#he almost lost himself in the process but he prevailed

[claymorexpunisher]

Thinking about how Jey tried his damnedest to keep himself and TBL together.

[oxbellows]

Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

 It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost. 

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory. 

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it? 

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king. 

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope. 

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it. 

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him. 

Perhaps. 

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised. 

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition. 

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

 Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

 "Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap. 

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears. 

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

 Your father thought you dead.

 Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward. 

 He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him. 

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered. 

 Faramir would never plan a suicide mission. 

 Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones. 

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

 Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

 He reached the top of the stairs. 

 A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.” 

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

 Boromir ran like he had never done in his life. 

 For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

 He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

 In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

  “Faramir?” Boromir called warily. 

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!” 

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot. 

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand. 

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir. 

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying. 

Boromir dropped to his knees. 

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell. 

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill. 

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart. 

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it. 

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs. 

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

 “No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

 The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

 Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief. 

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply ­covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn’t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

 Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

[lipstickghoulie]

Reconciliation

(Astarion/female reader)

This was written because of the breeding kink challenge on an Astarion server!

Mature content, minors DNI. Mentions of the ascension ritual and Astarion ascending, breeding kink, unprotected p in v, cum and pre-cum, praise and more.

It’s over. The city saved, the nether brain defeated, good prevails over evil yet again… Blah blah blah. Revelry has consumed the city for the past week, celebrations overtaking the streets before the rubble even cleared and before most repairs are even under way. Hells, there’s still chunks of mind flayers tentacles littering the gutters and pieces of destroyed nautiloid ships bobbing up and down in the murky, Foundry-polluted water by the docks and yet, all that anyone can seem to focus on is celebrating their near-brush with death and the glorious aftermath. Not that you can blame them, exactly, especially when even your most stoic companions seem to be embracing the excuse to unwind and accept the accolades from the citizens of Baldur’s Gate.

But you? You’re numb to it all, have been even before the last killing blow to the brain. You’ve lost too much, been fighting for too long and you feel like you’ve made too many mistakes as a result of being bone-tired and mentally exhausted for weeks. Why else would you have gone along with it when Astarion wanted to ascend? At the time, when he was looking at you from underneath the fan of his lashes, imploring you with that soft “please” that spoke of the years that he had spent helpless and afraid, it had seemed like an obvious choice. Like when you had given him the book of necromancy at his request; you had only ever wanted to help him, give Astarion every tool he needed to feel less scared and like he could defend himself against anyone who ever wanted to hurt him again.

The reality of letting loose seven thousand spawn that seemed more feral than anything and who seemed to have a personal grudge against your lover seemed like the frosting on the cake of personal justifications to let him go ahead with the ritual.

In the aftermath though, when Astarion suddenly seemed so distant when he wasn’t spouting off his cartoonishly terrible plans for the future, when he was suddenly rambling about taking over the city and even the world when this power was just supposed to be about keeping him safe… well, suffice it to say that with every passing moment, your stomach sank further and you had started to realize that you had made a huge mistake that you couldn’t fix or take back. That maybe in the process of making sure that he could never be hurt again, you had hurt him worse than anyone by giving someone who was not ready for it such dark, terrible power.

You tried your best to ignore it, ignore him and focus on coming preparations for the coming battle but Astarion made that impossible when he cornered you after dinner one night at the Elfsong and started doing that voice that you hated, the one that harkened back to when he had seduced you in the first place. All brittle performance, trite lines and paper thin smirks, no sincerity. It made your skin crawl and itch like being caught under a locust plague spell. How could he think that performance was what you wanted, especially after all this time and everything that you two had been through together? How could he think that you’d want this fake imitation of Astarion instead of the real thing? Even when he was moody, whiny or short-tempered, at least it was real.

Your irritation with the terrible play acting of seduction of love almost caused you to barely pay attention to the words themselves and when you did finally tune in what he was trying to convince you to do, you felt a trickle of ice ooze down your spine. He wanted to make you his spawn. Despite Astarion waxing on and on about how terrible it was to be a spawn since you had met him, despite you never showing any interest in being a vampire whatsoever, he wanted to shackle you to him as his slave. This was horrifying to the utmost degree. Needless to say, but you had refused most sternly and things had escalated into a cold and heartbreaking end of your relationship. You knew that he had a terrible propensity for cruelty so in the scheme of things, you felt like you had gotten off fairly easily since Astarion just rambled on about how you’d regret this and how ungrateful that you were. His tongue could cut and wound worse than any blade so you hoped this was a sign that the prickly but loving man that you had been so fond of was still buried in there somewhere but really, you suspected that maybe Astarion just truly didn’t care about you now that he had the power he always had craved. Maybe you really were just a means to an end all along. The thoughts made tears sting at the back of your eyes but there was no time to let them fall and be self indulgent in your grief.

Thankfully, you hadn’t had much time between the breakup and the final battle to think about Astarion and your future without him at all. He seemed unaffected and snarky about it, still declaring loudly how excited he was to create his army of spawn and coat the city in fog, how no one would ever be able to tell him what to do ever again. It quieted down slightly when Karlach remarked that it seemed like Astarion was happy to follow in the shoes of his former master and that she was glad that you had gotten out while you could, though his face was murderous even while his mouth remained shut.

He was useful in the coming fights, you’d give him that much. Still always protecting your blind spots as well as he had when you were together, still quick as lightning to slip his daggers in between the ribs of any enemy who let their guards down for even a moment. Astarion’s new powers seemed to fill him with a childish glee even in the midst of destroying the Emperor and fighting off the group’s former dream guardians.

Still, he had disappeared before the smoke had even cleared when the nether brain was slain and the city saved. You imagined he was probably out having reckless nights of debauchery, creating spawn from the beautiful and grateful Baldurians out there celebrating the end of the apocalypse itself. While the thought filled you with no small amount of jealousy and sorrow, you hoped that he was happy… if Astarion was even capable of it, in his current state.

You certainly didn’t feel like you were capable of happiness, at least not right now. You had the use of the rooms at the Elfsong for another couple of weeks, at least, so while your friends headed out on their respective journeys (or engaged in their own small amounts of celebration before doing so), you mostly stayed in bed or the bath, alternating between staring blankly at the ceiling or slipping into bouts of fitful slumber.

You were trying to fall into one of those such sleeps now, facing the wall with your back to the rest of the room, tears trailing silently down your cheeks as you finally let yourself mourn. Mourn the end of the only love that you had ever known, the one that you had looked forward to spending the rest of your life with. You and Astarion had never discussed the future since even killing Cazador had seemed like such an impossible feat for such a long time to him but secretly, hadn’t you thought that you’d adventure together or at least be together in some capacity when this was all over?

You had presumed too much and now it felt like losing a limb, like-

The bed dipped as something, someone, pressed down on the mattress behind you. You freeze but the familiar scents of bergamot, brandy and rosemary clue you in to who it is before you have to worry about any bold intruders. Arms wrap around your midsection firmly as they have dozens of times before. As if they’d never left at all.

“Missed me?” Astarion murmured into your ear before burying his face in your hair and taking a long, shaky exhale, as if the smell of the shampoo you used would help ground him. “You should be flattered to know that I missed you, little love.”

His voice had an air of practiced airiness, like this is just a normal conversation between two lovers. But the veneer was brittle and so thin that you know you’d see through it easily if you turned to look at him. You don’t though, a bit at a loss for how to handle this. There wasn’t a Volo guide on what to do if your powerful vampire ex-boyfriend tried to snuggle with you.

You finally said evenly and wryly, “I’m surprised you thought of me at all. I thought you’d be out creating an army of spawn across the city so they could build your murder pits and do your bidding.”

“Hmmm, yes, well, I would have done that but it’s such slim pickings these days, what with so many casualties from the battles and all-“ Astarion began to say, voice as sardonic as always but maybe you’ve had enough. You’re not in the mood for wordplay and dancing around subjects that make him uncomfortable, not any more. If you don’t owe each other anything, if you’re not together any more, why should you let him have humor and sarcasm as a shield like you always have?

You interrupted him sharply, your voice ringing out as true and cutting as any paladin’s shining sword, “Tell the truth or leave. I mean it, Astarion.”

The heaviest kind of silence stretched between you both for what felt like several minutes before Astarion sighed in resignation, his grip tightening on you as if he was scared that someone would try to take you away.

“I tried to make some moves to sire some spawn the first night that I left. I went to a tavern across town, found someone who seemed like they wouldn’t be missed. Easy, right? The sort of thing I’ve done so much that I should be able to do it in a trance. However… they tried to kiss me before my fangs ever got close to their neck and I couldn’t do it. My stomach rolled, nausea took over and I… threw up,” Astarion admitted hollowly, shame and disgust coloring his tone. You didn’t have to look at him to know how embarrassed that he was, both at the event itself and at having told you about it.

Your former paramour seemed to be waiting to see if you’d laugh at him or say something insulting but you don’t, feeling a stab of pity for Astarion despite everything, despite how difficult he could be. You hadn’t really relished the idea of him creating a legion of vampire groupies in general but it still must have been humiliating for him to vomit in front of some stranger.

When you didn’t comment on it, Astarion carried on his tale, his words reverting back to their usual sarcasm a bit even as he tried to be sincere. “So, two centuries of trauma doesn’t disappear overnight, as it turns out. Who knew? Anywaaaays, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past couple of days and I realized that I’ve never had that reaction with you since I trust you, since I lo… like you. And maybe I didn’t truly want spawn after all.”

Clever fingers that could take apart the most intricate of locks at the Counting House in minutes moved from your sides down to your hips, rubbing circles there through the thin material of your nightgown. You shivered and you felt him huff out a chuckle before he continued talking, “Maybe what I don’t want is servants and people who will tell me whatever I want to hear. Maybe what I needed all along was the one woman who I could believe in, who believed in me enough in return to give me all of this power. You and I are destined to be together, to make each other happy…”

You’d relaxed under Astarion’s touch, your spine less stiff and defensive as you listened to his rambling. You were still angry at him but gods, you’d missed him after all. And despite his obvious attempts at flattery, he still sounded like the man you had fallen for. Maybe it wasn’t the ritual that had changed him as much as it was Astarion’s own hunger for power and arrogance at finally having it.

“We did break up though,” You couldn’t help but point out in a quiet murmur.

Astarion seemed to choose to ignore that.

“You know, what I really think would be better than an army of spawn is fucking a baby into you,” Astarion remarked almost idly. As if he was suggesting something as mundane as popping down to the shops. “That’s a better legacy than having to teach some simpering nobodies how to hunt and make sure they don’t kill the wrong people. I know that you and I would both enjoy it more-“

You shot up in the bed and finally turned to face him, your eyes wide and disbelieving. Astarion looked as beautiful as he ever did, hair perfectly coiffed and and his heavy brocade outfit without a thread out of place. The only sign that anything was remiss was the even heavier bags under his eyes that spoke of days without rest and filled with an insurmountable amount of stress.

“What are you talking about?! You are undead, you can’t have a child and we are not together!” You rattled off in succession, your tone disbelieving at Astarion’s audacity. “Did the ascension scramble your fucking brains?”

The idiot has the nerve to bat his eyelashes at you as if you’ve offended him and as if he’s the injured party here. Gods alive, you wanted to strangle him more than you ever had before and that was saying something.

“Language, my treasure,” Astarion admonished lightly, though he changed tack and went on to explain quickly when he saw signs of your temper rising in your expression. “I’ve spent some time skimming Cazador’s notes and, it seems that an ascendant vampire should be as virile as any man. Maybe even more so…”

His hands gently pushed you down onto the bed as he moved to lay nearly on top of you, Astarion’s eyes turning from nervous to sultry in an instant. His head moved forward enough to press slow, lingering kisses along the edge of your face and jaw until his mouth was near your ear. He muttered softly, “Don’t you want to put it to the test with me? It’ll be even better than old times. My stamina is improved with my new powers and I imagine that extends to the boudoir. I could leave you sore and leaking my seed, stuffing you full over and over again until it takes… and even more after that just to be certain…”

For a moment, your face flamed with heat as you considered it. You didn’t know that you might have a breeding kink before this moment but hells, you hadn’t known you had one for praise either before you had bedded Astarion. You almost let yourself imagine it for a moment, being taken and stuffed full of his cum repeatedly, your core practically pulsing with sheer, unadulterated need at the thought of it. But then you backed away, as much as you could with Astarion crowding you in on this bed, and shook your head slowly. He frowned deeply and pulled you back down so your back was to him again, his arms restraining you in a fierce hug.

You couldn’t see his face but this was a small sacrifice. You hoped this meant that Astarion had given up on this harebrained idea for now, had settled for cuddles instead. You had no such luck though as he started up the conversation yet again less than a minute later.

His voice had some of that wheedling tone that it used to take sometimes when he wanted something and you were being difficult (which, in Astarion’s mind, was seemingly whenever you wouldn’t give in to his demands immediately and enthusiastically).

“And why can’t you give me this? You’ve been saying you love me for ages but you wouldn’t let me turn you into a vampire and now you won’t even let me breed you,” Astarion whined against the back of your neck, his arms closing in even further around your midsection as he grinds himself against your back. Even through all of your layers of clothing, you could feel him, hard and needy. You almost felt like you could feel the faintest hint of dampness, like he had precum soaking through his breeches, as if his cock was trying to convince you to give in too. If you weren’t so annoyed, it would be enough to make your own body respond in kind but as it is, you just huffed out an irritated sigh. How was he so turned on already just at the thought of this?!

“We are broken up-“ You stressed again, voice firm and cold, but the words cut off when one of his hands slipped underneath the waistband of your underwear and beelined for your center. Astarion gathered some of the wetness that you hadn’t even realized was there on the pads of his fingertips and smoothly worked it over your clit as you choked on a very undignified and startled sputtering noise. You couldn’t see his reaction but you could feel his pout morphing into a smirk against your skin before he planted a very smug, sensual kiss next to where your pulse was jumping wildly in your neck.

Airily, Astarion replied, “Are we, darling? Doesn’t seem to be the case right now. At least your body seems to want me, despite your silly little protests.”

You opened your mouth to argue further but the words fled from you in a hurry as Astarion reached down with his other hand and tore the fabric of your simple cotton panties away, the sound of stitches ripping unbelievably loud in the near quiet of the room. The fingers that were massaging your clit moved down to your opening and sunk in, two of them, your pussy offering no resistance at all. They sunk in as if to a warm bath after a long day; all liquid, welcoming heat. You whimpered and found yourself spreading your legs so he could thrust them in more easily.

How quickly you had given in to him! After everything he had done, after all of the stupid things that he had said. All it took was a few muttered words in your ear and his fingers delving into you and you were Astarion’s again. You’d be ashamed if you weren’t so eager to feel him making you feel amazing all over again.

“Please, please,” Astarion rasped desperately against the shell of your ear, one of his fangs glancing against the skin as he humped more furiously into your lower back. You could definitely feel more damp; his dick had to be dripping pre-cum by now and absolutely ruining his pretty clothing. “Please tell me that you want me, want this. That you want me to fuck you so thoroughly that you forget what it’s like to not be dripping my cum. Need this, need you, tell me that you need this too.”

Both of you were losing any semblance of composure so fast that it’s like it was never there at all. Astarion prodded at a spot inside of you that made you keen and grab at one of his forearms hard enough that it would have hurt him before but he didn’t even acknowledge it now.

