needing to look, the sound echoing alone let you know that the building was collapsing in on itself. While you can’t feel it now because of the adrenaline, you know you’ll be hurting later.

A muffled noise comes from the walkie in your back pocket. It’s Yeji, who is suspiciously breathing fine as her heavy footfalls transmit as loud as her voice, reporting, “Finally caught up to him. It looks like he’s heading to Coral District, we’re on his tail but we don’t know what we’re going into!”

The device jumbles in your shaky hand as you scramble to get back to her. “We’re on our way, don’t worry. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” 

You bring yourself to your feet, your fleeting moment of recovery already gone.

“Namjoon, can you stay behind for cleanup? Rest of us will catch up to Yeji. You heard her, right?”

He nods solemnly, and you suppose the blast to the building also was one to his ego. His notorious calculative nature had failed him this time around with that poisonous hatred in the way. Maybe he’ll reference it next time.

You think that Jeon is going to come up with another snarky comment to make, but all he does is pinch his nose bridge and massage his temples. He chooses to stay behind also as you, Wendy, Taehyung, and Yoongi follow in quick pursuit. It’s no surprise that Yoongi, one of the most sloth-like yet efficient strong suits of the Mafia, is already pulling over a civilian vehicle to take. 

“Yeji, current location?” You ask into the radio, trying to keep up an acceptable trot behind the group.

It only takes a second for her voice to crackle back through. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. It’s weird though - he’s not just running away from us, he’s running to somewhere.”

Up ahead, Wendy is pushing Yoongi aside as she shows her ID to the astonished woman floundering for words, admirably commandeering the car rather than stealing. No surprise, but smart nonetheless. One less lawsuit to worry about.

It only takes a second to envision a mental map of the city. The Corner of Park and Third is heading toward an unfamiliar side of town. What was even over there? The subway station, a shopping center? No place plausible for a bar, and definitely not near the Coral district. There was no place you could think of he might be leading them to - unless, of course, he was leading them away from something.

In fact, his direction is almost exactly opposite from…

“Tae!” you shout, just as he’s getting into the car. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. Get on your walkie, I’m taking a detour!”

He tips his head back in understanding as he jogs backwards to the car, soon ducking in slamming the door shut behind him, the car speeding off with a squeal. The thought of being in that car with them makes you shudder, but it’s not like where you’re off to is any better.

The location is printed on the backs of your lids in vermilion red ink. You had to know it regardless of whether you were a frequent visitor or not, because being aware of your surroundings when doing the kind of work required for your job was just as necessary as the job itself. You couldn’t be making arms deals in the alleys behind the Detective Agency unless you were aiming to spend some time behind bars.

Your heart drops as you round the corner to see the building absolutely sacked, your sprinting pace coming to a standstill with disappointment. A small crowd of people have surrounded the area, phones out to snap pictures and take videos. The windows lining the building are smashed in violently, and small plumes of smoke wisp their way out of what remains, the alarms that alerted no one still ringing. 

Light footsteps approach from behind you as your own step carefully over the glass to get a closer look. He’d been in his head for only a few minutes after you left, but when he saw you crossing back over to the other side of town, while he was stuck pathetically on the curb, it sparked his brain back up into working condition.

“Huh. Smart cookie,” states Jeon, seeming to finally be back to reality. Enough to make it here, anyway. In less than a second your blade is against his neck as a firm warning. All he does is smile cheekily, raising his palms up so you could see them.

“No need to be hostile,” he tries, hiding the way he gulps when you look away. “Just a compliment.”

“We are nothing more than work partners. I advise you to drop the act now,” you spit, sure you’d break your jaw with how hard your teeth were pressed against each other, hearing the sandpaper sound grinding in your ears. You lower the blade and tuck it away, exchanging it for your gun in hand as you approach the entrance.

It’s a mess inside. The walls are dented, desks broken, drawers and filing cabinets sprawled all over the floor. Random papers make a muddle of everything visible. The computer screens are cracked and wires mangled as if someone with a bad temper had taken a baseball bat to them. Even the potted plants had been bashed in, fragments of terracotta and clumps of dirt spread out everywhere. 

“Was anyone working?” you ask, fingers tracing over the splintered edges of the welcome desk.

“No,” replies Jeon, in awe of the state of the office. “The President doesn’t come in, and two of our teams are off carrying out other tasks. We sent our office staff home to keep them out of danger.”

Not one thing untouched. Such great care was taken to ruin every piece of the space - but when no one was home. If the office staff were here, would they have hurt them? Or was it a purposeful decision in favor of the empty building?

Jeon’s shoulders slump, bottom lip jutting from his pout. Upon your questioning brow, he says, “They took my octopus pen.” He stares longingly down at what you assume is his desk, or what was his desk.

You squint in confusion, about to prompt further explanation, but Taehyung comes in through the radio. “We caught the janitor. Don’t know anything yet, but he’s being taken into police custody. We looked for the tunnels, but there’s nothing so far. I think it was a misdirect.”

“I think it was too,” you sigh. “The DA was ransacked.”

The waves flatten into grey static. You can picture the confusion that was rising among the group with Tae’s relay of information. When it comes back on, it is a different voice.

“Ransacked, you said? How bad?” It’s Wendy, the panic blatant on her tongue.

“Everything in it was destroyed…” you say, knowing this was just as much a loss for you as it was them. “They knew where we were and bombed us, and then led us on a chase so they could eliminate one of our bases. Let the others know and we’ll regroup later.”

“Copy that,” says Yoongi shortly, and that ends the exchange.

One of your strongest pieces was impressively knocked off the board. There was no way to get the building back in operating shape in the time span you had to eliminate the threat. While you still had their people and outside resources, the building was essential to the functioning of the agency, and the city along with it. If they had already taken down the home base of the detectives, wouldn’t the Mafia be next? Granted, there was no one set base, but things would surely get fishy if you didn’t act fast. Like Boss said, Fox Lodge crumbled in mere weeks. Whatever your opinion was, you couldn’t deny the Mafia was integral in monitoring the underground of the city, and letting control fall into the hands of such self-serving villains would be far worse than anything already occurring. 

Jeon sighs loudly from across the room, spinning on his heels to catch your gaze. He tsks and sweeps a stray strand of hair behind his ear with a delicate hand. “What are you thinking?”

You hum in thought. “It’s a warning,” you conclude, observing the rows of overthrown furniture. “They wanted to show what they’re capable of. Intimidation.”

He purses his lips innocently. “...What next?”

“I don’t know everything, Gguk,” you snap, sending him a fierce glare. “The Agency has to figure out what’s missing, if anything, and then we’ll go from there. Try to figure out a motive or something.”

You’ve been asking for a challenge for years, always unsatisfied with the ease it took to get your way. Laying in bed wide awake all night wanting things to be different, wanting things to have meaning. But with the high stakes, with so much at risk, this was certainly not what you intended.

You have to reassure yourself that you’re capable regardless. Once you get in the rhythm, surely things will be fine. Surely you’d get yourself together and pull through for the sake of the town. When you’ve been biting your nails and staring blankly at a ripped magazine for who knows how long, Jeon interrupts you again.

“Y/N?” The way he speaks your name is gentle and soft, a fondness to it that never failed to pluck at your heartstrings. It’s that special quiet tone of his that you haven’t heard in so long yet could always recall so clearly. It’s a sign of candor coming your way. “It’s good to see you.”

And it boils your blood.

“The park by the marina. Tomorrow at five. Don’t be late.”

☆☆☆

Penny has already started making dinner when you step through the door, just about to slump against the hardwood floor and resign yourself to the eternal slumber. Though she’s only ten, her palate is more tasteful that yours was last year. In times like these, you are grateful for the way she takes care of you sometimes. 

“You look tired,” she observes, sparing you a welcome look over her shoulder as she stirs the contents of her pot.

“That would be because I am,” you breathe a huff of laughter, slowly and carefully sliding off your jacket as to not irritate your sore muscles more than necessary. Taking a peek into the pot, your brain allows you a taste of serotonin that you welcome with open, starved arms. “Fettuccine alfredo? Pen, that’s my favorite.”

A small smirk appears on her face at your amazement. “I know.”

You plant a chaste kiss at the top of her head. “You need a trim soon, kiddo. Can barely see your eyes anymore.”

“That makes me look more mysterious though, doesn’t it?” She allows herself a giggle before turning off the heat, giving the pasta one last mix before transferring it to the two identical bowls on the counter. Her technique is a little awkward as her arms reach up to maneuver the tongs, but that’s to be expected of a kid who hasn’t fine tuned her motor skills just yet. Your mouth is absolutely watering as you fumble through the draws for two forks and some sort of napkin.

She hops up on the stool next to you and digs in, splattering sauce all over her chin nonetheless, but as long as she was fed and having fun.

Taking Penny in was by far the best decision you had made with what your life had come to. It was about two years ago when you stumbled upon her crying in a back alleyway during a job, her parents' lives the casualties suffered in a drug trade gone wrong. Further than that, you didn’t pry. You had those moments, too, the ones that felt better tucked inside a secret place in your heart.

Your only option was to take her with you. While he was incredibly beneficial to the Mafia, Yoongi was also hopelessly cold-blooded. He wanted to kill her to end the trail, to avoid suspicion directed at the organization. You ultimately made the call, because while what you did for a living was in no way guided by a moral compass, you still had your boundaries. Fortunately, it was just when you had gotten your current executive position and started making your fair share for the work you did - and while the both of you knew what went on outside of the apartment, inside was a safer space with more love than you could ever afford to show anywhere else. 

Housing people was one of the organization’s biggest costs. Most who joined did so out of necessity, whether they were out of work or a place to feel welcome. As long as you took care of her, it was an unspoken rule that they’d go easy on her. Occasionally they made her run errands and do deliveries, as children were an easy way to escape qualms from authorities. More often they used her for bait and leverage over those they needed the upper hand on; There’s no better way to manipulate someone than pretending a little girl’s life depends on their next decision. Usually it worked out the way they wanted and she was sent home, but there were times when you noticed bruises or scrapes adorning her thin arms, or hidden beneath her bangs. At least you could provide her with hope.

“So what went wrong today?”

Were you too obvious, or could she just read you inside and out?

You twirl the pasta on your fork before downing a big bite. 

“Got stuck in a pickle for the first time in a while. There’s a lot more on the table than I expected there to be.”

“Obviously,” she says, still shoveling her food down her throat. “I mean what happened?”

You sigh, letting yourself sink into your chair as you recount the order of events that unfolded today. Trying to simplify it as best as you can, you settle on, “I can’t say too much because I don’t want to get you in trouble, but it’s not just the Mafia and the Agency running things around here anymore, so there’s some collaboration going on right now that is getting tough to manage. And these new people moving in on the city… they’re smart. They led us on a goose chase today while they took out the DA.”

“Well, you’re smart too. You can manage it. You always do.”

“I know I’ll have to. It’s more the teamwork thing.” Mindless fingers tap at the countertop. “It was a little bit of a curveball they threw at me.”

“Is the curveball what caused all the bruises?” She looks at you slyly, a teasing simper just begging to make an appearance.

Your eyes roll breezily. “Yeah, it is.”

And all of a sudden the air turns quiet, her demeanor more timid. She looks to you for encouragement before she can even get the words out. With a small prompting nod, she asks, “Is… is it your old partner?”

An awkward chuckle bubbles its way out of your throat in surprise. “Um, yeah. How- how do you know about that?”

It’s a little bit of a shock. You don’t want to make her feel bad, but having this conversation is not one you are completely prepared for. Jeongguk, though his existence in your mind is stormy, is one of those things you always wish you could just keep to yourself, like a small love letter sealed in an envelope and tucked away under a mattress for you to pull out when you want to reminisce, but unfortunately everyone has read that letter and its contents seems to perpetuate underground gossip wherever you walk.

The atmosphere returns to normal when she shoots you a playful look, correcting it to the way it should have been. “I don’t just go to work and come back, you know, people talk to me. Especially some of the other kids my age. They sometimes mention how it’s so cool that I’m living with this legendary assassin, and they tell me supposed stories of… what was it, the Lion and the Scorpion? Yeah, and that he left.”

