#i like slow burn because 90% of the time i stop reading once the burn ends and i want the pining to last for as long as possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vampiremarz · 1 year ago

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Split The Heavens

"We're closed" The Demon said flatly, pushing his glasses up so they would stay propped up on his forehead(that corner of the bookshop was way too dark to wear sunglasses, And read something) "I thought Muriel was running the Bookshop?" the customer said, their oh so familiar voice rang in Crowley's ears. His skin crawled, as he looked over his shoulder. "Aziraphale." he monotoned. "

Something wet and warm ran down the demon's cheek, it burned like holy water, but worse. it didn't kill him, but the burn wouldn't go away. He didn't know demon's could cry.

cross posted on ao3

The Demon had watched The Angel step into the elevator with a smile on his face. It broke his heart. He felt it slowly crack and shatter into a million pieces. his dark glasses covered his eyes welling up with tears. As music began to play on the radio as he turned the key in the Bentley, instantly he turned it off, not wanting to wallow in his emotions. He slammed his foot down onto the gas pedal, going as fast as the Bentley would let him. oddly slow compared to their usual 90 in Central London. "oh for fucks sake" He groaned. His glasses had slipped down his nose so he pushed them up with his middle finger.

His plants seemed to wilt behind him like he could hear them crying for help. "stop your whining, I watered you last night" He said through his teeth. He shuffled through the stack of CDs and tapes stashed in the glove compartment, frustrated he slammed it shut, turning the radio on and switching a few channels.

His original plan was to go back to his flat, but now that Shax had returned to hell his "home" was his once again, instead of slowing down and parking the Bentley in his parking spot, the brakes seemed to falter, the steering wheel turned on its own and Crowley was on the road once again. "FOR FUCKS SAKE" He slams his fist down on the dashboard, and the radio sputters.

"Love of my life, can't you see?

(Please bring it back)

Bring it back, bring it back, don't

take it away from me

Because you don't know what it

means to me (means to me)"

Love of my life by Queen had started playing on the radio, or the Bentley's mind of its own had decided to force Crowley to face his own emotions, the emotions he had felt for the first time ever

"You will remember when this is blown over

And everything's all by the way

(ooh, yeah)"

The radio continues. Crowley took his hands off of the steering wheel, looking ahead of him at the road as the Bentley seemed to drive itself.

"When I grow older, I will be there at your side" He sang along to the song. "To remind you how I still love you- Dammit Angel" He cursed under his breath before removing his glasses. In 1974 they had seen Queen play that song live, together. Aziraphale had apparently traded one of his books to get them "VIP" tickets, whatever that meant. ( And coincidentally, Crowley got to meet the band) He saw them 8 more times before Queen's last album was released.

He vividly remembered how during the bridge of the song Aziraphale's hand had brushed up against his, of course, they were sitting next to each other, they had gone together. Not like it was a date or anything(it was)

Lost in his thoughts the next thing he knew he was back in front of the bookshop. A.Z. Fell and Co. the oh so familiar sign read.

the bells above the door rang as he stepped inside "Welcome!" Muriel shouted from behind a pile of books almost twice their size, poor thing had just discovered what books were and now they were practically swimming in the mess the demons had made the night before. "oh! it's you, the demon" They said, straightening their posture "The Metatron put you in charge of the shop?" He said through his teeth again, straightening his glasses. "yes! I'm very excited" They replied "If Aziraphale finds out you're actually selling them or you damaged them in any way, the new Supreme Archangel will have you punished I'm sure" His fingers brushed against the dust of a book, despite Aziraphale only leaving about a half an hour ago it seemed to take a toll on the bookshop. "oh… are you just trying to scare me? it won't work on me Mr. Crowley, I'm an angel and you're a demon"

"blah blah blah doesn't matter, I know the bookshop better than you"

Muriel sighed "I suppose you're right"

Crowley sighed. The bookshop felt so empty now. "I'll help you get situated, He liked things a certain way" He stepped towards the angel, and Muriel stepped back. "Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you or anything, despite demonic appearances"

Muriel picked up one of the books from the large stack, an older and relatively smaller one. One Aziraphale had carried around with him when he had first gotten his hands on it, back in 1957. "Now, are you gonna read that or put it back?"

"put it back"

"Angel always organized them by author first name and genre, I have no idea how he didn't blow a fuse when Gabriel-" he corrects himself "Jim started organizing them by the first letter of the first sentence" He scoffed "Are all of these "authors" humans?" Muriel asked, using air quotes. "uh, I suppose so? never really thought about that" Crowley shrugged his shoulders, picking up a book and reading the author's name to reshelve it "Mr. Crowley?" They asked again. "hu?" he looked up from the book. "Once you're done teaching me about books, can you teach me about humans?"

He raised an eyebrow "You what now?"

"teach me about humans!" They said with a smile "You and Mr. Aziraphale had been here for 6,000 years, right? surely you know more than I could learn from observing"

"well… you're right I do know more. I'll consider it. You start organizing the best you can. I'm gonna go get a pick me up, hopefully, something alcoholic and a chat with someone" he pushed his hair back and walked out of the bookshop. The truth was he didn't mind Muriel, they were too clueless for their own good but also curious. The questions they asked reminded him of himself before the fall. He wanted to be nice to them, but they reminded him too much of himself, and too much of Aziraphale at the same time. Halfway to Nina's he realized he didn't really want to talk about what happened, just needed to get away from the bookshop, it was an instinct to meet Aziraphale there. Crowley groaned. His next option was to go back to his flat, pick up the mail shax had left at his door. He sauntered over to the Bentley and turned the car on, of course a sappy love song that reminded him of Aziraphale was playing, he decided to drive in silence instead.

splash! suddenly the demon was soaked, He shot up, his head throbbing and the room spinning "Crowley, where's Aziraphale?" Maggie said, her hands on her hips. Nina was next to her, holding an empty coffee cup, she must've been the one to wake him up "It's been weeks since we've seen either of you, very very unusual "

"fuck both of you" The demon groaned, rolling to the other side of the couch he was comfortably lounged on "I assume it didn't go well?" Nina asked, picking up a few empty wine bottles "Jesus Crowley how much can you drink? Are you planning on drinking your life away?"

"I'm not drinking my life away, just drinking the next decade away, till Aziraphale comes back or , till it doesn't hurt anymore" he muttered, reaching for the half-drunk bottle of wine next to him. Nina quickly grabbed it before he could, causing Crowley to fall off of the comfortable couch. "I'll go find the other one" Maggie said, giving Nina a kind pat on the shoulder. Nina gave her a nod as she headed up the spiral staircase. "What happened?" Nina sat on the couch, the demon still on the floor. "He left," Crowley said, his face squished into the floor. "oh! I wasn't expecting that, you two were absolutely made for eachother"

"I doubt that" He rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "He went back to heaven, wanted me to join him again, but we went through this ages ago, we're not on heaven or hell's side. we're on our own, but he picked heaven over me" His voice faltered slightly. "Oh Crowley, that's horrible" He simply just shrugged in response.

"I'm glad you came back. Aziraphale wasn't just the bookshop owner he was the landlord too, someone has to run it who knows the ropes already" Crowley sighed, looked like he couldn't abandon the bookshop even if he wanted to.

Crowley sat up. He blindly fumbled for some sort of drink, and begrudgingly, Nina handed him the bottle of wine she had snatched up. "the Metatron, that old fuckin idiot placed Muriel in charge, I have nothing against them but they don't have a clue what's going on at all" Crowley talked with his hands, almost knocking the bottle against the coffee table and breaking it.

"the Metatron? what type of a stupid name is that?"

"He's an old guy, balding, and smells like moldy cheese, but I'm probably exaggerating. He was in here earlier and gave Angel a coffee. I think it was a latte thing with almond syrup"

"I remember him! he was the first customer in that morning and asked a weird question, he asked if anyone ever asked for death"

"do they?"

"no," She said plainly, almost side-eyeing him.

"Muriel said they saw you drunkenly praying last night. You're a demon, who were you praying to? Satan?" Maggie said, heading down the stairs.

"I was asking God to take care of Aziraphale" he muttered under his breath, Looking down and away so he could remove his glasses and wipe off the lenses, covered in lukewarm tea. Maggie sighed "Crowley…"

"Yes, stupid human I know. I know"

The empty coffee cup is tossed at his head "You've been camping out here for weeks, you gave your flat to Beelzebub and Jim and haven't even unpacked the boxes of your shit!" Maggie pointed towards the stack of boxes by the door labeled "Krowly" the handwriting absolute chicken scratch, obviously written by Beelzebub. "You got all this from Muriel?" Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and your plants died," Maggie added. With a wave of his hands, the plants were luscious and green again "No they're not"

"you can't miracle everything to be better" Nina pulls over a chair and one for Maggie, sitting down in front of Crowley. "Muriel wants me to teach them about humans. Guess I'll be staying around longer than I wanted to, I'll run the bookshop I guess"

“Don't be a horrible influence on that poor kid”

“I won't, Aziraphale will probably come back in the next few days, he’ll realize how boring it is in heaven”

“What are you going to tell people if they ask where he is?”

“Probably in America or somewhere stupid” Crowley shrugged. "He'll come back"

"you're very nice for a demon, I know I don't have much of a reference to base it on but you're a really nice guy" Maggie said. "Look uh, I told Miss sandwich already, I'm not either. I'm not nice" he said through his teeth. "Have fun lying to yourself then" Nina said before Maggie could, like she could read her mind. "we should go, we have to open our shops, we'll be back after closing to make sure you're not drunk again"

The demon was nice, As much as he hated to admit it he wasn't evil, he was far from it. The last mean thing he ment and actually remembered saying was telling Jim- Gabriel to step out of the window and face plant onto the sidewalk of Soho London. As much as he hated Gabriel, he still regretted it.

The demon who lived in his car after he lost his flat, never thought to ask his angel for a place to stay, he thought it would make Aziraphale uncomfortable. The same demon who felt comfortable enough with said angel to show his eyes around him, the eyes he could have miracled into normal human eyes at any moment. The demon who would do anything to kiss Aziraphale again, despite how horrible the situation was or how painful of a memory it was, how much it hurt seeing the look on Aziraphale's face. He would still do it all over again.

His Bentley turned a familiar shade of yellow, shortly before malfunctioning and becoming undriveable. Crowley could've easily miracled it, fixed. After everything the car had been through with him, after 90 years of Aziraphale sitting in the passenger seat. He couldn't dare look at it again, his most prized possession was left in an empty lot, yellow instead of black. The Demon knew the Bentley reflected his own emotions.

Life without Aziraphale moved ever so slowly. Crowley was used to life moving slowly, he had been on slow-moving earth with slow-moving humans for six thousand years, but this was painfully slow. Time should've been flying by, but it wasn't. But from Inspector Constable turned bookseller's perspective, he seemed to be doing better than he was the day Aziraphale left.

Crowley sat lounged over the fancy chair pushed up against Aziraphale's old desk, shuffling through a box of records, the cardboard around the packaging edges fraying slightly "Muriel? What should we listen to together? Queen or?...." He held up an autographed version of A Day At The Races and started shuffling through the box again, looking for a second option. "the queen of what? Why are we listening to a queen?"

"What did you just say?" He gritted his teeth, spinning around in the chair and dropping the box onto the floor "I don't understand who's the queen?" They asked. Crowley simply strutted towards the record player "Muriel Muriel Muriel you are about to have your mind blown- sorry human expression" He corrected himself, avoiding a question. The record slid out of its sleeve and into his hand, very very cautiously placing the pristine record (despite being 47 years old and still in mint condition) onto the turntable.

