#out of everything surprisingly those leaves gave me GRIEF

[serendipnpipity]

The Magician: “The representation of pure willpower. With the power of the elements and the suits, he takes the potential innate in the fool and molds it into being with the power of desire.” (x) 

Not-so-little design breakdown below!

Of course Phil had to be the Magician. Take a look at his TATINOF and II segments—the literal reference is already there (and can be seen in his outfit, which is a mix of the TATINOF magician’s tuxedo and the II red button-up).

Not only that, the Magician is characterized as a “master manifester”. How many of this guy’s tarot predictions have come true? Talk about psychic manifestation abilities.

The wand held by the Magician traditionally represents balance, being a “perfect union” of two ends of a candle (x). What’s a more perfect union than PINOF itself, the pinnacle union of dnp’s channels in those first ten years? Hence, the wand in his hand became a Sharpie, and to mimic light emanating out of what would be a candle flame traditionally, I added cat whiskers in bright yellow.

The workbench in front of the Magician holds all four suits (pentacles, cups, swords, wands) to symbolize how everything can be channeled together to create (sorry, “craft”, taken verbatim from the website) new ideas and endeavors. The bench itself I stole straight out of the phouse (other side partial kitchen reveal yay), while the suits have been turned into dnp-project-related objects. The pentacle (glitterface pentagram) and sword (slime knife) are from DAPC, while the wand (Wii remote) and cup (Flame Susan mocktail) are from DAPG. 

This card, helpfully, is surrounded by plants; I chose some of their non-crispy houseplants for the background. In the back, obviously, is the vine creeping along the cool black wall in the kitchen area. In the front, the fronds are inspired by plants I could see in the background of the 2nd London apartment AP set, accompanied by two roses (orange, for the flowers Dan receives at the end of WAD… and the orange heart). 

I saw in the visual breakdown for the card that one site says the infinity above the Magician’s head represents “the equilibrium of opposites that The Magician requires to create”. That is THE most Dan and Phil thing I have ever heard, with all their cosmically coincidental opposite characteristics. 

When I drew that infinity on the background though, on the phouse wall, it hit me. This is the “forever home”. Of course, there’s an infinity sign plastered on top of it. This revelation was so strong, I broke down and texted @bewareofthenewphannie about it.

Oh, and ginger quiff Phil? Thank Misty for that one, they suggested it would be a good look if I wanted to combine past and present in one outfit/style.

All in all, I had so much fun making this! What a pleasure and an honor to be a part of such a beautiful project. 🧡

@dnptarot

#dan and phil #phan #dan and phil art #phanart #THANK GOD it's done!!! #ser sketches #quite possibly one of my favorite things I've ever created for the phandom so far #thank you dnptarot for making this project a reality <3 #out of everything surprisingly those leaves gave me GRIEF #but by golly was it worth it :) #MISTY I MENTIONED YOU AND THEN GOT YOUR USER WRONG TERRIBLY SORRY

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

The Top Man

Tim’s father had given him random pieces of advice through his childhood as well as a fairly strict expectation to follow said advice. Tim had never found it deeply helpful in his daily life but now, standing on the doorsteps of the Wayne’s, a file of evidence burning a hole in his backpack he thought of what his father had said.

the advice was this; “when you have a problem it helps to go straight to the top. don’t bother with all the little inconsequential people. go to the boss to get things done”

Tim thought this as the door opened and revealed the butler Alfred Pennyworth. he opened his mouth to speak and was struck by the thought that Batman, that Bruce Wayne, wasn’t really the top man. that there had always been someone in charge of Bruce Wayne even before he became batman. so instead of a demand to see Bruce Wayne and become Robin, which was what Tim thought he’d be saying when he came to the Wayne’a doorstep he said. “i want to help Bruce,” to a man who also wanted to help Bruce. a man who was also feeling the grief of Jason's loss. “make me your apprentice.”

Alfred Pennyworth for his part saw a five foot nothing twelve year old, looking at him with earnest eyes and too much determination. he had felt both a pang of deep grief and a surprisingly intense wave of nostalgia and deja vu. the boy looked remarkably like Bruce has, fresh from losing his parents and full of anger and grief and determination. the man had declared than that he would help people. what he hadn’t said was what price he was willing to pay to save those lives. heroics had always had a heavy cost, Alfred knew that from his time in the war and continued to witness it now, as Bruce gave and gave of himself, only to now be losing himself now that the cost was someone he cared about.

Alfred had been preparing to leave, to take a step back and selfishly leave Bruce to either self destruct or regain himself. Alfred wasn’t strong enough to watch his own son kill himself. and he wasn’t strong enough to pull Bruce out of his grief himself, not when he too was lost in the bitterness and anger of Jason dying.

he could not in good conscious ask another child to enter their lives. he could not ask this child, whom he vaguely recognized as time drake, to take on the burden of their graving family. he could not ask this child to make sacrifices for them.

but he also saw the determination and raw stubbornness in the child eye and... Alfred also knew it wasn’t an argument he’d win.

“what you’re asking for,” Alfred frowned, trying anyway. “is no easy task.”

Tim stuck his chin out and his smile turned confident and mischievous. “if this about what you guys have in your basement, i already know.”

Alfred found himself arching an eyebrow while inwardly he was quite alarmed. “then perhaps you should come inside.”

he stepped out of the way of the door and tim drake walked through at a polite pace and pretended not to be drinking in everything around him. when the door gently closed and Alfred quietly started leading the boy towards the lounge, Tim spoke again, quietly.

“Batman, Bruce, they need someone to keep their heads on straight. to make sure he doesn’t lose himself to the mask and darkness. robin... that was robins job. but i can’t replace him. not now. but batman still needs him or someone like him. dick said no, and you’re the only other person, who’s been able to help batman fight his own darkness.”

Alfred felt rather small at the statement; the reminder of Jason, the truth that he couldn’t be replaced. the fact that the boy had already spoken to dick, and the fact that the boy could still admire him, could still see alfred as anything but a failure....

“i have not been able to save Bruce from himself in a very long time. i doubt you will learn much from me.” Alfred felt older having said the words.

but Tim shook his head. “it’s not your fault that Bruce stopped listening to you. and you’re grieving too. i think that’s one of the reasons asking Dick didn’t work. you have enough on your plate handling your own emotions. but i’m not a Wayne. i’m just a regular civilian so i can offer a fresh set of eyes and hands. a fresh voice. and since i work for you, Bruce won’t be able to fire me or kick me out. i can help.” he said the words with such raw belief that Alfred felt the stirrings of home rise in his chest like the whisper of a ghost.

again Alfred thought that he was not going to win this argument.

“he won’t go easy on you. nor will i. you would do well to remember who the master of this house is.” he said primly. “becoming my apprentice means doing a number of daily chores to keep everything running. i will expect you to work hard, dress sharply, and always be available to provide whatever master Wayne may need. on top of that,” Alfred peered down his nose at Tim. “you will need your parents permission and i expect you to maintain your grades and health on top of the work you will do for me.”

Tim gave a small, concerning flinch at the mention of his parents. Alfred highly doubted that Mr. and Mrs. Drake would be enthused about their heir becoming a manservant to the Wayne's. but Tim seemed to rally and double down. “i’ll do what needs to be done.”

Alfred tried not to sigh and rub his forehead at the show of stubborn enthusiasm. he could tell this was going to be a lot of work. that this boy might be more trouble than he was worth. but thinking of Bruce, who hadn’t given him a nod of acknowledgement at this mornings breakfast, who had deep shadows under his eyes and who hadn’t laughed or smiled since his sons death...

Perhaps they needed a spot of trouble.

“then welcome aboard Manservant Drake.”

#hestiawrites #dpjl #batman #Tim Drake #Alfred Pennyworth

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Pillars Handle Grief

Warning: talks about death — implied that the reader is who they are grieving the loss of

A/N: Me? Writing angst? Instead of smut?? Don’t worry more smut is coming as soon as I figure out what I want to write lol. For now — here are some sad ass head canons

Giyu

Giyu handles grief quietly

He’s never been one to show his emotions — especially not after losing Sabito. So he’s incredibly hard to read at times. Honestly he isn’t sure if it’s a blessing or a curse

He was so used to you being around, one of the few people he opened his heart up to. So for you to suddenly disappear as quickly as you appeared leaves him broken.

But as I said before — he handles these feelings quietly.

He slowly shuts himself away, really only leaving his home when he is assigned a mission or to patrol his sections. Other than that he barely leaves his bed.

Shinobu is the first to go and try and talk to him, she figures he probably won’t answer for her. If that’s the case, she’s send Tanjiro

“Tomioka…” she knocked softly, it was nearly noon and every window was shut tight. She got no answer so she knocked again. “Tomioka…I’m coming in.” She slid the door open, walking into the dark home. “At least open some windows.” She wasn’t sure if he could hear her, but she spoke as if he could. “Tomioka…” she called again, still no answer. Shinobu opened a few windows as she walked, letting sunlight filter into the dusty home. “He’s living in the dark…” she finally made it to your once shared room. “Tomioka?” She hoped for a response. “Come in.” Soft and hoarse, he sounded miserable.

Giyu doesn’t even bother to put on his corps uniform unless it’s absolutely necessary

He really doesn’t even try to get himself out of the bedroom. He just sits…or lays down…not much else

He doesn’t even have the energy to tie his hair up or brush it for that matter

Shinobu recruited Tanjiro to join her the next time she visits Giyu. Which becomes a daily occurrence.

Slowly but surely they try to help him cope & get back to his normal life. It’s very hard though.

What surprisingly helps him a lot is talking about you.

That and visiting you, though he doesn’t have the courage to go alone. Not yet at least

“They wouldn’t want you to wither away, Giyu.” Tanjiro sat beside him on the ground, eyes scanning over the engraved stone. “I know.” His voice is barely above a whisper, eyes glossy as he lights incense. “You have to keep moving, for y/n’s sake. Don’t let all the love they gave you go to waste.” That got to him, maybe better than any words had so far. “You’re right.”

Shinobu

Shinobu handles grief angrily.

The initial arrival of the news caused her to go into a blind rage. One fueled majorly by guilt.

She was a doctor and Hashira, so why couldn’t she save you? Those thoughts will keep her up at night.

Unlike others, she had many duties on top of being a Hashira. Meaning she doesn’t have the time to sit down and grieve.

Shinobu becomes colder, meaner, doesn’t force a smile on her face. In a way she returns to her old mannerisms before she adopted Kanae’s.

“Shinobu?” Aoi’s voice was hesitant. “Yes?” Shinobu didn’t bother looking up from her desk, still writing whatever she needed. “Don’t you think you should…take a break.” It had been two weeks, Shinobu barely allowed herself to sleep at this point. “I’m fine, Aoi.” Her voice was curt, not allowing any room for questions. Aoi sighed, muttering a soft “okay” before leaving. Shinobu was acting far different than she had when they lost Kanae. There were only a few tears shed, all her grief was bubbling rage. She didn’t even have the heart to go visit you.

It takes a few months, but eventually she has the heart to go and see you

That’s when the tears finally come — seeing your name made everything more final

She choose to go alone, but Kanao and Aoi followed. They didn’t know how she would handle it and figured it would be best if she wasn’t completely alone

She stayed there for hours, well after the sun had set. It was on and off tears, low mumbles of your name and many apologizes

Neither Aoi or Kanao dared to approach her, eventually they left her alone completely. Aoi said she’d return if Shinobu wasn’t back before day break.

She initially couldn’t stomach going to see you. Now she couldn’t fathom walking away. Leaving you all alone.

When she didn’t return, Aoi went out.

“Shinobu…” her voice was quiet as always, hands clenched tightly as if bracing herself to be yelled at. The reaction she got wasn’t one she expected. Tear filled eyes looked up at her, puffy and swollen. “A-aoi.” She had never seen Shinobu so vulnerable. That brought Aoi to tears, the younger girl falling to her knees and wrapping Shinobu in a tight hug. “Don’t blame yourself, please don’t blame yourself. Y/n wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” It left her lips over and over, Shinobu’s cries only grew louder.

Rengoku

He’s absolutely lost.

He isn’t even sure what to do really. There are so many emotions overwhelming him at once that he sort of shuts down.

Kyojuro handles grief probably the best out of all our pillars. And by that I mean he handles it in a healthy manner. Or… as best as he can

He doesn’t shut himself out, he doesn’t get angry, he does his best to keep moving forward with his life.

It’s extremely helpful that he has Senjuro and Tanjiro to help him get through it.

He doesn’t hesitate to go visit you. In fact it’s the first thing he does once everything is said and done

“Good morning, my love.” He sits before you, a soft smile on his face. “I hope you’re doing well.” He lights incense, the smell becoming an odd comfort for him. “I miss you…more than I thought I could miss anything.” He was young when he lost his mother, what he wouldn’t give to be able to see her again. But still — he was young when she passed. His memories grew fuzzy as he got older, sometimes he worried he’d start to forget her kind face. You on the other hand, you were a slap to the face. One he didn’t think he’d be able to recover from.

Kyojuro doesn’t realize it at first, but he smiles less often than usual. Something that is startling for those around him since he always had one plastered to his face

Kyojuro on the other hand doesn’t think much of it, he still has a lot to smile about. But it’s hard to do so when the biggest source of that smile is no longer with him.

Though, luckily, he never lost his appetite. If anything, he ate even more in your honor.

For the first month of your absences, Kyojuro does struggle a bit with getting out of bed. Senjuro on the other hand is there to constantly motivate his brother and help him get on with his day.

I have a feeling that Kyojuro wouldn’t look to be with someone for a very very long time. Maybe even never. Though Senjuro talks him out of that mindset.

“Don’t you think y/n would want you to be happy.” Senjuro was sitting beside him, looking at the stone with your name engraved on it. It hurt him to see it, he couldn’t imagine the way his older brother felt. “I think they would, but they wouldn’t want me forcing myself either.” Silence fell over the two brothers for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever fall in love again, Kyojuro?” That was a question Kyojuro himself hadn’t even thought about. It was something he probably would deem impossible. “I’m not sure. Though I trust that y/n is guiding me. If they think I’m ready, they’ll bring someone along for me.” What a beautiful way to think of it, that brought Senjuro a little bit of peace.

Tengen

He’s a wildcard when it comes to grief

I have a feeling Tengen doesn’t cry nor does he get mad

Similar to Giyu, he’s a bit more subdued. I also think he probably shuts himself away from the rest of the world for a week or two

He has Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma to support him. But they are grieving as well. So it’s a whole lot of emotions going on in the Uzui estate

I think there are a lot of tears on his wives part. But I really don’t think Tengen himself is a crier.

“Good morning.” His voice is soft and sleepy. He hasn’t been able to get much sleep since you left. “Good morning.” Hinatsuru’s eyes were just as tired as his own. “Has Suma gotten out of bed yet?” Hinatsuru shook her head, handing him a plate of food and encouraging him to eat. So he did. Something that had become a struggle was gaining an appetite, nothing was appealing anymore. “Maybe we should go for a walk today…visit them.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. “I think that would be a good idea. Though I’m not sure Makio can handle it yet.”

Tengen visits you often. He can handle it a lot better than his wives can. He visits his siblings pretty often as well.

It still hurts to see your name though, it really isn’t fair in his eyes. But it’s part of the occupation

Tengen really tries to rationalize all of this death stuff. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger cry baby than Suma.

Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma try to visit as often as Tengen, but it’s a lot for them. Out of the three, Makio is the worst. She can’t stand seeing your name there, it makes her angry. She lasts a minute before storming off

Hinatsuru on the other hand often accompanies Tengen. Suma usually tries but ends up crying to much.

This gives Tengen and Hinatsuru a lot of time alone with you.

“Do you think they are watching over us?” Hinatsuru lit another stick of incense, sighing deeply. “I believe so.” He was staring at the flowers he placed at the base of your stone. Hinatsuru’s quiet sniffling had become quite common, it didn’t alarm him anymore. “I miss you.” It was soft, only meant for you to hear where ever you were. Tengen’s hand laced with hers slowly, eyes closing as she squeezed it tightly. “Do…you think this will ever get easier?” He felt like he already knew the answer. Quietly, Hinatsuru cleared her throat. “I-I’m not sure. Truly I can’t imagine this ever becoming easier.”

Muichiro

He starts to forget more frequently

Your absence however is something that sticks with him

Muichiro doesn’t really outwardly express his grief. It’s honestly hard to tell IF he’s grieving

I think most people hope that he forgot, that he doesn’t really remember you.

Genya often checks up on him, Shinobu as well. Mostly because she wants to see what he is feeling.

“Good afternoon, Tokito.” Shinobu smiled softly as he sat in the stool across from her. “Hello.” His crow was sitting on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?” She crossed her legs, watching for any signs. “Alright…normal.” He shrugged, not really understanding why Genya had brought him here. “Nothing out of the ordinary?” He shook his head again, blinking slowly as he took in his surroundings. “No…why am I here?” Shinobu sighed, turning in her stool to scribble down some notes. “I just wanted to see how you were.” She kept writing, it seemed he really didn’t remember. “If you happen to see y/n, can you tell them I’ll be going on a mission soon.” Shinobu’s writing stopped.

As I said, your absence sticks with him. But he doesn’t always remember the reason why you’re gone.

So it’s a bit upsetting for people when he asks them to deliver a message to you

One day, when Muichiro really doesn’t seem to remember why you’re gone…Genya takes him to visit you

It didn’t go over particularly well. No tears fell, but anger certainly bubbled up.

Muichiro sat there for hours, Genya trying to calmly explain that you were gone

“They aren’t coming back.” Genya lit the incense, saying a prayer in his head as he set it in the holder. “How long have they been dead.” There was a sorrowful tone in Muichiro’s voice, one Genya rarely heard. “It’s been about a month now.” They were sitting before your stone, Genya was fidgeting with his hands, quietly wishing someone like Tanjiro was with him to better explain. “How did it happen?” Genya inhaled sharply, he hadn’t asked that before. “It was on a mission, gravely injured.” He kept it simply, it’s not as if he’d remember much anyways. “I see.” It took Genya a minute to realize Muichiro was crying.

Mitsuri

Mitsuri is a crier — I’m taking like inconsolable scream crying

She doesn’t handle grief or death very well at all. She knows it’s part of being a demon slayer but that doesn’t make it any easier for her

The first sign of her taking the grieving process rough is the fact that she will lose her appetite — which is very concerning for everyone around her

If it weren’t for Shinobu, Obanai and Kyojuro…she’d never get out of bed.

Mitsuri deals with grief very openly and very harshly

“Let me wash your face.” Obanai wet a cloth with warm water, carefully rubbing it across her swollen cheeks. Tears cling to her lashes, the usual smile on her face was nowhere to be seen. She had been doing well, eating some breakfast when a memory triggered another crying fit. It was like walking on eggshells around the love pillar, even the smallest mention of your name sent her into a spiral. Though most found that to be natural when it came to losing someone you loved so dearly. “Does it ever get easier?” Those words caught him by surprise, “I hope it does.” He smiled sadly, pulling her head to his chest. If it weren’t for the counter she was sitting on, she probably would have collapsed as she began to cry.

It takes Mitsuri a few months to be able to visit you

The first time she went, she nearly threw up from crying so harshly. Kyojuro had to drag her away.

Within a year, she’s able to think about you without sobbing. She took your passing the absolute hardest

She visits you daily, bringing her meals with her to eat with you.

It was a suggestion made by Shinobu, something along the lines of “y/n would want you to eat”. That was enough to get at least some of her appetite back.