You barely had time to gasp out a “yes, I want this, want you” before Astarion was yanking his fingers back out of you unceremoniously. You looked at him with eyes brimming with upset at the loss but you were soothed by him manhandling you onto your back, treating you with the sight of him lapping away at the digits that had been inside of you with a pleased expression that would be more at home on the face of someone enjoying their favorite meal. You watched, spellbound, as Astarion licked your arousal off of his fingers and leaned forward to introduce your own taste to your waiting mouth. The tang of it didn’t phase you and you met his lips eagerly, kissing each other as if you’d spent decades apart instead of mere days. You feel him rucking your night gown up further until it’s uselessly over your stomach and during this time, Astarion must have undone his breeches since you jolted as you suddenly felt his cockhead slap wetly down on your clit.

A groaning sound broke out of you at the motion and Astarion grinned, his teeth showing as ferally and triumphantly as if you had begged him and not the other way around. He gripped the base of his shaft hard enough for you to be briefly concerned about his penis and slowly trailed his cock down to where your arousal dripped and beckoned him in, tracing the slit at the top of his dick teasingly over your lower lips.

“Aw, looks like you did miss me,” Astarion crooned condescendingly, his eyes bright with a mixture victory, relief and desire so wild and powerful that it would put druids to shame. “Don’t worry, I’ll always take care of you, my pretty girl. You know you’re the only one for me, forever and always.”

You didn’t get much more warning than that before he pushed into your pussy, every vein and curve of his cock dragging along your sensitive walls the whole way in. Your hands scrabbled at his back, mindful of the raised lines of his scars under your fingertips, as a gasp punched its way out of your lungs at the forceful but arousing entry. Astarion pulled his body back a little to watch his cock bully its way into you, his gaze heated and enraptured, mouth agape a bit at the beautiful sight.

“Gods, you feel good. I was so stupid for letting you end things. This is where my cum belongs,” Astarion groaned out, voice cracking as pushed forward into you again easily. You’re both so wet from your combined arousal that the lewd noises coming from your coupling are almost loud enough to drown out his words, his balls moving against your skin in another cacophony of carnal noise.

You squeaked as he reached down and rubbed at the ridge of your clit again, the sensation nearly too much as he fucked you into the mattress. Your back arched underneath him, Astarion’s dick plunged into you as your juices slicked your upper thighs and still, he wouldn’t stop talking.

“Going to fill you up so well, darling, we’ll never be apart again. You’ll be so stuffed with me, forever, always at my side and being such a good fucking girl for me,” Astarion growled, his eyes flicking up from where your pussy was getting thoroughly rammed by him to make intense eye contact instead.

This should scare you. It should freak you out a bit how possessive that Astarion is, how afraid that he is that you’ll leave him or go somewhere where he can’t reach you that he’d anything to keep you shackled to him. It occured to you now that he’s probably spent this time apart anxious and worried over what the next steps could be to wriggle his way back into your life and bereft of any other ideas, he had arrived on knocking you up. You should probably be more annoyed than you are but right now, your lust is running the show and besides… you always knew that your love wasn’t good at planning.

A few more presses of his cock into you, the veins on the shaft shiny under the torchlight in the room on every pull out of your cunt, and you’re orgasming violently, your blunt nails scraping up his spine as he didn’t slow down. Even as you clenched and trembled around him and cried out his name, Astarion increased his pace until he was panting and near to cumming himself.

“So fucking good for me, so good to me. I love you, I love you-“ Astarion gasped loudly, his hands leaving angry-red bruising imprints of his finger tips on your hips as he thrust into you. Then you felt it, felt the hot ropes of cum splattering the insides of your cunt, the temperature change jarring compared to the coolness of the vampire’s flesh. You flinched at how long the act of cumming seemed to go on, the extreme volume of it making it so that you felt the pearly drops spilling out of you around where you both still connected even before he pulled out. You were truly flooded with his seed now, able to feel it painting the soft skin of your upper thighs as well as the sore but happy sleeve of your pussy.

Astarion slumped over you after he carefully disengaged his cock from you, his breath hitching as he did so even though he didn’t need to breath. His forehead bumped against yours and he hummed for a few moments before he asked you, unsure and needy for reassurance, “Are we… okay? Are we back together now?”

You sighed in a way that showed that you were exasperated but you pressed your forehead back against his regardless. Who were you fooling? Ascension or not, this moron was yours and you were his. You’d always figure things out with him, one way or another. You loved him and maybe that was enough.

“Yeah. We’re back together.”

Astarion’s face brightened at your words and his head dipped down to kiss you, languidly, his lips and fangs rubbing against your mouth in a way that showed his contentment now that things were settled.

“Good. I’ll give you a few minutes and then I’m fucking my cum back into you,” Astarion said without preamble, a smirk as slow as a grease cantrip taking over his face.

Ah. It seemed that he was serious about trying for a family. Your cheeks turned a rosy, pinkish hue at the thought all over again.

Well, what was the worst that could happen? The chances of this actually happening were probably low anyways, right?

…right?

[cadmusarchives]

“The Life of Mazoku”

-Busa, Jerry

Eugene Mazoku is a well-known person for having great skills in fighting and parkour. He belongs to a group called The Big 5 which wonders around their community apprehending bad people. The Big 5 contains Eugene and his friends from the camp of Scout Rangers who left with him which are Richard, Kirill, Kai, and Raijin who wonders around their community apprehending bad people. They all have the same mindset and their vibes click together that's why they are inseparable. Eugene Mazoku was raised like a jerky boy who doesn't easily laugh because at an early age his parents left him and that made him a strong person. Eugene may look physically strong and heartless but he longed for love and care because since even his family had abandoned him and chosen an affluent lifestyle over him, he believed that one cared about him. Because of what he experienced and his childhood experiences, he needs to feel that someone understands him. One night when Eugene was walking down an alley, he come across a group of goons that tries to kidnap Angeline Busan. Eugene swiftly comes into action and puts down the goons, saving Angeline in the process. Angeline Busan is a beautiful and independent woman who lives by herself in a condo close to where Eugene lives. She will be the one who Eugene Mazoku will fall in love with and the one who will take care of him. After the incident, they started seeing each other more often and Eugene would always pick up Angeline from his work to make sure she goes home safely and their feelings slowly develops. At first, Eugene was hesitant because his friend from The Big 5 laughs at him saying that he has become a soft boy after meeting a girl he saved his priority was shifted to Angeline and they no longer see each other that much. They said Eugene isn't the strongest amongst them anymore and has stopped doing the things they do before such as parkouring together and roaming around. Eugene did not like what he heard so he confronts his friends and almost had a fight when them which resulted in separation. Eugene never stopped helping others, only this time he does it by himself because he always wants to see Angeline. One day when Richard, Kirill, Kai, and Raijin come across a syndicate that was doing a deal on an abandoned ship where they most likely parkour and hang around, they tried stopping them but as a result, Richard, Kirill, and Raijin were shot to death and Kai was the only one to survive. Kai contacts Eugene and told him what happened and they immediately reported it to the police but justice wasn't served so they put the law on their hands and went after the syndicates that killed their friends. They started building up their names as a drug dealer assuming that those Syndicates will notice them and hire them as their goons or pusher which then happened when someone contacted Kai to meet up at a certain location for further discussion. He immediately recognized those goons who shot his friends to death and compromises their mission by shooting them. They were pinned down and lost hope in life because they knew they were going to die. Good thing that Eugene knows how to parkour and get out of the scenario as soon as possible before they even get to him but Kai was left there because his emotions prevailed over him and did not know what to do. Eugene has no choice but to leave him because if he comes back he will die because of the number of goons shooting Kai. Eugene immediately contacted the Police but it took them an hour to come. When they arrived in the scenario Kai was found dead and Eugene was paralyzed for a moment. Angeline heard of the incident and he comes to see Eugene comfort him. He was so devasted and did not want to live because his friends were his only family and they are the only people to turn to when there is a problem. Angeline was Eugene's only hope of surviving because Angeline never stopped understanding Eugene and he eventually realize how much he love Angeline. In the end, Eugene married Angeline and vowed to protect her at all costs and love her unconditionally.

[chain-of-bronze]

What houses I think the TMI Characters would be in and why

by a huge potterhead

Here are the house values I will be using to determine where each character belongs (as quoted from Wikipedia)

Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry

Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty.

Ravenclaw values intelligence, learning, wisdom and wit.

Slytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness

Clary - Hufflepuff

Before I explain, Clary definitely has the bravery and courage of any pure Gryffindor, but she also has a fierce loyalty and a desire for justice that acts as a catalyst for said bravery. Time and again Clary throws herself into unknown situations to save the people she loves, and her desire to do ‘what is right’ can be seen so clearly in her actions across the franchise, such as going into the Hotel Dumort to save Simon, and taking Emma under her wing. Some may call her insane, I call her faithful.

Jace - Ravenclaw (hear me out)

Truthfully, Jace fits the criteria for all the houses and I somehow think calling Jace a Gryffindor is almost the obvious choice. Like Clary, Jace’s bravery is unmatched, he’s the first to offer himself as a sacrifice and will throw himself into any battle. However, underneath that is an extremely well educated man, and as we see, a very clever strategist. Like all Herondales, Jace has an appreciation for the finer art of Knowledge, and his wit constantly reaches new levels. This may seem like the odd choice for Jace, but it feels right.

Izzy - Gryffindor

Izzy is most definitely a Gryffindor. I think many people would type her as a Slytherin, but Isabelle’s foundation is built on valiance. Izzy tries her hardest to be self-sufficient, not rely on others, and save the world all at once. This is evident in why she did not want a parabatai. I also think Izzy has a very traditional Gryffindor personality. She lives proudly and fiercely and she’s always ready to stand up for others.

Alec - Ravenclaw

I feel like this one is a given? Alec was always the more brainy one of the Lightwoods, and although I have cast Jace as a Ravenclaw as well, Alec is arguably one of the smartest TMI characters. Honestly, he fits the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor criteria too but to give him another house would be a huge discredit to his logical thinking across the franchise. Come on, there is a reason he is now the Consul.

Simon - Gryffindor

Once again this may be a controversial take. I think most people would see Simon as a Hufflepuff; especially since I cast Clary as one too. But Simon has managed to prevail in almost every life or death situation held against him. Although he’s often mocked as the scaredy cat of the original group, I often find that Simon was the bravest for voicing fears they all had. It takes courage to do things that don’t just consist of throwing your life around in battle. No other character has been a mundane, downworlder, shadowhunter and lost their memories in the process. Simon became brave because of his circumstances, but that doesn’t make it any less authentic. I think it was always there deep down in his personality.

Magnus - Slytherin

Is this an obvious choice? I debated between this and Ravenclaw. I find Slytherin suits him best. Although this house has a certain bad reputation in the HP books, we can see that not all Slytherins are bad (see Cursed Child). Magnus has a talent, beyond his magic. What sets him out from other warlocks is his attitude and his penchant for fashion. For most of TMI, Magnus is often the character everyone turns to for advice, or to fix a situation. Magnus’ reputation precedes him, precisely because he’s a resourceful and wise character. Although Magnus is flippant and soft-hearted, there is a reason he’s viewed as one of the most powerful warlocks.

[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.” 

[peachys-archived-posts]

Spooked

Summary: Injured, Jigen makes his escape to the readers apartment, little does the reader know, she's in for a scare.

Warning: Blood, gunshot wound, mentioned death, slight angst?

My AO3

One of your later nights, watching the news for any sign of your thieving gunman and his crew. Jigen could protect himself nonetheless, but you were still worried, with a world of possibilities out there, anything could have happened.

Your phone lights up on the cushion beside you, the caller ID on the screen making your heart stutter. Fumbling the phone at first, you steady your hand and pick up.

"I'm on my way, I'll be there shortly." Jigen's gruff voice barks at you. "Jigen, wait-"

The phone beeps in your ear, indicating that the call has ended. letting out a frustrated sigh, you drop your phone back down on the cushion.

Jigen would most likely be coming in with some sort of injury, saying that he's hurt. Jigen always did that. Standing, you collected all of the tools you may need and promptly plopped down on the futon. Anxiously your knee bounced, a number of things might have happened, you preferred not think about it though.

Snapped out of your daze, sirens wailed past, the screeching of tires braking hard on pavement moving you to throw open your window and peer out. Your heart thumped lowly in your ears, eyes searching for your boyfriend's hat among the sidewalk, stomach beginning to churn only moments before a door opened behind you.

"Jigen," you addressed him, closing the window and turning your attention to the lanky gunman, who stumbled towards your couch.

"Good to see you too," Jigen groaned. Sitting down finally, he takes his jacket off in the process. You grab it from his hands, resting it on the table beside your medical supplies.

"What happened?" You asked as you leaned down on your knees before him.

Jigen began to unbutton his shirt, the bright red against the baby blue fabric making you grimace.

"Bullet wound. I didn't move in time." Jigen answered bluntly. He laid his head back, mouth agape trying to catch his breath still.

"I'm getting too old for this." He mused. Looking up at him unamused, you spoke. "You're not even in your thirties."

Jigen didn't speak from there, allowing you to work as quickly as you could. You were all but okay during that time, the amount of blood that had to be cleaned up was almost sickening. It worried you that he was losing so much, it might cause him to be put in the hospital. As much as Jigen would have liked to say that he was okay, he knew he was far from, he would only be lying then. Having already lost so much blood, he was beginning to feel dizzy, his breathing becoming rapid.

"Jigen? Are you okay?" Your hand firmly shook his shoulder, snapping him from his daze. Surely he would have passed out if not for you, he didn't want to scare you anyways.

"I'll be fine." Jigen waved off your concern. Laying his head back once more, closing his eyes.

You watched him wearily, looking up as often as your steady working hands would allow, Jigen looked as though he had seen a ghost. He was so pale. You finally finished with everything, so focused on just getting his wound treated, that you never noticed him drift off to sleep. At first you nudged him lightly, calling his name with no response. You waited, allowing enough time for him to have responded.

"Jigen." You said sternly, nudging his shoulder. You waited again, your heart beginning to beat lowly in your ears. The thought of him having died in that time without you noticing, scared you to death. Grabbing his shoulders rather roughly, you shook him.

"Daisuke!" You yelled.

Jigen awoke with a start, his hat falling off, and his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on you, your eyes wide and just beginning to water. Confused, Jigen reached forward, grasping your hands and holding them gently.

"What's wrong?" He asked

You sat beside him, removing your hands from his, wiping the tears from your face. Reaching out, you slapped the gunman on the chest, the fear from before now turning into mild anger.

"What was that for?" Jigen whined. You crossed your arms.

"Asshole. I thought you died!" You fussed. Jigen paused, processing what you said, then leaned back against the couch. He flinched lightly, having moved roughly when he first awoke must've strained the wound. Heaving a sigh, he spoke. "Well, I'm okay."

Deciding not to say anything else, you huffed and leaned against his shoulder. After a few minutes he nudged you, asking you to lean forward; you complied. He draped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and laying his head atop of yours. You closed your eyes, from weeks of late nights spent worrying, and little to no sleep, it was starting to catch up to you; That or it was because Jigen was finally home, and okay. Nonetheless you were happy and content right where you were, close to falling asleep against him.