As the first song started playing and he slumped back into his chair "Take a seat and enjoy the music little angel" He said, lifting the to-go coffee cup to his lips, "was six shots right? Nina knows your usual but I wanted to try and remember it"

He nodded, closing his eyes to enjoy the music "Do you-" They continued, being interrupted by Crowley's finger behind, held up to shush them "Listen to the music" Crowley said, side-eyeing them. "this one's called Tie Your Mother Down" Muriel sat down in their chair, a simple blue metal chair opposite next to Crowey's fancy deep red and gold throne-like chair. Crowley couldn't bring himself to sit in the chair that had been next to the desk before. It was Aziraphale's chair, not Crowley's. He had brought his chair from his flat, and stolen Muriel's from Nina's. Aziraphale's worn-down chair sat nicely in the corner as if he was sitting there with them. His gaze shifted towards the record player, then towards the chair as the songs switched. "I can dim the li-" the record sings, quickly Crowley jumps to his feet, the needle quickly skipping "Why'd you do that?" They tilt their head to the side "I uh…. I just don't like the song" He responded. His demeanor had changed drastically. "Mr. Crowley, are you ok?" They asked. "I'm fine! just that's enough of this album for today, pick one from the box. I'm gonna organize the books' ' He stormed off to the other side of the bookshop. a nice old lady had come by to sell a box full of her husband's old books, he had to inventory them and shelve them, a boring task he had no idea how Aziraphale dealt with it. "I think I'll get a new one!" They stood up. Crowley shuffled through his pockets, he sauntered back over to them and placed about 15 pounds into their hand "Maggie will probably let you just take a record because she doesn't have to pay us- Aziraphale, rent anymore but pay her anyway"

"That's very nice of you for a demon" They respond, putting the pounds in their pocket. "Eh, not really, I just don't hate Humans. Gray zone, remember?"

"Mr. Crowley?" Muriel asked, standing by the door. "Yeah little angel?" he responded

"I'm going to miss you when you go back to hell"

"You've got a day, just gotta tie up some more loose ends" Crowley shrugged his shoulders "you'll be fine without me, I've waited for Aziraphale long enough" Crowley fixed his glasses as a customer came through the door. "I'm still going to miss you" Muriel said with a smile "be careful, saying stuff like that is gonna get you pushed outta heaven" He whispered to them, patting them on the shoulder. "Go pick out a record kid," he sauntered back over to the books that needed to be shelved.

Muriel skipped their way over towards Maggie's record shop, the bells above the door rang and she turned her attention towards the door "Muriel! It's nice to see you" she smiled. "Mr. Crowley said I could get a new record" They smiled, walking over towards one of the shelves, sorting through the newer records, still in the plastic. Then towards the older ones till they found a pretty blue one. "Can you play this one for me? I wanna know what it sounds like" They handed her the record "Ohhhhh this is a nice one" Maggie smiled "Voulez - Vous by Abba, Aziraphale used to like this one he would always listen to it here while looking for other records but never bought it" She slipped the record onto the turntable and let it run. The first few songs grew a smile on Muriel's face. "I'll take it!" They said, taking the record from Maggie the second it was back in the casing. They drop the money given to them on the counter and skip back to the bookshop "Wait! Muriel the record was only 3£ not 15!" She shouted but they were already too far gone to hear her, she simply sighed and placed it in the cash register.

Crowley, now swimming in books, refused to turn around and greet the customer as the doors opened "We're closed" He said flatly, pushing his glasses up so they would stay propped up on his forehead(that corner of the bookshop was way too dark to wear sunglasses, And read something) "I thought Muriel was running the Bookshop?" the customer said, their oh so familiar voice rang in Crowley's ears. His skin crawled, as he looked over his shoulder. "Aziraphale." he monotoned. "I came to check on Muriel but I guess you ended up taking over"

" teachin' them, I'll be out of here soon enough" He stood up, dusting his clothes off. "Crowley… I-" He took a step towards him, his attention being stolen from Crowley to the wilting plants under the window. "Don't. you told me how you felt and made your priorities clear"

"Oh Crowley, don't be like that. I brought you coffee?" His brows furrowed, but he held the coffee cup full of espresso in front of him. "Muriel brought me one already, and of fucking course in going to be that way you chose your side" He put his glasses back on. "You look good, Are those new glasses?" Aziraphale asked, most likely trying to make conversation "No" Crowley responded, Flatley. "same old glasses, same old me, different you" He picks up the box of books once more and moves to a different section of the bookshop. Aziraphale cautiously stepped towards his old desk, placing the cup of coffee next to the other cup Muriel had brought Crowley earlier.

Aziraphale wished the world would just stop, he could stop it but he doubted that it would get Crowley to talk to him. He wanted those damn glasses off and Crowley, he wanted Crowley.

"Crowley." Aziraphale reached forward to grab his wrist, but Crowley pulled away quickly.

too distracted to pay attention to the door Crowley missed Muriel coming back in, attempting to sneak past the two. He caught them in the corner of his eye, and despite being blocked by the edge of his glasses, he'd gotten used to it obviously. "what record did you get?" He turned his attention towards them "I'll show you after" they said, heading up the staircase.

"You seem to like them now" The angel fidgeted with his hands. "Well, it's been a year, Aziraphale. I know the time in heaven works differently but I hope you're doing well"

"I missed the bookshop" the Angel stepped towards the desk, eyeing the new chairs and his that had been moved "I missed the books, my records, I missed the weather. Heaven is awfully boring compared to Earth"

"take your records with you then" The demon muttered.

"you seem closer with them than you were with me" Aziraphale looked down "For Satan's fucking sake they're like my kid now it gets annoying sometimes. you- you were. Oh fuck off"

"Please, I want to apologize"

"Are you gonna do the dance again?" He laughed slightly, humoring himself. "Do you want me to?" he responded, tilting his head to the side. Crowley dropped the box, his hands were shoved in his front pockets and he turned to face his old friend "listen. I understand you coming to check on Muriel, you're both angels. But I'm a demon. I'm the enemy now" He pulled his glasses off, like an instinct to do in front of Aziraphale. realizing what he had done he quickly puts his hand over his eyes. "Crowley look at me…" He asked, so gently. Slowly Crowley moved his hand, revealing his eyes. The angel's face sank, instead of his favorite shade of yellow staring back at him, Crowley's eyes were a normal shade of brown, with normal human irises. "Crowley what? you?"

"don't like my eyes anymore" He put his glasses back on, sniffling he continued speaking "and I know I fucked up by kissing you-"

"Oh, Heaven Crowley I thought you were trying to tempt me!" Aziraphale interrupted. Crowey's posture stiffened "You think I would tempt you? I never have!? don't be an idiot Ang- Aziraphale '' He corrected himself "I would've never done anything to hurt you. and you assumed?"

"you're a demon! And I'm an angel, an Archangel! you could've been trying to tempt me into staying"

"I USED TO BE A FUCKING ARCHANGEL!" The demon snapped, practically shaking.

Aziraphale stepped back, not expecting Crowley to raise his voice at him, it had never happened before. "what?" he questioned. "Archangel Raphael, He asked too many questions and hung around the wrong crowd. then God punished him"

Aziraphale put his hand up to his mouth, his eyes widening "I asked too many questions" Crowley said, trying to compose himself "Crowley I'm so sorry I never knew-"

"I never wanted you to know"

Aziraphale stayed silent, the look of pity on his face made Crowley want to burst into flames.

"They wiped my memory, Everyone in heaven forgot Raphael eventually, of their own doing or I was wiped from their memory too. I only remember a handful of things. I know exactly how Gabriel was feeling. I can't have that same thing happening to you"

"It won't, I can change heaven. you can-"

"I should've been enough for you to want to stay, what happened to us? shades of gray remember? they tried to burn you alive Aziraphale!" He knocked a few books off the shelf, causing Aziraphale to back up. Quickly he bent back down to put them back on the shelf. "Crowley, I'm so so sorry. I really am" he reached down to place his hand on his shoulder "Did you really want me to be an angel with you?" Crowley had moved before Aziraphale could've touched him.

"Yes of course I did! I know you must've been happier as an angel, and we can be together in heaven. The last thing I want is to be away from you. You can still take my offer"

" You weren't there when we switched. You didn't see how your stupid angels treated you"

"I'm in charge now Crowley. they won't-"

Crowley interrupted him "They wiped Gabriel's mind because he didn't want another Armageddon. Threatened to wipe him from the Book of Life because he fell in love with Beelzebub. You- mmmhhh" he stopped himself "Do you understand what they'll do to you?"

"They won't do anything to me, because I'm in charge" the archangel stated. "Join me, please. Nina told me you accepted hell's offer, take mine instead."

"Fuck Heaven, fuck Michael, fuck Uriel, and all the other angels. fuck god and fuck you. As you said, Like it's always been Aziraphale, I'm a demon, nothing ever gonna change that."

"It wasn't always that way, you were Raphael, you can be him again. It can change! Let me help you"

"YOU STUPID FUCKING ANGEL!" Despite it being almost a perfect day a strike of lightning came crashing down just outside the bookshop, singeing the concrete ground. "You can't help me! I am a demon. I enjoy being a demon." He said through gritted teeth, a deep growl coming from his throat. "I'm like a walking bomb of death and destruction. Just leave, please. I could kill anyone with a snap of my fingers, I could kill you"

Aziraphale stood back, those last words stung "Anthony J Crowley! I'm not leaving you, not again"

"For Satan's sake! why won't you understand?! I don't want to be a damn angel! I wasn't happy as one, all I did was get in trouble for asking honest questions! I- All I wanted was you. I was happy with you" He said, furrowing his brows "Angel I loved you" he wanted to kick himself for letting the term of endearment slip. Aziraphale's eyes softened "You what?"

"Forget it, I'm going upstairs. If you want to you can take some of your shit back to heaven" Crowley fixed his glasses, turning around to head upstairs the spiral staircase. Aziraphale quickly responded. "Loved?"

"Love doesn't matter, you chose to be enemies again" He looked down at Aziraphale's hands, dangerously close to his own "Do you still love me?"

Crowley sighed "It doesn't matter" he rolled his eyes, "humor me" Aziraphale sighed "Oh you think this is funny?"

"It's a human expression, you know this!" His voice got all high-pitched and whining, one of the mannerisms Crowley had thought was cute. Crowley's gaze traveled back toward Aziraphale's eyes.

Something wet and warm ran down the demon's cheek, it burned like holy water, but worse. it didn't kill him, but the burn wouldn't go away. He didn't know demon's could cry.

"Crowley-'' Aziraphale reached forward to wipe the tear off his cheek. "No. I don't love you anymore" his voice shook.

The angel’s hand drifted down to grab his wrist. The demon watched as his fingers trail down further, intertwining their fingers. He realized Aziraphale was also looking down at their hands, his fingers tightly gripping Crowley's limp hand.

The Demon exhaled, his breath faltering "Aziraphale…" The Angel looked back up at him, and suddenly his eyes widened. Crowley had been using a miracle this whole time to make him seem… alright. His comment about Crowley "looking good" now felt out of place and almost like an insult had spilled from his lips. His hair was longer and messy, he could smell the alcohol on his breath, and could practically sense the tired eyes behind his glasses. stubble shaped his face, making him look more disheveled. A single freckle sat above his lips, an angel kiss as some would call them.

Tired eyes was an understatement, Crowley couldn't sleep anymore. Some night were by choice, he didn't want to relive the horrors that were the nightmares that followed the day Aziraphale left, some nights he would lay awake contemplating different ways that morning could've gone.

Aziraphale understood why his plants were wilted now. "Crowley… you look…" he brushed his hand up his arm, against the soft fabric of his sweater. "yeah I know. Maggie and Nina tried to get me to put myself together again. Too hard when I feel so damn empty. so I miracled myself" The angel's hands came up to gently take the glasses off of the demon's face, and quickly Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, deep eye bags under his eyes confirmed the tired gaze Aziraphale suspected. "Don't do that again" He quickly grabbed his glasses back from the angel.

