#was feeling absolutely wretched last night after I showered so I decided to watch a Big Country concert from 1995

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

When will the cruel mental illness be over...

[anemonenemerosa]

Soo fellow people! I decided to post my entire “The Spare” fic here anyway.

Hopefully, I can post a chapter every week.

Enjoy if you like :)

The fic is inspired by lumosinlove’s Sweater Weather (read it!) and contains HP characters, her OC’s and my OC’s.

Thank you for your great work and inspiration Haz :)

@lumosinlove

Chapter 1

As the plain slowly descended into landing on Slytherin Airport, Regulus' fidgeting with the cuff of his suit was interrupted by the harsh grip of his mother’s hand on his wrist.

"Regulus, arrête ça!" Stop that! she spat, her voice low but coldly settling into his bones nonetheless. "It is high time to drop your childish attitude. You are a Snake now, don't befoul your father’s reputation by acting all shy and flustered. You are expected to brim over with pride for following his legacy."

Straightening his shoulders, he gave her a small nod "Bien sûr, Maman."

His father, seated on his other side said nothing, he rarely did. His face stony, unyielding, like most of the time. When Regulus got the call a few weeks ago, he had seen his father emit more emotions than the last years combined. Orion stood in front of him, almost smiling and giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Just as we expected from you, son."

He was, and still is absolutely determined to make his parents proud, exited to prove to everyone that he is just as good as his famous brother, if not better. Especially as Sirius turned out to be such a disappointment.

Regulus felt his brother’s eyes on him as he walked from the interview towards the podium for his official draft ceremonial and tried to pass by quickly without being too obvious. Sirius, however, oblivious as always, pulled him into a hug he could only jerk away from. Regulus did not look into his brothers face. Determined to suffocate any reminiscent feelings still left from their shared childhood, he rushed past him without sparing a glance.

 How dare he acting all brotherly after not no more than a few brief calls since last Christmas. He left his family -left Regulus- behind as ruthlessly as to be expected from a Lion. Why is he even here? For publicity, no doubt.

In the locker room, Regulus looked in awe at the emerald green jersey. BLACK was written across the shoulders in bold letters, just above his number, the 72.

"Ne nous laisse pas tomber. C'est ta seule chance." Don't fail us. It’s your only chance, his mother hissed, pulling him back into rapt attention.

Aware of all the reporters in the locker room, Regulus just quickly shot her a look, indicating that he understood while carefully pulling the item over his head. Once the jersey was in place, the room was bursting with camera flashes. Regulus, stood in between his parents, showing what he hoped was a look of self-esteem and determination on his face. He never felt comfortable within crowds.

 However Sirius did this so confidently.

"We are so very proud to finally have a son following his father’s footsteps into a career with the Snakes" hearing his mother telling the reporters turned his focus hastily turns back on his surroundings.

The evening rushed by in an overwhelming blur of people congratulating him during an extravagant dinner at Malfoy Manor.

His father was immersed in a highly engaged conversation with Karkaroff, consisting of their chances for the Cup, slagging other Teams and elaborating the high standards Regulus will have to meet. Lucius and Rodolphus were mostly eavesdropping on the exchange while their wives, his cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix, busied themselves with drinking champagne at an alarming rate with his mother.

No one spoke to Regulus, but he was content to listen. Most people underestimated how much information could be gathered by unsuspecting bystanders and his mother made sure he always kept what-ever he overheard for further use.

By the time women began to cackle and gossip unashamedly, Orion made a quick effort to excuse himself and his wife, most likely to avoid his family being witnessed in a fairly unflattering, borderline-embarrassing situation.

After bidding his parents farewell, Lucius instructed a housemaid to show Regulus to the room he would inhibit during his rookie season. Luckily, the Lestranges did not want him to billet in their house. While Narcissa and Lucius were acting with polite indifference around him, he always suspected Bellatrix to be more than just a little mad.

As he was silently led through elegant corridors with polished furniture and ornate carpets, almost indistinguishable from his parents Maison, his nerves began to act up a little. His trunk was already in the room and he was left to himself. The bedroom was plain in a way that radiated wealth but lacks any means of recognition.

Just like home, Regulus thought drily while stepping into the marble-covered bathroom for a shower.

Lying awake in the dark, he finally allowed himself to process the commotion that was his day. After an exhausting flood of questions, photographs and people staring at him, the trimmed and polished drafts presented on TV seemed amusingly off the mark. Was Sirius draft a similar ruckus?

Six years ago, Regulus was not allowed to come with his mother but secretly watched it on TV in the kitchen with their house-maid. His father refused to accompany Sirius.

“I will not set a single foot in that wretched city. If you want to pull through with this, you have to go alone!”, he spat over dinner the night before and stayed in the basement during the next day.

Back then, he did not understand the tension and certainly did not want Sirius to go and leave him alone under the strict supervision of their parents.

"Seras-tu toujours mon frère, Siri?" "Will you still be my brother Siri?"

"Je serai toujours ton frère, Reg!" "I will always be your brother, Reg!" ...Yeah, of course. Connard stupide.

Much later he would learn about the end of his father’s career but until then Regulus clung to his brother whenever he visited, if he visited, less and less each year.

Huffing angrily, Regulus dismissed Sirius from his thoughts. This was his draft, the start of his career, the golden opportunity to prove himself to his parents and the world. He should sleep instead of wasting his energy on futile memories.

[babyboy-bangtan]

By Chance Chapters 1-4

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

✚ Pairing: Sub!BTS/Female Reader ✚ Word Count: 3.3K ✚ Rating: M ✚ Warnings: None for now. ✚ A/N: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.  Read on AO3

Chapter 1:  Before

Beep. Beep. Beep.

No.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

Absolutely not.

Beep beep beep beep beep!

Jesus Christ, fine.

You groan and grab your phone from your bedside table, turning off the alarm. It's not possible or even logical, but you really feel the big 5:00 A.M. on your lock screen is making fun of you.

You really want to die.

As you take a deep breath and pull the covers off of you, you get angry at your own stupidity last night. You had no business staying up until 1 a.m. watching Netflix knowing very well you had to be on the makeup chair at 6, but you went and watched a show anyway.

Actually, no, scratch that. This is Netflix's fault. It's their fault for making it so that you want to binge their goddamn shows. You're merely a victim of a very successful streaming platform.

You should sue them. 

Well, once you're done filming your movie for them, that is. Once you're done with the movie and the promotion for it you'll sue them for robbing you of your precious sleep, because that's unforgivable, despicable, heinous, wretched—

Before you can continue with your methodical planning of the lawsuit you're going to throw into Netflix's face for making you stay up late at night and then get up early to film their movie, your phone ringing pulls you out of your angry thoughts.

It's your stylist calling.

Right, you asked her to call you because you were not sure you weren't gonna sleep through the five alarms you set for this morning— but against all odds, you actually woke up with the first one.

"Good morning. I promise I'm up." You reassure her before she can say anything. "I'm gonna shower soon."

"That's fine." She laughs. "I'm just calling cause you told me to last night."

"I knoow." You drawl out. "I was worried I'd ignore the alarms. But I'm up. No worries."

"Alright then. See ya in a bit, dude."

"Byeeeeeee!" You say, throwing your phone into your bed after hanging up.

Your bed, the love of your life. So soft, so inviting, so beautiful and ready to keep you comfortable for as long as you need it to. Except you need to be sitting on the makeup chair at 6, so no more bed for today. You take a deep breath and walk to the bathroom, as ready as you can be to star the day after only getting 4 hours of sleep.

"Good morning Timmy." You greet your costar with a kiss on the cheek. 

"Good morning to you too." He says, biting back a smile. "You didn't sleep well, did you?"

"I have a right to remain silent." You reply, taking a sip of your coffee before walking past him. He catches up to you quickly. "Did you sleep well?"

"I got up at 5 a.m. so, of course not." He says, rolling his eyes at you. "I got like 5 hours of sleep only."

"Ha!" You say, stopping as you grip the handle of the makeup trailer's door. "I slept 4. I win."

Once you're both on your makeup chairs, you laugh as quietly as you can when you notice Timotheé dozing off while his hair is brushed, and you grab your phone to distract yourself. You can't really sleep when you're sitting up even if the fact that your stylist is working on your hair is really relaxing you, so you might as well try to get a bit more awake than you are now. 

While you're telling her about the interesting article you just read, your phone vibrates in your hand, interrupting you. You quickly open the text when you see is from one of your friends, thinking that if she messaged you at 6 a.m. then it must be something important.

Or... maybe not. What you got instead of an important text is what you're pretty sure is a screencap of a Buzzfeed headline.

DID [Y/N] REALLY MEET BTS WITHOUT ANYONE OF US KNOWING?

You absolutely did not. You'd definitely remember meeting the most famous boy band in the world.

You quickly type a response.

      Lmao no I didn't       What's that about?

It only takes her a moment to reply.

      It's just clickbait but it's like a thing right now       People went nuts thinking you'd met BTS       Because someone uploaded a video to youtube called [Y/N] BTS       But it was just a behind the scenes video       But then this tweet went viral

She then sends you another screencap, this time of a tweet with over 100k likes that's quoting another tweet with a video you recognize as the behind the scenes video you filmed for your last movie.

When you think [Y/N] met BTS but the BTS actually stands for Behind The Scenes 🤡

You actually laugh at that.

      😂😂😂 my god       Thanks for keeping me up to date with news about myself

She quickly responds.

      No prob, Bob. Also you were trending on Twitter on #1 and #2 because of it       Now you're like below the 7th but i got proof

She then sends you another picture, this time of the trending topics list. There it is at number 1, "[Y/N] BTS" and at number 2 is just your name. Below that one it's BTS alone.

As far as you know, BTS and kpop fans have the power to make anything trend on Twitter, so you're not that surprised to see they got you trending because they thought you'd met them. You're a bit surprised about the fact that it was over a complete misunderstanding, but stranger things have gone viral in the past and they will continue to do so in the future.

You wish your friend good luck at work today before you start telling your stylist about what just happened, and she just rolls her eyes and complains about people making news out of literally nothing nowadays. You agree completely— this isn't even the first time you are trending on twitter because of something silly— so you just drop the subject and go back to talking to her about the article you read. However, the thought of meeting BTS stays at the back of your mind for some reason.

You've only heard a couple of their most popular songs, which were admittedly very good and enjoyable, but you'd be lying if you didn't admit you'd love to meet them soon. They're huge right now, and even though you wouldn't call yourself a fan considering you don't even know all their names, you still recognize how incredible their journey has been and how talented they are.

Well, that and the tiny detail that every single one of them is absolutely stunning.

Chapter 2:  Jungkook

"Who's [Y/N]?" Jungkook asks suddenly with a little frown as he sits on the floor after dance practice, scrolling through his phone. He's sure he has heard your name before, but he doesn't really know anything about you.

"Uhh... isn't she an American actress?" Namjoon replies, downing half of his water bottle. "I think I saw one of her movies. A period drama. She's pretty good." He pauses. "Why?"

"[Y/N] BTS is trending on Twitter." He replies, reading through some of the most popular tweets about it. "Apparently there was a misunderstanding with a video." He shrugs, opening the video in question.

It's you wearing one of those 19th century dresses, but the effect is lost because the fact that you're wearing a modern coat and sunglasses. If he understood you correctly over the awful sound quality, you were on the first day of shooting.

"What are you watching?" Hoseok asks, standing behind him.

"The video people thought was of her with us. It's a behind the scenes video of her movie." He replies absent-mindedly, focused on his phone. "I think it's from the one you watched, Hyung." He tells Namjoon, looking up at him.

You seem to be at a dance practice now, with who he assumes was your costar. It looks like some kind of waltz, and you both seem to be already good at it— there's no way this is the first time you're rehearsing it. Suddenly, the man flips you around gracefully and presses his front to your back in what Jungkook assumes was meant to be an intimate moment, but only a second later you start twerking and then everyone is laughing.

Him, too.

"Come on, we have to go." Hoseok says, tapping his shoulder.

"I'm coming." Jungkook replies, still watching the video even as he stands up. "She's funny." He says to the rest, occasionally looking up to make sure he doesn't run into a wall.

"What did you say happened with her?" Jimin asks, massaging his shoulder with a grimace.

"Apparently someone uploaded a behind the scenes video of one of her movies but since it said BTS people thought it was about her meeting us."

If Jimin— or anyone else for that matter— cared about his response, Jungkook didn't realize. He clicks on the next suggested video and keeps watching, not paying attention to anyone else. It's during his viewing of that video that Jungkook decides he'll watch the movie Namjoon mentioned as soon as he gets free time to do so, and then he'll see what other movies you've done to see if anything interests him.

The fact that you're beautiful and when you smile his tummy feels tingly has absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

Chapter 3:  Jimin

The thought of the video Jungkook mentioned at dance practice comes back to Jimin all of a sudden late at night, when his mind is restless and the painkillers haven't eased the ache of his shoulder just yet. He can't sleep, so he might as well distract himself a little until they kick in.

He doesn't remember your name correctly; he misspells it several times until he just searches "Actress behind the scenes video mistaken bts band" and several recent articles appear.

[Y/N], that's right. That was your name. The names he'd been trying weren't even remotely similar.

He opens one article just for the sake of it— it's a very clickbait-y one, but he figures it's likely all of them will be— and starts reading an unnecessary long version of what happened. The gist of the article is what Jungkook already said: people confused a behind the scenes video of your movie with a video that involved them, and it went viral.

There are other suggested articles about you at the end of the one he just read, and one specifically catches his attention.

"[Y/N] gets bold on new Vogue Magazine interview: 'Gender roles are such bulls**t.'"

He quickly opens the original article instead of the mess he's sure is the one on the clickbait site, and he can't hold back a gasp at the picture of you that appears in front of him.

He figures he shouldn't be surprised considering what year it is and how normal it is to see women in suits nowadays, but he can't help but get his breath taken away when he sees a woman wearing one. He doesn't know what it is, and it's not really every suit on every woman that does it either— but the one you're wearing on that photo definitely fits the bill.

Your hair is purposefully messy— the kind of messy that can only be achieved by having a hair stylist work on you for a considerable amount of time, he knows that very well— and your face is covered in natural-looking makeup.

Except for your eyes. They did a beautiful job with them.

You are most certainly not wearing a bra and he knows that the fact that it's just noticeable enough is also very intentional, and there's something about the pose you're doing that is making his palms sweat.

Chin tilted up.

Eyes half lidded, looking down.

Mouth slightly open.

White dress shirt, with just two buttons undone.

He almost wishes you'd gone for another one as well, so your cleavage would be visible.

Almost.

The picture is perfect as it is. Can't be improved by anything.

The quote on the clickbait site isn't even the most interesting part of the article; you talk about leaving social media because the pressure of making sure people liked you affected your mental health, about going to therapy since you were a teenager, and about how annoyed you were a couple years ago when the movement #AskHerMore was in full swing and you still felt reduced to only the way you looked at the Oscars, where a movie you were in was nominated. If Jimin understands correctly, a video of you looking very annoyed at the questions went viral.

"It was very frustrating," The quote begins. "because on one hand you had what was supposed to help the interviewers realize that you want to talk more about the movie you worked so hard on, but so many of them simply didn't care. I guess what really got to me was that there were people saying that women get asked about their looks because their dresses are so beautiful and of course people notice them, but I was wearing the most generic black suit you've ever seen. And still they kept calling me bold and chic and other things just cause I had fu**ing pants on."

He opens a new tab and quickly types "[Y/N] Oscars suit outfit" before he even realizes what he's doing.

And there it is: the same feeling he got a few minutes ago when he saw the first picture of you.

Breathless, palms sweaty.

He scrolls through the image results, opening and looking at related pictures of you in suits from other events. It seems that it's a preferred outfit for you along with jumpsuits, and there's an occasional dress now and then.

He sighs and goes back to the article to finish it and look at the rest of the pictures from the Vogue session.

"It doesn't just happen to me." You say in another quote. "There are other women who wear suits and it gets treated like some kind of big deal when they're just clothes. And men have it way, way worse. At least we can wear a suit normally but if men want to wear dresses or skirts or even clothes that deviate from what so many people consider masculine, they'll have people criticizing them and disrespecting them in horrible ways. They're just pieces of fu**ing fabric! Gender roles are such bulls**t."

Jimin smiles at that, and at the fact that the writer of the piece comments that you get very passionate when talking about such things. He likes it.

A big yawn interrupts his train of thought, and he realizes his shoulder hasn't been bothering him for a little while now. He leaves his phone on his nightstand and gets comfortable under the covers, thinking it would be nice if they had actually met you, instead of it only being just a misunderstanding.

Maybe one day.

Chapter 4:  Jin

Because Jin is sitting next to Jungkook inside the van, he can't really help but be distracted by the videos the younger has been watching nonstop on his phone. As it has been for the past couple of weeks, he's watching another one of your interviews. 

It's astoundingly obvious to everyone that Jungkook has developed a crush on you.

"You're still watching videos of her?" Jin asks, but the taunting tone in his voice goes completely over Jungkook's head. He's too focused on the video.

"Yes. Do you want to watch?" Jungkook asks, offering an earphone for him innocently. Jin finds it impossible to resist the cuteness so he accepts it, taking it from his hand and putting it on as he wraps his arm around Jungkook's shoulders.

It's an interview, and you're sitting next to an actor he doesn't recognize.

"Who's that?" He asks Jungkook, pointing at the guy.

"I don't know." Jungkook shrugs, truly not caring even a tiny a bit about who the man is. 

"Okay." Jin replies, shaking his head at Jungkook with a smile. There's really good chemistry between you and the man— you laugh together a lot, and he feels a spark of recognition at the back of his mind when he sees your smile, but he can't tell where it comes from.

"Have you seen their movie?" Jin asks, returning the earphone to its owner. Jungkook nods as he puts it back on.

"It's very good. I liked it."

So he has seen the movie, but he still doesn't know who the actor is at all? There might be a possibility that the crush is a bit more intense than Jin previously believed.

"What else has she worked on?" He pries, wondering if he's confusing you with someone else or if maybe he did see something you were on, even if it was in passing. There's something familiar about you and it's starting to annoy him to not know what exactly.

"Lots of things. Several movies. She was on a show when she began acting. I think her first job was on CSI or one of those American crime shows with a thousand seasons." Jungkook focuses on his video again and Jin pulls out his own phone, quickly searching for your name.

He opens your Wikipedia page and goes straight to Filmography, where he can see right there on the Television section that your first credit is actually CSI.

