#time. a calm room and then the soft blips of a monitor then the nurse rushing in to say she'd passed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungkookiebus · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst x fluff x eventual smut ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mentions of death (non-major character) ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.2k sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

Part of the Love Yourself The Collab. I hope you enjoy all of the wonderful stories!

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This is part one to this installment. There is so much more story and I didn’t want it to feel extremely rushed. Picture for my heading and fic breaks are of the Aoyama Flower Market Tea House.

The whirring of machines and the steady, monotonous beep beep beep echoed loudly in your head; ping ponging off the sides of your skull until it felt like it would break straight through the bone. A tension headache pounded behind your eyes and you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the pain. The room’s sterile scent burned your nose and you were sure the smell had permanently seeped into your clothes. Outside, the night was quiet save for the sirens every now and then. You absently wondered if there were people out there having just as bad a night as you. There was soft, raspy breathing steadily beside you as you sat doubled over in an uncomfortable chair as your head lay on the hard hospital mattress. You stared down your arm to your fingers intertwined with his and ran your fingers softly against his skin. It was then that every alarm in the room went off. He gasped for breath as he struggled unconsciously, hands reaching out to an unknown specter. You panicked and grabbed his shoulders to keep him steady, screaming in panic for someone to help you, pressing furiously on the nurse’s button. But help never came. All at once, he went still, and his eyes focused on your face. His lips moved slowly, and he seemed to be saying something. Leaning forward, you turned your ear close enough to his face to feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Why?” he breathed.

The monitor beside you blipped one last time before hitting that too well known tone of death. Your breath caught in shock as the realization kicked in. He was gone. Nurses poured into the room seconds later and you were jolted awake as you slid from his bed.

Sitting up in the darkness you looked towards the clock. 4:34 am.

You had had that reoccurring nightmare for years.

You looked to your right at the empty space beside you and immediately fell into tears. It had been three years since he died. Some days were easier than others, some days you’d even forget about the whole thing, and then some of them were so unbearable you could barely move. You had dated your husband since high school, married in University, and you both had the whole world ahead of you. He had accomplished every goal he set for himself, got a good career, and was ready to start creating a family with you when he had received the news. Brain cancer. Very aggressive and minimal chance of an effective treatment. Your world came crashing down around you with the news. Every which direction you had expected your life to go was suddenly skewed by a landslide.

He hadn’t even lasted the month.

One second you were happily married and the breath before your next heartbeat, he was gone. He had left you well cared for, but the pain in your heart could not be softened by being financially stable after his death. It took months for you to put his bathroom things away; a few months after that you had the heart to tidy up his study, putting away reminders, and picking up the coffee cups that seemed to accumulate there; it was two years before you were able to donate his clothes; and it was almost three when you moved the book he had been reading from his bedside table.

“Is this something you really want to do?” Ki whispered cautiously over his cup of tea. Steam wafted outwards towards you as he asked the question. His glasses fogged up once more as the heat was once again directed at his face.

You smiled down at his cautious gaze and glassy eyes. “I really want to do this.”

“Tongyeong is so far away,” he pouted.

“You can visit.”

“What will his family say?”

You stared out of the café window to the bustling city streets. What would his family think? Probably glad the bitch was out of the picture. When he had died, his family was outraged to find that he left the majority of his belongings and holdings to you. They fought tooth and nail to take everything from you, but his will was legally sound and so they had no other option than to relent. Ever since, they had cut off all connection, but were still nosy, using proxies to delve for information about your life. You weren’t going off and blowing his money. You had invested most of it after you paid off the house and was living comfortably off the earnings. The only news they ever got was that ‘she’s still there, leaves the house when she needs to, gardens when she’s sad, and sits outside for long stretches of time.’ Eat that, Jung family.

You smiled to yourself then said, “Who cares? They can go fuck themselves.”

Ki snickered into his drink. Setting the cup down on the table he reached across and grabbed your hand.

“___, if this is something that you want, I support it 100%. Know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

The move went easier than you had expected. Your therapist talked you off the ledge of a mental breakdown twice as you packed up your life. If it wasn’t for her and Ki’s unswaying friendship, you wouldn’t have been able to do it. Tongyeong was on the southern coast of Korea and was everything you ever wanted. It boasted mountain ranges and evergreen trees for miles. The small part of town you had purchased in was nestled amongst the craggy rocks of the shore, dotted with docks, several hundred boats swayed amongst their moorings, and the smell of salt was fresh on the wind each day. The home you purchased was cottage style, slightly outside of the range of “town”, but close enough to walk. There was room for you to garden and still be able to enjoy yourself if you were to put in a sitting area. This house was admittedly smaller than your last so you did sell some items of furniture you wouldn’t be needing and packed up your most treasured possessions. Windows were on each wall of the single story home, which would boast sunshine for most of the day and called for a warm house during winter. Most of your unpacking was done save for a few of the books you had yet to shelf in your new study. For now, you had your essentials and the rest could wait. You were eager to explore the town and familiarize yourself with some sort of café to enjoy some tea.

Pulling on a light sweater, you slipped from your house and down the path into town. It was lazy on this Sunday morning and you were thankful for the lack of interaction you would have had to otherwise endure. Passing a small dress shop, florist, and bakery you finally stumbled upon what you were looking for. Settled oddly, almost at an angle between two buildings sat a small, squat building. It seemed to give an almost magical aura with its soft, gray brick. The glass in the windowpanes looked old as the sun rippled across them. A green door with intricate wood carvings greeted you as you pushed it open. A rush of warm air hit you and was quickly followed by the smells of spices, something citrusy, and chocolate. Dried flowers hung from string in the windows. Behind the long, wooden bar stood floor to ceiling shelves with hundreds of jars of various teas. A library ladder stood at one end, ready to be rolled to its next destination in this journey of tea. Soft piano music came from an unseen speaker. Besides you, there was no one else in the café. You looked around thinking maybe you had made a mistake and accidentally came in while it was closed. As you were turning to leave the way you came a bright ‘hello!’ startled you into turning back around. A tall, broad chested man with black hair that fell into his eyes came out of a door behind the counter. His eyes shone bright in the lights of the café, lights you couldn’t see now that you were observing your surroundings more. The café seemed to glow as if it created its own atmosphere. It glowed even brighter as he entered the room. All at once you felt instantaneous relief wash through your body as he smiled at you.

“How can I help you?” His voice was neither very high nor low, but the lilt of his dialect calmed you.

“I, um, well…,” you trailed off.

“Let me ask you this. How can the tea help you?”

Your brow furrowed at such an odd question. You were trying to wrack your brain for some logical answer when he spoke again.

“What ails you?”

Was this turning into some health appointment?

“Tea has all kinds of healing powers. I have tea for depression, insomnia, nerve pain, chronic sinus infection, and the occasional ‘blend’ for the hypochondriacs.” He threw his fingers into air quotes at the end. “Or, you know, if you’re just into peppermint I have that too.”

He leaned against the counter and looked at you questioningly. His eyes held the same attentiveness as someone saying, ‘I’ll stand here happily for 8 hours until you decide’.

“Yea, well…sometimes…I have trouble sleeping.” You looked away shyly. Something inside you told you that if you looked him directly in his eyes, he’d know all your secrets.

You felt his gaze on your face as you pretended to read the names on all the jars.

“Nightmares?” he questioned.

Your eyes immediately met his as they widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you snapped it shut and fixed your gaze.

“How did you know?”

“Intuition.” He leaned on the counter for a beat longer before he pushed off, grabbing the ladder and rolling it behind him. “I have just the one.”

As he climbed the ladder you let your eyes flit over his lithe frame, probably small under that oversized sweater, but you could tell by the fitted pants he wore that he was well toned. Your cheeks burned with guilt as you thought about it.

“Take a seat,” he said as he jumped off the ladder, jar in hand, and gesturing towards the counter.

You sat down slowly on one of the bar seats, placed your bag in front of you, and watched as he moved around burners and teapots.

“Are you visiting?” he asked as he sat some water on to boil.

“No, I just moved here.”

“Oh! We rarely get anybody new around here. Small town and all.”

“Yea, it’s a really pretty town and it boasted some of the best seafood.”

He laughed as he nodded in agreement. “Some of the freshest you’ll ever get. Go down to the docks early on Saturday mornings before the sun comes up and you’ll receive the best squid you’ll ever eat.”

You laughed as he tried to get you to warm up. His banter was oddly comforting, and it seeped like honey through your veins. Your mind seemed lazy, slow and all at once at ease. The tension you held in your shoulders dissipated and the slight clench in your jaw relaxed. Chamomile, lemon balm, and something spicy wafted into your nose. The man stood there; lips pursed as he concentrated on the cup of tea steeping in front of him. The more he moved his lips the more you saw his dimple appear and disappear. He had a strong jaw that led to an equally strong neck. He was wiry; veins stood out along his neck, arms, and hands. You wondered what else he did to keep himself in such great shape besides make tea all day.

“Perfect,” he muttered as he pulled the leaves from the mug. Carefully, he sat the mug in front of you. “Now, I suggest drinking it as is, but if you want sugar, honey, or milk I’ve got it.”

“Oh, no, this is fine, thank you.” The mug was pleasantly warm in your hands. The glass was not so hot that you had to pull your hands away and the warmth seemed to shoot into your limbs. He turned away to clean up his imaginary mess as you took the first sip. If molasses were sentient and it carried healing properties for stress, then you were dunked in a vat of it. The feeling seemed to slide across your skin slowly, making sure to fill each and every crevice of your soul. You almost wanted to bow down at the feet of whoever made this blend.

“This was a good pick…,” you trailed off. You wanted to put a name to the face.

“Jeongguk.” He wiped his hands to preoccupy himself as you took another sip.

“Well, Jeongguk,” you said giving him a look of surprise, “you were spot-on knowing exactly what I needed.”

He smiled shyly as he looked down at his shoes.

“Mom always said I had a knack for it. I make the blends in house.”

You looked around in shock at the hundreds of jars that lined the wall behind him. “You made all of these?”

“Yep!” he grinned proudly as he spun to look at his work. “I live farther up in the hills. I grow a lot of tea up there; they love the humidity in the summer. I get some stuff imported from reliable, sustainable growers. But yea, these are all hand crafted by yours truly.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Yea? Well, you’re welcome to stop by any time. Hell, you could come here everyday for the next few months and try one new tea a day.”

“That sounds great, actually. My name is _____ by the way, I don’t know if I told you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move here?”

You’d knew he ask, but you still weren’t prepared when he did. What were you supposed to say? ‘My husband died three years ago, I’m still not over it, I wake up with nightmares every night, and I can’t sleep with my light off anymore, but everything’s great! Town is lovely!’ or do you simply say:

“Mid-life crisis.”

He snickered as the sentence came out of you dead pan.

“You look too young to be having one of those.”

“What makes you think I’m going to live much longer?” you laughed.

He doubled over in exaggeration at your joke. “No one around here has a sense of humor sometimes. Glad to meet someone that’s a little more normal.”

“Surely not everyone here is lifeless.”

“Ah, no. It’s just mostly a bunch of burly old fisherman, rich fishermen’s wives, poor fishermen’s wives for that matter too. Needless to say, it’s a mixed bunch and they don’t all get along. The hardened old timers that this is all they know, stay. The kids they had started moving away and now there’s barely any young people left in the town. Why stay here when you can be living life in Seoul or Busan.”

“What made you stay?”

“I love it here,” he said without missing a beat.

You appreciated that he took stock in the simple things. Everything about this town screamed simple and it appealed to you. This would be a no-nonsense restart to your life.

“I know what you’re thinking. He’s uneducated and knows nothing about life because he’s never left this coastal town since the day he was born.”

You shrugged at his almost correct assumption about himself.

“Well, no matter what anyone in town tells you, that’s wrong. I went to University, graduated, lived in China for a couple of years and that’s where I learned everything I needed to know about tea. I came back here with some of my savings and I opened shop. Been here ever since.”