"Are you not going to clean up?" Jigen pondered.

Cracking open your eyes and shutting them again, you shifted against him. "I'll do it in the morning." You responded groggily.

Jigen hummed, knowing that he would have his clothes washed and your supplies cleaned before you woke, and then he would be gone again. As much as he hated to leave you waking up alone, he had a job to do. When the time would allow, he would stay for as long as possible, and maybe once you're ready he'll take you with him; But that was a lifetime away. He would just enjoy this while he could.

You woke the next morning in your bed, the sun shining through the curtains and the sound of shuffling outside your door. Sitting up with a yawn, you took the moment to gather your thoughts and get up. Moving towards your door and stepping out into the hallway, you were greeted by Jigen pulling his previously bloody clothes out of the dryer.

"You're up a bit early. Don't you think so?" He asked as he threw his jacket on the couch and began to pull on his shirt. You shook your head, stepping closer behind him, slipping your hands around his waist you nuzzled into his warm back.

Jigen glanced back at you, a small smile on his face.

"So Daisuke, huh?" He teased lovingly.

Letting go of his waist and moving to see his face clearly, you remembered the events from last night and the scare that followed.

"What? You like that or something?" You mused, settling down on the cushion beside his jacket. You snatched up his jacked and held it close.

He raised a brow at you, grasping at his jacket and trying to tug it away from you, only for you to roll away. "No, I just think it's cute." He admitted. Towering over you from behind in an attempt to grab his jacket, you giggled at his failed attempt.

"C'mon give it up." He urged, tickling at your sides. You wiggled and squirmed underneath Jigen, smiling up at him, your grasp on his jacket still strong.

"Stop!" You squeaked. He prevailed with a smile much like your own. "Not until you give me my jacket." He stated.

Seconds of tickling passed by before you gave up, claiming. "White flag, I give up!"

"Finally," Jigen smiled lightly, taking his jacket from your arms and pulling it on. "About time." He teased you. Sitting up and crossing your arms, you pouted.

"Please stay, just a few more minutes." You begged.

Jigen stopped what he was doing to look at you, his smile dropping and his eyes dimming. Sighing, he knelt down in front of you.

"Y/n, you know I have too. We both don't want me to leave, but I have no choice." He explained.

You avoided his gaze, your bright eyes saddening with the thought of him leaving, again.

"Here," Jigen suddenly said. "Keep this." Placing his hat over your face and pulling it down just below your eyes, he placed a chaste kiss against your lips. He didn't linger there for more than a few seconds, the barking of tires outside requesting his company.

As he pulled away, you lifted the hat from your gaze, stumbling to race him towards the window. Grasping his arm tightly just before he was about to jump onto the fire escape, you pulled him back in. Moving your hand to his cheek, you placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"For good luck." You said.

"C'mon Jigen! Hurry up!" Lupin shouted from the street below.

Jigen hastily turned his head to the window, "I'll be there in just a moment." He yelled. Once he had his attention back on you for the moment being, you gave him a hug.

"Please be safe." You said.

Hugging you back softly, he smiled. "Of course."

"Pops is on his way!" Lupin yelled again.

Letting him go, he slipped out onto the fire escape, jumping into the yellow car below. You leaned out the window, "I love you!" You shouted. You could see him look up at you with a bright smile on his face, and a small wave before they raced off around the corner.

You stepped back into your apartment, closing the window and pulling the hat from your head. It was special to him, it surprised you that he even handed it to you. Thankful, you were glad he trusted you with it. The weeks ahead would be boring, draining, and lonely, but soon enough he would be back; in which you would be able to take him up on the offer of joining him. Until then you would wait for him, like you always did.

The wind brushed through Jigen's hair, and he sank into the seat. It wouldn't be too much longer before he would be coming back for that hat, and hopefully if you agreed, he would be coming back for you too. Either way he would be happy to see you again.

Lupin glanced at his partner, a smile on his face.

"Down bad huh?" Lupin teased. Jigen's peace of mind was shattered, bringing on his usual scowl.

"Don't act like you're not down bad too you womanizer." He fussed.

[carocane]

any day is perfect with you by my side

Flufftober Day 3 - Lazy Sundays

9-1-1

Eddie Diaz/Evan “Buck” Buckley

Sundays off are Eddie’s favorite days. There's just something special about them. Lazy days camped out in the living room with his two favorite boys, watching movies, playing video games and just hanging out. 

This Sunday is his and Buck’s first off together in awhile. Things have been hectic at the firehouse with a couple of team members out on leave for various reasons. Those various reasons have left other people to pick up extra shifts, mostly Buck. Eddie picks them up when he can, but that’s a little more difficult with Christopher. He needs to arrange child care and he doesn’t like spending that much time away from his son.

So this is their first lazy day at home in several weeks and Eddie plans to make the most of it. Christopher is getting older and is starting to sleep in later, like the pre-teen he is becoming and not the little kid he used to be, up with the dawn. Eddie sometimes mourns those lost days but is content to trade them for sleeping in a little bit longer with Buck in his bed beside him. They should get up soon but Eddie takes this opportunity to lay there and soak in the quiet for a little longer. Christopher and Buck have yet to stir and he doesn’t want to disturb them yet.

He’s just starting to plan breakfast when he feels Buck stir and tighten his arm around Eddie’s chest from behind. Eddie stretches his arms above his head and turns around in his partner's embrace. He takes a moment to study the face he knows so well, still slack from sleep. Buck hasn’t fully opened his eyes yet, his gaze heavy lidded on Eddie’s face. It might be sappy but they lay there for a few more minutes in each other’s arms, feeling peaceful and in love. 

Until Buck’s stomach growls in hunger and breaks the silence between them. Eddie laughs and rolls out of bed. 

“I was just about to ask if you were hungry, but your stomach just answered that for you” Eddie chuckles. 

Buck groans and stretches sleepily “I’m not that hungry yet. There’s still time to cuddle. Come back to bed.”

“Nope, time to get up sleepyhead.  You’re worse than Christopher sometimes.”

“Not true. The pre-teen is definitely worse about getting up. I just want cuddles,” Buck says as he sinks back down into the mattress. 

“I’ll make you a deal. Breakfast first and then more cuddles on the couch.”

And that does the trick of getting his boyfriend out of bed and into the kitchen. 

There’s a few minutes debate of what to have for breakfast, Buck lobbying for pancakes and Eddie trying for something a little more healthy. 

Christopher isn’t yet up to side with Buck for pancakes, so the debate goes on for a few long minutes. Buck plays dirty and bribes Eddie with kisses, so pancakes it is. Eddie tells himself they’ll have something healthier for dinner but he knows that’s probably already a losing battle.

The smell of pancakes lures Christopher from his room and they settle in to eat. Eddie manages to get a little bit of fruit on his son's plate and considers that a win. 

Eddie and Buck clean up the kitchen while Christopher goes to the living room to decide what they’re going to do that day and get it set up. They just got a new fighting game and Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if a few rounds of that aren’t first up. Christopher had soundly defeated Buck the night before and Buck swore his revenge. Christopher, of course, is eager to beat him again.

By the time they have the kitchen all squared away, the game is loaded up and ready to go and Christopher has selected his character. They play a few rounds, which Christopher easily wins against Buck. 

Buck tosses his controller down with a mostly fake pout. “I was promised cuddles and all I’ve gotten so far is beatings. Let’s watch a movie instead.”

Christopher laughs and agrees to switch over to something new, happy with how many times he beat Buck at the game. 

They put the game away and flip over to Disney+, choosing Coco for the first movie of the day. Buck rearranges himself so he’s leaning against Eddie, finally getting his promised cuddles. He dozes off about halfway through the movie. He’s seen this movie many times before, so it’s not like he’s missing much. It’s just nice to relax and sleep away the rest of the morning. 

They make some quick sandwiches for lunch before doing some housework that needs to be done. The coming week will be just as crazy as the last one, so they take this opportunity to do some laundry and light cleaning as Christopher does the last of his homework. 

Next up on the lazy Sunday list is the Lego firestation Buck and Christopher are building. It’s got what seems like a million pieces and it’s been slow going but they’re enjoying the process so Eddie leaves them to it. He helps a bit but is mostly just happy to observe the process. They continue with their project as they all decide what they want to do for dinner that evening. Nobody feels like going out, that’s the one thing they know for sure. Pizza or Chinese almost becomes a full blown argument before cooler heads prevail (Christopher is of course the voice of reason). They wind up going with burgers delivered from a neighborhood place, which makes everyone happy. 

No dishes means there’s time for another movie and a few rounds of the fighting game from earlier. Christopher wins all but one round, which has Buck again claiming the younger Diaz was cheating.

“Just face it, babe, you’re not very good at this. Time to give up for the night.” Eddie teases. 

Buck mutters something about giving it up that night that’s thankfully too low for Christopher to hear but makes Eddie grin and steal a kiss. 

From there it’s a flurry of activity, getting the living room cleaned up from their lazy day and getting everyone ready for the next day of school and work. 

Christopher is getting a little too old to be put to bed with a bedtime story but sometimes he still likes the routine. Tonight is one of those nights, though Christopher reads Buck and Eddie a few chapters from his latest book rather than them reading to him. Eddie misses the days he would tuck in his little boy and read him a simple story (or 2 or 3, depending on how persuasive he is that night) but is so proud of the young man in front of him. 

Christopher still allows goodnight kisses from both him and Buck as he’s tucked in. 

The two men settle in with a beer as it’s still a little early for them to turn in yet. They have a shift tomorrow but not until mid-day. They’ve had a relaxing day but it’s still nice to take a few minutes to unwind with just the two of them. They discuss the week ahead and anything special they have coming up but make sure to keep it all light. 

This has been a perfect lazy day at home and they’re reluctant to see it come to an end but it’s getting late. 

Eddie makes sure the house is locked up tight as Buck heads to the bathroom and starts getting ready for bed. After everything is secured, Eddie makes his way to the bedroom to change and turn down the bed. He and Buck trade places and kisses as Eddie finishes his nightly routine, then goes to join his boyfriend who is already in bed.  

Eddie takes a second to take in the sight of Buck tucked in bed, propped up by too many pillows and waiting for him with open arms. Eddie is soon wrapped in those arms, exchanging kisses with the man he loves before they both settle in to get some sleep.

Eddie reflects on the lazy Sunday they shared and warmth fills his chest. He can’t believe this is his life and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[heavenlyeros]

All this recent lore seemingly pointing us to draw the connection between Umun’arath’s corruption and Saladin slowly falling to the darkness himself is driving me crazy. Is Xivu Arath whispering dark temptations to our favourite angry warmonger? We don’t know, but it sure seems like it. And then, of course, we have the emotional rollercoaster that Osiris has been going through. Naturally, I can’t help but look (respectfully) at these two arrogant and extremely competent men 👀 They have both spent a very long time with only themselves, and they are both acutely aware that they are good, so it’s no surprise they’ve built fortresses around themselves - and blinded themselves in the process, too. It’s been exciting and terrifying hearing these two grow to respect each other over the past few weeks, but while Crow sways Amanda to acceptance... I was not quite expecting Osiris to be swayed to Saladin’s views. He was always quite firmly in the middle, for what’s logical for the greater good if nothing else, and it makes sense, but it hurts. And that exchange where Osiris confirms his support were Saladin to split from the Vanguard and go against their wishes? Sign me the f up.

I wrote a thing about this, of course: my interpretation of what’s been going on in Osiris’ brilliant, idiotic bird brain. Warnings for angsty O14, Sagira, and general sadness. This is only how I see it (hint hint please come scream about lore with me whether you think the same or different), shaped in part by some amazing lore people in the community (check out r/destinylore and also tumblr user homosiris’ essay on Osiris if you haven’t because dayum, that’s some good shit that echoes my angsty feelings just right): 

Picture this: you wake up one day from your forever-slumber with no memory of who you were before. The little drone who appears to have brought you back - your ghost - explains that the Traveller has gifted you with Light. You have infinite questions. You might not precisely remember the world you came from, but you know it has changed. Everywhere you go is a battle: the hive, the fallen, even your own kind - war lords versus iron lords. You find out that not many were given this gift. There is no other logical option, of course, but to keep fighting these battles to protect those who cannot. You don't understand, but every day answers a new question, and you have faith that the machine god in the sky must have chosen you for a reason. Years pass, outright wars, the weight of leadership. Your questions take different shape. Reason chips away at blind faith. You realise, one day, that the only gift your people have been given is the gift of war - that the Light's gift for you was to be a warrior. Endlessly. Your questions make others uncomfortable. Eventually you are exiled. Your student, your colleagues, your friends - they don't stick up for you. But you've been bearing the gift of dying to protect others forever. You must carry on. And despite all of your doubts and all of your anger, the Traveller's shackles, your ghost, your little light - she sticks by you. She never stops supporting you. She is your dearest friend. The two of you spend what feels like an eternity in the corridors of time. Not lost, but always searching. You make echoes, countless reflections of yourself, but for centuries upon centuries the only voices you ever hear are Sagira's, and your own. No one reaches out. They did not listen before, and they will not now. You carry on fighting in your isolation, forever seeking an answer to the most frightening of questions - how do you stop the end of everything you hold dear, the annihilation of your people? The few who paid some mind to your so called "prophecies" are little more than fanatics. It lends you little credibility. You are not only an exile, you are a pariah; you are alone and that extends beyond the simulated limitlessness of the infinite forest. You would not admit to it, but you are lonely, too. Time changes you. Confined within these confluxes, doubt takes roots, and you realise your mistakes. No one ever came to apologise to you. But more painfully than that - you have no one to apologise to. Would they give you the chance, if you were to return? Would they even be there at all? Or would everything you failed to prevent have crushed them into nothingness? You must fight on. Time also makes you powerful. You were always amongst the very best, but in the forest you hone your skills into the closest thing your kind has had to godhood. If nothing else, you have faith in yourself. If no one else, you will prevail. Something changes, one day. In the blink of an eye you are lost in the inevitability of the vex's machinations. You lose Sagira, too, for her own good, maybe for good. No matter; you must fight on, you must continue in your mission before the calamity has time to sink in. But another Guardian shows up. They carry the fight where you couldn't. They bring with them Ikora, too, and she seems willing to listen. She invites you to come back - come home. But what you did get back was your little light, and a million more timelines to explore, infinite new questions, and you know there will be no place for you in the City that threw you out. You have become invincible, and with that invincibility comes the wisdom of knowing where you cannot take another blow. You have spent eternity preventing untold histories repeating outside the realm of your control. You have grown skilled at not repeating history. Amongst the people who left you behind - whom you left behind, a little voice that might not always be Sagira's nags in the back of your mind - was the one that you loved most. You would never say, you would never risk it. So when you find out that he did not abandon you at all, but has come on a crusade to get you back -- you don't know what to feel. Joy. Horror. Love. Fear. Only, you don't know what you fear most. And suddenly it feels like your whole life's work has come to exactly this moment. It is now your turn to get him back. It strikes you, all at once, the suffocating loneliness you have endured. The tether to your sanity that was your clear purpose. It terrifies you, the hurt Saint has been subjected to. It terrifies you, too, the purpose that has kept him fighting. You don't know what to make of it. But in the end, you don't have to. You don't succeed. You wouldn't ever let your countless failings eat at you, but this failure is like a dagger through your chest. It is the Guardian, once again, who recovers Saint. Time is funny and cunning like that. You know where to find him. You know you would be welcome back, too, but time has made you see open arms as little more than a cage, a trap waiting to close in on your lungs and crush them. The guilt, most of all, cannot be reasoned with. Saint is good. Saint represents every ounce of Light you wouldn't believe in but cannot help still having faith in, even after all this time. Saint would not see in you the hate that you do. You cannot put him through that. Saint deserves the world, and even in your egotistical confidence you know that you are not it. So you must fight on. For the world that Saint deserves. Sagira, of course, is as always by your side. You don't know how it happens. One moment you are a fury of light in its every shape, and the next you are alone. Truly alone. You had accepted time has finally come for you. You were ready to die. Not... not this. But you must carry on fighting. You have nothing else left. It is once again the Guardian who saves you - this time because you asked. Not to save yourself, but to avenge her. Days and weeks and months pass and all you can do is drown in the fight. You must do it for those you love, so you do not lose any more, even if they will not have you back. The fight takes a different form now, but it is still a fight. You are confined to the City. The place that exiled you, now become prison. All because you dared ask the questions that terrified them! And you paid dearly for it. You are heartbroken and tired and underneath it all you are angry - an anger that bubbles pleasantly to overtake all of the pain. You must not give in to it. You are invincible. This, too, time will heal. So you tell yourself you fight because of love. Your love for the people, your love for this prison-City, your love for Saint. You catch glimpses of people looking at you with pity and it fills you with rage. You cannot escape this anger. It keeps you fighting because you are so, so exhausted, and there is no place for you to rest your head. You have made your loneliness into a way of life. You do not need their pity. You will prevail, as you always have. Sagira might be gone, but you will learn to carry on. You always have, you will prevail. You will fight for those who are hurt - you will not fight just to hurt those who hurt you. That is how it's meant to be. And you are always right. You are the Vanguard Commander's advisor now. It feels like a mockery - the mighty phoenix, now little more than a flightless canary in a gilded cage. You remind yourself these people care about you. That after all this time, and after all of your perceived wrongs, they have taken you back. You remind yourself it is them you fight for, any way you can. It is a slow road back up now that you cannot fly, but you will make it out. You will come out soaring. Victorious. You know it is true; you are always right. You work alongside Lord Saladin. He carries the same exhaustion you are all too familiar with less gracefully than you do. You see him be consumed by countless traumas, you see him for what he is - a shellshocked veteran flailing in resemblance of fight, clinging desperately to a place he used to have in a world that has moved on. He doesn't sleep, doesn't care for himself, his living quarters are a mess. You almost pity him, but you have to stop yourself to laugh at just how similar you are. Saladin is past forgiving. Saladin is past compromise. He has let the hate consume him, make him blind - but in his anger you see him come alive with a fire you know you shall never again harness. Perhaps Saladin is right. Perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps the only way to not give up is to give in.

