#i can only smoke certain bud though otherwise i get stuck in my head and forget im a real person

[froggybaek]

dognapped! - bang chan

♛➩ genre: fluffy as hell, minor angst, Disney!au

♛➩ pairing: fem!reader x bang chan

♛➩ warnings: I will be v sad if no one gets the many 101 Dalmatians references I hid in here

♛➩ summary: when your furry best friend suddenly vanishes out of thin air, you don’t know what to do - until a certain person advises you to go seek out the town sheriff, that is.

♛➩ word count: 6.2k

 Ramen was by far your most favorite thing in the world - well, the new world, that is. Something so - so delicious and fulfilling simply couldn’t be found back in the universe you originally hailed from. The closest thing to a delicacy such as the wonders of ramen was the rare stuffed squid, although you dropped off eating the sea creature after an awkward moment of your mouth being filled with squid when you met the abashed gaze of Ursula’s son.

 Needless to say, you had found something far better than mere stuffed squid (sorry, Minho) to satisfy your appetite. The yellow noodles paired with a boiled egg and some seasoning could honestly replace any other meal if that’s what it was boiled down to; just ramen, that is. So, naturally, when you stumbled onto a stray golden retriever who’s fur color matched that of the delicate noodles, you simply had to name the adorable ball of fluff after the food.

 When you had first run into the stray, you were sure he had not, in fact, been a stray at all. He had a black and white collar fastened around his furry neck and his stomach was nice and plump with good feedings. That was about a year ago, right around the time everyone had been poofed into this new realm of existence.

 After, say, another month of being mostly by your lonesome in the journey of adapting to this strange way of living, you stumbled onto the golden fellow yet again. This time around, though, you had noticed that his once fancy collar was tarnished, the bronze nametag rusted so badly that you couldn’t make out the name of the pooch or his original address. His poor tummy, which had at one time been a bit droopy with food, was staunch, bearing sight to a couple of ribs - much to your horrified concern. That very same day, you took him home and dubbed him Ramen.

 Ramen was your best friend. He somehow managed to comfort you during your darkest days, mainly those that came from the mangled nightmares of wondering what happened to everyone back home; if you were stuck in this strange, modern world where you could barely operate a telephone or turn on the television without wanting to smash your head into a wall. On the days you had to make a doctor’s appointment (as that was apparently a golden rule of this place to constantly check on your health) and try to remember just how a phone worked, Ramen would place his golden muzzle on your lap as if to reassure you that everything was going to be all right.

 The dog painted with different shades of sunlight wasn’t all too adventurous either, much like yourself. He preferred to laze around in your cramped townhouse, only going outside to the even smaller backyard (if you could even call it that) to take care of his business. Simply put, he was your other half - your best furry friend. So when you came home one day after a bit too long of a grocery run to find Ramen nowhere inside nor outside, you were thrown into a panic, to say the least.

 “No - there are absolutely no holes in the fence, Woojin,” you breathe out in a haste against the speaker of your smartphone. After a good five minutes of trying to find the man’s contact, you had finally managed to call him so you could truly express your growing panic over the sudden vanishing of your dog. “I triple checked anywhere he could possibly get out. T-there’s nothing to explain how he got out.”

 The man on the other side of the line hums to himself as he contemplates how to respond. To be honest, you weren’t too sure why he had been the first person you went to for help; being the offspring of Cinderella, he had a sort of gift for talking to animals... the flying kind, anyway, and mice - but that was about it for all you knew.

 “The best thing you can do is ask around town, see if anyone saw Ramen wandering around,” Woojin told you honestly, “I can’t really help besides that, I’m afraid. Most of the birds here still won’t listen to me no matter how hard I try, and the mice usually get lost if they leave my property.”

 You run your fingers through your hair in a fit of worry. Having the help of eyes in the sky would’ve been a lot more helpful, but you couldn’t blame Woojin for that failed plan. “I guess you’re right. In that case I’ll head out and ask around. Thank you, Woojin.” You breathe out quietly, humming when he sends you good wishes in finding your currently lost dog.

 Slipping your shoes back on to venture outside in your search for the golden retriever, you go to check the time on your otherwise locked phone. A hint of a pout outlines your lips when your gaze locks onto the wallpaper of the smartphone, recognizing the photo you had taken weeks ago at the beach. You and Ramen were the main focus of the candid photo, although you could spot Minho, his now lover, and two of their other close friends chasing each other in the background. The entire day you all spent at the beach was by far the best day you had in the town, a chuckle escaping your lips as you recall Ramen climbing into your lap even though he was soaked to the bone from swimming in the ocean.

 Hopefully you would be able to find him soon.

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 Not even two hours later, you had started to suspect that something fishy was going on; because not only was Ramen mysteriously missing, but a good handful of other pooches were just - poof - completely gone! When you had asked the local half-lion, half-human Kevin Moon if he had in fact spotted your dog wandering around all alone, the raven haired man had scoffed.

 “No, I haven’t seen that mangy - ow, shit! I mean... Ramen, around. But a fuck ton of dogs and puppies have been vanishing for a good week now,” he’d informed you, pink lips pursed into a pout as he rubbed the red spot on his arm, “hell, Eric won’t talk to me since I technically lost his dog while he was out one day. I fell asleep for a few hours and suddenly the damn hairball was gone.”

 “Huh... do you think that maybe someone is taking them?”

 “Hell if I know, y/n. I just know that none of the damn things have been around to chase me in the park for once.”

 He had also suggested going to pay a visit to the town sheriff, stating that it couldn’t just be sheer coincidence that so many dogs were suddenly disappearing without a single trace. Knowing that he could very well have a hunch, you listened to his advice, soon finding yourself standing in front of the station.

 You’d talked to the sheriff a few handful of times beforehand - mostly because you hadn’t quite grasped the concept of a home security system or that leaving your strange contraption of transportation (they called it a ‘bike’) unattended was a bad idea. Other than that, you only heard petty rumors about the man.

 Although it was usually hidden underneath a blood red cap, you knew his hair was somewhat long and fluffy, the colors a dual-clash of black and white; that alone outed who he was the child of, none other than Cruella De Vil herself. They shared some similarities, of course, with the man inheriting her skill for finding anything (or anyone) that evaded allusion. He was also rumored to be the one who convinced his mother to be part of the scheme to send all the younger peoples to this new world - some claimed that he wanted to rule over all, but that theory had been debunked when he only came to be known as the town sheriff.

 Others would pass certain whispers, saying that he desired to just live a much simpler life in a place where he could start life anew. You weren’t sure what to think, not that you cared in total honesty. There was nothing anyone could do to change what had happened, and holding that blame over his head just because he was the offspring of one of the villains seemed way too farfetched to you.