She’ll spend hours talking to you, going through all sorts of stories and memories. She knows you are listening from wherever you are

“I had your favorite food today, even ate double the portion for you. Food just doesn’t taste as good when you aren’t with me. But it’s stared to become more enjoyable again now that I’m sharing it with you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, saying thanks for her food before she began to eat. “This isn’t fair.” She sniffled softly, swallowing her food and setting it aside. “You should be here eating with me. We could have shared so many meals…” she wiped her eyes vigorously, angry that she was still letting herself get so upset even a year later. You wouldn’t want her to cry every time she thought of you. “I miss you.” Her lip trembled, silently wishing that something would bring you back to her.

Obanai

Obanai is quiet and angry

For a few days he’s honestly in denial. There is no way you could have lost. Never mind lost so badly that it cost you your life. He refused to believe it

It wasn’t until he was asked to go view your body that it really smacked him in the face. He’d be frozen, staring in shock at your peaceful but beaten form

He’d disappear for a while, draw away entirely from everyone and everything. He would do his missions when needed but other than that, no one heard from him

Mitsuri would send letters while Sanemi sent crows, Obanai rarely responded back for the first month or so after your untimely demise

“Tell Kanroji I’m fine.” Mitsuri’s crow fluttered away, leaving him alone once more. That’s how most days went, so far from home but that poor crow still managed to track him down. Kaburamaru was wrapped around his neck, poking his cheek softly. “I know…I’ll eat soon.” He truly had no appetite, his heart ached at the mere thought of doing something you couldn’t do anymore. Even waking up in the morning was a battle in and of itself. Another crow made it’s way through the window of his room, tucked away on the quiet countryside. This time it was Sanemi’s crow, informing Obanai that the burial was over and the stone had been placed and engraved. It was probably the worst news he has received.

It would take Obanai a handful of months after that to return back to his home

It took Sanemi and Mitsuri to get Obanai to go see you. The figured it would be something to give him a little bit of closure

Truly Obanai was more startled by the fact that Sanemi was putting up with Mitsuri

The closure they assumed he’d get didn’t happen, if anything it made him more upset seeing your name there

Obanai would never truly cope, he’d always harbor a lot of anger in his heart over the whole ordeal. Mostly because he blamed himself.

“I should visit you more often…but it hurts. It fucking hurts y/n. I never thought I’d be seeing your name on a stone like this, not when you were so young…at least not before me.” Kaburamaru’s face brushed his cheek, collecting a stray tear that fell from Obanai’s eye. He sighed, head hanging low as his black hair covered his face. “This isn’t fair, not one bit. It should have been me. You deserved to live a long happy life, I was the one that was supposed to die first.” His shoulders shook, hot angry tears slipping down his cheeks. “Wait for me, please promise that wherever you are…you’ll wait for me.”

Sanemi

Sanemi is a mess

I think he is one of the only pillars that visibly goes through all stages of grief to the most extreme extent.

Sanemi had the unfortunate privilege of being there, he witnessed the whole thing

He’s a screamer, we know this, but it amplifies tenfold when he is in absolute anguish.

Don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, don’t go near him, and absolutely do not take you from his arms. In his mind the damage is already irreversible, why do they need to touch you?

When he has to let you go, his tears turn to anger

“Don’t fucking touch me, don’t touch them.”  he was seething, if looks could kill, everyone within a fifteen foot radius would drop dead by now. “M-master Shinazugawa…” his grip on you was bruising, he needed to keep you warm. Your hands were already ice cold in his, it made his heart ache. “You fucking heard me, back off.” They stepped away, moving towards the other kakushi that had been summoned. Despite the distance, Sanemi still heard them speak. “Send word to Lady Kocho and Master Ubuyashiki. We’ll need to prepare a spot for burial.” Sanemi clung to your lifeless form tighter, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

Sanemi wouldn’t allow anyone to talk to him — never mind bring you up in his presence.

Each morning and each night was spent visiting you

He’d talk nonstop about anything and everything, as if you’d actually be able to respond to a single thing he said. He had fallen into a state of unease. As if nothing around him was actually real.

It wasn’t denial, he had been there, he had seen and felt it. It was more so that he felt as if he were in a nightmare. Sooner or later he’d wake up to you by his side.

Naturally though, that would never happen. Not in this life time.

The sun was setting, he sat cross legged on the ground before the engraved stone. He brought the jug of sake to his lips, taking a long swig. Over the last few months, he began coping with everything by drinking. He knew you’d be yelling at him for it, all the while asking him to share. So after each sip, he poured a bit out for you. He repeated those motions until the jug was empty. “I hope you’re okay, wherever you are.” It was silent around him, nothing but crickets beginning their nightly symphony. “I hope you’re waiting for me. Though I don’t think I’ll keep you waiting for much longer…”

Gyomei

He’s the most stable out of all of them

Tears are natural for Gyomei in general, so of course they’d fall for you when he received the news.

Gyomei went to see you, hands tracing the features on your face as his whispered prayers for you

Tears leaked from his eyes, he could feel the faint roughness of cuts and scars

Gyomei would wrap prayer beads around your hand, place a soft kiss on your forehead, and send you off.

He was heartbroken, but for your sake he knew he had to keep moving.

“How are you doing, master?” Genya sat beside Gyomei as the man went through his morning prayers. “I’m not well, but I can’t dwell on these feelings. They wouldn’t want me to. Y/n would want me to keep going.” Genya could see his hands begin to shake, tears starting to slip down his cheeks. “You know y/n would also want you to take time for yourself. You need time to properly grieve.” Gyomei stopped mid prayer, perhaps Genya was right. But for Gyomei, moving kept him from breaking down. It was a tough line to try and clarify. “You’re probably right. Let’s worry about that later.”

Gyomei visited you often, at least three times a day to offer prayers and offerings

Gyomei is unreadable for the most part, people struggle to know how he is handling everything

Since the incident itself, he didn’t really change. Besides crying just a little more often. But tears were a normal thing for Gyomei

Ubuyashiki is the one that pulls him aside, kindly asking him to join for tea.

“Do you need a break, Gyomei?” Kagaya’s daughter poured both men some tea. “I don’t think so, master. Do you mind pouring a third cup? For y/n.” It has become a habit for Gyomei to order an extra serving in your honor. “Of course.” Kagaya frowned slightly, his heart ached for every child he lost. “Are you handling things okay? Genya came to me worried.” Gyomei seemed a bit surprised by that, his surprise quickly turned to a small smile. “My ever observant pupil. To be truthful with you, it’s painful. Everything reminds me of them. But for their sake, for their honor, and in hopes of seeing them again one day. I must keep moving.”

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer headcanons #hashira #demon slayer angst #uzui tengen #tomioka giyu #kocho shinobu #kanroji mitsuri #iguro obanai #tokito muichiro #shinazugawa sanemi #himejima gyomei #rengoku kyojuro #Hashira Headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons

[toorusproblems]

If your still taking requests can I request a death note oneshot nsfw were it’s after Light’s fathers death and the reader doesn’t like Light in fact hates Him but starts to feel sorry for him and later that day decides to visit his apartment to help him deal with his grief and ask if there is anything she can do to help him and light subtly implies that she can help him by sleeping with him and the reader is tempted to but doesn’t want to because she remembers she dislikes him and he has a girlfriend but light eventually persuades her into it ?

Just this once?

pairing: light yagami x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

cw: infidelity (light cheats on misa), dubcon, coercion, reader is L’s little sister, not proofread (lmk if i missed anything!!!)

hi!! sorry this took forever, i took a lil break from writing. i tried my best to stick to the request but idk how well i did lmao but even so, i hope you like it!!!

Your dead-set focus is suddenly ripped from you as the familiar noise of the task force headquarters’ door creaking open pulls your eyes away from the bright computer screen. To your displeasure, the new presence in the room is none other than Light Yagami.

“Oh, Light! I thought we agreed you didn’t have to come in today?” An uncharacteristically soft-spoken Matsuda greets.

“Yeah, but I guess my father’s passing only fueled me to get to the bottom of this even more.” Light states.

Being L’s sister, you’ve inherited the black-haired boy’s suspicion of Light. After all, you were the only person in the world that L trusted with his entire heart and soul. Those countless times you’ve stayed up together throwing theories about the Kira case back and forth, only for you and the night itself to hear.

Though your brother was undeniably a bit smarter than you, you weren’t stupid either. With everything L had theorized about Light’s true identity, it’s hard for you to write off L’s death as a coincidence. The timelines just seemed to line up too perfectly.

Everything on top of the fact that because of your investigation work on the Kira case you were barely even given time to mourn the loss of your precious older brother, a heavy dislike of the brown-haired man festered in you.

Even so, you can’t help but feel sympathetic towards him today. After all, it’s true that you know what it feels like to lose a close family member too.

“Hey, Light,” his name feels sour on your tongue, “if you want I can take the heavy lifting today, don’t stress, alright?”

His eyes meet yours, and you take note that they look even more dead than usual.

“It’s okay, Y/N, no need to worry.”

—

No need to worry.

Well, you did worry. All day in fact.

You hate yourself for feeling so empathetic towards the man who you suspect of being behind the killing of your very own brother.

But here you are now, about to knock on Light’s apartment door with a small bouquet of tulips in your left hand. Nothing special, you told yourself, just something to show that you care at least a little.

As you raise your right knuckles to the wooden surface, the door suddenly swings inward.

“Oh hello, Y/N. Pretty flowers you’ve got there.” Light points at the objects in your grip.

That’s it. That’s another thing that you hate about him. How he always seems to be one step ahead of you in even the smallest things. How it feels like he always knows what you’re thinking. It’s almost like he’s watching you sometimes, for fuck’s sake!

“These are for you, actually.”

“Really?” he fakes a smug expression, making you cringe, “Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. Feel better soon.”

You turn to leave, but Light’s hand catches your shoulder.

“Wait. Before you leave, can you come in for a second?”

“Oh uh… sure? Why?”

You receive no response as Light silently motions you onto his couch. A nervous pit grows in the bottom of your stomach.

“So uh… what do you need me for?” You ask apprehensively.

“Just want to talk. It feels like forever since we’ve actually sat down together and had a conversation, you know?”

You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were keeping in. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

Yet another awkward silence passes. The sheer quietness seems very strange to you for a moment until it hits you.

“Hey, where’s Misa? Is she out at a shoot or something?”

“So observant.” Light chuckles, and with the tone he puts on, you’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not, “Yes, she’s filming a commercial for Miho Skincare. Or at least that’s what she told me before she ran out the door.”

“Oh, I see.” You bite your lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation, “Do you want me to put the flowers in a vase for you?” You ask, picking up the tulips from the coffee table.

Light moves his hand to your thigh in a smooth motion, catching you very off guard so that you nearly drop the bouquet. You hate the fact that blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No need. But there is something else I want from you, if I’m going to be blunt.” His eyes pierce directly through you. You feel naked under his gaze.

Fuck, as many negative feelings you harbour for the man in front of you, you can’t deny he’s attractive in all sense of the word. You know what he’s asking for. It’s plainly clear even just from the lust blooming in his irises.

And it’s then when you realize how touch-starved you are. You’ve been using every available hour of your life on the Kira case, of course you hadn’t had time for any kind of relationship.

So you don’t stop him from inching closer. One of his hands sliding towards the inside of your thigh while the other pushes a piece of your hair from your face. His captivating eyes flutter shut and you’re about to give into his touch when you remember the girl you had been talking about just a moment earlier.

“Wait. Misa.” You whisper simply.

“She won’t be home for hours. And you want to make me feel better, do you not? I’m just asking for one more thing in addition to those flowers you gave me, hm?” He borderline growls into your ear. You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

Without waiting for an answer, Light crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is hungry, like he wants to waste no time with you. Admittedly, you still feel a little uneasy about all of this, Misa’s face—sweet as candy—beaming at you in your mind as her boyfriend sucks on your tongue.

You feel around each other’s bodies, unbuttoning anything you feel to rid yourselves of your clothing. It all goes so fast, and before you know it, you’re both in your undergarments. Light’s got you lying beneath him with your knees pressed to your chest. He reaches to pull your grey cotton panties to the side.

Suddenly, the peppy blonde girl inside your head once again appears, and you realize what you’re doing.

“Hang on, Light. I’m not too sure about this anymore…” You weakly tell him, pushing his hands away from your most sensitive area.

“Hm? But you promised you’d help me feel better.” Light throws uncharacteristic puppy eyes your way. He points to the wet patch that had formed on the centre of your panties, “And look, you want it too, right? Just this once? Please?”

It’s true, you had come here to make him happier. So why should you go back on it now? You criticize yourself, wondering how you could ever be so inconsiderate—to a coworker who just lost his father, too!

So you nod your head in coerced approval towards the man on top of you, who then in turn wasted no time pulling his cock out from his boxers.

Without warning, or any prep whatsoever, Light pushes the head of his cock into your cunt. The stretch burns, and you’re left wondering if it’s just because you haven’t gotten laid in quite a while, or if his cock is just that fat.

“Light!” You whine in slight protest, “You’re too big… hurts…”

He only hums in response, pushing himself further into you, “Sorry, little one, this cunt is just so tight, I can’t help myself. Fuck-“

Light starts a rhythm, watching his cock sink in into you over and over again. He notes how each time he pulls out, a sheen of both your slick, and even some blood coats it. Must’ve just been too big for your little cunny, he guesses.

The pain of the stretch slowly turns into pleasure and you relax into Light’s touch. You throw your hands into his surprisingly soft brunette locks as he pounds into your sweet spot.

You wonder if L is watching you right now. He must be so disappointed in his little sister, moaning and creaming so sweetly for the very same man he thought he had taught you to be wary of, the man who made the world a living hell.

#zap⚡️ is typing... #zap⚡️.answers #lights.⚡️ #death note smut #death note x reader #cw coercion #cw manipulation #cw dubcon #cw cheating #light yagami x reader #light x reader #light yagami smut

[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.” 

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct smut #nct imagines #nct angst #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung fluff #doyoung imagines #doyoung smut #kim doyoung scenarios #kim doyoung imagines #doyoung angst #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader

[mimento-more]

Bucky Barnes x Reader – The day that I ruined your life.

(sorry for any mistake, english is not my first language. Gif not mine)

TRIGGERS: mentions of blood, character death, violance. 

TYPE: angst.

_____________________________________________________________

“So James tell me, have you had any nightmares recently?” the therapist asked him like every week.

Of course he had nightmares, he killed so many people when he was the Winter Soldier, the feeling of guilt never left him. But recently he had been feeling worst than any other week. Three days from that day will be the anniversary of the death of his soulmate, his beloved, his best friend and unfortunately, his victim too.

_____________________________________________________________

Five years ago…

“Come ‘on Bucky don’t be an asshole, give me that back.” said the girl to the ex sergeant.

“Take it yourself. Oh wait… you seem a little too short to grab it.” Bucky said laughing hard. He and y/n would always do things like that, they annoyed each other so much that the Avengers almost hated them both.

“James Barnes if you don’t give me back my phone I swear-“ she was cut off by Jarvis.

“Agent Barnes, Agent l/n, you have an incoming call from Nick Fury.”

“Agent Barnes, Agent l/n, I need your help, since the Avengers are away. We have found a secret H.Y.D.R.A. base and it seems that they are trying to create a new Winter Soldier. This base is situated in Siberia. I’m sending you an Alicaner to get you there. Don’t fuck it up, we can’t afford to let them finish their project.”

y/n gave a look at Bucky. She knew this would be hard for him even after all the therapy with the Avengers and their newfound friendship. That place would be for sure the base that created the first and only Winter Soldier, a twisted version of Bucky that he hated and hoped to bury deep down in him even though sometimes it tried to show up and kill everyone in the room.  

The girl took Bucky’s hand and tried to reassure him that the mission will go well and that she will protect him from that evil monster that was H.Y.D.RA.

Bucky knew very well that when y/n said those kinds of words she will keep them but he was really scared to turn back to the old himself, after all those 3 damned words kinda worked on him even now. He tried not to think about it and simply hugged the h/c woman. He hugged her so hard that she was out of breath shortly and had to say his name to stop him. They laughed one last time before heading to the plane. 

After a a few hours they were in the freezing cold Siberia and the only thing left was to head to the not-so-secret-anymore base. Bucky and y/n had to come up with a plan quick if they didn’t want to be caught; after a while they decided to sneak in and to separate to look for information’s on the new type of super soldier and try to destroy them.

y/n was pretty athletic so she sneaked in easily but for Bucky it was a bit more difficult. The only thing he could do was to surrend himself and hope they would take him back.

y/n found a room that was dark and the only light source was very poor which turned in her favour so she could stay hidden in the shadows and source up things. When almost all hope were lost she found a fil folder that contained a bounce of paper sheets. She read them and what she found was terrifying to her…

Bucky’s acting was never the best but fortunately the secret society believed him or so he thought.

The moment they took him into a room he saw a face he wished to never see again, Zemo was there standing with the Winter Soldier book in his hands.

Bucky was right about fearing the worst when him and y/n were called on this mission.

“it’s nice to meet you again, old friend.” Zemo greeted him with a sly smile.

“I’m not your friend, Zemo.” Said Bucky with stone cold voice.

“we know why you’re here, oh wait let me correct myself, why you and that girl are here” said the man. Bucky felt a shiver down his spine. They knew everything from the start: the base, Fury this time didn’t think ahead, he and y/n have fallen into a trap.

“well now that you’re here why don’t we catch on the old times? I remember you screaming so loud that it was like music to my ears. Boys take him here.” He ordered the two guys that were behind Bucky. The ex sergeant fought them but he felt a sting in his right arm, one of the soldier injected him with something that made his vison go black.

y/n watched those files again and again but she still couldn’t believe that was nothing in them; Bucky and her have fallen into a trap. How could have she even thought that this mission would be that simple? She felt stupid, she was naïve but a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent couldn’t afford to be naïve or they would die.

While she was scolding herself, she didn’t capture the sound of someone walking in but when she felt someone grabbing her she was quick to neutralizing them. The woman run away from that room but going back to the main corridor would have mean a certain death. She quickly scanned the alleyway and saw a small door. “it’s the only way out of here, come ‘on y/n you can do it.” She reassured herself even though she was claustrophobic.

Crawling her way out she then arrived at the entrance and surprisingly enough Bucky was there.

“Buc we have to go, it’s a trap” she told him but as soon as she finished to talk a hand grabbed her buy the neck and smashed her to the nearest wall. The air was leaving her lungs quickly as she tried to grab Bucky’s metal arm to stop that torture but his grip was too strong and she almost blanked out. Then her throat was released but a punch hit her stomach hard then in the face multiple times, now she was a bloody mess.

The Winter Soldier was back.

Bucky was following the orders, killing the spy. He was back to his evil origins but he couldn’t fight against an order not when Zemo said those russian words that made him swap back. He liked that feeling: the power, the violence but at the same time the good side of him knew this was bad. All he could ear was his punches hitting skin and felt blood on his armored arm but then he heard a mumble.

“Please stop.” That voice was familiar but he couldn’t grab on it. He continued punching the spy until there was silence. The small whimpers stopped and that could mean only one thing: the spy was dead and his mission was accomplished.

“B-b-buc, I love you.” She said with her last breath.

That 4 words snapped the Winter Soldier out of that foggy mess that was his head and let return Bucky Barnes at the reality. What he saw was horrifying: blood everywhere, blood on his hands and then he looked at what once was his best friend now laying in a pool of blood with eyes shut open and cold as ice. Bucky kneeled down to grab her lifeless body and hugged it one last time. Tears were falling down his face without him even realizing. The pain, the grief, the guilt, he felt everything.

_____________________________________________________________

Today…

“James, can you answer my question?” the therapist asked once again.

“No, no I don’t.” he answered with a small forced smile.

He remembers that day as the day that he ruined her life.

if anyone is interested I can create a tag list. Write me if you want to be in there. Thanks for reading ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #angst #marvel #bucky x reader angst #tfatws #sebastian stan #winter solider x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x you

[shedobewritingalittle]

As The World Caves In

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve deals with the loss of his wife after the Snap.