[bluebuckstallion]

the sun will rise again - mlp fic

part two this is part one! part two and so on will be updated/reblogged when they are out! contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!)

-

Big Mac shuffled his hooves awkwardly. Racing thoughts fought furiously, cluttering his hurting head, and he put a weary hoof against his temple in an attempt to clear the fog. No avail. It was as strong as ever, the rushing current of rip tide sweeping him in the more he struggled. He insisted he'd never felt this way before, trying violently to shake away the thought, it made him shudder. But deep down somewhere he knew, he couldn't hide this strong feeling he'd become so familiar with. It felt like home, but he was trapped inside with the windows boarded and the floorboards were so old they were making him fall through with every step, and there were thick dusty cobwebs everywhere he tried to rest his burdened hooves. He couldn't leave. Outside of his overflowing head, there was a faint knocking at his door, though he had tuned it out completely. His thoughts whirled, and everything was making *so* much noise, the ceiling fan, the electricity in the walls, the birds outside, even the trees being rustled by the evening wind. Everything was so loud, and so muffled and far away, so close and inside his ears, they twitched eagerly trying to bat the harsh noise away, all collected into one horrid ear-piercing amalgamation of staticy sound. His fur was disturbed by his blankets, and his teeth felt uncomfortable as they grit desperately in an attempt to relax, his eyes were dry despite how much and how hard he was blinking, it felt like even the smallest thing would throw him overboard in this thundering storm of unsettlement. -

The knocking got louder. "Big Mac!" The sound was lost in the chaos of it all, but it prevailed. "Big Mac!" There it was again. It didn't quite reach him yet, though. But my, was it there. Incessant. Pounding. Oh, the headache of it all. Just adding to the pile. It hesitated. "Big Mac." The gentle coo reached him, piercing through the overwhelmingly loud silence in the air, he felt this odd choking sensation in his throat when he registered the voice, so familiar and so loving. But would it continue to be after this? The thought scared him. Fear struck his spine in striking bolts, waves of dread sulked, creeping in and making their nest in his aching body. He was so tired of coming back to this again and again, but it plagued his mind like a cold. He realized his internal monologue had been ongoing - even though it hadn't really spoke - but alas he had been lost in his own downward spiral of paranoia again, and had forgotten to respond. "Yu- uh- eeyup?" he stuttered out like he was drowning, he felt and sounded like a silly foal learning to walk for the first time again. He pushed his hoof lightly against his throat, shocked at his own lack of voice. Usually he was calm and confident, knowing what he wanted to say, despite how little it ever was. However he feared this would give way to his sister finding out, that she would know something was awry with him. "Can I, uh, come in?" the voice questioned. He nodded, then processed he had forgotten to use his words, and managed a sheepish "Yup." "Uh, okay." She responded equally as softly, her voice leaving a tinge of confusion to be interpreted. Applejack trotted in, her hooves making the wood beneath her creak as the old house settled. She nudged the door shut behind her nonchalantly with her back hoof, not taking her gaze off of what was ahead of her. She made a gesture towards Big Mac's bed and tilted her head, knowing he was a horse of few words, moreso when he got this way. And goodness, how he could manage to get into his own head. Applejack understood the feeling, more than he was letting on. Applejack got up and sat down awkwardly, glancing at her hooves as they, too, dragged over one another slowly, she never did like eye contact. Big Mac was more fidgety - he was straight-up restless, as he clapped his hooves together ceaselessly, clicking them atop one another with a hard "Clink." The silence was substantial, but it wasn't like it bothered them, usually. It drove Big Mac up the wall, he was sweating buckets thinking about what Applejack could possibly say. *Did she find out? Does she know? Does she hate me? She hates you. She knows and she hates you. She'll never forgive you. She'll never see you the same-* his thoughts were cut off abruptly. "So, big brother," she chuckled stiffly, "what's on your mind?" Blunt and to the point. She looked upward briefly, catching a glimpse of his face, caught in an uncomfortable twist as his mouth hung downward and his eyes sunk, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them looked at the other, but this again, was not unusual. When she said 'brother,' the word stung like a mosquito bite. It was barely there, but just enough to irritate him. And it grew bigger the more he picked away at it and gave it the time of day. Maybe if he just ignored it it'd heal itself, he thought. Her words in general hung high above his head, and he had forgotten to respond with the way he was over-analyzing it a million different ways inside. What was on his mind, besides this scary, burning question gnawing him alive? He gave a lackluster response to divert any inkling of anxiety, "Oh, nothing," and with that he kicked his back hooves loosely up, and they swung back down heavily in the empty air. What else could he say? The silence sat for a couple of seconds. Too long for Applejack's liking, she was growing a bit impatient with his lack of answers. She looked up and moved her head upward in tune with her eyes, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other as her lips pouted and she let out a quick exhale. She looked down at her teetering hooves again. "Nothing..." she repeated, tapping her hooves together about three times, give or take, she wasn't paying attention. "Oookay.." she said in a quiet tone, and the cadence in her voice had shifted after this minute or two of waiting. She scratched the back of her ear. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself." She looked up and beamed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, which came out rather awkward. It fell just as awkwardly. She wasn't the best at conveying emotion, but neither was Big Mac. They had that in common. "Ok, I'll spit it out, rapid-fire," she said funnily, holding her hooves up and moving one in front of the other and back again in tune with the quirky enunciation of the last word. If nothing else, she was making an attempt to lift his low spirit. She inhaled, "Is it about me? About Ma or Pa? *Granny?* Baby Bloom?" and with that she exhaled overexaggeratedly. It took a second, but the half-smile she had faded from her face as he stood there saying nothing, simply folding one hoof over his other arm, rubbing it rigidly and looking away, and what she hoped was not true, had hit her. It was about himself. "Oh.. brother," she whispered to him, "You can tell me anything," she reached her hoof up toward him, pulling it back when it was halfway there as she winced at his lack of response, not even a lean-in to her gesture, but she continued anyway. She gingerly put her hoof on his shoulder. Becoming more confident with her comforting, she rubbed his back gently. "So it's about you?" He took a second, and nodded somberly. "Hey, that's alright. Tell me what's on your mind for real now, when you're ready. If, you're ready." AJ's voice, he found, was quite calming. Big Mac shot a glance at her timidly, then down at her hooves, and back up at her, but he couldn't look too long in order to stop the waterworks from coming. He gulped dryly and looked at the wall, and after the ceiling. He watched the fan dodder decrepitly, but so sure of itself, it's purpose, rotating on it's axis, again, and again, and again. He wished he could be so sure of himself, he wasn't sure if he ever could be, though. And here, he found himself envying the rotating of a ceiling fan. What an interesting moment, he thought sarcastically to himself. Was this really where he was at? He zoned out briefly, watching the blades go in circles, and then snapped himself back to reality with a hard blink, a downward motion of his head, and a squeezing of his hooves. "I..." he started softly and then trailed off. He sighed in dejection. "I- Well, I am me. But... I'm not. I look in the mirror, and it's not me looking back. I know that sounds... stupid, but it's not me. It's not like it isn't who I am, it's just not me. And I, don't know why. I mean I think I do, but I don't - sometimes-" He took a second to collect himself and inhaled, exhaling sharply after, he put his hoof firmly against his chest, as if almost trying to coax the words out. "I'm me, but I'm not. I'm not who I'm meant to be, I, I was born wrong. My body is wrong," he shook his head, like trying to shake the bad thoughts away. "It's not mine. I was born with something wrong about me, outside, inside I'm me, but outside I'm not. But - I'm not bad or anything, it's just that there was something different. And, you know that funny feeling of those butterflies in your tummy when someone you like says your name? I'll get that, but I won't recognize my name as mine, but I do get that feeling when...ponies accidentally call me what they call fillies, even though they don't mean to and fix 'emselves right after, and they act like it's so wrong, but I still get that funny feeling of, goodness. It catches me off guard in the best way... my heart skips a beat. And I know I'm s'posed to like girls, but there was something wrong about me lovin' 'em... it feels like. I feel real guilty-like when I start getting all lovey about one. It feels like I'm not allowed, like there's somethin'.."  he teared up, "different. About me." He emphasized the last word quite significantly. He began to finish, not wordvomitting as much as he was before, instead saying it slowly, as if he was really trying hard to get his thoughts out. "I- I think, I think if I were born in the right body I'd be happier, but I don't want to change me, I just...want to change how people *see me."* Applejack raised her eyebrows and looked down, pushing her hooves together. She couldn't move, and she didn't. Big Mac's welling up had turned to a tear, gently rolling down his cheek. He held his breath, eyes darting back and forth from his sister's gaze - or lack thereof. Applejack held her breath as well. "Big mac, well - gosh." she let out staggeredly, anxiously chuckling, raising her hoof to her chest as she exhaled bluntly. Big Mac felt it coming, Roaring and Crashing. The water was surrounding him still, no matter how subtle it was before, it had been growing this whole time. Internal dread multiplying like a bilious bacteria, out to get him and cover him in it's killing spores. It must've been at least neck-high now. AJ chuckled, "Big Mac, I love you no matter what. You're my family." She looked him in the eyes, "It's gonna be ok." And there was the straw that broke the camel's back. It came through gently, like a soft breeze through his hair in summer, but it broke him so, so ruthlessly. He bit at his bottom lip and released, his mouth turning to a shaky U-shaped frown, and he bawled. Oh, how he bawled. He lunged for his sister's arms, which quickly opened for him to land in. Applejack huffed as the wind left her with his impact, but she regained control of herself and softly smiled, tenderly hugging him back. His head rested on hers, as hers on his. "It's alright big guy," she laughed. "In fact, I think I know exactly what's up." She pushed him off cautiously, and held her hoof against his shoulder. His tears subsided slightly, he wiped them with a trembling hoof. "Have you ever thought that maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body, because you're really a mare? I know nobody sees you that way right now, but I could start if that's who you really are." Big mac's pupils constricted, and he felt a leap in his chest. A mare? He tried so hard to push it out, but he couldn't. A mare. A mare! He let out a small smile, "A mare..." he then promptly shook his head. "But, I can't be. I wish it was that easy, that I could just be a mare, oh I wish so bad AJ," he put his hooves together and shook them, like he was pleading. He pushed her hoof off of him, sighing and speaking again, his voice cracking from the tears and raw emotion, "But I never could. I couldn't. I wish I could, but I'm not allowed to." he sighed defeatedly. Applejack chuckled, "Says who? All it takes is you saying you can. And I'll be honest, I feel like a lot of people don't give it much thought whether they want to be a mare or not - they just are." It all clicked. They, just are. He processed it for a second, and thought, and the thoughts slipped into words, "I'm a mare," he whispered. He smiled, the most genuine smile he'd ever shown. "I'm, a mare." He laughed, looking at Applejack. "A mare! I'm a mare!" His smile faded slightly, "But Applejack, am I still allowed to like other fillies? I figure now I'll have to like colts, that's what I've heard at least, and I really don't want to-" despite his concerns, he still looked quite euphoric. Applejack laughed again, "No, Big Mac, you can still like mares. It doesn't work that way I'm pretty sure." She rubbed the back of her head, "If it's any help, you can do whatever you want... What feels right." She closed her mouth and grinned, waving her hoof in the air dismissively of any negativity, her eyes in the other direction. Stopping, she looked at the ground and fiddled her hooves, "I, I actually know a lot about how you're feeling," she spoke nervously, cautiously, dancing around her words like she had something she didn't want to admit to herself as well. "I, know how you feel - about liking mares and, and the wrong body an' stuff. Feeling like your body isn't yours, it doesn't belong to you and never will, unless you make a big change, or somethin'. I get it. I feel wrong when people say I'm a girl, but I don't reckon I'd feel right with them callin' me a boy or something either - I don't think I really feel like either." She paused, cutting herself off, "I don't expect that to make sense to you, I know it's kind of weird and all." Big Mac thought for a bit, and then nodded, "No, I get it. I mean - I don't, but, I know you're you, no matter what, and I don't care who you are, you're still my sibling." Big Mac smiled nervously, trying to make sure he was doing the right thing. "And you're my sister, Big Mac," Applejack smiled back at him. "Now, how do you feel about me calling you by girl terms? Like, sayin' she, and stuff..." she struggled to think of an example. "Oh! Like, if I meet someone, I'll tell 'em "Oh Big Mac? She's my big sister!" Applejack let out a wide twinkling grin, feeling confident and proud with supporting her sister's feelings. "I, I like that." Big Mac said shyly, and she did. "Wait, how do I do the same for you?" she questioned. Applejack stalled, she really didn't think she'd get this far. "I think... I really like being called he, and brother and such. Although to be honest I'm not your sister and I'm not really your brother, and I still like other fillies - but I'm not one of them, or not in the same way, and - I don't know, it's a little confusing. I think the only way that I'm a filly is in the sense that I'm a mare who likes other mares. I don't really know what any of this is called," he voiced embarrassedly. "I wish I did." Big Mac smirked, "It's okay you don't, I don't know either. And we can learn together, little brother." She fluffed Applejack's hair playfully and her smirk became a toothy smile. Applejack laughed and joined her smiling. "Thanks," he said, quite gratefully. "To be honest, I've known this for a really long time, I just didn't know how to say it," he looked out the window longingly, "I wish I knew how to tell Ma and Pa, or Granny," he laughed a little, "and I don't even know how to tell a baby," he uttered, trying to lighten the mood a little after bringing it back down. Big mac grinned, "Why don't we go out to the orchard, little brother?"

