#he told them if shit goes south they should leave him because they are young and deserve to experience the world fully

[tinycowboyart]

Keyrin the man you are

[alluringjae]

all i do is wait - kdy

All I Do Is Wait | So Close

⤑ summary: one day, kim doyoung was alive. the next, he wasn’t. he left you and the world too soon, but he made a promise: to look out and wait for you until the very end.

⤑ pairing: doyoung x female reader

⤑ word count: 22.7k

⤑ genre: angst (so much longing), major slow burn, fluff (if you squint really well), slight unprotected smut (not my forté) | ghost!doyoung, hotel del luna!au,  slight college!au, 40s to 90s!au (loads of flashbacks)

⤑ warnings: death, grief, explicit language, sexism (screw the patriarchy omfg), mentions and scenes of alcohol, drinking, smoking, war, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, and abortion, ghost possession of humans (in like one scene only tbh)

⤑ playlist: fly away with me by nct 127 | all about you by taeyeon | doll by baekhyun and doyoung | give you my heart by iu | wait by exo | like a fool by nive and sam kim | falling by harry styles | lovers by anna of the north | fallingforyou by the 1975 | you are the sunshine of my life by stevie wonder

⤑ long author’s note: minors, beware of the warnings! i highly recommend you watch the kdrama beforehand so you would understand the universe, even if majority of the characters are from my imagination. i also did some prior historical research. though there are inaccuracies, this story is just fiction. importantly, i don’t own the hotel del luna series; they serve as the main inspiration but with some of my twists. i’m also bit rough with writing lately, so there’s also room for improvement. overall, prepare your heart.

i cried so much in the process.

italicized texts symbolize conversations in a dream call. *wink* *wink*

⤑ gif above not mine, ctto!  leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

After all decades of waiting, it’s finally time.

As a soul still wandering in the living world, Doyoung’s options were limited. To peacefully go ahead into the afterlife or wait for his lover by working in the hotel for ghosts until she passed.

He’d chosen the latter, the betrayal he felt from the deities to have gone so soon.

And leave you behind.

But first, let’s take a trip down Doyoung’s journey; life, death, and after it.

1948

Kim Doyoung came from a well-off family. He was a university student, taking up journalism as a pre-law course. He wanted to right the wrongs and let justice prevail. Blessed by his privilege, he wanted to be of service to others who cannot afford it.

Both of you crossed paths at a university in Busan as seatmates. Right after the South Korean constitution granted women’s rights to education, immediately you aimed high and applied for the top universities in the city. After being homeschooled and self-studying under the books, the opportunity to go to an actual school was like a dream come true especially when you received acceptance letters from all of them.

Your first impression of him was that he was moody and quite snobby. When you politely asked him once if you can take a peek at his notes because you lost track of the professor’s lecture, he refused with an annoyed glare.

“You should try harder then.” You nodded in gratitude anyways, taking those words to encourage you. Though it still stung.

When classes that day concluded, you were so ready to return to the women’s dorm and take a breather from men. Since you were far from your village, maybe you would give a call to your father, your mentor all your life to seek his guidance on your professors’ lessons. Once you found your bike and placing your books on the basket in front, a light tap on your shoulder caught you off-guard and almost made you topple over.

“Oh, sh-”

“Oh my, I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

When you directed your body to the source, it was none other than Kim Doyoung. He removed his blazer from class, resting it on his arm. He wore these suspenders and leather loafers, sporting the rich, preppy boy look. His eyes looked softer, apologetic by the way he gave a slight pout.

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was rude of me to shun you like that.”

Unfortunately, it was rare to find young men like him to own up to their mistakes When you’re the only woman in that class, the majority of the boys are either snickering with judgment at your presence.

“Women are only meant to stay at home.”

“She’s weak. She won’t last here with the deep, legal terminologies the professors use.” Those insults aren’t new to you.

Doyoung seemed like a plot twist in the social narrative. You were surprised, to say the least, yet relieved.

“Oh, it’s okay. Considering I interrupted you from listening to the professor, I could’ve waited after class or as you said, study harder.” You accepted.

Doyoung still felt awful for his attitude, fiddling his briefcase. He struggled to express himself through words, understanding why many had this impression of him being cold. If he were to be honest, his actual initial impression of you was that you were hardworking and resilient, setting a new example of the modern woman. He thought that being too soft on you in class may look degrading, thus his statement from the class was just him treating you the same way as other boys who don’t study hard enough. Unfortunately, it backfired completely.

As a man who grew up with the belief to always pay respect to everyone without discrimination, he had to make it up to you somehow.

“It’s still wrong of me to say that to you, (Y/N). So-” He trailed on, opening his case to bring out one of his notebooks. Without hesitating, he handed it to you. “I took as many notes from the lecture on fallacies here. If there’s any way I can help you in the future, I’m more than willing to help you.”

This newfound kindness from a boy in this patriarchal university may be the silver lining in your current stay. You weren’t too sure if you would get a chance like this in the coming years, so you gladly took it. Noticing the engraved “K.DY” on the lower right side of it, which were his initials, it’s easy to identify that he was rich. But his attitude was different than the others.

Placing it carefully in the front basket, you steadied your body to the handles and pedals of the bike. “Thank you for this, Doyoung. I will return it to you as soon as possible.”

Knowing he was of help to you, he flashed a gummy smile. “No problem, (Y/N). If you want, we can review it before class too just in case the professor gives another surprise quiz.”

You let out a laugh, being reminded of your horrified face on a previous surprise quiz in the past. “Oh god, I flunked that quiz! Damn him.”

Ever since that conversation, it’s where your friendship started.

Going to university became more enjoyable and less daunting, having Doyoung defend you from other boys (even if you’ve told him so many times that you can handle it). After you found out that Doyoung’s status was more elite than you assumed, a lot of boys wouldn’t want to try and test him since their family lines would be at risk. You had a better focus on your academics, and if it weren’t for you, other girls attending university with you would’ve never thought women students would befriend the men. You were the shift in the narrative.

As lucky as you are to have a female support system in the patriarchal university, you found yourself always hanging out with Doyoung. He was filled with so much compassion in his heart and there were beliefs that you both surprisingly shared in your conservative society, deepening your bond. One of them was the sexist view of women as low-status people. He told you one time that thinking that way is like thinking his loving mother is undeserving of things in life. It’s an unacceptable concept, he added. You even met his mother at some point, and she’s a sweetheart.

Another was having the frustration towards those who shame on women who want to study and learn rather than to submit to the power of men so early in their lives.

“I’m so sick of people telling me to stop studying and settle down with some random boy. There’s just so much to learn out here!” You complained. It was one hot weekend that time, and you were both relaxing under the shade of a big tree by a flowing river. That spot is hidden, thus claiming it as your spot. Doyoung leaned by the tree reading while you rested on his lap. At this point, you’ve grown very comfortable with him. Doyoung sighed, putting his book to discuss his thoughts.

“Agreed. You seriously deserve so much better, (Y/N). People today just don’t get it.”

Huffing away that stress, your head tilted to get a better view of Doyoung.

“Doyoung, do you think things will get better for women in the future?” He admired your hopefulness in times of trouble. Stroking your hair to soothe you, he gave a positive reply.

“If we keep fighting for it, then we’ll progress. So let’s not give up, okay?” Your heart couldn’t help but leap.

As he looked at you with blooming flowers from the tree in the background, it was a matter of time where your initial feelings for him diverted into something more. The concept of butterflies in your stomach was only introduced to Doyoung in novels, but he wondered if it’s the exact feeling he was getting from you. From your intelligence to your sharp tongue to fight back the rude boys, the list goes on all the traits that he liked about you.

Weeks later, the questionable status of your friendship changed after he unexpectedly kissed you for the first time while stargazing at your special spot. It caught you off guard at first as your lips froze, him pulling away immediately. He rubbed the nape of his neck out of embarrassment, struggling to maintain eye contact with you.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I screwed up everything, didn’t I?”

As much as the heat in your cheeks increased, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. You’re bold enough to do it again.

“Nope,” you shook your head at him. “Kiss me again, Doyoung.”

Like a movie, the first snow of the season drizzled down on the two of you.

Feeling braver, he leaned forward again to meet your lips again. You may not be experienced physically since it was your first, but that’s what all those romance novels you’ve browsed through are for. Forget the fireworks, people would compare the ideal kiss. It was more like everything paused so this moment can run on its momentum. Lips still locked, Doyoung gripped your waist so you can sit on his lap. As the friction intensified, his lungs needed to breathe for a second. Pulling away slowly, it was an opportunity to take a good look at you. Flustered, messy hair, swollen lips, he would’ve never known that the feelings were mutual.

“First kiss under the first snow? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

1950

Dating Doyoung gave you the best two years of your life. He’d bike with you to your spot, recommend you new books to read, cook for you when you’re too lazy to at the dorm, and take you around the city he was ever so familiar with.

“Oh c’mon, let’s try this out!”

You dragged his arm to this new contraption that can take your photos in a flash. This was at an annual city fair, your first time to attend one. Because your small village couldn’t cater to these kinds of events, you beamed with excitement with all the amusement outlets such as rides, games and more. All Doyoung wanted was to eat and play few games, then return. He wasn’t much for photos, but because it was your first, he decided to go for it. Two people couldn’t fit the cushion, so you settled on his lap. One arm wrapped behind his neck, you inserted a few coins to activate the machine.

“So we have a few seconds before it starts, so you better smile, okay?” He ordered you based on the instructions of the machine.

The first shot was matching grins, the second showed your bright smiles, the third let your creativity wild with silly expressions, and the last was him pecking your cheek unexpectedly. The authentic surprise was captured.

“Let’s take another one so you can have a copy.” You insisted, searching through the small pockets of your purse for more coins.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. I don’t want-” He was cut off by the machine activating again as your coins entered inside.

“Too late, smile!” The first shot almost caught Doyoung in a frenzy, but he pulled it off with an open smile. The second expressed your laughter from your slyness, him sporting crinkled eyes when you let your tongue out and placed your hands near the temples of your head to mock him. To sort out your playfulness, Doyoung surprised you by grabbing your wrists to place them back on his shoulders. Without a breath, one free hand tugged you closer and his lips shut you up. You deepened your kiss by leaning forward and fisting the hems of his buttoned-up top. Kissing back was natural, not caring where you were and if the camera snapped your moment of intimacy. Doyoung always liked taming you with his kisses. You didn’t mind making out for a bit in the booth if it weren’t for the loud knocking from the side put a stop to your risqué antics.

“Yah! Take your making out session someplace, other people are waiting outside!”

The both of you could care less, laughing mid-kissing at the disturbance you’ve caused. It’s a thing when you’re young and in love, perhaps. Eventually, innocent kisses ignited an invitation to his bed.

“I’ve never done this before, but I want to do it with you.” You gave your full consent, laying on his soft bed in your undergarments. His entire family went on vacation, so you took advantage of it.

The way he crawled on top of you, his slender hands spreading your legs wide open like another novel waiting to be unraveled. Erotica was a genre you never explored, but Doyoung finds it as his guilty pleasure. Who would’ve known that the most prestigious, gentleman-like man of the university found amusement in sex? His lingering touches intoxicated your entirety, allowing him access. His tongue did you wonders, releasing these sensations you’ve never known was possible. Tugging on his hair as he passionately devoured your core for the first time, this knot in your core unwound and your vision went white for a split second. This rush of pleasure and exhaustion filled your veins, yet you craved more.

That night, giving each other your virginities, marked the first time you declared your love for each other.

Though there are times when dating wasn’t easy either, having prying eyes around you with judgment and the unavoidable stress from university, you’d sort things out in the end. After all, it’s in fights and arguments where you learn more about each other and grow from it.

If someone asked you to settle down already, Doyoung is the first candidate for your hand. You’ve sent letters to your parents talking about him and met his family.

“You’re the only girl who softens him up in this society of uptight men.” His mother whispered when you helped her wash the dishes after dinner.

As much light he brought to your life those two years being together, it turned into the worst and something questionable when the Korean war began.

You vividly remember the day Doyoung admitted to you his enlistment in the South Korean army. It was mandatory for men his age to serve. His dream to pursue law was to be put on hold, especially when schools were closing down. Though he’d try to confide with himself that serving in this war is another way to help his country, his nationalism outweighed his fear of death. Just as long as it brings them closer to a better tomorrow, he was willing.

Unfortunately for you, you were terrified shitless because again, it’s a war. If your childhood wasn’t enough to recall all those painful emotions from the past world war, you didn’t know what would. Being able to survive is a miracle, so there was no way you would let Doyoung go. The ignorance you gave towards him to protect your heart, moving to your aunt and uncle’s home in the same city after the university suspended classes since going back to the village was a big struggle.

So many villages have been bombed already, increasing your anxiety. All you hoped now was to be reunited with your family safely. It’s a good thing though they already left as soon as they could and are on their way to the city. One normal day while you were teaching your younger cousins how to read, there was a knock on the front door. Since your aunt was busy cooking dinner, you took charge to open it in hopes you’ll find your family on the other side.

However, it was none other than that someone you still couldn’t face just yet. He wore the familiar dark green uniform with black combat boots, his fluffy hair fully shaved even it’s covered by his hat. By the dirt on his face, he must’ve trained earlier that day. With a heavy backpack behind him, he’s on his way somewhere but you didn’t know where. You closed the door behind you so you can speak to him privately.

“What are you doing here, Doyoung? How did you find me?”

“I knew you didn’t want to talk for a while, so I gave you space. But today, I found out that I’m going to be stationed in Seoul tomorrow.”

Seoul was where most of the war was happening. Your heart was shattered.

“So I went to your dorm, but your roommate told me you moved out and gave me this address here.” He answered honestly with this new burden to top it off, not having the courage to look you in the eyes to avoid crying. “I needed to see you, (Y/N).”

“Doyoung,” within those times of separation, you re-evaluated if running away from him was the right choice. Even if he tried to convince you of the good things about being in the army, everything always comes at a price. War meant his life was uncertain daily. You just wanted him to yourself, to stay by your side, to help out in the war in other ways, but it would be selfish to stop him from his goals. So you gently embraced him, making him drop his bag to the side. With extreme fear comes your soft whimpers against his chest. Rather than running away so fast, you should’ve mustered all those remaining bits of courage to spend it with him. He must be feeling terrified too.

“I’m just scared for you. War doesn’t guarantee anything. Us surviving world war two is still miraculous.” Doyoung winced at your truthful words as he returned that embrace. There go his tears that he shed almost every night since he told you about his enlistment.

“I had no choice, (Y/N). My family and I would be in big trouble if I didn’t follow orders.”

“I know. I’m sorry I ran away, Doyoung.” You continued to sob as you feel him stroke your hair from behind. He knew well that it was one way to calm you down.

“If only we didn’t live in harsh times like this.” He sighed, longing for the same thing. He cursed whoever decided to make him exist during a painful time. He would trade anything for a more peaceful life.

“Stay here for the night, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to waste any more time.

Your relatives were aware of your relationship, allowing such a request. They trusted you enough to sleep in the same room, knowing all too well the struggles of being love during times like this.

Neither of you held back from the tension that crept into the room. This time, you led him through the first kiss while his body laid flat on the cushion bed. On top, straddling him fully. Leaving him soft kisses on his neck while teasingly unbuttoning his pajama shirt, your fervent lips trailed from his neck, lowering to his sculpted abdomen, until you reached the waistband of his pajama pants.

Only in books did you learn about how to please men, so this may be the only time you can test it out. Doyoung stiffened on your soft kisses on his hard-clothed member, glancing him seductively back and forth when you stuck out your tongue.

“Please,” He begged, tugging on your hair. “Touch me.”

Your lips wrapped around his tip before gently going lower to your limit, and slowly sucked on it back and forth. Whenever you’d want to catch a breathe, you’d lick the tip teasingly. Doyoung groaned, threading his fingers along with your hair. He’s so used to be a giver that receiving these sensations by you beats his hand. It was heavenly, yet so vulgar. The way you swallowed his cum rather than spitting it out even if the taste wasn’t favorable, you were too much in a daze to process how sudden he switched positions. While you sprawled devilishly under him, your fingers looping on his dog tag necklace to bring him lower for a kiss while feeling two of his fingers go under your panties to teasingly play with your slick.

“Don’t t-tease...” You stuttered, clenching at how fast he can get you stimulated with his fingers.

The whole night long was consumed with his body against yours, the wet sounds of deep thrusts and muffled moans praising each other. The following morning, your naked bodies remained entangled. He was still in deep slumber when your body clock alarms you to wake up. though you couldn’t move when he had his arm around you. The love marks on his chest that you’ve made were more exposed when the sunlight hits him, your fingers carefully trailing on it so he wouldn’t be startled. He needed all the rest he can get.

If only you can have mornings like this when war wasn’t in the equation.

Bidding goodbye was tough. Breakfast was too quiet, just like how he packed his remaining belongings and dressed back to his uniform. You watched him by the patio as he waited for the bus to pick him up. When one finally arrived, he turned around to face you once more. He understood that neither of you wanted to say anything. It would make things harder.

You had to stay strong for him because he was fighting the scarier people. But as he waved goodbye, this was your only exception. Just before he boarded the bus,

“Fuck it.” You mumbled to yourself, running to him as your life depended on it.

“(Y/N), what are you-” Doyoung stopped at his tracks, awaiting your sudden move. You shut him up by desperately placing your lips against his, having that a tiny sliver of hope that it won’t be your last. His hands cradled your face while your arms tangled behind his neck.

It wasn’t until the annoyed coughs from the bus driver stopped your actions. Patting your dress from crinkling, Doyoung left a kiss on your forehead.

“Wait for me, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured you.

“Fight strong and stay alive, Doyoung. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He caressed your cheek one last time, your hand cupping it.

“I love you too, Doyoung.”

Both of you made sure to write to each other, just anything to keep in touch from being apart.

Oh, if only you knew how long you’d have to wait before seeing each other again.

1951

Doyoung was stationed in the infantry division, always staying prepared for the plans his side made and the active attacks started from the enemy side. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s gotten critically injured and knocked out, but he fought through it with his upcoming plans in mind. How he must fight for the country and stay alive to see the change. How he wanted to have a future with you when everything settles down. It was his motivation every time.

But it took one surprise attack many months later from the enemy side to take it all away. When one of the senior officers was shot, he shielded him without hesitation. All these firing bullets were shot on his back, his legs wobbling from the impact. Due to the non-stop bleeding and lack of urgent medical attention, he painfully lost his life while holding on to his officer.

“Please tell my lover that I love her and I’m sorry.”

Those were his last words before he took one final breath and flatlined.

Seconds later, his soul flowed outside his body and froze at the trippy feeling while witnessing different officers and people on the medic team mourn in front of his dead body. Taeyong, one of the people he befriended from the medic team, tried to wake him repeatedly.

“Doyoung, please don’t joke around. Wake up, please.”

Even if he knew it was hopeless, he did his best to the point his entire team had to pull him away from his best friend’s lifeless body.

“No, he needs to live! He has a family, big dreams, and a girl waiting back in Busan!” He sobbed in his chest. Out of all the people he tried to resuscitate, Doyoung was the first friend that he came across on this occasion. Doyoung ached at this vulnerable sight, wanting so badly to be by his side. With these surprise attacks, death is more prevalent than ever.

“Kim Doyoung?” An unfamiliar voice called for him from behind. He spun around to find one woman in war uniform, though he’s never encountered her in the field, and a man in all black.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Manwol, and he’s the grim reaper. I believe you just died a few minutes ago, correct?”

The truth was piercing to accept, glancing at his lifeless body on the side with Taeyong and another close friend he made, Jungwoo, crying his heart out.

“Are you going to take me already?” He asked.

“Unless you still have things you want to accomplish in the living world, then you can freely go to the other side.” The grim reaper answered monotonously, very much used to this question.

“From the looks of it, you have a lot you want to do still,” Manwol observed from afar, all too familiar with the feeling. “If you come with us, I can help you accomplish them.”

If something stayed with Doyoung until his last breath, it was his skepticism with the supernatural. He was unsure if he can trust them because according to the books, once you’re dead, that’s it. It’s up to the people around him to speak good or bad of him.

“You’re uncertain with our intentions, aren’t you?” Manwol easily read through his stoic expression. “You’ll be surprised with how many things can debunk from the books if you let us, Doyoung.”

For the first time, Doyoung had no clue what and where to go next. No one wrote a book on how to act like a cold, wandering soul. His dreams were limited, meaning he has to find new ones or tweak them a lot to make it possible. Despite her reserved nature, he figured that Manwol looked like someone who knows what she’s talking about. With the grim reaper he’s read in children’s books, he wasn’t as frightening as he was portrayed.

This was his last shot.

“Guide me, please.”

The car ride alone there was messy and bumpy since it was peak war season. He wasn’t the only person who lost their life that night and riding in the vehicle. He recognized a few of them. It was saddening to find the playful Donghyuck, his youngest companion, beside him.

“I sacrificed myself to protect two unarmed nurses in the medic tent when some enemy soldiers charged inside.”

Another was the wise Taeil, who was stationed by the barracks. He was one of the people in the front of in line for battle.

“I thought they were fooling with us, and then suddenly fired multiple attacks. I caught on to it quickly, but they still got me.”

Doyoung remembered all those times he used to ask for love advice from him when it grew hard to be far from you. But that advice is no longer useful when he’s further away from you. He was dead, you weren’t.

Once the three of them arrived at their destination, it was an inn that looked destroyed from the outside, but very organized on the inside. Donghyuck and Taeil decided already what they wanted to do before they cross the other side. Doyoung, on the other hand, was still contemplating.

Manwol knew well how to spot a heartbroken person, being one herself. She wasn’t one to interfere with these affairs, but maybe she’d make an exception. Seeing right through him, he lived a fruitful life. She saw his sacrifice, picking up on his last words being dedicated for you, his lover. He didn’t die in vain.

When the two men were off to follow their plans, Manwol took this chance to approach the downcast man again.

“Is something you holding you back from going…” She questioned, staying by his side for a moment. “…or a special someone?”

“I promised my lover to fight strong and to stay alive while she promised to keep waiting for me. But here I am. She has yet to know that I didn’t make it and I can’t bear to see her in utter pain.”

“Death during a war isn’t new, Doyoung. A lot of promises become broken.”

“But I had so much I wanted to do with her after, Manwol. I can’t just leave her yet, I want to stay by her side even if we can’t see each other physically.”

Based on the information Manwol received about Doyoung from the inn staff, it came to her attention that he was fond of books. Thus, it gave her an idea.

“Doyoung, you’re very similar to the staff here. They all have goals that take years to accomplish, so I gave them a job here.”

“What are you offering me then, Manwol?”

“I have a library here in dire need of a librarian. With your interest in books, would you like to take it? After all, I’m implying that you’d want to wait for your lover to make up for your broken promise.”

Doyoung can’t deny that she was wrong. This was where his journey at Manwol Inn (then became Hotel Del Luna) started. Time worked a little bit differently as a ghost, but it’ll be worth it until you return in his arms one day.

On the day you regrettably received the letter from the military about the tragedy, life has turned for the worst. Upon seeing a soldier by your front step, it was only an innocent habit to give him letters for Doyoung and receiving new ones. However, his hand halted you to hand over a military logo imprinted envelope addressed to you alongside his tidy military uniform other letters from Doyoung.

His last letters.

You had no courage to even complete reading it when the first few lines weren’t enough to taunt you. Nothing could prepare for this dreaded moment.

“We regret to inform you that a report from the war office has confirmed that Kim Doyoung was a casualty of the sudden attack of Seoul. this letter formally declares that he was killed in action....”

Dropping the god-forsaken letter in your hands, you instantly locked yourself in your room. Your parents, who picked it up to read, came running to your door and tediously knocking for you to open it. But you didn’t listen, the heartbreak being too grave.

You tried so hard to keep it together these past months. but this kind of grief resulted in your feeble figure pouring into a heap of salty tears and loud sobs. Your back against the wall smoothly slid down until your butt landed on the floor. You clutched on to your gut that continuously stabbed you back and forth.

Betrayal was an understatement, yet it was beyond his control. War guarantees nothing.

But not when you needed him more than ever, especially when the biggest yet most unexpected news came upon you. All nausea and wild mood swings in the weeks that followed after he left weren’t normal, only to find out that you were expecting his child.

It was a secret you didn’t know how to confront through letters because it was best to tell him in person. Due to the situation, it was impossible. Only in your latest letter did you finally come clean about it, but it was now never to be sent because he has already passed away. Your entire family wasn’t pleased with this outcome but they didn’t shame you for it either. It was your choice and body after all.

They were concerned about how others will perceive you in the long run. An unmarried woman carrying a dead man’s child is taboo in this conservative society. Yet abortion is seen in a bad light too. You were stuck in a double edge sword, but you knew from the beginning that you wanted to keep the child. It’s a struggle, for sure, and your plans will have to wait.

Amid this bad luck, this unborn child is the last closest piece of Doyoung.

Amongst your unavoidable flow of tears that you knew must be stopped so it wouldn’t badly affect your child, you placed a hand on top of your lower belly. There was already an evident swelling bump, but your choice to continue wearing loose clothing to swerve from the public’s judgment covered it fine.

Well, for now. Only in the last trimester, it was going to be a challenge.

“I’m sorry you won’t be meet your father....” You spoke, rubbing it upwards. “....But I’ll make sure to take good care of you. You’re all I have left of him.”

Ever since Doyoung accepted Manwol’s offer, he never left his spot at the library. He was amazed at the endless arrangements of books. Even the western books his parents banned him from reading as a child were there. All this entertainment can distract from the long time he has to wait.

Except for today specifically, he asked Jeno, a new friend he made who also lost his life during the Korean war, to take over for a few hours when he found out that mail was to be delivered in Busan.

“Hyung, are you sure?”

“I just need to see her, Jeno.”

Doyoung expected the heartache when he saw you cry in your bedroom after finding out, and he couldn’t refrain from crying with you. Even as a soul, he’d do anything to cradle you in his arms and say that things will get better in time. How he wanted to tell you to take your time in life and that he’s willing to wait until your time comes. Whenever it could be.

Sadly, he was right there listening to you talk to your unborn child. The disbelief of in his reaction; he was supposed to be a father. Sure, he was relatively young. People won’t approve of it because you were unmarried. But it was an early start to settling down with each other.

It took him a while to accept his unfortunate fate, but for him to be robbed of this meaningful part in life was more unbearable to deal with.

From that point, he made sure to watch over you even if he was invisible. Even if Manwol advised him not to so it won’t complicate anything, he reassured that he has it under control. As a ghost without any grudges, what’s there to throw a fit at? He could retaliate at the enemy soldiers who shot him fearlessly, but they are nowhere to be found and he had no interest to turn into ashes.

The only time he assisted you was when you were giving birth. It was an excruciating process, sweating and breathing intensely. You let a scream every time you pushed, like any of the herbs or medications you consumed were wearing off. Your body wanted to give up as it weakened at the loss of blood.

Childbirth is no joke, having high mortality rates during these times. It was a tempting choice you’d want to take as Doyoung is no longer alive. But you knew it was selfish to leave your child as an orphan.

Doyoung couldn’t withstand watching you struggle anymore. If there was a trick Manwol taught him, it was to possess people. It’s often portrayed as a negative skill, warning him to only use it when it’s an emergency.

The pitiful way your eyes were drained off energy, he had to step in. Observing the midwife panicking on your side even if she was giving you support, he took his chance to possess her. Adjusting to this body, it made him glad to feel your warm hand again.

“(Y/N), your child is almost here.” The doctor positively announced.

“I want a breather. The grim reaper should just take me.” You complained as your mother wiped the endless drops of sweat on your forehead. Doyoung took it to heart, knowing death firsthand was no joke.

“Yah, don’t say stuff like that, (Y/N). This child is bound to be an amazing addition to your life.”

You didn’t know how your timid midwife would straighten you up, but it motivated you a lot more to finish the process. Little did you know.

She gladly accepted your firm grips on her hand, giving affirmative responses to keep you going. In moments you closed your eyes to push, you couldn’t help notice in the corner of your eye how from the physique of your midwife, you swore you saw him. His hand holding yours instead of the midwife.

Was this in the medication? For a moment, you let a tear not from pain but from happiness to catch a glimpse of him in your weakest moment. Every day, you were missing him.

It took almost half an hour before a small set of wails bore in the room while you harshly threw yourself back in the bed to recover your breathing patterns. It knocked you out for a while. Doyoung, still possessing the midwife, was handed the newborn by the doctor and tasked to clean her up.

“It’s a healthy baby girl.” the doctor confirmed as he wiped away the blood on the floor.

He was then brought by your mother to a designated room to bathe the relaxed newborn in his arms.

His newborn.

His desire to phase out of the midwife and use his skill to be visible while holding his child was strong. But it’s too risky since the midwife can catch him. He sucked it up and proceeded in what the books taught him on bathing a baby. During his break time, he’d read all the parenting books he could find. It’ll be rare anyways for him to use the tips, but he always wanted to stay prepared.

As the bubbles of the soap surrounded the relaxed baby, he washed her delicately to avoid her from waking up. He was just mesmerized at how you and he created something so precious. He used to be the type of man to be awkward around kids, but after catering to many children in the library and now his child, it started to change.

“Hello there, little one. Your mother needs you, so you better be good to her.”

Ghosts were highly discouraged to make any more emotional connections with the living because they’ll just end up being hurt, making it harder to move on. Exactly what Doyoung is doing was that, and the more he bonded with his daughter, it was a rekindled kind of pain. The kind when you separate family from each other. The same one he felt when he bid his parents good-bye before joining the war, only to never come back.

To top this off, the tiny hand of his sleeping daughter, whom he finally dried off with a small towel and wrapped in a fresh blanket, sleepily grasped on his pinky finger. Technically, it was the midwife’s, but he was in control.

Nonetheless, the innocent gesture got him both feeling on top of the moon and disheartened at the same time. As he curled it in a silly manner, noticing the size difference, he leaned down to leave a kiss on top of her forehead.

“I’m sorry I’m going to miss out on your life. But I’ll always be here for you, even if I’m in the shadows. Don’t ever question my love for you. Because I do love you, wholeheartedly.”

Kim Areum.