Rating: R?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Grief, depression, feelings of loneliness, death, graphic depiction of a death

A/N: hi yes I wanted to get this out before TFATWS got out. I have never liked the ending Steve got in Endgame, so I wanted to write a new one for him!

Steve would like to say that he lost his wife like everyone else did that day.

He would love to say that she turned into ash like the rest of his teammates. He would love to say that they had some tear-filled goodbye before she turned into nothing. He would love to have that hope that might be able to come back.

But he can't.

Because she actually died that day in Wakanda. Right before his eyes.

It had happened after Thanos had tossed Steve aside. Y/N had charged at the Titan, angry at the purple being for hurting her husband. He caught her in mid-air, his golden gauntlet shimmering in the sunlight as it wrapped tightly around her throat. Steve had scrambled to stand up, his eyes on her.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, her face turning colors as she kicked, her fingers trying to pry the large gold covered fingers off of her throat. And while it felt like hours for Steve, it had only been seconds. Seconds. Seconds he had held her in their air, seconds she had suffered as the Titan cut off her oxygen. Thanos had smirked before tightening his grip, a sickening crack filling the air. Steve couldn't breathe as her body was tossed towards him. It seemed to move in slow motion, bouncing when it hit the ground.

When her body finally came to a stop in front of him, her head lolling to the side as the cloud of dust settled. Steve still had hope somehow. He prayed to the Lord above as he looked at her, hoping that she was somehow still alive. Blood vessels had burst in her eyes and blood trickled out of her mouth. There was a darkening bruise on her throat, her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Steve had been unable to move, unable to breathe. Within an instant, she was gone. His wife, the love of his life, ripped away from him in mere seconds.

And then his friends and teammates turned into ash all around him.

The worst moment of his life was when he watched his wife die right in front of him. The second worst is having to tell her brother that she was dead.

After Tony had come down the ramp of the ship, Steve had ran over to help him down that last view steps and over to Pepper. Stark told Steve that Peter was gone and in that moment of silence that followed, Tony's eyes scanned the small group of survivors for his adopted sister. Tears sprung up in the man's eyes as he looked back at Steve. The Captain's throat constricts with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes as he just nods, unable to get the words out. Pepper ran up in that moment, wrapping her arms around Tony just as tears rolled down his face.

Y/N is the only one they actually bury. Her funeral is a quiet affair, with only the remaining members of their team and Pepper in attendance. The couple had never talked about what might happen or what they would want if either of them died. Tony tells him that she would want to be buried next to their parents, so she is. He makes sure his baby sister has the best coffin money can buy, the best headstone-everything. Her funeral is the last time Steve and Tony talk to each other.

Steve gets an apartment she would have loved. It's right around the corner from the restaurant where they had their first date and a few streets away from the cemetery. There was those big windows that Y/N had always expressed fondness over. The apartment also had built in shelves that lined one wall of the living room area, which had been another selling point for him. One day Steve hoped that he would be able to fill them with her many books and tchotchkes, but now they stood empty, the shelves gathering dust. Her collection of novelty mugs weren't in the cabinets, no they were still wrapped up in newspapers within one of the many boxes. He had planned on unpacking all of the things that had once filled their shared room at the compound, but the boxes stay in the second bedroom, all piled up in the middle of the room. He couldn't find it in himself to go through all of her old things, didn't want to be bombarded with emotions and memories.

That first year is the hardest. Learning to live without her tears him to shreds. Steve hardly sleeps, hardly eats. He spends a lot of his time alone, dwelling over what he could've done differently. Natasha tries to reach out to him, but Steve distances himself. He tells himself that he needs to do this alone, needs to try to get through it by himself. Y/N always feels like she's just out of his grasp and he prays and begs to have her back with him. His prayers go unanswered.

Natasha appears outside his door on the one year anniversary of Thanos's snap and Y/N's death, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and Asgardian mead in the other. They sit together in the kitchen and drink as vigils and memorials take place around the world. For the first time, Steve talks about how much he misses his wife. The two heroes talk all night about each person they missed, both of them wondering aloud how were they supposed to live without them.

By the end of the second year, Steve is getting used to living without her. He hates it. He hates how much that ache in his chest has lessened. He hates that he can see a picture of her without a lump forming in his throat. Steve is able to talk about her more and starts a grief support group. Sure he sometimes wakes up and hopes she's there, but that's getting less and less frequent. Steve's afraid that his memories of her are going to slip away from him, terrified of forgetting her.

So he starts to draw her. He's desperate to hold onto every memory of her, so he fills up page after page, sketchbook after sketchbook of nothing but Y/N. The drawings aren't perfect, but he is able to cement those memories in his mind. Steve wants to make sure that he can remember her face without having to study a picture. So when he remembers something about her, he puts it onto a piece of paper. Y/N on their wedding day. Y/N when they were on the run and she fell asleep in the Quinn Jet. Y/N brushing her teeth early in the morning, her silhouette lit up by the almost golden bathroom light. Y/N the first day they met.

Natasha sees them once when she stops by to see him. One of the sketchbooks is left open on the table and she sneaks a peek when Steve goes to the other room to get a sweater. There on the page in incredible detail is a sketch of her best friend with tears in her eyes, her mouth open in shock. She doesn't know that this is the face she made when she learned that Bucky had killed her parents and Steve knew. Natasha looks away, her cheeks burning. She feels like she saw something too personal, too raw, and she shuts the journal before Steve returns.

When the third, fourth, and then fifth year rolls around- well Y/N has been gone longer than they were together as a couple. Steve has gotten used to her being gone. He's able to walk past the room holding all of the boxes without stalling. It gets easier to talk about her, easier to share stories about her to his group. He still misses her, it's just easier for him to live now. His wedding band never leaves his ring finger, needing to have a part of her with him always. Steve still loves her and he doesn't think he can ever love someone as much as he loves his wife.

And then Scott Lang reappears.

Steve wants to reverse what Thanos did, wants to bring back his friends even if that means he cannot bring back his wife. That ache in is chest returns as they put together their heist plan. Steve feels like there's a ghost following him around while he's back at the compound. His shoulders feel heavy again and he tries to put on a brave face as the people around him get hopeful. He tries to be happy, knowing that he will be getting his friends back and fixing what had happened, but he can't help but be upset.

-

Steve gets to see her when they go back.

It's after he knocks out the younger version of himself. Steve is standing over himself, breathing hard, and holding Loki's scepter tightly in his hands.

"That is America's Ass." He comments, looking behind him before back down to the unconscious man. He needs to meet back up with the others so that they can-

"It definitely is." A familiar voice calls out from in front of him. Steve stills, his breath catching in his throat before he slowly lifts his head. There she is, standing before him with a smirk on her face. Y/N is dressed in her navy blue suit, her hair messy from the battle she just went through. Her face is dirty, her lip split and there is a long cut across her cheekbone. His mouth goes dry and he's suddenly tongue tied, like he was when they first met.

Steve remembers how nervous and awkward he was when they were first introduced to each other. Y/N gave him a million dollar smile and just like that, he knew he was a goner. Steve had stumbled over saying his name, which had then made her laugh-God, that laugh. That laugh had made him warm all over, made butterflies swarm around in his stomach. And in the past five years, those butterflies had been dormant and now, now they're wide awake.

"You're not my Steve." Y/N announces as she walks towards him, studying him. Steve's heart is beating fast and he wants to reach out and hold her close, wanting to tell her how much he loves her. My Steve. God, he misses her. He misses everything about her.

"How can you tell?" He asks, a tiny smile appearing on his face. Y/N chuckles, taking seeing two Steve's surprisingly well. But then again, she had just got done fighting aliens and a literal god so he supposes that things have been weirder.

"My Steve won't even look me in the eye. He blushes when I look at him. When I look at you...you just look so sad. That's how I know you're not Loki." She answers, stopping in front of him. Steve studies her face, taking in every little detail because he knows that this is the last time he'll see her.

"I-I'm that easy to read, huh?" Steve retorts and she laughs again, nodding. God, he misses that sound. He misses her so fucking much that it makes his chest ache. Y/N's smile falters as she looks at him, watching as his smile drops.

"I'm not going to pretend what is exactly going on here, okay? Obviously you are going through something and it's pretty clear you are on a some type of mission." She tells him, motioning to the scepter in his hands. Steve looks down to his hand before looking at her. He knows that she should be calling for back up because by the way people keep speaking through her comm Y/N must know that things are going south.

"I'll bring it back, I promise." Steve replies and the smile returns to her face. Y/N glances down to the unconscious man on the floor before looking at him.

"I know you will. I never saw you, new Steve. And don't worry, I'll make sure you don't choke on your tongue." She teases, gesturing to the passed out version of himself. Steve's smile returns to his face as she continues, "But I do expect some sort of explanation when you come back."

"Of course. I'll be back before you even know I was gone." Steve says, wanting to say so many other things that he knows that he just can't tell her. He opens his mouth again when her comm once again crackles to life. Y/N's eyes widen and she gestures for him to leave. Steve's mouth snaps shut and he nods, quickly walking away.

Tony would later tell Steve when they're in 1970 that he started crying when he saw his little sister.

-

When his teammates return on the battlefield, she isn't among them. He knows she won't be coming through a portal, but some part of him still holds out hope for some reason. Yet, there is no sadness inside of him on that battlefield. No, rage has pushed all of that sadness aside, filling him up completely.

When he fought against Thanos and his army, he did so with every ounce of strength in his body. Steve wanted to avenge the death of Y/N, wanted to kill Thanos for what he did to her. Steve has never felt so angry in his entire life. He wanted to be the one who ended the Titan's life. He ignored the large gash in his arm and tore through aliens.

And in the end, it's Tony who takes out Thanos. He is the one who avenges his baby sister's death, but the price he pays his high. And Steve has to watch another Stark die.

He feels so guilty that he is alive and both of the Stark siblings are gone, both of them buried side by side, right next to their parents.

There is just so much death in his life, so much damn loss. And he's tired. Steve is exhausted. He hoped that bringing back his friends and the half of the universe that had disappeared because of the Snap would make him feel better, but it hadn't. No, instead that hurt has returned with full force. His chest feels like its about to cave in on itself, like his ribs piercing his lungs and heart-God, everything seems unbearable. All he wants is for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

And then, he is reminded that he has to return the stones.

And while every single part of the journey is noteworthy, he saves returning the scepter for last.

Y/N is sitting beside the unconscious version of himself when he returns. She turns his head to look at him, a smile on her face. For a moment, he considers staying here with her, reliving every single moment of their life and their relationship as it happens.

But he knows that he can't.

It wouldn't be right for him to stay here with her, knowing everything that he knows. Steve has had his time with her, time that he will treasure for the rest of is life. He knows that if he returns back to his timeline, there will be a lot of hurting that he will have to go through. Steve knows that it would be so much easier to stay here with Y/N, but he won't let himself do it.

So Steve explains to Y/N why he needed the scepter, leaving out her death and the death of her brother. After he finishes, she stays quiet for a moment, processing all of this new information. He just waits and sits there.

"Don't tell me what happens, please. I want the cards to fall where they may. I-I want to be surprised." Y/N tells him suddenly, glancing at the unconscious man before looking at Steve. The Captain understands exactly what she means. She must know somehow that she ends up with him, something on his face his showing his hand. Y/N had always told him that he had a shitty poker face. A smile stretches across his face, nodding. His wedding ring-hidden under his gloves-feels so much heavier, like its weighing his arm down.

A pit of dread opens up in Steve's stomach as his time draws to an end. He thanks and apologizes to Y/N as he hands over the scepter. She just smiles, telling him not to worry about it as she puts it back into its case. He must look as upset as he feels because before he leaves, Y/N wraps her arms around him. It surprises Steve, but he quickly wraps his arms back around her. Steve holds her tightly, letting his eyes shut. He knows that this will be the last time he'll ever hold her and he just savors it, wishing that it could last forever. Wishing that he could stay here forever.

But everything has to come to an end.

When he says goodbye, he knows that Y/N doesn't understand that this is him saying goodbye to her for the last time. Steve finally gets to tell her goodbye and even though he isn't able to tell Y/N how much he loves her, it's okay. It's okay because he will be able to tell her how much he loves her one day, even if that day isn't today. They'll be reunited again. He just needs to wait.

She tells him goodbye and he takes one final look at her before he returns back to his timeline, back into a world where she's gone.

That night, he returns to his empty apartment, the silence almost deafening. That hole in his chest has reopened and he is in so much pain that everything just feels numb.

He goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, washing the day's events off of him hoping that this would also wash away the numbness, trying to pretend like nothing of importance had happened hours earlier. When he crawls into the same bed he has been sleeping in for the past five years-a bed she has never touched-he realizes how empty it is without her. He can't feel her here like he can at the Compund-No, here she doesn't follow behind him. No, this is a place she has never been so she can't be here. The apartment is suddenly too big for him-everything is too big for him. It's too big and too empty and too fucking quiet-

It's like the string that was holding him together the past five years has finally snapped and he just starts crying. The Captain's body shakes with sobs as he lays in that empty room. Steve had thought he had processed her death and grieved already, but he hadn't. Until this very moment, it had never fully set in that Y/N was dead. It was never fully real that she was gone. He knew that she was, but some part of him was still holding out hope that somehow she was going to come back. If Bucky could come back, surely she could have as well. But Y/N isn't Bucky and so she never came back.

It took until today for him to fully realize that she was gone. Y/N was gone and there was nothing he can do about it. There was no stones to gather, no traveling through dimensions for him to do. Steve had to live the rest of his life without the love of his life, in a time where he'll never belong in. That small flicker of hope that had been silently living inside of him had been snuffed out, leaving an empty dark space inside of him, leaving him cold and empty.

The only hope that remained is that they would be reunited one day in death, but until then Steve would be forced to carry around his pain where ever he went.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

[notbleachtea]

Favorite Shirt

Okay time to post again. Slight warnings, mention of death, toxic relationship, slight emotional abuse.

Word count ~2.9k

"Tch, I guess it’s about time I clean my desk. I can't work with all of this crap on it." Jotaro annoyedly says.

While cleaning off the countless stacks of paper he pauses. All desire to clean is quickly knocked out of him. He sits back down in his desk chair holding the group picture you all took in Egypt. He glances over each face in the image, some happy memories, some not so much. He would give anything to go back in time to change the way things played out. So many stupid mistakes. His eyes immediately halt when he gets to yours. His face expressed sorrow and longing.

His favorite memories of the two of you start to come rushing back to his head, and for a moment, he smiles. The constant flirting that always occured between the two of you. The silent stares you each felt from one another. No matter how much the others teased you two, you still weren't sure if admitting your feelings was the best idea. You each had your own reasons for keeping distant. The mission was much more important anyway, and so was your friendship.

He recalls one of his favorite memories with you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a long week of tiresome stand battles, the closer you got to Egypt, the more intense they became. He noticed this was taking quite the toll on you and made the gang find a hotel that night so you could get some much needed rest. In the meantime he suggested that you use him as a pillow in the car on the way there.

Honestly, you took him up on the offer. You took everything you could at the time knowing that it would never go any further no matter how bad you wanted it to. Your head rested on his large chest, which was surprisingly soft for how tough he was. Every now and then he'd tug on his hat to cover his face when in fact he was just trying to steal a few glances at your peaceful, resting figure.

"Alright, we're here, group up and we'll get going into our rooms," Joseph states.

"I ca-"

"She's staying with me. There's no discussing it." Jotaro then picks you up and carries you to your room.

You started to wake up from the movements and the background noise going on in the hotel, and the first thing you saw was Jotaro's face when you opened your

eyes.

"Clearly I must be dreaming," you thought.

"Look who decided to wake up." he scoffed at you. "Really left it up to me to carry you all the way up here."

"I'm so sorry! I won't let it-"

"That's enough. I was just kidding anyway. You fought really hard today, it's the least I could do."

You smiled back at him as he set you down on the bed. That was honestly all the thanks he needed.

"Anyway, I'm going to go get something to eat, I'll bring something back for you if you want, but you should probably get some real rest soon."

You began to crawl up into the bed in your dirty and torn clothes from the day you just had.

"Good grief, what do you think you're doing? You're really going to sleep in a nice clean bed in your dirty clothes??"

"Well, I don't really have any clean clothes left right now, so, unless you have a better ide-"

You were quickly cut off with a soft hit to the face. Jotaro threw one of his clean shirts at you.

"Here. You can use this. It'll be more comfortable anyway."

Jotaro had left to go pick up some food and when he came back he was greeted with his favorite shirt filled with his favorite person. Wearing only that shirt made you look much smaller than you actually were, it practically went down to your knees.

"Thanks Jotaro! I promise I'll get it back to you as soon as I can."

"Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." He cooly tried to say as he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After everything that had happened in Egypt, you just wanted to get away from it all for a while. Go out on your own to a new place with no reminder of the loved ones you lost and all the feelings you never acted on. As a thank you for your hard work, the SpeedWagon Foundation offered to pay for everything of whatever you decided to do. You thought maybe you'd try going to school in America for a while. It was great, you had all the experiences you grew up seeing in movies and on TV. You made plenty of new friends there and even dipped your toes in the dating pool.

Right after you finished school, you and your boyfriend got married. You thought that's what you ought to do, you've been with him for so long. Everyone thought you were the perfect couple. He always took you out on extravagant dates and bought you expensive jewelry. Every girl wanted to be you. But that was only because they didn't know what happened behind closed doors. He never physically hurt you, not many people could, I mean you could hold your

own in Egypt, you're pretty tough, but mentally, he knew you were weak. You would confide in him in the beginning of your relationship about all your friends back home that you missed. He never let you call home or talk to them either. The ones you could never see again. Everytime he wanted you to hurt he would just remind you that they were dead because you weren't there for them, you weren't strong enough to save them. Countless letters came in from your friends and family and he'd throw them away before you could see them. He would even tell you that no one was writing to you anymore.

Every now and then you manage to chat with Jotaro. He'd call you on your lunch break at work from time to time just to play catch up. Asking things like 'how's life?' and 'are you doing okay?' and the sort of thing. Everytime you told him you were doing great. You love your husband and you even try to brag about how well he treats you by describing all the luxurious gifts he's been buying you. Everytime Jotaro ended the call saying he was happy for you and then a

quick update on his life.

To be honest, Jotaro wasn't falling for your phone calls. He knew something was wrong, but he never knew how bad it really was. He thought it was strange that you never wrote to him or called him outside of your work hours. It was also strange how you never really went into depth about your personal life either.

One fateful day, you're having a routine call with Jotaro when your husband decided to stop by to take you out to lunch. He asked the secretary why your door was closed to which she simply responded, "Oh, she's talking to her childhood friend Jotaro! He usually calls about this time every week."

He walks into your office catching you off guard while you're still on the phone. The shock alone causes you to drop the phone with a quiet screech.

"Y/n, are you there?" Jotaro stays on the line worried about what he just heard.

Your husband shuts your office door leaving just the two of you in there and is yelling just loud enough to where your coworkers can't hear him.

"I thought I told you no one wanted to talk to you anymore? They're all fed up with you, can't believe you let your friends die back in Egypt. They'll never

forgive you for that."

"You're right I'm sorry just please don't do this here."

"What makes you think you can tell *me* what to do? That's not how this works. And who gave you permission to talk to other guys? There's going to be some serious consequences for this when you come home." He walks out of your office smiling at all of your coworkers like nothing had just happened, followed by a shut of your office door and your muffled cries.

"Y/n?? Are you still there? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Wh- what did you hear?" You managed to squeak out, choking back tears.

"I heard enough y/n, he's not a good guy. I knew something was wrong. We have to get you out of there."