[wevegottogetaway]

I love you

First I love yous...do I need to say more? Anyway, please don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, whether that be comments, requests, feedback or just to have a chat! Happy reading xx

It’s been three days of utter pandemonium ripping through your brain in complete disarray. Three days of pent up stress storming through your mind as you ran like a headless chicken to try and find a handle on a situation that frankly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

It all started when your boss had called you in his office, his signature tyrant-resting face on, solid frown drafting his features in a look of severity. Well, this can’t be good, you’d immediately thought once you took a hesitant seat across his desk. You’d hoped for a benign reason behind the sudden meeting, and that the scowl on his face was merely a residual of some other trouble that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

Your prayers had fallen on deaf ears however, as the summoning proved to be a twenty minutes angry diatribe about how one of your most recent client had expressed their wish to withdraw from their deal and de facto, the company. Though it hadn’t been your fault per se, your boss didn’t have any reservations about reminding you of your supposed responsibility to keep your clients sated and on the company’s leash. He’d given you three days to fix it after that. Three days to persuade the client not to pull out of the deal, or you risked some serious downgrading if not redundancy.  

You’d called Harry for support the minute you got home and spent the whole evening brainstorming the craziest ideas to him. He’d listened patiently, holding your hand on the table as you both indulged in the Thai take-out he’d picked up on his way over. That first night, you’d barely slept as you laid in his strong arms, back to his chest. Your reeling mind had still been trying to conjure up any sort of plan that would help you out of this chaos; but for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, your hopes had dwindled some.

You hadn’t known then, but Harry couldn’t find rest either as he spooned you against him. You two hadn’t been dating long, several months at best, but already your distress was unbearable to him and every bone in his body ached to do something to help you. This feeling of powerlessness was crawling out of his skin and swimming around like a shark amidst his prevalent thoughts of support, admiration and love. Because, while he’d shown you the first and conveyed the second countless times in the past, the third had yet to tumble out of his lips, despite the confession burning their flesh a bit stronger every day.

What really had had his mind reeling though, was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to make this situation go away; and for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, his hopes grew some.

Your earlier utterance of the client’s name had been ringing through his mind in faint recognition, an itch starting to fester at his fingertips. Dialing a phone number was all it could take. A couple choice words and if he played his cards right, the deal would be back on the table. He’d known interfering was arguably a bad idea, and truthfully he’d always made a point of honor not to use his connections to serve ulterior motives (his or anyone else’s), but how was he supposed to do nothing when the person that caused you trouble was in fact a friend of a friend that might reevaluate their stance if he pitched in with a bit of charm and compelling words? How was he supposed to stay idle, watch you dissolve in an anxious mess, if he wasn’t as powerless as he thought?

So he didn’t. 

He’d originally planned on keeping you in the loop, but you’d been gone by the time his forest green eyes had fluttered back to consciousness the next morning. After a quick shower, a large mug of the coffee you’d left for him before running back to work, and locking your apartment with the spare key you’d given him a couple weeks back, he’d pulled out his phone. Two minutes was all it took for his friend to pass him your client’s number and without hesitation, he’d launched the call and brought his phone to his ear.

It took a bit longer than a couple of minutes for that conversation to take effect, but eventually his words hit their target. After all, his lovely nature could pierce through the most robust walls and stubborn minds. He didn’t even have to put on the charm that much, instead drawing earnest sentiments about your impeccable skills and rambling about how there was no better person to keep their account safe in the business. He’d gnawed at his lips the whole time, desperate to pull through but still scared to fail you somehow. You’d already been let down by the client and your boss, you certainly didn’t need your boyfriend added to the list.

The call had ended with their promise to reassess and consider your undeniable abilities in the equation, yet the next day you were once again convoked to your boss’ office with a snarly bark of your name. Puzzlement washed over you as you speed-walked after him. Why was he still so resentful with you when you’d gotten the client to reenter the contract?

Another twenty minutes of intense scolding provided you with that answer. With a disdainful gaze puncturing your poise, your boss told you that while your job was no longer on the line, you’d been given a firm warning about using your boyfriend as negotiator for the company’s dealings.

How he knew when you yourself weren’t aware of the fact, you didn’t know. In retrospect, your talk with the client had been suspiciously easy for someone who’d made their will to ditch the company crystal clear. You’d merely laid out your arguments, expecting resistance and some pushing, but were only met with a squinted look and cautious acceptance. Now you know your case had already been pleaded once, by the man who was taking more and more space for himself inside the chambers of your heart.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it; didn’t know if you should be mad or grateful. You were specifically stunned because you knew it was out of character for Harry. Your boyfriend was the most generous being you’d ever met, but humility was even more so a prevailing layer of his beautiful nature. You certainly didn’t expect it, didn’t wish for it to happen again because you were always adamant not to ever use anyone for their assets. Yet there was a tingling, a mixture of discomfort and gratefulness, sloshing in the pit of your stomach. 

This whole thing was a mind-fuckery of emotions you were too tired to process.

What you did feel though, was the pure frustration at your boss’ hypocrisy. You both knew he didn’t really care how you’d gotten the deal back, just that you did, but his intolerable disposition wouldn’t allow him to applaud your efforts and move on.

Wanting to put this all mess behind you, you bit back the retorts that you craved to force down his throat, simply nodded through his chastising charade, and leaped to your feet as soon as the dismissing words left his stupid trap.

Now that you’re making your way inside your home, your nose is hit by a waft of delicious aromas traveling from the kitchen. Your mind is still fuzzy with every trouble and startling revelation that transpired in the past three days, but as your eyes settle on your apron-clad boyfriend, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his soft figure stirring the content of what must be a pan on the gas. His back is facing you, but you can hear the gentle humming under his breath, as he hasn’t registered your arrival yet.

After another minute of whistling, he finally twists around and his eyes almost pop out of their socket when they find your timid stance a couple feet away. "Jesus, pet, didn’t know you were home yet," he chuckles softly before taking in your somewhat moony features. Your expression is hard to pinpoint, your delicate traits blank of any emotions yet your eyes have the same sparkle that greets him every morning and every night when he pulls you for a deep kiss in his warm embrace. "Everythin’ okay, love?"

The query snaps you out of your semblance of trance, your head looking down to the floor to gather your wits before you level your gaze back to his. "Yeah it is. Umm, my boss called me in again today," your bite your lip, not knowing how to navigate the conversation. In all honesty, you just want to be done with the whole thing, would rather spend an evening full of cuddles and potentially mind-blowing sex, but you know this ought to be acknowledged.

"Oh," his brows pull together with the same confusion you’d experienced when your boss ushered you to his office. "Did he thank you for the big save?"

"Not exactly," you clear your throat bracing yourself and Harry’s face tenses at the realization about where this is going. "My job is safe and I’m still working on the account," hie loosens up in relief, but your next words have him stiffen right back up in alarm. "But I got a warning for a certain someone’s involvement in the company’s operations. Apparently, my boyfriend called the client on my behalf and forgot to clue me in…"

Your voice is calm and doesn’t carry any reproachful tone, but Harry’s pulse is suddenly speeding with dread regardless. The fact that he could have lost you your jobs is the only thing registering in his frenzied mind, as he sets the dish towel from his shoulder down on the counter and steps closer to you. His eyes are bouncing off yours in a frantic back and forth, as he gulps his remorse down. Before you can appease him with reassuring words, and show your lack of anger, he launches in an apologetic rant, enclosing both your hands between his palms.

"M’so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. Fuck I just- I kept thinkin’ I could help since your client was a friend of a friend. And, the more I thought about it, the more I kept thinking 'I can’t do nothin’. Cause I hate seein’ you in pain an’ I really want to be here fo’ you and I know this was probably the wrong way to go about it, but damn y/n, I couldn’t stand doin’ nothing, m’sorry-"

"I love you."

The words come fast but distinct, airy but firm, not an ounce of doubt laced through their utterance. An eerie silence permeate the small space surrounding them, as Harry tries to find his own words back. It took three of them to steal all of his, but in his defense they were the ones he’d been dying to hear and to deliver himself. His eyes are wide, blinking in total surprise. He’d expected irritation, disappointment perhaps, maybe even anger, but definitely not the sweetest words he’s been keeping at the forefront of his mind. "I- you do?"

You still have that wondrous look on your face, but this time a bright smile enlivens your features, "I really do." You take your hands out of his grip to hold onto his wrists and pull him closer to you. You have to look up since he towers over you but you’ve always liked that about your relationship; the way he always seems to dwarf you in his embraces, whether because of his height or his bear-paw hands. "I mean, don’t that again," you let out a soft laugh, "but I know why you did it, and I love you for it." 

Harry smiles rivals your own now, as your hands smooth up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck, "plus, my boss is a jerk anyway so, who cares?" You pull him in a loving kiss then and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders in a tight lock. His lips are as soft as ever between your own, and you detect the faintest taste of pepper and other exotic herbs lingering on their edge, from his cooking endeavors. He’s always been one to have a taste or two while he’s working, whether that be in the kitchen or other rooms…and regardless, you always like it when you get your share from his supple lips.

He feels slightly distracted against your mouth though, his technique not as ravishing as it usually is. and before you can wonder why, he’s pulling an inch away from your swollen lips, hurriedly whispering your tender confession back to you as though the words couldn’t be out of his mouth and into your heart fast enough, "I love you too, pet. So much." His hands are cajoling your face, thumbs drawing soothing circles across your cheeks, and his beaming smile is melting your heart in a goo of pleasure after all the strain it suffered in the past couple of days.

"Fuck, c’mere, don’t ever wanna stop kissing you," Harry mutters against your lips before diving in for a real mind-bending, soul-shaking, tantalizing kiss this time. Just like that, all your worries and sorrow evaporate into thin air, only to be replaced by an intoxicating pink loving brume. You two definitely spend the most perfect evening with lots of cuddles and endless mind-blowing lovemaking. Screw everything else.

➪ Masterlist

[kinsurou]

wifey!! congrats on 500 followers im so freaking proud of you 🥺💓 can i request 83 for hawks with a dom! reader maybe theyre in public 🙈 and mayhaps 79 for tamaki but its tamaki who has to do the covering? thank you!! ❤️❤️

Aaaaa, thank you so much wifey! I owe this to you guys in the server for helping me out and supporting me! 😭💖

83. How quickly can you cum?

79. You don’t need to cover up the bruises/hickeys

Takami Keigo

If there’s something Hawks really loves about his favorite yakitori restaurant, is the privacy. Having a whole room all for yourself to have your meal in peace is something to be thankful when you’re one of the most popular pro heroes as well as one of the top-ranking ones such as him.

It is also the perfect place for such scandalous acts like the one you’re currently performing. hidden underneath the table with your lips wrapped around his erect member. The teasing smile you give him from under the furniture as your hands keep stroking the base of his throbbing cock is just so...alluring.

enough to nearly make him cum all over your face in the spot, but he wants to hold on as much as he can. It’s not often that he gets the chance to be pampered by his precious fiance after all.

When he reaches down in a desperate attempt to pull on your hair, the hand quickly gets slapped away and those sharp eyes look at him through long eyelashes. That makeup of your always leaves Hawks mesmerized.

“Did I say you could move, babe?” Your lips release his throbbing cock and your stop stroking him, earning a pathetic little whine in response before he gives a slight shake of his head “Good boy! But if you try that again, might as well take care of this all by yourself, got it?”

“Y-yes…!” It wasn’t often that you went dominant into the relationship, but when you were in the mood? God, Keigo loved it. So he just relaxes back into his chair while your mouth once again begins to pleasure the writhing man squirming in the palms of your hands.

“The waitress is almost here. Tell me baby bird….How quickly can you cum?” Your cheeks are hollowed as you start sucking him harder, softly playing with his balls to turn the hero into a hissing mess, he gives you a small pout when you pull away again “Don’t give me that look baby bird, you brought this upon yourself.”

“Please babe…” He’s doing just as told, hands gripping harshly into fists while his body leans forwards on the table, careful not to spill your drink in the process. “I’m close, I’m really close!” 

“You’re one spoiled little bird, aren’t you?” Those giggles may sound sweet to others, but he knows that once you’re both back home, he’s in for quite the surprise. “Oh well...I guess I can spoil my little bird just this once˜.”

This time, you take in his full length until it reaches the back of your throat, and the little growls as you try to hold on for as long as you can make him shudder at the feeling. It takes less than a few seconds for him to release inside your mouth with a groan as he emptied himself inside your mouth. 

Slowly you pull away for good, kissing cutely at the head with a little smile, watching the lovestruck smile Hawks gives as he looks down at you with glassy eyes full of unshed tears. He’s struggling to catch his breath after that little stunt, but it’s not something he can really complain about, especially when he hears the small ‘gulp’ and watches with widening, astonished eyes as you swallow his seed with no struggle.

“You’re such a good boy, Keigo!” As a reward, you tuck him back into his boxers yourself, zipping the pants quickly and crawl back into your seat, then you grab a napkin to wipe at the corner of those soft lips he adores, where a small white spot messes up your lipstick. 

Frowning, you begin rummaging through the seemingly endless void inside your handbag until you find the small mirror, completely ignoring your panting fiance while looking at the reflection with a small pout.

“I have to fix my makeup.” You rise from the seat before coming to his side to give the red-faced hero a soft peck on the lips “I’ll be right back babe!”

You walk out of the room at the same moment the waitress comes in with a couple of drinks, you both exchange a friendly greeting before you walk out towards the bathroom.

“Sorry for the waiting, here are the drinks you ordered” She gives Hawks a look before blinking twice “Are you feeling okay sir? Your face seems red.”

His eyes widen for a second before he gives her an awkward smile accompanied by a small wave of his hand.

“I’m fine miss, don’t worry about it.”

Tamaki Amajiki

He’s pulling at his collar unconsciously, looking embarrassed at his surroundings as if every person passing by was judging him when the truth is they’re actually concerned about the scarlet shade adorning his whole face up to the tip of his ears.

How could Tamaki not feel self-conscious with the purple and red bruises adorning his whole neck starting from the jaw and ending all the way to the collarbone?

But he has to admit getting them was the best experience of his life, the feeling of your lips leaving trail after trail of love bites on his skin still lingers deep into his memories. As well as the way you kept riding him with a burning passion, quite ironic for someone with a water quirk.

