#The briefcase is filled with river

[leapdayowo]

some false doodles :3

I also have planned out a loose storyboard of an animation with false :3 who ever knows if I’ll get to it, but I would love to!

[convexicalcrow]

"How's that big salmon stuff going these days?" Cub asked. He had stopped by the farm to ask him about custom fireworks, and noticed the wide, deep river that now separated his farm from xB's place.

"Oh, it's going wonderfully, Cub. See this river? They're very happy with it, I can assure you," Beef said.

"Salmon wanting a river, that's hardly a surprise," Cub said.

Beef chuckled to himself. "Well, no, though I still don't really know why they wanted it, though. Maybe it was just to look pretty. And they are fish, after all."

Cub shrugged. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"Did I heard you'd started covering your base with skulk? How's that working out for you?" Beef said. "Not possessed again, are we?"

"Pfft, nah, it just looks better than the grass, that's all. Makes all the bright colours stand out," Cub said.

"Sure, sure," Beef said.

"Just like you're not taking orders from a fish, hey?" Cub said.

Beef laughed this time. "I guess we both know what that kind of thing's like. Not that there's anything weird going on with the salmon. I just do what I'm told, and they wanted a river, so. I got False to make me one."

"No, of course not. Nothing weird going on here," Cub said. "We just do as we're told. The rewards make it worth it."

"Yeah, something like that," Beef said.

"Anyway, about those fireworks..."

-

Beef crouched by the river once Cub was gone, thinking. The salmon filled the river, the only fish he could see in the water. Something about them memerised him, watching their glistening bodies move effortlessly through the water.

Who'd have thought an offhand comment would lead to this? Not Beef. But stranger things had happened, so whatever. And if it helped him and Skizz go up against Doc and his sand nonsense, well. The solidarity was nice.

This wasn't...

Something about Cub had got him thinking, though. He wasn't- possessed, was he? No, that can't be it. Possessed was what Cub was, with the skulk. Not- no, you definitely couldn't be possessed by Big Salmon. Definitely not.

And yet, the question remained at the tip of his tongue, almost daring him to ask it. Perhaps he was in too deep. But what did it matter now? Big Salmon would take care of him.

-

Cub felt the echoes of something in the water as he swam across. He saw the salmon and smiled, thinking nothing more of them. If Beef wanted to serve some fish, well. That was his decision to make. He wasn't any different, right? He wasn't possessed by the skulk this time. It was different. There'd be no need to call on Pix and False to splash him with every potion known to the world to cure him.

But the skulk still whispered. Cub was scared of it at first. Wardens were dangerous creatures, and he'd decided to mine straight into an ancient city. He felt that was not a random act. The skulk had drawn him in, for reasons unknown, and now he was in their thrall again.

He'd been afraid of that, to be honest. Knew all along they were lurking, waiting, lying dormant until the right moment. Perhaps now was the right moment, he thought, as he continued to spread skulk across the grass, watching it shrivel and die as the skulk took over. It spread a silent darkness across his base, one that made the base feel much more ominous.

Why was that important? Cub didn't know. Didn't question it. Continued to simply harvest all the skulk from the ancient city and spread it up here instead. As if he was bringing it to life out here. And, sure, placing it seemed fine, but he'd felt the sheer joy when he'd spread it by killing Scar. Scar had felt it too. They didn't mind killing each other for sport anyway, so it was fine. It was fun to see how far it spread.

-

Cub thought about Beef's river. Beef thought about the salmon. False cradled her rivers safely in her briefcase. Gem did her best to hide the horrors that lay under the water in her base. Grian had never been the same since the fishing took hold. Maybe....

Beef stared at the river. Reached down to touch the water, felt one of the salmon nip at his fingers as if it was expecting food. He offered it some meat from his farm, numb to the sight of it feeding from his hands, tearing the flesh apart.

Maybe- Maybe Cleo was right. Maybe there's something about the water this season. Or-

-

Cub sunk his fingers into the skulk, sighing in relief as the skulk brought him radiant calm. Yes. Yes. The skulk whispered. Cub closed his eyes. Gasped at the vision the skulk sent him of how his base will look. Smiled as Scar killed him, his life sacrificed to the skulk as it snaked out around him, spreading further and further. All would be skulk. All will be skulk. He would make sure of that.

[dayscapism]

Read this instead of Harry Potter - part 2/ 3:

Middle grade/children's books recommendations under the cut:

Part 1 - Adult books

Part 3 - Young Adult (YA) books

★ Greenglass House by Kate Milford: Mystery set in a cosy inn on a mountain only accessible by a cable car. The innkeeper's adopted son, Milo, wants nothing but to relax during the winter holiday, but guests start arriving earlier than expected. Each guest comes with a strange story connected to the house, and when objects start going missing, Milo must decipher clues and untangle the web of deepening secrets and ghosts the old house and the guests hide.

When You Trap A Tiger by Tae Keller (middle grade, standalone, magical realism): When a girl named Lily moves in with her sick grandmother, a magical tiger out of Korean folktales suddenly arrives and Lily unravels a secret family history. Full of magical artefacts, magical deals, and courage.

Aru Shah and the End of Time by Roshani Chokshi (series): Aru Shah is the daughter of an archaeologist and lives in the Museum of Ancient Indian Art. She is dared by her classmates one day to light a lamp that is said to be cursed, and she gets herself tangled in an adventure of ancient demons, antiquities, gods and time. Mythology, adventure, Riordan's #OwnVoices line.

Paola Santiago and the River of Tears by Tehlor Kay Mejia (trilogy): Paola's mother is constantly warning her about La Llorona, the wailing ghost woman who wanders the river banks at night, looking for people to drag into the waters. She and her friends know to avoid the river, but one night they set a meeting in the river to watch the stars, and a paranormal adventure ensues. Full of Mexican folktales, science, and magic. Part of Riordan's #OwnVoices line.

Amari and The Night Brothers by B.B. Alston (trilogy): Amari can't understand why his brother's disappearance isn't all over the news, why no one seems to care, why is this being so easily dismissed? Then one day she discovers a briefcase in her brother's closet, through which she discovers a secretive magic organization. She enters a competition to join the organization, so she can find out what really happened to her brother, but every department hides another secret. For this, she must learn about all sorts of magical creatures like mermaids, dwarves, magicians, yetis and weredragons, even though she only just learned about their existence. Meanwhile, an evil magician threatens the entire world. Mystery, secret agency, black author & black representation, middle-grade version of Men in Black. A ton of people recommend this one.

The Girl Who Drank The Moon by Kelly Barnhill (standalone): Every year, the people a baby for the witch of the forest as a sacrifice, an act that will keep her from terrorizing them. The witch, however, is actually kind and gentle, and confused about these babies. She rescues them and delivers them to families on the other side of the forest. But one year, she accidentally feeds a baby moonlight, filling the child with extraordinary magic. So she raises her instead as her own. The years pass and the people of the town are set on killing the witch, and the now 13-year-old magic girl must protect those who protected her. There's a swamp monster, a tiny dragon, and lots of magic.

The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly (duology): A 12-yo mourns the death of his mother, high in his attic bedroom, surrounded only by his books. But the books have begun to whisper to him, and he listens. Taking refuge in his imagination, fantasy and reality begin to melt together, and soon he finds himself in a world of monsters and heroes, ruled by a king who keeps secrets in a mysterious book. Autumnal, horror, fairy tales, coming-of-age & loss of childhood innocence. Often recommended for fans of Over The Garden Wall.

Hedgewitch by Skye McKenna (quintet, British): Cassie Morgan hasn't seen her mother in seven years. Cassie is left trapped in a dreary boarding school, she spends her time hiding from the school bully and reading forbidden story books about the faerie world. She is determined to find her mother though, so one day she runs away from school. She is chased by a pack of goblins, and with the help of a flying broom, she escapes and finds herself in a cosy, magical village full of witches, who protect the country from the dangerous faeries and where she discovers the real history of her family.

Every Heart a Doorway (The Wayward Children Series) by Seanan McGuire (novellas, mystery, urban fantasy, LGBTQ+ rep): A school for children who have at one time slipped into magical worlds found in the back of wardrobes or under the bed, through rabbit holes and wells, but who have returned to the magic-less world and now seek a way back to that fantasy land. But it's not so easy when there's darkness lurking around each corner...

Shady Hollow Water by Juneau Black (children's, series, mystery, cosy): In this village, woodland creatures live together in harmony, until a curmudgeonly toad turns up dead and the local reporter has to solve the case.

Nightbooks by J.A. White (duology): A boy is imprisoned by a witch in a library, and must tell her a new scary story each night to stay alive.

The Frost Fair by Natasha Hastings (historical fiction): This is about a girl who makes a dangerous wish at the Frost Fair in order to bring her brother back from the dead. But the fair is not what it seems... Set in the 1680s in London, with Christmas vibes, and adventure. It's a heartwarming story. For fans of the Hogwarts founders era.

Seraphina and The Black Cloak by Robert Beatty (series, historical fiction, mystery): Serafina is part of the downstairs people of a grand estate. She must always be careful to not be seen by the rich folks upstairs. But then children at the estate begin disappearing, and only she sees the culprit. She will have to forge an alliance with one of the rich kids to uncover the identity of the culprit before it's too late. Dark forest setting and magic legacy.

There's a Ghost in This House (children's, picture book, short). "Hello, come in. Maybe you can help me?" Ghosts, Halloween, humour.

The Enchanted Castle, Five Children and It by E. Nesbit, illustrated by H.R. Millar (children's, middle grade, classics, British): Tales about magical adventures in the everyday world. In the first tale, children dig in a sandpit and find a bad-tempered fairy who grants one wish per day. In the second tale, three children stumble over a mysterious house and discover an invisible princess and a magic ring.

If you want something really nostalgic, here are books that came out before or are contemporary to the Harry Potter books:

★ The Earthsea Cycle by Ursula K. Le Guin (YA, series): Yeah, I know this obvious recommendation as this series was a direct inspiration for HP. It has a wizard school setting, a coming-of-age narrative, discussions of how gender plays into access to wizard education, ancient artefacts, shadow monsters, good triumphs over evil, and much more. Plus Le Guin was a raging feminist and anti-capitalist, a powerhouse of her time, and she is a wonderful example of someone who had internalized biases and even wrote them into her books but eventually grew as a person and became an advocate.

★ Percy Jackson by Rick Riordan (middle grade/YA, series). Another obvious recommendation. Anything by Rick Riordan has that very classic middle-grade adventurous vibe. His characters are really well done too, particularly the protagonists; great ADHD/neurodivergent representation and you'll learn a lot about mythology (Riordan is a teacher, after all). The first books can have some dated stuff in them (like having the obligatory coming out storyline for the gay character, plus some problematic racial and ethnic stereotyping with characters in the Heros of Olympus series), but he has grown as a person and writer since. I'm told his later books (Magnus Chase, Trials of Apollo) are much better written. Most of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians hold up pretty well though, and the series is literally about a marginalized group of kids battling to dismantle the system that oppresses them. There's also a magical school/camp these kids go to, lots of mythological creatures, riddles, prophecy, epic battles and more. Riordan launched an #OwnVoices initiative to highlight middle-grade books written by authors of diverse cultures. Great for fans of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them too.

★ Howl's Moving Castle (YA, trilogy) & Chrestomanci (children, series) by Diana Wynne Jones. Howl's Moving Castle is wizards but makes it banter and is so cosy and quirky, you will not miss Hogwarts or the four Houses' common rooms at all with this one. And the Chrestomanci series is literally about wizard bureaucracy.

Kiki's Delivery Service, written by Eiko Kadono and illustrated by Akiko Hayashi (childrens/middle grade): You've watched or heard of the excellent Ghibli film, right? Well, this is the book it's based on. It's a coming-of-age story about a little witch who ventures into the world and opens a delivery little business in a small town. It's cosy and cute and a little bittersweet. It's about growing up, about work, about mundane things with a touch of magic.

★ Coraline, Neverwhere, The Graveyard Book, Good Omens, The Ocean at the End of The Lane, and anything by Neil Gaiman. One of the great writers of our time. With this author we often get themes of death and mortality, found family, discussions about growing up, literature, good vs evil and so much more. (Highly recommend the TV show adaptations of his works too.)

★ Anne of Green Gables by M.L. Montgomery (childrens/middle grade): A traumatized, orphan redhead girl accidentally gets adopted by a family of two old siblings who live on a farm on Prince Edward Island in Canada. It doesn't have magic or a magic school but it is very cosy and atmospheric and we do spend time at a day school. The protagonist is some type of neurodivergent, is feisty and a little feral, and obsessed with stories and magic. This book is mostly about growing up, childhood and love. (Also, highly recommend the Anne with an E adaptation.)

★ Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket and Brett Helquist (childrens, series, illustrated): Three recently orphaned kids, the Baudelaire, have the unluckiest stream of adoptions when his greedy uncle gets rid of each of the possible adopters. Full of trauma discussion, children's resilience and resourcefulness, and a nastily evil but fun antagonist.

★ The Spiderwick Chronicles by Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black (childrens/YA, series, illustrated): Plot: three siblings find a mysterious field guide in the attic of an old mansion they've just moved into. Through this discovery, they find a magical and dangerous parallel world of faeries. If you love the herbology and care for magic creatures classes of Harry Potter, or the dark forest of Hogwarts, this is great for you. Great for fans of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them too.

★ Bridge to Terabithya by Katherine Paterson (childrens/YA, standalone): Childhood whimsy, magic, castles, monsters, etc. Discussions of grief & death, friendship & family. Warning: this is a sad book that will probably breaknyour heart. Best to go in without knowing much about it.

The Golden Compass (His Dark Materials trilogy) by Phillip Pullman: Ok, this author has been accused of sending mixed messages to the trans community on Twitter. He basically said that he supports trans rights but he's also against people coming after Rowling on Twitter. There's not much news about his current stance and support, but he has since shown support for banning conversion therapy for gender and not just sexual orientation (which the UK has been trying to do). So I think we're good with him? If you know more, please share! With that out of the way, these books are about Lyra, a little liar feral girl who lives in a parallel world to ours where your soul takes the physical shape of an animal. She embarks on a journey to the cold far North, to save one of her friends and gets tangled in a religious war. The world-building in this series is excellent. It's set partially in Oxford and our world too, and although it's not a perfect series, it has some interesting ideas and magical artefacts. I can't judge if the representation of Romani people in these books is problematic or not (there's an analogous fictional ethnic group in the books), but it's also something to consider.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer (middle grade/YA, series): If you like Draco and wish his character was done justice by the author and the narrative, this could be your new favourite protagonist. A brilliant criminal mastermind, Artemis Fowl kidnaps a fairy, a dangerous magical creature, which thrusts him into a riveting adventure of a hidden faerie world. Great for fans of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

Eragon by Christopher Paolini (YA, series): For fans of Charley Weasley or Newt Scamander, this book is about a chosen-one farmer boy who finds a dragon egg in the forest and is thrust into a plot of destiny, magic, legendary swords, power, and dragon-riding.