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

2013.

Oh, no.

The name of your character. Jin knows it. God, he'd recognize it anywhere. The name of the episode right next to it only serves to confirm what he's fearing.

He immediately types "[Y/N] CSI" and swallows a gasp when he sees the pictures that pop up in front of his eyes, careful to not alert Jungkook or the others.

Oh god, no.

Jin knows who you are very well.  He hasn't really watched the episode you appeared on in a while, but he used to do it so often that he memorized exactly what happens every single second you're on screen.

Your hair was a different color and you were younger—  that's why he didn't immediately recognize you. Back when you were on that episode it was futile to try and search for more of your work; CSI was your first role and he couldn't find any information about you at the time. He didn't really search for you again after that; he was very aware that shows like that have hundreds of guest actors that sometimes end up reduced to extras for the rest of their careers.

Well, this was clearly not the case for you.

The memories of the scenes he knows so well flash quickly on his mind, and he swallows with slight difficulty as he feels his ears getting hot.

Your hand is wrapped around the guy who plays your boyfriend's throat— and without showing too much it's clear you're on top of him while you have sex. His hands are tied with a scarf to the bed, and he's blindfolded.

"You like that, baby?" You whisper into the man's ear with a smile, biting his earlobe.

Jin shakes his head, trying to get rid of the very intrusive thought of you lovingly choking a guy during sex. He's in a van with the rest of the guys, the last thing he wants is for them to notice something is wrong.

He closes all the tabs and puts his phone away, moving his head to look out the window instead, hoping the sight of the buildings and streets will distract him. He's glad the whole BTS thing was a misunderstanding and you didn't actually meet them, because he has no idea how he'd react if he had you in front of him in real life.

How do you possibly greet the person you used to masturbate to on a daily basis?

If you’ve made it here: thank you so much for reading!

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled

Chapter 1

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester)

Word count: 1,895

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield​ , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

“Hey, Miriam, it’s Sam...Sam Winchester...I don’t know if you remember me from-”

“I remember you, Sam. Not likely to forget a Winchester, much less...it’s one in the morning, what’s up?”

“I need to call in that favor.”

“All right. Where do you need me?”

…

Miriam stared blearily at the road as it stretched out in an infinite blur of dismal sameness, each expanse of asphalt and surrounding fields a dreary replica of the one before.

The last couple hundred or so miles had been hypnotically wretched, especially with the remnants of her headache hanging on by the tips of its claws since Sam Winchester had woken her with a phone call a few hours ago.

Caffeine and aspirin had taken the edges off, but straining her eyes into the endless darkness, alternating occasionally with too-bright headlights shattering the night (fucking halogens), had done nothing to ease the sharp ache that wouldn’t quite dissipate.

If she was being honest, the headache had been hanging around much longer than just a few hours, and if Sam’s call hadn’t woken her, the nightmares would have. They always did. She couldn’t really remember what an uninterrupted night of sleep felt like anymore. Exhaustion was her state of existence; it was preferable to feeling anything else.

“Suck it up, Miri,” she muttered into the muffled quiet of the car. Even her GPS was set on silent; the soft hum of the engine was the only noise she allowed to permeate her cocoon of quiet suffering.

Aaron would have been blasting some stupid metal band on the stereo, slapping her hand away every time she went to turn it down or change the station. He wouldn’t offer to drive and let her sleep off any physical maladies, but she wouldn’t have accepted anyway. He was a shit driver, and she always said she’d rather live long enough to let the next case kill her rather than the inevitable wreck if her brother was behind the wheel.

“Suck it up, Miri! Take another pill and quit whining!” he would have told her in the middle of an air drum solo.

Would have.

“Shut up,” Miriam muttered aloud. She drove on.

She pulled up outside something she would have dismissed as public waterworks or an electric station if Sam hadn’t told her what to look for. No cars outside, no mailbox, nothing to tell her this was an actual residence and not the setting for a seventies slaughterhouse flick. She checked her phone.

Text me when you get here; I’ll come let you in.

Alrighty, then.

Sam met her at the door and led her into the last sort of place Miriam could have imagined, a cross between a sci-fi/post-apocalypse novel and some sort of Cold War relic. He gave her the briefest of explanations as he led her through the bunker, saying something about legacies and a secret society, information which mostly passed right through her fatigue-addled head.

Pretty nice home base, she thought as they walked through the meeting room and past the library.

The research-oriented part of her itched to run her fingers over the spines of those books, to find out what was inside. Miriam cringed internally as she heard the echo of Aaron’s voice calling her a nerd, equal parts affection and ridicule in his voice. Then she throttled the pain down, locked the thoughts away, and dragged herself back to the present.

A few minutes later, Miriam was slinging her duffel down on one of the nicest beds she’d been able to claim in any capacity in months, maybe even years. Absolutely spartan and about six decades out of date, almost military in decor, but it was clean, and it had air, electricity, and both sheets and blankets on the bed. No nasty or rotten surprises left by former inhabitants; definitely an upgrade on a few of the shitholes she’d stayed in.

“We’ve got a fully stocked kitchen just down the hallway, and showers. Let me know if you need anything,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his head.

Miriam decided to save him further discomfort and cut to the chase.

“Fancy digs, Sam. It’s been a few years. You wanna tell me what’s got you so bothered?”

She’d noticed a distinct lack of the elder Winchester on the way in, but Miriam’s own recent history had done nothing if not jam a filter firmly in her mouth that kept her from sharing any and all thoughts that flowed through her mind.

Sam’s mouth quivered at the corners before he schooled his features into a mask of control that failed to hide the depth of his worry.

“I...Dean is why I called you. It’s...complicated.”

She took advantage of the awkward pause to re-evaluate Sam Winchester. He’d aged a lot in the few years since she and Aaron had run across the Winchesters. He’d grown broader since she last saw him, and he gave the impression of being even taller than she remembered, to say nothing of the length of his hair. She resisted the urge to offer him a hair tie for his shaggy mane.

Her gaze flicked down to his injured right arm, bound to his chest in a sling. She waited for several beats, but when he didn’t continue, she crossed her arms sternly, letting a shade of her impatience show on her face.

“You called me, Sam.”

Sam cleared his throat as if he still couldn’t get the words out. Miriam sighed. Her headache flared, burning the inside of her skull like a wash of acid between her eyes. Fatigue pulled at her, weighing her down towards the bed, but she locked her knees and straightened her back until she could trust her weary body not to betray her to gravity.

“Sam, we’re not close friends, I get that, but you called me here because I owe you, and hopefully because you know you can count on me. I haven’t been in the field recently, wasn’t planning on it any time soon. I’m tired; it’s been a hell of a year. If you want my help, talk to me. If not, I’m taking advantage of your hospitality to catch a few hours sleep in a decent bed, then I’ll head back out.”

“Dean’s a demon.”

His bald declaration woke her as the coffee she’d consumed after his phone call hadn’t.

Wasn’t expecting that, she thought as her eyebrows threatened to meet her hairline.

“Demons aren’t my area of expertise, Sam. And, let’s be honest, it’s fairly common knowledge that the Winchesters can exorcise a demon. What do you need me for?”

Sam shook his head, tension making the movement jerky and stiff as his jaw tightened. He had circles under his eyes to rival hers, and his shoulders slumped with a weight she knew all too well.

He reached up, awkwardly tugging down the neckline of his shirt to reveal a tattooed symbol she vaguely recalled from research she’d done years ago.

“Neither of us can be possessed,” he said, shrugging his shirt back into place with a wince of discomfort. “Dean is...Look, just come with me; I need to check on him anyway. You'll see.”

Making a physical effort to keep her jaw from hanging slack, Miriam followed Sam from the small bedroom. The whole situation was surreal, and the bland, institutional walls of the bunker only added to Miriam’s sense of dissociation.

She raised a curious eyebrow as Sam led her into what looked like nothing so much as a large file storage room.

Their footsteps echoed strangely; the space felt somehow emptier than the full shelves should have allowed. The ceiling, higher than what seemed necessary, continued much further back than the shelves. And what kind of shelving needed caging to connect it to the ceiling? The metal screen wasn’t what drew her attention, though.

The second she set foot in the room, Miriam felt an inexplicable pull to look behind those shelves, to push past Sam and shove the files out of the way. There was a presence in the room, something that spoke to a place deep inside her that she’d trained herself not to acknowledge, something familiar and forbidden all at once.

For the first time in months, she felt something more than tired, foggy despair.

Whatever was back there, Miriam wanted it.

It took her a second to realize that Sam was speaking.

“Don’t...um...don’t let him get to you, okay? It’s Dean, but it...isn’t,” Sam finished lamely with a grimace.

Miriam tilted her head to the side, considering his words. She opened her mouth, then closed it and shrugged, bracing herself for whatever it was Sam didn’t seem to be able to explain.

His shoulders slumped for a moment as he struggled to pull himself together.

Miriam hadn’t spent much time with the Winchesters, just the couple of weeks they'd worked that witch case all those years ago. Sam and Dean had been so in tune with each other, working the case with instinct and skill on a level that she’d both admired and envied. Then they went and saved her stupid brother.

Sam had been so much younger, then, not exactly sure of himself, but much more solid and in control than the tired, injured man in front of her.

“I owe you, and I mean it,” she’d said back then, shaking first Dean’s and then Sam’s hands, looking each brother in the eyes.

“You need someone to watch your back, to help you take something down, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t normally speak for that asshole,” she nodded at her younger brother, currently sleeping off the leftover ill effects from the hex bag that had nearly taken his life, “but I’ll go ahead and vouch for his dumb ass, too. Call me if you need me. Don’t lose my number.”

She hadn’t heard from them since.

Oh, she had heard plenty of them. What hunter hadn’t? All sorts of misadventures and exploits, taking down creatures most hunters had only ever heard of, much less encountered. But Miriam had gotten no phone calls from them, no requests for help. She figured they'd probably forgotten her and Aaron the moment they’d left town, rock blasting from the speakers of their legendary Impala as they cruised on to the next town, the next case.

“Why now, Sam?” Miriam asked quietly. “After all this time, why call me now?”

There were approximately a thousand more questions she wanted to ask, chiefly what the cage behind those shelves was holding, but she held her tongue after the one. Sam had obviously brought her here for a reason, so she reminded herself to be patient and ready for whatever happened next.

The younger Winchester hung his head for a moment longer, then turned eyes on her that were so familiar, her heart seized in her chest. She saw those same eyes every time she’d looked at her own reflection in the mirror since she’d returned from that last job, with one more scar and one less brother.

“Because I knew you’d understand.”

And then Sam straightened, and she watched as he willed steel through his limbs, stiffening his spine and hardening his features. He pulled on a narrow section of shelving and rolled it out of the way.

“Heya, Sammy.”

...

Chapter 2 is up! 

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Honeymooners: Chapter 3

Read Chapters 1 and 2 Here

They woke up in the morning still curled up in one another in the tiny bed. “I think we conquered that challenge,” Deeks said, pressing a kiss to her neck. 

“You know, I noticed that shower is also really small,” Kensi told him coyly as she slipped out of bed. “Just in case you’re looking for another challenge!”

It didn’t take long before he joined her, lips pressing against her shoulder as his hands circled her waist. Kensi squeaked as he nipped at her earlobe and found herself hoping the motel walls weren’t too thin. She was really starting to regret the choice to spend their honeymoon in a smelly tent. Were they really going to make it two weeks without 

When they were both sufficiently showered they went in search of breakfast, settling on the closest Starbucks. Kensi took a bite of her yogurt and then realized Deeks wasn’t eating. “You good?” she asked.

He frowned a little. “Yeah, my stomach’s kind of queasy.”

“I hope you’re not getting sick,” she said in alarm.

“I’m sure it’s just from drinking last night and all the traveling.”

“Aw,” Kensi reached for his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor anymore? Don’t tell the guys.”

“Hey at least I’m not a lightweight like Eric.”

After breakfast they went for a stroll through downtown Jacksonville. It was hot and humid and within minutes Kensi’s shirt was stuck to her skin. “Jacksonville is definitely not the pride of Florida,” Kensi said, wrinkling her nose as they passed a couple of overflowing garbage cans.

Deeks didn’t respond and when she looked his face was contorted in pain. “Deeks are you all right?”

“My stomach,” he said, stopping and bending over a bit. He blanched and clapped a hand over his mouth, then threw himself at the nearest garbage can where he promptly vomited.

“Oh my god!” Kensi put a hand on his back. “Are you all right?”

Deeks lifted his head and sucked in a breath. “Yeah I’m…” He gagged, leaning over to threw up again. “I guess maybe Al’s Crab Shack wasn’t such a great idea after all.”

“Yeah you think? Next time listen to your wife. Come on. Let’s head back to the hotel.”

It took forever to get back because Deeks had to stop and wretch every few feet. By the time Kensi got him in bed he was sweaty and pale. She positioned the garbage can next to him and then put a hand on his forehead. “I think you’ve got a fever. It’s probably food poisoning.”

“You’re telling me.” Deeks curled up into the fetal position as his stomach cramped. 

“Well I guess better here than in Lima.” She stroked his forehead tenderly. 

He sat up so fast he nearly knocked her to the floor. “I have to go to the bathroom!” he rasped.

“Use the garbage can.”

“Not that kind of emergency,” he said with a grimace as he stumbled into the tiny bathroom and closed the door.

Kensi stood outside and winced in sympathy. It was clearly going to be a long day.

Deeks came out and collapsed onto the bed, immediately falling asleep. Kensi pulled out her tablet and sent a couple quick messages off to Nell and Eric checking in.

When Deeks woke up half an hour later he vomited into the garbage can and then had to be almost immediately helped to the bathroom again. “Ah the joys of marriage,” Kensi mumbled to herself as she stood outside the door and waited for him.

It was hours and hours of tortured bodily function. In addition to his fever Deeks was lethargic and clearly in pain as his stomach cramped and twisted. When he was awake he was curled up on the bed and looked absolutely miserable, and when he was asleep he tossed and turned, twisting the cheap hotel sheets in a balled up mess.

Kensi was starting to get worried about dehydration so when he fell asleep around 5:00 she slipped out to the gift shop and bought the world’s most expensive bottle of Gatorade for him to sip. Her stomach rumbled so grabbed a couple packages of crackers too. She wasn’t trusting unpackaged food again in this state.

She stepped back outside and was halfway back to the room when she remembered she’d also wanted to grab a package of tissues. She doubled back, stopping short when she realized there was someone coming down the walkway in the opposite direction. “Yeah tomorrow,” he muttered into his cellphone. “Does Carl have the car ready? We’re gonna hit it hard and heavy and get out fast. They won’t even know what hit ‘em. “

Kensi stepped around the corner and waited in the shadows until he passed. “Don’t call me again. Just bring the car.”

He put his key in the lock and went into room B-31. Kensi frowned. That had almost sounded like plans for a hold up of some kind. She shook her head. Deeks would laugh at her and tell her she was too suspicious after all the problems they’d had on their last couple of trips. She shouldn’t be borrowing anymore trouble than was waiting for her back in their room. 

Deeks was in utter misery when she got back. He was too hot, then too cold. His stomach stabbed at him repeatedly and his chest ached from all the throwing up. Being awake was torture and being asleep was blessed relief until he was woken again by the need to empty his stomach one way or another. 

Kensi found herself ironically grateful for separate beds as Deeks’ exorcist routine persisted late into the evening. Every attempt to get him to eat or drink something it only ended in disaster and she began to wonder if she should get him to the ER. When she posed the question to him he staunchly refused and then immediately threw up into the garbage can. 

At 10:00am the next morning he woke feeling somewhat less like death. His mouth tasted sour and his body still hurt, but he wasn’t in quite as much agony as the previous twenty-four hours. He pushed himself up into a half seated position and looked at his sleeping wife on the other side of the room. So much for a honeymoon. 

He pulled himself out of bed and showered but another, slightly less terrible, bout of stomach cramps put him on the toilet again soon after. Kensi was awake when he finally exited the bathroom. “How are you?” she asked, her hair a mess, eyes bleary.

“I feel like I birthed a forty pound baby,” he said with a groan, sitting down heavily. “But a little better.”

“You had me worried. You should probably try some more Gatorade. Or water or something.”

He nodded and took a cautious sip from the bottle on the nightstand. “We’re never eating seafood again.”

“I didn’t eat seafood to begin with.”

“You’re really going to make fun of your poor, sick husband who nearly died on your honeymoon?”

“Um yes. Absolutely. I’ve already informed the entire team, they’re coming up with snarky things to say as we speak.”

“I knew I should have written a clause about that into the pre-nup.”

“You’d better be glad we don’t have a pre-nup because I definitely would have put a vomit clause in there and then you’d be on your own.”

There was a bang from outside and Kensi went immediately to the window, peeking through the curtains. “Everything all right?” Deeks asked.

“Must have been a car.”

She seemed jumpy. “Hey, something on your mind? You still thinking about going home?” he asked.

“No, I just…it’s probably nothing.”

“Uh oh. Come on. Talk to me. What happened while I was out? You decide to run away with Manny?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. When I was out getting supplies last night I heard this guy on the phone and it was weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I mean, if I was being suspicious, I would say he was planning to rob the casino.”

“If you were being suspicious?” he teased.

“Like I said, I’m sure it’s nothing. Go ahead and say it. One disastrous vacation too many has made me paranoid. I see bad guys everywhere.”

“Or…”

She raised her eyebrows. “Or what?”

“I mean we’ve been partners for a hot second now. Your instincts are usually pretty good.”

“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. “No snarky comment?”

“No snarky comment.” He winced as he drew a deep breath and his ribs twinged. “All snark exited somewhere around 3:30am when you were cleaning up my puke for the eighty-fifth time.”

“Aw, look how good we are at being married!”

“So good!”

She instinctively leaned in to kiss him and then they both thought better of it. “Yeah maybe not yet,” she said.

“I should brush my teeth first.”

“Good idea.”

They got up and dressed and Deeks watched ruefully as Kensi ate a protein bar for breakfast. “You sure you don’t want some?” she asked.

“Probably better not to risk it,” he said, holding up his bottle of Gatorade. “Liquid diet for now.”

“I’m sure the guinea pigs will be pleased to hear that.”