You bob your head along as she explains, somewhat in awe of her level of awareness of who you were outside of your relationship with her. The observant and lethal disposition you take on at work is a rude juxtaposition to the looser, lively personality you allow out at home. Above all, you wonder if she still thinks you’re cool.

“And what do you say?”

That she laughs at. “Well, it depends on the person who’s talking to me about it. Sometimes I say that you’re really scary and strict and sometimes if I like them I say that you’re really nice… I’m careful about it though, don’t worry. As long as you’re cool, I’m cool.”

Bingo!

“Hey, I trust your judgment,” you state through a mouthful of food, “I condone messing with people sometimes, and if it can harden my reputation around the place, I’ll take it.”

Lighthearted laughter ensues as you eat. The topic fades away and relief starts to take its place, but nothing good can ever last, can it?

“But Y/N…” she trails back, “Why is the Lion a curveball if you worked with him in the past?”

You click your tongue, tapping your fork at the bottom of your dish trying to stitch together the splinters of words floating around your mind into a cohesive answer.

“I’m sure some kids told you about the rumors,” you say, propping your elbow on the table to support your head as you looked at her. “But he and I… weren’t really just work partners.”

“You were dating?” She exclaims loudly, eyes widening. 

“Shh! No, no… well, kind of. But not really. Things were just a little bit more than work-related, that’s all. Listen, it’s not all black and white, and you’ll understand what I mean by when you start to care for people like that.”

“Well did you love him?”

She says it casually and straightforward, as if it didn’t weigh the emotional turmoil of years spent heartbroken and yearning. As if it’s that easy.

Penny’s expression floods full of curiosity. She is so investigative and eager, you wish she could be going to school and learning from real teachers that could give her a real education, not just snippets from your memories that you pulled up for her from time to time. If this wasn’t her life, you can’t imagine what she’d be doing because there’d simply be too many possibilities.

“Yeah, I did.”

And yet, as the words spill, you can’t not remember the pain of his desertion. You can’t not remember the one morning you woke up and he was gone, panic floating through the hallways about him, confusion and worry swirling in your head. Just to find out he had defected without giving you a clue. Not considering what it could mean for you. Not even a goodbye. 

“Do you still love him?”

You purse your lips, meeting her eyes softly. “That’s why I called him a curveball.”

Penny grasps on to the fact that that was the most she’d be getting from you today. It was a lot more than most days - you blame it on your tattered spirit from today’s tiring occurrences. She leads in the kitchen clean up, scooping the leftovers into tupperware for tomorrow’s meal and tossing her dishes in the outdated washer.

You pass behind her in the tight space, carrying your own empty dish with you. “You don’t repeat a word, got it?” you whisper.

She visibly sinks in vexation, head coming to a tilt as she stares at you. “C’mon, you just said you trusted my judgment! I’m almost insulted you feel the need to say that.”

You let yourself indulge in another laugh. The credit of her sharp vocabulary character no doubt belongs to your influence. “You know I have to.” Nuzzling the top of her hair, you add, “Don’t stay up too late. I love you.”

And for leading a life that was so cruel and devoid of light, crowded with guilt and regret, lacking most that makes you human, nothing ever felt more like home than when she says, “I love you too.”

☆☆☆

The next meeting is only better because of the fresh air separating both sides and the imminent fact that last time’s events have everyone so weary they can no longer think about arguing. It has started to sink in that this is no longer a piece of cake, or maybe that it never was to begin with. As well, a park full of citizens going on walks and taking their day slow is no place to expose yourself. It’s warm for spring, one of the nicest days you’ve had in a while, and you’d hate to ruin it.

There is a large circular expanse of white concrete with different pathways branching off into the park, green shrubbery lining each walkway. Pillars on both sides of each one hold up an awning providing much-appreciated shade. You no longer have to squint and can see everyone clearly.

Namjoon, sulking on a decorative cement bench, kicks off the meeting with a depressing statement on the Agency. “They didn’t take anything physical, but we traced their footsteps back through our computers. It looks like they downloaded a lot of our reports from the past few years and files on both our members and yours.”

“What do you mean?” Yeji’s eyebrows furrow deeply in confusion. “What kind of information was in the reports?”

“A lot of profiles. Skills, incidents you’ve been involved with, current standing position… things like that. On nearly every important person in the Agency and in the Mafia.”

“Why though?” asks Jimin, leaning back against one of the pillars beside Namjoon. “Can’t they find that information anywhere? A lot of it isn’t a secret. Ask anyone around here and they’ll tell you Min Yoongi is a lazy bastard that-” Jeon gives him a light punch on the shoulder, his disappointed grimace almost saying, “c’mon, man.” Yoongi looks like he couldn’t care less.

Taehyung, who has been pacing the narrow concrete walkways, speaks up. “Get to know your enemy better, I guess? Can’t hurt.”

“To be honest, I don’t think they really needed it either. It looked more like it was meant to be taken as a threat. They probably just did that because they could and they had the time,” You say, recalling the attentive wreckage of the Agency.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We know that they’re tricky, obviously, but they can’t know everything. I think they were also trying to get a better idea of what they were up against. Plus, it’s always intimidating when you come into contact with someone and it seems they know every detail about you when you don’t even know your name.”

Namjoon’s take makes sense. His frustrating attitude is an easier pill to swallow if he’s able to make conclusions like that. Not much could scare you off, but if a random person approached you in a fight and began talking about your past, or your personal life, or mistake you’d made, you’d definitely be unsettled, maybe just enough to slip up. With this group, you’re sure that a slip up is all it takes.

Wendy looks like she has something to add, but there’s a frog stuck in her voice box. She gives a shy look to Namjoon and then continues, something perhaps he was planning on leaving out. “To be specific, there were multiple traces of the words “Lion” and “Scorpion” in the information they stole... It makes me think they’ve heard of your, um, past reputation and wanted to see what they could dig up.”

“Oh, great.” You’re unable to help yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Wow,” Jeon muses, “Didn’t know we were so famous.” His playful regard meets your own, but you’re too down to react with anything else but a blank stare before flicking your eyes away as soon as they meet.

He looks good today. You hate how much your brain keeps begging you to take another experimental glance as if one wasn’t enough. His button-up drapes gently over his shoulders and is tucked loosely into his trousers, sleeves folded all the way up to his elbows. Not that you’re paying such close attention.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to alarm you without any pretense, but…”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your front. “Well, I’m glad she spoke up. What if they target us because they think we’re a threat? They already know we’ve been working together.”

Wendy offers a small smile of appreciation, but it is not to ignore how the agents all share looks of hesitation toward each other, visibly uncomfortable with Namjoon’s secrecy.

“Yeah… that seemed kind of important,” Yoongi says, squinting into the sunlight as he tilts his head up. “You can’t keep things from us if we’re working together. I hate this just as much as you do, but we aren’t gonna win if we aren’t honest.”

Jimin sighs. “He’s right. If one side tries to get an upper hand it’ll just cause a rift that makes us easier to pull apart.”

“Okay. That’s fair. I... apologize.” Namjoon is stiff, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He wants to avoid further questioning, but for the time being, you won’t press it. There’s enough on your plate right now.

“Anyway… what’s our next move?”

Yeji’s question goes unanswered. It sits under the afternoon light, the peaceful chirps of birds and casual chatter and boat horns filling in the blank space that no one knows what to do with.

“We don’t have a lot to go off of. The investigation is still looking for identification factors, but it could take time, which, as I’m sure you know, we don’t have a lot of. The most we can do is conduct some interviews with witnesses and passersby, but…” the Vice President looks up at you, “we are counting on them slipping up somehow.”

The dejection in the air is hard to ignore. Everyone feels it. Regardless of how impossible it might be for the two sides to see eye to eye, they can see how hopeless the fight has gotten in a span of mere days.

With the DA out of the picture, all of their employees are either working from home or in last-minute rented offices with limited resources. Never in a million years did any of the executives think they’d see the building that represented their struggle go up in flames. Yet the day it did, they couldn’t be happy about it. It only struck fear.

“So there’s really nothing we can do?”

No one needs to answer for you to know.

“Okay. Let’s wrap this up then. Just be careful from here on out. You know, be cautious of what you say, where you say it. They might be monitoring radio waves, might have bugged places you think are safe.”

 In times like these, you have good reason to be a little paranoid. They already knew where your office space was and the time it had been rented. The Syndicate was skilled and definitely had their reach online, and you didn’t doubt it extended to the personal world. There’s nothing money can’t bribe.

It’s disheartening to see how downcast the group is on a day so bright. Everyone begins to mobilize, though slowly, but they get a move on, going back to wherever they need to be or where they want to be. For now, you decide you want to be here.

Waving goodbye to Yeji and the others, you find a nice spot under some shade on a well maintained wooden bench. It faces the water, today clear and calm, and out in the distance is the gleaming modern drawbridge that closes off the port. To the right, the port terminal stretches out long into the river for the large ships that come in, the marina docked with boats of all shapes and sizes tucked in closer to the city behind it. The boats flood in and out, passing you by, the sails floating in the breeze so temptingly you can just see yourself hopping on one so easily and going along to wherever it may take you.

The dream is short-lived, because Jeon’s presence beside you tugs you from your imagination.

“What do you want?” You can feel him looking at you, but you can’t pull your eyes away from the ships drifting by.

It’s a hit to the confidence he strode over here with, but he continues. “What, we can’t make small talk? We’re partners for this, Y/N.”

Any opportunity he sees to make contact with you, he’ll take. He knows why you’re the opposite, but he’s dying to see you, and not just from across a meeting table or a park.

“Partners don’t need to make small talk, they just have to do the job they’ve been assigned and be done with it.”

He exhales tiredly, disappointed in your lack of engagement, like he expected at least a small something more. “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you. I know how things are, and-”

“No, Gguk, you don’t know how things are,” you snap, finally facing him. “You had the past three years to talk to me, but you didn’t. You don’t get to come and take care of things now while it’s convenient for you.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It sure looks like that.”

“Well it’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me wanting to talk to you. Because it’s been a long time and I miss you.”

You make a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, feeling even more let down than you thought you could be. “Yeah, okay.”

It sounds like bull to you. Does he really think you’re that gullible? Does he really think you were going to see him again and run into his arms like a bride who's been tying yellow ribbons around an old oak tree? The anger you felt at the agency yesterday returns, for what happened in the past, for what’s happening now, for all of it. How he can say he missed you when he had all the time in the world, when he was clearly happy after running away from what he had with you, you can’t understand.

Meanwhile, Jeon feels his heart palpitating as he waits for a reply. The explanations want to roll right off his tongue, but he knows this is not the time and place to bring up the subject matter he’s really urging to talk to you about. That conversation will be held soon as he finds it possible. He thought it might be worth it to just start the build-up with trivial chatter, but it’s not working, and probably never will with you.

He picks at his nails, scraping the minimal dirt out. Should he say it? A part of him wants to go for it, and another wants to wait in fear of scaring you. Unfortunately, he thinks it will either way.

“I heard you’ve been taking care of a girl.”

Unbeknownst to you, he’s right.

It steals the breath from your lungs, that residing anger booking it to make room for fear. Though you try to conceal it, you’re sure he’s seen through it, already felt how the atmosphere has shifted. He shouldn’t know about Penny. In fact, no one outside the Mafia should. You can’t meet his eyes, taking more interest in trying to count every strand of fine hair on the space between your knuckles.

It feels just like what Namjoon had talked about, and though you’re sure deep down he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that, it plants a seed of dread in you. In any other world, it might be similar to someone asking, “How are the kids?” and there would be nothing out of the ordinary about it, just a friendly gesture. This instance, however, is layered with a cocktail of warning and concern.

 Penny can fend for herself, she’s responsible, of course, but no one is invincible. It’s only up to a certain point, especially knowing that she’s only a child. 

“How do you know about her?” 

“I still get around,” he says, letting the pause marinate before adding faintly, “Don’t worry. No one that’s gonna try anything knows. I made sure of it.”

The way he still knows what you’re thinking makes you shiver. Or want to throw up. You pass over the slight relief of his last statement in favor of the bliss that comes with ignoring it.