 A dingy yellow bell rings as you slowly swing open the glass door, stepping into the eerily quiet station with confusion. Sure, it was getting a bit late, but you hadn’t been expecting the police station of all places to be as quiet as a library.

 You’re about to call out to see if anyone is inside when a gray puff of smoke clouds your vision, a stuttered cough breaking past your lips in shock. Waving your hands around in the air to clear the smoke, you blink furiously to regain your lost vision. Out of thin air, the sheriff himself had popped out in front of you, a cigarette pushed between his smirking lips.

 “What can I help you with, darling?” He questioned you slyly.

 You huff and glare at him, one hand still waving away the secondhand smoke while the other lightly flicked his red leather jacket in a hint of annoyance. “I - I need to talk to you, Chris-”

 “It’s Chan to you, y/n,” Chr- Chan, corrected you harshly, his eyelids narrowed in amusement as you try to get rid of the smoke emitting from his lit cigarette bud. Feeling somewhat sympathetic to your plights, he slips the bud out of his mouth and crushes it before effortlessly tossing it into the bin nearby. “Anyway, what’s going on? Please don’t tell me someone took your bike again because you forgot to lock it up.”

 He’s met with another harsh glare thrown in his direction. Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, he pipes down to listen to whatever it is you have to say. “Tons of dogs are just going missing out of literally nowhere - no rhyme or reason to it,” you begin to explain, “I think that - that someone is dognapping them.”

 Silence.

 “... Did you seriously fucking call it dognapping?”

 You can’t help but whine at his teasing tone, wondering if you had perhaps made the wrong decision to come here in the first place. “Call it whatever you want, okay? The important thing is that my dog is missing, and so are half of the others in this damn town.”

 Chan knew you were onto something. For the past week or so, he’d been getting calls left and right from almost every corner of town about their furry friends leaving home. At first, he hadn’t thought much of it; since he was too busy to take care of such meager tasks, he sent out his deputy, Jeongin, to scope out the alleyways and the like.

 But just yesterday, Jeongin had informed Chan that his crew was itching to go out to sea - it wasn’t just the crew, though, and Chan could tell by the way their very young captain bounced on the heels of his boots. With his helper now sailing out of town, the sheriff didn't have any other hands on deck to help with the whole dog situation.

 No one else worked at the station. It was just Chan and, on occasion, the little pirate when he wasn’t out in the wide ocean. Most of the townspeople were far too frightened by his bitchy nature and general background, which was only fueled by the cruel rumors surrounding his upbringing and involvement in the curse. Yet, here you were, refusing to show an inch of fear or anger towards the man.

 Perhaps... he admired that. “I’m not saying you’re one-hundred percent right, y/n, but I don’t think it would hurt to look into the theft of all those dogs,” Chan murmured after a moment to think to himself, his teeth going to nibble on his bottom lip now that the distracting cigarette was in the trash. You’re just about to thank him when he stops you, mockingly bringing a finger up to your lips. “Seriously, don’t thank me yet. We’ll find the damn mutts and then you can show your appreciation.”

 “Wait - we?” You hummed in curiosity, tilting your head a bit, ignoring the fact that his finger was still brushing against your parted lips.

 “Yes, we,” the sheriff grumbled, nearly hissing at the sudden rush of heat that travelled up his arm when your soft breaths fanned against his skin, “my uh, deputy, is out of town at the moment. You can be my - my,”

 “Partner in crime?”

 “... Sure, whatever floats your boat,” he sighed in defeat. Reaching over to the coat rack beside you, Chan snags his signature red ballcap and places it snuggly on top of his head of black and white hair, his bangs just barely visible beneath the hem. “Come on, let’s go find some clues.”

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 Fuck clues. They were absolutely evasive to you, leaving your cheeks red in exasperation and your poor feet completely sore. Chan had made sure to cover every inch of town to find something that might lead to the uncovering of the mystery at hand and, well, you didn’t want to leave the hardworking sheriff all alone.

 Until now, anyway.

 Because that bastard had found so many possible pieces of evidence that you ended up having to write it all down on an old sticky note just to ‘keep inventory,’ as he called it. You couldn’t even try to defend his quick wit or brilliance with the ‘oh it’s his job, obviously he has some idea what he’s doing,’ because he was a villain not even a year ago! And who were you? His new lackey?

 “Oh, your face is getting a little red, y/n,” speak of the devil himself, “how are you doing sweetheart? Beginning to realize this is a lot harder than it looks, aren’t you?”

 You couldn’t count on your own fingers how many short glares you had sent the cocky man throughout the remainder of the day, although this time you resisted the familiar urge to do so, instead focusing your attention on the road ahead of you. “I never doubted how hard your job is, Chan. I guess I’m irked that we... well... didn’t find anything today,” you trail off, feeling your heart sink in your chest as you realize that tonight will be the first time in months that you won’t have Ramen curled up on your belly as you fall asleep.

 The protective dog made you feel so much safer. While you had an entire year to get used to the new world as best as you possibly could, nothing other than him could shake away your worries and paranoia.

 Looking over for merely a split second, Chan could see the distress start to eat you alive from the inside out. Practically everyone knew that you still hadn’t fully adapted to your new life, not at all. Glancing down, he notices that one of your legs has started to bounce in growing anxiety, a feeling he knew all too well himself.

 “Listen, why don’t you stay at my place tonight,” he offered, the usual sneer on his face now replaced with grumbling softness and concern. When you don’t respond, he uses one hand to steer his cop car, the other going to rest cautiously on your still moving leg, just on the knee. “I know damn well you haven't set your security system up yet, y/n. If Ramen really was taken from your home, that means someone else also knows that you’re basically defenseless by yourself.”

 The red color dusting your cheeks is no longer just an effect of your previous exhaustion, now mixed in with the butterflies that, for some reason, erupt in your chest when Chan’s fingers trace gentle, soothing circles on the rough material of your jeans. “I - oh, it wouldn’t hurt.” You admit quietly, thankful that he’s too busy watching the road to notice how you purposefully let your hair create a curtain around your even redder face.

 “Good... that’s good,” Chan breathes out in what sounds like relief, sounding like he was truly worried about your wellbeing, “okay, I need to stop by the corner market to grab something. Would you like me to get you anything in particular?”

 You ponder his question for a moment, even though you already had an answer the second those words slipped out of his mouth. “C-can I get some ramen, please?”

 A laugh - a real one at that, echoes inside the moving car. “Sure thing, darling. It’s no problem at all. Hey, do you want to see something funny?” Chan continued, his grip on your knee tightened by just a margin. When you hesitantly nod in reply, you’re given no time at all to regret your choice; he flicks the red and blue police lights on, along with the blaring siren. He presses on the gas - not going fast enough to put anyone in danger, but it’s enough for you to squeal in shock and grip onto his arm that’s still trespassing on the passenger’s side of the vehicle.