"No. This is my life now. I don't need your help, I told you I'm perfectly fine."

"Y/n I'm not kidding, you have to get out of there *now* and I won't take no for an answer."

"I can't, okay! I have nowhere to go. No one would believe me if I said the things he's done to me. Anyone who I try to run to just rats me out to him and the situation gets worse."

"Y/n, go pack your most essential things while he's out of the house. I'm buying you a ticket home for tonight. You'll be safe here this time tomorrow."

The instant care Jotaro had just shown you only causes you to cry more. How could you let yourself get like this? You really weren't okay. You were just too headstrong to admit anything was wrong.

"Thank you." You were able to muster through even more tears.

After picking yourself up off the floor and drying your face, you left your office, no intention to come back. You rushed home to grab only your essential items while your husband was finishing his day at work. You grabbed a few sets of clothing, your toothbrush, hair and makeup accessories, a few pairs of shoes, and your folder of important documents. Everything else was replaceable and or retrievable at a later date.

You take a deep breath and get the courage to call a ride to the airport.

Free from your husband's control, you weren't scared to text or call Jotaro on your own phone now. You called him letting him know that you were on your way.

One short plane ride across the ocean later and Jotaro was waiting there for you to take you home. You're not sure how long he was there for but you're convinced he was waiting there since before you even took off.

"Y/n, over here." He waves you over.

You walk over shyly and ashamed of what he had witnessed just the day before. You couldn't even pick your head up enough to look him in the eyes.

"Y/n it's okay now. You're here with me, he can't get to you right now."

"Ye- yeah I guess you're right. So where do I go now?"

"C'mon, I'll take you back to my place."

"We're stopping there before the hotel?"

"I'm not letting you stay alone right now. You're staying with me at my house. The only reason I let you fly alone was because it got you out of there faster."

Jotaro takes your bag and you both head to the taxi.

"C'mon short stuff, get those legs movin' faster."

"Hey! Not everyone can be freakishly tall."

Jotaro raises one eyebrow, "So I'm a freak, aye?"

"Sorr-"

"Don't apologize, you're already more vocal when you're free around here. I like it."

The taxi drops you two off at his house. The drive felt like an eternity when in reality it was only a few short minutes. You stared out the car door window in awe.

*So this is what he's been up to this whole time*

"Well c'mon now, let's get inside."

You quickly follow after him like a lost puppy.

"There's a spare bedroom upstairs and down the hall, why don't you take this time to relax and freshen up while I make us something to eat?"

"You really don't have to do this for me Jotaro, but I appreciate it."

You head upstairs with your bag. It really was a long flight. You decide to take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes.

About an hour goes by when Jotaro comes by your room to collect you.

"Dinners ready y/n."

"Okay, I'll be right out, I just have to put some makeup on first."

"Uhh, what for? We're not going out anywhere."

"I don't know. I just always do. He always made me wear makeup, even at the house, I guess I'm just used to it."

Jotaro quickly turns around and starts heading towards the kitchen, but not without leaving a remark, "well don't. You look better without it anyway."

You follow soon after him with a fresh blank face. The table has already been set beautifully and you can already smell your favorite dish. He brings over two plates of food followed by a new bottle of wine.

"Why don't we catch up for real this time?" He asks.

Hours go by at the dinner table along with a few bottles of wine. The two of you bickering just like the old days. You missed this. You needed this.

You finally caught a glimpse of the time and stood up to help clean up the table.

"You don't need to help clean this up y/n. We can even clean it up tomorrow. Why don't we go talk in the living room for a bit longer?"

You move forward as an attempt to get to the couch, finally realizing how much you actually drank, you're quite tipsy in fact. Jotaro moves over to the couch to join you. Sitting side by side he grabs your hand with a guilty look on his face.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry this happened to you. It's all my fault."

Clearly he's a bit tipsy too if he's actually trying to admit being at fault right now.

"None of this is your fault Jotaro, what are you going on about?"

"If I was just straight with you when we were younger. If I actually had the courage to say something to you. Maybe you would have stayed. Maybe you would've ended up with me instead. Instead I thought you were too good for me."

Your eyes start to swell up. "Don't say that. Ever. I'm the one that's not good enough for you. Why would you ever want someone like me?"

"Well, you're you, that's why. You're strong, you held your own in the desert, you tried your hardest for us and you made it out. I've never met anyone as strong as you, and to know that someone took advantage of you? And I wasn't there to protect you? I'm so sorry for all of it."

Now full on ugly crying again, Jotaro wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry Jotaro. Can you forgive me?"

He lifts up your crying head by your chin and brushes all your loose pieces of hair out of your face. He holds you here until you return the look into his deep aqua eyes. He moves forward, crashing his lips into yours. There was no hesitation on your end, you kissed him back just as hungrily. Neither of you needed words to figure out what the other one was thinking. You could feel the admittance of your love for each other from just that embrace. Jotaro pulls back and pushes your head into his chest so he can hold you once again. He pats your head.

"It's all okay now, I'm sorry it took this long," and he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

The moment is only ended by your yawning since you've been up for lord knows how long. Jotaro picks you up and carries you in his arms to his room. He notices the slight confusion in your face.

"I was thinking maybe you sleep in here with me tonight, kinda like old times?"

"Okay, just let me go change into my pajamas. I don't want to get in the nice clean bed in my dirty clothes.".

You walk back into his room in just his old t-shirt you kept from the desert.

"You really kept that old thing?" He spouted.

"I really did. It's how I kept you close that whole time I was gone." You said with an embarrassed smile.

"It really does look better on you ya know?" He says through a full face of blush. Just seeing you again in that shirt made him think of all the things he wanted to do to you now and then.

You moved to go lay down alongside Jotaro in his massive bed. He always wanted to know what it'd be like to hold you in his arms in his own bed.

Jotaro pulls you into his chest to hold you tight, with no intention of letting you go. He places a delicate kiss on your cheek. You squeeze his hand as a subtle sign of acceptance and nuzzle into his broad figure.

“Goodnight y/n. Sleep tight.”

#jotaro kujo #jojo #jjba x reader #jjba #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #jojo jotaro #jojosbizzareadventure #jjba pt 3

[ur-favorite-queer-queen]

Stars/Dreams

Master List

It was Dick’s turn to zeta to Paris and grab Damian today. He once again looked up and found Damian on the Eiffel tower, sitting there staring at the stars. Tears streamed down his face, that he would immediately brush off before any others saw. But the evidence that stained his sleeve, cheeks, eyes, and his whole being could not be covered up. 

Just as he was about to make his way up the tower to get him, try to calm him from another nightmare he probably had, he saw another figure sit themself down near Damian. Upon closer inspection, it was Marinette’s childhood friend, Kim. 

He made it up the tower just in time to see Damian break down and pull his knees to his chest, face in his knees, his body shaking from how hard he was sobbing, with Kim rubbing circles on his back. At that moment, he knew it was best if he stayed put. 

“I miss her too, but if Nette is anything, she’s stubborn.” Kim spoke softly, still rubbing circles into Damian’s back, “I doubt she’s in heaven or hell or any afterlife up or down there. I bet she’s still here watching over everyone, probably haunting some people too.” That got a chuckle out of Damian, if only a small one. 

“She d-didn’t deserve what h-happened to her.” Damian said softly, his voice was raspy from all the crying, and he hiccuped every now and then.

“She didn’t. No one deserves that.” Kim paused, unsure of how to continue. Comforting people was not his forte, so he thought about what Marinette would want, “But she wouldn’t want you to spend day after day crying and wasting your life because she’s no longer in it.”

"H-how would you know?" Damian rubbed some snot onto his sleeve absentmindedly.

"I've known Nette since we were 3, I know many things about her Damian." Kim handed him a tissue out of nowhere. "One thing I know that she would never want, is for people to waste their time crying over something from the past, something they can't change. She would want them to look forward to the future, even if it's without her."

Damian stayed silent for a long time, so long Dick was about to make his presence known, but then he started talking, hiccups and hesitation gone from his voice, "She said her favorite place in all of Paris was here. She loved gazing up at the stars, they were her favorite thing in the sky. Unlike the sun they didn't overpower everything else in the sky, or make you want to stay inside when it's too hot. And unlike the moon they don't disappear unless you're in the wrong place." He paused, thinking over what he was about to say next, "She liked to say that each star was special to someone somewhere. Her special star was that one." He pointed to a star to the right that was a little more separated from the other stars, but it still glowed brightly in the night. "She was always too embarrassed to tell me why though."

"That's where I come in." Kim grinned proudly, like he had just won the lottery, in a quieter voice he began to explain, "While it may be hard to believe, when we were younger Nette was the "loner" out of all of us." He made air quotes with his fingers when saying the word, "Nino had joined the art club, I had joined a few sports teams, but Nette always kept to herself. Not saying that as a bad thing that's just how it was back then." He seemed to think of a way to phrase his words, probably so he wouldn't accidentally offend Damian in his sensitive state, "One day while we were hanging out on her balcony she pointed up to the sky and told us, 'You guys both choose a star and I'll choose a star.' That's all she said, me and Nino were used to her crazy shenanigans so we didn't think much of it. I chose that star," He pointed to a star that was close to Marinette's star, but still had many stars surrounding it. Near all the others it didn't glow as brightly,  "And Nino chose that star." He pointed to a star that was also close to Kim and Marinette’s star but also close to the other stars, directly in the middle of the two groups, however it was much dimmer than Marinette and Kim's stars.

"What is the point of all this?" Damian interrupted, his voice gaining its annoyance back but couldn’t cover the curiosity it held.

"I'm getting there, okay? Anyways we both told Marinette the stars we picked and she asked why, we both didn't really have an answer. So she answered for us, she was always good at reading people." He gave out a small chuckle, and Damian cracked a smile, a small one but still a smile, "I chose my star because while I'll always be close to her, I like having a big group of friends, specifically where I'm in the center, but allow others to shine. Nino chose his star because he'll always be in between me and Marinette and his other friends, as you are aware. He never really shines, always one to follow the group, but when he does, he shines brighter than all the others."

"You really have all of this memorized?" Damian commented.

"It's just one of those memories you never forget. It's stuck in your head for no specific reason." Kim turned back to face him. "So then we asked what star she chose and why, she pointed to her star. Then said 'I think despite me maybe having friends in the future, deep down I'll be alone, deep down I won't have many people by my side. Maybe I'll only ever have you guys, but I'm okay with that.' And that was what it was like for a while, until everything happened."

"So she chose that star because she was a loner?"

"That's what she says, but knowing her it's probably deeper than that. So here's my theory, she always knew deep down that when it came down to it, not a lot of people would be on her side, so instead of taking chances with other people she kept to herself. But while me and Nino sometimes depended on other people to help us shine, or they outshine us, Marinette didn’t need anyone to help her shine. Or outshine her for that matter. She always worked better independently, for certain things of course."

After Kim's explanation Damian sat there in silence, Kim waited in the silence as well, and Dick didn’t dare break it. After what seemed like an eternity Damian finally spoke, “Thank you for that Kim.” 

Kim smiled at him, glad that his story had helped, “Anytime Damian, I know how much she meant to you.” He stood up, preparing to get down from the tower, but turned one last time to look at Damian, “If you ever want any more stories like that, or just about her, you know where to find me.” And with that he started his trek down the tower, because he wouldn’t be Kim if he used the elevator. 

After a moment of silence Damian started to get up, speaking as he did, “I know you are there Grayson, you can come out now.” 

Dick came out from where he was hiding, at least having the decency to look ashamed for eavesdropping, “Sorry Damian, I didn’t want to interrupt but we gotta get back to Gotham.” 

Damian brushed past him as he headed for the elevator, “Tt, Let’s just go.” 

They took the zeta tubes back to Gotham where Damian, surprisingly went straight to bed. This left the others feeling worried. 

“Who’s going to be on nightmare duty tonight?” Tim asked, even he was worried for Damian, Marinette’s death had been the hardest on him. 

“I can do it.” Dick volunteered. 

“Are you sure Dick? You already took the ‘Fetch Damian from Paris shift’. Maybe someone else should take this one.” Steph suggested. 

“No I’ll do it. I honestly don’t think he’ll need it tonight but just in case. Plus I know some things you don’t.” And with that cryptid message Dick left to go stand guard near Damian’s room. Leaving the others to wonder what on Earth happened when Dick retrieved Damian that he had information that could help him and his nightmares. 

Damian had thankfully not had another nightmare that night, but his dream was still strange. 

As he drifted off to dreamland he suddenly appeared to be sitting on something, upon closer inspection it seemed to be a star. Suddenly he heard giggling and turned so fast that he almost fell off the star. 

Sitting on another star not so far away from him, was Marinette, still looking as beautiful as the last day he saw her. “Hi Damian.” Damian wanted to believe that she was here, but he saw her dead body, he knew that she was dead. 

“You can’t be here. You’re dead.” He stated like he was stating a fact, his voice cold and without feeling, that was the only way to stop the tears from flowing. 

“I am dead Damian. But Kim was right you know, I’m much too stubborn to leave Earth, especially without making sure that everyone I left behind would be okay.” She started floating over to him and that’s when Damian realized this must all be a dream, his mind trying to convince him that Marinette was still here. 

“This is a dream you can’t be here. You’re not actually here, just my mind trying to convince myself you are here.” 

Marinette smirked at him, one of those playful smirks that she always flashed when she knew something he didn’t, “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, then go ahead and believe that.” 

After a few moments of silence he spoke up, “Did Kim really know you better than I did?” Damian’s voice was soft and vulnerable when he spoke. 

“Both of you knew me very well. I think the grief is just clouding some things for you.” Marinette softly smiled at him, “Kim did make a very good point though Damian.” She waited for him to face her before she spoke again, “I don’t want you to stop living your life just because I’m no longer in it. You have so much to live for, and in order to do those things you can’t keep wishing I was there to do them with you.” 

“But how am I supposed to forget you?” 

“Not forget Damian, move on. Be able to accept the fact that I’m not gonna be here any more but that doesn’t mean that you have to stop living your life.” 

“I’m gonna miss you.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, as a sort of reassurance that she was here. She held both his hands with her own.

“I’m gonna miss you too. But I’ll always be here, watching over you and making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.” 

“So is this goodbye?” 

“Yeah this is goodbye, but promise me something okay?” She brought him into a hug as the tears that were trapped in her eyes finally flowed free, “Do not, under any circumstances, stop living your life because I’m not there with you. Alright?” She pulled a tiny bit away from him so she could look him in the eyes. 

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

“Good now I believe it is time for you to wake up now.” She grinned at him, despite the fact that tears still fell from her eyes. 

“Already?” Damian asked as tears escaped his own eyes. 

“Yeah,” She pulled him in for one last kiss before pulling away and smiling at him, “Goodbye Dami, I better only see you in like 70 years.” 

“Yeah, goodbye Mari.” 

Damian woke up with a small smile on his face as he clearly remembered the dream he had last night. That smile quickly turned to a frown as he remembered that it was just that, a dream. 

He got dressed and made his way to the dining room only for Alfred to drag him to the kitchen before he got there. His protests died in his mouth when he saw what was on one of the kitchen counters. Flour was all over the counter but in the spaces there wasn't flour there were words. 

'It wasn't a dream Damian, don't worry, you're not crazy.'

He sank to the floor and cried again, this time it was happy tears though. For now he knew that while she wasn't here with him, he at least got the opportunity to say goodbye and know that she would still always roam the Earth and watch him and others. That was good enough in his book.

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Forgot to tag the people who helped me! @ramos123 @nightlychaotic @boldlyanxious

#mgi civil war #maribat #Daminette Dominance #marinette is dead #Kim comforts Damian #Kim & Damian friendship #daminette #no beta this is war

[kpop---scenarios]

All Night

Jooheon x Reader

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 2.7k

Commissioned by: @h0n3ybr3

A/N: I really hope you like it! Avsjsh

For the last year of your relationship with Jooheon he never let you set foot in any of the concert venues that he was playing. He always told you that now wasn't the right time to tell people about your relationship, or there was always some reason why you couldn't go. You knew he was only trying to protect you but you really wanted to be there for him in person for once, even if he couldn't make any direct contact with you. 

"Please. Please please pleaaaaseeee." You beg Jooheon. He had a show tonight and you desperately wanted to attend and show your love and support for him and the boys. 

"Absolutely." He grins. 

"Really?" You ask, excitedly. 

"Not." He smiles, showing off those adorable dimples of his. "Baby, trust me when I say, I'm doing this for us, and for you. You know how fans can get. I just wanna protect you, plus I get all sweaty and gross. You don't wanna see that." 

"You know I love when you get sweaty." You pout. 

"I know you do, which is why you can't come because then you'll get horny, and I'll get horny and neither of us will be able to get off until after the show." He says, grabbing your arms while staring at you. "It's just not a good time for either of us." He sighs, giving you a pat on the arm before walking away. 

"Well to fucking bad, cause I'm going." You secretly whisper to yourself as he walks back towards you. 

"What?" He asks. "Did you say something?" 

"Me? Ha, noo." You say, turning to walk away. "Enjoy yourself tonight." 

"I'll see you when I get back baby." He smiles, giving you a small peck on the lips before heading for the door. 

"Or sooner." You murmur under your breath. 

"What'd you say?" Hr asks, turning around. 

"I said nothing." You smile. "Love you." You say as he closes the door behind him. 

How dare he. You wanted to be included with his sweat, why did everyone else get to see him in person at a concert like that and you were stuck watching videos? You wanted him to drip on you from the stage, you wanted to go deaf from standing next to the speaker while he played the rapped and did whatever else he was going to do. And dammit, that was exactly what you were planning on doing tonight. 

You happily took your time getting ready, making sure to wear Jooheon's favorite lingerie set underneath your clothes, since you already knew how tonight was going to end either way. You wore a low cut white top along with a black skirt and a pair of flat shoes that Jooheon loved. You knew he was going to be pissed with you when he saw you there, so you figured wearing some of his favorite things would ease his annoyance with you. 

Once you were happy with your makeup look you went downstairs, got in your car and drove off to the venue. When you got there you had texted Hyungwon who came and let you in the side door and then gave you a backstage pass to make sure no one gave you any grief about being there. 

"Thanks for helping me." You say as you follow him through the narrow halls. 

"Any chance I get to piss off Jooheon, I will take it." Hyungwon laughs. "We're heading on stage in about 5 minutes, once you see us pass by then pop out and stand by the speaker, he'll be sure to see you." He snickers. 

You thank him one last time before he leaves, leaving you standing there awkwardly while your stomach does flips. You hoped Jooheon was going to be happy to see you. 

"Let's do this!" You hear Shownu yell as they all cheer. They all run onto the stage and you can hear the crowd already starting to go wild. You quickly slip out of your spot, moving to where Hyungwon told you too and watched as they started the set. 

Watching Jooheon rap in person was a whole other experience in your mind. You had seen his videos, music videos, lives and those things but to see him physically do what he loved to do was amazing. You were annoyed at yourself for taking so long to come to one of these but even more annoyed at Jooheon for keeping you from it. You couldn't be too mad at him though, he looked damn fine doing what he was doing. 

You stood there swaying and dancing to the music as the song changed, forgetting that Jooheon still didn't know you were here. You opened your eyes when the music stopped, and looked directly into the eyes of your boyfriend who looked surprisingly happy to see you, but also pretty shocked that you were there. You weren't quite nervous anymore now that he knew you were there and you could enjoy yourself a bit more. 

A while later they called for a short 15 minute intermission while other things were getting prepared for their next set. Jooheon rushes over to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you away and into a small dressing room. 

"Is this yours?" You ask, looking around.

"God no." He scoffs. "What are you doing here?" He asks, looking you in the eyes. 

"I wanted to see you in concert. Real live concert." You whisper. 