When you don’t reply because you simply don’t know what to make of it, he continues. “It’s honorable. But that’s dangerous for you. To have someone important to you.”

“I know that,” you admit.

It wasn’t like you were stupid. Sure, you were an executive, but what did that mean when Penny made you so vulnerable? The same way they used her against their enemies could be used against you in a heartbeat for tenfold the amount they wanted. She was your weak spot.

“You have to be careful.”

“I know that.”

Jeon winces at your icy inflection. He’s like a child being scolded by his mother. His eyes squeeze shut, thoughts circling back to all the words that were just aching to pour out of him.

“Listen, Y/N, maybe we can go get some coffee? Or-”

You have to cut him off before he gets too out of hand, palms hitting your thighs. “I think that’s enough for today, Gguk.”

He wants to object to your leaving, but he doesn’t want to push you. Your deep sigh is proof of the distress he caused in the past and still continues to leave behind.

So much for some nice quiet time on your own, huh? You stand up and turn from him, heading down the exit path. Realistically, you’re glad he doesn’t call out after you, because you know it would just get you worked up and that was the last thing you needed. When you were around him, you felt the piercing image your reputation had created crumbling to ruins. It pains you to think of the consequences of an emotional err during times like these.

Yet still, it breaks your heart to leave.

☆☆☆

“He’s been really getting to you, huh?”

Yeji’s voice is quiet above the cacophony of clinking silverware and incoherent conversation, but intelligible enough for the both of you to hear in your own space. 

You smear some whipped cream on your forkful of waffle, placing it in your mouth and letting both the fluffy texture and immaculate taste sweep you off your feet for a moment, as brunch is everything good and great in the world. Or at least in your world, at this very moment.

You swallow before answering, your usual temper tamed by the sedative of a certain portmanteau of breakfast and lunch. “Of course he has. He won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“Well, he does have to work with you.”

As you chew, you shake your head in wide, dramatic arcs. “No, I mean he keeps acting like we’re old friends. After the meeting he asked me If I wanted to get coffee with him!” you exclaimed, “Like no, I’m not getting fucking coffee with you, who do you think you are?”

Yeji flashes her pearly whites at your short fuse, the one she’s versed in remedying. Deft hands lift up her mug for a thoughtful sip.

“Maybe his intentions aren’t that bad. He’s always been happy-go-lucky like that and he’s probably just too oblivious to think about the consequences of what he did. Yeah, pretending like it didn’t happen hurts, but because of what’s going on right now... it might be a blessing in disguise.”

Despite her intimidating appearance, Yeji was an exceptional conversationalist and particularly thoughtful in her advice. It feels more like a talk between two childhood friends catching up over some food, gossiping about people from high school and boy drama. Though it’s not quite that simple, it lets you take a back seat for a little while. Yeji is one of the only people you’d consider a friend.

“What, like making it easier for the mission?”

“Yeah, 'cause if you can push that issue out of the picture temporarily, you can get the job done and either deal with it after or forget about it entirely. And hey, you’re the Scorpion!” Yeji leans across the table in an enthusiastic whisper. “Scorpions are badass and vicious and don’t spend their time getting worked up over men. In fact, Scorpions reel men in and then kill them, especially you.”

You know she’s trying to encourage you, but the thought is spectacularly unappealing. While she was right in what you did, it’s not like you enjoyed it or were proud of it. You hate to be described that way. Perhaps that is your character among the mafia and the image you spread to protect yourself, and perhaps it’s even true when you get in the work mindset, but is that really you? Talk about an identity crisis.

You reach for your water, the condensation slippery on the glass. “That’s just my reputation.”

She sighs, slumping back into her side of the booth. “Okay, scratch that then. What I mean is that, besides the people you’re close to like Penny and I, you’re this astute, intelligent, skilled executive. You’ve accomplished a lot to get where you are. Why are you letting him get under your skin and uproot that?”

Yeji wouldn’t let someone make her feel like that, and she wishes you wouldn’t either. As much as she secretly admires you - for both that reputation and the real you - she cares about you all the same. Maybe one of the only people that does.

“I guess you have a point.”

“You know I have a point.”

“It’s not that easy though, Yeji,” you say weakly, staring down into your glass. “Every time I see him, I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or beat his ass.”

She laughs at your comment, making you crack a smile too. “It happens, Y/N. Love and hurt go hand in hand.” When you look up at her, she reaches a slender hand over the table and interlocks her fingers with your own with a squeeze. “Just tolerate it for now.”

A troubled exhale leaves you at the prospect, but you squeeze back nonetheless. 

“I can do that.” 

☆☆☆

It's two days later when you get a call from none other than the Lion himself. The time has been passing unbearably, slower than a soul train passing an ambulance. You and Penny relaxed by bingeing an ungodly amount of shows and movies, even delving into your weekly budget for a stockpile of snacks and drinks. But with every laugh that tumbled out of you and blended into the live audiences’, the nervous thoughts of the situation lingered in the back of your mind.

But hopefully, this call will have some good news.

“What’s up?”

“Good news.”

Eureka! For once, you’re happy to be speaking to Jeon.

“Like Namjoon said, they slipped up. Someone wasn’t wearing gloves and left a fingerprint in the DA. Intelligence was able to track it down to a random guy living in the Gambling District. I’ll tell you more about him, but I’m coming to pick you up now.”

You to your feet from your seat on the couch, wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear so you could throw your stuff together. Penny pauses the show for you, sending a raised brow. In silent conversation, you shrug.

God, it’s too early. You’re rummaging around the room for your wallet and trying to process cohesive thoughts simultaneously, and it’s not working out.

You stop to let your hands rub at your eyes. “Okay, but how do we know this was an actual slip up? We don’t have footage to check… it might have been on purpose to lead us somewhere.”

The one thing you had learned in all your time was to play like your opponent. Never underestimate them - especially the Syndicate, who clearly wanted that message to reach you. But if you were trying to get the upper hand on the people you were trying to eliminate, it wouldn’t be far fetched to give them a false lead the same way you had before.

“It’s all we got. And if we are led somewhere, we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Talk to you in a bit. I’ll meet you in the parking garage?”

“No need. Already walking up.” In the background, you hear Jeon’s keys jingling as he strides. “Also, we’re stopping for food first. Bye.” A blunt click signals the end of the call.

Shit. He’s coming to your apartment? The current state is an indescribable mess - hopefully he wouldn’t call CPS on you. More importantly, you are still in your pajamas, and there is no way he can see you like this.

“Was that the curveball?” Penny asks with an impish interest.

Your eyes squint. “Take a guess.”

Hurrying down the cramped hallway to your shared bedroom with Penny, you trade your sweats for some comfortable jeans and, with the time ticking down, throw a moto jacket over your hoodie. As the knock on the door sounds, you’re gathering your hair into a ponytail.

When you reach the living room, Penny is already pulling the door open. You hear a greeting, and then Jeon’s head appears around it comically, peeking into the apartment.

“There you are,” he says, looking at your current state with confusion. Not exactly what you might wear to base, but it got the job done. He snickers. “What, did I catch you off guard?”

Trying to hold back your minor pants from running around so much, all you can muster is, “Yeah, a little bit.” You turn to the mirror and pluck a bobby pin from your lips, tucking it into your hair to keep the flyaways down.

“Okay, let’s hit it. Penny, super sorry about this, I’ll finish watching with you later when I get home. There’s food in the fridge, you know where the money is, and I’ll call Yeji to check in on you if it gets late, okay?”

She pouts. “Okay.”

“Hey, you remember the safe word?”

Penny nods dramatically, her dark bangs bouncing, standing on her tippy toes to whisper in your ear, “Cherry-cola… also, he’s really cute.”

You pull away laughing, giving her a light noogie with your fist as her nose scrunches up. She wasn’t wrong, of course. Your time apart did him well, and you assume he must have gotten tips on how to dress because of how effortlessly put together he looked these days. But that's beside the point.

“Love you, Pen. Bye. And make sure your ringer is on.” With a small peck on the top of her head and bidding goodbye with a promise to return, you’re pulling away and leading Jeon out the door, being careful in locking it behind you.

“What’s with the safeword?” He asks, starting down the hall to the elevator. An uncomfortable tilt to his lips fixes on his face. “Isn’t that… kinda inappropriate?”

You roll your eyes, swatting at his shoulder. “Ew. Not that kind of safeword, dumbass. It’s so she knows who she can trust and let inside. There’s a lot of people that I trust that she doesn’t know, so if I have someone swinging by I tell them so she knows she can trust them too.”

He makes a sound of understanding, slipping his hands into his pockets. The way he ambles is spirited yet composed, shoulders relaxed with purposeful steps. Jeon always came and went like low tide in the morning, a calmer view of his personality considering his notorious “devil may care” attitude.

“Can you tell me?” Once he sees the disapproving expression on your face, he continues, “Listen, I already know about her. What if something happens and you need me to get her and you’re too busy dying to tell me?”

Crossing your arms in front of you, you shake your head. “Hopefully that will never happen in the first place, but god forbid…” you cautiously lower your voice, “Cherry-cola.”

“Cherry-cola?” he repeats casually.

You shush him loudly, glaring and speaking through gritted teeth. “The point of a safeword is that not everyone knows it!” 

“Sorry,” his lips purse as you press the button and begin waiting for the elevator. “Why that one?”

“It’s our favorite drink. Goes with anything.”

“Well...”

You cut him off with a hand as the thick metal doors slide open and the two of you step inside. “Not a matter of opinion. I don’t want to hear it.”

He raises his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. I will respect that, but you know...”

It’s then that you see him giving you a look, an impish smile adorning his cheeks. The dimples that gently poke his skin are the kind that make you feel lucky.

“What?”

His eyes avert, head shaking as he turns away and exchanges his view for his sly reflection in the metal. “Oh, nothing.”

“Gguk.”

A teasing tone coats his tongue as he speaks. “Well, I don’t know, it just reminded me, you know, just pulled the thought from the deep recess of my brain, that.... we used to have one too.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, even considering asking him to repeat himself.  The arch look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. “Yeah, we did,” you agree. “Not like I ever had to use it...”

He faces you with a disbelieving breath of laughter leaving his open mouth, astonished. “What, did you want to have to say it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, raising your voice to say, “No, no… you were always just a little soft about it, that’s all.”

You can’t help the grin growing on your face as his lips part in offense, one corner slowly turning up in a knowing open-mouthed smile. His lids drop in the slightest manner, barely noticeable if you didn’t pay such close attention, and you have to turn away before your face starts to blaze too unbearably. “Oh, you know I was not soft.”

Both of you are thinking the same thing, no doubt about it. Memories roll back like pristine tapes on a projector, ones that most definitely prove his point.

You clear your throat, unsure of where the conversation is going and not bold enough to let it brew. “Anyway, about the guy…?”

He’s disappointed in your choice to change the subject, the tell in the way his head drops and chews at his lower lip for a split second, but abides nonetheless. “Twenty-six years old, been working at lots of casinos around as a dealer but his most recent job was three months ago at King’s Crown. After that, no record. Unfortunately, we have to take him alive since the investigation has the police involved.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Well, kind of. It’s just limiting when there’s a stipulation.”

“Okay. I will respect that.”

Your callback is the cause of a smile taking over his face. You’re glad he doesn’t mention your attitude - if he did, your dignity wouldn’t let you continue. Maybe it’s your good mood paired with his unexpectedness, maybe it’s Yeji’s advice telling you to tolerate him, but regardless, you won’t deny that it feels better than the anger. With hope of a lead comes hope that this could work out.

“By the way, what’re you in the mood for?” Jeon asks casually, turning to you. “We can do fast food, we can do Firehouse...”

As soon as he says the word, memories from long ago that almost don’t even feel like yours resurface. Firehouse was always your and Jeon’s go-to pizza place on lunch break or for celebration after a job well done. Though you haven’t been there in years, the delectable taste of their pies is still fresh in your mind. It’s tempting, but you don’t want to make the decision. You weren’t that hungry, anyway. Jeon stares, awaiting an answer.