"But Crowley, I… we… Oh" He struggled to find the words "Was this why I couldn't find you? I checked on you through heaven but you had gone missing. You miracled yourself to seem human. Crowley, I'm so sorry."

"you can take your apology and shove it up your feathered ass"

"Crowley, my dear…"

"don't" He turned away from Aziraphale. "Fuck you, Angel, if you wanna talk to Muriel I'll tell them to come back down but I don't want to see you again. and don't look up my file, leave me alone" He pulled his hand from his grasp and continued up the spiral staircase. Aziraphale could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

Crowley stormed past the open door to Muriel's room, the record spinning on their turntable

"Look into his angel eyes, One look and You're hypnotized" the new record they had just bought sang. With a wave of his hand the record started spinning backwards "Listen to another one Muriel, I can't stand this song anymore" He said with a deep growl in his voice. "Mr. Crowley, are you okay? I wasn't expecting to see Aziraphale- Or the traitor" Muriel stood up, following him to his room. "it's fine, he's just coming to get some of his books to take back to heaven" He responded, opening the door to his bedroom, the room across the hall from the dusty and locked door that was Aziraphale's room. "Mr. Crowley" Muriel stood up straight, speaking louder than usual "I have a confession to make"

The demon raised an eyebrow before uncorking a bottle of wine in his room and leaning against the doorway. "As you probably know angels can sense Love" they stated "and last year before Mr. Aziraphale left, I might have sensed it between you two, very heavily. and I also might've accidentally been watching through the window when I felt that love was the strongest" They watched as an almost disappointed look grew on Crowley's face "I saw you kiss him and I could sense the heartbreak"

"Muriel…" Crowley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And I still sense that love and heartbreak in you, but it's even stronger in him I think he meant the apology"

"Even if he meant it… Aziraphale is too holier than thou to leave heaven again. And I'm going back to hell, there isn't time for an us anymore"

"You two were happy when you were still with heaven and hell before you left, right?"

"This is different now, he's an Archangel, and I'm going to be the new prince of hell, just like Gabriel and Beelzebub. We cant- shit" He looked down at the ground, adjusting his footing and bringing the bottle of wine up to his lips "fuck… I'm gonna regret this again" He shuffled past them, and back down the staircase. He was met with an empty bookshop, not an angel in sight. "FUCK!" He shouted, tossing the bottle to the ground, the glass shattering. Quickly he threw the doors open and scanned his surroundings, searching for that familiar face he longed for. "Aziraphale!?" He shouted, hoping it would get his attention if he hadn't already returned to heaven.

"Aziraphale! Where are you!" He stepped out from the awning over the doorway, the cold rain drenching him instantly. He turned left, towards Maggie's shop and raced through the sidewalk. "FOR SATAN'S SAKE WHERE ARE YOU!?" He sputtered, his voice being overpowered by the loud rain hitting the concrete sidewalk and the cars zooming by. Suddenly his attention was grasped by a man in a tan trench coat with a pristine white umbrella, across the street by Nina's. Dodging cars he sprinted over "Aziraphale!" He shouted, finally getting the Angel's attention. He turned around to face the demon "Crowley?" Very out of breath, he came to a screeching halt in front of him "Aziraphale…" He swallowed harshly "Oh you're soaked" He responded with a slight laugh "I love you" Crowley responded, his voice filled with emotion, not his typical rage, almost filled with urgency and affection. "I know I said I didn't, I'm a demon we lie"

"for a demon" Aziraphale breathed out "You've always been a terrible liar"

"I never wanted to lie to you, angel"

"I know, my dear I know"

"Don't go back to heaven, they can appoint Michael as supreme Archangel or some other idiot with a stick up their ass. please. I'm choosing you over hell. choose me over heaven this time"

A slight smile formed on his face. "I told you I wouldn't leave again" he hesitated when stepping towards him "I don't know why I told you I forgave you, I- I guess it's because I was scared and I thought you were tempting me, I knew you would never, Crowley you're the kindest demon ever. I wanted, I wanted to tell you I love you" He said quickly, all in one breath. Crowley let him catch his breath before he placed his hands on his cheeks, so gently, like he could make a mistake at any moment. Aziraphale reached forward, pinching the earpieces of his glasses and pulling them off his face "There you are, so pretty. I thought you had changed them for good" he said with a smile, placing Crowley's glasses in the pocket of his waistcoat. "Angel I-" The umbrella clattered to the ground as the angel leaned forward and his hand swept through the demon's hair. Crowley backed up, his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, pulling him along with him under the awning. They looked into each other's eyes, longing for each other. slowly they pulled closer till their lips brushed against each other. A wave of relief washed over Crowley. His hands-on Aziraphale's shoulders glided down to his waist to pull him closer.

their lips parted slightly, just enough for Crowley to tell Aziraphale was smiling, probably the largest he had ever seen him smile. "This kiss was better than the last one," the Angel said, backing up more, reaching to grab the umbrella, now upside down and filled with water. "This kiss was reciprocated," Crowley muttered, his arms still around the angel's waist. "Oh don't be like that, dear" Aziraphale playfully punched his shoulder "We're both soaked now, back to your bookshop to dry off then dinner at the Ritz, Angel? it can be our first official date" Crowley asked. "our bookshop you mean? They can kick me out of heaven a second time. I'm staying" He leaned forward once again, their foreheads touching. Crowley placed a soft kiss onto his lips before stepping back and holding out his hand for his angel to take, and gladly he did. "I'm sorry, I really am," The angel said once more "I know angel, I'm expecting the dance sooner than later" The demon responded "Once I'm in dry clothes, my dear. you're growing out your hair again, I love it" with his free hand he brushes a strand of hair soaked and stuck to his face behind his ear. "ah oh I almost forgot" he took Crowley's glasses out of his pocket and placed them back onto his demon's face "thank you, Angel" He responded, absolutely smitten.

"Did I ever tell you who this song was based on?" Crowley said, swirling the wine left in his glass around, the two comfortably lounged on the floor in front of the fireplace, the record player going.

"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine o'clock)

precisely. I will pay the bill, you taste the wine

Driving back in style, in my saloon,

will do quite nicely

Just take me back to yours, that will be fine"

Aziraphale shook his head, Busy sitting behind Crowley, braiding his longer hair.

"Come on and get it

Ooh, love (there he goes again)

Ooh, lover boy (he's my good

old-fashioned lover boy, ooh)"

"It's about you, Good- Old fashioned Lover Boy," Crowley said with a wink. Aziraphale leaned forward, his face pink with blushing "I'm trying to focus my dear I'm a bit out of practice" The elastic tying the braid together snapped as Aziraphale let go of Crowley's hair and smiled at his work, "done!" He smiled, leaning forward to set his head on Crowley's shoulder. "Angel I don't mean to kill the mood, but I need to know, why did you come back now? why not sooner?" Crowley turned around to face his angel.

Aziraphale was at a loss for words, not really, just didn't know how to explain "It's a long story, it can wait for another day"

"Angel, I'm not going to be mad at you I just need to know"

the angel sighed "They… the other angels, they weren't you. I couldn't see you from heaven and it honestly scared me, I was worried about you. I felt so alone there, a week in heaven and I was already ready to come back to the bookshop- to you, I came down to earth once, I saw you here, with Muriel, and Maggie and Nina"

"And you didn't say anything?"

"You looked happy. I didn't want to ruin anything for you"

"you know I used a miracle to disguise myself, angel"

"I know I know my dear but I didn't know that then. but, I returned to heaven and was sternly reprimanded for coming to earth, the other Archangels noticed I was acting differently, so when I returned to my office you were there"

"what? I've been here this entire time" Crowley questioned "I know I know, but I was- and you were an angel! you seemed just as happy as you were before the fall. You said that Metatron offered you the same position, but you wouldn't show me what it was it was very out of character of you "

"Angel, I love you but I'm not following anymore"

"They made a deal with hell and made a puppet of you!" Aziraphale whined, his voice all pitched. He covered his face with his hands, almost like he was embarrassed "I was so happy to see you- or the puppet that I kissed you. Heaven wasn't expecting that, they weren't expecting me to have feelings for a demon, because angels don't express emotions that way usually, and-and affection is a human thing. You looked like you, but I should've known something was off. You didn't call me angel anymore, your eyes weren't that beautiful, beautiful yellow anymore" The angel's thumb brushes against the demon's cheek. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the bookshop.

Crowley rubbed his hand up and down Aziraphale's back, reassuringly "I didn't figure out it wasn't you till it was too late. I should've known"

"Too late for what?"

"We were in my office, I was doing paperwork, I was practically swimming in paperwork up there. I don't know how Gabriel dealt with it. I leaned in to kiss you and the puppet stopped me, and-" Aziraphale leaned forward, hiding his face from Crowley. "I can't even repeat what it said to me! it was horrible Crowley I ran away from heaven and came right back to the bookshop, when I saw you here I knew the you in heaven was just the other angels tormenting me"

"That's why you were so adamant about asking if I wanted to be an angel"

"I thought you were! but I don't even know if, if-"

"Angel, Angel calm down, it's ok. I'm me, I'm me" Crowley pushed Aziraphale's hands off his own face, replacing them with his own "Are you sure?" he responded, finding comfort in Crowley's touch "Yes angel, I'm sure, I've always known I'm me," he said with a chuckle "you wanna hear something that only I would know or something?"

"yes please"

Crowley sat up straight "The only thing I remember from before the fall, when I was still Raphael. God appointed me to design a section of the stars and set up the whole damn universe. I was almost done. All I had to do was crank up the engine and you showed up. You held the scroll for me while I turned the thingy. You introduced yourself, and I was too focused on my creation to tell you mine"

"oh my dear that was you?"

"didn't expect something that highly of me hu angel?" he said, almost teasingly "Believe me now? I'm me"

"Yes my dear, you're you" Aziraphale leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips. Crowley brushed his hand up Aziraphale's back, leaning closer towards him. "Crowley?" Aziraphale said with a hum, leaning away from his demon. "mhh?" he responded, leaning in once more, craving more of Aziraphale. "Let's watch the stars together?"

Crowley's gaze softened, he smiled as the mention of stars left Aziraphale's lips "we'd have to miracle away the London smog?"

"Easy task, to the roof?" Aziraphale stood, holding his hand out for Crowley. "Angel, I'd like an apology first" he said with a mischievous smile.

Aziraphale took a breath and held up his right hand and swayed his right hip forward and in a sing-song voice said, “You were right.” A hop in place. “You were right.” A slow twirl followed. “I was wrong.” then a gracious bow. “You were right.”

"I was right about what" Crowley grinned, pulling his angel close by his hips "mhhh not sure " Aziraphale teasingly looked away "Angel" The demon said through gritted teeth "you were right about being us, I love you Crowley"

"to the roof, I want to see how my work has aged. I never had the heart to look on my own" Crowley planted a soft kiss on Aziraphale's cheek before taking his hand and guiding him up the stairs towards the roof.

#good omens #azicrow #good morning im sad #not a fix it #buttttttttttt #azi's gotta do the apology dance again #crowley accidently adopted muriel #crowley #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale #crowley used to be raphael #Spotify

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incorrect-league-of-villains · 3 years ago

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Dabi: I'll be sappy whenever I want. I don't give a shit. I love you. Fuck off.

