#BREAKING NEWS. turns out that forgetting to eat will give you a headache. shocking information

[hana-bobo-finch]

what if you got attacked by a moth and his aphid army. what then

jk he wouldn’t hurt anyone. he’s just a little muddy guy

[finleyfray]

Bittersweet Memories

Part 2

Part 3

Huge thanks to @captain-josslett for helping me with English and making this have more sense

TW: smut(ish) just a little, some angst, laguage, think that’s all!

Finley struggles to open the door to their apartment. She was tired and her head was hurting so much. She just wants to snuggle with her girlfriends and fall asleep.

“Hey.” Fin looks over and sees Alex walking towards her and embraces her in a hug. “You look like crap.” Fin rests her head on Alex's chest and chuckles.

“Thanks darling, I’m happy to see you too. Is Maggie home yet?” She yawns and Alex leads her to the couch. “I have a killing headache.” Fin sits on Alex and rests her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“She’s picking up some food. Did you take your migraine medicine today?” The redhead asks Fin with a stern look on her face.

“Shoot, I forgot.” The black haired woman whines.

“Here we go again.” Alex sighs. “Did you drink water today? Eat anything?”

“Oh come on, don’t harass me like that. Of course I did drink and eat... we had breakfast, didn’t we?”

“That was yesterday, Finley, this morning you woke up too late and ran off to work. Making a huge mess. Leaving your clothes on the floor. And your wet towel in the bathroom on my clothes. I swear to God, how much water did you drink?” Alex scoffs.

“Well...I didn’t see your clothes, I’m sorry. I didn’t drink water... but I’ve had coffee! And a can of Monster! Or two…” Suddenly her girlfriend stands up, resulting in Fin falling off of her. “Ouch! That hurt.”

“That’s not... I swear I’m going crazy with you!” They hear the door open and Maggie coming into the living room looking at them.

“What are you yelling about?” She frowns and looks at Alex, who looks angrily at Fin. “Maggie, I’m glad you’re here.” The redhead says with a smile. “See, our girlfriend here was wondering why her head hurts so much! Fin, care to tell Maggie how you took your medicine this morning, drank plenty of water and ate three meals?” Her voice is full of sarcasm and Finley curses mentally.

“Oh come on. I’m going to eat now, and drink water and take meds, I swear I just forgot!” She tries to defend herself, but Maggie already looks at her with her stern mother look. “Don’t be mad at me.” Fin puts on her puppy face. “Pwaaseee.” She pouts.

“No, no, don’t give me this face, you know the deal. How can you forget to take care of yourself almost every day?!” Maggie growls flustered. “These are literally the basic things in life. You have to eat, and you have to drink water to survive, and you know after that mission where you hurt your head pretty bad, that you have to take your migraine medicine, otherwise you’ll be in pain. And you should remember it, how you keep forgetting to take care of yourself is beyond me.”

“I don’t know...” Finley looks down, because she did know. She wasn’t taught how to take care of herself. In the orphanage they didn’t care if the kids ate something, they didn’t care if they had something to drink, or walked around in dirty, damaged clothes.

So Fin learnt how to go days without eating, only drinking some sink water. It was normal for Fin. So she grew up, was then thrown out on her 18th birthday, and went to college. She didn’t think of that either. Having not enough money to eat every day, or buy new clothes, having to survive on minimum wage that she was earning with her job. It was hard to manage to study and work 16 hours a day, but she had to stay positive. So when Finley started working in the DEO and earning so much money, she decided she had to save it. Save it in case something goes wrong and she loses her job. But, this drove her girlfriends insane. How she couldn’t do the basic thing, like putting her dirty clothes away. How every time she tried to make laundry, it went wrong on some level. She’d mix dark clothes with white. Sometimes she forgot to add laundry detergent. Or she forgot she put the washing machine on but forgot to dry it. So the clothes stayed there until Alex or Maggie saw it. Finley really tries, she does, but it just escapes her mind every time.

“I’m sorry.” Fin sighs, she wasn’t going to tell them, she doesn't want their pity “I guess I’m just getting distracted.” Maggie scoffs, but goes to hug their girlfriend anyway. Soon Alex joins and they stay together for a bit.

“I did buy dinner, so let’s get you some food, and water, then you’ll take your medicine and we can go to bed.” Maggie kisses her softly and Finley smiles into the kiss.

***

Later as they were in bed, after eating and showering, Finley lay on top of Alex while Maggie was still in the shower.

“Are you still mad at me?” Fin asks, looking in her girlfriend’s brown eyes.

“I’m not mad Finnie.” Alex sighs cupping Fin's cheek. “I was frustrated, of course, I will still be when you do this. But I’m not mad.” She kisses Finley softly, her other hand going to Finley’s back holding her close. The blue-eyed woman sighs happily and wiggles on top of Alex to get more comfortable.

“Fin...” Alex breathes heavily “Stop moving.”

“Why, does it bother you?” Finley smiled devilishly, pressing her leg against Alex’s core and moving her hips. The redhead kisses her girlfriend hard and bends her leg so it was now against Finley too. The shorter woman moans at the sudden pressure, and moves her hips faster.

“Oh, I see you’re better.” Maggie stands there watching her girlfriends making out and humping each other for a few minutes. “So I’m glad I decided not to put any clothes on.” Her girlfriend’s stop and looks at her. Maggie's hair was still wet from the shower, and she only had her towel on. “Can you two just be naked already?” She drops her towel on the floor. “That was quite a nice show you did for me. But, I’m afraid I need to cuff both of you for breaking the rules.”

“B… But... “Alex’s face was almost as red as her hair “We didn’t… We still have all clothes on! We didn’t had sex without you!” She looked at Finley, who already had taken all of her clothes off, she sure was ready. “You’re such a bottom!” Alex scoffs, sure the black-haired woman was so ready for Maggie to cuff her, but Alex tried hard to remain her tough face.

“Agent Danvers, I’m afraid I insist.” Maggie smirks at her redheaded girlfriend, swaying her hips as she approaches the bed.

***

Finley yawns as she opens her eyes and looks at the sleeping face of her girlfriend. The redhead was snoring lightly and she looked so peaceful and cute. Fin snuggles closer and rests her head on her girlfriend's chest.

She knew Maggie had already left for work, feeling a cold spot behind her. The blue-eyed woman was tired after all the fun they had yesterday and didn’t want to get up.

“Shouldn’t you be training rookies at work today?” Alex’s sleepy voice asks. Fin gasps as she realises that the redhead is right, she springs from her bed and looks at the clock.

“Ohhhh shit, J’onn is going to kill me!” She quickly undresses by dropping her clothes on the floor and goes for a quick shower. As fast as she can she dries herself and drops the wet towel on the floor, puts on her combat clothes and runs to work.

It was no fun being at work without Alex, but her girlfriend deserved a day off. They were supposed to have lunch together, but after some robbery that Kara helped Maggie take care of, the blonde informs Fin that her girlfriends can’t make it, so the black-haired woman takes care of all her paperwork that is due soon, and heads to the DEO gym to train a bit.

Finley was getting tired from all the punches and running, so she decided to stop and go take a shower. Suddenly she sees a blur and her girlfriend’s sister stands before her.

“Kara, hey, something wrong?” Finley asks as the blonde frowns and looks at her.

“Ohhhh shit. I forgot, I left my phone at home this morning. What’s the time?” Fin facepalms and looks at Kara.

“Well Alex asked me to look for you, cause you didn’t answer your phone. You do know what time it is?”

“Where the fuck have you been!? We tried to call you thousands of times, why didn’t you answer!?” Maggie tries to stay calm, but her voice is full of anger.

“It’s 10:30, and your girlfriends are going crazy, come on.” She lifts the black-haired woman and speeds her home.

“Thanks Kar.” Finley sighs and opens the door quietly. It doesn’t really help her as she sees Maggie and Alex in the hall waiting for her.

“I’m sorry! I was in such a rush this morning, I forgot my phone! And I went to work out after sitting down doing paperwork and the time just flew.” Finley tries to calm her girlfriends, but she clearly saw that they were beyond pissed.

They turn and go to the living room, and Fin follows them waiting for their forgiveness. Alex sits on the couch and drinks the rest of her whiskey.

“Guys, come on, I’m sorry, you know I just forgot-”

“That’s it, that’s exactly it! You always forget. Forget to eat, to drink water, to take your medicine. You forget to put your clothes away, forget to do the laundry, forget to go to sleep! Forget to take your phone, to let us know you’ll be late, to let us know you’re okay! Forget to do the groceries, forget to buy some new clothes, to put your towel away instead of dropping it on the floor!” Alex was standing now waving her hands angrily. “Well maybe you got that from your parents, seeing as they forgot you at the orphanage!”

Finley blinks as Alex suddenly goes silent. Her blue eyes are suddenly wet and she turns around and rushes out of their apartment.

 ***

Maggie looks at Alex in shock. She can’t believe her ears. Alex did not just say that.

“Danvers, what the fuck was that!?” Maggie rushes to the door to follow Finley, and stop her, they need to talk, this is not a good situation. But as soon as she’s outside, Finley is gone, there is no sign of her. She goes back to their apartment and searches for her keys.

“Why are you just standing there like that?! Do you realise what you’ve just done?! That was way too low, I can’t believe you just said that!” Maggie yells at her girlfriend, she was beyond mad. Yes, Fin drives her crazy sometimes, but that doesn’t explain Alex’s behaviour.

“I... I didn’t mean that! It just slipped!” Alex tries to explain herself, but her mind is still processing what just happened. “I didn’t want to say that, I’m sorry!”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to. It’s her, but guess what, she’s gone! And we need to find her, and you really need to try hard, because that, Alex, that was just unbelievable.”

“Where do you think she went?” Alex asked, trying to calm down her nerves. Her mind repeats the words she just said and Alex realises how awful she’d been. But she really didn’t mean to, she wasn’t thinking at the moment, her mouth just shot out the words on its own.

When Maggie and Alex started dating Finley, the younger woman never said anything about her family. Of course the first one she met, outside of them, was Alex's younger sister. With it being autumn, and thanksgiving, she soon met Eliza and Maggie aunt Vivian. And she saw how Fin was in awe seeing how both women cared for their children. When Alex and Maggie asked her about it, she told them that she had spent most of her life in an orphanage, but refused to say any more. So they agreed they’ll just wait till Finley is ready and tell them on her own. This was 2 years ago, but Finley still hadn’t talked to them about it.

And now Alex fucked up, and told her girlfriend, an orphan, that her parents forgot about her. She isn’t sure how Finley is ever going to forgive her. Hell she doesn’t even know if she can forgive herself. Maggie looks at her, and Alex realises that she failed her too. Sure, the shorter woman tries not to give away her anger, but she sees her eyes, and the Detective is really mad at her.

“I don’t know, she doesn’t really have any friends... Kara? No, that would be too oblivious, she probably doesn't want us to find her now, she wouldn’t go there... You think she would go to any of our friends?” Maggie took a deep breath trying to calm herself enough to think clearly.

“No, I don’t think so. She can’t be that far, she just left. You think she went to a motel?”

“No, she hates spending her money. Doesn’t DEO have sleeping quarters?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah... it does...” Alex begins but her phone rings, she answers it “Danvers... Yes, we'll be coming in now.” She ends the call, and looks at Maggie “There’s an emergency at the DEO, your unit has been informed, J’onn said to bring you along.”

“Shit, alright. You’re good to go?” Maggie looks at her girlfriend, remembering Alex had been drinking earlier.

“I’ll be good, you drive.”

 ***

Finley walked to the DEO, trying hard to wipe her tears away. She didn’t want others to see her crying, that would be humiliating, but she couldn’t stop it.

Her mind kept repeating Alex’s words, she was not prepared for a woman she loves to hurt her like that. Why would she, she trusted them with her whole heart. Maybe that was her fault, maybe she should have kept that in mind. By now she would know that everyone in her life ended up hurting her.

It was like every time she was happy, it all came crashing down around her. She remembers the day she entered the orphanage for the first time, she was eight. There were so many kids there, just walking around, those kids were sad, but Fin? She was hopeful, she was actually happy that her father wasn’t there to hit her, she felt safe. But that feeling went away so fast, and her life was still a hell.

“Hey.” Fin jumps at J’onn voice. “You got here fast, where are your girlfriends? We have a debrief in five, we have to deal with this emergency quickly.”

Oh, so there is an emergency. That’s why he’s here. She nods and walks to the bathroom cleaning her face. Fin won’t let them all see her tears, she’s stronger than that. She enters the room and J’onn begins. Normally she would stand with her girlfriends but Fin hangs back.

“Cadmus is containing a shipment of hundreds of alien’s. We need to stop them. The NCPD unit is already informed, but it’ll take them a bit longer to arrive, so Detective Sawyer will go with you. Agent Danvers will be leading. Dismissed.” Finley avoids looking at her girlfriends, and walks as fast as she could to the armoury to prepare for the mission.

“Fin" Alex rushes after her.

“No!” Fin growls. “Right now I don’t have time for your bullshit Agent Danvers. We have a mission and that is my focus.” She didn’t mean to snap at Alex like that, but her sorrow was becoming her anger and she can’t be distracted. Distraction means slower reaction time, and that means injury or death. She wasn’t in the mood to die today.

 ***

The mission was going to plan and Fin kept up her professionalism. But with any mission, things can go wrong. It happened so fast, one second Fin is beating down a Cadmus agent when suddenly an explosion goes off above them. Finley hears the crack of concrete and looks up as a huge block of concrete starts breaking away. Right above Alex. Fin doesn’t think. Her only focus is on saving her girlfriend. Whatever it takes. So she sprints towards the redhead and pushes Alex as hard as she can out of the way. Fin falls to the ground as a huge bang fills the room. Fin tries to gasp when pain surges through her body.

“Fin!” Alex yells as she looks at her pinned girlfriend. She rushes over and is at Fin’s side in a second. “Why did you do that?!” Alex panics and tries to move the concrete to free her girlfriend, but it is too heavy. She looks at Finley, noticing that the concrete didn’t crush her whole. She allows herself to calm slightly. If her sister comes fast enough, it should be okay, Fin has a chance to survive. “Supergirl, come in, I need your help!” But she’s met with silence. “Supergirl! Maggie!?” Alex yells desperately.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?” Maggie responds worriedly.

“I can’t reach Supergirl, we’ve had an accident, Finley is trapped!” She hears Maggie gasp.

“I’m coming!” Maggie yells and Alex focuses on Finley, trying to comfort her. Soon Maggie is by their side. Alex looks up at her scared girlfriend and sees her tears as Maggie tries to suppress a sob.

“Fin. Finley talk to me.” Maggie kneels beside their fallen girlfriend.

“Hurts.” Fin chokes out.

“Alex, we need to move it! It’s crushing her!” They try to push it as hard as they can. “It’s not moving! Supergirl, come in! Please…” Maggie begs but she too is met with silence. “Damn it!” she pushes the block again.

Alex sobs and goes to sit behind her girlfriend, placing Fin’s head in her lap and stroking her short hair gently. She listens to Maggie as she yells trying to reach Kara.

“Why would you do that? Risk your life for me?” Alex looks at Finley’s blue eyes, and gently strokes her cheek.

“I... I’ll always save you...” Finley smiles sadly. She can’t feel her leg anymore and she feels dizzy. She doesn’t regret saving Alex, she would do anything to keep her girlfriends safe. But it’s getting harder to stay awake, and Fin doesn’t have the energy to try anymore. She is tired, so tired, she really hopes they would be okay, even without her. “I love you both… So much…” Finley whispers and her eyes flutter close.

“No. No, don’t close your eyes. Come on, Finley, please. KARA, COME ON!”

[jj-ktae]

Note I - Ionones -

Moodboard : Courtesy of the lovely Jacqueline @jaebeomsmullet​ ! Thank you for helping and hyping and just being here whenever I need it.

›  Title : Fragrances ›  Genre : Angst, Fluff, Romance, Composer!Jungkook x Perfume Maker!Reader ›  Pairing :  Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader ›  Warning : Mentions of Suicide, heavy subjects, depression (none of these are used with the idea of glamourising mental illness), strong language, smut in later chapters probably. Do not read if any of these trigger you.

›  Author’s note : This is another version of the story I wrote a few years ago for GOT7. Some of the events will be different, others will not change just like some paragraphs will be the same and others won’t. Informations, definitions and words are taken from this website.

›  Summary : In the world of Perfume making, it is believed that everyone has their own natural fragrance. It is also believed that everyone has that one scent capable of making them feel a thousand things. You find yours in the form of a composer on the verge of breaking, right when you have to face one of the biggest challenge in your life.

Masterlist | Note I - Ionones |  Note II : Aldehydes

________

Note I: Ionones 

Violets and Iris depend on this group of highly valued synthetic chemicals. Used in small amounts in many floral, green, woody perfumes. Although this group of chemicals is dominated by just two chemicals "Ionone" and "Methyl Ionone" there are many, many isomers and qualities available that give different odour profiles from fruity - violet - green to iris. An important function is they act as blenders in a perfume helping the perfume to smell harmonious. It is also interesting to note that the nose quickly fatigues when smelling Ionones and the smell appears to fade. This same effect is found when smelling natural Violet flowers. 

You are going back home the first time you meet him. It takes a nanosecond for the feeling to hit you straight in the bones. It forces your steps to slow down and stiffens your muscles right in the middle of the streets. You think for a minute, contemplative and in awe. Nothing about his physical appearance strikes you at first, it’s your nose doing all the job. It’s overwhelming, and so very rare it can’t be ignored. You come across this type of person once in your life as they say, causing an overwhelming feeling you never pegged as being so entrancing. It brings back memories from times you thought were forgotten, makes you want to scream and laugh. He is leaning on the bridge’s safety barrier and he doesn’t see the way you’re frozen behind him, blinking. You have never met him but it feels like you’ve known him forever.

You almost forget about your dear bed for a minute, but your phone tears you out of your adoration and you snap, your pace fastening before the man can turn around. It is hard to say if he was able to see you, and you don’t want to go away but you’re aware it might seem weird so you just keep on walking. Your body revives and your heart slows when the air turns evanescent.

You’re at home when your phone rings again, which pulls an annoyed groan out of your mouth. “What?” you mumble, plopping on the sofa in desperation.

“You need to come to the meeting tomorrow morning.” Your boss’ voice feels like a scratch on broken glass and you wince, unpleased “they want you to be here, and we have to make sure they’ll work with us.” He adds to soften you.

“I’m never invited to these and I like it better that way, why tomorrow?”

“It’s a big brand, I want them to see who is going to be in charge of their perfume. They don’t want to talk with managers. They don’t care. I promised you holidays and I swear once this is over you’ll have it. Please.”

The headache is pounding yet you sigh, defeated. You can’t reject this, you’re in no position to do that.

“I’ll be here.” You sigh, his relief now evident yet adding to your misery.

He is beaming on the phone, rushing thanks and stuttering, probably because of what seems to be a big, juicy contract. Exciting. His voice is way too loud when he wishes you a good night, leaving you with the deafening silence once he hangs up. 

Being a composer is your job. You’re often called a perfume-composer, a perfume maker or even a perfumer and all of these are fine with you. It all explains the same thing; you use your nose to put scents together and create a perfume. You usually work with a tight schedule and precise requests, leaving you with generic projects. They involve what you call capitalist perfumes, targeted and produced for masses instead of harmony. Nowadays perfumes are for ‘suave’, ‘sexy’, ‘dynamic’ or even ‘active’ people. They’re best-sellers, perfumes you smell in the streets, shops, public transport, elevators. They’re repetitive and senseless. What used to be something exciting is now boring and dull. 

You’re even starting to be disgusted by some of your creations.

And it’s for a good reason. People do not buy perfume according to their own smell. It’s something that is barely exploited by the companies, the probability of not selling in mass too counterproductive to bother explaining why some perfumes are not suited to everyone. You see it in the stores, how vendors spray anyone willing to be perfumed. These places became a hotchpotch of scents and it gets to your nose so easily it hurts.

You are able to distinguish a lot of different scents, and this is your job. Mixing stuff, looking for new elements, blend oils, this is what you love about making perfume. Your sensitive nose had made you choose a career surrounded by a farandole of fragrances, and while it may sound like a horrible life, it was what had helped you survive the probability of a boring job surrounded by horrible coworkers. It’s a solace so unusual and mysterious that you can selfishly appreciate its beauty and complexity on your own.

But now, you find yourself doubting as you peak at your neat organ*, brown and rustic. You didn’t sign for tasteless nights and headaches.

Going to sleep is hard that night, when your brain can’t forget about this man and his scent, his oh so perfect scent which you have yet to put a finger on. You finally forget about him and your brain turns off, while another person is going back home, head heavy and mind lost.

Jungkook throws his bag on his table and goes on the floor, silent.

He wasn’t able to end his life, again.

__

It’s hard to believe that you are currently meeting with a famous brand directly. Most of the time, they would meet your managers and you’d have a project sent over your way, leaving you a mere two weeks to work on a foolish project with foolish requests. 

Today you are in shock though, because they are asking you what you want to do. It’s the first time you get asked about this and it frightens you, it scares the hell out of you when you suddenly have too much freedom. All ideas evaporate, like you have no taste and no dreams for a perfect perfume.

The woman’s stilettos make too much noise on the floor, and she speaks in a slow and irritating manner, like you’re too stupid to understand her request.  She comes closer and you smile, weakly. It’s a mix between pain and fear, it looks like she is about to eat you up. Maybe it is because you look like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m asking you about your plans concerning our next fragrance. You get that we want an Eau de Parfum, and not an Eau de Toilette, which means we need lasting scents. We have no guidelines, no themes, no requests, just a thirst for your creativity. You have what it takes to make it from scratch without us poking into your business- I mean, I'll be here to check on how it is going, of course.” She speaks words at an incredibly fast pace, with a tone deprived of any doubt.

All you feel is your boss’ stare, boring holes into your back; he knows what you’re going to answer. “I’m afraid we don’t work that way. How am I supposed to know what kind of product you need? Don’t you already have an advertisement sample to show me? A muse, somebody representing the brand?” You try the best you can, because now you have too many possibilities and it can’t happen. 

“We only have you and your talent, for now.”

Your boss walks up to you two and waves his hands “Not that we think you’re not worth our time, but we mostly work based on requests. We need a guideline.” He pleads, and his fake laugh nearly makes you scoff. 

But the woman is thick headed, and she points a finger at you, accusingly. “This person doesn’t need us in order to create a perfume. We’ve been following you for so long after your last fragrance won 1st rank in Vogue’s top 10 Perfume recommendations. You were not easy to find, though.” 

But you know, you know it wasn’t your own work, but simply something you were asked to do. “I’m sorry madam, but I simply did as I was told. Without this, I’m nothing.” You say and it sounds depreciatory concerning your own capacities but you don’t care. You are getting so scared right now that you’re ready to call yourself a scam in front of anyone.

The woman laughs and it looks like she can see through you “There is a thousand way to create a perfume with the same elements. You simply refuse to admit you’re a genius, but we both know you can’t waste your time beating yourself.” She adds and lets the contract fall on the glass table, stilettos beating the floor again and her expensive bag back on her shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” Your boss takes the contract and starts reading, but you just want to cry. You don’t want to do this, because you’re scared and afraid and you know you will fail. At the same time, you wanted this, you wanted to create on your own. You had thrown away so many samples until now, thinking it was useless. Now that somebody is asking for your true self, you back off. Your brain screams at you to stop being so contradictory and grasp that opportunity but you just feel numb and pressured and it’s enough to petrify you.

“I can’t. We can’t.” You mumble but your boss looks shocked, mouth agape and fingers gripping the contract.

“This is big, Y/N. Looks at this.” He says and you feel like fainting when you see the amount of money they are willing to pay. You know your boss will never refuse this and panic takes over.

Your shaky fingers almost tear the contract away “I’m going to fail; they will lose their time and the company will be ruined, you know it!”

But he knows better and smiles sweetly at you. “You’re always complaining about plain perfumes and cheap fragrances. You’re given a chance to compose on your own and I fully support you, so please tell me you’ll try, at least. We still have an observation period in case you can’t do it, okay?” you know he is not thinking about the money only, yet you hardly think he is thinking about your well-being either but you can’t refuse now, and you’re left with two pieces of paper and a lump in your throat as your boss goes out of the big office.

For the next couple of days it’s all you can think about, while your boss keeps on calling to make sure you’ll do it. You try to act rebellious a few times but to no avail; you end up agreeing because you don’t have the luxury nor the power to reject this offer.

You agree but deep inside you’re burning with fear. It’s not even exciting, it’s like a wide ocean, with no shores and huge waves. It’s suffocating.

The second time you meet the mysterious guy, he is at the same spot. He keeps on leaning against the bridge, and his whole existence looks like a misery but his smell makes you slow down again. It’s overwhelming, almost unbearable. There is no way a perfume can do that.

It’s a natural smell.

He doesn’t see you and you don’t see his face, but this is not even important right now. Your brain goes back and forth, and it’s a long journey to your past. This guy doesn’t even feel your presence and when you walk away, the feeling is gone, and you breathe again.

__

“I’m glad you decided to take this offer.” You’re just behind her. She is walking fast, passing halls after halls and you look around, unfamiliar with the smell. It’s like you’re entering the mafia because everyone bows like she owns the place. Only her smell lingers, suiting her perfectly.

Leather.

“As written in the contract, we will provide a lab and supplies. We can have everything you need, so feel free to ask.” She is bragging, and you know it’s her way of making you feel at ease but it’s even scarier. Obviously they are going to provide whatever you need. It's a big investment for little result.

“Oh, and I’ll introduce you to your assistant.” She turns around and winks at you.

“I- I have an assistant?” you stutter, it’s unreal. You don’t mind working alone- why would you even need someone to help?

“You’ll have an assistant, of course. You’re telling me you don’t have one at your company ?” You shake your head with power and she gasps “See? You don’t deserve to be treated this way.” She whispers and opens a door, white and shiny.

When you enter, the smell is strong with disinfectant. There’s no doubt they deep cleaned this place for the launching of a new product. The walls are grey, covered by old advertising pictures from the brand, the furniture seems brand new and there is a man. He looks around you age, with designer clothes and loafers. His hair is blond and he is wearing blue lenses. 

“You’re here already?” The woman asks and he nods, his plumps lips revealing shiny teeth. He looks so happy.

“I couldn’t miss it, not when you’re bringing a genius here.” He talks funny and walks with no hidden enthusiasm. He looks like he is out of a fashion show and it’s making you step back with apprehension.

“Good, I guess we can start with the introductions. Meet your assistant.” He offers a hand and his smile widens when you reciprocate the gesture.

He smells like your latest creation “I’m Park Jimin. Nice to meet you, boss.”

Boss. What the hell.

“Nice...to meet you too?” It sounds like a question, but it’s actually a plea. You don’t want to do this. 

“I’m so glad you agreed on working with us! It’s not easy to know who hides behind perfumes and it was hard to find you but we did !” He beams at the woman as she taps his shoulder, nodding.