At your shrug, his patience runs out and he fishes his hand into his pocket. “Okay, I’m flipping a coin. Firehouse is heads, tails is the nearest drive-thru.”

He says it naturally, but you know he’s testing the water by the way his gaze lingers, measuring your reaction to see if you’ll be angry with him. Not one, but two fond tokens from the past, all in the span of thirty seconds? At one point, flipping a coin was an everyday occurrence to settle disagreements, whether it be where to eat, what time to close up shop, or whose plan to follow. You know he’s trying to jog your good memories, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

The metal flings from his thumb and lands with a muted tap in his opposite palm. He slaps it over to the backside of his hand.

“Heads. Firehouse it is.” His eyes flick up to yours, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You grin. “Sure. Wanted that anyway.”

He rolls his eyes. A shy smile crawls up his face, the faint hallmark scar at the edge of his cheekbone shifting. “Yeah, alright. Tell me next time before it lands on something you don’t want.”

The elevator doors open with a ding, freeing you into the open world. If you let the resentment subside for a few minutes, it feels just like it used to when things were okay - you and Jeon against the world.

☆☆☆

“So this is it?”

You’re staring up a beat down brick building four stories high. It’s dilapidated and nearly falling apart, in contrast to the virgin casinos, modern and flawless with intricate architecture and an ambiance of expense just half a mile away. Supposedly, your guy was somewhere in there, and it was your best bet that he had something of value to give you.

Jeon slams his side of the car door, still licking at pizza grease on his forearm, and comes around to stand next to you. “Yeah. Floor two, apartment two.” You laugh to yourself incredulously at his casual antics, but he doesn’t seem to care as he walks right up to the door.

He finds that no buzzer is needed for entry, so with your guns at the ready, you take slow steps inside. Jeon leads, you trailing to the side of him. It’s eerily quiet, not a single person out to encounter, none of the hustle and bustle a usual apartment would contain, not even the sounds of footsteps or moving furniture. Did anyone actually live here?

The floors of the hallways are decorated with faded forest green carpet, stains and dust covering the washed-out fabric. There is an ugly floral strip of wallpaper at the top of the beige walls that are dented and scraped in random places.

You’re careful to keep down the volume of the creaking stairs as you shift your weight over them, but it’s nearly impossible. Upon further inspection, the door frame of apartment two was covered in scratches and markings, thin cobwebs joined in the corners. The door itself looks cheap and it has what seems to be a few drops of blood splattered near the knob. You and Jeon share a look of uncertainty, those gut instincts kicking in to let you know that something was off.

He begins to count down, and on three, you’re pushing in the door. He rushes in first with you on his tail to scope out the sides. The apartment is empty, except…

“Well, that’s fucking fantastic.”

There’s a dead body occupying the chair in front of the television. It’s the man, alright, but his throat has been slit, red coating his neck and clothes, head hanging back over the seat. There’s no smell, though - it couldn’t have been that long since others were here, especially due to the slight glisten of blood not yet dry on his skin.

They didn’t bury him, either. Just left the body out in the open for you to find. One alarming step ahead, just like last time.

“Covering their tracks. They knew he fucked up and took care of him before we could,” says Jeon, scouring the rest of the beaten-down unit. No signs of a struggle, no mess, no nothing. A dead end.

When you pat the body down, reach into his pockets, there’s nothing. When you move to his bedroom and start to search through his nightstand, it strikes you that there might be something invasive about rustling through a dead man’s belongings, but you’ve done it too many times to still be sensitive to it. You peer around his closet, look under the mattress, filter through his drawers, until a certain glint of light catches your eye.

On the side of his bed closest to the window, a small card lies on the carpet beneath, hidden by the frame if it weren’t for the shiny sticker on the back. You bring it up for a closer look in the light.

It’s got his name, picture, and contact information as well as a barcode at the bottom. Not a driver’s license, but an ID card for the Belvedere Casino. The sticker in the top corner makes out a small icon of a spread of playing cards.

You’re about to shout out to Jeon, but stop yourself as soon as you open your mouth.  You take a slow once over around the room. Namjoon’s words echo in between your thoughts - Could the place be bugged? They were here not so long ago, and considering how they kept seeming to be a step in front of you at all times, it wasn’t a far stretch. There was no way to be sure, but you had a hunch.

Walking back to the main room, you catch his attention from where he is snooping around the shelves. 

“Didn’t find anything. I think we’re out of luck.” When he turns to look at you, you widen your eyes and make an intense gesture with your finger to your lips before pointing a finger from your ear to the ceiling and directing your eyes around the room. You’re grateful when he understands immediately.

“Seriously? Nothing?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah. They got us. We should head back and call for cleanup, see if they can find anything.” You start for the door, pulling it open.

He hums, eyeing the item in your hand as he walks out behind you. “Good idea… I don’t really want to be here anymore anyway. Feels too weird.”

It’s silent all the way down. Was it too obvious? Was the dialogue too strange, too choppy? The two of you reach the street, careful of your surroundings, before getting back in his car. 

“What was that about?” he asks, shutting the door as he slides into the driver’s seat.

You hold out the card for him to take. “Look. You know how you said there was no recent record of employment besides at King’s Crown? He’s been working at the Belvedere the past three months.”

He looks at you incredulously. “And?”

For whatever reason, he makes you doubt yourself. Suddenly, that solid idea you had in mind that made you split from the apartment is no longer so solid.

“The Belvedere has to have something. That’s our new lead!” Pulling your seatbelt over your body, you reach for your phone to give the Boss an update.

“He could have just been working off-record and gotten involved with the Syndicate some other way.”

You turn to him seriously. “Jeon. If it’s separate, why bother? Why would he be working for the Syndicate when he has a stable source of income as a dealer unless the two come hand in hand? They have to be hiding in plain sight.”

“And you’re willing to bet all your cards on that?” You almost find the doubt in his voice offensive.

You exhale deeply, trying to push down your temper. “The people in the Syndicate who killed him made sure there was nothing left on him to tell us who he was. No wallet, no keys, no license, no nothing, because they wanted his identity hidden. If he was working for them separately, why would they bother to do that? They would have just killed him and left. But it was about who he was and what he did. Which was dealing at The Belvedere.”

The car goes silent, and Jeon doesn’t reply. He only looks at you blankly, his poker face hard to break through, but not impossible. You know when he lets a hand slip up to tug at the strands at the nape of his neck.

“Good job,” he grins, hooking the key in the ignition and rumbling the car to life. He pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road casually. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You cross your arms in front of you protectively, glaring at him from the side.

“Oh, come on. I never actually doubted you, I was just messing around.”

You scoff loudly, turning to the window. “You’re such a fucking liar, Gguk. You didn’t get the connection until I explained it and the fact that you can’t even admit that you’re wrong, the fact that you have to act like you always knew, blows my fucking mind!”

He makes a left turn, looking out at the road, clearly avoiding you even though you’re stuck in the same damn car a foot away. “Calm down, Y/N. It’s not that serious.”

“But it is that serious! It was going so well, Gguk. We were finally acting like regular partners on a job. You always have to ruin everything, don’t you? It always has to be about you, and how much of a hero you are-”

“I never said I was a hero.”

“But you sure act like it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? Comes from the guy who claims he was ‘just joking around’ during a serious case like this when you know it’s not like what it used to be.”

“Okay, fine!” He shouts, hands slamming down on the steering wheel. “I did doubt you. I thought it was far fetched.” Jeon's voice booms as he rambles quickly in aggravation. “And then you explained it and I remembered that you’re really fucking smart and I wouldn’t have made that connection myself. And I lied because I didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, okay? Are you happy?”

Jeon’s free hand, which had been jerking around as he yelled, finds itself gripping the wheel again regretfully. Silence fills the car, hanging in the air as heavy and solid as concrete. You’re almost scared to breathe in face of all the tension. He looks like he’s about to say something else but stops himself before the words fall out. 

The way you were fuming brings tears to your eyes. When your parents died, all you had was Jeongguk. But Jeongguk’s heart had been rooted in the mafia since he was young. The two were mutually exclusive, and your best option was following after him. It was hard to believe the boy you put your trust in so blindly all those years ago had grown into the man sitting next to you now, bringing you to tears with the way he infuriated you. Where did it all go wrong?

“No. I’m not.”

☆☆☆

You’re tired when you go to bed that night, and you’re tired when you wake up. Though you’re barely awake, you can feel Penny nestled into your side, body rising and falling as she breathes. It’s a small comfort, especially after the rough day you had. Last night had been a mess as you tried to hold it together for her, but simply couldn’t. 

Today, you’ll be heading over to a motel in the Gambling District to stay at indefinitely with Jeon while you work on the case. You have no clue how long it will take - you’ll be taking a look at the Belvedere, but what comes after that, you don’t know.

It was important to note that somehow, the two of you had moved up to the faces of the mission, even though both sides were working tirelessly in the search. 

The last thing you want to do right now is see him, but you have no choice. The sooner you start working and get it done, the sooner you can get home. But for now, you have to start packing. You take another moment to lay with Penny, because when you’ll next feel this safety and comfort again, you can’t be sure of. Then, you carefully unlink her from you and begin laying things out.

Something nice to wear for the casino, clothes to sleep in, essentials for hygiene, an extra pair of socks… 

Eventually, Penny stretches out and groans to inform you of her awakening while you roam around the room. Her feet shifting under the comforter push a t-shirt off the bed.

“Sleep okay?” She rubs her eyes. “Yeah, you?”

“Eh. Could have been better.”

While you are away, Penny will be home by herself. The Boss said that she wouldn’t be required for work while you were gone - she could stay home and safe, for your reassurance. It still makes you nervous, of course, but bringing her with you isn’t an option. Yeji promised she would stop in from time to time, and you would be leaving her with a sum of money in case she needs it to order food or something of the sort.

“When are you leaving?”

“I have to be there by one, so probably in an hour or so.”

“Can we make waffles then?”

You sigh, letting your arms go limp at your side. Waffles were a hassle, and the cleanup could be a nightmare, but… something told you it was worth it over the potential mess.

“Sure, go get the machine set up and I’ll come out in a sec.”

It takes a few more minutes to get everything packed, take a few extra bottles of soaps and gels just in case, quickly zipping up your duffle bag and tossing it down onto the bed for when you return later.

Out in the kitchen, Penny has gotten more of a move on. She has already retrieved the ingredients from the pantry, even started measuring amounts out accordingly with the instructions on the back of the box.

You let her have a little fun and crack the eggs this time - though some shell gets in there, it’s nothing you can’t pick out. She makes jokes and you can’t help but laugh, and something about it has its way of calming you down. It reminds you of how precious moments spent together are. Something about the girl just makes you let go of the burdens you carry.

But it’s much too soon that you’re cleaning up. A small ending for a small fragment of your day bound to be filled with things much larger than you’re ready to handle. 

The rain falls like feathers when you pull into the lot, plunking consistently on your windshield. You turn the key and take it out, shutting down the vehicle’s rumbling engine, the lights dimming out all around you. You should get inside sooner than later, before the weather worsens, but you can’t seem to bring yourself out of the car. Jeon’s is already parked, meaning he’s inside waiting. But there’s no other choice you have. You’ll have to see him at some point, anyway. Postponing will only anger you further.

You push open the car door quickly, grabbing your bag and darting up the stairs as they clang under your shoes. The droplets smack against your skin and drip down relentlessly. It could be worse, but it is certainly not pleasant. Once you find shelter under the awning, you raise your hand in preparation to knock, but Jeon is already yanking open the door and stepping aside to make way for your entrance.

Inside, you dab at your hair with your sleeve carefully, fixing it in the mirror opposite to you. As clued in by the backpack and laptop already set up on the right side of the singular bed in the room, you deduced he had already claimed it. Therefore, you take the initiative to place your own bag on the left side, closest to the wall.

“So… how are you?”

“I’m fine.” You reach into your bag to begin unpacking a few of your essentials, feeling his eyes glued to you as you move around the room. Even as you plug in your charger, toss your computer on the bed, you could sense his firm yet uneasy presence behind you.