Hawks socially inept, struggling brain: wait

#this could honestly go either way #emotionally constipated x emotionally constipated is the best ship dynamic #cant stand it when people characters figure out they're in love before the 30th chapter #i like slow burn because 90% of the time i stop reading once the burn ends and i want the pining to last for as long as possible #always hear people complaining about slow burn taking too long though so i have yet to find any of my kin #and people are like 'you cant just stop reading when they get together!!! relationships dont end when they get together!!'#im like oh fr and close the tab #there was one notable fic i read where the relationship kept me interested after the get together but that was because there was much plot #and one of them kept betraying the other and inciting rebellion against society so you were never really sure how long the peace would last #actually that sounds like dabihawks but it wasnt lmAOO #not funny tags i just wanna know if anyone else likes emotionally constipated pining as much as i do #dabi #dabihawks #bnha hawks #takami keigo

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wolveria · 3 years ago

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Quick & Dirty Writing Advice

Just a few things I’ve picked up and learned from other authors:

Write what you want to read. Writing what you think will be popular will never be as satisfying, and it’s impossible to predict what will be popular anyway.

Writer’s block is a self-fulfilling prophecy. There are reasons that you’re “blocked” from writing, such as mental health, exhaustion, lack of time, etc., but writer’s block itself doesn’t exist. You don’t wait around for inspiration (and published authors certainly can’t, being on deadlines). You can dip into your well of motivation and inspiration by reading other books, watching movies/shows, talking about your projects, and rereading your own writing. But waiting around for your muse takes the control out of your hands. Writing is active, not passive. If you’re lacking motivation, write anyway, and the act itself may inspire you.

Burn out is a real thing. I’ve gone for months without writing because that’s what I needed to do. It didn’t make me any less of a writer, and it won’t make you less of one either.

Using the word “said” is great! It’s preferred 90% of the time! It’s one of those words that the reader skims over without noticing, which smooths the flow of your writing. When you add a different dialogue tag to every piece of dialogue (such as explained, argued, protested, agreed, etc), it slows down your writing and distracts from what’s actually being spoken. Use dialogue tags sparingly, and you’ll make a bigger impact when you use them.

Learn to stop leaning on filter words. Words like “feel” “noticed” “saw” “heard.” These words put distance between your audience and what the character is experiencing.

Example: “I felt his hand on mine.”

Can be changed to: “His hand touched mine.”

Example: “I smelled freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen.”

Can be changed to: “The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen, filling the air with its enticing scent.”

Want to write more? Then write! If you write consistently and with regularity, whether it be every day or every weekend, you get into the habit of writing. Put on ambient sounds, grab a snack, make a cup of tea, and do that every time. Your mind starts to associate those things with writing time and puts you in the mindset before you even open that doc.

Do not edit your WIP! Get that first draft written without going back to edit. I’m serious, don’t edit a thing until you’re at a point where you’re ready to post. Only then go back and edit, otherwise your writing momentum will grind to a halt. If you need to read back a couple paragraphs to get your bearings, then go for it, but I promise you you’ll be doing yourself a huge favor by leaving editing to the very end.

First drafts aren’t supposed to be pretty or even coherent. Their only purpose is to get words on the page. Let them be a mess. That’s what the editing stage is for, to clean everything up, add new scenes, delete redundant ones, whatever makes the story better. Besides, once you start writing more, the less editing you’ll need to do as your skills improve.

And for my last bullet point, similar to the dialogue tag advice, don’t overuse your adverbs. You don’t need to describe every action with an adverb. When you use them less, they make a bigger impact. There are other ways to describe your character’s action.

Example: “He spoke quietly.”

Can be changed to: “He dipped his head, casting a glance around the room as he spoke.”

I am guilty of adverb abuse and breaking a few of these rules myself, but once you learn the rules, you can gauge when and how to break them for the sake of elevating your writing.

This advice is meant to be practical, as it’s coming from someone who works over 40 hours a week and is often distracted by exhaustion and chronic illness. My time and energy is limited, but I find writing to be very worthwhile.

For more writing advice, I suggest Alexa Donne’s youtube channel. She started writing with fanfiction, so a lot of her information is applicable to fanfic authors too.

#writing #writing advice #fanfiction #author #quick i say as i'm once again long winded #there's so much more i could go over but i think that's the most useful for every writer #at least they were the most useful to me

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superhero--imagines · 4 years ago

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Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: not superhero themed. I just read midnight sun and had this idea and I don’t feel like making another blog so.... hope you like twilight lol

There will be a part two, and just a reminder, I’m still looking for beta readers so DM if you’re interested!

* It probably starts with you reading midnight sun, you remember reading the books/watching the movies when you were younger.

* Man, you really forgot how bad this book was. The writing itself is good, but the plot...

* It’s like everything revolves around Bella, everything is created for her.

* You almost feel bad for the other characters

* Well, whatever, you’ll finish the rest of the book tomorrow and never think about that awful franchise again.

* When you wake up you feel an ache in your head. But you didn’t drink last night, maybe you’re dehydrated

* You shift, noting the smooth silk of the covers. Now you’re alarmed.

* You don’t have silk sheets

* You see a mirror in the corner of the room, and rush over

* The face that looks back at you is different then yours

* It’s the same in some ways, but different all the same

* The curve of your nose is slightly off, your lips are thinner, eyes a little closer together.

* The memories begin to flood in, in this world you were on a graduation trip with your parents, you got an all inclusive package. Three days of sightseeing in Volterra.

* You got sick on the last day, when you were signed for a tour of the castle, your parents went without you

* That was the last you saw of them

* You dumbly followed, asking question where you shouldn’t. And ended up at the volturi’s door

* Aro had grasped your hand to see how much you knew, only too see nothing. Likewise Jane’s powers did not work as well

* They were astounded by this, it appears this was several years before Bella was introduced to the story

* And so, you became a prisoner of the tower

* Your soul must have been in this body for quite some time, but you’ve only remembered now, that’s the only explanation for why their powers didn’t work on you. Your consciousness is not of this world.

* There’s a short knock on your door

* “Are you decent?”

* You call back and Alec pops his head in.

* “Ready to go to the library?”

* He looks so kind. The boyish grin that stretched across his face as you shook your head.

* It was in direct contrast to the sadistic personality you had become accustomed to in the books

* “I need a few more minutes”

* You half expect him to lash out at you for being slow. By he only nods, closing the door and waiting outside for you to finish.

* He was you friend. You realized

* He IS your friend

* You think back as you turn on the faucet. He didn’t like you at first, being assigned to guard a human was insulting

* But he started to warm up to you once he heard you play the piano

* This body was quite used to the ivory keys. And so you charmed him as best you could, half for your survival, because the happier you kept him the less likely he was to kill you.

* And half because- you were so lonely, the Loneliness echoed in this body like an ache. Suddenly an orphan, in a continent where you knew no one. All you had was this boy.

* How long have you been here? You kept a talley at one point, but abandoned it after the thirtieth day. What was the point? You would either die or become one of them

* A shiver erupts through at the thought, in your past life you were a vegetarian, you didn’t relish in the idea of killing something alive and moving.

* You pull on a sweatshirt, ripping of the chanel tag. They bought you the nicest things money could buy, the most lavish food you could have.

* They did the same thing with the tourists they lured, keeping them happy and well fed, the same way the cows that became wagyu beef might be cared for. That way when it came time to slaughter, the meal was that much more delicious.

* You suspected this was similar, that should you be an unnecessary addition, you would make a meal suitable for their palette

* Alec basically talks your ear off the entire way to the Volturi library, mostly about literature

* “What are your thoughts on Anna Kerenina?”

* “That the patriarchy needs to be burned to the ground.”

* “That is.... valid”

* He even talks when you’re at the library, much to the annoyance of a few of the other patrons

* “Which book are you looking for now?”

* You stop mid motion on the ladder and turn to look at him. His ruby eyes glowing, he looks bloated. Like he’s fed too much.

* “Alec, why are we friends?”

* You really should keep your mouth shut. Alec was the only real ally you had, you shouldn’t say anything that might put him off

* And yet, it unnerved you, because the Alec in front of you was a very different character then the one you had come to see.

* He looks at you like you hung the moon,

* “Because you’re the most interesting human in the world”

* You burst out laughing, earning several glares.

* “I-I’m sorry Alec, but I’m not, I’m just the most interesting human you KNOW, there’s way more people who are more interesting than me.”

* You expect to see him offended, and he does, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes

* “I’m not so sure about that”

* The days creep by, reading books, eating snacks, it’s nice

* You learn, that Alec hasn’t talked to a human in a very long time. Outside of the screams he heard after devouring one.

* He hasn’t been outside the castle walls in many years, possibly a century.

* “What’s the best part of the human world?” He asked you once

* It’s the 90’s, so smartphones haven’t been invented yet.

* “One tree hill and friends”

* “Well you have a friend right here”

* “No friends the show”

* “The what?”

* And that’s how you got Alec hooked onto cable television

* Who knew the cure to vampire- sadism was a healthy dose of Jennifer Aniston fumbling about on screen

* “Is this what life is like?”

* You shrug, it was what college had been like for you in your past life.

* “It’s kinda what schools like, but i never got to be on my own”

* This body was only 18 after all.

* Alec doesn’t say anything, but his expression falters

* Alec’s only now starting to understand the life you will be denied once Aro decides when to turn you

* Jane joins later

* One day when you and Alec are lazing around the library when she appears, she says nothing, just sits down next to Alec and reads a book

* You’re sure they hear the uneven thumping of your heart as you turn back to your book. Her power doesn’t work on you, you remind yourself

* Not that she even needs it, she could snap you apart like a Kit Kat bar

* And if it came down to it, you’re sure Alec would let her, he might like you but his loyalty’s always remained with his sister

* “So... you watch human television together?” Her bright red eyes flickered from Alec to you.

* You nodded, never sure what exactly it was that would set Jane off

* You had seen enough in the books to know her moods were compatible at best.

* “I would...like to join” she awkwardly looking away, and you were sure if she could, she would be blushing.

* Honestly it’s kind of cute.

* “Sure, the more the merrier”

* And that’s how you basically adopted the sadist twins

* It’s a little harder to get Jane to open up, but once you make a comment about how Phoebe was the best character in friends, she starts to open up

* “Humans are cruel, even when they’re kind it’s only because they want something from you.”

* “Is that what you think about me? That I’m only nice to you because I want something?” she meets your eyes for a few minutes before turning away

* “I’m not sure”

* You understand very gradually why they’re so twisted

* They’d been treated terribly during their human life, in every kind act lingered a dark shadow, in even minor misunderstanding the image of a monster

* Their centuries in the Volturi didn’t help. Under Aro’s ruthless tutelage, and Caius’s sadistic tendencies, They had no one they could trust but each other.

* They were only surviving just as you were

* “Sometimes I wonder how much of my loyalty is real, and how much of it is Chelsea.” She whispers one day, so quietly you barley hear it

* You rest your hand on hers, it’s the only comfort you could think to offer

* When Jane grasps your hand in hers, she breaks every bone in your hand

* She doesn’t understand the pained screams or your mangled hand fit a second, and then she realizes what she did

* Alarmed she carries you halfway around the castle screeching for someone to help

* You pass out from the pain, when you come to you’re in your bed, a very cold hand holding your own

* “How are you feeling?” You don’t recognize this vampire, but you don’t really know anyone outside of Alec and Jane.

* You feel light headed, a warm feeling washing over you, you must be on some strong drugs

* “My body’s still grieving, but my mind is sharp.”

* It’s incoherent at best, but there’s truth to it, your body is still grieving for your parents and the life you’ve lost, but your otherworldly mind is ten steps ahead, cross referencing every action.

* The man offers a short chuckle

* “You really did a number on your hand. I’ve done what I can but...”

* You look down to your hand, half surprised by the bright yellow cast encasing it

* You had figured you would wake up to be a vampire, it just made sense, these were unfamiliar human aches to them after all and vampirism was a simple and effective cure

* They must want something from you, if they’re keeping you human

* You suspect it’s something along the lines of how they waited until Jane and Alec were burning at the stake to save them, so their power would be that much more potent

* Maybe they’re doing the opposite with you, trying to make you as happy as possible to see what effect it has on your ability

* It’s too bad you don’t have one

* “Thank you for your hard work.” You mumble, being human for a little bit longer is well worth the pain.