That was the name you settled with when your daughter was finally in your arms. It’s ideal to give Doyoung’s last name too because she is half of him. After resting for quite a while, you noticed how the midwife suddenly shook her body and took a loud deep breath when she helped out cleaning the area up.

“Are you okay?” You question, noticing her state of confusion.

“Uhm, yeah....” She narrowed her eyes to her environment. “Oh wait, you gave birth already? Wow, that was pretty fast...”

“Yes, you were right beside me the whole time...” You glanced sideways at her, suspicious.

“Oh wow yeah, I was.” She tried to laugh it off. “It was like I had an out-of-this-world moment or something. Oh whatever, I sound stupid.”

That brought you back to your early doubts. Whether or not he showed up or you were somewhat hallucinating. But not wanting to reflect too much on the impossible, you merely refocused to the peaceful newborn nestled in your arms.

She’s the only one keeping you alive in these hard times. She served as a reminder of him, thus you’ll hold on to her. From the outside of your window, all Doyoung can do now is to continue watching from afar every once in a while.

1954

Not much has changed in the past few years. You were either reading or taking care of Areum. Your family was lucky enough to have good housing, but getting important necessities such as water and food was a constant struggle.

With the war leading to lots of souls in the inn, he had to fulfill his mandatory orders to prepare souls to move on. He was joyful to be of service to others like he was back in the day.

Though lately, it’s still unavoidable for him to ponder how exactly are you and his daughter are doing. Once Donghyuck and Taeil went ahead for the afterlife, the loneliness began to creep in. Then a while ago, Jeno introduced him to a new group of children today checking out the library. Caught in a deadly car accident on their way home from school, he pitied how such bright kids left the world too soon.

These factors sparked his longing, plus there was still something above that: it was your birthday soon. Much to his luck, Manwol just received a new gift from the deities that might be his biggest help in coping.

“A dream call?” Doyoung inquired once he was summoned by Manwol to the meeting room, sitting across her.

“Yes, a call to anyone from the living that you wish to talk to in their dreams. Though this can only be used once per visitor. The deities pitied those with loved ones who want to see them physically. Thus, they invented this.”

“What are you implying?”

“Doyoung, you know well how easy I can read people even through their fake smiles. You miss her very much.” Manwol replied, holding up the phone to his ear. “This is your chance, Doyoung. Even if you can’t see them, they will see you.”

The first dream started with you sitting at your old spot by the river, in a simple dress Doyoung bought for you on your last ever birthday celebration with him. The forest looked breathtaking as if it was still pre-war times again. The river was still clear of blood and pollution. It must be spring, the flowers above you on the tree were in full bloom.

The sound of bike wheels stopping to park in the grass and someone humming changed your point of interest. There was the only person in your mind who would do that. Jumping from your seated position, you looked behind the other side of the tree only to find him picking up flowers from the branches. He was tall, not having much difficulty getting them.

The way he looked so peaceful and well-rested. This beauty and peace of mind he radiated, it was unreal.

“Doyoung.”

He clenched on the phone with his hand, his concealed yearning to at least hear his name on your lips again urged a tear to go down his cheek.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

He handed you the flower bouquet he made for you. Meanwhile, he suddenly dropped it when you didn’t hesitate to sling your arms around his waist. Your head pressed to his chest, pulling him closer you could care less if you lost your breath. Doyoung felt that tight hug, gripping on the part of his uniform where you placed your head. He rubbed it as if it was your hair.

None of you spoke a word and gracefully paused to take a moment.

Time in a dream call works a bit differently than in the living world. Once you’re in session, one minute alone of talking is equivalent to 30 minutes in the living world.

Doyoung took his first call to catch up with you and say everything he never got to before. It was also where he confessed how he knew about your daughter. There were guilt and regret at how you could’ve told him in your earlier letters.

“You were scared, (Y/N). There’s no way I can blame you.” Laying against his chest, he comforted you. “By the way, she has your nose, you know.”

There was this wave of relief that splashed you after this big burden lifted. You can live a more untroubled life now.

“She has your temper though.” You jokingly say, putting you in a fit of giggles. It’s been too long since you experienced genuine humor.

“At age 3? Yah, I’m impressed.” He remarked with pride.

Since Doyoung wasn’t capable to be physically affectionate in the dreams, he was more on receiving them from you. In return, he gave sincere conversations even if they were a yearly thing. Talking about your daughter was one of your favorite topics. adolescence, teenage years, to university, there was so much to talk about. Doyoung would only use his dream calls on you on your birthday, making them more meaningful. Each one, you were both back to your twenties with different outfits and settings based on the differing decades.

“Don’t you feel burdened to wait for me?” You asked as his fingers brushed some of your hair back while you watched the sunset from a wooden bench.

“No, I’m not. there are still many things I want to fulfill before moving on. I also want to watch Areum grow up and help you in any possible. Only when these goals of mine and others are cleared, then I‘ll be able to rest well.”

“Will you be okay until then, Doyoung?”

“I broke a promise with you, (Y/N). and I want to make up for it.”

“What will you do when my time comes?” Your hand interlocked with his, squeezing it tight even if he couldn’t reciprocate it.

“I will shout out your name and hug you tight, my love. But until then, appreciate your life. Live it to its fullest. For me.”

Doyoung sensed your worry but comforted you that it’ll be okay. He wasn’t lying either when he said he wanted to do a lot of things too. Every dream call, his gut feelings were strong to know what you were going through in every call, giving you any advice to get you through them.

To count, he gave you almost 50 dream calls.

The late 1950s-1960s

After returning to university to finish your undergraduate studies when the war ended, you continued to pursue law school and taking the exams as you’ve wanted. But this meant moving to Seoul for better opportunities.

Doyoung celebrated with himself when he found out, not having to take the bus or ride the hotel car to Busan every time he wanted to see you two. Now, he could simply walk back and forth, managing it with his shifts.

Currently, he was taking a break in his office. The deities gifted him with a bunch of murder mystery books from the West, fully immersed in the storylines. Leaning backward from his chair, he was abruptly disconnected by a knock on his open door.

“Hyung, you have a special visitor in the lobby.” Jeno urgently informed Doyoung as he leaned on the side of his office door, out of breath. “It’s quite important if you ask me.”

Doyoung removed his reading glasses and put down his novel. Putting back his blazer on, he approached his younger friend and made their way down the hallway together hastily.

“Is it a family member who’s passed?” He questioned, slightly folding his blazer sleeves then adjusting the hotel pin on his chest pocket. By the tone Jeno spoke, it must’ve been serious. Although there’s no way it can be you just yet, he has no idea who was looking for him then.

The lobby was bustling with numerous souls. Some still fresh, some just roaming around, while others were preparing to pass the other side. Nothing new to it, until Jeno pointed out a specific scene in one corner of the room.

“Hyung, over there.”

Like an obedient puppy, Doyoung looked over to where Jeno’s finger directed. At first glance, by her long black hair, he recognized Manwol, who was kneeling in front of someone seated. It wasn’t until she stood up and shifted her body to the side to reveal that someone, patting her young head kindly.

She wore a ribbon on her hair, matching with the colors of her floral dress while carefully holding on to a piece of paper with her drawing. Due to the distance, he couldn’t make out what she drew. Though with her dazzling eye smile formed by her small eyes, he knew her too well.

“Areum.”

Right on cue, the young girl caught his entrancing gaze. With the widest smile, she exclaimed “Daddy!”

Manwol, who was right beside her, held her hand and graced their way to Doyoung and Jeno. The two knew she despised children, ordering them to keep a keener eye on them when they wander around so they don’t access the hallway leading to her office. Unexpectedly, Areum didn’t burden her the slightest. She brought a different aura, a very pure and full of love kind.

With the full moon shining at its peak, becoming present to the eyes of the living, she must’ve spotted the hotel from afar and her interest grew wild for it. Typical for girls her age. Not afraid of the risks, she followed any directions to get here. Coincidentally, she encountered Manwol in the front gate.

Manwol recognized her straight away, even when she glimpsed the drawing of her family she treasured in her chest. She still included her father, whom she was very much acquainted with. Though, she was puzzled by her sudden appearance. When Areum explained that her father lived in the hotel according to your stories, her heart fell to her gut. Indeed, she was right, but again, ghosts are discouraged to have connections with the living or anything related to it. However, her strong senses couldn’t disregard how much Doyoung yearned for his family. Lately, his only daughter when numerous children arrived at the hotel. He didn’t want to voice it out however because the other staff shared the same sentiments, so it would be insensitive so he just kept it to himself. But Manwol sensed it all too well.

She won’t tell anyone this, but she has quite a soft spot for Doyoung. She empathized with him the most since he came to the hotel, willing to do what it takes to make his coping and waiting worthwhile. She was still brash at times, but only when necessary.

Areum’s presence didn’t seem to harm anyone, charming anyone around with a smile and her words. Especially that smile, it shows enough of how much she’s Doyoung’s daughter. With a rough internal debate, Manwol welcomed her inside the magical hotel Areum described it as and tasked Jeno to call for Doyoung. It was a risk, but a needed one.

With Manwol innocently holding the young girl’s hand, she looked her down and asked her, “Is that your father from your drawing, Areum?”

Areum lit up as she tilted her head upwards to see her tall father, nodding proudly. “Yes, that’s him! The one my mom talks about in her dreams too!”

Doyoung’s heart swelled at her pride for him, not hesitating to kneel to her height. Arms wide open, he loudly called her out for the first time. “Areum!”

The young girl, letting go of Manwol’s hand, ran as fast as her short legs could like nothing can stop her, even if the lobby was packed. Soon enough, she’s at the grasp of her father, carrying and hugging her in circles. Light as a feather, he took in her scent and warmth. The racing beat of her heart pulsated against his chest, reminding how much life she’s filled with. It was liberating that she found him, even when he stood behind the dark shadows.

Once he put her back down, “What brings you here, Areum? Isn’t it past your bedtime already?”

She pouted, sulking at disobeying your rules. “I know, but as soon as I was ready for bed, I saw the hotel in bright lights just like mommy described. She said that only during the peak full moon it’ll be shown to very special people who are alive, and it turns out that I’m one of them, daddy.”

Hearing that title from her lips was something he would’ve never get sick of. He felt the validity more than ever.

The odds of being a human spotting the hotel during peak full moon was rare, earning perplexed looks by those who don’t see it. Doyoung never encountered a human waltzing in the hotel out of the bloom, so for his daughter to have this mystical ability was a gift in disguise. Maybe the deities knew how to cut off some slack and agony for wandering souls. This was an excuse to stop cursing them now and then.

“Wow, aren’t you a lucky girl for that?” Jeno, whom he forgot was by his side, patted her head similarly to Manwol. “Your father missed you dearly, you know?”

“Well, Mr. Jeno,” She picked up his name from his nametag. “I missed him too.”

Doyoung processed the features of the angelic girl in front of him, astonished at how you and he created someone so cheerful during a time of trouble. Aside from her eye smile, she had his gummy smile and curiosity, while she inherited your nose and intelligence. Cupping her chubby cheek, he pinched it with a cute sound effect from his mouth.

“Daddy!” She protested, slapping his hand away and dramatically covered her reddening cheek. “Not allowed to that, ever.”

Oh, you weren’t joking when you said she had his temper too.

Before he could defend himself, Manwol reentered their interaction. Like common sense, Doyoung got back on his feet but helplessly giving side glances to his daughter. Manwol giggled at his sudden formality before instructing Jeno to lead Areum to the carnival room. As Areum waves him goodbye for the meantime, Manwol added on.

“There’s a rise of kids checking in the hotel, unfortunately, so I wholeheartedly requested the deities to create an area dedicated for child-like fun. Just today, it’s finished in construction so it’s a great place for Areum to explore.”

“Manwol, I-” He was feeling overwhelmed, stumbling his words. “Why did you this for me?”

“You used your dream calls for (Y/N), but there’s never been a way for you to reach out to your daughter. And the way her glimmering eyes wanted to come in when she shouldn’t, I couldn’t refuse a chance for the two to reunite.”

“But what about the deities?”

“I’ll handle it. What matters is that you have tonight to spend with Areum. It’s the least thing I could do as you are one of my beloved staff,” She reassured, yet looked at him in a downcast manner. “But as much as possible, everything tonight must feel like a vivid dream to her. She’s not allowed to keep any knick-knacks from tonight either.”

Everything always came at a price. Doyoung was acquainted well enough, but he can’t lie to say that I didn’t ache. Nonetheless, Manwol having such a selfless side was completely new to him. That’s why he never asked for favors like the other staff since he’ll just get turned down or scolded like a child. Maybe she wasn’t as scary as to how they labeled her all these years he’s worked for her.

Manwol took Doyoung’s silence under the impression of internal conflict. In true Manwol fashion, she clapped her hands right in front of his visage, snatching him back to reality. “You’re wasting time, Doyoung! Don’t think about it too much right now. Now come on and dress up more casually, your daughter is waiting for you.”

Following her order, he bowed respectfully before zooming to his hotel room. She was right, he has to enjoy whatever is given. Demanding for more when you’re already dead is disrespectful to the eyes of the deities, considering that alongside your past life when you step into the afterlife.

From his uniform, he changed into a white long sleeve buttoned-up, which was layered under a lilac knit sweater, and black trousers. He styled his hair in a dandier way, applying gel then combing it upwards. He was only following the trends of the decade, basing it on the recently checked-in souls. Deities must’ve liked him a lot to give him a lot of gifts from time to time, making him completely disregard the money from the living world Manwol gives during his off days. Most of the time, his off days are spent either secretly observing you and your daughter, or reading more books in the library.

This one was like a change of scenery, his heart pumping once he exited to the elevator and rushed to the carnival room. And just as he entered the doors, the wave of nostalgia hit him instantaneously. It felt like he was in university again, bringing you around the bizarre contraptions and games for the first time for your amusement. A spark in your romance, so full of young love and naivety of what was to come.

He spotted his young girl wrapped around in the arms of Jeno, explaining to her about the wide range of rides as she licked on a rainbow lollipop. Once he showed up to the both of them, Jeno cautiously put her down so she can hold Doyoung’s hand.

“You deserve this, hyung. Make it worthwhile.” Jeno placed his hand on his older friend’s shoulder before leaving the room. Keeping it in mind, Doyoung kneeled again in front of his daughter. Her smiles were contagious, fascinated by everything she’s surrounded in.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, daddy.” That line sounded familiar, chuckling at the precious memory.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have fun tonight!”

The bliss in tonight was never-ending, like the two of them were in their own world. Areum wanted to ride on a horse in a carousel first, which Doyoung agreed to. Lifting her, he held her by the waist as the ride started to go. She pointed out every object that she can see while Doyoung avidly listened, then telling her what each ride and game consists of in return.

Once they got off, her short legs scurried off to the game booth where rows of bottles were laid in front of her. Right beside her were the rings. Doyoung properly described the instructions, and on the dot, Areum went ham and started throwing the rings in random directions. By the way, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed, her competitive side was evident. Doyoung observed as she either hit or miss, finding another trait of his in her.

You’d find it hard to believe, but she would’ve been a total daddy’s girl.

To her success, she squealed victoriously as she won and hugged her dad. One of the staff in charge rewarded her with new candy to munch on, and off she went to look for the next attraction to divulge in. Doyoung struggled a little catching up to her, but anything he would do for his daughter.

From a one on one balloon dart game, which Doyoung willingly let Areum won because she’s a fussy one, roaming through a mini house of mirrors, riding the indoor Ferris wheel, and many more, Areum was ready to move to the next venue after telling her father that she wanted him to read to her.

“Mommy said you’re a librarian here because you like reading. I like it too, can you take me there?”

Just like you, he was charmed by his daughter. “Alright, Areum. Let’s go there then.”

Before they made it through past the wide doors with the bright red sign above saying “Exit”, Areum’s attention was distracted by a black kiosk near the Ferris wheel. She followed her gut, changing her direction. Doyoung quickly followed her footsteps, only to turn up in front of a photo booth.

“Wow, are these where you can take instant pictures, daddy?”

Waves of nostalgia hit Doyoung as if he were on the beach, totally unprepared for the emotional impact. With Areum, he missed your presence more than ever. Having you there completed your family, and it could’ve been quite a reunion.

“Yes, Areum. How about you go inside and daddy will insert some coins so you can have your pictures taken?”

“But daddy, I want to take pictures with you! It’s only mommy that has pictures with you, and I don’t want to feel left out.” She threw a tantrum, crossing her arms.

Here she goes again, making it difficult for Doyoung to refuse. Even with Manwol only giving him one rule to follow for the night, he doesn’t want any bad memories to be made with his daughter. He’ll have to work it out one way or another later. In the meantime, he smirked before carried her out of the blue inside the booth. Her shrieks increased in volume, only softening after she settled on her father’s lap. Doyoung inserts a few coins, and swiftly enough, the contraption started to operate.

“Okay Areum, one photo strip has 4 solo photos in it. 4 smiles or poses, okay? You’re going to look at the lens there, in the shape of a circle. Then, the flash is going to show in 3, 2-” Right on time, the two smiled.

They had less than 10 seconds until the second shot, so the two pulled random funny expressions. Doyoung pouted his lips, while Areum stuck out her tongue. For the third photo, Doyoung kissed the top of her head while Areum poked her cheeks with her fingers. Lastly, Areum instructed her father to lower his head to her level so she can peck his cheek. His shock was perfectly taken, filling his heart with adoration.

Areum hating getting affection but loves giving it? Another trait of his.

The look of amazement Areum gave once she stepped foot on the endless library was priceless. She described how it was bigger than the national library in Seoul. While she strolled around the near shelves, Jeno, taking over his night shift, approached him with a bottled treat. But it wasn’t just a normal one.

“Manwol and I overheard that she liked strawberry milk, so Manwol told me to give it to you. It has the dream spell potion from Johnny’s bar mixed with flowers from the deities so she can’t see ghosts or the hotel anymore. Make sure she drinks it before she leaves this place.”

While Areum settles on the small couch with her chosen books, she patiently anticipated for her father to read to her before her yawning takes over her. She never tracked the time, but she’s gone way beyond her average curfew.

“Sleepy already, sweetheart?” Doyoung asked as he sat beside her, inspecting her drowsy state.

Areum shook her head, displaying all the books she got on the table in front of her. “Nope! Not until you read me a bedtime story.”

Doyoung scanned through her book selection, amazed by her choices. The Little Prince, Winnie the Pooh, Goodnight Moon, and a bunch of Madeline books from the series, he couldn’t decide! If only he could read them all for her.

A lot of those books he read growing up, and the same goes for you. Especially Madeline, which he discovered through you as one of your childhood favorites. By instinct, he chose the first book from the series, simply entitled “Madeline”.

“This one.” He patted his lap so she could sit on it, which she did without wasting a breath.

It was ironic for a librarian to have never read aloud for anyone during his stay. Maybe because no one asked him to nor he wasn’t into reading aloud. He preferred reading to himself, only helping those looking for specific books or recommending if anyone has a favorite genre. Maybe he’ll give it a shot now. This first-hand experience opened his eyes to a new type of intimacy, hearing the adorable reactions from his daughter as he read the life of Madeline in Paris.

“In the middle of one night, Miss Clavel turned on her light and said, “Something is not right!”.” Doyoung flipped the next page. “Little Madeline sat in bed, cried and cried-”

“She cried to get attention, huh?” Areum commented mid-reading.

“Areum, if she didn’t, she could get even sicker. We don’t want that, right?”

“If I cried like that, would that be enough to bring you back to me and mommy, daddy?” She wholesomely questioned, twisting her body weight so she could face him. “Mommy already has a way to reach to you, and I want something like that too”

Doyoung knew she was a smart girl, but she often denies the reality of some things. In this case, her father’s passing still hasn’t hit her, even if she possessed the mystical skill to see ghosts and the hotel. Doyoung felt cornered, so before he could think of a reply, he kindly asks her,

“Hmm, what do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Well,” She pouted as she fidgeted with her index fingers. “I read all your old letters to mommy, so maybe I can write you one every year.”

“What a great idea, sweetheart!” He cheered. “How will you give it?”

“Uh..” She paused to think, then a bright idea came to her. “During your birthday, daddy! Mommy and I still celebrate it if you don’t know, so I can offer it alongside the food.”

Doyoung played along, knowing that tradition of yours. Although it still aches him to show up on his death anniversary, he compromised by showing up on his birthday. He’d see his and your families celebrating, talking about the positive and fun things about him in his life. He observed his daughter a little more later when she got older and started talking. Whenever you praised him for something, there was hope and inspiration in her young eyes. It’s uplifting to discover that his legacy was seen in a good light. He’d never wanted to be seen as a bad guy to anyone.

“I’ll look forward to it, sweetheart. Promise?” He stuck out his pinky to her, getting curled in response by hers.

“Promise!”

Both of them chuckled, appreciating the moment. His long arms embraced her from the back, nuzzling his head on his shoulder. How blessed to have a daughter like her, but from a glance, the bottle of strawberry milk situated beside the pile of books gave a remembrance of one of his remaining tasks. It had to be done, but he hoped she won’t at least forget to write to him.

“Look! Miss Manwol wanted to give this to you.” He handed it to her.

Ecstatic, she cranked open the bottle cap and took tiny sips of it. “It’s so good, daddy!”

Doyoung softly laughed as excess milk drops dribbled in her lips, wiping it with his thumb. “Aigoo, you messy girl. Let’s continue, shall we?”

Cozying up to him again, Doyoung resumed his storytelling. Once he said the words, “The end.”, the small head of his daughter completely leaned against his chest. Snuggling for more comfort, he checked her current condition. Knocked out like a light, he puts the book down and cradled her for a second. The last time he did something like this was when she was born. She was tiny then, and now, she’s bound to outgrow his lap sooner or later.

This was his sign to bring her home.

He boosted her small figure, her head now planted on his shoulder and his hand resting behind the nape of her neck. Her legs were entangled in his torso when he showed up at the lobby again. It was much more serene, everyone checked in already.

“Aigoo, fast asleep already?” Manwol made an appearance without warning, alongside her personal driver Yuta and the bartender Johnny.

“As expected from my magic.” Johnny commended himself, stretching his fingers. That easily gave him a slap from Yuta.

“Can’t you be more sensitive to Doyoung?”

Not caring about those two, Manwol caressed Areum from behind. Inside her cold heart, she brought so much amusement. Even if she embodied traits from Doyoung, she stood out from his usual reserved nature. She had so much energy, and it’s a fresh sight. Manwol secretly peered at their father-daughter time in the library, and she sensed the love the two had for each other. Even if it’s unbearable to separate them, having tonight was a pleasure for all.

“Yuta,” She summoned him. “Drop these two to her house safe and sound. It’s too dangerous to walk in the dark right now.”

Bowing in response, he led the way to the elevator for Doyoung to follow. But before he took the first step, Manwol halted him by the arm. “You better come back, or the deities won’t be pleased.”

He nodded before he was sent on his way. Wasn’t this brutal?

The silence in the car ride is deafening, though he didn’t want to disturb his little girl either. Yuta peeked from the mirror now and then to check on the two, sharing the gloom of his fellow friend. Having something or someone so valuable from the living world makes it hard to leave it. He understood as he suffered a similar fate to him.

When they’ve arrived at their destination, Doyoung was quick to notice that the lights from your living room were still on. It’s too risky to waltz in through the front door, squinting for other ways to go inside. To his luck, the window of Areum’s bedroom was wide open. That must’ve been how she escaped earlier.

“Be careful, Doyoung. Her neighbors may be watching.”

“It’s around 4 am right now, Yuta. I’ll be fine.” He reassured, clicking open the car door with his daughter peacefully asleep.

Entering inside her bedroom, he gently put her down on her soft bed. Covering her body with the duvet so she wouldn’t get cold, he took one last lingering look before taking his leave. Manwol might be looking for him already. Pressuring even to know that Yuta was waiting outside for him and that the deities are looking down on him too.

“Daddy,” Her tiny hand tugged on his sleeve, stopping his movements. Her droopy eyes faintly ajar, wanting to capture these last dreamy moments. “Don’t leave me and mommy again.”

This retouched attachment between the two made things much more stifling to accept reality. Doyoung understood her fright and sighed, kneeling to her again. Patting her head, “I’m sorry but I have no choice, sweetheart. We don’t want daddy to get in trouble, right?”

She lazily nods, tugging on his sleeve again. “Can you sing me to sleep, daddy? You used to do that for mommy.”

He grinned, accepted her last request. Holding on her hand, kissing it, he quietly sings.

“Eonjebuteoinji geudaereul bomyeon….”

When the song reached its end, the soft snores from Areum filled his eardrums. Her eyes are fully closed, and her tiny head fell to the side of her pillow. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart. Daddy loves you so much.”

A cute sight to Doyoung, she occupied a huge part in his heart. Even if everything tonight will feel like a complete dream, it’s a memorable moment for Doyoung that he’ll treasure.

Initially, he planned to leave her bedroom the same way he came in, which was through her window. That’s all Manwol tasked him to do when he arrives at your house, but his heart selfishly desires to see you. Even if he was invisible now. His powers were weakening, twitching from being visible to invisible back and forth.

Never has he stepped inside your new house, and this could be his only chance.

The first thing he saw after leaving his daughter’s bedroom was the dining room. Tidy and organized, as expected from you. For the living room connected to it, the simple decorations invited him inside. Assorted photos hung in the wall and by the table near the front door, with a fresh bouquet of asters in a vase there too.

Alluring as it is, the only thing Doyoung couldn’t keep his eyes off the most was a sleeping you in pajamas, hunched over the coffee table on top of books and numerous paperwork. An empty coffee glass neared the edge, so he caught it before you squirmed again from your sleep.

The exhaustion from your life was constantly piled up one after the other. You’ve been studying hard at law school, balancing it with a part-time job as a teacher’s assistant at your university for undergrads and being a mom to Areum. Even seeing the pile of bills right by your side, you didn’t just need the help of your families. You needed him, as a friend, lover, and father.

Men were still viewed as the main breadwinners of the family, but you juggled both positions as mother and father. It was a vicious fate, and he’d do anything to share that challenge with you. For now, the only thing he could do is bring you to bed at least.

Taking you into his arms bridal style, completely knocked out, he only assumed the remaining door in front of Areum’s bedroom was your bedroom. Carefully kicking it, he graced your bed and laid you down elegantly so your sleeping flow won’t be disturbed. He put the covers on top of your body so you’d feel comfier.

Right in front of your bedside was a breezy open window, the moonlight creeping in to highlight your sleeping face. The wrinkles on your forehead started to show, a side effect of immense stress. It’s a trait no one wants, yet it symbolized aging and moving forward to the future. Doyoung envied you for it.

Besides that, you looked youthful as ever, seeking internal peace from the outside world in your deep slumber. His index traced the outline of your face, appreciating your glow. Trapped in amazement, leaving you will be more difficult. It’s been a while since he saw you up close in the flesh, but Manwol’s words daunted his mind. Just like his daughter, his lips softly pecked your forehead and to your ear, he said in a hushed tone, “Good night, my love. I’m so proud of you.”

Getting back on his knees to exit, he’s convinced that you and your daughter can detect a leaving presence and catch it before they do. On cue, your hand unconsciously grabbed his wrist. Your mind couldn’t make up what mental state you were in, but something in you vibed a known presence. One that you’ve yearned, one that you struggle to wait and see until your birthday arrives. Is he actually here?

Doyoung reacted immediately, his feet shuffling to face you again. Eyes still shut close, but your lips released a satisfied moan as you stretched your arms slightly.

“Is it my birthday already?” You mumbled incoherently, gripping on the unknown wrist. “Or am I just lucky enough to get a free pass?”

He rolled his eyes at your nonsense. “If this was a free pass, what would you want me to do?”

You weakly took a peek. It was blurry, probably caused by your sleepiness. But you recognized the silhouette of this stranger from the back of your hand. You clutched his grip, bringing his face closer to yours. Doyoung didn’t expect such a jerking action, almost falling limp if his other free hand didn’t grip on your duvet.

“Kiss me before you go again, my love.” You requested, mindlessly craving his touch.

Loosening from your grip, his palm cupped your cheek as he wets his lips. He made the first move, sweetly and slowly. Even at your unknown state, you returned with the same level of passion, brushing the hair behind the nape of his neck to deepen it. You haven’t kissed anyone like this in a very long time, too busy with your studies and motherhood. This refreshed your memories of what you missed, a warm tear escaping your eye.

No one will ever match up to him.

Doyoung’s deprivation of physical touch for you amplified, eagerness for so much more than this. Touching himself to the thought of you grew tiring, wanting to have you in the flesh by his side. It wasn’t until a bright car light from outside shun by your window. Yuta was an impatient one, but he had every right to be.

It was fulfilling while it lasted. His heart throbbed when his lips parted from yours, opening his eyes again. Your eyes stayed closed, but your lips hummed in satisfaction.

“Nothing changed in the way you kiss, my love.” You complimented, succumbing back to your deep slumber by pulling yourself further inside the duvet.

Doyoung grinned at your words, kissing your knuckle one last time. “I meant what I said, (Y/N). Sleep well.”

He tiptoed out your bedroom, deciding to exit through the front door. Again, no one would be awake at this time anyway. However, an antique-looking photo of him caught his eye. Taking a closer look, it was you and him by his garden, clutching on his arm under their family lemon tree and smiling during pre-war times. It was a funny story actually.

His father bought a camera for the first time and wanted to test it out. You were over at their house that day to study, and his father insisted to take a photo of the two of you as a first try.

“Oh come on, we must commemorate this new contraption! The first people can be titled “Young Love” or something like that!”

Doyoung cringed, whining, “Dad, that’s so corny!”

“I don’t care. Now hurry, join the frame with (Y/N) and smile!”

His father may present himself as strict and stubborn as one of the most affluent men in Korean society even after the war, but behind the scenes, he knows how to entertain his children. Doyoung’s childhood never had a dull moment. Oh, how wished he could follow the same fate as him.

This happy photo was a golden treasure to you, framing it so it could be preserved. It was one of your last traces of him, aside from Areum. Next to it, a much smaller photo of you and Areum was placed. Also all smiles for the two of you, Areum firmly sat on your lap and clasping her hands above her dress. You cut your hair during that time, showing the dog tag necklace that once belonged to him on your neck. You were really devoted to him, and he’s grateful, to say the least.