“Have you started yet?” you ask, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward onto your face. You’d prefer to start your work instead of floating around the elephant in the room awkwardly. 

He tucks his hands into his pockets. “No, I was waiting for you.” Jeon has been stuck to the same spot near the dim lamp beside the door since you stepped through the threshold. It inclined you to think that maybe he’s as nervous as you are, but you’re sure it’ll pass over in a matter of minutes once he gathers himself. 

“Okay.” You exhale in thought, sweeping yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “I’ll start doing background on the casino and it’s ownership records. You can look into workers or people associated with the man who was killed. Or call the agency, I don’t know. You do you.”

He makes a small noise of agreement, flipping open his laptop. However, with the slow movement of his fingers across the keyboard, the air void of purposeful clicking, you can tell he’s not getting much done. In fact, you can see in your peripheral his stillness, as if he’s waiting to make a move.

When you spare a glimpse over to him, he offers an expression of deep thought, only to say, “There are snacks, too. In case you get hungry.”

Your scampering flow of typing pauses. “Okay.” All you can offer is a brief, tight pull of your lips, what you could barely define as a smile.

Luckily, he seems to receive your message loud and clear, turning back around in his chair to start up whatever he was planning on. You know what you want to get - the information most valuable to doing what you needed to do and confirming what you already suspected, which was in the past records of the proprietorship. It would also be helpful if you could find current workers and see what they were doing; Maybe even more helpful if you could find nothing at all.

The records you stumble upon are nothing short of interesting once you finally break down that barrier. Ownership of the casino had been consistent up until three months ago, when the deed holder - a healthy man of only fifty-six years old - made a business deal and swiftly moved out of the country, only to be found dead in his home a month later. The new owner’s background appeared without even the slightest scratch. The lack of suspicion is suspicious in itself - you don’t think the Falcon would have the place under his own name, but having it under someone who is pristine as a newly minted coin is dubious all the same.

It’s the shut of Jeon’s laptop that sucks you back into the reality of the motel room from your online sanctuary. He stands up to stretch and makes a move for the bathroom. The room is shrouded in the darkness of nighttime, save for the moonlight streaming in through the windows and the sorry excuse for a lamp on your night table. It wouldn’t kill you to call it a night either.

When he emerges, you take your turn, bringing a change of clothes with you so you won’t have to face the tension that might arise if you came back out in just a towel. The shower is pleasant; For a second, if you close your eyes, you’re no longer in the same space with him and can enjoy the time for yourself. 

Your heavy heart can’t be kept at bay for too long. Outside the bathroom is a surprisingly accurate reminder of old times, when scenes just like this were the regular, and the feeling was the same. But at this moment, the way you’re avoiding his eyes while you braid your hair in the mirror is a show of just how much things have changed.

“Why are you looking at me?” you pipe quietly over the steady padding of your feet on the carpet, his watch following you hesitantly.

Jeon sits back at the head of the bed, not sure where to direct his gaze anymore now that you’ve verbally interrupted it. His constant attention, and especially the way he doesn’t deny it even in the face of your attitude towards him, leaves you with a weary ache that you’re quickly getting tired of feeling all the time.

A charming, shy smile fixes on his face as his head tilts endearingly, testing the waters. “What, I can’t look at you?”

“Not like that,” you mumble, barely above a whisper, lifting up the sheets to crawl in, leaving as much space as possible between the two of you. When you turn your back to him to look at the wall, you think he might make another teasing comment, but he doesn’t.

“It’s the braid,” he elaborates, as if it’s some sort of excuse sufficient enough to play flirty and cool with you when the situation is anything but. “It reminds me of when we were kids… you used to wear it like that every day.” 

It’s almost as if to say, do you remember? But of course you remember. Afternoons spent at the playground, your hair in a loose braid thrown over the front of your shoulder. Mornings spent in the courtyard, scribbling down answers to work that was due in ten minutes. Evenings spent wandering around town, laughing and joking together as kids should. But nothing offered by the times of the past could dismiss the times of the present.

You lean over and tug the chain on the lamp, darkness enclosing your small room.

“Go to bed, Gguk.”

He doesn’t make another sound that night.

☆☆☆

The storm has proven its resilience yet continues to torrent, horribly testing the aging logs of trees and endlessly splattering your windows. Even still, it has something to say, residing anger it wants to make you feel, trapping you inside your room and limiting your options. It’s a deep pain, but perhaps if you were a storm, you’d let yourself drain out every ounce of deplorable wrath until there was nothing leftover, too.

Jeon sits at the small table near the door. He’s been there for who knows how long, flipping through pages, making phone calls that connect no dots, wasting his time. There is nothing that can be done at the moment, not with the state of the weather at least. Weather, a trivial matter, the most popular topic choice for insignificant conversation, heeds your course of action without a known resumption.

In the meantime, you enjoy yourself as much as you can. You make popcorn in the less than appealing microwave and settle in to watch whatever piques your interest in the slightest, meaning there is not a wide selection. Right now, you’ve got on a show about the aliens who have supposedly visited ancient Egypt and other societies bygone, and have been consistently present throughout the timeline of human history.

“Y/N. Let me ask you a question.” Jeon rubs his forehead, slumping over in his chair. “Did you come here with the intention of helping this case, or just to vacation?”

You nod in thought, humming. “Good question. I’d say the former, but I don’t think your question was intended to have an answer. Let me ask you a question then.”

His tired face turns to you expectantly. 

You take a pensive breath before raising your hand and asking slowly, “Do you think that aliens provided advanced technologies to the Germans to build new weapons for the Third Reich?”

He stares at you blankly, meeting your still and inquisitive expression for just a moment until he cracks, shaking his head and looking away toward the window, as if he’ll find something better to say out there.

“No, I’m serious,” you insist as you toss another kernel into your mouth, hoping he takes your biting satire to heart. “Because, this guy is saying that the Germans built a flying saucer. A whole fucking flying saucer, called the Haunebu, and no, wait, listen, it was said to use mythical technology from old Indian texts.”

You stare, intent on waiting for a response. Jeon pinches the bridge of his nose, the way his fuse was quickly shortening keeping you bitterly entertained. “You have to work with me, Y/N. Can you please just work with me?”

The joke dissolves and you blankly turn to flip through the channels. “I am working with you. There’s just nothing to work on.”

He puts his head in his hands. “For God’s sake, can you stop? I know you don’t care for me, but if you could just cooperate-”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Care for you?” you repeat, your smile fueled with gallons of flammable offense, sitting upright on the bed. He spins in his chair to face you again, eyebrows knitting together before confirming, “Yeah, care for me!”

A sour laugh escapes you, arms folding over your front. “I don’t care for you? That’s rich, Gguk.” 

“No, you don’t! And I don’t think you ever have, quite frankly, because you’re acting like such a bitch to me and can’t even give me a chance!” Jeon stands now, leaning into his words as his hands stretch out in dramatic gestures.

You jump to your feet. ”Why should I give you a chance? What good has that ever done me?”

Jeon’s jaw visibly clenches, his hand shooting up to meet his chin as he eschews your scrutinizing eye. You feel your nails digging into your palms as your fists clench, but you’re sure you’ll swing at something if you stop.

Your throat begins to sting, masking your cracking voice with a low tone. “I almost died for you, Gguk. And a week later, you left me.”

The room collapses under the weight of the elephant. It’s everything you’ve wanted to say for years bubbling to the top.

As soon as the venom leaves your mouth, you know he remembers. The guilt washing over his features says it all, awful clips of the last mission you ever went on together passing through his vision.

It was supposed to be an easy interception of a deal, but Jeon’s inability to differentiate between necessary risk and recklessness cost you your covers. He got away. You were captured.

It was torture at the expense of his safety. Excruciating pain in order to protect him from his own mistake. Your blood spilled, your tears cried, your body hurt. Yet at the end of every video, every call, every threat, your only message to him was that it was okay.

They were the worst you had ever encountered. They wanted leverage over the Boss; They wanted Jeon. And the only way to him was to you. At the time, it was worth it. You wouldn’t give him up, you wouldn’t let yourself become a part of an exchange for his life. You put his over your own in a heartbeat.

And where had that gotten you?

Your depth of a breaking point had provided that desperately needed time to organize a plan of attack, and even though you hadn’t been there quite yet, even though you had been trained and it was far from your first rodeo, it wasn’t anything less than scarring. 

Even though the mafia infiltrated and rescued you successfully, the inner turmoil never fully recovered. Though you moved past the nightmares and the flashbacks that hid in your damaged subconscious, the memory never stopped hurting. Especially when he up and left you to deal with it on your own.

“I know,” is all he can muster. 

A thrilling laugh of spite rips from your throat. He hates it.

“What? That’s all you can say? You can’t even give me an explanation?”

“I… I was out of options for us, Y/N. After the mission, I knew it was me making you vulnerable. People were hurting you over me, and I didn’t want that for us anymore. I made a plan to leave, and I thought that you could come with me… but I was stupid and in a rush and the deal was only for my cooperation if the Agency helped me out. They wouldn’t let me take you.”

Your usual crisp verbosity fails you now, everything you need to say stuck in your throat. A stabbing anguish falls like bullets in a downpour, a storm born only in the bitterest winter. 

“I know I fucked up, Y/N, I know I did. And I’ll always be sorry and I’ll always regret it. And I’ll spend every second of my life trying to make up for it.” Jeon’s lip quivers through his shaky breaths, his eyes now soaked, the ache in his heart unforgiving. “And I know I can’t ever take it back, but you hate me so bad…”

A pained upturn of your lips feeling the grudge of a thousand wrongdoings phases over your expression, for him, for you, for everyone you’d ever known in this sickening lifetime.

“I don’t hate you, Gguk,” you sob through your teeth, wiping furiously at your eyes, “I hate… I hate that I love you regardless of what you do.”

He winces. “Please don’t do that to me.” “Do what?”

Hot streams of tears trickled down his supple cheeks, voice cracking as he whispers, “Say that you love me when you know how I feel.”

“Oh shut up, Jeongguk!” you yell, wet rage prickling your veins as it courses through you. Your cheeks are now just vessels for a dam breaking loose. “I have always loved you!”

And it hurts so bad to say it. The way he makes your stomach flutter feels like a betrayal to yourself. But that smile he wears like a medallion, those eyes that are always searching for you, that golden heart that loved you so well - everything you hate is everything you love. Even when you want to ignore the truth for everything it’s worth and all the weight it heaves on its shoulders, it’s impossible to escape the way you love him even when you wish you could just hate him.

You calm yourself with a shaky breath. “I loved you before, and I loved you after, even when you left and I knew you weren’t coming back.”

“That’s not true,” he sputters, taking a step toward you. “I was always going to come back. Every day, I begged for help to get you out. But the deal I made with the agency was only my rescue for my cooperation, and it didn’t include you, no matter what I tried to do.”

It stings your chest. You have to turn away when your head drops to your palms, but he’s quick to reach a hand to your shoulder for your attention. 

“It’s been over three years, Gguk,” you whisper, sniffling as you wipe your running nose with your sleeve. Your voice is clogged in disappointed acceptance. “Don’t lie. Just say my relevance to you faded and you forgot.”

He grasps your arm gently, beckoning your eyes to meet his. While your tears are slowing from tire, his are an endless faucet left on in negligence.

“No,” his tone softens, “No, I was waiting until it was safe.”

You shake your head, the soreness in your chest present as ever as you try to hold it all in. “It was never going to be safe.”

“Maybe. And maybe it won’t ever be. But you have to let me make it right.”

“How do you intend on doing that? Putting snacks in the fridge doesn’t do shit, Gguk.”

He inhales deeply as his lips press together. Jeon takes a careful glance around the room, eyebrows furrowing as he silently pleads with you. 

“I made a plan to get you out after the mission is completed. The higher-ups at the Agency agreed just in exchange for you to give a private report with as much as you know for future reference. From there, it’s you going wherever you want, no strings attached, no extra deal you have to make.”

“That won’t work,” you scoff.

“Yes, it will! I promise it will! Listen, everything is already planned. My friends are taking extra care because they trust me. You’ll have new records, a new passport and a license, new everything, and even…”

“Gguk...” You whisper as he continues rambling. “Gguk. Jeongguk!”