Not that he didn’t put his part on it as he thinks back to the way he clung to your body, desperate to finish deep inside of you as the friction became nearly unbearable for him after going at it for hours.

“You’re...ah! You’re doing great honey!” You whimper in his ear as your nails keep scratching all over his back in synch with each thrust of his body against yours. the burning sensation at his back made him growl, something that surprised you both as Tamaki was usually the whimpering type. But that sound he let out was so...dominant, that your body couldn’t help clenching tightly around him.

Your face withdrew from his neck to look him in the eye, tenderly your hands grabbed the sides of his burning face before giving him a deep, passionate kiss “So that’s what you’re into, baby? Praising?” 

A thumb traced over the outline of his jaw, touching one of the small marks scattered across the skin “Being told how much of a good boy you are, baby?” you yelped, startled by the sudden jab of his pelvis against your core, face buried once again into his shoulder to whisper sweet nothings into your sweet boyfriend’s ear.

“Y-Yes...I-I love it when you say that.” His arms wrapped tighter around your waist to pull you down on him at a frantic pace, too lost in satisfaction to think about anything else but having you closer to him for a little longer.

Between the sweet words, the warm feeling of your walls around him, and the mouth leaving bite after bite on his neck, Tamaki was surprised he prevailed that long. He could only hope that soon, there could be another chance to have a taste of your-

“Babe?” 

His head jolts towards the direction your voice comes from, and there you are wearing that costume that has made him take so many cold showers over the last months, that it’s a wonder he hasn’t caught a cold by this point. “You’re pulling your costume a lot.”

“I um…” He struggles to say it, but judging by that mischievous smile on your face, it’s evident that you know what he’s trying to point out. Softly pulling on the edges of his cape, Tamaki’s face is pulled down so you’re looking at him in the eye, almost in a parallel way as that night shared together between the sheets. “You don’t need to cover up the hickeys.” 

You share a small kiss together, nothing too scandalous but nothing too sweet either. By this point, the sound of the paparazzi scrambling, desperate to capture the romantic gesture between two heroes and lovers could almost be heard from a mile away.

“If I were you…” releasing him from the hold, he only sees you walking forwards and waving slightly at Red riot, who just came back from patrol. “I’d be more worried about that boner!”

His blush couldn’t get even redder as he stumbles in place, attempting to hide his front with his cape and realizing at the last minute that it was all just a joke.

Your sweet (not so sweet) laughter could be listened to across the street, and Tamaki almost yearns he could crawl into a hole right there, right now.

@unbreakableeiji

[purplerose244]

Irrational - Chapter 1: The first star in the morning

​Hello everyone!! The @spacecampweek is finally here!! 😍

I cannot wait to see all the content for these two math dorks! Here is my contribution, a collection of oneshots including all the prompts, starting with the first, “Stars”! ✨

Enjoy!! 💙💙

Summary: Seamus was going to smack that idiot of his best friend right in the head for putting him into this situation. A private moment with his little crush, sure, what a marvelous plan of his! There was only one thing he didn’t take into account: this space nerd’s absolutely terrible flirting techniques.

Read it on the AO3

“… have I… have I told you about that time I went for the tryouts of the basketball team?” Seamus huffed with superiority, mostly for the sake of breathing out some air on this overly hot day. “I’m sure you can tell, I’m a pretty athletic person. The only reason I didn’t join was because I needed to keep up my grades or whatever, school is a total pain.” He smirked towards his right. “Maybe I can bring you to the gym sometimes, teach you how to make three-pointers? I’m sure you’d like that.” His overly confident tone fell into oblivion, as silent kept prevailing. He could feel the sweat going down his neck, behind the high collar of his black jacket.

Good lord, he was wearing a leather jacket. A freaking. Leather. Jacket. When he thought this day couldn’t get any more awkward.

“Four.” Seamus jumped over his seat.

“Huh?”

“Four times.” At last, the Cantaloupian had finally raised his eyes from his phone, showing him the most annoyed look he had ever seen on a human being. “You have mentioned this casket sport of yours at least four times tonight. Merely to answer your question.” Without much of a nod or an impressed look, his pretty nose went back to the lightened-up screen. Never mind, this day had all the chances to get plenty of more awkward.

He was losing him. Oh gosh, he was totally blowing it.

This made no sense! Sure he and Tight Jeans Hank had gone out only a few times before he got head over heels for Mary, but he was totally into the three-pointer thing! Sure, making up an excuse after that on why they never actually went to the gym had been a little draining, a little shameful, but at least there was that! He wasn’t completely out of his game.

… was he? Quick, another one! Huh, what did work out with that one guy from math class before he discovered he liked astronomy better?

“Huh, uhm… you know one time we got Mrs. Janeth so mad I was called into the principal’s office, but I got out without a single problem! You didn’t expect me to be this much of a bad boy, didn’t you? Yeah, this math student is good with numbers as a cover, my call is… being… mischievous…” Oh the cringe. It was going to be all worth it if he got at least a change from the guy sitting at the passenger’s seat. “Heh, people still wonder how I did it.” He grinned towards him, wiggling his eyebrows. “I could tell you, but it has to be… our secret.” Wow. He was channeling his interior Steve. The only difference was that that knucklehead at least was actually good at sports and actually good at getting into troubles.

Heck, even Pepperjack was more of a rebel!

Ah. Silence. Not even the Cantaloupian checking his phone was making any noise.

“Uh-huh.” His eyes were still all over the screen. He didn’t even bother to give him a look this time. “Would not be much of a secret in that case, now would it.”

The blonde was starting to think there was some kind of massive secret stored into that device. His eyes fell on it. Nope, this guy was literally tapping onto apps and exiting them without doing anything. Seamus almost laugh at the awfulness of all, wondering if it was too late running out in the woods and hope his allergy was going to kill him sooner or later. Then he stumbled with his memory to Spring Fling, the date he got – that had spent most of the night making out with someone else in the bathroom, but still.

Alright, confident. An intriguing, intimidating guy, one Krel might wanna know better.

“W-well, the best part of having secrets is sharing it with others! Saying, see this bruise I have?” He pointed at his temple, panicking for a second to remember where it was. His mind went right, and he really hope he wasn’t just pointing at his cheek like an idiot. “I got into this massive fight after class, it was insane! I won’t bore you with details, the usual argument with those bozos from our rival school, but if you think this dent is bad you should see the other guys! Pretty cool huh?”

Silence again.

A sigh. It held together such an annoyed power it left him baffled for a second. Krel was narrowing his eyes so much they looked closed.

“Forgive me, I am still trying to master the art of sarcasm, so I will have to warn you beforehand: I am about to use it.” He cleared his voice. “Wow, that is impressive and totally not an idiotic behavior, thank you very much for telling me.” He made a very forced, very exaggerated smile, before dropping it while still looking at him and then going back at losing time on the phone.

More death wishes filled him. Seamus grimaced, sneezed, and checked if the windows were actually closed while grunting under his breath. He breathed through his nose, hands gripping the wheel simply to have something to do.

It was official. This was the worst first non-date of history, and it was all his fault.

… or Steve’s. Yeah, Steve’s fault sounded better.

The ground of the woods was most likely all over the wheels of dad’s car which was going to drive him mad once again, the occasional sniff of pollen into the air had been making his eyes tear up even since they got here – the windows were actually closed, how, stupid allergy –, and he was stuck there ruining all the chances he never had in the first place. Yes, it made so much more sense blaming that good for nothing jock. The only reason Seamus was there in the first place was because his Vespa was out of service – he had said something something creeper walking on the crosswalk, he had stopped listening at some point –, and he had promised his girlfriend to go back to the kissing tree as soon as the situation was calmer or whatever. Seamus, being the good friend he was – especially since Logan was grounded –, had joined in to give them a lift and wait in the car for the two lovebirds to have their mushy moments, feeling extremely single in the process.

When he had seen Aja and Steve getting out of the Tarron’s residence, Seamus had waved.

When he had seen coming along as well none other than Krel Tarron, he had briefly considered pushing onto the accelerator and leaving everyone and everything into the dust. His body had not complied – the traitor. The happy couple had positioned themselves in the back seats, with Aja saying her little brother had decided not to be a recluse for tonight, while the Cantaloupian genius had comfortably seated himself next to him, giving a smile.

A smile.

How dare he? A smile!?

It was Steve’s fault, it definitely was. There was no way Krel would have come out of his own will, it was notorious he despised social gatherings with intellectually inferior people – mood – and hated nature even more – bigger mood. His sister had never been able to convince him before, he knew that because Steve had made it a habit narrating his escapades with Aja after every single date, and it had always started with “We left the buttsnack home and…”. The first time Seamus offered a ride home to the two of them, and magically the little crush he had only confided to Steve and Logan – and Mary but Mary was gossip queen so that didn’t count – had decided to tag along with them. Suspicious, very suspicious.

So, there they were. They had been stuck into his car for an hour at least now, waiting to check if Aja and Steve planned on staying here for longer or eventually head back. Seamus really hoped for the second. He had no idea how the tension had raised up to this point, nothing was working! Krel was barely acknowledging him, and he was starting to wonder why he decided to join in in the first place. Maybe he lost a bet with Steve or something, that would have explained it.

… it did explain it. He was here against his will, with him, having the worst time of his life. Seamus pressed his lips together, the silence weighting onto his stomach. Maybe he could ask something else? What more anecdotes did he have left? The full score at Alex, getting kicked out of Sam’s…

… why was he feeling worse?

His phone vibrated right there. He had no doubt who was disturbing and judging by the sudden vibration from Krel’s phone the other half of the couple was sending similar messages.

THEPalchuk: Hey man

THEPalchuk: Me and Aja are staying around more

THEPalchuk: Pick us up in one hour?

THEPalchuk: Thanks you’re the best!

Great, like he wasn’t currently questioning his flirting skills as much as his entire persona. What was left in his repertoire? Nothing was helping so far, maybe he needed another approach. What choice did he have though? His stories were usually somehow effective, being like Steve didn’t seem better, Mary just so happened to have guys always in line for her for whatever reason, what else could he…

“Johnson?” He held back another jump, because Krel was finally looking at him and it was progress and- “Would it be too much bother if I asked you to bring me back home?”

Oh. Oh.

In his head played the game over soundtrack from GoGo Sushi. Dang it. He wished he had more time to prepare for this day, but right now it felt like it was inevitable. He definitely did something, said something weird. Was there even a possibility in the first place? With someone like him? He had met Krel Tarron in between classes on a completely random day: the guy had completely destroyed Mrs. Janeth’s theory about triangles without breaking a sweat, had broken into the science lab apparently making a mess of the only functioning computer, and had gotten sent to the principal at the end of the day as a result, without getting into troubles afterwards. This guy had managed to be an absolute nonconformist and a shameless rebel… using math.

Yeah, he was on another level, there was no point. He was so going to scream at Steve on organizing this, it was meant to go bad. Worst of all, it didn’t feel like he could get over it anytime soon. Maybe because it was something that didn’t even start.

He started the car, holding back a sigh.

“No problem, right away.” Krel gave him a mild grateful smile, and Seamus felt the urge to cry.

The trip back was somehow even more awkward than the hour spent waiting. Not necessarily for the deadly silence still permeating the car, mostly for the amount of thoughts that were running wildly into his head. What now? He didn’t even know if the Cantaloupian had noticed his attempts at flirting, did he reject him or was he simply so bored he couldn’t take it anymore? Did it matter? The natural consequence was to stay as far away as possible and ignore his entire existence during high school, then get into the furthest college possible – Australia sounded good – and forget about finding love forever. Sure Krel was in most of his classes, and that guy was most likely going to be an Elite student with him and Claire, which meant they were going to be paired up for some stupid vanity event of the school; also he happened to be his best friend’s girlfriend’s brother, so no way it was the last he was ever going to see him, but he could deal with it.

He could… deal with it…

… he didn’t want to, though. He didn’t want to stop talking to him or stop wishing to talk to him. That guy was in sync with his friends, he was so smart it was unbelievable, he was fun to be around and even right now that the embarrassment was at its peak, Seamus couldn’t help noticing how pretty he was, somehow even in the act of ignoring his existence. In light of all of this, was this really the only way to go? It always was with the other guys…

There was a stop ahead. He respected it, lightly biting his lip. No, with all the others he never made contact after failure because he never cared for it, because they weren’t good people, and because he didn’t want to admit how much he had made up for the sake of one terrible date. He could reach a compromise, right? To be able to talk with him. Nothing in between, only the truth.

His very dorky, uncool truth.

He continued to drive, pondering over everything, only to notice a parking spot next to the crosswalk. He went, noticing the other’s weird look on him. He hurried to speak before he could.

“I’ve never been at the tryouts.” Krel fully turned to him, eyes widened.

“… what?” Seamus winced, rubbing his neck.

“The basketball thing? I never did it. I wanted to, I’m really not bad at it… but I didn’t finish homework for that day and my dad didn’t let me.” Ah, there it came, the absolute shame – gently provided by Mr. Johnson, trademark. “The grades stuff, that’s kinda the excuse I always use whenever someone ask me why I’m not in the team. It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s better than saying I have no freedom at all.” The Cantaloupian looked baffled. The blonde took it as a chance to keep going. “As for the principal call, you wanna actually know the secret? I was never in trouble in the first place, Mrs. Janeth wanted to personally congratulate for making it into the International Mathematical Olympiad. I didn’t want people to think I was lame.” Gosh it burned. It felt kinda nice but it was also awful. He sighed at the end, pointing at his temple. “And about this? The fight? As if, I tripped on my way to the planetarium… because I love space… and there people don’t make fun of me for it.” Oh. He didn’t mean that last one, he didn’t want it to hurt. It still did. Not even Steve or Logan knew why he had been keeping his passion lowkey only for close friends.

It was good… it was good, right? It was as genuine as he could get, because despite everything he still wanted to be able to look at him in the eyes without second guessing himself. He was a lame-o who could barely do anything without his dad’s approval, he was an absolute nerd who was good at math only because he had to, and he was a dork with an absolute passion for space that got him so much mockery in the past, before he started to mock back.

A leaf flew over the windshield of the car. He could feel his sweat turning into ice. Was it too late after all? He lost his chance with Krel even at being a friend? He could feel his eyes on him.

It was silence. Then, a long sigh of relief came from him.

“Oh thank Seklos, I was convinced you were being serious before.”

… huh?

“Huh?” He looked at him. Krel was smiling. He was… smiling? “Before?”

“You were turning into an even bigger oaf than Steve is, which is quite the accomplishment let me tell you.” He looked down, finally putting away his phone. Despite wishing for it the entire time, Seamus felt a wave of anxiety rushing over. “I knew for a fact that I was going to be in your company during the entire time, given that the Staja is a force too chaotic to be around without risking someone’s life.” Despite the tension the blonde snorted. The Cantaloupian seemed to like that. “I was even looking forward to it. I’ve always wondered about the sleeping guy from class.”

Holy. Freaking. Mole.

Seamus was agape, he was pretty sure his jaw was dislocated without repair. He wasn’t sure if this was actually happening, or the last sniff of pollen had put him into a state of hallucination – he didn’t mind trading an anaphylactic shock for this. He managed to breathe again after a while, trying to remember how to speak words.

“Wait- You- I… you were watching me too?” Ah, why the too, why did he have to admit of staring at him while trying to stay awake during class? Why was he such a-

Wow. Wow. Was that embarrassment?