 He doesn’t move his arm away from you the entire ride.

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 By the time Chan reaches his home, the sky has already faded away into nighttime. The moon is half-full, emitting a comforting yet eerie light down on the ground before it. Hundreds of thousands of starts twinkle in the cloudy sky, forming constellations you could never find back home.

 Your lips part in awe as you observe the mystifying sky and all of its secrets, eyes lighting up despite the rough day you had experienced. Chan huffs to himself, blissfully unaware of how captivated you are with the world you could barely get used to. A noise of joy escapes his chapped lips once he finally finds his house keys in his pocket and unlocks the front door, the man turning to call you inside.

 God forbid he ruin such a picture perfect scene. He can’t even attempt to utter out his beckoning call, too enthralled in the ruptured innocence that radiates from your bright expression. Chan was aware that you refused to call this town your home, having overheard that snippet of information from Minho one night when they’d gone out drinking. At the time, he had felt guilty, knowing deep down that he was a major playing factor in the curse that brought everyone here in the first place. But watching you in that very same moment, he didn’t feel one bit of regret, even if he should have.

 “Mrrow?”

 Both of you nearly jump out of your skins at the sudden sound; you squeak and quickly turn to Chan, meanwhile the bashful sheriff flushes like an apple and hurries to find the source of the scare.

 “Shit - Loki, you can’t just do that!” He hisses to the mischievous black cat, one eye twitching in embarrassment as the feline only purrs in response and curls his white-tipped tail around his owner’s leg.

 “Cats, huh?” You snort in disbelief and wonder, already voluntarily bending down to crouch closer to Loki’s level. The fluffy feline saunters over to your open hand, nudging it and letting out a satisfied purr as you scratch behind one of his ears.

 Chan freezes up, understanding your amusement. He was the son of Cruella De Vil, a vile woman who was notorious for trying to snatch up Dalmatian puppies so she could turn their fur into fancy coats. Hell, he grew up around dogs that his mother kept as security, it wouldn't be crazy or anything if he had his own army of dogs. But, instead, he was crazy... for cats; the polar opposite of the mutts he was so used to seeing as a child.

 You can’t help but catch how the sheriff’s shoulders tense up as if he’s seen a ghost - or rather, a ghost of his past. A past that many thought he was trying to forget completely. “I - I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Chan,” you apologize softly as to not startle him, nor the cat below you, ”just a little funny, that’s all.”

 “Y-yeah, it’s alright. Come on in, I’ll show you what room you’ll be sleeping in tonight.” He changes the subject quickly, already halfway through the front door before you can object.

 Stepping inside, you feel your lips twitch into a knowing smile. The flooring is a simple oak wood, nothing too special; but other than that, pretty much everything else in his house seemed to be black or white, occasionally noting the splash of red here and there. There were at least four other cats simply lounging around in the little nooks and crannies, making you wonder where on earth he found them all.

 “You’ll have to use the guest bedroom, which uh, has never been properly set up.” Chan tells you, slipping off his shoes and tossing his duffel bag to some random spot in his living room. You follow his movements, then follow the man himself down a quaint hallway until you reach the last door on the left-hand side. “Go inside, I’ll be right back.” He mutters, leaving you alone while he enters another room in the same hallway.

 You slowly open the bedroom door, hand patting the wall for a good couple of seconds before you’re finally able to find the light switch, switching it on and blinking so your eyes can readjust to the light.

 ‘Wow, he really wasn’t kidding when he said it hadn’t been set up,’ you think to yourself in pure animosity, wandering fully into the small yet cozy guest bedroom. There were stray boxes scattered about here and there, although thankfully most of them seemed to be tucked under the twin size bed that happened to be placed in the farthest corner of the bedroom. A single dresser rested by the door, a tv perched on top of the cracking white wood.

 The only real decorations in the room were some cat toys and the like, which were probably just put inside since they didn’t fit into the rest of the house. You take another step forward, seeking to take a seat on the bed, but your foot squishes something that protrudes a loud, almost screeching wail; you barely recognize the object as a cat toy before you begin to fall, your eyes closing to brace for impact -

 “Woah, holy shit-” a familiar voice wheezed, the owner of the accented voice arriving in the knick of time to catch you in his arms. It would be quite poetic and serene if it weren’t for the horde of cats that burst into the room with both of you, clearly on the hunt for the toy that had erupted such an ungodly noise. “Fucking hell, are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you? Shit, I’m so sorry, I just-”

 “I’m fine now, Chan, thanks to you.” You sigh in relief with a faint laugh, almost tempted to simply collapse in his strong grip so he would be forced to carry you to bed. A few, oddly comfortable seconds pass before Chan helps you stand back up again, the man then going to bend down and pick up a light stack of clothes he had clearly dropped so he could catch you instead.

 Chan quietly hands you the clothes he had dropped, offering you the faintest of smirks, a sight you were more used to. “Here, these are some of my clothes. We totally forgot to run by your place and grab a bag, but it’s too late to go get them now.”

 “Thank you... for everything.”

 “Hey, I said no thanking me until we find Ramen and the other dogs,” he hummed slyly, playfully flicking your nose to mess with you, “get some sleep. We can head out again in the morning.”

 And then he’s gone again, not bothering to utter a goodnight or anything of that manner. Holding back the urge to sigh in disappointment, you start to strip yourself of your own clothes, slipping on Chan’s before sliding into the guest bed.

 However, with no familiar presence to rest on your belly, you find yourself unable to fall asleep without much, much difficulty. None of the many cats in Chan’s household were willing to hop into your bed, likely sprawled out in his own bedroom or random spots throughout his home. You missed Ramen - you just, couldn’t sleep alone now that you were used to having him around.

 Figuring you won’t be able to get much sleep anyway, you slide back out of the tiny bed and carefully walk out of the guest bedroom, making sure not to have a repeat of the incident from earlier that night. You venture into what you can only guess is the sheriff’s personal bedroom, assuming from the warm light seeping out from under the door that he was still awake.

 “Darling, why are you still awake?” The man, who you had correctly guessed was still awake, questioned you, watching with tired eyes as you sauntered over to his bed and crawled on top of the red sheets to sit next to him with crossed legs.

 “I could ask you the same thing.” You retort dryly, squinting your eyes to try and see whatever it was he was doing on his laptop that he had perched on his lap.

 He hums to himself before replying, “I’m going through my work emails to see if there’s any other connections between the missing dogs.”

 You make a soft noise of understanding, your gaze wandering to the three out of five cats that had piled on top of one another just by his bare feet on the bed. This time around, you don’t hesitate to ask him, “so, why cats? I thought you grew up with a shit ton of dogs. Not that it’s weird, just... amusing, I guess.”