He takes in a sharp breath as his words are cut off mid-stream, feeling his heart drop to his stomach.

In a quiet, calm whisper, you explain, “I can’t. I have Penny and other people here that I care about. For god sake, I have money I've been saving for years in that apartment, all our stuff is there, I can’t just leave and not come back.”

The desperation in his voice is now out in the open. “I know. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m working on her now, too. You just have to trust me.”

For a second, he lets himself swell with hope, but your deep, despondent sigh crumbles him right back down to where he started. 

“Gguk…” you start, but he can’t bear to hear it, leaning down to meet your hesitant eyes straight on. Distress clouds his watery pupils as he implores you with every ounce of sincerity he can muster to the surface for you. He doesn’t know how else he can make you see he’s being more honest now than he ever has been in his life. 

“It’s okay if you can’t forgive me. I understand, and I’ll never stop being sorry. And, and I’m sorry for how I acted when I saw you again, but I was just so scared.” His lip trembles as he searches for eyes for something, anything. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do because I was so scared of what you’d say and how you’d feel and I thought if I acted like it was fine, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” 

He swallows on a dry mouth, trying not to stammer but his heart denying him that ability.

“I, I thought about you every day. Every day. And I knew it was complicated and everyone told me I should just let go and, and I just couldn’t! I just knew it was you. It was always you. And I am so, so sorry I made you feel it wasn���t.”

By now, you can’t restrain your tears, no matter how hard you clench your teeth or comfort your face. In a moment of deep affliction, there’s no other place to turn but him. The second you pull him to you is relief synonymous with the feeling of when a battered castaway finally spots a plane coming for their rescue; it is joint. 

“I wish I could trust you, Jeongguk,” Sobs muffled by his comforting chest, you cry, ”But I don’t know if I can do that. I want to believe you so bad, but I… I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

The comforting warmth of his body is a mean juxtaposition against the harsh sobs that rack through it. Jeongguk smells of something sweet and nostalgically familiar, like sunny beach days spent down by the salty water, plucking seashells from the sand and digging for hermit crabs once the waves pull away from the shore. Light sunscreen and grainy memories that flash by as your brain slides through like film.

“That’s okay,” he mumbles into your hair. Your will splinters in his arms. “Just think about it. That’s all. Just think about it.”

Though you nod against him in shaky assent, it’s not a promise. 

☆☆☆

Not the next day, but the day after, is when you decide to make your move. 

The casino is a home base, hidden in plain sight. Not even that - crowded by the public eye, and yet not a suspicion raised despite its astronomical numbers being reported over the past few months. Sure, it was bustling full of rich men in need of something to spend their money on, but not enough to sustain those incredible reports.

And under that brittle, flimsy assumption comes your similarly brittle, flimsy plan. Go in, see what you can see. Scout for suspicious activity, chat up drunk patrons and loosen their lips, explore the building a bit. See what you see.

Your fingers are nimble, but your prickling nerves make them fumble as you try the clasp on your necklace. The nail on your pointer can’t seem to hold the small lever down for long enough, even when you twist the chain around so you can lean forward to do it in the mirror. You even consider just tossing it to the side and going without the necklace.

Jeon, standing awkwardly to the side and already having fixed his sleeves in place countless times, glances over to you in the mirror briefly. You sigh when you catch his hesitant watch in the reflection - his shy offer goes unspoken, just a reminder that it’s there if you want to take it. All it takes is a minuscule top of your head to give in.

 Resisting Jeongguk is like resisting gravity. It pulls you down sooner or later, no matter how high or far you push yourself off. But at the end of the day, it keeps you grounded.

His footsteps are barely audible on the carpet as he approaches timidly. Light on his feet, as always. You surrender the ends of the necklace to him and tug the pendant back around to the front. The pads of his fingertips are rough as they drag lightly across your skin in the exchange, igniting a flaming feeling in their path. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as he pushes them out of the way with the back of his hand. Considering his extensive training and incredible eye, you’re sure he notices it, but you’re grateful he doesn’t say anything.

You try not to let your eyes wander in the mirror for too long. For your excursion tonight, your dress is one of the best you own - a simple, dark satin gown with a generous leg slit to steal some eyes, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. The deep cowl neck is flattering in its pristine v-shape, especially with the way the pendant hangs itself just above.

Jeon is sporting all black. His shirt is ironed smoothly, fitting well over his shoulders and tucked with care into his trousers and secured with a sturdy belt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal his skin, tattoos peeking out in a shamelessly appealing way, and the collar…

Okay, too much. You’ll go into sensory overload if you look any longer. He’s caught onto it, the way a smirk creeps onto his face. He lingers a second longer after he’s clasped the jewelry in place. The Gguk you know flicks his eyes up quickly and throws a small, short smile your way, hands reluctant to pull away as they take the time to drift over your bare shoulders.

You clear your throat, taking the initiative to get on your way. He hides the way his spirit dips at the rejection, but he knows he can’t expect more. Once you’re outside and have locked the door behind you, the night air hits you, cool and fresh and promising. But for what exactly, you can’t be sure.

☆☆☆

The Belvedere is one of the most expensive-looking places in the city - in the months since you’d last worked a case around the gambling district, it had certainly been renovated. At the very front, the casino’s name glows light blue in a thin font while large ivory columns hold up a wide intricate ceiling to shade the pavilion. A wall of luxe glass doors lines the entrance, so sparkly and reflecting you think it can’t be just glass. 

As inviting as the front entrance seems, it is not your way in. Too many scrutinizing eyes, too many cautious cameras, too much security for your type of job. That leads you to the side of the building, a small alley between buildings with one side entrance. The agency already looped the footage twenty minutes ago just to be safe.

But of course when you try it, it’s locked.

“And… what now? They’ll notice if we just break in.”

Jeon shrugs. “Maybe not until a little while. Besides, we’re covered.” His pointer finds the camera up above the two of your for reference.

“I’d rather hold off on the damage we do.”

As he racks his brain for another option, your brain tunes in to the muted sound of shoes on linoleum. He raises a question just as you put your ear to the door but your shush quiets him immediately. The footsteps are coming your way.

Just as you feel the door about to open, you tug Jeon to the side next to the door’s hinge, pulling him down by his collar into a kiss. The door opens loudly and his hands, after his initial shock dissipates, find themselves on your waist as your own snake their way around his neck. You make sure one hand covers the side of his face generously and that your hair masks your own, meanwhile Jeon can’t help himself from getting swept up in you.

A guard, you think it is, halts when he sees the two of you, but takes it off his radar when he can no longer stand to watch your shamelessness. Or rather, Jeon’s shamelessness. His lips persistently press themselves to yours, nipping and pulling all the while his large hands push into your waist. Something about it makes you think it’s not just for a distraction.

The man shakes his head and turns the opposite direction, walking out toward the street. Before the heavy door falls closed behind him, you reach an arm out to grab the handle. Jeon pulls back slowly, blinking dumbfoundedly. He never thought you’d do such a thing - but clearly, it wasn’t such a thing to you by the way you were grinning like you’d only told a joke. He swallows, mentally slapping himself in a note to get himself together. You’re already stepping inside, and he picks up to follow suit.

You follow the hallway down the main room, and no one raises any concern, probably unable to sense suspicion in their state of inebriation. The two of you weave your way through crowds of people with too much money to spend, quietly thinking of how easy it would be to pickpocket them - but that’s for another time. 

A quick scan of the room provides you with the bar, rows of slot machines, pool tables, and a large lounge area filled with the sounds of mindless chatter and glasses clinking. You order drinks to blend in, nothing alcoholic, because as much as you wish you could get drunk and have fun in a casino, that wasn’t the reason you were here. Jeon hands you your coke with a practiced movement.

In a cheesy sort of cheers, he says, “To… the Lion and the Scorpion? Or is that too soon?” He purses his lips, half scared you’ll agree its too soon. It’s relief when he hears the laugh he missed so dearly.

“Not too soon, just a little embarrassing.” You clink your glass to his and take a sip. Jeon leads you over to the dartboards in excitement, one of his favorites to partake in. He chooses the one at the end of the row so you can stand beside him, supposedly to be impressed by his skills and praise him.

“God, this reminds me of Macau,” he sighs out contently. His coffee eyes roam around the large expanse of the hall, seeming to glitter under the crystal chandeliers hanging above you as he walks back from the controls, darts in hand. He gets into position and throws his first, landing for two points in the ring of red. As if you didn’t already know, he adds, “I loved Macau.”

You scoff. “What, because of the way our covers were blown and we had to massacre the lobby, or the sex?”

“Why not both?” He shrugs, smirk creeping onto his face. Another dart leaves his grip, expert aim leading right to the bullseye.

You take another sip of your drink. “Careful,” you warn, “Can’t be too good at this. It comes with questions.”

He hums, and you wonder if he’s even listening. “And you still had blood on your chest. Weirdly sexy.” His eyes narrow jokingly as he speaks just low enough so only you can hear it, and the reaction it pulls from you is exactly what he wanted when he starts to laugh. He lets go of his last dart with a shake of his head, either at the memory or his bad throw that says he’s going fishing.

He turns back to you. At your annoyed expression, he takes another swig of his drink and leans down to your ear. “Seriously though. That was hot.”

You roll your eyes before sending a scowl his way. “I’ll make sure to be extra messy tonight, just for you.” Your eyes crinkle peevishly. The sarcastic tone doesn’t escape him, but he does look hopeful.

“Hey, speaking of, this could be my New Macau. If you’re feeling frisky after the mission.” He throws you a flirtatious wink. While your poker face implies disinterest, your stomach is somersaulting head over heels, and you have a feeling he knows it by the way his eyes linger on you when you raise your glass to your lips. 

The phone in your purse vibrates. It’s a text from Yeji - need to get a move on. Jeon already has your gaze when you look back to meet him, but he knows it’s time from your expression alone. With a small nod, he goes up to end the game on the machine’s screen. Instead of coming back to you, though, he subtly taps your arm as he walks past and heads off to the door of the main floor, disappearing from your sight. You wait for a good thirty seconds, let people pass across the camera view at random, before hopping down from the barstool to follow in his footsteps.

You find him waiting in a secluded hallway, away from crowds or casino-regulars. He looks solemn, back pressed against the wall, and you have a feeling that what he has to say might upset you. He thinks so, too.

“Listen, you have to make a decision now. Before we split up, because there’s a chance I might not see you after this.”

You shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.” His eyebrows draw together as he gives you a pleading expression. His eyes flick to both sides of the hall before coming back to you, releasing a deep breath before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“I gave you the time, Y/N. You have to before it’s too late.” Jeon gulps, fumbling for the words. “Just come with me, please. I know it’s a lot to ask and I know you’re scared but you can trust me. I can help you.”

“No, Gguk. You don’t get it - It’s not possible. It’s not an option.” You sigh in resignation. A depleted smile surfaces as you shake your head. “Not in this life.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You did it once, you can do it again.”

“I’m not… I- I won’t. Y/N, please…” His lip quivers, his eyes glossing over.

He can’t accept the answer your silence provides. It’s not enough, not something he’s willing to endure. If it’s going to be a no, he has to hear it loud and clear.

He purses his lips tight. “I’ll flip a coin then.”

“...What?”

“I’ll flip a coin. Heads, you come with me. Tails, I’ll go,” he says shakily, swallowing, “...and I’ll never speak to you again.”

Before you can stop him, he’s wiping away the tears that have not yet had the chance to escape and aggressively fishing a quarter from his pocket, placing it on the tip of his thumb. Desperation burns in him, but you’re paralyzed. All you can do is stare, a fish out of water being held in the grip of an angler who just can’t let go. Or maybe one that’s urging you back out to sea.

His thumb flicks and the coin flies, the sound barely audible in this corner of the building but piercing to your ears. It flips in the air, every rotation executed with purpose - in that moment, as its arc nearly completes, the thought strikes you like lightning and without a second thought, you hand reaches up and snatches it midair.

Jeon is awestruck. He searches for something to say as his fountain of hope runs dry.