Larklight by Phillip Reeve (middle grade/YA, trilogy, sci-fi, steampunk): In a magic house orbiting beyond the Moon, a mysterious guest arrives and adventure ensues.

★Inkheart by Cornelia Funke (YA/middle grade, quartet, illustrated): What if the characters could literally walk out of the book you're reading? The adventure! Well, that's exactly what happens to the protagonist of this book when her father reads her a book. This is about the magic of books, imagination & stories. The antagonist is the same archetype as Voldemort.

Magyk by Angie Sage (YA/middle grade, series, illustrated, British): Orphan kid, quirky characters, clever charms, potions and spells, and uncovering a mystery.

Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce (YA, series): Daine's knack with horses gets her a job helping the royal horsemistress. But Daine's talent is downright magical; horses and other animals not only obey but listen to her words. Adventure, high fantasy, great for fans of Hagrid & Newt Scamander.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (YA/childrens, quintet series): A strange visitor comes to Murry House and beckons three kids into the most dangerous and extraordinary adventure.

Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy by Douglas Adams (middle grade/YA, series, sci-fi): A dynamic pair begin a journey through space in a galaxy full of eccentric fellow travellers aided only by a sarcastic field guide. Full of British humour.

Happy reading!

★ Books I've read and personally recommend.

Supporting Sources:

https://www.aspiraldance.com/middle-grade-and-young-adult-books-to-read-instead-of-harry-potter/

https://missprint.wordpress.com/2022/09/01/back-to-magic-school-harry-potter-alternatives-booklist/

Goodreads for synopsis.

[sharonrb]

New: Okoye x Attuma, Loving You

Summary: Something new I am working on for the Attoye. This is just a snippet. Okoye's husband went missing his plane crashed in a island near Wakanda. She has hired Attuma to find him for her, but their attraction begins upon first sight of each other.

Chapter One

The plane soared through the sky, engines humming. It dipped at intervals, flying over the thick green vegetation with the river cutting through it.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful up here.” The woman exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m glad you decided to take this trip with me.” Her partner acknowledged.

“I’m glad too. If I had known it was this much fun, I would’ve joined you long time ago.” She told him.

“Look down there, it’s the most beautiful place in the world.” He spoke.

“Wow, it is beautiful, honey,” she said to him. “What was that?” The aircraft dipped, and shook.

“I’m not sure, the turbulence maybe,” he said, checking his panel.

“Honey?” She shrieked, as it made a greater dip, he seemed to being trying to guide the plane straight, without results.

“Oh no, I can’t regain control,” he informed her.

“Honey?” She looked at him, terror gripping her face.

“Oh god, we’re going to crash,” told her. “Mayday! Mayday!” He yelled into the radio his distress call.

“Aaaiiieee!!” The screeching no one heard.

Sometime later...........

The patrons sat throughout the musty smoke-filled bar, discussing how their lives sucked. Others told jokes, causing groups to burst out from time to time with laughter. A few sat at the bar watching whatever sport was being shown.

All eyes turned towards the door when two suits entered. They looked so out of place, in comparisons to the others inside the establishment. They searched passed the mist of smoke floating in the air; seeking the one person they needed to see. Their eyes fell on a corner of the room. Finding whom they sought, and advanced towards them; ignoring the eyes locked on them.

He was leaning back in his chair with legs extended; with a pitcher of beer on the table. He never looked up when they approached, taking a swig of the beer. He had already observed the men, the moment they entered the bar. He was quite aware of whom they were; and why they had come to him. He continued drinking his beverages; even as they look to each other, then back to him.

“I was told you were the best at what you do. Is that true?” One of the lawyers addressed him. He never acknowledged them as he took a gulped of his beer. Everyone in the establishment had become silent; curious at the outcome of the state of the men, after dealing with this one.

“My client is willing to pay whatever you ask. If you decide to take this assignment.” The other spoke up, and to back up his statement; laid a briefcase on the table, then opened it. Inside was rows of money, counted out in one thousand dollars each, and secured with a band of paper.

He leaned in, and reached a enormous hand into the briefcase; picking out a stack. He ran a thumb over the edges, causing them to flip pass it, and counted each of them likewise. The other people in the bar gasped, to see so much money. He raised his head, and began to looked at each of them. They quickly turned away, and went about their business. Soon, the bar was at its noisy self as before.

He lifted his dark glasses up, and stared at the two for the first time. He crossed his arms and relaxed them on the table. His black eyes were piercing, as he glares at the men; studying each man closely.

“I’ll take the assignment on one condition,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with one finger. “I pick the men who will go with me.”

“No problem. But one thing; my client wants to accompany you on the assignment.” The other man informed the him. He looked away from the men; taking in a deep breath, then letting it go freely. He glared at the men, and slowly rose to his feet. The two men moved backwards, as the man exhibit his full height, nearly seven feet.

“I don’t need your client, or anyone else; to get in my way,” he told them, determined to have it his way. His voice was low and deep. “Or directing me on doing my job, and the men I choose.” His voice carrying through the bar. Everyone continued doing whatever they were doing, and knew to mind their business. Especially if he seemed angry.

“Bu..... bu..... but, Sir! This is part of the terms of the agreement. My client won’t have it anyway; or they will choose to seek help elsewhere.” The first man said nervously, never moving his eyes from the huge man.

He paused for a moment; looking towards into space, his hands on hips, thinking over what was just stated. He took in a deep breath, and just as quick, let it out. He turned without a word, and went back into his seat. Then poured a mug of and took a drink of beer, never looking at them

“Take your money; and tell your client, I declined. It’s my way, or the highway,” He peered over the rim of the mug, at them. He pulled his dark glasses down over his eyes; pushed the chair back, and sauntered pass the men, and out the front door. The two men watched him disappear; as all eyes turn towards them.  They looked at each other, confused at what had happened.

“How are we going to let our client know, it was a bust?” The first said to the other.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.” He said, leaving the first one, as he walked out. The one who remained; sat down at the table, and waved to a waitress.

“Yes, what can I do you?” She asked. He looked up to her then, to the half empty pitcher of beer.

“Another mug and pitcher of beer, please,” He might as well enjoy his life as I know it. Tomorrow will be the beginning of the end. He sat contemplating, how was he going to explain, the failure to acquire the best in the business.

“What do you mean we lost him?” She yelled into her kimono beads.

“You imbecile, he was the best. I would never have thought of asking anyone else. Why did you tell him I would?” She continued to yell.

“His way or the highway? That’s my damn husband we're talking about. I can’t stand this. Never mind, I’ll talk to him myself. Where is that place again? Thank you, for nothing.” She slammed the shut off her beads. She folded her arms over her chest, then began to massaged the bridge of her nose and between her eyebrows. She felt the tears swelling up in her eyes.

It had been several weeks, since her husband went down over a small island outside of Wakanda. Everyone had giving up hope, but not her. How could he not, want her to go along with him; on the search for her husband? She has to know, he was alright. She couldn’t stand this waiting any longer. Didn't he understand, she had to be there when her husband was found? Dead or alive. She has to put some closure to all of this. Not knowing was the hardest. Well, she would make him understand. She grabbed her purse, and ran out the door.

Chapter Two

He sat in his usual corner of the bar, drinking his beer. He was oblivious to his surroundings, and never noticed the hush; that came over the bar, nor the woman walking towards him. He didn’t until.........

“Are you the gentlemen, I sent my lawyers to speak with?” Her voice flowed into his ears, his lifted up in the direction it emanated from.

He took in her, from head to toe, and decided she was a classy lady. Tall and slender, but curves for days. Her head shaved close to the skin, with tattoos. Deep brown eyes, that seemed to draw in. And the most beautiful smooth dark mocha skin.

He stared into the enchanting slim face. She never took her eyes from his. She was strong and determine, possibly use to getting her way. But not with him, he thought, as he set his jaws. Pretty or not, he wasn’t going to give in on his decision.

“Are you the one I sent my lawyers to speak too?” She repeated the question, bringing him out of the daze he had fallen.

“I am,” he finally answered. He couldn’t understand why, he was so out of wits; with this woman. Maybe because she commanded respect, he couldn’t say.

“May I sit, and have a word with you. Since my lawyers weren’t able to convince you, to take the assignment.” She looked at the empty chair across from him, then turned to him.

“Sure, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” He asked, beckoning to a waitress. She pulled the chair from under the table, and sat. She looked to him.

“Yes, a margarita, if you don’t mind,” she looked around the bar, waving away a trail of smoke flowing pass her face. He glanced at her momentarily, the gave the waitress her order. She seemed slightly edgy, he felt.

“Now Attuma, is that your first or last name?” She asked, only getting a single name from her contact. She added the ‘Mr.’ to be safe.

“Attuma is the name I’m called, no need to add the ‘Mr.’” He added, giving a chuckle. She was confused to what was so humorous.

He poured himself another mug of beer, watching her every movement and expression. She shifted in her chair, as he was making her very nervous. She couldn’t help to noticed; he was a huge man. She had heard so, but never expected him to be this large.

He had an handsome rough around the edges look. She was mesmerized by his clear black eyes, blood-shot and all. His black hair intensified them, as it was pulled back into a singular braid. His black bandana, wrapped around his head and tied in the back. His blue skin looking rugged. She noticed he had that special rebreather most land dwelling Talokanils used these days. Courtesy of the brilliant mind of Shuri. Attuma continued eyeing her, as she eyed him. He took a swig of beer, and made a growling sound; slamming the mug on the table. He leaned in, knowing she didn’t come all this way to drink with him.

“Attuma, I know you had decided not to take this assignment, because my lawyers explained; I was going to accompany you.” She sensed his impatience, and choose to get right to the point. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arm. Very straight up, he thought.

She glanced down to her hands, gripping them, and searching for words to say that, will make him understand; how desperately she needed to go on this journey. She didn’t want to end this, before she got started.

“If I say to you, I will give complete control over to you. You will be in command, no questions asked. I will follow your orders.” Attuma continue to stare at her, silently.

“I don’t know,” he faltered on deciding.

“Will you please take this assignment, and allow me to accompany you. (taking a deep breath) I can’t stand this not knowing. My lawyers were wrong. I have no other whom I trust, to get the job done; but you. I have to be there, no matter what.” She dug in her purse, looking for a handkerchief, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes.

Attuma observed for a moment, and watched; as she tried to dry the tears, now streaming over her cheeks. His heart felt a tug on it, he looked down at the table; thinking of everything she had said. He looked pass her into the bar, at nothing in particular.

“I’ll be in complete control of this assignment?” He looked into the wet eyes, now staring at him. She nodded her head, feeling he was ready to give in.

“No questions asked?” He continued.

“No questions asked.” She repeated, feeling finally a glimpse of hope.

“Okay Ma’am, I’ll get my men together. We’ll meet in a week.” He told her. She smiled, relieved. Attuma looked at the expression on her face, and the beautiful smiled she displayed. He was beginning to feel a little envious of the man, who held her heart.

“Thank you Attuma, you won’t regret this; in a week.” She extended her hand to shake his. Attuma looked at her hand, for what seemed like ages; before standing to his feet, and engulfing it in his own.

A surge of energy, coursed through their bodies. Attuma looked deep into her tantalizing eyes, locking in on them. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the hypnotizing dark orbs, staring through her.

It seemed as if their bodies were being drawn to each other; before being snapped back to reality. Her husband’s face filled her mind; she jumped back from him, turning her eyes from his, and retrieving her hand. She ran her hands down the front of her, as if smoothing out her outfit. She snatched her purse off the table.

“Thank you again, so much Attuma. I’ll be seeing you in a week, and until then.” She said, swiftly turning away; and making a speedy retreat from the bar.

Attuma watched her every step, until she vanished from his sight. He took his seat, thinking about her. She seems strong, but she’s fragile, and doesn’t know it yet. He gulped the remaining of his beer down, threw the waitress a tip on the table, and left.

Link:

Attuma x Okoye: Loving You pt 1

[eyra]

hi eyra!! for the writer ask game:

1. i think my favorite fic of yours has to be ‘a dark and silent overture’ !!! it’s dark and emotional and angsty, but also filled with beautiful images and feelings. i can just see this fic SO well in my mind — remus spinning around in the old rectory is the clearest image, but also the boys on the green, peter with his suit and briefcase, the boys looking for remus on the benches by the river, sirius sitting by the open window so he can try to escape the hospital smell, and just sirius always looking at remus. it’s so painful, but in such a satisfying way <3

7. ‘the proctor house’ absolutely takes the cake for making me the most emotional. god. i was just lying on my living room floor, loudly SOBBING at 3:00am after finishing this one. it’s so utterly encompassing and heartbreaking and beautiful. (every fic i’ve read by you is beautiful; not just in the writing or the love, but just in the way you treat every piece of the story)

hiya! I just love it when some of my less popular fics get sent love like this - especially when it's my favourite child, The Proctor House. still probably my favourite thing I've ever written and I'm thrilled to know that it reduced you to sobbing on the floor at 3am because that is exactly what that story is supposed to do.

THANK YOU 🩵

[mandowifey]

Hey! School has been really getting me down. I'm taking short winter courses so all the work is compiled into 5 grueling weeks. When I'm not bogged down by school, I love making super specific playlists, reading books and writing down beautiful quotes, going to local punk shows with friends, using fashion to reinvent myself everyday, and seeing movies in theaters (crying in a movie theater is one of my favorite activities haha.) My pronouns are she/her :-)

Feel free to write anything! Love your work <3

I'm so sorry to hear you are down from school! (Also thank you for the sweet compliment!)

I assign you; James Sandin.

Note; This is SFW, and unedited. It was meant to be a short drabble!

X x X x X x

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait for your Uber to get here?"

Rubbing your hands together as you shivered, your eyes sparkle as you look at your friends. All of you dressed well for the show you'd attended. You had anticipated drinking and in foresight opted to get a ride there. Now sober and cold, you regretted the attempt of being responsible.

"Nah, you guys go ahead! It said twenty minutes, I'll be fine." You shudder and tighten your coat around you.

One of your friends hugs you before parting ways. Time was flying by and going slow so often these days with your busy schedule and limited free time. While exhausted regularly, you still tried to indulge in the things that brought you joy.

At this time of evening, the streets were quiet and foot traffic was liminal. Your phone pinged and you checked it, hoping the alert meant Joseph, your uber driver, was approaching.

'Car accident on 14th, gonna be an extra 15 minutes.'

Groaning, you rub your arms before looking around. You spot a little bar with a bright neon sign telling you it was open. Now that you had 30 minutes, you jog across the street and shuffle into the bar. The warmth inside made you groan with relief. A few patrons regard you before returning to their conversations, mostly white noise to your ears as it mingled with the soft alt-rock music playing from ceiling speakers.