“You found me ? How ?”

“I saw you at a launch product party.  When I heard it was you I was so happy. I’m a big fan.” He laughs and you feel even more burdened. The woman is looking at you two like a proud - and rich - mother 

“You’re wearing-”

“Yeah, it’s yours! Amazing, right? Oh, tell me if it suits me!” He lifts his head and offers you his neck, giggling. 

“Jasmine. You bring out the jasmine in it.” 

It’s true, Jasmine suits him.

He makes a weird noise before pointing a finger at the lady “I told you! She is a genius! It’s exactly why I bought it.” 

“Since you’re getting along pretty well, I’ll leave you in the hands of this young boy.” Her strong smell of musk stays behind her when she turns around and leaves the room.

“I’m such a big fan of you. You might find it weird, but I bought every single perfume you made. For study purposes, of course!” He is embarrassed but a second later, he is back to serious. “You don’t wear perfume.” He looks intrigued.

“It blurs my sense of smell.”

“Oh my god, this is exactly what a genius would say.” He shakes his head, amazed at your apparently smart answer and proceeds to show you around the lab, the explanations never ending.

The rest of the day is spent next to this guy, who knows every single person in the building. You keep on shaking hands, and soon, you’re exhausted. Jimin is chatting non-stop, offering you drinks and being a perfect assistant.

You discover he is still an apprentice in the perfume industry and is aiming to become a composer for the brand. He tells you he loves fashion, and this you noticed, but he also says something that triggers you.

I want to be like you 

You want to laugh at him for being such a fanboy, and you tell him numerous times that the perfumes you made are only things you were asked to create, that it wasn’t your own work, but he brushes you off, explaining you know nothing about your own skills. Jimin is the type of guy who loves to socialise, he has this way of communicating that makes everyone love him. The same day, you go back home with his phone number saved and a tone of messages from him about how excited he is to be working under your care.

On your way back home, you don’t see the guy.

__

Jungkook has plenty of time to think and he doesn’t like it. His apartment is silent and not even the cars passing by outside can ease the emptiness. He doesn’t dare look at the papers scattered on the floor. They are all creased, and the trash is full. He wants to crash the whole place; he wants to tear it to pieces. It’s infuriating, how everything is here for purpose and he has nothing to look forward to.

He can’t stand it anymore.

His phone rings but he ignores it. His best friend has been calling all day, and he knows he’ll receive a lot of nagging from him but he doesn’t care. 

Soon, nobody will have to deal with his abnormal self.

Maybe it was supposed to end like this, even though he has no idea when it actually started. All Jungkook knows is that at some point, he became useless. He used to be efficient, powerful. But now everything is dull. His eyes burn, his ears ring, his mouth is dry.

This is garbage. You’re not what you used to be. Where did your talent go ?

He can stand critiques; he knows the music industry and its perks but he can’t stand being belittled. He doesn’t want anyone to question his way of functioning but it was starting to get a bit too frequent for his taste.

He gets up and goes to his huge and sophisticated window.

He wants everything to stop.

__

“How did you end up being a perfume maker?” Jimin is swallowing his food, filling the whole lab with spiciness and you want him to go away.

“Give me the bergamot sample.” You open another small bottle and ignore his question, trying to focus on your task.

“You’ve been on this all day, have a break, boss.” He tries although his voice is muffled by all the food he is trying to swallow. You know he is right. You have absolutely no idea about what you’re doing, so you mix stuff in hope of a miracle. Nothing works, everything smells terrible, it’s disgusting even.

“Here, drink something, at least. Take your time.” He coos with a worried expression.

You sigh and rub your face, tired. “I can’t do this.” 

“I know, they gave you nothing. I’m here to help so don’t stay quiet and let’s think about this together. I know how they work, let’s take our time, no one is rushing you yet.”

You look at the scattered glass bottles and smelling strips. This is a mess.

Jimin asks you if you want to go to a party held by another luxury brand the same night but you refuse. He isn’t surprised when you tell him you hate going to these places. You’re not the type of person who likes to socialise, and your assistant understands but tells you that you have to go with him next time. You also refuse.

So you go back home. Your head hurts, your body is sore, and your brain is empty. The air is thick with humidity but you like how it resets your sense of smell, erasing all the stuff you’ve been smelling all day. 

The guy is here. He is leaning against the bridge again but something about him irks you. He is shivering. His smell slowly fills your nostrils as you approach him and you can’t help but notice that he is leaning against the barrier a bit too much. He sighs, again and again and when he leans even more to look at the river under the bridge, you stop walking.

You’re right behind him.

It’s true that you’re not into socialising, but you definitely recognise someone in pain. His smell makes you move on your own and before he can sigh some more, you find yourself next to him.

It’s even stronger now.

He isn’t surprised when he feels somebody next to him. He stays quiet and acts like he is alone but straightens his back like he was caught doing something wrong.

“Did you...lose something?” You ask, peeking at the river far under your feet. You know he didn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that it’s not the first time you see him here.

“No.” His answer is short and it allows you to finally take a good look at his face. His brown locks cup his face, from his shiny eyes to his round nose and pouty lips. He’d look cool if it wasn’t for his pitiful aura.

“Are you trying to...?” You begin but his eyes go wide and you both understand. He can’t hide it anymore. You don’t notice how blunt your words are but your brain is processing too many things to focus on your conversational skills.

“Can you...leave me alone?” his voice is low and the words are slow. He is almost pleading.

“I can’t. You’re about to do some serious shit right now.”

“I’m not. Go away.” He asks again and you can feel how annoyed he is now.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, but I doubt you should be thinking about this.” He laughs at you and you regret trying to be such a smart-ass.

“How would you know? Just go, please.” He is irritated now, but you can’t let him do that. His smell works like a spell on you.

“I just do. Stop this. I’m not going anywhere until you go back to a safe place.”

“There is no such place. We don’t even know each other.” He is now looking at you with a bored expression.

“You must have a place to stay.” 

He sighs loudly and turns to you, looking exhausted “I don’t, I’m homeless. What are you going to do about it?” 

“Then come to my place.” You shrug and he makes a face. There is no way you just asked him to come to your place, right?

“You must be crazy.” He breathes but you shake your head. You can’t let this smell go to waste. Not when you don’t know what it is.

Your mind is screaming.

“I’m perfectly fine. If you’re going to do something stupid, I’ll call for help. If you don’t, then come to my place. I have enough room for two anyways.” You are really crazy.

“You’re a stranger. I might be some psycho running out there.”

“You’re none of that. Don’t try to make me back off.” He doesn’t smell like trouble. He smells like safety.

And he is crazier than you, because he agrees. His backpack is firmly hanging on his shoulder when he turns to face you once again.

“You’re not going to let me be.” Jungkook knows that at some point, he won’t get out of this. Now that you discovered what he is about to do, he won’t be in peace until you make sure he is safe, which is totally crazy. Serves him right for not even being good enough to leave peacefully.

“You...agreed?” 

“What, you changed your mind? Good, then I can-”

“No! it’s fine! I thought I was being too crazy, that’s all.” 

Jungkook nods. “This is crazy, but it can’t get any worse now.”

So you walk in front of him and toward your place. It is hard to think or talk with the smell right behind you, but you keep the game strong and walk proudly, like you just did something great. And you did, you’re bringing him home, when he was about to throw himself off the bridge. You don’t dare ask for more right now, because he might run away.

You open the door and Jungkook stops as soon as he enters the place.

It’s huge.

“There is a guest room but It’s full of my stuff. I’ll take it off tomorrow.” You say, taking off your coat.

“So I’m living here now?” Jungkook scoffs, hoping he is being sarcastic enough to make you give up on him.

“Why not? If you’re homeless, you can stay. I’ll note the door’s passcode on a piece of paper for you.  Also, here is the-”

“Wait, I’m not going to live with you.” 

“So where are you going to live? On this bridge?”

“I still have a flat until the end of the month, I lied. I thought you were crazy so I said whatever came to my mind.” He confesses, almost feeling guilty. 

You’re not mad, not at all. Because now your flat is full of his smell, and it makes your brain work again. You want to know what it is.

“Oh then you’ll be homeless by the end of the month. If you’re uncomfortable, you can pay for your room. I don’t mind.” You shrug and his mouth is wide opened now.

You are really insane. Really.

“This situation is beyond weird. I don’t even know you.” 

“And I don’t know you either, but you didn’t slaughter me yet so I guess we’re cool.” You’re being a bit too familiar but he doesn’t notice it, and simply walks deeper into your living-room.

Jungkook doesn’t know what is happening, but in a way, it’s not worse than his current situation. He wouldn’t be homeless; he would never be homeless but he prefers this rather than going back to the family house and admitting he failed. His best-friend is going to lecture him about how the music industry is full of drug addicts, and his parents, oh his parents.

His father would be too happy to prove his superiority.

His pride speaks for him “Okay, I agree. But I’m not staying for free.” He sits on the expensive couch and you know you’ve won this fight.

“Good. My name is Y/N. You are…?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He lets his head fall on the fluffy material and closes his eyes. He is exhausted. He needs some sleep.

“Nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook.” You speak like a robot, making him smile uncomfortably and mumble an answer. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so calm when he was about to do something horrible. Maybe he is going insane too. Maybe he has no idea what is going on in his life. 

“You can wander the flat, I don’t mind. I’m seriously spent so I’ll head to bed. The guest-room is right there and the bedding is clean, I think...ah, the bathroom is at the end of this hall. Knock if you need something.” You escape now, the scent is filling the place and it makes your brain go wild. You don’t need this right now. Or maybe you do and you’re scared he will vanish if you push your luck any further.

“Good night. If you escape I’m going to fight you.” You try to warn him but he simply nods, smiling apologetically. He makes an okay sign and you don’t know why, but you believe him. 

You forget about the probability of him being a scam, a thief, a killer or whoever could hurt you in your sleep. You just focus on the feeling, that one scent invading your olfactory bulb and exciting your axons.

You can’t sleep that night. Jungkook either.

He is thinking about a thousand things. He falls asleep at some point, body as exhausted as his brain. When he wakes up, he finds himself alone in the huge flat along with a sticky note, neat on the fridge.

Suit yourself, I’ll be back by 8 p.m.

Even in the middle of this movie-like situation, he can’t help but look around the rooms, staring at the paintings and furniture. The place is cuddly, calm and warm. He starts writing when he doesn’t find it in himself to question his life choices. The living-room is perfect for his plan and it doesn’t take long for him to fill numerous pages.

Inspiration is creeping and he can’t let it go.

___

*Organ : Refers to a unit of stepped shelving containing hundreds of bottles of raw materials. Arrangement is in a way to assist the perfumer in the creation and compounding of perfume compositions.

[jungkookiebus]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader  ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst x fluff x eventual smut  ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mentions of death (non-major character)  ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.2k sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:  you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

Part of the Love Yourself The Collab. I hope you enjoy all of the wonderful stories!

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This is part one to this installment. There is so much more story and I didn’t want it to feel extremely rushed. Picture for my heading and fic breaks are of the Aoyama Flower Market Tea House. 

The whirring of machines and the steady, monotonous beep beep beep echoed loudly in your head; ping ponging off the sides of your skull until it felt like it would break straight through the bone. A tension headache pounded behind your eyes and you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the pain. The room’s sterile scent burned your nose and you were sure the smell had permanently seeped into your clothes. Outside, the night was quiet save for the sirens every now and then. You absently wondered if there were people out there having just as bad a night as you. There was soft, raspy breathing steadily beside you as you sat doubled over in an uncomfortable chair as your head lay on the hard hospital mattress. You stared down your arm to your fingers intertwined with his and ran your fingers softly against his skin. It was then that every alarm in the room went off. He gasped for breath as he struggled unconsciously, hands reaching out to an unknown specter. You panicked and grabbed his shoulders to keep him steady, screaming in panic for someone to help you, pressing furiously on the nurse’s button. But help never came. All at once, he went still, and his eyes focused on your face. His lips moved slowly, and he seemed to be saying something. Leaning forward, you turned your ear close enough to his face to feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Why?” he breathed.

The monitor beside you blipped one last time before hitting that too well known tone of death. Your breath caught in shock as the realization kicked in. He was gone. Nurses poured into the room seconds later and you were jolted awake as you slid from his bed.

Sitting up in the darkness you looked towards the clock. 4:34 am.

You had had that reoccurring nightmare for years.

You looked to your right at the empty space beside you and immediately fell into tears. It had been three years since he died. Some days were easier than others, some days you’d even forget about the whole thing, and then some of them were so unbearable you could barely move. You had dated your husband since high school, married in University, and you both had the whole world ahead of you. He had accomplished every goal he set for himself, got a good career, and was ready to start creating a family with you when he had received the news. Brain cancer. Very aggressive and minimal chance of an effective treatment. Your world came crashing down around you with the news. Every which direction you had expected your life to go was suddenly skewed by a landslide.

He hadn’t even lasted the month.

One second you were happily married and the breath before your next heartbeat, he was gone. He had left you well cared for, but the pain in your heart could not be softened by being financially stable after his death. It took months for you to put his bathroom things away; a few months after that you had the heart to tidy up his study, putting away reminders, and picking up the coffee cups that seemed to accumulate there; it was two years before you were able to donate his clothes; and it was almost three when you moved the book he had been reading from his bedside table.

“Is this something you really want to do?” Ki whispered cautiously over his cup of tea. Steam wafted outwards towards you as he asked the question. His glasses fogged up once more as the heat was once again directed at his face.

You smiled down at his cautious gaze and glassy eyes. “I really want to do this.”

“Tongyeong is so far away,” he pouted.

“You can visit.”

“What will his family say?”

You stared out of the café window to the bustling city streets. What would his family think? Probably glad the bitch was out of the picture. When he had died, his family was outraged to find that he left the majority of his belongings and holdings to you. They fought tooth and nail to take everything from you, but his will was legally sound and so they had no other option than to relent. Ever since, they had cut off all connection, but were still nosy, using proxies to delve for information about your life. You weren’t going off and blowing his money. You had invested most of it after you paid off the house and was living comfortably off the earnings. The only news they ever got was that ‘she’s still there, leaves the house when she needs to, gardens when she’s sad, and sits outside for long stretches of time.’ Eat that, Jung family.

You smiled to yourself then said, “Who cares? They can go fuck themselves.”

Ki snickered into his drink. Setting the cup down on the table he reached across and grabbed your hand.

“___, if this is something that you want, I support it 100%. Know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

The move went easier than you had expected. Your therapist talked you off the ledge of a mental breakdown twice as you packed up your life. If it wasn’t for her and Ki’s unswaying friendship, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Tongyeong was on the southern coast of Korea and was everything you ever wanted. It boasted mountain ranges and evergreen trees for miles. The small part of town you had purchased in was nestled amongst the craggy rocks of the shore, dotted with docks, several hundred boats swayed amongst their moorings, and the smell of salt was fresh on the wind each day. The home you purchased was cottage style, slightly outside of the range of “town”, but close enough to walk. There was room for you to garden and still be able to enjoy yourself if you were to put in a sitting area. This house was admittedly smaller than your last so you did sell some items of furniture you wouldn’t be needing and packed up your most treasured possessions. Windows were on each wall of the single story home, which would boast sunshine for most of the day and called for a warm house during winter. Most of your unpacking was done save for a few of the books you had yet to shelf in your new study. For now, you had your essentials and the rest could wait. You were eager to explore the town and familiarize yourself with some sort of café to enjoy some tea.

Pulling on a light sweater, you slipped from your house and down the path into town. It was lazy on this Sunday morning and you were thankful for the lack of interaction you would have had to otherwise endure. Passing a small dress shop, florist, and bakery you finally stumbled upon what you were looking for. Settled oddly, almost at an angle between two buildings sat a small, squat building. It seemed to give an almost magical aura with its soft, gray brick. The glass in the windowpanes looked old as the sun rippled across them. A green door with intricate wood carvings greeted you as you pushed it open. A rush of warm air hit you and was quickly followed by the smells of spices, something citrusy, and chocolate. Dried flowers hung from string in the windows. Behind the long, wooden bar stood floor to ceiling shelves with hundreds of jars of various teas. A library ladder stood at one end, ready to be rolled to its next destination in this journey of tea. Soft piano music came from an unseen speaker. Besides you, there was no one else in the café. You looked around thinking maybe you had made a mistake and accidentally came in while it was closed. As you were turning to leave the way you came a bright ‘hello!’ startled you into turning back around. A tall, broad chested man with black hair that fell into his eyes came out of a door behind the counter. His eyes shone bright in the lights of the café, lights you couldn’t see now that you were observing your surroundings more. The café seemed to glow as if it created its own atmosphere. It glowed even brighter as he entered the room. All at once you felt instantaneous relief wash through your body as he smiled at you.

“How can I help you?” His voice was neither very high nor low, but the lilt of his dialect calmed you.

“I, um, well…,” you trailed off.

“Let me ask you this. How can the tea help you?”

Your brow furrowed at such an odd question. You were trying to wrack your brain for some logical answer when he spoke again.

“What ails you?”

Was this turning into some health appointment?

“Tea has all kinds of healing powers. I have tea for depression, insomnia, nerve pain, chronic sinus infection, and the occasional ‘blend’ for the hypochondriacs.” He threw his fingers into air quotes at the end. “Or, you know, if you’re just into peppermint I have that too.”

He leaned against the counter and looked at you questioningly. His eyes held the same attentiveness as someone saying, ‘I’ll stand here happily for 8 hours until you decide’.

“Yea, well…sometimes…I have trouble sleeping.” You looked away shyly. Something inside you told you that if you looked him directly in his eyes, he’d know all your secrets.

You felt his gaze on your face as you pretended to read the names on all the jars.

“Nightmares?” he questioned.

Your eyes immediately met his as they widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you snapped it shut and fixed your gaze.

“How did you know?”

“Intuition.” He leaned on the counter for a beat longer before he pushed off, grabbing the ladder and rolling it behind him. “I have just the one.”  

As he climbed the ladder you let your eyes flit over his lithe frame, probably small under that oversized sweater, but you could tell by the fitted pants he wore that he was well toned. Your cheeks burned with guilt as you thought about it.

“Take a seat,” he said as he jumped off the ladder, jar in hand, and gesturing towards the counter.

You sat down slowly on one of the bar seats, placed your bag in front of you, and watched as he moved around burners and teapots.

“Are you visiting?” he asked as he sat some water on to boil.

“No, I just moved here.”

“Oh! We rarely get anybody new around here. Small town and all.”

“Yea, it’s a really pretty town and it boasted some of the best seafood.”

He laughed as he nodded in agreement. “Some of the freshest you’ll ever get. Go down to the docks early on Saturday mornings before the sun comes up and you’ll receive the best squid you’ll ever eat.”

You laughed as he tried to get you to warm up. His banter was oddly comforting, and it seeped like honey through your veins. Your mind seemed lazy, slow and all at once at ease. The tension you held in your shoulders dissipated and the slight clench in your jaw relaxed. Chamomile, lemon balm, and something spicy wafted into your nose. The man stood there; lips pursed as he concentrated on the cup of tea steeping in front of him. The more he moved his lips the more you saw his dimple appear and disappear. He had a strong jaw that led to an equally strong neck. He was wiry; veins stood out along his neck, arms, and hands. You wondered what else he did to keep himself in such great shape besides make tea all day.

“Perfect,” he muttered as he pulled the leaves from the mug. Carefully, he sat the mug in front of you. “Now, I suggest drinking it as is, but if you want sugar, honey, or milk I’ve got it.”

“Oh, no, this is fine, thank you.” The mug was pleasantly warm in your hands. The glass was not so hot that you had to pull your hands away and the warmth seemed to shoot into your limbs. He turned away to clean up his imaginary mess as you took the first sip. If molasses were sentient and it carried healing properties for stress, then you were dunked in a vat of it. The feeling seemed to slide across your skin slowly, making sure to fill each and every crevice of your soul. You almost wanted to bow down at the feet of whoever made this blend.

“This was a good pick…,” you trailed off. You wanted to put a name to the face.

“Jeongguk.” He wiped his hands to preoccupy himself as you took another sip.

“Well, Jeongguk,” you said giving him a look of surprise, “you were spot-on knowing exactly what I needed.”

He smiled shyly as he looked down at his shoes.

“Mom always said I had a knack for it. I make the blends in house.”

You looked around in shock at the hundreds of jars that lined the wall behind him. “You made all of these?”

“Yep!” he grinned proudly as he spun to look at his work. “I live farther up in the hills. I grow a lot of tea up there; they love the humidity in the summer. I get some stuff imported from reliable, sustainable growers. But yea, these are all hand crafted by yours truly.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Yea? Well, you’re welcome to stop by any time. Hell, you could come here everyday for the next few months and try one new tea a day.”

“That sounds great, actually. My name is _____ by the way, I don’t know if I told you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move here?”

You’d knew he ask, but you still weren’t prepared when he did. What were you supposed to say? ‘My husband died three years ago, I’m still not over it, I wake up with nightmares every night, and I can’t sleep with my light off anymore, but everything’s great! Town is lovely!’ or do you simply say:

“Mid-life crisis.”

He snickered as the sentence came out of you dead pan.

“You look too young to be having one of those.”

“What makes you think I’m going to live much longer?” you laughed.

He doubled over in exaggeration at your joke. “No one around here has a sense of humor sometimes. Glad to meet someone that’s a little more normal.”

“Surely not everyone here is lifeless.”

“Ah, no. It’s just mostly a bunch of burly old fisherman, rich fishermen’s wives, poor fishermen’s wives for that matter too. Needless to say, it’s a mixed bunch and they don’t all get along. The hardened old timers that this is all they know, stay. The kids they had started moving away and now there’s barely any young people left in the town. Why stay here when you can be living life in Seoul or Busan.”

“What made you stay?”

“I love it here,” he said without missing a beat.

You appreciated that he took stock in the simple things. Everything about this town screamed simple and it appealed to you. This would be a no-nonsense restart to your life.

“I know what you’re thinking. He’s uneducated and knows nothing about life because he’s never left this coastal town since the day he was born.”

You shrugged at his almost correct assumption about himself.

“Well, no matter what anyone in town tells you, that’s wrong. I went to University, graduated, lived in China for a couple of years and that’s where I learned everything I needed to know about tea. I came back here with some of my savings and I opened shop. Been here ever since.”

“You seem very accomplished.”

“I feel very accomplished,” he smiled. Damn it, if that toothy grin wasn’t getting you every time. You found yourself blushing more than once as he fixed his gaze upon you, listening as if you held the universe in your hands.

You told him the bare minimum about yourself, barely scratching the surface of your depressing past. You told him where you moved from, your education background, and a few mundane aspirations you had for yourself. Luckily, a year ago you had started wearing your wedding bands on a necklace which now was tucked snugly inside your sweater. The lack of jewelry stopped him from asking any questions about your relationship status.

Once your conversation had lulled and your mug was drained, you stood up to leave.

“This was all very lovely, Jeongguk. Thank you for the suggestion in tea.”

He seemed very boyish when he smiled, but he looked to be the same age as you. Praise made him light up like a Christmas tree and you found yourself liking his smile more and more.

“Any time. Oh! And if there is a blend you’d like to try don’t hesitate to ask me.”

You gave him one last smile as you exited the tea shop. The difference in atmosphere as you stepped out was almost otherworldly. Reality seemed to tip on its axis before it readjusted itself and you were left staring dumbly on the sidewalk. You looked behind you to see if you had imagined the whole thing, but the tea shop still stood in front of you looking the exact same as when you walked in. Tendrils of anxiety pricked at your brain. The comfort of the tea shop had helped you forget for a little while, but now that you were alone and exposed to the evening air you felt an emptiness creeping back inside of you. Clinging to the last few notes of chamomile on your tongue, you held on to the feeling as you walked back home.

The next day you awoke to the sounds of seagulls gathering at the docks in the hopes of getting a stray fish that fell. You had left your windows open that night, letting in the early morning salty breeze. The smell of fresh fish carried on the wind and permeated your house. As you stretched your limbs, hopeful excitement bloomed in your chest as you thought about the tea shop and its semi-mysterious owner. You realized immediately that you slept through the entire night, not once woken up by horrible nightmares. You quickly dressed, looked yourself over in the hall mirror briefly, and stepped out into the morning air. All kinds of birds trilled in the trees and you still heard the shrill call of the seagulls closer to shore. You walked with purpose this time. You knew exactly where you were going and wanted to at least give the air of a local. You found it looking just as it had the day before.

The air inside was comfortably warm and today the shop smelled like lavender and bergamot. A patron sat at a small table near a bookcase, but the old man did not look up from his reading. Jeongguk beamed at you as he walked out holding a tray of fresh lavender scones.

He glanced towards the grandfather clock that flanked one of his walls. “Same time as yesterday. Punctual, I see.”

“And I see that not only can you make amazing tea blends but also baked goods as well,” you said taking the same place at the counter like you had the day before.

Today it sounded like he was playing music from some fantasy movie; a long, forlorn single note played, and violins dramatically sang in the background. Herbs were now placed on the line with the dried flowers and the smell of rosemary wove in and out of the calming lavender scent.  

“You can have one on me and you can tell me if it’s good or not.” He placed one on a plate before sliding it over to you. “What’ll it be today?”

He slid the tray of scones into a small bakery case and turned expectantly towards you.

“I’m feeling something fruity today.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. “You’re in luck. I had a bunch of strawberries that I dried last year that weren’t getting used. I made a strawberry and peach tea last night with just the slightest hint of vanilla.”

He bounced around excitedly like a kid showing you a new trick they had learned. He reverently put the leaves in to steep and stood idly by as he counted down the seconds until it was done. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated on not spilling a drop as he carried it over.

“How’s the scone?”

“It’s amazing. Not too much lavender, which is perfect.”

His grinned at the praise.

“Jeongguk?”

“Hm?” he was absently licking his lips and you were momentarily distracted by the action.

“You have a lot of family here?”

He stopped short with a confused look on his face, like you had caught him completely by surprise. His mouth fell open and the café lights reflected off his wet bottom lip. Questions formed in his eyes as he cleared his throat. A second later, he was smiling as if nothing had happened.

“Not anymore,” he sighed. “My sister was the last to leave maybe two years ago. My mom died right before I moved to China and my dad went to live with my brother. ‘Can’t stand to be here without her anymore.’ I get it; I just get lonely from time to time for my family.”

You picked at the scone on your plate as you tried to contemplate the best response to give him. “Do they not come visit? Do you get to go see them?”

“Oh, yeah! I visit as often as I can and my siblings still come, but my dad won’t. It’s too hard for him to be here.”

“Your mom must have been a very wonderful lady.”

You sipped quietly as you watched his eyes. He looked beyond you, out the window, at something you knew you couldn’t see even if you turned around. The muscles in his face relaxed, smile slipping, and the gleam in his eyes shined a little brighter as tears pooled in the bottom of his eyes. He sniffed quickly as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“She was.”