* “How did you break your hand?”

* “I held Janes’ hand”

* Your doctor let’s out a short laugh

* “That sounds about right”

* You smile, it does sound right, of course you would break your hand that way

* The conversation flows naturally after that, you talk about all sorts of things

* “You think vampires have souls?” He quirks an eyebrow

* “I’m of the opinion that a soul is something you create through hardship and struggle, being able to live longer means that you have more opportunities to have the experiences that result in a soul”

* “That’s an intriguing notion, I wish I had brought my son with me.”

* You’re about to ask about his son, when you’re interrupted by the door swimming open

* “I heard you were awake, are you alright?” Alec rushes in, his eyes frantic

* “Yeah these drugs are top notch” you press the button that releases the pain killers and let out a giggle

* “Is that alright? Humans are awfully sensitive.” Jane pipes up from behind Alec, you hadn’t noticed her in your haze.

* Your doctor chuckles

* “I’m aware,” he’s smiling but it’s strained

* “What’s wrong?” You ask, he was so calm until a second ago, he doesn’t answer you

* “I’ll give you three a moment.”

* You only register he’s gone when you hear the door close

* The twins rush over to you, Jane is kneeled by your side, while Alec hovers over you

* “I-I’m sorry I hurt you, I forgot-I didn’t remember.” You we’re sure Jane would be crying if she could

* “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You raise your cast encased hand and give her a gentle pat on the head. “From now on, physical signs of affection will just be one sided.” You joke, which makes Jane grin

* “I’ll practice with some animals before I try touching you again”

* The three of you chat for a bit, they’re both surprised by your cast and ask several questions about its “primary function”

* “I didn’t know there was a doctor here” you murmur, feeling drowsy

* “Carlisle’s not with the Volturi, he’s from another coven in the new world.”

* Your drowsiness flies away in a second

* “That was Carlisle?”

* Jane looks somewhat confused but nods.

* A flutter of hope erupts in your chest, it’s so strong even your grief stricken body feels it

* You might have a chance. It’s slim, Carlisle has a family he loves and needs to protect. But still, they were strangers once too. No different than you.

* It’s a way out of here

* The next few days follow in a drugged haze, Alec and Jane visit every so often, and Carlisle engages you in occasional conversation while checking progress on your hand

* “Why are your eyes gold?” You know, but well, you need him to believe the lie

* “It’s a bit of a long story” he says with a wary smile.

* “I’m not going anywhere”

* He sighs, a genuine smile encompassing his face as he recounts the tale.

* Even though you’ve already heard it all before, it still makes you cry

* Even in the haze, you know something’s.... off

* There’s something about the way Alec won’t meet your eyes when he talks to you, and the uneasy weight that lingers in the air whenever someone else is in the room

* On the third day, it’s Aro who visits you, Alec and Carlisle in tow behind him.

* “Oh my, all that internal bleeding, how awful”

* Even you can feel the insincerity, but it’s the first you heard about internal bleeding

* So that explains it, the drugs and the aches all along your body, it wasn’t just your hand, you were dying

* “Don’t worry, we’ll save you” Aro’s smile is cruel “won’t we Alec?”

* Alec looks afraid, almost pained, but he nods

* Ah, so this was punishment for Alec too. Until that moment, when Jane broke your hand, Aro must have been ignorant to how close the three of you had gotten.

* You close your eyes, you knew this would happen eventually. There were only two ending to this story, and it seemed one had finally been picked

* You feel a pinch on your neck, right above your collar bone, no worse than a flue shot.

* You wait for the pain, the vivid screams you remember from the books and movies, but it never comes.

* Instead it’s just a warm numbness that spreads across your neck and left shoulder.

* “It doesn’t hurt” you murmur, you feel a cold hand rest against your forehead, Alex’s hand.

* It’s so gentle, he must have practiced on some animals first, you think.

* “No the pain comes later.”

* And so you drift into inky black unconsciousness, the last sleep of your human life in this world.

* You dream that you’re sitting at the bottom of a tree, a fig tree, like the one Sylvia Plath wrote about

* Each fig a different path, half of them have already fallen off, dark, as they rot at your feet

* “How do you do it?”

* You look to your side and find the person who’s face you see in the mirror, they’re hugging their knees to their chest, dark circles under their eyes

* “How do I do what?” You ask, they bite their lip

* “How can you be so strong when you’ve just lost everything?”

* You see their eyes brim with tears, and you look away, to the tree that looks over you both

* “I don’t know” It’s the truth, you have an unfair advantage in this world, because you know all the secrets each person carries, while yours remain shrouded in darkness. And yet... it’s not why you persevere

* “All I do know, is that I want to give them hell”

* Your counterpart grins at that, and to your surprise, you feel a smile stretch out across your face

* Yeah, it’s not about power, you just want raise some hell in this backwards misogynistic world.

* “I guess that’s the one you’re picking then huh?” Your counterpart points to a fig, it’s on the tallest branch of the tree, so far out of reach it almost seems unobtainable

* But you only nod

* “Yeah, I think that’s the way I’m going to go”

* They look at you and smile.

* “If you ever get the chance, I hope you punch that jerk Aro right in the face”

* You laugh.

* When you finally awake, you’re still laughing. A smile etched onto your face.

* Everyone’s there, all looking at you with concerned glances.

* Yeah, you’re going to have a lot of fun in this world.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #Volturi headcanon #Alec imagine #edward cullen imagine #carlisle cullen #superhero--imagines

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alluringjae · 4 years ago

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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)

⤑ 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.”

697 notes · View notes

halaboyz · 3 years ago

Text

unfortunately | chapter 04.

word count: 595 warnings: profanities.

the night passes by pretty quickly, and the next thing you know you were preparing for your classes in the morning with a headache caused by your overthinking.

"how am i supposed to face him today.." you mumble to yourself, the toothbrush stuck on your mouth as you stared at yourself through the mirror. "whatever. he was joking," you shrug, spitting the paste in your mouth as you forced yourself to think he indeed, was joking.

"yn!" haknyeon welcomes you with his bear hug as soon as you step outside, the big smile on his face catching you off guard.

"hey, hak! what are you doing here? where's eric?" you reciprocate the hug anyway, craning your neck at him. eric always walked with you to and from the school, and if not- he always gave you a message.

was it because of yesterday?

"oh! eric said he can't go today so he asked me to walk with you to school," he chuckles, the small redness of his nose giving it away that he was waiting for quite some time.

"i'm sorry for making you wait then, let's go," you smile at him, walking ahead of him.

you see- you weren't awkward with them, neither they were with you. after eric- juyeon, haknyeon and sangyeon became your friends along with ryujin and lia.

you were almost close like how you were with eric, then it just stopped. you didn't know why, or how- but one thing was clear, and it happened after that time.

you sigh to yourself, shaking your head in an attempt to shake your thoughts as haknyeon literally tackled you once you've stepped in the university's gates.

"come on!" haknyeon pulls you to the parking lot, where a circle of tons of students gathered around a sickening familiar car.

"make way! make way for the girlfriend!" at haknyeon's words, everyone's heads whipped at your side and you almost immediately widen your eyes and shake your head at them.

now everyone was making way for you.

haknyeon pulls you while you strongly stop your heels, groaning inside when you can't escape his grip as he lead you to the car where eric was.

and your jaw drops at the sight of eric, laying on his car's hood with tons of petals of roses splattered around him, and lastly with foil balloons that read love.

"is he out of his fucking mind.." you mumble, and with the last bit of your energy you tried escaping haknyeon's grip again. "hak, please," you plead, embarrassingly tucking your chin to your chest to look smaller.

"eric! yn's here!" haknyeon laughs at your hopeless face, glaring at eric who seductively looked at you.

"hey love," he breathes out and takes a rose out of his back pocket. "i was waiting for you," he then bites the stem of the rose, making everyone squeal.

you hold a snort and look around, finding help- ryujin and lia, but they were nowhere to be found.

eric makes his way to you, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear.

"do you like it?" eric whispers on your ear but enough for the whole nation to hear.

"..." you scoff, smiling challengingly at eric. "you're crazy," you punch his arm, making him groan in pain as he watched you walk off with an embarrassed back.

eric just smiles to himself as he continued to rub his arm, a series of cooes and cheers emitting from the small audience he had gathered.

it was going to work.

it should work.

it needs to work.

unfortunately ➵ ch.03 | ch. 04 | ch. 05

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PAIRING: the boyz' eric sohn x fem! reader | featuring sangyeon, juyeon, haknyeon, sunwoo, and itzy's lia and ryujin | fictional character named jinhee GENRE: social media au with some texts, fluff, light angst, excruciating slow-burn

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SUMMARY: eric asks you to be his lover for a month or two, making your title as the best friends at risk. "let's just try," he said, and you agreed. the next thing you knew, your buried feelings for the man resurfaced, and that was the time to call it off.

⸻

taglist: @sohnday @sunlightwoo @softforqiankun @sohnaddict @90s-belladonna @sofie296 @deputyjuyeon @skiez [open !]

#eric sohn #the boyz #the boyz smau #eric sohn smau #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz eric sohn #the boyz eric sohn smau #the boyz eric x reader #the boyz eric sohn x reader

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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joecial-distancing · 2 years ago

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Assorted 1k1 albums update

Too many since last time I was writing these to be worth listing every single one, plus I took a short hiatus during Spring, but I’m noticing my retention has been a lot worse since I stopped blurbing.

Broadly, I’m noticing it was very clearly a british person curating this list, the most forgettable entries on here tend to be 80s-era brit/synth pop.

Santana Abraxas (1970): Santana Extremely Good!

Sufjan Stevens Illinois (2005): I think I like the idea of his states project more than I really care for the music itself

Serge Gainsbourg Histoire De Melody Nelson (1971): Miserable headphones listen, his voice is so loud in the mix I can’t enjoy the music. Admittedly I might feel different if I understood French and could tell what he was saying lol

Queens of the Stone Age Queens of the Stone Age (1998): Most dad rock is cute/enjoyable every once in a while, this was boring as hell though

Megadeth Rust in Peace (1990): I have a soft spot for certain types/eras of metal, this is not one of my preferred ones though

Def Leppard Pyromania (1983): Now *this* is perfectly good dad rock!

David Bowie Station To Station (1976): Bowie’s one of the figures I’m most interested in getting my head around through this project. So far, this is my favorite thing from him I’ve heard, the title track is excellent!

REM Automatic for the People (1992): Another thing I’m trying to keep tabs on as I go through this is stringing together influence points toward things I knew before going in. For some reason as I listen to REM, I keep thinking of They Might Be Giants, which is weird because the music isn’t exactly similar. Something in the attitude? I dunno.

The Who Who’s Next (1971): There’s a couple albums like this on here where my brain lights up when it hears the recognizable stuff, and then doesn’t retain the rest of the music. Baba O’Riley is indeed really good, but I’m struggling to take an honest accounting of “ok is it genuinely so much better than the rest of the album or are you just really familiar with this”

like “do you think these songs are good or bad based on radio exposure, or did the ones you liked get radio exposure because they were the good shit?” I don’t trust the second one as an explanation even if it feels true.

Pink Floyd The Dark Side Of The Moon (1973): Really good bathtub listening. Definitely dragged/went slow more than I like. I’ve heard this one describes as like an album constructed for audiophiles/people who care a lot about precise mixing, which feels true.

Kanye West The College Dropout (2004): I liked this a lot! Kanye really has a gravity about him, where I feel like I interpret a lot of the generator’s other rap/hip-hop selections in context of what they mean in context of things before/after KW

Earth Wind & Fire That’s The Way Of The World (1975)

Burning Spear Marcus Garvey (1975): One thing I’m learning through this project is I should probably be putting more reggae into my rotation. It tends to be slower than I usually go for, but otherwise checks a lot of my boxes

2pac Me Against The World (1995): 2pac’s another Huge name who’s a blind spot for me. I really need to revisit this one; I mentioned in the public enemy blurb that I basically can’t retain lyrics unless I’m literally reading them along to the music, and I wasn’t able to do that when I was playing this.