Once you sat at the bar, an older woman behind the counter approaches you and smiles.

"What can I get you?"

"I'll take a coke with ice."

The woman seemed confused, but obliges you. You trade the glass for 3$ in cash and take your phone out once she stepped away.

"And how about for you, handsome?"

You had been flicking through a couple of social media apps when you heard a husky rumble to your right. Looking up, you spot a handsome gentleman in a nice suit about two chairs down from you. His cheekbones were prominent and caused a gaunt appearance to his face. He was much older than you, and you could not help but linger as you watched him speak.

"Rum and Coke, on the rocks."

His hand reached up to remove the Bluetooth from his ear and put it in his suit. You must have been gawking because his head turned in your direction and he smiled. The lopsided smirk tugged something within you.

"Hey, were you just at Hell’s Nova?" He took cash out to pay the woman as she brought his drink.

You realize he was speaking to you.

"Oh-uh. Yeah, actually how did-"

The man lifted his hand and tapped a finger to his wrist, which prompted you to look at your own. A dark purple wristband with 'WELCOME TO HELL' scrawled in red clung loosely around you. Your face burns immediately.

"Duh." You laugh.

"I actually had a meeting nearby. Client's daughter performs there. Sorry, rude of me to run my mouth before introducing myself. I'm James."

The lights above the bar catch his beryl orbs and fill them with glistening specks. You were lost within them, even from a distance.

"I'm Y/N." Your face hurt from the blush spreading over them.

Grabbing his briefcase and drink, James moved another seat down so only one separated you. Your heart thunders as you catch a whiff of his cologne, no doubt as expensive as his suit.

James exudes a sort of calm you'd only read about. The man was like a tempered river, peaceful and comforting. He smiles again as he gets situated in his new seat. Sipping his drink, you smile and fidget, feeling like you needed to fill the silence.

"So you-

"Do -"

You both stop, having nearly spoken over eachother. After he apologized and laughed, you conceed to let him go first.

"So what do you do?"

You fiddle with your phone and smile. You explain how you mostly are focused on classes and your education. Then segway into explaining your love of poetry and how you'd found time to see the show with friends. James smiles the whole time, those peircing eyes of his not once leaving yours.

"And where do you see yourself going after all this schooling?"

That was not as easily answered. You try to think on the fly but can only let out a soft laugh and shrug. He smiles at that too. When you ask about what he does, James explains his work in loose details, while ordering another drink.

In his company, you lost track of time completely.

You learned he also took poetry classes, and he could even recite passages from some of your favorites. He additionally revealed he has two lovely children, and that while his marriage was coming to an end, he still cared for his soon-to-be Ex wife and had nothing but good things to say about her.

When your phone buzzed, it tugged you out of the warm embrace of a comfortable conversation and you gasped.

"Shit! My rides here."

James' smile lost some of its spark.

"Well, it was great getting to meet you, Y/N." He smiled and reached inside his jacket as you moved and gathered your things.

Blushing, you smile at him and were about to agree when he held a card out to you. Pausing, you gently take it and realize it's his personal business card, including a work and cell number.

"What-"

"I'd really like to hear from you again." He smiles, unaware of the pounding in your chest. "And whenever you are done with schooling, I'd be happy to hook you up with work."

Your smile was nearly painful. It took everything to not lunge and hug him. "Thank you, James. You'll be hearing from me." You promise. He gives you one last smile and watches as you hurry out the door.

The entire ride home, you rub your thumb along the business card, giddy for the possibilities it gave you.

[vampireninjabunnies-blog]

WIP Sunday

Had more inspiration come to me. So another snippet. Might post again in the morning.

Tagging no pressure @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @direwombat @detectivelokis @inquisitors-grave @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @baldurrs @madparadoxum @redreart @poisonedtruth and I know I'm missing people again but consider yourself tagged

Crash

The actual crash in my fic that really turned everything upside down.

John struggled to remain calm as he raced toward the county line, driving much faster than he should, especially with the rain coming down as hard as it was this night. It was getting hard to see and his anxiety was only growing. His mind still reeling from seeing Joseph's hand around Esther's throat.

He still wasn't sure what had happened. Esther had been too upset to tell him much and frankly he didn't care. He looked over at Esther shivering next to him, reaching over to grab her hand. Not sure if it was from fear or the cold.

"Are you alright?"

He knew she wasn't but she would be soon. They all would. He finally saw the truth, that Joseph would never love him. Among the bags he'd packed was a briefcase full of evidence. Enough evidence to ensure Joseph spent the rest of his life in a padded cell. Carefully curated of course so Joseph would be the only one arrested. He wasn't stupid after all. And locked away was the only way he could guarantee Esther and the baby would be safe.

She was breathing heavily and squeezing his hand tightly.

"John we have to go back." She hissed through gritted teeth.

Even though her grip hurt he didn't let go. Bringing her hand to his lips to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. Trying to reassure her.

"Don't worry. It's only a couple hours to Missoula. We'll be fine."

He grew worried as her expression grew more pained.

"No we have to...go to the...clinic. I think the baby's coming."

His eyes widened. "Okay...okay."

They were nearly to the other side of the bridge. He'd turn around on the other side. This changes his plans and he wasn't sure what they were going to do but right now he had to get her to a doctor.

Her breathing was getting harsher, and he was concerned that things seemed to be moving faster than they should. Worried that maybe something was wrong.

They got to the other side and he began to turn around. The river now on her side instead of his.

"We'll be there as soon as we can. Just hang on. You'll be fine." He gave her a tight smile.

"JOHN!"

She suddenly looked up, grabbing his arm. He saw light reflected in her eyes and turned to see headlights heading right for them. Then a loud crash, the world seemed to move in slow motion as they careened out of control and plunged into the cold waters of the river. He saw stars as he lurched forward his head slamming against the steering wheel with a deafening smack.

Esther shook his shoulder, he looked at her his vision blurry, a loud ringing echoing in his head. She was screaming at him, panicked but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

His lower extremities felt cold, he looked down and realized the car was quickly filling with water. Sinking to the bottom of the Henbane. He undid his seatbelt and tried to open the window. Esther was banging desperately on her window, tears streaming down her face. Screaming both in pain and terror.

He needed to think but the pounding in his head made it difficult, they were running out of time and if he didn't do something fast, they would both drown.

He looked up, remembering the sun roof. He reached up and forced it open, causing even more water to come rushing in. The car sinking even faster now. He grabbed Esther by the shoulders, she was sobbing loudly. He looked her in the eyes cupping her face.

"Take a deep breath"

She shook her head, "I can't...I"

The water was now chest high.

"Yes you can. Esther you have to."

She nodded taking a deep breath, and he helped her through the sunroof. The car was now fully submerged, he'd barely had time to take a shallow breath himself. He pulled himself out of the car and swam upward gasping as he broke the surface. He looked around frantically, the adrenaline pumping through veins making him forget his aching head. He saw her struggling, barely staying above the water. She was sinking as he swam over to her, grabbing her from behind, holding her chin up above the water with his left hand so she could breath.

"You're okay. I've got you."

Holding her like this he used his right arm to swim toward the shore. His strength began to leave him as he pulled them onto the riverbank.

He heard footsteps and voices as he collapsed to the ground. He thought he heard Esther screaming, he looked over to her but his vision was too blurry and everything suddenly took on a greenish haze. Though he couldn't wrap his swirling mind around why.

"I'm sorry"

The soft feminine voice apologizing was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

The River's Edge

I know it’s not on the same level artistically, but I’d rather spend a rainy weekend afternoon with Allan Dwan’s THE RIVER’S EDGE (1957, Criterion Channel, Plex) than a morally ambiguous epic like THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI (1957). Dwan’s idea of moral ambiguity is to have parolee Debra Paget torn between honest rancher husband Anthony Quinn and her former partner in fraud, Ray Milland. And though the ending of Lean’s film may be deeper, there’s something satisfying about seeing Dwan’s plot tied up in a neat moralistic bow. Paget has violated her parole to marry Quinn and move to his small Southern California ranch. She’s hardly cut out for the rough life. She cleans in high-heeled sandals and makes his butane oven explode while she’s trying to bake a cake. When Milland turns up hoping to reconnect with her (after he let her take the rap for an earlier con) and get Quinn to guide him over the border to Mexico with a briefcase filled with $1 million in ill-gotten gains, it sets the stage for a noirish romantic triangle. Dwan shoots rooms and other objects on the diagonal to up the tension, but he can’t do much with studio requirements that he match sweeping Mexican landscapes with phony sound-stage interiors. He’s also saddled with a tacky title song that seems to have nothing to do with anything. Quinn is very good. When Milland gets florid, Quinn underplays so effectively he steals every scene. And Milland does much better here than in earlier films. The fact that he has to squint against the desert son may hide his habit of shifting his eyes to indicate he’s up to no good. The big surprise is Paget. This was her last film at 20th Century-Fox, which had packaged her as a wholesome sex symbol. They held up her body to the male gaze, but never had her stray too far. She was only 24 when the film came out, but she captures the kind of hard-luck woman Gladys George and Marie Windsor played with a lot more milage behind them. The only flaw in her performance is another studio imposition. After days of trekking through the mountains and desert, enduring a sudden downpour and suffering from an infected wound, she still has perfect makeup. With all her man troubles in this film, maybe her lipstick and eye liner simply refused to let her down.

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

The Thieving Jester

Pairing: gn!Detective!Reader x Art Thief!Nikolai

Writing Genre: oneshot

Genres: crime?, film noir themes, fluff

Word count: 1.5k (there is a cut)

Warnings: smoking, brief swearing, alcohol, very lightly implied nudity and nsfw

Sketches

Paintings: Monet's Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies; Rembrandt's The Denial of Saint Peter; Gyokudō's Parting Spring; Reni's Saint Sebastian; Renoir's Bal du moulin de la Galette; Botticelli's Venus and Mars

Extra Info: The National Gallery in London; At Night; Floor Plan

Notes: This fic has been in development for a while, and I figured why not post it for his birthday! Also, please note that the art mentioned has not been stolen in real life, they are simply pieces I am fond of! Finally, Nikolai plays the role of both 'the dame' and 'the criminal', while the reader is 'the detective'!

Read it on ao3!