He knew he shouldn’t take anything either before going back to the hotel, but there was just no way he can’t take this one photo of his favorite girls with him. He already kept his photo strip of him and Areum from the carnival in his back pocket, so he’ll just have to work out the consequences then.

Returning to the car was bittersweet. He took one more proper look at your home, taking in all the positive energy to have such a loving family even if he can only watch from afar. While Yuta revved the car on, Doyoung deeply sighed from the backseat. What a spontaneous evening.

“I’m guessing you didn’t resist seeing your lover either, Doyoung?” Yuta commented, viewing him from the mirror. Raising his brows playfully, “Got caught in the VIP seat of you two lip-locking.”

“First of all, that’s creepy, Yuta. Second, you most definitely know what it feels like to be separated from your lover. Cut me some slack.”

“Whatever, that’s not my business anyway. But good luck to you if Manwol asked why there was a sudden extension.” The older friend shrugged, his foot pressing on the pedal to drive off the area.

“Keyword is if she asks. Now please, drive faster, Yuta. I have a shift to fill in now.”

Last night was a gift, but also an aching reminder of what could’ve been if he never died. The sun is slowly making its appearance again, bringing in another morning in this reality. Another work day for Doyoung, more waiting to be done.

Yet recalling his bonding moments with Areum, he’ll most likely get through another few decades. He yanked out his photo strip from the back pocket of his trousers, gazing at their authentic happiness. He muttered to himself,

“I’ll see you and your mother again, and we’ll all celebrate and rejoice. ‘Til then, my sweetheart.”

Meanwhile, ever since that peculiar “dream” with Doyoung, it left you with a lot of questions. Perhaps, it’s all just in your head. Though it doesn’t quite answer how one of your beloved pictures went missing. That’s definitely something you’re going to ask if your birthday comes up again.

Moving forward, his kind words pushed you to do your best. In the next years, you first became a family lawyer for a few years to get used to the field, but permanently shifted to being a public attorney because you wanted to be able to represent those who are suffering the most yet can’t afford the legal help to avoid it.

Just like what you and Doyoung aspired.

Balancing that with a kid was overwhelming, but with your and Doyoung’s families helping you out, your stress lessened.

You served as a huge inspiration to female college students wanting to pursue law. Since law is still perceived as a male-dominated field, you constantly pushed to make space for women in that workforce. It was also rare of you to lose a case because of the hard work you put into disproving every loophole and suggesting the correct punishments for the wrongdoers.

“You really outdid yourself once again, (Y/N). Or should I say Attorney (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

“Shut up, Doyoung. Tell me more about your hotel staff friends. That Johnny guy seems very fun, and Jeno seems like a lovely boy.”

“Johnny’s a playful lad, always the life of the party. Jeno is like the younger brother I really wish I had. Donghyun-hyung is okay and all, but he’s so high maintenance.”

“Shush! He’s doing fantastic right now. He pursued acting like he always wanted.”

“He deserves it because he’s hard-working, like yourself, Attorney.”

You’ve never fallen in love the same way you did for Doyoung. Though you won’t lie that you’ve slept with a few men during nights out with your co-workers, committing to another man was something you had no time for. You always envisioned Doyoung as the one fucking you senseless.

People viewed it as stupid to be still lovestruck over your dead lover, but you’ve been called worst insults in your life that it doesn’t sting that much anymore. At the end of the day, your heart still soared and longed for Doyoung.

You just can never let him go.

“It’s still unfair to you, Doyoung. I should be ashamed.” The two of you were at a drive-in theater, watching from the trunk of his pickup truck. Your back laid against his chest as his fingers roam your torso in an upwards motion.

“No, you shouldn’t, (Y/N). It’s natural to desire human affection. I’m the one who should be sorry for not giving it to you.”He replied, completely ignoring the film.

You scoffed jokingly. “It’s silly how we’re so deprived of sex, especially with each other.”

“Oh, (Y/N). Don’t get me started, I’m suffering here with my hand alone while you can just find any available man.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You surrendered, directing your head from the front to the back. “At the end of the day, it’s still your touch that still gets me weak.”

“My dear, on the day we reunite, brace yourself. I’ll show you who you really belong to.”

1973

Doyoung’s been on duty with reading books to children lately, and again, he’s aching to see what Areum’s up to. Rereading past letters from her from his birthday celebrations were driving him wild. After helping one young girl look for more books under the Madeline series, he had to make an exception. Just this once, and that would be it.

Even if he was under disguise, he desperately wanted to have just another brief conversation with her, especially that she’s a lot older compared to their last encounter. Doyoung witnessed her bloom from this imaginative young girl to a strong woman chasing after her dreams.

Like mother, like daughter.

He spotted her at a small bookstore to buy books for her classes and newly arrived ones from the States, very much interested in western literature. But upon seeing the peaked prices which were more than what she saved for, she put the book back on the shelf and gathered the ones she actually needed.

This was where Doyoung took it upon himself to offer his help. Staying long enough in the middle of the living and the dead, he was capable to turn visible.

“Stephen King, huh?” He inquired, scooting to her side and pulling out the book again to take a better look at it. He came across this book in his library, even if it was in English. “I see that you’re into horror. These books are in English though.”

Areum knew speaking to strangers is not a good thing, but if anyone reached out to her to talk about books, she can’t help but feel excited. “I’m interested in a lot of genres, and this book is pretty popular right now so I wanted to check it out. Besides, I’m reading more English books so I can become fluent one day.”

“You aren’t scared of the storylines?”

“I went through a life of hardships, sir. Nothing scares me anymore honestly.” Doyoung couldn’t help feel proud and sorry for her. Without questions, he led her to the counter and paid for all books despite her insisting not to.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t have. I can always come back for those books when I save up more.”

“It’s fine, really. With your taste in literature, you have a promising future as an author if that’s what you’re aiming for.” He complimented. Areum was frazzled at how spot on this stranger was, trying to convince him again.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t pay you back?”

“Pay me back by publishing your books.” He confidently stated, bringing out his wallet to pay the cashier. His astonishing kindness and encouragement for her are heartwarming, bowing with gratitude.

“Thank you,” She halted because she didn’t know his name.

There was no way Doyoung can disclose his actual name, so he just picked a random nickname some of the kids in the hotel who he read to coined for him. “I prefer giving people my nickname. It’s tokki.”

“Thank you, tokki. I’m Areum, Kim Areum.” She thanked him properly, struggling from carrying her things to shake his hand, but Doyoung signaled her not to.

“Nice to meet you, Areum.” He greeted back.

As Areum was more ready to part ways, Doyoung’s fatherly instincts activated due to the heavy box she held. Her dorms must be a bit far and it was already nighttime. Anything can happen.

“Excuse me, Areum. But do you mind if I help you with your books? It’s pretty late, so I just want to make you get back safe.”

Something in Areum was very willing to trust this man she just met. Sure, he was quite covered up, but it’s almost winter and maybe he didn’t want to catch a cold. Though, his intentions looked good. She’s heard stories about people getting robbed in these alleys, so she accepted his help.

Her dorms were a few blocks away, giving enough time to be acquainted with this man. Though he was the one mostly asking the questions and she answered them. She didn’t pry on it too much and went with the flow.

“Are you an only child in your family?”

“Yes. It’s also just me and my mom. I never got to meet my dad sadly. He died before I was born while battling in the Korean war.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” No matter how long it’s been since the war, the trauma of it all still haunted Doyoung.

“It’s been years so it’s fine. I found out recently that he risked his life to save his senior officer during a surprise attack from one of my uncles. If that isn’t bravery, I don’t know what is.”

“So you’re not mad at him for leaving?” He asked, hoping he didn’t cross boundaries either. He needed this closure.

“It was hard to accept at first. All my friends grew up with their actual fathers, and I felt outcasted. But there are just some things we can’t control, you know?  Besides, people always spoke of him highly and that makes me proud. Though,” She answered honestly, covering up the bitterness in her words in other not to disrespect him. “I’m pretty sure I saw him in a dream when I was younger.”

Doyoung’s heart leaped. So she may recall quite a bit. “Oh really? What was it like?”

“The only person I told this to is my mom. It felt quite unreal, honestly. I was around 7-8 years old at that time, and we were at a carnival, enjoying the attractions and stuff. Then we transitioned to this huge library where he read me a bunch of stories. One of them was Madeline, I believe. One of my favorites!”

Doyoung replays the fond memory in his mind. Time really flew by so fast.

“What a fun dream, it seems to be.”

Areum was elated at the best memory of her youth, smiling to herself. “It truly was. It felt like I was with him, you know. No matter how many times he told me he loved me there, I still respond the same way and that nothing has changed.”

“I love you too, Areum.” He mumbled quietly. That dream should not have been the only memory they have of each other. Neither of them deserved to be parted.

Soon enough, they arrived at the front doors of her dorm residence. Since it was strictly for women, she explained that she’ll carry the box from here on.

“Thanks again for the help, tokki. I’ll make sure to pay you back soon.” She spoke so casually because, for some reason, this mysterious man felt trustworthy. Her gut feeling may fool her, but she let it pass.

“Take your time, Areum. I wish you the best of luck.”

Before they went separate ways, something about her bitter words from awhile ago bothered Doyoung and he wanted to say something about it. Because looking into the far future, if he didn’t, he knew he’ll regret it and make moving on harder.

“Wait, Areum!”

Areum abruptly reacted to the shouts of her name, almost dropping the box. She faced again the mysterious tokki, who now had an awkward stance with his hand in the air waving at you.

“Yes, tokki?”

Compiling his thoughts, here goes nothing.

“This is quite random but your dad... I just know he loves you too. He’s also proud of you for being strong and intelligent. I hope you don’t forget that.”

Areum was baffled by his statement, but it was uplifting to hear that. Maybe this tokki guy was going through the same thing as her, so she didn’t want to judge too quickly. She was taught to never judge a book by its cover from you. By the quick blinking of her eyes, some tears dropped down to her cheek. She let out some sniffles on her way up to her dorm room, reassured that this stranger may just be correct. She heard what she needed to hear.

It’s been a long time since he reunited with his daughter, even if she’s fooled into thinking that the dream was just a dream. His status as a father was renewed. Even if he got a major scolding from Manwol upon his return at the hotel for ditching his shift.

“She blamed you in public? Oh no, my love.” You consoled your lover after he told you the tale.

A lot of iconic songs were released during this decade, so this dream accommodated it. It was set in a jazz bar, where all sorts of alcohol on display with assorted vinyl CDs by the platform at the end. Dimly lit with numerous empty tables and chairs, and it was only the two of you. Dressed to the nines for the occasion, your flimsy hands couldn’t stop playing with your hoop earrings. A definite staple while you swayed your hips to the beat of Superstition by Stevie Wonder.

Doyoung sat in one of the bar stools in a red v-neck top and flare pants, marveling at your physique and movements in that indigo romper. You could feel his fiery stare, your body flowing through the groove to capture him into your spell. The dream version of him always gets easily distracted when you act suggestive, especially when he isn’t in control physically. Only his words can he sort out.

Dancing towards him, you dragged his arms away from his seated position to lead him to the empty dance floor.

“Let’s dance off the stress, shall we?”

Pulling off the famous dance moves and grooving in freestyle, it was a blast. Both your young energies were in sync. From the funky beat, it shuffled into a slower yet soulful song. The unwinding mood could only mean that this dream was reaching its end. You took Doyoung’s arms again, placing one on your waist and the other interlocked with you. Taking the lead, you waltzed back and forth, twirling yourself in his arms.

Doyoung cracked a smile from the phone and in the dream, immersing himself in the lovely song. It was always played on the radio during the late-night shows, dedicated for the couples out there. With you, he could finally understand why couples request it every night.

“You are the sunshine of my life,” He sang along while feeling your heartbeat against his chest. “That's why I'll always stay around.”

“You are the apple of my eye,” You carried from where he left off, equally resonating with the lyrics. No matter how many times you’ve said or expressed your patience for each other, this song held a special place. It summed up everything you’re both fighting for.

“Forever, you'll stay in my heart.”

1980s

It came to Doyoung’s attention that there’s a new member of the hotel staff, and Manwol put him in charge of touring this new addition around and orienting them about the hotel rules. Considering he wasn’t busy, he went for it.

This person would be the replacement of Johnny, who finally passed through the afterlife in high spirits after his younger brother Mark took his rightful place as the heir of their family business. Originally, it was him, but his stepmother and stepbrother stabbed him alongside his father to get ahold of the power. Without proof, they led the business as she freely did, overworking Mark numerously and spending their money to their heart’s desire.

Doyoung couldn’t let this pass. Since Manwol hired a human manager back in the ‘70s named Kun to better facilitate human-related affairs for the hotel (taxes, bills, etc), he requested him to talk to Mark then introduce him to you.

Kun also made sure to inform you that this was Doyoung’s idea.

“This Johnny is the same Johnny that Doyoung talks about in my dreams? The one who brings the fun out of him every once and while?”

“That’s right, Ms. (Y/L/N). Due to the betrayal, he can’t move on until his stepbrother is taken down.”

The fact that Kun was a bridge to the two of you felt miraculous. Now and then, Doyoung tasked Kun to buy you flowers or coffee whenever they meet. Sometimes, he’ll ask him to send his letters to you too. In return, you replied to those letters, attaching pictures of you and Areum over time. He hung it up in his office, taking a look before every shift.

Kun didn’t mind being in the middle. While Doyoung gave her cases to work on, it makes it easier for him to wait for her. Doyoung was a guest first before being a member of staff, and as the human manager, he’ll make sure that he gets to move on too.

Even if you don’t accept cases from big companies, the touching way how Mark described his passed older brother persuaded her otherwise. He even opened up about watching his father and older brother get killed right in front of him. From there, he was held hostage for years and never told anyone about that night.

It was undoubtedly the biggest case in your career. Up until this day, everyone still talks about how complex and intense the battle was.

“Always finding a way to make justice prevail, Kim Doyoung.” You thought to yourself after gathering more evidence from Mark and Kun, working closely also with forensics and the police.

And that you did. With additional information on Johnny’s side, which helped find the empty puzzle pieces to prove his stepfamily’s guilt, they won the case. Life imprisonment and forced transferring of roles, Mark became the CEO. All those involved in hiding the truth got caught and fired from their positions.

You deserved your influential status, and due to your never-ending service, Doyoung found himself falling in love with you over and over again. Even from far away, you felt his connection and passion.

Currently, you were dealing with five cases, one of them being another request for Kun and Doyoung. It was for the murder of Yuta Nakamoto in the late 40s.

Being a migrant from Japan, numerous Koreans held grudges for their people. He was mistreated and disrespected, even if he had the most caring soul. He even found love, ready to get wed. But one normal evening after his job as a Japanese teacher, he was mobbed by Koreans and heartlessly killed. At first, he wanted vengeance. But after Manwol telling stories of souls burning into ashes when they get revenge, he changed his objective to watch the demise of all his killers, who became very influential people in Korean society.

Representing with you was his former lover, Sooyoung. No matter how many times she tried to appeal to the court in the past, no one paid attention because she was a woman and interracial relationships were taboo. Even if Yuta held a special place in her heart, she eventually got married to another man. In the beginning, she felt guilty, but after Yuta told her in a dream call that she shouldn’t be afraid to open herself up again, she never held back. And as a fellow woman who’s been ostracized, you sided with her.

She may not have her happy ending with Yuta, but it only felt right to avenge his wrongful death.

It’s a tough battle, these murderous men not owning up to their crime, and the public also discriminating the dead man by saying he deserved it. But you knew you could do it, even if it’ll take a while.

Back to the newbie, he was in his early twenties. He went by the name, Jaehyun. Just about to start his life, yet taken away just like that. Aside from being the next bartender, he has another position as the vinyl boy in the music section of the library. It came to Manwol’s attention that he wanted to pursue music when he was alive, listening to vinyl CDs or cassette players and taking singing and piano lessons growing up. While he figured out what he wants to do while moving on, he’d be in charge of organizing and playing music for the souls checked in. Sing even if requested, especially by the women who are charmed by his attractive looks.

He was a literal old soul, jazz being his favorite genre. Most of the time, he played Chet Baker or Frank Sinatra when it’s his shift at the bar. He was known for always showing his best and happy-go-lucky sides to everyone.

It took him a few years to start opening about his life, longer than most souls. But maybe because the trauma of it all stung. One night, when he, Doyoung, and Kun weren’t working, he mixed a few cocktails and completely fell off the radar.

“I was a part of a duo with one of my best friends, Hongseok. It was really fun to perform and make music with him, but then he suddenly got into drugs and had a ton load of groupies. I-I just couldn’t do it anymore with him if he wasn’t going to stop. Once I cut off ties with him, I was signed by a class A producer who loved my compositions. He even got me all sorts of opportunities to perform on TV, and I was so excited for it. But one week until I made my official debut, Hongseok reached out again with apologies, wanting to meet up so we can fix ties. I was hesitant, but I still give him the benefit of the doubt because we go way back….” He confessed, puffing out smoke from his cigarette and putting it down on the ashtray. Before he continued his story, he scoffed with profanities.

“That bitch. I fucking trusted him! I was too good to give him another shot. So after practice, he sent me an address to his apartment or so I thought. We were having drinks, just like old times. But something felt off feel when my mind started feeling hazy and I started coughing continuously because my stomach ached like crazy. He asked me if I was fine, and I told him I was. Then suddenly, baam!” He crashed his hands on the table, shocking the hell out of his two companions.

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun.” Kun cursed under his breath. Doyoung nudged him the shoulder to mind his language.

“The deities are watching you, Kun. Let Jaehyun-ie continue.”

So he did. “There I was, standing beside my dead body while Hongseok rummaged with surgical gloves through my bag to steal my notebook of songs. He planted cocaine on the table where I conversed with him, and also in front of my face. Beside my glass, he laid the vial of poison he used and called the cops. With fake tears, he cried on the phone saying that he came home to my dead body and a suicide note.”

Stillness between the three of them was filled with betrayal and disappointment. For a so-called friend, this must be the worst thing you can do to them. To lessen his suffering, Jaehyun brought back his actively lit cigarette and smoked it until all the tobacco was gone. Exhaling a dark grey smoke, he spat out.

“I-I couldn’t believe it, hyungs. I lost everything after making the wrong decision of seeing him. And now, he signed under that label that found me to “give honor to my talent”. How tragic that I suddenly took my life he’d say, oh bullshit! You took away my life because you were jealous!”

Kun decided to call it a night, requesting Yukhei who’s on duty to take Jaehyun’s upcoming shifts so he could calm down. Escorting his intoxicated figure out so the other guests won’t feel bothered, Doyoung contemplated if he wanted to forward another case to you. You’ve been getting so much workload lately, according to Kun, because your success rate is high and highly in demand.

“What happened to Jaehyun?” Manwol showed up from behind, sitting across him. “Did he finally tell his story?”

Doyoung mildly groaned, devastated by it. “He did, and it breaks my heart. He’s still so young, like me.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Manwol stirred the spare cocktail, ingesting it in one go. “Is it another case worth forwarding to (Y/N)?”

“If it helps Jaehyun move on, possibly. I know it’s hard to find staff these days, Manwol. Also, she’s stacked already. I don’t know if she’ll take it.”

She snickered, patting his shoulder. “You know if it’s from you, it becomes her priority. She loves you that much, you know.”

“I know, but I wish I could help her. In person. I would’ve been a lawyer and taken Jaehyun’s case if I were alive. Murder in the first degree, false reporting to the police, stealing, his persecutor is insane and still walking free.”

The fire of passion in Doyoung wasn’t new to Manwol, nodding as he spoke. He was capable of a lot of things, but the world just wasn’t ready to see it. She was more concerned at how the deities will react when he engages in human affairs again. Even if it helps a lot of ghosts move on, it’s highly discouraged to interfere with the living world. It’ll ruin the entire flow of the world.

Doyoung already knew what he got himself into, but it’s one of the few ways he still feels relevant. Always in service for anyone who needs it, dead or alive. If the deities take him away, it’s no joke that it’ll be a riot in the entire hotel.

“In that case,” Manwol’s piercing eyes scanned right at him, filling up his glass with vodka. Second to Doyoung, she grew a fond liking to Jaehyun. She never knew how much he’s been hiding during his stay. “Forward it no matter what. End his murderer’s career at all costs.”

Doyoung smirked, lifting his glass high to clink with hers then chugging it one go.

“I’ll investigate first with Kun to know more about Jaehyun’s life, then we’ll look for someone who wants to testify for Jaehyun to meet with (Y/N).”

Amid the craze and problems in the hotel, at least Doyoung was at ease with how successful his family. Areum became a well-known author for fairytales, got married, and had 3 kids of her own. She most definitely didn’t live down to Doyoung’s promise.

“Is he a nice guy?” Doyoung inspected the man who married his only daughter. It felt like yesterday they played around in the carnival room.

“He is, Doyoung. Intelligent and caring, nothing to worry about.” You calmed his shaking leg, resting your head on his shoulder while you watch the fireflies from the campfire set prepared by the deities.

“I’m just looking out for her, you know.”

“She most definitely does know, even telling stories about us to her kids. Our grandchildren.”

“It’s hard to believe that we’re technically old when we’re always young in these dreams.”

“Maybe it’s just you being used to your youth. Meanwhile, aging is beating my ass every day.” You joked, covering yourself up in the blanket you shared. Doyoung’s bottom lip jutted out, huffing at your mean comments.

“Yah, you take that back.”

“Make me.” You fired back, riling him up.

Doyoung in the dream attacked you by tickling your sides mercilessly. Your body uncontrollably arched back and forth, falling back to the blanket you sat at. He took the advantage to pin you down, gripping on your arms to the side. With his face near yours, you closed the gap with a cheeky kiss. His touch softened, allowing you to pull him lower by his collar. Your lips molded together in every movement, feeling his tongue lick your lower lip for entrance. You freely gave in, moaning filthily.

“Didn’t even have to test me like that, my love.”

How you wished this was longer, if it weren’t for the fast fading out, and morning has arrived again. A short-lived euphoria, yet it left your panties drenched under the covers. The arousal still ran in your veins.

“Kim Doyoung, you tease.”

Back to your real life, aside from bravely taking on controversial cases, there was a thrill in every case you did and it showed by your fast-paced talking and hand gestures. Whether you won or lost, mostly the former, knowing that you helped someone made your life more meaningful.

He often forgot how you’re a grandmother during your dream calls already as time flows differently within the living and the dead. They were the only way you can be youthful and energetic. But with your actual body, it began to weaken.

Early 1990s

Nature decided to take heavier measures on you physically. On one of the monthly visits to the doctor, she noticed something off with the checkup and tests. Especially in the chest area.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), I’m afraid that you have a growing lump in your breast.”

“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”

“If breast cancer is one of those though, then unfortunately yes.”

Areum was by your side that day, tearing up at her announcement. You, on the other hand, remained still and nodding at the truth. You’ve fought for a lot of things in your life, and you were so determined to beat this one.

Chemotherapy, medications, and scans are tiring and draining, but you managed to live for 2 more years. You’ve fully retired, and now and then, mentor the juniors with their cases. You’ve traveled to as many places as you can before the stages of cancer rose.

In your last months of life, you were bedridden in the most expensive hospital in Seoul, getting visits from Areum with her family, Jungwoo and Taeyong. As the latter served as definite friends to Doyoung, it was only natural to befriend them when they came into your life post-war. They supported Areum in any way they can too.  They’ve become a great company in your boring life especially in the hospital. Nowadays, Jungwoo loved sharing stories about his hyper grandchildren, who share similar traits to him, while Taeyong excitedly talked about his recent investment with a promising music company with the dream to debut talented individuals and go international in the long run.

“Mr. Lee Soo Man is dedicated to it! He hopes that next year, all his plans can start and be executed.”

“You’re always investing in start-ups, you know? You think this one will be bigger than the rest?”

“Music is universal, you know. Language barriers may be there, but music brings us together.”

Taeyong was always a delight to catch up with. However, you didn’t expect that conversation would be your last with him. A few days later, he suffered a sudden heart attack and passed. This was a sign that your time was coming. Your body falling more and more feeble every day as the disease fully took you over at night, the monitors always going on a high every so often.

It’s only a matter of time before you leave this life, and looking back, you’ve lived a tough yet productive life. Your daughter was happy and thriving in her career and family. You helped families and couples from their abusive households. You defended those with loved ones who were murdered, robbed, and lied to. You ticked off all you wanted to do beforehand.

Areum made sure to visit that night specifically as soon as she could. With your recent test results have been failing, her gut feeling kept insisting.

It’s a good thing she did.

Meanwhile, it was another day of work for Doyoung, just returning a bunch of books in their respective shelves after some teenagers left on the table. Before that, he bid Taeyong goodbye in the tunnel. It’s always nice to see a familiar face, so he couldn’t miss out on it. He shared any life stories he had with you, updating him about your state. Doyoung knew about it beforehand, and as selfish enough to look forward to it, it pained him to know you’re suffering. He only hoped you could fight through it.

“Doyoung-hyung!” Someone suddenly shouted, but he was shushed by an old lady reading her romance novel, who pointed at the sign that read “Keep quiet in the library”.

Doyoung was also annoyed, instantly nagging on the point person. “Kun! Can you read the sign? Jeez, this isn’t the first time so please-”

“(Y/N) is going off the monitor.” He blurted out. The news from one of the nurses he befriended buzzed through his phone. After finding out about his story, he wanted to help Doyoung especially when he was still alive. Doyoung may a part of the staff, but he’s still a guest. He dropped everything in his hands. Before he could race to the hospital, he changed into a specific outfit for this occasion.

This was it.

Areum was the only one by your side of your hospital bed, weeping due to your weak state. You didn’t want your other family members to witness this crucial moment. It stung that you’ll miss out on the futures of your grandchildren, but you were satisfied to just be a part of their lives. All this machinery trying to sustain your life served its purpose, but the illness you’re fighting was stronger.

“Mom....” Areum sniffled in her handkerchief, holding on to your boney hand. “I’m not ready for you to go.”

“Oh, Areum.” Your thumb caressed her soft palm as reassurance. “You grew up so well. An independent woman you are, you are so loved.”

“Mom, please....” She begged. “I can’t lose you too.”

You will never know how Areum held in her sorrow of not being able to grow up with her father. She hated the feeling of being fully abandoned. She wanted things and people to return to her, but she can’t make that choice. Being by her side all her life, losing you will be the hardest struggle she’ll have to face.

“Areum, you must understand...” You paused as a pang of pain in your chest stabs you. After a minute of enduring it, you continued. “...We are put on this world for a specific time. And if we’re called to leave, we must face it.”

She whimpered whilst holding on to your hand. She really thought you can get through this one like the rest, but your hair has gone, your body lost much weight, and your eyes lost their light.

“Mom, are you happy? You’ve fought through so much to get where you are. I can never do what you did.”

“Y-Yes, I am.” You stuttered, gracing a promising smile. “I had you, our families, and your father watching over me..”

The dreams you get on your birthday were fairytale-like stories that pushed Areum to become an author. She denied how unrealistic and supernatural they were at first. Another trait of Doyoung she got. However, when she noticed how wider your smiles are and energetic you get in the mornings after rather the feeling of distraught, she reckoned to believe they were something special. Despite knowing your love story and its downfall, she felt exhilarated at the things you and her dad did there. In a way, it brings him closer to her. But she still had that void.

“I envy you for that, mom. I wish I met him or at least came to me even if I least expected it!”

Oh, little did she know about that time in the bookstore back in the 70s. It was not coincidental; you and Doyoung planned it very well. You just played along to her complaint, alerted that this wasn’t your story to tell at this time. “Forgive your father just this once, okay? He never wanted this kind of fate for any of us. If one thing stayed constant in those dreams, it’s him always asking how you are doing.”

Her tears become uncontrollable, allowing herself to get puffy eyes and let it all out. “When you see him, please tell him I’m sorry and that I love him no matter.” “Oh, Areum. He knows that, so don’t worry about it.”

The clock was ticking for Areum before she’ll be asked to leave. With you bringing up her father again, she had one last question. Her courage to ask it was so little when she was young in fear you sulk and break down. It hurt her when the bad parts of your past tormented you.

“How much do you miss him?” The question put you in a point of self-reflection. The only person you’ve opened up to talk about him in detail was Areum. Even with your friendships with Taeyong and Jungwoo, there were some things you never disclosed with them. And never did they force you to answer because they can read you on the back of their heads: you’re still heartbroken, yet remained devoted to him.

“I miss him so much that even if this became my fate for accepting his notebook back in our university days, I would foolishly do it all over again. In those times he was no longer with us, it taught me to appreciate what and who we have in our lives because tomorrow is never guaranteed. From his impact, I learned to take care of myself again so I can take better care of you. I’m grateful you were born; he left a piece of him for me.”

“You’ve suffered so much, mom. I hope you can rest peacefully.”

“Thank you for never leaving my side, Areum.” A few tears escaped your eyes, infectious to your daughter’s gloom. “I love you.”

Meanwhile, Doyoung was right outside viewing you and Areum sharing your last conversation and goodbyes. As much as he looked forward to reuniting with you, he didn’t want to leave his only daughter alone. The deities should have shown her more mercy. Still invisible, he observed how Areum trembled when she heavily closed the door of your hospital room. Covering her sobs with her handkerchief, she took one last look through the small glass of the door. You dove into a deep sleep that would then be unawakened.

“I hope your next life is happier than this, mom, and you can cross paths again with dad and grow old with him too.”

Doyoung’s urge to show himself to his daughter to console her was overpowering him, but he restrained himself this time. A few hours later, your consciousness was faltering. Your five senses were losing touch one by one. Important memories of your long life played in your mind. Then your heart gave in and stopped beating. The doctors present there have pronounced you dead. The transition from your body to your soul watching it be covered by a blanket by the nurses was swift yet strange. You didn’t know where to go and what’s next. No book prepared you for this nor can you ask the doctors what to do. Standing there lost with so many questions, it only took someone’s enthusiastic calling for your name to soothe you down.

“(Y/N)!”

It hit you instantaneously that when your day comes, Doyoung would call for your name. Your old age and past illness really affected your memories. He was an honest man and kept to his word this time.

And there he was, just along the hallway.

This was no longer a dream.

This novel kind of exhilaration got you moving your feet, still sore and slow because you were still an old lady.