"I know." He smiles. "Hyunwon told me everything." 

"Motherfucker." You growl, knowing you're going to have to torture him later for this. 

"I've got to go back on, but come on." He smiles, grabbing your hand and pulling you from the small room. "I've got something to show you." 

You run behind him as he pulls you closer and closer to the stage, you think he'll let go of your hand before he goes on but you're most definitely mistaken. 

Jooheon pulls you onto the stage where there are thousands of screaming fans. You stand there with your eyes wide as you listen to everyone scream while you're shocked. He leaves you standing beside a drum set, letting go of your hand to sit behind the drums. 

Grabbing the microphone, he yells loudly into it. "I want you all to give a warm, special applause to this beautiful lady right here. She is my light, she is my life, and she is mine." He says before putting the microphone down and begins playing the drums. 

You stand there with tears in your eyes as you watch the love of your life playing a song dedicated to you, in front of thousands of his fans. As he continues to play, he looks over at you, giving you a side smile with a small wink before going back to concentrating on playing. A few minutes later the rest of the boys come onto stage, microphones in hand. Jooheon steps away from the drums, grabbing his microphone to join them. Someone from backstage runs out a stool for you to sit on as the boys surround you and begin serenading you. You couldn't describe the emotions you were feeling so overwhelmed with happiness. Your eyes couldn't leave Jooheon as he sang to you, his voice so sweet and soothing. 

As the song ended, everyone in the crowd began screaming and clapping for them. Jooheon rushed over to you, pulling you into his arms and whispering "I love you." Into your ear. It was the thousandth time he had told you that, but somehow it felt the most special in that moment. 

Jooheon walks you off stage, his arm wrapped around your waist as he presses his lips to yours before heading back out to finish the now interrupted concert. You watched them perform, but your mind was more so thinking about everything you were going to do to that man when you got home. 

** 

The concert ended and the boys were all in the dressing room, getting ready to go home. You walk in as the rest of them are leaving, leaning against the doorway as Jooheon sat in front of the mirror wiping his face. 

"Hey you." He smiles, throwing the towel into a basket. 

"Hey." You blush, looking at the ground. "I can't believe you did that." You laugh, thinking back. 

"I'm full of surprises." He grins. 

You walk over to him, he opens his legs pulling you in closer to him. "Thank you." You whisper, leaning down to give him a peck. You move your face away, both of you staring at each other before you lean in again, pressing your lips against his harder this time. Your lips move against his, his arms wrap around you, holding you against him as your kiss heats up. 

You pull away, catching your breath and let out a little giggle. "Let's go home." You whisper, grabbing his hand to pull him behind you. 

The entire car ride was silent. Your eyes glanced over to Jooheon who was looking straight ahead, his finger tapping on his thigh. You looked up slightly, seeing his semi hard cock bulging against his jeans. 

You squirm in your seat as your pussy begins to drip, thinking about his cock sliding in and out of you, and how badly you wanted him to make you cum. 

As the driver pulled up to your place, Jooheon threw some money at him before ushering you out of the car, making you hurry into the building. The two of you silently wait for the elevator to come, and when it does you press the close door button so no one else can get on. The moment those doors close, Jooheon has you pressed against the wall, pushing his hard clothes cock into you, his lips latching onto your neck as he grinds himself on you. 

He moves up your neck, kissing up your jaw, moving to your lips, pulling you in for a hard, passionate kiss. The elevator dings, leaving the both of you breathless as you stand apart, waiting for the doors to open on your floor. You run down the hallway to your apartment, struggling to get the key into the lock. Jooheon stands behind you, pressing himself into you, his hot breath radiating down your neck. His hands reach around, cupping your breasts, squeezing before groaning. 

"Hurry up." He growls. 

You finally get the key into the lock, opening up your door. He pushes you inside, slamming the door closed behind him. He stands there, his chest heaving, he licks his lips as he eyes you up and down. 

He stalks towards you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you into him as his lips crash onto yours. He slides his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss before pulling away, and moving away from you. He stands there for a moment, eyeing you up again. 

"Strip." He demands. You're a little caught off guard, but holy fuck, your pussy is dripping. You slide off your shoes, your eyes never leaving his. You hook your thumbs into the waist of your skirt, slowly shimmying it down your legs, revealing your thong. You can hear Jooheon hiss as you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you standing before him in his favorite set. 

"Get on the counter." He tells you. 

You walk over to the counter, hopping up you sit there facing him, your legs crossed. "Spread em, baby." 

You slowly open your legs, your panties barely covering your pussy. Jooheon kneels down, placing your legs over his shoulders before he pulls you closer to the edge. He takes a finger, moving your panties to the side before his two fingers, spreading your pussy lips open, before licking a long strip up with the flat of his tongue, and pulling back. You let out a small moan as you yearn for more contact. He leans in again, licking a strip up again, slower this time, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

Your hands grip the edge of the counter as Jooheon wraps his lips around your clit, very slowly sucking, making you cry out loudly. 

"Please.. faster." You beg. Jooheon keeps at his pace for a few minutes, making you moan and beg. He loved to hear you beg. 

"Oh god, please." You groan. "Please make me cum, baby." 

Jooheon releases your clit, looking up at you with a smile on his face. "Not yet." He whispers, licking your pussy one more time before standing up and pulling you off the counter. 

"Suck my cock." He demands. 

You quickly turn around, dropping to your knees. You unbutton his pants, pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free. Precum drips from his red tip, his cock throbbing to be touched. You place your hand on his shaft, pumping his cock a few times, causing him to throw his head back as he lets out a few moans. 

You smirk as you open your mouth, taking in as much of him as you could at once, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Jooheon pulls himself out before he thrusts back into your mouth, making you gag on his cock. You look up at him as he continues thrusting his hips, increasing his speed. Your eyes water as his hands get tangled in your hair, keeping his rhythm while fucks your mouth.

“Fuck you feel so amazing" he grunts, his breathing becoming staggered. He quickly pulls out of your mouth, stumbling back. "I can't cum yet." He breathes.

Jooheon moves towards the couch, sits down, ready for you to straddle him. You climb on top of him, lining yourself up with his cock and he slowly lifts his hips, pushing his cock into your pussy, stretching you out in the most pleasurable way. Jooheon reaches behind you, unhooking your bra, sliding it down your arms and discarding it somewhere in the living room. He cups one of your breasts, pinching your nipple before rolling it in between his fingers, making you throw your head back. "Fuck." You gasp, rocking yourself back and forth on Jooheon's cock. 

He lets go of your breast, leaning forward to take the other one in his mouth, wrapping his lips around your perky nipple, tugging and sucking. Your rock yourself harder on his cock, you clit rubbing against him perfectly. 

"Oh fuck." You cry out, your hands gripping onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. Jooheon quickly stands up, you wrap your legs around his waist, his cock still buried inside you. He moves swiftly through your apartment to your bedroom, tossing you both onto the bed. He lifts your legs straight into the air, and pulls his cock out of you before pounding himself back into you. He wraps a hand around your neck, squeezing tightly as he snaps his hips, his cock hitting all the right spots. You gasp for breath as his grip tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

He releases your throat, moving his hand between your legs, his thumb pressing your throbbing clit. He starts rubbing, making you arch your back and moan loudly. 

"Please don't stop." You gasp, your hands gripping your sheets as your orgasm builds so quickly. "I'm gonna cum." You cry out as you tighten yourself around his cock. 

"Fuck." He groans, thrusting faster. 

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming." You scream, your orgasm pulsating through your entire body, your eyes rolling back into your head as you work through your high. 

Jooheon moves his hands to your legs, holding them tightly as he pounds into you, chasing his own release. 

"Fuck, fuck." He yells as he spills himself into you, filling you up with his warm cum. 

The two stay still for a moment as you catch your breath. Jooheon pulls himself out of you, his warm cum leaking out from your pussy onto the bed sheets. 

He smiles as he pulls you up, your naked body pressed against his. He takes your hand pulling you towards the bathroom for a shower. 

"Baby, I'm gonna fuck you all night." He smirks, dragging you behind him.

#jooheon smut #lee jooheon #jooheon fic #monsta x smut #monsta x fic #monsta x #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic

[jawritter]

Where The Green Grass Grows

Chapter 2

Summary: Life changes, nothing ever stays the same. With most change comes with some degree of pain, that’s how we grow. Jensen thought he had his whole life planned out, written for him in the bright lights of Hollywood. One failed marriage later, and a lifetime of lessons learned, lead him home to a place he thought he’d left behind him when he was only a teenager. He thought his life was over. He felt like he’d lost everything, but who knew one little trip to the local diner that had just opened up outside of town would turn his whole world upside down. All because he met you. Maybe a little slower pace of life isn’t such a bad idea after all…

Warnings:  Language, Angst, mention of past OC character death, mention of grief, dealing with a divorce. Drinking. I think that's about it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word  Count: 2065

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine!!Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one! Feedback is golden!

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“Fuck me,” Jensen mumbled as he rolled onto his back from his stomach and looked up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. 

His head was pounding, and his stomach was more than a little woozy. He desperately needed to stop drinking so damn much. He was just getting too old to do it anymore like he did when he was in his 20’s, and the hangovers were no joke anymore.

He was thankful that his mom had redecorated his bedroom over the years, and that it was set up as more of a guest room than it was his old bedroom. It helped to not have to face all those memories he had shoved way down, and just pretend it was a holiday or another family gathering where he had to stay over for a while. 

He knew his time in Hollywood had come to an end for the foreseeable future because he was still having trouble keeping his emotions in check, and as long as he was doing that drinking had been his go too. It was a natural spiral for him, he was glad in a way the public didn’t have a chance to see just how bad he was. Alex was right about one thing, home had been a good place to hide. 

He couldn’t hide from everyone here. That was the only problem. His family could see just how bad of a clusterfuck his life had turned out to be. He knew they knew he was drinking heavily, he saw it in the way his mom looked at him every morning when he finally dragged his back from the dead ass out of his room, and down for breakfast. 

A loud rap on the door nearly made him fall out of the bed and with three heavy thuds he was brought back to reality. 

Jensen looked up just in time to see his dad come into the room, and sit down in the small chair next to the window before turning the lamp on there. Jensen shielded his eyes from the assaulting light that flooded the room and groaned as he rolled himself over to hide in his covers. 

“Morning,” his dad said, crossing his legs as he watched Jensen struggle to adjust to the light and refocus his gaze on his father. 

“Morning,” Jensen finally mumbled, sitting up on the side of the bed, and running his hands through his sleep tousled hair.  

“Mom’s got breakfast ready downstairs, and some slacks and a dress shirt ironed for you in the laundry room,” Alan said as he watched Jensen get up and stumbled his way towards the connecting bathroom, leaving the door cracked so that he could yell back over his shoulder to the older man sitting in the chair.

“Where are we going?” Jensen yelled before flushing the toilet and making his way to the sink to wash his hands and throw water on his face. 

He didn’t like going out in the public eye right now. Someone always recognized him, and always had a damn camera ready.

“It’s Sunday, and as long as you live under this roof with us you know you will have to go to church with us,” Alan said simply as Jensen made his way back to sit on the foot of his bed. “That was the agreement when you moved back in here remember?” 

Jensen tried to push down the annoyance that rose up in him surprisingly quickly. 

Church? He hadn’t been to church in years. Hell, he didn’t even know after everything that he’d gone through if he even believed there was a God anymore.

Jensen licked his lips, attempting to choose his words carefully. This was his father’s house, and he had agreed to it when he’d moved in, he just didn’t anticipate Sunday coming so damn soon. 

“Dad, I don’t know If I’m fit to walk into a church house this morning,”  Jensen said, locking eyes with his father, and doing everything he could to convey without saying it out loud that he’d rather do anything than go to a church service. 

He wasn’t really, he was doing all he could not to throw up right there in front of his dad. 

“Eating will help with that hangover, then you can get a shower before we go, I’m confident you will be just fine.” 

Jensen shook his head and let out an annoyed huff. Just like when he was a kid, there was no arguing with him. There was no pleasing him. So he just gave up like he always did. That’s one reason why he didn’t want to come back here. Here he was, a grown-ass man in his 40’s, and his dad was still telling him what to do.

“Jensen, look, I know you don’t want to go, but don’t do it for me, do it for your mom. She was so excited this morning when she got up to make breakfast that you were coming with us. She wants to make a whole day of it. Go out to a little diner just outside of town once it’s over, and just have a family day. Just... give her today.” 

His dad stood up and made his way towards the door before turning around to look back at him. 

“The only way you're ever going to move on from this son is to pick yourself up and just do it. No matter how much you want to just roll over and give up. If you do that, Danneel wins. Pick yourself up, shake it off, find a pretty girl to go out with to help you get over her, and put the bottle down for Christ stakes. It’s only going to cause you more pain in the long run.” 

Jensen watched as his dad excited the room, his mind reeling with what he said to him. He knew he was right, he was never going to move on as long as he let himself wallow in what happened. He had to get past this. He wasn’t the first man to ever go through a divorce, and it wasn’t like it was all sunshine and roses while they were married. 

Jensen forced his aching body to its feet and made his way towards the shower to rid himself of the smell of alcohol. They say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, but right now he didn’t feel so strong.

Five hours later, all the way across town, you had just finished cleaning up from the first lunch rush. Sundays were always a big tip day, and you could really use the money, so you didn’t complain not one bit about the almost constant on your feet that the day was sure to bring. 

Most church groups came in all together, which made for large orders, and large tables. Today was not different. As far as you could tell there had already been seven church groups come through, and seeing as it was close to 1:30 pm, it wasn’t anywhere near over for you. 

You were just contemplating taking a break before the next wave of customers, but you must have contemplated a minute too long because the dinging chime above the door announced the arrival of more guests. 

It was a party of about seven adults and a few children. You could tell that they were all family just by looking at them, so it would probably be an easy table.

“Want me to grab that table?” Jess asked as you through the cloth you were wiping tables with in the bin behind the counter and started to make your way towards the table they had chosen with our pad and pin to start taking their orders. 

“Na, It’s not that big of a table, I got it,” you answer her and she nods at you with a smile. 

“Y/N, hold up a sec,” she says, running over to you to whisper in your ear. “You see that guy with the black shirt, the one who just took his shades off?” 

Your eyes trained over the extremely attractive man with broad shoulders, brown, almost auburn hair, and the most astonishing pair of green eyes that seemed to sparkle even at this distance. 

“That guy is Jensen Ackles, have you ever heard of him?” she asked, the smirk growing over her face as your eyes raked over the gorgeous specimen of a man sitting at the table looking at the menu that was already there. You watched him swat at the young girl you assumed was his sister playfully when she leaned over to annoy him. 

“No, and right now who he isn’t important, what’s important is the tip I’m gonna get when he’s done.”

“I hear he’s recently divorced,” she said, but you cut her off, and made your way towards the table to take their drink orders, and introduce yourself. You didn’t need to know his history. The guy was way out of your league, and you weren’t an idiot.

“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I’ll be your waitress for this evening,” you announced as you came to a stop at the head of the table next to the oldest man, and the man that you were informed was Jensen Ackles. 

Jensen’s eyes met yours and you swore to god for a moment you forgot how to breathe. He was so heartbreakingly handsome up close, and the moment he smiled at you, a swarm of butterflies was turned loose in your belly, and you haven’t felt like that in a very, very long time.

“Can I get you guys started with drinks?” you asked, clearing your throat, and quickly looked down at your pad to hide the blush creeping up in your cheeks. 

“I’ll have a Dr. Pepper,” Jensen said, starting the roll call of drinks your way. Once everyone had their drinks, and you had brought their food to the table, you went to hide behind the counter, and try to catch your breath. 

Every once in a while you would catch Jensen looking at you, and when he caught you looking back at him he would smile warmly at you, making those butterflies take flight all over again. 

“You’re blushing, Y/N,” Jessica said, elbowing you playfully as she followed your gaze. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and went back to refilling the ketchup bottles in front of you.

“He keeps staring at you ya know, maybe you should go ask him out.” 

If looks could kill the look that you were giving her would have done the job. You didn’t have time to respond to her, because the sound of a throat being cleared behind you made you nearly jump out of your skin. 

“I’d like to go ahead and pay if that’s okay?” Jensen said, as you turned around and the smirk Jensen gave you nearly made you fall flat on your ass.

The man was insultingly handsome, and he knew it.

“Sure,” Jessica said, turning to the register and giving him his total. His eyes barely left you as he paid for his meal, and you made your way over to start clearing the table they were sitting at. 

You thought you had to escape him because you can’t think straight when he’s looking at you for some reason. You should have known better than to think it was over that quickly. 

Looking down at the table as you picked up the plates you saw a folded napkin set in the center of what was Jensen’s plate with a note scrawled on the napkin, and a $100.00 bill tucked inside that simply said,  “For the prettiest girl in Dallas.”

You turned around just in time to catch his eye as he winked at you, and followed his family out of the door. The look on your face must have been priceless because Jessica came running your way shaking your shoulders to get your attention. 

“What is it? Talk to me Y/N!” 

You showed her the note wordlessly. Your head was swimming with emotions as she squealed and jumped up and down with excitement next to you. 

You were too stunned to do anything but stand there, how the fuck could you have a crush on someone that you had barely even spoken to? How the fuck could he have such a hold on you already?

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanficiton #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfinficiton #spn fanfic #spn series #dean winchester #where the green grass grows #x reader inserts

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul

Tryna break into the wlw Marvel tumblr fic world; consider this grief-ridden multi-chapter fic my resume ;)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief, Angst, Romance

Summary: You thought you were used to the struggle. Between growing up as an orphan in Oakland before elbowing your way through the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D., you were sure nothing could faze you.

But then you lose the love of your life and for the first time ever, you’re not sure how to move forward.

Notes: In this world, Peter Parker survived the Snap and S.H.I.E.L.D. still exists, just underground. Also features an OC with pyrokinetic abilities who’s the Reader’s best friend.

Chapter One - Hope

Word Count: 3,666

Warnings: Cursing, Allusions to Sex, Very Slight Ant-Man Slander, but Out of Love

In a lot of ways, the past five years had been quiet.

You’d grown up in Oakland, gone to college in Washington D.C., then lived and worked in New York ever since. You didn’t like quiet.

The biggest cities had lost their bustle, and it was one of the many reasons why you resented Thanos.

That and for taking the little bit of family you’d ever had. And the two men who were the closest things you had had to living brothers. And your absolute best friend in the world.

You coped in the way you always had - through work and through perspective. With Agents Fury and Hill gone in the snap, along with half of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been underground after its public fall, you had moved through the ranks overnight (and you had been pretty high up there to begin with), taking over a great bulk of the remaining operations of the covert agency. Those first couple of years, you were in D.C. during the week days, watching as a fractured government slowly tried to repair itself while dispatching any leftover agents to take care of the chaos that had arisen in the aftermath. You’d go home to a pathetic one-bedroom apartment in the city most nights, it often being too late to commute to where you really wanted to be, get a few hours of sleep, then do it all over again.

It was all right. Kept you distracted. Made you feel purposeful.

It was the weekends, though, you found your truest solace. You’d put off all your responsibilities except in case of an emergency, take a quinjet up north to the Avengers compound, spend Saturday and Sunday with the woman you loved. Most of the time, you’d have the entire compound to yourselves. Maybe you didn’t like the quiet, but you loved it when it was quiet when you were with her.

After a few years, though, there was less for everyone to do as slowly, society started to move on. It was a blessing, you supposed, though sometimes it felt like a curse. You had never done well with idle hands.

It was slow enough that you could work remotely, at least, leaving your little D.C. apartment behind to take up permanent residence in upstate New York, except for emergencies. Natasha’s bedroom became y’all’s bedroom. You started to see just how broken she was, felt like a terrible partner for not realizing it sooner. She’d been able to mask it well when she’d only see you on weekends and through holograms. Now that you were together all the time, her walls couldn’t stay up for long.