This fic is sponsored by no sleep, blueberry coffee, and The Pink Panther Soundtrack (especially 'Royal Blue' and 'Champagne and Quail'). I hope you enjoy it! ;)

~~~

The smoke from your cigarette filled the dimly lit office around you. Files piled onto the desk, books scattered across the floor, a half-empty glass of bourbon, and an ashtray almost full. You loosened your tie and sighed, looking down at the open file in front of you. The photo of an aberrant man dubbed ‘The Thieving Jester’ stared back at you.

You had followed him around the globe many times before, and it seemed the chase would not be ending soon. New York, Amsterdam, Tokyo, Rome, and Paris; all capitals that he has led you to.

Putting out your cigarette and rising from your seat, you gathered the files and put them in your briefcase. Donning a trench coat and hat as you left the office, you put up your umbrella and made your way into the rainy streets of Paris.

~

The grand Gare du Nord station was still draped in wet as your commanding steps approached its doors. Your team was waiting for you in London where they suspected the thief would be travelling to next.

As you sat on the train, you remained idly focused on the dull environment now surrounding you. The light and dark greys, the unimpressive passengers. Your face remained unapproachable and your eyes critical. A man coughed, breaking you out of your small haze. You decided to continue reviewing the Jester’s thefts before you reached London. Opening your briefcase, you pulled out the manila folder holding his crimes.

He started by stealing Monet’s Bridge over a Pond of Water Lilies from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Then he moved onto Rembrandt’s The Denial of Saint Peter from the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.

Followed by Gyokudō’s Parting Spring from the National Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo.

Before going back to Europe for Reni’s Saint Sebastian from the Capitoline Museums in Rome.

And Renoir’s Bal du moulin de la Galette from the Musée d’Orsay in Paris.

It was suspected he would steal a Botticelli next, so the forces were doubled near Room 58 of London’s National Gallery.

The train came to a stop, successfully pulling you from your work. You followed behind the people shuffling from the train's exits, bumping into them during your rush. You called a cab as you exited the St Pancras International station, asking the driver to take you to the Metropolitan Police building along the River Thames.

Clouds hung heavily over the bustling city, but people walked and smiled nonetheless. You felt a peculiar longing in your heart; one for the days of old when you had the vibrancy of life in your veins. Journeying around the globe for a man you have only seen in a photo had taken much of the light from your eyes. The frustrations of being a detective compiled with your depressing personal life created a bitterness in your demeanor that caused many to walk by you without a second glance; writing you off as a person in the slums of life.

It seemed this driver was the same, you thought, as he dropped you off from a quiet ride with no words exchanged.

You checked your watch before entering the building; it read midnight, an hour before the thief was expected to strike.

A woman with short and wavy light brown hair rushed by you as you entered the offices; it was Amelia, one of the investigators on your team.

“Where are you running to?” you asked.

“The Jester has already struck!” she exclaimed, rushing across the square.

“Fuck.” you whispered, following after her.

~

Sirens echoed across Trafalgar Square as police covered the scene. Sprinkles from the fountains landed on your trench coat as you briskly walked by, ignoring the glances from the officers. Your powerful steps echoed throughout the Gallery as you approached an investigator.

After asking him where Room 58 was, you got into the lift and went up to the second level. The room was located in the middle of the Sainsbury Wing, and as you entered the area you were greeted by a large empty space on the left wall.

“He stole Botticelli’s Venus and Mars.” William, another investigator from your team, informed.

You hummed as you ducked under the caution tape.

“Did he leave behind his signature?” you questioned.

“Of course.” William replied, handing you the small paper.

The Thieving Jester’s signature was a small white card, similar to that of a business card, that had a sketch of a top hat rimmed with black and white triangles. It was signed with his dubbed name, although the n was always circled.

“Let’s continue looking.” you stated.

~

Entering the dimly lit bar, your mind sighed with relief. The long day of work had plagued you on your walk, but the minute you sat on the brown bar stool, your worries washed away. Gentle piano accompanied by soft chatter echoed throughout the calm space. You asked the bartender for a scotch on the rocks, and soon it arrived.

Your eyes drifted to the figure sitting to your left while you continued analyzing the cozy bar. He had a slightly buff build, something you could easily tell due to the tightness of the white dress shirt he wore. His black trousers fell perfectly down his toned legs, and his long, wavy white hair glimmered in the delicate light. His golden eyes seemed transfixed on his thoughts as an unlit cigarette hung lazily from his lips. You decided to retrieve the lighter from the pocket of your coat and present the flame to the man.

A hint of a smirk made its way onto his face as he accepted your offer. As you got a better look at his features, you noticed a scar along his left eye; one that reminded you of the photo of the Jester. Albeit the photo was of the thief when he was younger, this more mature man still bared a striking resemblance.

Smoke flew into your line of sight, breaking you from your thoughts. Your eyes held traces of suspicion; traces that the man seemed to pick up on.

“What are you thinking, Detective?” his smooth voice asked.

You lifted a brow in shocked response.

He chuckled, “I could tell from the moment I saw you. Of course by what you wear, but the exhaustion in your eyes reminds me of one I once knew.”

“You’re quite observant, Jester.” you replied.

It was now his turn to raise a brow in response.

A beat of silence passed when you received another drink. As you took a sip, he spoke once more.

“Will I meet my fate tonight?” he asked.

“Of course not.” you smiled. “Tonight is simply a night for us to converse over cigarettes and drinks. When the morning comes, however, you will face prosecution for your crimes.”

He sighed, almost in defeat. “That is fine with me. I would love to share my last night of freedom with good company.”

You lifted your glass and held it between the both of you. “To a night of finality.”

He nodded and clinked his half-empty glass to yours.

“What is your finality, Detective?”

“Please, call me Y/n.” you began, “And I will be retiring after your case is finished.”

He smiled, “Really, Y/n? What will you do with your spare time?”

You hummed, “I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe I’ll spend my days tending to crops and animals somewhere.”

He laughed; a lovely, boisterous sound. “That sounds awfully dull. Wouldn’t you rather do something exciting, like travelling the world?”

You chuckled at the irony, “I’ve already been following you around the world, Jester.”

“No need to use the media’s name, simply call me Nikolai.” He put out his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “And why not continue following me around the globe, as a partner this time? Abandon this lifeless job and explore the criminal world! It’s quite exhilarating.”

You took a large sip of your scotch before tilting your head in contemplation. Would you be so easily swayed by this thief’s words? one side of you asked. The other responded, Why not? To go on such a freeing journey with such a dashing man would be a fulfilled fantasy.

“It seems when the morning comes, that we will be leaving London.” you smirked.

He beamed, and you reciprocated the action.

~

You sat silently in the bed of Nikolai’s beige hotel room, where the only light came from the moon through the sheer curtains. Said man laid peacefully sleeping, his muscular figure curled comfortably into your side. It was almost reminiscent of how Venus and Mars were depicted in Botticelli’s painting; one appearing relaxed and alert while the other was fast asleep. You turned on the bedside lamp, causing Nikolai to stir.

“It’s time to go.” you whispered.

~

The mist of the Atlantic Ocean flew into your face, but it created a welcoming feeling rather than an irritable one. The long-haired man stood to your side on this boat headed back to France. A sense of solace slowly washed over you as land came into view. After so many years dedicated to this case, you never would have imagined turning into a criminal yourself; much less after being so easily swayed. But it seemed that this charming thief and his past returned to you, an adrift detective, the vibrancy of life in your veins.

[alluringjae]

all i do is wait - kdy

All I Do Is Wait | So Close

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

⤑ pairing: doyoung x female reader

⤑ word count: 22.7k

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

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

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

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

i cried so much in the process.

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

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

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

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

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

And leave you behind.

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

1948

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sh-”

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

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

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

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

“Women are only meant to stay at home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1950

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

“Oh c’mon, let’s try this out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Doyoung.”

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

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

1951

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was his last shot.

“Guide me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you offering me then, Manwol?”

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

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

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

His last letters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, are you sure?”

“I just need to see her, Jeno.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His newborn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Areum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1954

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you implying?”

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

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

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

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

“Doyoung.”

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

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you be okay until then, Doyoung?”

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

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

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

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

To count, he gave you almost 50 dream calls.

The late 1950s-1960s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyung, over there.”

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

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

“Areum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what about the deities?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise!”

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

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

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

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

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

This was his sign to bring her home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eonjebuteoinji geudaereul bomyeon….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one will ever match up to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like what you and Doyoung aspired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just can never let him go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1973

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

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

Like mother, like daughter.

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t scared of the storylines?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you an only child in your family?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a fun dream, it seems to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, Areum!”

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

“Yes, tokki?”

Compiling his thoughts, here goes nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Forever, you'll stay in my heart.”

1980s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yah, you take that back.”

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

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

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

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

“Kim Doyoung, you tease.”

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

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

Early 1990s

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

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

“Are you saying what I’m thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a good thing she did.

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

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

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

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

This was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)!”

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

And there he was, just along the hallway.

This was no longer a dream.

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

“Doyoung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, Doyoung...”

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

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

“You are asking for it now, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her actual father was in this dream with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Areum, it’s time for us to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make sure you wait for me this time.” 

[taschamonnii]

Imagine This  - As The World Caves In

You x Jane Banner (Wind River - Elizabeth Olsen) 

Angst/Fluff

Summary: You are pregnant and it's the end of the world and you just want your wife Jane Banner.

TW: Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Light mentions of an Eating Disorder.

Here is the title song: As The World Caves In by Sarah Cothran

Read on Ao3

AN: This was also originally a story I wrote for my Fictional writing Class that I have changed for your enjoyment. I hope you like it. 

Word Count: 3,771

Imagine This:

Heavy rain pelted the old brick house that sat on the corner lot of the old established neighborhood where you and Jane had grown up. The rain matched your mood and cast the house in darkness. Lightning crashed and thunder boomed making you shudder and shake on the floor of the kitchen. Three messed up attempts at dinner were the final straw. Hot tears streamed down your delicate face. You had hoped every year that your increasing age would bring your fear of thunder to an end but here you were crying on the floor like you had all your life. 

Your skin was flushed red from the tears. Your full lips quivered as the sobs left you. You leaned your head back against the cupboard, your gaze caught the colorful beads of the rosary that hung on the wall above the prayer candles that once belonged to your mother. Memories of singing and dancing in the kitchen with your mom flooded your mind. You took a shaky breath and rubbed your extended belly.  

“How am I supposed to do this without you mom?” you whispered to yourself. 

You felt a fresh wave of tears escape you as your phone lit up with a reminder to take your nighttime medications. 

How was it already ten pm? You thought to yourself. Jane was supposed to be home four hours ago. A loud clap of thunder shook the old windows making you yelp. Jane hadn’t responded to any of your messages or calls since lunch. The hormones running rampant through the pregnant woman filled you with more anxiety than your Astraphobia. Your mind ran over every worst-case scenario for what had kept your wife out so late. Crumpled metal, shattered glass, blood coating Jane’s porcelain skin. You couldn’t stop the images that filled your mind as panic set in your bones making your body stiffen. Your heart sped up and each breath felt more difficult. You were so lost you never heard the front door.

Jane sighed as she placed her briefcase and jacket by the door. Loud sobs reached her ears as she kicked off her wet shoes. 

“Y/N? Honey, I’m home.”

This was nothing new. As of six months ago, Jane often came home to find her wife crying. She wanted to put all the blame on pregnancy and the state of the world, but still, she was filled with guilt. 

“Y/N?”

She turned around the corner and a pile of dirty dishes came into her view. The counters were a mess and the smell of burnt lasagna lingered in the air. There in the corner frizzy hair poked out from a green hoodie. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? Why are you on the floor?”

You were lost in your panic and couldn’t seem to get any oxygen in your lungs every breath burned. 

Jane got on her knees in front of you and pulled your chin up lightly. Her heart dropped as her gaze fell to empty colored eyes, flooded with tears. Her hands moved to gently hold your face.

“Y/N, hey. You’re okay you’re safe. I’m here, I got you. Y/N? Y/N?” 

You blinked a few times as your name echoed in your ears. Your vision was blurry, and your body was tense, but your breathing was becoming easier. The familiar scent of vanilla and soft hands. Your vision cleared and all you could see was green. 

“Jane?” She croaked

Another sob escaped you as you leaped into Jane’s arms. 

“I thought. You didn’t answer your phone. I thought.” You cried.

Jane squeezed you in her arms gently. “Shh, I got you,” Jane whispered, rubbing circles on your back. 

The familiar sour sting rose in the back of Jane’s throat as her thoughts consumed her. This was her fault she was to blame yet again. It was always her fault. She felt sick to her stomach. The woman in her arms deserved so much better. Jane took a deep breath, she couldn’t make this about herself, she wouldn’t. She pushed her thoughts down.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I was so late my phone died and I was stuck in meetings.”

You looked up taking in the features of your exhausted love. Her eyes were more grey than green, her skin was so pale that the bags under them looked as though she had been punched. Her cheeks were lacking all their normal rosy color. Her cheekbones were more prominent than they had been in years. Her dirty blonde hair was a frizzy mess escaping the tight ponytail in every direction. 

“Four hours. Jane, you’re four hours late.” 

Jane averted your gaze; she couldn’t handle this right now. She let her arms fall away from you, “I didn’t mean to,” Jane paused fidgeting with her fingers, “I’m sorry.”