You weren’t going to ask more than he was willing to offer, so you smiled at him instead. He choked out a laugh as he reached for your empty plate.

“She was my biggest supporter in this endeavor.”

He turned to put the plate away and your attention wandered to the shelf of jars in front of you. How many of them were woven with the sorrowful love he held in his heart? He had so many teas with so many specific treatments that you began to wonder how much of himself Jeongguk had put into his creations.

“So, where’s your family?”

Fuck. You had to open your big mouth and ask him about the F word and now he was curious about you. You did not ask him if he were married so maybe you could skate around the subject as well.

“My parents live in Andong and I’m an only child, so no interesting siblings to speak of.”

He seemed satisfied enough with your answer and went back to busying himself with putting the jars back where they belonged.

You looked around and noticed the other man in the café had left at some point and neither of you had noticed. Soft music flowed lackadaisically through the air around you. Light filtered in through the dried flowers as the sun traveled across the sky and you watched the shadows dance on the indoor greenery. If there were a roaring fire and maybe a few lightening bugs dancing about you would have thought you were in a fairy’s house. Everything about the café seemed small and comfortable, but large and magical all at once. If Jeongguk offered to make you potions you would not have been surprised.

“Would you like anything else?” His expression was just as you had seen him when you first walked through the door, happy and full of life.

“No, actually I need to do some grocery shopping before I starve in my own home.”

“Well, if you ever want actual food I know how to cook as well.”

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” you asked grabbing your bag. Pulling out a few won, you laid them on the counter as you swiveled on the stool.

He mocked concentration as he looked around the room.

“Well,” he smirked, “I can’t sew.”

“I’m surprised. I’d probably not think twice about if I came here tomorrow and you had knitted me a sweater.”

“I can crochet,” he said with a point and wink in your direction.

“Of course you do.” You were laughing, already easing into a comfort you hadn’t felt with anyone for a while.

That’s when the guilt hit. It was like a punch to the stomach and as if someone had reached inside your chest and started to squeeze your heart. Your breath caught suddenly the room swayed ever so slightly around you. An echo of your husband’s voice telling you he loved you bounced around in your mind.

“Hey, are you okay?” his question was muffled at first and you weren’t sure what he said. It took only a few seconds of your addled mind to decipher his words. “You look a little pale.”

The pain in your chest eased just enough for you to retain some composure.

“I think I stood up too fast.”

“Ah, might have something to do with the altitude here. Here,” he said grabbing a jar at eye level. “Drink some of this before you go to bed tonight.” He pulled a small baggie and filled it with just enough tea to make a cup. “On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He was all smiles as he handed the baggie over.

“You spoil me.” You tried to bring humor back in the conversation, tried to be your normal self, but even you could hear the sadness in your voice.

Jeongguk seemed to notice, but only smiled when he caught your eye.

“Have a good rest of your day, _____, and don’t forget to drink that tonight.” He pointed towards the bag as he wiped the imaginary water off the same cup for the nth time. “It’ll also help you sleep.”

You felt the first set of tears start to well in your eyes. Saying a rushed goodbye, you slipped from the shop, forgoing the grocery store and walked home as fast as possible. As soon as the door shut behind you, your back connected to the wood and you slid down hard onto the floor. Fresh, hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed into your hands. If a literal stranger showing you kindness made you feel this guilty then how were you going to survive this move? At least in the city you never really saw the same person twice unless you were loyal to a coffee shop (which you weren’t) and at your previous job no one had paid much mind to you. You internally berated yourself for being so disloyal to your husband. ‘Til death do you part and beyond. Your heart ached for him every day. Some days it was a dull pain, others you could barely get out of bed, but grief was strange; you’d often forget he was dead. It was like walking up a set of familiar stairs in the total darkness, having counted them millions of times, but every now and again you miscount and take one more step than necessary at the top. Your body lurches, panicked as if falling through space and suddenly your adrenaline is pumping because surely, you’re about to fall, then your foot hits the ground. You’re brought back to the present, a little stunned and uneasy. Your heart settles back to its normal beating and reality sets in. Some things can be forgotten, we become so used to the feeling being there that we forget we even have them until we trip up and our minds betray us; showing us just how lonely we truly are.

The house had fallen dark when you woke up on the floor. Your body was stiff and sore from having been on the ground for so long. A few hours had passed since you came home, your stomach grumbled, and you internally berated yourself for not going to the grocery store earlier. You groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet and tried to adjust to your surroundings. Having been expecting a package, you turned and opened the door not to be met with what you had planned to see there, but a small bundle with a note on top. Bending over slowly, you picked both up to inspect them more closely. The script on the cardstock was perfect, so perfect in fact that you thought it was typed but the smudges of ink gave it away.

“I didn’t see you head in the direction of the store, so I made you a bento. Hope you like it! -JJK”

You wanted to cry again but you were all out of tears. The bento was neatly sealed and placed inside a beautifully woven bag. Bringing it inside you sat it on the counter and popped open the lid. Inside was marinated beef, onigiri, steamed vegetables, and a few pieces of sushi. You grabbed a pair of chopsticks and stuck a piece of beef in your mouth and moaned inwardly. Having lived in the city your entire life you thought you had tasted it all, but this beef was cooked so perfectly it seemed to melt in your mouth. You were in the middle of enjoying this perfect meal when you heard it. A soft mew floated on the breeze and through your open window. Listening again and tilting your head in that direction, it came a little louder the second time. You walked to the window and leaned out. The night was a calm one, so the sea was quiet and all that interrupted the night was the sound of crickets…and a meow. Frowning, you ducked back inside and made your way to your back door. You rounded the house in the direction of the sound and heard it again in the bushes near your window. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you shone the light and a pair of eyes immediately glowed under one of the plants.

“Hey,” you whispered even though your nearest neighbor was several hundred meters away. The small kitten mewed again. “Where’s your mommy?” Mew? It seemed to say.

Getting on your hands and knees you crawled in its direction and much to your surprise, it bounded straight for you.

“Oh!” you cried as it jumped into your arms. Immediately, it started to nuzzle your neck and purr. “Well…okay.” You were a bit taken aback and puzzled at how soon this cat had warmed up to you. In the past, when you were around friends’ cats, they all steered cleared or hissed in your general direction.

You stood from your position and walked back inside to get a closer look at your new friend. Its fur was bright orange and even in the light its green eyes seemed to glow magically. Turning it over you discovered it was a girl.

“You’re a rare baby,” you said shifting it so that you could hold it like a baby. It played with your finger as you brushed along its belly, but it made no attempt to escape your hold.

“Kyongni,” you whispered as the name immediately popped into your head as you remembered your husband’s favorite epic, Toji.

The kitten immediately made eye contact with you and meowed loudly.

“You like that name?” You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Setting her down on the floor you reached for a piece of your dinner and handed it to her. She immediately took the meat and started chewing furiously. Before you were ready to fall into your bed you had fed her some lunch meat, made a makeshift bed in a box by yours, and found a brush to get some of the dirt from her fur. Plugging in a heating pad, you placed it beneath the blankets and placed  her inside where she instantly curled up and closed her eyes. You looked at her and thought that maybe the following days didn’t have to be so sad after all.

After you made your tea, you sat in bed and sipped at the delicious blend he had yet again nailed. Embarrassment flooded through you as you thought of your day’s encounter with Jeongguk. As much as you didn’t want to face him again you were going to have to apologize for how you acted and thank him for the food.

That night you had no dreams or nightmares.

The next morning you awoke to Kyongni mewing loudly in her box. You rolled over to see her standing, paws on the edge of the box, and looking at you as if to say, “It’s about time you woke up.”

“Hey, sweet baby.” You swung your legs over the side of your bed and reached into the box. “Let me get cleaned up and find something for you at the store.”

An hour later, you had laid a few newspapers down just in case, sat out a bowl of water, and a promise to Kyongni that you’d be back later. She simply meowed and jumped onto your couch and onto the windowsill she had discovered.

Your walk would take you past the tea shop so you figured you would bite the bullet and pop inside. The shop was bustling, and it was the most amount of people you had seen in one place since you moved here. A group of older women sat at a table near the windows gossiping about someone who had recently left their book club for another, the same mysterious man you had seen was sitting at his same spot reading the newspaper, and a very disheveled mom was enjoying her first sip of tea as her baby sat slumbering in its carrier beside her. Jeongguk was busy helping a teenager pick a tea, ensuring her that it had more caffeine in it than her usual coffee order. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you decided to take your spot at the bar and wait. You watched him as he worked, not having seen him interact with anyone else beside yourself. He gave the girl just as much rapt attention that he had been giving you and didn’t seemed the least bit put out that she couldn’t decide on what she wanted. His eyes wandered briefly and landed on you, beaming and giving a nod before turning back to the girl who was smelling various teas out of the jars he had placed on the counter. About ten minutes later, tea in hand, and happily walking out of the shop, the girl left, and he was standing before you.

“Hey, _____! Did you like the tea I gave you yesterday? I hope it helped with the dizziness.”

“It was lovely. Got a good night’s sleep, too.” You stared awkwardly at your hands as you picked at the imaginary dirt under your fingernails. “Look,” you started. “I want to apologize for the way I acted yesterday.”

Jeongguk looked puzzled when you finally decided to look at him.

“What?” You knew that he knew exactly what you were talking about but was trying to save you the embarrassment.

“I freaked out for a second. There’s a lot you don’t know about me and sometimes…,” you trailed off without knowing what else to say.

“Listen,” he said leaning forward on his elbows and you caught a whiff of him that caught you off guard. He smelled strongly of cinnamon and berries. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience that much I can tell.”

Your mouth fell open and he held up his hand to stop you from speaking.

“You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to. I get it. You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m just here to ease the pain a little bit.”

His face softened as he looked at you and at the same time so did your heart. Relief washed over you because now he knew.

“I…I’d like to talk about it…some time. If that’s okay?” You felt like a child; small and vulnerable, but your therapist had told you that talking about the pain would ease the sadness.

“Sure!” he said standing back up and acting like nothing had happened. “How about you come see the tea I’m growing right now? You can come by tomorrow if you’d like. It’s my off day.”

“I’d love to,” you smiled.

His gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he seemed to snap out of it. “Did you have something in mind for today?”

“Something to-go, please. I have a new friend at home.”

“Oh?” You saw something flash in his eyes before he turned to grab a jar from the shelf. He stopped talking or looking at you as he busied himself with the kettle.

“Yea,” you sighed dreamily, playing into the act. “Listens to everything I have to say, loves to cuddle…” You saw his shoulders slump slightly. “Purrs a lot and really loves beef.”

He turned to look at you inquisitively. “Did you say purrs a lot?”

“Yea, I found a cat. Or, I guess the cat found me. Showed up at my house last night so I need to go get supplies for it.”

“The grocery store has a small section,” he said setting the cup down in front of you with a look of relief on his face.

You sat money on the counter and grabbed the small paper cup, smelling near the opening and caught hints of lavender.

“Thank you, by the way, for the food. You didn’t have to do that.”

He scoffed and waved his hand. “No big deal.”

“It was all very good. You’re an extremely talented cook as well.”

His cheeks flushed a dark red color as he grabbed a towel and began wiping the counter.

“Here,” he said grabbing a napkin and a pen. He jotted something down and handed it over to you. “My number.” He coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “For, you know, tomorrow. I can text you directions.”

You reached to take the napkin from him and his fingers brushed against yours. Jumping slightly, you retracted your hand and placed the napkin in your bag.

“Thank you, Jeongguk,” you said holding up the tea. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yea,” he laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The shop seemed like a warm blanket that you had just pulled from the dryer and you were hesitant to leave it. Even with the chatter and Jeongguk busily moving things behind the counter, you felt peace here. Your heart swelled in your chest at the thought of being here once more and you were sad to leave its warm embrace.

The next day brought clear skies and sunshine. Kyongni was happily lounging at the foot of your bed when you awoke, and she blinked blearily at you as you sat up.

“Did you rest well?” you asked her, rubbing behind her ears as she purred loudly. She had loved the food you’d gotten and litterbox training, who? She was, in your opinion, the perfect cat. “I’m going to his house today.” She looked at you pensively before reaching out a paw and laying it on top of your hand. “Is this a good idea?” Her head cocked to the side as the stared at you. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” She removed her paw and began to lick her fur. “You’ve convinced me.”

What should you wear? Why were you even thinking about this? Just dress like you normally would. After about fifteen minutes of telling yourself what you had decided to wear was fine, you dug through your bag for the napkin he had written his number on. Sighing deeply, you took the plunge.

[you]: Hey, Jeongguk, sorry if I’m texting a little early, but I wasn’t sure when you wanted me to drop by today.

That seemed simple enough. You didn’t want to sound too eager. It wasn’t a full minute later before your phone vibrated in your hand and you felt your heart lurch in your chest.

[Jeongguk] I’ve been up so you’re okay! Ummmm wanna come over in about thirty minutes? I’ll text the directions.

You had discovered early on that anything and everything worth getting to in town was within walking distance. The directions he had sent were simple enough. With a kiss to Kyongni’s head and a promise to call Ki in the event of your death, you headed out.

The walk took you all of thirty minutes. It would have been faster if you hadn’t stopped to examine some wildflowers you had never seen before. Jeongguk’s house was up on one of the hills behind town, not easily seen through the trees, but when it came into your view it took your breath away. It was two-story but small, painted a light green that matched the surrounding trees, and had an immaculate garden out front. He must have been watching because he eagerly stepped out of his front door and threw a dish towel over his shoulder. He wasn’t wearing a large sweater like he usually did at the shop, but instead had on a plain white t-shirt and joggers that showed the muscles you guessed he had and were made painfully aware of in that moment.

“Hey!” he called out while walking down the steps. “I hope you’re hungry because I made brunch.”

“If I would have known that I would have brought something.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re my guest.”

He turned and headed back inside, and you followed dutifully behind. The inside of his house was just as cozy as his café. The smells emanating from a yet unseen kitchen had your mouth watering. You followed him into this kitchen, and you were met with a comforting sight. Much like the café, herbs were strung up in the windows that lined the entire back side of the house. Out past them was an even bigger garden and several different rows of tea bushes. A fat, white cat laid on a hammock hung in the corner and in direct contact with the morning sun. It blinked lazily at you with large, blue eyes before closing them and laying back down again.

“That’s Bungeoppang…he loves fish,” he said shyly.

“Fish bread hardly has fish in it,” you laughed.

“Yea, but he’s cute like fish bread.”

He started grabbing several small dishes of banchan and brought them over to the large table by the windows.

“If you want to help, I kinda overdid it with the small dishes if you can bring them over here,” he laughed as he balanced three on his forearm.

Setting your bag down you quickly walked over to the counter and surveyed the damage he had done. Ssamjang, dongchimi, gyeran mari, spicy tuna, and many others dotted the counter amongst vegetable refuse and shavings of ginger.

“You really did out do yourself.”

“I got excited, okay?” His smile was wide as he came up beside you to grab a large bowl of rice. “I don’t get visitors often.”

Your heart hurt in your chest at his boyish, dopey grin and his admission at being excited to have you over but you quickly dampened the feeling before you let it get the best of you. You both quickly moved every dish he had made over to the table and before long, you were both trying to figure how to move them so that’d you would both have a place to sit. Jeongguk scratched the back of his neck as he looked down, scooting plates here and there and stacking the ones that could be without mess. Once the both of you were settled, he handed you a pair of lovingly worn chopsticks. The few moments of comfortable silence as the both of you started to eat was only broken here and there when something was asked to be passed. You were each sated well enough to begin a conversation before long.

“I needed that. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in here and smelled that pork belly,” you said while reaching for more cucumber kimchi.

“Well, besides the meat, all of this comes off the property.” Jeongguk gestured proudly at the dishes around as if he were a king looking over his treasures.

“You even made the kimchi?”

“I have a few onggi’s in the back,” he said so matter-of-factly as if every household had one.

“I have a few onggi’s in the back,” you said back in a mock tone.

His face flushed red immediately as he started to defend himself. “It’s just! You know! I can make so much at once! Who wants to go to the store all the time?”

“No, no, no,” you said between laughing, “I love it! You just sound like my grandma is all. Living in the hills and making your own kimchi.”

“The young today would do well listening to their elders,” he said regally.

Lunch passed by lazily. He had opened the windows next to the table and a cool breeze aired out the house. A mixture of florals and something spicier wafted into your nose.

“Gonna show me what’s out there?” you asked, pointing a chopstick out the window.

“Of course. Are you done?” He wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table before standing up from the pillow he sat on and reached out his hand to you. At first, you were surprised, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter. A single bird chirped outside, and you heard Bungeoppang meow softly.

“…I mean, if you don’t want help that’s okay, too,” you heard him say as he was slowly pulling his hand away.

“No!” you said lunging forward and grabbing his hand almost a little too desperately. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about yo-something.” You tried to quickly cover up your blunder. He didn’t seem to notice as he smiled again and helped you to your feet.

“I’ll worry about his later,” he said pointing towards all the uneaten food. He walked to the door and opened it before turning to you expectantly. Bungeoppang jumped off his hammock to walk in and out of his legs before trotting off to a spot beneath a tree. The garden buzzed both mentally and physically. The same feeling as the café and his home bled into the garden as well; you searched for the source of the power, but it seemed to be all around you. Bees buzzed lazily amongst the wildflowers he had planted along the path to the rows of tea bushes. You followed a few feet behind him and watched him as he walked. All the flowers seemed to turn from the sun and face him as he passed; only going back to their original positions as you walked by. Butterflies followed behind him and would then light on the flowers, fluttering their wings and spreading them in the sunlight.

“Camellia sinenis,” he said lovingly as he ran his fingers amongst the leaves of one bush. “Green tea.” He turned and smiled at you and he seemed even more supernatural in his element. No matter where he stood the sun seemed to shine behind him as if to say, ‘Look at him!’

The sound of trickling water reached your ears the further you walked between the rows, Jeongguk calling out the names of each one as if they were his beloved children.

“And these,” he said throwing both arms out wide, “are my koi fish!”

Ahead of you was a pond about ten feet long, five feet wide, and probably no more than three feet deep but several kois swam right below the crystal surface. They varied in color from bright orange, to solid white, and one was even decorated in splashes of orange, white, and black. A golden colored koi seemed to notice Jeongguk first and raced towards the edge of the pond, followed closely behind by the rest. They swarmed the surface excitedly and the water churned amongst their fins. Jeongguk reached for a plastic container under one of the nearby bushes and pulled a handful of food from it and threw it towards the swarm. He held the container out to you, and you grabbed a handful, delighting in the activity below you.

“The gold one is my favorite and my only one. Her name is Geum. She’s my very first koi, probably around six years old now.”

“This is beautiful, Jeongguk.”

“You really think so?” The way he looked at you told you he was yearning for approval. Perhaps his dad hadn’t come in a long time? It must be lonely in such a large house alone.

“I mean it,” you smiled.

“Come sit,” he said as he gestured towards a large, hand carved wooden bench. The designs along its back and arms were intricate and worn a little with age. “My mom carved it.” Jeongguk noticed you running your finger along the wing of a bird.

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “She made this?”

“My creativity came from her.”

“You must be a lot like her.”

Jeongguk stared wistfully out at the fish who now resumed their lazy swimming about the pond.

“I’m sorry…,” you whispered.

“Oh! It’s okay! I was just thinking about her is all. I just…you know, I don’t take time to think about her like I should anymore. I’ll see things here and there that will remind me of her. Hell,” he laughed, “sometimes I catch myself talking to her like she’s here. She was my biggest inspiration…and my biggest loss.”

You both sat in silence for some minutes more before he spoke up again.

“I almost let this place go when she died. I didn’t harvest any of the teas that year, weeds were overtaking everything, the pond was even filled with all types of weeds and scum. But then one day I had a dream about her. She was sitting in the garden out here and it was beautiful. The day was bright.” He squinted up at the sun as he spoke. “There were bees, butterflies, and birds flying about amongst the tea bushes. No weeds, nothing. And I just sat with her. She didn’t speak, she just held my hand and when I woke up, I felt so…relieved. The next day I came out here and started cleaning the place up and I haven’t looked back since.”

Your mouth vomited the words before your brain could catch up. You were caught up in Jeongguk’s somber story and your heart ached for him and suddenly you wanted to relate to him so he wouldn’t feel alone.

“My husband died.”

You saw him twitch slightly and his grip tightened on the arm of the bench. He turned his body towards you and reached out as if he wanted to hold your hand but drew back.

“I…I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were married.”

“Why should you? It’s not your fault and it’s okay…really. I honestly never planned to just dump that on you.”

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse, but I am, obviously, very well versed in loss; if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m all ears.” His smiled broadened at the end of his statement, reeling you into his comfortable aura once more.

What could it hurt to tell him? It wasn’t like you were hiding some huge secret.

“Well,” you sighed, “he had a brain tumor.”

Jeongguk sat patiently beside you, not a sound coming from his side save for the occasional tap of fingernail against the wood and the shuffle of his feet in the gravel around the bench.

“Very aggressive. He died three years ago. We met in high school and dated through University. We got married before we graduated. Then, we got our dream jobs. We thought we had it made; we were good financially, our jobs were going well, we got a new house, and we were even talking about kids.” Your voice trailed off at the end as you thought about the children you would never get to meet. Your silent guardian shifted ever so slightly to let you know he was still listening.

“He died within the month that we found out.” Jeongguk’s nails scraped along the wood as his hand made a fist; he was anxious but wasn’t trying to show it. “Of course, I stayed there, I didn’t know what else to do. His family and I…didn’t really get along very well after and we eventually became estranged. They’re still oddly nosey about my life, though. Then, I decided there was nothing tying me there anymore, so I decided to pack up and leave. My life felt like it had a dull, gray film over it all the time. Every time I rounded a corner in my house, I expected him to be there smiling at me while he typed on his computer or sat in the reading nook with a cup of tea, or…,” your voice caught at the end. Jeongguk’s fingers spread out wide on the bench and he moved his hand until his pinky barely touched your leg. “What I wouldn’t have given to see him walking through our front door just one more time.” You had to stop, or you would be in full blown tears before too long.

Once more, silence fell between you. Nothing was strange, his hand stayed steady beside you on the bench, and you willed your tears to not fall. The sun was making its journey across the sky and by Jeongguk’s deduction, it was probably somewhere around 2:00.

“Come on,” he said getting up suddenly. His movements knocked you out of your daze. “I picked some fresh peaches today and I bought some fresh cream from Mrs. Kim, so I have dessert for us.”

“Spying on me? Peaches are my favorite fruit,” you said, trying to lighten the mood once more.

“Lucky guess!” he called back as he headed down the path between the bushes.

Bungeoppang was laid out on his side, still under the tree, and very much asleep as you passed. Once inside the kitchen, Jeongguk removed previously sliced peaches from his refrigerator, placed some in two bowls, and poured cream over them. He grabbed a bento box and brought it to the table with him as the both of you ate. While chewing, he began grabbing bits of the several dishes in front of him with chopsticks and was quickly filling the bento until it was neatly packed. He secured the band around it and stuck it in a bag before tying it shut and sitting it beside you.

With his mouth full he said, “In case you get hungry tonight, or you can have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to-“

“You think I’m gonna eat this all myself?”

You laughed at his exaggerated gesture of sweeping his arm out across the table as his eyes bulged.

“I guess you’re right.”

That was when you felt it. The first little bit of stabbing pain you hadn’t expected to come back so soon, if at all. That first sting in your heart when your husband died was the worst it had ever been. Days after, the pain in your chest only subsided when you were able to get a few precious moments of sleep. Months later, the pain was dull, but still ever present. A year and then two went by and the pain only came on rare instances when you were having a really bad day. When his words and his comfort was needed the most was when you felt that stab straight through your heart. Yet, here you were, accepting the hospitality of a new friend and you felt the sting. Guilt blanketed you like an old friend, grasping at your shoulders and whispering in your ear. Your smile faltered as Jeongguk looked on and his expression changed to that of confusion before quickly painting a smile on once more.

“I think there is a storm coming in this afternoon. Don’t worry about helping me here, I can clean up, and you need to get home before the weather gets bad.”

He stood up quickly from where he sat and grabbed a couple of plates to bring into the kitchen. You grabbed your bento and bag. The sting was starting to subside and soon you felt guilty for possibly making Jeongguk feel bad.

“I can’t thank you enough for today,” you began. “I really enjoyed everything, and you have a beautiful home here. I only hope to have a garden like yours one day.” You tried to make your smile genuine.

“Well, if you ever need tips, I’m your man.”

“Thank you, again,” you said as you walked to the front door, him following close behind to let you out.

“I’ll see you at the shop then?” He was looking at you with a question in his eyes and high expectations on the rest of his face.

“Of course,” you smiled. Maybe you said it awkwardly. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed your change in mood. You waved before turning and headed back down into town and home.

The sky overhead started to turn a dark shade of gray. You had had no idea that it was even supposed to rain today. Winds picked up and blew leaves across your path. Your chest felt tight and once again, the stabbing pain of guilt seemed like the lightning now streaking the skies. Seconds after you shut your door against the howling wind, the sky opened up. Kyongni trotted out of your room and into the hallway in greeting, rubbing against your legs and purring.

“Is the storm scaring you?” you asked as you picked her up. She only stared at you with sleepy eyes as she continued to purr.

The hot bath you took did nothing to settle the uneasiness in your bones. The wind became high pitched as it came through cracks in the windows and the rain beat hard against your roof. Maybe a book would distract you, but you soon found out that even that wasn’t enough right now. You settled, then, to just turn off the light and lay in darkness. Lightning flashed outside, creating stark shadows against your wall. Turning over, you reached out to Kyongni who lay beside you, curled up, and fast asleep. Why did the weather outside match what you were feeling inside? A storm of emotions seemed to push and pulse inside your heart. On one hand, you were thankful for Jeongguk. He had accepted you with open arms as soon as you moved here and made you feel at home. He had even invited you into his own home. That didn’t mean anything. On the other hand, everything you were doing was wrong. Jeongguk is nice, good-looking, single, and you shouldn’t be talking to him. You had taken vows, to hell with ‘til death do you part’ you had promised someone your life. Even though he was dead, any other feelings you had towards anyone else made you feel as if he would find out. He would find out you were cheating and somehow, he’d never forgive you for it.

What was so wrong with making friends? But you knew, deep down inside, you had come to like Jeongguk. Not just for his boyish good looks, but because of how open, forgiving, friendly, and almost loving he had become. Not loving in the way of falling in love, but of the small gestures; sending you home with tea, leaving food at your door, and inviting you to see his passion.

Maybe if you didn’t pursue it…maybe Jeongguk didn’t even slightly feel the same way as you and you were just overthinking this entire situation. You sighed knowing you weren’t going to be giving yourself any more answers tonight. Brushing your hand along Kyongni’s fur, you finally fell asleep amidst the storm.