“Doyoung!”

You shouted back, over and over again before your boney hands slid open the door. At the same time, your old figure drastically and permanently transformed you back to your active twenties. Nothing physically hurt anymore and your energy was on an all-time high. Your room was the last on the floor, a dead end. The left side of the hallway was just a closed window pane.

When you stepped outside and turned to your right, there he properly stood. He wore the same suit and suspenders combination on the day he approached you on your bike. The actual soul of Kim Doyoung who was no longer behind the phone. No matter how many times he’s seen you from afar, it makes him lose his breath from the captivation. For once, he can see you without barriers.

You just realized how you were dressed back into the floral dress on the day you had your first proper conversation. It’s like you’re meeting each other again for the first time. The beeping sounds of the monitors, wheelchairs moving, and chitter-chatter exchanged by doctors went mute. Stunned, you couldn’t stop looking eye to eye at him, cherishing this special moment.

It finally processed to Doyoung that his patience and efforts paid off. In this journey of acceptance, while enduring its trials, it added up to this sweet result to be reunited with you. The adrenaline rush took control of your limbs, legs running to him on the other side.

As his arms widened for a hug, he spun and picked you around in the air. His arms firmly wrap around your waist while your head snuggled on top of his shoulder. You felt safe, warm, and alleviated. Once he put you back down, the overwhelming joy wasn’t keen to pull away from your lover. Doyoung’s lips somehow got closer to yours, your heart skipping beats and his familiar scent intoxicating your thoughts.

With Doyoung still having you wrapped in his arms, he took his awaited chance to close into your parted lips. The fluttering in your stomach was on overdrive, your entire body reacting immediately from his passion. One hand curled into a fist on the hem of his buttoned top while the other rubbed the back of his head. Your legs almost gave in, but with Doyoung’s strength, he held you tight. No previous kiss felt like this. You didn’t have to worry about getting caught by adults for such a provocative display of affection. Your roommate wasn’t going to splash water if she catches you getting frisky on campus. As for Doyoung, he didn’t have to get paranoid about what his classmates would say about their relationship. You were both in your own world for a while.

But wanting to catch a breather from his thrilling dominance, your lips hesitantly moved away first. You took your time to get lost in admiring his features. Wet, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his dazed eyes, he was irresistible, to say the least.

This was how an almost 50-year build-up would end up to.

“My love, it’s really you,” You finally spoke, caressing your thumb on his flushed cheek. “You’ve been through so much.”

As lovestruck as he is, his pent-up tears streamed down instantly. Except they were tears of joy. All those years he held back.

“I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N). I’m just happy you’re finally here with me.”

He wasn’t joking when he said that the main lobby alone was exquisite after walking through the city. Aside from Kun, that’s where he introduced you to other staff he worked with, such as Jeno, Jaehyun, and the boss herself, Manwol.

“This boy stayed very loyal, you know?” She commended Doyoung. It was a rare thing with her cold-hearted and aggressive personality. “He read to a lot of kids, taught some of them too, and recommended great books for the souls to read. He listened to a lot of souls who wanted justice then forwarded them to you so they can cross the other side.”

An honor to hear from the owner herself, you glanced at Doyoung with so much love. Such a giver than a receiver.

Beside Manwol was someone whom you aspired to meet. Unfortunately, you never met the other boys you’ve helped, so this was a great chance to see at least one before moving on. Hearing about his case and the treachery of it, you made sure to work on it before you retired, eventually passing it on to one of your trusted juniors. So far, his side was winning and that’s all you wanted.

“Jeong Jaehyun.” You held on to his clasped hands as he bowed to you.

“Attorney (Y/L/N). I’m so grateful for what you’re doing for me.”

“Oh, just call me (Y/N). By the way, your side is winning, my dear. Your younger brother Sungchan is committed to clearing up your name, and that evil Hongseok will rot in life imprisonment for his crimes.” You updated him. Without self-restraint, his arms gather you in for a hug. Jaehyun wasn’t much for affection, but this felt like the right circumstance. In return, you hugged him back.

“Thanks to you, Johnny and Yuta are resting in peace.”

“And you are next, Jaehyun. My junior taking your case is topnotch, so you’re bound to get what you truthfully deserve.”

After sharing such a heartfelt moment, you asserted your attention to Jeno. Not going to lie, you’ve looked forward to meeting this boy the most. He was there with Doyoung from the very beginning.

“Doyoung-hyung gets giddy after he makes a call, and tells me everything that you’ve been up to.” Jeno joined in. “He gets grumpy though too, so I like pestering him around to light him up. Oh, I’ll never know what you see in him, (Y/N).”

That gave him a joking slap on the shoulder by Doyoung, signaling to cut it out.  

“Hyung!” He fakely cried, hiding his face behind Jaehyun’s shoulder.

You suppressed a laugh, eventually sputtering out like an engine. Doyoung sighed, failing to redeem himself. But it’s alright. A simple peck from you on his cheek got him all flustered.

“Aish, take your romantic shenanigans when you’re in your room, not in my damn lobby.” Manwol cringed, the evident love bug getting on her nerves. “Alright, everyone. Get back to work!”

Checking in your room was an experience. Since you’ve been to numerous places through the dream calls, there was one main thing you’ve missed to do with Doyoung. As soon as he lifted you by your thighs and roughly shoved his tongue down your throat, you were in for a heated evening. This dominant side of Doyoung when it came to sex was completely fresh. After diving into more erotica over time, he learned about visual porn through Johnny and Jeno. You can say that he studied it very well.

“Almost 40 years of waiting, (Y/N).” He trapped you from above, sliding one of his hands to your bare breasts until it landed on your clothed core. Rubbing up and down your clit in a torturously slow place, he smirked at your desperate whines. Your breaths turned heavy, soaked by his actions. “Remember when I told you to brace yourself back then?”

“Shit, Doyoung...”

“Shush love, I’m in control now. So be a good girl for me, alright?” He growled in your ear, sucking on your soft spot on your neck. You obeyed that night, unbuttoning his shirt impatiently only to reveal his toned abdomen then lowering his crotch to give it a tight squeeze.

He hissed against your neck, pushing your panties to the side and sliding in your wetness.

“You are asking for it now, love.”

A steamy night it was, making up for all those lost years.

The following day, the struggle to walk was real. Jeno even pointed out your limping when you were roaming around the library Doyoung worked at. You never had a younger sibling, but he acted like one. So you punched him in the shoulder to shut up. “Jeez, you’re both so physical. Let me live!”

“Jeno, you’re dead. Don’t say nonsensical things.”

You learned how this hotel’s main purpose was to guide and fulfill the last wishes of ghosts in the living world before moving on. When Jeno asked you if you still have unfinished business, you realized that there is one thing left. Even if you completed your bucket list, that one thing is only possible through the hotel. You and Doyoung sat across Manwol, monitoring your shared dream call like she always did.

“Is this really the only thing you want to do here, (Y/N)?” Positively nodding, she gave you the signal to lift up the phone.

Areum found herself in an unfamiliar forest nearby a river during the day. Even she’s always like playing outside with nature in her childhood years, this location didn’t ring a bell. In fact, she was physically back to being that young girl with the same mature mind in this dream.

She wasn’t a vivid dreamer like yourself, forgetting them as so as she woke up. Even in that “dream” with her father, there were so many gaps. So for this one time, she can fully grasp her surroundings. This dream must have a purpose, she wondered.

While she followed the path that the dream assumed for her to take, she then clearly caught a glimpse of a younger you at the end of that path. Running around and laughing in the grass.

“Mom!” She called out, moving at a faster pace. It’s a good thing this dream brought her back her agility.

At the end of the path, it unveiled you lying down on the grass. Wearing in a dainty dress that reminded her of the 50s, there was an unfamiliar young man beside you. His head face planted on the grass because you pushed him off your body when he tried to tickle you.

It turned out that she arrived at your favorite spot with Doyoung. She’s only heard stories of things you’ve done and talked about her, but due to the war, their spot was devastated. Soon after, it turned into a small condominium building overlooking the river.

“Areum!” You squealed cheerfully to hear her much younger voice. She tackled you in a hug, and you still naturally felt it from where you sat.

“My sweet child,” You cooed in her, patting her back. “How are you?”

“It’s been difficult, but I’ll get by in time.” That was the first thing she managed to say, the grief being very much fresh. No mother wants to be separated from her child, and you weren’t exempted. But that is how life works: you come then you go. The truth tends to hurt.

It was obvious to Doyoung that you were still saddened by leaving Areum, taking this opportunity to give you space and finally interact with his daughter. No disguises nor distance. While the most important women in his life are still hugging in the dream, he pulls himself off from the grass and brushes away some leaves from his hair.

“Areum, I see you paid me back by having top-selling books for children.”

Areum peeked from your shoulder to check who the other man was by your side talking to her. Once he was clean from dirt and leaves, there was the only person he resonated with her. From pictures and stories shared by you, the actual man was with her.

Her actual father was in this dream with her.

“Dad!” She abruptly pulled away from you to approach her father for a bigger hug. You don’t blame her for that, she deserved to see her father even for a bit.

Years of having that empty void only for her biological father, she could care less at this very moment

Doyoung has never cried in a dream call with you, however, this long-awaited moment with his daughter resulted in him softly bawling while feeling her hugs from the chair. He’s proud and at peace to move on not just as your lover or a passionate university student, but as a father.

In their moment of content, only there did it make complete sense to Areum at the unusual memory during the ‘70s at the bookstore wasn’t random. It proved that he really did his best to reach out to her in any way he could.

“This whole time, you were the mysterious tokki. I just thought it was a coincidence. I’m so sorry, dad, that I didn’t notice you.” She sulks. Doyoung in the dream pats her back while lovingly rubbing the nape of her head.

“Oh, Areum. Don’t feel bad. I just wanted to see how much my little girl became independent and studious.” He replies, comforting the disheartened child. “I read all the letters you sent me during my birthday. I was touched then and touched now for this moment. I am proud of you, my daughter. And my love for you never changed.”

The affirmation in his words put Areum in a state of joy, rekindling that spark from the 70s. “I love you, dad.”

Your last mission in this world was to have a special outing with your complete family. Regret was always prevalent in the past, wanting to do this and that but never pushed through. But not in this dream. Just the three of you, happy and carefree from it all.

Unfortunately, Manwol just gave a hand signal that your time was almost up. Time flies by so quickly when you’re fully immersed in something you’re enjoying. Doyoung wasn’t capable to bear the bad news, but with you by his side, you helped him.

“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”

Areum sighed, reality seeping back into the situation. One sleep isn’t enough to make up years of loss. However, she still managed to remain positive in those circumstances. “I wish things worked out differently for our family, but who knows what our next lives will take us?”

In an instant, the two of you in the dream gave your daughter a big group hug. One she’s always yearned for. It’s moments like this where you mustn’t take anything for granted with your family.

“I’m happy you’re reunited with each other, mom and dad. Rest well.” She whispers with a smile, feeling fulfilled. She can grace the living world without wondering how things would be like with a complete set of parents anymore. This dream call successfully filled that empty void in her heart.

Once you’ve bid your final farewell and hung up the phone, you and Doyoung can say the same. A little bittersweet, but it lightened all the burdens in your hearts. The both of you can ultimately rest peacefully and move on.

The timing was perfect for Kun to inform you that the car taking you to the bridge leading to the afterlife was ready.

Jeno, Manwol, Kun, and Jaehyun didn’t want to miss out on this moment, waving farewells to you both. This lifetime may have taken you away from each other physically for a long time, but you still held on to each other. Most people gave up, though it’s not wrong either. It’s better to let go rather than holding on sometimes.

But the both of you were different, something, not even the deities didn’t expect. It’s only up to them to decide if they’ll give you another chance to be together and relive a longer life. A very rare sight indeed. To be granted or not, your story set a standard.

That a love so strong is so patient it endured all the challenges and stress.

“On to the next life, Doyoung?” You asked him, leaning against his shoulder as the car drove under the tunnel. All at the end of it was merely a white sky, where a long bridge awaited them.

“Make sure you wait for me this time.” 

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love Is Not Over (1)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids, 

Warnings: Don’t know if this counts but mentions of accidental pregnancies and shitty men. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next

“Congratulations! It’s a boy.” 

“I-Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s very healthy. Do you have a name in mind?”

“Yunho.”

“A very nice name.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful.”

“That he is. I apologize for asking, but you haven’t listed the father on his birth certificate yet.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“You’re aware what that means, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, Ms. L/n, I’ll leave you be now. Press the button if you need assistance. A midwife will be coming to see you shortly.”

      “Eomma, wake up!” A giggly voice called. The bed was bouncing up and down, pulling me out of my slumber. I couldn’t help but laugh along. “All right, Yunnie, I’m up.” Yunho chuckled and lent down to give me my morning hug. “Good morning, Eomma.” He sighed, his fluffy blonde tail wagging in content. “Good morning, lovely. Did you sleep well?” I wrapped my arms around him, bringing him in for a snuggle. “Yes! I had a dream about giant squirrels!” He exclaimed. I let out an exaggerated gasp, “You did?! That’s awesome.” 

      Yunho wiggled out of my grasp and bounded towards my bedroom door. “Come on, Eomma! I’m hungry.” I chuckled and got out of bed. “Alright, waffles or toast?” I asked while I grabbed my sweatshirt, pulling it on. “Waffles!” Yunho answered, racing downstairs to the living room. I smiled to myself, I couldn’t help the warmth in my heart every time I saw my son. 

     Yunho had short hair that matched mine in color. He also had my eyes. I could see little pieces of myself in his face and it always made me smile. I didn’t pay attention to the features he and his father shared, even if they weren’t many. The most prominent feature they shared being his ears and tail, but somehow, Yunho made them uniquely his. 

      He never like getting his fur cut, would always sulk about it afterwards, he likes to keep the fur on his tail long so either him or I could braid it. He thought braids were so pretty, so he would ask me to braid all of his hair, and eventually, he learned himself. His fur on his ears was less long because of my insistence that having heavy ears would impair his ability to lift them. He could lift his left ear, but not the right one. He’s been working on that. 

      So, even if he was his father's child, he was still just Yunho to me. That man didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Yunho has his button nose or freckles. It didn’t matter because Yunho was Yunho, and Yunho was the light of my life. He would run around the house non stop, bring me little rocks he found in the yard, draw pictures that had a special place on the fridge. Yunho was sunshine incarnate, and I couldn’t ask for a better son. 

      Downstairs, Yunho was sitting in front of the T.V, watching his favorite cartoon. It was about this hybrid boy and his best friend, who was human. Yunho said it was like him and I, that we were like the characters on screen, going on adventures every day. The sight made me smile yet again, and I went to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.  

     I could see Yunho from the kitchen since it was an open plan. Which wasn’t surprising because we lived in a small house. 2 bedrooms, 1 and 1/2 baths. It had a very large backyard that merged into woods. The area is pleasant, a little secluded, but that just gave Yunho more room to explore. The house got a lot of natural light with the large windows, and the air was always refreshing. 

      When I first saw the house, it was like a blessing. It was a little run down, but nothing I couldn’t handle, and it was cheap. A house being cheap should be a red flag, and it was, but it was worth it. The worst problem the house had was the hot water that ran out pretty quickly. In no way was it a luxurious mansion, but it was home, and that was all that mattered. 

     “Yunho! Come get your breakfast!” I called, placing his bright blue plate on the small dining room table we had. I heard his feet patter on the hardwood as he ran to the dining room. “Woah! Slow down, bub.” I chuckled. Yunho gave me a shy smile and sat down, immediately digging into his breakfast. “Is it good?” I teased, wiping away some stray syrup that threatened to end up in his hair. Yunho nodded enthusiastically, giving me a thumbs up. 

      We ate together with comfortable banter. Yunho was telling me about the latest episode of his cartoon, and I was more than happy to listen. The way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about something he loved was enough to make the toughest of men smile. “Eomma, can Hajun come over today?” Yunho asked in a hopeful tone. I thought about it for a bit, “I’ll call Aunt Hyejin and see if he can, okay?” Yunho brightened up and gave a little “okay!” In response.

     After we were done eating, Yunho put his plate in the sink and went back to watching T.V. I washed up the dishes and dialed Hyejin’s number. “Hey babe!” She answered in her usual cheery voice. I chuckled, “Hey sis.” 

      In reality, Hyejin wasn’t my sis or babe, but we were close like that. Hyejin was a Siamese cat hybrid that I met back in college. We were roommates, and we just clicked immediately. We were there with each other through everything. Shitty professors, family issues, breakups, shit men that make your life a living hell. She had her son, Hajun, a bit before I had Yunho, and helped me whenever I needed. 

      She and her husband, Yoongi, a Persian cat hybrid, were there with me through it all. They were the family I never had. Yoongi was like an overprotective older brother, and Hyejin was no different. They even helped me find Yunho and I’s home. We normally went on family trips to amusement parks or aquariums which the boys never seemed to get bored with. We were all one big happy family. 

     Yoongi and Hyejin were like polar opposites. Yoongi was chill while Hyejin was a bundle of never ending energy. Yoongi was quiet Hyejin loved to talk. Yoongi was an introvert, and Hyejin constantly dragged him out to parties that Namjoon, one of our mutual friends, had mentioned to her. It was funny to witness. Especially when Yoongi begged me to go in his stead, which worked 50% of the time.

      “So, what d’ya need? I’m all ears.” She snickered, and I could practically see her gray ears twitch. “Haha, hilarious. Yunnie wants to know if you guys can come over.” I answered. “Yeah, sure! We’re not doing anything today and I’ve been dying to talk to you about something.” She gushed. “Ooo, exciting.” I chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, babes. Love you!” I said I loved her back and hung up the phone. 

     Soon, Hyejin and Hajun arrived and the boys immediately began playing together. “Hey! So nice to see you!” Hyejin smiled, giving me a hug. “You too!” I was equally just as happy to see Hyejin since she and Yoongi had been a bit busy lately. We walked over to the living room where the boys were playing on the floor with their toys. Hyejin and I sat on the sofa and she immediately began talking. 

      “Okay! So, I’ve been dying to talk to you about this,” She started, already bouncing in her seat. “I can see that.” I teased, poking at her shoulder. “You know the job I was looking into? The daycare one?” She asked, and I nodded. “Well~ I got the job!” She exclaimed. My jaw dropped, a smile made its way onto my face. “No way! Congratulations!” I got up and squeezed her in a bone breaking hug, which she reciprocated. 

     “I know! I’m so excited!” Her tail was flicking behind her. “So, when do you start?” I asked, moving back into my seat. “Next week! I’m going to be the second teacher, helping someone named Mr. Jung.” She explained, and she went on to tell me how she got the job and how Hajun had asked if he could go, only to pout when Hyejin told him that he was too old. “I’m happy for you, Hyejin.” I smiled, excited that she was pursuing her dream of working with kids. 

      Hyejin, like me, got pregnant young and unexpectedly. But she was super thrilled. She didn’t care if she was only 20, she always wanted a child. She wasn’t married at that time, but Yoongi stepped up pretty quickly to raise Hajun with Hyejin. Yoongi was a cool dad, pretty laid back. Usually snuck the kids out to go get ice cream or pizza. Not that Hyejin or I minded, he treated both boys with the utmost care. He treated Yunho like his own son. 

      “So, have you met this Mr. Jung?” I wondered. “Not yet, but I had a phone call with him. Guess what? He’s our age.” She whispered, like what she was saying was some big secret. “Hyejin, we’re both 26, it’s not like a young teacher is unheard of.” I pointed out. “I know! But... What if he’s cute~?” She raised her eyebrows in a teasing manner, leaning closer to me. “I could be cupid.” She winked and I rolled my eyes. 

      “No thanks, Hyejin. I appreciate it, but love for me ended a long time ago.” I sighed and Hyejin huffed, dramatically slouching in her seat. “Y/n, just because... he... broke your heart doesn’t mean you should give up entirely.” She pointed out, looking at me with eyes full of undecipherable emotions. “Any man I date would have to be okay with being a father-like figure to Yunho. I’m 26 Hyejin, no guy my age wants kids yet.” I monotoned. 

      I had come to terms with the fact that most men didn’t want to date someone who already had a child. Not saying that it didn’t dishearten me a bit, but it was a revelation I made early on. If someone wanted me, they were going to want Yunho too. It either both of us, or neither of us. 

Yunho was my light, and he deserved a father that could be the things I couldn’t.

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 5

Kids

Read on ao3

-

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. She’s going to Morocco.”

There was something in Steve’s throat, making his voice waver and sound reverent at the same time. 

“She’s going to Morocco.” Billy pressed his hand down Steve’s back, dragging his fingertips along his skin, surprisingly smooth and soft. 

Steve had his head on Billy’s chest, their bodies stuck together uncomfortably with sweat, but neither of them could be assed to move. 

They were wrapping up their little movie night, Almost Famous playing to a close on Steve’s laptop, perched on the kitchenette counter, just where they could see it from the bed. 

“Okay, that was really good.”

“I fucking told you. My mom showed me that movie when I was, like, eight. Shit changed me fundamentally.”

Steve shifted his leg a little bit but stayed silent. Billy could feel his muscles tensing uncomfortably.

“What?”

“What what?”

“I can tell you’re tense.”

“I just,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your mom before.”

“Yeah. Don’t really like talking ‘bout her.”

“Did she, you know ?”

Yeah. Billy did know. 

“Nah, she didn’t die. She left. Not long after that movie night.”

Steve’s head popped up from where it was rested on Billy, giving him those big fuckin’ eyes looking sappy and sad as all hell. 

“I’m sorry.”

Billy didn’t know what to say to that. 

He doesn’t tell people about his mom. About her lovely life that she’s built without him in it. 

It breaks his heart just to think about. 

“She’s got kids now. A husband.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just. Sorry.”

“I don’t know what I want to hear. But yeah. T’sucks.”

“You wanna know something that makes me sad? So we’re even?”

Billy huffed a laugh through his nose, bringing his hand up to tuck some of Steve’s messy hair behind his ear.

“Only if you wanna tell me.”

“Remember how I said I was supposedta get my high school diploma soon? Well, by soon I mean, like, maybe within the next few years.” Steve wasn’t meeting Billy’s eyes, and he put his head back down on his solid chest, his shoulders tensing up around his ears. “I never went to school. Not even when I was little. I’ve had the same tutor on the road since I was a kid, and he’s good. Tries his best. I just. I’m- not good . I’m not smart. You need to pass this test to get your high school GED if you’ve taken an ‘ alternative route ’. Like I have. But I can’t take it until I know the shit that’s on it, and my tutor, Scott, he’s too nice. Says I’m okay. That I’m on track. But I saw the program he teaches from. Says it’s for ninth and tenth graders. I’m nearly nineteen, and I’m in fucking ninth grade .”

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck . 

Billy’s 98.6% sure Steve is fighting back serious tears right now. 

It was crushing Billy’s soul and making him feel like he was gonna join right on in.

But for how much Billy is a goddamn little crybaby, he sure is useless when other people start crying.

“It’s, Steve- that’s not your fault. You’ve literally never gone to school. Plus, like, I’m sure you don’t do your tutoring like I did school. Five days a week for like seven hours since I was five or something. You’ve been. Busy. You travel around and do all these amazing things, and, and, you're not dumb. Your parents just chose to not put you in school and then got mad when that didn’t work out as planned. It’s got nothin’ to do with your brain.”

This is gonna sound shitty. 

And Billy really doesn’t mean it like that. 

It’s just, well. Billy didn’t realize Steve was so. Fucked up. 

Traumatized. Might be a less harsh word for it. 

Billy just never woulda thought, when he first watched Steve ride like a fucking expert, or when he first noticed him strutting around the grounds of the rodeo, that there was actually something really sad behind that denim and flannel. 

It made something in Billy’s gut twist and turn. 

Because he’s the exact same way. 

Because underneath the layer of carefully maintained hot muscle-head douchebag jock, there’s a really sensitive boy who was abandoned by his mother and gets regular hits from his father. 

He can’t really decide if being able to see through Steve is a good thing or a bad thing, though. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like a fucking baby over it. I never really talk about it, so I guess the bad shit just kinda all decided to explode out all over you.”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. S’okay. I’m used to bad shit.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I meant it more in a bummer way, I guess.”

“I am sorry about your mom. It seems like you really loved her.”

Little bastard had brought it back around to Billy’s shitty baggage now. 

The gorgeous little dickhead.

“I do.”

And that’s probably the worst thing about it. 

All these years of feeling abandoned and forgotten. Of trying to make himself hate her, he still loves her so much. 

He is her. 

So much of himself modelled around the aspects of her he found most beautiful. 

The things, try as he might, he can’t help but love.

Billy felt Steve take a large deep breath on top of him. 

“Do you, like, talk to her much?”

“Nah. Should be getting a FaceBook message for my birthday next week. And then nothing ‘til Christmas. That’s how it goes with her.” She was literally the only reason Billy still kept his FaceBook account around. 

Mostly because when he was feeling sorry for himself he’d go over to her profile and peruse the album labelled “Family ❤️” until he felt worse. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizin’. Not your fault she couldn’t handle it all.”

“Was she really young, or something?”

“Yeah. It was a case of too young and her own shitty father giving her enough issues to make her wanna marry the first asshole that told her she was pretty.” He’s never said all of this out loud. 

But he couldn’t. Stop. Talking. 

“Then when he turned out to be a bigger dick than she imagined, she split. Basically fell off the Earth for a few years. Served my dad divorce papers out of the blue one day. Now, she’s got a family that doesn’t suck, and barely spares any thought for the kid she left down south. Not that I blame her.”

He does, and he doesn’t. 

It’s an odd situation. 

He blames Neil for everything, when he’s thinking clearly. 

He pushed his mother away with the same violence, the same painful rage he shows Billy. 

But he also blames her. 

She could’ve taken him before she scrammed. Could’ve fought for custody over him while she and his father met for Skype calls with their lawyers to settle the divorce.

Their split was easy, because she didn’t want anything. 

Not their house, not their belongings.

Not their son. 

“Wow. I thought my family was fucked up. Not to be rude, or anything.” Steve flushed, but he had the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Every family is fucked up. Just in different ways.” 

“I guess you’re right. I should probably get my head outta my ass and quit bein’ so selfish, then.”

Billy smiled fondly at Steve.

“You’re not selfish. Just don’t got a lot of outlets, I assume.”

Steve nodded, and Billy understood. 

He doesn’t either. 

The only person he even considers close enough to vent to, is Max. And even then, he doesn’t tell her all of it. Not nearly any of it. 

She knows he’s gay only because she knows Neil’s a fucking homophobe. She knows he gets beat only because Neil does it in front of her. She knows his mom left only because sometimes Neil gets drunk and spits in Billy’s face that it’s all his fault she’s gone. 

But she doesn’t know that Billy agrees with Neil on that last bit. 

That maybe if he fought for her better-

Got in between her and Neil when he was goin’ in rough and hard on her down in the kitchen, instead of hiding under his bed with his hands pressed over his ears. 

He’s got no one to work through all this shit with, and by the sounds of things, Steve hasn’t got anyone either. 

And maybe that’s what they could be. 

For each other. 

Billy shook himself.

“You wanna start your movie?” He asked Steve, trying to redirect the evening back to their Favorite Movie Double Feature, and out of Billy’s Hopeless and Has Feelings territory. 

Because time was ticking down. 

And no matter how much Billy felt like Steve was the perfect compliment to his frayed and ragged soul.

Steve was leaving. 

Steve was always leaving. 

[myaimistrue]

written for @spnpocweek day four! the prompt was “what their spinoff would look like.” 

a day in the life of victor henriksen

read this on ao3

“Listen, Agent, these guys you sent…”

Victor listens patiently. He fields a phone call like this at least once a week, usually more, and knows exactly how it’s going to go.

“I mean, I don’t want to step on any toes, y’know, because we’re really at a loss here, but they don’t seem…” Victor can imagine the sheriff casting around for what to say that won’t offend somebody from the far-off universe of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “Well, they don’t seem orthodox, exactly.”

Victor resists the urge to laugh. He straightens a stack of papers on his desk as he says, “They aren’t. I sent the agents I knew would do the job right, and that doesn’t always mean following every little rule.” He lets his voice get a little conspiratorial, because that almost always works on the small-town law enforcement. “I mean, you and I both know how all that red tape holds up investigations.”

The sheriff lets out a snort. “Tell me about it.”

“But I know these guys. You can trust them to get the job done, Sheriff, I assure you.”

“If you’re sure…” There’s trepidation in the man’s voice, but Victor already knows he’s not going to push it any further. They never do—Victor’s very good at his job. “Agent Aguilera did say they had an idea of what might be happening here. I guess I oughta just trust you federal boys.”

“Precisely, Sheriff. It’s all under control,” Victor says. “But if you do have any more concerns, let me know and I’ll speak with Agents Aguilera and…” Dammit. What was the other name? It’s a pop star, because Cas always picks pop star names and Dean’s too damn whipped to stop him, but God, which one? He starts shuffling through the papers on his desk. The list of aliases is somewhere.

“Agent Henriksen?”

“Excuse me, I think I lost you for a moment,” Victor says, cringing a little at the forced nonchalance in his voice. Where the hell is that paper? “Anyway, like I said, just let me know and I’ll talk to them.”

Fortunately, the sheriff doesn’t notice anything odd. “Well, thanks again, Agent. Hopefully next time we talk, this whole thing will be figured out.”

“Hopefully.” God, Dean and Cas never make it easy on him. “Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Victor’s dialing Dean’s number as soon as the line goes dead. It rings four times before Dean picks up. 

“—told you that yesterday, dude.” Dean sighs, fond and irritated, and Victor knows Cas must be sitting there with him. “Anyway. Hey, Vic, what’s up?”

He elects to ignore the nickname. “What the hell are you two doing down there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just got off a call with Sheriff Johnson. He has concerns about the agents I sent down.”

“Who, me and Cas?” Dean’s voice has taken on his what, lil ole me? tone, one that Victor knows well and has been irritating him since 2007. “Asshole. He’s just pissed because he has no idea what’s doing this and we do. It’s a ghost, by the way. We’ll salt and burn tonight.”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just quit raising so much suspicion and making my job harder.”

“No promises,” Dean says cheerfully. “Hey, what—Cas, give me the—”

And then a familiar gravelly voice says, “Hello, Victor.”