You pulled at the sleeves of your hoodie, an old habit. You felt helpless and alone. This was supposed to be the happiest time of your lives together. You quickly got up off the floor, your body fighting off the heavy exhaustion that was deeper than anything physical. You looked down at her, a few tears falling to the floor, “you’re always sorry,” You paused, “I’m tired of sorry.”

Jane stood up and lightly grabbed at your wrist, “I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “I don’t know what else to say.”

You pulled away, “don’t say anything. Do something. We’re supposed to be in this together.” You  ran your fingers over your wedding ring focusing on the gold heart at the center of it. You felt helpless. Jane was falling into old patterns and hardly talking to you. She was distant and definitely not eating enough. You sad attempts at Jane’s favorite dinner mocked you from the counter. You knew that even if you had managed to make a beautiful dinner there would be an excuse to not eat it from Jane. She couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. 

“Please don’t shut me out, Jane.” you whispered.

The acid burned in the back of Jane’s throat. She felt like they were fourteen again. They had this argument as teenagers. She never thought she would be alive in her twenties let alone married and happy. The both of you had been happy, but six months of the world being on fire and she couldn’t remember what happiness felt like. Only eight months ago she was celebrating the news that the bone marrow insemination had worked, and that you were finally pregnant. She felt like there had to be some greater force at work that was making your lives so difficult. 

Jane wrapped her arms around her own stomach tight as she closed her eyes. A sharp pain shot through her empty stomach as she tried to take a deep breath. The smell of the burnt food only made the vile rise in her throat. She ran out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom, and barely made it to the toilet as her stomach wretched. A sheen of sweat coated her pale skin as her body continued to heave, even with nothing left in her. Hot tears tracked down her cheeks, her head was pounding against her skull and the pain in her stomach turned to an ache, her abs sore from the efforts of emptying her stomach for the fourth time today. Her body slumped to the floor. She barely registered the cool rag against the back of her neck. 

You felt helpless, your assumptions were right and it killed you. They grew up together and you knew all the signs. You knew better than anyone else exactly how Jane would act. You had been hoping to be wrong but watching your wife sink to the floor of the bathroom confirmed everything. You both had been on many bathroom floors in a similar position, You holding Jane tightly to your chest as you both cried. 

Jane sat back against the tub as she gained control of her body, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I,” she paused. She couldn’t say it out loud. It had been ten years since they had been in a situation like this. 

You moved in front of Jane, taking both her hands and squeezing them lightly, “Jane, please talk to me.”

Jane felt the hot tears run down her face but didn’t realize she was sobbing until her own loud sob left her lips in a shuddering breath and rang in her own ears. She had been holding everything hoping things would get better. She should have known better; life had never been so kind to her. She fiercely palmed her face desperate to clear it of tears, “Y/N, I don’t know enough yet and I don’t want to stress you out.” 

You took both of Jane’s hands in your own, “I’m already stressed, Jane. Your eating disorder is dangerous and apparently, it’s worse than I thought because you just threw up nothing.” 

Jane shook her head and squeezed your hands. “No, I’ve only been really struggling this week. I have still been eating, I just can’t keep anything down. I’m stressed. I’m not doing it on purpose I swear.” Jane said. 

You searched green eyes for any hint of dishonesty and let out a breath when you only found the truth. You nodded your head to let Jane know you believed her. Your thumbs ran over smooth skin, “please, tell me what’s going on. Is this like the end of days?”

Green averted your colored eyes. Pale hands slipped out of yours and moved to rub the hem of a black button-up. Jane lightly bit her bottom lip, “things are bad,” she paused, “I mean the entire federal emergency management agency is absolute chaos. The head of climatology is talking about an Ice Age due to Global Warming and the head of my department is basically the only one who wants to try and do anything about it.”

The things she was saying made no sense. You moved to lean against the wall, “what the fuck Jane,” you took a deep breath, “six months of this crazy weather and the government bullshit and you kept telling me everything was going to be fine. Shit Jane, an Ice Age is not fine. I don’t understand.” You ran your hands over your frizzy hair, “Jesus, what are we going to do? How bad is it, Jane?” 

A sigh left Jane as she tried to keep her composure before she spoke.

“Y/N, please, you have to stay calm, the doctor ordered no stress. We will figure this out. We always do. There is talk of evacuating all the northern states to the south.”

You wanted to laugh but it came out as more of a snort, “Are you kidding me? Jane, you’ve been shutting me out for months. I knew, I fucking knew it was getting bad. How the fuck am I supposed to stay calm when my wife is spiraling and won’t even talk to me? Not to mention the catastrophe we are currently in!”

Jane rubbed the hem of her shirt between her fingers the guilt from before rising up in her body like more vile wanted out. She knew she was stressing you out but how was she supposed to purposely stress you out even more by telling you the world may be ending?

(Sure, the world had been ending since before they were even born, one catastrophe after another. They survived the Covid-19 pandemic. They survived the riots that turned into the second Civil War. The War that took their fathers and the illness that took their mothers. They grew up fast, but they always had each other, neighbors turned to best friends and then to lovers. They had seen each other at their very worst and they had helped each other through it all.) 

Jane tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and moved to sit closer. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you out. I just,” Jane paused, “it was me who wanted to start a family. It was me that said that there was never going to be a right time. I thought things were finally getting better in the world. I was so happy when you told me you were pregnant. Everything we went through was finally worth it. All the money we spent on the bone marrow insemination. The months of hormone treatments we both suffered through. Only two months of bliss about our little family growing and life had to go and ruin it. I couldn’t ruin it for you too.”

You let your tears freely fall as Jane rambled. You spun the gold band around your ring finger. 

“You didn’t force me to get pregnant. Sure, I’m scared but I’ve always wanted this, but Jane I wanted it with you.”

Jane ran her fingers over her own wedding ring.

“I know, for worse or for better. I’m sorry.” She said keeping her gaze locked on your hands.

You sighed, your back hurt and you were exhausted.

“I know you’re sorry, just promise me we’re in this together, Jane. I need to hear it.”

Greenlocked with your colored eyes, “I promise.”

Jane moved forward to sit next to you against the wall.

A loud crack of thunder boomed rattling the old house. You flinched as the sound of hail hitting the roof echoed through the silence. A cramp moved from your back to your lower abdomen making your wince. 

Jane moved to wrap her arms around you “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Your hands clutched at the black fabric of Jane’s shirt, “fuck” your voice shook you hardly recognized it “Jane?”

The pain sharpened, making you lean forward into her embrace, as you spoke through gritted teeth, “shit this can’t be happening now.” 

Jane’s eyes widened, “this is why I didn’t want to tell you. The doctor said no stress. Do you think it’s really happening this time?” 

“Jesus Jane, it’s a little late for no stress. Fuck! Oh, it’s happening!” You blurted out. 

Jane moved to help you off the floor. You held onto her with a death grip as you gritted your teeth. Jane moved forward, almost tripping both of you as she rushed towards the front door. The both of you hurried to slip on shoes and jackets. Jane grabbed the bag that had been sitting by the door for the last month. When she opened the door both of you shuddered at the cold. The rain and hail had turned to a slurry of snow. A loud clap of thunder boomed as the dark sky lit up in a flash making you jump closer to Jane. 

Jane wanted to cry; life was flipping her off with the thunder-snow. She turned to make you look at your, “hey breathe,” she took a deep breath to illustrate, “we are going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to us.” 

***

Twelve hours later nurses are shuffling around the room as the doctor orders an emergency cesarean. You are beyond exhausted. Sweat has curled your hair that clings to your face. Jane can see the panic in your flushed face; this was never the plan. 100% natural was what You  wanted and you both had planned for, not surgery. 

Jane felt the panic too, an emergency surgery had risks. She had read enough statistics to know that she could lose you or the baby or both of you. Her heart raced as she tried to keep her composure for both of you. She brushed the hair back away from your face. Her gaze fell to your eyes, she loved you and your eyes beyond words, “everything is going to be okay it has to be,” she squeezed your hand, “you are so strong you can do this, do you hear me?”

You let your tears freely fall at your words, “I’m so scared, Jane.”

Jane couldn’t hold back her own tears as she whispered, “me too.”

You squeezed each other's hands as the doctor worked. Everything was a blur. Jane couldn't focus on anything but your eyes that had been her home for most of your life. She thought about how you had been fighting before this. About how she had been stressing you out for months. She had been so distant. All because another catastrophe was headed your way. Life for you both had always been one catastrophe after another but it was your life together. Everything had always been worth it because you both made sure to live life and not dwell. You both always had hope. Jane had lost sight of that hope buried under her new job and all the pressure that came with it. 

"Y/N, I'm so sorry I lost sight of all hope and shut you out. I love you beyond." 

You nodded as you squeezed Jane’s hand tighter.

"I love you beyond, Jane."

You were pulled out of your bubble as a nurse said.

“Get ready.” 

The doctor looked up at you as he held your baby up, “it’s a girl.” 

You both couldn’t take your eyes off the tiny miracle in the doctors’ hands. A loud cry left the baby and Jane turned to you smiling through happy tears. Your smile faded as you blinked slowly and your grip on Jane’s hand fell and then you passed out. 

--

A machine beeped and your heart dropped.

“No! Y/N? What’s happening?” Jane demanded.

A nurse grabbed her and began to pull her towards the door. She flailed her arms.

“No! Y/N!” 

The nurse was stronger and quickly forced a frantic Jane out into the hall. 

“Ma’am calm down, the doctor needs to close your wife up, she's lost a lot of blood.” 

Jane shook her head.

“I can’t lose her. I have to be in there with her. She didn’t even get to hold our baby yet.”

The nurse nodded and she understood how the new mother was feeling.

“You can’t go in there, I’m sorry. You have to let the doctor work.”

The door opened as the neonatal nurse stepped out with the baby. 

“Jan, Dr. Hawn needs you back in there. I got these two.”

Jan stepped away from Jane.

“Thanks, Mary.”

Jane wobbled where she stood as she watched the door close. She had never been one for praying, that was your thing, but she prayed with every fiber of her being that the love of her life would be okay, you just had to be okay.

Mary moved closer to Jane.

“Mrs. Banner, would you like to follow me to the nursery so we can make sure your daughter’s vitals are all good and get her weighed and measured?”

Jane ran her hands over her face trying to clear it of tears. She had to be strong for all three of you now. She took a step closer to the nurse and her gaze fell to the bundled baby, her baby, her daughter. You had both known you were having a girl that was the only possible outcome with the bone marrow insemination. Nothing had prepared Jane for this though, seeing a mix of both of you in such a small bundle. 

The nurse smiled as she watched the new mother.

“Come on then let’s get her taken care of so you can hold her.”

***

Six pounds and nine ounces of perfection lay asleep in Jane’s arms as she sat in the chair next to you. You were asleep in the recovery room bed. Jane couldn’t pull her gaze away from the miracle in her arms. She was enthralled as she hummed softly. She had hope in her heart once again. 

You could hear humming as she blinked a few times clearing your hazy vision from the bright lights and white ceiling. Your gaze traveled to the sound and landed on messy blonde hair half hiding Jane’s porcelain face as she looked down at a sleeping baby. Your baby.

“Jane?” 

Your voice was rough and quiet, but Jane instantly looked up.

“Y/N. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You went to sit up slightly but winced, “sore,” you adjusted slowly, “can I see her?”

Jane stood up.

“Take it easy, you have stitches and lost a lot of blood. Use the remote to bring the bed up a bit.” She said as she gestured to the remote with a head nod.

The bed rose slowly allowing you to be more sat up. You pulled down the hospital gown slightly as Jane unwrapped the blanket around your daughter leaving her in just her diaper. She helped you adjust so the baby could lay skin to skin on your chest. A sigh of relief left you as you finally held your baby girl.

Jane brushed stray hair away from your face. She finally had both her girls and they were both okay.

You glanced up at Jane.

“She's perfect,” tears tracked down your face, “our little girl is perfect.”

Jane nodded; her own tears silently fell as she leaned down to kiss you. She pulled away only slightly to touch her forehead to yours.

“I thought I was going to lose you, but she gave me hope.” She whispered.

“You’ll never lose me. I’m always with you.” You captured Jane’s lips in a chaste kiss and sighed content when you both pulled apart. 

Sure, life is crazy right now and you both would probably have to move out of the only state you had ever known, to survive the changing climate of the world but you would survive it. You had each other. You had hope.

“We never did decide on a name, what about Hope?” You asked.

Jane smiled down at the sleeping baby.

“Hope.”

A soft sound and then bright green eyes looked up at you both. You gasped.

“She has your eyes, Jane. I think she likes Hope.”

Jane smiled. 

“Hi Hope, this is your incredibly strong momma.” 

Jane watched as you smiled through your happy tears.

“Hi Hope, thanks for taking care of mommy while I rested.”

AN: Yes this was a college assignment. Yes, I turned it in for not only my professor to read but my entire class. And Yes there was a few queer folks who really loved it as the original was written with the fake characters Josephine and Natalie. Sorry if any spots read weird as I had to change a lot to change the POV and get rid of the old character names and change detail to match Jane. Anyway, I hope you like it!

[ostensiblyfunctional]

Heartless travel pack sizes, biggest to smallest

Protags

1. River. Lugs around a gigantic military-issue backpack that you could probably fit a body in, if not for all the medical equipment and various climate-appropriate gear inside. Everyone is constantly surprised that she can carry something that’s practically her body weight

2. Alchemy. Do not let the handbag fool you. He’s just compressed his suitcase into a smaller form, and she is willing and able to concuss you with it. None of the weight is reduced, after all (EDIT 10/10/21: I’ve decided that Alchemy compresses the suitcase into one of those tiny backpacks instead of a handbag because I don’t want them to mess up their shoulders)

3. Doppel and Glass. They share the no. 3 spot because they’re mirrors of each other, including what’s in their bags. They both have satchels that contain various bits and bobs they’ve stolen, as well as hoarded food

4. Eira. After leaving Gwyneira, Moira gives him an old backpack that’s gradually but eagerly filled with clothing and souvenirs the others get him. Eventually, he starts getting knickknacks on his own, and the backpack becomes more well-loved than it already is

5. Flint. Have you ever seen Japanese knot bags? That’s what Flint has. It’s plain brown but very durable; his older sibling made sure of that when they sewed it because they knew Flint would inevitably use it to hit someone in the face

6. Heartless. He’s got a tiny sling bag that fears no god; it was commissioned from the same shop of seamsters and tailors that also make most of what he wears. It’s very durable: waterproof, fire-resistant, and it has patches of layered fabric so it won’t fall apart easily. But a witch Heartless met in passing also turned the bag into a magical item, giving it extra durability to the point of being able to catch blades

Wonders

1. Lorelei. She tends to have a plethora of suitcases full of fancy, shimmery outfits, as well as things for her hair, makeup, and skin

2. Dock. His bags are usually taken care of by Jury healers acting as his helpers, but they’re full of various pain- and death-inducing things, as well as practically a full operating table’s worth of medical items. His main bag is, of course, a doctor bag

3. Diana. On her horse Ceryneia (yes she has a horse, she rootin’ tootin’ and this is a hill I will die on), she has a multitude of saddlebags, full of provisions and hunting equipment

4. Alastor. Mainly, he stays stationary for a long time (health concerns and his ability to be an utterly terrifying enforcer combining to make him stay a long while in towns), and when he does move he usually doesn’t carry his bags himself, but they’re mainly just a plain black suitcase and briefcase

5. Bandy. A lot of the time, he just stashes his belongings in hard-to-get places and swaps them to him when he needs them, but he has a checker-patterned bucket bag to swap said belongings into and loves to baffle people by pulling out items they’re very sure he didn’t pack

6. Lance. Like hell he needs a bag when he’s got hoarding abilities and is able to bring his belongings out of a fricking pocket dimension. Bags are for the weak

Others

1. Guard Girl. She too has a gigantic military-issue bag that could fit a body in it. She likes flopping it on top of captives to keep them pinned, since the bag usually contains rather heavy armor

2. Krome. A big, patchy camping bag that’s seen better days, but is full of belongings and secrets

3. Moira. Often carries around a toolbox on her repair jobs, and for jobs that take her out of town, she has a duffel bag for anything she needs

4. Arthyr. He doesn’t usually get out and travel from the castle, and even when he does, he doesn’t have bags of his own, just a retinue of people taking care of his belongings for him

5. Murphy. No bag, only mouth that occasionally drops a dead cockroach before Moira’s feet (which is honestly a miracle, considering how little life skills Murphy possesses)

[sharonrb]

Repost/Revised, Attuma x Okoye: Loving You pt 1