Weakly, you mutter, “Okay.” Its compliance, but a strange relief that makes you feel guilty the second it washes over you.

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

A tight-lipped smile spreads on his face - it’s the best he can do after such stress. In a heartbeat, he embraces you tightly, broad shoulders enveloping your form. His grip is familiar and only full of good things, even if it might suffocate you. His long, wavy locks brush lightly against your jaw as he buries his face in your neck. For once, you let yourself have that rare moment of comfort. 

“I won’t let you down,” he says, a vocal assurance for himself maybe more than for you. He thinks that maybe he shouldn’t say it, but he has to. “I promise.” 

It’s his first small triumph tonight. If nothing else, it is a debt repaid. He won’t push for more. He pulls back, lets you fix your hair and readjust your dress.

“Let’s get a move on. I’ll search the main floor, you take a look around the building. Keep in touch.”

You’re about to turn away from him, but his arm catches your wrist at the last second. When you look back to see what he has to say, he has trouble finding the right words.

“Listen… Y/N, I don’t know what it is, but I have this awful feeling. And I’m trying to ignore it, I know I’m probably just nervous, but I just want you to know in case. You don’t have to say anything…”

The hair framing your face bounces as your head begins to shake, trying to deny him before he can even say it. “No, Gguk, I know-”

“No. I...I love you. And you gotta know that, no matter what happens.” His thumb traces small circles on the patch of skin where yours meets your index. Before you have a chance to respond, he gives your hand a tight squeeze and plants a chaste kiss to your cheek, lips plush and sweet against your dimple, his last action as your token of remembrance. 

He doesn’t know why he feels so frail as he walks away, wiping away the wetness leaking from his eyes as he tries to calm himself down. Maybe it’s the lack of information, maybe it’s you possibly being in danger again. He tries to push it down as he struggles to resist the urge to look back at you; He’s just all up in his head, right? You can defend yourself, you’ll be fine without him, he reassures himself. You can make rope from kitchen twine.

You’re stuck on your own as the distance between you grows, heart racing as your time to say it back runs out like sand in an hourglass. In less than seconds, his figure has already disappeared around the corner.

A delicate finger reaches up to press the small button on the spyware piece tucked behind your ear. The whisper is low but you mean every syllable, regardless of the leftover turmoil that has consistently tempted you into anger the past few years - “I love you, Jeongguk.”

It’s a shot in the dark for you without his physical presence, but he hears it. It’s barely audible, but he hears it, and rings in his mind for moments after. It makes him feel right, like the moment when everything sifts into the bowl perfectly, no clumps of doubt left behind in the minuscule metal crosshatches. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of relief stays frozen in time.

You’re on your way back to the main hall when a buzz from your purse alerts you to an unknown number calling your phone. Typically you’d let it ring, thinking it was spam - but considering this was an agency phone, that wouldn’t make much sense. Your finger hovers over the green accept button, hesitantly pressing down and lifting it to your ear. 

The response is immediate. “The Scorpion,” a man on the other end addresses you, sounding much too enthusiastic for your taste. His voice is masked with a changer, the tone fluctuating as he speaks. “I’m glad you could make it tonight. I’ve spent a lot to make this place nice.”

The theatrics elicit an impatient eye roll from you. “Who is this?”

“Who do you think? You’re a smart cookie. There’s a reason they call you the Scorpion, isn’t there?”

He lets the pause marinate and continues, “I actually wanted to meet with you. I need to discuss something vital to you in person, but you’ll have to do some things for me first.”

You begin to turn around, spinning on your heels and intent on heading to Jeongguk downstairs, but the voice on the phone stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You freeze, an eyebrow raising at the voice’s inquiry. Keen eyes scan quickly, landing on the faceless lens of a security camera - 

“It’s my casino. Of course I can see what you’re doing.”

A skeptical breath escapes you, squinting at the camera focused on your position. “...What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” It’s casual.

“How do I know it’s not a trap?” “You don’t. But you don’t have any other option, really. If you need convincing… why don’t you check your home security?”

The dubious persona falters as your heart stops. It couldn’t be. You exit the call and open the app on your phone right away, and a sinking feeling hits you like a truck on the freeway, full speed and with reckless abandon. The view from the camera, grey and grainy, displays the apartment in pieces, furniture overthrown and papers scattered. The dread crawls up your spine as your worst nightmare, the one thing you always prayed for despite the lack of faith, comes to life; Penny is gone.

You call the number back.

“What now?” you say, jaw clenched. trying to calm your breathing.

“Take out your earpiece, toss it to the floor, and crush it. I need to protect my location somehow, right? Just a precaution.”

You slowly remove the receiver from its spot nestled in around your ear, thumbing the tiny matte black tech. It’s your connection to the outside, to safety. It’s your connection to Jeongguk. But the Falcon has played his cards right, leaving you with no other option. It falls from your fingertips, clatters to the linoleum, and you crush it underneath your heel.

“Now, your weapons. My guards will come to escort you - hand over your gun and any knives you may have on you. I know you’re sneaky, but now… really isn’t the time. I’ll see you in a bit.” A cold click ends the call and he’s gone.

On cue, two masked men dressed in all black emerge. They don’t frighten you, you know you could take them if you needed to. However, the priority is Penny, so you have to. You surrender your weapons and phone to them, and then they begin to shuffle you away to wherever the Falcon had made his nest.

Despite the nerves prickling like electric shocks, uneasiness itches in the back of your mind. Something about the phone call - was it the strange familiarity that made you feel so nauseous? You couldn’t quite place your finger on what was so off, on what about it pulled the alarm, but something besides the obvious situation at hand was wrong.

☆☆☆

Jeongguk doesn’t have much to go off of. He’s looking for something, anything, that can clue him in. He finds a creepy looking stairwell and decides to take it down. That’s how you find everything in need of being found, right? By following what feels off?

He comes to a storage room full of dusty metal shelves, all lined with boxes upon boxes. He takes a quick sweep of the room, shrugging to himself before delving into one. It’s just piles of text he doesn’t understand, pages and pages of orders and receipts dating back years and years. Maps of the building, information of repairs and inventory and renovations. It doesn’t mean anything useful, until he sees orders under names that ring a bell.

But from where? People he went to school with, maybe? For the life of him, he can’t remember where he knows them from.

He’s frantically flipping through pages, pulling boxes from the shelves and trying his best to read under the dim light. It’s not making any sense, until he lands on orders filed under the name… Jeon?

He freezes, all alone in the middle of a storage room full of thousands of documents, a sickly feeling washing over him.

A trembling hand reaches up to press the button on his earpiece.

“Y/N? I think I just found something.”

He waits, and no response from you.

“...Y/N?”

☆☆☆

The penthouse is in the heart of the city, just a few blocks away from the Belvedere. The view is enough to tell it to you - it overlooks miles of blinking lights and busy streets with which you have an archetypal love-hate relationship with. 

You’ve stepped fresh off the elevator into an open room that is in dire need of an interior decorator, or at the very least some basic furnishing. It’s basically empty, the dark hardwood floors even coated with a light layer of dust. Nothing except the moon and the fireplace at the other end of the room illuminate the space.

There’s shuffling, and the guards on either side of you are grabbing firmly onto your arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You struggle against them, fighting to get out of their grip, but one of them mutters how it’ll be better for you if you cooperate. You strain against the instinct to escape, every bone in your body screaming disgusted by the forced submission. Handcuffs click into place, and pressure on your shoulders pushes you to your knees. Then, they resign themselves to the back corners of the room.

A door creaks open at the far side of the room. The man sports a dark coat that obscures his figure, and long, dark hair hangs over the man’s face. His steps are slow and calculated on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the fire. Slender, practiced fingers grab onto the poker and stir the fire, glowing orange embers soaring in a blizzard of an inferno. A silver ring glints in the moonlight - one you’d recognize anywhere.

The details flood back, chains of connections like dominoes tipping over the edge of gut-wrenching betrayal - 

“...Boss?”

The man pauses, followed by a sudden clasp of his hands in… delight?

He spins on the heel of his oxfords to face you, hair sweeping back as he smiles at you.

“Keen as ever, my dear. You truly are the Scorpion. I know how you feel about your title, but you’re deserving of it.” 

A shaky breath leaves your throat, eyes stinging as you make out a low, “What is this?”

At the sight of your panic, the boss hurries over to you, making a show of how he takes your jaw in his hands. Though you flinch, he wipes the escaping tear with a calloused thumb.

“No, dear, no need to cry! This doesn’t have to be difficult. You are just leverage - you won’t be hurt as long as what needs to happen, happens.” The way he shakes his head, the twisted compassion in his eyes, makes you sick.

“Then where’s Penny?”

His sigh is accompanied by a sad smile. “Penny is the leverage over you. In case you get any funny ideas.”

“For what? What is this about?” you press, “What about the Syndicate, huh? Aren’t you gonna tell me what this is for?”

A rush of air, and then a sharp pressure on your throat. The Boss’s blade creeping up your throat - a small burn as he nicks your skin. 

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you. You should remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallow thickly, and he continues.

“The Syndicate is real. Their presence in this city is real - but we are on good terms with them. I help them, they help me. They sacrifice a few men because they do what’s needed for the terms of the agreement, just like us.”

He blew up a building, ransacked the agency, led you on a wild goose chase in search of a threat that didn’t exist? There was always something psychotic about the Boss, that’s why he instilled so much fear in you - his lack of empathy, the lengths he’d go just for a show of power, but a ploy like this?

“And what’s that got to do with me?”

He scoffs. “It’s not about you, my dear. It never was. It’s about your connection to who it is about…”

His grin grows inverse to your pained frown, lips quivering as the realization dawns on you. “Jeongguk.”

“You’re the link, Y/N. I know how much you hate to love him. Only if you were forced to for the sake of the city. The reconnection wouldn’t be easy, but that boy is persistent, and the moment he heard you say those words back, it was sealed.”

You’re choked by the weight of his words crashing down on your throat. It’s horrifying, the way the tears well up and spill recklessly, finding it hard to breathe with your arms restrained. You focus your hardest on the effort to stay conscious, but the nausea is eating away at you.

“He was honest, too. He’s tried multiple times to fish you out of here. And it always rubbed me the wrong way. He’ll leave me behind, but not you? You’re my best, Y/N, but I despise you simply because of what your existence means.”

“You’re going to kill him?” you bite your lip to hold back the sob trying to crawl its way from your chest.

The Boss blinks, tilting his head in a faked compassion. “Only if he makes the same mistake again.”

An alert sounds out from his pocket. He fishes out his phone and holds it up to show you a map with a green dot steady on a location, seemingly yours.

“And it looks like we’ll find out right about… now.”

The elevator behind you opens, and the guards point their guns straight at the figure stepping off. His gun is held up protectively, but he has nowhere to go, face falling as he reads the situation - reads the pain on your face as you stare back at him on the floor.

He lowers his pistol, glaring at the man waiting smugly in front of him.

“Nice to see you again, Jeongguk.”

His lip turns down in disgust, spitting rancor - 

“Can’t say the same for myself, Dad.”

☆☆☆

The tension in the air is tight, like a thousand strings of yarn pinned wall to wall and floor to ceiling and impossible to maneuver. The Boss tsks at the cold reunion, more bitter than he had hoped. 

“What, you didn’t miss me all these years? I raised you, after all.”

“Raised me?” Jeongguk scoffs incredulously. “Try training me into your personal pawn, like some fucked up trophy for you to flaunt.”

“It was only so you could someday take my spot, son. I treated you the same way my father did me.”

The bitter timbre of his voice is laced with venom, so uncharacteristic of the Jeongguk you know. “Well, I worked out my daddy issues with a therapist. Maybe you should give it a shot. You should also probably mention how fucked up you are to plan a scheme like this just to bring me here.”

“You left, Jeongguk. I’d do anything for my son.”

“Oh, please-”

A loud click, and cool metal pressed against your forehead. Jeongguk freezes, and he knows the stakes. His blood boils from the blatant manipulation. There was a reason he left - he hated feeling this exact moment, and he hated reliving it even more. It was a place he thought he’d never be in again.