Coming from the prideful Krel Tarron?

“I was… mildly checking.” Okay, this was definitely a coma-induced dream, no way he was that lucky – and could this guy stop looking this adorably shy, he needed his heart to come back to life. “You always raise your hand when Mrs. Janeth asks something, even before the question has been said. You seem to be constantly bored during the lesson, which I can completely understand. You seem to be one of the few people who can at least dream to measure up with me in regard of intellect.” Mm, maybe this was actually real, somehow that came out extremely irritating and incredibly endearing at the same time. “I was interested into knowing that person tonight… I have not seen him for now.” His eyes went down, a little bitterly.

He was going to care about that in a moment. First, his mind needed to compute. What was happening here? Were Steve and Logan into this? Were they following him with a black car from afar ready to scare the crap out of him as soon as he was going to believe that a guy this cool actually wanted to know the real him?

… jeez, he really needed to work onto his self-esteem.

Besides, it was Krel, the frankest person he had ever met. There was no way he was pretending, he was so sure it almost scared him.

Apparently, this was happening, this was a meeting of some sort. One that for now, he had been screwing up big time. He was trying so hard to be liked, trying the best that had worked before, but did it work really? He had never actually been in a relationship, every single guy had evaporated as soon as they had found something better to do than hang out with this weird space nerd. Instead, Krel was waiting. Krel was there to actually know about that part of him.

The real him.

“… are you really in a hurry to come back home?” He got a confused stare. But if he really had something close to a chance, he was fine with making it interesting. “In case not… could I arrange a meeting?” He forced a very nervous smile. “Between you and him?”

Krel looked at him in surprise.

Then he smiled. He smiled.

“Alright, one more chance. Make it count, Johnson.”

His father would have not liked how fast he was driving, even while making sure to respect all signs – he wasn’t that reckless, even if the idea of bothering his old man was tempting. It wasn’t a long trip anyway, he knew the way by heart at this point. Arcadia soon got less lived around them and started to raise up, into a road leading higher and higher while surrounded by those dang trees. His passenger was looking out of the window, clearly curious but without asking a single thing. Seamus didn’t mind it. Maybe he just wanted to appreciate the moment for now, having him intrigued by the situation, before something went wrong again.

No. No. No more screwing everything, not this time. He could make this work.

The planetarium was there almost too soon, as he had only started to notice the eyes of the Cantaloupian occasionally drifting from the glass to him, equally intense. He placed the car into a completely empty parking lot, got out and breathed in. At least here there was way less vegetation, he could almost take a full breath without coughing. He quickly went over Krel’s side, opening the door for him and offering his hand.

He got a weird look in return, a little smile and a tan hand into his. Seamus really didn’t want this to be the first and last time.

“Have you ever been at Arcadia’s planetarium?”

“I am familiar, not a frequent visitor though. I was here for the Science Fair, and once in the first days since I land- got here.” He stumbled a little and focused on looking around, frowning. “I did not find anything particularly interesting though. Only incorrect.”

“Oh, if you’re up for a conversation about mistakes made into the planetary system I’m all ears, but let’s get inside first. I’m bringing you somewhere special.” He walked towards the building, aiming for the back of it, hoping that the occasional cat had decided to do its stuff somewhere else, at least for tonight. Only halfway there it hit him that their hands were still united. He was actually holding his hand. The realization made his body tremble. “Huh, I…” He looked over his shoulder, trying to think how to ask someone if it was okay to hold hands while already doing it in order not to make him go away – why was his brain always this convoluted?

Krel blinked at him, with those pretty brown eyes of his. There was such a control into those irises, smarts and brilliance but not only. It was the kind of look that had seen much, stuff he probably couldn’t even understand. There was simply something that made him want to know more about him.

He clenched his hold. Seamus could feel his heart doing backflips.

“What is it?” This mischievous genius smirked. Absolutely aware. What a day was this day.

“… nothing.” Seamus grinned back, starting to accept that from now on everything was going to be absolutely mind-blowing. “I have been here so many times, and if I know something is that the employees here are… really bad at their job.” He eyed the backdoor. Then the doormat. A freaking doormat, what a cliché. “I swear, one could break in and they would barely notice.” Reluctantly he let go of his hand, slipped it underneath the obvious hiding spot and got the key.

“That is really careless. Although having access to this place could be useful, I did see some interesting components for potential devices last time I was here.”

“Dang, you’re a dangerous one… wait, you’re an inventor?”

“In a way, I’m mostly an engineer.” Total. Heart eyes. “How did you discover this entrance?”

“I used to be a kid who barely had friends, hate with passion staying at my own house and I wished for nothing more than to climb onto a rocket and leave the planet to explore the entire galaxy.” Huh. It used to sound way less edgy when he was younger. “At some point dad discovered that he could leave me here with an adult and he was able to go by his day doing business or whatever without a problem, so I spent a lot of time around here. It gets easier to discover tricks when you’re a kid.” He unlocked the door, bowing at the other. “After you, Mr. Rebel.”

Krel rolled his eyes with a smirk, getting in.

It was as silent and dark as he expected it to be. Also empty, as he expected the nightguard had ditched his job once again – he mentally thanked his careless of tonight. He had been there enough to memorize even the vague noise of the neon, it was echoing into his ears even now that the lights were off. He took out his phone, brightening the way for them to walk. He barely had to think about it, his feet already knew where to step and what poster to pass by, even in complete darkness. His attention was mostly on the guy following him anyway… he was bringing a guy to his special place. He was bringing a guy into his stupidly nerdy corner in this stupidly nerdy place he had adored ever since he was a kid. He was actually doing it.

Wow, Mary would have screamed murder at him for being this uncool. He decided he could deal with her fits later. For now, the projector room.

It pleased him the look of Krel’s face, as it was genuinely the first time he had been there. There were so many seats, the projector was in the middle of the room. It was dark, but the glass dome above them gave a bit of a view over the night sky. Nothing else, absolute simplicity. It was so peaceful here. It made him sigh of relief every single time.

Right now though, it was enough silence to hear his own heartbeats, as the Cantaloupian’s curious eyes went all over the room. He really wanted to be up to his expectations.

“Fascinating.” He looked up to the sky view. “What is the purpose of this place?”

“You’ll see.” Seamus took off that awful jacket of his with a certain satisfaction and put it onto one of the seats. He patted the one next to him. “Give me a moment.” Krel obeyed, taking place, while the blonde went over the controls. He had seen it plenty of times, he had done it as well. Only a few controllers, along with the audio guide. “Get ready for the show!” He hurried to take place where he had left the piece of clothes, deliberately sitting on it – he never wanted to see it again, at least until winder, screw being cool or whatever.

A very familiar excitement took over when the first stars appeared, manifesting the galaxy as a whole. So many points made of light, further than his mind could ever go, yet so reachable in a way his mind couldn’t explain. Soon enough planets came into view as well, Saturn first in all of its beauty, showcasing the rings into the black space.

He took a breath, feeling the familiarity of the place… and something more.

“Space, the ever-present dome of endless wonder,” The audio guide roared through the video, toning it down a little had been a good idea. He remembered when he was a kid, and he had been so conflicted between putting his hands over his ears or risking becoming deaf only for the sake of knowing more about the universe. “And just when you think the universe can’t get any more mysterious…” He knew that explanation by heart at this point.

So he noticed the change nearby. He thought he was imagining it, because it wasn’t the first time the thought had hit him. Then his fingers met others, his heart screamed, and he decided that no dream of his had ever been this vivid.

“I like this place.” Krel was talking softly, close to his ear. It sent a shiver onto his back.

“H-happy to hear.” He let their fingers intertwine, trying to focus less on how everything could end up so horribly and more on how enjoyable everything was. He could live this moment, without thinking of the bad possible outcome. “… you know, the planets got colored like that to appeal the kids I think. The first time I watched it I’ve already studied my kiddie book about planets, and I was so disappointed that they weren’t being accurate.” He snickered, letting his eyes wander on how the celestial corpses were moving in circles. “Thinking that there is so much out there…”

“Yeah… so much.” Krel breathed out. “Galaxies so distant, Earth might never get the chance to reach. Everything is so far from everything here.” His tone had gone down a little, pensive.

The audio guide continued, Seamus was unconsciously moving his mouth along the description that was already stuck into his head. Krel had gone completely silent, even though his warm was still into his. The blonde had no idea what was going on in that impressive brain of his, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to stay away from it.

With his free hand he pointed at the projection, the fragment with all the stars.

“You know, I used to think that space was a little scary. It’s so vast and we humans will probably never live long enough to see it all.” He smiled, remember the stories about the stars his mom used to read for him. “Then I discovered how far stars are, and that from every single planet of the Milky Way the constellations all look the same. It’s like they reach all those places.”

“… what about beyond that?” Krel swallowed, clenching his hold. “What if there are even further planets out there?”

“Well, stars are many lightyears away from here, and one lightyear is 5.8 trillion miles. That’s one heck of a trip.” He got a look that said ‘I knew that’ and laughed, making him smile a little too. “All I’m saying is that, at least for a part of the galaxy, the sky will look the same. And even if we discovered even further away planets where they don’t know about Andromeda or Sagittarius, there will be other stars over there, reaching out for other places, but stars nonetheless.” The projection changed again, coming back to Earth. “As far as one can go, there are still things that feels like home, you know? That’s why, even though it’s terrifying, I kind of can’t wait to know if there’s more out there.” His throat felt lighter. Oh. He had rarely ever been able to say, was this ok-

Oh. Oh. He was wrong, Krel had never smiled before, not this evening, not even a single time. Because this was his real smile, a radiant curve with those lucid eyes, reflecting the light of the projector. He turned to him, and Seamus almost gasped out of the view alone.

Beautiful. Krel Tarron was really beautiful.

“That is a comforting thought.” His voice wasn’t far anymore, it got back some vigor. “So, this is the real you?” Seamus swallowed. Right, it all came down to that.

“I guess so… yeah, pretty much.”

“Good. I like this Seamus much better than the other one.” Okay, calm down. He was simply making a comparison with how jerky he was before. No need to get all riled up by his wording. “Although I am not completely convinced about the situation, perhaps this matter needs to be deepen on another occasion. Perhaps in another place, at another time… with the two of us.” Okay, no calming down, forget all the rationality he was so going to freak out.

It took him a moment. Then, mustering all of his courage at facing the last doubt that he was going to get slapped or laughed at as soon as he turned, he looked at the guy sitting next to him. No laugh. No slap. Not at all.

“Does… does that mean… another date? A-a proper one?” The Cantaloupian’s shrug said maybe, his extremely wide grin said yes. Seamus was too happy to care about the mocking intention. “Huh, uh, uhm.” Answer stupid, answer! “Yes. That is… sure, why not, it sounds good.” He so needed to work on his communication skills, especially since he was about to meet him so much more from now on – holy everything he just got a date out of Krel Tarron didn’t he. “I can pick you up one of these days, we can go to Sam’s or something…” Wow, a diner, such a romantic place for a date. “O-or something else, maybe I should ask Steve about idea- Oh, dang it!”

Krel’s expression fell. Oh, apparently he wasn’t the only one questioning himself.

“What is it? Is it no good?”

“Oh, no way, it’s nothing! I’m happy!” He straightened his back, glad that they were still holding hands despite everything. “It’s just that… urgh, I hate when Steve’s right about something, he gets super unbearable. Now the fact that he arranged the whole thing and it actually worked will be his biggest accomplishment, not looking forward to that.” He could already see the t-shirts ‘I got this buttsnack a date’ with his face on it. With that being said, it seemed almost an overly fair trade, weeks of mockery coming from that guy for a single date with the Cantaloupian.

Who was staring at him with an arched brow, slowly straightening his back with a wince – yeah, his own back wasn’t doing much better, these chairs were pretty uncomfortable.

“What do you mean he arranged this?” How subtle Steve was?… could Steve actually be subtle?

“Well, you know, it’s pretty evident.” Seamus scratched his cheek with his free hand, laughing a little. “He was the one knowing about my… uhm, interest in you.” Nice understatement. Those brown eyes widened. “The day I offer him a lift with my car you come along, there’s not much else to deduce here.” It was weird that someone this observant hadn’t noticed the coincidence.

Krel was smiling, again, and his cheeks were lightly red. It almost stopped his heart. Then he frowned, like another thought had taken over his more pleasant one.

“You think Steve pushed me to come today?” Seamus blinked. That was a weirdly worded question. He simply nodded. “What makes you think that?”

“Please, that guy would do anything to make me in the situation to make an absolute fool of myself! Granted, I didn’t need much of his help at this turn.” Krel was still blinking, looking baffled. “Besides, who else would’ve cared for this? I don’t think your sister knew about me, Logan is out of the picture tonight, and I’d be terrified if Mary actually managed to be involved without… what? What is it?” The guy was staring so intently, it was hard keeping track with that kind of look.

The hold clenched again. Krel was focused on nothing but him.

“I am simply a little taken back. I thought the fact that I came along only when you were there would have given away my intentions.” His inten- Oh. Oh. That syllabus must had shown onto his face because Krel laughed. He laughed and it was beautiful, even though his brain was having a grand hard time at functioning. “Steve simply said you were there to give him a ride, it was a good occasion. A plan of mine at least.” Still not functioning. “Speaking of, perhaps we should let them know we might be a little late at picking them up. I am in no hurry to leave anymore.” Still hardly understanding. “You are perhaps a little less brilliant than you think you are, Seamus Johnson.” Still non computing. Krel stared at him, right into his eyes. “But you are a nicer company than you might believe to be.” He got closer. Not functioning, not computing not-

Cheek, kiss.

Kiss cheek, cheeky kiss, kiss on the cheek with kiss-

Krel was kissing his cheek.

It was warm and soft, and it made his brain absolute short-circuit. Their noses almost brushed when he pulled away, and Krel’s hair moved a little, lightly smelling like metal. He was an inventor, he said. What else? What else was this person was? He really wanted to know, he really wanted to ask. All he could muster right now though was some sort of whimper, that made the Cantaloupian giggle some more, before getting back on his seat while still holding his hand.

The audio guide’s voice was still as powerful as ever, and at the meteor section something into his head woke up. Seamus realized that, once again, he wasn’t hallucinating. He couldn’t reach his warm cheek with his free hand without looking incredibly awkward but it was fine. It was okay, absolutely okay, and he couldn’t stop grinning because of it.

Turned out, it wasn’t Steve’s fault. It was Krel’s fault.

He was more than happy to go along with it.

[enbyeddiediaz]

Since I really enjoyed your thoughts on the first one I can’t help myself

Let Me Be Sad by I Prevail but it’s from Eddie’s point of view during the lawsuit arc

I think this one is gonna end up being longer than the first 💀

ok so I started by just listening to the music and not really paying attention to the words since the score of something can make or break the lyrics and the hurt and anger is palpable in the music. even without listening to the words, you know this song is about someone's pain, their hardship. the music isn't violent by any means and neither is eddie. the music is hurt, it's in pain, and it doesn't know what to do abt it which is exactly where eddie's at. you can feel eddie's pain when you watch it and see him but you know he's just trying to find a way to deal with everything somehow. the music is someone's way of dealing with their grief the only way they know how, lashing out in the only way they can. this is eddie throughout the entirety of the lawsuit and fight club arcs. he doesn't know how to deal with all the shit thrown at him.

moving on the the lyrics

"I'm holding back right now/'cause I'm numb to what's around" in his session with Frank, Eddie talks about how there were moments where he knew he should feel something, anything, but he doesn't. it's clearly something that's been happening for a while. he's tamping everything down because he needs to maintain control of SOMETHING in his life.