“Hey, Cas.” Finally, he can talk to somebody who’s actually taking all this seriously. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Dean insists upon antagonizing the local law enforcement—” Victor can hear his cry of indignation through the phone. “Yes, you are, Dean. Ignore him, Victor. We appreciate your help, as always.”

“No problem.” Because as much as he enjoys giving Dean a hard time, this is his job. This is how he makes an actual difference, instead of just slogging through paperwork and sitting behind a desk. He helps hunters get shit done, and every once in a while, he takes on a case of his own, usually with Jody at his side. It’s pretty great, actually. “By the way, what’s your alias down there? I know Dean’s Aguilera, but I can’t remember yours.”

“Agent Spears.” 

Victor snorts. “Aguilera and Spears. I should have known.”

“They’re icons in American popular culture,” Cas says soberly. “It feels right to honor them in some way.”

This is too good. “Hey, Cas, hand me back to Dean?”

There’s the shuffling of the phone changing hands, and then Dean says, “Listen, you—”

“You are so goddamn whipped, Agent Xtina.”

“Oh, bite me,” Dean says, and Victor can’t help the laughter spilling over.

“No, I’m just glad you’re honoring the real heroes of American music. I was sick of the Page and Plant routine you and Sam used to do. This is better.”

“Fuck off.” But there’s no malice. Sometime in the past few years, Dean’s mellowed out a little. Victor tells him it’s because of his old age, that he’s getting soft, but it’s obvious to anybody that pays attention that it’s because of Cas and his kid Jack, the weird sense of family they all have going for them. Victor knows how that goes better than anybody—he’s got a house full of young hunters he’s half-raising with a sheriff in South Dakota, of all goddamn places. Sometimes life really throws you curveballs.

“You two stay out of trouble. Don’t make me save your asses again,” He says instead of all that. 

“Never,” Dean says with a grin in his voice. “Thanks, man. Tell Jody and the girls we say hi.”

“Will do. Good luck.”

The rest of the day passes without incident. He finally finds his list of aliases, buried under a stack of old cases he’s been digging through for a hunt Sam and Eileen are working on out in California. Somebody calls asking about some fake agents, and he lies magnificently. He works on some paperwork for his actual job. Jody calls around six.

“Time to come home, Victor.” Her voice is easy, light on the other end of the phone. “Quit working yourself to death.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jody says. “By the way, what are you doing this weekend?”

Victor laughs. “Baby, I think I’m doing whatever you’re doing.”

“Good,” She says happily. “Because I found us a hunt. Looks like an open and shut vamp case, about three hours from here. It should be quick, and then we’ve got a great excuse to get a hotel room.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, Sheriff.” But Victor’s smiling.

“Are you in or not?”

“I’m always in.” Victor casts one last look at his desk and figures it really is time to pack it in for the night. “And I’m about to head home. You’re right, it’s late.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon,” Jody says warmly. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As Victor gathers his things to leave for the day, he thinks again about the insane turns his life has taken. The person he used to be, an ineffective FBI agent, unable to save anybody, unable to make a difference, completely alone in a depressing and empty apartment, seems so far away. Now there’s a woman he loves, a house that’s always full of laughter and warmth, a way to help save people, the chance to do good in the world. 

He slings his bag over his shoulder, and grins. Not too bad, Henriksen. Not bad at all.

[luvrpop]

the end

source: the devil all the time part: one/? pairing: arvin russell/reader requested: no tws: n/a (canon typical in later parts but this ones safe) word count: 1652 synopsis: you make some bread, and contemplate finality. extra: i wanted to challenge myself to write a reader insert without using y/n et cetera!! im so excited for this, and very proud :) Someone once told you that there is nothing in life that isn’t a beginning or an end. You’re not quite sure what you think about that, but you figure there must be some sense of truth to it. Hell, you reckon that if those words are true every damn thing you do is the beginning of the rest of your life. This train of thought will come back to you later.

For now, you wake up in the morning to begin your day, and eventually you’ll sleep at night to end it. 

You open your dresser to begin looking for your outfit, and close the dresser to end that search. Naturally, you’ll put on your clothes to begin wearing them, and take them off at some point to end that.

You open the window in your kitchen to begin a steady flow of fresh air, but you won’t get a chance to close, and thus end, it.

Later, all the beginnings you started and endings you caused in the coming few days will become viscerally apparent to you. You’ll wonder which one is more important; those beginnings or endings? You’ll wonder if that matters at all. It probably doesn’t.

Currently, you are kneading the dough that you began only 15 minutes ago for a loaf of bread that you’ll never get to eat. Your radio plays quietly in the corner of the kitchen and you sing along, finding a rhythm in your movement. You feel as though you could live in this moment for the rest of your life and stay happy the whole time. But of course, the song ends so another can begin and your timer goes off to tell you’ve kneaded enough, and the tranquility of the moment slowly dissipates. You wet a towel and delicately place it on top of the lump of dough, and set it into a bowl and aside to begin it’s second hour of rising. That means that you have an hour to yourself, and you resign yourself to laundry. It gets boring pretty quickly, however, so you resolve to finish this load and continue a book you started reading last week. 

You’re only a few chapters from the end. You like it well enough- the characters are charming and the plot is compelling- but the pacing of it all is what’s really losing you. It started as a decent slow burn character study into the mind of a troubled woman that tragedy followed like a shy dog, which you find interesting. However, at some point it seemed like the author was as swept up in the world as you were and was caught off guard by the need for an ending. The past few chapters have been a rushed attempt at a satisfying conclusion, and the original message of the story has been lost. The woman started out as thoughtful and resilient, despite the shit life kept throwing at her. You like her a lot. At this point in the book, though, things should be calming down. They aren’t. 

You pick up the book where you left off, and immediately it seems to be trending in an unnecessarily painful direction. You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but you definitely prefer a happy ending. The appeal in watching decent people suffer for nothing is lost on you. It makes it difficult to ignore the more uncomfortable truths of the town you live in. 

By the time you’ve gotten to the last chapter, your timer is going off again, letting you know that it’s time to move your dough from under the towel and in the bowl to the oven. You leave the book open on the counter (it stays, because you accidentally broke the spine when you first bought the book. Your best friend chided you for getting as upset as you did. “There are bigger things in life to worry about than a 50¢ paperback novel, darlin’.” He had said.) and stand to wash your hands. The front door opens and closes as you turn on the water, and you call out a greeting to your father. There is no reply while you move the dough to a pan, and you wait a moment before calling out again. This time you get an answer,  though the voice that responds is not your father. A smile creeps its way onto your face as you slide the pan into the oven and close the door. 

Something you’ve noticed about Arvin Russel is the way he refers to the people. It’s never “good afternoon,” or “thank you,” or “how are ya?”; it’s always a “good afternoon miss,” or “thank you ma’am,” or “how are ya, sir”. He calls his sister Lenora little lady or hun; his grandmother is grandma or ma’am; his grandfather is grandpa or sir. Friends are bud and fella, and enemies are any number of vile swears and adjectives. You’re doll or darlin’, and you have been since you found him hiding behind the school back on the first day of sixth grade. It’s common down here in the south to call people anything but their name whether it be from respect or the opposite, but even as a child Arvin seemed to actively avoid using someone’s name unless he was saying something that he needed you to know he meant. Most people figured he was just some overly respectful kid, but you’ve always suspected that he just understands the power of his words. As you got older, you got the sense to wonder why a kid so young seemed to know so much about power and violence, both mental and physical. You’ve heard the rumors about why he moved to Coal Creek in the first place, but it never came to you to just ask if they were true and what living in Knockemstiff was like. You never considered it your business. 

That’s all to say that when Arvin Russel greets you by name in your kitchen at 3:30 PM on a Saturday in the fine year of 1965, your hand stops on its way to the kitchen timer. A quick glance at the clock confirms that Arvin has work in 10 minutes, and you know that you live a solid 15 away from where he needs to be. You turn to face him, apprehensively studying the way he sits on a stool on the opposite side of the island that divides the room. He sits with a slump that shows an extent of exhaustion that seems deeper than the physical body. You wonder if someone’s soul could yawn. He seems like he hasn’t been able to relax all day, and even now there’s tension in his shoulders. Not to mention that his breathing’s uneven and he’s sweating like a sinner in church, so you decide to dampen a washcloth before asking any questions. He looks at you in such a way while you dab at his damp brow that chips away at your heart. He’s looked haunted since you met him, like Satan himself is dancing in his peripheral, always 3 steps away from finally claiming his soul, and you wonder for a moment if he’s always fought the devil all the time.

“Christ almighty Arvin, what happened t’you?” You ask, blotting away at his forehead.

His eyes snap into focus at that, like he’s remembering something, and he pushes out of his seat, snatching the cloth from your hand. “We gotta leave, doll,”

You look at him incredulously. “What in the world? You sit yourself back down and tell me what is goin-”

Arvin interrupts you by saying your name again. “I mean it,” he says, and you believe him. “You got- you got to get on packin’ and we gotta leave.”

“I’m not packin’ anything until you tell me what the hell is goin’ on, Arvin Russel. I mean it.” You say, and he believes you.

Unfortunately, you’ll come to understand that he doesn’t have the time to explain. 

The two of you have fantasized about skipping town more times than you could count. A couple of times, you even packed your bags into the back of Arvin’s jalopy before school, planning on picking up Lenora and never looking back at this shithole. You were serious about it too, your father and whatever spends its time haunting Arvin giving you more than enough motivation. Still, you stayed. Arvin would say he’d miss his grandmother, which was true, but you both knew it wasn't what Lenora would want. After she died, Arvin swore he should have said damn it all and left anyway.

When he makes eye contact with you again, you know whatever is happening now is different than your idealized life on the run. Every time you planned this, you both swore you’d do it all together, and that included choosing the right time. Arvin was so particular about choosing the right time. Now, it seems that whatever he did that you two are running from didn’t have a right time. It just had to happen, and he was tired of waiting. A sense of dread nags at you perversely, and you know suddenly and without a doubt that if you don’t go with him now, you’ll never see him again.

He drops the rag then and leaves the kitchen with a sense of urgency you’ve never seen, and you tear after him. You meet him in your room and you both throw together two bags of your bare essentials. You’re out the door and shoving the bags into his trunk before you even get a chance to turn off the oven.

It won’t be until you’re leaning your head on the passenger window of Arvin’s automobile, speeding past the sign that cheerily reads You are now leaving Coal Creek! We hope to see you again soon!, that you will realize that you forgot your book at home. 

[plasterasher]

You stay with Me Part 1

A/N: i’Ll PoSt MoRe OfTeN. I’ve said that like five times no one’s gonna belive that shit but I’m gonna try. ANWAY this was supposed to be a short one shot but it’s almost over three thousand words and I’m not even done writing it. SO I split it up and I’ll do the whole link things for them when I get the other parts out.

Ship: Anxceit and Moxiety

TW: Cursing, Slight Angst

“Virgil I just don’t trust him!” “How can you not trust him, it's Patton for fucks sake! What do you think he’ll do to ground you?” Janus sighed, He and Virgil had been arguing for over an hour about this. “Jan this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! We're getting an opportunity to have a seat at the table, to talk to Thomas! You can’t let your personal opinion of Patton cloud this!!” “Ve you don’t know the things he’s done. You’re too-” “If you say I’m too young I swear to god.” Virgil, who was sitting on Janus bed, while Janus paced the room, stood up. “If you and Remus won’t tell me what happened when I was forming I can’t take it to heart.” “Please Virgil I’m begging you. Don’t do it.” Janus looked at Virgil with pleading eyes. “Jan I can’t miss this opportunity! It’ll be good for us you’ll see.” Virgil says while grabbing Janus’ hand and facing him towards him. “No. If you go to the lights, don’t come back.” Virgil flinched, Janus almost took back what he said but he bit his tongue, there was no way Virgil would choose the lights over us, over his own boyfriend… Right?

“...Jan you don’t mean that.” “I do. I do mean it. You can totally comprehend the emotions I feel towards Patton! You understand what Remus and I have been through! You should just go with Patton and leave us forever!” Janus screams. Virgil pulls Janus into a hug. “Janus, calm down. You're speaking in lies.” Janus takes a deep breath then pushes Virgil away. “You go with them and leave forever, or you stay with us.” Janus looks into Virgil’s eyes. “You stay with me”. When those words left his mouth they sounded like a plea, a cry for help, a last resort. Virgil sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I-I have to think about it.” And with that he sunk out of Janus' room to go to his own. 

Virgil sighed and flopped on his bed. A fight with Janus was not on his agenda for today. Virgil didn’t understand why he was so worked up over this. What did Patton do? What could sweet innocent Patton could have possibly done? The man didn’t even curse! Virgil groaned and pulled on his hair. This was stressing him more than he planned, the last thing he expected Janus to say is no, and so strongly… Maybe he shouldn’t do this… 

Is being with the light, getting a chance to be in Thomas’ life, getting a seat at the table, a chance at a better life, was that really more important than the others? Than Janus?

Don’t get Virgil wrong he loved his boyfriend, he loved his friends. He would do almost anything for them. Maybe this was one of those things he had to do. To show the lights that them and the dark sides shouldn’t be separated. That there should be no Light and Dark sides. Virgil honestly thought that his whole Light and Dark side bullshit was stupid. 

But... if this all goes south where will Virgil go? If he wanted to come back Janus would never allow it, he was too stubborn to let go of his pride so easily. Virgil sighed again pushing his face into the mattress. He wanted to scream.

“Hey Kiddo! I was just-” “AH!” Virgil jumped up and squeezed his heart. “Jeez Patton you can’t just…” Virgil waves his hand up and down, “Do that.” Patton giggled and smiled, “Oops sorry kiddo! I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to check in!” “That’s fine…” Patton frowned, “Is something bothering you kiddo? You look upset.” Virgil rubbed his face then sat up quickly.

Maybe Patton can tell me what happened.

“Uh yeah me and de got into a fight… Hey Patton can I ask you a question?”  “You already did but go ahead.” Patton said giggling at the end. “Did something happen before I formed? Between you, De and the Duke?” Patton’s eyes flashed with emotions rapidly before only one showed. Pain. Virgil jumped “Uh youdon’thavetotellmeifyoudon’twantto-” Virgil said quickly. Patton sighed “No kiddo it’s fine, I just though they would’ve told you…” “Um tell me what? Exactly?”  “Do you mind if I sit?” Virgil scoots to one side of the bed and pats the side nearest to Patton gesturing for him to sit. Patton sat down crisis-cross applesauce (There's got to be a better name for this) next to Virgil on the bed. “Well…”

Long ago there were 4 main sides.

Logic: The smartest but also the weakest. 

Morality and Deceit: Equals but polar opposites. They were also fairly strong.

And Creativity: The strongest and most powerful of all the side.

They called him King Creativity for he was the most powerful and practically ran the place.  Logic found the King obnoxious but didn’t bother him much. Morality really liked him at first but as he got older he became more inappropriate but Morality stayed quiet for the King had a special place in his heart. 

Now this is where the problem starts. The two opposite sides had more in common than they would want to believe. They had both fallen for the King. They loved everything about him, and it didn't take them long to find out the other’s intention. 

Deceit in a rush of hope confessed his love and got the King before Morality did. Now as heartbroken as Morality was he stood back and attempted to move on. 

As Thomas grew and changed so did the other sides, Logic became stronger, Morality and Deceit were no longer equals one was now stronger than the other, and the King… The King grew split in his head and he was suffering. He was stronger than ever but it was too much power for one side to handle. 

And one day he s p l i t . 

Suddenly there were two Creativities, The Duke and The Prince. When Deceit found out he was furious and heartbroken. He screamed and cried and blamed Morality for his lover being gone. Morality just as heart broken as Deceit tried to defend himself but Deceit wasn't having it.  He took one half of Creativity and left the others.

Thus the start of the separation of the Light Sides and the Dark Sides. 

When Patton finished his story Virgil was in shock. Never in his life did he think Janus, his Janus was the reason for the Light and Dark side split. He didn’t even notice Patton had tears in his eyes until he looked up. “Oh Patton, I’m sorry!” Virgil pulled Patton into a hug. Patton chuckled and hugged Virgil back, “It’s fine I’d just wish Deceit would understand. I still feel awful about it.” Patton said. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll try to get him to talk to you again so we can work this out.” Virgil said Patton looked at Virgil and smiled through the tears. “Thanks Virgil.”  

‘Was this whole thing really just a big misunderstanding? Maybe the reason Jan didn’t want to talk about it is because he feels guilty?’ 

“Would you like me to stay for a little bit or?” Patton moved away from Virgil’s embrace, “No, You can go. I’ll be okay!” Patton had stopped crying but he still gave off a sad vibe. Virgil didn’t ask questions and just nodded his head and sunk out.

He appeared in Janus' room and saw Janus on his bed wrapped up in a yellow blanket. “I did think you’d be back so soon…” Janus says from the bed but doesn't make any attempt to move. “I’m assuming you made up your mind?” 

Fuck. Virgil forgot about that part of the fight just that quickly. “Um no. Well not exactly… um I know.” Janus made a face, “You know what exactly?” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “What happened… Why you hate Patton…” Virgil made a really long pause. He was hesitant to say the next part. “About King.” Virgil said softly. Janus visibly tensed. “How” He hissed out. “Patton told me…”  Janus barked out a laugh. “Yeah right. I doubt he told you the truth but that’s not important, what did you come to my room for? To ask if it was true? To accuse me of the splitting of sides?” Virgil's eyes went wide “What!?! No! Actually…” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck now unsure if he should’ve done this today. “Well? Spit it out.” Janus said impatiently. “Actually Patton wanted me to talk to you. He wants to talk to you.” Janus scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Jan to me it just sounds like one big miscommunication. I think if we all just sat down and talked-” “No.” Virgil was getting frustrated now. He knew everything and he still felt lost. Why was Janus being so difficult about this? “Why? What could you possibly have against the light sides? It wasn’t his fal-” “You know nothing , absolutely nothing. You do not get a say in what I do and or say to them. You may think you know something but you don’t.” ‘Then tell me! Help me understand! Because to me you're being unreasonable!” “No. You don’t need to know, I don’t want to talk about it. Beside you knowing won’t change a thing.” “It may change my mind.” The room went quiet. “So you did decide.” “Maybe…” Janus took a deep breath. “And your decision?” Janus asked even though he already knew the answer. “Janus I have to do this.” “No you don’t” “Why can’t you try to see it from my perspective.” “Leave Virgil, but don’t come crying back to us when it doesn’t work out.” “Janus…”

“Leave Anxiety.” Virgil scoffed “Fine Deceit.” And with that Virgil left.

Next

[bts-ficrecs]

Any jungkook angst with no smut? Thank you!

yes hello. ‘tis me. Finally responding to you after 31498237 months.

i rarely read full on ANGST because my weak heart cannot take it, ok. So i don’t have a lot to share and most of the fics i read are pretty short. i don’t think any of what i read are series bc omg can u imagine a full on series with NO HAPPINESS!! I WOULD D WORD!!!!!!!1 sjadflakwe but i’ve included some angsty series in the 2nd half of this compilation!

as requested, no smut. i’m sorry if i missed something and it does have smut 🙏 also this ask made me realize how many angsty fics DO have smut involved, lololol we’re all a bunch of emo hornies and tbh,,, i’m not even gonna deny that 😂 ok ok i’ll stop rambling now.

* m/n: mai notes can also be read as “my notes”. ha ha ha wow i’m so punny.

HAVE READ:

⊱ ┄ A Fallen Bookmark on A Thursday Afternoon by @cutaepatootie

 summary: He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

 

⊱ ┄ A Mark of Betrayal by @jimlingss

 summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin…

 

⊱ ┄ A Piece of the Moonlight by @jimlingss

 summary: For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

 

⊱ ┄ Blue Orchids by @inktae​

 summary: You were eighteen years old when Jimin’s name showed up on your hand.

 m/n: this is like… one of THE og bts fics and i will always promote it bc IT DESERVES TO BE READ BY EVERYONE

 

⊱ ┄ Delirium by @sseudanym

 summary: What to feel, when it’s all gone.

 

⊱ ┄ Give Me Your Hands (I Will Pick the Stars for You) by mindheist (AO3)

 summary: I miss you like the moon misses the sun, destined to chase you until the end of time.

 m/n: this is the only mxm fic here. it’s jungkook x taehyung :) i hope it won’t deter you from reading it though! it’s an absolutely beautiful story.

 

⊱ ┄ In My Head by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: The one where you and your long time boyfriend aren’t on the same page

 

⊱ ┄ It’s Enough by @dark-muse-iris

 summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.

 

⊱ ┄ Mamihlapinatapai by @tayegi

 summary: Mamihlapinatapai (noun): a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

 

⊱ ┄ My Beauty, My Blood by @7cypher

 summary: With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

  

 ⊱ ┄ Resentment by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: It was an ugly kind of sad. The kind that kept you up at night, that weighed heavy in your chest and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, it made you feel like molasses—made your limbs drag and your body ache. You’d heard of the physical effects of depression—but you weren’t expecting this.

 

⊱ ┄ The Train of Lost Souls by @inktae

 summary: The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options. You can choose to live or you can choose to move on. You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it. The choice is solely yours.

 m/n: ok so this is technically a Hoseok fic since the reader is interacting with Hoseok, but Jungkook is a part of this fic and IT HURTS ME SO MUCH SO I HAD TO INCLUDE THIS OK

 

⊱ ┄ The Swirling Ways of Stars by @inktae

 summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t feel like home.

 

⊱ ┄ Untitled by @floralseokjin

 summary: He noticed you almost instantly. Like the wind blowing autumn leaves past his heels, he felt you near him. His body an instant constant buzzing as he stood inside the kitchen, back against the counter where he watched you outside. The separation of the living area and the balcony window feeling miles away regardless of how close he was to you…how close you were to him…

 

⊱ ┄ We Were by @gukyi

 summary: Not all once upon a time’s have happily ever after’s.

 

⊱ ┄ Water Ripples by @inktae

 summary: It may be a mistake caused by unreachable forces, but it is not a curse, like some may think. Meeting each other, being able to touch each other but being forbidden to stay close beyond the limits of the sea could be considered torture — where is the pleasure in getting a taste of something you cannot have, an ephemeral spark in the night? in getting wings that can’t make you soar, no matter how many times they flutter?

 m/n: i made the mistake of rereading this when i was compiling this list and yes i am crying again. hooo booyyy.

 

 

HAVE NOT READ YET:

⊱ ┄ Below Thunder Showers by @inktae

 summary: Min Yoongi leads Earth with a stern hand and a pair of cold eyes. You lead a withered space station that’s been losing hope for years, mind tired and heart torn. Jeon Jungkook is no more than a broken soldier who’s slowly losing his humanity, but his longing for the rain keeps him tied to the ground. Three paths converge again when the two worlds clash, and as precarious as they were, it does not stop you from falling in love for a second time.

 

⊱ ┄ Blossom by @dimpled-gukkie

 summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

 

⊱ ┄ Contradict by @drowsymochi

 summary: Jungkook is a name you hear often around the crowded city of Seoul, South Korea. Jungkook is the leader of Bangtan, a gang that has acquired a worldwide audience. The gang is stationed in Seoul, creating a feeling of uneasiness on the streets. Everyone in the city has been acquainted with one of the members at some time, being that they’re always around. For the most part, they don’t harm innocent civilians unless they commit a crime that the members find worthy of punishment. That penalty can range from bankruptcy, to torture and eventually death, which makes the city wary of their words and surroundings. If only you had been as terrified as everyone else.

 

⊱ ┄ Downfall by @donewithjeon

 summary: Your hesitation cost you dearly, and you swore never to let it happen again.

 

⊱ ┄ Drown For You by @callistojjk

 summary: There was something in that enormous tank, hidden in the murky water. All you knew was that you weren’t allowed inside the room and that it used to hold something dangerous.

 

⊱ ┄ Drag Me Down to Hell by @kimvtae

 summary: There’s a darkness to your city, a murderous underbelly filled with crime and deceit that you’ve sworn to avoid at all costs. But the universe has funny ways of forcing your involvement in the form of a notorious mob boss and his young daughter.

 

⊱ ┄ Expensive Mistakes by @honeyedhoseok

 summary: Your night spent swindling at the pool table goes left when your lackluster skills are found to be false, so it’s a good thing Jungkook has some supernatural abilities to keep D and his friends from recollecting their money–but his help comes at a price.

 

⊱ ┄ Fierce And Delicate by @mintseesaw

 summary: Jungkook and y/n had been brought in two different worlds. Jungkook living an unfortunate life and y/n being controlled by her parents all her life. Despite the imperfect relationship, they completed each other like a puzzle there is. Jungkook has one promise he intends to keep: to always make you happy. In the process of fulfilling your wish he had once declined you of, he kept a secret from you. And unintentionally, he has done more damages than expected…Every action, and every decision… could be blamed by the flawed past.

 

⊱ ┄ Fallout Technical Report by @pantaemonium

 summary: You knew you should not go into the darkness of night, even if your hope had run thin. The monsters were free to walk the earth, and some of them were still as human as you.

 

⊱ ┄ Fear in Your Eyes by @gukyi

 summary: There’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy. 

 

⊱ ┄ First Light by @inktae

 summary: “Have you ever felt like the world is too loud sometimes?” “No. For me it’s always quiet.”

 

⊱ ┄ Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places by @jungtaeyoongles

 summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there. AKA Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn’t work out according to his plan.

 

⊱ ┄ Gravity by @donewithjeon

 summary: The universe works in mysterious ways. What you didn’t know was that the world would give you the best at such a young age.

  

⊱ ┄ I Got You On My Mind by @bangtanbombimagines

 summary: In a world where soulmates can share thoughts, you never imagined that the sweet voice in your head would belong to a guy like Jungkook.

 

⊱ ┄ Lost Boy by @hoshikimatata

 summary: You are the only girl Jungkook keeps coming back to, and you thought that made you the one to save him. But in the end, he’s the only one who can save himself.

 

⊱ ┄ Let Me Stay Close To You by @9uk

 summary: You were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. The doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. That shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

  

⊱ ┄ Left Behind by @bbfairy

 summary: Every person is required to go through a series of tests to see if they’re smart enough to be a part of the upper, elite district. You and Jungkook are childhood friends. Jungkook’s dream is to live with you in the elite class, but deep down, you’ve always known that you’ll fail the exams. For ten years, you wrote letters to give him on the day of his expected departure.

 

⊱ ┄ Lie to Me by @hugseoks

 summary: It had seemed so easy for you to move on, did you even care at all?

 

⊱ ┄ Pull Me Down by @starryeyedgukk

 summary: “Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

 

⊱ ┄ Rooftop by @thelillzmonster

 summary: An unrequited love burdens your fragile heart. And when an unfamiliar, isolated boy is thrown into the mix, you’re not sure whether it all turns for the better or worse.

 

⊱ ┄ The Burning Flame by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You’re sent as a scout from the Academy into enemy territory, tasked with the mission to make sure their king doesn’t unleash another war on the four nations. During your quest, you get tangled up with a lone rider, as stubborn and hard as the scales of his dragon. 

  

⊱ ┄ The Black Veil by @jungcock

 summary: You never wanted to be a vampire, yet you had been 21 years old for the last 2 centuries. You never wanted a relationship either, yet you incidentally make a very human Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you, twice.

 

⊱ ┄ Waste It On Me by @byeoltoyuki

 summary: Being a journalist, you were familiar with the concept of taking risks and pushing your limits to get the best story. But when a gangster by the name of Jungkook tries to involve himself in your quiet, safe personal life, you are forced to reconsider the limits of your comfort zone, your boundaries, your morals and even your feelings.

 

⊱ ┄ Why I Hate You by @floofyeol

 summary: Jeon Jungkook’s only regret, is knowing her in the first place.

 

⊱ ┄ Watchdog by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife

 summary: Being kidnapped, then ‘accidentally’ eavesdropping on a lot of Intel that was specifically not for outside ears, was definitely not your way of being ‘recruited’ into the mafia world.  Much less end up with a companion who didn’t seem very fond of you, but stuck guarding and watching you.  A Watchdog sort of man he was, and almost entirely too suffocating.

 

⊱ ┄ Written on the Sky by @inktae

 summary: Time is, without a doubt, merciless.

 

⊱ ┄ What Happened by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You and Jungkook’s relationship was on the tip of the edge. Is there any possibility to get it back up?

[angelaiswriting]

Closer | Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Hugo Stiglitz x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: stranded in a spooky village, Stiglitz confesses his feelings, but she’s caught off-guard and panics. Back at the base, though, she’d like to see where the future takes them. (Requested by my new and unexpected love for this man)

✏️ Prompts by peaskyblonders (link below): # 4, 5, 7, 19, 20

✏️ A/N: the truth is, I should write more blowjobs instead of fearing new fandoms. HAHA. Italics are supposed to be German (unless it’s for emphasis). Prompts used are in bold. Kudos to @kind-wolf​ for throwing this new obsession at me without warning 💛 Also, please, for the love of all that is holy, listen to Closer by Kings of Leon (it probably has close to nothing to do with this story, but I had it on loop as I wrote and it’s absolutely stunning  – and it did give me a title in a time of need).

✏️ Warnings: 18+ ONLY (oral m/r, sex... haha + mentions of a bullet wound and of someone who’s not a pro poking around in it + plot... eh, kinda there, kinda a decoration lol)

✏️ Word-count: 4,785

“Stop whining, it’s just a bullet!”

The voices in the room gradually quiet down to a churchyard silence when Y/N groans, surgical pliers still poking around in the hole in Smithson Utivich’s leg and face set into a frown. English sounds weird on her tongue, almost cut down with the wrong kind of knife, and there’s no safe hiding place for her German origins.

‘It’s just a bullet’ in my fucking leg – they all know those are the words Utivich was about to spit out like burning venom before he opts for the safest solution, the one that lies in silence. There’s a reason if her German accent keeps on being so prominent when she speaks English and that’s because she just does not speak English unless she absolutely has to. She’s more similar to Stiglitz in this than anyone would ever dare express out loud – she either speaks German or French, or she doesn’t speak at all.

“I should leave it in here,” she mutters again when Utivich’s leg jolts up and someone – Andy – has to step forward and keep it pushed down on the table. “You’d deserve it, stupid idiot.”