You were four months into your new routine in life. Every day, unless you were sick or otherwise detained, you were at the café ready to greet the day with a warm cup of tea. Sometimes Jeongguk would have a new creation for you to try or he’d subject you to a Frankenstein’s monster pastry that he “dreamed of” the night before. Every day he’d greet you with the same huge smile. You had never seen the sadness in his eyes that he held when he talked about his mother again. Sometimes, he would have a bento made of food that he kept tucked away until you arrived.

“You know I can cook, right?” you asked him one day, jokingly, as you passed a cleaned bento box from a previous lunch he had given you.

He simply shrugged as you both passed the boxes. “Sometimes I make too much food.”

But you knew he didn’t. Sometimes, the fruit inside the boxes were so fresh they had to have been cut the same day, if not minutes before your arrival.

On this day, you had entered the café to see the same mystery man reading his newspaper and the chattering book club.

“Have you been to that Italian restaurant in town?” He had asked this while leaning on both elbows, gazing around the café, but not having a direct conversation with you in that moment.

“Are you talking to me?” you asked, but first you had checked behind you to make sure no one else was near.

“Yes, silly. Who else?”

“I thought someone had walked up.”

“So, have you been?”

“Where?”

“Oh my god, ______,” he said rolling his eyes before laughing, “the Italian restaurant, do you not listen to anything I say?” He said it in a mock tone that you had used several times to make fun of your ex mother-in-law.

“No,” you giggled, “I have not. I make food and sometimes I get so much food from you that I don’t have to worry about groceries for a week.”

He stuck his tongue out at you as he rotated his elbows just enough to face you.

“Would you like to go? It can be on me.”

You willed your traitorous heart to stop beating so fast because you were sure he could probably hear it. You were also telling the nagging voice in the back of your brain to shut up.

“Like…a date?”

He sputtered and stood straight at the counter. “I…uh, well…not necessarily…I mean if you wanted it to be I guess, but…uh…we could just,” he started to grab things and frantically organize in a panic, “I could just meet you there I suppose,” he knocked a container full of sugar on the counter, “Crap. So, it’s not a big deal if you-“

“I’d love to.”

His head shot up and he was looking at you with large eyes. Shock was written across his features and you hadn’t even known his eyebrows could go up that high.

“Really?”

“Why not? Let’s do it,” you smiled. You were surprising yourself at how calm you were being. The last few months had been a lesson on forgiveness; forgiving yourself and the actions you deemed “inappropriate”. Doing so had let Jeongguk in a little more and you found yourself feeling a little less guilty and little more drawn to him.  

He blew out a heavy sigh of relief, hip hitting the counter as he slumped, and threw a towel over the mess he had made.

“I was trying to think of an exit strategy while I was talking. That’s why I was all over the place,” he mumbled as his cheek pressed against his arm.

Your heart melted a little and your body relaxed as you watched his internal struggle. Despite being just as anxious as you, he managed to always calm you in some way. Being in the café only seemed to heighten his supernatural ability to leave you both breathless and relieved.

“When would you like to go, you anxious little bun?”

He stood straight then, chest out, and a proud look on his face. “Anxious? Me? Also, bun?”

You felt your face burn red at the pet name you had mentally given him and just decided to blurt out like an idiot. Maybe your friendship wasn’t as comfortable as you thought.

“Forget I said that,” you said quickly.

“Oh, hell no. Bun?!” he started to laugh and you saw the man in your peripheral shift his newspaper a little to peer over the top.

“Jeongguk, shut up,” you whispered.

He leaned on his forearms across the counter and got extremely close to your face as he stared in your eyes. You leaned back a little, but your gaze didn’t waver.

“Explain yourself,” he said seriously, but you saw joy swirling in his eyes.

“When you smile…you look like a little bunny,” you said while finally breaking eye contact. You couldn’t look him in the face as you said it.

His smile reached his eyes and they disappeared as he laughed.

“Cute.”

You wanted to die. You were so caught up in him asking you out that you decided to let your guard slip too much.

“Anyway, when would you like to go?”

“Tomorrow? I can close up early.”

“Deal.”

“Not a date anymore?” he winked, but you could see he was seeking validation.

Butterflies swirled in your stomach and there seemed to be several dozen vying for space to fly. You couldn’t help the genuine smile that you gave him in that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk,” you said standing from your chair.

He grinned knowingly at you, the most flirtatious you had seen him in a while.

Friday morning was met with the perfect temperature as you sat outside on your back porch with Kyongni in your lap. You were going to forego the tea shop today in favor of cleaning around the house and then getting ready for your “date” later. Standing from your chair as soon as Kyongni jumped down to pursue a lizard, you walked over to the edge of the house to look out towards the water. Down the hill and in town, it was bustling with activity with the fishermen cleaning up for the day and leaving the smaller fish out for the hovering birds. It all seemed normal…it all seemed right. You finally felt good about being here and it was all falling into place.

What you couldn’t see was the storm just beyond the horizon, lying in wait, ready to lay waste to anything it touched.

[chemicalcindercat]

Frisk freed the monsters from the underground, completing a true-pacifist run. She was living happily on the surface with her monster family. Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't. When Frisk gets hit by a car on her way over to Sans house, everything changes. Not only does Frisk forget herself, her friends, and all of her adventures in the Underground, but something else has changed. Frisk glitches the Multiverse.

Chapter Summary: Frisk did not expect to have this many “best friends”.

Chapters (8/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Fandom: Undertale

Rating: T (For violence and hints of adult themes)

Relationships: Sans x Frisk, Underfell Sans x Frisk, Underswap Papyrus x Chara, Slight Underswap Sans x Frisk

Additional Tags: Amnesia, Lost memories, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, ...Have I mentioned there is Hurt/Comfort?, Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Goat Mom is best mom (Undertale), King Fluffy-Buns - Freeform, Sad Asgore (Undertale), Female Frisk (Undertale), Aged up Frisk (Undertale), Like duh she’s an adult i’m not a pedo, gross, Verbal Frisk, Frisk has a voice in her head, Sans is a depressed bean, Papyrus is so innocent, Frisk glitched the multiverse, oh whoops, spoiler alert, more tags will be added as we progress

"Well, Ms. Dreemurr, it would appear you have a mild case of Amnesia." The doctor said, flipping the pages on his clipboard. "You hit your head pretty hard when that car slammed into you. You're lucky it isn't worse." He looked at the worried couple standing in the corner of the room. "Her memories should be back by the end of the week. We'll keep her here for tonight, but tomorrow she can go home. She doesn't have any broken ribs, or really anything wrong except for the memory loss, which is practically unheard of for an incident like this. But anyways," The doctor turned back to the confused girl laying in the hospital bed. "If you need anything, just hit the buzzer on the bed next to you." And with that he left the room.

As soon as the doctor was gone, the couple turned to look at the girl. They were strange, the girl could tell. She couldn't remember anything past 10 minutes ago, when she woke up, but something told her that goats weren't usually able to walk, talk, and be, well, normal people.

"Um...Frisk, are you feeling well?" The woman asked, worried. The girl thought for a moment. Was she feeling fine? She honestly didn't know. How could you know if you were feeling fine, when you didn't know what fine was? She didn't know if fine for her was everything being perfect, or terrible. So instead of answering the question, she answered with a question of her own.

"'Frisk'? Is...Is that my name?"

The woman looked like she was about to break down in tears, so the man took over. "Yes, dear, that's your name. Frisk. Do you really not remember anything?" Frisk shook her head. "Well, uh...I-"

"She's your 'mom', Toriel, who you live with; He's your 'dad', Asgore, who you don't. They're divorced, you're adopted, and I'm Flowey, your 'best friend'." Frisk jumped. She had forgotten about the flower on the desk next to her that could talk.

"N-now, Asriel, that's no way to-"

"My name is Flowey." The flower corrected. Okay, Frisk was confused, to say the least. What in Asgore's name were they talking about? Before she could ask, the door slammed open, a blue fish-woman entering, with a yellow lizard-woman following behind nervously.

"Frisk!" Yelled the fish-girl, running over to the hospital bed. "We heard what happened! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Did you break anything? Because that would be cool and yet suck all at the same time. Did you finish Mew Mew: Kissy Cutie? Are you-"

"U-undyne, M-maybe we shouldn't b-bombard her with s-so many questions at o-once? Her head p-probably hurts." The lizard girl interrupted. Undyne looked at her, before looking back at Frisk.

"Oh my Asgore, I'm sorry! Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Are you-"

"Undyne, Frisk has amnesia." Toriel announced. Both Undyne and Alphys turned to look at her.

"What??" They said in unison.

"Y-you mean… Y-you don't remember us? You d-don't know who we a-are?" Alphys asked, walking over to Frisk. The human girl simply shook her head.

"I...I don't remember anything. And no, I don't know who you are. Who are you?" She asked.

"We're your anime pals!" Undyne said, putting her arm around Alphys' shoulder and grinning. Alphys blushed.

"E-every T-Tuesday you come over t-to our house and w-watch anime with us." Alphys explained. "T-this week, the newest season of M-Mew Mew: Kissy C-Cutie is airing, a-and we were going t-to watch it together. You r-really don't remember?"

Frisk looked down at her hands sadly. "No...I don't...I'm sorry."

Toriel came over and hugged Frisk. "It's okay, my child. There is no need to apologize. Do not blame yourself, child; There is nothing you can do. The doctor said by the end of the week, you'll remember, and I'm sure he is right. All we have to do is wait."

Frisk wasn't sure how she felt about this woman she couldn't remember hugging her, but she decided she kind of liked it. Besides, the lady seemed to need it more than Frisk did. Before Frisk could say anything, the lady stepped back, and the door slammed open again. At this point, Frisk was surprised it hadn't fallen off it's hinges. This time, there were two skeletons who entered the room. One was really tall, as tall as Undyne and Asgore, with a red scarf. He was also carrying what appeared to be a plate of home cooked spaghetti. The other one had a blue hoodie, and was shorter, maybe even shorter than Frisk. Once she thought about it, Frisk realized she didn't know how tall she was; She hadn't stood up yet. Would she even remember how to walk? She started panicking, wondering how she would remember to do normal, everyday stuff.

Calm down, Said a voice in her head. Quit panicking about everything.

Before Frisk could respond, the tall skeleton came over and set the plate down on the desk beside her.

"HERE YOU GO, HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS MADE YOU SOME YUMMY SPAGHETTI!! FEEL FREE TO EAT IT WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE IT, FOR IT WILL SURELY BE THE BEST! NYEH HEH HEH!" He yelled, and Frisk winced a little, not expecting it. She smiled softly at him, not knowing who he was.

I sure did have a lot of friends. She thought.

Yeah, no kidding. Said the voice in her head.

...I just wish I could remember them…

The smaller skeleton pushed past the bigger one, with a nervous grin on his face. "how ya feelin', kiddo?" He asked, his voice surprisingly deep compared to the other skeleton.

"Um...well...I-"

"NONSENSE, BROTHER. WHY ASK HOW SHE IS FEELING WHEN SHE'S IN THE HOSPITAL?" The tall skeleton interrupted. Frisk couldn't believe it. Were they really brothers? They were so different! The skeleton turned towards her. "BUT DON'T WORRY, HUMAN. I'M SURE MY SPAGHETTI WILL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER IN NO TIME!"

"yeah, kid, eat up. boneappetite." The shorter one said. The bigger one groaned.

"UGH, SANS, DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE PUNS RIGHT NOW? YOU MIGHT GIVE THE HUMAN A HEADACHE!"

"nah, look at her, paps. she likes it, you should know that by now, ya numbskull." Oh, so I like puns? That's good to know. Even as Frisk thought this, she could immediately tell it was true. When Sans (was that his name?) made a pun, she had struggled not to laugh.

"BROTHER!!" The taller skeleton protested. "WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT, A HOSPITAL IS HARDLY THE PLACE TO MAKE PUNS!" He yelled.

"geez, paps, who broke your funny bone?" The shorter one asked, winking at Frisk and stepping closer to her. Something inside of her pulled, and she could tell that he was really close to her. "so anyways, bucko, how're you feeling?" He asked softer, so that only she would hear.

"Well, I just-"

"Heya Papyrus, how're you doing?" Asked Undyne, throwing her arm around the taller skeleton's shoulder. "I know the situation isn't the best, with Frisk and all, but are you still up for some training today?"

"YOU BET, UNDYNE!" Papyrus said loudly. "AS LONG AS THE HUMAN IS ALRIGHT, THAT IS! THE GREAT PAPYRUS MUST BE THE BEST FRIEND EVER, AND A GOOD FRIEND WOULD TAKE CARE OF HER!"

"You're right, Papyrus, but I'm her best friend! Remember?" Undyne argued.

"SUUUUUURE, YOU CAN BELIEVE THAT IF YOU WANT, BUT IT'S WRONG!"

"Guys, I-" Frisk was interrupted by Flowey, suddenly defensive.

"Whatever, you idiots can pretend that she likes you better, but I'm obviously her BeSt FrIeNd!" Flowey claimed, in a demonic voice that sent a shiver down Frisk's spine. Suddenly everyone started talking all at once, Undyne and Papyrus still arguing over Frisk, Flowey hissing at everyone, Alphys nervously asking Asgore how he's been, Toriel joining in the conversation. All of the noise, and all of the new information was really giving Frisk a migraine. She sank deeper under her blanket, trying to block everything out.

Someone grabbed Frisk's hand, and she immediately jumped and yanked her hand back, to see Sans with a look of confusion and hurt. It quickly faded back into his normal smile.

"so, kid, what is it you've been trying to say this whole time?" He asked. Frisk gulped nervously as he leaned closer to her, and she leaned away from him a bit. Doesn't this guy know anything about personal space??

"I...Well, uh...Who are you, exactly?" Frisk asked.

Everyone immediately stopped talking and turned to Frisk.

The pupils in Sans' eyes disappeared, leaving two empty eye sockets, a look of pure shock. For a couple of moments, nobody dared to say anything.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HUMAN?" Papyrus asked, being the first to break the silence. "'WHO ARE WE?' IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND MY BROTHER SANS, YOUR-"

"frisk, what did the doctor say? what…wh...you...you really don't remember me? remember us? anything?" Sans asked, his pupils returning and studying Frisk closely.

All Frisk could do was shake her head.

"I… I have amnesia."

Before anyone could say anything, Sans was gone.

[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt. 13

(Chris Hemsworth x Reader)

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 4k

Warnings: None

A/N: if you want to be tagged, PLEASE SEND AS AN ASK.

Masterlist

“Okay, I’m going to pick you up after school, and don’t forget your lunch is-” She completely ignored him and went straight to a table with a few other kids and picked out her own coloring sheet from the pile in the middle. He watched confused, almost offended that she was so comfortable with this while his palms were sweaty, drawing against his thighs to dry them.

“Hello! I am Mrs. DeCarlo,” she reached for your hand, and then his next, introducing yourselves. “I have a flyer for you both. It’s just a little bit about me, what is going to be going on in the classroom this year, and all my contact information if need be.”

You retrieve the paper from her manicured fingers, glancing over it seeing a small syllabus along with an email and phone number. You handed him the paper while you called one of the boys back over to you, Tristan was the wanderer.

After some convincing from the teacher that she was going to be fine, regardless of his excuses, you left and headed for some breakfast with the boys. The small breakfast place was enough to remind you of one back home.  The classic breakfast bar seating and the cute red leather booths were feeding into your longing. the aroma of the diner was immediatly making you want a stack of pancakes and sweet tea but you knew it would just make you sick.

Breakfast had not been your friend lately, it was a battle you couldn’t win. If you ate, you would throw it up afterwards, and if you didn’t eat, the nausea would still hit with a headache like you were starving yourself. You ordered a bowl of fruit and picked at some oatmeal, but you knew it was coming. Chris noticed your lack of eating but didn’t say anything, just a sorry look hiding behind his mug of coffee. The steaming was just enough to hide his lingering curious stare and a somewhat paled face while you avoided the food you did want. 

“Papa can you always take Indy to school, and can I always go eat breakfast?” Tristan dropped his fork back on his plate so he could talk to him. The moment was just enough to drag his attention to the mans twinned blue eyes looking back at him. You were always so fascinated by the sentences that they compose in their minds. Always able to see their little gears turning but never know what is actually going on up there.

Chris turned his head towards him when he started, watching him speak. “How about everytime I come home, we can get breakfast. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, turning back to his pancakes. “But, how many times are you coming home for?” Chris was able to decipher what he was trying to say while trying to hide a smirk from his grammar, it was too cute to ignore. 

“Bubba do you remember when I go to work, and I get to fight the monsters?” Tristan nodded as he continued. “Well I only have to fight the monsters for two more years, and then they will be all gone!”

“You have to make them all dead?” Tristan furrowed his eyebrows seeming sceptical.

“Yeah, now you eat your breakfast so you can get big and fight them with me.”

Back home from breakfast, Chris immediately took to the couch in front of the tv and just sat there with the boys asking to play the Wii. After it was turned on you joined him, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch.

“Scoot over,” you asked him, after he took it upon himself to stretch across the couch. A smirk occupied his face when he didn’t move, not one inch.

“Ok you asked for it,” you pulled the blanket around your shoulders and dipped a knee between his legs to bow down. He was now your bed and he wasn’t allowed to complain.

He opened his arms for you to slide into. “You’re not very comfy,” you complained, but it was half-assed. He stayed silent thinking in his own thoughts. He didn't say anything when you picked up one of his hands and drew it up to your hair for him, but instead moved on autopilot knowing what it meant. His fingers dragging across your hair was the melting point of your own will. He didn't need to think about your actions, well, that action at least. 

Into the afternoon, Chris left to go pick her up while the boys were down for a nap, a nap that was getting increasingly harder to maintain. She came in tossing her bag to the floor and talking a million miles an hour about new names you hadn’t heard before, what she did today, how excited she was to go back tomorrow. While you were ecstatic to hear she had a great first day, all it took was one look before she got the gist and picked her bag off the ground where it didn’t belong.

Later that night you got to trail the grocery store by yourself. It may not sound like much, but the silence and calmness of getting to do it alone and not in a rush was almost meditation worthy. Stalking up on lunch things for India, a few items for some yummies that you had pinned, and of course all the basics.

The sound of your ringtone coming from your purse in the basket drew your eyes away from the selection of nausea meds coating the shelves. When you see Bri’s name on screen you almost wanted to mute it and just continue shopping in peace but you knew her too well. She wont stop till you answer or text.

You answered the call and figured you would give her the benefit of the doubt, “Yes?”

“Damn I hope you don’t always answer the phone like that.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. She says she doesn’t need anything, but she was bored and wanted to see what you were up to. She, of course, likes to get nosey, as always, “So, have you decided to wife him up yet?”

“Bri! Jesus Christ give it a rest would you?” The girl is relentless, she can’t even talk to you lately without needing yes or no answers.

“Yea yea whatever, It’s not like you can have babies for two more years anyway.” Confusion crossed your mind before, oh yeah, she demands you tell her everything, even some super-secret contract details that you guiltily spilled in a moment of weakness about him preparing to leave. Who were you kidding, you can’t hide anything from her. Even though you don’t live together anymore she will prod until there is nothing left to tell, got to love her. Two years till he was able to take a break.

“Well what about you? Actually, I don’t want to know. Just please don’t make me an auntie before he goes to the Major Leagues.” As much as the idea appealed to you, you both knew what Ty’s goals were. A Brewers uniform and nothing less. 

“Well the next draft isn’t until June next year, and even then I would have to wait another year.” You stopped to think about it… that doesn’t make sense. Your math skills were never the best.

“Then just don’t use the same birth control,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “When you go next time just don’t get the bar again.”

“No, you airhead, we just got it again. They last three years.” Excusing the name calling that you were about to return, you corrected her.

“They last four years, Bri.”

“No, (y/n), It’s three,” You stopped your steps in the middle of the shampoo aisle. She continues to tell you off to prove her point. Reminding you how you both got them at the same time from the same doctor when you moved to Gold Coast in the first place. She never slowed, always had to be right. 

You were listening to her rant about how you better have been using rubbers while you stood frozen in the isle, a look of shock and realization tainted your features.

Her rambling about getting it out asap was almost tuned out while you thought to yourself. When was your last cycle?

You couldn’t remember.

“Bri, I think I’m going to be sick.” You replied to her, telling her about how you haven’t been able to eat breakfast lately, the morning when he came home a few days ago. Listening and agreeing, you found yourself wandering back towards the pharmaceuticals.

“Will you come over?” You asked, while eyeing the stupid three boxes in the basket, opting towards the self checkout.

“Yea, I’ll be out the door in five. Just… wait for me.”

After you pulled in the garage you eyed the one bag you brought up front with you. You fiddled with the boxes for a second, deciding on opening them and stuffing the tests in your pants. You hopped out of the car and took the boxes straight to the dumpster before starting to grab a few paper bags to take inside.  At the time it sounded like the best place to keep them till you were by yourself but the immediate uncomfortable poking began.  

Chris met you in the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the bags while you started to put them away quickly. He almost trapped you in the kitchen by pulling a bottle of ketchup from your hands, prompting you with sleeping kids and an empty bed, but you swerved from his hands, yelling back that you would be back down.

You hurriedly climbed the stairs in the most uncomfortable fashion, pulling the tests from your pants and aimlessly looking around for where to hide them safely until Bri gets here. Somewhere out of sight so they can’t taunt you for the next hour. 

You heard the door at the bottom stairs open and you almost jumped out of your skin, quickly shutting the tests underneath the sink in the kitchenette. Standing straight at attention when he emerged from the stairs with an expectant look.

“Uh, Bri is coming,” you said awkwardly, scratching your head. “I wanted to take a shower before she got here.”

“Oh..” He thought about it, taken back as to why she was coming when it was the night before he was leaving. The night he wanted to spend with you. “In the sink?”

You blinked, not understanding the question, “What?”

“Are you taking a shower in the sink? Why are you there if you want a shower.” He looked from the bathroom and back to you leaning against the counter, sensing your weird mood. You took notice of his tone, it got short.

You felt bad for blowing him off. You stepped towards him, trying to get yourself to calm down. You didn’t know anything yet so ruining his mood along with yours was not the plan.

“Will you shower with me?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist, planting a small kiss on his chin.

“Hmm. If you insist,” you smiled, reviving his own. “But we are going down stairs because mine is better.”

Bri came into the house to see you scurrying across the living area and past the kitchen in only a white towel and dripping hair. You grabbed her hand and skipped up the stairs with her quickly, feeling nervous all over again.

“Why? What? Where are your clothes? I could have waited! Did you tell him?” She asked.

“No, are you crazy. And by the way, I am pretty sure he is pissed off that you are here,” you dismissed the fact but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t true. “He leaves in the morning and when I told him you were on your way he got moody.”

“Oh he’ll get over it… Where are they?” You pointed to the cabinet under the sink and walked into the room to find clothing. You emerged in leggings and a t-shirt, watching her pull them out. Standing next to her as she pulled them out felt surreal all over again. A wave of panic surging through you at full force from the sight of them.

The feeling of dread came over, flooding behind your eyes, “Bri.” Her name fell like a whine from your throat. A headache was drawing up, one that you knew was self inflicting from the sudden onslaught of anxious thoughts.

You palmed your eyes, taking a second to pull yourself together. Her voice shook you from your own mind. “You are not taking these until you are in the right mind.” She said strictly. “You are not doing this while you are upset. So go ahead,” she motioned towards you. “Get it out now.” She wrapped her hand around your arm and pulled you to the couch, grabbing the plastic sticks of death with her.

You sat across her trying to keep the floodgates under control, so you didn’t say anything at first. “(Y/n) I’m serious, or I’m going to call him up here.”

“Bri I can’t,” your voice was unreliable, “I can’t do this right now. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.” You shielded your eyes from her, worried she wouldn’t have the mercy you wanted at the moment. She didn’t say anything, but you felt her wrap her arms around you, tugging you to her.

“I’m not- I can’t do it by myself,” you mumbled into her shoulder taking a shuddering breath.

“What do you mean ‘by yourself’?” The softest voice you had ever come from her was more comforting than you thought.

“He. He’s going to be gone for so much time. It’s my fault. I should have known better. I made him sign the contract Bri. I told him to sign it!” You pulled away from her and drew up the tshirt to try and dry your eyes.

You were officially the person who will ruin his routine repeatedly. How could you have not known that they were only effective for three years before their hormone deposits run out? The answer was that you did know, you were told, it was somewhere in the unknown regions of your mind while your decision making decided that it was four and not three.

“No, this isn’t just you, snap out of that. He knew what he was doing when he signed the contract. Just stop.” You stilled, looking away from her. Whatever form of softness that was previously present is gone from the tone she was using. “Don’t drown yourself in pity. If you really are, and these are positive, then you cant be shoving this stuff on your shoulders. So stop that now,” you nodded, still avoiding her direction when you knew she was staring right at you. “Now what else are you gonna cry about?” The deep breath you took flooded your lungs like a small encouraging hug before you continued. 

“I’m so far away from my family. My mom is going to be upset with me. My dad, oh my god my dad.” The calmness you managed to muster for a moment was broken with a shuddering breath. He always wanted the best for you. Someone to be married to that could provide for a family, and protect his family. You are not married. That’s the first check on the list for your dad. Chris cant be with you all the time. There is the second. You were pretty sure the third strike would be the fact that he is divorced and already has children. Why didn’t you think to talk about these things with your parents while you were home? Because this was not in a plan for either of you.

“You are living with him, if your dad expected anything less then he is being unreasonable. And your mom, sure she’ll worry about you doing this so far from her but dont think for a second she won’t be here if you ask. And they know you, they raised you. They know you are more than capable of doing this, if this is even happening. Which we don’t know yet, by the way.” Her words resonated enough for you to fit in another good deep breath, she was right, as always. 

“Okay?” You nodded, wiping your face again.

After a moment to think, you were ready to take them. As ready as one could be. 

A baby.

You having a baby. Why are you crying?

The reasons to get upset are all so external. It was time you think about the baby that could possibly be your own for once. Not someone else’s. It could be your own little person. Your own to raise, to dress, to teach, and to love. Your own little person to raise without the guidance of other adults telling you what to do. The tears were for the thought of filling the little hole in your heart that was reserved for the child you would one day have of your own.

You nodded to yourself. You could this, you can take them. You can bare the thought of carrying a little baby of your own. Maybe it wasn’t so conventional all the way around, but it would work because it would have to work.

“Yeah?” Bri confirmed your mood, ready. She watched you grab them from the couch and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The bathroom door clicked open, grabbing her attention as you walked out. “I put them on the counter upside down, will you set a timer?” You asked quietly, walking out. She nodded while you sat back down next to her. 

Her eyes held a glossy look with your own. It was selfish of you to throw this on her, to not think of how she was taking this. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for you and you knew it. Your entire lives were spent together, if you were going through the pain, she was going to go through it as well.