 Thankfully, Chan doesn’t freeze up at the innocent question; it was harmless enough, right? He had no reason to hide the truth, did he? “I dunno, honestly. I suppose I just want - needed, a change of pace. Having dogs around might only convince everyone in this damn town that I’m just like my mother.” The man admits bitterly at the mention of his mother. “I... Don’t get me wrong, I do love her, but her being a villain basically solidified my future.”

 “That’s where you’re wrong,” you hum softly, a yawn pushing past your lips, “think about it, okay? You’re our sheriff, the big guy who makes sure everyone is safe - in a town full of heroes and villains, no less.”

 “That’s nice, darling, but it doesn’t mean anything to them. I’m part of the reason everyone is stuck here, you know that, don’t you? All I did was tell that damn woman I was sick of being treated like a criminal, course’ she takes matters into her own hands and creates a fucking curse of all things to essentially give us a rewind button,” he mutters with a sickening sneer, only realizing that he’s gone off on a mini-tangent when you slump tiredly against his shoulder, “I mean - don’t you hate me? You were caught up in this mess, dragged away from whatever life you had before.”

 “... No, I don’t hate you for what happened, and I never did, truthfully. While I am having a really hard time adjusting to this new life, that doesn't mean I despise it or anything. I just haven't had anyone around long enough to guide me through it all, s’all.”

 Chan blinks in surprise at your honest, kind words. Now, it wasn’t as if the entire town hated him, but most of them did - the ones that were totally innocent, that is. Those who were on his side of things came from a familiar, villainous background; Minho and Jeongin both came from just as vile parents, and they actually didn’t mind getting to start fresh.

 You were the first person he knew of that didn’t hold some sort of grudge against him. Those who sought his help didn’t quite count, either, since he was the only acting authority in those regards. Compared to most of the town, you had never thought less of him simply because of his background.

 “Jesus woman, what are you doing to me?” He grumbled to himself, unable to hold back the ginger smile that bloomed from his pink lips at the sight of you snoring against his arm. Quietly shutting his laptop off, Chan carefully tucks you under the blankets, though he doesn’t remove your grip on his arm; just like he hadn’t earlier.

 That night, the cold, unforgiving man fell asleep with a warm heart.

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 “Are you done changing yet, y/n?”

 You huffed and puffed in reply, much to the man’s amusement. “Listen, why don’t you try fitting in clothes two times your goddamn size and making it look decent for the public!”

 “Darling, I already told you that we’re going to the woods. No one is going to see you.” Chan chuckles to himself, almost choking on his laughs when you finally step out of the bathroom in his clothes. Last night, he had been far too tired to truly appreciate how cute you looked wearing his loose clothing; and now, even better, you were pulling off his daily grunge-styled sense of fashion.

 What made it even better was that he intentionally lent you one of his many red leather jackets, meaning that you were matching with him. Why did he feel so - so smug about that?

 “Oh - be quiet, Chan!” You retaliated with a quick motion, sticking your tongue out at him defiantly before going to stand in front of him. “Hey, by the way, how’d you figure out the dogs were in the woods?”

 Chan waited until you were both back inside his cop car to answer, one foot putting pressure on the gas while he slunk out of his driveway. “I got an email late last night from Jacob - you know him, right? He’s Bambi’s kid, apparently he was just hanging out there when he saw Eric’s dog and a few others behind some sort of mesh fence. He didn't want to mess with it, so he told me.”

 Nodding in understanding, you stare outside the window, feeling your heat race in your chest. This was it - you could get Ramen back, as well as all the other missing dogs. Ramen was only gone for a day, but you missed him terribly. You couldn't even begin to wonder how the other owners felt with their dogs having been gone for more than just a mere day.

 “Do you think the person who took them will still be there?” You eventually asked Chan after another few minutes of comfortable silence, mildly tempted to chew out whoever had laid their hands on your furry companion.

 “Probably not, I’m afraid,” the sheriff admitted with a sigh, “Jacob also mentioned that he had brought Johnny and Jaehyun out to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things; according to them, they saw whoever had taken the dogs, but he got scared and turned tail the second they showed up.”

 You hated to admit it, but that was better than nothing. After this whole fiasco, everyone would have their guard up, all while the sheriff would be hunting down the dognapper himself. That meant that Ramen and the other dogs would, hopefully, not have to worry about being taken from their homes ever again.

 “We’re here. Stick close to me, just in case.” Chan announces when you arrive to the park just in front of the woods, the slides and swings still empty since it was a bit too early for any of the children to be awake and riled up.

 Obviously you take his words to heart, sticking to him like glue - definitely not just because he looked very in his element, so to speak, his ballcap snug on his messy black and white hair and his leather jacket clinging to his biceps - nope, no way. Totally not, nope.

 Eventually you both stumble onto what looks to be an abandoned cabin, surrounded by mesh fencing; and on the other side of the fence, there are a good handful of dogs. None of them seem to be the aggressive kind, choosing to instead joyfully wag their tails and bounce on their paws in excitement at the sight of humans.

 That was probably how the dognapper did it all so easily - the dogs were just too nice.

 Venturing inside the wooden cabin, you both see just how well the dogs were taken care of. There were five bags of dry dog food tucked away in a corner next to a looming cabinet, nicely complimented by the handful of bowls on the floor. Hanging by the door that led into the backyard was a strange shelf, the trio of silver hooks holding leashes that were likely used to lead the dogs into the woods.

 “You take a couple of them and I’ll take the rest,” Chan broke you out of your thoughts, snagging some of the leashes from the hooks and taking a moment to send you a warm glance, “we can walk them over to the station from here and call everyone down so they can pick up their dogs.”

 “Good idea.” You beamed in delight, grabbing the remaining leashes and following the tall man out into the backyard. Before you can even react, an all too familiar pooch barrels into your figure, almost knocking you over in the process. “Ramen! Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” You coo at your furry friend, crouching down to attach a leash to his bright red collar. But you can’t resist the urge to hug the golden retriever, happy to have him back, even if you weren’t separated for too long.

 Chan watches you and Ramen reunite, carefully making sure to leash the other dogs while he does so. A foreign sort of emotion washed over his being, but before he could question it, one of the dogs he’d leashed up started to cheerfully lick and slobber all over his face.

 Yeah, he was definitely a cat person.

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 In total, there were about thirteen dogs that had been taken out of town. Chan led eight of them out of the cabin while you led the remaining five, although he made sure to still stick next to you in case one of your dogs tried to drag you off in an ecstatic frenzy.

 “You know, you didn’t really do much to help out,” the sheriff began with a mischievous hum, smirking slightly at how you send him one of your signature glares, “but I’ll admit it, it was nice to have a real partner of sorts working on a case with me.”

 “Uh huh, I was your - let’s call it cheerleader,” you shot back at him, unable to stop the smile that grew on your lips, “so I guess now I can say thank you.”