The Boss rolls his eyes again. “Always with something to say, forgetting I’m your elder, your father no less. Plan on letting me speak soon?”

His eyes are as cool as Jeongguk’s now. Dark, disappeared from dramatic frills or drawn-out tones. The resemblance is stunning, strikes fear in your heart, both physical and the mannerisms long-buried by time now resurfaced by each other.

When you meet the Boss’s eyes, they show no remorse for someone he claimed thinks of as his best.

Jeongguk’s eyes flick down and back up. Cooperation.

“Thank you.” He pulls the gun away, letting you catch a breath. “It’s simple, son. You agree to come back, and everything goes smoothly. If not, you won’t be leaving this room alive, and neither will she. Can’t have my trump cards playing against me.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“She’s the reason you’re here, how could I leave her out of this?”

“This is you and me. Not her.”

His father muses the idea, chews it up, spits it out. “Okay,” he grins. “Just us. I’d say go until one surrenders, but that’s not how us Jeons do it. If you can kill me, you’re free to do what you want.”

The guards lower their weapons, leaving the room at a snap of the Boss’s fingers, and Jeongguk’s grip on his tightens, knuckles turning white as he nods sharply in agreement. He’s been caught, a three-year-long game of cat and mouse finally come to a standstill. The man he looks at is just another cruel, cold-hearted crook on a power trip. The last thing he wants to do is fight him, because as skilled as Jeongguk might be, his father is equally such. He also has the upper hand: No feelings of remorse.

But he sees you on the floor, and when it comes to your life on the line, he knows he’d do anything. No matter the risk or the cost, he’d play a losing hand if he had to, if just to keep the fear from your mind. He steps past you, eyes speaking of reassurance when they meet yours, but it’s not a promise. 

Once Jeongguk has made his way around you to the center of the room, the Boss’s attention falls to you.

“Hear that, dear? This is a family issue. But in case you need any more convincing…”

The same door he creaked through minutes ago flies open, and in shuffles two people. Penny’s figure mirrors your own, arms tied behind her back. Her eyes are red and puffy, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. There’s no blood or bruising visible, but it kills you the second you lay eyes on her. Your chest heaves silently, panic rising as she is brought in front of the fireplace, led by… Yeji?

The sleek, dark ponytail is unmistakable, and her cat eyes flick over to you in guilt as your words confirm her presence.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, tears clouding her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

It was impossible to believe how easily everything was collapsing. Maybe your foundations were not as strong as you once thought. Wasn’t it just a week ago you had last spoken to her, taken her advice on working with Jeongguk?

“Again. No need for anyone to get hurt as long as you don’t interfere.”

But would Yeji hurt Penny, even at the Boss’s command? Was she that scared of him? Penny finds you, and you try your best to communicate reassurance, but you fall short. She trembles in fear the same as you.

Without warning, the Boss’s blade flies across the room. Jeongguk side steps, but the red gash sliced along his cheek taunts him for being a second too late. He reaches up a finger to dab at the blood in awe.

His anger fuels him forward. He raises his gun, ringing out shots that bury themselves in the drywall as he closes the gap. The Boss dodges each one. Slender fingers pull the gun from its holster, firing back immediately, glass shattering behind the younger.

Jeongguk zig zags on his feet, blade swinging up viciously at his father while he pulls the trigger in his left hand. The Boss is quick despite his age, no hesitation to his wide, ruthless swings. Jeongguk ducks and spins, changing their positions, knocking a knife from his grasp.

The man laughs. “That was good, but you can do better!” he yells, evading Jeongguk’s relentless swipes. As he taunts, a shard of glass reaches your vicinity. “Or are you too scared to hurt your old man?”

Your fingers bleed hot as you force the shard into the keylock, lifting up the metal lever.

It only fuels Jeongguk’s fire. A firm kick to the chest sends the Boss stumbling back. Jeongguk progresses, his knife dropping around in his grip, taking the slim moment to drive a sharp ice pick stab to his father's shoulder.

His eyes flick to you, and he doesn’t have the time to pull it back out. His father parries his left wrist outward and the gun is knocked from his fingertips, skidding to the floor, arriving kindly right in front of you. A single shot blasts out and Jeongguk lets out a clipped yelp. Your wrists free from the lock and reach for the solution just inches away.

But it’s already checkmate. The Boss’ blade is pressed up against Jeongguk’s throat, who is on his knees as he clutches at his thigh, crimson seeping through his fingers.

“Has the Lion been tamed since I last saw him?” The Boss mocks. There is nowhere for Jeongguk to go. “I’m disappointed, son. Love has made you weak.”

It steals the breath from your lungs. His eyes dart to your figure, mirroring his son’s actions just moments ago. He dares you to make a move. With his play, you can’t.

But that’s where the Boss is wrong. The man void of love sees it as a shot with a predetermined course from point A to point B, easily interfered with by the right tools, by the right move. However, love should not be mistaken for something meager. It’s an ever-weaving thread, crossing and connecting each and every way. Love does not have to be star-crossed and dire, it is not always a fated, tragic romance. There is no one love to outlast all others - not when it can be one you choose.

Yeji meets your eyes from across the room. The Boss has only a bluff catcher against her, the mistake of expecting loyalty before knowing for sure. It’s a twisted collusion that you never would have chosen, but it’s not your hand to play anymore.

Her vision is blurry through her tears. Yeji takes a breath she’s sure will be her last and releases it shakily. She has to do it now. She thinks of every other woman roped into his scheme, every future Penny that will be taken if it doesn’t end here, and she knows you can do it, because she was never strong enough to.

“Forgive me,” she croaks. 

An enraged bellow leaves the Boss, but all too late. She has already fired, breaking the lock that has held you captive all these years. A scream rips from your throat as Penny’s body falls forward and collapses to the hardwood.

Yeji is shredded by the entourage of bullets ripping from the Boss’s gun. She stumbles back, hits the wall, sinks to the floor.

Your hands instinctively reach for the weapon in front of you, hands fumbling as you pull the trigger with the weight of a thousand lives behind your index alone. The Boss falls, knife slipping from his fleeting grip, the third and final seal to the game.

The silence is stunning. Nothing feels real. It’s all shock before the pain rushes in, the inability to breath, the feeling of drowning. It’s utter anguish as you fight to the other side of the room, but Jeongguk holds you back. Pushing past him, only for him to spin you around and make you look him in the eye.

“We have to go,” he says through gritted teeth, voice cracking. His eyes plead with you as they blink away tears. Blood coats his hands, urgently dripping down his wrists as they grip yours. “Y/N, we have to go.”

 It dawns just as the day on the glowing horizon behind him that it’s over, but there is no victory in sight.

☆☆☆

The coming days are a whirlwind. Most of the time you’re numb, finding yourself stuck in your mind replaying memories over and over, and wincing to pull yourself out of them to the real world that is not much better. The funerals are a blur, long and tiring processions of black and sympathies you are not capable of accepting that leave your head pounding by the time you finally can sleep. But the dream world is not as kind to you as you would have hoped. 

It isn’t the memory of her death. It’s the memory of her smile, bright and tender, that could not see another day to shine. You haven’t stepped foot in the apartment yet. You will at some point, but not yet.

Yeji is another story. It’s a moral dilemma of what your inner compass tells you is wrong and your love for the only friend you ever had. Yeji was not bad, you know that. But it was murder, and perhaps that was why it did not go unpunished. Were her actions the results of weakness, or strength? Of personal desire, or wide-scale consideration? You could spend hours wondering whether things might have been different if she hadn’t done it, but at the end of the day, you would never get the chance to know. 

In the meantime, the mafia is collapsing. Those who wanted to leave took their chance the second the news of the Boss’s death came in. Ran away to other cities, shelters, anywhere they could to get away from the struggle of the organization. Others who had nothing else are stranded picking up the pieces. They won’t be able to make a comeback, you know that. They’ll turn to other forms of crime, maybe even those that you’ll have to face again in the future.

You can get away from it all for a few moments of peace, but not much more.

Jeongguk’s apartment is close to the marina. He’s lucky for such a beautiful view. This early in the morning, the world is silent, relaxing without the mindless bustling of life. Boats float calmly across the harbor, sails reaching up to the sky streaked with blossoming pinks and clement oranges. Daybreak’s retiring light glitters as it touches the surface of the water with a gentle hand.

The glass door slides open slowly behind you, and Jeongguk’s presence enters to calm your thoughts. The slight limp in his step is barely visible, and he’s lucky that his father’s bullet avoided his femoral artery. If it did, he’d probably be in a much more dire situation than he has now. Since that night, rumors have surfaced that the Boss missed due to nervousness, or fear. Jeongguk knows that his father’s aim was too sharp to miss, and also that he was a hypocrite.

He takes a seat in the chair beside yours. His hair is mussed from a long night of tossing and turning, the same as yours.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, tongue coated with exhaust.

He hums. “Me neither.”

The flux of air from his sturdy chest is a comfort that relieves the pain for just a little while. Lifts it away like a fog being cleared, and the weight falls off your shoulders so you can breathe again. His eyes swim with affection, and you’re sure that a thousand particles of stardust must be locked away behind his irises.

It never fails to amaze you how Jeongguk always seems to know what you’re thinking. “It’s not your fault,” he says.

“I know.” It’s weak, barely a whisper. Your head drops to your palms despite your claim. “But it really feels like it.”

He takes a deep breath, atmosphere placid and unassuming. “You did everything you could. Some things are just out of your control, no matter what you do. It’s not fair, but just because you couldn’t stop something bad from happening doesn’t mean you caused it.”

You swallow blearily. “I just don’t even know where to go from here. It’s never going to be the same. So what do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” he speaks gingerly, “Maybe you should get out of here. Start again, somewhere else. I’ll probably do the same eventually.”

Your head begins to shake at the thought.

“I don’t want you to go,” you pause. “I told you that.”

Jeongguk softens. “Oh… okay. I, I won’t then.”

Finally, your head raises to see him properly. His calm guise masks the need of reassurance beneath. “I mean it. Do you remember when you said to tell you the next time so it didn’t land on what I didn’t want?”

He nods slowly.

“When it was in the air, there was just this split second watching it that it hit me. I knew what I wanted. Despite everything,” the corners of your mouth upturn, but not all that happily, “I wanted to choose you.”

Dark, wavy hair falls in front of his eyes, brushing at the healing cut that will certainly leave a scar. His gaze is tender and soft and all that’s good in this world. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And if you asked him, he wouldn’t hesitate to agree.

“I forgive you, Jeongguk. For everything, I don’t care. I’d go through it again and again if I had to.” A fleeting smile pushes the tears from their deep wells. “‘Cause I need you.”

Jeongguk suffered the subtle heartbreak of unknowing for years on end. He’d sit on his balcony just like this, mild evenings under the setting sun, knowing you were out there living under the same sky as him, yet so far apart. He thought of you crossing city streets, breathing the air of the home you loved and hated simultaneously, maybe even sitting out on the fire escape of your own apartment. You were within a radius of just miles, which sounds like nothing compared to how far he’d go for you. 

He saw you everywhere. Saw you in every crevice and crack of the city. When the sun was shining brightly, when rain poured like bullets. From the window of the train, from the coffee shop. Retracing his routine steps was hard when he always saw your footprints right beside his own.

It was the feeling he’d been waiting on. At last, he feels contentment in his chest. It’s all he’s ever wanted. His pulse stutters as he thinks that he might just be dreaming, but when he reaches out to touch your clasped hands, steady fingers curling over yours, he knows it’s real. You’re real. It’s pure, unadulterated sunshine splintering over his soul.

Jeongguk stands, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulls you up with care and tugs you into his embrace, warm and kind. His arms around you are safe and sound, and the gentle beat of his heart eases the noise in your mind. It’s the heart that wouldn’t quit on you, the one the angels must either admire or envy. It’s the only thing that feels okay.

One day, things will be better. It’s far away and hard to grasp, but it’s there, waiting for you. Things that are meant to be will find a way, no matter how long it takes, just as Jeongguk and you found your way to this very balcony. But for now, sharing the weight of a heavy heart soothes the lonesome burden of loss, and what it means to love.