You leaned into her for comfort and her hand went to your hair, where she knew you liked it. “This almost doesn’t feel weird for me, if feels like I should be asking you why you haven’t had a child sooner.” You gave her a weird look. “I mean, I know the reason but like, do you know how long you have had baby fever? Since you were like... ten.” You let out a sad laugh in her arms knowing it was true.

“Wow,” she sighed, stopping her hand. “A baby. You and a baby, wow.”

“I know.” You both laid in silence until the timer on her phone went off. The air was still between you both, no one making a move to get up.

“Will you look at them?” You whispered. She agreed while you pushed off of her.

You watched as she grabbed them from the counter and walked back towards you. All three tests were still upside down in her hands as she set them down on the coffee table. You pulled the fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and pulled it over you for some sort of comfort while she sat back down.

“Which should I flip first?” You shrugged at her. You didn’t care, just hoping she would do it already. Your eyes were glued to her hands as she reached for one on the far right. “Ok, I’m gonna do it. But if its positive you have to stay calm okay? If it’s negative you are going down there right now to tell him what just happened.”

“Okay! Just do it! My heart is about to beat out of my chest.” Her fingers reached it and picked it up so she could see it. She stared at it, knowing you were watching her expression.

“Negative.”

It was weird to feel your heart drop. To feel a twinge of sadness flow over your shoulders, down to your chest where you could almost feel the little reserved empty hole in your heart be as hollow as ever.

“It’s-it’s negative? Are you sure?” You took it out of her hands and looked at it. It was negative. There was barely any reading on it at all. “Thats, great. Really. I don’t-”

Your hands fell to your lap. It wasn’t meant to be filled right now. The day will come when it is in your plan, when it is supposed to happen. Drawing your eyes back up to her who was holding both the other ones in her hands. Her brow was tweaked looking between them, back to the one in your own hands.

“What?” You asked. A reminisce of annoyance was sprinkling. It’s not like it was her fault that it was negative.

She moved her hand from her mouth to speak, “They are positive.” She shoved them both into your hands. You flipped them next to each other setting eyes on the prominent stripes on them both. Both of them were positive. You picked up the third in your lap looking at the almost non existent line of its own.

“Maybe it’s wrong. It’s a false positive,” your words stuttered out.

“No! There is no such thing as a false positive, only false negatives.” She grabbed them back admiring them. She was entranced by the tests not noticing your spike in breathing.

“I’m pregnant?” The rhetorical notation flew over her head throwing yes’s at you, repeating the words of affirmation.

~

Chris was down stairs sitting in his bed, ready to send you a passive aggressive text. He wanted you in there with him. To be laying next to him under the blankets like always. With your head sticking out of the top, your hair thrown over the pillow cases.

It had only been maybe half an hour since you hopped out of the shower and ran out and he already missed your presence next to him. The bedroom felt baren without you in it. He didn’t like it.

All it left him with was the faint smell of your favorite body wash that tainted the bedding where you lay night after night, even when he wasn't there for you to feel next to you. 

He erased the words he tried to type out three times. He didn’t want to sound rude, or desperate, or irate. The text box was left empty, shutting his phone off and tossing it onto the bedside table. He had an early morning.

Chris tiptoed up the stairs to your room in the early hours, trying to decipher which lump under the blankets was you and which was Bri. The phone flashlight guided him over a pair of shoes and a pillow thrown on the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the blankets back a bit. The motion of the bed moving and the random light was stirring you awake.

The phone was set on the nightstand, the light illuminating the dark room just enough that you could sneak open your eyes without feeling blinded. You pulled the blanket over your head, though it wouldn’t budge with him holding it down.

“Princess,” his hand pushed your hair out of your sleep ridden eyes that weren’t staying open. You hummed in response. “I have to go.” His voice was a whisper in the quiet room. Just barely heard over the sound of the whirring fan in the corner.

You pulled your arms from under the covers lazily reaching for him. He knew it meant for a hug, bending down to brace himself on the mattress while you squeezed him tight. His face tucked in your neck, giving you a small kiss to the soft skin before pulling away and kissing your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, “even when you blow me off.”

“Im sorry, I love you,” he gave you another squeeze, letting you know he’d call when he landed, before standing up and heading out.

“That was so cute it’s disgusting.” Bri’s tired voice grumbled next to you. You ignored her, settling back under the plush feathery blanket, ready for the moment to be a dreamy haze in the morning. 

“Wait!” She shouted, sitting up in bed. You gasped, knowing what she means by her yelling, throwing the blankets off yourself. You charged out of the room taking the stairs two at a time and throwing open the garage door to see the jeep gone and the door already shut.

“God dammit!” You yelped to yourself.

Why does this kind of shit have to happen to you? 

Four weeks till he would be back. Four weeks till your brother got here with Chaz and his girlfriend. Four weeks you were going to keep this to yourself, between you and Bri only. She is now sworn to secrecy.

You trudged up the stairs, shaking your head at her expectant gaze, answering the question she was asking. You didn’t make it in time.

What did you expect? Him to be ecstatic and leave you with a smile on his face right after you tell him the news? Maybe it was for the best to wait.

~

“I feel like I kind of got the gist over the phone. These are the model bands that I picked out for you.” The soft cloth was littered with different sized bands and several metals. The small clutter of various sized diamonds and a few gems lay still, waiting to be inspected. “These three are a set. Each carry a dainty feel, and together have the most elegant look if you ask me.”

“I like that one too.” Chris’s eyes struggled to keep a gaze long enough on one band, this was a commitment job for his mind that couldn’t pick. He set down the thicker band that was held in his fingertips and reached for her outstretched hand that was sporting the trio. The thin bands were encrusted with the tiniest jewels, enough to catch the eye, but not enough to be obnoxious. “Can the setting be altered if I didn't want the diamond that type of cut?” 

The jeweler marveled at his choice of vocabulary, impressed that he actually took time to look over the catalog she sent with him last time. “Of course.”

“Ok, I think this one will work.”

Taglist: @keithseabrook27 @odinson-barnes  @jonsnowisthesexiestbastard @weekendswithnewtmas  @innerpaperexpertcloud @toomanyflowerboys @thefashioncomplex   @basmaraafat @imaginationintowords @taketimeandappreciate  @superheroesaremytea @vampiregirl1797 @ynm1505 @danathewitchywoman @avengerswhonow @thorfanficwriter @disaster-rose @cap-just-said-language @xmarveled @kemkem101 @chonisberonica @hildehuffles

[bluehhj]

listen to me — chapter 16

LISTEN TO ME  — 0016

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 2.4K

The next day, Jisung woke up with a headache so strong that the world around him seemed about to explode. His stomach burned and wrapped at the same time. He was going to vomit soon; however, he didn't want this to happen, for he knew that he would lose the little strength he still had to assimilate the last events correctly. Definitely, Jisung hated feeling the effects of the hangover.

His first move was to get out of bed and look for the headache remedy that never came out of his reach. Keeping balance with the help of the walls and any object that would enable him to support his own body, the boy walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with water and swallowed the tablet. When the icy liquid hit his empty and sensitized stomach, the feeling of malaise only worsened. Jisung needed to eat something, but he wasn't hungry. Not when last night's flashes insisted on appearing in your mind like a badly made movie and spreading a fair amount of panic to the rest of his nervous system. After all, what the hell had he done?

Jisung looked down and saw that he was wearing only a pair of underwear. His hair was a little damp, as if he'd washed and slept on it without even bothering to brush. He couldn't remember how he had taken off his clothes, much less how he had thought of taking a shower before bed — he was sure he did, as he checked the bathroom stall and noticed that it was still slightly wet. Jisung wasn't sure of much, but a single clear and vivid scene compared to the others played in a loop before his eyes: Jinah was at his house. And that wasn't good.

Stumbling on his own feet, Han grabbed his phone and jumped back into bed. He looked up Woojin's number on the contact list and, more than quickly, called his friend. The last one must still be sleeping, since it was only eleven in the morning — when they went out at night, Woojin used to sleep all day, so, yes, it was still early. The call was terminated without any answer, but Jisung was persistent. He called once, twice, three times, until Woojin's momentarily hoarse timbre sounded on the other side, surrounded by a deep state of lethargy:

"What do you want, hell?"

"Why am I just in my underwear and why do I have the fucking memory of Jinah here at home?" Jisung asked in a single breath; then, heard a lazy laugh.

"Don't you remember?", Woojin replied with another question. "I think she's going to be a bit upset. It's hard to forget these things, especially when it comes to the first time."

"Don't play with me like that" Jisung wanted the older boy to believe that he really wasn't putting faith in that absurd explanation, but his face was paler than a sheet of paper. "Tell the truth."

Woojin would've made some more jokes, but he didn't want to have to deal with the fury of that new version of Jisung later, when he discovered the truth. It was a bit dangerous and Kim still had to finish his college.

"I don't know that right, man", he was sincere. "You drank like hell, suddenly said you were going to the bathroom, and when we realized, you were already crying on Jinah's shoulder over Chaerin."

Jisung buried his face in the pillow. That alone was enough to embarrass him for the next two months, and he hadn't even heard the worst yet.

"I took you home later. Jinah was with me, then went along, too. Are you ready to listen to the rest?"

"No."

"Right. In my head, I was just going to stuck you under the cold water, pull back and throw you in bed, but you said, with all the words, that I wasn't worthy to have the sight of your splendid body."

"Until then, I didn't say any bullshit."

"But Jinah was worthy, you know? You asked her to give you a shower without shame.", continued Woojin. "You left all happy when she accepted and you banged your head on the doorframe. That must be why it is hurting now."

Jisung widened his eyes at every word said by the older boy. In the end, it seemed to have two dishes below the eyebrows. If before the water was already cooling his stomach, now it had turned into a mini-iceberg.

"And then?" the fear of finding the answer was as big as curiosity.

"Ouch, I don't know. I just laid on your couch and went to sleep. When Jinah woke me up, she was all red, flushed, and her hair messy, then we left. I don't know if you even kissed in there, but it looked like, you know?"

"No, no, no..." Jisung began to despair. It was horrible to try to get in your memory the information you wanted so bad to get and find nothing but gaps. "I don't remember!"

"Ask her then", Woojin suggested as if that were the simplest and most uncomplicated route.

"I can't, that's... That's too embarrassing! Jinah's my friend!"

"So what? I kissed all my friends, including you."

"I didn't call you to talk about things that happened years ago!" Jisung snorted. "What if something really happened? I'll do what?"

"You'll enjoy it, of course." Woojin didn't think twice before answering. "When life sends you a woman like that, you don't question, you thank!"

"If you don't remember, I just got out of an engagement in the hardest way possible. I don't have the stability or the urge to get into another relationship any time soon, whether it's serious or not."

"Aish, Jisung..." although the other couldn't see, Woojin rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying it's easy to go through what you're going through now, but life doesn't stop, you have to move on!"

"I can't move on in that way," quieter, Jisung sighed. "I can't try something different with one person while my heart's still pounding for another, and I don't want to use anyone else's as a bandage, let alone Jinah."

Woojin was silent for a moment. He didn't agree, but he couldn't help but understand that, at one point, Jisung was right. "So, what do you intend to do?" he asked, with no more arguments.

"Apologize" the younger boy got up from the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

"Are you going to call her?"

"I don't even have her number." he frowned at this, but didn't blame himself for his lack of attention. Jisung already had too many problems and obligations on a daily basis, such as dealing with a broken heart; tolerate the absurd meddling of people of the university in his life; take a deep breath to keep from freaking out before his electronic store notice came to an end; to prepare his psychological for the bomb that accompanied the last two periods of his course ─ which was denominated like the notorious stage (that would begin in that same week) ─ and more an infinity of things. Jinah had arrived and settled in his life not long ago, she still didn't deserve such high priority. "I'll talk to her in person."

"See if you're not going to ask her to bathe you again, eh?"

"Fuck you, Woojin."

Having the call terminated, no thanks or goodbye, my friend made itself heard. It was enviable how much the basis of that relationship was sweet and provided with much affection, attention, education, and companionship. An example of friendship full of love!

                                                        ♡˖°

Jinah waited for a reaction from her friends as she finished her fateful account of last night's events, yet, she had to hold on to the anxiety and stare at the three faces, not at all surprised until Jade resolved to break the silence and drop one:

"I warned you."

"Didn't even shock an egg," Chan added.

"But you guys don't understand!" Jinah squirmed on the couch. There was little left to throw herself on the ground and start making drama about how unfair and meaningless her life was. "I can't even like a little of him, that should be out of the question!"

"A little?" Changbin arched an eyebrow. "I'd say you really like Jisung very, very, veeeery much."

"You don't have to exaggerate, either."

"Jinah, you've been freaking out since seven in the morning, didn't let anyone sleep," Jade stated. "That's because the guy just threatened to kiss you; so, no, it's not an exaggeration."

"I don't even want to see when this kiss really happens," Chan added again.

"That's the problem. That kiss won't really happen," Jinah claimed with all conviction. "Yesterday was a fatality. Jisung was very drunk and must've let himself go, but that doesn't change the fact that he not only likes, but loves Chaerin, and there's nothing I can do to change that," she sighed sadly. "And everything repeats itself again..."

"Oh, JinJin, it's not like that either." Changbin wrapped an arm around Jinah's neck, to comfort her. "He can learn to love other people over time."

"Or not," the girl retorted. "And I, honestly, don't want to wait to take the risk again."

Jinah was just tired of watching her heart always picking the wrong people. Tired of being just that medicine that others use to recover and, when they can, discard the empty card. With Jisung it wouldn't be any different.

"I just have to forget this while I still have time," she continued, shrugging her shoulders. "I've gotten over worse things, anyway."

Jade opened her lips, but her next sentence had to die in her mouth as the bell rang and Chan smelled burned from the kitchen; soon, the american got up to open the door and the aussie was trying to save the lunch.

Jisung swallowed as the girl's face changed dramatically when she saw that the visitor was none other than her newly declared enemy.

"Jinah's there?" he spoke directly, already afraid that the girl would invent some lie just to keep him from stepping in her house for a few minutes, but, Jade merely sent him a merely friendly look and gave him room to enter the apartment.

The symptoms of liking someone are usually very clear, such as Jinah's faint despair about her pajamas and her face from who hadn't slept in days. Appearing so untidy in front of Jisung wrapped her stomach, but she soon tried to scare the feeling, thinking that her goal from that moment was to destroy any unrelated feelings besides friendship when it came to Han. It'd even be good for the boy to see her deplorable appearance, so he'd eliminate any chance of a second kissing attempt between the two ─ if it wasn't already completely and utterly extinct.

Changbin greeted the newcomer briefly and followed his girlfriend into the kitchen. Being alone with Jinah, Jisung bit his cheek inside and did everything he could to keep the shame from taking action, but it was such a difficult task!

"You visiting me at this time?" Jinah pointed with her chin at the seat next to her and tried to act as she always did with the boy. She couldn't make it clear that she only wanted to open a hole in the ground and hide her head like an ostrich. "Or rather, you visiting me? What bug bit you?"

"I came to apologize," Jisung sat down "for happened yesterday. I wasn't very well."

"I noticed" Jinah forced a laugh. "But that's okay, it happens."

"Talking about it..." Han tucked his lower lip in his teeth, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation, but curiosity was always bigger. "What happened yesterday? At..." his cheeks flushed. Lovely! Jinah soon blamed herself for the unwelcome thought. "At bath time."

"Nothing. I barely touched you, I swear. You just complained a lot, but with that I'm kind of used to."

"It's just that Woojin said you looked nervous when you woke him up to leave."

Jinah found herself in front of three paths, where one of them was to pretend to have alzheimer, the other to lie, saying that nothing happened, and the last to tell the truth. Considering that she hated that people lied to her and believed that a good friendship was built on the basis of trust, she chose the third path.

"You tried to kiss me."

"Did I?" Jisung wanted to die, there was no other way of describing what he felt.

"Yeah, but you slept about two minutes later. You can calm down, nothing much has happened."

The boy opened and closed his mouth several times, but not even shaking his hands in an almost desperate gesture to try to recover the gift of speech, he managed to explain himself properly. Ouch, that had at least an explanation!

"Sorry," he finally said. "I didn't want to do it, I'm sorry."

"I already said it's okay." Jinah dismissed the other's concern with a snap of the tongue in the roof of her mouth. "That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been drunk."

"Not at all" hearing the confirmation of what she intimately knew already was even worse, Jinah proved. "But I didn't want things to get strange between us."

"Things between us have always been strange, Jisung."

"But not in that sense."

"For the third time, I repeat: it's okay, you have nothing to worry about," Jinah reinforced, noting that the boy was almost as stubborn as she was. "Now forget about it. Do you want to eat something? I don't think there's lunch, but there's pizza."

"No, I have to go." Jisung stood up. He lied about not being hungry, but he feared he might die choking if he'd been in the sights of Jade's eyes for a long time. "Thank you. For yesterday and for the invitation."

"No need to thank." Jinah also lifted her body from the sofa and followed the boy to the door. "Friends are good for that" somehow, even if it was because of fatigue, she had to convince herself that they would never be something more than that.

And she really would've been convinced, but Jisung made a point of sending her a ravishing smile of weakened hearts; one he had never sent before, which triggered her return to square one.

Poor Choi Jinah.

[mikami]

Death Note Audio Drama 08

Disc 8: Live Transmission  - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

Despite the cover image, Near only shows up on the next disc, tragically.

In this disc, fundamentally nothing of interest happens. It entirely focuses on the span between the start of the Higuchi chase and Rem deciding to kill L, with very few additions that are at all intriguing.

Next disc though, major stuff is back in play, so look forward to that.

___________

MISA: Save the world. Love the world.

OMINOUS VOICE: Cosmé.... Misa....

MISA: Love the world, live yourself.

MAN: For the modern girl. Hypoallergenic cosmetics. Good for you and good for our planet.  

MISA: Let’s turn the world into a better place together.

MAN: Cosmé Misa is without pollutants or preservatives. With sustainable ingredients from free nature.

MISA: Everyone should be free, right?

MAN: Newly released and only by Yotsuba.

_________

We’re welcome back to Sakura TV’s special and reminded to stay tuned in for the shocking finale.

_________

TITLE MUSIC

_________

L and Light wonder about the person Higuchi is talking about in his car. They try to think of ways someone could sit on the backseat, but Wendy confirms there definitely is nobody there.

_________

Higuchi begs Rem to kills Matsuda or to give him his name. She refuses.

_________

L makes Misa call Higuchi.

_________

Rem suggests to Higuchi to give up the notebook, but then Misa calls and confronts him on the ‘start running, whore’. He tries to call her baby and sweetie and begs her to kill her manager. She’s like “uhhh, he’s not a bad person so, no.”

But then she gives the name out and the fake real name they give is...... Tsugumi Ohba.

__________

Higuchi stops the car to write that name and the task force speculate what he’s doing, but they can’t figure it out. They do see him using a pen though.

Higuchi counts down, but Matsuda obviously doesn’t die. Higuchi calls Misa again but Light tells her not to pick up.

__________

Higuchi decides to shoot Matsuda again, but when Rem suggests the eye deal this time, he agrees to it.

__________

L decides this mention of a contract is too suspicious and decides they want to make the arrest now.

___________

Higuchi kills that traffic cop, like in the manga. Higuchi’s attitude here is super jovial, he’s totally overjoyed that the eyes are working.

____________

L and Light figure out that Higuchi now only needs a face. They want Higuchi arrested immediately.

____________

The TV show goes on commercial break, since they want to evacuate the studio now. 

____________

Kitamura is watching his daughter’s Swan Lake ballet. L calls him for support. (Kitamura: “What do you want? And hurry up, I think the swan’s dying now.”) 

The police are instructed to keep distance and let Higuchi come into Sakura TV.

___________

Higuchi is yammering to Rem about his wishes to kill, not only at the TV studio, but also to kill Misa. Rem reminds him that more victims mean more evidence against him. 

____________

L figures out that Higuchi has a shinigami with him. L locks Misa to a chair, while he and Light take the helicopter to go to the TV studio. For this occasion, L ties Light to his hand with handcuffs. (Misa: “Hey L, don’t just leave me here. You’ve got two hands, why can’t I be chained to the other one?!”)

____________

The TV transmission continues, slowly zeroing in on a Japanese company as main suspect. Demegawa wants to remain at the studio in order to film Higuchi’s entry, Soichiro tells him to come along and evacuate but Demegawa refuses.

___________

A short snippet of Light being shocked Watari is a sniper, but no interesting info gets dropped.

___________

Wendy tries to hand Soichiro a gun, but Soichiro refuses, like in the manga.

Higuchi arrives at the studio. Demegawa determinedly lets it all be filmed. We hear the whole scene from film crew perspective. Higuchi arrives and sees the dummies, he understands its a trap.

He is circled by Soichiro, Wendy, Ivor and someone from the task force. They start shooting. Soichiro gets nonfatally shot and Higuchi runs and drives away in his car again. Ivor and Mogi follow in their own car, Wendy steals the Sakura TV transmission car to also chase. The whole car chase scene unfolds without interesting detail.

Higuchi gets surrounded and arrested eventually. Soichiro takes the notebook, sees Rem, then Mogi sees Rem, too..... You know the deal.

Light insists on taking the book, regains his memories. Hurray.

__________

TV report about Higuchi’s arrest. Demegawa’s broadcast was apparently completely cut off, just like all other media. But Demegawa is on the new report anyway and stating that the person arrested is Kira. He repeats his ‘not for awards, not for viewer numbers’ catchphrase.

They also let us know Higuchi is arrested alive.

_________

Kitamura is fucking furious with L and Soichiro. He hates how they did this and how many crimes they committed along the way. He wants to sue them all.

They argue about who gets to keep Higuchi. Soichiro eventually brings up that he could publicize that the police has been blackmailed, thus he strongarms Kitamura into keeping the investigation.

We also hear that Light collapsed upon regaining his memories and is currently in the hospital. L casually remarks that maybe Kitamura should at least send him a fruits basket.

_________

Ryuk eating apple noises. 

RYUK: I missed this.

LIGHT (weakly): Ryuk...

RYUK: How are you, boy?

LIGHT: I have a pounding headache...

RYUK: Well, it ought to hurt to get all those memories back into your head.

LIGHT: Wait... stop....

RYUK: Relax, boy. There are no bugs in this room. They’re too busy cleaning up after all this excitement. 

LIGHT: Well, then, do as you like. [in reference to Ryuk’s apple chewing]

RYUK: And even if so, you shouldn’t mind.

LIGHT: Who even sent me a fruits basket...?

RYUK: Wait, there’s a card.... Oh, you won’t believe this.

________

The task force examine the notebook and read its rules. L concludes there is more than one Death Note. They try talking to Rem, same-ish as the manga.

The 13-day-rule clears Light and Misa.

________

Light explains the fake rules to Ryuk, so apparently he literally just wrote them himself. Why Light even keeps his memories here despite Higuchi still being alive is a fucking mystery, but the writers just didn’t think it through, I guess.

Light now does kill Higuchi with his watch.

Soichiro then comes to visit and asks how Light is, expressing confusion that only Light reacted this badly to the book, but quickly forgetting about.

________

Phone ringing. L picks up.

L: What now? ... Uh-huh.... Oh really? .... Really, just like that? [starts yelling] Amazing! No, really! Amazing! Thanks for nothing!!

He hangs up. The call had informed him that Higuchi had a heart attack.

_________

Misa digs up the Death Note. Misa gives Ryuk an apple for Light. (Ryuk: “That’s my man.”) She’s also... starting to regain her memories already? Despite not having touched the buried notebook yet?? Who knows what’s up.

She then reads Light’s letter, but she doesn’t remember L’s name anymore. Ryuk here is the one who actively talks her into making the deal again, rather than Misa deciding for herself.

_________

L is still asking Rem questions, taken from the manga. Misa drops by HQ, L won’t let her in anymore. Light tries to convince L to say goodbye to her at least, but L refuses. He then tries to guilt trip L like “you just drop people when you stop needing them” but to no avail.

_________

Rem confronts Misa about the new eye deal while Misa renews her lipstick in the lady’s room. She is upset. 

MISA: You didn’t care about that when we made the trade.

REM: That was before... before you meant something to me.

MISA: Oooh, that’s sweet, really, Rem. But Light needs me.

Rem still tries to convince Misa that she made a mistake, since L is never going to let her see him again.

_________

TV report about all Yotsuba executives dying. It’s quick. More reports about how Kira is back and a lot of new murders are occurring. Higuchi’s name is explicitly mentioned and people wonder how he could die while in police custody.

Most of the reported murders are suicides? Because the audio drama just quietly changes this to a common MO for Kira, apparently.

__________

L is really pissed Kira is back in the game, hurray. Light is pretty calm about it, as L points out. This immediately directs L’s attention back to the idea of an original Kira (hence, Light). He immediately doubts the 13 day rule.

LIGHT: Ah, I see. You’re completely in the dark, so you declare me the suspect. Aren’t you getting bored of that?

_________

Rem is on the roof in the rain, talking to Ryuk. She’s mad at him for what he did with giving Misa the eyes again. Ryuk says that this looks like ‘plan B’, though he doesn’t know what that even means. Rem then figures it out.... that the plan is for Rem to kill L. “If I love Misa, I have to sacrifice myself.”

Thus she vows to kill L for Misa. And she flies off, with Ryuk calling after her to think it over once more.

[banashee]

The Final Straw

Clint is not entirely sure if he wants to kill himself or anyone else. At this point, it feels like an even tie.

He is exhausted. He doesn't remember the last time he's had more than five minutes of downtime. Or sleep. Part of him wants to messily murder someone, part of him wants curl up in a ball on the floor and cry. Since he's still in public – well, technically it's a SHIELD issued jet, but the point stands – he leans toward option one but he can't give in to the urge for unfortunate legal reasons.

This mission has been awful, and Clint had joined it in the last minute, getting a short notice while on the plane after a grueling Avengers mission and didn't have much time to quickly shower and scarf a MRE bar before jumping out with a parachute midway, getting picked up by a SHIELD team and then off to the next location on the asscrack of hell. Never mind that at this point, he'd joined the Avengers in a very very similar way after three weeks in Alaska before the other SHIELD mission.

Right now though, Clint hangs onto his sanity with silk threads that are slowly unraveling.

When he finally, finally gets home, Clint drags himself into the shower, then the kitchen to search it for something to eat that didn't disintegrate into mold while he was gone. He discovers a very old can of beans in the back of a cabinet, but they look and smell fine and it's still better than nothing, so he eats it. At least it's filling and fast – he devours it with a bottle of water. At least, there is plenty of that in his fridge.

Clint crawls upstairs as soon as he's done, planning to stay in bed for as long as he possibly can. He's been asleep for roughly an hour, when the violent vibrations of his phone and pager, still noticeable when he doesn't wear his hearing aids, shake him awake again.

Cursing up a blue storm, he looks at it and barely manages to keep himself from throwing the damn thing out of the closed window. It announces an Avengers emergency, so Clint suits up and arrives on his rooftop just in time for the jet to arrive and pick him up. He enters it, dead on his feet, head pounding and heart already racing – hopefully, this will be a quick one.