 “Mhm, but now you need to repay me for my services.”

 “Are you serious? Why just me?” You whined playfully, bottom lip jutting out in curiosity and mild confusion, which only makes your human companion’s once faint smirk grow wider, revealing a dimple on one of his cheeks.

 “I only want one thing, and I only want it from you, darling... how about you take me to dinner tonight as celebration for our good work?” He suggests. At first you’re sure that he’s joking, judging by the smirk, but his eyes look dead serious, as are his next words. “We can call it a date, if you’re up for it.”

 You blush at his sweettalk, grip tightening on the handful of leashes in your hands. “I would lo- oh my!”

 Your response is interrupted by Ramen, who barks suddenly and ducks into Chan’s crowd of dogs. Without warning, another dog does the same to you, effectively tangling all the leashes together behind both your back and Chan’s. Now, your chests are pressed together, you faces mere inches apart due to the dogs’ antics.

 And then, Chan’s lips are pressing against yours, bringing you into a sweet, slow kiss. His free hand wanders over to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The kiss is short and sweet, but it felt perfect - for both of you.

 “... You don’t need to call me Chan anymore, darling. Call me Chris, please.” He breathes out, gently letting his forehead rest against yours. “I didn’t jump the gun though, did I? Because I quite like you - and I quite liked kissing you.”

 “Chris, I was going to say that I would love to go on a date with you; as a matter of fact, I quite like you, too.”

 “So... may I please kiss you again?”

 “Of course, Chris.”

 And so he did, connecting your lips to share one of many kisses to come.

[enchantedxrose]

The Monster of West End: Chapter Two

A retelling of Beauty and the Beast, set in 1837 London.

The “Beauty” of this story is a young seamstress desperate for work to pay off her father’s debts. Her new employer, though Beastly in appearance, is coldly tolerated by society because he has money and status. She is quickly charmed by his warm heart and sense of humor, but his monstrous form isn’t the only obstacle to their budding relationship.

<<Click here to read Chapter One

She ought to have taken Mr. Carlyle’s offer the first time, Viola noted ruefully a few hours later. It would have been less damaging to her pride and her health.

The carriage wheels had become stuck in a snowbank when the cabbie took a turn too sharply. After some futile attempts to dig the cab back out of the snow, she was obliged to walk the rest of the way home. By that time, the church bells had long since tolled five, and the prison gates were locked. No one would be let in or out until morning.

Viola groaned in frustration, pushing at the doors in vain. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Weston, but rules is rules,” the gatekeeper said with a regretful shrug. “If I make an exception for you, I’ll be needing to make an exception for everybody.”

“I know, I know,” she grumbled. “Will you at least send word to my father that I’ve gone back to my employer’s for the night? I don’t want him to be worried.”

“Will do, miss.”

The moment she turned back down Borough High Street, she realized she had no money left for another cab. Suppressing a groan, she wrapped her shawl tighter about her shoulders and trudged on. 

No use dawdling or complaining: this side of London was dangerous after dark for a young woman. And the snow was swirling thicker and faster.

For the first twenty minutes of her walk, she was able to stave off the cold by walking briskly. But her boots were shabby and worn, and her toes quickly became numb as she sloshed through half-frozen mud puddles. Her stockings were absolutely soaked through. She cupped her hands around her mouth and nose to try and warm them with her breath.

Her walk took her north and west across the river. In her rush, she took a shortcut through a narrow alley that she would otherwise have skirted around. Her steps hastened as she passed a certain storefront wedged between a gin house and a druggist—the tarnished sign on the door read Mr. Janus L. Beecham, and in peeling paint underneath, Money Lent. 

She tried to keep facing determinedly forward until she passed the shadowy doorstep, but despite herself, her eyes were drawn to the window. A familiar face stared back at her: middle-aged, sallow, thin lips drawing into a sneer of recognition.

Viola shuddered with a chill that had little to do with the wintry air, nearly breaking into a run to leave the lending-house behind. The door opened and a jovial voice called down the alley.

“Miss Weston, what a pleasant surprise. No time to spare for an old friend?” Viola refused to turn back and acknowledge him. The man’s agreeable tone became mocking.

“Ah I forgot, the high and mighty Miss Weston would never deign to visit my humble abode. Found yourself a rich husband yet, have you? An earl? A duke?”

Ignore him, ignore him, don’t provoke him, he could make Father’s life even more miserable if he wants…

“You have no place else to go, Viola. It’s a cold world out there for a debtor’s daughter. You cannot evade me forever.”

She turned the corner onto a wider street, breathing a sigh of relief in the glow of the streetlamp. That isn’t true, Mr. Beecham, she thought, smirking despite the wind in her face. Not anymore. I’m a working woman now; I’ll buy Father’s freedom myself. I needn’t throw myself to the mercy of a man like you.

What a sight she must have been, when she finally arrived an hour later at Mr. Carlyle’s doorstep: bonnet askew, skin raw and red, eyes streaming. For one agonizing minute, she waited for someone to answer her desperate knock.

“Miss Weston? What are you—?” Mrs. Hutchinson took one look at her disheveled state and put her questions on hold. “Well, come in out of the cold, then, don’t just stand there in the doorway.”

Mrs. Hutchinson ushered the shivering Viola into the foyer and hung up her snow-caked bonnet to dry.

“Good heavens, child, what a state you’re in,” the housekeeper muttered. “What are you doing back here at this hour? Were you not to return in the morning?”

Viola’s violently chattering teeth prevented her from giving a coherent explanation. 

 “Never mind that now, come in by the fire before you catch your death.” Instead of going up to the first floor as she had earlier, they went downstairs to the kitchen, where a fire still smoldered in the brick hearth. 

Viola was directed to sit in a rocking chair beside it and hang up her wool stockings to dry. Mrs. Hutchinson clucked her tongue at the threadbare state of them, and then thrust a cup of beef tea into Viola’s frozen hands.

The kitchen was warm and cheerful, bright red bricks and woven straw mats. The copper pots and pans hanging above twinkled in the firelight. The storm outside the foggy window felt like a nightmare she was waking from, as her fingertips began to thaw. She burned her tongue on her tea.

“Better?” Mrs. Hutchinson asked, watching with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The housekeeper folded her arms over her chest. “Then perhaps you are ready to explain yourself, Miss Weston.”

Viola nodded, her stomach sinking with dread. “I do apologize for the inconvenience I’ve caused,” she began. 

Before she could find the words to continue, there were footsteps on the stairs, and a familiar male voice.

“Mrs. Hutchinson? Is everything alright? I thought I heard someone at the—oh. Miss Weston, is that you?”