“It was an accident,” Smithson mumbles, voice low and full of embarrassment. Just half an hour ago he had been outside by a fire, drinking with the guys, until Donny convinced him to play some trick with what should have been an unloaded gun. “And you don’t have to take it out, we can wait for Wicki.”

When the door opens, everybody turns into its direction holding their breath, but it’s not Wicki.

“What happened here?” Aldo asks, brows set into an unconvinced frown as his gaze lands on Utivich first and then Y/N.

“Stupid Americans, that’s what happened.” But then she sighs, shrugs her shoulders, and pulls the bullet out of the man’s wound. “Children shouldn’t play with guns,” she glares. “Someone get off their ass and go call a fucking nurse.”

When half the men in the room scramble out, almost stepping on each other’s feet, Aldo Raine steps forward. He’s expression is set and unreadable as he examines Smith’s leg and a couple of minutes go by before he speaks again. “I need you and Stiglitz on a mission. I have an informer down south that says there’s a couple of Nazis you two might have the pleasure to take out.”

*

“How’s our exit?” Stiglitz asks, crouching down next to Y/N and taking the binoculars she’s passing him. She’s tense and he can see right through her façade, right through that ‘I don’t fear this has all gone to shit’ mask she’s been wearing for the past few days.

“Still no sign of our guy,” comes her whisper when he finally brings the field glasses to his face and stares off into the distance. “I’m scared, Stiglitz,” she confesses right after, before that temporary bravery stops her from opening up like that. “I have a bad feeling about this. It’s the same I had the day we got arrested.”

He says nothing to that, just stares at the horizon for another minute before he hands her back the binoculars and moves to sit down, his back against the wall of the abandoned house. It’s a spooky village, the one they’re using as their hideout, and the temperature during the day has already started to scratch like an angry cat. Winter is approaching quickly and right there, in the skeleton of what was once somebody’s home, there’s no running away from it.

“I should have gone myself,” she goes on as she scoots closer to him in search of some warmth. “Raine doesn’t know how these people work. You just can’t trust them. He thinks he can, but…” Her rambling dies down and he knows she’s thinking back to that night she’s had to take a bullet out of Utivich’s leg. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. He’s worked with her long enough to just be able to understand how her mind works.

“We’ll get back.” It sounds like a promise on his lips and whether he means it as such or not, it’s met with a soft sigh as she relaxes against his side, her head falling back in surrender against the wall. We’ll get back, the words echo in his mind and he does his best to believe them like she at least pretends to.

Neither of them says it out loud, but that’s why they’ve always worked solo – or just with each other after they met back in Bavaria. They’re good at this, good at driving Nazis out, and even better at taking them out. Not as good as the Basterds consider them, but they get the job done and move on to the next name on the list. They jump from name to name and never collab with anyone – or so it used to be before their arrest. Now they’re made to trust other people and that’s just not what they’re used to. You don’t go trust the next person; you don’t lay your life in their hands if you don’t know who they are and what they’ve done to survive.

“You should try and get some sleep,” he says when her stomach complains. Had they known how things would go, they would have packed more food. But they’ve had to ration what little they managed to stash into their backpacks before fleeing the town Raine had sent them to, and now they have to face the consequences. “I’ll keep watch, wake you up in a few hours.”

The old boards of the parquet creak under his boots when he stands up but it almost feels like those are his bones, turned cold and brittle by the still young winter. It’s surely not that long, but the last time he’s laid down feels like it belongs to a past life. A split second before he takes the first step forward, toward one of the rifles they left in a corner of the room with their stuff, her fingers wrap around his wrist and he’s rooted to the spot.

“How long has it been since you slept?” She tugs his arm when she stands up, inhaling sharply when half of her weight comes to rest on the foot she sprained the day before. And even though she’s been trying to shrug it off – because that’s what she does: she clenches her jaw and moves forward, that’s how it’s always been and probably how it always will be – he knows it’s been bothering her every time they move.

And much like her, he shrugs his shoulders once, frees his hand from her gentle grasp, and moves to pick his rifle up. It’s always a comforting weight in his arms but as he peeks from the empty hole that had once been a window, the heavy clouds in the sky make it feel like some sick kind of doom.

“Don’t do this, Stiglitz. Don’t close me off again.”

He doesn’t turn around when he corrects her – Hugo, not Stiglitz.

You never let anyone call you that – that’s what the look in her eyes tells when he eventually turns around and finds her staring at him. He’s been with her long enough and after a while, you just start reading people. All the unspoken words are paint strokes on a face that’s better than an open book; on a face that’s more like a canvas.

“Hugo.” The smile that stretches her lips is the tired shadow of what he knows could fool Nazis before he stepped in, his weapon of choice in his hands. “You go to sleep. I’m fine, really. By the looks of it,” she continues, hinting at the sky with a movement of her head as she stretches her arm out for him to hand her the rifle, “no one will come: it’s going to start snowing soon.”

*

He wakes up to a snow-clad scenery outside the open window – and to snowflakes dancing in the chilly air a few meters from him, in that opening (one of many) nobody’s stuck around long enough to fix. The snowflakes flutter as they fall, and it almost looks like white flour. It’s been a while since he last saw flour with his own eyes and that’s what tears him from the cozy embrace of slumber and brings him back to reality.

The smoky tendrils of a past life still alive in his dreams are still caressing the edges of his mind, though, faint echoes that mix together into unintelligible whispers. They stuff him with cotton and he needs a few minutes to feel the hard floor underneath his back, the chilly air biting at his cheekbones and nose.

There’s enough light for it to be day already and as that realization dawns down on him, wrapped as he is in his cold blanket, he jolts up to sitting.

“No one came, I told you.”

His head turns to the side so quickly he gets whiplash.

“And it snowed all night.” Her eyes are sunken in, her eyelids heavy with missed sleep and the constant worries that are gnawing at her from the inside and from which he still hasn’t managed to distract her. Shoulders weighed down by an invisible weight, she looks smaller and less dangerous than she really is.

“You didn’t wake me up.” His voice is still drowsy; the words don’t roll as freely on his tongue, so the accusation comes out as a simple observation.

She smiles. I never said I would, the faint twinkle in her eyes seems to say. “We’re waiting one more day,” she decides as she comes to a stand, stiffened hands still holding onto the rifle she’s hugged to her chest like a child the whole night. “But tomorrow at dawn we’re leaving, I don’t care about Raine’s spy.”

Silence settles again between them when she sits down next to him, in the corner further away from the chilly winds outside. They share her last chocolate bar, something she’s clung on to ever since she won it at poker more than two weeks ago. He stares at her as she eats, her head resting against the wall and her eyes closed. There’s a tear trickling down her cheek and it takes the dust that has settled on her skin away.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” His confession hangs in the air, in the closed space between them. And all he can do is stare as that tear slowly rolls down her cheekbone. He can’t even remember when the last time he ate chocolate was and now that he has a piece in his hands, he can’t even chew on it.

Her eyes open slowly and she looks at him almost from underneath her lashes, her head still tilted back and at an angle. For the first time, he can’t read them as they focus on him, bore right into him.

He’s a man of few words. He opens up, but only with the right people and only so much. And he knows she’s just the same – bad at opening up, but not at talking – she talks maybe too much at times and while it would annoy him if it were someone else, he’s alright with her babbling on and on. About the weather, about the next target, about how stupid people are, how hungry she is, but never about before. Who she was, what she did, where she lived, whom she loved – those are still well-guarded secrets, and Stiglitz is not one to pry.

“Don’t.” She swallows hard eventually, almost as though she’s trying to swallow down her voice – or his confession. “There’s a war out there.” Her eyes move to his right, to the blown-open window behind him on the opposite side of the room. “People are dying.” Her jaw clenches and as she swallows, he sees her struggle, her attempt at not crying. “If something happens…”

He sits in silence, eyes set on her as hers try to avoid him. They do their best but ‘their best’ doesn’t seem to cut it, not this time.

“We fuck, that’s it. Just… fuck, from time to time.” It’s a whisper and her lower lip quivers as his words still shake her bones. When did war stop being scary? When did love become something to fear? Neither of them knows. Was it the first time they killed? The first time they enjoyed it? The moment they understood they had to keep on doing it in order to survive?

When she turns to look at him, it’s a desperate animal the one sitting in front of him. Her eyes beg him to stop, to take it all back, because they both know where that if something happens is bound to end. And it’s not six feet under, but rather, somewhere up there, on the surface; face up or face down into the mud, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe that’s what brought her to murder, he reasons for a second; maybe she’s lost someone she loved and that turned her into a spy and a murderer that knows no mercy.

Her hand is trembling as it digs into the pocket of his jacket, the one where she keeps cigarettes – they’re usually for him, but she never turns down a smoke, either. He knows it’s empty, for they smoked their last one two days ago, a crumpled up cigarette that seemed to last less than a minute that day.

“I’ll check the perimeter,” he eventually says, laying the last of his chocolate bar in her hands. He doesn’t meet her eyes, doesn’t utter another word as he takes the revolver from his pallet and leaves the room.

*

Three days later they’re both back at the camp base – no resentment between them, just the usual, content silence of two people that don’t always need to talk to work just fine. But while everything seems normal on the surface and they both enjoy the welcome-back celebrations at the tavern, they’re both lost in their own thoughts.

Hugo has stopped thinking about the fact that maybe he made a mistake when he confessed his feelings to her.  Because she was right – there is a war out there, and it’s not even that far away, no matter how distracting the passing of shots of alcohol might now be. He stopped being a sentimentalist years ago, but if there’s a conclusion he’s come to, it’s that it’s better to spend your last days next to the people you love than running away from them.

There’s a couple of occasions in which he almost told her that.

The first was when they found a working telephone. Clothes soaked by snow and weapons now heavier than their backpacks, they sat in that empty house for hours, after calling one of Raine’s safe numbers, some French family collaborating with the Allies on the other end of the line. He had fixed the makeshift splint keeping her ankle in place and had reasoned, for the first time, that she shouldn’t have come, not this time.

The second was when they got back and the nurse managed to take her in only after the debriefing. She had smiled a I’ll find you later as Wicki dragged him away and the first thought his mind could form had been that he was glad that she seemed to always be able to find him anywhere.

But even though they’re sitting right next to each other now, shoulder pressed against shoulder as everyone seems like they want to sit at the same table, he can’t turn around and shake her awake. Why would he, though?

“We thought we’d never see the two of you again!” Donowitz is tipsy already and he doesn’t seem to notice how his drink sloshes out of his glass every time he moves his arm to gesticulate as he speaks. “Fucking bastards! You have nine lives, just like cats!”

Wicki’s laughter seems to drown out the roaring of the celebrations when he laughs. “I told them you’d both come back on your legs, still breathing,” he chuckles in German.

Y/N joins Wilhelm’s burst of laughter and then turns to her left and smiles up at him. It’s a weird thing, it reaches her eyes more than it does her lips and she seems on the verge of saying something before she shakes her head once and finishes her beer.

*

It’s midnight when she knocks at his door. Her knocking seems to echo through the whole once-abandoned house the Basterds converted into a place to stay, at least temporarily, for everyone’s still out drinking the winter away.

“I didn’t mean to turn you down,” are the words that greet him when he opens the door. He’s still only half-dressed after the bath he’s finally managed to take. “Back in that house. I got scared at the idea of something that might not even happen and I’ve spent the past few days thinking about what a gigantic fool I’ve been when I said those things. You took me off-guard because I thought I’d never love again, but…” She breathes in sharply and looks up at him, stares right into his eyes for the first time as she realizes she’s been rambling again. “Can I come in?”

Hugo nods and takes a step to the side before closing the door behind her. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand.”

“Oh, you and Wicki have a heater.” It’s soft and he almost misses it, but it’s gone before he can reply and she’s already back on the topic she’s most likely come to discuss. “I don’t know what I feel for you.” She doesn’t turn around when she speaks. Instead, she holds her hands close to the stove and sighs under her breath before she squares her shoulders again. “But I would like to find out, when we win this war. A while after you left, Raine started talking about how we’re all going to America when we take out the High Command and I realized that I could leave all of them behind but I couldn’t leave you.”

“I never considered the idea of leaving before.” He moves to stand next to her and hangs the towel he’s used on one of the hangers above the heater. “But we could,” he nods, turning towards her.

She’s looking at him this time, tired eyes staring at him from an even more tired face. But before she can add anything, he pulls her in and kisses her. He’s always preferred actions over words – words can be misinterpreted, but some actions…

Her hands are trembling when they move over his hips and then up his back, over the scars ridging his skin. She’s one of the few who’ve seen them – he’s not ashamed of them, but he does feel weird at the idea of showing them to others. It felt natural with her, though, almost as though they weren’t even there to begin with, the first time they slept together fully naked. It just, happened, it fell into place like anything else about her. She just fits in his arms, to his side, and when he’s inside her, his hips grinding against hers as they both lose themselves into each other and forget for a few precious moments what their survival revolves around.

“How’s your foot?” he asks in between kisses when he picks her up to lay her down onto his bed.

“Foot’s fine, don’t worry about it,” she laughs, her tone getting louder when he just drops her onto the mattress. Her laughter dies down when he settles between her legs, props himself up above her, his nose barely brushing hers. She smiles as he observes her, swipes his gaze across her features and breathes her in.

He contemplates saying something, but whatever innocence he had left at the beginning of his story has been swept away with his words by the things he’s done. He only moves when she speaks again – Kiss me, Hugo. That he does; he leans down and presses his lips against hers for a moment before his tongue comes out to swipe along her lower lip.

Her knuckles brush against his chest every time her hands move as they unbutton her shirt, a too-big garment she’s been given by God knows who. By the time she’s reached the last button and his mouth has moved down along her jaw and her neck to kiss her chest, she’s panting lightly, her hands wrapped around his biceps as he smiles against her skin.

She’s warm and smooth, even though there are irregular scars marking her skin. Just like his, they never matter, and even less when they get into bed together. His fingers just caress her and she this close to him is the only thing that truly matters in this moment. He kisses her collarbones, nudges his nose against the side of a breast before he allows himself to close his eyes and take a nipple into his mouth.

He feels the moan more than he hears it, it vibrates deep into her chest and almost buzzes against his lips as her fingers rake upward through his short hair. There’s a breathy moan of his name before his kisses and licks move lower down.

“I know for sure that I’m falling in love with you.” He’s serious when he says it, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of her pants. Then, as he drags them down her legs with her underwear, he smiles at her. Sometimes he thinks that he only remembers how to smile when she’s around, almost as though she’s always able to swap his grimace with an actual sign of happiness.

She smiles back at him – at his words, at how caringly he removes her left boot, almost as though his only priority is not to revive the dull pain in her ankle. And then at how he covers her body once again, at how he looks down at her with that unreadable expression of his that just makes her fall for him a bit more every time.

It’s not love – she doesn’t want to call it love, but it sure does make her feel all warm inside as it tugs at the corners of her mouth even now, with her fingertips lightly tracing the lines of his face. Forehead, cheekbones, jaws, and then his lips, and he smirks when she outlines them.

When she pushes him onto his back and she moves over him, straddles his thighs, it’s sudden and unexpected, but surely not unwelcome, and he lets her do. His hands move up her thighs and hold onto her hips, and her bare body above him somehow makes his heart swell with pride. A thought crosses his mind, but it lasts only for a fraction of second before she leans down and pecks his lips once, and then once more – yeah, he could do this all day every day, even in America, if it means staying by her side.

Her lips trail down the column of his throat, then, before moving to the crook of his neck. She kisses and suckles as she grinds down against him, and he doesn’t care if he’ll have marks tomorrow – he won’t, because they’re both careful, but one day he’s sure he will – and she will as well.

She says something then, something he doesn’t catch, before she takes his hands in hers and moves further down his body, leaves kisses all over his chest and belly. For a moment, they both giggle, and she looks up at him with those eyes of hers that just, make him forget about the war and the Basterds and anything in-between.

She’s quick at unbuttoning his pants, but not so much at taking them off his body. She takes her time, and the lower she pulls them, the more kisses she leaves on his navel and then thighs. It’s funny and sexy at the same time, and when he’s fully naked and she’s kneeling between his legs again, that’s truly all he craves for at the moment.

“Come here,” he says, but she shakes her head, a smirk tugging at her lips, and bends down towards him.

He’s hard in her hands and when her lips press a kiss to the underside of his dick, he groans in the back of his throat. The muscles in his thighs tense when she takes him in her mouth, and his exhale is shaky as he does his best not to move his hands over her head.

It’s slow and slippery as she focuses on the head of his dick – suckles and kisses and licks, before taking him deeper every now and then, her hand slowly working the rest of his erection. Hugo Stiglitz is rarely ever vocal in the bedroom, but when someone – when she – is going down on him…

“Fuck.” Quick and breathy, almost like a half-formed word, that ‘fuck’ leaves his lips when she moans around him.

His breath almost hitches in his throat when she pulls up and smiles at him while repositioning to straddle his thighs again. He’s still in her hand and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t bring himself to look away from that sight. It lasts less than he thinks it does, though, because before he has the time to move his hands over her hips again, she’s sinking down on him.

She’s warm, and wet, and when she rests her left hand on his chest to balance herself as she takes all of him into her, her hands are wet.

His hips thrust up at the mental picture of her fingering herself and as he does so, she almost loses her balance. They both giggle, but when he moves to sit up, she pushes him back down and grinds her hips against his.

“Stay down,” she whispers against his skin, lips brushing right next to his left nipple before she leaves a kiss there.

The rhythm she sets is slow and sensual, something neither of them is used to – or has been used to for a while, now. It’s a nice change compared to the usual, almost-too-quick routine that’s just hunger and desperate, desperate need. It’s good, and Hugo Stiglitz finds himself relaxing underneath her, for once, hands moving from her hips to her back when she presses herself down against him. His hips start thrusting up into her, and he does his utmost best to keep it just as slow, but the feel of her around him just drives him delirious. 

Her lips latch onto his pulse point again and when she starts licking and sucking, he swears his temperature spikes up. His head leans back into the pillows, neck almost arching, and his thrusts get quicker and snappier the tighter he holds her against himself. Her breathing grows shorter and every time he thrusts up, he can hear as her moans get stuck in her throat.

It’s a while later that the door creaks open and Wicki slurs Stiglitz’s name in his drunken, post-celebratory state. Hugo hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed and there’s still a smile on his lips.

“Hugo,” Y/N whispers against the side of his neck, still naked and still laying between his arms, one leg thrown over his hips as his own leg rests between hers.

He nods his head against hers, but she knows he’s already falling asleep. They went at it again as soon as he flipped their positions over, and she should have known better than to agree on spending the night.

She whispers his name again when Wicki starts fumbling over the words of a song she doesn’t recognize, too distorted by his drunkenness. “Please, Hugo, you know he can’t hold his liquor!”

“Y/N!” Wicki almost yells her name when he finally switches on the light and finds her in his friend’s bed. “‘S good to see you again.”

She’s quick at turning back around, pulling the blanket over herself to cover her body from the other man’s eyes. “Stiglitz, come on! You need to wake up. I can’t do this without you.” But when she tilts her head up on the pillow and her eyes land on Hugo and that faint smile of his still plastered to his lips, she knows there’s no way in hell he’s waking up again soon.

Feel free to leave feedback xo I hope Stiglitz wasn’t too OOC but the truth is, idgaf, I just had to write about the man of my dreams haha

Links: prompts by peaskyblonders https://peaskyblonders.tumblr.com/post/622451655662845952/random-prompt-list // photo used for the banner https://www.pexels.com/it-it/foto/albero-freddo-ghiacciato-innevato-909016/

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Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​ @becs-bunker

[bellestalesoffiction]

Clean Love

Pairing: Eventual Mob!Steve x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, a swear here or there, minor shit talk

A/N: I wrote this in the span of two days over 6 hours. I’m not sure if I'll continue with this, but I was inspired to write for the first time in years. Please don't judge too hard. Also sorry for the shitty summary! Feedback appreciated!

Summary: She’s a city girl, an artist with a day job, because how else is she gonna pay the bills. She cleans for Tony Stark’s offices, one day she has the pleasure of cleaning up a mess made by the most feared boss in all of New York, Steve Rogers.

It was brisk, just like any normal autumn morning in New York. Steve stepped out of his town car, fixing his coat, before heading into the tall building that held the name 'Stark' in large letters high in the sky. Another meeting with his god-father about one of many deals that their organizations made. Today would be a messy one, held in the lower levels of the looming building. Someone in their lower ranks had tried to steal half a shipment of guns and ammo, they didn't get far at all. Steve's right hand man and best friend had gotten the three who tried before they even left the docks.

Two of the three men were already at the bottom of the harbor, the third was currently on the lowest floor. Most likely the traitor was bruised and beaten into cooperation, or so Steve hoped, he really didn't want to bruise his knuckles or ruin his new Armani shirt.

The few people milling about the lobby paid no attention to Steve as he strode past. He nodded at the security guard on duty before heading past the main elevators and towards a back hallway to a private lift. It was one of two elevators that reached  the lower levels, the other elevator was used by maintenance staff and regular employees to reach the underground parking (not the floors below said parking  that Steve was headed to now).

The doors to the elevator opened up after Steve input a 6-digit code, he stepped on pressing the corresponding level switch before clasping his hands in front of him. There was no music during his decent, no soothing calming or annoying music, just silence. The doors slowly parted, opening up to a metal gate, on the other side of which stood James Buchanan Barnes, "Bucky" as Steve knew him growing up. The sight of the slightly shorter dark-haired man made the mob boss grin slightly.

"So Buck, how's our friend?" Steve smirked walking alongside his right-hand.

Bucky smiles, it's almost sinister, "He's about ready to talk boss. Tony's waiting right outside for ya, wants you in the room for intimidation factor."

Steve nods, spying Tony up ahead. He gives the older man a nod, showing his respect with a hand on his chest reaching for the other man's hand. Tony smiles and returns the gesture, pulling Steve in for a quick familial hug and a pat on the back. They step apart after a moment, "You ready?" asks Tony, receiving a nod from Steve. 

The older man twists the handle and pushes the door open, the room behind it was rather large, deep and wide. A single bulb hung from an exposed wire, the only source of light in the room. The temperature was low, cold enough to make your fingers go numb and just cold enough to see your breath leave your lips. In the center, just below the exposed bulb was a chair, tied down to said chair was a man, blood running from his ear, nose and mouth, one eye swollen shut. Tony approached him slowly, circling around him, just on the edge of the light.

"Do you know why you're here, hmm?" Tony continued to circle the man, getting closer to him with each step.

"Let me tell you why," Tony stood behind him, grabbing his shoulders tightly, making the man wince. "You and your little friends tried to steal from us." Tony motioned to Steve and himself, the former staying just in the shadows.

"You tried to take 250 semi automatic weapons and sell them off, to who? And for what? You knew that if you got caught you'd end up dead... what's so important you'd risk your life? Or rather who?" Tony smacked the back of the man's head, pretending to have a moment of clarity, "Oh That's right! Your wife, Georgia... She's pregnant with your first kid right?"

The man tensed, "You wanted to get her away from all this right? Set her up somewhere you wouldn't be found?" Tony began to circle his chair again.

"You never would've been safe you know, we'd find you anywhere. We'll find her anywhere she goes." Steve smirked, Tony continued, "Who were your buyers?"

The man glanced up at Tony before he spat at him, right in his face. Tony wipes at his face, turning and nods to Steve, giving him the que to take over. Stepping forward slowly, Steve grins, making his way towards the chair. The man's eyes widen, fixed on the knife in Steve's hand. He squirms and yells out, no one moves or tries to intervene as Steve begins to slice into the man.

"Stop! Stop!! Please!" Tony doesn't listen, watches the man's face as he cries like a baby.

"He won't stop until you talk... Mr. Rogers here doesn't take too kindly to people who take his things," Steve smirks, moving to press his knife to the mans cheekbone, "... maybe after he's done we'll send your head to your lady" Tony chuckled watching the man go white as a sheet.

"Please, no, leave her out of this, I'll tell you anything!"

Steve glares at him, pressing hard with his knife, "Your buyers names, who put you up to this?"

"S Sitwell, his name's Jasper Sitwell!", that was all they needed to hear.

She hurried up the street, jacket half on and a granola bar hanging out of her mouth. Her alarm hadn't gone off, the power in her building had somehow gone out during the night causing the events leading up to now. She had overslept by a good half hour, she had skipped her shower and a real meal, having time to barley grab a snack for breakfast before running out the door 5 minutes late already.

Weaving and dodging through the crowds, she made her way down a back alley stopping at a door with a pass card sensor. She digs through her purse, grabbing her Stark Towers cleaning badge and swipes it, successfully walking into the building.

"Hey Y/N, you're wanted for a mess on level 26!", one of her coworkers calls out.

She groans, "I just walked in, I'm not even on the clock yet!"

"Yeah and the supervisor isn't happy about that. She said it's your punishment" Y/N sighs and nods punching in as she quickly scarfs down the rest of her breakfast and tosses her coat on the back of a chair. As you can probably guess by now, Y/N cleaned pretty much anything she was told to clean inside the tower. She was one of 3 cleaning ladies, besides her was Wanda Maximoff and Jessica Drew. The girls supervisor was one Felicia Hardy, who once was just a cleaning lady like the rest of them. Felicia had stabbed the trio in the back and thrown them under the bus for her mistake with their last supervisor, convincing the hiring staff that she was the most competent to take over the position. The maintenance team knows Felicia isn't meant to be where she is, the position should have been Jessica's, Felicia just knew how to brown nose better.

As they say, speak of the devil and she will appear, "Y/N, floor 26 now! Men's room on the south end had two urinals that went out of order!" Felicia snaps sauntering into the room. Besides ordering her around, the woman made her way to the coffee machine for a refill.

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw her (hair color) locks into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She turned and made her way down the hall to the supply room bumping into Scott and Luis, the two maintenance men for the building, besides their supervisor Flash Thompson.

Luis waves and smiles, "Morning y/n, how was your weekend?"

Y/n smiled and gave him the rundown as she gathered her cleaning supplies, groceries, another failed date and a dozen texts from her ex trying to get back with her. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Man, he just won't leave you alone," Scott huffed, annoyed for her. "Well if you need anyone to help you get the guy off your tail, let me know. I'd gladly offer my services."

Y/n smiled softly and nodded, "Thanks Scott, but I can handle it. You guys already fix the busted urinals on 26?"

Luis nods and makes a fake retching noise, "It's only Monday and already some asshole decided to-"

She cuts him off, "I don't wanna know, all I need to know is that it's fixed so I can clean the floors. You left the Out of order sign up right?"

Luis smiles sheepishly and shakes his head no. The man was good at his job, he could fix pretty much everything well enough, his only problem was that he often forgot about the cleaning crew and forgets to mark the areas that need cleaning out of order so the regular staff don't go in. She sighs, shaking her head, oh Luis. She picks up her cleaning bucket and pushes the mop bucket towards the service elevator and waits quietly.

The elevator dings and opens up, allowing her to step inside. She presses the corresponding button and waits, mind wandering to lunch and what's close and cheap. The elevator dings again and she makes her way off. The rest of her day is just as boring, cleaning more bathrooms and a few meeting rooms. Finally the day comes to an end, she heads back to the maintenance break room, only to be stopped half way by Felicia.

"Oh, Y/n, great, glad I caught you. Mr. Stark called and needed someone to do a quick wipe down outside his office. Security had to get involved and well, Mr. Stark doesn't want blood stains on the carpet," Felicia smirks at her, "Besides, it's not like you have anywhere to be tonight, or any night."

Y/n frowns softly, nodding and averting her eyes. When the young woman wasn't working she was making art, drawings, pastel illustrations and paintings even. She loved art more than anything, it was her passion growing up, helped her forget the harsh environments she lived in. Currently she was building a portfolio to submit to a few lower end galleries, hoping to spread her name and gain some recognition. Now here she was, stuck at work cleaning up after millionaires and office snobs just to pay the rent, pushing her dreams to the back burner.

Her supplies gathered once more, she heads up to the top floor, anxiously. She had never gone up that high, never had she been asked to clean anywhere near Mr. Starks office, normally that was Jessica or Felicia who took care of that. The ding snapped her out of her train of thought as she stepped out onto the floor cautiously. Giving the hall a once over she headed towards Mr. Starks office, his personal assistant should still be there if there was a mess to clean. The woman she knew only by name, her name was Natasha Romanoff. Ms. Romanoff had a particularly sharp eye for details and a 'no half ass' policy when it came to anything. Y/n had only interacted with the woman once, and that was when Felicia threw them under the bus. Now here she was, leaning against her desk tapping away at her phone.

"Good, you're here. My desk needs a total wipe down and when Mr. Stark is done he'll need some clean up on the marble in front of his desk," Natasha explained without looking up once.

Y/n nodded, "Yes Ms. Romanoff, I'll get right on that."

And she did, doing a thorough cleaning of the sides of her desk and the top, making sure not to move any of her personal items and work around the woman herself. Once she was finished with the desk and the floor in front of the desk she stood still, waiting for the ok to head into the CEO's office. Natasha finally glanced up at her, eyeing her in a very unsettling way. Almost as if the woman was peering into the very depths of her mind.

"You can go in now." Natasha nodded to the door and stood opening it for her. Three men were still standing inside, but quiet. "Gentlemen, the cleaner is here"

( @kayteewritessteve​ @katurrade​ @kaybrownies​ )

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 4: The EED: Emotional Exposition Dump. Or why THIS is not friendship

So here we are. The last part of this 45 page three parter, meant to be about what Sam really means to the crew. And what have we seen so far in the previous parts? That Sam is not just their underappreciated, but downright exploited slave (yeah, did you know that in ancient Greece slaves supposedly had more rights than Sam in this one? At least they could buy out their freedom one day), that Dobson has no idea how to genuinely pace a story, turning what could have been a decent 100 page story if planned out and presented with more care into a 45 page short snore fest and that Hat Andy’s idea for jokes are either based on abusing token buttmonkeys, turning annoying memes into even more unfunny jokes or making dark comedy with dead orphans.