Sonic Youth Dirty (1992)

Notorious BIG Ready To Die (1994): Didn’t like this as much as 2pac & public enemy, in terms of 90s rap

Tori Amos Little Earthquakes (1992): This one really grew on me! Very pleasant first listen, and then I found myself coming back to it a lot afterward.

Alanis Morissette Jagged Little Pill (1995): Haha god damn I like Alanis. So many choices she makes on here that should be obnoxious on paper, but just end up being extremely charming *“HOWWwOWWowwW apprOAHpriaTe”* absolutely delightful

Alice Cooper Billion Dollar Babies (1973): I have some experience with Alice Cooper here & there. This album was fine, but my favorite thing from him was his Muppet Show appearance

The Chemical Brothers Dig Your Own Hole (1997)

Belle & Sebastian If You’re Feeling Sinister (1996) I think people I know like B&S? I don’t think I did.

Randy Newman Good Old Boys (1974): I don’t think he’s country, but he’s something adjacent. I liked this, found it pleasant

The Rolling Stones Let it Bleed (1969): Hell yeah I love The Departed

Fleetwood Mac Rumours (1977): What the fuck every single song on this is super well-known. Major touchpoint filled in that I had no idea I was even missing

Os Mutantes Os Mutantes (1968): Wish I liked this more, the thing they’re up to seems interesting

Deep Purple Deep Purple In Rock (1970): Oh my god I loved this. I knew by reputation that Deep Purple’s one of the bands that built the bridge from hard rock to heavy metal, and something about that boundary creates stuff I like way more than straight metal.

Yes The Yes Album (1971): Yes’s good songs are some of my favorite stuff out there, but the individual albums have a lot of songs that just don’t work for me.

Steely Dan Countdown To Ecstasy (1973): I find Steely Dan to be technically boring, but perfectly serviceable cooking & doing the dishes music

REM Document (1987): Moreso than Automatic For The People, this really cemented for me that I love REM. Lotta earworms

Nirvana Nevermind (1991): The first songs on this are tremendous, some of the strongest things to open an album. Didn’t really retain the rest (see: the who, earlier)

Lana Del Rey Chemtrails Over the Country Club (2021)

Black Sabbath Vol 4 (1971): Similar to Deep Purple, lots of fun! The arrangements are fast, energetic, interesting. Noticing I’m tending to like a lot of 70s metal, then something happens 80s-00s that loses me really hard.

ABBA The Visitors (1981): Influence Alert: Marina and the Diamonds totally bites a whole bunch of influence from ABBA, it’s so obvious after sitting with an ABBA album all the way through (having previously basically only known them from the mama mia soundtrack *killed by brick through the window*). I liked a few songs off this one, looking forward to hearing more from the generator

The Flaming Lips The Soft Bulletin (1999): Lol I had people in the 00s recommend flaming lips to me. This was so boring!

Bob Marley & The Wailers Exodus (1977): See previous re: reggae. often a lot for me when it’s an entire album, but I like it in general!

David Bowie Heroes (1977): With a couple Bowies under my belt by this point, he’s kind of a mixed bag for me; there’s usually a couple songs per album I’ll like a lot, and the rest leaves me really cold. That said, I still haven’t heard anything from ziggy stardust era, so there might be missing context or something still.

Paul Simon Paul Simon (1972): Bleh

Björk Medúlla (2004): Felt really bad that I did not like this. might revisit, could just be it wasn’t good music for taking a bath.

Throbbing Gristle D.O.A. the Third and Final Report of Throbbing Gristle (1978): Same complaint as Björk, this seemed like something I should like a lot, and instead it annoyed me.

Hole Celebrity Skin (1998): Damn I went in kind of expecting not to like it, and it turned out to be really good! *Trampled to death by approx. 1,000,000 foaming Gen X men*

Eminem The Marshall Mathers LP (2000): Way more misses than hits, but still a fun time capsule of what the fuck everyone I knew in middle school was blithering about at the time

David Bowie Blackstar (2016): I feel like I need to read some production history to get the hang of this one

George Michael Faith (1987): haha oh my god he’s so fucking sleazy on this, I love it

Beatles White Album (1968): Overall pretty good! Hard to set aside the charles manson mystique around it

The White Stripes Elephant (2003): Big nostalgia album! Seven Nation Army owns bones, the rest of this is pretty good still

Scott Walker Scott 2 (1968): He has such a good voice! I don’t even like genre he’s doing and I was swept away!

Rush Moving Pictures (1981): I’ve given Rush an honest try before, they just never clicked for me. Decent, but...something’s missing

Steely Dan Aja (1977):

Bob Dylan Blonde On Blonde (1966): Bob Dylan might be another case of I Gotta Sit Down With The Lyrics, bc on first listen I just found him kind of grating.

Duran Duran Rio (1982): Lmao I love this album. Title song’s whatever, but Hungry Like the Wolf makes me smile so fucking much

Fred Neil Fred Neil (1966): Rare example of pure country music I found pretty engaging the whole album

The Killers Hot Fuss (2004): Unlike with The Who and Nirvana, I am very sure the popular songs off this one are the actual good ones lol. Mr Brightside and Somebody Told Me are A-OK, the rest may be safely left in the past

Can Tago Mago (1971): One of my all-time favorite albums. Halleluhwah alone could carry it really far

Dead Kennedys Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables (1980): This one really knocked me on my ass, clearly a big influence point for a whole bunch of bands I like a ton.

Metallica Master of Puppets (1986): This is the fucking thing with 80s metal, man! If each of these songs were like 50% shorter, this would’ve been really solid, but as is they’re not interesting enough to justify how long they make you spend with them.

Aretha Franklin Lady Soul (1968): I like Never Loved A Man more than this one, but Aretha Franklin all-time excellent

Gary Numan The Pleasure Principle (1979): Really stripped-down, deliberately no-personality. Pretty interesting experience!

Flamin’ Groovies Teenage Head (1971): Ohhhhh shit these are the Louie Louie guys! Fun mix of rock, blues, etc. Seems kind of Of The Time in terms of baseline late-60s/early-70s bands.

Shuggie Otis Inspiration Information (1974): Nice soul/jazzy, which usually starts to bore me after a whole album, but was kind of nice to have on while I was writing the rest of these entries.

#1001 Albums

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corancoranthemagicalman · 3 years ago

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So @nebulous-bondage , you said that you liked Dean being an idiot with internalized issues that he confronts, misunderstandings and miscommunications, and long-suffering Sam. I attempted to do a bit of everything but adjacent to anything I would usually do, took a movie metaphor and ran. I hope you like it!

Great love and hugs to Sophie over at @starrynightdeancas for hosting this AWESOME event for a fabulous celebration (and once again congrats on the milestone!!) I got to meet at least TWO new cool people from it. (My gifter and giftee.) If you want some amazing content, please check out Sophie’s stuff that I totally drew inspiration from. Figured if my giftee was a fan of Sophie’s, I couldn’t go too wrong taking a card out of that deck.

Lots of love!

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

The crux of the issue if you asked Dean, was this:

He was an idiot.

Okay, he was not—he wasn’t stupid stupid. He has got mediocre intelligence, right? He wasn’t like Sammy and his multiple languages thing or Bobby and his random lore thing and—

The point was Dean, while not stupid could be a massive idiot. And that was the conundrum that led him to soaking in the middle of a diner in Nebraska of all places with his mother gasping at him and his brother facepalming at him and Jack glaring at him—

And Cas… well, Cas was just. Looking. But his face was, if Dean had to pinpoint some emotion, reading like it was a heartbreak that he had just experienced.

Maybe Dean should start from the beginning. Just so you understand his perspective, okay? Because he wasn’t—he wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t entirely his fault, except that it might have been. And he might have a lot of talking to do. Which sucked, because Dean kind of hated talking.

Okay, maybe not the beginning. The beginning was fire and brimstone and sulfur. The beginning was something Dean was told, but didn’t remember. Or the beginning he did remember, which was lightning and fear and salvation—well.

Dean was far from the beginning. The real beginning. It had been longer than a decade. An entire lifetime—more than that—separating him from what he was. What they were now to what they were then.

But there is a beginning to every stage in Dean’s life, he’s found. And that’s what he means. This thing Dean had for Cas? It began long before Dean was aware of it. This particular circumstance that led to a soaked shirt in a corny booth? Well, Dean with the benefit of retrospection could pinpoint it exactly.

In the Bunker’s library was where this had all started.

Cas had just walked in, deeply conversing with Jack. All of the conversations that Cas had he treated with that same seriousness. Even back when he had just been newly revived. Newly in Dean’s passenger seat, donning a cowboy hat, and calling himself Huckleberry.

(His Huckleberry. Dean’s Huckleberry. Even if he didn’t mean it like that. Could never mean it like that. Because angel’s didn’t feel like that.)

Jack had spotted Dean first, or at least turned to face Dean first. Dean had wondered if Cas had that same peripheral awareness as him. If his eyes always looked for him when he entered a room. If he could feel the charge he exuded with every step.

(Probably not. It was probably an angel thing that made Dean aware of Cas. Something about electricity and grace. Even though Cas’ grace was fading by the day, he was an angel. Would always be an angel if Dean could do anything about it.)

The point was, Jack had turned from Cas. Had asked Dean something about courting rituals in film. Dean had scoffed, reminding Jack that he didn’t watch chick-flicks. Because he didn’t. And had given him some sort of half answer.

(Ten Things I Hate About You didn’t count. And neither did Dirty Dancing. Ledger was not starring in a chick-flick, and Swayze always got a pass.)

Frowning, Jack had made some comment to Cas. It was probably regarding their previous conversation, and that’s why Dean hadn’t retained it. Didn’t really get it. He was, as stated previously, an idiot. And maybe if he had paid more attention, he would have stopped this before it had started.

But he didn’t. Instead, he had turned to Cas. Because he had been thinking about Dirty Dancing. And how Cas hadn’t seen that yet. And Dean had asked Cas if he wanted to do a movie night. Just—just the two of them.

(He said it was because Jack was four, and maybe Cas should vet the movie first. And Sam hated Dirty Dancing. And Mom wasn’t even home. Which was all true. But it wasn’t often that Dean had the excuse to be alone with his best friend.

At the beginning of their friendship, Dean hadn’t had to share Cas with anybody. That was his best friend. His buddy to laugh harder with than he had in his entire life. His buddy to watch movies with and make jokes with. Now even Mary liked circling around Cas—not that Dean would blame them. But maybe—maybe he would like to be a bit selfish. Just this once.)

Jack’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree, and Cas’ eyes had looked as gentle as soft-serve. “I would like that,” he had answered, and that had been that. They had watched the movie, just the two of them. And if Cas sat closer into Dean’s personal space—well. Cas never knew what that was, did he? No need to correct him now.

And it was small things like that. Adjacent to what they had been doing before, but somehow different. Maybe Dean was laughing more. Maybe Cas was smiling more. Whatever the hell it was, it was nice.

(Nice in the way that butterflies in the stomach felt. Light and dizzying and wonderful and terrifying. Not that it was butterflies. Not that this was even remotely anything like that.

Because, if Dean were to be honest about it, butterflies didn’t come close. The butterflies in Dean’s stomach had once had jetpacks. But now? Now they were settled. They just lived there and Dean was used to it and it was—

It was more than butterflies. In theory.)

And it was Sam shaking his head at them. Them laughing. Jack sitting across from them with a board game on a team with Mary, facing head to head. And it was… nice.