[rvnjun]

wedding dress | kim jungwoo

Warnings: Fighting Genre: Fluff with a some Angst Word Count:10.1k A/n: This is the longest thing i've ever written. Im not even sure if its good or even makes sense. I just feel like the reader and Jungwoo didn't bond much but my friend said she really liked the story anyway so il go ahead and post it.  I might delete this later. Oh and sorry Doyoung XD Definitely spelling and grammar errors, if you spot any please let me know 

Your grip tightened on the pillow, you squeezed it like your entire life depended on it. The air seemed to be thick with tension. The longer you two went without saying another the more you felt heavy. You looked around your apartment, the place that normally felt so warm and welcoming felt foreign. It didn’t feel like your home anymore, it felt like a trap. 

“Y/n” Doyoungs stern voice snapped you out of your trance. Never once had you heard him sound so hurtful.

 “Did you even listen to a thing I said? God stop being such an idiot,” Doyoung snapped at you. He sighed, tapping his feet rapidly against the ground. Your heart clenched in pain, his words echoed in your head making you feel sick. 

“I was listening. Doyoung,, I,, I thought you loved me?” You squeaked out, afraid to look him in eyes. 

Doyoung shook his head “I did, at least I thought I did. For a while, I pretended to still be happy but I can’t keep doing this anymore. As I said, I’ll pack up my stuff and move in with a friend,” Doyoung causally talked about the breakup like it really didn’t matter to him. More than anything you started to feel your anger bubble up. 

“Did this relationship mean nothing to you? I just,, I can’t believe you! After 3 years together your breaking up with me like this relationship meant absolutely nothing to you,, and,, and the wedding? I already have my dress and it’s already planned. What am I supposed to tell everyone!” Your voice raised with every word. 

Doyoung scoffed at you “Simple, we will cancel it. You can return the dress. It’s not that big of a deal,” he didn’t answer your question instead he made your relationship out to be nothing. It started to be overbearingly painful to continue to hold back your tears. You finally let loose, the hot tears cascaded down your cheeks.Your cheek bone felt like they were throbbing. 

“Is there someone else?” You finally asked what had been on your mind all night. Doyoung seemed taken back by your words. He stared at you in surprise. His silence was physically suffocating. You started to choke on your tears, coughing a few times you waited for his reply. 

Hesitantly he nodded his head “You’re smarter than I thought you were,” he pointed out. 

“Oh god,, why? Who is it Doyoung!! Who is it!” You demanded, still in tears. You took a step forward and clung to the kitchen counter with all your might. Your knees felt like they were gonna give out. 

“I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her. I’ve seriously never seen someone so beautiful. It was really refreshing. I thought back to you and I never felt the spark. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, I mean, I had just proposed. One turned into two and then eventually it became an every Thursday thing. With Jieun I feel alive,” Doyoung passionately described his secret love affair with Jieun. 

“Jieun?” You asked in reassurance. Jieun was the new intern at your work, she was a sweet and cute looking young girl. 

“Are you kidding me? She is practically a kid, Doyoung,” your entire body started to shake. Finally, your knees gave out, Doyoung took a few steps forward and caught you In his arms beige you could hit the ground. It felt nice to be in his warm embrace for the last time.

 You quickly came to your senses, pushing him away as hard as you could you yelled “Go away!! Just fucking leave, I don’t want to see your face again,” you started pushing on his chest. Doyoung grabbed your hand and looked into your red and puffy eyes 

“Calm down. I need you to tell me that you won’t tell anyone I cheated?” Doyoung wanted to make one thing clear. You bit your lip to hold back even more tears, Doyoung only cared about his image. 

“Fine but under one condition. We tell everyone that I called off the engagement, it will make me feel better.” You did your best to sound stern. If Doyoung was going to break up with you for another girl 2 months before you were going to get married you didn’t want anyone to know the truth. 

Doyoung smiled and lightly laughed “Yeah that’s perfectly fine! I’m so glad that you have a simple mind. Well if that’s it then I’m gonna grab some of my things and leave. I’ll pack up my stuff while you are at work this way we don’t have to see each other.” He patted your shoulder and left for your previously shared bedroom. 

You stared at the cold tile floor, all your happy memories with Doyoung flashed in your head. From the time when you first saw him to the time when he first asked you out. You could remember the joy of Doyoung returning your feelings. You lightly giggled when you remembered the feeling of your heart bursting in joy when you saw him on one knee. Doyoung walked out of the room, sending a message on his phone. 

He looked up at you and met your gaze “Thank you for being so understanding,” he awkwardly waved before slipping on his shoes and leaving. Like he hadn’t just ripped your heart out and stepped on it. 

“Hey Kim Dongyoung,,you’re a heartless monster,” your voice was wobbly as you were on the verge of tears once more. “I guess they do say that the hottest love has the coldest end,” your vision blurred with hot tears. “Why did you have to leave me? Couldn’t you see how much I loved you!” You screamed, grasping at your hair. Angrily you started jumping up and down, loud sobs echoing through the empty and barren feeling apartment. 

The place that was once full of love and warm was now dead and cold. “Do you know much money I spent on the wedding? Oh my god, the wedding. What am I gonna do?” You started to panic and rambled to yourself about all of the problems that you were suddenly realizing. “Fuck!” You screamed, grabbing the pillow that your fist clenched and chucked it at the wall. 

A wave of exhaustion washed over you. Your body acted before your mind did. You pushed open the bedroom door and stared at the empty king sized bed. The room still had a lingering scent of him. Glancing towards the closet you admired his clothes that were still here. Sniffling a little you pulled one of his hoodies off of the hanger. Slipping your shirt off over your head you put on his hoodie. Hugging it close to your body it felt like he was hugging you one last time. Yawning you felt another wave of exhaustion wash over you. Crawling in the bed you rested on what was normally his side. “Why did you have to leave me, Doyoung? Why?” Your body started to shake with tears. No one around to comfort you, even when you told everyone the wedding had been called off you still wouldn’t have anyone to comfort you. No one would know the truth except for Doyoung, Jieun and you. The last thing you saw before you drifted off into sleep was Doyoungs adorable bunny smile.

Rolling over to your other side you continued to lay in bed. If someone had walked in on you right now they would think they discovered a dead body. Which honestly was true, at this point you felt dead and emotionless. How could Doyoung so casually break up with you when just a year ago he was proposing? You held your mouth shut and started to scream, your body took over and you flailed around the bed like a fish out of water. 

“Asshole,” you yelled, grabbing a pillow off the end you chucked it at his side of the closet. Your knotted hair momentarily blocked your vision, reminding you that you were long overdue for a shower. For about 7 days you had done nothing but cry in bed and eat. Blindly reaching for your phone you attempted to find it. When you finally felt the hard case, you pressed the home screen and checked the time. The bright screen caused you a great deal of pain. You managed to make out that you had over 23 missed calls, all from Johnny and Yuta. A text message caught your eye “Y/n!!! We! Need! To! Talk!” from Johnny. You read, realizing that Doyoung had probably told them already. 

You tossed your phone to the side and thought back to the wretched night. How calm you had seemingly been when he left. Part of you was so upset and distraught at Doyoung for breaking up with you when you were to be married but another part of you didn't care. It felt nice to not be with him because deep down inside you knew that your feelings for Doyoung had faded the past few months, you loved him but not as much as you could have. Sighing you sent Johnny a quick text “Yeah, we do.”

“It was a mutual decision but I was the one who initiated it. We just realized that we weren’t meant for each other,” you explained to Johnny and Yuta with a fake smile. It was hard to act so bravely, you didn’t want to leave the house today but Johnny called you saying he heard from Doyoung that you guys broke up about a week ago. You had spent that whole week laying in your tear stained bed feeling sorry for yourself. 

“Are you serious? So what are you gonna do with the wedding stuff?” Yuta asked curiously. 

He scanned you up and down, trying to search you for any hint of a lie. You gave them both a smile “I decide that I’m gonna donate it all!” You took a sip of your vanilla tea and watched their reactions closely. 

“All of it? But you spent so much on it,” Johnny pointed out with his mouth agape. 

“Yeah, but I was lucky enough to be able to afford all of it. Someone girl out there is about to get married but doesn’t have the money for all the super expensive stuff. I want to give back,” you looked around you. The cafe was filled with a lot of people today. A young couple caught your eye, they looked so happy and in love.

 “Don’t believe it all. He might be cheating on you,” you yelled at them in your head. “You’re such a nice person. I’m going to be honest, I’m really shocked that you called off the wedding. Doyoung really loved you. I’m sad.” Yuta lightly laughed, not realizing the drastic pain his words shot to your heart. 

Johnny nodded his head “Did he beg for a second chance?” Johnny made the entire situation worse. 

“No. It was a mutual feeling.” Your words held no emotion behind them, you felt dead while telling them the lie you had spun for the sake of yours and Doyoungs pride. Johnny and Yuta exchanged a look before nodding. 

“Doyoung was really upset, wasn’t he? And he wanted you to tell everyone it was mutual, didn’t he?” Yuta and Johnny thought they had cracked the code. Except the only thing they cracked was your feelings. 

“As much as I wish I could stay and gossip longer I have some errands to run. So if you don’t mind I’ll be taking my leave,” you quickly grabbed your things and left. You didn’t even spare them a second glance, just like Doyoung did to you. A vibration from your phone caused you to open it “Are you kidding me Y/n? Doyoung was such a good guy, how dare you call off the engagement!” Your sister texted. You started to cry as you stared at the bright screen. 

The words echoing in your head “Doyoung wasn’t as good of a guy as you all thought!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. A few passersby stared at you with wide eyes before they started to whisper amongst themselves. “Whatever,” you sent back not even caring what she thought of you at this point. “Why am I the bad guy? This isn’t what I intended,” you mumbled to yourself. “Doyoung is the real bad guy,” you added before finally arriving at the bus stop. You glanced up at the sky which was now greying. “I’ll just run some errands tomorrow. I want to sleep,” you sat down on the bench at waited for it to arrive.

 Your eyes blurred once more with burning tears. You were about to wipe with your hand them when someone held a handkerchief in front of you. Glancing up at the wonder of the hand you locked eyes with a gentle brown color. He shook his hand and glanced at the handkerchief. Most of his face was covered with a scarf but you could still make out his soft features. You slightly smiled before grabbing the handkerchief. More tears started to fall at the kindness of this stranger “thank you and I’m so sorry to bother you,” your voice broke. The stranger's eyes widened “You aren't bothering me, if you were I wouldn’t have done anything,” he pointed out. He lowered his scarf so you could hear him. You folded the handkerchief and stretched out to hand it back to him. You locked eyes with him once more and you felt your heart rate pick up speed. He gave you an adorable gummy smile and took it back.

 “I hope whatever has made you upset will pass,” he smiled, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Thank you. Your kindness is appreciated,” you said before a dark blue bus pulled up. You stood up and sent the kind stranger a look. He shook his head and waved goodbye “Bye-“ you waited for him to say his name. “Jungwoo,” He introduced. “Bye Jungwoo and thank you, I’m Y/n” you slowly started to enter the bus. “Bye Y/n I hope your day gets better,” he managed to say before the bus driver shut the door. The driver sent you a scary glare. You hurriedly sat down in a seat and watched Jungwoo as the bus pulled away.

You stared down at the ripped piece of paper in your hand. The address was the same as the building in front of you. Pushing open the door you looked around. After a few seconds, you found the counter. 

“Excuse me?” You asked approaching the coworkers. They both turned around to face you at the same time. You gasped a little when you locked eyes with Jungwoo. “Oh,” he said while staring at you. “How can we help you, miss?” The other one asked without noticing anything. 

You looked at his name tag before speaking up “Hello Lucas. I want to donate this dress but I wanted to make sure that it gets sold for a low price,” you shook your head and pushed aside all your embarrassment from Jungwoo watching you return your wedding dress. 

“Oh god. Are you sure? This dress looks really expensive and new?” Lucas boldly said while taking the dress from you. 

He looked it up and down and sent you another look “Yeah. Can you guys please sell it for a low price?” You asked again wanting to make sure the dress could be sold at a cheap price. 

“Uh yeah. We sure can. May you please out this form,” Lucas handed you a light blue form and a pen. 

The whole time Jungwoo never said anything which kinda scared you. You didn’t know why you cared so much what Jungwoo thought of you but you did. Jungwoo stared at you with sad looking eyes. “All it asks is why you are returning and a few other things,” Lucas continued to perfectly do his job. Jungwoo just stood there in silence. 

You quickly filled out the form and sighed it. “Well if that’s it then I’ll be taking my leave,” you quickly handed Lucas the form and rushed out of the store. You felt like crying under Jungwoos intense stare. 

“Wow. I wonder why she is returning a brand new wedding dress?” Lucas said while admiring the dress. Jungwoo looked at it and sighed “I think I know why,” Jungwoo spoke, connecting the pieces together. 

Lucas made a weird sound and turned to look at his quiet coworker “Well spill the beans dude. You can’t just say that and not tell me, man!” Lucas yelled and hit Jungwoos chest in a playful manner. 

“Why else would someone be returning a brand new dress! Her wedding was probably called off for whatever reason,” Jungwoo stared at the door almost waiting for you to appear again. 

“Oh shit, you right. I wonder why?” Lucas questioned, also looking towards the door. 

“I don’t have the answer to that,” Jungwoo simply said before going back to what he was doing before you came. He did his best to focus but your image was clouding his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder, why did your wedding get called off?

It’s not like you actually wanted to go back, you just had a few more things to donate. You silently prayed that Jungwoo would be there again, or Lucas. It would be rather embarrassing see them 2 days in a row, both times you donating your old wedding stuff. You looked down at the big tote bag to make sure that you had everything you wanted. It was a bunch of simple decorations, like the table toppers and a few rief like objects. Pushing open the door you immediately looked at the counter. 

“Welcome back!” Lucas greeted, you felt your cheeks burn red at the way he greeted you. Jungwoo turned around and faced you, he gave you that adorable gummy smile that had been in your head for the past few days and waved. “Hi,” you quietly said, approaching the counter once more. 

Jungwoo had already grabbed the form and a pen for you. You reached out to grab them, your fingers over so slightly brushing against each other. Like they describe in the books and movies, you felt a spark of a foreign emotion shoot through your whole body. Both you and Jungwoo momentarily stopped what you were doing. 

It wasn't until Lucas spoke up “So what you got this time?” that you finally came to your senses. Pulling away from Jungwoo you sent Lucas a small smile. “Decorations, this should hopefully be the last time you see me,” you told them the truth. Jungwoos mouth fell open. He wanted to say something, ask for your number at least, but he knew that you recently called off a wedding and he wanted to be a gentleman. “Why did your wedding get called off?” Lucas asked without missing a beat. Jungwoos eyes widened and he turned to face Lucas with an absolutely dumbstruck look on his face. Lucas felt Jungwoos intense gaze on him and he turned to face the older boy “What?” Lucas asked, confused. 

You started to laugh at the interactions between the two. Despite the fact that they were coworkers they seemed to be really good friends. You scoffed and thought back to the old intern, Jieun. She seemed like such a sweet and innocent young girl. All of the things you did for her when she told you that she and her boyfriend broke up you let her stay at your house for 2 weeks. Were her and Doyoung lying and secretly using the opportunity to hook up? In your own home? You felt your stomach churn at the thoughts, you don't want to say it but you knew it was probably true. 

Lucas looked back at you with his doe eyes, he was clearly waiting for your response. You stopped writing and looked back up at him “We just weren't meant to be,” you simply said. You tried to keep your answer as vague as possible. It was at the point that if you told another person that “you” called off the wedding you would probably break down in tears. It was tiring to tell everyone your lie and have them immediately take Doyoungs side and yell at you for being a bitch. 

Jungwoo bit his lip, he thought for a moment and decided to speak “As long as you're happy. It isn't good to hold things back,” Jungwoo didn't realize how much his words actually applied to you. You awkwardly laughed “Yeah,, I'm getting there,” you honestly told them. Sliding the form and pen back across the counter you handed Lucas the bag and turned to leave. Jungwoo reached his hand out, like you were going to see it, and watched you leave. You stopped at the door for a split second, it was oddly weighing you down to have to leave Jungwoo once more. You shook your head and raised a hand to wave goodbye. Quickly you pushed open the door and were greeted by the sharp cold wind. You sighed and made your way to the bus stop. Jungwoos bright smile ingrained in your head.  

Dragging your feet you prepared yourself for your boss to probably fire you. You stopped in front of the small cafe and wanted to throw yourself off of a bridge. Jieun better be glad that she didn't intern here anymore, otherwise you probably would have poured coffee over her head. Straightening your shoulders you put on a smile and pushed open the glass door. The above rang and your coworkers looked at you like they had seen a  ghost.

 “You're back!” one of them beamed while running over to hug you. “I heard what happened, I'm so sorry,” they added, giving you a tighter hug. You lightly chuckled and hugged back. “Sorry that I kinda abandoned you guys, I needed a little time to recover,” you said. 

“That's reasonable, you just called off your wedding that you had been raving about for weeks,” your bosses stern voice echoed through the cafe. You felt your blood run cold but her words didn't seem to have any malicious intent to them,,, they seemed genuinely caring. 

“I know its a little odd but there was a lot going on behind the scene,” you tried to explain without telling them the truth. Your boss and coworkers simply nodded. “Well L/n you'll have a lot to make up for while you were gone. I expect you to be working extra hard, got it?” she turned her back and prepared herself to go back to the office. You nodded your head so fast you got light headed “Understood,” you jokingly saluted making your coworker laugh. You boss slightly smiled before wiping it off and returning to the office. You rushed to the break room and put on your apron and name tag. 

Returning back you got to work like you hadn't been gone for 2 weeks. The workday went by as it normally would, you were already feeling tired but you kept the smile on your face and focused on making the correct orders. The bell rang and you turned to greet the customer. “Hi welcome-” you stopped speaking and stared like a deer in the headlights. Lucas beamed once he saw you and Jungwoo scratched the back of his neck. 

“Wow Y/n this must be fate!” Lucas boosted, not realizing that you and Jungwoo had met before you two did. Jungwoo laughed at his younger friend words. He cocked his head to the side when he thought about Lucas's words, it was a little odd that you happen to meet on the street, at his work, and now at your work. “I guess so,” you joke while preparing yourself for their orders.

Your coworkers looked between you three “Hey Y/n you gonna tell me who these hotties are orrrr?” you coworker nudged and whispered in your ear. You felt a pang in your heart at her words “Uh, this is Jungwoo and Lucas, I just recently met them,” you half-assedly said. “Nice to meet you two I'm-” you but your coworker off from introducing herself and asked, “How may I take your orders?” Your co-worker didn't see anything wrong with you cutting her off and she started to laugh, thinking that you were doing it as a joke. 