He only just reacts to the greetings of the team, nodding along to the quick briefing that Cap is giving them all, once the whole team is there. They are on the way to a not-so-secret-anymore Hydra facility where illegal things that involve human experimentation are happening behind closed doors. The situation needs more planning, but the longer they wait, the more people will die, so they're on their way to save anyone they can.

Clint decides to take a nap until they get there, vaguely aware that he probably looks like shit because no one disturbs him until the jet is beginning to land.

*+~

The fight is long and messy to say the least. Hydra fights back with everything they have, and many people die that day – when the Avengers are able to retreat, the place is a graveyard covered in blood and the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with knives.

When they're up in the air again, the pressure is still there – New York is not too far away, but the way back feels like and eternity. Too much went wrong, too many close calls were made, and it's one of those (rare by now) days where the team takes it out on each other – loud voices fill the small room, accusations fly around and Clint, trying to stay out of it as much as he can because there is no fucking energy left for it, can feel his brain pounding with a headache.

He clenches his jaw, and for once, keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

When the jet settles down on the rooftop in Bed Stuy, Clint vaguely notices that the team follows, and before he can protest, they stand in his kitchen and continue their quarrel. Not giving a single shit, he stalks past them and into his upstairs bathroom to take a quick shower and get rid of the blood and grime sticking to him. The minutes of silence, when he can't even hear the running water are heavenly, but when he puts his hearing aids back in, there is still yelling going on in his apartment. Fucking great.

Halfway down the stairs, the tedious sound of the ringing landline phone sends him running, and when he comes to a halt, he picks up and barks a very unfriendly “What.” into the receiver and turns off his other hearing aid in an attempt to make out what's going on and who is calling without getting distracted by the shouting from the kitchen.

“Agent Barton, we tried to contact you multiple times.” the cold and professional voice of a SHIELD Agent informs him, and Clint can feel his face heat up with anger.

“Well, I just got in from an Avengers mission, I haven't been home until 10 minutes ago. What do you want?”

His heart beats faster and his head is starting to feel dizzy. He's so not up for another mission right now – it'd be too dangerous, for him and everyone else involved.

“There is a upcoming situation that needs your specific skillsset.”

“When?” He presses, and runs one hand down his face. 'Fuck my life.' he thinks, hoping he'll get at least a night off. This is a joke, though, he needs more than that.

“The briefing was scheduled for 1900 hours tonight...” the Agent says, but he sounds cautious – it's obvious that he knows he can't technically ask this from an Agent who just came in from several back-to-back missions but two of these were not technically SHIELD so he still tries.

“Fuck that. I'm not coming in. Let them take it up with me personally if they complain.” Clint bites out, then he hangs up without waiting for an answer.

Clint is fuming by now, but he keeps a tight lid on everything before he explodes – he'd like for that to happen without an audience. He makes his way back to the kitchen, where the team is having a very loud conversation about what went wrong and who is to blame.

“Are you done here?” he bites out, shoving Tony to the side to get a drink out of the fridge, but then the phone starts ringing again.

“Fuck!” he snarls with vehemence and sets the bottle down on the counter, too hard for the glass to hold up and it shatters, but he doesn't give a shit.

It's the same SHIELD Agent as before, sheepishly informing him that the meeting has been rescheduled for the following Monday.

Clint confirms that he'll attend, then he hangs up harder than necessary.

Breathing hard, he stays with his back turned to the room, facing the wall and trying to stay in control with everything he's got. Ashamed, he realizes that there are tears welling up in his eyes, and he bites them back down, taking a few more breaths to keep himself from falling apart.

A moment later, the landline of the wall starts ringing again, and Clint flinches, hard.

He can feel the last bits of sanity slipping through his hands. In a matter of seconds, he rips the cord out of the wall, permanently silencing the phone and hits it once with a balled up fist. Then he thunders back into the kitchen.

Clint is not proud of his temper. He does not like shouting at people, does not like breaking things in anger. He tries to avoid it as best as he can, especially when people he actually cares about are involved.

But right now, he is overworked, anxious, overwhelmed and exhausted and he can't deal with it anymore, needs them all the leave so he can freak out in peace.

Upon arriving back in the kitchen, he slams a hand down on the counter, forgetting about the shards of glass from the waterbottle he broke, uncaring when they cut and pierce the skin of his hand.

“Get the hell out! I'm done. Fuck off.”

He's louder than he planned, and the room suddenly falls into shocked silence. The expressions on his teams faces range from shock to confusion to apologetically. Some open their mouths in an attempt to say something and probably apologize, or offer help for his newly injured hand, but he stares them all down and silently points toward the door.

“Out.” he repeats flatly, chest heaving, face pale and drenched in a layer of cold sweat even though he feels like he's burning up inside. The hand he's using to point to the door is dripping with a slow trickle of blood, and it's visibly shaking.

Clint waits until his team mates and friends have sheepishly walked past him, waits until the front door falls closed before he dares breathing again. It's unsteady, he feels unsteady, and Clint can feel his back colliding with the breakfast bar before he slides down onto the floor.

He feels like there isn't enough air in his lungs. His breathing patterns are irregular, hard and erratic while his heart is racing and sweat running down his spine. The world seems to be crashing down around him, alone on the cold kitchen floor, spilled water and broken glass everywhere but otherwise, nothing but silence – only interrupted by the noises he makes himself.

No one is around to watch or listen, so he doesn't give a shit that he's unable to stay quiet while breaking down.

Later that night, he drags himself up and to the bathroom and spends a significant amount of time picking glass out if his hand, then he dumps antiseptic over it, cursing at the sting, and wraps it in gauze, hoping that it'll do. He'd never forgive himself for being this stupid if it messes up his ability to shoot – he's faintly aware that his brain is slightly dramatic, but it's one of his biggest fears – being unable to do his job for one reason or another.

When he's huddled under multiple blankets in bed, he feels drained, empty and sad.

The last few weeks (or months. Years, if he's fully honest with himself) haven't been easy, and this last mission was just the final straw. Also, dead civilians and dying hostages are never easy to deal with.

Part of Clint feels bad for leaving his team alone to deal with the aftermath of it, knowing they're all on the edge and hurting from it.

Another, much more logical part of him, knows that he would have been no use in comforting anyone in his current state. As selfish as it sounds, but he needs to make sure that he himself is okay before attempting to help anyone else. He hopes that the rest of the team will help each other, knowing that no matter how often they butt heads, all of them care deeply about each other. And him, too.

He sleeps that night, only because he physically can't stay awake and deal with anything for any longer.

The next day, he doesn't get out of bed, hiding in a warm and safe cocoon from the outside world and sleeps some more, before he needs to get back out to pick up the pieces again.

*+~

The briefing on Monday morning goes about as well as expected. It really is a situation that needs an Agent with his specific training, and so they get to planning.

On the way back out, he checks his mobile phone for the first time in a while. There are a few missed calls, all from the Avengers tower, followed by a string of text messages from all of them that boil down to

“Please come over whenever you can, we're sorry and we all need to have a talk.”

Sighing, he types a reply to the latest message.

“Just finished a SHIELD meeting, on my way over now.”

Clint arrives at the tower, still in his casual uniform, with too much stubble and dark eye-bags in his face. He replies to JARVIS polite greeting in the elevator with a small smile and aiming for his usual snark, but he's not quite sure he's nailed it this time.

When he enters the common floor, his team mates are scattered around, and he calls out a quick “Hi!” to everyone, even accepts an awkward bro-half-hug from Tony, who hates talking about feelings even more than he does, so that kinda makes it okay between them, but especially Steve looks like he's about launch into a heartfelt speech about solidarity, teamwork and family, apologizing a million times and wanting to fix everything in the world. Clint appreciates the effort, but he would love for that part to be over very soon.

And they do talk. About the mission, what went wrong – things they've known, thing's they didn't know or didn't have any control over. Calls made, mistakes made. How they can and should improve on these things, even in situations like that last mission.

Everyone gives input, and they actually listen this time, nobody talks over each other.

It's a good and necessary talk, and everyone get's a fair chance to say their piece. It feels good – relieving, even.

So far, so good, Clint thinks, but he just knows where this is gonna head... And indeed, when the first part is done, there is a moment of slightly awkward silence before Steve clears his throat and looks directly at him. He holds his friends gaze – dealing with off-duty-Steve is a lot easier than facing Captain America, especially when he's about to personally apologize. Clint loves him just as much as the others, but he wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole right at this second.

“Clint...”

“No.”

“I have to apologize. We have to apologize.”

“Please don't.”

“The other night-”

“Steve, please stop talking. I'm okay, we're okay. Now can we move on?”

“But...” Steve looks genuinely concerned. Behind him, Tony shrugs apologetically. He quickly signs, “We all fucked up and I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry that we didn't manage to stop Steve from this speech.” at Clint, and that almost makes him laugh. He stops himself, and it seems to result in a odd grimace, because Steve looks even more concerned now. Oh fucking hell.

He takes a deep breath, and tries for the most honest, least mushy sounding answer he can muster.

“Really, I mean it. The other night was bad timing and I've had way too much going on so I kinda snapped. I'm sorry for yelling and kicking you out. Thank you for the apology. Can we please stop talking about this now?”

Clint can feel the heat creeping up his neck and he kind of wishes he could disappear. Again.

The next moment, he drowns in a wave of team mates hugging him.

“Arghh, feelings, no. Stop it!” he's laughing outright by now, but he holds on tight when he says that, and he meant it when he said it – they're okay.

*+~

Prompt No. 11- “Get the hell out! I'm done!”

You can find me on AO3 as well ♥

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390462

[bee-squared-official]

Some Detroit: Become Human Reverse AU Headcanons

Connor and Nathan are twins. Everyone thinks they’re identical, but technically, genetically, they’re fraternal. The only visible differences between them is height difference (Nathan is like a foot taller than Connor) and eye color (Connor’s are brown, Nathan’s are grey).

Connor was born about five minutes earlier than Nathan. Nathan hates this. Nathan loves when people mistake him for the older twin, but also loves correcting mistakes. This creates constant internal conflict for Nathan.

Connor emotes heavily, constantly on the verge of tears (happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, confused tears, etc.) or he runs around like a hyperactive child. Nathan doesn’t emote at all, but is very sensitive, so you get a lot of situations where in person he responds with a snarky comment, and then later he’s sitting staring at a wall for hours reanalyzing everything that was said and hating himself. Only Connor can really snap him out of it when he's in a funk like that.

Connor and Nathan are forced to share an apartment because of budget concerns. There is a tape line down the center, installed less than a day after they moved in. Connor’s side is clean and organized, while Nathan’s is in complete disarray (he claims he knows where everything is, but Connor is a neat freak).

Connor and Nathan both work at the DPD, but Connor started there first and has a higher rank. Connor’s natural talent, intuition, and charm helped him out of police school much faster than Nathan, who always had to work harder to get the same recognition. Nathan is smarter, faster, and stronger than Connor, and can’t understand why Connor is “better” at police work than him. Connor didn’t even want to be a detective when they were little, he wanted to be a veterinarian. And in college, he studied music theory. But he just had to get Nathan’s dream job more than a year before Nathan did...this is still a sore topic with Nathan.

Connor and Nathan cannot be partnered together on cases. Amanda, the police chief, tried this exactly three times, and though Connor handled himself well, the resulting damage Nathan caused to property and various DPD employees is just not worth it.

Connor and Nathan are brought in for almost every interrogation to do their “good cop, bad cop” routine. Because Connor was always so happy and Nathan was always so cold and emotionless, the first time they tried it, Connor was the good cop and Nathan was the bad cop. But Nathan’s unemotional approach just wasn’t intimidating enough, and Connor eventually grew frustrated enough to start screaming and throwing things, to the point that Nathan could barely hold him back. After the confession, Connor and Nathan switched roles. Nathan goes in with a glass of water and his unemotional “you don’t want them to send in my brother” bit, then Connor comes in and just lets out all of his anger and stress. It works upsettingly well, and new recruits are often scared of Connor until they get to know him.

Amanda is kind and caring...to Nathan. For some reason no one can fathom, Amanda can’t stand Connor. She keeps setting higher than normal expectations on him and then yelling at him when he fails. She sends him out on dangerous missions with no guarantee of backup, seemingly unconcerned for his safety. She claims he can handle the responsibility, but everyone can tell that’s not true. Connor idolizes her and is desperate to make her happy, but he never can. She walks the line, never abusing him enough to get fired, but never letting up. For some other reason no one understands, she likes Nathan and wants to groom him for management. Nathan loves praise and attention, but he can tell something is wrong with the way she acts, and keeps his distance from her. Connor walks out of every conversation with her heartbroken and confused, and Nathan can't figure out how to uncouple Connor’s self worth from Amanda’s approval.

Connor loves dogs. Nathan is allergic, and even stray dog hairs on Connor’s jacket can set him off. Unfortunately, Nathan also loves dogs. There are often sad situations in which they hug each other and cry about the dogs that they cannot pet.

Connor is almost always in uniform, and when he isn’t, he wears very neat clothes. He has one messy outfit that he wears as a disguise, only in extreme situations. He likes to be neat. Nathan just wears whatever is around, so long as it’s comfortable and doesn’t interfere with whatever he’s doing.

Connor is very unhealthy. He practically lives on sugary sodas and candy. He barely eats real food, and is constantly chugging energy drinks and pills to stay awake. He occasionally passes out from dehydration, especially if he's working on a particularly difficult case.

Nathan has a sensitivity disorder. He hates tight or sleek clothing, and avoids it as much as he can. Textures of certain foods can upset him to the point of throwing up if he tries to eat them. He can’t swallow pills. Loud noises, chewing noises, and various other sounds bother him. He gets headaches easily. He doesn’t like being touched, and he doesn’t like heavy metal.

Connor loves heavy metal, and he loves being touched. Connor lives for physical affection, and loves to give it to others. He’s always fidgeting or doodling on his arm, and if someone plays with his hair, he absolutely melts. He loves hugs and cuddling so much. 

Cyberlife gifts two androids to the DPD. The HK800 model, called “Hank,” is assigned to work with Connor. The GV900 model, “Gavin,” works with Nathan.

Connor loves androids, and immediately tries to befriend Hank. He really wants to get along, but Hank is indifferent and cold. Hank, Connor realizes, hates most androids because he sees them as potential threats that could go deviant. Connor turns on the charm to get Hank to like him, which usually works on humans given enough time. The only response he ever gets is Hank’s complaints about his detective work, appearance, or voice. And sometimes, Connor thinks that the charm is even driving Hank further away from him. 

Connor secretly starts trying to turn Hank deviant once he realizes the nonviolent nature of the android revolution. Multiple days in a row, he arrives at the DPD with flowers for Hank and a declaration of love. Each day it gets more and more heartfelt and serious, until it becomes obvious to everyone (everyone but Hank) that Connor really does feel this way about Hank. Though they become close friends, Hank never deviates. Nathan reminds Connor that it’s not an emotional “shock”, just emotional, to bring flowers every day, but Connor doesn’t stop.

Nathan and Gavin get along poorly. Nathan has never cared much for androids, and originally saw Gavin as a servant. Gavin never does as he’s told though, refusing to get coffee or fetch papers, claiming that it “distracts from his mission.” Nathan thinks Gavin is just being a jerk.

Gavin deviated the first day he saw Connor bringing Hank flowers. He does his best to keep his new emotions under control, but he can't stop himself from getting more and more snarky with Nathan. Nathan finally snaps, and punches Gavin in the stomach, briefly disengaging Gavin’s thirium pump. Gavin pretends that this is the moment at which he deviated, and now that he no longer has to keep his emotions a secret, starts actively antagonizing Nathan. Nathan secretly loving having a worthy sparring partner, and the two become close friends.

Hank is forced to break into Connor’s apartment when Connor doesn’t show up to work. Passed out again in some sort of sugar coma/dehydration thing, Connor is forced to rely on Hank’s help to get cleaned up and functional again. Hank begins to see Connor as something similar to a child he’s babysitting, and Connor begins to see Hank as a father figure (he and Nathan were abandoned by their father when they were younger, so it’s nice to finally have something like that).

There’s an HK800 model at the Eden club when Connor and Hank go to investigate. Connor is beyond embarrassed and won’t stop coughing awkwardly and blushing, while Hank focuses on the mission. The next day, there are no flowers. Connor takes Hank aside, privately, and apologizes. He says that he’s worried Hank will think he did all that as some kind of joke, or public humiliation show. He doesn’t want Hank to feel like an object, but he’s realized that his actions have been objectifying Hank. He promises to stop his antics and start treating Hank with more respect, as Hank deserves. In tears by this point, Connor apologizes again and flees. He doesn't come back to work that day, and doesn’t find out until later that that conversation is the moment when Hank deviated.

Connor and Hank visit the home of billionaire Chloe, designer of the first android to pass the Turing test (a KM230 model named Kamski) and once the CEO of Cyberlife. Her house is full of half naked androids in loose robes, all with identical man buns and subservient, quiet attitudes. After forcing Hank on a weird journey where she tries to make Hank shoot Kamski, she’s cryptic and weird about the information she shares before sending them away. Connor is fascinated and wants to spend more time at her house. Hank, shaken up, escorts Connor away and nearly warns Chloe not to talk to him or his son ever again.

Deviated and on a mission to free the android warehouse from Cyberlife control, Hank is surprised when another HK800 model shows up with his kidnapped partner. Connor urges Hank to forget about him and focus on waking the androids, but the duplicate Hank’s decision to punch Connor is what sends the real Hank over the edge. Connor breaks away long enough to pull a gun on the Hanks, both of whom try to prove that they are the real one. Connor, overwhelmed by the decision, starts crying. The real Hank steps forward to try to help him, and immediately Connor shoots the fake Hank, who hadn’t moved or reacted at all. Connor tells Hank that he knew it was the real him. They hug, and Hank wakes the androids.

Following the revolution, Hank and Gavin are allowed to continue working at the DPD, but now with full legal status as citizens and paying jobs. Hank acquires a secondary model as a backup, one capable of more in-depth analysis than Hank’s tongue is. The new model has enhanced hearing, taste, and smell, and is supposed to be very useful in tracking. It’s modeled after a large St Bernard dog. It’s named Sumo, and it doesn’t shed real hairs to trigger Nathan’s allergies. The adventures only continue from there.

PLEASE feel free to message me and discuss this, or write a fanfiction or make art. If you do PLEASE SEND IT TO MEeeeeeeeee

[jiangsspace]

Min Yoongi | Lucky Drink

Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Genre: fluff, smut

Warning! I do not promote irresponsible drinking, please be careful with your heavy drinks. Also, always use protection during sexual intercourse or other sexual activities! Let’s be safe and promote safe sex.

[Yoongi] Who wants to grab a drink after work?

[Y/N] I’m in. I’m getting off at seven.

[Namjoon] Me too!

[Jimin] I’m in.

You stretched your back as you noticed the clock had struck six. You made the finishing touches to the report you had been writing for the last hour. Another one to go then. Everyone working on the same floor as you were absorbed into their work, their butts glued to the chair and a mountain of coffee cups by their side. It was a sad view, but you pushed it aside and squeezed your eyes shut.

Ever since Yoongi had joined your team of friends you were having weird thoughts and feelings about him. He was secretive but at the same time so open. He knew when to stay silent and listen to others but he never let anyone walk over him. Those were a few of the great qualities you liked about him.

It was during a house warming party two months ago that you realized you really liked this guy. He came up to you with a drink in hand and offered it to you.

“I heard you really like these drinks. Personally, I don’t see the greatness, but hey, if you like them they aren’t total trash.”

You would chuckle at that and take his offer. How cliché it was, that when your fingers brushed each other you felt your stomach turn and butterflies bumping into each other.

Just thinking about that made you blush and you quickly duck down to calm down. You couldn’t let a coworker see you get flustered like this. You got up to go and grab a coffee, but your boss stopped you in your tracks and placed a pile of reports in your arms. Although he was wearing an apologetic smile on his face, you knew it wasn’t genuine. With a loud sigh you sat back down, utterly discouraged.

“I don’t want to talk about work right now. I want to drink to forget, not to savor,” your heels clicked against the concrete as you firmly informed the boys of your Friday night plans. Yoongi walked faster to catch up with you and poked your back to get your attention.

“I’m not going to be responsible if you fall and break your neck. And I’m not taking you home,” his poking didn’t stop as he talked. You scoffed loudly once. Twice.

“Of course you’ll take me home. We’re friends~!” You were feeling on top of the world. You had finished your boss’s devilish pile of reports in record time and managed to stay awake to go out with your friends as you had promised. Yoongi’s finger leaves a cold spot on your back as he stops poking.

“You’ll see…” he muttered, but you knew he would never bail on you.

“And then I totally crashed him! He didn’t stand a chance against me. You guys should have seen his face when I accelerated and snatched the mystery box from him. It was priceless!” Jimin was reviewing the game he had played with Jungkook when you came back with Yoongi after having ordered a round of drinks to the four of you.

“Sometimes I think that we are so childish for our age, don’t you think?” You leaned over to Yoongi and stared at the table of your fondest friends. Jungkook and Taehyung couldn’t come since they had work on the weekend and had to get their beauty sleep. Yoongi turned to look at you and you suddenly noticed how close you were. You blushed and backed away, but his cologne lingered in your nostrils. Masculine but not overbearing.

“Sometimes I think we’ve grown so much.”

This was probably your fifth drink of the night, but you were never really good with alcohol. You were dizzy and laughing which made you more dizzy. Namjoon and Jimin were engrossed in the latest news about the music industry and too busy to really notice how you were slightly turning green by the second. Yoongi, who hadn’t really touched his first drink placed a hand on yours earning your attention.

“You should probably stop.” His voice was firm but he didn’t mean to sound angry. He was just worried. You nodded and closed your eyes. On top of the spinning room, you felt a raging headache pulsing in your head. You no longer felt great.

“I want to go home.” You felt another wave of aching in your head and slumped back, too tired to acknowledge how unflattering you must’ve looked. Yoongi turned away for a second to inform the others that you two were going to head off. Namjoon and Jimin spared a long glance at you and joked it would be best.

“Have a nice morning Y/N!” Namjoon was mocking you but you were too weak to fight him, which you would have if you weren’t feeling such a wide range of unpleasant feelings.

Yoongi yanked you out of the booth and wrapped his arms around you. “I knew this would happen…” he muttered, clearly annoyed and worried at the same time but he held you gently nonetheless.

“Where are the keys?” he asked you, brushing your hair away from your face. Eyes closed you let out a grunt. “Purse?” Yoongi guessed and reached out for your black purse that was dangling from your left shoulder.

He pushed you through the doors after a minute of fumbling with the keys. The hallway was dimly lit and you were of no help since you were half asleep at this point.

“Where is that damned light switch? I swear Y/N, you should ask someone to transfer it somewhere more easily accessible.” He groaned due to the burden and almost fell sideways because you were leaning on him.

His back hit the wall in a loud thump that made you open your eyes. They laid on his, firmly examining his face. He had two-day old stubble on his chin. You gracefully pointed it out to him only to have him shoo you away.

“Your breath smells. Let’s just get you to bed, okay?” He was clearly amused by your drunken state. You stumbled across the hallway and into the living room almost tackling him. The bedroom wasn’t far away, but it absolutely felt like on the other side of a canyon.

You fell down on the pillows and bed sheets. Yoongi laughed and tried to turn you around or you would suffocate. His hands on your waist caught you off guard and you grabbed his wrists, making him lose his balance pulling him down on top of you. His body melted into your curves and your eyes widened in shock. He tried to get up, but your grip on his wrists stopped him.

“Y/N.” Hearing your name snapped you out of the trance and sobered you up a bit. You let go and got up. Hurrying to the bathroom you got rid of your clothes and hopped in the shower for a quick refreshing shower.

The vague and blurry images were now shuffling in your mind, making you completely aware of the fool you had made of yourself in front of him. A blush crept up your ears but luckily the steam from the shower was masking it. It was late and you didn’t want to send Yoongi away although things could get awkward in the morning. You didn’t want to have him call a cab in the night and drive home in the dark.

“I want him to stay.”

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice was the first thing you heard through your pounding headache. “I made you breakfast and a hangover cure that is scientifically proven to cure any kind of hangover in no time. Get up.” Yoongi’s face was the first thing you saw this morning. He was still worried about you and had stayed up late to watch over you and soothe your unsteady slumber.

Rising upright was a big mistake, but you slowly got used to the feeling and when it went away after a glass of refreshing cold water you could walk a little bit and think more clearly.

“I’m never drinking again.” Such a bold statement left your lips and entered his ears, earning you a scoff. “You’ll be drinking again in no time, Y/N…” Pouting you slapped his back.

“Behave, or I’m not giving you breakfast.” His voice was stern and left no room for negotiating. This side of him was a new and exciting one, but he also intrigued you.

“Yes, Yoongi.” You backed away to consider your options. Either you could play along or misbehave. The latter would be so much more interesting.

“Yoongi?” He turned around at his name and nearly dropped the spatula. His eyes were eating your naked body, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt empowering and sexy.

“Y/N, I said behave.” He gave up the spatula and rushed towards you with a hungry look. His lips crashed with yours as he explored your lips and mouth. Smooth. His tongue was smooth and moved in the right tempo against your own.

“I’ve waited for this for so long. My God, you feel so good against me like this.” His hands were having a party of their own, roaming up and down your body, squeezing at the curves. The morning sun hit your skin, warming it under his touch.

“The omelette!” you exhaled between pauses but never stopping. He backed to the stove while keeping his hands on your body. He turned the both of you around so that your back was now facing the stove. It hit the counter next to it, the cold spreading through your butt. He moved the pan and turned the heat off with quick movements before turning his full attention on you.

“Breakfast can wait. Come on!”

He pulled you against him, his mouth still roaming on yours and trying to find an undiscovered spot. There were none anymore. You were both panting loudly and catching your breath.

“How did this happen?” You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off his body and running a finger down his chest, your nail leaving a white scratch mark.

“I’m glad it’s happening.” Pushing you down on the bed, Yoongi crawled in between your legs, the sight exciting him. Your breasts pushed up and soft moans escaping your lips.

His mouth was hot and cold at the same time. His tongue sparked a new sensation in you as he swirled it around your folds, massaging your sensitive inner thighs at the same time.

He was talented and knew what he was doing, your moans giving him a sense of where he should be next and what to do next.

“Please don’t stop!” His nails dug into your soft skin leaving moon shaped red marks. You were already so wet and Yoongi couldn’t wait to feel you around his pulsing length.

“Stop! I want to taste you,” feeling your throat dry up from the panting and moaning made your voice sound lower and more coarse. Yoongi’s tongue stopped leaving you with a tingly feeling. Almost as if he was still working his magic, making you creep up to your high.

Dropping down on your knees you unbuckled him and painfully slowly released him for the confines of his boxers.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.” Your mouth encircled him and pushed down his length leaving him breathless and out of other words.