Scenario: Okoye's husband crashed into one of the island near Wakanda. She hires Attuma to help her find him. Attuma is now a resident of Wakanda, has a brother, and friends with two Wakanda brothers. W'Kabi has a sister who tags along on the search, but what are her true intentions. Okoye's lawyer is forced to come too by the sister in law. So they embark on a journey with these feeling developing between Attuma and Okoye.

Enjoy and no warnings as yet😊

Chapter One

The plane soared through the sky, dipping at intervals; flying over the dense green forestry. The river cutting through it, winding around bends snakelike.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful up here.” The woman exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’m glad you decided to take this trip with me.” Her partner stated.

“I’m glad too. And if I had known it was this much fun, I would’ve joined you long time ago.” She told him.

“Look down there, it’s the most beautiful place in the world.” He spoke.

“Wow, it is beautiful, honey,” she said to him. “What was that?” The aircraft dropped significantly, and shook profusely.

“I’m not sure, the turbulence maybe,” he said, checking his panel.

“Honey?” She shrieked, as it made a greater dip. He tried to regain control, and level it off, without results.

“Oh no, I can’t pull it up,” he shouted to her.

“Honey?” She looked at him, terror gripping her face.

“Oh god, we’re going to crash,” told her. “Mayday, mayday.” He yelled into the radio his distress call.

“Aaaiiieee!!” The screeching sound of a woman horrified of her pending possible death.

Sometime later...........

The patrons sat throughout the cigar, cigarette, smoke-filled bar; discussing how their lives sucked, or not. Others told jokes, causing groups to burst out from time to time with laughter. A few sat at the bar counter, watching whatever sports were being shown.

All eyes turned towards the door, when two professionally dressed men entered. The two looked far out of place; in comparison to the others inside the establishment. They searched pass the mist of smoke floating in the air; seeking the one person they needed. Their eyes fell on a corner of the room, finding whom they sought. They started their way towards him; ignoring the eyes locked in on them.

He was leaning back in his chair, his legs extended out, and crossed at his ankles. On the table, sat a nearly half-filled pitcher of beer. He never looked up to them, as they approached; taking a swig of the beer.

He had already observed the men, the moment they entered the bar. He was quite aware of whom they were; and why they had come to him. He continued drinking his beverage; even as they stood at his table, giving each other looks; then back to him.

“I was told you were the best at what you do. Is that true?” Finally, one growing impatient, addressed him. He continued to ignore them; gulping down the last of the beer in his mug. Everyone in the bar had become silent; curious at the outcome of the state of the men, after dealing with this one.

“My client is willing to pay you whatever you ask; if you decide to take this assignment.” The other one spoke up. And to back up his statement; set a briefcase, they had brought along with them, on the table. Then he unlocked and opened it, revealing stacks of one thousand dollars each, neatly placed in rows.

He leaned in, and reached a enormous hand into the briefcase; picking out a stack. He ran a thumb over the edges, causing them to flip pass it. Then proceeded to counted each of the stacks likewise. The other patrons gasped, never having seen so much money. He slowly raised his head, and stared down each; who dared to focus their attention on him, and his transaction in progress. They quickly turned away, and went about their business. Soon, everything was back at its noisy self as previously.

“I’ll take the assignment on one condition,” he lifted his dark glasses up, and stared at the two for the first time. He crossed his arms and relaxing them on the table. His black eyes were piercing, as he studied each man closely. He scratched the back of his neck with one finger. “I pick the men who will go with me.”

“No problem, but there is one more thing; my client wants to accompany you on the assignment.” The first who had spoken to him, informed him. He looked away from the men; taking in a deep breath, then letting it go freely. He glared at them, then slowly rose to his feet. The two men moved backwards, as the man exhibit his full height; nearly seven feet.

“I don’t need your client, or anyone else; to get in my way,” he told them. His voice was low and deep. “Or directing me on doing my job, and the men I choose.” His voice carrying through the building interior. Everyone continued doing whatever they were doing, and knew to mind their business. Especially if he seemed angry.

“Bu..... bu..... but, Sir. This is part of the terms of the agreement. My client won’t have it anyway; or they will choose to seek help elsewhere.” The other said nervously, never moving his eyes from the huge man.

He paused for a moment; looking into space, his hands on hips, thinking over what was just stated. He took in a deep breath, and just as quick, let it out. He turned without a word, and went back into his seat. Then poured a mug of beer, and downing it; never looking at them.

“Take your money; and tell your client, I declined. It’s my way, or the highway,” He peered over the rim of the mug at them; replacing his dark glasses over his eyes. Then pushed the chair back, and strolled pass the men, and out the front door. The two men watched him disappear; as all eyes turn towards them. They turned to looked at each other, confused at what had happened.

“How are we going to let her know, it was a bust?” The first said to the other.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.” He said this, and left the first one standing there. He sat down at the table, and beckoned to a waitress.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” She asked. He looked at her, then the half empty pitcher of beer.

“Another mug, and fill the pitcher with more beer, please,” He might as well enjoy his life as he knows it. Tomorrow will be the beginning of the end. He sat contemplating, how he was going to explain, the failure to acquire him.

“What do you mean we lost him?” She yelled into her kimoyo beads. “You imbecile, he was the best. I would never have thought of asking anyone else. Why did you tell him I would?” She continued to shout.

“His way or the highway? That’s my damn husband we're talking about. I can’t stand this; never mind, I’ll talk to him myself. Where is that place again? Thank you, for nothing.” She shut off her beads, crossing her arms over her chest, and massaging the bridge of her nose; trying to relieve her tension. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

It had been several weeks, since her husband went down over a small island some distance outside of Wakanda. Everyone had given up hope, but not her. How could this man not want her to go along with him? She needed to be there, searching for her husband. She has to know, if he was alright. She couldn’t stand this waiting any longer. Didn't he understand? She had to be there, when her husband was found; dead or alive. She has to put some closure to all of this. Not knowing was the hardest. Well, she would make him understand. She grabbed her shoulder bag, and ran out the door.

Chapter Two

He sat in his usual corner of the place, drinking his beer. He was oblivious to his surroundings, and never noticed the hush that came over the bar; nor the woman coming towards him. He didn’t until....

“Are you the gentlemen, I sent my lawyers to speak with?” Her voice flowed into his ears, causing him to lift up his head, honing in on the direction it had emanated. He looked up into her face, and into her deep brown eyes, that captured him immediately; and they seemed to draw him in. She was a classy lady, tall and slender; athletic body, but curvy. She had the most beautiful smooth dark mocha skin. Her head shaved close to the skin, smoothly and had these distinct tattoos. He figured she was either military of Wakanda, or previously had been.

He continued to stare into her enchanting eyes; she never took her eyes from his. He established, she was strong and determined one, and most possibly use to getting her way. But not with him, he thought; as he set his jaws. Pretty or not, he wasn’t going to give in on his decision.

“Are you the one, I sent my lawyers to speak too?” She repeated the question, which brought him out of the daze he had fallen.

“I am,” he finally answered. He couldn’t understand; why he was so out of wits with this woman? Maybe because she commanded respect? He couldn’t say.

“May I sit, and have a word with you? Since my lawyers weren’t able to convince you, to take the assignment.” She looked at the empty chair across from him, then back to him.

“Sure, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” He asked, beckoning to a waitress. She pulled the chair from under the table, and sat. She looked to him.

“Yes, a margarita, if you don’t mind,” she had to gain a common ground with him, and drinking with him would hopefully do it. She glanced around, waving at a trail of smoke flowing pass her face. He glanced at her momentarily; then gave the waitress her order. He noticed she seemed slightly edgy.

“Now Mr. Attuma, is that your first or last name?” She asked, only getting a single name from her contact. She added the ‘Mr.’ to be safe.

“Attuma is the name I’m called, no need to add the ‘Mr.’” He added, giving a chuckle. She was confused to what was so humorous.

He poured himself another mug of beer, watching her every movement, and expression. She shifted in her chair, as he was making her very nervous. She couldn’t help to observe; he was quite a huge man. She had heard so, but never expected him to be this large.

He had a handsome rough around the edges look. She was mesmerized by his clear black eyes, blood-shot and all. His black hair intensified them, as it was pulled back into a singular braid. He wore a black bandana, wrapped around his head, and tied in the back. His attire were a denim vest and pants, with a Tee Shirt under the vest. His blue skin looking rugged.

She saw he had one of those special rebreathers, most land dwelling Talokanils used these days. Courtesy of the brilliant mind of Shuri. Something she thought was unique, was the shark bones implanted at the point of his chin. Both ears had large pierced earrings, jaded jewelry she guessed.

Attuma continued eyeing her, as she eyed him. He took he threw back a small glass of liquor, and chased it with a swig of beer, and made a growling sound, slamming the mug on the table. He leaned in, knowing she didn’t come all this way to drink with him.

“Attuma, I know you had decided not to take this assignment, because my lawyers explained; I was going to accompany you.” She sensed his impatience, and chose to get right to the point. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. Very straight forward, he thought.

She glanced down to her hands, gripping them, and searching for words to say; that will make him understand, how desperately she needed to go on this journey. She didn’t want to end this, before she got started.

“If I say to you, I will give complete control over to you. You will be in command, no questions asked. I will follow your orders.” Attuma continue to stare at her, silently. “Would you reconsidered, and take the assignment? “

“I don’t know,” he faltered on deciding.

“Will you please take this assignment, and allow me to accompany you? (Taking a deep breath) I can’t stand this not knowing. My lawyers were wrong. I have no other, who I trust; to do this job, but you. I have to be there, no matter what.” She dug in her shoulder bag looking for a handkerchief, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes.

Attuma observed for a moment; as she tried to dry the tears, now streaming over her cheeks. His heart felt a tug on it, and looked down at the table; thinking of everything she had said. He looked pass her, at nothing in particular.

“I’ll be in complete control of this assignment?” He looked into the wet eyes, now staring at him. She nodded her head, feeling he was ready to give in.

“No questions asked?” He continued.

“No questions asked.” She repeated, feeling finally, a glimpse of hope.

“Okay Ms. Okoye, I’ll get my men together. We’ll meet in a week.” He told her. She smiled, relieved. Attuma looked at the expression on her face, and the beautiful smiled she displayed. He was beginning to feel a little envious of the man, who held her heart.

“Thank you Attuma, you won’t regret this; in a week. And please, ditch the ‘Ms’ and call me Okoye.” She extended her hand to shake his.

Attuma looked at her hand, for what seemed like ages; before standing to his feet, and engulfing it in his own. A surge of energy, coursed through their bodies. He looked deep into her tantalizing eyes, locking in on them. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the hypnotizing dark orbs, staring through her.

It seemed as if their bodies were being drawn to each other; before being snapped back to reality. Her husband’s face filled her mind; she jumped back from him, turning her eyes from his, and retrieving her hand. She ran her hands down the front of her, as if smoothing out her outfit. She snatched her shoulder bag off the table.

“Thank you again, so much Attuma. I’ll be seeing you in a week, and until then.” She said, and swiftly turned away; making a speedy retreat from him.

He was transfixed on her every step, until she vanished from his sight. He took his seat, thinking about her. She seems strong, but she’s fragile, and doesn’t know it yet. He gulped the remaining of his beer down, threw the waitress a tip on the table, and left.

Chapter Three

She rode in one of the private planes of the family, heading home. What was she thinking? What was all that back there? Just because he was the man of her dreams. Well, before W’Kabi came into her life, Attuma would have definitely been her fantasy man.

Big and burly, rough, man of the world or ocean. She chuckled at how the alliance has created intertwining of the two kingdoms. More of the Wakandans have made their home in Talokan, and vice versa for the Talokanils. Marriage between them has become a common practice.

She wondered how he would look with that hair loose, cascading over his shoulders, and down his back. Oh, and those eyes. She couldn’t hardly take hers away from them, they had a grip on her, she had to forcibly pull a way. She imagined him hovering over her, their faces not even an inch apart; his long thick hair, draping down at the sides of their faces, like a curtain.

“No, this can’t be happening,” she said out loud.

“Yes, Miss Okoye,” the pilot hearing her outburst.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I was just thinking out loud.”

“I see,” he said. “We are home.” He landed the plane on the landing pad near the large mansion. She exited the aircraft and made her way into her house. Her mind lingering on her encounter with Attuma.

“I love my husband; there I said it. So evil thoughts, free my mind.” She said out loud, tossing her shoulder bag to the side, and kicking off her shoes. ‘Oh, but he was an enormous blue man. What I would give to lay in his arms for just one night. One night? Forever.’ She thought to herself.

“NO, no, no! Please get out of my head. I can’t have these thoughts harboring in my mind. We will be together for days. Trying to locate my husband. Go away malevolent thoughts.” She yelled louder. She wrestled with these thoughts, until a bigger problem stared her in the face. Another craft was landing outside.

“Oh rats,” she screamed, peering out the window; recognizing the plane, and knowing who was coming to visit. They had left the plane, and was running across the field, towards the house. Okoye braced herself against the wall, pounding her fists against it. Why oh why, of all days. Okoye went to the front door, pausing to inhale deeply, and slowly letting it out.

“Okoye. How are you darling” She was greeted by her sister-in-law. She held a drink in one hand, and hugged Okoye with the other arm, as she came into the house; and went into the sitting room.

“I’m doing as well as expected, considering the circumstances.” She answered, and headed for the bar; and retrieving a bottle of water from the small refrigerator. Her sister-in-law looked at her with an; ‘here we go again’ look. “I know all of you have given up hope. But not I. I’ll find him one way or another.” Okoye voice had an edge of anger. Her sister-in-law looked at her.

“It’s been several weeks since the plane went down. They covered every inch of that jungle area. No one could have survived the crash, or they would have found something; other than what was left of the plane.” She relayed to Okoye, trying to help her to grasp on to the reality of the situation.

“But that’s just it. No body, just wreckage. Maybe he went trampling through the forest; searching for a way out. Maybe he’s there with some of the tribes. Maybe like that American movie, Tarzan or that story book tale of that damn Robinson Crusoe. Hell, I don’t know. But whatever the outcome; I need a definite answer. I don’t want to be always wondering...’What if'.” She took a sip of her water, and sat in a chair close to her sister-in-law. Her mind went to her husband; and what if he could be suffering, or if he were still alive.

“Okoye, honey. I know how much you love my brother. You have been a very dutiful wife. But now is the time to think about yourself. It’s time for you to think about moving on.” She sat back in her chair; crossing her legs, staring at her glass. Okoye glared at her, feeling the anger swelling up in her. She took in a deep breath, held it for a moment; as she counted to ten, then released it slowly, feeling herself going light headed.

“I’m very tired. I just came back from making arrangements to go to the island where he crashed on. I’m going to try and find W’Kabi. No matter what your family, or you think.” She said with great determination in her voice. Her sister-in-law glanced up at her for a moment; then shot to her feet, like a panther springing for its prey.

“What? What was that you just said?” She was completely out of sorts. Okoye stared at her, very confused with her response.

“I said, next week I will be going to that island to find W'Kabi. Or what’s left of him. Why are you so upset with this?” She continued to observe her sister-in-law’s demeanor.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Is all she could get out. “Um, look Okoye. I have to go. I remembered something I should be doing. I’ll talk with you later, Sweetie. You take care of yourself.” She gave Okoye a quick hug, and kiss on the cheek. Then swiftly made her exit. She watched M’Tami leave in her aircraft; wondering what the hell had gotten into her.

“Yes, I tell you. She’s going to that island. Yes, looking for him. What do you mean stop her? When has anyone ever been able to stop Okoye from doing what she has set her mind set to do?” She spoke into her kimoyo beads, as she flew in her craft.

“Wait, there is something I can do. I’ll play the overly protective sister-in-law that I am. I’ll find out exactly when she plans to leave. And when she does, I’ll be right with her. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later. Goodbye.” She shut down her beads, and smiled in satisfaction; that she had such a devious mind.

Okoye decided to go to bed early. She had so much to do before she made her journey across the ocean. She drew her a bathe, pouring her scented oil into the water. She turned on some soft music, lit some jasmine candles, brought the lights down low. She submerged herself; into the warm soothing water, covering her body. She leaned her head back relaxing, and listening to the music. It had been a long frustrating several weeks, and all this uncertainty was getting to her.