“You seem very accomplished.”

“I feel very accomplished,” he smiled. Damn it, if that toothy grin wasn’t getting you every time. You found yourself blushing more than once as he fixed his gaze upon you, listening as if you held the universe in your hands.

You told him the bare minimum about yourself, barely scratching the surface of your depressing past. You told him where you moved from, your education background, and a few mundane aspirations you had for yourself. Luckily, a year ago you had started wearing your wedding bands on a necklace which now was tucked snugly inside your sweater. The lack of jewelry stopped him from asking any questions about your relationship status.

Once your conversation had lulled and your mug was drained, you stood up to leave.

“This was all very lovely, Jeongguk. Thank you for the suggestion in tea.”

He seemed very boyish when he smiled, but he looked to be the same age as you. Praise made him light up like a Christmas tree and you found yourself liking his smile more and more.

“Any time. Oh! And if there is a blend you’d like to try don’t hesitate to ask me.”

You gave him one last smile as you exited the tea shop. The difference in atmosphere as you stepped out was almost otherworldly. Reality seemed to tip on its axis before it readjusted itself and you were left staring dumbly on the sidewalk. You looked behind you to see if you had imagined the whole thing, but the tea shop still stood in front of you looking the exact same as when you walked in. Tendrils of anxiety pricked at your brain. The comfort of the tea shop had helped you forget for a little while, but now that you were alone and exposed to the evening air you felt an emptiness creeping back inside of you. Clinging to the last few notes of chamomile on your tongue, you held on to the feeling as you walked back home.

The next day you awoke to the sounds of seagulls gathering at the docks in the hopes of getting a stray fish that fell. You had left your windows open that night, letting in the early morning salty breeze. The smell of fresh fish carried on the wind and permeated your house. As you stretched your limbs, hopeful excitement bloomed in your chest as you thought about the tea shop and its semi-mysterious owner. You realized immediately that you slept through the entire night, not once woken up by horrible nightmares. You quickly dressed, looked yourself over in the hall mirror briefly, and stepped out into the morning air. All kinds of birds trilled in the trees and you still heard the shrill call of the seagulls closer to shore. You walked with purpose this time. You knew exactly where you were going and wanted to at least give the air of a local. You found it looking just as it had the day before.

The air inside was comfortably warm and today the shop smelled like lavender and bergamot. A patron sat at a small table near a bookcase, but the old man did not look up from his reading. Jeongguk beamed at you as he walked out holding a tray of fresh lavender scones.

He glanced towards the grandfather clock that flanked one of his walls. “Same time as yesterday. Punctual, I see.”

“And I see that not only can you make amazing tea blends but also baked goods as well,” you said taking the same place at the counter like you had the day before.

Today it sounded like he was playing music from some fantasy movie; a long, forlorn single note played, and violins dramatically sang in the background. Herbs were now placed on the line with the dried flowers and the smell of rosemary wove in and out of the calming lavender scent.

“You can have one on me and you can tell me if it’s good or not.” He placed one on a plate before sliding it over to you. “What’ll it be today?”

He slid the tray of scones into a small bakery case and turned expectantly towards you.

“I’m feeling something fruity today.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. “You’re in luck. I had a bunch of strawberries that I dried last year that weren’t getting used. I made a strawberry and peach tea last night with just the slightest hint of vanilla.”

He bounced around excitedly like a kid showing you a new trick they had learned. He reverently put the leaves in to steep and stood idly by as he counted down the seconds until it was done. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated on not spilling a drop as he carried it over.

“How’s the scone?”

“It’s amazing. Not too much lavender, which is perfect.”

His grinned at the praise.

“Jeongguk?”

“Hm?” he was absently licking his lips and you were momentarily distracted by the action.

“You have a lot of family here?”

He stopped short with a confused look on his face, like you had caught him completely by surprise. His mouth fell open and the café lights reflected off his wet bottom lip. Questions formed in his eyes as he cleared his throat. A second later, he was smiling as if nothing had happened.

“Not anymore,” he sighed. “My sister was the last to leave maybe two years ago. My mom died right before I moved to China and my dad went to live with my brother. ‘Can’t stand to be here without her anymore.’ I get it; I just get lonely from time to time for my family.”

You picked at the scone on your plate as you tried to contemplate the best response to give him. “Do they not come visit? Do you get to go see them?”

“Oh, yeah! I visit as often as I can and my siblings still come, but my dad won’t. It’s too hard for him to be here.”

“Your mom must have been a very wonderful lady.”

You sipped quietly as you watched his eyes. He looked beyond you, out the window, at something you knew you couldn’t see even if you turned around. The muscles in his face relaxed, smile slipping, and the gleam in his eyes shined a little brighter as tears pooled in the bottom of his eyes. He sniffed quickly as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“She was.”

You weren’t going to ask more than he was willing to offer, so you smiled at him instead. He choked out a laugh as he reached for your empty plate.

“She was my biggest supporter in this endeavor.”

He turned to put the plate away and your attention wandered to the shelf of jars in front of you. How many of them were woven with the sorrowful love he held in his heart? He had so many teas with so many specific treatments that you began to wonder how much of himself Jeongguk had put into his creations.

“So, where’s your family?”

Fuck. You had to open your big mouth and ask him about the F word and now he was curious about you. You did not ask him if he were married so maybe you could skate around the subject as well.

“My parents live in Andong and I’m an only child, so no interesting siblings to speak of.”

He seemed satisfied enough with your answer and went back to busying himself with putting the jars back where they belonged.

You looked around and noticed the other man in the café had left at some point and neither of you had noticed. Soft music flowed lackadaisically through the air around you. Light filtered in through the dried flowers as the sun traveled across the sky and you watched the shadows dance on the indoor greenery. If there were a roaring fire and maybe a few lightening bugs dancing about you would have thought you were in a fairy’s house. Everything about the café seemed small and comfortable, but large and magical all at once. If Jeongguk offered to make you potions you would not have been surprised.

“Would you like anything else?” His expression was just as you had seen him when you first walked through the door, happy and full of life.

“No, actually I need to do some grocery shopping before I starve in my own home.”

“Well, if you ever want actual food I know how to cook as well.”

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” you asked grabbing your bag. Pulling out a few won, you laid them on the counter as you swiveled on the stool.

He mocked concentration as he looked around the room.

“Well,” he smirked, “I can’t sew.”

“I’m surprised. I’d probably not think twice about if I came here tomorrow and you had knitted me a sweater.”

“I can crochet,” he said with a point and wink in your direction.

“Of course you do.” You were laughing, already easing into a comfort you hadn’t felt with anyone for a while.

That’s when the guilt hit. It was like a punch to the stomach and as if someone had reached inside your chest and started to squeeze your heart. Your breath caught suddenly the room swayed ever so slightly around you. An echo of your husband’s voice telling you he loved you bounced around in your mind.

“Hey, are you okay?” his question was muffled at first and you weren’t sure what he said. It took only a few seconds of your addled mind to decipher his words. “You look a little pale.”

The pain in your chest eased just enough for you to retain some composure.

“I think I stood up too fast.”

“Ah, might have something to do with the altitude here. Here,” he said grabbing a jar at eye level. “Drink some of this before you go to bed tonight.” He pulled a small baggie and filled it with just enough tea to make a cup. “On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He was all smiles as he handed the baggie over.

“You spoil me.” You tried to bring humor back in the conversation, tried to be your normal self, but even you could hear the sadness in your voice.

Jeongguk seemed to notice, but only smiled when he caught your eye.

“Have a good rest of your day, _____, and don’t forget to drink that tonight.” He pointed towards the bag as he wiped the imaginary water off the same cup for the nth time. “It’ll also help you sleep.”

You felt the first set of tears start to well in your eyes. Saying a rushed goodbye, you slipped from the shop, forgoing the grocery store and walked home as fast as possible. As soon as the door shut behind you, your back connected to the wood and you slid down hard onto the floor. Fresh, hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed into your hands. If a literal stranger showing you kindness made you feel this guilty then how were you going to survive this move? At least in the city you never really saw the same person twice unless you were loyal to a coffee shop (which you weren’t) and at your previous job no one had paid much mind to you. You internally berated yourself for being so disloyal to your husband. ‘Til death do you part and beyond. Your heart ached for him every day. Some days it was a dull pain, others you could barely get out of bed, but grief was strange; you’d often forget he was dead. It was like walking up a set of familiar stairs in the total darkness, having counted them millions of times, but every now and again you miscount and take one more step than necessary at the top. Your body lurches, panicked as if falling through space and suddenly your adrenaline is pumping because surely, you’re about to fall, then your foot hits the ground. You’re brought back to the present, a little stunned and uneasy. Your heart settles back to its normal beating and reality sets in. Some things can be forgotten, we become so used to the feeling being there that we forget we even have them until we trip up and our minds betray us; showing us just how lonely we truly are.

The house had fallen dark when you woke up on the floor. Your body was stiff and sore from having been on the ground for so long. A few hours had passed since you came home, your stomach grumbled, and you internally berated yourself for not going to the grocery store earlier. You groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet and tried to adjust to your surroundings. Having been expecting a package, you turned and opened the door not to be met with what you had planned to see there, but a small bundle with a note on top. Bending over slowly, you picked both up to inspect them more closely. The script on the cardstock was perfect, so perfect in fact that you thought it was typed but the smudges of ink gave it away.

“I didn’t see you head in the direction of the store, so I made you a bento. Hope you like it! -JJK”

You wanted to cry again but you were all out of tears. The bento was neatly sealed and placed inside a beautifully woven bag. Bringing it inside you sat it on the counter and popped open the lid. Inside was marinated beef, onigiri, steamed vegetables, and a few pieces of sushi. You grabbed a pair of chopsticks and stuck a piece of beef in your mouth and moaned inwardly. Having lived in the city your entire life you thought you had tasted it all, but this beef was cooked so perfectly it seemed to melt in your mouth. You were in the middle of enjoying this perfect meal when you heard it. A soft mew floated on the breeze and through your open window. Listening again and tilting your head in that direction, it came a little louder the second time. You walked to the window and leaned out. The night was a calm one, so the sea was quiet and all that interrupted the night was the sound of crickets…and a meow. Frowning, you ducked back inside and made your way to your back door. You rounded the house in the direction of the sound and heard it again in the bushes near your window. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you shone the light and a pair of eyes immediately glowed under one of the plants.

“Hey,” you whispered even though your nearest neighbor was several hundred meters away. The small kitten mewed again. “Where’s your mommy?” Mew? It seemed to say.

Getting on your hands and knees you crawled in its direction and much to your surprise, it bounded straight for you.

“Oh!” you cried as it jumped into your arms. Immediately, it started to nuzzle your neck and purr. “Well…okay.” You were a bit taken aback and puzzled at how soon this cat had warmed up to you. In the past, when you were around friends’ cats, they all steered cleared or hissed in your general direction.

You stood from your position and walked back inside to get a closer look at your new friend. Its fur was bright orange and even in the light its green eyes seemed to glow magically. Turning it over you discovered it was a girl.

“You’re a rare baby,” you said shifting it so that you could hold it like a baby. It played with your finger as you brushed along its belly, but it made no attempt to escape your hold.

“Kyongni,” you whispered as the name immediately popped into your head as you remembered your husband’s favorite epic, Toji.

The kitten immediately made eye contact with you and meowed loudly.

“You like that name?” You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Setting her down on the floor you reached for a piece of your dinner and handed it to her. She immediately took the meat and started chewing furiously. Before you were ready to fall into your bed you had fed her some lunch meat, made a makeshift bed in a box by yours, and found a brush to get some of the dirt from her fur. Plugging in a heating pad, you placed it beneath the blankets and placed her inside where she instantly curled up and closed her eyes. You looked at her and thought that maybe the following days didn’t have to be so sad after all.