(Nice should have been Dean’s warning.)

Jack’s movie night picks were always varying, but he had recently shoveled 90s romantic films into the fray. Sam, as predicted, had ducked out to FaceTime with Eileen when Dirty Dancing had made it to the top of the list, but otherwise stuck it out. Dean couldn’t even begin to list all of the names that had bled together and the faces with their generic, lovestruck expressions.

There was Jack’s wide smile, though. Sam snorting a laugh and shoving popcorn into his mouth. Mary, intrigued and curious, asking as many questions as Cas might have once upon a time. And Cas was there, right next to Dean’s arm, and warm beside him. Lovely and warm and giving that same smile Dean thought was beginning to make a regular appearance.

Sitting with his entire family—all of them safe for once?—of course it had to go wrong.

(Of course Dean had to be the one to ruin it.)

It was an entire nest of vampires out in Nebraska of all places. Mary had been in the area and willing to meet up with them. Jack had been desperate to learn more about hunting, a fact that reminded Dean of a far off memory of Cas newly returned from Purgatory. A gummy smile and determination braced into an angel who still had his wings. Dean would be damned if Jack wasn’t a spitting image of that.

(But, maybe… Maybe Jack could go without all the terrible things that happened during that time. Cas, back from Purgatory and not in control of all of his faculties. Cas, longing for penance and willing to pass vindication on Dean’s guilty conscience. Even if Dean wasn’t a great role model. Even if the first few weeks with Jack had been—

Sam called it living with John Winchester again. Dean hadn’t known what to call it. Didn’t know if he could call it anything. But that—

Well, that was for another time. Dean would always be living with that guilt, but for the moment, the guilt bloomed in a Nebraska diner sitting across from Cas.)

Laughing, smiling—things that seemed to subtly be a new normal for them. It made Dean lean back in the booth, sling his arm over the back of it and relax into his seat. He turned to Jack, ruffling the kid’s hair after Jack shot a syrupy smile to Cas across the table. Cas offered a shy smile, ducking his head.

Beside Cas, Sam rolled his eyes and resumed his conversation with Mary. Mary had squeezed into the side with Dean and Jack. Five people didn’t work for booths, and Dean couldn’t help but think that in another life he would have prevented this exact thing from happening. But he didn’t mind being half on a seat, Mary squeezing between Jack and the window, and Sam sitting across from her laughing. Cas’ still shy smile on him.

“I did have a question,” Mary raised a brow. “I mean, when did movies start getting so… formulaic?”

Sam huffed a laugh, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, they’ve kind of always been that way, haven’t they? Old Japanese myth becomes Hollywood cowboys becomes modern Sci-Fi.”

“Hey,” Dean spoke pointedly. “Treading dangerous waters there, Sammy. You can’t go wrong with cowboys or aliens.”

“Oh! Or Cowboys and Aliens,” Jack beamed, pointing with his fork before returning most of his attention to the remaining stack of pancakes.

Dean acquesied the point with a crooked grin. “That too.” He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the slow burn of hot caffeine into his system. “What sort of formula are we talkin’ about though? Are we talkin’ young girls getting hypnotized by weirdly boyish supernatural creatures?”

“Even that has some basis going back to at least 1897,” Cas pointed out, “at least from what most people with any familiarity of fiction are concerned. Stoker’s Dracula was also a youthful seeming figure who enchanted a young woman.” His brow furrowed in that thoughtful way of his before he continued. “Though, I suppose that since some scholars believe it is possibly an allegory for sexuallly transmitted diseases, that does reaffirm the belief that it is meant to be an alluring but dangerous figure threatening the virtue of a young woman.”

Mary chuckled, shaking her head with wide eyes. She still wasn’t used to Cas being… Cas.

(There were times where Mary forgot Cas was an angel. Not in the sense that she was not always aware of the supernatural aura around Cas, but in the sense that sometimes Cas was so human. He was thoughtful and kind. His words were provoking and caring. His emotions were as volatile and as gentle as any man Dean had ever known.

Perhaps better than most men Dean had known. More human than some men that Dean had known.)

“I meant the whole boy meets girl thing.” She gestured with her free hand. “I mean the movie dates and the plastic solo cups. It’s all so… basic.”

“Not exactly the boomboxes and the mermaids, is it?” Sam smiled gently, nodding. “I guess people just like it… simple. Y’know? That love can just be something as simple as movie dates and sharing milkshakes.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. Sam nailed it on the head. The best part of movies was that they were simple, and you always knew how they were gonna end.

(The hero always beat the bad guy, always saved the girl, always lived happily ever after. Didn’t mean Dean didn’t like movies where the cowboy rode off—grievously injured—into the sunset where you knew he would fall off of his horse after the fade to black. It was just that sometimes—

Dean knew that was going to be his ending. The cowboy holding his bleeding side. No one beside him but his trusty horse. Orange sunset on his face. That’s where his life was heading.

So sometimes it was just… nice. To pretend those stories didn’t exist. And Dean wasn’t living in one.)

“I guess,” Mary sighed, “I just miss the romance of it.” She looked forlornly at her drink. Dean wondered if she was thinking of John. Thinking of a jukebox and Zeppelin songs that he knew all the words to.

“I suppose everyone has their own unique definition of romance,” Cas offered diplomatically. “Humans tend to think romantic actions are circumstantial rather than objective.” He turned a small smile to Dean. “Take for example movie dates.”

Scoffing, Dean rolled his eyes. “Just ‘cause I like movies doesn't mean I think that’s romantic.” He could feel his cheeks burn, causing him to scratch at his scruff with an index finger. He was going to have to shave, wasn’t he? His hair was getting long—

“What.” Jack’s voice pulled Dean from his pondering. It sounded a touch colder than Dean was used to coming from the kid. Usually, Jack was sunshine and rainbows. Storm clouds and thunder. A spitting image of his dad—the one he called dad—but softer. Softer because Cas had done his damnedest to not let Jack be hardened into a soldier.

(Not like Dean had been. Not like Sam had been.)

“What what?” Dean furrowed his brow. Sighing, he rested his forearms on the table. “Look, movie nights? They’re nice for getting a girl alone in the dark and getting handsy on the couch or whatever,” he shook his head. “But romantic? Hardly.”

(He wanted to say that he didn’t believe in romance. Maybe because he didn’t want to believe that romance was out there, but not for him. It was hard to say that though, when thinking of his mother and her Zeppelin songs.

When thinking of a tape full of Zeppelin songs.

So he didn’t say any of that.)

“So,” Cas began slowly, “you don’t like movie dates.” He nodded, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “I see. What sort of dates would you prefer?”

Dean quirked a brow at Cas, letting out a chuckle. “Cas, I don’t do dates.” He shot a wry grin toward his brother. “Sammy prefers the wining and dining, but I’m more straight forward. If I want to hook up with someone, I just ask.” Looking at his hands, Dean confessed softer than he had meant to. “I’m too old for messin’ around.”

(And it was true. He was too old for it. He was still a handsome son of a gun. Still drew some attention, but—

But any time he had tried, he found himself just wanting to be home. Just wanting to be on that couch with Cas beside him and Jack sitting at their feet watching a movie. Sam and Mary coming and going as they pleased but there. Home.)

“You don’t… date?” Mary’s voice sounded careful and her gaze felt scrutinizing. “I—I was under the impression—”

“Mom,” Dean stopped her, feeling an embarrassed flush overcome his features. “C’mon. Don’t pretend like people didn’t do hookups back in your day too.” He tried to come off as teasing. Tried to lighten whatever was strengthening Jack’s glare, whatever was making Cas’ eyes grow a far distance away, whatever was raising Sam’s hand to his forehead.

Jack fixed his jaw and Dean had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. He could recognize that look from the mirror. And that was a terrifying thought, that Jack looked anything like him.

(Made him think about the weeks where Jack was living with John Winchester. Made Dean wake up in a cold sweat that maybe Jack had been learning from them during that time too. That despite Cas’ hard work, Dean would’ve turned Jack into John anyway.)

“Movie dates aren’t romantic,” Jack listed, “and you only want to hook up?”

(And none of that was really true, was it? Dean liked watching movies. And he liked doing it with Cas. He had admitted as much to himself even if the circumstances of those daydreams weren’t romantic.

But the idea of it being romantic wasn’t lost on Dean. That he could want it to be romantic. If asked, though, he’d say maybe movie watching was more domestic. Somehow that meant more to Dean. His little house and his little family watching a film, Cas pressing close and smiling.

But he wouldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that.)

“Love isn’t like the movies, Jack,” Dean huffed. “And I sure as hell don’t want it.”

This was where we were now. Dean’s shirt soaked. Mary gasping. Sam’s face in his hands. Cas’ face being etched with something sharp.

“Jack!” Mary reprimanded, hand resting on his shoulder.

Jack held his chin up in the air, looking down at Dean despite not having the height on him. “Isn’t it customary that when the guy says something stupid, the girl throws her drink at him?” His eyes squinted, head tilting, and it might have made Dean’s heart seize in his chest despite the frightening cold from the water clinging to his chest. “Cas is too kind to do it, so I did it for him.”

Cas was too kind for a lot of things, but—

“Thank you, Jack, but there is no need.” Cas spoke softly, but his face did not reflect that gentleness he always aimed at his son. Instead his eyes were still distant. Still lacking that shade of blue. “I believe this is, ah.” He shook his head and Dean could recognize that self-deprecating crook of his mouth from any distance. “This is the part of the film where the girl grossly misunderstands what is happening.”

“Can someone explain to me what is going on?” Dean snapped, jerking into action to dot at his shirt with napkins. “I’m freezing in Nebraska and we’re still talking about chick-flicks! Life isn’t a movie!”

The crook of Cas’ mouth shrunk, turning a touch sad. “I know,” he spoke calmly and pushed himself out of the booth. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air.”

No one kindly mentioned that Cas had never needed air before.

Dean was left staring at Cas' retreating form, that trenchcoat quickly crossing the horizon. It reminded Dean of the cowboy movies he had been thinking of. The injured cowboy carrying himself out of town, retreating from burdening his loss of life on anyone else. Bleeding and lonely.

Silence fell over the table, the napkins clutched in Dean’s grip quickly soaking some of the water from his shirt but doing little else to dry him. Sam’s elbow thunked against the table and shook Dean out of his reverie.

“So…” Mary began slowly. “You and Cas… aren’t dating?” She cautiously spoke, pushing her mug closer to the window as if that might spare it of whatever her words would stir within Dean.

(There was, admittedly, only one thought to cross Dean’s mind.

No, that wasn’t true.

There were precisely twenty-five different thoughts that had crossed Dean’s mind all at once. The largest of these—the loudest of these—was in a voice Dean ignored.)

“Mom, what the hell?” Dean furrowed his brow. “Cas is my best friend!”

Mary looked contrite, thinning her lips into a line. “I know that,” she reassured gently, “I just thought that…”

“Thought what? We were playing tonsil hockey or something?”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He lifted his gaze to meet Mary’s across from him. “No, they’re just. Always like that.”

Dean swiveled to face Sam. Sammy was always insightful and usually right. But sometimes he spouted things that just… they didn’t—

(It didn’t make sense. To think of Cas and Dean as Cas and Dean. Not when Cas could never feel that way. Not when Dean was adamantly not thinking about it.)

“You told us that guys ask girls to movies when they like them!” Jack argued, pointing a finger accusingly at Dean.

“I what?” Dean furrowed his brow. “We do movie nights all the time! Watching a movie with someone isn’t a date!”

Jack turned to his pancakes with that same laser glare. Kryptonian son of a Kryptonian man. Super-human strength in the most unassuming package. Maybe the kid would have laser eyes. “We asked you why guys asked girls out to the movies in movies, and you said it’s just what people do.” He huffed. “Then you asked Cas to watch a movie. Isn’t that just what people do?”