Lucas gave you his big smile and glanced at the menu “Yeah, can I get a double chocolate chip frappe?” he asked. You nodded your head and punched that in, glancing at Jungwoo you blushed when you saw he was already looking at you. You both awkwardly looked away. Coughing Jungwoo started to speak “Yeah uh,, may I get ultra caramel frappe?” he gave you a nervous smile. You nodded your head and punched it in the machine “Will that be all?” you asked. They both nodded, Jungwoo swiped his card, paying for both the orders. They left to sit at a table and wait. 

You decided in that moment that you were going to make the best frappes they had ever had. You worked diligently to make sure that the drinks would taste amazing, you even added a little extra chocolate chip to Lucas’ and caramel to Jungwoos. Calling their name you smiled as they walked up to collect their drinks. “So you work here?’ Jungwoo asked while mentally cursing himself for asking such a stupid question. Lucas whipped is head to look at Jungwoo with a dumbfounded look. You giggled at Jungwoos nervous face and nodded “Every Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday!” you told him your work days in hopes that maybe he’d visit. “Really? I'll make sure to come when you're working,” Jungwoo smiled gently at you. His cheeks turned a light pink in happiness. 

Lucas looked between you two before looking like he was realizing something. “Alright Y/n, as much as Jungwoo would love to stay and talk we have to get back to work. Oh and thanks for the dinks, man, they taste amazing,” Lucas laughed at his own words and started to leave the shop. Jungwoo shot Lucas a betrayed look before waving goodbye to you. “Bye Y/n, have a wonderful work day,” Jungwoo said his goodbyes and followed Lucas out of the door. You watched him leave with a content smile. Your co-worker gave you a confused look “Oh my god Y/n don't tell me you called off the wedding because you fell for someone else?” she asked with her mouth agape. You whipped your head to her and gave her a dark stare “I didn't call off the wedding because I liked someone else, I'm not that low,” you didn't mean for your voice to come out as dark, it just did. She seemed to take the hint and went back to work while whistling. You felt bad for snapping but you weren't having any of it.

Punching the order into the cash register you told your co-worker what they wanted so they could get started on that. This day felt like it would never end. It didn't help that it started to horribly, some customer accuse you of spitting in their drink and they demanded to watch the security footage. Then there was the lady who brought her toddler in and blamed you guys when he tripped and fell. Everything seemed to be going wrong and you wanted it to end. Another customer walked in, you grumbled and prepared yourself to deal with another maniac. 

“Hi Y/n,” a soft voice said. You didn't have to look up to know who it was “Jungwoo,” you contently said while looking up to see his charming smile. “Would you like the same as the other day?” you asked. Talking with Jungwoo just seemed so natural and easy. 

He nodded his head “Oh, you remember?” Jungwoo felt a little bashful that you remembered his order. 

“Of course,” you punched it in and asked your coworker to make it. 

Jungwoo noticed your disheveled appearance, he could tell you were tired so he asked: “Has it been a long day?” 

Your shoulders slumped and you nodded your head “Yeah, I don't get why customers blame us for nothing,” Jungwoo nodded in understanding. An idea came into his head, he was just a little nervous to say it. 

Thinking to himself he pushed aside his nerves “What time do you get off?” His word caught you by surprise. 

You fiddled with your fingers “6pm,” you bit your lip and waited to see what he would say next. 

Jungwoo looked away while speaking “Would you mind if I took you out for dinner,,, you really look like you could use it,” he added at the end trying to not make it seem like a date. Even if that's what he wanted it to be. Your tummy feels all warm inside, it had been such a long time since you been out anywhere with a guy. Even towards your last few months with Doyoung you guys didn't really go anywhere or do anything special. Honestly Looking back on it all you should have seen it coming. He became so distant during your last few months and he barely kissed or hugged you.

 Deciding in your head you smiled at Jungwoo “That sounds really amazing, I'd love too.” Your words caught Jungwoo by surprise He was really preparing himself to be rejected. ‘Really?” he stuttered. 

You giggled at his cute flustered reaction “Yes really.” Your coworker handed you his drink and went back to what she was doing. Quietly eavesdropping on your conversation. 

“A,,,alright! I'll stop by when you get off and I'll take you somewhere nice, you won't regret it,” Jungwoo put his hand into a fist and gave you a determined giggle.

 “I'm sure I won't, see you later,” you waved goodbye to him. You couldn't help but feel like a teenage girl again. When you first met Doyoung you were so young and naive, you really thought he was the one for just because he was nice. However, now that you aren't together anymore and you've seen a completely different sid not him you realize that he really wasn't the one for you. You were so caught up in wanting to get married that you didn't really care who you got married too. Your coworker scoffed at the interaction. 

“You literally just broke Doyoungs heart and you're already hooking up with someone else. Y/n don't think I don't know the truth about you, Jieun told me that you kicked Doyoung out without any explanation. He showed up at her doorstep in tears, Jieun is such a nice girl, she and Doyoung are way better together than you,” she thought to herself while watching you closely. 

You quickly spun around and gave her an enthusiastic smile “Did you see that I still have it in me,” you joked while bursting into a fit of giggles. 

She pretended to laugh along with you, “I'm surprised! I really thought you were upset with your breakup, you're recovering very quickly;” her words were laced with venom. Y

ou furrowed your eyebrows “I still am really upset about the whole breakup,, but-” you couldn't exactly tell her the truth so you played around with your words “but,, as I said, Doyoung and I just weren't meant to be. The last few months of our relationship were not the best and it was a mutual agreement to call it off,” you explained, using your hands to help tell the story.

 She nodded her head and sarcastically said: “yeah,, totally.”

The sun was setting, letting this emotion-packed day come to an end. You finished wiping the counter and hardly rushed to the break room. You touched up your hair and makeup and left to go wait for Jungwoo. Exiting the breakroom you were greeted with the sight of Jungwoo adorable rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands were in his sweaters pockets and his bangs messily rested on his forehead. 

“Hi,” you quietly waved at him. Jungwoo looked p and met your eyes, he smiled. 

“Well come on, let me take you somewhere nice,” he giggled at his own awkwardly choice of words. You smiled and followed close behind him, sending one last look to your coworker. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, curiously taking you over. 

“It really isn't the nicest place and it definitely isn't impressive, it's just somehow I find relaxing,” he chuckled. 

“Do you have a jacket? Cause you might get cold,” he added while looking you up and down. 

“Oh,, no,” you rubbed your neck in embarrassment. 

Jungwoo could tell that you felt bad “That's okay! If you get cold you can borrow my jacket,” he didn't realize how much his words would affect you. Your cheeks turned red and you felt your body dance in excitement. You couldn't help but compare Jungwoo to Doyoung.

 At first, Doyoung was sweet and would offer you his jacket but towards the end, he called you an idiot for not bringing one. WIthout thinking the words came out of your mouth “You're a lot nicer than Doyoung,” once the words came out of your mouth you covered your face behind your hand. J

ungwoo cocked his head to the side and looked back at you “Was Doyoung your fiance??” he asked, seemingly unbothered but your sudden words.

 Before you could answer he smiled when a food truck came into view “Ah! I know it's not that amazing but I like to get some food from here and eat it over at that picnic bench,” he pointed to a picnic bench under a tree.

 You giggled at how excited he seemed “I think it is amazing.” You both ordered your food and waited for it to be finished. 

“He was,, we were dating for 2 years and engaged for 1,” you looked over to meet Jungwoos gaze. 

He seemed sad as he spoke “You must’ve really liked him to be in such a long relationship with him,” he pointed out. You let out a laugh in relief. The vendor handed you your food and wished you a nice day. Walking over to the bench you cracked your brain on what to say. It felt like if you told Jungwoo he would leave but something deep inside told you that it was okay to tell him. 

“I did,, he was my entire world and I was ready to give up everything for his happiness,” you felt your eyes water. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jungwoo said while quietly nibbling on his food. 

“Yeah go ahead,” you wiped the tears that were about to fall and stared at him, intently waiting for his question. 

“Why did you guys break up?” he sighed. The silence that took over you guys was kinda heavy. You started to cry, not holding back. The muscles in your face started to tremble, the wall that you had built up thanks to Doyoung came crashing down at Jungwoos gaze. He was taken aback at first but quickly pulled out his handkerchief. The same one he had when you first met. Instead of giving it to you he leaned across the table and dabbed at your tears for you. 

“Its okay, you don't have to tell me if it brings up such bad memories,” Jungwoo seemed like such a caring guy. 

“Can I tell you the truth?” you asked, needing to get everything off of your chest. 

“Of course, your secrets are safe with me,” he gave you a gentle smile and patiently waited. 

“We made a deal the night we broke up. I would tell everyone that I called off the engagement and his secret wouldn't get out. Now everyone thinks I'm some heartless bitch that broke her finances heart 2 months before their wedding. It's the other way around. He cheated on me with one of my old coworkers and he broke up with me to be with her,” you explode with all your raw emotions. Jungwoo held out his arms in response. 

You walked over to him and held him tightly. Shaking against his body your hands clutched at his jacket and you cried. He slowly rocked back and forth, rubbing warm circles on your back. It didn't take long for your tears to sain his sweatshirt but he didn't mind. You rubbed your eyes and looked up at him, linking slowly with your tear-soaked lashes. 

“You haven't told anyone the truth?” he asked in utter disbelief. 

He pulled you closer to him as you spoke “You're the first one. I never even told my own family what actually happened.” You looked up in surprise when you felt something wet fall on your head. Locking eyes with Jungwoo you noticed he was crying. 

“Oh my gosh why are you crying?” you asked while gently wiping away his tears with the pad of your thumb. 

“Because I feel so bad. Y/n I really haven't known you for a long time but you seem like such a nice and wonderful girl and it physically hurts me to see you in pain.” His words hit you like a truck, even when you were at your worst Doyoung was never this caring. 

You were deep in thought, Jungwoos warm arms stayed tightly wrapped around you. It reminded you of the first time you and Doyoung kissed. You had been at a stop picking out snacks to eat while messing around. Being so obnoxious and loud the owner had chased you two out. You can't remember how far you and Doyoung ran or why you even ran so far in the first place. All you knew was that you were having the time of your life, in that moment you had never experienced something more fun. When you finally stopped running you placed your hands on your knees and tried to catch your breath. 

Doyoung couldn't stop laughing at the entire situation, he pulled you in for a hug and rocked back and forth with you in his arms. Once I looked up Doyoung pressed his warm lips to yours and you shared your first kiss together. It was heartbreaking for you to remember. Your lungs felt like concrete had been poured into them, the harder the concrete dried the less you could breathe. 

Thinking about Doyoung, Jungwoos arms didn't feel right wrapped around you. You didn't know what you were doing. You suddenly pushed Jungwoo away from you and went run, tears cascading down your cheeks. Jungwoo called out after you but you kept running until your legs felt like giving out under you. Screaming you let your body fall to the ground, knees bursting in pain at the sudden contact. You choked on your tears, gasping for air you begged for the pain to be over, you begged to feel any emotion other than sadness for once. 

“What am I doing?? Why would Jungwoo like me? We just met and for all, I know he could turn out like Doyoung,” your anxieties spoke in your head. You let yourself believe them because you are so afraid of what would happen if you loved again. Hysterical cries that only stopped when you needed to breath could be heard by anyone that passed by. Kneeling on the cold hard ground you continued to let the sobs take over your body for a few minutes. A few people passed by and completely ignores you, they didn't seem to care about the weird girl on the street. 

Grabbing your phone you shakily dialed Johnny's number. After a few rings he picked up “Johnny can we talk? I need to tell you something,” you said, hoping to meet up with your best friend. After a few seconds of awkward silence Johnny's loud voice spoke “Y/n I'm really sorry but with I'm Doyoung right now, maybe later,” he suggested. Though his words may have suggested otherwise you couldn't feel any remorse in his words. “Forget about it,” you said, hanging up on him. 

Standing up you wiped your puffy eyes and racked your brain over what to do. Your knees felt extremely sore and your entire body was weighing you down. All you wanted was to talk to someone, but none of your friends were on your side. They had all changed their opinions of you after “you” canceled the wedding. Thinking about all the people that you thought were you close friends you mind finally landed on someone. Your dearest coworker, Kyungmin. She was one of the only people that seemed to still like you and she was happy when you told her about Jungwoo. 

Shakily pulling out your phone you scrolled through your contacts in an attempt to find her. She wasn't someone that you had really depended on, the only times you ever talked outside of work were discussing if one of you could cover each other's hours. The few times you did talk about non shift covering things you talked about how rude your boss had been. Not once did you talk about your personal life together. Despite all that you felt like you knew everything about her, working side by side with someone so many days a week you kinda had a bond. Clicking on the call button on your contact you waited for her to pick up. The store would have been closed by now and she probably would have been relaxing in her dorm. 

“Y/n?” she asked, clearly taken back by your sudden call. 

“Kyungmin can we talk??” you could tell that her voice had taken her by surprise, it was obvious that you had been crying. 

“Uhh,, in person or over the phone?” she rolled her eyes, not liking the thought of having to meet up with you. 

“I would prefer it in person but if you can then on the phone is fine,” honestly all you wanted was to be able to talk to someone and tell them what happened and everything that had been going on.

 “I don't think I can meet up right now but go ahead and tell me what's wrong. Did your date with Jungwoo go alright?” you smiled when it sounded like she was genuinely concerned. 

“Gosh, it went perfectly until I messed it up,” sighing you thought back to how happy you had felt. Inhaling a deep breath you began to explain to Kyungmin everything. Starting from the beginning with your breakup. Kyungmin nodded along and seemed like she was actually listening. Once you were done it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. 

“Y/n,, I'm so sorry,” she said, voice cracking. You thought that she was apologizing for what happened to you so you want to speak up and tell her it was fine when she added “Doyoung and Jieun told everyone that you broke his heart and that he showed up on Jieun's door crying because you kicked him out,” KyungMin explained to you what Jieun told her. “What?!” you shoot up in shock, head spinning at the sudden movement. 

“Yeah, I believed them...maybe that's why no one has been talking to you. As for the Jungwoo thing,, I say you go find him and explain how you were feeling in that moment and why you pushed him away. He sounds like he genuinely likes you...Ill... I'll try and deal with Jieun. Once again Y/n, I am so sorry,” Kyungmin hurriedly hung up the phone. You weren't really sure if she was actually going to “deal” with Jieun like she said she would be you had no choice but to blindly trust her. 

Collecting yourself and clamp down you tried to think of where Jungwoo might be. You didn't have his number and didn't know where he lived so you were kinda screwed. “Should,, should I go to the donation store? Lucas and him seemed close so he might have gone to him to talk things out?” you thought to yourself. Biting your lip you googled the store and dialed the number It rang a few times before a scratchy voice you grew to love spoke up “Gifts that keep on Giving this is Jungwoo speaking, how may I help?” he sniffled a few times signaling to you that he had been crying. Without saying anything you hung up and started to run towards the store. 

Despite the fact that you could count the number of times you’d been to the store on your fingers, you knew how to get to it. “Kim Jungwoo!! I'm so sorry,, I like you Jungwoo!” you screamed, picking up your pace. The pedestrians around you stopped to stare, they were probably wondering why you were acting like a madman but you could care less. “I hurt your feelings and I'm so sorry! I was afraid of you getting close to me and then suddenly leaving like Doyoung did!” you screamed again. It felt rather nice to just scream and get all these bundled up emotions off your chest. “Kim Dongyoung and Lee Ji Eun!! I'm going to kill you, you cheated on me and you make me out to be the bad guy! You made all my friends and family think I was some heartless bitch who kicked you out, whatever happened to our agreement?” You screamed, stopping when the store came into view. The more you ran the smaller your lungs seemed to feel, it had been years since you ran this much. 

You pushed open the glass door so hard it smacked against the wall next to it, making a loud crashing sound. “Jung,,, Jun,, Jungwoo,” you painted, hands on your knees. “Y/n?” Jungwoo and Lucas asked at the same time. Jungwoo rushed over to our side, glancing up at Jungwoo you couldn't help but lightly smile. “I need to-” you started to say before your vision went completely black. Everything around you seemed to fade into a scarily dark void, taking you with them. “Oh shit,” Lucas yelled when you passed out. Jungwoo lunged forward, sliding on his knees he managed to catch you before you hurt yourself by hitting the floor.

”May you please get some water?’ Jungwoo asked Lucas. He picked you up in his arms and carried you to a chair in the breakroom. He immediately noticed you're already scabbed and bruised knees. “Oh, Y/n,, what did you do to yourself?” he questioned despite you being passed out. Seeing you so helpless in his arms once again made him want to burst into tears. After what felt like hours Lucas finally returned with a glass of water. Jungwoo took the cup from him and carefully parted your lips so he could pour the water. His free hand tilted your head up, helping you swallow. Your eyes closed tighter and your body started to stir.

 “Oh gosh,” you mumbled, raising a hand to your forehead. “Y/n! You're awake,” Jungwoos big dopey smile appeared on his face. You opened your eyes and hazily blinked up at the cute boy. His face was rather close to yours as he peered down at you. All the events that had led to this moment gave you a surge of confidence that would have never surprise. 

Pulling down you brought his face closer to yours and placed an intense kiss on his lips. existed in any other situation. You wrapped your arms around Jungwoos neck, catching him but Almost like they were made for each other your lips molded together perfectly, it felt like all the cliches movie kisses exploded in your stomach. It took Jungwoo a moment to process what is happening when his brain finally did his cheeks heated up redder than a cherry. He finally returned the kiss, his hands brushed some hair out of your face as he deepened the kiss even more by lightly biting your lip. Gasping heavily you pulled away for air, giggling while you took in Jungwoos disheveled appearance. You couldn't help but notice his red puffy eyes, you softly used the pad of your thumb to brush away some tear droplets that hung around his eyes. 

“I'm so sorry I caused you so much pain. I didn't mean to, I was just so scared about everything that's happening. It felt like everything was moving so fast and I couldn't help but think of Doyoung. Jungwoo these past few weeks you have done nothing but cheer me up and support me endlessly, more than Doyoung did in the entirety of our relationship. You have shown me what it's like to be loved again and I want you to know I returned the feelings,” your voice was low and airy as you were still gasping for air. 

Lucas who had been standing in the back watching this all happen gasped and crept away, back out into the shop so he didn't have to continue watching that. “Gross,” he mumbled to himself as he thought back to the intense kiss you two shared right in front of him. “Nasty,” he added while shaking his head. Jungwoo turned as he sensed his best friend leaving. Turning back to face you he began to giggle, he helped you sit up. 