After you made your tea, you sat in bed and sipped at the delicious blend he had yet again nailed. Embarrassment flooded through you as you thought of your day’s encounter with Jeongguk. As much as you didn’t want to face him again you were going to have to apologize for how you acted and thank him for the food.

That night you had no dreams or nightmares.

The next morning you awoke to Kyongni mewing loudly in her box. You rolled over to see her standing, paws on the edge of the box, and looking at you as if to say, “It’s about time you woke up.”

“Hey, sweet baby.” You swung your legs over the side of your bed and reached into the box. “Let me get cleaned up and find something for you at the store.”

An hour later, you had laid a few newspapers down just in case, sat out a bowl of water, and a promise to Kyongni that you’d be back later. She simply meowed and jumped onto your couch and onto the windowsill she had discovered.

Your walk would take you past the tea shop so you figured you would bite the bullet and pop inside. The shop was bustling, and it was the most amount of people you had seen in one place since you moved here. A group of older women sat at a table near the windows gossiping about someone who had recently left their book club for another, the same mysterious man you had seen was sitting at his same spot reading the newspaper, and a very disheveled mom was enjoying her first sip of tea as her baby sat slumbering in its carrier beside her. Jeongguk was busy helping a teenager pick a tea, ensuring her that it had more caffeine in it than her usual coffee order. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you decided to take your spot at the bar and wait. You watched him as he worked, not having seen him interact with anyone else beside yourself. He gave the girl just as much rapt attention that he had been giving you and didn’t seemed the least bit put out that she couldn’t decide on what she wanted. His eyes wandered briefly and landed on you, beaming and giving a nod before turning back to the girl who was smelling various teas out of the jars he had placed on the counter. About ten minutes later, tea in hand, and happily walking out of the shop, the girl left, and he was standing before you.

“Hey, _____! Did you like the tea I gave you yesterday? I hope it helped with the dizziness.”

“It was lovely. Got a good night’s sleep, too.” You stared awkwardly at your hands as you picked at the imaginary dirt under your fingernails. “Look,” you started. “I want to apologize for the way I acted yesterday.”

Jeongguk looked puzzled when you finally decided to look at him.

“What?” You knew that he knew exactly what you were talking about but was trying to save you the embarrassment.

“I freaked out for a second. There’s a lot you don’t know about me and sometimes…,” you trailed off without knowing what else to say.

“Listen,” he said leaning forward on his elbows and you caught a whiff of him that caught you off guard. He smelled strongly of cinnamon and berries. “You’ve been through a traumatic experience that much I can tell.”

Your mouth fell open and he held up his hand to stop you from speaking.

“You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to. I get it. You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m just here to ease the pain a little bit.”

His face softened as he looked at you and at the same time so did your heart. Relief washed over you because now he knew.

“I…I’d like to talk about it…some time. If that’s okay?” You felt like a child; small and vulnerable, but your therapist had told you that talking about the pain would ease the sadness.

“Sure!” he said standing back up and acting like nothing had happened. “How about you come see the tea I’m growing right now? You can come by tomorrow if you’d like. It’s my off day.”

“I’d love to,” you smiled.

His gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he seemed to snap out of it. “Did you have something in mind for today?”

“Something to-go, please. I have a new friend at home.”

“Oh?” You saw something flash in his eyes before he turned to grab a jar from the shelf. He stopped talking or looking at you as he busied himself with the kettle.

“Yea,” you sighed dreamily, playing into the act. “Listens to everything I have to say, loves to cuddle…” You saw his shoulders slump slightly. “Purrs a lot and really loves beef.”

He turned to look at you inquisitively. “Did you say purrs a lot?”

“Yea, I found a cat. Or, I guess the cat found me. Showed up at my house last night so I need to go get supplies for it.”

“The grocery store has a small section,” he said setting the cup down in front of you with a look of relief on his face.

You sat money on the counter and grabbed the small paper cup, smelling near the opening and caught hints of lavender.

“Thank you, by the way, for the food. You didn’t have to do that.”

He scoffed and waved his hand. “No big deal.”

“It was all very good. You’re an extremely talented cook as well.”

His cheeks flushed a dark red color as he grabbed a towel and began wiping the counter.

“Here,” he said grabbing a napkin and a pen. He jotted something down and handed it over to you. “My number.” He coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “For, you know, tomorrow. I can text you directions.”

You reached to take the napkin from him and his fingers brushed against yours. Jumping slightly, you retracted your hand and placed the napkin in your bag.

“Thank you, Jeongguk,” you said holding up the tea. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yea,” he laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The shop seemed like a warm blanket that you had just pulled from the dryer and you were hesitant to leave it. Even with the chatter and Jeongguk busily moving things behind the counter, you felt peace here. Your heart swelled in your chest at the thought of being here once more and you were sad to leave its warm embrace.

The next day brought clear skies and sunshine. Kyongni was happily lounging at the foot of your bed when you awoke, and she blinked blearily at you as you sat up.

“Did you rest well?” you asked her, rubbing behind her ears as she purred loudly. She had loved the food you’d gotten and litterbox training, who? She was, in your opinion, the perfect cat. “I’m going to his house today.” She looked at you pensively before reaching out a paw and laying it on top of your hand. “Is this a good idea?” Her head cocked to the side as the stared at you. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” She removed her paw and began to lick her fur. “You’ve convinced me.”

What should you wear? Why were you even thinking about this? Just dress like you normally would. After about fifteen minutes of telling yourself what you had decided to wear was fine, you dug through your bag for the napkin he had written his number on. Sighing deeply, you took the plunge.

[you]: Hey, Jeongguk, sorry if I’m texting a little early, but I wasn’t sure when you wanted me to drop by today.

That seemed simple enough. You didn’t want to sound too eager. It wasn’t a full minute later before your phone vibrated in your hand and you felt your heart lurch in your chest.

[Jeongguk] I’ve been up so you’re okay! Ummmm wanna come over in about thirty minutes? I’ll text the directions.

You had discovered early on that anything and everything worth getting to in town was within walking distance. The directions he had sent were simple enough. With a kiss to Kyongni’s head and a promise to call Ki in the event of your death, you headed out.

The walk took you all of thirty minutes. It would have been faster if you hadn’t stopped to examine some wildflowers you had never seen before. Jeongguk’s house was up on one of the hills behind town, not easily seen through the trees, but when it came into your view it took your breath away. It was two-story but small, painted a light green that matched the surrounding trees, and had an immaculate garden out front. He must have been watching because he eagerly stepped out of his front door and threw a dish towel over his shoulder. He wasn’t wearing a large sweater like he usually did at the shop, but instead had on a plain white t-shirt and joggers that showed the muscles you guessed he had and were made painfully aware of in that moment.

“Hey!” he called out while walking down the steps. “I hope you’re hungry because I made brunch.”

“If I would have known that I would have brought something.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re my guest.”

He turned and headed back inside, and you followed dutifully behind. The inside of his house was just as cozy as his café. The smells emanating from a yet unseen kitchen had your mouth watering. You followed him into this kitchen, and you were met with a comforting sight. Much like the café, herbs were strung up in the windows that lined the entire back side of the house. Out past them was an even bigger garden and several different rows of tea bushes. A fat, white cat laid on a hammock hung in the corner and in direct contact with the morning sun. It blinked lazily at you with large, blue eyes before closing them and laying back down again.

“That’s Bungeoppang…he loves fish,” he said shyly.

“Fish bread hardly has fish in it,” you laughed.

“Yea, but he’s cute like fish bread.”

He started grabbing several small dishes of banchan and brought them over to the large table by the windows.

“If you want to help, I kinda overdid it with the small dishes if you can bring them over here,” he laughed as he balanced three on his forearm.

Setting your bag down you quickly walked over to the counter and surveyed the damage he had done. Ssamjang, dongchimi, gyeran mari, spicy tuna, and many others dotted the counter amongst vegetable refuse and shavings of ginger.

“You really did out do yourself.”

“I got excited, okay?” His smile was wide as he came up beside you to grab a large bowl of rice. “I don’t get visitors often.”

Your heart hurt in your chest at his boyish, dopey grin and his admission at being excited to have you over but you quickly dampened the feeling before you let it get the best of you. You both quickly moved every dish he had made over to the table and before long, you were both trying to figure how to move them so that’d you would both have a place to sit. Jeongguk scratched the back of his neck as he looked down, scooting plates here and there and stacking the ones that could be without mess. Once the both of you were settled, he handed you a pair of lovingly worn chopsticks. The few moments of comfortable silence as the both of you started to eat was only broken here and there when something was asked to be passed. You were each sated well enough to begin a conversation before long.

“I needed that. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in here and smelled that pork belly,” you said while reaching for more cucumber kimchi.

“Well, besides the meat, all of this comes off the property.” Jeongguk gestured proudly at the dishes around as if he were a king looking over his treasures.

“You even made the kimchi?”

“I have a few onggi’s in the back,” he said so matter-of-factly as if every household had one.

“I have a few onggi’s in the back,” you said back in a mock tone.

His face flushed red immediately as he started to defend himself. “It’s just! You know! I can make so much at once! Who wants to go to the store all the time?”

“No, no, no,” you said between laughing, “I love it! You just sound like my grandma is all. Living in the hills and making your own kimchi.”

“The young today would do well listening to their elders,” he said regally.

Lunch passed by lazily. He had opened the windows next to the table and a cool breeze aired out the house. A mixture of florals and something spicier wafted into your nose.

“Gonna show me what’s out there?” you asked, pointing a chopstick out the window.

“Of course. Are you done?” He wiped his mouth and placed his napkin on the table before standing up from the pillow he sat on and reached out his hand to you. At first, you were surprised, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter. A single bird chirped outside, and you heard Bungeoppang meow softly.

“…I mean, if you don’t want help that’s okay, too,” you heard him say as he was slowly pulling his hand away.

“No!” you said lunging forward and grabbing his hand almost a little too desperately. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about yo-something.” You tried to quickly cover up your blunder. He didn’t seem to notice as he smiled again and helped you to your feet.

“I’ll worry about his later,” he said pointing towards all the uneaten food. He walked to the door and opened it before turning to you expectantly. Bungeoppang jumped off his hammock to walk in and out of his legs before trotting off to a spot beneath a tree. The garden buzzed both mentally and physically. The same feeling as the café and his home bled into the garden as well; you searched for the source of the power, but it seemed to be all around you. Bees buzzed lazily amongst the wildflowers he had planted along the path to the rows of tea bushes. You followed a few feet behind him and watched him as he walked. All the flowers seemed to turn from the sun and face him as he passed; only going back to their original positions as you walked by. Butterflies followed behind him and would then light on the flowers, fluttering their wings and spreading them in the sunlight.

“Camellia sinenis,” he said lovingly as he ran his fingers amongst the leaves of one bush. “Green tea.” He turned and smiled at you and he seemed even more supernatural in his element. No matter where he stood the sun seemed to shine behind him as if to say, ‘Look at him!’

The sound of trickling water reached your ears the further you walked between the rows, Jeongguk calling out the names of each one as if they were his beloved children.

“And these,” he said throwing both arms out wide, “are my koi fish!”

Ahead of you was a pond about ten feet long, five feet wide, and probably no more than three feet deep but several kois swam right below the crystal surface. They varied in color from bright orange, to solid white, and one was even decorated in splashes of orange, white, and black. A golden colored koi seemed to notice Jeongguk first and raced towards the edge of the pond, followed closely behind by the rest. They swarmed the surface excitedly and the water churned amongst their fins. Jeongguk reached for a plastic container under one of the nearby bushes and pulled a handful of food from it and threw it towards the swarm. He held the container out to you, and you grabbed a handful, delighting in the activity below you.

“The gold one is my favorite and my only one. Her name is Geum. She’s my very first koi, probably around six years old now.”

“This is beautiful, Jeongguk.”

“You really think so?” The way he looked at you told you he was yearning for approval. Perhaps his dad hadn’t come in a long time? It must be lonely in such a large house alone.