Mr. Carlyle froze in the doorway. He appeared to have already retired for the evening, for he wore a plum velvet smoking jacket. His gleaming amber eyes—pupils wide in this dim light—roamed over Viola’s sodden stockings and her shivering form. 

All three of them winced as one of his gigantic antlers knocked against the brass pots and sent it clanging to the floor. His housekeeper must have been used to these kinds of disturbances, for she recovered her dignity first and continued as if nothing had happened.

“I wasn’t going to bother you over this, sir,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. “She appears to have gotten lost in the storm, and I didn’t think you would object to sheltering her.”

“Of course. Quite right, Mrs. Hutchinson.”

Viola decided to seize her chance before her resolve failed her. “Mr. Carlyle, might I have a quick word? Privately? I should like to explain myself.”

Mrs. Hutchinson’s brow pinched into a peeved expression; evidently she believed anything said to Mr. Carlyle could be said in her presence. But her employer was oblivious to her irritation.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Miss Weston,” he assured her. “All of that can wait until the morning.”

Viola gritted her teeth. If I don’t come clean now, I’ll be up all night anticipating this conversation. 

“Please, sir,” she said aloud, “I should much prefer to get it over with.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Carlyle, blinking a few times. “Mrs. Hutchinson, would you kindly prepare a bed in the servants’ quarters in the meantime?”

Mrs. Hutchinson nodded once, lips pursed, before exiting the kitchen with a surly swish of her skirts. 

Only when the sound of her footsteps faded from their hearing did Mr. Carlyle sink cautiously into the chair opposite Viola’s before the fire. He waited for her to speak first with no signs of impatience. She fidgeted. 

They were sitting much closer to each other than they had in Mr. Carlyle’s study earlier that day, and she could not help noticing even more peculiarities about his appearance. He was such an illogical mishmash of predator and prey. His legs were shaped more like the hindquarters of a deer, with the knees facing backward. His long ears seemed to swivel in the direction of sounds—now they were pricked up in curiosity.

 His long talons drummed on the arms of his chair, but when he caught her looking at them, he curled his hands into fists as if to hide the claws from her view.

He gently broke the silence.

“Miss Weston, I will not demand to know your secrets,” he said slowly, “especially not if it will cause you further distress.”

She shook her head, resigned. “Given that I’ve barged into your house at this late hour, I think you deserve an explanation.”

He remained silent as she gathered her courage. Wherever to begin? Where, in fact, did their miseries begin? It was difficult to trace the origins of their troubles. Her voice, when she found it, was low and hoarse.

“I told you that I needed to find work because of my father’s health,” she said at last. “That wasn’t a lie, but it was hardly the entire truth, either. Our situation is quite—bleak. He’s been imprisoned for debts. In the Marshalsea.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.”

Viola dared to glance up at him, her eyes shining but defiant, prepared for his contempt or his charity. His brow was furrowed, deeply thoughtful, but that was all. Best to lay the whole bare truth out now, she decided.

“We have lived there for six years, my father and I. My sister too, until she married last year.”

“Six years?” he repeated in a faintly horrified voice. “I didn’t realize such a thing was allowed in the civilized world.”

“I am allowed to come and go as I please, but the gates are locked to visitors after five. So you see, Mr. Carlyle, I had nowhere else to go tonight.”

He prompted quietly, “You were afraid to speak of this before?”

“It’s quite a miserable thing,” Viola said with a bitter smile, “to be ashamed of one’s home and one’s family.”

“You believed I would judge your family for being in a debtor’s prison?”

“You might think us pathetic.”

“I think you unfortunate,” he clarified. “But that is hardly an indication of a person’s character or fortitude—merely of their circumstances.” 

He leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice, as if to keep their conversation a secret. In these close quarters, Viola couldn’t help noticing the long lashes on his catlike amber eyes. It was strange how familiar his expressions were, worn on such an uncanny, inhuman face.

“I do understand, Miss Weston. You don’t want pity from others. I know that feeling all too well. People may mean well and only wish to help, but their pity is unbearable all the same.”

Viola looked down at the teacup in her lap, overwhelmed by the intense sincerity in his gaze. “I suppose you would understand that feeling better than most, sir,” she mumbled.

There was a long moment of silence between them—not an uncomfortable pause, but one of tacit understanding. Then Mr. Carlyle seemed to recollect himself, and resumed his usual brisk manner.

“Look at me, chattering away when you likely want to drink your tea in peace,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Though she’s too polite to say so, Mrs. Hutchinson does hate it when I intrude on her domain downstairs. Rest well tonight, Miss Weston. We won’t speak any more on this subject, if that is what you wish. You can rely on my discretion.”

Viola turned away to watch the glowing coals in the kitchen hearth. “Thank you, sir. I won’t forget the kindness you have showed me tonight.”

(to be continued...)

[growlegalweed-blog]

Legal Weed Resources

Check out... https://legalweed.gq/420/gods-bubba/

God’s Bubba

In this guide you will learn

Effects

Fragrance

Flavors

Adverse reactions

Medical

Growing

Flowering time

God Bud is a strain engineered to near perfection. It has a relatively quick onset with a long-lasting high that allows connoisseurs to revel in its effects for hours on end. Not to mention, it has a branchy structure that produces multiple budding sites.

Still, the strain can be made better. And, it was to this end that Jordan of the Islands decided to pair it with another legend. Pre-98 Bubba Kush is a long-time favorite among cannabis enthusiasts. Its coffee-flavored smoke delivers a stress-crushing high without incapacitating its users thus negating God Bud’s hallucinogenic buzz.

God’s Bubba is an amalgamation of its parents. Its onset is faster compared to most Indica-leaning strains and boasts a cerebral element that naturally uplifts the mind. Meanwhile, its comedown is heavily tranquilizing that, after three or four hours, users eventually become too drowsy. The strain also has great therapeutic potential because of its head-to-toe high.

Tip: make sure to download my free Grow Bible for more information

Information About God’s Bubba Strain

ORIGIN God Bud and Pre-98 Bubba Kush EFFECTS Relaxed – 10 Happy – 7 Sleepy – 7 Euphoric – 6 Tingly – 3 FRAGRANCE Pungent, earthy, woody, pine, sour, diesel FLAVORS Earthy, woody, pine, sour, diesel ADVERSE REACTIONS Dry eyes – 10 Dry mouth – 8 Dizzy – 7 MEDICAL Pain – 10 Headaches – 9 Stress – 9 Eye pressure – 8 Cramps – 5 FLOWERING TIME INDOOR 7 to 9 weeks FLOWERING TIME OUTDOOR Late September to mid-October PLANT HEIGHT Unknown THC CONTENT % 16% to 25% CBD % Up to 1% INDICA/SATIVA % 70%/30% INDOOR YIELD 10 to 12 ounces per square meter OUTDOOR YIELD 12 ounces or more per plant CLIMATE Unknown GROWTH LEVEL Unknown RESISTANCE TO DISEASE Unknown

* 10 is the highest * 1 is the lowest

Effects

God’s Bubba does not have a head-slamming high. Instead, it is a slow starter with effects that usually begin 15 minutes after the first two to three puffs. For this reason, it is important to pace consumption of the buds. Otherwise, it can be quite overwhelming.