“Y/n I don't know what it is about you but something just keeps pulling me in. I'll admit, it's kinda scary. I don't know what the futures hold but what I do know is that I want the future to involve you,” he said while leaning in to place a gentle and warm kiss on your partially swollen lips. “Jungwoo,” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes for the millionth time that night.Jungwoo  softly laughed, his voice cracked as he spoke:

 “Don't cry.” Despite his own words he started to cry along with you. Soon the shop was filled with your loud sobs and Lucas’ comments. The sound of your phone ringing snapped you out of your crying fest. Your hands shook as you fiddled with it. A look of confusion spread across your face when you saw who was calling, answering the phone you were even more surprised by the words that came through. 

“Johnny?” you asked recalling the last time you spoke to your best friend. 

“Is it true?” he asked in a sharp voice. 

“Is what true?” you played dumb at his words. 

“Did Doyoung really cheat on you?’ he asked feeling the urge to cry. He couldn't believe that he believed some guy he barely knew over his own best friend, he felt like a total douche. 

“Oh,, so the truth is out now,” you took a moment to look at Jungwoo before you smiled and continued. 

“Doyoung did cheat on me, he suddenly broke up with me and explained that he had spent the past few months of his life with Jieun and he loved her. I felt so embarrassed about the wedding being called off that I asked if we could have everyone believe that I was the one who called it off and that it was a mutual decision. I didn't know that he and Jieun would go around telling that lie. I'm sorry I never told you the truth,” as you spoke Jungwoo grabbed your hand caringly. 

“God Y/n,, I'm the one who should be sorry, not you. I can't believe I actually thought you broke Doyoungs heart, I should have known better. I'm so sorry, can you forgive me,, and Yuta?” he asked, voice cracking. Y

ou nodded your head even though he couldn't see you “Of course I'll forgive you. Besides don't be to saddened about Doyoung and I’s break up,, I've found someone who genuinely loves me and I could ask for more,” you said while staring into Jungwoos eyes. 

His eyes sparkled with excitement “Hey Johnny I have to go,, talk to you later,” you said while hanging up the phone. 

“I really am sorry that I ran away earlier. I couldn't get the memory of what Doyoung did out of my head and I got really scared, I thought maybe you were playing a trick on me. Then I realized that you are a genuinely nice guy and it was my own insecurities turning you into someone who you are not,, Jungwoo I,,, I think I'm in love with you?” you looked up from the floor and into his eyes once more. 

Jungwoo gulped at your words, he pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back soothingly. His scent was so intoxicating you almost didn't listen to what he had to say. 

“Y/n I know I'm in love with you. Ever since I first saw you waiting for the bus, I knew there was something special about you,” he said while holding you even tighter. Jungwoo cradled you in his arms like he was afraid of letting go. You signed into his warm embrace. 

“Since I haven't officially asked you yet. Y/n would you like to be my girlfriend?” he pulled away and peered down at you. A big smile grew on your face and you rapidly nodded your head “I would love that,, It would be an honor, you giggled and kissed Jugnoo again. Kissing him was something you knew you'd never get tired of, his lips were so magnetic and tasted like sweet nectar. 

“I uh hate to interrupt your lovey-dovey moment here and all but uh,, I need to close up,” Lucas’ loud voice boomed through the small dim lighted room. He scratched the back of his neck as he stared at the both of you. You both started to laugh at Lucas’ words. 

“Yeah sorry about that,” Jungwoo and you started to stand. 

“Y/n would you like to stay over at my place tonight?” he asked with an arm around your waist. Your heartbeat quickened at his word and you shyly nodded your head “I would love too.”

Fiddling with the flower and pearl clip in your hair you swayed side to side. Kyungmin giggled as she watched you from her place at the vanity. 

“Y/n don't worry! Everything will be fine,” she quietly encouraged you. You turned around slowly, using your hands to help you swerving in the dress. 

“Are you sure? What if he sees me and just decides to leave-” you were about to list of all the horrible things that could go wrong when Kyungmin interrupt you. 

“If you keep focussing on the ‘What if’ moments  then you won't be able to enjoy the current moments.” She stood up and approved your shaky figure, taking your hand in hers she stared deeply into your eyes. 

“Y/n Jungwoo loves you more than anything in this world and that's pretty obvious to any stranger that happens to walk past you two. He isn't going to leave, he isn't Doyoung,” she stated while trying to get it in your head. You felt your shoulders relax, you started to jump up and down in excitement. 

“Oh my gosh Kyungmin I'm getting married!” you yelled. You both started to squeal and scream, jumping in a circle together while swinging your hands back and forth.  

“My best friend is getting married!” Kyungmin screamed at the top of her lungs. The lady who was doing your makeup giggled as she stared at you both, she shook her head and remembered back to the day of her wedding. A loud knock on the door caused you both to freeze in place. Kyungmin quietly walked over and opened it up just a crack.

 “Oh, babe!” she said while opening it all the way and engulfing Lucas in a big hug. “Jungwoo is super nervous and wanted me to check up on you two,” he said while smiling down at Kyungmin.

 “I think it's clear that you are doing fine. No cold feet?” he pointed out while laughing at the scene he had just heard through the door. 

“Hey Y/n!” Lucas yelled while running up to you, careful not to step on your dress.

 “Guess what,” he said while giving you a teasing smile. Kyungmin had approached you tow, cruises as to what he was going to say. He grabbed your hand with one hand and grabbed Kyungmins with the other. Swinging your guys' arms he yelled at the top of his lungs “You're getting married!” and started to jump in a circle. All three of you giggled as you danced in a circle, rejoicing. 

“I can't believe this is happening, you cried out in joy. Lucas flopped back on the couch and stared at you with doe eyes. 

“Thank you. Jungwoo has always been a shy and timid boy until he met you. I've never seen him so glowing before,” his voice was soft, it was a drastic change form the normal Lucas you had grown to know and love. 

“Of course. You have an amazing best friend, you know,” you said while sighing. “Everyone get into positions,, its time,” one of the workers said. Kyungmin and Lucas left the room hand n hand. You pushed all your nerves aside and waited for your cue to walk down the aisle. 

With your arm wrapped with who was walking down the aisle, you took a deep breath and pushed open the door. With tears in your eyes, you scanned the crowd. Johnny and Yuta stood next to Lucas at the top as groomsmen, Kyungmin next to Johnny and Yutas girlfriends as bridesmaids. You tried to calm your beating heart as you slowly walked down the aisle. Your eyes carefully to skimmed over the crowd in fear of looking at Jungwoo. 

You gasped quietly and then beamed when your eyes landed on a familiar face. “They did come,” you thought as you smiled at Doyoung and Jieun. Despite everything that they had done to you, you invited them to your wedding. Doyoung looked you up and down with a proud smile. Breaking eye contact with Doyoung you finally looked at Jungwoo. 

Jungwoos hand was hiding his face as the stars rapidly cascaded down your cheeks. “You look stunning,” he mouthed making you lightly laugh. You wiped your own tears and carefully stood in front of him. All of your memories flashed through your head, you couldn't believe you had fallen in love with the cute boy at the bus stop who offered you his handkerchief. Your ears tuned in and out of the justice of the peace words as you stared at your handsome soon to be husband. 

Holding the paper tightly Jungwoo began saying his vows. Once he was done you ripped your tears and read yours in return. 

The justice of the peace smiled and asked: “Do you, Kim Jungwoo take Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” Jungwoo inhaled a deep breath and nodded “I do.” 

“Do you Y/N L/N take Jungwoo as your lawfully wedded husband?” You didn't even have to think for a month. Your heart screamed in joy as you said this destined two words, the words you thought you were going to say for Doyoung. “I do.” Everyone was ready to clap as the justice of the peace finally said. 

“I announce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” he took a step aside. Jungwoo reached out and pulled you into him, your body pressed flush against his. Like the first time you ever kissed, fireworks erupted in your stomach and you giggled into the kiss. 

Pulling away every clapped and cheered. Kyungmin gave Lucas a warm smile while Johnny and Yuta high-fived. Doyoung and Jieun signed and held their hands together tighter. 

You were entering a new chapter of your life, one that you were not familiar with and you were more than happy that it was Jungwoo who would write it with you. 

[reivenesque]

Hurt!Magnus/Post 2x20

It was over. They’d won. Valentine was dead and the Downworld was safe once again.

It was supposed to be over… so how did he end up there – barely able to keep himself conscious and upright even in the position he was in, groveling pathetically on his knees.

Marred by Poison, Purged by Magic Chapter 2: Magic.

← Previous Chapter / AO3

Alexander was going to die. He was going to be ripped apart by the demon barreling towards him and there was nothing Magnus could do.

He tried to get his feet under him, to push himself up; to gather his strength and do something, anything, to prevent his worst nightmare for happening. But he couldn’t, Magnus could barely keep himself conscious and upright even in the position he was in, groveling pathetically on his knees.

How did it end up that way? The fighting was supposed to be over. Valentine was done, the Clave traitors had been dealt with; the Downworlder mutiny had successfully been averted, though Magnus couldn’t deny his shame for having a hand in almost causing the uprising to begin in the first place. But it was done. Valentine was dead, killed by the hands of his own flesh and blood; if that wasn’t karma then Magnus didn’t know what was.

So how did they end up there?

The skittering little buggers Magnus would have had no problem disposing off with just a wave of his hand any other time; why now? Why here?—why them?

There must have been a reason; demons wouldn’t usually attack with this much force without something else being at work behind the scene. The whole thing left nothing but a bitter taste in Magnus’s mouth, but that could have just been the blood he was coughing up.

Alexander was fighting all of them by himself and Magnus had never felt more powerless and useless than he did in that moment. It was a terrible feeling.

But try as he might, he just couldn’t get his feet under him.

It was a physical exhaustion unlike any he’d felt before and he had experienced plenty. Emotional and mental exhaustion; sadness beyond words and devastation; fear and anger bundled up into one overwhelming feeling of just rage. But that kind of bone deep tiredness; the inability to lift up his arms or even muster up the strength to gather his magic usefully, the kind where he could barely keep his eyes open much less even think about getting himself upright and keeping himself that way; that was new, and it was a terrible feeling. Especially because he could sense Alexander getting weaker and weaker behind him, his movements were getting much less graceful and precise. He was missing demons at his side that he could have usually killed with his eyes closed. Alexander was also beyond exhausted, and yet he was still there, he was still fighting while Magnus could do nothing but be a useless spectator in the fight. He didn’t think he had ever been more disappointed or frustrated at himself than he was at that moment.

All of a sudden there was a shockwave of demon energy and Magnus could smell the stench of the creature before he could even see its foul presence swooping down on them, fast. Too fast for Alexander to be able to do anything given his state; his entire body covered head to toe in blood, ichor and sweat, exhausted beyond words; he could barely lift his arms up past his shoulders and yet there he was swinging at the demons still unrelenting in their attack. Magnus had never seen a sight more beautiful and awe inspiring in his life, and yet, he could do nothing but watch from the sidelines as Alexander continued to put his body on the line and pushed himself to his absolute limit

Alexander was going to die bloody—like they all did—and Magnus could do nothing.

He could never do anything when it mattered the most; he couldn’t protect his mother from dying, he couldn’t protect Ragnor from dying; he couldn’t stop people from leaving him over and over again even though he would have done absolutely everything and given absolutely anything to make them stay. Ultimately whatever he did was never enough. Everything he was was never enough. He was never enough and deep down he’d accepted that he was never going to be enough.

And then Alexander showed up suddenly in that club and turned his world completely on his head.

It wasn’t going to last, he knew that, he expected that, deep down he was prepared for that; as prepared as he could ever be, but it never made it any easier standing by helpless watching the receding backs of the people he loved disappearing into the horizon.

He was watching Alexander’s back, but it wasn’t receding, it wasn’t disappearing into the distance out of his reach; walking further and further away leaving Magnus in the dust holding the door.

Alexander’s back was right there, within reaching distance but he might as well have been a million miles away because Magnus couldn’t get to him no matter how hard he tried. It was the most terrified he’d ever felt and he’d experienced more than most.

He was staring at Alexander’s back, but it wasn’t going away. He wasn’t going away.

‘I can’t live without you,’ he’d said—what did that even mean? That he couldn’t survive if Magnus wasn’t there to help him out with trouble—if Magnus wasn’t around to keep the wards intact and portal them every which way always? That he couldn’t carry on doing his job if Magnus decided to just stop being available to answer his or any of their calls for assistance.

Or did he mean that he couldn’t stand waking up and not seeing Magnus’s face the first thing he opened his eyes? That he couldn’t bear the thought of going to sleep at night without Magnus’s face being the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes? Did he mean he couldn’t imagine a world where Magnus wasn’t there showering him in kisses as often as compliments and looking at him like his existence was the last beam of the setting sun shooting out across the sky in the horizon? Or did he mean that he couldn’t live without Magnus’s presence in his life, the same way Magnus couldn’t live without his?

Could he have meant that?

Instead of turning his back and walking away, leaving Magnus to stare longingly; mourning all the memories they didn’t get a chance to make, the possibilities of a future he was taking away with him and the chance at happiness that he’d desired for so long; Alexander turned his back and stayed, when he should have walked away; when he should have run. Magnus would not have begrudged him that, in fact, Magnus would have given absolutely anything to have him run then, because the beast was barreling down on them, one of his father’s favoured creations for all the havoc and destruction they reined.  But Alec was unmoving, steadfast and strong even though he was nearly dead on his feet.

And yet Magnus was on his knees, groveling like a wretch. Just earlier that day he’d called himself the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but look at him now. It might have been karma for the way he’d unfairly treated Alexander after their heartbreaking yet mutual estrangement. He found himself falling back on old, bad, habits and Alexander became the victim of his unfair and uncalled for bitterness.

Maybe this was his punishment for all the sins of his past—they were many—and he was doomed to keep on staring, reaching out at the back of people he loved walking away from him.

But Alexander wasn’t walking away.

And he was going to die because of it.

Then all of a sudden all he saw was red; blood red, clouding his vision and invading his senses. He could smell the stench of blood and the way it reeked like burned metal. It wasn’t his blood that he smelled.

It was Alexander’s.

He could smell the poison, he could hear the screeching, he could feel the vibration of Alexander’s heart thundering in his chest, but that could have been his own. He could feel the heat of the fire lapping at his consciousness. He could hear the cackling of voices; a myriad of them all combined into one echoing, thundering noise inside his brain. He could feel the palms of his hands getting hotter and hotter like his blood was boiling under his skin. His hands should have been charred and blistered – seared down to the bone, but he felt no pain because that fire was a part of him, it always was and it always will be, but over time he’d gotten used to ignoring the seductive voice calling his name with such familiarity.

The voice used to be his mother’s; the soft lulling tones that sang him to sleep at night. The older he grew and the more he began to forget what his mother’s voice used to sound like, it morphed into a voice that was more of the same and yet so different at the same time. The familiar enchanting purr that had the ability to make him do absolutely everything and Magnus did nearly everything for that voice—but he never accepted—and so Camille’s voice, twisted and mutilated, sounding like a low guttural snarl coming from a throat choking on wet coagulated blood would curse at him and spit at him and threaten everything he held dear.

But in that dark alley that night, with his energy completely drained and his magic depleted; with his barriers down and walls unprotected, he came to hear the voice again. This time, the voice reached deep inside his soul with a poisoned claw and grabbed onto his weakness; it tore through his already damaged barriers and latched on.

This time Magnus couldn’t turn away, he couldn’t pretend to be unhearing, he couldn’t focus on anything else besides the soft, deep rumble and the hint of the New York accent and the way he would sometimes skip the last syllables in a word in a way that was distinct only to him.

Instead of his mother’s soft soothing voice reassuring him or Camille’s seductive purr alluring him, this time the voice said only one thing in the voice that was so familiar and yet so unfamiliar.

‘Magnus,’ Alexander’s voice said, ‘Will you watch me die?’

And that was all it took for Magnus to let it in.

Magnus could hear the voice in his head howling with laughter, insolent and vindictive; cocky yet gleeful, but he could only concentrate on the overpowering ruby tint that now clouded his vision. He could feel the familiar tingle of magic accruing at his fingertips, growing larger and larger and more concentrated, swirling with tinges of pitch black that radiated off his very being. It wasn’t just his magic—the magic he kept locked away deep inside himself never to see the light of day. It was magic being channeled to him from a place far beyond reality and human comprehension; from a place he’d rather forget even existed and the ties he’d sooner severe with his own two hands.

And yet there he was accepting the power like it was his for the taking; like it belonged to him.

‘Magnus, will you let me die?’ Alexander’s voice said again.

And in that moment, Magnus no longer saw red; he could only see pitch black as everything in his surrounding melted into nothing until it was only him, Alexander and the demon, before the power exploded from deep inside him, eradicating every single Shax demon within a hundred feet of their position.

Magnus got to his feet and without even thinking about it, flicked his wrist barely a fraction and he felt rather than saw Alexander’s confused, pained yelp as he was flung through the air and crashed into the wall at the far end of the alley. He was down and he was unmoving, but he was alive and breathing and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

The Asmodei was close; Alexander’s blade had impaled it through the leg and already the limb was burning away like cinder ash in a fireplace. The demon was dying quick but not quick enough.

Magnus didn’t feel the talons when it pierced him through the chest, ripped through his insides, sending them both of them soaring deeper into the mouth of the alley and impaling him against the far end wall. Everything happened barely in a split second, all it took was a pulsating wave of magic before the already disintegrating demon perished in a blistering fiery burst.

But just before it disintegrated, he could hear the sound of an almost feminine voice laughing, coming from deep inside the demon’s fiery depths, her voice both melodic and gravely; the language she spoke wasn’t one he was familiar with, and Magnus was familiar with most. It was ancient, long forgotten, or not spoken at all, only by those who already spoke it. It was the language of the greater demons and yet Magnus could somehow understand it rumbling inside his head like the growling of a beast.

He could hear it spitting wrath and fury when it said, ‘Nephilim spilled the blood of my child; I will have blood as recompense, Wǽrloga, Child of Asmodeus.’

And then there was nothing.

No sound, no sight, no hearing; no nothing, only the feel of his heart pounding against his ribcage and the blood he could already feel backing up out of his damaged lung and into his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t inhale oxygen into his body but there was no pain and Alexander was alive and for that moment, that was enough.

Everything after that happened as if Magnus was watching it and listening to it from deep under water; except that the water was a river of blood and he was drowning in it.