“I mean it,” you smiled.

“Come sit,” he said as he gestured towards a large, hand carved wooden bench. The designs along its back and arms were intricate and worn a little with age. “My mom carved it.” Jeongguk noticed you running your finger along the wing of a bird.

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “She made this?”

“My creativity came from her.”

“You must be a lot like her.”

Jeongguk stared wistfully out at the fish who now resumed their lazy swimming about the pond.

“I’m sorry…,” you whispered.

“Oh! It’s okay! I was just thinking about her is all. I just…you know, I don’t take time to think about her like I should anymore. I’ll see things here and there that will remind me of her. Hell,” he laughed, “sometimes I catch myself talking to her like she’s here. She was my biggest inspiration…and my biggest loss.”

You both sat in silence for some minutes more before he spoke up again.

“I almost let this place go when she died. I didn’t harvest any of the teas that year, weeds were overtaking everything, the pond was even filled with all types of weeds and scum. But then one day I had a dream about her. She was sitting in the garden out here and it was beautiful. The day was bright.” He squinted up at the sun as he spoke. “There were bees, butterflies, and birds flying about amongst the tea bushes. No weeds, nothing. And I just sat with her. She didn’t speak, she just held my hand and when I woke up, I felt so…relieved. The next day I came out here and started cleaning the place up and I haven’t looked back since.”

Your mouth vomited the words before your brain could catch up. You were caught up in Jeongguk’s somber story and your heart ached for him and suddenly you wanted to relate to him so he wouldn’t feel alone.

“My husband died.”

You saw him twitch slightly and his grip tightened on the arm of the bench. He turned his body towards you and reached out as if he wanted to hold your hand but drew back.

“I…I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were married.”

“Why should you? It’s not your fault and it’s okay…really. I honestly never planned to just dump that on you.”

“I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse, but I am, obviously, very well versed in loss; if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m all ears.” His smiled broadened at the end of his statement, reeling you into his comfortable aura once more.

What could it hurt to tell him? It wasn’t like you were hiding some huge secret.

“Well,” you sighed, “he had a brain tumor.”

Jeongguk sat patiently beside you, not a sound coming from his side save for the occasional tap of fingernail against the wood and the shuffle of his feet in the gravel around the bench.

“Very aggressive. He died three years ago. We met in high school and dated through University. We got married before we graduated. Then, we got our dream jobs. We thought we had it made; we were good financially, our jobs were going well, we got a new house, and we were even talking about kids.” Your voice trailed off at the end as you thought about the children you would never get to meet. Your silent guardian shifted ever so slightly to let you know he was still listening.

“He died within the month that we found out.” Jeongguk’s nails scraped along the wood as his hand made a fist; he was anxious but wasn’t trying to show it. “Of course, I stayed there, I didn’t know what else to do. His family and I…didn’t really get along very well after and we eventually became estranged. They’re still oddly nosey about my life, though. Then, I decided there was nothing tying me there anymore, so I decided to pack up and leave. My life felt like it had a dull, gray film over it all the time. Every time I rounded a corner in my house, I expected him to be there smiling at me while he typed on his computer or sat in the reading nook with a cup of tea, or…,” your voice caught at the end. Jeongguk’s fingers spread out wide on the bench and he moved his hand until his pinky barely touched your leg. “What I wouldn’t have given to see him walking through our front door just one more time.” You had to stop, or you would be in full blown tears before too long.

Once more, silence fell between you. Nothing was strange, his hand stayed steady beside you on the bench, and you willed your tears to not fall. The sun was making its journey across the sky and by Jeongguk’s deduction, it was probably somewhere around 2:00.

“Come on,” he said getting up suddenly. His movements knocked you out of your daze. “I picked some fresh peaches today and I bought some fresh cream from Mrs. Kim, so I have dessert for us.”

“Spying on me? Peaches are my favorite fruit,” you said, trying to lighten the mood once more.

“Lucky guess!” he called back as he headed down the path between the bushes.

Bungeoppang was laid out on his side, still under the tree, and very much asleep as you passed. Once inside the kitchen, Jeongguk removed previously sliced peaches from his refrigerator, placed some in two bowls, and poured cream over them. He grabbed a bento box and brought it to the table with him as the both of you ate. While chewing, he began grabbing bits of the several dishes in front of him with chopsticks and was quickly filling the bento until it was neatly packed. He secured the band around it and stuck it in a bag before tying it shut and sitting it beside you.

With his mouth full he said, “In case you get hungry tonight, or you can have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to-“

“You think I’m gonna eat this all myself?”

You laughed at his exaggerated gesture of sweeping his arm out across the table as his eyes bulged.

“I guess you’re right.”

That was when you felt it. The first little bit of stabbing pain you hadn’t expected to come back so soon, if at all. That first sting in your heart when your husband died was the worst it had ever been. Days after, the pain in your chest only subsided when you were able to get a few precious moments of sleep. Months later, the pain was dull, but still ever present. A year and then two went by and the pain only came on rare instances when you were having a really bad day. When his words and his comfort was needed the most was when you felt that stab straight through your heart. Yet, here you were, accepting the hospitality of a new friend and you felt the sting. Guilt blanketed you like an old friend, grasping at your shoulders and whispering in your ear. Your smile faltered as Jeongguk looked on and his expression changed to that of confusion before quickly painting a smile on once more.

“I think there is a storm coming in this afternoon. Don’t worry about helping me here, I can clean up, and you need to get home before the weather gets bad.”

He stood up quickly from where he sat and grabbed a couple of plates to bring into the kitchen. You grabbed your bento and bag. The sting was starting to subside and soon you felt guilty for possibly making Jeongguk feel bad.

“I can’t thank you enough for today,” you began. “I really enjoyed everything, and you have a beautiful home here. I only hope to have a garden like yours one day.” You tried to make your smile genuine.

“Well, if you ever need tips, I’m your man.”

“Thank you, again,” you said as you walked to the front door, him following close behind to let you out.

“I’ll see you at the shop then?” He was looking at you with a question in his eyes and high expectations on the rest of his face.

“Of course,” you smiled. Maybe you said it awkwardly. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed your change in mood. You waved before turning and headed back down into town and home.

The sky overhead started to turn a dark shade of gray. You had had no idea that it was even supposed to rain today. Winds picked up and blew leaves across your path. Your chest felt tight and once again, the stabbing pain of guilt seemed like the lightning now streaking the skies. Seconds after you shut your door against the howling wind, the sky opened up. Kyongni trotted out of your room and into the hallway in greeting, rubbing against your legs and purring.

“Is the storm scaring you?” you asked as you picked her up. She only stared at you with sleepy eyes as she continued to purr.

The hot bath you took did nothing to settle the uneasiness in your bones. The wind became high pitched as it came through cracks in the windows and the rain beat hard against your roof. Maybe a book would distract you, but you soon found out that even that wasn’t enough right now. You settled, then, to just turn off the light and lay in darkness. Lightning flashed outside, creating stark shadows against your wall. Turning over, you reached out to Kyongni who lay beside you, curled up, and fast asleep. Why did the weather outside match what you were feeling inside? A storm of emotions seemed to push and pulse inside your heart. On one hand, you were thankful for Jeongguk. He had accepted you with open arms as soon as you moved here and made you feel at home. He had even invited you into his own home. That didn’t mean anything. On the other hand, everything you were doing was wrong. Jeongguk is nice, good-looking, single, and you shouldn’t be talking to him. You had taken vows, to hell with ‘til death do you part’ you had promised someone your life. Even though he was dead, any other feelings you had towards anyone else made you feel as if he would find out. He would find out you were cheating and somehow, he’d never forgive you for it.

What was so wrong with making friends? But you knew, deep down inside, you had come to like Jeongguk. Not just for his boyish good looks, but because of how open, forgiving, friendly, and almost loving he had become. Not loving in the way of falling in love, but of the small gestures; sending you home with tea, leaving food at your door, and inviting you to see his passion.

Maybe if you didn’t pursue it…maybe Jeongguk didn’t even slightly feel the same way as you and you were just overthinking this entire situation. You sighed knowing you weren’t going to be giving yourself any more answers tonight. Brushing your hand along Kyongni’s fur, you finally fell asleep amidst the storm.

You were four months into your new routine in life. Every day, unless you were sick or otherwise detained, you were at the café ready to greet the day with a warm cup of tea. Sometimes Jeongguk would have a new creation for you to try or he’d subject you to a Frankenstein’s monster pastry that he “dreamed of” the night before. Every day he’d greet you with the same huge smile. You had never seen the sadness in his eyes that he held when he talked about his mother again. Sometimes, he would have a bento made of food that he kept tucked away until you arrived.

“You know I can cook, right?” you asked him one day, jokingly, as you passed a cleaned bento box from a previous lunch he had given you.

He simply shrugged as you both passed the boxes. “Sometimes I make too much food.”

But you knew he didn’t. Sometimes, the fruit inside the boxes were so fresh they had to have been cut the same day, if not minutes before your arrival.

On this day, you had entered the café to see the same mystery man reading his newspaper and the chattering book club.

“Have you been to that Italian restaurant in town?” He had asked this while leaning on both elbows, gazing around the café, but not having a direct conversation with you in that moment.

“Are you talking to me?” you asked, but first you had checked behind you to make sure no one else was near.

“Yes, silly. Who else?”

“I thought someone had walked up.”

“So, have you been?”

“Where?”

“Oh my god, ______,” he said rolling his eyes before laughing, “the Italian restaurant, do you not listen to anything I say?” He said it in a mock tone that you had used several times to make fun of your ex mother-in-law.

“No,” you giggled, “I have not. I make food and sometimes I get so much food from you that I don’t have to worry about groceries for a week.”

He stuck his tongue out at you as he rotated his elbows just enough to face you.

“Would you like to go? It can be on me.”

You willed your traitorous heart to stop beating so fast because you were sure he could probably hear it. You were also telling the nagging voice in the back of your brain to shut up.

“Like…a date?”

He sputtered and stood straight at the counter. “I…uh, well…not necessarily…I mean if you wanted it to be I guess, but…uh…we could just,” he started to grab things and frantically organize in a panic, “I could just meet you there I suppose,” he knocked a container full of sugar on the counter, “Crap. So, it’s not a big deal if you-“

“I’d love to.”

His head shot up and he was looking at you with large eyes. Shock was written across his features and you hadn’t even known his eyebrows could go up that high.

“Really?”

“Why not? Let’s do it,” you smiled. You were surprising yourself at how calm you were being. The last few months had been a lesson on forgiveness; forgiving yourself and the actions you deemed “inappropriate”. Doing so had let Jeongguk in a little more and you found yourself feeling a little less guilty and little more drawn to him.

He blew out a heavy sigh of relief, hip hitting the counter as he slumped, and threw a towel over the mess he had made.

“I was trying to think of an exit strategy while I was talking. That’s why I was all over the place,” he mumbled as his cheek pressed against his arm.

Your heart melted a little and your body relaxed as you watched his internal struggle. Despite being just as anxious as you, he managed to always calm you in some way. Being in the café only seemed to heighten his supernatural ability to leave you both breathless and relieved.

“When would you like to go, you anxious little bun?”

He stood straight then, chest out, and a proud look on his face. “Anxious? Me? Also, bun?”

You felt your face burn red at the pet name you had mentally given him and just decided to blurt out like an idiot. Maybe your friendship wasn’t as comfortable as you thought.

“Forget I said that,” you said quickly.

“Oh, hell no. Bun?!” he started to laugh and you saw the man in your peripheral shift his newspaper a little to peer over the top.

“Jeongguk, shut up,” you whispered.

He leaned on his forearms across the counter and got extremely close to your face as he stared in your eyes. You leaned back a little, but your gaze didn’t waver.

“Explain yourself,” he said seriously, but you saw joy swirling in his eyes.