With that said, its onset is a calming buzz of euphoria that clears the mind and brings back an innate sense of happiness. Although subtle, the upbeat mood is a godsend to many users. It not only gets rid of worries that plague the mind but also prepares one for the soothing effects to come.

Gods Bubba Strain Effects – Image Powered by bud365.ca

A tingling sensation begins to form in the temples. Subtle at first, it later on intensifies after an hour or two have passed. And, as it trickles down to the rest of the body, it blankets users in deep relaxation while removing tension in its wake. In all likelihood, one will want to lounge around the couch idly.

Overall, God’s Bubba is best used as a nighttime treat. Its heavy-hitting high leaves users feeling drowsy. And, as the effects persist, it leaves

Fragrance

God’s Bubba is a pungent strain. In fact, opening a bag alone is enough to fill the room with the aromatic scent of wet soil and unearthed wood. Broken apart, the fragrance of pine intensifies. However, it is later overpowered by a sour diesel when the buds are combusted.

Flavors

Just like how it smells, God’s Bubba has an earthy flavor that entices the palate. As its smooth smoke is drawn in, its undertones of woody pine begin to fill the mouth. On the exhale, it leaves a sour aftertaste reminiscent of its diesel influence.

Adverse reactions

God’s Bubba, like other strains, has cannabinoids interfering with the body’s natural ability to produce moisture. As a result, users experience dry or red eyes along with a cottonmouth. At times, it may even be accompanied by a temporary dizziness in the temples. The effects are usually unavoidable and last for hours but users may down a few glasses of water to stay hydrated throughout the day.

Medical

God’s Bubba is a source of relief for many patients in spite of its widely-known recreational effects. Its significant therapeutic value lies in it cannabinoids, particularly its THC and CBD, which manage symptoms of a myriad of afflictions.

Its happy high, for example, effectively reduces stress by clearing the overwhelming dread that comes with work or school. The upbeat disposition also shines a ray of hope to patients dealing with mental health issues like depression, PTSD, and anxiety.

Gods Bubba Strain Medical – Image Powered by jordanoftheislands.ca

Its best use, however, as an Indica-leaning strain, is relieving physical aches throughout the body. Beginning from the temples, it delivers a soothing buzz that appeases headaches and relaxes the muscles to it from painfully contracting or cramping. In doing so, it also temporarily removes intraocular pressure which can lead to glaucoma if left unattended.

Growing

A Jordan of the Islands product, God’s Bubba is famous for its ease of growth. It has the short stature of Indicas and the vigorous bud production of Sativas. For this reason, it is a popular choice among growing enthusiasts and first-time growers.

The plant thrives best in gardens and farms where it can soak up the sunlight easily. It will need a temporary enclosing for the early winters and late falls though as the weather can be too harsh.

Gods Bubba Strain Growing – Image Powered by yelp.com

In a controlled growing area, the Indica-dominant plant does not need to be topped early. However, it may require a powerful ventilation system. Its compact structure and large broad fan leaves can inhibit the circulation of air among the lower nodes. Without proper aeration, any moisture stuck between its crevices can turn into mold or mildew. Pruning will also help. Apart from improving light and airflow, removing certain parts like dying branches or leaves will distribute nutrients to healthier areas.

Growers can significantly increase yields through the Sea of Green method which requires placing at least four plants in a single square meter. This is especially true when a hydroponics setup is installed. Bending, as well as a High-Stress training technique like Super cropping, will enhance trichome production.

TIP: Looking to buy seeds? Visit the ILGM cannabis seed shop

Flowering Time

Indoor God’s Bubba has a short flowering period that lasts between 7 to 9 weeks. Once ready for harvest, it yields at least 10 ounces of buds per square meter..

Outdoor In the northern hemisphere, God’s Bubba flowers from the last week of September to the middle of October. It normally yields at least 12 ounces of buds per plant. However, it can produce much more in the hands of a seasoned grower.

Have you ever smoked or grown your own Alaska Thunder Grape? Please let me know what you think about this marijuana strain in the comments below.

Robert

Read God’s Bubba on I Love Growing Marijuana.

[babybottlepop96]

Manananggal (Chapter One)

Summary: Captain Levi Ackerman of the Trost Town Police Department, TTPD, find himself stuck in a peculiar case Now he has to catch a potential serial killer while trying keep the ones he loves and cares about safe.

 The breeze wafted through the open apartment window, the curtains blowing softly in the wind that entered the pale green room. The lights have been off for a few hours, the early morning barely letting anyone stay awake. Everyone was too tired, with the weekend finally coming to a close and the parties and bars having closed for the night, everyone was tucked safely under the warmth of their blankets, snoozing softly against their plush pillows. The man lying in the green room felt like the rest of the town, tired beyond exhaustion and his head had the pillow, falling asleep instantly, still in his party clothes. He was usually very cautious, making sure doors were locked and windows were sealed, but tonight? He couldn’t be bothered, besides, nothing bad has happened in his hometown in the last decade, he felt safe inside the comfort of his apartment. 

When morning came and the time for work came, the man never woke up. Not for his alarm, not for the missed calls from his coworkers for the next three days. Not even for the sound of a fist pounding against the wooden door. “Mr. Wilson! It’s Annie! Open up! I found your cat! Little bastard tried sneaking into my home this morning. Poor thing looks like he hasn’t eaten in days!” Annie paused as she scratched the cat’s ears, causing the small animal to purr in delight at the welcomed affection. “Mr. Wilson?” Annie opened the door to room thirty-seven. She wandered into the apartment, curiosity getting the better of her. “He probably left for work early today.” She entered the bedroom, a blood curdling scream escaped her lips as she spotted a very deceased Mr. Wilson, his body looked pale and sickly.

“So, Levi,” The short ravenette looked towards his superior with a questioning gaze. “What do you think happened?” The blonde haired, blue eye male asked his captain.

“Well, Mr. Smith, I’m not entirely sure. There seems to be no visible signs of foul play, and he was in relatively healthy condition, but we will know more once the coroner takes a look.” Levi spoke as he wrote down a few details about the scene in front of him. 

“Very good, Captain. Let me know what the coroner says as soon as you find out, understood?” 

“Roger. Oh, Petra is having a housewarming party this Saturday. She asked me to invite you.” Levi spoke, his monotone voice always a delight to Erwin Smith’s ears.