His mother’s body was drenched in blood much like that and for a moment, Magnus was nine years old again; he’d just seen his mother dead and his step father’s fury and he’d never felt more terrified in his life, but then Alexander all of a sudden appeared in his periphery and Magnus couldn’t keep his smile at bay even when his gaze slipped from Alexander’s beautiful concerned face and the dirty, unyielding ground came rushing up to greet him. He tried to prepare himself for the impact, not that he could have, his descent was too quick and the ground was immalleable; he couldn’t even muster the energy to bring his arms up to protect himself—did he even have arms still attached to his shoulders? He couldn’t feel anything other than frigid numbness.

But the ground stopped before it reached him, about a foot away from his face and Magnus could do nothing but stare dumbfounded at the filth and the grime on the stone pavement so close in his sight, and that was when the pain all of a sudden flared up.

It was like fire in his chest, raging through his insides; intense and agonising. It was like thousands of little needles lining his chest cavity, stabbing into his lungs every time he tried to take a breath. It was like inhaling burning lava through a straw while he was trying not to choke on his own blood.

It was like dying, or what Magnus assumed dying felt like; it was always such an abstract concept to him. People died, yes, but he knew he wouldn’t, and to suddenly find himself in that position; dying, choking on his own bodily fluids, feeling his insides burning and the blistering hot blood trickling down his arm and through his fingers; feeling it being pumped out of his body where it belonged, onto the cold pavement under his knees with each waning pump of his heart. It was an odd sensation.

Was this what people truly felt before they died—a bitter sense of disappointment and frustration instead of fear and sadness?

That was the only thing Magnus could think in that moment. He was dying. His body had failed him, or rather; he had failed to protect his body. He’d been stupid and careless and he let himself get caught completely off guard. Nothing in his four hundred years of experience had been of use. He let lesser beings get the better of him. He was going to die and it was disappointing and messy and it was ugly and he’d never been angrier at himself than he was in that moment.

But then all of a sudden Alexander was in his line of sight once again. His chest had exploded with pain and he heard himself cry out without even realizing the sound had left his lips but Alexander was there and Magnus remembered that he hadn’t walked away even when he could have. He turned his back to Magnus the way everyone in his life always did but it wasn’t the same. Alexander wasn’t the same. He was never the same. He was an anomaly that fell into Magnus’s lap and for some reason stayed.

He stayed when he could have left.

He stayed when he should have left.

Magnus found solace in the fact that at the end, he died to protect the person who meant most to him. He’d failed to do so, so many times in his life, in so many instances in his history. He’d watched the people he loved most walk away from him. He’d let people he cared about die bloody, but at the end of his long life, he died to protect Alexander and somehow, he was okay with that.

Alexander was speaking but Magnus couldn’t concentrate on anything else besides his eyes. Alexander spoke more with his gaze than he ever did with his words; it was a quality that was the most endearing yet the most frustrating because Magnus could listen to Alexander speak for hours, and yet, Magnus was always the one saying the most. But Alexander always spoke with the intensity in his eyes; the sparkling hazel that would occasionally bleed into the mesmerizing green; Magnus would always find himself getting lost in Alexander’s gaze just as he did in that moment. He could barely inhale oxygen into his body and the flames of agony raging through his chest were both frigid in his bones and like lapping fire in his veins.

Alexander was speaking and Magnus tried to listen because he didn’t speak often, but when he did, he’d only say what truly mattered and that’s what made Magnus love him so much.

In that instance, Magnus realized that it was true. He did love Alexander. Alexander said those words more than once, and he’d reciprocated more than once but there was still a small piece of his soul that kept questioning whether it was true; whether Alexander really did love him, or more importantly, whether Magnus really truly loved him back.

He’d loved many people, many times in his life, and every time they left they took a little bit of his love with them until a point where Magnus wasn’t sure whether he had any more love left to give.

But he did, and he gave it to Alexander with the hope that this time, his love would mean as much to the other person as their love meant to him.

Magnus was used to protecting others; it came with the territory. He was used to people needing his help, needing his magic, needing his knowledge and his riches; needing absolutely everything he had to give except his love. But Alexander didn’t want anything besides his love, besides him.

‘I can’t live without you,’ he’d said and Magnus wanted to say ‘I don’t want to live without you,’ in return but he could no longer find his voice.

Alexander was dipping in and out of focus; his beautiful eyes wide and teary, Magnus wanted to tell him not to cry, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t remember how to speak. He could hear the sound of a voice calling him from the darkness; calling him a name that wasn’t his, a name that didn’t belong to him; he was Magnus and he would always be Magnus.

His mother used to call him a different name; his old name, the one he could no longer even remember. Sometimes he could still even hear her words; ‘Tidur, anakku sayang,’ that she’d say before putting him to sleep at night; before she realized what he was; before her care turned to fear; before her love turned to disgust; before he could only remember her words dripping with venom and her voice distorted and mutilated; back when he could hear her words resounding like a song in his ear and the way she used to roll her r’s; back when she was mother instead of another nightmare that plagued his sleep.

But the way Alexander called his name; the way he said it almost with reverence, like he took much pleasure in the way the name rolled off his tongue. It wasn’t like the way Camille called his name, like the name belonged to her and she’d say it with a seductive purr, almost in a sing-song voice, like she was both summoning him and teasing him at the same time. It wasn’t like the way Catarina called his name, like it was both a source of fondness and a source of great frustration at the same time; the same way she’d say Ragnor’s name in the exact same tone.

But that was back then, Catarina hadn’t mentioned the name Ragnor in a while and Magnus didn’t deign to remind her. It was still a topic of great sadness and tragedy for the both of them and most of the time, Magnus had to force himself to stop drinking at the point where he’d almost forget that he used to have a friend named Ragnor.

But the way Alexander said the name Magnus was like the name was meant to be said by him in that tone, with that voice and the way he was always so light on the M; like he was as fond of saying the name as Magnus was of hearing him say it.

He wanted to hear him say it one last time, but he could no longer hear.

There was only darkness.

--

The thing Magnus remembered the most clearly were the mosquitoes. There were always so many come the dusk, just as the light of the setting sun fully disappeared behind the hills in the distance, plunging the paddy fields and the little ramshackle huts scattered through the little village landscape into darkness. When the faintest of lights would shine out the windows from the oil lamps the villagers would burn inside their homes, and the distant crowing of the birds flying overhead and the mooing of the buffalos that plowed the paddy fields from their shed, resting for the night, would sound in the background.

Magnus always hated the mosquitoes but he always tried to not kill them regardless, up until the point when being in the immediate vicinity of him killed them anyway and that was before his mother realized what he was. Perhaps in a way, it had been the contributing factor to her realization.

Then she died; she killed herself in her own bed because she could no longer stand the shame of being responsible for bringing a monster into the world.

An abomination, she said. Malapetaka was the word she used; anak sial was what she called him. He would bring on the end of the world, she’d mutter in a hysterical rage and he could do nothing but pull his knees closer to his chest and continue listening to her tirade from his hiding place in the dirt and the sand under the house, leaning against one of the wooden stilts and watching her shadow walking back and forth above his head through the cracks in the ratty floorboards.

But he didn’t cry.

He never cried except once and he vowed to never cry again.

But then in this memory; the twisted nightmare of his past that he found himself reliving, all of a sudden his step father was standing in front of him, yelling at him, cursing at him in a language he’d long pretended not to know and Magnus became so angry he saw only red. His step father had his hands on him, holding him down, touching him; his skin cold to the touch almost like ice. Magnus hated the cold; he always did because that was the clearest memory he had of how he felt on the inside for decades; before Catarina, before Ragnor…

Before Alexander.

He knew an Alexander once and the onslaught of memories slammed into him like a battering ram; a sheepish smile; gorgeous hazel eyes opening slowly at the dawn, framed by a halo of shimmering gold, a grin; a head of tousled black hair and gentle hands, calloused and strong, reaching out to caress his face. But he blinked and once again it was his step father’s face bearing down on him, his expression ugly, twisted in rage. His hands were still on him but they weren’t just his hands, they were many hands clawing at him, tearing at his limbs, scratching his skin and ripping him apart and he found himself too powerless to fight back. He couldn’t lift his arms up to resist or to struggle, he couldn’t inhale oxygen into his lungs; it was like his chest was on fire and the oxygen was scorched ash, burning away like a rotten limb. It was a leg first and the sound of a terrible screech assailing his senses and the stench of a thousand corpses condensed into one horrid, mutated creature.

Alexander was going to die bloody and Magnus was too powerless to save him.

But he had. Alexander was alive. He killed the demon. He killed all the demons, even the one that raged within him; the one who sang to him with his mother’s voice and the one who seduced him with Camille’s; the one who spoke to him softly in Alexander’s voice, with his beautiful, kind face always hovering somewhere in the back of his mind like a fond memory that constantly lingered but was always just out of reach.

But this time Alexander wasn’t asking him a question, he wasn’t asking whether Magnus would sit back and watch him die. He didn’t ask Magnus to let him in. He didn’t ask Magnus to say yes. He said, ‘please…let us,’ over and over again with a voice that was too raw; a voice that was dripping with too much emotion; a voice that had seen tears and the sound of sobbing far too recently.

So Magnus listened this time. He was too tired, too drained. He was too powerless and he wanted to just lie back down and do nothing; he wanted to be nothing, just the way he felt on the insides too many times for too many years.

Alexander’s voice was too soothing and too close; the warm droplet that splashed onto his face felt too real and Magnus just surrendered to the darkness until he became nothing. He spared a small smile to the shadows before he was enveloped and then there was only pain.

Magnus had felt pain before, but it was a different sort of pain; the kind that couldn’t truly be healed by magic, only by time; the pain that always seemed to linger somewhere in his periphery like a shadow.

But even compared to that, there was little in comparison to the kind of all-encompassing sort of agony that all of a sudden assailed his senses. Once in a while for what seemed like an eternity, Magnus could perhaps forget that it was there for a moment’s respite. Other times the pain would come at him like a beast, unwilling to be ignored, up in his face like the hurt had just been inflicted. It was like the beast that raged within him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out, clawing at his insides and tearing at his organs and burning the tissue under his skin.

It was agony.

It was terror.

It was like dying, over and over again for eternity and in that moment, Magnus actually wished for death.

But death never came, as it would never come for him. He’d been turned away over and over again, left at the door by everyone he loved and by death itself and it was an agony that he knew he’d never truly be free of.

But he could see eyes looking at him through the darkness and he latched onto the memory; he latched onto the voice; the sound of a woman’s voice, older and weary, singing a sweet tune in a language he couldn’t remember; the voice that mutated into that of a Siren, as beautiful as it was dangerous but he always found himself floating closer and closer to that voice no matter how much his heart warned him against it, no matter how much it pulled him away; the voice that morphed again and again; a woman’s voice, strong and steadfast and familiar; straightforward and no-nonsense; a man’s voice; perpetually pernickety with a soothing accent; a woman’s voice, begging for help and a little girl’s, scared and confused; and thousands of voices he’d heard through the centuries, every gender and countless languages and in the end it all faded away into silence but for a single, deep voice with a hint of a New York accent saying his name;

“Magnus.”

And then there was nothing.

--

Slowly; painfully slow, his senses started returning to him, one by one. Sound and smell and taste; everything was far too sweet and his surrounding was far too loud.

He remembered feeling the magical currents raging through his body, but it was like it happened in a nightmare. Like it happened to another person’s body and he’d been around, hovering like a spectator, helpless and unable to stop it. Unable to stop himself. It was his body and it was his magic, but at the same time, it wasn’t his magic. It was remnants of a power that didn’t belong to him, that didn’t have any business being in his body. He’d accepted the power; he’d let it in. He allowed the darkness to course through his veins and he knew, in a bitter part of his heart that fragments of that power would be left behind, latching onto his soul. He could feel it there, hovering, tainting him; bleeding into the bright spots of his mind and his spirit.

But there was also a darkness that hovered close; it wasn’t a darkness inside him, but a darkness that was familiar nonetheless; one that hung in the air around him, hissing at him, spitting at him, growling at him in a language he understood once when it spoke into his mind. It wasn’t his darkness, but the darkness was close to him and he could feel it bleeding into the air like a cancer.

All he could remember was the dark; all he could see was the dark; that, and the silence. It was suffocating and it was lonely and it was terrifying, but it was the pain that kept him grounded.

There were hands on him; there were spirits shining brightly around him. There were sounds of footsteps walking around and the hushed whispers of voices that he knew but couldn’t place. He was lonely, but he wasn’t alone, that was the immediate first thing he realized.

The pain not only kept him grounded, but it also kept him rooted in place; moving hurt, breathing hurt, thinking hurt, just existing hurt, like his entire body was one giant festering wound, but there were hands on his and somewhere in the darkest, most jaded part of his soul, he realized that he knew who those hands belonged to.

They were strong, the fingers were long and calloused, but they were warm and they were familiar and they were the hands that once upon a time stroked the side of his face with such gentleness that it unknowingly unlocked a part of his soul that he’d kept locked away for centuries.

Alexander… that was his name. That was the person those hands belonged to.

But Alexander wasn’t there, was he? He was… somewhere else—somewhere in a distant place, in a distant memory out of reach. Magnus could still feel the tip of fingers brushing against the hem of Alexander’s jacket. The jacket that smelled like leather and blood and sweat and metal and Alexander’s familiar musky scent. The jacket that had been torn to pieces and drenched in blood and grime and ichor. The jacket that he wore when he died, when the demon tore him in half; when the demon flayed him like cattle; when the demon ripped through him with its claws laced with poison and its teeth dripping with venom.

When Magnus threw him against the wall, out of its path; when Alexander hit the stone wall with the thump and a painful moan.

When he landed on the ground, hurt, but alive.

Alexander was alive, Magnus had to remind himself. He’d saved him, and the thought brought on an overwhelming sense of relief Magnus didn’t know he could ever have felt again.

Alexander was alive. That was all that mattered.

The ground wasn’t stained red with his blood and that was all that mattered.

Crimson, Ragnor would have said, as he’d always been a stickler for the details, as Magnus himself was, but seldom in regards to colour. To Ragnor blue was not blue when it was azure or teal and crimson and maroon and burgundy and carmine were not the same thing. To Magnus green was green and blue was blue and red was red. The only thing that truly mattered was how good it looked on him.

But hazel – hazel was a distinctive colour in its own special category.

Semantics, Ragnor would have scoffed with a derisive eye-roll and Magnus would have either argued about Ragnor being a pot calling the kettle black, or he would have shooed him off to go look at one of his gaudy paintings.

It was weird for a colour to bring on such an intense feeling of comfort inside him, especially for one that wasn’t even really a colour. Was it brown or green? That was always the pressing question; brown or green? Green or brown? Eventually Magnus realized that it didn’t matter because hazel came to represent just one thing most of all.

“Alexander.”

Seeing the way his eyes widened, the way the green was overlapping the brown in a way that almost made it sparkle; seeing the relief that flooded his expression and the way he almost exhaled the name when it came tumbling from his lips, it filled Magnus with such a feeling of warmth and a sense of relief that he found himself unable to do anything other than stare.

“Magnus,” came the almost hopeful cry as Alexander rushed to his side. “How are you feeling?” he asked, taking a seat at Magnus’s side and quickly reaching for his hand.

Magnus didn’t really have time to process what was happening; he could barely recall what had actually happened, but Alexander was there at his side, his worry as apparent as the redness of his eyes so Magnus latched onto him with as much desperation in return. “I’ve felt better,” he said, “I’ve probably looked better too.”

Alexander smiled at that and Magnus didn’t think he’d ever seen a sight more gorgeous. “You look absolutely perfect,” he said.

Once again Alexander proved that he didn’t have to speak often to be able to say the things Magnus wanted and needed to hear the most. “You on the other hand,” he found himself saying, “Look dreadful, my love. When was the last time you slept?”

“I think you slept enough for the both of us,” said Alexander. His tone turning bittersweet which sobered Magnus up instantly. “It’s been almost a week since the ambush,” he explained and all of a sudden Magnus could see every second of it stacked up high on Alexander’s tired shoulders.

“You’ve been here the entire time?” he found himself asking before he could even stop himself.

“Of course,” Alexander said, like he was offended that Magnus even thought to ask that question. “We all have,” he added.

“We?” For a split second Magnus couldn’t even begin to fathom who ‘we’ could possibly be, before there was a high pitched squeal sounding from the door and all of a sudden he felt a body – and then a second – almost barreling into him. It jarred the part of his chest that had felt strangely numb; causing him to wince when the ache came like a firecracker burst and an involuntary pained gasp escaped his lips. The figures half sprawled over him immediately stilled in place.

“Sorry,” said Clary and Isabelle immediately, looking up at him concernedly and half guilty. Magnus hated being the reason for that look so he quickly reached over to cup both of them by the side of their cheeks, running his thumb across the length of their cheekbones in a reassuring manner.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my dears,” he said, and felt the warmness spreading through his insides when Clary and Isabelle both smiled at him.

It was an unnerving feeling, but not one that he disliked. It felt good to be wanted and to be missed.

He glanced over at Alexander who had straightened up and was standing back, giving Clary and Isabelle room at Magnus’s side, his expression melancholic almost, pensive, but he looked up when he sensed Magnus’s eyes on him and the smile that spread across his face then was worth all the precious stones in the world.

It felt strange being present and in the moment then, seeing the people who would walk in and out of his room – something he frowned on most of the time – from Clary and Isabelle to Jace and Luke to Raphael. Raphael took a bit of coaxing before he would even enter the room fully; much less actually approach the bed. Magnus couldn’t really blame him and he didn’t. The relationship between him and Raphael wasn’t something that could be explained simply. He considered Raphael almost like a son, but not really in a parent-child sort of way, not the way the Nephilim treated their offspring and definitely not the way mundanes did. But when Raphael made his way into the room, for the first time that day barren of visitors sans Alexander – who all of a sudden remembered that he was needed in the kitchen for some inexplicable reason – his steps strangely slow and cautious and his eyes looking at anything and everything except in Magnus’s direction, Magnus knew that something wasn’t right and deep down he knew what it was.

After all he’d felt the same kind of fear many times through the centuries.

The very real fear of loss.