“When you smile…you look like a little bunny,” you said while finally breaking eye contact. You couldn’t look him in the face as you said it.

His smile reached his eyes and they disappeared as he laughed.

“Cute.”

You wanted to die. You were so caught up in him asking you out that you decided to let your guard slip too much.

“Anyway, when would you like to go?”

“Tomorrow? I can close up early.”

“Deal.”

“Not a date anymore?” he winked, but you could see he was seeking validation.

Butterflies swirled in your stomach and there seemed to be several dozen vying for space to fly. You couldn’t help the genuine smile that you gave him in that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeongguk,” you said standing from your chair.

He grinned knowingly at you, the most flirtatious you had seen him in a while.

Friday morning was met with the perfect temperature as you sat outside on your back porch with Kyongni in your lap. You were going to forego the tea shop today in favor of cleaning around the house and then getting ready for your “date” later. Standing from your chair as soon as Kyongni jumped down to pursue a lizard, you walked over to the edge of the house to look out towards the water. Down the hill and in town, it was bustling with activity with the fishermen cleaning up for the day and leaving the smaller fish out for the hovering birds. It all seemed normal…it all seemed right. You finally felt good about being here and it was all falling into place.

What you couldn’t see was the storm just beyond the horizon, lying in wait, ready to lay waste to anything it touched.

#love yourself the collab #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #magic shop #jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook x reader #reader insert #tea shop owner!jk #bts #bts fluff #bts smut #bts au #nonidol!au #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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vegetacide · 5 years

Text

Whump●tober - Bleeding out

Veg-notables: Giving my muse another little nudge…little more fluff than whump but meh.. In that kinda mood..

@gumnut-logic You rock

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: tissues may be required

Characters: Virgil/Kayo and an irritating nurse

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous posts can be found HERE.

23. Bleeding out

Enjoy…

oOo

The next time he drifted back into consciousness, Kayo was scowling daggers at the nursing staff who insisted on poking and prodding him.

She could tell Virgil did not appreciate it by the hard press of his lips as a bright pen light was shone into his blurry eyes and his name was called several times in an attempted to rouse him from the depths he just wasn't ready to return from.

“Is that really necessary?” She asked, shooting a glare at the back of the rather buxom red-head that was trying to pry one of Virgil’s eyes open to judge his pupil response.

The nurse; well practiced in handling over-protective relatives, laughed off the question and simply answered. “Well, of course. It’s all part of our five star service.” And proceeded to grab at one of Virgil’s flailing limbs to check his pulse.

Kayo grumbled something inaudible and took up Virgil’s other hand. The squeeze she received in return had her eyes quickly shifting to his.

“Hey you.” She smiled, leaning over to brush a kiss across his brow.

The whisper of her name in response to her greeting, his voice quiet and weak from disuse was the best sound she had ever heard and she all but forgot about the irritating nurse.

Fighting back tears, her smile grew and she rested her brow against his. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Up until this very moment when his worn, tired but very much alive gaze met her own, when his breathe dance across her skin and the rusty baritone of his voice reached her ear, she’d been bleeding out. Losing parts of herself slowly one drop at a time, with each blip of the heart monitor.

Now as a calm settled over her, as the tension eased off of her own exhausted frame could she finally let herself completely believe that there was actually a future. A future for them both, together.

The quiet room and the soft brush of their intermingle breathe, his warm hand in her own and the world seemed righted again. Spinning in the right direction, gravitating them back to each other. One whole.

God, she was tired. All the weight of the last so many days, sleepless nights and rolling emotional upheaval making itself known to her. With a gentle curve of his lips he looked up at her through sleepy eyes and of course he knew. He always knew, even bedridden and just back from the brink of death.

His arms though encumbered by medical equipment opened to her and she carefully settled onto the bed beside him, mindful of the lines monitoring him, the IV pumping much needed fluids and antibiotics into his still too pale body...but he was fighting, pulling through, getting stronger and the dawn was finally shining on the horizon filled with hope once more.

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

#whumptober2019 #whumptober #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #no.23 #bleeding out #Virgil Tracy #Kayo Kyrano #virgil/kayo #the prompt made me do it #smooshymushy #hope #dawn

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 11

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

This time: Late night cuddles and contemplation.

Amanda wakes to the sound of thunder, the slap of rain against the glass windows. Her gasp is muffled by the rolling boom, the flash of lightning making her bolt upright in surprise. She’s not terribly afraid of thunderstorms, but the added stimulation is only nightmare fuel for the terrors that beckoned in her dreams tonight. Her exhale is a frantic one, though it does not make much sound.

She hears a zooming flourish to her left, and looks over to see the white-blue shimmer of Zavala’s Ghost in front of him. It evaluates him with a shift of its segments and tuts something almost mothering.

“You’re a mess,” The Ghost drones gently, affectionate. Her voice is regal sounding. Another whoosh and a delicate spin later, the crochet hooks that had slumped against his chest as he’d fallen - and stayed, for once - asleep disappear along with the blanket he’d been working on with a shimmer of Light. She drifts down and nudges the lever on the reclining chair with her whole body. “Thank the Traveler someone thought to replace that awful plastic chair,” She muses as the lever slowly activates. Once he’s reclined, she transmats a blanket over him, quicker than the flash of lightning that paints the sky outside.

Baby blue eyes peer over the rail of the bed, watching him sleep in long, slow breaths. He looks peaceful, Amanda thinks, curling in on herself.

“Hello, sweetheart,” The Ghost says, when she shifts and grimaces a few minutes later. “I was hoping you’d go back to sleep. No luck?”

Amanda sighs. “Bad dreams,” She admits softly. “You Zavala’s Ghost?” The girl already knew that she was, but it seemed like it was only right to ask.

The white of her shell spins quick. “I am. Want to talk about it?”

She pulls the pillow from behind her back and wraps her arms around it. “I’m ok,” She tells the little bot.

“Want me to wake up the big guy?”

“No, y’just got ‘em comfy,” She tells the Ghost, confused. “That’d be mean.”

“He’d be more upset if he finds out I didn’t wake him,” Shiori floats up to eye-level with the bed-bound child. “He’s a worry-wart, you know.”

“I know,” Amanda answers, soft. “I’ll be okay.” A flicker of lightning makes her tense up, squeezing the pillow hard as the thunder crackles, close and loud.

The Ghost doesn’t give up. “Why don't you get comfortable,” She instructs, changing tactics. “How about I tell you a story?”

“But…” The child looks bewildered. “We ain’t got any books.”

“I can download any book you want, but I know plenty of stories.”

“What’s Zavala read?” She asks, repositioning herself with a tiny grunt. It's clear she's uncomfortable, but it's hard to be anything else with her injury.

Shiori sets to casually drawing the shades, by catching their pulls in the joints of her shell, basking the room in darkness. Her fins push out with a pale glow that doesn’t bother the child or wake her partner. “He likes poetry. Shakespeare. History,” She informs Amanda.

“Sounds like school,” Amanda says.

Shiori laughs, and it sounds like a bell. “Close to it, sweet girl.” She looks at the child. “Cozy?”

Amanda nods, flapping one of the blankets to cover her better. Though she never flailed around a lot in her sleep, they always got so tangled. “What kinda story?”

“I was going to ask you that.”

The girl yawns. “Somethin’ happy,” She suggests. “Animal stories end happy.”

“I think I can work with that,” The Ghost says, making an array of muted rippling sounds while she searches her databanks and consults the City archives.

With the thunder yielding, Amanda falls back to sleep to the elegant drone of Shiori's voice and the pitter-patter of rain against the windows. Zavala wakes, hours later, to a dark room and the small light that is his Ghost, clutched in both of the girl's hands, making soft sounds when the girl fusses and frowns in her sleep.

"Not a word," Shiori whispers.

Zavala blinks, their blue gazes meeting. "I'm not saying anything," He replies.

"You're thinking plenty."

"Aren't I always?"

"Fair,” She supposes, with a brief chuckle. “This is a rather compromising position for me. You know I don't like being touched."

"I do."

Shiori phases through Amanda's hands in motes of light. The girl groans and clenches her fingers, clearly noticing the loss. "Scooch over, sweetheart," She tells the girl. Her eyes blink open once and stay closed, asleep, but impressionable. She listens, flopping over. "It's okay."

The Ghost flits to Zavala, who looks bewildered. "Oh, for Light's sake, Zavala, hold her."

"But-"

"Zavala. If I can let her cuddle me, you can certainly comfort her, too. You are far less averse to human contact and dare I say it: more cuddly."

"I suppose," He says, mind spiraling away to thoughts of perception, and how it's hardly appropriate, considering his position.

"Calm down," The Ghost chirps. "She's sick. You're comforting her. There's nothing embarrassing about this. It's a kindness this little one sorely needs." She pauses. "It's something to get used to. Kids are…" She shudders, "Tactile."

"You keep saying that like it's a done deal," Zavala murmurs, barely audible in the silent room. Even so, he's lowering the side rail of the bed to slide in beside her. The second he's committed, both feet leaving solid ground, she's curling up into his side like a kitten, making some baby-soft sound.

He looks uncomfortable for the first moment, still overthinking. But then he's reminded of the way she'd clambered over him, that first time they'd really met, half asleep and longing for that feeling of safety that he very obviously provided. Was that terribly different?

No, he realizes, plucking her up gently, mindful of the few cords still attached to her, and the wrap around her stump. She settles against his chest with a sigh, humming something he can't understand before unconsciously settling her ear against his heart, reassured by its steady beat. One impossibly small hand covers the single arm he's wrapped around her.

It dawns on him: This is no different. There is an immediate difference in the room with her in his arms. The heart monitor dulls to a quiet blip that's softer than the tiny snores that come from the girl. She's warm and soft, soothing. It feels… right, Zavala thinks. He wants to console her, to chase away that which threatens to upset or harm her.

"She's already ours," Shiori whispers, looking down at the pair, sometime later. Zavala doesn't hear her, that's how single-minded his focus is, stroking Amanda's cheek and looking down at her in undeniable adoration. "Whether you realize it yet or not."

The Commander might not be paying attention to his Ghost’s late-night musings, but he’s thinking about the possibilities. About what the Speaker said about wants and needs, and how they align. He knows that despite how awkward he feels when the nurse comes in, audibly expressing her elation with a comment of how cute they are, or how Ikora might feel about him taking in a child, when he gets down to it, none of it really matters. It might bother him in anticipation or hindsight, but in that moment, the awkwardness or self-consciousness, his position, none of it really matters. He wants to put her first. Even if he knows it will be difficult, there will be conflict, and even if he ultimately feels like he has no idea what he’s doing, he still wants to try.

Zavala does not sleep for the rest of the night. He deliberates, going through the doubts in his mind. When the matron arrives in the morning, he asks her, “How do I begin the process?”

Karena smiles.

#destiny fanfiction #shipwright september #amanda holliday #commander zavala #found family #zavala is tower dad #destiny stories

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traumantic-a · 4 years

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it’s hard to place what wakes her; the sound of the heart monitor beeping, the padding of orthopedic shoes across linoleum, the soft babble from the nurses’ station just outside her room, the sun streaming into her room. she can feel a dull ache in her body as she stirs; it should be more intense than the only slight discomfort in her belly and her bones. thank god for painkillers. no doubt she’d have a pounding headache, or worse, without them.

perhaps what brings her out of her drug-induced deep sleep is her guest; as eyes blink open slowly, blurred silhouette sharpens into focus; heartbeat nearly skips over itself ( the monitor’s rhythm changes in time with the blip ). voice is hoarse as she breathes out a ‘ who are you? ’ pairing the sentiment with a confused ( borderline terrified expression ), and then ———

laughter. soft at first, building in a crescendo to a step or two above a whisper; it’s all she can manage without the dull ache in her torso becoming too much. ‘ holy shit, you should see your face right now. ’ a few moments as she calms down, devolving into a coughing fit in the process. it passes almost as quick as it comes; soon her expression is softening, wry grin forming into a more natural smile. ‘ hey. ’ hand reaches for hand. ‘ come on ——— I was lightly stabbed, the least I can get is a grin at my very inappropriate joke. ’ ( @warprose / john bender. )

#warprose #warprose: john bender.#* AND HERE YOU ARE LIVING DESPITE IT ALL. / PROSE.#we briefly talked about this #john im so sorry but this is what u signed up for

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hornedboy-aidens-writeblr · 4 years

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Droplets on the Marble

Trigger Warnings in case the tags don't stop you first: serious injury, blood, restraint, hospital, miscarriage, unintentional self-inflicted injury, funeral home, grieving of child death.