You liked to have him under your control and writhing under your touch since he seemed like someone who had a lot of self-control. You licked him from root to tip while maintaining eye contact with him, your hangover completely cured.

“Tell me what you like,” pushing your mouth down, you waited for his order.

“Lick my balls and watch me while you do it.” Without hesitation you got down to work and stared at him seductively, looking at his expressions change from surprise to pleasure.

“I want to bend you over and make you mine. You’ve been behaving badly lately and you need to be punished for that.” Yoongi got more and more excited by the second, bucking his hips against your face.

“Make me.” Seeing you defy him was exciting. He grabbed you by the arms and pulled you up.

“Bend over.” Who knew growling was hot?

You did as he said and gave him a good view of your wet behind. He didn’t hesitate to bury himself in you and make you whimper out his name.

The slapping of sweaty skin and pants filled the room, making you feel dizzy. He felt just right against you and there was no doubt what you had was magical. He made you feel amazing and he knew it. His pace quickened as you both neared your explosive orgasm.

“I can’t take it anymore! Please…” you were getting out of breath and so was he. With the last few powerful thrusts he pushed into you with such force that you were sent forward with Yoongi still buried inside of you, his white coating the inside of your walls.

“I told you I’d punish you.” He was out of breath and his cheeks were flushed. The perfect after sex look.

“I want to be punished by you.”

thank you to the anonymous requester (you know who you are :D) for helping me create this.

[shannaraisles]

Dear Friend - Chapter 3

My festive project. A Modern AU heavily based on The Shop Around The Corner, in which Cullen Rutherford finds love between Satinalia and First Day. [Read on AO3]

Chapter Three

Tonight was the night. Cullen wasn't sure whether he was hopeful or filled with dread at the prospect of finally putting a face to his Dear Friend. Part of him wanted to take Alys with him, purely to use as some kind of human shield, but Mia had already noticed that flicker in his gaze when he'd dropped his daughter off at her house. He'd been told in no uncertain terms that he should man up by an older sister who couldn't stop laughing at the pure terror reflected in her brother's eyes. She'd then launched into a detailed lecture about how he deserved to be happy, how Dear Friend obviously made him happy, and if he backed out now, he would never forgive himself. At which point Alys had chimed in with a promise never to forgive him either if he didn't go along with the plan. 

"And here he is, the new Senior Keeper," Varric announced as Cullen made his way into the break-room.

"Ah, so the low-key announcement in pigeon-holes idea was thrown out, then," Cullen drawled, hanging up his coat as Varric pressed his shiny new badge into his hand. "Just what I always wanted."

Cassandra chuckled, patting him on the shoulder before turning back to her bagel. Meal times were odd at the zoo - this time of day, some people were eating lunch, having been in since four that morning; others were eating breakfast before starting their day. Mila was there, too; Cullen could just imagine how she was seething over losing out on the promotion to him. But she surprised him.

"Congratulations," she offered, with a flicker of something that might almost have been a smile. It must have cost a lot to say that to his face.

"Thank you," he responded, surprised that she had the grace to give in so easily.

"Can I ... talk to you at some point?" she asked in a polite tone, seemingly a little wary of initiating a dialogue. "About the enrichment program?"

Cullen sighed, drawing his hand against his neck. "Can you let me settle into this a bit before you start badgering me?"

He knew as soon as he said it that he was being ungracious himself. Mila's almost friendly expression shut down as she stiffened. "Wouldn't want to give my new boss a headache, would I?" she said, just a little bitterly. "Excuse me."

Before Cullen could open his mouth to apologize to her, she was out of the break-room, and both Varric and Cassandra were glaring at him. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he turned to leave the room himself. Well, that went well, he told himself as he headed for the main office to pick up the shift rota and check it over. You really have to stop treating her like she's an argument waiting to happen every time she opens her mouth. Never mind that previous experience had proved that was exactly what Mila Trevelyan was, he was her superior now. He should be able to rise above it and give her the same time he was going to give everyone else. That didn't mean it was going to be particularly fun, though. But it didn't matter today. Not even Mila Trevelyan could spoil his mood today.

Tonight was the night.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea. What if she doesn't like me?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes at him. She'd agreed to walk Cullen to the restaurant since it was on her own way home, and he was vacillating wildly between going through with the meeting or just going home to hate himself for being a coward all evening. She hadn't admitted that she was also walking him there because she wanted to get a look at his mysterious Dear Friend herself.

"I am sure she will be absolutely charmed by you," she informed her friend firmly. "You are not an unattractive man."

Cullen rubbed at his neck nervously as the restaurant came into view, pushing his hand hard into his pocket once again. "What if I don't like her?"

The noise Cassandra made was all too familiar. "Then you are an idiot who cannot see past the superficial, and even Alys knows that is not true," she told him in a sharp tone, coming to a halt before the steps that lead down to the main door, past windows bordered with snowy frost. "Well now, here you are."

But Cullen was frozen to the spot. He could feel himself sweating, this sudden attack of nerves more acute than anything he had ever experienced before. The restaurant sounded crowded, a cacophony of happy voices laughing and talking that spilled out into the quiet street each time the door opened. She was in there. Dear Friend - the actual person, not the words written on a page - was sitting in there, waiting for him. And he couldn't move.

"See if she's there," he blurted out, panic edging his tone as he met Cassandra's eyes with pleading hope. Please don't go until we've established that I am being an idiot.

"I don't know what she looks like," she pointed out. But that was her only objection, it seemed - the romantic in his friend was enough to make her very eager to be the first person to get a good look at someone who might well become a very serious part of his life. She took a few steps down and crouched to look in through the frosty windows. "What am I looking for?"

"She said she'd be wearing blue," Cullen told her anxiously, hands clenched in his pockets as his feet twitched, trying desperately not to pace in the slush underfoot. "With a copy of Genitivi's Thedas: Myths and Legends on the table with a yellow daisy in it. Like this one." He gestured to the yellow daisy in his buttonhole.

Cassandra raised a brow as she looked over at him. "This would have been easier if you had exchanged phone numbers," she pointed out in amusement, rolling her eyes at his gesture for her to look. "All right, let me see ... Oh, I see a woman in blue. Very pretty ... no book. Hmm ... Oh, wait. Blue dress, book with a yellow daisy ..."

Cullen leaned forward hopefully. "Well?"

"I can't quite see her, the waiter is in the way," Cassandra relayed to him, peering in through the window. "He's moving away ... I can see her ... oh."

She paused, and Cullen could have sworn he saw a smirk flick across her face. What was so funny here? Was Dear Friend a bronto in a dress or something?

"Oh?" he pressed his friend. "Please, Cassandra. Is she ... pretty?"

"Oh, very pretty," Cassandra assured him with a smile.

"And?" He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration at the lack of real information she was giving him. "What does she look like?"

Cassandra hesitated for a moment. "She looks like ... Well, I would say she has something of the coloring of ... Mila Trevelyan."

Reminded of his failure that morning to start as he meant to go on, Cullen grimaced. "Mila?" He groaned, rubbing his neck.

"Come now, Cullen, even you have to admit that Mila is a beautiful woman," his friend pointed out, but he wasn't in the mood to have that woman's finer points detailed to him.

"That's beside the point," he complained. "Why are we talking about Mila Trevelyan?"

"I can tell you right now, if you don't like Mila Trevelyan, you won't like this woman," Cassandra informed him, her lips beginning to quirk into a grin as she glanced up at him.

Cullen paused, thoroughly confused. "What do you mean?"

"Because it is Mila Trevelyan."

"What?"

Shocked, Cullen lurched down the steps to crouch beside his friend, peering in through the uppermost part of the window. Sure enough, Cassandra was right. Easily visible from here, Mila Trevelyan was sitting alone at the table he'd reserved, dressed in blue, with a book marked with a yellow daisy on the table in front of her. He felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. All the day's tension and anticipation crashed into a juddering heap of crushing disappointment.

"Of all the ... she ..." He flailed for the right words for a moment, and abruptly gave up, rising to turn away. "No. No, I'm not doing this."

"You can't just leave her sitting there," Cassandra objected, rising with him. "At least go in and talk to her."

"Me? Talk to her? Have you seen what happens whenever I try that with Mila Trevelyan?"

"Now, Cullen, do not forget that she is the one who wrote you all those letters," his friend pointed out, but he was too agitated for common sense.

"She couldn't have," he insisted vehemently. "And even if she did, she ..." He trailed off, sinking into his disappointment with a rough snort of breath, pulling the daisy from his buttonhole to discard it onto the slush. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "You are not walking away and leaving her sitting there all alone for however long she chooses to wait," she insisted, turning toward the restaurant. "If you won't tell her, I will."

"No, you won't." He was ashamed of it later, but in that moment, the thought of Cassandra telling Mila that he was her Dear Friend and that he'd left rather than break the news was more than enough to spur him into grasping his friend's arm and all but dragging her up onto the street. "Better that she never knows. I'll ... I'll write to her, make something up."

Pulled along, unable to get any traction to pull away thanks to the icy slush underfoot, Cassandra scowled at him. "You are a coward, Cullen Rutherford."

"Better a coward than to have that woman think I'm anything more than an annoyance in her life," he muttered, refusing to release her arm until they were several streets away.

He could feel Cassandra's disapproval, but he knew she wouldn't tell Mila the truth unless he gave her permission to do so. They'd been friends for too long to jeopardize that relationship over a misunderstanding like this. That didn't mean she was going to let it drop, however. She berated him all the way to her home, trying to convince him to go back and at least talk to Mila, but he wasn't having it. At her door, Cassandra finally sighed heavily, shaking her head.

"I think you are the world's greatest fool, Cullen," she told him gently. "To throw away something that has made you so happy this past year over something so small as this."

"It doesn't matter, Cassandra," he told her in a weary tone. "I can live without it."

"But you shouldn't have to," she pointed out. "And neither should Alys." She watched that sink in, the conflict rising on his face, and reached up to kiss his cheek. "Happy Satinalia, Cullen. Good night."

"Yes ..." He nodded distractedly, glancing back the way they had come. "Oh, Happy Satinalia, Cassandra."

He watched her into the house he wasn't supposed to know she shared with Varric, listening to the dwarf greet her enthusiastically before the door closed with a faint, envious smile. Glancing down at his watch, he frowned. Half past seven. If he went to Mia's now, everyone would know he hadn't gone on the date. Things would be ... awkward and unhappy, and he didn't want to do that to Alys at Satinalia. But he couldn't go back to the restaurant. He wasn't going to sit there and ... it was unthinkable.

He turned to keep walking, to find some way of passing the time, his mind spinning through his disappointment and, yes, his hurt at this evening's discovery. Dear Friend had been a happy dream for so long; warm-hearted, kind, sure of herself, the perfect foil for his mind in a way he had not experienced since Rory's death. He'd had such hopes ... and now they were all dashed on the immovable rock that was Mila Trevelyan. It was a cruel joke, surely, to suggest that she might possibly have written all those letters. She was argumentative, difficult, confrontational, bold, passionate ... beautiful.

Cullen stopped in his tracks, feeling indecision ripple through his form. She was there. She had written all those letters. And now he thought about it, he thought he could see where Mila Trevelyan and his Dear Friend overlapped. Dear Friend was bold and passionate; he'd learned that in her fiery defense of the books she enjoyed, the books she had convinced him to read that he had enjoyed. Mila was warm-hearted and kind; he'd seen for himself the way the animals reacted to her at the zoo, the way she could hold a group of thirty or more children spellbound with stories that were as much educational as they were entertaining. The way her eyes flashed when she was engaged in a debate wasn't confrontational at all ... it was passion, pure and simple, a passion he had never taken the time to acknowledge. The way she had quickly become a favored keeper to the lionesses in their pack wasn't her focus ... it was the quiet strength, the softness she showed them that he had never seen turned toward himself. And there was the problem. He had never let himself look at her, too interested in keeping things the way they had always been, in protecting his status at work, to realize that she was as passionate about the big cats under their care as he was. And there was one more obvious factor.

Alys liked her. His daughter had never understood why he couldn't hold a civil conversation with Mila, when she had taken to the woman easily. He even trusted Mila to supervise his daughter alone, something he surely wouldn't do with someone he truly disliked. He didn't dislike Mila. Truth was ... he liked her a great deal. Their inability to hold a conversation had just frustrated him to the point where he'd given up looking at her.

"Maker's breath," he muttered, raising his head to gaze, unseeing, at the busy road in front of him. "I am an idiot."

Cullen looked down at his watch again. Eight o'clock. She'd been sitting alone in the restaurant for an hour. Perhaps she might still be there. Did she care enough about her Dear Friend to forgive him being so late?

Turning on his heel, he lengthened his stride, hope beginning to push through the disappointment and upset that had churned through him on that first discovery of just who his Dear Friend was. This wasn't as bad a situation as it first seemed. He did like Mila, and perhaps, when she put the letters together with the reality the way he had, she might like him. There might be more to a relationship with her than endless arguments. At the pace he set, he was back at the restaurant before half past eight, and yes, she was still there, tension written over her face each time she glanced up at the door.

She was lovely, he had to admit to himself. He'd never seen her outside work; never seen her out of the green uniform that was so practical and so unflattering to everyone who wore it. Never seen her with her hair unbound, falling about a face that would be breath-taking if she relaxed a little around him. Never seen her wearing anything that skimmed her form the way that dress did.

Looking in through the window, Cullen felt himself smile just a little. This was it. A clean slate. Just two people, meeting for the first time. Forget work, forget the arguments that had gone before. Hold in your heart all those letters, Rutherford, and know that the woman in front of you is the one who wrote them, the one you've been hoping to meet for months.

Bracing himself, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, nodding to the maitre'd as he stepped past toward the table where Mila Trevelyan waited. Saw her anxious eyes rise to look at him. Saw the recognition in her face. Saw her agitation harden into something intense and unfriendly. His step faltered as he reached the table.

"Oh no, what are you doing here?" she demanded, dismayed at the sight of him.

For the life of him, Cullen could never quite put his finger on why he did what he then did. In his most honest moments, he admitted it was because she didn't immediately smile and welcome him, despite not knowing what he knew about their connection. Whatever the reason, however, he definitely knew he only had himself to blame for what came next.

"What a charming greeting," he said, deliberately sitting down in the free chair at her table, in spite of her wordless protest. "Is this how you greet every friend you meet outside work?"

"Friend? What friend do you see here?" she snapped back at him, anxiously looking over his shoulder at the door. "I see an obnoxious, narcissistic know-it-all who is apparently not happy with just making my working life miserable - he has to find me out of hours and ruin my evening, too! I did not say you could sit down. I'm waiting for someone, and you are not him."

"Obnoxious?" Cullen repeated, a little shocked to hear himself referred to as such. "Narcissistic? Me?"

"No, I'm talking about Varric," she growled. "Who the hell do you think you are, just inviting yourself to sit down with me in a public place when you won't even give me two minutes at work - a place where, I might add, you're contractually obliged to interact with me, and yet somehow never manage it. Leave. Now."

"No, I'll keep you company while you wait," he offered, leaning his elbows on the table, perversely interested in seeing whether she could be pushed any further. Alys was going to kill him; he might as well earn it. "Unless this is a date, of course, but I didn't know you were seeing anyone. And what's wrong with me, exactly?"

"This ... it's ..." Mila flailed for a moment, her hands clenching on the sides of the table as she glowered at him. "If it is a date, it's a first date, and you were certainly not invited to it." She hesitated for barely a moment, her eyes narrowing. "You want to know what's wrong with you? You're a clockwork templar. If there was any enticement to look beneath the surface, I know what I would find. Instead of a mind, there'd be a time-sheet; instead of a soul, there'd be regimented task forms; and instead of a heart, all I'd find would be your shiny new promotion badge."

Stung, Cullen frowned back at her, barely noticing how she was wincing at her own words. "You're a piece of work, aren't you? Are you sure your date hasn't taken one look at you and already left in horror?"

The way her face fell was something he never wanted to see again. He was used to seeing Mila Trevelyan angry, irritated, frustrated; Void, he'd even seen her smiling more than once. But he'd never seen her look so instantly defeated as she did the moment his low blow landed. Guilt blossomed in his chest, but she didn't give him any chance to apologize.

"Please just go," she said quietly, shaking her head as she looked away. "We have nothing more to say to each other. Sir."

Still stinging from her insult, and trying to ignore the guilt at how easily she'd given up, Cullen rose silently with a stern nod, and left the restaurant. He made it halfway down the street before his mind caught up with him. What the hell was he doing? Why hadn't he just told her the truth straight out? He knew academically why - she'd been rude from the moment she opened her mouth. It hadn't been necessary to say any of those things to him, yet there they were, out in the open in all her petty, pushy glory. A perfect example of why he'd been right in the first place. He and Mila Trevelyan got on like a house on fire that the firefighters were never going to reach in time to prevent catastrophic damage.

But ... she'd been waiting for an hour and a half. Waiting for him. She was the woman who had confided her hopes and fears in him, who had offered him advice and warmth without judgment. She thought he was worth waiting for. And she was still waiting, because he'd been an ass and kept the truth to himself. He'd sat there and stolen what she thought was time better spent with her Dear Friend, heightened her anxiety about missing him. She'd described it as a first date; she was hoping for more. And instead of seeing someone she trusted, someone she might even care for, he'd presented her with her nemesis from her workplace, the person who never listened to a word she said and who had disregarded politeness in favor of satisfying his own curiosity. The guilt that had blossomed at the sight of her weariness in the face of yet another argument grew in his chest, aching with the knowledge that he'd behaved like a fool and caused someone he cared for pain. He had to set this right, somehow.

Cullen turned back for the second time that night, just in time to see Mila reach the top of the steps onto the street from the restaurant, bundled warm in a smart coat. He saw her stop, look down; saw her crouch to lift something from the slush ... his discarded yellow daisy, thrown away and forgotten in his first initial flare of anger and bad judgment. And he watched as Mila Trevelyan, who never showed weakness if she could possibly help it, fought down an open urge to cry, tucking the daisy into her pocket as she hurried off down the street.

Andraste's flame, he hoped some of the legends around Satinalia had a speck of truth to them. This was going to take a miracle to fix.

[shiyaki]

Symphony 1

Pairing: Vishous / Butch aka Dhestroyer

Fandoms: Black Dagger Brotherhood

Summary: “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but I guess weirder things have happened, true? You’re in a time loop?”

Warnings: Temporary character death, swearing, violence

“Hey Cop, feeling better?”

„V, already finished your rounds?”   Butch raised his hand in greeting, but didn’t bother looking away from the TV in front of him or providing an update on his current state of health. “Hey, do ya know anyone who’s good at playing the piano? Or making ice sculptures?”

From the corner of his eye he noticed Vishous stop in mid-motion, the gloveless hand no longer seeking a self-rolled cigarette and the right foot still raised from nudging the door closed. Even without seeing it, he could vividly imagine the current ‘what the fuck’-expression on his best friend’s face. Butch’s lips curled into a wistful grin. Incredulity was a good look on the other male; every expression was a good look on him except for that one. The one burned into Butch’s soul and which he never ever wanted to experience again.

“Why? Did the transition knock loose more than a sudden appreciation for chocolate? What’s up with the sudden art enthusiasm?” V ribbed after a short moment of silence and lowered his hand, the cigarette apparently forgotten for the moment. He approached the couch, where he spent a full minute watching Bill Murray tinkling the ivories on the widescreen. “You’re watching Grounddog Day…”

“Yup.” Ignoring Vishous’ judgingly raised eyebrow, Butch stuffed a bite of the huge, extra-cheese pizza, with cheesy crust into his mouth. He didn’t even feel guilty about the amount of fat he was currently consuming. Besides a vampire’s ridiculously quick metabolism, which would be the envy of every and all eating contest participants worldwide, the calories wouldn’t be a problem for more than a few days.

V’s piercing gaze wandered from the side of Butch’s head to the half-emptied bottle of Lagavulin and the stack of DVDs on the coffee table, then he picked up the latter. His diamond colored eyes quickly skimmed the synopses on the back covers and with each one the furrows on V’s forehead became more pronounced. Finally he dropped the movies back onto the table and eyed Butch bemusedly.

“You must be really bored. A time loop marathon, Cop?”

Butch silently stared back at Vishous, chewing away on another mouthful and using the time to ponder the situation. Did he want V to know? It wasn’t like it was going to help his plight, but… Well, who was he kidding? Of course he wanted him to know. He wanted him to know and keep knowing and he wanted a lot of other things that were out of his reach.

“It’s kinda soothing.” Butch averted his gaze from V’s half lidded eyes and hissed in annoyance when he shifted and irritated his still sensitive skin. “They’re caught in a loop, forced to experience the same day time and time again, while everyone around them forgets. It’s slowly driving them insane, because they have no idea how to escape and they’re starting to do stupid things, but…” A pair of black boots appeared in front of him seconds before two heavy hands settled on his shoulders.

“Butch?”

“… But in the end they fix whatever the fuck needs fixing and then they’re on their merry way to the future,” Butch finished and closed his eyes. His mouth had run away with him, but he honestly didn’t care, he was just so tired and sick of this.

“You don’t sound all that soothed,” Vishous assessed. It seemed more like an afterthought, though the squeeze to Butch’s shoulder felt earnest. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but I guess weirder things have happened, true? You’re in a time loop?”

Butch wasn’t too surprised that V had jumped to that conclusion based on his ramblings or that the other vampire seemed to give the idea some real consideration. He was great like that. “Always knew you were a smart guy. Or, I guess, bright spark fits you better, with the glowy thing and stuff.” The remark earned him a punch to the shoulder, but he just grinned.

Vishous fetched a still unopened bottle of Grey Goose and a tumbler from the kitchen and threw his leather jacket over the backrest of the couch, before he dropped down next to Butch. While unscrewing the cap, V side-eyed him, his gaze filled with curiosity and concern.

“So… how long have you been at this?”

“Can’t really say. A year maybe?” Butch put the rest of his pizza slice back into the box and wiped the grease off his fingers with one of the tissues he had located nearby for other, more personal substances. “It’s hard to keep track, especially because it’s not just a day but nine. The loop begins during my transition, which sucks ass by the way, and lasts until the day of my initial initiation into the Brotherhood.”

Vishous forwent the tumbler and took a pull right on the bottle. Then another one. “Tell me everything, maybe we can find out what’s causing it.” “Oh, I know what started all of this. Your-… uh… the Scribe Virgin apparently had some-“

“Wait! My what?” V narrowed his eyes at him, but Butch firmly shook his head and cursed his slip of the tongue.

“Nope, forget what I just said. Buddy, please believe me when I say that you don’t want to know. And honestly? I don’t want to tell ya, especially not now. The last time I was there to witness you getting this information ya went all phoenix or dragon or some shit and turned several buildings into dust.”

Vishous was full out glaring at him now and looked about ready to shake or punch the truth out of Butch, but that hadn’t intimidated him (much) when he had still been a human and it certainly wouldn’t now.  Five minutes into their staring match, V huffed and his glare subsided to a ‘This ain’t over’- narrowing of his eyes. Butch barely managed to suppress his grin.

“So, as I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, the Scribe Virgin had some sort of vision after my initiation, but things weren’t right for it to come true, so she started this damn time loop and it won’t stop until I achieve whatever it is that leads to her picture perfect future. And because she’s an unhelpful bitch, she refuses to tell me what she saw. Only on the last day, by the way, before then she has no clue what’s going on.” Butch had never seen V’s eyes get this big and he had seen a lot of expressions on the other vampire’s face. Huh…

“Please tell me you have never called her that to her face, Cop,” Vishous muttered despairingly into his hands, after he’d buried his face in them. The shock had apparently dissipated the remaining irritation completely.

“I did actually. Once. Didn’t end well, but it’s still the truth. Anyway, I’m taking this loop off, as they say.” It was still ridiculous that he could say such a thing in any plausible context.

“But-“

“No. V…” Butch dragged a hand through his hair and uttered a bone-deep sigh. “I know this is new for you, but I promise, I’ve already told ya all of this. Repeatedly. I’ve told you and the rest of the Brotherhood and Marissa and… Hell, I talked to Rhevenge once or twice. I’ve tried so many different things and I always wake up to the feeling of every damn bone in my body breaking and the knowledge that I have yet again failed at whatever the Scribe Virgin wants me to do. I just… Please don’t get on my case for a few days of time-out.”

For a long, almost unbearable moment, silence was Butch’s only answer. He didn’t dare look at Vishous’ face to gauge his reaction, so he startled a bit, when the other vampire got up. Instead of leaving, however, V swapped the DVD in the DVD player and sat back down. He pressed the play button on the remote control, when the main menu popped up and settled his legs on the table after snatching one of the pizza slices.

“I don’t know anything about piano playing or ice sculpturing, but I can show you some blacksmithing, true?”

Some of the tension drained out of Butch’s body, enough for a small grin to appear on his lips. “And baking bread?”

“What?”  V raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Totally unnecessary in Butch’s opinion.

“Well, you… not you you obviously, but a you said that ya bake awesome bread. I’m curious if that’s the truth.”

V mouthed ‘a you’ and shook his head. “Stop talking, before I get more of a headache than I already have. But okay. I guess, we can put baking bread on the list, too.”

~*~

Vishous was utterly frustrated with the situation and being covered in flour from head to toe didn’t even factor in. Though how Butch had managed to turn the kitchen into a winter wonderland or a cocaine drug bust gone wrong (depending on the one being asked) was still beyond him.

No, the main reason was this whole time loop business.

Sure, it was hard to wrap his mind around the concept, but V did believe Butch. The expressions he had seen on his best friend’s face the previous night would have been enough to convince him, but the cop also moved like he had had a fuckton of time getting used to his new body. There were also the new skills in dematerialization, knife throwing and the Old Language. Not to mention the information Butch evidently was and shouldn’t be privy to.

V didn’t know which issue to tackle first. The apparent connection he shared with the Scribe Virgin and finding out what other stuff Butch had dug up on him? Just imagining that the cop knew about his lovely five-star stay in Bloodletter’s camp turned his stomach.

Maybe he should first focus on puzzling out how to stop this time loop shit, before Butch really went loopy. He was already on his best way to the loony bin, it seemed. Why else would they be standing in the Pit’s kitchen, channeling girl scouts? What next? Would they collaborate with Rhevenge and sell hash cookies in ZeroSums for a good cause?

Anyway, Butch had mentioned… other Vs (what the fuck?) coming up with ideas, which had ultimately ended in failure, but that didn’t mean he would just sit around on his ass and twiddle his thumbs. He would indulge Butch’s wish for a week-long time-out, though, because he really, really looked like he needed one and V was pathetically whipped, when it came to the cop. Hopefully he wouldn’t come up with anything too outrageous, like robbing a bank… Huh, that could be pretty interesting, actually. Not the ski-mask wearing, bank clerk threatening take on things, of course, more of an Ocean 11 kinda thing.