But unlike his own experiences with it in the past, he was still there; he was still around; alive and kicking. He could still reach out and embrace Raphael when he buried his face in his shoulder and latched on like he was afraid of letting go; he could still hold on just as tightly with the kind of sympathy born from familiarity and experience, the kind he wouldn’t wish even on his worst enemies. He understood what Raphael was feeling and he knew that Alexander empathized with him the same way and that was why he stepped out, giving Raphael and his moment of vulnerability the privacy he would never have asked for. Magnus appreciated it on Raphael’s behalf just as much.

It was weird, to put it simply, everything that happened to him over the course of the last… couple of weeks? Sometimes it actually felt like he was on the outside looking in at all the people who kept passing through his life and his room. Clary and Isabelle were slightly less befuddling because he could somehow understand what they felt and the way they thought; they were more similar to him in that sense than most people. He understood holding on to a loved one and wanting to be near them, wanting to hold them close and in that he understood Clary and Isabelle the best.

The fact that he was the focus of their worry and their concern was something he understood maybe a little less. After all, he was more experienced being the worry-er, than he was being on the receiving end.

But between Clary and Isabelle and Luke and Raphael and the oddly absent Simon, Magnus didn’t know where to even begin focusing his confusion. It was something he could safely say that he’d never truly experienced in his four-hundred years of life. Sure he had people love him, or a version of love that felt good enough at the time; he had people care about him – perhaps the kind he’d come to associate as care because that was the only kind he ever really knew. But the kind of selfless love and care and worry that he found himself being the subject of… that was slightly more bewildering.

At first he thought that he was still stuck in some sort of dreamland, a fantasy he’d created to compensate for everything he wished he had in life, but the dream continued without a record-scratch and a fade-away to black, and at some point Magnus was forced to come to the realization that somehow this was actually reality; that this was actually real and it wasn’t happening just inside his own head. He was forced to realize that these people were actually there, they were real just like he was and their care and their concern and their… love? – was actually directed towards him and it didn’t fail to give him pause every time the thought of if crossed his mind.

And then there was Catarina.

Catarina was his oldest and closest friend in the world – really the only one left – so to see her by his side when he opened his eyes, her eyes sharp, almost a furious glare, really wasn’t the most unexpected thing. She’d gone off on him then, her grief half concealed and buried under a thick layer of anger that he could see right through so he just sat back and accepted it silently, it was the least he could do after what he put her through after all.

But when it was all said and done, after Catarina had released all the frustration and the fear that was in her heart, that was when her real emotions shined through and she frowned and hugged him and held him the way he hadn’t been held in centuries; not since he was eight years old and his mother didn’t yet look at him like he was her biggest regret.

Magnus finally let his tears fall the way they hadn’t fallen in centuries. Catarina just held him close but said nothing because it wasn’t her words that Magnus needed; it was just her.

Alexander on the other hand was an entity entirely of his own spectacular merit and amazingness. Magnus really had no words to truly describe Alexander to the common folk.

Alexander was special; the kind of person that comes into someone’s life only once and somehow, for some reason he ended up destined to be in Magnus’s. More so than that, he chose to do so; he chose to stay when so many in his place would have left, when so many had left and Magnus didn’t think there were words in the common tongue or otherwise to describe just how much it meant to him. But somehow with Alexander, he knew he didn’t have to. With Alexander he didn’t have to say much and he had even less to prove; he didn’t have to constantly prove his love because Alexander just knew. The only thing he had to do was love Alexander as much as Alexander loved him in return, and to Magnus nothing in the world was easier than that.

Alexander was easy to love; he might be hard to understand or get a grasp on a lot of the times, but to love him was the easiest. Magnus couldn’t tell what he was thinking most of the time but he could always tell what he was feeling, especially when those feelings were directed towards Magnus – it was easier to see than to believe sometimes but Magnus was trying just like Alexander was trying. Their very relationship was a poster child for trial-and-error – a Shadowhunter and a Downworlder – more so than that, a warlock (and some might argue, the warlock) who really could have ever imagined? Certainly not Magnus and certainly not the Clave.

But Alexander had just taken it all in his stride. It wasn’t easy, as it would never be easy, but Alexander stayed when he could have left. It would have been so much easier on him and on the both of them if he had. But one thing Magnus and Alexander both had in common was the fact that they were never about taking the easy way out, that’s what made them the kind of leaders they were – the fact that they didn’t easily back down. And if Magnus wasn’t the kind to back down in his beliefs and his life, he definitely wasn’t about to start doing it in his relationships, especially when it was obvious, perhaps for the first time, that the person he loved, loved him back just as much. If that wasn’t reason enough, then nothing else would ever be.

It was him and Alexander in bed that morning. Everyone else had finally left his apartment at his insistence. After the week they had, Magnus knew he owed them all breakfast every day for all eternity.

He could see the beam of the dawn illuminating the tops of the buildings outside his window. He was awake, as he’d been for at least a couple of hours. Really, he’d probably slept enough to last him a century over the last week or so and as it stood, there were far more interesting things to focus his attention on in that moment than boring old sleep.

Alexander was asleep beside him, his eye closed and his lashes thick and dark and almost brushing against the highest point of his cheekbones, one hand tucked under his cheek. Magnus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

He’d known many Shadowhunters through his life and he always thought he’d had them all down pegged: a militaristic organization of mindless followers, creating havoc in the name of order and imposing their superiority at every turn. The last word Magnus would ever use to describe a Shadowhunter would have been vulnerable, but that was exactly what Alexander was at that moment; exposed, unprotected, with his barriers completely down, showing the kind of trust in Magnus that he ever only showed his own kind, perhaps not even then.

Magnus found himself reaching over and with the softest touch, running his thumb across the side of Alexander’s cheek. He wasn’t all that surprised when the briefest contact caused him to stir. His brows furrowing for a split-second before his eyes actually opened. The moment his gaze finally focused and he found Magnus staring back at him, he smiled. It was just a small quirk of the lips, but to Magnus it was the most gorgeous sight to behold.

“Hi,” he said, almost a whisper. His hand trailing down Alexander’s torso to rest on the curve of his waist, causing him to shudder slightly.

“Hi,” said Alexander, his voice slightly hoarse with sleep. “How are you feeling?” he asked and Magnus couldn’t help but smile at the question.

“Much better now that I’ve seen your smile,” he said.

“I’m serious, Magnus,” said Alexander with a small pout although he would undoubtedly deny it being such.

“So am I, Alexander,” he replied, “You just have the innate ability to make everything better.”

Alexander turned silent then, his eyes darkening slightly which made Magnus a little concerned.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

“What? Why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” he said, wracking his brain for anything that would have caused the sudden apology.

Alexander didn’t answer for a while and Magnus could feel his concern rising.

“I’m sorry you got so hurt,” he said suddenly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to protect us both. It was my job and I failed at it. I should have been stronger or faster or –”

“Oh, Alexander,” said Magnus, raising a hand up to stop him, reaching out to cup the side of his face. “You didn’t fail at anything. You protected us both by yourself for longer than you should have had to. I was the one who should be sorry; for not being stronger, for letting you shoulder the bulk of everything, for not being able to protect us both. You were the strongest, most magnificent sight I’ve ever seen in my life, Alexander; we’re both only alive because of you. Sure, we didn’t come out of if completely unscathed, but the alternative would have been… even more unspeakable. So… please don’t apologize. Please don’t think you failed in any way. We’re both alive because of you.”

Alexander stayed silent through Magnus’s entire speech, gazing at him intently with his gorgeous eyes.

“Plus, I heard chicks dig scars,” added Magnus after a while, “I wonder if it applies to incredibly hot, tall, dark and handsome Shadowhunters as well.”

Alexander’s frown morphed into a smiled then, which then grew into a wide grin that Magnus would never get tired of looking at.

“I suppose I really have no other choice in the matter,” said Alexander, “I’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

Magnus couldn’t help it, he laughed at that. The sudden jolt was painful on his body but the laughter itself was like a balm on his soul, even more so when Alexander joined him soon after.

It felt good being alive. Magnus didn’t think there would come a time where he could truly believe those words in his heart again.

The End

A/N: Firstly, I doubt that they would be using Bahasa Indonesia as we know it in the sixteen hundreds, therefore the Indonesian phrases Magnus would actually know from his childhood would most likely be of the language they spoke back then, instead of the Indonesian language that’s used today.

That said; I’m doing it anyway.

The direct translation of ‘malapetaka’ means disaster, or something bad that befalls something, like in a biblical sense. It means the same thing in both Indonesian and Malay (which is my first language so I’m taking more from that instead of actual Indonesian). The online dictionary translates ‘sial’ as stupid or dumbass, but that’s not quite right; words in Malay—and I assume in Indonesian as well—don’t really have one particular meaning, it can mean a variety of things depending on how you choose to use it. As with the above word, it can also be used to describe something terrible in the biblical sense. My understanding of the words sial is something more along the lines of unlucky, not as is someone who is unlucky, but as in someone/something that brings bad luck to others. Anak sial means a child that brings bad luck, or something like a bad omen when used in this case.

‘Tidur, anakku sayang’ means ‘sleep, my beloved child.’

So yeah, that’s a 101 on Bahasa Melayu/Indonesia that you didn’t ask for.

Wǣrloga: traitor, oath-breaker, liar Declension of wærloga (weak) English: warlock

[iant0jones]

Obviously, janto for the ship thing ;)

God bless omg

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa? Jack, absolutely. He barges into rooms like he owns the place, so his mind might be too focused on looking cool to be observant of whether or not it’s push or pull. Ianto would stare at him blankly as he pulls/pushes the door open correctly.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them? I think this could very easily go either neither of them or both of them. They’d both think doing something like that was silly and immature but also they’re both hopelessly in love with each other, so who knows? Jack might do it more as a cheeky joke, though.

Who starts the tickle fights? Jack, usually. He thinks Ianto’s giggles are adorable. Ianto, however, will do it out of revenge if necessary. Do not cross him.

Who starts the pillow fights? Both of them easily could, but again, Jack does it more often to be silly, while Ianto will do it out of revenge. Pillows are great for swatting hands away, because “go the fuck to sleep, or at least keep your hands to yourself while I attempt to go to sleep.”

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile? Usually it’s Jack, since he so rarely sleeps. He loves how soft Ianto’s face looks, when there’s no mystery to cause the furrowing of his brow or an alien threat causing a deep frown or a shout of fear. But, thanks to The Dead Line, we know that Ianto does this as well. Whenever he gets a chance to, he’ll watch Jack sleep and hope he’s dreaming about them, together, happy.

Who mistakes salt for sugar? Ianto Jones has never, ever, made that mistake in his life. He has everything exactly where he left it, and has memorized the color/size of the containers so he never makes that mistake. Jack, on the other hand…is an impulsive disaster who doesn’t pay any attention to whatever he’s doing half the time. One day, when he was feeling a little spiteful towards Ianto after they’d gotten a little snippy at each other that morning, Jack decides to make his own cup of coffee. Big mistake. The same happened in the beginning of From Out of the Rain. He was put out about the fact that he had no idea where Ianto was and he hadn’t shown up in ages, so he decided to fiddle with the coffee machine and make his own cup. That face he makes when he takes a sip? Yeah, it’s because there’s probably some fucking salt in there.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning? Again, Jack. This man has zero tact. He does this a few times before Ianto finally brings up how the beeping wakes him up on the nights that he’s managed to fall asleep before 1, only because he so desperately needs sleep. Jack slowly but surely remembers to stop the microwave before it reaches that point (…usually).

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines? Wow, this really is just a Jack-centered post lol. Though Ianto definitely does have his cheesy moments.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order? Hurray, a definite Ianto one! Jack hates this because “I had a system going! I understood it perfectly!” but really it doesn’t matter that much because Ianto looks at the books more than Jack does, anyways.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies? Again, Jack. He gets a bit…enthusiastic about it. Ianto, of course, retaliates by licking off any batter that got on his or Jack’s hands or lips. The brownies end up completely forgotten for hours.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion? Both of them. No matter how hard they try to hide it, they’re both suckers for a traditionally and classically romantic setting, and the warm candlelight is soothing after a wretched day out in the Cardiff rain, chasing down aliens.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen? Jack usually, but sometimes Ianto. This happens whenever Jack’s office fetish is appeased. Afterwards, when they’re warm and affectionate as the drowsiness settles in, they’ll sometimes idly take up a pen and doodle on each other’s backs. They secretly both cherish them and twist around to look at the tattoos in the mirror whenever they’re alone, and sigh when they wash away in the shower.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation? Jack, again. He loves the sweet clicheness of it all and, even though he’d never admit this, he loves being able to put the magnet on Ianto’s fridge, as a reminder that it’s Jack fridge, too. That it’s his home, and he can help personalize it.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines? Neither of them have the time, and they really don’t care to have more shit to read through. Filing is more than enough, thank you.

[1890ish-foursquare]

The Kitchen

I’ve got my living room largely torn apart while I slowly steam off ancient wallpaper in preparation for painting. Truthfully it’s more like picking little flecks of wet, pasty, sticky paper off a very large room, but, it is what it is and I’ll keep at it. And while I’ve wanted a big ol’ project house for years, I’m tired. 

And maybe feel slightly complain-y. So let’s focus that complaininess into the kitchen.

On the surface it’s not so bad. It’s not a small room. It has large windows. There’s a reasonable amount of storage space in cabinets that are in fairly good shape. The appliances, now, are great. And, as my favorite interior designer on instagram (https://www.homeecop.com/) told me, it has personality! Well, it’s dripping with personality. Let’s pick that personality apart, shall we?

THIS. SINK. This sink is one of the things I hate most about this kitchen. See that lovely patina at the bottom? That’s funk. The glaze on the porcelain all rubbed off approximately 30 years ago, and is now a delightful matte finish that has made me almost completely give up on keeping it clean. Also, that great stainless band around the sink (and that also circles all of the edges of the countertops?)? It catches ALL THE FUNK. ALL OF IT. See how disgusting it is? That white stuff? That’s Kilz Adhesion Bonding Primer that I obviously didn’t care stained the sink. The garbage disposal is tiny and backs up and smells. like. eggs. All the time. Boiled eggs that have turned. Also, it’s tiny. Also, we replaced the faucet when we first moved in because the sprayer didn’t work. And guess what? The new sprayer doesn’t work because I spent $20 on the faucet that is a temporary solution but the diverter valve broke the day we installed it. So. Here we are. Dishes get “cleaned” by hand because there is no dishwasher. And probably the largest chunk of counter space is directly to the right of the sink, so naturally all the dirty dishes get stacked there. So before starting to cook a meal I have to unload the “clean” dishes and “wash” another load. So I’m basically spending most of my time washing dishes. 

This is no-man’s land. This part of the house makes me gag. I scrubbed the bathroom floor after my daughter got sick all over it and felt like I was frolicking in a field of daisies compared with just considering what is hiding in this wretched cavern of more funk. When we bought the home, all 3,000 sq ft of it was covered in carpeting, including the kitchen and baths and closets. I removed all of the carpet prior to moving in, except this stuff that covers the toe kicks under the cabinets absolutely will not be removed. The other day I hit it with the vacuum and some unknown items came loose. Commence gagging. Periodically one of those little rust colored fibers comes loose and I’ll find it on the other side of the house, and the stick vac absolutely will not deign to pick it up. Gagging continues. Just thinking of it right now is making my stomach sour. I’m used to a very clean home, and the prior owners also maintained the home very well, but this is another realm of disgusting that I just can’t even handle. 

This leads us to the floor. This. Floor. This probably-asbestos-crumbling-dried-out-congoleum in this fun 50′s print is another source of my gaggery. I unearthed this lovely flooring when I pulled up the moldy, disintegrating carpeting and matching turning-to-carcinogenic-used-to-be-carpet-padding-dust. On first glance I thought, okay, I can live with this short-term. In its day it could’ve been kind of fun. But because it spent the last 50+ years under moldy carpeting, it doesn’t matter how often I clean it, it still looks and feels filthy. I used to willingly participate in eating-off-the-floor in our old house, with the ugly-albeit-clean tile kitchen floor, but it’s absolutely not okay to do that here. I mean, would you? Look at that! What is that even? 

Cool! A built-in chopping block! I can’t even imagine how I could even dream of getting that clean so I avoid it at all costs. So that “chops” off over a foot of our already nonexistent counter space.

This kitchen is complete with absolutely no lighting. During the day it’s not so bad because of the large windows, but at night...nope. This corner, where I typically stage any baking projects, is dark as night (even during the day). And this light above the sink just doesn’t work, for some reason we haven’t unearthed. So. Dinner prep in the winter is mostly guesswork. Also that window is being held together by packing tape so that’s fun.

One time there was an exhaust system in here. You can see where it vented on the back of the house. Now it’s just a decorative piece of cardboard held in place with roofing nails. Jealous yet? We haven’t even discussed the fact that the (lowered) ceiling is wallpapered. It really ties the room together.

Why. Why is this wall a thing? This isn’t a small room. But, admittedly, it’s awkward. It’s more like a hallway. There are 6 doorways and four windows. So while I don’t understand why they required the large living room windows in the back of the house rather than having a normal layout, this was what they chose to do. This is just a plywood wall on which sits the stove, creating a hallway to the summer porch. But it makes the rest of the room super dark, and I love when I need my Instant Pot but I’m over by the sink and I have to trek all the way over here for it. Or liquor. Cuz that’s the liquor cabinet. 

This looks like a great cabinet. All these shelves pull out, and it’s actually a lot of storage. It could’ve been used for all kinds of things, maybe canned goods? But there’s a pantry for that, so this is where I keep my linens. The best part, though, about this cabinet specifically, is the smell. It has maintained, though I’ve scrubbed it, some unidentified odor that’s just got to stem from old varnish + humidity + whatever is under that bottom sliding shelf. So my linens go in smelling fresh (proud Persil user here), and come out smelling like...old.

These cabinets were made to last, and last they have. When we decided to wait on the kitchen renovation, we decided to at least get new appliances. So because the new refrigerator was way bigger than the old avocado green monster, the cabinet above the fridge had to go. I figured it’d be a 45 minute project with a pry bar and a hammer. It took all afternoon. And these giant nails are why. They’re all constructed with those bad boys, and don’t want to go anywhere. I have decided, though, that I want to be heavily involved in the demo of this bad boy because catharsis.

There are SOME things that I actually like about this old kitchen. It’s completely nonfunctional in every way, but you can’t live full time in a room without growing SOME fondness for it...I guess.

These shelves behind the false wall. They hang on the part of the wall that bumps in behind the dining room built-in, and alongside the door to the summer porch, so there’s not much we can do here. So these, in current (but painted) form or new altogether will remain. The upper/lower cabinet combination to the right of it is the liquor cabinet (that stoplight is a bar open/last call/bar closed indicator light, antique of course) that won’t change much, either, during the remodel (the microwave will go in the pantry once we get an outlet installed). 