At least when South Park makes jokes about children dying, they are appropriate in that dark setting and the death is still in some way handled or refered to as a horrific event. In Dobson’s case however, it just leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

Sorry, I just can’t get over the orphanage thing. If Dobson wanted the reason for Sam leaving be that he finds out someone he cared about from his old life is dead, that is one thing. But did this asshole have to destroy an entire building with countless victims to do it? Couldn’t he just have one person die and the rest be still at that place? Honestly, I think it would have been funnier and more meaningful emotionally, if Alex and Co actually interacted with people from Sam’s past and in doing so learn more about him as a person, by genuinely visiting a still standing orphanage. Give the comic some meat on the bones and in doing so actually create the impression this comic is truly about Sam and not just about characters doing random stuff in relation to finding him. Instead Dobson goes for a literal overkill, which he then does not even treat as a tragedy but as a joke.

Dobson, THIS is a better and more dignified joke about orphans than the shit you did.

You got outclassed by Chuck Lorree of all people on this planet, you disgrace of a storyteller. A storyteller who can’t even keep his own barely existing continuity in the Alex-verse straight, now that I think of it. After all, according to Legends, the orphanage was closed and all the orphans were sold out to others, with Sam being the last of the litter

Which again is just unintentionally more horrific than Dobson likely intented. But you know, dumb people don’t know when they do dumb shit.

But I digress Let us just get into the last part. In which we finally see the “emotional” pay off of everything that happened so far.

 Spoilers, this is my reaction to that pay off.

And here is what everything led up to now.

 Sam ran away, because he wants to say his final farewell to his sister figure, we never knew about at all and about whom we do not learn one single thing really.

 Where do I begin with how this revelation fails?

Let’s start with the fact that this in execution does not have the emotional impact that was intended. And why is that? Because Dobson doesn’t bother to actually introduce us to the sister as a character.

If I may digress a bit to talk about One Piece here: In the manga, oftentimes Oda will “interrupt” an ongoing story arc to feature flashback chapters, through which he tells about past events referenced in the “present” chapters prior. Through those flashbacks he further gives meaning to why in present time the characters facing certain foes or having to win in their current situation, is so important, even on an emotional level. In short, those flashbacks are no interruptions, they are integral in giving those story arcs emotional weight.

Because now we are not just “told” why we should care about things and people, we have been shown why we should care. The old rule of “show, don’t tell” being followed on.

A good example from a more “recent” storyline I can think of, is through the flashback chapters of the Dress Rosa story arc, where we are not only being shown how De Flamingo took over the kingdom of Dress Rosa and brought pain and misery over its people for years to come, but also the past of characters such as the gladiator Rebecca and Mr. Soldier, her father figure that raised her up from the time she was 10 and De Flamingo took over… only for the flashbacks to also reveal properly how Mr Soldier is not just a father figure for her that took her in, but her biological father Kyros, who had been turned into a toy by one of De Flamingo’s henchmen via a power, that also took Rebecca’s memories of her dad away so she never identified the toy as her dad.

This way Oda achieves multiple things at once; Among other things, he establishes how evil De Flamingo is, how tragic Mr Soldier and Rebecca’s lives really are, adding to us the readers wanting to see them and Luffy beat De Flamingo into a pulp and it makes the later “present day” moment when Mr. Soldier and many other victims turn back to normal and Rebecca regains her memories and is reunited with her dad so much more sweeter. Cause now we care.

Truth be told, I myself believe that Oda is one of few storytellers on this planet, who truly has “mastered” the technique of emotional flashback storytelling.

A technique Dobson could have used in this part of the story, but didn’t. Cause honestly, the way he tells how Sam’s sister was “important” to our poor cabin boy is not emotionally engaging from a storytelling perspective. We are told she is important, but we learn genuinely nothing about her, not even what her name was and what she looked like except from that one picture in the locket from over 15 pages ago. Nothing about how “close” she and Sam truly were is revealed through showing, only telling and as such we don’t even begin to care for her relationship with Sam and how her loss is genuinely important to him. So the main goal of this story, to make us the readers feel something for Sam aside of pity for how he is treated by his supposed friends, has not been achieved.

 … Dobson, you are a hack. You can’t even use flashbacks, a basic technique in the realm of storytelling, to show us why we should “care” more, heck, even at all, about Sam and his loss.

If you just had adjusted a few things, you could have had something good here.

By adjustments I mean the following: Take the first page of this chapter as well as the first panel of the second page, and combine them into the final page of the previous chapter. In doing so creating a proper cliffhanger for part two. Then start chapter 3 of with a few pages (lets say 6 or so) showing young Sam and his sister interacting in the orphanage in doing so turning her from a nameless plotdevice into a genuine person to care about. And then use content of page 2 and 3 of this chapter, to elaborate on their relationship, potentially with small cuts always between present day Sam at the grave explaining himself and saying his farewells, with pictures of the past showing what they meant to each other.

 But nope. This very basic idea a fanfic writer now has come up with, a fanfic writer who never studied literature or took writing classes by the way, something I doubt you did at college the more I read your work, has never crossed your “superior” mind.

Also, I find Sam’s text on page 3 really, really backwards in a way. Like, I get that we are meant to consider it a good thing Sam is this way. You know, being genuinely selfless and wanting to make others happy. And don’t get me wrong, generosity and selflessness are virtues I hold in high regard. But the way Sam talks about how he just wanted her to be happy while sacrificing any fulfillment of basic needs for himself feels more like a pathological disorder in that case than something to reach for. In fact, psychology speaks from different forms of generosity and the thing Sam describes here is likely “compulsive giving” or “unrelenting generosity”, a pathological variant that can be highly toxic for all people affected by it.

Funny how Dobson, a person who wants to claim he is all for mental healthcare, is essentially “promoting” the positivity of a psychological disorder via Sam.

 Then again, this also feels more like Dobson putting words into Sam’s mouth (in a literal sense) to retroactively make Sam’s treatment look less horrid. Cause now Sam doesn’t just do all the work because he is ordered around, he deep down is “happy” doing all of the work and gain not even some basic respect in return, because he cares so deeply for his friends.

… I feel myself get livid again here.

And the next few pages don’t really help me “calm down”.

 Cause now the “justifications” just go on. The thing that is meant to be a heartfelt farewell turning into Sam “justifying” that hey, it must be good that he ended up with Alex and her crew. Cause after all, by being abducted years ago and being treated as a slave who in the ginger’s eyes is worth less than lint, he likely avoided dying of shitting his pants and a crushing roof. Ignoring the fact that he was going to be sold out anyway back then and would have potentially ended up with a more generous master than the crew of non Captain Syrup.

Also, just all of the shit going on in page 6. Sam asking his “sister” to be at peace, when likely, if the girl could still talk, she may even just ask Sam the following: Who the heck are you. Cause really, if you think about it, if Sam did all the nice things for her in secret, did the girl even realize she had a “big brother” figure to watch over her? Also, him saying he is happy and he is doing quite alright for himself?

All the pictures of him sighing and looking in misery in this story alone, plus the cavalry of strips I posted about how Sam is abused in the first part of this post series tells me another story.

Finally, Sam’s message “At least now, we are both free”? Sam, she is dead, likely having died in pain when a house crushed on her, weakened by a deadly disease and traumatized by other children around her dying of said disease. And you are stuck with a bunch of people that haven’t shown to care for you up until this story and the only reason they may even care for you now is out of “sympathy” because you lost your sister figure, not because they genuinely love and care for you as a person. As far as I am concerned, you would be better off being the slaveboy of some nymphomanic pirate princess in the world of Berserk than you are on this plane of existence.

And now that the “emotional” farewell is out of the way, Dobson can go back to focus on the characters he really cares about in this shit anyway: Little Bitch Annie, lesbian chocolate rain Miroku and Deadpool’s pubes.

 Oh Alex, you are such a rascal. You really make me want to shoot you with a crossbow, stab you in the eye, hurl you out a window and shove explosives where the sun won’t shine.

Yeah yeah, you are a pirate, but that doesn’t mean you need to be that awful as a person or even protagonist.

Christ. For someone who complains how toxic Walter White is to the point he believes “sympathizing” with the character turns you into a nazi, Dobson certainly is blind to how awful Alex really is, particularly as protagonist in a comic series intented for little kids. Compared to her, I can think of freaking slasher movie villains with more of a moral compass. Like say what you want about Jigsaw, at least he never victimized genuine children or teenagers.

And Talus, thanks for ruining the “emotional” moment Sam “earned” by pointing out how weird it is he kissed a gravestone. Also, I am glad I know what happens in the next pages or else I would assume Alex’s great idea includes to dig up his sister and turn her into a life sized doll for Sam to cuddle.

No, their ideas to assure he is emotionally save and to redeem themselves for years of taking him for granted/hurting him, is to throw him a surprise party.

… you know, I think you may be the only individuals in fiction, that Pinkie Pie would think do not deserve to throw a party or get one thrown for.

 But I guess Sam is just so nice, he even throws you a party for no apparent reason.

Either that or now that his “sister” is dead he will overcompensate even more and this is the next destructive stage of his compulsive generosity.

… Sam, I am sorry for your loss. But you need to get help. Once by the authorities who will hopefully get rid of Alex and then by some psychologist who helps you redefine your own self worth.

By the way, I find it funny that the banner he made also actually only mentions Talus, Atea and Captain Daphne with a bad hair day. It just confirms that Peggy either never bothered to join the others or that Dobson developed an early onset of dementia and totally forgot about the fact that the midget is a genuine character in this trainwrack. And I am convinced the later is the case, which really just makes me wonder how someone is able to do that. To forget a major character of the thing they create and want to turn into a money making franchise. Imagine if Disney did e.g. a sequel to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, only to forget about the god damn dwarves themselves.

At least Talus finally realizes he is unworthy to get a party thrown or be Sam’s friends. Good. Now jump into a wood chipper and free ourselves from your existence you dog beaver thing.

Content of the next page in a just alternate universe… Alex: You are a better human being than I could ever be and this is all because my creator is a hack who does not know how to create genuinely likable personalities.

The reality:

 FUCK YOU, ALEX! FUCK YOU AND THE BIKE PUMP YOU FLEW IN ON! Atea and Talus have learnt more than you about what it means to be a friend and they don’t even bother to punch you in the face for still being the biggest red haired  raging cunt since Asuka from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

If this is how Dobson thinks “friends” should treat each other, it is no wonder he has a friendless background. Hey, Hat Andy, if you want to emulate manga, may I suggest you just become even more blatantly about it and simply copy paste One Piece? Cause Luffy at least knows how to be a friend. How much does he care for his friends, strangers and even at times former enemies of his?

He cares so much, that e.g. when a special military force that beat the crap out of him got hands on his crewmate Nico Robin, he did THIS:

He declared war on the world government. Fuck, even Jack Sparrow, who is an opportunistic jackass, in a movie where everyone stabs the others at least three times in the back, was less selffish than Alex, when he gave up his chance on immortality as Captain of the Flying Dutchman, just so Will would live in some form.

Metalbeard from the Lego Movie cared more about doing the right thing than anyone in Alex the pirate did. You created the worst friends and “heroes” I have ever seen in a webcomic since the entirety of sinfest. Congratulations for that accomplishment, Dobson. It really takes a special kind of anti-talent to show such level of not understanding the power of friendship as one of the most basic tropes in storytelling, to the point a show about pastel colored equines managed to profit of it for nine years.

 WOOOOO! We are the worst, we are the worst!

And look, Uncle Pennywise’s scrotum is back.

Anyway, here are the last two pages of this thing, to end on what is meant to be a whimsical note because Sam actually gets something from Alex that is not a beating or verbal abuse.

 Too bad anything that would feel heartwarming about this is drowned by a) me actually remembering all the shit Alex, the crew and the writer pull to get to this point (from abusive neglect of the characters to pathetic emotional manipulation on a narrative level) and b) the weird rapey face Uncle Peggy makes in the picture. Like Jesus, did Dobson try to emulate the Burger King here?

But hey, this story is over. And who knows, perhaps from this moment on, Sam will actually be treated better overall in the comic and Dobson will spend time actually developing an overall plot and the world of this com-

Tom Kenny: ONE COMIC STRIP LATER

And it is back to business as usual.

... How much would I need to pay for someone on the internet to write an alternate ending to the story where it turns out Sam actually poisoned the food at the party and while Alex is slowly dying, a now evil Sam who has finally broke under years of abuse, is going to become a genuine threatening pirat? that is after he villain monologues to Alex how much she sucks before scalping her?

Wow, I am entering a dark place right now. I think I need to take a break.

So I am going to give my final verdict on this story with the next post around the weekend most likely. Cause that is how much time I will now spend rereading One Piece and watching the Pirates of the Carribean movies in addition to playing the Pirates level of Kingdom Hearts 3, in order to forget this shit and remind myself why I think pirates are cool.

[redthreadoffate]

a selection of princesses [tom holland]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

relationship: prince!tom x princess!reader

warning: swearing, none; mistakes here or there

request (anon): hi! would u consider writing about prince!tom holland x princess!reader were tom is the heir to the throne and the reader goes to visit the Hollands at the castle, ends up having some interesting encounters with him and they make out, are all lovey-dovey and fall in love? so tom decides he wants to marry her and not any other princess

notes:  can i just say that i’m glad this is not royal!tom x pauper!reader/rich!tom x poor!reader because THAT TROPE IS OVERUSED IN THIS COUNTRY I LIVE IN IT’S FREAKING EVERYWHERE

summary: prince thomas is to be betrothed, but who is he looking for?

Unlike your older sister, you loved being a princess. You loved being pampered, attending all the balls and parties, eating all the best food, learning from the best professors in the kingdom, riding horses, having archery as your best sport, you loved everything. However, that also meant that, as one of the princesses of the Eastern Kingdom, you were going to be betrothed to one of the princes. And if you were being totally honest, you didn’t mind at all. All the princes were handsome anyway.

But there was one prince that caught your attention. You’ve never spoken to him because he was always under the watch of his guards and you were the life of the party, always being called by one group or another. You’ve talked to all the other princes, except Prince Thomas of the Northern Kingdom.

When you would be alone in your chambers, or anywhere else for that matter, you would tend to daydream about him. How he would act, talk…how he would watch you and listen to you as you entertained him with songs and dances, and maybe even funny stories that you’ve collected as you grew older.

Your sister would scold you for such nonsense. She knew you were going to have a husband from one of the kingdoms so she deemed it wise not to think of just one. She was betrothed to one of the princes in the Western Kingdom. And she hated it She hated being a princess, she would have rather have been a commoner.

“You say that, sister,” you would start whenever she would whine about the whole princess fashion, “but once you have a feel of being a commoner, you would think of the good life you have here.”

In your kingdom, there were only two princesses, you and your sister, and three princes, your older brothers. In the Western Kingdom, there were two princes and one princess. The Southern Kingdom had the most princesses, you can’t even remember how many, but there were three princes. The Northern Kingdom, the kingdom ruling above everyone else, only had one heir, Prince Thomas.

The Creator knew how much she wanted to marry him.

“You don’t even know him yet,” your sister would say. “At least I knew Prince Phillip before we were told that we are to marry.”

You made a face. “The only reason they brought him here is to obviously tell you that you are betrothed. Why else would they bring a prince here?”

But your sister would have none of it. For her, their parents' will was law despite her wishing she wasn’t a princess. “If I can’t beat them, join them,” she would chant. You remember the time she had rebelled and you think of how different things now are with her. “I don’t like being a princess, that I admit, but this is my life. Creator help me.”

Months later, there is word that the High King and High Queen had wanted to betroth their son Prince Thomas. However, unlike most traditional arrangements wherein parents and matchmakers would talk it over, they would invite all the princesses of the kingdom to their castle for a few days.

“That’s odd,” your mother, the Queen of the Eastern Kingdom, said. “I wonder who decided on this.” It was dinner time in the castle and your mother was reading the parchment given by the messenger as you all ate around the table.

“What is it, Dear?” you father, the King, asked, not taking his eyes off the slab of meat on his plate.

“Prince Thomas is to be wed.” Your heart sunk at that. “But instead of the normal arranged marriage, they’re inviting all the princesses from the different kingdoms. The West will go first. Then the South. And finally, us, the East.”

Although this excited you, you still tried to play it cool. “Will sister be coming with us as well?”

“She’s betrothed, Darling,” your mother reminded you. “And your father and I are not going. You’ll be traveling alone.”

“Is that so…” you murmur. And your excitement quickly becomes worry.

Finally, it’s the day of your visit. You have finished packing all your necessities and you climb onto the carriage and wave goodbye to your family. Your sister smirked at you and you discreetly stick out your tongue at her.

The ride to the North was a tiring one. You had fallen asleep numerous times as you moved along. You had stopped for two nights, where you got proper sleep, and continued on during the day. When you reached the Northern Kingdom, you prayed to the Creator that you still looked presentable enough to the High King and High Queen.

When you were led into the throne chamber, you curtsied at the sight of the two rulers. “My King, my Queen. It is an honor to be in your presence.”

“Princess y/n,” the Queen called out. Her voice was soft and light. Very motherly if you were to be asked. “It’s great to finally meet you. You are quite the showstopper, aren’t you, little one?” She smiled knowingly.

You blushed at the comment and tried not to stammer. “I am just doing what any princess should do, your majesty.”

“Aren’t you a lovely girl,” the Queen continued. “I remember seeing your sister. You two look quite different. She’s a beauty as well, but you are another story.”

You turn even redder as you thanked her.

“Thomas will be choosing his wife and you are lucky enough to have no sibling rivalry,” the King said. “But you are still in the pool when we consider the countless other princesses, not to mention the ones in the South.” He chuckled.

Your stomach churns at the possibility of not being picked but you smile anyway. “Being a candidate is a great honor, your majesty. I am happy just being here.”

“Thomas is out hunting now,” the King informed you. “But please, make yourself at home. We’ll call you for supper time.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You curtsied again before being led out of the throne chamber.

The castle is much bigger than the one in your home. There were also many twists and turns until you reached a corner where a large portrait of a young lady was hung on the wall. The lady was beautiful and you unknowingly touch your own face to compare. “Who is that?” you asked.

“That is the prince’s grandmother. This will be your chamber, princess,” the maid told you. It was on the side of the portrait.  The maid opened the door and you followed. The chamber was just as big as your own and you smile, it really did kind of feel like home. “Would you need anything else, princess?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay here. Thank you.” And so she leaves and you’re left alone. You look at the bags and boxes you have. You’ll be living here for two weeks but you’ve packed for two months. Shaking your head, you decide you want to explore first before unpacking.

Slipping out of the door, you begin to walk around, making sure to remember where your chamber was. For about an hour, all you did was take a tour of the humongous castle. You would make sure to keep away from the King and Queen, not wanting to leave the impression that you sneak around.

When you check the time, you realize it was almost time for supper. You look around you for any signs where you should go to get back to your chamber. “Oh no,” you mutter when you realize you have no clue as to where you are. “Fuck. Not good.”

So you take your chances and walk in the hallways you believe looked familiar. After about fifteen minutes, you still haven’t found your chamber. You sighed in despair. “Definitely not good.”

“What’s not good?”

You looked up and felt your heartbeat speed up. “Prince Thomas.”

“Hello, princess y/n. Are you lost?”

You hated to admit but, “Yes. I wanted to explore and I thought I’d be able to remember where my chamber is. This experience has taught me that I’m not good with directions.”

He smiled and your heart leaped. “Which chamber did they give you?”

“The one where there’s this portrait of this beautiful lady, your grandmother.”

“They gave you the chamber across from mine. Come on, I’ll show you the way.” He gestured for you to follow him. “So, princess y/n, how do you find the castle?”

“Bigger than ours,” you replied. “I wonder how you don’t get lost in here.”

“I still do,” he laughed, “so if ever they don’t find me, they know I’m running off looking for new secret passages and shit.”

You’re taken aback by his swearing but you also feel that you’re not alone. “There are secret passages here?”

“Aren’t there in yours?” He turned to look at her.

You look down shyly. “I’ve been taught to be a lady. Perhaps my brothers have discovered some already. I should ask.”

You and Tom walked the distance to your chambers while talking. When you finally reached the familiar corridor, you sighed in relief and hope it isn’t supper yet. “Have you unpacked?” he asked you. When you shake your head he offered to help out. Although you knew a prince shouldn’t be doing this job, you can’t help but ask if he was sure. “Yeah, I don’t have anything important to do. Just let me freshen up, I’m all sticky from hunting.”

You two go your separate ways. As you close the door behind you, you lean back and squealed. Regaining your composure, you quickly begin unpacking, not wanting to seem like you were waiting for him. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door and you let him in.

“I’ll start with this bag,” he told you. You let him be and begin fixing your books on the shelf. That’s when you realize the silence. You turned back and see Prince Thomas staring at the contents inside the bag with a red face. “Princess y/n. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to touch these.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask. You walk towards him and check the bag. You turn red as well. “I’m so sorry, Prince Thomas. I didn’t know they were in this bag. I’m sorry, I really am.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “It’s okay. I’ll just start with this other bag.”

You zip the bag you’re holding and turn away from him. Whoever placed your ladies undergarments in this bag was going to get it. ‘Calm down, y’/n, they didn’t know.’ You inhale and exhale before setting the bag down.

It’s been a few days since your stay in the castle. You’ve had some interesting encounters with Prince Thomas, or Tom as he preferred to be called, and you, in turn, allowed him to call you by your first name.

And by interesting meaning, after spending time with him every day, you were in the garden and you found yourselves making out. If you two were asked who started it, you wouldn’t know what to answer. And you know what, it didn’t matter to both of you. It wasn’t the best to tell anyone yet about their relationship so, behind the walls, you two would cuddle and trace circles in the palms of each other’s hands, telling one another stories and secrets. Under the table during eating hours, you’d brush your foot on his leg and you could see him turning pink at the gesture.

When it was time for you to go home, that was the only time things went public. How could you two send letters to one another without others knowing?

‘I’ve told them, y/n. I’ve told Mom and Dad about who I want to marry. It’s you. I want to marry you. I don’t want to marry any of the other princesses they asked me to consider before I make a final decision. I love you, y/n. I don’t know if you love me back yet but I will wait. I will wait for your love before we become betrothed.’

He didn’t have to wait long. Your next letter to him told him how you felt. You loved Tom back.

Days after, it was announced that Prince Thomas of the Northern Kingdom, Crown Prince of all Kingdoms, has chosen Princess y/n of the Eastern Kingdom, to be his betrothed.

Everyone celebrated. Parties were held and everyone had admired the engagement ring on your finger. And as people talked to you, as again you are the light and life of the party, you looked back and saw Tom smiling at you.

Finally, you didn’t have to wonder how he would act or how we would talk. Or how we would respond to when you entertained him. “Thank you, Creator,” you murmured before turning back to the group you were with. Unbeknownst to you, Tom murmured the same thing.

[jentlemahae]

hi! I am here to inquire about the plot of dream verse 💓

under the cut bcs i got carried away

EP 1: Dive Into You

It is no secret that 20-year-olf Park Jisung was born in luck. He was the full package – tall, handsome, smart, good-hearted, skilled at sports, and extremely rich. His family had found wealth 25 years before, when his grandfather (Park Haru) started the hot sauce business that would become the most successful hot sauce business in South Korea – DREAM FLAVOR. No one knew exactly how he had done it, as it seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye – people always asked him, but all he would do was wink and say, ‘I just had a spark of good luck’. But no one knew how true that was.

Jisung always looked up to his grandfather, and trusted every single word that came out of his mouth. His step-father (Jae-yi), however, had a much different opinion on the old man. He thought Haru was a total nut case, always nagging him obsessing over that damn candle. Truth be told, he did sort of have a point. Haru had a candle he was extremely secretive about, which he kept in a locked room beside his bedroom. You know, the “normal” place where people keep candles. As he was growing up, he always told Jisung that the candle was actually far more precious than it seemed, and that he should never let it blow out. A bunch of popicocks, as his father would say, but Jisung never forgot it.

He still didn’t forget it on that cold day of early May – that is, the day his grandfather died. Some people say death isn’t lonely, but that’s exactly how Jisung felt. Haru was not just his grandpa – he was his role model, his teacher, and most of all, his friend. On his will, he decidedto give Jisung a key to the candle’s room with a note that said, ‘I’m giving my spark of good luck to you and ONLY you. Use it well’. Jisung was torn because he wanted to trust that the last words his grandpa said to him were meaningful, but he couldn’t help but think, ‘What’s this old nut saying?’. Nonetheless, he took the key and went into the ominous room, with nothing but hope as his company. The candle was burning in the center of the dark windowless room, untouched and unsettling. It was just a normal candle you could find at a local market, yet something about the flame made it impossible to look away. Unsure of what to do, he decided to just leave and go home to try to forget about the whole thing. Yet, the trembling flame kept haunting his dreams for the entire night.

The next day, Jisung’s father decided it was time to move into Haru’s house and turn it upside down, with no care to the fact that the body of Haru was almost not even cold yet. He wanted to clean each room, but he couldn’t get into the candle room. Jisung was unsure of what to do – he did think his grandfather was bananas, but he also didn’t want to disrespect the only legacy he had left him. So, he refused to give up the key, and instead offered to clean the room himself. After dusting every inch of the area, he opened the door to let some air in. But as the wind was roaring outside, a sudden violent breeze came through the door and blew the candle out. Jisung rushed over and then ran to get a box of matches, to try to light it up as quickly as possible. However, no match seemed to work, as the fire appeared to refuse to burn again. With a wretched feeling in his gut, he immediately left and went back home to take a nap, trying to tell himself that it was nothing big. Boy, was he wrong…

When Jisung woke up from his nap, the sight that welcomed him was not what he expected – a young boy with blue hair and a green hoodie was sitting on the floor across from his bed. ‘Hi, I’m Mark’, he said – simple words that scared Jisung to his very bones. Raddled and very confused, Jisung decided to call his 5 friends – Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, and Chenle – and asked them to come over, hoping that together they would be able to make sense of the situation. But alas, they did not. As they watched Mark ravaging Jisung’s fridge as if he hadn’t eaten in a decade, they tried to come up with a game plan.

However, quick-tempered Haechan quickly lost his patience, and told Mark either he left on his own, or they were going to call the police. At which Mark looked at Jisung in disbelief and asked him if his grandfather hadn’t told him anything about him. Utterly confused, the boy shook his head, and so Mark told his story to the 6 googly-eyed friends…

Mark was 500-year-old spirit, born under the Joseon dynasty. Once he died, a witch bounded him to the candle – whenever someone lit it, Mark would bring good fortune and money to their family as long as the flame was burning. If it was blown out, the fortune would stop and Mark could wander the earth freely until someone new lighted it again.

The 6 friends exchanged a look and knew they were all thinking the same thing – they had to light that candle up once again.

(end of ep 1, now I’m gonna go more quickly omg this is so long I’m genuinely sorry)

EP 2: Rainbow

Mark overhears a convo between the others and becomes aware of the fact that they want to put him back inside the candle, but obviously he doesn’t want to. So he makes a pact with them to have 3 days of freedom, and he plans on stealing the candle in the meantime. He wants to go to the beach, so the 7 of them go on a road trip.

The 7 of them do some bonding and Mark tells them more of this story. He was born in a family of slaves and had grown up seeing all the injustices inflicted upon his people by the hands of the hierarchs. So, one day he decided to take matters into his own hands and began retaliating, by stealing from the royals to help his family. But his anger for revenge couldn’t stop at just stealing – he wanted the blood of those who had hurt his people. So, when he died, the witch put him there as a punishment for the murders.

They find out he’s a nice guy so they don’t want to put him back into the candle, as they realize he should have a chance to live too. So Mark tells them there is a way he can be out but still have access to his powers – they need the help of the witch who put him there. Obviously she’s dead by now but her power ran through her family, so she must have a descendant who is able to help them.

EP 3: Diggity

The witch who put him there was called Man Wol Lee and, as they find out, was an ancestor of Haechan. He doesn’t have magic but his twin sister – Hae-soo – does. So they go to her and try their best to convince her (Mark is the only one who manages to get through to her). In the meantime – Haru’s business (who is now in the hands of Jisung’s father) begins to go into trouble + Mark is staying as Jisung’s house (as he’s usually by himself anyway since his parents both work a lot) so the two have a lot of talks and stuff (e.g. Mark explains that when the candle is lit, he is stuck in a limbo called the Dreamverse – i.e. a place stuck between life and death where he has to face his own worst nightmares + tells him how he had met Haru). Anyways, they get Hae-soo to try something witchy so she channels Man Wol’s spirit with a spell book they found (and that Mark translated since he knew old Korean). They find out Mark and Man Wol used to be lovers (uh) in the old times, and she was the one who killed him and then forced him into the candle because she wanted to stop his lust for blood. She tells them the only way to free Mark is to bind someone else to the candle, to replace him.

EP 4: Irreplaceable

(+ Mark starts being mean to Hae-soo bcs he’s mad at Man Wol) They conclude the person they lock up should be a bad person + they don’t wanna kill them so they should find someone who justdied. So they go to the hospital but don’t find anyone (un)worthy enough (they know bcs Mark see what someone has been like while they were alive bcs of a spirit thingy).

*some shit happens*

They discover the candle got stolen. They search for a while, but then Mark disappears – someone must have lighted the candle again.

EP 5: Be There For You

Hae-soo does a locator spell so they’re able to find the candle, and discover that it’s now in possession of Vincenzo Cassano, one of the biggest mafia bosses in South Korea (he had heard of the candle’s powers and he wanted to use it). The 6 boys go to him to try to blow the candle out and free Mark, but they get caught and are taken hostage (they are taken to a storage area near Vincenzo’s house). Thankfully, Hae-soo followed them and blew the candle out, so Mark goes to free them but when he’s about to kill Vincenzo to protect Hae-soo, he can’t bcs spirits can’t kill the people who used to “own” them, so Jisung throws himself in the middle and gets shot instead. To stop him from dying, Hae-soo puts him in the candle.

EP 6: All Night Long

They realize Vincenzo has fled and has taken the candle. So there are two “realities” in the episode.

On one hand, there’s Jisung who is in the Dreamverse. There he sees a world exactly like his true reality BUT everything goes wrong – his grandfather is alive but tells him he’s a disappointment + his mother dies at Jisung’s hands + Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Chenle and Haechan force him to kill Hae-soo + they then try to kill him so he has to run away.