Sirens wailed in the distance, sounding warped and further away than they really were. Muffet's vision blurred before she blinked away the fog.

Where was she? What was going on? The ground felt soft and fluffy. She could faintly hear Pandora's voice, and she could feel her soft hands gently caressing the back of her head.

A metallic scent bit the air sharply. Blood. It had to be. Was she bleeding? Her body felt numb and light, almost as if she were floating above it. She opened her mouth to speak, but she felt a finger over her dry lips, stopping her from asking what was happening.

She closed her eyes and groaned softly as she heard the sirens, louder now, causing her head to throb with each pulse of sound. Her body was lifted slightly and then constricted, and she felt as though her head had been caged.

She couldn't pick up her head to see what was happening as her weakened, sore frame was jostled. She whined, trying to free herself from her restraints until she felt the comfort of a hand she knew well carefully pressing her shoulder down slightly. Reassured, she closed her eyes, hoping for the pain to subside.

When her eyes next opened, they were instantly offended by bright white lights. A soft sound escaped her lips followed by the rustling of fabric from right next to her head, which she turned towards.

She once again opened her eyes, though slower this time to allow them to adjust to the light. In front of her, she saw the reddened, damp face of her wife, her hand reacting before her brain to reach up to it and softly rub her cheek with her thumb.

"How are you feeling?" The concern in Pandora's voice prompted a loving smile from Muffet.

"I've been better."

The constant blips from the monitors around her let Muffet know where she was. She was only partially lucid, so the sounds were melding together. "What happened?"

Pandora gently lifted Muffet's hands into her own and kissed them. "You fell down the stairs at home... are you in pain?"

"I can't feel much at all, but I'm alright now."

Pandora mustered up a pained smile as footsteps approached the room then entered with a light fluttering of papers. "Good evening, Mrs. Conner, both of you. How are you feeling?"

Muffet repeated what she had told Pandora as the doctor stood by her bedside. "That was quite the spill you took. We took an MRI scan a while ago as well as a few x-rays. Your head didn't sustain major damage, and you haven't broken any bones."

Muffet and Pandora smiled, though their faces dropped as the doctor spoke again.

"We do have bad news, however. We did an ultrasound while you were unconscious. I regret to inform you that you had a miscarriage. I'm so sorry." He softly placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look.

The intense tug at Muffet's chest made her feel as though her heart had shattered, though her heart monitor suggested otherwise. For a moment, her entire world spun and unraveled, disbelief and panic bleeding through the vacant look on her face before the spark of rage lit in her eyes.

"That... that can't be true," she stammered, swatting his hand away as her eyes began to fill with tears. The room became blurry once again. She felt a lump swelling in her throat as the monitors attached to her began to blare. "THAT'S NOT TRUE!" she snapped, her arm swinging weakly out at the doctor.

He simply caught her arm and gently returned it to her side with one hand as he pushed a button with the other, calling for security. "I'm sorry-"

"GET OUT!" Her eyes might as well have been fountains and her face the land upon which grand rivers flow. Her teeth were clenched tightly, her breath hissing from between them as she panted, her shoulders quaking while her nails dug into her arms and drew blood.

After only a few seconds, both security and a nurse had arrived, and Pandora was ushered out of the room, while Muffet wailed. The nurse injected a sedative into her IV, and began to gather materials to clean the freshly dug wounds on her arms. Her hands were forcibly pulled away from her arms and cuffed to the railing of her bed, the same being done to both her waist and ankles once the threat of her hands was out of the way.

Muffet screamed, thrashing against the restraints, the motion causing the wounds on her arms to bleed slightly more.

The distressed cries continued, carrying down the hall for a quarter of an hour until they gradually died down, and Pandora was allowed back in the room.

Muffet's vacant, clouded eyes bored a hole in the space ahead of her as the nurse finally got to cleaning and bandaging the small puncture wounds on her arms. Her head was slumped back onto her pillow and lolled to one side, her hair messily draped in front of her reddened face.

Pandora sat next to her and softly brushed the strands of hair out of Muffet's face before she softly caressed it.

Muffet turned her head into Pandora's hand and looked up at her with tired eyes. "Pandora, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse and scarily calm. Her calmness was offputting. She was too calm.

"It's not your fault," Pandora said as she leaned forward in her chair and gently peppered an array of kisses onto Muffet's face, which only prompted her eyes to close.

Several weeks later, Muffet sat in uncomfortable leather chair what squeaked with every movement. The room around her was brightly lit and full of flowers. A fish bowl sat in the center of a table, a display of magazines around it.

She looked up as Pandora and a suited man approached her, and Pandora sat, the old, wood and leather chair creaking beneath her, and she gently placed a cool, smooth slab into her hands. She stared straight forward, taking a moment to collect herself as a tear trailed down her cheek. Then another. Then several more. Each tear plummeted downward until it splashed onto the smooth surface.

After sitting there for several moments, Muffet felt Pandora's hand atop hers, and she summoned the strength to open her eyes and look down. After blinking her eyes clear, she read the inscription on the stone.

'Mothers' Little Angels, Lily and Lysander'

She smiled through her pain and grief, staring down at it as she gently wiped away the droplets on the marble.

The End

Here, I'd like to mention that The University of Iowa has a list of resources for bereaved parents: https://hr.uiowa.edu/well-being/employee-assistance-program/managing-change/grief/resources-bereaved-parents

Also helpful is joining a support group and/or attending therapy or following discussion boards online. It may be helpful to speak with families that have been through a similar experience to help.

@roman-yaboat I'm posting my stuff on my writeblr, too!

#serious injury mention #blood mention #restraint #hospital #miscarriage mention #miscarriage tw #unintentional self-inflicted injury #self-inflicted injury #accidental self harm #funeral home #child death #infant death #whump #angst #grieving #whump one shot #long post #aiden writes whump

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o-kviii · 5 years

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The Blind Leading the Blind pt. 2 [Matt x Reader]

>>> Part 1 <<<>>>Part 3<<<

You wake up to the smell of antibacterial soap, a throbbing pain in your arm, and thick cloud surrounding your head. The last thing you remember... did I ever get that sandwich?

“You’re awake.” a chirpy voice rings out. Footsteps approach, and a soft hand pats your hand as she raises your bed to a better sitting position. You blink a few times. You didn’t even realize your eyes were open. “Don’t panic, now.” she says just as the soft tones of the heart rate machine begin to grow more ecstatic. “It’s going to take some time for the swelling in your head to go down, but once things calm down your sight will return. Give it time, (Y/N).”

“So it’s coming back?” your voice sounds dry and raspy. You wonder how long you’ve been here. How long you’ve been asleep or unconscious or whatever happened. Where the man that helped you is.

“Yes honey, the surgeon was confident in your recovery. He will be in here a little later to discuss the procedure and any questions you may have then.”

The nurse checks things around the room, or so you assume from her rustling. Her footsteps grow faded but then she stops.

“Oh right, you do have a guest if you are up to it. A man has been back the past two days asking if you are awake yet.”

“A man?”

The one that brought you into the ER. He arrived here about an hour ago and has been waiting. Would you like for me to send him in?”

The entire ordeal, your attack, the stranger, all of it fills your brain. Anxiety presses on your chest, but you agree and give her the go. This man really has stuck by. For a stranger of all people. It doesn’t make sense. You don’t deserve his kindness.

“Hi.” That voice greets you, smooth and surprisingly timid. You can clearly remember his confidence a few days ago.

“Thank you.” You blurt out, and immediately regret. He laughs softly.

“Please, don’t thank me...You know,” his words trail off and there is some distinct tapping as he sounds to be getting closer and closer. “I do believe we haven’t officially made acquaintance.”

“(Y/N).” you smile, hoping that you are looking in his general direction with some sort of accuracy.

“Matthew.”

“It’s nice to put a name to the voice... I may have died out there or lost my vision permanently if you didn’t come along.”

“So you will get it back?”

“So they tell me. Not sure when yet, though.”

“You will get it back though, which is what’s important.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room. You wonder why he’s here. What he wants. Maybe this wasn’t a debt free exchange. Maybe he’s poor, homeless. Wants payment for his deed. Not that you have much to give...

“I uh, do you have family? The nurse said there is no one on file.”

Your heart sinks.

“It’s for the best they don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“My family is, uh, complicated. We used to live here in Hell’s Kitchen once upon a time. I grew up here. But then I came home to a moving truck and a suitcase packed for me to go off to boarding school without an explanation. I guess that’s why I’m back now.”

Matthew is quiet, almost seems to be holding his breath. The fact that there is only darkness is really starting to dawn on you. Usually in pitch blackness your eyes adjust and soon the outlines of the geography of the area begins to show itself in faint shadows and tones that are a little darker than the rest. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something you didn’t think you’d miss until you can’t even wave your hand in front of your eyes and sense movement or make out the curves of the end of the bed your toes are propped up against. What you can hear are the steady blips of the heart rate monitor quickening and what seems like someone speaking in the hallway. So faint you can tell it’s words but have no idea what is being said.

Warmth encompasses your hand and the voice seems louder now, more defined.

“Breathe.” It says, and the feeling of circles being rubbed on your wrist are consuming your senses now. “It’s overwhelming, I know, but you must calm down if you want it to get better.”

“I want to see again.”

“You can see. Focus your ears. Listen to the sound of my breathing and match it.”

Labored breaths get caught in your chest but you focus on trying to calm down out of this horrid panic attack and find Matthew’s breathing. As if you’re tuning a radio the flushing of his exhale and the deep swoosh of his hearty inhale fill your ears. In. and out. In. and out.

“Good. Now I want you to take a deep breathe in. Tell me what you smell.”

“What... what I smell?”

“Just try.”

On your next big inhale you pull in the air. Matthew is standing so close you can almost taste the faint twinge of cologne. Or maybe that’s deodorant. Yes, your ex in high school used to wear that deodorant until he decided to stop using hygiene products all together... Soy sauce. All that sushi you’ve consumed in your twenties is a dead giveaway to that smell. I could really go for a tempura roll right now...

“Chinese food?” You say softly, and you hear him let out an affirmative chirp. “And do you by chance wear Degree deodorant.”

“Thai and you are impressively correct on the second one.”

“How you do know about this? That’s the quickest I’ve ever come out of a panic attack that bad.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been in a similar position before.”

“Who are you?”

He exhales roughly, releasing your hand. You worry you’ve upset him, though he was the one asking about your family a few minutes prior.

“There’s many answers to that question.”

“What’s an answer you’re willing to give then? All I know is you must be the Good Samaritan of the year and have nice biceps.”

“Oh really?” he chuckles. You feel your cheeks grow warm and hope he can’t tell you’re blushing. It’s not often you speak so easily to men, offering flirty comments as he sits on the edge of your bed. Granted, it is a hospital bed and you could be staring at his crotch right now and you wouldn’t know but at least you are feeling fairly confident.

“But anyways... just give me something about you. So I can paint a better picture in my head.”

“A lawyer.” he says almost immediately. “I run my own law firm with my best friend. My college roommate, Foggy and our office assistant Karen.”

“A lawyer? What a big shot.”

“Well, uh, we try our best. We just want to help people. Someone’s gotta stand up for those who don’t have as big a voice.”