Like the Avengers always had, she kept the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Far be it from you to convince her that she didn’t need to do that, but you at least wanted her to know that she could share that burden with you. To get her to realize that became your greatest mission.

And you never failed missions.

By the time you reached the five year mark, the two of you had fallen into the sort of routine you could see yourselves doing for the rest of your lives, if this really had to be the rest of your lives (you think both of you, deep down, had hope that it wasn’t, that something more could be done, which is why you two had tried your hardest to not stop working ever since half of the world disappeared before your eyes). Together you both kept watch over a broken world - Natasha by keeping in touch with the remaining Avengers and your new friends from space as you continued to run S.H.I.E.L.D. from the compound. Occasionally you’d go out for an actual mission, finding that you got cabin fever if you stayed put too long.

Natasha would never come with you, though. She was waiting for the right one, she told you. But you think she was just scared of what would happened if she took her eyes away from the world for even just one second. She’d let you carry a little bit of that weight with her, finally, but far from it all.

She was completely open with you, though, for the first time in the seven years you’d been together (dating a former assassin came with a huge set of emotional intimacy issues, but there was no one else you’d rather work through that with). And when you two realized that wow, you’d been together for seven years, you decided that you all could use a bright spot in this darker world.

So you had a bittersweet wedding. Peter Parker was your “man of honor”, Steve Rogers was hers. Tony presided at his beautiful cabin home with his daughter Morgan as the flower girl and Rocket - much to his outward chagrin though you suspected he secretly loved it - was your ring bearer with the vibranium wedding bands that Okoye had brought for you from Wakanda. You’d even gotten Thor out of his desolate mancave on New Asgard for the night, with the promise of all the beer he could drink.

It was hard not to think of all the people who should’ve been celebrating with you, but you’d at least found the burst of happiness that you could. Moments like that reminded you two that you still had to keep fighting, even if you didn’t quite know what for all the time.

About a month later, you left for a quick mission. You were gone for three days and came back to a bustle unlike any you’d seen at the Compound in years. There was a space ship parked out front, but more surprising was the sight of Tony’s Audi convertible.

Nat’s eyes looked the brightest you’d seen them in awhile, all pretenses shattered as she greeted you with an excited smile that was surprisingly adorable.

“So this is what you do when I’m gone?” You teased, wrapping your arms around her distractedly as you took in the energy around you. God, you had missed this sort of noise. “Throw parties?”

“You caught me,” she gave back, eyes twinkling before she wrapped her arms around you tightly, but in a way that didn’t feel desperate. It reminded you of how she’d hugged you throughout your wedding day. You let yourself fall completely into her embrace, burying your face into her neck and inhaling deeply. It had only been a few days, but you’d missed her so much. How you used to spend all week without her, you had no idea. “I think we found a way to reverse the snap.”

You yanked your head up so quickly that you almost gave yourself whiplash, playfully glaring when Natasha laughed. Her eyes were so warm with hope, though, that that was soon all you could focus on.

“What?!”

She nodded excitedly, squeezing your hips. Your mind immediately started reeling, unable to keep from imagining what this meant, who you’d be able to see again.

“How?!”

Natasha’s lips curled up into a little smirk, eyes still twinkling.

“Time travel.”

Wait.

“What?!”

-----

The compound was chaotic in the wonderful way that you cherished. Thor’s booming voice and Tony’s wisecracks and Steve’s voice of reason and Rhodey’s deadpan and Bruce’s reverberating Hulk-heavy footsteps and Rocket’s quips and Clint’s snark and Natasha’s sarcasm and laugh and sass and just everything about her that had been buried beneath the rubble of the last five years, coming out now more than in just moments. None of you slept as you all plotted, planned, built; a certain energizing spark taking over all of you in this renewed sense of purpose.

There was only enough of these “Pym particles” for ten people to do this time heist, though, which meant you were the odd one out.

“Maybe when you get powers, we’ll reconsider it,” Tony quipped when you complained, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

“I could beat you up if you didn’t have that suit,” you gave back, smirking.

“She could,” Natasha echoed before he could get a word in, shooting you a grin as she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Tony dramatically clutched at his chest.

“I’m offended you don’t think I’m more than my suit, Romanoff.” He paused. “Or is it (Y/L/N) now? Romanoff-(Y/L/N)?”

“Natasha and (Y/N) Widow, actually,” you joked, grinning as a laugh rippled through the Avengers. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t take Pepper’s last name, Tony. We all know she’s really the one running the show.”

You gave him your most dastardly grin as Rocket gave you a fist bump, Thor - perpetually buzzed - howled and Scott and Steve exchanged amused looks.

“See, this is why you’re not coming with us,” Tony said, pointing at you though he couldn’t quite hide his hint of a grin. “Today’s youth, so disrespectful!”

You let that go. You were in your 30s, but Tony always had a hard time not seeing you as that 22 year old first-year S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit he’d met over a decade ago.

So you chuckled, turning in Natasha’s arms in time to catch her fondly rolling her eyes.

“I will say, I’m gonna miss this banter on our mission.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, as hers moved to your shoulder pulling her closer to you.

“Let me come with you and we won’t have to miss nothin’,” you said lowly, smirking at the way she eyed you.

“You know there’s no one I’d rather by my side,” she admitted softly, letting her fingers massage the back of your neck. You hummed pleasantly, letting your eyes flutter shut as your forehead fell against hers, “But I also like the idea of you here, safe.”

You sighed, not meaning for your breath to hit her lips, but enjoying the feel of her tensing against you nonetheless.

“I might not be a super solider or some guy with …ant powers…” you grinned when Natasha chuckled, “but I can hold my own, Nat.”

“I know you can,” she murmured. “But I’d rather know I’m coming back to you than be worried about you out there.”

You opened your eyes, found them staring into earnest and soft green irises. You could see how important this was for her, doing something that felt tangible after spending so much time and energy over the years to keep the world going, never losing hope even when no one else believed.

This mission would always mean more to her than it ever would for you.

So you nodded, craning your head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“Get a room, why don’t ya!”

“Shut up, Rocket.”

Hours before they were set to leave back in time, you got a call from Peter Parker saying he desperately needed you to pick him up as soon as possible from Central America, which was strange because the last time you’d checked, you’d sent him on an undercover mission to check out some disturbances in Europe (as the only Avenger whose true identity was still secret, he was most ideal to send on these sorts of things).

It did sound urgent, though, so you quickly headed to your room to change into something more extraction appropriate, unsurprised to hear the door open a few minutes later.

“Oh good,” Natasha’s voice purred playfully behind you as you pulled off the shirt you’d been lounging in. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you got all your mission clothes on.”

You chuckled as you turned to face her, then faltered. Though there was a coy smirk playing at her plump lips, her eyes told an entirely different story. You motioned for her to come closer, trying to keep the spirit high.

“Quickie before I leave?” You joked, sitting back on the bed as she came to stand in between your legs. She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes as they flickered over you before she gently placed her palm on your cheek.

“Will you be back before we go?” She asked softly.

You shook my head, your frowns matching.

“Even if it is just a pick-up and go, the round trip will take four hours.”

“I’ll see if we can wait on you.”

As much as you wanted that, you found yourself shaking your head again.

“I don’t want anything to throw y’all off,” you told her, covering the hand on your face with your own. “This is too important.”

She nodded; if there was anything you both understood, it was that some things were more important than the two of you. The fate of the world was definitely one of those things, and all the lives that hung in balance. It’s what made you heroes, before anything else.

It’s also what made you and Natasha fit together so well. You understood each other in ways that no one else could.

“I’ll see you when you get back, though,” you assured with a soft smile, grasping at her waist to pull her into your lap. She straddled you like it was second nature, though it didn’t necessary feel immediately sexual. You just liked that she was close. “After you’ve gotten that stone and you’re about to bring everybody back.”

She grinned, “You really think we can do it, huh?”

“You can do anything, Nat. You’re my fucking hero. There’s no one I trust more to save all of us.” You let my fingertips trace gently down her cheek as her eyes softened lovingly. “Don’t tell Rocket or Tony I said that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Nope. Been recording this conversation the entire time. Gonna share it with everyone.”

You laughed as she grinned slyly.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your thumb grazing against her bottom lip.

“I love you,” she gently pressed a kiss against the pad of your thumb. “Don’t tell anyone how soft you make me, though.”

“Oh, they already know,” you teased quietly, relishing in the way she made your heart feel. You were so close to telling Peter to find his own ride, not wanting this moment to end, but you knew you and Natasha would have to pull away eventually.

Still, you could make it stretch as long as possible.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed softly, pressing her forehead against yours. “But I like to pretend that they don’t.”

You chuckled as she grinned cheekily.

“I love you too, by the way,” you murmured, as if she didn’t already know. “So fucking much.”

Your thumb drifted from her lip, down to her chin, and forever in tune, she quickly erased the distance between you before you could pull her closer. Seven years, and you had yet to find anything as incredible as kissing her.

Except maybe when after just a few seconds, she pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you with a twinkling smirk.

“Change your mind about that quickie?” You said playfully, biting your lip at her husky, soft laugh.

“Don’t you have to give a certain spider a ride?” She teased, as if she wasn’t the one who’d pressed her chest delicately against yours.

“There’s another spider that I’d rather give a different kind of ride right now…” Your fingers drifted down to the hem of her pants, but she was off of you before you could start to shimmy them down. You pouted ridiculously as she stood up, earning a laugh.

“We’ll have our own celebration in here when we’re both back,” she said coyly with a wink.

“Good, because we’ve only fucked once since I’ve gotten back from my mission, and it’s making me irritable.”

She chuckled as she grabbed ahold of your hands, effortlessly pulling you up off the bed and back into her arms.

“I love you,” she said again, pressing her lips against yours for a long moment. The words felt more weighted than they usually did, in the way they seemed to seep into your skin, take ahold of your chest and clench your heart. You could feel that this moment was important.

“I love you, too, Nat.”

On your way out, you were intercepted by Clint, who gave you a wry grin as he glanced down to your left hand.

“So I heard you and Nat got hitched,” he said, his eyes a soft contrast to his casual tone. “Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Clint and you had never been particularly close, but he was still family, and he meant so much to Natasha. “Steve had to be Nat’s best man, and it was disaster.”

Steve had actually been great, but you knew Clint would get a kick out of the idea of Captain America stiff by the altar, uncomfortable in the face of any kind of public display of affection, as far from the truth it actually was. There was something appreciative in his eyes as he laughed.

“Well, I got dibs when you guys renew your vows.”

You nodded fervently, “Definitely. Maybe once y’all bring everyone back, we’ll do a bigger wedding. I mean, Nat would hate that - “

You paused, then burst out laughing because Clint had said the same thing at the exact same time as you had, and it made you kind of regretful that you hadn’t thought to bond with him more before Thanos had snapped his fingers. But you supposed there was time for that.

Your and Clint’s laughter faded, and both of you hovered there for a moment. Before it could get too awkward, you gave him a soft smile.

“Take care of my girl, Barton.” He and Nat were paired up for the time heist, after all.

He nodded, corner of his lips curling up into a smile that you knew was sincere for him.

“She’s probably gonna be the one having to take care of me,” he joked, but then his eyes softened. “You know I’ll do everything I can to have her back.”

“I know.”

Still, you felt a little uneasy as you headed towards the hangar where the quinjets were kept. You didn’t like being away from home base while they were out on missions. It had always been like that, even before you were with Nat. The fact that she was your wife now intensified it. You really wanted to be there when she got back.

But alas, duty called.

-----

You were thrust into battle without a moment’s notice, when Doctor Strange’s portal appeared in the back of the quinjet just seconds after you had yanked Peter out of the Mexican rainforest as he ran from a bunch of cartel guys, wielding assault rifles and screaming “gringo!” at him.

He was in the middle of an adorable, earnest, apologetic ramble (one that would always be so Peter, even if he was less boy and more man these days) after you’d playfully accused him of being racist because he made you rescue his “white ass.” He’d be trying to tell you that he’d deviated from the mission you’d given him because he’d heard rumors of something akin to the power of an Infinity Stone buried deep in Central America. He knew you’d never authorize him to go after a rumor, so he took matters into his own hands (also very Peter, and it would be hypocritical for you to fault him for that), hoping to find a power source that could maybe reverse the damage that Thanos had done.

Not that it was necessary now. The Avengers had done it. Nat had done. Everyone was back, but apparently somehow that meant a resurgence of Thanos had come with them.

There were no time for questions, though, even though you had so many as you found myself in the rubbled remains of your home with an alien army before you and a homegrown one behind you. There was no time for proper reunions, even though you managed the quickest one when you came across your best friend Zoey on the battlefield - body engulfed in the trademark flames that defined her alter ego "The Flame" - and you two clicked right into place as you set her up perfectly to sizzle one of Thanos’s goons to ash, like no time had ever passed.

You guessed for her, though, no time really had passed.

There was a quick grin and nod before chaos descended again, and you were separated into different parts of the battle. There was a glimpse of T’Challa, carrying an Iron Man glove full of jewels - the Infinity Stones, you realized - across the leveled field - and Sam soaring above you, and Bucky firing shots into the enemy relentlessly, but there was no time to focus on any of this.

There was no time for you to find Natasha in the cacophony, as you forced yourself to focus fully on the battle in front of you. When you all had finished off Thanos once and for all, then you could hold her in your arms until the end of time if you wanted. But first you all had to make sure there was still a world for everyone to still live in.

There wasn’t even time to properly celebrate, as Thanos and his entire army dissipated into dust in the perfect full circle, when Tony slumped over, eyes glazed, his light gone. There was Peter’s full weight against you suddenly, his wet eyes drenching your neck, then Steve’s strong arms around both of you. like an anchor.  You couldn’t help but think that Steve’s gesture was more than just a comfort gesture because everyone had just lost the man who had brought you all together, who meant so much to each of you in different ways.

You didn’t want to confront what else it could mean, though.

#natasha romanoff x reader #carol danvers x reader #natasha romanoff #carol danvers #wlw #black reader #natasha romanoff x you #carol danvers x you #this gon be sad

[thedarklingxalina]

A Darklina fic I'm playing about with but not committing to yet. This would be the first chapter. I need to finish Dark Guardian first but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Eclipse

Summary: Alina is an investigative journalist, investigating the death of her childhood friend, Mal.

Alina is reunited with her other childhood friend, Aleksander - known to the world as Kirigan, a famous actor and grisha rights activist. All too quickly though, Alina begins to discover Aleksander is hiding a dark secret.

Modern Grisha AU. Everyone has their powers. Mentions of suicide. Mild torture.

Saints, give me strength. 

Alina stared at the rusty mesh gates through the rain speckled windscreen. A barrage of warning signs prohibiting entrance were pinned across the fencing. Keep out. Danger. Risk to life. On one fence was a display of withered flowers entwined around the metal, with hand-made laminated pleads to stay away, to remember that someone out there loves you. 

It was a somber sight. Careful reminders of the danger that lurked behind that run-down gate, past the abandoned warehouses, looming at the end of decrepit wooden bridges. Even from here Alina could see the mass of swirling shadows, an endless stretch of darkness that tore Ravka in two.

And here she was armed with wire cutters, ready to break in. Foolish, reckless, stupid. Exactly what she had been told not to do. 

This is for Mal, she reminded herself.  

Alina took in a deep breath and left the warmth and safety of her car. She put on her medical face mask, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and tucked her camera inside her satchel. 

She didn't plan on staying here long, but seeing as research into the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Fold was ongoing, she decided to err on the side of caution. 

Gravel crunched under her boots as she approached the fence, making her way to a part hidden by the treeline. There she cut a reasonable size hole for herself to squeeze through. 

So far, getting into the site was easy. Too easy really, considering the dangers of this place.

Abandoned heavy equipment littered the rubble ridden grounds. Metallic, battle-worn Skiffs (centuries ago once manned by Squallers before new technological advancements replaced them) laid in ruins around the site; rust-encrusted, dented and torn up. The warehouses were dilapidated, weathered down and overgrown with weeds. 

And that wasn't even mentioning the bridges that crossed the ten foot moat, giving unhindered access to the Unsea and the monsters within. 

This place was a death trap. 

"Why in the Saints name did you come back here, Mal?" Alina asked. 

He had loathed this place. Everyone in Os Atla had. There had been vocal opposition from the public for decades, demanding the site be shut down. The residents of the city uncomfortable with an access point to the Fold being right on their doorstep. 

This skiffyard's infamous reputation for being the most dangerous, certainly hadn't endeared it to people, no matter the flow of trade it provided. It had the highest fatality and injury rate of an skiffyard. Budget cuts producing poorly made Skiffs that broke down frequently and were east pickings for Volcra. Breaching person capacity on each trip to increase profit. Bribing of safety inspectors. Understaffed. Overworking their employees to exhaustion. 

The place had been a nightmare. The stories Mal had told Alina about it over the years still made her recoil. 

The final nail in the coffin for Skiffyard 13 had been when three urban explorers had snuck into the docks, using it to bypass the the forest and ten foot moat separating the Fold from the city - deterrents erected over a century prior, to keep the public safe. The three individuals, the youngest only fourteen years old, had never came out again. 

The dock had been shut down. Workers like Mal had been relocated to other docks outside the city.

Yet despite this, the site had never been dismantled. It was too expensive, was the frequent excuse. The go to excuse for all failures in protecting the general public from the dangers of the Unsea. 

Now, it was the easiest access point to the Fold. No workers to sneak past, no checkpoints, and no maintenance to the gates and various deterrents. There wasn't even video surveillance or electrical fencing, as electronics were unreliable this close the Fold. And much to the people of Os Atla's grief, no armed patrols or guards dogs to keep trespassers like her out.  

Oh, the mayor promised they would upgrade the security on access points to the Fold regularly. But those promises seemed to be forgotten after the elections had passed. Funny that. 

As Alina scanned the deserted skiffyard, the Fold a short walk away, she realized the bitter irony of it all.

It didn't take long for Alina to find the place she was looking. Dock Six. The last place Mal had last been seen alive. 

Alina took a shuddering breath, her grip on her satchel tightening. she closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes.

Another life lost to the Fold, the news reporter had said. A tragic suicide, the police had decided, he left a farewell note on the dock.

A farewell note that doesn't mention me? His childhood best friend. That doesn't mention his girlfriend Lucy who he had planned to propose to on her birthday? 

But Alina's protests had fallen on deaf ears. She was nothing but a grieving girl in denial to them. Even Lucy had tried to discourage her, wanting her to accept-

No. Alina wouldn't hear it. Mal didn't take his own life. He hadn't. He wouldn't. Alina had spoken to him days before. There had been something he had wanted to tell her, something he hadn't felt safe discussing over phone or email. A story, he had said, that people need to know. Then that phone call the night he vanished. That desperate, breathless voice pleading with her through a breaking line. 

Alina... don't... Atla... away- 

Mal? Mal, is that you? I can't hear you, the line is terrible. Where are you? 

Distant shouting, five loud bangs, more static.

Mal? Mal!

Stay away... sorry... sorry...

Something had happened to Mal that night. Something awful that the police were refusing to look into. Alina was sure of it. And come hell or high water, she was going to find out what. She owed it to Mal, to Lucy, to herself. 

Alina scouted the area, alighting her hand with a soft glow to light her way.

It took a while, but the Saints finally took pity on her and Alina found something. Something that she suspected to be the source of the bangs in that final phone call. Gouged into a floorboard of the dock, into a post, and a concrete wall. 

Bullet holes.

They weren't old. The moss overgrowing the post and floorboards having been blasted off with the impact, yet to have grown back. 

Alina snapped some photos. 