She didn’t know what she would have done, if Attuma hadn’t agreed to let her come along. Attuma. What was that she felt with his touch? Why was he popping up in her mind at this particular moment? She agrees he’s hot, but she is also married.

She has a whole week to get those thoughts of him out of her mind. Finding her husband is the foremost thing on her mind. She bathed herself and got out of the tub, and went into her bedroom. She slowly put on her gown, and sat at her vanity. She began thinking about being in Attuma’s arms; sleeping next to him.

“Oh, please stop. I can’t be thinking these things. I love W'Kabi. But M'Tami was right. I have been a dutiful wife. But I can’t move on until I know for sure, that my life as I know it is no more.” She whispered to herself. She slid into bed, resting her head on her pillow and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Four

Okoye charted a large private plane for the journey, and any supplies Attuma will need to bring. She had boarded it, and sat waiting; for Attuma and his men to arrive. She didn’t have long, when Attuma entered with three men following behind him. They were just as humongous as him, and eyed her up and down in passing. They went to sit in seats across the aisle from her. She just stared in amazement at the size of these men. One was Talokanil, while the other two were Wakandans.

“Hello Okoye,” Attuma greeted her.

“Hello Attuma,” she replied.

“Let me introduce my men, who will be helping me. Taavi, my brother, Azhni, and Ozhni, they are twins, and both are very close friends of mind. They are from the river tribe.” He finished, as each nodded in her direction; acknowledging her once introduced.

“Hello.” She replied nervously. She looked from one to the other. “I guess we’re ready to go.” As they were all accounted for. Suddenly, a commotion could be heard coming from the entrance. Okoye and Attuma looked at each other, confused. Her eyes widen as M'Tami, her sister-in-law, along with one of her lawyers she had sent to talk with Attuma, entered.

“Oh my, we thought we weren’t going to make it in time.” M’Tami said, taking her a seat in front of Okoye; who looked at Attuma shrugging. He had the look of what the hell. Then she looked over at her lawyer, whom had taken a seat behind the three men. He gave her an ‘I’m sorry' look.

“M’Tami, what are you doing here?” Her voice had a tint of annoyance. Attuma eyes were fixed on her, and could see, she was a fiery one. M'Tami looked at her stunned, by her loud voice.

“Why I couldn’t let you make this trip along. Especially, when Khanje told me who you will be traveling with and when. Don’t be peeved with him, I made him tell me. And besides, look around you. You shouldn’t be alone.” She nudged her head in the direction of the four men, while she whispered the last sentence to her. Attuma was leaning back in his seat, glaring at M'Tami. He took an instance dislike to her, and felt she was trouble.

“Whatever M'Tami, this is going to be a long, and trying trip. Let’s not get started.” She spoke to her, then her eyes fell on Attuma. She nearly laughed at his expression, as he looked at M'Tami very suspiciously.

“Sure honey, anything for you. You know that. I’ll put on my best behavior. You’ll see. You won’t even know I’m here.” She went on and on, the men were huffing a blowing wanting to say, ‘Shut the hell up but they endured, until a reprieve came.

‘Will everyone, please fasten your seatbelt. We will be taking off momentarily.’ The pilot’s voice echoed from the intercom. The plane made a small jerk forward, M’Tami let out a squeal, nervously buckling her seatbelt.

The plane slowly taxied into place, then made its way down the runway, then increased its speed; until it had reached the acceleration desire. It lifted off the ground very smoothly, as M'Tami cowered in her seat, legs pulled up to her chest; her head between her arms.

Attuma looked over at M'Tami, smiling as he unbuckled his seatbelt, and went to get him a drink from the bar; joined by his men. Okoye watched as he left his seat and embedded in her mind, how his hips moved as he suave away. She leaned her head back into the seat; her thoughts of her in his arms, kissing him deeply, and running her hands over his body. Then there is her, never shutting up.

“Okoye?” M'Tami called to her. Interrupting her train of thoughts. She was unloosening her seatbelt, clearly settled down.

“Where did you find these men? Look at them. They’re bandits I tell you.” She whispered, looking back at them, making sure they couldn’t hear her.

“M’Tami, why exactly did you come along? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Okoye looked over to the lawyer; with darts in her eyes, for being so deceitful. He looked up at her, and decided he would take his chances with the rough looking men at the bar.

“So, you got Khanje to tell you everything, huh?” Her eyes followed the lawyer to the bar.

“Well, you know how persuasive I can be.” She proudly said, looking into her compact, licking her lips. “I convinced him not only to tell when you would be leaving, but suggested he should accompany us.” She continued, flicking a strand of hair back. Okoye was shaking her head at him. He shrugged with an ‘I’m sorry’ look, again. M'Tami glance in Okoye’s direction, then turn around to see whom she was glaring at.

“Yeah, he tried to bucked at first. But I informed him; if anything should happen to either one of us, he would be lucky to find a job chasing rhinos; after the family was through with him. He quickly complied.” Finished with her information, she turned around in her seat to face Okoye, only to feel the darts flying from her eyes. She wasn't pleased with the way she ambushed Khanje to get the information.

Attuma stood at the bar with the other men, drinking liquor and beer. His thoughts had drifted off to another place. She was in his arms, their lips were locked, he was tasting the sweet fullness of her lips. His mouth traveled from her lips, over her cheeks, and down her strong jaw, and onward to her neck. Dare he even think about her perky breast?

“Be careful Brother, she’s not your type.” Taavi had saw, how his brother never tore his eyes away from the lady. Attuma gave his brother a long hard look, drank the remainder of his liquor and beer. Then left to go into the cockpit, and check on things.

“You never cease to amaze me. You will do anything to get your way. Even threaten MY lawyer, to divulge private information.” Okoye shook her head as if pitying her. M'Tami's eyes narrowed, as she picked up on Okoye’s attitude.

“I would do anything to preserve the harmony of my family, anything.” Her whole demeanor, had took on a strange mood. Okoye felt an alarm go off. She had never witnessed this side of her sister-in-law. She sat back in her chair, staring at her completely dumbfounded.

‘Anything’ lingered in her mind. What did she mean preserving the harmony? How could finding W'Kabi upset it? Okoye looked out the window, and went into a deep thought. M'Tami's eyes were slits, as she folded her arms, and crossed one leg over the other. She bobbled it up and down nervously, watching Okoye intensely.

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

[slippinmickeys]

Another Twitter prompt:

1. It was a weird thing to think, but it was odd that they'd put the new chemistry professor in Old Chem. The building -- cramped and dusty with an unreliable heating system -- hadn't actually housed the chemistry department in 35 years. It was now filled mainly with graduate students who either didn't mind that the clanking basement furnace would give up the ghost thrice every February, or just felt lucky to have office space and didn't complain. Dr. Fox Mulder, a tenured and often traveling research professor liked Old Chem, for what it was worth. Its bricks were the same orangey-red of the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon and it sat stalwart and proud on a rise above the river that purled through campus. The offices were small, and they lent everything in them -- from papers written in '82 to the newest state-of-the-art computers -- an aged patina that made you want to smoke a pipe and contemplate philosophy.

In any event, he never seemed to run into the new chemistry professor, even though his office was right next door.

2. One of the kids that rode on the same school bus route on the Vineyard had been a guy named Dana Dupree. He was five years older and a baseball star, and while Mulder hadn’t thought the kid was all that bright, he still worshipped him anyway, until the day Dupree graduated and Mulder never thought about him again.

He supposed that was why he thought the new professor was a man until she showed up at his door with a sheepish looking undergraduate he vaguely recognized from his Tuesday/Thursday lecture.

"I believe this may belong to you," said a caramel-soft voice from his doorway.

He looked up to see a short statured titch of a woman looking at him expectantly. Next to her was said undergraduate, who was hitching his backpack on his shoulder uncomfortably and looking anywhere but Mulder's face.

"Does it?" Mulder asked without standing.

"These are office hours, right?" the kid said, looking up through a thick hatch of shaggy hair.

Mulder looked at his watch. "Indeed they are," he said, and motioned for the boy to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk -- the only one not covered in sheaves of paper and books. The kid slid into it and the woman in the doorway raised a hand and started to retreat into the hallway when Mulder said:

"And who do I have to thank for the saving of wayward students?"

The woman gave him a small, closed mouth smile that nevertheless reached all the way to her eyes.

"Dr. Dana Scully," she said, nodding at him and taking another step back. "Your new neighbor." With that she was gone.

3. He didn't see her again for almost a month. He was heading down the narrow back stairway that led from Old Chem's parking lot to the third floor hall of offices when he heard a forceful expletive followed by the sound of several light things hitting the floor. When he rounded the next landing, Dr. Scully was carrying an overfilled and close-to-disintegrating cardboard box and looking helplessly down at a wash of manila folders and dot-matrix printouts that were scattered across the floor and accordioning down three steps.

She was bending to put the box down when Mulder came trotting down the last few steps.

"Let me get that," he said, bending down to pick up the sheety detritus which he tapped into a neat stack.

"Thanks," she said, sounding reluctant to accept the help.

When he stood holding the papers out a little awkwardly, she gave him a grudging smile and he tucked the stack carefully into the box she now had balanced on her hip.

"Would you like help carrying all this up?" he asked, "I can get the box?"

"I can manage," she said, and Mulder thought she probably could -- she only had one more flight to go.

"Then at least let me get the doors," he said, bounding back up from the way he came, and seeing her safely to her office.

She gave him a small sideways glance as she unlocked the old Schlage, and when she fumbled with the keys, he reached out and wordlessly took the box from her hands so she could open the door. She gave a last hard shove with her shoulder and she was in, and he entered and put the box gingerly on her desk.

"Wow," he said, taking a look around the room. It was spotless and bright, airy in an effortless sort of way that was near impossible to find in the stuffy confines of Old Chem. "If Professor Abernathy saw this place, I think he'd want to move back in."

She smiled at him and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a bright liquidly aqua, as cobalt as the Caribbean. His heart beat once, hard, then returned to its normal cadence.

"Then where would I go?" she asked, and he thought he detected maybe a hint of flirt.

"Next door," he offered, "it would be tight and wouldn't be good for much beyond a good game of Battleship, but wayward undergrads wouldn't get lost."

She laughed, a sheath of hair falling into her face, her locks the same color as the sandstone in Utah -- the same color as the bricks of Old Chem.

He felt something in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

4. He normally didn't stay this late, but his TA was out sick and he needed to get the grades turned in by noon the next day.

The moonlight coming through the single window in his office was pale and diaphanous, and it shone in a small rectangle on the grungy berber of his floor, the small desktop lamp illuminating only the papers in front of him.

There was a sharp knock on his door.

"It's open!"

It swung in to reveal Dr. Scully, holding a couple cartons of what looked like Chinese food and two paper-wrapped chopsticks packs, her face looking hesitant but hopeful, her hair a muzzy halo backlit by the fluorescents in the hallway.

"Your light is on a lot later than normal," she said, holding up the cartons, from which drifted the tangy waft of Pad Thai. "Thought you might need some sustenance."

His stomach gurgled in response.

“Partay,” he said, gesturing her in.

She smiled and shuffled in, setting a carton in front of him and the chopsticks on top.

“Apologies for the dimness, the overheads were giving me a headache,” he said, reaching behind him for the large pillar candles he kept in his office -- the building was notorious for losing power in the summer months, and he’d learned to be prepared. “Too weird to eat by candlelight?” he asked, fingering a lighter.

She shrugged and plopped down into the free chair across from his desk and folded her feet under herself, somehow looking cozy in the notoriously uncomfortable chair. He lit the candles and placed one on the desktop between them, unwrapping the chopsticks and rubbing the handles together. He considered her for a moment and she seemed to do the same.

“Do you always order for two?” he finally asked, opening the top of his container and letting the steam puff up gently around his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled dreamily. It smelled wonderful. She opened her own, deftly spearing a bean sprout and delicately nipping it in half. “It makes great leftovers,” she said, then expertly twirled a small bundle of noodles onto her own utensil and took a happy bite. “And I’ve been curious about you,” she finished around a mouthful of food.

“Me?” he asked, surprised. He shoveled in a mouthful with far less finesse and she chuckled at him.

“Yes,” she said, “you. The enigmatic Dr. Mulder. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Normally, he probably would have said something like oh really? and then made a smartass comment about her spying on him, but something held him back. Instead he said, “...what do you want to know?”

She looked at him, chewing thoughtfully. The candlelight gave her a fresh-faced look, her skin dewy and glowing. She had cupid’s bow lips, the color of overripe raspberries. A thought flashed through his head that they would probably taste as good as they looked.

“How long have you been tenured?”

“Five years.”

“Undergrad?”

“Oxford.” She raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Married?”

He choked and covered for it by coughing. She was still looking at him earnestly, expecting an answer.

“Ah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Almost.”

“Narrowly avoided the institution?” He felt like he was being interviewed by a seasoned criminologist. She was unruffled and laser focused. Normally he would have had sirens going off in his head by now, abort! abort! but he was into it. Really into it.

“Narrowly avoided the spouse .” She grinned and took another bite and he decided to lob one back at her. “Why, you in the market?”

She looked at him levely, chewing no faster or slower than before. When she swallowed, he kept his eyes on the elegant column of her neck, watching her throat work.

“I’m a professor of chemistry, Dr. Mulder,” she said, quirking one eyebrow in a way that charmed him even more. “I’d never rule out adhesion.”

5. It was a tempest. A Goddamn tempest, and it had come rushing off the plains and, propelled by the jet stream, roaring into campus with the force of a freight train. He was halfway to the building that held his evening lecture when the wind picked up, and he was just passing Old Chem when the rain came. A torrential downpour that would have felled even the strongest umbrella. A streak of lighting followed immediately by the crash of thunder and he darted into the Old Chemistry building just to escape it. He was standing in the small foyer looking out the small beaded window panes in the old oak doors -- there were still a few students darting haphazardly into random buildings -- when his phone dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket.

UNIVERSITY EMERGENCY ALERT -- STORM WARNING -- STAY INDOORS -- ALL EVENING CLASSES CANCELLED

Sighing, he turned to head into his office to wait out the storm. He was thinking he had lab results in his briefcase he could probably go over when the power suddenly -- though perhaps not surprisingly -- went out. He drifted up the stairs to his office in the uncomfortable beam of the stairwell’s emergency light box, the bulbs shining brightly in two different directions like some kind of demented wall-eyed robot.

When he got to his door, he saw a small light flitting about the office next to his, then heard a thud and a muffled curse. He knocked lightly.

“Everything all right in there?” he called out.

The door was flung open and a frazzled-looking Dr. Scully stood before him, the too-bright glow of her cell phone flashlight pointing somewhere around his belt buckle.

“Hi,” she said, then rather needlessly added, “the power is out.”

“Welcome to Old Chem,” Mulder said with a trace of sarcasm, just as another flare of lightning highlighted her dressed-down outfit. Unusually, she was wearing jeans, a white tank top that rather nicely showcased the twin pillows of her decolletage and an old chambray shirt, shirtsleeves rolled to her elbows, unbuttoned in the front.

“My phone is about to die and I can’t find my portable charger,” she went on, a bit flustered, “and I also can’t see a god damned thing. If I was near my lab I could probably improvise some kind of glow stick, but I’m… not,” she finished lamely.

“You want some help?” he offered, setting down his briefcase in the hallway. There was an emergency light at the far end, but its light barely reached them. They were mainly highlighted in the red glow of the Exit sign that hung from the ceiling just to their left.

“I was actually on my way out. I give up. I can charge it in my car.”

He’d just noticed that her laptop bag was slung over one shoulder. A crash of deafening thunder shook the building.

“I, uh, wouldn’t go out right now,” he said, holding up the emergency alert on his phone, “it’s biblical out there.” Her shoulders slumped. “Come into my office,” he went on, digging his keys out of his pocket, “I don’t have Pad Thai, but I still have those candles.”

She smiled and he flushed a bit at the memory. It had only been a week and a half ago. She’d been pretty forward, and he’d been about to ask her out when the janitorial crew came rolling down the hallway. They’d quickly emptied the trashcans in the various offices on the floor, but when they kick-started the industrial floor polisher out in the hallway, Mulder had been fairly sure his window had closed.

She passed by him while he held open the door, and was forced to back herself up to the wall so he could squeeze by a moment later to get to the pillar candles and lighter he kept on top of his file cabinet. Their hips grazed ever so slightly as he brushed by her and he caught a heady whiff of her perfume, a spicy, floral scent studded with hints of white musk and bergamot. He had to keep himself from leaning into her to get another sniff.

“You want to have a seat?” he asked, indicating the guest chair.