“Noble. Also explains why you’ve come back, you’re hoping I’ll sue or something right?”

You can hear Matthew shift from foot to foot and pass an object in his hand to his other palm.

“If you want a lawyer then I would certainly represent you, but that’s not the reason I came back.”

“Then why?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

You consider dropping it. You don’t want to scare him away, make him think you’re trying to intrude into his life. Yet, there is something he’s holding back. Something he wants to say, but isn’t. You can feel it.

“Well I am literally all ears if you care to stick around and tell it.”

Already making blind jokes only a few hours in. Matt didn’t dare get into those for a few weeks at least. Apart from her inevitable panic attack, she’s taking this all remarkably well. Maybe it’s the short term nature of her blindness. She doesn’t have to live with this forever.

If she did though, her senses are sharp. She had it down to the brand on his deodorant. He expected her to pick up on the soy sauce as he accidentally spilled some on his pants during lunch, but the deodorant was a pleasant surprise.

Matt must now decide whether or not he is going to go into this story with her. He’s told it a million times by now. People are so curious to know of how a disability came about. There were a few times he didn’t feel like going into the car crash and hazardous materials spill story and just claimed he has been like this since birth. It never ceased to amaze him that people were actually disappointed when he would tell them it was congenial. As if he were depriving them of some tale of a tragic accident they can share with their book club friends over black tea and Chips Ahoy cookies.

Somehow this is different. She isn’t asking about his eyes because, well, she has no idea he sees the same world she does. She’s asking about him. Who Matthew Murdock is. It’s strangely unnerving to separate him from his blindness.

“I grew up here, in Hell’s Kitchen. My father raised me alone, supporting us on his boxing career up until his death. After he died, I was sent to the orphanage at the church. I had just gone blind at the time--”

“Wait, you’re blind?”

“Yeah, uh, I did say I could relate.”

“Wow. What are the odds. Sorry, continue.” she says, and Matt is taken aback by how swiftly that was glossed over. Like it’s a story for later, not the main chronicle. He collects himself and continues.

“I was full of anger in those days. My father left me, my sight was gone. It felt like the world was crumbling around me. I learned a lot though, about myself. About what I truly believe in. What I was meant to be. This nun, Sister Maggie, used to sit by my bed when I would have a nightmare as a kid. She would hold my hand and tell me that God has a plan for me and that all that has happened would make sense one day. As I got older, went to college, got my law degree, that started to make more sense. I opened a firm with my best friend and we began doing what we always talked about-- helping people. So I suppose that’s why I’m here. I was once lying on the street in a dark world. My father was there to hold me, though. Knowing what it’s like to have your vision stolen from you, there is not a part of me that could stand letting you wake up with no one to hold your hand.”

“Or insist I smell the lunch you spilt.” she chuckles. Matt feels her hand slide into his. He curls his fingers over hers, his thumb forming a mind of its own and tracing gentle circles along the back of her hand. He didn’t notice it earlier, but her hand is swollen with tears across her knuckles. Defensive wounds. His chest aches as he ever so gently feels the extend of her injuries. The gashes on her fingers. Hairline fractures in her thumb and wrist. He’s surprised she’s not pulling away, even with the slight pressure he’s applying.

A thought occurs to him, and he presses a little harder. He can feel them now, the calluses and scar tissue. Parts of the bone that healed stronger than before.

“Do you know why you were attacked?” Matt asks softly, honing in on the sound of her heartbeat. It quickens slightly, but then slows again.

“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they want me to get to my father.” her heart is even, unwavering. She’s telling the truth.

“Who is your father?”

“[Y/N], it’s time to go.” your father is standing at the door, his keys in hand. It is a strangely domestic scene for your home, as your father is usually not the one home to take you places, let alone be dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. It’s his day off, though, so he told you. He paid for your mother to have a weekend at the spa. You were snooping when you overheard him insisting she take some time to relax. He told her he felt bad for being away from you for so long and wanted to spend some time bonding. She seemed reluctant at the time, but the ease in her walk as she kissed your forehead and got in the car made you think she changed her mind on that stance. You sling your gym bag over your shoulder and exit the house as he shuts the door behind you.

You’re sitting in the front seat, watching the massive houses pass at the front of the gated community you live in. Your house is smaller, not as extravagant as these, but you’re thankful for that. You like not being like your friends with their butlers and nannies. You feel like you are lucky to have a mother that takes such good care of you and a father that works hard but still makes efforts such as these every so often. It could be worse.

Sometimes you think about your old home in Hell’s Kitchen. You miss the city noises and the constant activity right outside your door.

“Your mother lets you sit in the front now?” your father asks, glancing at you as you pause at a stop sign.

“I’m almost fourteen, I’ve been sitting in the front since I was eleven.”

“Hm.”

The car turns left, which throws you off.

“The dance studio is a right.” you correct him, but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to make a U-turn.

“I called your dance studio. Told them you were sick. We have a different activity for the afternoon.”

“What are we doing?”

He sighs. You can see his mind working, trying to figure out what to say. You wonder if you should be worried. Maybe you should text mom...

“[Y/N], what is my job?”

“Uh, you run a bank don’t you? Something with finances?”

“Very good. I run a private bank. Recently, I have gotten a lot of new clients. A lot of powerful clients.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“As a businessman, yes it is good. But as a father, I have some worries. I want you to be safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” You begin to feel a bit more uneasy. This feels like a scene from a TV show or a book. It doesn’t seem like a conversation you expected to be having with you boring banker father.

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared, I just want to know. I’m fourteen, I’m not a little kid that doesn’t hear when you and mom are arguing down the hall.”

He looks over at you, and sighs, a glimmer of admiration(?) in his eye. The car comes to a stop and you look up to see that you’re parked in front of a martial arts studio.

“You’re a firecracker sometimes. Use that, [Y/N].”

She tells Matt about her father, his business and how she took a years of self defense classes because he was worried. He never truly revealed what he was worried for and she began to forget about her teenage worries as she grew older and nothing ever threatened her.

He listens, realizations dawning on him with each new piece of the puzzle she provides. Karen was telling him about a bank that was pocketed by Fisk. She said it was the hub for white collar criminals to filter their money through. It was happening on a small scale, just the inner office with a corrupt director until the CFO found out and shut down the operation. He reported the criminal activity and pissed a lot of organizations, mobs, crime lords off. The bank’s reputation was trashed in the papers and the CFO went off the grid soon after. Fisk must have chosen it to be one of his banks of choice because of the desperate need for clientele.

Suddenly, Matt’s ears perk up. There’s noises floors down, muffled yelling and pounding footsteps. The sound of a gun crashing into the side of a skull reaches his ears, and he jumps up.

“[Y/N], we need to leave immediately.”

“What? I--” He grabs her hands, pulling her out of the bed and gently removing the IV from her arm. She winces and uses him to support her weight as she gains her footing from laying for days.

“They’re coming. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

>>>Part 3<<<

#matt murdock #matt x reader #matt murdock x reader #netflix marvel #netflix daredevil #how dare they cancel #i WILL write a letter #imagine #multipart #daredevil #reader #karen page #foggy nelson #hurt comfort #Blind

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myouki · 6 years

Text

What you Fear: Chapter 3

Credits:

Goth: @nekophy

Palette: @angeutblogo

***

Palette groaned as he sat up slowly.

Where am I? Everything's dark and shadowed, I can barely see my own hand. How did I get here? The last thing I did... stars, the fight! The grizzly bear monster!

Stumbling to his feet, Palette called out to the void, "Goth? Goth, if you're there, answer me!" staggering one way, then changing direction.

Where do I even begin?! Everything looked the same!

A noise behind him had the skeleton swiveling around to a sight that made his marrow run cold. Goth... standing before the imposing monster, arms spread wide. "Goth, run!" he shouted, scrambling toward the two.

I'm not making any progress... why can't I get closer?!

"I... I can't," Goth glanced over his shoulder, voice trembling as he met Palette's eye lights with a frightened, but nonetheless determined, expression, "I won't let you-"

He never got to finish his sentence, the bear's knife ripping through the small skeleton with a swift and powerful strike.

"GOTH!" Palette screamed, urging himself forward as his friend's body collapsed in on itself. "No...," he whimpered as the small skeleton's body began to crumble to dust, "NO!"

Lights flared around Palette as he shot up, soul racing and breathing heavily. Frantically, he took in the entirely new surroundings: a pale orange hospital room.

Was I... was that a dream? No... no, it was definitely a nightmare...

"Goodness me, I heard a shout... is everything alright?"

Palette saw a middle-aged, greying human woman peek into the room. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, bustling over, "your monitor is going wild, did something happen?" Following her gaze, he noticed a machine blipping excitedly, the tones matching his own soul.

"I... just had a bad dream, I think," he replied, receiving a relieved smile from the woman. He couldn't help but match it.

The calm moment gave way to worry once Palette's thoughts returned to his nightmare, "Goth? Have you seen Goth?"

The woman looked confused for a moment before she perked up, "You mean that little fellow that came in with you?" At his nod, she continued, "He's sleeping right over there, in the next bed."

Leaning to look past a white curtain, Palette could just barely make out the sleeping face of his friend.

He's asleep? Why is he asleep? Did he get hurt?! Is he-

"Calm yourself, dearie, he will be alright," the nurse gently admonished, easing him back onto the bed he'd unconsciously been trying to climb off of.

Fluffing the sheets so they draped over his legs once more, she gave the smaller skeleton a pitiful look, "Poor thing came in with you, passed out cold with more than two-thirds of his magic drained from him. We had to put him on an IV to stabilize him.

"The officer on the scene claimed he used it up trying to heal you. I have to say, he must not be very skilled at healing since the amount of magic he spent barely managed to close your wounds..." she paused, thinking aloud, "but it might have been enough to keep you going until you reached the hospital."

Palette traced where the gash had been. He barely felt a thing now. His soul clenched.

He remembered Goth's explanation of his energy drain ability, way back after he'd unwittingly stumbled upon his friend reaping a soul. The ability's very nature made it an antithesis of life and healing. On top of it, he wasn't able to fully control the power, only slowing it down by feeding his own energy back in. The whole process always left him tired and in need of a nap.

Goth knew, yet he still tried to heal me...

A soft groan caught his attention. He looked up in time to see Goth sluggishly moving his left hand toward his chest, where a line from an IV fed into his ribcage. Lidded sockets scanned the room, eventually falling on Palette.

"Palette?" Goth questioned, still groggy from sleep. Before anyone could blink, Palette was off his bed and across the room pulling the smaller skeleton into a hug.

"Oof... glad to see you're feeling alright," Goth breathed, patting his companion's back gingerly and prompting him to let go, mumbled an abashed 'sorry' in the process.

"Go easy on him, dearie. You are both still recovering. That fight sounded like nasty business," the nurse chuckled, wrinkling her nose at the idea of the fight.

Neither monster could say they disagreed.

After checking both their vitals, the older woman stated that Palette was free to be discharged once he got the remains of the wound on his chest fully healed, stating she would send in a healer as soon as one became available. Goth had to wait for the IV to drain and his magic level to balance itself out, but he was reassured it wouldn't take much longer.

"Thanks for earlier," Goth mumbled, twisting the sheets around his legs, a light blush on his face. Palette cocked his skull to the side in askance. Taking the hint, the smaller elaborated, "When you stepped in between me and that guy... with the knife..."

Starry eye lights shined as he exclaimed, "Of course! I'd never let anyone hurt my best friend!"

The small skeleton withered, chuckling sadly, "Best friend... right." Another quizzical stare was met with silence, the matter silently being dropped with a shrug.

After a minute of awkward silence, a tap was heard on the door. A small Whimsalot hovered in the doorway, "Someone requested a healer?"

Goth patted Palette's back, smiling "Come on, Pal, let's get you healed up."

***

And that marks the end of this story. I hope you guys enjoyed my interpretation of Nekophy and Anger’s art chain.