This little hook on the bottom of one of the shelves is an eye hook to prop the summer porch door open. I like to imagine it was flapping in the wind and Gib finally got sick of listening to it one day. I’d like these shelves to stay.

I have enjoyed this large, obviously-made-for-a-living-room-in-a-ranch-house window with the table below it. There’s a large window box spanning the length of the window and we’ve carried on the tradition of feeding the squirrels and enjoy watching them grow fatter over breakfast. This window will go, however (it’s very drafty -- I’m all for leaving original windows but this one, obviously, is not) and will be raised and become 3 double-hung over the sink (but I’ll have my carpenter raise the planter box as well, the tradition must continue). 

We hope to begin the kitchen renovation in May. This will be a large project. It’ll include plenty of white, subway tile, warm wood tones, etched glass, and a magical countertop material. This project will also include moving the laundry from the basement directly below the kitchen to a large, unused closet directly above, as well as gutting the only full bath in the home (currently) to include a shower we so desperately miss. 

Until then I’ll be over here picking off wet pieces of wallpaper. 

[goldenscript]

i know

min yoongi | 1391 words | gang au  ↳ “how is my wife more badass than me?”  

author’s note: this is a bit of a preview of a project my dearest @jungnoir and i have cooking up~

Plumes of smoke billow in the air, ashen words fall past parted lips, and the rest of the smog congregates among the bodies of polluters trying to escape from their own realities. They are pressed against one another so tightly they are practically one in the same. Each one wandering amongst each other’s plains, dousing their thirsts in open-mouthed kisses and burning shots of too-expensive whiskey. Some even smoking hallucinogens you feel immediately infiltrating your already crowded lungs enough to make you cough.

Get in, get out. Simple as that.

The whole thing’s a conglomerate of technicolor fashion and touches that feather around you as you follow the hand at your waist. It’s light and cool, a touching you relish in between the heat and the rest of wandering hands that you pretend not to notice just for the sake of saving time (though you’d gladly deal with the perpetrator had it been any other time) until you arrive in your destination at the room.

It is dimly lit with velvet walls and the thick scent of smoke both from the members within it and from the traveling leftovers of the hot box only a few meters away that clings to its red visages. There is no escape beyond the large bay window standing tall and wide behind the black mahogany desk. And it’s to your extreme displeasure as four large, foreboding entities materializes from the edges of your vision. Each fronting straight-razor, poker faces and crossed arms. A particularly large one of extreme gall swivels around in its seat to face you and your companion who’s hand still lingers at your hip, giving it a squeeze as you tense as his side.

Your mind calculates the possibilities but it’s mostly focusing on the way the foreboding entity at your left is still eying you with more hunger and dark-eyed lust than you like. The glint of the desk lamp silhouettes the faint lines of a Glock at his holster. It’s undeniably the same sleek metal you’ve grown comforted by at the mere touch but you feel an undeniable emptiness when you feel nothing at your thigh.

Damn him.

You miss your S&W.

A voice at your ear growls, “Why did you guys have to go in there unarmed?”

You glance over at the camera, a brief raised brow sent its way. Even Jungkook’s uneasy to see you without your weapon though he could be tense for other reasons. It’s the first time you’re on a mission without him, a simple, arms deal op no less, but it’s hard to deny these things when you’re merely a trainee and when Yoongi’s the one requesting you as his partner.

You look between that thing in the chair and the dark-haired man at your side. He’s a remnant of dark smoke, billowing largely as a solo cloud that floats into the sea of empty skies, unleashing a blatant presence. Much like now, that’s Yoongi. Between the beefy bodies and the hungry eyes, he manages to still stand lethiferous, unarmed and stoic.

“Ah, you’re back.” The man says, his dark hues flicker in your direction before meeting his. “With company, I see.”

You try to ignore the scoff in your ear.

“Let’s cut to the chase- I came to make sure our deal is still in procession.” Yoongi says, his eyes completely set on the seated man. Their eyes are locked on one another though it’s the latter who breaks first, cutting into a fit of hearty laughter.

“Snappy one, aren’t cha kid? Huh… I guess since you’re so serious we can finish up the deal.” You still never bothered learning his name, but his eyes are back on you as he strokes his bare chin. “But introduce me to your girl, won’t ya? C’mere, hun. I promise I don’t bite.”

You remain planted at Yoongi’s side, still ignoring Jungkook’s sudden complaint as you catch sight of the nod in that Glock-wielding meathead’s direction. From your peripheral, you see him approach you, hooking a large palm around your arm.

“You heard him, girly. Get moving.”

His pull is strong, but you remain standing in your spot, already wretching your arm from his grasp. You continue to ignore the oncoming comments flooding your eardrum in favor of staring down the man standing before you. He certainly doesn’t like happy; unfortunately, neither are you.

Yoongi mutters under his breath, “Here we go again…”

“Don’t.” You warn him. “I’m staying right here.”

“Hun, baby… don’t be silly. He said he doesn’t bite.” His voice is a crude attempt at softness, but it’s a great contrast that makes it more ingenuine. Not that his suspiciously glinting eyes are doing him any favors.

“I don’t care.”

You’re going to remain indignant. You refuse to follow orders from a man that only wants a reason to lag on his part of the deal, and to say the least, your temper’s beginning to wane as the night continues to push on in this horrendously smoke-riddled place with people who only care about escaping from problems that are barely theirs in the first place. It’s crawling with them… how a man like that thing in the chair managed to appeal to a bunch of snobby Corp people is still beyond you. And all you honestly want to do is get this thing over with, then leave to the comforts of the base where a warm bed and a steamy shower awaits you to rid yourself of the gunk on your face and the smoke and sweat that clings to your body and embeds itself into your hair.

But contemplation has become the last bullet point on your list of deeds, because after another moment of defiance on your part, the man you are facing off with makes another grab for your arm. This time, Yoongi releases his hold on your hip, and before you (or anyone else really) can blink, you’re wretching your arm free and slamming a knee into the man’s groin. Even when he lets out a bellowing groan that resonates throughout the velvet-encased room, you slam an open palm against his nose bridge.  There’s a sickening crunch before he collapses to the ground, clutching both hemispheres in warbled sounds of groans and curses. As he does this, you reach for the Glock in his holster.

“I said don’t. Next time listen to a lady, asshole.”

It’s certainly a sight to behold with you now wielding the cool, dark metal, eyes calmly surveilling the room as the audience watches you. It’s unnerving albeit uncertain to await the next few moments considering you just incapacitated one of this guy’s bodyguards. None of which make any moves toward their buddy.   

“Um, well,” The man in the chair coughs, wide-eyed at the sight of his guard lying on the floor in a heap. His buddies don’t seem very happy, but they don’t seem to be making any moves toward you either. “I’m -er- sorry to piss your -who’d you say she was again?- off-”

“Shall we proceed then?” Yoongi asks, keeping his eyes trained on the man. “And her?” He hooks an arm around your shoulders with a devilish grin releasing a small sigh. “How is my wife more badass than me? She’s a real spitfire huh?”

You nearly blanch at the proclamation, not that it was ever established, and it certainly did not sit well with Jungkook, who was not spluttering a string of incoherent words before Jimin decides to take his spot instead, directing you two through any information the dealer fails to mention.

“Absolutely… Min right?”

Yoongi nods, giving your shoulder a squeeze before releasing his hold. “Call me Suga.” He places a stack of paper onto the desk. “Might as well get comfy since we may be here for a while.”  

“Move Lee please, boys.”

The other guards nod, grabbing hold of the unconscious man and dragging him away to some other room toward your right.

You relax your position, moving toward the wall to watch the exchange with hawk eyes, not missing the the slight cower that emits from the men on the other side who have returned are now watching not only you but their boss converse with your superior. Despite all else, no matter who Yoongi says you are, this is your job, your life.

[placetobenation]

Tomorrow is another one of those Divas anniversaries – fourteen years to the day since Trish Stratus and Lita wrestled in the main event of Monday Night Raw in a Women’s Title match.

This is a big one, not only because it was just the second time a women’s match headlined an episode of Raw without any pesky men around, and not only because it was the biggest bout yet between the two biggest stars of the era, but also because it was the culmination of a nine month feud that was far and away the best thing about Raw in 2004.

On a personal note, this is the 20th Deep Dive I’ve written for you kind folks, and in an extraordinary and uncharacteristic show of restraint, I Dove Deep nineteen whole times while barely mentioning the greatest of all time, my sun and stars, moon of my life, Trish Stratus. Now, that’s simply because I’m so excited to talk about ALL of these women and there’s so much to cover, but that streak is well and truly over today because for real dudes, Trish Stratus in 2004 is the greatest gift that He ever sent down from the heavens to grace this wretched wasteland of a planet.

She is God tier.

The entire feud is fantastic, in fact, so let me spin you another yarn. There are about three different soap opera storylines to get through here so the short version of this preamble is that in late 2003 Trish and Lita, bestest best friends, were being pursued by Jericho and Christian respectively, the boys made a bet for $1 (Canadian) that they could hit that, Jericho ended up catching feelings and turning babyface, only for Trish to kick his ass to the curb and turn heel and mack on with Christian on the WrestleMania XX stage.

Thank u, next.

You may wonder how Trish goes from breaking Jericho’s heart to making Lita’s life a living hell. After all, last we saw they were bestest best friends! I’ll tell you how. This was all the fault of a women’s battle royal. In wrestling, some battle royals are throwaway. Others change the course of the next nine months of television. This was the match that launched a thousand skits.

It was a couple weeks after WrestleMania, and this particular battle royal was for No. 1 Contendership. Basically all of the other dorks got tossed during the ad break and we end up with Trish and Lita facing off in a big finishing stretch to determine the winner. Despite Trish and Christian still being in the middle of their feud with Jericho, and despite Jericho’s interference late in this match handing Lita the victory, Trish seems FAR more offended at Lita beating her than at anything Jericho is doing. It’s a subtle shift in Trish’s motivation, where the focus of her vitriol becomes her bestie/archrival, Lita, someone she’s comfortable fighting against, instead of a man that she isn’t really a physical threat to. Heel Trish liked to punch down, and Lita was a much easier target.

She had NO IDEA how much of an easy target Lita would soon become.

For reasons that remain unbeknownst to this day, I believe, one fateful day on Raw, Kane decided to interrupt a Divas tag team match, corner Lita in the ring, and forcibly kiss her. Oh yes my dudes, THIS WHOLE THING THAT HAPPENED.

Kane began stalking Lita on Raw every week, with her then-boyfriend Matt Hardy often getting in the middle. Trish Stratus observed her best friend being relentlessly stalked and molested by a psychopathic monster and decided, “Yep. I am going to ROAST THE SHIT OUT OF THIS BITCH LMAO”

She started out with the gold standard of fuckwithery, “Oh no! Look out! Kane’s behind you! BAHAHAHAHAHA!” And just stepped it up from there.

When Kane defeated Matt Hardy at SummerSlam 2004 for the right to marry Lita (I know, I know…) Trish was kind and thoughtful enough to corral the other heel Divas and throw Lita a bridal shower! (And let me tell you, the way that Trish utters the phrase, “Because you have to marry *KANE*” is just… I saw God.)

Then we ALL saw God when she crashed the wedding itself.

If you can get past the outfit, this run in is also basically the greatest speech anyone has ever made at a wedding. “All you have to do is open your heart! Just like you opened your legs!”

Holy moley.

When Lita was impregnated with Kane’s demon baby as a result of Kane coercing her into sex to protect Matt Hardy (hmmm why does this sound so familiar??) who else was there to greet her backstage with jokes about it “festering” inside her but King Dick Trish. That whole episode in fact (Raw, September 6th) was basically a one woman show. She dragged Lita mercilessly for getting knocked up by Kane, turned around and dragged Nidia for yelling at her in Spanish (“I don’t speak German!”), then dragged Nidia in the ring to one of her best matches like the GOAT she is, and then when Nidia started making her comeback, Trish could super not be fucked dealing with it and just straight up RIPPED NIDIA’S SHIRT CLEAN OPEN to distract her and kicked her head off.

I have no words for that kind of thuggery.

But back to our bullshit, when Lita then lost the aforementioned demon baby after an unfortunate and definitely-not-his-fault incident with Gene Snitsky (I KNOW, I KNOW OKAY!), who was there waiting to savage her some more about losing her pregnancy weight and drop lines like “At Survivor Series you’re gonna lose to me, just like you lost your baby” ?? You guessed it! King Dick Trish, the fucking asshole. What kind of prick trolls someone about having a miscarriage? Jesus.

Speaking of Survivor Series, let me catch you up on other, more normal events. At Bad Blood 2004, after an original Victoria vs. Gail Kim defense was changed to a four way with Trish and Lita, Trish, of course, stole the winning pin from under Lita’s nose and won the belt. From there it’s a tale of two women; Trish ruling atop of the Women’s Division as champ, and Lita toiling away in the Utter Bullshit Division. For months they only really ever met in these backstage skits and promos where Trish would body her over and over when she knew Lita couldn’t retaliate. And that was all they needed to make it the hottest feud on Raw.

Finally, in November Lita moved from the Utter Bullshit Division back into the Women’s Division and immediately set her sights firmly on Women’s Champion King Dick Trish Stratus. The match is made for Survivor Series. Jericho hosts a Highlight Reel featuring the both of them in the lead up, and he brings a referee out with him because he’s TERRIFIED of having them in the same room together.

With good reason. They’ve barely laid a hand on each other since that title match back in June. There is five full months of angst packed into this powder keg.

And it well and truly goes off at the PPV.

Trish comes out first and is STILL making puffy cheeked chubby faces as Lita makes her entrance, determined to make absolutely sure of her own death I guess. Lita walks down to the ring and punches Trish right in her fucking face. And punches her again. And again.

Then they go outside and all hell breaks loose. Lita grabs a chair and absolutely WALLOPS Trish for the DQ. Trish BLEEDS. Women NEVER bleed on WWE TV, but Trish got that juice brother. Lita kept going crazy and blasted Trish from behind right into the stairs in one of the greatest camera shots of all time. Trish freaks out spectacularly at the sight of her own blood. And somehow, considering this was an immediate DQ finish for a PPV title match they spent half the year building, this was some great business.

From this point forward Lita is fascinating to watch. You might think she’d go on some crazy tear of babyface revenge going after Trish’s title, but she’s actually the complete opposite. She’s not frantic or wild or in a hurry. She’s… calm. Almost serene. It’s as if she knows at this point that she HAS Trish. She’s got her. She’s finally free to fight her, she already beat the shit out of her at Survivor Series, now Trish is wearing a face mask on her broken nose that Lita can gleefully target, and she knows her day is coming. Lita is completely free to punch Trish in the face all she wants for all of the shit she’s been talking all year. Lita is free. Finally. And so she doesn’t chase Trish. She takes her time. She enjoys it. After all of the crazy shit she’s gone through in 2004, it’s actually a relief to just enjoy beating up a familiar foe in a wrestling match.

I bang on a lot about Trish here, and it’s always the heels that get to have more fun, but don’t sleep on Lita. She was also great during this entire angle (while having to do some truly horrid bullshit) and this part of it in particular was some fantastic work.

So the return match for title is finally made (by the ever-present Chris Jericho in his role as guest GM, in a nice touch) for the December 6th Raw. This show happens to be in Charlotte, not very far at all from Lita’s hometown at the time of Sanford, NC. The Women’s Title gets that main event slot baby. They spent the whole night recapping the feud to build up to it. Jim Ross dropped a great line about how to these women, this title means as much as the World’s Heavyweight Title does to the guys. The scene is set.

But not before one last backstage skit. We couldn’t really have it any other way. Trish had taken to calling Lita “The Walking Kiss of Death” and jokingly asked who’s career Lita was going to kill tonight, to which Lita obviously replied, “Yours” and gave her a big smackeroo. Now, Lita was just being smart here because as we know from this and Mickie James in the near future, kissing Trish before a match increases your chances of having a motherfucking BANGER with her by at least 1000%.

That’s just science.

What is a lot harder to explain with science is how Lita actually survived the match.

Y’all remember THAT bump. Lita hit a tope and landed so hard on her face her body scorpioned ov-argh. Nope. It’s fourteen years later and we know she was fine but man is it still hard to watch. She only came back from the broken neck a year earlier! Lita is officially a cyborg.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it, but it’s a shame that the scorpion bump is sometimes the only thing people remember about this match. What’s important to remember about this match is that IT FUCKING RULED.

The tension was palpable from the bell, and the crowd was ready. Trish took off her face mask and used it as a weapon BECAUSE HER FACE WAS FINE AFTER ALL in a move so dastardly it caused Jim Ross to wig the fuck out on commentary. Lita’s bad bump ended up serving the match, lending a lot of weight to Trish working over Lita’s head and neck during the heat. Lita came back with a powerbomb and the rare and elusive women’s superplex. There were a bunch of great, close nearfalls, and at this point the crowd was going insane chanting for Lita. When she finally went up and hit the redemptive, life affirming Moonsault for the win, people went APESHIT. J.R. literally screamed himself hoarse raving about Lita coming back from all that punishment and winning the belt.

A trillion and three quarter stars.

Revolution or no Revolution, this is still one of the very best women’s matches in company history. And the perfect capper, at that point, to a rivalry that had started all the way back in 2000, and boiled over so spectacularly in 2004. I just love these women.

You can actually watch the full match on WWE’s Youtube here.

That was a lot, and yet like, I feel like I didn’t even scratch the surface with Trish, or even get into half of the stuff with Kane and Lita and all of that nonsense. I’m going to suppress the masochistic urge to dive into it that further, and come back next week to talk about another one of my favourite girls, the unfairly-maligned Divas of the world.

Check it out: No. 1 Contender’s Battle Royal (Raw, April 5th 2004) Trish Stratus vs. Lita (Raw, April 12th 2004) Trish Stratus vs. Lita (Raw, May 17th 2004) Victoria vs. Gail Kim vs. Trish vs. Lita – Women’s Title (Bad Blood 2004) Trish Stratus vs. Lita – Women’s Title (Survivor Series 2004) Trish vs. Lita vs. Molly – Women’s Title (Raw, November 22nd 2004) Trish & Molly vs. Victoria & Lita (Raw, November 29th 2004) Trish Stratus vs. Lita – Women’s Title (Raw, December 6th 2004)