It was then Dean realized he had no idea what conversation Jack was referring to, and he would have asked as much had it not suddenly come to his realization that—

(That—)

“Cas thought I was dating him?” Dean let out in a harsh whisper that felt like a whip to his heart.

Jack stabbed at his pancake, muggish and solemn with his movements. “I was so excited. I thought I had figured it out.” He let out a slow breath. “Cas tried telling me that… that sometimes humans say things and don’t mean it, but I thought…” Jack rested his chin on his balled fist. “And Mary said that her husband gave her a mixtape of Zeppelin too, so I thought—”

“Wait, wait,” Dean waved his hands in front of himself, speaking over Sam’s squeaking. He could feel his brain fritzing. Blowing smoke and threatening to stop in its tracks and never resume to whatever destination it had been plummeting toward. “Stop. Cas thought I was dating him. And he never said anything.”

Sam snorted a laugh, cracking a smile for the first time since this whole conversation had started. “When have you ever known Cas to say something?” He shook his head, hair curtaining his face. “He’s like the definition of happy with what we have.”

“Another movie trope!” Jack pointed with his fork, lifting his head from his plate. He turned with his silverware pointed at Dean this time. “See? You guys are like a movie!”

“It’s exhausting,” Mary let out in a quiet breath.

Dean could see her mulling over her abandoned coffee before he was distracted by Jack brandishing the fork near his face. He pushed the fork away with a single finger, furrowing his brow.

“We’re not a movie,” he admonished. “We’re people. People who’ve got—” Dean felt the words snap in his throat, clogging it with something thick. “He’s Cas. I’m me. Got it?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam furrowed his brow, matching Dean and leaning forward across the table. “You’re you and he’s him. Cut the bullshit, Dean.” Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him like a searchlight. Felt it beam into every nook and cranny Dean kept hidden. Spotting the rats and the liter festering in corners.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed himself up from the booth. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” He spoke pointedly, looking at his family. His little, broken family.

(He could remember Lilo & Stitch. That had been one that Jack had insisted on watching. Dean couldn’t deny the kid the full cinema experience for a classic.

Sitting on the couch, watching the film, Dean could spy the intensity in Cas’ gaze. The way the green of the film reflected on his blue eyes. Dean caught himself before he leaned into Cas too far, but Cas caught the movement. Caught him staring.

“I just…” Cas had trailed off. “I hadn’t realized how much I could relate to a small, animated alien.” He shrugged. “I suppose now I understand how you could form a parasocial relationship with the talking dog.”

How could Dean put into words how much Cas was Stitch? Something alien and far away. An answer to silent prayers. Something that added to their small and broken family.

But still good.

Yeah, still good.

Instead he had just shrugged, made some remark about Scooby-Doo being everyone’s best friend until Sam had aggressively shushed him into silence.)

The problem was Dean knew he had to talk about it. What was worse was that he knew who he had to talk to. This wasn’t a conversation for his family in the middle of Nebraska. This was a conversation for Cas—wherever he was.

Running his fingers through his hair in aggravation, Dean could feel his boots stomp across the floor. He could hear Sam sigh and place his palm to his forehead. Feel Jack’s Kryptonian stare. Sense his mother’s fight-or-flight instinct kicking in.

(The truth was this:

Dean wanted to run too. Wanted to hide away from this conversation and never resurface. Hide beneath every shout from every hunter he had seen growing up.

But he was getting too old for this shit. And he was tired. And Sammy was always insightful and usually right. And if Dean’s gut was saying what Dean’s heart hoped it was saying? Well.

Well.)

“Cas,” Dean called out, spotting the slowly soaking shoulders of his trenchcoated angel as soon as he turned the corner. “Why the hell are you standing in the rain, man?”

Cas sighed, turning his heavenward face to the concrete. “I wanted to take a walk. It started raining. I didn’t let it deter me.”

“Doesn’t look like you did much walkin’,” Dean gestured to how close the diner was. Its comfortable brickwork was still three feet from Cas’ figure. Stepping closer, Dean inhaled sharply. “Cas, talk to me.”

“What would you like me to say, Dean?” Cas furrowed his brow, turning his entire body to face Dean. Dean didn’t know which was worse. The sharpened profile made of millennial old granite, or the thousand eyed stare that had raised him from perdition.

(It was neither of these.

It was a pair of blue eyes, a shade darker than those of Jimmy Novak’s, staring at him in a barn. Telling him he deserved to be saved. And continuing to tell him he deserved to be saved twelve years later.

That was the face that did Dean in. Always.)

Huffing, Dean could feel an instinctual, defensive fire burn in his chest. “First off, you could start with how the hell I was supposed to guess we started dating.”

Cas’ face hardened and crumbled. It reminded Dean of an old cookie. Stale and full of raisins. It was hard to look at. “We never started dating, Dean.” He spoke sharply. “I… I had made an assumption, and I know what people say about assuming.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dean shook his head. “My best friend of twelve years thinks I asked him out on a movie date in front of his kid, yeah?” He did not wait for Cas’ answer before continuing. “Then he just, what? Thinks that nothing would change? We’d just keep watching movies together forever?”

“I would ask for nothing else,” Cas confessed and his whisper was almost lost to the sound of the rain picking up, thundering against the roof of the diner beside them. “Nothing had to change. Nothing has to change.”

Dean growled. “Then why storm out, huh?” He bit. “If nothing has to change, why are you out here taking a smoke break in the rain?”

Cas inhaled sharply, turning away from Dean. “I…” he began, “I thought for once we were on the same page.” He let out a breath. “I just needed time to… think. Reconceptualize some things.”

“Reconceptualize things.” Dean echoed, ignoring the increase of the rain falling on his skin. “Cas, I don’t even know what to say.” He threw his arms with a shrug. “What am I supposed to say?”

Hadn’t he known what conversation he was supposed to have? Why was it so hard to speak to Cas about this?

Wasn’t it supposed to be easy? If Dean wanted this, and Cas wanted this, then wasn’t it that simple? Just like a movie?

(The problem, Dean figured, was this:

He actually didn’t know what Cas wanted at all.

All that time thinking Cas couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now here they were, and Cas thought they were dating, but he hadn’t done any of the things Dean would have done if they were dating. What would dating Cas even be like? What they had already been doing for weeks? Years?)

“Cas,” Dean inhaled a fortifying breath. “Man, what do you want?”

Cas brow furrowed and his head tilted, scrutinizing Dean. Being solely under that powerful gaze made Dean shiver. The angel’s eyes widened and he took a measured step forward. “You should get out of the rain—”

“No!” Dean gripped tightly at Cas’ shoulders. “No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what you want Cas!” He shouted and he was certain his voice would have bounced throughout the nearly empty parking lot of the diner had it not been for the deafening rain.

“What do I want?” Cas shouted in equal force. He shrugged Dean’s hands off of his shoulders, pressing forward into Dean’s space.

(Suddenly, Dean was reminded of an alley. Of Michael and Lucifer. Of Cas pressing him against the cold, damp wall. Beating his convictions into him.

It felt holy, those dangerous touches. Punishment at the hands of an angry god reminding Dean what he was fighting for. Even if he hadn’t lost sight of it yet, and even if Dean didn’t know it yet—

Cas would always hold him to that.)

“What I want,” Cas growled, eyes squinting against Dean’s features sharply, “is the one thing that I know I can’t have—”

“And how do you know?” Snapping, Dean took the last step between them. Their faces were close as they had been in the past, but…

But it had been so long since Dean had been this close to him. And it was somehow not close enough.

Cas’ eyes widened, breath that he didn’t need hitching. Dean watched in fascination as the blue of his eyes was slowly overtaken by the dark of his pupils. His crows feet somehow diminished with his wide eyes.

Youthful.

He looked like an echo of a Cas Dean once knew. But this was the Cas Dean always knew. Just older. Wiser. Kinder.

(And Dean loved him more with every day.)

“Cas, I'm tired.” Dean confessed. “I'm tired of lying to myself. I’m tired of pretending that I don't—I can’t—” he stumbled over his words, searching for some hidden strength that might have resided on Cas’ skin. “I keep telling myself you couldn’t ever feel like… like that. And it’s easier that way. Maybe if you can’t ever feel like that, then it’ll never happen so why should I hope for anything else, right?”

Cas made to interrupt him, but Dean wasn’t finished. Not by a mile. And Dean had been driving all of his life. Knew the comfort of driving. There was something like that here, with Cas.

(There always had been.

On a park bench in a small town Dean couldn’t even remember the name of. Cas saying he wasn’t a hammer. Dean listening. The first smile or the first joke that wasn’t a barb. Or both.)

“But that's bullshit, isn't it? ‘Cause you feel like nobody I’ve ever met, Cas.” Dean laughed breathlessly and it felt like oxygen deprivation. The kind that made you dizzy and squeezed your chest. “You feel so much all the damn time. That's the whole reason Naomi hated your guts. You’ve got this—this heart, man, and I gotta tell you, I’m jealous.

I’m jealous of every person who gets that from you. That gets a piece of you. ‘Cause I want all of it. Isn’t that nuts, man? That I’m too chicken shit to get over myself but I want you completely like that?” Dean gulped in a fresh lungful of air but he still felt like he was choking. Cas’ eyes taking on the appearance of mist, glistening and open, growing the thing beating its way out of Dean’s ribcage.

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to finish what he had to say. What he knew he had to say. Dean wasn’t good at talking. He didn’t like talking.

(But he loved Cas.

That probably balanced it out.)

“I’m scared, Cas,” came the confessional, “I’m terrified that I’m gonna—about everything.” Opening his eyes, Dean looked to Cas again. Found the remainder of the strength he needed looking back at him so intensely. “But there’s, uh, there’s this guy who sort of makes me feel better. About all of that. And I think I could move fucking mountains for him if he asked me to.”

“Dean,” and Cas spoke it like absolution. Like forgiveness for all the things that Dean had done. All he would ever do.

(And maybe he did. Maybe Cas did forgive Dean of it. There was so much to forgive. Little to forget. But maybe—

Maybe Cas saw Dean. All of Dean. The John Winchester that he was and the John Winchester he could be. The Mark of Cain on his arm and the Demon in his eyes.

But maybe he saw Lilo, too. On her knees and praying. Hoping. Someone who was trying.

And god.

Did he want to try.)

Licking his lips, Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’ mouth for a moment. “Y’know Cas,” Dean whispered. He couldn’t risk speaking louder. Not if it was going to break the spell. Not if it was going to fade to black before he could get this. “I’ve always wanted a movie kiss.”

Cas’ smile spread gently across his face like warm butter over morning toast. “I thought you said life wasn’t a movie.”

Dean chuckled, ducking his head in hopes that Cas wouldn’t catch the burning of his cheeks. He probably did, though. Cas was just observant like that. Knew Dean like that. Bringing his face back up to meet Cas’ gaze, Dean couldn’t help but smile wider.

“It isn’t usually,” he shrugged with a single shoulder. “But, uh, way I see it?” Dean leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose along the bridge of Cas’. “I think we just might be.”

(And god that was corny. But Cas made Dean corny.

No.

Dean was corny. Cas just made Dean comfortable enough to be whatever he wanted to be. And what Dean was right now was kissing the love of his life in the rain, receiving a foot-popping silver screen worthy first kiss.

Fade to black. Roll credits. Cue the 90s pop cover of the title song.)

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #the sndc gift exchange #gift exchange #fics #my writing #destiel #spn #thought they were dating #everyone thought they were dating #miscommunication #misunderstandings #dean is an idiot (affectionate)#I hope you like this. I was experimenting and I had fun writing it. So I hope you at least halfway enjoy it?#welcome to the C is insecure channel #but seriously I hope this at least somewhat hit some of the buttons I was aiming for.#Big thanks again to Sophie for running the event.

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