“Sounds fun, tell her I’ll be there.” He smiled as he walked out, heading back to the office to await the coroner's report.

“Levi~!” A voice rang out amongst the police crowded room causing Levi to flinch and internally groan.

“Hange, about time you got here, get Mr. Wilson out of here, I need his report ASAP.” Levi spoke, turning to leave before he caught up in another two hour long story about how they dissected a guy to find out he died from some strange disease that hadn’t been discovered, or about what she did for a date night last night.

“Roger, Captain!” Hange spoke happily, making Levi wonder how in the world someone could be so cheery all the damn time. Levi exited the apartment and briskly walked towards his favorite little cafe to grab a hot cup of tea and a biscuit before he made his way to the police station.

“Hey, Captain~!” The voice of his favorite employee rang out the almost empty room. Only a few patrons occupied a few booths along the far wall, all idly chatting away about their day.

“Hello, Eren. The usual, please.” Levi spoke, a small smirk forming on his otherwise neutral face.

“Right away, sir.” Eren smiled, his emerald eyes sparkling as he made the man his black tea. Levi placed the amount owed on the counter and the brunette poured the tea into a freshly cleaned cup. “Another case?” He asked, placing the cup in front of the shorter male.

“Unfortunately.” Was the only word he spoke before taking a sip, eyes closing at the delectable taste dancing around his taste buds. “Well, better be off to the office.” Levi downed the rest of the remaining burning liquid and made his way to the door.

“Will I see you for lunch?” Eren called and Levi turned to see a hopeful glimmer in the young man’s eyes.

“Of course, I can't say no to those eyes.” Levi smiled faintly as the green orbs shone as brightly as Eren’s smile. Levi exited the establishment, smiling to himself. ‘Eren really is something else.’ He thought to himself, accidentally bumping into someone as he strolled down the town streets.

“Oh! Captain! I’m so sorry!” The young, sandy blonde, hazel eyed male apologized. 

“It’s fine, Kirstein.” His voice back to the monotone, face stoic as ever. “There should be a phone and computer heading your way back at the station. Get whatever you can from those and I’ll be by in about three hours for a report.”

“Understood, Sir.” Jean spoke, pushing his thin framed glasses up his nose. “See you later, Sir.” Jean hurried along his way, weaving his way through the crowd that was quickly forming. Levi sat down in his office, folders opened as he looked through Mr. Wilson’s history. 

“Mr. Harold Wilson, age thirty-one, no living relatives, works a mediocre job at a telemarketing company, no spouse or any romantic relationship.” Levi spoke as he read the file aloud, thought quietly, to himself. “Used to play baseball in highschool, fairly good at it until he got a concussion from a ball hitting him in the head, suffered minimal brain damage but ultimately ended his baseball ‘career’. Fairly good grades, not many friends though.” Levi continued to scan the history file when a knock came to his door. “Enter!” He called, not bothering to take his steel grey eyes off the papers in front of him.

“Levi~!” Hange called through the open door, their glasses making the bright eyes all the more bigger through the thick lenses. 

“What, four-eyes?”Levi looked irritatedly at his best friend and coroner. “If it isn’t about the case, I don’t want to hear it.” He said as he looked back at the file.

“Oh, don’t worry! It is about the case.” Hange smiled as they walked closer to the oak desk and stood in front of the captain.

“Well, spit it out! What did you find?”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t find anything.” Hange’s smile turned from happy and bright to confused and slightly wicked. 

“What do you mean you didn’t find anything?” Levi raised an eyebrow while waiting for further explanation.

“There was nothing to examine. All the victims' organs were missing! Every last one of them! There were no incision marks either to indicate that he was cut open, nor were there any puncture wounds to suggest he was drugged. Blood reports came back negative for everything we have in the database.” Hange explained, eyes held a certain curiosity for how this could have happened. “I even looked back at files, ones in the computer and hard copies, there was only one other case of a dead body missing there organs that dated back to the early 1920’s. Even then the case went cold.”

Levi was awestruck, there was no indication of foul play but yet, every last organ inside the deceased male was missing. 

Eren continued his work, making tea and fancy coffees for his less than interesting customers. “Eren! It smells like the coffee is burning!” The owner, Miche, Yelled from his office. 

“How the hell can he smell burning coffee from all the way back there? I’m standing right here and I don’t sme- Shit!” Eren ran over to the coffee overflowing and burning away on the burners. “Connie! You were supposed to be watching the fucking coffee!”

“Dude, I said I was going on my smoke break!” Connie grumbled as he made way back into the shop. He helped Eren clean up the coffee and spray some lavender scented febreeze into the air. 

“Eren!” Eren turned his head towards the front of the mostly empty cafe to spot a familiar blonde haired, blue eyed male smiling excitedly from the front counter.

“Armin!” Eren smiled right back and left Connie to finish up the rest of the pastry decorating. The two chatted for a moment before Jean walked up to the counter. “Aug, what are you doing here, Horseface?” Eren sneered at the tall male who wrapped his arm around the blonde.

“Saying hello to my boyfriend and to tell him that I may be a bit late to dinner tonight.” Jean spat back.

“Late to dinner?” Armin asked, looking up at his lover.

“Yeah,” Jean said as he scratched the back of his neck. “There is a new case and I have to go through the computers and phones of the victim. When the captain came by for the reports, I had nothing to give him. There was nothing on the mans shit, nit even fucking porn. So he wants me to do a deep sweep of everything.” He groaned as Armin rubbed his back soothingly.

“It’s okay, Jean. We can reschedule or-” But the blonde was cut off.

“No! I’ll make it! I’ll just be a little late, that’s all. Commander Erwin won’t  make me stay too late.” He smiled reassuringly at the shorter male. Eren gagged at the public display of affection.

“Get a fucking room you two, don’t do that shit in front of me!”

“Jealous, Eren?” Jean smirked at the brunette’s attempt of hiding the jealousy everyone knew he had.

“In your dreams horsefa- Levi!” Eren smiled brightly as the raven hair captain of Trost Town Police Department entered the cozy cafe. Levi smiled tiredly at the green eyes male as he sat down at a booth to the far corner. “Connie! I’m going on my lunch break!” Eren grabbed a fresh pot and recently cleaned tea cup and made his way to the grey eyes man he had his eyes on.

“Aw, Eren’s in love.” Jean cooed at Eren, who in return, turned, glared and flipped the bird to his best friend’s boyfriend. 

“Stop teasing him, Jean! You can be so mean sometimes! You know that since Mikasa turned him down he has had trouble finding someone he liked.” Armin scolded the taller of the two.

“Sorry baby, I’ll try to be nicer from now on.” 

“Thank you.”

“So, Levi, how is work going?” Eren asked as he poured a cup for the stoic man. Levi looked up at him and smiled.

“Eren, I need your help.”