After an hour prowling around each bullet hole site, sometimes on hands and knees, getting caked in dust and mud, Alina was ready to give up when an idea sprung to mind. She summoned her light, shining it across the ground until something silver glinted back. 

A bullet, hidden among the overgrown weeds. Alina took more photos before putting the bullet in a labeled ziplock bag. 

Suicide in deed, Alina mused bitterly. Had the police even bothered to check the scene? 

"I'll find out what happened to you, Mal. I swear it."

Alina rose to her feet, dusting her trousers.

Mal had come here for a reason, and whatever it was, someone had killed him for it. But what could be here that was worth killing over? 

There was only one warehouse stable enough to enter. Warehouse three. Alina didn't bother to pick the lock, just melted it off its hinges then crept in. 

The warehouse was massive and surprisingly well maintained. Everything was clean. There was no debris. Creates and boxes were stacked high and neatly.

Alina frowned, extinguishing her light in favor of using a battery powered torch.

If there were people here, she didn't need them knowing she was Grisha. That element of surprise could be the difference that mattered. Besides, there were too many out there that despised her kind; having people know you were Grisha was like walking around with a bullseye on your back. 

Alina crept behind a row of shelves, occasionally taking photos. She stopped at an easy to reach pile of boxes and pulled back the lids. 

Oxygen canisters, boxes of personal protective equipment, bullets (but not the same as the one that she found outside; these were longer and bigger, meant for something... larger.) 

This is all essential items for crossings, Alina realised. And it's all new. 

Someone had to making illegal crossings across the Fold, using these docks as their access point. 

Alina closed the lid, a dreadful unease settling over her. 

What are they taking across the Fold that requires all the secrecy? 

Maybe the answer was in another crate. Alina moved to open another- 

A sharp tug on her heart stilled her, making her choke for air. Alina fell to her knees, the energy in her body bleeding from her.

As darkness consumed her, one though flickered through her mind. 

Saints above, she hated Heartrenders.

☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑

Alina was no stranger to danger. Her investigative journalism had gotten her into many a difficult situation. But nothing ever quite this bad. 

When Alina had awoken, it was to find herself tied to a chair, her hands separated and bound to a steel bar (rendering her powers useless). She was blind folded; inconvenient and certainly unnerving, but it gave her some hope. Whoever had assaulted her, cared if she saw their faces. If they were going to kill her a blindfold wasn't necessary.

"Who are you?" A man asked. Middle aged by the deep roughness. Ravkan by the accent. A grumpy git, by the tone. 

Not the person you're looking for, Alina wants to snark, but thinks better of it. They might not be fans of Star Wars references and honestly, she is too exhausted to try and be smart. Besides, snarky quips and teasing here would only charm her way into a pair of cement boots and a dip in the river. Or the Unsea. 

Alina tried not to shiver. 

"I said who are you?" Grumpy demands. 

"Alina Starkov. Investigative Journalist for the Ketterdam Express News."

There's no point lying. They probably already know who she is with a quick internet search. Lying will only make them mad. 

"What's a small-time news journalist doing in Os Atla?"

Alina twitches at his comment. 

This time the man who speaks is younger. He has a scratchy voice and bratty attitude that made Alina want to kick him in the shin. 

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Nothing more. He went missing three months ago and was last spotted working at the docks you snatched me from." 

Wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? Put a bullet through his head perhaps? 

"Name?" Grumpy asks.

"Mal Oretsev."

"Never heard of him. Seems you've wasted your time, Nancy Drew," Bratty said. 

I doubt that, Alina mused bitterly. She had clearly stumbled onto something if they were willing to kidnap and interrogate her. 

"That's a shame," Alina said with exaggerated glumness. "Well, if you could just untie me I can head off. Wouldn't want to keep you guys later than need be."

Grumpy snorted. Bratty let out a nasty chuckle (Alina would wager a week on gossip column duty, that Bratty had a very punchable face).

"We can't have snoopy reporters buzzing around here," Bratty says.

Don't panic, Alina tells herself. Don't-

Alina hears the rustle of fabric, then the dreaded sound of a gun's safety clicking off. 

-starting to panic.

"And you think a dead one will prevent that?" Alina swallowed down the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a frantic edge to her voice. "There are people who know where I am and know to call the police if I don't make it back soon. Within an hour this place will be swarming!" 

"She's bluffing." 

"You think I'm stupid enough not to have a back up plan in case something like this happened?" 

If she said it strongly enough, maybe even she would believe it. Because really, a smart journalist would have done that. 

"You were stupid enough to get caught."

Prick.

"You have a heartrender, that's cheat-" 

Someone slapped her, Bratty she would bet. Alina cries out as pain flares hot on her cheek.

That'll leave a bruise, Alina muses bitterly.

"That's enough," Grumpy snapped, his footsteps loud as he got closer. "Tell us, what information do you have on Project Likhoradka?"

Alina frowned. The name rung a bell, but it was too distant to make out. Likhoradka... why would they think she had any information on it? Was it because she had mentioned Mal? Did it have something to do with the illegal Fold crossings? 

"I don't know anything about-" 

Someone slapped her again, worse than before. Where his hand had connected, her skin burned and ached.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, Alina thinks, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know anything! One of you is a heartrender, you know I'm telling the truth!" Alina snarled. 

Alina strained against the bonds on her wrist, tied behind her back. If only she could melt through them. She could distract them with a flash of blinding light, turn invisible, then flee into the night. Had they known she was Grisha and that was why they bound her this way? Or was it just a precaution?

A phone buzzed, cutting the interrogation short. A moment later, Grumpy spoke again. "The boss is here."

Alina heard the whirling grate of the warehouses large doors lifting. A brief wind tickled her face. Then a new set of footsteps, slow and precise, made their way closer. 

Damn it. How many of them where their now? Three inside, but could more be waiting outside? More heartrenders or maybe other Grisha? Infernis, Squallers, more heartrenders?

Alina swallowed hard, sniffing back the tears welling behind her eyes. Hope of making it out of this alive was dimming like a setting sun. 

"And what is this?" A voice asked. He had a pleasing voice; gentle, smooth, young, yet firm. The boss, she'd guess. Boss of what though?

"Nosey reporter from Kansas-"

"Ketterdam, I'm not Dorothy," Alina muttered. But Bratty would certainly make a perfect Scarescrow; no brains and all.

Bratty smacked her again; this time across the head, more chiding than malicious. Speak when spoken to, the message was clear. 

"Does she know anything?" The leader asked. 

"Don't know yet. But she said she's friends with Oretsev." So much for not knowing him. "We figure she has to know something about-"

Bratty stops talking. Footsteps come closer and Alina holds her breath as someone takes a delicate hold of her chin. She gets the impression they are studying her features intently. Long fingers brush aside the hair from her face, lightly tracing the scar on her forehead. 

A scar she had gotten when she was a child, when a group of bullies found out she was different from them. Witch, demon, freak... stones flying through the air... frightened shrieks and tears... and a little boy with onyx eyes, arms out stretched, shielding her from it all... 

The man inhales sharply. 

The heartrender knocked her out again. 

#darklina #the darkling x alina #aleksander x alina #im still debating whether or not to expand it as ive never done a mystery fic before

[ab1tofsp1ce]

A Warmer Refuge

Chapter 6: The Bearer of my Stories

Masterlist HERE

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m in the process of getting a masterlist together, which I’ll hopefully post soon. Also, I’m totally open to requests etc if anyone’s interested :)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Angst, fluff and brief mentions of violence

I was sitting on a crate in the hold when the Mandalorian came down from the cockpit, the ship safely in hyperspace. I was leaning up against the wall of the ship next to the ladder, staring at the wall opposite me and trying to catch my breath and slow my heartbeat. He climbed down the ladder and stood at the bottom next to me, watching me but clearly giving me a moment to regain my composure.

“You did well,” he said when I finally looked up at him. “That was quick thinking, with the dagger.”

“I’m glad you gave it to me,” I admitted with a breathy laugh.

“So much for not knowing how to use it,” he said, with a slight smug note to his voice. He suddenly seemed to stiffen up, catching sight of something on me. I realized it was my hands, and this sudden reminder of them made me feel the pain they were in. I looked at them, seeing they were even more scraped and bruised than they had been before.

“I’m – I’m sorry. That was my fault, I threw you too hard.” He strode past me to a cabinet in the wall, which he took a medpack from before bringing it back over and kneeling in front of me.

“No, it’s okay,” I said, trying to get the words out without letting them be swallowed by my nerves. “You did what you had to do. You acted very quickly.”

He took my right hand and sprayed it with a bacta spray. “Not fast enough,” he murmured.

Maybe it was just the shock, but my mind retreated far away from everything, only focusing on what his face must’ve looked like under his helmet. More often by the day I found myself asking this question. If I was less flustered and overcome I may have winced at my shamelessness in this moment. But right now, I saw nothing else. The pain, the sound of the ship, the trembling of my body, the blaster shots ringing in my ears, it all faded away like white noise, and all I felt was his ungloved hands on mine. Maybe he noticed the sudden steadiness of my hand, or felt my gaze on him, because he looked up from his work at me. It sent a shiver down my spine, as he looked at me in that way he always did – expecting an answer to a question he didn’t even need to ask.

“Déjà vu,” I explained, gesturing with a gentle nod of my head to the way he was kneeling in front of me, working on my wounds. He looked back down at my hands with a quiet chuckle.

“For the record,” I began, “I was incredibly impressed with your speed. You saved my life. And how were you supposed to know there would be more of them?”

“The language those crooks were speaking was Huttese,” said the Mandalorian, not looking up from his work.

“Which… you understand?”

He finished bandaging my left hand before he looked up at me. “Poorly, but yes.”

I gave him a reassuring smile, trying to soften the harshness of his tone. I could hear it; he felt guilty. But my hands would heal, and so I felt anything but resentment. I was impressed, actually, that he played along so well. I never would have guessed he knew what they were saying.

I wished I had the strength to tell him how I felt; how grateful I was that, despite this messy, mournful, and painful life I was living, I was glad that I had him.

I must’ve dazed out again, because when I came back to my senses he was walking over to a room at the front of the hold. He stood with his back to me for a moment, before looking over his shoulder. “I’m going to rest for a bit – now we’ve got the chance. Let me know if you… need anything.” Then the doors slid open and he disappeared through them, leaving me on the floor with a slowly elevating heart rate.

There was something about water that helped me think clearly; maybe it was because the water washed away all the other distractions, or that the sound drowned out everything else. Admittedly, it wasn’t often that I got to use a shower on Yak’ish Temeen, so I reveled in the feeling knowing that I shouldn’t waste the water, and allowed myself a moment alone with my thoughts.

I reflected on what I had thought before – that if I had the strength, I would tell him how I felt. Which was ridiculous, right? What was there to feel? We were… he was a business acquaintance, at best. He does a few mutual favors and shows you a sliver of human decency and you…? There’s nothing to consider, I thought, because I don’t feel anything. And even if I… even if I did, I’m going to stop this stupidity right here, right now. The last thing I need right now is to be disoriented by… whatever I was feeling. Which was nothing, I thought decidedly. From this moment, I was going to feel nothing.

I dressed in fresh clothes before taking a moment to look in the mirror. With my hair wet and face clean I looked almost like a different person. And I felt like one, too – compared to who I had been just a week ago. I pressed my fingers to my cheeks, stretching and molding my skin almost as a grounding exercise. But my brain was empty, devoid of anything else. It was the first time in a long time I was unsure of my feelings – I’d spent so long feeling so obviously grief-stricken and scared that I almost didn’t know how to function without that actively looming over me. I gave one last sigh at my reflection.

I didn’t see him for almost a day after. I spent most of my time in the cockpit, except for when I got sick of seeing the stars whiz past in beams of light, and so went into the hull. During this time, I forced myself not to think about him, even going as far as to indulge in my grief if it meant distracting myself. But he didn’t stay in his small room forever.

It was the sound of his boots clunking up the stairs into the cockpit that woke me up from my nap. I was in the passenger’s seat, curled up and probably drooling slightly, and quickly regained my composure as he walked past me and to the navcom.

“How are we going,” I asked, still groggy from my sleep.

“Good. Still on track. And the ship isn’t falling apart. You did a good job with the repairs.” I felt my heart beam at the praise.

“Although,” he said, analyzing a screen in front of him, “I think there’s something wrong with the thermoregulator of the hyperdrive navigational system.” I felt my pride being swallowed at those words, but I ignored the feeling and stood up to look at what he was gesturing to. It was nothing serious, a small little flashing icon on the dash that warned of a protentional overheat. He turned his head to me, still leaning on the dash. “Do you think you could take a look at it?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “It shouldn’t take long.” I lingered for a moment, hoping he would offer to come down with me. But all he said was “thanks, let me know if you need help,” before sitting down in the seat behind him.

It took me all of five minutes to fix the fuse that was broken, taping up it’s a small tear and putting away the tools afterward. But, as I did so, I found myself drawn to the doors at the front of the hull – the room where the Mandalorian had locked himself up in for the past day. Once everything was packed up, I walked over to the door, hesitating with doubt. Well, he never said I wasn’t allowed in there. In fact, he mentioned nothing of the sort, and curiosity was getting the better of me. So, I pressed the button at the side and the doors slid open.

The room was surprisingly bigger than I would’ve thought – probably about the same size as the cockpit. Opposite the door was a large locker, and on the right was a small bed built into the wall of the ship. There were some crates lying around, mostly empty, and that was really all. I suppose it was a bedroom of sorts. I walked over to the locker, and it sprung open, frightening me. It was full of weapons – blasters of various shapes and sizes, grappling hooks, and a whole number of other machines I couldn’t recognize, let alone name. It sent a shiver down my spine – I wondered how many living things had been killed with the items in this room. I shut the locker quietly.

I looked over the bed, which wasn’t made, and something folded between the sheets caught my eye. I went over and pulled it out to see it was a book, a real one made of paper with a thick brown cover. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen a book before, obviously, but I was aware that they were becoming less and less common – even amongst us Gra’tanars, who usually avoided excessive technology. When I opened it, however, it was in a language I’d never seen before, made of thin, sharp lines in neat horizontal lines.

“It’s Mando’a,” said a voice behind me, and I spun around with a yelp, almost toppling over into the bed. The Mandalorian was leaning against the door frame, watching me expectantly as I stood there in absent-minded shook. “Oh, right! The book!” I said, catching my breath. I put it down hastily. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He seemed to take no notice of my stuttering, walking over to me coolly and picking up the book from where I had discarded it. He was beside me now, close enough that I could’ve sworn I heard his breath through the modulator of his helmet.

“I don’t get to speak it very often anymore,” he said, staring at its cover. “It’s nice to… to read it.”

“What’s it about?” I tentatively turned to face him more. He didn’t look at me.

“Legends, mostly,” he said. “Stories about our people, our best warriors.” I scanned his face. There was something melancholy in his voice, that stung of pain and loss. I knew from just that tone that he was as equally alone in the world as I was.

“Teach me something,” I said. He looked up at me with what I imagined was an expression of surprise. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a light chuckle.

“Okay. Let’s see, we can start simple. Su cuy’gar.” The sound of that word sent a shiver down my spine. The language thickened his voice, making it sound even deeper than it had before. I swallowed hard.

“Su – Su cuyargar…”, I managed.

“Close, close – try again. Su cuy’gar.” He said it slowly for my benefit.

“Su cuy’gar,” I said.

“Good. Well done.” He had turned to face me now, and I was acutely aware of how close he was standing to me.

“What… what does it mean?”

“Hello,” he answered, settling on the bed. I sat next to him, slowly. I was aware how there was an underlying discomfort in this gesture – he wasn’t used to this intimate civility. Frankly, neither was I.

“Teach me another,” I said, more confident now. “Vor Entye,” he said, almost hypnotizing me. “Thank you.”

“Vor Entye,” I repeated.

“N’eparavu takisit.”

“N’eparavu takisit.”

“It means ‘sorry’,” he clarified. ��Ret’urcye mhi.”

“Ret – Ret’urcye mhi,” I said slowly. “What does that mean?”

He paused for a moment. “Goodbye.”

My heart fluttered. I stared at him, at the small gap of a visor in his helmet, searching it hungrily. I wished he felt more familiar.

“Let me teach you something in return,” I said, adjusting my position to face him more.

“I didn’t know Grat’anarians had a language,” he admitted.

“It’s mostly derelict now,” I admitted. “Only really used in traditional ceremonies or rites. But we all had to learn it growing up.

“Okay,” he said. “Go ahead.”

I thought for a moment, searching my mind for the most meaningful words I could think of. “Jet’ach,” I said.

He repeated it flawlessly, putting my previous stuttering to shame, then looked at me expectantly. My gaze fell to my lap because the sound of him saying that word, a word no one had called me in what felt like a lifetime, pulled something in my chest and I had to fight to suppress the tingling of my eyes. “My grandfather called jet’ach,” I explained. It was hard to find the words to elaborate.

“What… what does it mean?” He was so cautious, so sensitive in the way he asked, that I could’ve sworn he wasn’t wearing his helmet.

“It roughly translates to ‘the bearer of my stories’,” I said shakily. “He called me that because – because I’m the one who will tell others about his life when he’s gone. It’s a very – a very important role bestowed by the patriarch to the eldest child… a responsibility that I owe to his memory.” I felt the tears well up in my eyes. “I just don’t know if I… if I have the strength to tell them. I’m such a… a disappointment,” and my voice cracked on that word. Tears slowly slid down my face.

He reached up, cupping my face in his hand and shifting my eyes to his. I was so taken aback I lost my breath, and he held my face there as he spoke.

“I couldn’t think of a person in this universe who would be disappointed to have you as their granddaughter.”

My body turned to water, and I could feel the blood wash through my body. I couldn’t even stop the next words tumbling out of my mouth.

“I wish I could kiss you.”

Maybe I should’ve felt embarrassed at how easily and brashly I said it, but I couldn’t find it within me to feel any regret. I felt a hundred pounds lighter.

The Mandalorian drew his hand away from my face, and I felt my heart fall into my stomach. I just looked at me for a long, agonizing moment, and then he… he reached up to his helmet. Before I saw anything, and without even really thinking, I shut my eyes. I heard the sound of beskar thump on the metal floor, and I could feel his breath on my face.

“You… you don’t have to close your eyes,” he said, the sound of his voice, his real voice ringing in my ears. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

“I know,” I confessed, before realizing how rude my abruptness could be interpreted, so I added, “but it might be a bit weird if I was staring at you the whole time.”

He chuckled, sending electric shocks up my whole body that were only numbed when I felt his lips on mine. His lips were so soft, not like you’d expect, and warm, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth I couldn’t hold back my quiet moan.

When he drew back, he lingered close to my ear, and I shivered when he whispered that his name was Din. It made so much sense.

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin reader insert #din djarin x ofc #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine

[pennylanefics]

A Promise - pt. 1 | Will Schofield

a/n: i broke this into two parts bc it was super long. this is the really heartbreaking story idea i had...i also stopped writing it for a few days bc im not expecting to get much notes on it and it discouraged me, but i loved writing it, so why not 🤷🏼‍♀️

another a/n: it’s my birthday!! :) this is the second will fic i’ve posted on my birthday for a second year in a row 🤣 i’ll be sitting at home, making a cake, being snowed in from the winter storm, enjoying some cheesecake factory, drinking kool-aid and watching hamilton lol

•••

Having Tom home for the holidays was amazing. He had so many stories from training, about other soldiers getting caught in hilarious situations. It was so nice to hear his laugh again and just be in his presence.

You’ve known Tom for a short time, but you fell in love instantly. He was delivering a basket of cherries to your house, from his mother to yours, and that’s when you met. From then, you’ve spent all your time together, in his backyard, at local parks, even in your homes; you were inseparable.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go back,” you whisper against Tom’s chest. Your night was filled with passion in his dim-lit room, the covers surrounding your sweaty bodies.