"I miss the life I used to have with you right here/Now everything has turned grey/And I'm blacking out the shades for now". Now this section could apply to either shannon or buck but (obviously) I'm choosing Buck. Eddie misses Buck. his world is darker without buck. to him, buck has abandoned him, left him in the dust. he doesn't know what to do except shut down. buck was the only thing other then christopher helping him keep it together and now he's gone. he misses the life they had built together, with game and movie nights and family outings. he opened up to buck and now he's gone. so instead of dealing with this, he slips on a mask. one that makes him look normal, that hides the emptiness and pain he's really feeling.

"let me be sad/even for a little while/just a chance to catch my breath/let me be sad/even for a little while/'cause it's all I have left/when all I see are the memories, I don't want to lose a thing/let me be sad, let me be sad" all this shit happened in such a short period of time (shannon, the ladder truck, buck's embolism, the tsunami, the lawsuit). he hasn't had a moment to process it, to breathe, like the song says. it's just been piled on and on and on without a break. the weight on his shoulders is immense. and now, he's looking back on the life he had built with buck (and maybe thinking about the life he might have built with him in the future) and he wants it SO. BAD. he doesn't want buck to leave him, to have to do any of this without him. but he can't. buck is gone. he's not allowed to talk to him, not allowed to see him. Chris can't see or talk to him in the aftermath of such a huge shared trauma. it feels too similar to Shannon running out on them. he wants to grieve and be sad and feel it all but he's not allowed to. he's been taught to work around the grief, not through it. push it down, step over it, don't acknowledge it. he especially can't let other people see it. we catch a glimpse of it in 2.17 where he finally allows himself to feel anything abt shannon's death. he's alone, can't let anyone know how deeply he's affected by it. he can't be seen being "weak". he can't give in, even if he desperately wants to (give into his grief OR his feelings for buck, can't acknowledge them bc then he'll have to do something abt them).

"Can you see it in my eyes I've been distant?/'Cause I can't tell if it's the end or the beginning/I know I haven't been myself, I'll admit it/And I put up walls, so if I burned any bridges just know/I'm doing everything I can to fix it/But knowing me I'll probably miss it" this makes me think of when Buck officially comes back to the 118. Buck can tell smthg is off with eddie but eddie is still distancing himself from buck. he's still angry and hurt. we all know damn well eddie WANTS to talk to buck, WANTS him back in his life, but he's not ready. this is a turning point in their relationship but it's not clear if it's good or bad until eventually buck reaches out and asks eddie to just talk to him at all, even just to yell at him. and eddie gives in. just a little, just enough to not totally wreck his relationship with buck, just enough to feel SOMETHING. But the fight club doesn't stop, and he hasn't told buck about the fight club, even if Buck knows something is up with eddie. there's still a distance between them, even if it's lesser than before. Eddie can't give in completely yet.

"these voices get so vicious/feels like I'm ripping stitches/I wish some days I could go back/before life changed, it was so fast/that time is gone and I know that/so please//let me be sad" and then the rest of the chorus. here is where I imagine eddie in the ring, angry and lashing out. he's about to reach his breaking point. he wants the life he had before. before he almost broke up with his best friend bc of a lawsuit, before his son was swept up in a tsunami and he almost lost him, before his son had nightmares abt the tsunami and his mother dying, before he almost lost his best friend in a truck bombing, before his wife asked for a divorce and then died the next day. before everything went to shit. but he can't have that, and he knows it. things have changed permanently. and again, he wants to grieve it, wants to let himself feel sad about it, but he doesn't know how. it goes against everything he's been taught. he doesn't know how to let go and give in to what he's feeling.

the chorus repeats a couple times and then there's a repetition of the beginning stanza: "I'm holding back right now/(let me be sad)/'Cause I'm numb to what's around/I miss the life I used to have with you right here/now everything has turned to grey/And I'm blacking out the shades for now". while lyrically it's the same, it feels different emotionally. in the beginning the "for now" feels like forever, like there's no end, this is just where he's going to be for the rest of his life. however, it currently feels like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. he's back on speaking terms with buck, they're having game nights again. he still misses what he had before, but maybe now, eventually, he can move on. maybe soon he can give in. maybe soon he can work through the grief instead of around it. maybe he can do it with buck.

[rllymilerlly]

Taang One Shot

Now I’m not much of a writer so this is pretty much my first fic ever. So please tell me things to fix if something isn’t right lmao. Also this is set in mine and @toph-beifcng WEFA AU. So check their stuff out 😎

———

Aang stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. A minute passed by and the update progress bar still hadn’t moved. Aang was about to scream. He was pretty sure it was mocking him. His computer had to know that he had a deadline coming up. It knew that he had no inspiration. So it was going to make him sit there and wait, mocking him. Make him stare at a progress bar for an hour because what else was he going to do? It wasn’t like he had any actual ideas for a song anyways. He tried looking at his hundreds of songwriting notebooks, but none of those gave him the inspiration he desperately needed. He even went as far back as to his high school ones-where most of the songs consisted of teenage angst and his old unrequited crush on Katara.

At the thought of Katara, Aang had half a mind to call up her up and give her a piece of his mind. Why did she feel the need to put a deadline on his creative process? The GAang wasn’t even signed to anybody at the moment and nobody else had strict deadlines like he did. Sure they all had at least one solo piece done, while Aang had none, but Aang chose to ignore that. He was now convinced that Katara had it out for him, just like his computer.

He looked at his phone and the time read 2:35. Great, another 5 minutes passed by and the progress bar only moved one percent. Aang thought of himself as a gentle soul, but at this moment he wanted to chuck his PC out of his apartment window. But since he knew he couldn’t afford another one, he settled with pulling his beanie over his face and groaned in frustration.

“Sounds productive in here, Twinkle Toes,” a chill voice said behind him. Aang lifted up his beanie and turned around. His girlfriend was leaning against the doorframe across the room. She was wearing his iconic bright orange hoodie that was so big on her tiny frame that he could barely see her shorts poking through the bottom. Her hair was in her typical messy bun and looked like it was begging to be let down. Any other time Aang would be all over her but right now he wanted to suffer alone.

“Toph, can’t you see I’m busy? I don’t need your snarky commentary right now.” Aang sighed, annoyed, as he turned back to his unchanged computer screen.

“Well I mean I can’t see anything,” Aang groaned at the comment. “But I can practically feel your mopiness throughout the entire apartment. It’s practically oozing out of-”

“What do you want, T?” He interrupted. He really wasn’t in the mood. He could hear her approaching behind him and the next thing he knew a book was in his hand “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Now, and I could totally be wrong, but I’m pretty sure people typically read books” Toph stated with her arms crossed. Aang glared at her.

“Yes. I know that,” he was rubbing his temples struggling to hold back his temper, “but there is no reason for me to read right now. You know I have a deadline coming up. I cannot afford to-“

“I want you to read it to me. I can’t sleep.” Toph interrupted. Now that caused Aang to freeze up, he hadn’t expected that.

“Oh,” was all that Aang could manage out. His frustrations seemed to melt away momentarily. He looked at the book she handed him. It was The Princess Bride one of his favorites, “Hey, wait a minute, I got you the audiobook of this for your birthday.”

“So?” She huffed

“Soooo, can’t you listen to that?” he said looking back at her. Her face turned red as she looked down and mumbled. “What was that, T?”

“I said the guys voice is annoying” she said a little more confidently, but still looking down.

“Okay and? You say my voice is annoying all the time.” Aang said with a smirk. It wasn’t often he got to see his girlfriend so flustered.

“Yeah well he doesn’t do voices. How am I supposed to know who’s, who when his voice is just so monotone,” Toph pouted as she carefully sat down in the chair next to him. Aang was full on grinning at this point.

“I knew you secretly liked my voices” he started to laugh as she playfully elbowed him.

“Yeah, yeah, but don’t tell anyone that. I gotta reputation to keep.” She was still blushing like crazy, but couldn’t hold back her smile anymore. She grabbed his hand, “Now are you coming or what?” Aang looked at her suspiciously.

“Wait a minute is this all a ruse to get me to go to bed?”

“That depends, is it working?” Toph asked as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Aang leaned into her touch unconsciously. She was starting to make him think that going to bed might not be a bad idea. Then he made the mistake at looking at the computer screen. He almost screamed. It was done updating. He pulled away from Toph.

“I’m so sorry, Toph. You know I would love to, but I have to keep working or Katara will kill me. And honestly by extension she’d probably kill you too.” Aang couldn’t bare to look at her as he spoke. He knew if he saw the disappointment in her eyes he would immediately throw away all of his responsibilities and only do whatever she asked the rest of his life. Toph sighed and got up. Aang closed his eyes as she went behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“I know. I understand you gotta focus. I’ll leave you to it,” she kissed the top of his head, “Goodnight, Aang.” And then just like that she was gone.

Aang sighed at the realization he was alone again. He tried to get to work by researching some of his previous inspirations, hoping that anything would catch his interest. But to no prevail. He was in the same exact position he was when his computer screen was nothing but an update bar. Except now he felt a little colder, a little emptier. He looked at the clock 3:42. He was getting nowhere and felt tears of exhaustion starting to form at his eyes.

Then all the sudden he felt something heavy rest on his lap. Aang looked down and saw two big brown eyes staring back at him.

“Oh hey, buddy” Aang said with a small smile as he started petting Appa’s head, “What are you doing up? Did Toph send you in after me?” Appa’s head lifted up at the mention of Toph and Aang laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes” Appa smiled at Aang’s laughter and apparently thought it was a great opportunity to jump up on the chair and start licking his face.

“Appa, please, get down.” Aang couldn’t stop laughing now as he tried to control Appa. He could barely breath. “You’re too big to be a lap dog. You’re going to make us fall.”

Finally, Aang gently pushed Appa off him. But Appa paid no mind he was wagging his big tail, excitedly.

”C’mon, buddy, you know you’re not allowed to do that while I’m in the desk chair,” he said still smiling while he wiped the slobber off his face. Appa nudged Aangs leg and Aang sighed knowingly, “I’m sorry buddy I’m busy. I got to get this done.”

Appa grunted in response and put a paw on his arm.

“Appa, please” Aang looked down at his fluffy buddy, hoping he’d understand. But he just got a whimper in response. Aang looked back at his blank screen. He was convinced the world truly had something against him. The Music Gods must have cursed him. Maybe he had to defeat all these tempting obstacles in order to achieve the creative inspiration he desired. But then out of the corner of his eye he saw it. Toph must have forgotten to take it back with her. On his desk was The Princess Bride. And in that moment Aang knew he had lost. Aang sighed in defeat as he closed his laptop, his tormentor. “Alright, buddy, you win,” he yawned, exhaustion suddenly catching up to him, “It’s time for bed.”

Appa happily lead the way to their room across the apartment. Aang couldn’t help but realize how messy his home was. He had been practically locked up in the make shift “office” for the past 2 days. So hadn’t been able to upkeep anything, he barely took care of himself. ‘Oh God did I even eat anything today?’ He thought to himself. ‘Oh wait I had Chinese, but I don’t remember leaving,’ he sighed regretfully ‘Toph must have gotten it for me.’

He could see a dim light coming from the cracked door of their room. Appa trotted in before him, pushing the door fully open. Aang leaned on the door frame and took in the sight. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face even if he tried. Toph was sitting up in bed with her headphones in. Her eyes were droopy but she had a small smile on her face as she was petting Momo, who was curled up on her lap, purring. They seemed so peaceful... and so tired. A small twinge of guilt formed in his stomach because he knew the only reason why they were up was because they were waiting for him. Appa jumped onto the bed and Toph’s eyes lit up and she took out one of her headphones. When Appa came over to curl up next to Toph, Aang could see the twinkle in her eyes die out when she realized it wasn’t him.

“You know, I can practically feel your mopiness throughout the entire apartment.” He teased with a small sad smile.

“Oh really?” Toph smirked and her eyes twinkled again

“Yeah it’s really distracting.” He started making his way to their bed. “I couldn’t get anything done because of it.” He sighed over dramatically as he sat on the bed, “But I guess I can’t blame you. I mean I am the best storyteller of all time. I would be upset too if I had to settle for less”

Toph rolled her eyes and snorted, “I don’t think I would consider you the ��best of all time’, I’d say you’re more tolerable than anything.’

Aang gasped dramatically and put his hand to his chest. “My love, you offend me. Maybe I should go elsewhere, where my services are more appreciated.” Toph quickly grabbed his hand before he could even pretend to walk away.

“No.”

“Admit it, then” Aang teased her as he interlocked their fingers.

“Wasn’t what I said earlier enough,” she rolled her eyes, but scooted closer to him. Aang smiled and couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry. You see I suffer from short term memory loss and I don’t recall-“

“Twinkle Toes!” Toph interrupted, but Aang wasn’t going to back down. There was a beat of silence.

“I’m waiting~” He said in a sing song voice. There was another beat.

“Fine” Toph groaned putting her free hand on her face, “you’re the best storyteller”

“Of all time?” He questioned nudging her.

“That I know of,” she smiled squeezing his hand.

“I’ll take it,” he leaned in and kissed her forehead. After he kept his forehead against hers and looked into her pale green eyes and breathed her in. He truly believed in that moment that they were staring at each other’s souls. She was the only one that could ever see through him and he was the only one she ever let see her. He felt tears starting to well up in eyes again as his guilt from earlier overtook him because she looked as tired as he felt. He then wrapped his arms around her tightly as he continued, “I’m sorry about earlier. I’ve been so stressed out and I don’t even know what I’d do without you looking out for me.” Toph laughed into his shoulder.

“You’d probably get lost in that mind of yours,” she teased as she pushed away from him. “Now enough of this,” she gently wiped the tears from his eyes, “You got a story to read me, oh great story teller.” Aang laughed and picked up the book.

“Okay, Okay, gather ‘round folks,” Aang said in a terrible cockney accent. Toph laughed as they both got under the covers, “This tale sure is a doozy.”

“Are you going to use that voice the whole time?”

“You said ya liked my voices. So you better prepare yourself, sweetheart.”

“Oh God, I already regret this.” Toph groaned, but cuddled closer to him. Aang shushed her and began his favorite tale.

“The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette...”

They did not get passed the second page before they were all passed out.

Aang sprung awake suddenly the next morning. It was like a lightning bolt, the moment he had been waiting for finally happened. He was struck with inspiration. He was about to dart out of bed before he forgot it, but then he realized all of his cuddle buddies around him. Toph laid on his chest with her arms wrapped around him, while Aang had one arm around her while the the other still barely grasping the book he was reading the night before. Momo was curled up right between them while Appa rested on their laps. Suddenly he couldn’t even bring himself thinking about getting out of bed. Katara could kill him right now and this moment would say that this was worth it. His cursed computer could wait a few more hours. He took a second to commit the image of all of them together to his memory before wrapping both of his arms around Toph, cuddling closer to her. Letting sleep once again overtake him.