As always, thank you for the likes and reblogs that come my way... the support means the world to me and encourages me to write and draw more. It’s nice to know people enjoy your content, you know?

Until next time, ciao for now~

#Poth #Goth #Palette Roller #MyWriting

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lena-went · 6 years

Text

Arrivo sulla Terra

ARRIVAL TO EARTH

F: We decided to get married two weeks before she was due. Neither of us was close with any of our relatives so we did not risk upsetting any of them by lack of invitation. She had told me the story of her family the same night she had learned about mine. It was unimaginable what she had survived. We had many similar experiences at the hands of our fathers and we found comfort in our shared suffering. She had been forced outside one night in December, no food and no coat. She could not remember what she was being punished for but nevertheless she had been beaten nearly unconscious and shoved into the snow. I had started to cry softly just imagining this happen to her, this woman that had not a cruel bone in her body. She had turned her head to look up at me from where she laid on my shoulder and stroked my cheek.

“No…no…that wasn’t the end of the story, listen…I was laying there, nearly numb from the cold when I heard the sound of footsteps in the snow. I raised my eyes ever so slightly in the darkness to see a large brown deer. A deer Frederick. The deer lowered itself slightly on top of me and nuzzled it’s big wet nose into my forehead. I thought I was hallucinating, my eyes were so swollen I could hardly see. But then there were more soft and patterned footsteps. Three more deer followed after and laid around me. I still remember running my hands through their fur. It’s bristly but somehow soft. I can still feel the warmth of their bodies so close to me. I was out there all night. But I wasn’t afraid. For all the faith I lost in humanity and love from what was done to me as a child…I gained it back tenfold. These deer…they’re hunted all their lives. They run from the slightest noise or snap of a twig. And yet, somehow I know they took pity on me. Believe me over the years I have tried to justify it in terms of science or as some sort of survival mechanism. But the larger part of me knows…and feels…they knew what they were doing. And it just proved to me…that all that running, all that suffering…baby…it just made them kind.”

She had started to cry as she spoke and I could not contain the choked sobs that fell from my lungs. Both of her hands had cupped my face and she kissed my open mouth gently before pulling back to look at me.

“It made them kind.”

As I looked into her eyes I knew she was referring to us. All that we had endured through our life, every trauma and every wound…it made us kind.

Our wedding was just us and of course the ordained minister. The ceremony was traditional but our vows to each other were written so intimately it would have escaped the understanding of anyone but us. She had worn the most holy looking white gown and I my best suit. When the minister said the final phrase, she raised a hand to my scarred cheek and ran her finger over my healed wound before speaking.

“Frederick promise me that whatever happens…no matter how horrible…we will be kind. No matter what this world does to us, we will stay kind.”

“I promise.”

I pulled her to me, enveloping her in a deep and strong kiss. In that moment it felt as if the sun was shining only for us. The rays of gold from the ornate church window illuminated every follicle and eyelash. Everything was a haze of gold and light. I wove my hands through the hair at the base of her neck and pulled her even closer wanting to absorb everything that she was…everything that we were.

TWO WEEKS LATER

R: It started with a pulse of pain. And then another. And another. I put down the book I was reading and called for Frederick, slightly panicked by how quickly the pain was rising. I had been completely fine only minutes ago. He ran for his stethoscope which he had been keeping close to us as of late so we could listen to the baby’s heartbeat together. He pressed the cool metal to my stomach and paused for a few moments before looking at me reassuringly.

“Both heartbeats are normal…but as to the pain it is likely that you have entered the early stages of labor.” He said this so matter of factly that I nearly pinched him.

As I moved to do so a massive pain ripped through me zig zagging it’s way down my spine and across my stomach. I let out a small sound at which Frederick flinched slightly before trying to help me sit up from my laying down position.

“Have you been timing them?” He asked brushing my hair from where it had stuck to my forehead.

“Yes Frederick, a horrible series of pains are pulsing through my body and my first thought is to time them. No Frederick…no I haven’t been—AHHHGUH!” My snark and sarcasm was cut short by another lightning bolt of pain.

Within seconds Frederick was on the phone with the doctor. I managed to hear bits and pieces as he paced back and forth in the living room, his arms rapidly changing positions from being crossed at his chest and then to his hips and then to his hair. I would have been amused but it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

“Yes…she is progressing rather rapidly. She is in a lot of pain. Well tell me what I should do!” He pounded his thumb into the screen of his phone and shoved it in his jeans pocket before rushing out of the room and into our bedroom.

“Frederick!” I called anxious and fearful of what he had just been told.

He returned clutching our go bags we had packed a week earlier in preparation for my delivery. The look on his face was anything but calm and he had started to sweat slightly but he maintained a soft, slow voice.

“My love, we are going to the hospital now. Little love has decided to arrive today.” He knelt in front of me and kissed me softly before helping me up and retrieving the keys from the hall table.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked worriedly, remembering his tone as he had spoke to the woman on the phone.

“If we want to have the baby at the hospital we need to leave right now.” I saw the panic enter his eyes and he placed a hand on my back to guide me towards the door. As I stood I had felt a trickle of something but as soon as I took a step there was a gush of liquid down my legs.

“It is okay, it is just your water breaking. This is normal. Everything is normal.” He spoke attempting to reassure us both.

He quickly grabbed me another pair of clean and dry sweat pants which I put on with his help. Then we were out the door our go bags in hand. The pain hadn’t stopped but I had discovered how to better handle it. I would take a deep breath in and focus on a memory. Something good, something happy. And before I knew it the pain was gone, leaving behind an achy throb. Frederick was driving faster than normal and his eyes had widened to a new width. I rubbed his thigh to confirm to him that I was doing fine and everything was ok. We reached the hospital within 15 minutes and had a room within 20. By that time I was told I was ready to push.

The pain had become blinding as I gripped Frederick’s hand and bore down with all the strength I had. One contraction was so awful I cried out in a sob.

“Freddy make it go away!” I wept as the pain continued without cease.

“I am so sorry my love…I love you…I am so sorry.” He kissed at my forehead and I felt the heat of his tears fall onto my face.

The nurses tried to coach and instruct me but everything had become tunnel like. I could hardly see, hardly think.

Then as if an echo from a distant future I heard a little voice warm on my ear, “Mommy!” I jolted back to reality and let out a scream as another pain branched through every synapse in my body.

I could hear Frederick crying next to me and it gave me strength to push harder. I arched my back in a final scream before my cries were joined by smaller more high pitched ones.

I reached down to the gap between my raised thighs and pulled my baby from me. I tried to catch my breath but I couldn’t seem to stop hyperventilating. I laid our baby on my exposed chest and pressed my lips to the warmth and wet of it’s head. Frederick’s head was soon pressed there too laying kisses of his own on both of us.

“We have a baby boy my love…a baby boy.” His voice was cracked and wet but filled with joy.

My head fell back to my pillow and I let out a heavy breath.

“Atlas. Our baby’s name is Atlas.”

F: It was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced, seeing her in so much pain and not being able to stop it. The way she had screamed broke my heart. I had done this to her. I was the reason she was in so much pain. Just as I was about to fall to the floor in my anguish I heard the smallest cries and then I saw her reach for our baby and pull it up to her. A baby boy, so incredibly tiny and perfect. I kissed her chest and neck before kissing our baby who had stopped crying and was snuggled into her embrace.

“We have a baby boy my love…a baby boy.” I almost sobbed but caught myself when I saw the look in her eyes as her head pressed back into the pillow behind her.

“Atlas. Our baby’s name is Atlas.”

With those final words she shuddered violently and then was still. I heard the scream of the monitor behind me as the nurses in the room flew towards us. There were shouts and sounds of heavy footsteps as all kinds of machinery beeped and screeched.

“My love?” I my voice broke as our baby was lifted from her chest and carried off somewhere.

Her eyes had frozen in place looking at something far away that I could not see. Their familiar light was gone.

I screamed her name and ran my hands over her face trying to bring her back to me. Suddenly I was shoved from her as they pressed the paddles to her chest and shouted “CLEAR!”

Nothing.

“CLEAR!”

Nothing.

I killed her.

“CLEAR!”

She was gone.

“CLEAR!”

It was as if someone wiped my soul clean of all sensation. I felt nothing but ache. Nothing but a horrible, horrible sense of loss. Everything was two dimensional, nothing was real. I fell deeper and deeper within myself running from anything that held any semblance of life.

“CLEAR!”

Nothing.

Blip…Blip…Blip.

Suddenly I could hear and see again. I could hear our baby crying and her gasping for air. I rushed closer and watched as the nurses checked her and took samples from her before darting from the room. Two nurses stayed behind to monitor her and ensure that she did not crash again.

“Freddy…” Her voice was small and breathy.

“My love?” I tried to speak but what came from me was barely intelligible.

It took her a few minutes to return to a fully conscious state. I stroked her hair and cried in relief as I watched her begin to reanimate and breathe normally.

“Where is he? Where is our baby?” She whispered hoarsely her throat raw from her previous screams.

She moved to sit up and I pressed my hands to her shoulders to hold her back.

“No…rest please…”

“I need him.” She insisted, the look in her eyes becoming more desperate.

A nurse was listening and brought our son to her, freshly bathed and wrapped in a white blanket we had bought weeks ago. I watched as she pressed her cheek to his head and hummed softly to him before finally relaxing.

“I love you. I am so sorry. I love you.” I tried to convey the depth of my regret and repentance but she even in her weak state managed to comfort me.

“Freddy I have never…been…happier. Look at what we made. Look at him.”

I refused to look at the baby on her chest or at her. I was a curse on both of them. She had been dead only moments ago.

“Freddy…look at him.” Her voice broke and I could hear her distress at my behavior.

I raised my eyes with a slow series of flicks and looked at the tiny bundle on her chest. His hands were curled into little balls next to his plump rosy cheeks. He had finally stopped crying and his little lips still trembled from his previous wails. His head was covered in thin brown hair that fluffed and curled slightly around his forehead. Suddenly his eyes rolled open and stared at me before he gave a tiny squeak. I took in a shaky breath and raised a hand to stroke his face. I was so afraid to touch him, petrified at the idea of somehow harming him. He gave another small sound and his tiny hands flexed open in invitation. I pressed my massive finger into his grasp and he gripped me tightly before his eyes rolled shut again.

“Hold him baby.” She was crying happy tears and lifted the bundle towards me.

I shook my head and instead squeezed myself onto the bed next to her. I pressed my scruff covered jaw into the crook of her neck and began to sob while wrapping an arm around her upper stomach. How many times would I almost lose her or her me? I could not stop shaking as she reached a hand to my face while quietly singing.

“I love you.” I managed through the strangled cries I was making.

“I’m here Freddy, I’m here. Shhhh…it’s ok.” She whispered, her voice returning to its normal sweet melody.

She moved her hand from my face to the veins of my hand that gripped at her stomach. She traced each one as she would often do when I was most upset. She pulled then and laid my hand to rest on our baby’s head. I flinched in hesitance but she laid her delicate palm over my knuckles in reassurance. I moved my hand ever so softly feeling the shape of his head and the little hairs that covered it.

“He’s ours Frederick. Our son.” She tilted her head to kiss mine before nuzzling her nose into my forehead.

She pulled him higher so his face was level with mine. I pushed my lips against his round cheek and I swore I saw his lips morph into a minuscule smile.

“He smiled at me.” I gasped slightly at which she let out a happy giggle.

“Of course he did baby, he loves you.” Her words warmed me and I replayed them over and over in my mind before letting a laugh escape my lips.

He loved me, my son loved me. She loved me. I was loved.

This part was supposed to end differently but I couldn’t go with my original plan. I could barely sleep after writing it so here’s this instead. Don’t worry though this isn’t the end of the series, I have more planned.

#frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton #frederick chilton series #hannibal #raul esparza #fanfic #ao3fic #this one is sad #the medical logic is iffy #love you all #thank you all for reading #thank you always

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