“You’ll survive,” he teases you with a couple kisses here and there. You giggle softly and curl into his body, not wanting him to leave. He was home for the holidays, but unfortunately, he was being sent to France in a few days. “I’ll write to you every chance I can.”

“You better.” He smiles and kisses you deeply.

That was one of the last passionate kisses you shared.

About a month after he left, you found out you were pregnant. You knew it was from that night, and you were so excited to write to Tom and tell him.

Dear my Tom,

I have wonderful news... I’m pregnant! You’re going to be a dad! I cannot wait for your next leave so you can be here for at least some of the pregnancy. It’s going to go so fast, they’ll be here before we know it. I love you. Come home soon.

Love, (Y/N)

He wrote back very quickly.

Dear my love,

I am so elated that we’re going to have a baby! It’s always been my dream to start a family with the woman I love. I cannot wait to see pictures of your baby belly and hear about everything.

Love, your Tom

Those letters continued for the next few months. You gave Tom updates every single week, dreamily writing what your life would be like when they’re born, and if the war would be over. Every letter contained sweet comments from him, until one letter stood out to you one day in April.

“Iris,” you shakily walk to where she sat in the living room. You had moved in with her when you found out you were pregnant. She was so excited to have a grandchild, and she wanted to take the best care of you, for yourself and for Tom.

“What is it, darling?” You hand her the paper covered in someone else’s handwriting, not daring to read anymore than the dreaded greeting, “To (Y/N) and Iris”. Not “dear my love” like Tom writes.

She scans it for a few seconds before bursting into tears. This makes your heart speed up and anxiety builds in your body. She suddenly screams out in horror, and you know something bad happened.

Picking the paper up, you carefully read over the writing, your heart shattering to pieces as you read the statement, “Tom has been killed”. At first, you don’t react. It doesn’t feel real. It feels like someone’s messing with you, one of Tom’s good mates did this, right?

After reading it over and over, you finally look at the closing, which is written by Will Schofield, Tom’s trusted friend. That’s when you break down.

You fall to your knees, your hands covering your face as your body goes numb.

He’s gone. He’s really gone.

“Why!?” You scream in heartbreak. Iris rushes over to you immediately, attempting to put her own grief aside to comfort you.

“(Y/N), you h-have to relax, you can’t stress yourself out. It’s bad for the baby.” At the mention of your unborn child, you cry out even more. He wouldn’t get to see his child.

A sob escapes your lips and you clutch at your chest, images of your first and only love running through your mind. How could you go on?

You managed to get through a month since receiving the news of Tom’s death. It definitely wasn’t easy, but being with Iris made it all the better. You comforted one another when you needed to, and often went into town to shop or have lunch, just to get your mind off things.

A month and a half later, you were still so heartbroken, but you knew you needed to stay strong for your baby. According to your doctor, they were still pretty healthy, as were you, surprisingly. You told him about what happened, and he was very understanding, but he assured you that everything so far was fine, and to just take things easy now.

One day, you and Iris were baking a few cherry pies to deliver to people around town, when a knock on the front door interrupted you. Wiping your hands, you walk to the grand entryway and open it, coming face-to-face with a nice-looking young man.

“Can I help you?” You ask. He takes a deep breath and smiles.

“I’m William Schofield,” he says softly. The name triggers you instantly, and you suddenly feel dizzy. He senses this and helps you inside and onto the couch.

“Who was it, darling?” Iris walks into the living room and sees Will helping you. “Who are you?”

“My name is Will Schofield. I was a friend of Tom’s, and the one who sent the letter informing you of…” he tapers off, hoping she would understand. She does, nodding and motioning for him to take a seat. She walks back into the kitchen while you are still trying to process it all.

The room is silent and awkward. Will doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. Thankfully, Iris returns with three cups of tea.

“So, Will. Are you on leave or were you sent here?” He takes a cup from her hands and thanks her softly.

“I was discharged. I sustained some injuries on, uh, the, um, the-”

“It’s okay,” Iris whispers. He nods and wipes his cheek. You stare at him, taking his appearance in. He was nothing like Tom described him as. He was very handsome, bright blue eyes that sparkled with tears. You suddenly feel guilty for staring at him for too long, still attached to the thought that Tom was still alive and he was still your boyfriend.

You zoned out, thinking of Tom once again. What he was like, his laugh, your favorite sound in the world.

“Love?” Iris’s voice breaks you from your daze. That’s when you realized you were silently crying, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you mumble, quickly standing and running to your room. The door shuts behind you and you fall onto your bed, sobbing quietly into the pillow that used to be Tom’s.

About ten minutes pass and you’re no longer crying. But, your heart still feels heavy and you feel a little numb. A soft knock sounds through the room, and you call out weakly for whoever it is to come in. Sitting up, you see Will cautiously stepping inside. He closes the door gently and awkwardly walks further into the room.

“Hi,” you mumble. He waves and looks around for a chair, but you pat the bed next to you. He sits down slowly and fiddles with his hands.

“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through,” he whispers, keeping his eyes forward.

“It’s probably affecting you as well. According to his letters, you two were great friends.” He chuckles and nods.

“We were friends, but I wasn’t his love or mother of his child.” Tears spring to your eyes once again.

“Yeah, that’s…” you were at a loss for words. You’ve talked about this countless times with Iris, but suddenly, being around Will made it hard for some reason.

“Tom was so excited to be a dad,” he murmurs, a hint of love in his voice. “Every letter he got from you, his face lit up at whatever update you gave him. And he told me about every single one.” You laugh through your tears and finally look at Will. He also had tears in his eyes, yet there was a deeper emotion behind them.

“He was a good man,” he continues. “Always telling jokes and stories. He honestly made the whole experience better.”

“Yeah, that was his specialty, his stories. He had an endless amount of them.”

“That he did.” A silence hangs in the air for a moment.

“Um, can we please change the topic? Because as much as I’d love to talk about Tom more, I don’t think I’m quite ready,” you shyly mumble.

“Yeah, of course. Have you seen any films recently?”

For the rest of the night, you and Will get to know one another, talking about everything and anything, except for Tom; he respected your wish and avoided the topic as best as he could.

After that night, Will visited you every weekend, spending Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with you and Iris. He made sure you were staying healthy and resting, and one night, you asked him about it.

“Will?” You whisper. He was sitting in the guest room, at the desk in the corner. It was well into the night, but you had to ask him now.

“What’s wrong?” He’s standing within seconds, running over to you to make sure you weren’t injured or something was wrong with the baby.

“Nothing. But, I am curious about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Why have you been visiting so much? Not that I don’t enjoy your company, it’s been really nice and Iris loves having you here as well, but why?” He sits on the bed and motions for you to join. You two crawl to the top, against the headboard, and he begins.

“When Tom was...dying, he asked me to care for you, to make sure you have a healthy and happy baby. He asked me to check up on you often and make sure you’re okay, both with the baby and yourself, mentally. He knew what he was leaving behind, and he hated that you were going to be left alone, with just his mum.” Tears pool in your eyes and threaten to spill over as Will continues.

“I made a promise to him that I would protect you and the baby. So I’m going to do that.” Your tears finally fall, and your hands rest on your bump, wishing they could have met their amazing father.

“I just wish he was still here,” you quietly sob. Will wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him.

“I know, love. They’ll get to know him through yours and Iris’s stories. Their father won’t be forgotten, I promise you that.”

—

The months go by, and Will keeps his promise till the end. In early October, you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. You named him Percy Thomas Blake; Tom had always talked about how he loved the name ‘Percy’ for a boy and wanted to use it one day, so you had to keep his wish.

Will was up with you, in the middle of the night as Percy cried out. You were in tears, having tried everything to calm him. Changing him, wrapping him in a blanket, trying to feed him, but nothing worked.

“Here,” Will says, removing his shirt, “let me try something.” He takes the baby from you carefully and rests him against his bare chest. Moments later, the room goes quiet and Percy is fully content. You breathe out a sigh of relief and fall onto the bed.

“Thank you,” you murmur, closing your eyes and enjoying the peaceful moment. Will goes to sit in the rocking chair in the corner of your room, but you invite him to lay beside you. He’s hesitant at first, but he gently lays down, Percy now fast asleep on his chest.

“I really appreciate you doing this,” you say softly. “Being here and helping Iris and I. I have no idea what I would have done if I was alone.”

“Like I said, it was my promise.”

“I know, but to drop everything and help take care of a baby that’s not yours is so incredibly nice.”

“He may not be mine, but that doesn’t mean I won’t care for him when I promised to for a friend.”

A smile spreads across your lips and your hand comes to rest on your son’s back. For a moment, you forget everything bad that’s happened. You feel happy for the first time in months. You just hoped that would last.

To your surprise, it did.

Will basically lives with you and Iris now, and you’re so thankful that he stayed. Him and your son created this unbreakable bond, and you were more than happy that Percy was able to have someone like Will in his life.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years came and passed, and Will was by your side as you mourned the memory of the last time you saw Tom, a year ago. But, as you got through the days together, you couldn’t help but have one thought on your mind.

“Alright, goodnight, bubs. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to see grandmummy!” Your son cheers tiredly at your words, and you give him a kiss on his head. Will appears behind you and proceeds to do the same routine. He follows you out of the room, turning the light off and shutting the door. He begins to walk into his room, but you stop him

“Can I talk to you about something?” You wonder quietly, nerves filling your body. He nods and grabs your hand, guiding you to the living room couch. Iris was gone for the weekend, so you had the house to yourselves.

“So, what is it?” Taking a deep breath, you keep your eyes on your hands, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

#will schofield #william schofield #will schofield imagine #will schofield x reader #george mackay #1917 #william schofield imagine #william schofield x reader #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[bestie-enthusiast]

A Means To An End

Summary: After chasing a lead into a neaby building, Sam and Bucky get to see a more... vunrable side of the Baron.

This fic is inspired by @morganbritton132

They had been chasing a lead, one of the cars that supposedly belonged to the Flag Smashers had been spotted outside of a small theatre. They had speculated it was a supply stop, or maybe a place to lay low. Zemo had taken them, in a surprisingly non-attention-drawing car, to about a block away from the theatre, and they started to walk the rest of the way there.

“It is privately owned, from what I understand.” Zemo explained to them. “The owners, most likely powerful and influential individuals, are either unaware of what's going on, or are actively supporting the group.”

Sam nodded, “Makes sense to me. Do we have to worry about them being there?” Zemo shook his head.

“Most likely not. They would have no reason to be inside unless they are also super soldiers.” Sam hummed in agreement and turned to Bucky, who had been silent.

“Are you good, man?” He asked quietly as they grew closer to the theatre.

“This feels like a trap.” Bucky grumbled, glaring at the small, but lavish, building that they had stopped in front of. “They’ve been staying at the camps and keeping supplies there. This feels out of character.”

Sam frowned, “Well maybe they needed a place to lay low, they know we’ve been tracking the houses they’ve been staying at, so maybe this is how they're trying to throw us off?” Bucky nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Zemo led them into the theatre, effortlessly navigating the building. It was much larger on the inside than it appeared. As they wound their way deeper and deeper into the building, Bucky seemed to grow more and more agitated, until he froze.

“Bucky?” Sam asked worriedly, looking at the range of emotions passing over his friend's face.

“Shh,” Bucky hissed quietly, tilting his head towards a wall. Sam barely had the time to open his mouth when an explosion rocked the building. He felt something hit his head, and passed out.

-

Sam blinked awake, groaning at the dryness of his mouth. It took a few moments for him to remember what happened, but he didn’t feel too bad, so he assumed everything was good. He wasn’t completely covered in the ruins of the theatre, which is good, and after relieving himself of the rest of it, everything seemed to be intact, aside from some bruising and some cuts.

He looked around and spotted Bucky, who seemed to be just waking up as well, and walked over to help him up. Not that he needed it.

After the two of them had (somewhat subty) looked over the other for any signs of damage, they set about scouring the building for anything of use. Bucky was walking with a limp, and Sam had a minor concussion, but they were both still breathing and alive. They stumbled through, leaning on the other or on the nearest (standing) wall whenever they needed it.

That was when Sam remembered Zemo, and Bucky heard a voice.

“Fuck.” They said in unison, looking at the other in surprise.

“Zemo,” Sam explained in a single word, watching as Bucky let out a tense sigh.

“I heard someone.” Bucky said back, looking in the direction he had heard a whimper. It was very faint, but still present. “We don’t know who was in here. Could be a civilian.” Sam nodded and Bucky led them in the direction he heard the cry. As Bucky and Sam grew closer, Bucky was able to discern the voice as a sort of pained mewling, someone on the edge of hysteria that threatened to consume them. Sam also grew more concerned as Bucky led them into a more unstable and ruined part of the theatre.

The pathetic cry’s grew louder as the drew near to the source, and the weakness and vulnerability in them was the reason neither Sam nor Bucky thought that it could possibly be the missing Baron until they laid eyes upon him.

Zemo, in short, looked like a mess. A cut on his hairline was pouring blood down his face as the man curled in on himself. His hands were bleeding, the skin on his fingers rubbed raw after being used to scratch as concrete and metal. His appearance and injuries weren't the worst part though, no the worst part was what he was saying.

“Heike, Carl, Papa.” Over and over, like a mantra. Even as he choked on dust he continued to repeat the phrase. His voice sounded wrecked, ripped to shreds by screams no one had heard. It was very clear that Zemo just wasn’t there. He was not present as he repeated those three words even as he gasped for air and his voice cracked and crumbled.

Sam reacted before Bucky, gently calling out to Zemo. Even as he raised his voice Zemo did not respond, not even a flinch at the volume. Bucky tried next. He gently prodded at the Baron’s hands, once again not even eliciting a flinch. Bucky tried again with more force, pressing both of Zemo’s hands tightly against his chest. It was a very tense few moments as the Baron because lucid once again.

The usual sharpness returned to his eyes, although the tears were still present. Zemo blinked at them, and for once the Baron looked ashamed of himself.

“Apologies, you should not have seen that.” The man quietly apologised, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Sam and Bucky both just shook their heads, helping Zemo up. They all stumbled out of the rubble together, and Zemo spared himself a glance at the two men helping him. Bucky had a sort of empathetic understanding in his eyes, eyes far too soft to be looking at a criminal such as himself. Sam gave him a look of understanding, although it felt more like pity than anything. Zemo knew both men had experience with PTSD, but he never wished for them to know he struggled with it as well.

They staggered through the streets, Zemo carefully keeping quiet about the sharp pain in his ankle every time he took a step. It would be better if they just left him alone for some time once they arrived back at his safe house, and they would not leave him alone if they knew the extent of his physical injuries, let alone his mental ones.

And so he kept quiet. When they made it into the safehouse, Zemo let out a breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. He let himself relax minutely now that they were in a safe location. It had been a taxing experience, and all he wished was for some space to once again grieve and mourn for his family. Unfortunately, it did not appear that Sam nor James would be giving him such a privilege, and so he continued to do his best to hold apart his now fragile mask. “So.” Sam said once they had all settled on the couch in the main room of the house. It was a tense, but not unwelcome intrusion into their silence, nevertheless Zemo flinched at the sudden noise.

“So.” He repeated quietly, knowing that as long as he spoke in quiet, quick sentences they would not be able to tell his voice was still quiet ruined and cracking. Zemo resisted the urge to curl up, to bring his feet into his person and rest his chin on his knees. It would be a very childish position and not to mention, vulnerable. It was a very tense few moments before Zemo decided to speak again.

“Do I have your permission to sleep or-” his voice cracked again as he thought of sleep. No doubt it would be nightmare filled. “Or do I have to sit in this st-stifling silence longer?” He could feel himself flush at his simple inability to speak a proper sentence, but silently hoped it would convince Sam and his sympathetic and pity-filled body to let him go.

“Oh, uhh, sure man. Whatever you want.” That was all he needed. He walked as fast as he could, without making it obvious he was eager to leave, to the closest bedroom. He locked the door behind him, relishing in the comfort the simple click brought him. He toed off his shoes and shrugged off all of his clothes sans boxers, and collapsed onto the bed. He started shaking with the effort that it was taking to hold everything, and so he let it out. Every single bit of pain and grief and anguish that he felt as he was relieving the memory. He could taste the dust in the air, remember the pain in his hands that he ignored as he dug his family from underneath the rubble.

It all felt so real, like it was happening again. Like he was truly relieving the worst moments of his entire life again. Like he was- he was experiencing the destruction of his whole world again, he could physically feel the pain in his heart as he recalled the memory.

He sobbed and screamed into the pillows on the bed, shaking like a leaf in a storm all the while. It didn’t take long for the pain to turn into exhaustion and numbness. For the grief to turn into mourning. He let out a shaky breath as his tears started to slow and his shakes turned less violent.

He felt nauseous but all too tired to even think about expelling energy to have something to drink, so instead he focussed on just passing the fuck out.

And hey! It worked.

Or at least he thought it did. He was pretty certain it did. Especially when he opened his eyes to see his papa’s ruined mansion in front of him. He inhaled the scent of dust and smoke, eyes already watering as he stared at the remains of his once luxurious childhood home. He stumbled down to the basement where he knew his bodies would be, solidifying the fact that this was a dream. In reality, it had taken him much longer to search the basement, holding out hope that the caved ceiling wouldn’t be covering their bodies. He stumbled down until he was directly in front of the spot he knew their bodies were buried, and started to dig. He dug and dug even as his hands screamed at him (or was it him screaming?) and the pain became near unbearable, until he was able to make out a small, pale wrist underneath all the rubble.

He clutched it like a lifeline, checking for a pulse for a very long moment. He already knew there wouldn’t be one, but every time he had this dream he still held out hope. He continued to claw at the remains, more careful now, until his entire family was uncovered. And just like every other time he had this nightmare, he carefully checked for pulses, breathing, anything, and just like every other time, there was nothing.

He allowed his tears to fall in the privacy of his family’s ruined home, and hoped to wake soon. If the dream continued on like this, he would be testing the theory of whether or not dying in your dreams can make you die in real life.

Thankfully, he woke up soon after. Although the way in which he woke up was not the most pleasant. He awoke to a loud thudding on his door and someone shouting his name. He felt somewhat delirious and wondered if he had picked up an infection. He grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe off of a chair and pulled it on, tying it loosely as he unlocked and opened the door.

Sam Wilson stood before him, looking uncharastically concerned. Well the man regularly looked concerned, it was just that he was concerned with Zemo that was abnormal.

“What?” Zemo asked tonelessly. He was too emotionally exhausted to use any snark or sarcasm.

“You were screaming,” Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Zemo suddenly felt awkward as well.

“Oh.” He was usually silent during his nightmare, but the day's events appeared to have affected his subconscious more than he had thought. “Apologies.”

“No it's fine, I just… you got me and Buck real concerned earlier, and I thought maybe…” Maybe he had gone into another flashback.

Zemo shook his head, “Just nightmares. I should recover just fine in a few days.” Sam looked nervous, but didn’t push it. He left soon after. As soon as he was out of sight Zemo let out a quiet brief, sagging against his door frame. He knew that the right thing to do would be to talk, to open up and spill out all his vulnerability so that they could pick through it like vultures and decide whether or not he was worth helping. He did not believe he was worth helping, and so he would not do the so called right thing.

He would not bear his soul only to have it crushed.

He would not let himself believe that maybe people did care after all.

Because he was only a means to a necessary end. And there was no need to complicate things further by adding his own emotions into the mix.

No. He would stay strong. This wouldn’t affect his performance on the field, and he would not let it affect his newly acquired acquaintanceship with the two men who assisted him in his escape from prison.

A means to an end. That was it.

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