“Not on your life,” she laughed, “it took three PIlates classes to work out the kink in my back from the last time.”

“Take mine,” he said, and settled himself into the chair across the desk, shifting to try to get comfortable.

After several moments she let out an undignified guffaw and stood.

“Come on,”she said, still chuckling as she rose from his office chair, “let’s go into my office. We’ll be a lot more comfortable.

Slightly chagrined, he grabbed the candles and followed her obediently. She had two nice looking chairs sitting side by side with a small, tasteful side table in between them, and they both settled in.

“Well,” she said, looking at the candles, “this is romantic.”

He chuckled.

“Any idea how long this is supposed to last?” she asked, nodding toward the small window. The sun hadn’t quite set, but the sky was a frightening velvety grey and the branches on the ancient maples outside Old Chem were bending sideways in the thrash.

Mulder pulled up a NOAA app on his phone.

“Radar shows three cells coming through,” he said, pinching the screen to get a bigger picture. “One on top of the other.”

She smirked at the innuendo, but made no move to do or say anything. He tossed the phone on the desktop next to a candle.

“Well,” she said, “any chance you’re up for a game of Battleship?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

She’d actually bought one. He was delighted when, from under her desk, she pulled out a brand new, still-in-the-cellophane, honest-to-god game of Battleship. They were twenty minutes into their second game and she was absolutely handing him his ass.

“How are you so good at this?” he asked her, after he put the last red peg into his submarine.

She studied her board.

“My father was a naval officer,” she said, not looking up, “a Captain when he retired. He was gone a lot. As a kid I would play this game with anyone who would play with me. Even the old lady next door. It made me feel closer to him.”

“Where does he live now?” Mulder asked, then, “C8.”

“Miss,” she said, “He and Mom are in Maryland. B12.”

“Hit. Any siblings?”

“Three.”

“E1?”

“Miss. You?” she asked. “B11.”

“A sister,” he answered, then leaned back and sighed. “You sunk my battleship.

She smiled victoriously. “You giving up?”

“I know when I’ve been bested,” he said.

He looked out the window at the storm as he helped her pack up the game. There was a brief lull in the weather while one cell moved off and another moved in. One of the trees in the diag out her window had been uprooted by the wind and was leaning into one of its compatriots like a soldier limping off the battlefield.

“It’s been nice being stuck here with you,” she said, finally leaning back.

“I’m glad,” Mulder said, nodding to the window, “because we may end up being stuck here all night.”

She put her thumbnail in her mouth and tilted her head. “I can think of worse things.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think you should ask me out.”

He felt himself flush. Again. “If I asked, what would we do?”

“Drinks,” she said, “dancing. Maybe see where the night takes us.”

He nodded at her, considering. He briefly bit the inside of his cheek. “Will you go out with me?” he finally said.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “When?”

He stood. “Right now,” he said, getting a flash of inspiration, a jagged line of lightning streaking outside the window. “Stay right there.”

The candles sputtered as he swung open her office door. The dim red from the Exit sign gave just illumination for him to go into his own office and pull out the bottom drawer of his desk. When he returned, she was sitting up, intrigued. On her desk he deposited a bottle of Lagavulin and two small rocks glasses.

“You like Scotch?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling. He returned her smile and poured her a finger. He did the same and held it up in salute.

“To our first date,” he said.

“Slainte,” she said, tapping her glass into his own and then taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.

The spirit was as smooth as high C, but burned its way down his esophagus, filling his belly with the warm haze of nerve.

He reached for his phone, which was still sitting on top of her desk, swiping and tapping until the soulful purl of Nina Simone’s Feeling Good began to leak through the tiny speakers. He upped the volume so that the sound of the singer’s velvet voice swelled over the roar of the rain outside, set down his glass and held out his hand to her. She took a large swallow, almost finishing what was in her glass, and set it down next to his, taking his hand. He pulled her to him.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, pressing his hand into the amati curve of her back. There wasn’t much room in the small office, certainly not enough for a good dance, but if they swayed, turning in place like a couple of kids at an eighth grade dance, it would get the job done.

She canted her face up to his, blinking slowly. “Yes,” she said in a voice as low as his had been, and then pressed her head to his chest. He pulled her in even more, pulling their clasped hands in close.

She fit perfectly into the lee of him, and something just felt right about it as she settled in, sighing contentedly. It was like a key sliding into the right lock. Click .

The song was over before either of them were ready for it to be. Mulder didn’t move as the brassy sound of the big band faded into nothingness. He scarcely even breathed. Dr. Scully shifted in his arms, but made no move to step back. After a moment, he worked up the nerve to look down at her and found her looking right back.

“What happens next?” he muttered, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

“Next?” she said, voice barely a whisper. “We see where the night takes us.”

[by-nina]

Never Mine to Lose

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 5 – “illicit affairs” by Taylor Swift Rating: K+/T (drinking) Genre: Romance/Angst Word Count: 2,500

A/N: Or, the story of how Riza ends up with one of Roy’s shirts.

It matters—it bothers Riza that when she enters his car, she catches a faint trace of the perfume that she and Madame Christmas had given him for his birthday. The scent all at once soothes her, has her imagining him there with her and all the ways that this night could be different. It’s sweet in one moment, sickening in the next—she rolls down the window, lets the breeze carry the scent off into the night so she can properly breathe and be on her way.

Riza knows better than to indulge in a high that she cannot afford.

———

The last day of the working week has been nothing but one delay after another. By evening, Roy’s patience is already wearing thin. He’d gotten stuck in a meeting that ran far longer than necessary, had to wait around for urgent paperwork that was supposed to have been delivered to his office in the morning but had gotten swapped with documents that were meant for other departments, and been roped into entertaining a visiting diplomat who wasn’t even his guest. The day ends at 1900 hours, at which point he literally sprints out of his office because he’s running late for a date.

He brushes his hair flat onto his head as he grabs his coat, keys, and briefcase, along with a change of clothes that he keeps in a desk drawer. Leaving his team to wrap up the work that has piled up due to the day’s setbacks, Roy hollers instructions and a hasty thank-you to Lieutenant Hawkeye over his shoulder on his way out. He’s out of Eastern Command and at its parking lot in just three minutes, which is when he realizes his mistake.

HAWKEYE, RIZA G., reads the dog tag attached to the set of keys in his hand. Roy squints. Sure enough, he is holding the large silver key to the Lieutenant’s car, a little brass one stamped with 611 for her locker at the military’s gym, and three others that he doesn’t recognize. He turns around in a brief moment of hesitation, considers running back to get his own keys—there isn’t even any time to wonder how he ended up with the wrong ones. His date is expecting him in about fifteen minutes at a location that’s thirty minutes out, and he still has to change out of his uniform somewhere along the way.

Roy clicks his tongue impatiently, steps into the car, and starts the engine.

———

The Colonel has been gone for an hour when his team finally completes the day’s work. With a collective sigh and a stretch of their weary limbs, they quickly set off to their respective plans for the evening. Havoc and Breda decide to try out a sports club that has just opened downtown; Falman heads to the market, mentioning a new book that he has been meaning to get his own copy of; and Fuery goes to meet his parents for dinner at a nearby café. The room is abuzz with their chatter in one moment, and in the next, Riza finds herself leaving the office last.

A pair of keys glints on the Colonel’s desk as Riza is tidying it. One long silver key for his car, and a copper one which must be for his front door. Riza picks up the keys for a closer look as it dawns on her that there has been a mistake—that perhaps he had carelessly taken her keys after she’d had to move both their cars in the parking lot that afternoon (no thanks to a direct superior who had forgotten to have slots secured for a visiting diplomat and his staff), or perhaps she had given the keys to him in her hurry to attend to her other responsibilities. Now, he has taken her car across East City to go on a date, and she must take his to go about her own plans.

The walk down to the parking lot is heavier than it should be. It might not matter so much if the day hadn’t been incredibly stressful, even for Riza, or if she and Colonel Mustang were on the same page about the purpose of his ongoing date. But it matters, of course, because he is taking her car for his work. It matters because the date is another one of his undercover meetings, and he is meeting the informant for only the first time tonight.

It matters—it bothers Riza that when she enters his car, she catches a faint trace of the perfume that she and Madame Christmas had given him for his birthday. The scent all at once soothes her, has her imagining him there with her and all the ways that this night could be different. It’s sweet in one moment, sickening in the next—she rolls down the window, lets the breeze carry the scent off into the night so she can properly breathe and be on her way.

Riza knows better than to indulge in a high that she cannot afford.

———

Miss Vivienne Smith makes pleasant company, all things considered. She is lovely and tall, her brown hair set in delicate curls and her posture both elegant and relaxed. She is able to carry a conversation with ease and quick wit. It’s easy to see her as an asset in terms of gathering intelligence, and it’s certainly helpful to be working with other informants around Amestris besides Vanessa, Madeleine, and the other girls at Madame Christmas’ bar.

Tonight, however, they aren’t trading information. This first meeting is for introductions and pleasantries and, in part, for an assessment of their potential partnership. Roy must impress not only Miss Vivienne, but also her employer, Mr. Keith Schreiber, a public relations specialist who works with businessmen and high-ranking military officials alike. A successful enterprise like theirs is just the kind of connection Roy needs in order to outsmart the powerful and influential obstacles to his ambitions.

Over dinner and wine, Roy relies on his usual charms and charisma to get to know Miss Vivienne and what she does at Mr. Schreiber’s firm. They talk about the news, but nothing too serious, because that would be bordering on talking about business secrets in public. They talk about their friends and other interests, at which point Roy realizes that Miss Vivienne wants to get to know him on a more personal basis than he even bothered to consider.

At this point, it all feels wrong.

For all of Miss Vivienne’s pleasant qualities, his mind is somewhere far less romantic than this lovely restaurant. It wanders back to the office on a languid afternoon, to silent drives for work for which he cannot keep his eyes on the road, back to the damn parking lot where he should have left all these thoughts when he left in the Lieutenant’s car. Perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps it’s the traces of Riza’s—the Lieutenant’s presence in the car and in the keys in his coat pocket that make this evening so unbearable.

Perhaps the problem is that there isn’t anyone else he would rather be with tonight.

———

On her way home to Cameron, Riza takes the road less traveled by.

It will take her an hour longer to get to her destination, but she needs to be distracted. Black Hayate doesn’t seem to mind. He’s been well-behaved in the passenger’s seat since she picked him up from her apartment, and he excitedly stands on his hind legs and leans towards the window when they drive past the moonlit rolling landscapes just outside East City, the lush mountains and sparkling rivers leading to her hometown. Riza smiles for the first time this evening, both at Hayate and at the view.

She makes a mental note to have the car thoroughly cleaned of the outside dirt and Hayate’s fur on the car seat once she returns from her trip. That’s in addition to paying for what she uses of Roy’s gasoline.

It’s so much trouble for one little mistake that wasn’t entirely her fault in the first place, if at all, and she curses Roy under her breath for it. What a mess he’s made of her plans tonight. She had been looking forward to her trip to Cameron for weeks, and something like accidentally switching vehicles should only be trivial, it shouldn’t get to her—but not on a night when the figurative distance between them feels greater than the distance she is driving. Not on this night when she is most in need of his company. Not when she is on her way to her mother’s grave.

Her tears fall before she even reaches Cameron.

———

The night ends with a courteous kiss on the hand and an empty promise of meeting again.

Miss Vivienne waves goodbye to Roy after he has dropped her off at the steps of the East City Hotel. It’s only then that Roy breathes a sigh of relief at last and a knot comes undone in his chest. At last, he is alone and there are no more appearances for him to keep, no unwelcome company that he has to force himself to entertain. The empty passenger’s seat feels far more comfortable than Miss Vivienne’s presence did.

In the quiet, Riza’s absence, colored by the mere thought of her, fills the space with something—whatever it is that was missing from his date with Miss Vivienne.

It’s all at once sobering and more intoxicating than any drink he’s had tonight.

Roy arrives at his apartment shortly after and allows himself inside with a spare key which he keeps under his doormat. Coming back from the evening he’s just had doesn’t quite feel like coming home; it’s as if he were a stranger intruding on his personal space. His chest feels heavy and unsettled with each step he takes. His shoulders curl forward with all the discomposure of a man who’s just had to leave his lover without being seen. Between his fingers, he grips Riza’s keys like a secret he needs to keep.

In the few hours he remains awake, Roy keeps a bottle of brandy for company on his couch. It isn’t a peaceful silence. Glass by glass, he imagines all the nights he has had to spend dressed to impress with a coat and tie and an insincere smile—has it been a hundred, or a thousand, or a million times? He’s lost count by now, but it hardly matters. His mind fills the blanks with Riza in each one, indulging him in all sorts of imagined scenarios where he takes her out on a lovely night before he takes her home.

At some point, he has to admit that it’s no longer the alcohol that has him thinking of Riza this way. It’s her—it’s the years they have shared together, the home they have made in each other, and god, how he wants her.

Ever the fool, Roy reclines in his couch and holds her keys to his lips, where the dog tag sits cool and solid against his skin—no substitute for what her lips must feel like. On Monday, he will tell her that the chain of her dog tag came undone at some point when he was using her car. He will tell her that he’s sorry for the inconvenience, but he simply cannot remember where he had dropped it, and that she can simply ask for another one from the logistics department.

Tonight, he falls asleep with the small comfort that he will have one small thing to keep from her and remind him of her wherever he goes.

———

It begins to rain as Riza is seated by Edith Hawkeye’s grave.

She would have recognized the smell of the earth if she hadn’t fallen asleep with her arms around her knees and her tears soaking up her sleeve. Hayate quickly leaps to his feet, nudges at her with his snout and barks at her, but the downpour has already caught her by the time she opens her eyes, and she is soaked from head to toe by the time she gets to Roy’s car. Riza opens the passenger’s side door for Hayate before rushing to the trunk where she had deposited her bag of clothes for the trip. Of course, it’s at this time, of all times, that the trunk gets stuck and refuses to open.

Riza rushes back inside, dripping and shivering in the driver’s seat, cursing again because now there’s more cleaning to be done before she can return Roy’s car on Monday, and because he doesn’t even seem to have one of his coats lying around for her to borrow until she gets to the inn. Then, she reaches into his glove compartment, and she is lucky enough to find a plain white shirt, still crisp from being folded at the laundry shop. She quickly strips off her top and her undershirt, and when she pulls his shirt on, the warmth soothes her and stops her shivering almost immediately.

The local inn isn’t too far away from the cemetery, a mere five-minute drive. Riza apologizes for the trail of water that she leaves as she checks in, then heads up to the room she will be sharing with Hayate. It’s small and dimly lit, containing only a rough-hewn bed for one and a side table to match, but it’s more than she and Hayate will need for one night. It’s small enough to be cozy—it should be small enough to dissuade unwarranted thoughts, like the desire for another person’s warmth.

The silent solitude doesn’t make for good enough company, however. Those thoughts don’t leave her even when she has finally relieved herself of her drenched bottoms and dried off her skin and hair. She sinks into the bed, warmed by the old woven sheets and Roy’s white button-down, too exhausted to change into something of her own, too desolate to try coming up with a proper excuse to keep it on her person. Her rationality, her last defense when it comes to matters of the heart, utterly fails her.

An hour, then another trickles by without any promise of falling asleep. The longer Riza lies awake, the worse she thinks of this unkind hand she and Roy have been dealt. The cruel irony isn’t lost on her, how she must look the other way every damn night that Roy isn’t with her, in spite of the truth about what he means to her. She cannot scream. She finds solace in listening to the crash of thunder and the rush of the downpour outside her window. She whispers her frustrations into the storm so that no one can hear, because she can only ever allow her emotions to exist in secret.

It’s one moment of truth amid the million lies she must continue to live behind:

She is his; she always has been.

She knows just as well that he is hers.

And Roy knows—deep down, he must know this, too. They have been together far too long for anyone else to speak in the same secret language that they have shared for most of their lives. Surely Roy will not mind when he notices that he is missing one white shirt, and he will understand what it means to her, allow her to keep this one clandestine promise of keeping her company in whatever manner they can allow.

These are the hopes of a fool, but on this night, a fool is what Riza allows herself to be.