*BACKSTORY: Jisung’s father died before he was born + then his mother re-married but then she dies as well when he was 16 + Jisung never got along with Jae-yi and even less after the death of his mom

On the other hand, the others are trying to figure out how to bring Jisung back. Hae-soo and Mark contact Man Wol to ask her more information – she tells them they can enter Dreamverse (with her help ofc) and can help Jisung find an “exit”, which Mark couldn’t use since Man Wol made it impossible for him to access to ensure he would not escape. Jisung can use it bcs the prison world was not created for him. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle go to Vincenzo’s house to try to find something to track him down (since the locator spell doesn’t work). But when they go there they find Vincenzo’s dead body and no trace of the candle.

EP 7: Rocket

Two “realities” again.

Mark and Hae-soo go in Dreamverseto rescue Jisung (they find him first and the two mend fences). They convince him they’re real (bcs he’s kinda going bananas and can’t distinguish the Dreamversefrom reality) + they take him to the exit which is a door located in the middle of Dreamverse – the door is the door to the ‘candle’s room’ at Haru’s house. They go there (struggling bcs the others try to stop them + it takes a lot of energy for Hae-soo to keep them inside so she’s weak) and manage to get out (yay!).

Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle look at the CCTV (Haechan hacks into it) but they can’t see who killed Vincenzo (bcs there’s no cameras in that room) BUT there’s one in the garage so they can see the car of the person who killed him à the car plate! They recognize it so they know who’s the owner. They go back to Hae-soo’s to find them all out + tell them who is the killer (and has the candle) – Jisung’s step-father, Jae-yi.

EP 8: Hot Sauce

Jisung is out BUT he’s not human – he’s a spirit, both alive and dead at the same time (so he can’t feel touch and stuff, that’s important for later). + Jisung has a talk with Hae-soo to thank him for saving her life and apologize for putting him in that situation. He replies that he’s the one who’s thankful bcs she saved his life. They kiss <3 but Jisung can’t feel anything so :(

So Jisung, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle go to Jae-yi’s (which is actually Haru’s) house and try to find evidence of him being linked to Vincenzo – Jisung still doesn’t wanna believe it, but they find evidence. Mark and Hae-soo contact Man Wol and explain to her the situation and ask if they can put Jisung’s father in there without killing him. She tells them there’s a way to do with just a drop of his blood + explains the spell to Hae-soo + tells Mark she forgives him. So they go face Jisung’s step-father: there’s a fight and yadiyadiyada but they manage to put him inside so yay!!!

The “owner” of the candle is now Jisung. He decides to use the fortune to continue Haru’s hot sauce business – he puts it in a box (the one from the life is still going on mv). Mark is a human now so he can go anywhere but decides to stay in Seoul and experience life as a normal college student. Jisung and Hae-soo kiss again <3

EP 9: Life Is Still Going On (BONUS EPISODE)

It’s 7 years into the future. Everyone meets again at a dinner thrown by Jisung.

Jisung is the CEO of DREAM FLAVOR and the company has grown even more + he’s engaged to Hae-soo who is doing her medical residency to become a surgeon + Haechan and Chenle are now starting a tech company together (about keeping you safe from hackers etc) + Jaemin is a surgical resident as well + Jeno is now a soccer player in the national team + Mark is getting his second Bachelor’s

They eat and chat + Jisung tells Haechan and Chenle he’s giving them the candle bcs they need the luck more since they’re starting a new business. So he blows it out + the episode ends with Haechan lighting it again.

-FIN-

Thanks for reading omg this was fun :DDD

[dumbkiri]

Buried Secrets Two

Parts: [ 1, Here, 3 ]

Summary: [Name], knowing she and John are in danger, runs to the babysitter’s house to get John back to safety. She also gives the nice babysitter money to go out of the country. Then [Name] is in a stolen car wondering where and who to go for help. She reluctantly goes to the Titans. Although plans don’t go as planned. Dick tells the truth to the Titans and they figure out a plan to stop Deathstroke once and for all. Deathstroke has unfortunate news for [Name]. 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female! Reader

Genre: Slight Angst

Word Count: 3k

WARNINGS: Blood

“Wait, Ms. [L.Name], why are you suddenly leaving? Also you’re bleeding,” Samantha, John’s babysitter, had ran behind [Name]. The young teen was not understanding why she was given two grand for only taking care of John for a night. 

[Name] held John closer to her body and noticed that he was going to cry soon. She set John down in a carrier then grabbed Samantha by her shoulders, “Look, sweetie, use the money to finally go to South Korea. Didn’t you say you always wanted to go there?”

“Y-yeah, but I can’t leave without notifying my parents. I’m just a sophomore in high school,” Samantha gave [Name] a weird look. 

[Name] cursed under her breath and grabbed four grand from a duffel bag, “Here use this to bring your parents with you. Just get out of town, no, the country.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Samantha didn’t know when to stop asking questions and it was annoying the older female to no end. [Name] zipped up the duffel bag and grabbed the handle of John’s carrier. She walked over to the front door and zoomed over to her car that she stole. She opened the backseat car door and strapped John into a car seat. 

John began crying now and [Name] closed the door after she stuffed her bags next to John. “Listen carefully, Samantha. Bad people are after me and they might use you to find me which is why you need to leave. Because they’ll only bring harm to you and your family for no reason.”

Samantha’s blue eyes widened, “Bad people like murderers?”

“Worst. Now call your parents and I’ll tell them what to do.”

…… 

[Name] looked at her phone and typed the address to the Titan’s Tower. Her fingers froze and she let her thumb hover over the start button. Deathstroke said that Dick brought the Titans back together. But she couldn’t bring herself to believe him. Deathstroke isn’t known to be a liar, manipulative, yes. If Dick really did bring the Titans back even their old friends, why didn’t he contact her?

“Ma...ma,” John whined in the back seat, his little feet kicking the air, 

[Name] should feel grateful that Dick didn’t call her. It would be awkward to see him. It would be awkward to see them all and John, what would they think? Did Dick tell them about John? Her [e.color] eyes looked at the rearview mirror. She watched as John babbled in his spot. Drool dripping down his chin. 

She worried for her son. [Name] promised herself she wouldn’t go back to being a hero. That was in the past and it was going to stay there because she didn’t want her son getting hurt or worse. He was too young to die. He’s just a baby. 

“Starting route to Titan’s Tower,” 

This was her only chance to keep him safe. They were her family once and John could be a part of it. 

……

“Dick, come on, man, wake up” 

“What happened to the three of them?”

“Do you think they all just passed out here like idiots cause I do.”

“Hank, no.”

Dick groaned and opened his eyes to see Rachel and Gar waking up as well. His brown eyes observing the two teens that laid on each other. 

“Ugh, what happened?” Gar asked rubbing his head with his eyes adjusting to the bright light from Jason’s phone. 

“They seem fine. Maybe they had a sleepover without us” Jason said and Hank chuckled at his remark. Jason turned his phone light off and backed away to give the trio space.

 Rachel removed herself off of Gar’s body with a slight blush apparent. She sat on her knees and rubbed her hands on her thighs. [Name] was on her way. “Did you guys see what I saw?” Rachel asked the two males who were affected by her power. 

Gar nodded his head, “Yeah it was strange. It was like I was next to her when she was fighting Deathstroke and Dr. Light. It was so weird, I couldn’t do anything for her.” 

“Shit,” Dick cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet. He needed to go to the computer. He needed to see how far she was away from the tower. Dick ran out of the kitchen with everyone following him with questioning gazes. 

Donna was the first to reach him, “Whoa, Dick, slow down. Wanna tell us what’s going on?” The Wonder Girl looking at her friends for some help to get Dick to spill. They stayed quiet and watched him type on the keyboard. His fingers going at a crazy rate. 

“Searching for [Name] [L.Name]...” 

Hank stepped up to Dick with his hand placed on his head, “Hold up, why are you looking for [Name]? Is everything okay with her?”

“No,” Rachel spoke up, “My power, it allowed me to see that she was in danger. She was fighting Deathstroke and Dr. Light all by herself.”

“She blew her own home up, it was crazy and she has telekinesis!” Gar exclaimed pulling at his hair. He never saw such a powerful person with a cool ability. Dick tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the computer to give him results and it was painfully slow. His family was in danger. Can he call them his family? He hasn’t seen them in three years. Every time he wanted to contact [Name], he got cold feet. 

“Dick, you got to tell us what is going on,” Dawn set her hand onto his shoulder. He looked behind him and they were all staring at him. Their eyes boring into him to tell them the truth. He took a deep breath in and pushed away from the computer. 

“I haven’t been honest with you guys,” Dick crossed his arms over his chest, “the only ones that know this secret is Bruce and Alfred. Even if I told you a long time ago what had happened between [Name] and I, I don’t think it’s your business in the first place.”

Hank glared at him, “Now it is.”

“Yes,” Dick nodded his head, “Because they’re in danger.”

Dawn tilted her head in confusion and Donna spoke up, “They’re? Someone else is with [Name]?” The two women had no idea what was going on and neither did the rest. Dick was being hesitant and he took a long time to explain what was going on. He bit his lip and chewed on it. Rachel and Gar looked at each other wondering if they should help Dick with telling the truth. 

“It’s not easy to say this,” Dick admitted with his head low in defeat. He had to tell them anyways because [Name] was going to show up to Titan’s Tower eventually. “[Name] and I...we have a son. He’s two years old and-”

“No fucking way,” An unexpected voice cut through and it was Rose Wilson, Deathstroke’s daughter. “You had a secret child and you didn’t bother to tell your teammates. What other secrets are you keeping?”

“None,” Dick said with a sharp tone. 

Dawn removed her hand off of Dick’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell us? We’re your friends.”

“It’s because it was none of our business,” Hank bellowed, “obviously we weren't good enough friends for him to confide in us.” Dawn looked over her shoulder at Hank. Their eyes connected. 

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. 

It was the front entrance. Someone was there and it was definitely [Name]. It had to be. Although when the camera footage popped up on the computer screen, no one was visible. Suddenly, they all heard the elevator dinging. Dick was the first one to investigate. They all waited in the main room to see the elevator doors opening. 

What they saw made their hearts churn especially Dick’s. His eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the middle of the elevator was a bassinet with a crying baby in it and a woman bloodied and beaten holding tightly onto the bassinet. Dick reacted quicker than the others and immediately ran inside the elevator. His hands flying to the woman’s face. 

Her nose was bleeding and her eyes were barely open. It was like she was trying to stay awake, but her body was forcing herself to sleep. Her breaths were shallow and her hands gripped tightly around the bassinet. She opened her mouth, blood coating her teeth, “Take care of him, okay?” Her head felt lighter in his hands and he understood. 

“[Name],” Dick called softly tears brimming, “you’re not here, are you?” 

She gave him a smile and her body disappeared right in front of him in red waves. The old titans rushed into the elevator and looked down at Dick kneeling in a fetal position. Then he looked up from the spot where [Name] had once laid in. Letting his anger out, Dick punched the elevator wall in front of him, “Goddammit!” 

“W-wait, I don’t understand,“ Gar spoke up trying to see in the elevator, “[Name] was just here. What happened to her body?” The green haired thought of the worst. He thought she had died. Donna looked at the teens and pushed them away from the elevator telling them that the adults would handle this. 

Dawn knelt down beside Dick, “Come on, Dick. We’re going to find her, but right now your son needs you.” Dick wiped his tears away and picked up the bassinet with shaky hands. Hank stopped Dick from exiting the elevator, “I can hold him...if you want.” 

Dick shook his head, “Thank you, but I got him.” For the first time in a long time, Dick was with his son again. Yet he wished the circumstances were better.

……

“Alright an hour later, John is finally sleeping,” Dawn and Donna walked back into the main room where everybody sat in or around the kitchen. Dick gave them a grateful nod and focused his attention back on the wall. 

“So is anyone going to explain what happened to [Name],” Gar asked very curious why the woman disappeared in the elevator. 

Jason tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “It’s because of her ability.” 

The old titans gave him questioning glares. 

“What? Bruce had me study potential allies and [Name] was one of them. According to what she knows, she has the ability to warp reality and teleport. Well that’s not all she can do, but it’s what she used in this situation. My guess is she used teleportation and put little John in the elevator before Deathstroke could get to him.”

“So her body was just her warping reality?” Rachel asked. 

Rose shrugged her shoulders, “If she could teleport, why didn’t she do the same for herself?”

“Because she hasn’t used her powers in a long time ever since John was born. She didn’t want to risk him getting injured.” Dick answered. His brown eyes were directed to the floor in thought. [Name] was in danger and in the hands of Deathstroke. His second worst enemy. 

Rachel slid off the kitchen counter, "Well, aren't we going to save her? Isn't that what the Titans do?" 

Dick looked at Rachel and shook his head. He wasn't going to allow his new recruits, his friends, get involved with Deathstroke. He won't allow another young soul die at his hands. "No, you guys will stay here and keep watch on John." 

"Great," Jason groaned, "you're putting us on babysitting duty while you guys fight a known villain. He's your son, how about you spend time with him for once?"

Dick growled, "Don't go there." 

"Or what?" Jason challenged stepping up to Dick. The teen with black hair was beginning to push Dick's buttons. And they weren't supposed to be bothered with. "I say you sit this one out, Dick. Let us handle the bad guys for once." 

"No," Dick said firmly. He was standing his ground. The presence of the new Robin didn't scare him nor did he tremble. "Deathstroke is mine. Now stand down or I'll put you on probationary timeout." 

Jason scoffed and turned his back on Dick muttering a few curses. The old Titans walked up to Dick and they formed a tiny circle ready to discuss their plans on how to get [Name] back to safety. 

……

“A caring mother, you are,” Deathstroke talked to [Name], sitting directly across from her. Their knees almost touching each other. “I could have promised not to lay a finger on your son, but you made things more difficult for you.” 

[Name] swallowed down the blood from her mouth. The taste of iron bothering her taste buds. “I won’t allow my son to get hurt because you have a personal vendetta for his father.”

“You speak as if Grayson holds no meaning to your heart, is it true you two had a falling out?” Deathstroke asked with a tilt of his head. 

“You can say that,” [Name] responded looking away from him. She wasn’t going to speak about her relationship problems with a psycho like Deathstroke. Her business was her business. This wasn’t a therapy session among a hero and villain. 

“Huh, always thought you two were good for each other.”

“Ah, good one. An attempt of sarcasm by the one and only Deathstroke.” [Name] replied to his remark. Her right eye closed upon feeling the warm liquid that was blood drip down it. She forgot that she was hurting while chained to the chair in special handcuffs. Deathstroke’s presence didn’t allow her to relax. He forced her to be on the edge. 

“Why don’t you use your powers, [Name]?” Deathstroke looked at her crossing his arms over his chest. She got him thinking. She needed him to think of the consequences he’ll reap. 

The blood dripped onto her clothing in a slow rhythm. “I don’t know maybe because you got a hold of Cadmus’ tech. Did you steal them or actually request for them, I’m really curious.” She wiped her chin with her shoulder and sighed. [Name] didn’t like waiting and she hoped the Titans could find her. But it was nearly impossible especially if Deathstroke is good at covering steps and going off grid. It was his specialty. 

“I made a bargain with them,” Deathstroke began ominously, “I give them you in exchange for the Titans.”

[Name] was puzzled. “Cadmus doesn’t have the Titans, you only put yourself in a situation which can’t happen because-”

“I hand you over to them now and they could experiment on you. Then they’ll send out their people and get the Titans for me. It’s an easy trade off.”

“I thought you wanted Dick for yourself. Why not get revenge by you doing what you do best. You’re a killer, Deathstroke. Blinded by your rage toward Dick and vice versa, you two killed an innocent boy. A boy I was beginning to love in my own way. A boy Dick took advantage of. A boy who was your dearest son. Why continue this vengeance and for what reason?”

“You are to blame for my son’s death. You allowed Grayson to let Jericho into the Titan life knowing who his father was. Who I was.” [Name] could feel the anger radiating off of his body with each sentence. “Yet you and the Titans didn’t stop Dick from coercing Jericho. You killed him.”

[Name] shook her head, “No, I left the Titans before Jericho died. I only heard about his passing from Dawn, Dick didn’t tell me the truth until I came back and threatened to search his memories.” She paused and softened her glare, “Slade, I’m really sorry about Jericho. He was a wonderful boy and he could have made a great man.”

Deathstroke uncrossed his arms and leaned closely to [Name]. He placed his right knee in between her legs and let his right hand hold the chair. His left hand wiped the blood away from her eye so she could look up at him with both of her [e.color] eyes. “You will be when I make you feel the pain my wife and I went through.”

[Name] knew exactly what he meant. His words struck her heart and her blood ran cold. "No, please, he's just a baby," Her voice was soft and fragile. Her eyes pooling with unshed tears of sadness. 

Deathstroke gripped her chin tightly with his fingers. 

"I'm begging you, Slade," [Name] was crying now. Her eyes closed as she cried for what Deathstroke was planning. She opened them up and begged again, "Please, don't go after my boy. He's innocent and he would never hurt anyone. Slade, please." 

He removed himself from her and began walking away from her in silence. 

[Name] struggled in her bonds. Her feet pushing against the floor and her chair tilted sideways. The weight of her body made herself and the chair fall on their left side. Her body ached, but that didn't stop her from calling out to him, "Leave him alone! Please!"

Dr. Light popped into the room and watched as the mother cried out to Deathstroke. Feeling a little remorse for her, he questioned the man who wiped his sword with a white rag. "You aren't really going after the baby, are you?" 

"Does it matter to you?" Deathstroke placed his sword back into its sheath. He turned his body to Dr. Light waiting patiently for an answer. 

Dr. Light nodded his head, "You said that she and the baby would only be bait for the Titans. All I want is the Titans, not for us to kill some kid." 

"And all I want is revenge." Deathstroke finished and walked out of the room. 

"Don't do this!" Dr. Light cringed at the hoarse yells coming out of [Name]'s mouth and he turned his attention back on the woman. She was lying helplessly on the floor with tears sliding down her face. 

He wasn't supposed to do this.

“Alright, calm down, will ya?” Dr. Light ran over to [Name] and lifted her chair upright. She sniffled and brought her red eyes onto the villain. “Don’t look at me like that. I cross lines, sure. But killing a kid, that’s not for me...yet.” 

That didn’t make [Name] feel any better. 

“I mean a kid that hasn’t done any wrong to me. Fuck the Titans though, am I right?” Dr. Light chuckled and looked at the special handcuffs on her hands. He didn’t know how to take these off. “This is gonna sound awkward, lady. But I can’t take these handcuffs off you, only that bastard can.” 

“That’s fine,” [Name] finally spoke up and her eyes were a bright red along with her hands, “all I need is you.” 

[enkelimagnus]

Shul (Past)

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1521 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A 3am run down memory lane and the streets of Brooklyn take Bucky on a bit of an emotional journey.

Read on AO3

Part 2 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series, Part 1 here

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Brooklyn’s nights aren’t as quiet as he remembers them to be.

There’s light everywhere now, noise and cars still driving by despite the fact that it’s 3am and no one should be outside at this hour.

It’s hypocritical, considering he ’s outside at this hour, one of the people adding unwanted noise to the night.

Granted, he’s quiet when he walks, when he watches. Even when he’s running, like he’s running now, taking advantage of the night to push his body to inhuman speeds, to truly feel his lungs burn as he struggles to take in breaths, to be outside without gloves on. He still has long sleeves, though.

He’s trying to be a regular guy, a regular neighbor. He knows he doesn’t exactly succeed, that his neighbors know he screams in his sleep. More often than not, he’s walking out in the middle of the night for a run. They must know there’s something off about him. He can’t be regular, can’t be normal, can’t go back to normal.

Because his normal died years ago. His normal is long fucking gone, and there are days he goes and explore Brooklyn and loses himself in the new buildings and the new pavements, and the everything he doesn’t recognize. When he’s lost, he feels the panic rising and no matter how many times Doctor Raynor has told him he can always use the GPS on his phone, he doesn’t think about it.

His normal died on June 15th, 1943, when the boat left the New York harbor and he shipped out to London. To the war. To die. Leaving Ma, Rebecca, Deborah, Astrid and Steve behind him. Leaving home.

He’d been young and foolish and he’d told himself every hour of that journey that he’d come home, that he’d be back, that he would see them again.

Ma died in 1963. Deborah in 1996. Astrid in 2018, right before the Snap. Rebecca’s still alive, in a retirement home in Indiana. Steve’s… Gone.

He should drink some water, but he doesn’t have any right now, as he makes himself come to a light jog. He just lets his throat burn, his body thirst. His mind cries.

His normal died a thousand times from June 15th, 1943 to October 30th, 2023, when Steve left.

How does one go back to normal when all there is to go back to is ash and gravestones ?

He could go see Rebecca. Doctor Raynor says it wouldn’t be a bad idea. That it would connect him back to reality. That it would stop him from living too much in the past. As if he wants to stop remembering his sister as 23 years old and smiling brightly, with her dark hair pinned in neat curls, young and innocent and with the same drive and recklessness as Steve.

Steve and her had been two peas in a pod. He’d fit into the family perfectly, from the day Bucky had first brought him home.

He doesn’t want to walk into the retirement home and see her, 103 years old, white-haired, heavy and old. Knowing her, she’d have her hair still neat and in curls. She loved that style. She’d hit him when he tried to touch her rollers.

He doesn’t want to lose those memories in the sake of connecting to the present. Some days, they feel like all he has anymore. Memories and a postcard from the Smithsonian gift shop, framed and put on the wall of his house. Steve’s smile. His own smile. It was war, yes, but they were happy, for one year, somewhat safer on the frontline than at home.

It’s 3am and he’s now walking on a Brooklyn street, and this one feels familiar, so he just keeps walking and keeps listening to his own heartbeat, to the way his breath hisses in and out of his lungs. He walks, and he’s sweaty and he knows he might ache tomorrow from pushing himself the way he just did, but that will be something, at least.

He should try and sleep through the nights. He’s on call, supposed to be ready to go whenever his superiors find a new Hydra safehouse they want him to clear. It’s a job he can do in his sleep, but it’s a job he’s supposed to not be completely exhausted for.

Fuck them, really. Fuck them and the looks they give him when he shows up looking like he hasn’t slept in days. Because he hasn’t . They should leave him the fuck alone, he’s done enough for them. As long as he does his job, they don’t get to judge how he looks doing it. They’re not his fucking girlfriend for fuck’s sake. He’s not even proper military anymore, so why do they give a fuck if his boots aren’t properly shined?

The street is empty and he feels like screaming, but he doesn’t. He’d wake people up. They’d stare at him. They’d call the fucking cops and he’d have to explain what he’s doing there, and Doctor Raynor would hear about it and so would the brass. Normal life is a chokehold.

He looks over at the sign with the street number on it. East 47th Street.

No wonder this one feels familiar.

He starts walking south despite himself, down the street to the corner he remembers the most. That’s where their shul used to be.

He walked that street many times when he was younger. In his nice Shabbos clothes, or his new Rosh Hashanah shoes, shiny and stiff, pulled down the street by his fasting mother, whining the entire way about the way the new leather made blisters bloom on his ankles.

Around any holiday of significance, the entire neighborhood would be singing and laughing. The tired baker would still shout ‘Gut Shabbos Frau Barasch’ to his mother when she came to leave the kugel in his oven before shabbos. It was funny, the Yiddish, the German ‘Madam’, the use of the Romanian form of their last name, as if they hadn’t changed it years ago when they’d made it to Ellis Island.

He’s walking that street now so much older and so much more tired. The baker’s been dead for decades, probably, he was older than his ma. He was nice to them, helped them out a lot. Especially once his da had passed. He’d slip them some cookies for shabbos. He smiled a lot.

Everyone smiled a lot, despite the struggle, despite the work. Candles were lit, and people danced. He remembers the baker singing and dancing at his son’s wedding, warm and proud.

Everything was golden back then. The challah, Steve’s hair, his mother’s smile, the light through the stained glass of the shul windows.

The building is still standing. He sees it from far away and his heart quickens. Hope, crazy foolish hope takes over his mind, his tired eyes. Perhaps there’s still a hint of his childhood standing. Perhaps he hasn’t lost everything.

It’s as beautiful as he remembers. It’s been taken care of. The bricks are relatively clean for a city dirty as New York. His eyes scan over the façade, and that’s when he reads the words on the sign over the door.

47th Street Baptist Church.

His nails dig in his palm, opening wounds, and it stings as much as the tears that sting his eyes.

It’s a church. His shul is a church. They’re gone. They’re all fucking gone.

Everything’s gone. Why is he still there? Why is he still standing? Why did they have to make him live?

He turns back around and starts to run again. He runs away from the absolutely violent pain in his chest as he sees ‘church’ written between two stars of David. He runs away from the anguish of being alone.

What else can he do but run?

This is exactly why he doesn’t want to see Rebecca, no matter how much he misses her.

He’s alone. He’s alive because Hydra didn’t let him die. They didn’t let him die in the factory, when he was feverish and coughing from pneumonia, when he fell off the fucking train, when he begged for them to kill him, when he got shot on a mission and they begrudingly patched him up enough so he could be punished for wasting their ressources.

Somehow, he makes it back home. His fingers ghost over the mezuzah at the front door, like they always do now. Like they always did, before. For a second, he’s just a boy touching the mezuzah at his door, and he brings his fingers to his lips to kiss them. His real fingers. At least that’s something he hasn’t lost, right?

The door slams too loud, he stumbles through the corridor to his bathroom. He’s sticky with sweat, and he should shower but what he does is reach for his sleeping pills.

He takes one, swallows it with barely enough water, and walks to his living room. He lays down on the floor and waits for the pill to start working. To let him fall into the dreamless void of medicated sleep.

[mychemicalficrecs]

While making the last list (Angsty Frank/Gerard), I realized that I have my own tag for works that give me feels. Several of these are on the angst list as well, but these are specifically works that make my heart hurt. For everyone who needs to feel something, let me recommend:

Frank/Gerard That Gives Me Too Many Feels

Can Never Wrong this Right by theopteryx, 24k, Explicit. Written for the hc_bingo challenge, for the square of 'forced soul-bonding.' It's 1949 and Dr. Way is a professor of Archeology and Frank is his constantly exasperated (and secretly pining) assistant. When their latest trek takes them to South America to locate the fabled Blood Stone, however, they both find more than they bargained for.

In the Music of Time by greedy_dancer, 13k, Explicit. It’s Frank’s last day off before the North American leg of the World Contamination Tour begins, so he’s not particularly happy when his nap is interrupted by a frantic phone call from Gerard. Gee’s clearly upset about something, but the urgent instructions he gives Frank as he rushes back to their hotel room are not making much sense. And why does Gerard keep asking Frank if he’s alone? Frank’s confusion only grows from there. The next thing he knows, Gerard is right there, kissing him - which should be impossible, considering Gee’s still on his way, and talking to Frank on the phone. It is Gerard kissing Frank, though. A blond Gerard. Gerard, circa 2006. And if that wasn’t enough to give Frank the mother of all headaches, it appears that there are actually not only one, not even two, but three Gerards come from various dark times in Gee’s past, congregating in the hotel room, looking for hints of a brighter future. This is the tale of Frank and the four Gerards, and of the afternoon that set everything in motion.

What Ships Are For by mwestbelle, 22k, Explicit. Gerard is most concerned when he finds that, while away at university, his father has taken in a new ward of his own brother's age. But upon his return home, he finds the young man to be particularly enchanting; unfortunately, according to the High Society he lives in, not only is Frank entirely too poor to be considered, but they might as well be brothers.

Bread and Butter by jjtaylor, 18k, Mature. Frank unfolds the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and quietly drapes it over the outline of Gerard under the covers. It’s Tuesday and Frank is headed into the bakery to do battle with brioche.

The Circuit by stoplightglow, 24k, Mature. In the world of competitive motorcycle racing, nothing is more prestigious than the Grand Circuit Tour. Americans everywhere gather to watch as the twelve best racers in the nation compete for the title of Circuit Champion and $100,000. Gerard Way is no stranger to the race. When he was a teenager, his name was practically legend - but after disappearing without explanation six years ago, he's become little more than a relic of the past. Now, at age twenty-six, Gerard is back on the Circuit with something to prove. It's Frank Iero's first year on the tour, but he's more than ready. No one has seen a kid blast through the ranks so fast since Gerard Way first appeared on the scene a decade ago. With a cocky attitude and the whole country swooning over him, nothing can slow him down. The stakes have never been so high. Welcome to the Fourteenth Annual Grand Circuit Tour.

In Repair by autoschediastic, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins to Break by Solarcat, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has high school figured out. His mom has given up arguing about the amount of time he spends in Gerard's basement, and he doesn't actually care if people think it's weird that he and Gerard hold hands in the hallways and go to the bathroom together. The only thing Frank cares about is figuring out why Gerard's suddenly avoiding him -- because what's the point of losing your virginity on Prom Night if you can't tell your best friend about it in the morning?

Fit to be tied by maryangel, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Gerard/Lindsey, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Frank/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, 43k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

The Detective's Secret and the Mystery of the Dancing Flowers by jjtaylor, 84k, Mature. Wanted: Replacement Valet for high profile Midnighter household. Must have excellent references, believable reason for leaving former place of employment, all Clan paperwork in order. Experience in filing, housekeeping, carriage driving, men's grooming, bookkeeping, scheduling. Highly desirable skills include: basic gardening, Daylighter legal practices, first-aid, hand-to-hand combat. Please contact Frank Iero for more information.

You'll Always Feel This Way by wakingup, 14k, Not Rated. It's Frank's birthday and he's gonna A) get drunk B) hit on Gerard C) get laid. Yeah, it's definitely going to work out like that. (Spoiler alert: it might not be that easy)

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

What Are You Made Of? (What Do You Dress It Up In?) by stoplightglow, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. “How’d you learn this?” Frank hears himself saying, words spilling out just to distract himself. God, it’s so fucking itchy, and Gerard is taking forever. “What, makeup?” Gerard says, not really a question. “Do you mean, like, how I got the techniques, or how I started wearing it in the first place? Because technique-wise, I mostly just stole my mom’s magazines and did whatever they said was right.” “How you started wearing it in the first place, then.” The pencil freezes, and then Gerard takes half a step back so Frank can see his eyes. “I haven’t told a lot of people that story.”