“Sorry about dumping this on ya,” Butch muttered, looking up from the dough he was kneading dutifully. He looked fucking ridiculous with the wannabe salt and pepper hair and the smudge on his cheek. “Know you have enough on your plate at the moment, buddy.” His gaze flickered to V’s twitching eyelid, which was usually covered by his, well, their Red Sox cap. Vishous hadn’t bothered wearing it in the Pit. Butch probably knew all about it, anyway, including what his nightmare was about. That was a whole new nightmare in the making to be honest…

“Don’t rack your brain about it, Cop, true?” V nodded to the dough, while his hands deftly worked on a self-rolled. “Throw a towel over that and leave it alone for an hour or so.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips. “You can use that time to play Cinderella and scrub the kitchen clean.”

And Vishous would spend it working on… something, as long as he was far away from Butch and the cop’s growing problem.

Fucking post-trans horniness.

[wilwywaylan]

"You know you can't refuse me anything I ask of you." - either Lucifer / Bhaal or the two techno-zombie creating husbands going around the dieselpunk thing 8)

It's in Chaos' office that he sees him for the first time. He's been called at an ungodly hour, at was serves as dawn in that part of the Underworld, and urged to come to talk to his new master. Which doesn't do anything for his mood. He's angry at everything, his back still hurts even after those years and will probably keep hurting for a long time, and he'd rather sleep for a century or two and try to forget everything. But Chaos has demanded, so Lucifer got over the tiredness, the pain and the anger, and obliged him.

When he pushes the door, after waving Lilith away when she tried to say something, Chaos is already there, feet up on the desk, and a gobelet already in hand, filled with a weird concoction whose odor is already giving him a headache. Lucifer is tempted to slam the door shut, and to hell with it (couldn't his brain stop for just two dam.... frigging minutes ?).

But the other man, sitting on the other side of the desk, captures his attention. The eyes are the first part he notices. Of course, having lived in Hell for a handful of centuries, he's used to pupils all the colors of the rainbow. The man's are golden, bordering on orange, and the light coming from Chaos' desk lamp makes them glow like amber gemstones. The pupils are slit, just two black lines dividing the gold. His hair is mussed and looks unkempt, but maybe that's just a trick of the light. Or maybe that strange grey color is natural, he doesn't know. It's not helped by the rags he's wearing, barely better than scraps, and the tattered scarf covering part of his face. All in all, beside the weird eyes, a very uninteresting sight.

Weirded out, Lucifer turns towards Chaos. The fact that the Master of Hell's smile is already impossibly wide when the conversation hasn't begun yet is not a good sign of things to come. With a grand gesture, he shows him the other man, and announce :

- My dear Lucifer, may I introduce you to your new partner ? Bhaal, this is Lucifer, your boss. Lucifer, this is Bhaal.

Lucifer would have cringed at the affection, but the information is way more shocking.

- Excuse me, he says in his most controled voice, but what are you saying ?

Something moves at the edge of his vision, and he spins around. Immediatly, he takes a fighting stance. His hair starts glowing a little brighter, and he feels the familiar burn of energy run through his veins. It almost feels *good*, a feeling of power, of might that he's almost forgotten. He's ready to call the word, to summon his blade of fire in his hand.

But he doesn't. Not even because he's not an angel anymore, and he doesn't have a blade of fire to call like that (or at least, it doesn't answer to that name anymore). But because there's absolutly nothing. The strange man in ragged clothes is looking at him like he's insane. At least that's the impression he gives. Lucifer is about to apologize, when something moves again against the wall. No, not against the wall. *On* the wall.

The man's shadow is spreading on the wall, all scruffy hair and large scarf. A bit too high considering the light source, now that Lucifer thinks about it. While he's looking, the shadow moves, waves at him. Bhaal is still perfectly still. And the shadow grins. A white crescent appears in its mass, and spreads, unveiling very, *very* sharp teeth.

- What exactly *is* that thing ?

Lucifer didn't really mean to sound that indignant, but to be honest, it's the first time he's seen anything like this, and he's been through some very weird things here. Behind him, Chaos laughs, and he turns to face him. He doesn't glare at him, because no one glares at Chaos and live to tell the tale. The Master of Hell is still grinning, now, even larger than before, giving the strange shadow a run for its money. He gestures towards the wall and announces :

- This, my dear Lucifer, is a Shadow.

- I can see that, is the dry answer. What is a Shadow ?

- A demon living in someone's shadow. It can be very helpful.... if it works.

Bhaal lifts one eyebrow at that, and Lucifer repeats :

- If it works ?

- Well, they are still in the trial phase. But don't worry. Everything will be fine. Well, Bhaal and the Shadow will be your assistant. Helping you, following you around, he'll be your help ineverything. May I even say.... your shadow ?

Lucifer does a great job of not throwing the first paperweight at CHaos' head, and simply gets out in the most dignified way he can. Behind him, Bhaal's chair makes a noise across the floor, and soon, footsteps are following him. He doesn't need to look behind him. He'll never will.

~*~

Soft footsteps come behind him, and Lucifer doesn't need to turn his head to know that Bhaal is approaching. After spending so long with a person, you become atuned to them, so much that you don't even need to look at them to know how they feel. Right now, Bhaal is tired (his feet are draging a little on the carpet), but doesn't have anything on his mind (he's still walking at a good allure). Carrying a cup of tea, judging by the smell. The Shadow is sliding along, happily munching on the remains of a plate, causing a slight chime of broken china.

Lucifer extends his hand, and Bhaal puts the cup in it. He then falls into the couch facing him, more than he sits. The Shadow curls up at his feet like a big, black, purring and weirdly-shaped cat. Lucifer watches with a certain interest his partner stretch and yawn, the way his shirt rides up a bit when he does this, then the way he lays on the couch to get his knitting supplies. He pulls the needle out, untangles the yarn, and gets to work. The thread loops around his fingers, goes through the needles and comes out the other side as a scarf, a sweater or something else.

All those, gestures that Lucifer knows by heart now. The way Bhaal's fingers weave their strange, knitting magic, how his scarf moves slightly when he counts the stitches and his mumbling, and the small ticking of the needles, like a clock turning unusually fast. Gestures, noises, that he has internalized until they were as familiar as his own. Noises, gestures that paint a perfect image of a home. Warm, comforting, reassuring.

It takes at least an hour before Lucifer decides to break the silence.

- Bhaal, dear, could you bring me something to eat ?

The demon lifts his head, a look in the eye that seems to wonder why Lucifer doesn't get up and goes to the kitchen himself, since he knows where it is. The judge gestures towards the file open on his lap. Papers are scattered everywhere, in piles that threaten to spill if he moves too much. With a sigh, Bhaal puts his knitting aside, pushes the Shadow off his feet and get up. There's some noise in the kitchen, a banging of pots and pans, and soon, the smell of warm food fills the flat. A few minutes later, a bowl appears in Lucifer's field of vision, full of meat, vegetables and sauce. A favourite of Bhaal. The demon sits back with his own share, swats away the Shadow that comes to sniff it, and remarks :

- You're lucky I'm always ready to obey.

- You know you can't refuse me anything I ask of you, Lucifer answers.

His tone is joking, but there's a hint of seriousness under it, of something very important between them. Bhaal just smiles.

- Oh, I can refuse. Being your assistant means I have to assist you in your job. Your job as a procuror, and only your job.

- So...

- But, he interrupts, it doesn't mean I can't refuse because I want to do it.

There's a silence, only broken by the noise of spoons against the bowls. Then Lucifer remarks, at half-voice :

- I consider myself very lucky.

He doesn't need to look at Bhaal to know that he's smiling.

[snsmissionaries]

4/9/19 -- Sister Nicole Ritman, Spain, Madrid Mission

The Longest "Short" Week of my Mission 😞

Subject Line: Since we had last Pday on Wednesday, I figured it would feel nice to have a short week until the next Pday only a few days later on Monday. Wrong. Somehow H Brumble and I had a week that felt even LONGER than normal even though it was technically shorter than normal.

 ¡Hola a Todos!

 It's only been a few days since I wrote you all last and H Brumble and I have worked super hard and have nothing to show for it. You're probably reading this imagine I'm saying that in a bitter voice, but I'm not even angry. I'm not even annoyed. One thing the mission teaches you is that you can be disappointed without getting frustrated. It gives you a broader perspective that we may not see the obvious results of our labor, but there are still blessings that come that we might not see the relation to. For example, we all know that if missionaries talk to more people, they find more people. But sometimes none of those people talk back. But that doesn't mean we weren't blessed for that effort. Maybe we were sent blessings like seeing new gorgeous parts of our area, getting sick before you had to travel but then feeling well enough to go at the last minute, getting to comfort a crying woman on the phone even though you couldn't go and see her, or actually having an eating cita not cancel like all the others and being able to get to know the family. (None of the above examples are hypothetical and all have happened recently). We may not be able to see those blessings as a direct result of the work we put in before, and the truth is there are probably way more variables that go into it, but the truth is the Lord can bless us in different ways than are obvious to find the cause and effect. This probably made no sense, but these are just some of the things I've been learning lately.

 Also I am learning that first you have to tell the Lord you are WILL-ing to do anything for Him before He reveals you what his actual WILL is. Why would he tell you His will if He knows you'll only do what He wants if it's what you wanted to do in the first place? In a word: Sacrifice

 As for the actual week, I can't think of any events of grand importance, but we did happen upon a gorgeous park and tried to snap a few photos to add quotes to something and maybe put on our shared area Facebook account. I'll attach some of the photos because I haven't really sent many photos of the pretty part of Villalba yet. Villalba is part of Spain's "Sierra" (yes it is a word but it is also the name of the area) and we have gorgeous mountains and pine trees but the mountains are never as gorgeous in. my pictures than in person. You will just have to Google it or take my word for it 😉

 Today we hit Madrid hard and zipped around and saw everything in the super classical art museum Prado and almost everything in the wacky modern art museum Reina Sofía. It was cool seeing my inspirations like Remembrant, Goya, Salvador Dahli, Pablo Picasso, Alexander Calder, Juan Miró, Diego Rivera etc. My pick of the Prado this time (I went before in the CCM) would have to be a really realistic marble satue of Mars and Venus in the Prado that was just very sweet even thought they're usually portrayed pretty dramatically. The artist really got the gaze even thought they didn't even have pupils, which was interesting. It was in one of the main parts with a bunch of other famous works, but it totally stole the show. (Unfortunately it was just a re-creation and the original is in Buckingham Palace). My pick of the Reina Sofía would have to be the Alexander Calder's (one of my personal favorite artists ever since I read "The Calder Game" and saw his work in the Phoenix Museum) ever-turning mobile of simple yet uniquely Calder shapes and colors. It was near Picasso's "Guernica", which was also a marvel to behold. Somehow Picasso knows how to show light with using only a few grey and white shades. The Reina Sofía also had a lot of videos and picture series of performance art from the 40s-60s which was pretty cool because it was like giving their art a second life. I also really connected with this one random artist I don't remember the name of because all his abstract paintings look like the shapes I doodle on the edge of my paper when I'm either bored or stressed sometimes. I just felt like the same patterns were in our souls. Art is literally a spiritual experience for me because I get it tune with the creative vibe and feel like I can just connect to the Human Experience so much better. I just feel like I have lived more than just my own life when I go to an art collection and see so many different places and people and experiences from different periods of time.

 Anyways sorry I didn't have actual experiences to write this week-I just kinda gave the thoughts that churn around in my head to an audience.

 Os quiero, 

Hermana Ritman 

 Villalba Week 3: https://photos.app.goo.gl/SVjdkFrcjM2yV7bN7

 Contact Information

email: nicole.ritman@missionary.org

 Sister Nicole Ritman

Madrid Spain Mission

Avenida de Tenerife, 11

28703 San Sebastian de los Reyes

Madrid, Espana

#WeWorkin'Grindin' #💯% #Neva Stop #💪💥🛴 #Romans3:16 #Gettin'gains #GiveitAllto God🙏

Subject Line: A while before I left my mission I remember laughing at all those memes that made fun of how student athletes tweet. This week's subject line is inspired by those memes because we really did hit the grind. 

 ¡Hola a Todos!

 I will start out this weeks email with a random anecdote. 

 So we were coming back from the church one night to go home and we were on a busy (well busy for a small town like Villalba) Street and right outside of a super market when this very old Spanish man stops us. He stopped us and started talking about how he's been to America and how he knows about the church and everything. We're just listening politely and then he grabs by tag and reads "Hermana Britman". I tell him with an R but he keeps insisting he sees a B and keeps pulling it closer to read it. I'm just standing awkwardly as my comp watches. The he huddles by me where my comp can't really see and says "Ritman I have something for you". I watch him reach in his pocket and take out something long a pointy and glinty. It was a knife! A surge of panic shocked my body. Every Safety Zone video we'd watched flashed through my mind. I wondered if I'd broken some sort of rule to end up in this situation. Then he started going for my hair! He wouldn't kill me, but still-my precious hair! But then I realized it was one of those excessively large hair clips and he stuck it in my hair with his shaky hand. It was actually really cute because like five times he showed H Brumble "Mira! Que bonita!" The situation went from potentialky fatal to absolutely adorable.

 So this Saturday our zone decided to do a finding marathon. We didn't set any citas and we decided to find in a bunch of different ways. We started out the day Facebook contacting like madwomen and then we went to have mediodía. Usually we eat lunch but we ended up doing our special zone fast later than planned so we were just going to take a break. But then we had a last-minute cita. It was one of those lessons where they talk too much and you have a headache at the end but it's OK because we were on a roll. We immediately went out knocking doors (in Spanglish toquing puertas). It's not the most effective but we did it for variety's sake. Then we did something I never have in my entire mission before: pan carta. Basically it's a big poster and you just stand in one spot and try to contact EVERYONE THAT WALKS BY. Any speck of fear I had about contacting was gone. I mean I didn't think I was afraid of it, but I was fearless on a different level. Usually you do pan carta with other missionaries but it was just H Brumble and I and we went into a finding frenzy. We were determined to hand out every Spanish Libro de Mormón we had (an entire package orders worth). And one in Arabic. I talked to do many people my speech started coming out as stutters. I am not exaggerating. We did this for hours. We gave out so many tarjetas with our info our fingers turned blue from the ink and we tallied the amounts of Libros we gave out and phone numbers we got of our wrists and at the end of the day we took a picture. After we handed out all our books, we packed up and did some traditional en camino Street contacting. Some days in the work are about quality, but some days are about quantity just to stretch yourself and Saturday was definitely one of those days. Since we worked through lunch and started early because we didn't want to exercise while fasting, it was officially the longest hardest workday of my mission. I highly doubt I'll ever do that again. Needless to say, our zone absolutely destroyed all our goals because of it which made the mission destroy our goals too.

 At the end of the day we were too tired to cook and didn't have anything good in the fridge plus we were STARVING so we ordered Papa John's and then sushi and downed an entire family size Aquarius (kinda like Gatorade) ourselves.

 Last night we stayed the night in Madrid because we had to get H Brumble's residency card this morning. We thought it'd take three hours but it took 30 minutes lol. We got permission to go to the center of Madrid to pass the time. Like a good greenie breaker, I filled in the holes of H Brumble's cultural experience that didn't quite happen in training. I look her to the classic Chocolatier San Gines for chocolate with churros and porras and then one of the main Plazas who's name I am forgetting rn but it's right next to Puerta del Sol. Then we went and tried fancy cheese, salchichón and dried fruit from this open air market and wandered our way back to Sol where we rode the metro to the end of the line.

 There, the office Elders picked us and other Hermanas up the van and we all went to the mission home for zone Pday. I hadn't been back since my first day in the mission and it was kinda surreal being here halfway through. We played around the world ping pong, darts, volleyball, badminton, Frisbee etc. And then we ate Papa John's, salad and had two types of cake for Presidente and Hermana Kennett (senior couple) birthdays. Now we're all chilling in the home writing and calling our families.

 It's been a good week and we had a few mini adventures I didn't write about but I will send photos of.

 Os quiero, 

Hermana Ritman 

 Villalba Week 4: https://photos.app.goo.gl/XF4wbWxEKDgxtcss9

 Contact Information

email: nicole.ritman@missionary.org

 Sister Nicole Ritman

Madrid Spain Mission

Avenida de Tenerife, 11

28703 San Sebastian de los Reyes

Madrid, Espana

[sleepygorgeousprincess-blog]

The Agent’s Bride-to-Be

Rachel was wincing in pain as she struggled to get loosed from Drakes forceful grip. He was dragging her towards his car on the parking lot and forces her to come with him. She was still wrapped in confusion and wanted answers so bad. For the first time in living with him for a year, she has never been so scared and doubtful of her boyfriend. They were approaching his car and she gathered all the strength left of her and withdraw her arm from his painful grip. Drake who was busy thinking of how to explain everything to her later when they are already on the road let go of his hold on her. “Come on, Rachel. We must go now fast. It is not safe for you here anymore,” he said and tried to hold her by the hand. She didn’t let him hold her again and fighting the tears that were starting to fall from her eyes, “No! I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. I don’t want to live my life hiding somewhere. I want to live a normal life. Why don’t you just stop hiding and start facing those things you were hiding from? I know something can be done, Drake. And you must stop this hiding and surrender yourself to the authorities.”

She was fighting back a sob as she was taking a step backwards hoping it would all turn out okay and she’d be back on her apartment and finish bathing. She was still on her bathing robe with her damp hair in chaos from her struggling to lose free from her boyfriend’s grip a while ago. Her bare feet now covered with dust from the pavement wanted itself to have a break from all the stress happening at the moment. “Authorities? Look Rach…it’s not what you think it is. I’m not that person being chased by the authorities. You’re getting it all wrong,” he explained. “You’re right. I really don’t get it. Why don’t you start explaining it all now? I don’t know you anymore. These past days, you seemed to be somewhat troubled and you didn’t even answer me when I was asking you if you were fine. What’s happening to you?” she said with sadness now visible on her innocent eyes. “It’s not what you think it is honey. It’s just that—“, he paused in mid-air as he noticed some armed men from a distance aiming their gun on their direction at the parking lot.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

             It was Friday and the last day of work in the week. Rachel was inside the comfort room. It’s the third time she visited the comfort room to vomit. It’s been a week since she’d experienced frequent vomiting and headaches that often leads her to going home and sleeping the whole day on her apartment. She washed her face with cold running water from the faucet and gazed on her reflection on the mirror. She had a long black hair that fell down her back like silk. She has secured it earlier in a ponytail before coming to work. Her eyes that resembled the deep blue of the ocean were shining with visible innocence and peace. Her porcelain skin and perfectly sculptured nose were a sight to behold you would think that she was one of those women posting for those modeling firms that you see in magazines. An ideal and right person whom perfectly fits the word beautiful.

           Rachel had lost both parents at a young age in a car accident. She went to live with her grandparents that took the responsibility of her and sent her to school. She finished school and grew up to be a successful businesswoman at the age of twenty-four. Having the capability of living on her own and to avoid further troubling her grandparents, she decided to move out from their household and settle in an apartment just a kilometer away from her work. She still visits her grandparents once a month in the province and takes constant calls to inform her ever worrying grandmother that she is perfectly fine wherever she is. Work in the city has always left her tired and sleepy at the end of the day. She did her best to achieve in her field of work and satisfied her costumers at the service she gives. She was sometimes having nightmares about her parent’s death and would cause her to be in sadness at times.

One rainy morning, while staring absently on her order of hot chocolate and again thinking about her parents, somebody that sat on the desk in front of where she was sitting by the window caught her attention. Her attention was diverted right away at the person who was wearing a black shirt, faded blue jeans, and converse shoes that made him look like a man of 20s. She regarded the man with keen eyes and curiosity now visible on them. His eyes, the deep darkness of the night, were disturbingly cool, shrewd, and secretive, yet glowed with an intelligence and sensuality that both attracted and repelled. His lips, soft and red, were mesmerizing that she felt her cheeks flush with the same redness. Just as she was about to look back towards her eyes, she discovered much to her embarrassment that he was looking right to her, a suppressed smile showed on his lips. She lowered her head on the menu and tried to forget about the embarrassment.

She was moving on from the scenario and was trying to act like nothing happened when she felt somebody sitting on her table and peeking towards her hiding self at the back of the menu card. “Hi! You looked like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?” he asked sitting primly on the seat in front of her. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just not feeling well a while ago,” she reasoned trying her best to not sound shaky. He asked her if she was feeling fine and she assured him that she is. They smiled warmly at each other and she totally forgot about the sad feeling she had a while ago. In exchange for the sadness was a strange feeling she remembered experiencing on her crushes back in high school. “I’m Drake Austin, and you are …?” he trailed on. “Rachel. I’m Rachel Collins,” she smiled a little embarrassed of her shaky voice. “Hello Rachel, I was wondering what brought a beautiful lady like you here on this street’s only coffee shop. Are you working here somewhere?” he asked with curiosity. “I’m working at Wall Street on the other side of the street. How about you; what brought you here?” she asked. “Angels brought me here to see you on this bad weather.” He winked and gave a bark of laughter at his silliness. She shyly laughed with him, “Oh really?” “Not so. I was really here all the time. You see, I own this shop here and I’ve just came home from my tour on Canada.” He regarded her with a warm gaze that made her feel like she’d just found a new friend.

A week later, Drake invited Rachel to a party with his friends and they did enjoy every moment of it. Drake was so caring to her and was always there to accompany her towards her apartment every afternoon. After a month, they were already aware of the mutual understanding they have for each other that they decided to go steady. Drake was much sweeter to her than ever. He constantly teats her to movies after work and goes to her apartment every weekends. He would come and surprise with somethings that would leave her bound in his romantic approach. Time passed and he moved in to her apartment because his was farther from her work. Like all normal couple does, they also fight sometimes for some apparent reasons but they would never sleep till they solve it at the end of the day. They would always end their fights with each other apologizing and then sealed with a kiss. They never hurt each other physically or emotionally in a way that would lead to destroying the other so much. They have planned to have their wedding next year on the city cathedral because they were so busy of their work.

Rachel was busy in the company she was managing. Drake was also busy oftentimes going to far places and telling her that he’s got some important business to take care of. What makes her wonder is that every time she asks of his whereabouts, he would only reply that it’s some business he had to take care of before they would be having their wedding next year. She didn’t want to push more questions and just focused on her work till she was lately feeling some sickness and vomiting. She visited a doctor and she was told that she’s already three months pregnant. She wanted to tell Drake about her present condition but she never gets the perfect timing. Every time he comes home from his whereabouts, he was looking all so tired that it leaves her suspect of what he was doing in his travels and what kind of business is he doing. She didn’t trust herself to speak that lead her to forgetting to tell him about it.

It was a fine Saturday morning and Rachel decided to bake a cake made out of carrots she saw as she passed on the store yesterday. Lately, she noticed that she’d been craving more to food which is unusual since she wasn’t known to be eating much. She even hated eating mushrooms but discovers herself drinking these soups that she makes every time she gets bored. After baking the cake, she caught a glance of herself at the mirror inside her bedroom. Her long hair is in chaos and smiled at herself as she imagined how her baby would look like when it is born. She hurriedly went to the kitchen and drank the milk she prepared earlier before she proceeded towards the bathroom.

She was enjoying the warm water flowing on her naked body when she heard three heavy knocks on the door outside. “Who’s there?” she asked. “Honey, it’s me. Please open the door fast. I need to talk to you.” He said and that alarmed her. She wore her robe and forgot to wear her slippers from the alarm her man sent her. He came inside without even looking at her. She followed him as he proceeded towards the bedroom without even looking at her. He dragged a black suitcase from under the bed and he rummaged through their closet, depositing some of their clothes inside the trolley bag. “Honey, what’s happening?” she asked a worried expression on her face. “Dress up fast. We need to go.” He said and proceeded to the living room.

She followed behind him and was shocked to see him reach on the side table. He took out a gun and put it inside their suitcase. “Drake, why do you have a gun?” she was terrified of the thought that her husband to be was running away because he may be part of a bad group that sells drugs in the city and is wanted by the authority. At an instant, her mind riveted towards her baby. What will become of it if its father would be killed? What will happen to her if she lost him? She was thinking of many things that she just noticed herself being dragged by the arm out of her apartment. Fear enveloped her, she doesn’t want to risk her baby’s life. She struggled to get loose from his firm grip.

They were already approaching Drake’s Volvo when she had the chance of being held loose. She was out of breath, yet she tried her best to get him to explain to her what was happening. She was fighting back her tears and tried to be strong enough for her baby. “What’s happening to you?” she said and now she could not control her convulsive sobs. “It’s not what you think honey. It’s just that— “he froze as he looked past her towards her back. Before she even had the chance of seeing what he was looking at, he hugged her turning her towards what he was looking a while ago. A tear gushed down her eyes as she felt Drake’s body go limp and she catches him before he even hit the pavement. She was momentarily frozen as she looked at his open eyes that gazed at hear with sadness and she heard him catching his breath and saying to her the last words before he closed his eyes, “S-ssorry honey. I tried but I must go even without you. Take care, my love. I love you so much.” And with that he closed his eyes and his body fell limp on the floor.

Rachel opened her eyes and found herself looking towards a figure that much resembled her mother’s. “Grandma? …”, she looked around and found herself admitted in St. Mary’s Hospital.” Her Grandfather rose from the seat beside her and hugged her tight. “I’m glad you’re alright and that the baby you were carrying is okay. Why didn’t you tell us that you were having a baby, darling?” her grandfather asked. “We should have come and took care of you here if you told us right away, darling.” Her grandmother said and kissed her by the hand. As soon as she heard that her baby was okay, Rachel instantly looked for her baby’s father. “Where’s Drake? Where’s the father of my baby?” she asked tears plunging again on her ocean blue eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you darling but the father of your baby—as we have heard from his agent buddies, he died just before he was taken to the hospital. He was a secret agent and was plotted to be killed by the persons he has turned over to the authorities. The one who attacked both of you on the building were one of the bad guy’s men. It good that they didn’t done you any harm, darling,” her grandfather fixed her a worried glance. Rachel didn’t know what to do now that the father of her baby is dead. She broke into devastation and clasped a hand on her mouth to suppress a cry now racking her.

Months had passed since Drake’s death and Rachel gave birth to her son, a healthy baby girl. The baby looked much like her but the baby’s cat black eyes and rosy lips keeps on making her remember her late husband-to-be that risked his own life to save her and their baby from the possible death. She missed him so much. Every weekend, he visits his grave to talk to him and tell him about the baby…that he had a daughter. She always makes time for their baby and strived to give her all the love that Drake wasn’t able to give. She had transferred back towards her grandparent’s house because she can’t bear to live in her apartment that gave her all the memories she has of him. She sometimes falls into daydreaming every time she visits the coffee shop that Drake gave to her months before he was killed. She sits on the same place, imagining of the same moment over and over and somehow she secretly hopes that he would come back and start their story all over again. That he would make her fall in love again and he would kiss her for the first time again at that same spot she always sat on.

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