#He couldn’t. He wouldn’t have made it if that were the case

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

doctor doctor - s.r.

pairing: casual sex!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: on the way to the hospital you call the only doctor you know (and the only person you want to see) - though you may have misunderstood what kind of doctor he is, exactly

word count: nearly 4k

masterlist // this is a continuation of 'the agreement'

series playlist if you're into that :)

contains: florist!reader, mugging, violence, allusions to potential SA attempt (no actual attempt made), allusions to smut, two cuties who are down bad for each other but refuse to admit it to themselves, they really don't know that much about each other's lives, mentions of no contact with family, reader refuses to put their own safety first and Spencer isn't living for it

Spencer has never known you to contact him during the day. 

In fact, he’s never known you to initiate contact, only ever reply to his texts. These messages consist only of logistics. Your place or mine? What time? That kind of thing.  

So at first, his expression is that of confusion as he reads your text.

BABY: What hospital do you work at ???

Spencer thought back over your first ever conversation. It was the only time you had ever discussed his work. He supposed he had only referred to it in an abstract sort of way. It wasn’t a leap that you would have assumed that Doctor Spencer Reid was in the medical field when he spoke of being unable to shake the memories of those he couldn’t save.

Beyond that first encounter, the point of your arrangement had been that it was an outlet for him to forget his work, so Spencer had never brought it up again and you had never pushed him to share. 

Spencer’s chest tightened. He considered the probability of you asking him this question innocuously. Given past instances of casual text conversation (zero), he knew the chances were not good. 

“Spencer, are you with us?” Hotch asked.

Not at all, he nearly said.

They were at the tail end of a case briefing, everyone’s eyes trained on Spencer as he stared at his phone. It didn’t take a profiler to know that a technophobe staring that intently at their phone spelled trouble.

“I need to step out for a sec.”

Spencer didn’t wait for a reply, already halfway out of his seat. He wouldn’t have even heard it if one came, his thoughts altogether consumed by you.

You picked up on the second ring. Spencer’s stomach dropped. He could hear the ambulance sirens loud and clear through the phone.

“Spencer?”

You sound slightly out of it. He ran through the potential reasons within a nanosecond. Pain, shock, blood loss, painkillers, a blow to the head.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you slurred slightly, unaware of the panic in his tone. “It’s just a scratch. They’re just being cautious.” If that were true, there would be no sirens for you to raise your voice over, but Spencer doesn’t say as much. “His knife was just very sharp. But I’m going to be okay, they told me so.”

The room tilted. His knife. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Spencer knew he was reassuring himself more than he was you, but he hoped you didn’t notice. “What hospital are they taking you to?”

“Um,” you thought for a long second, “I don’t know.

“What hospital?” you asked someone other than Spencer. You repeated what the paramedic told you, though Spencer had already heard.

“Okay, I’m going to be there really soon, okay baby?”

“That would be nice,” you hummed.

The team emerged from the conference room as he hung up the phone.

“Wheels up in thirty, Reid. You with us?” Hotch asked.

“I need to take some personal time. I’m not sure how long yet. All of today at least.”

Spencer’s feet itched to be on the move as he stood and explained himself to his boss. Every second spent not on the way to you was a waste. If he did not consider these people his family, he’s not sure he would have had the restraint to stand here and have this conversation.

“Of course,” Hotch nodded, understanding and unquestioning. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Spencer turned to leave, yelling a quick, I will, over his shoulder.

“Reid!” Garcia called as he left.

Spencer didn’t stop walking, heard her heels clacking and figured she would catch up.

“Is your mom okay?”

“She’s fine,” he didn’t look up as he grabbed his bag from his desk. A thought occurred to him. “I might need some information from you later,” he said, the words his knife echoing in his mind with every move he made.

“I’ll await your phone call,” she told him, earnest. 

Spencer didn’t even think to thank her, already running out of the office. 

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It had been a rough morning for you. 

You were in the worst point between Spencer visits. The glow of the orgasms had faded, the memories of the sex becoming further from the front of your mind. More difficult to hold onto with clarity. It would be several days yet until you could expect a visit from him again, thus the thrill of anticipation seemed miles away. You were in the middle period, left with one thing and one thing only: frustration. 

You found yourself becoming crabby during this period. If you weren’t enjoying the sex so much, you would find it embarrassing. Your mood had become dependent on the frequency of visits from a guy you were seeing casually for sex. (You refused to acknowledge the fact that the influence was perhaps not exclusively the sex but the company you were enjoying and at this moment, missing).

You tried not to let your bad mood dominate your day, but it certainly infiltrated your enthusiasm for work, or rather created a lack thereof. You dragged your heels through your morning routine, spending more time than you should daydreaming about what (or who) you would rather be doing and found yourself running to make the train on time. 

Normally, you would never cut through that alley to get to the train station, but you did so out of sheer necessity to catch your train. 

It was broad daylight, you told yourself. It would be fine.

It was decidedly not fine. 

You heard them before you saw them. Her cries. His harsh and low, “Hurry up, bitch.”

His back was to you, so much larger than her that you couldn’t even see her behind him. 

You didn’t think, just reacted.

You don’t even remember running up, just the moment you yanked his shoulder away from her, towards you. He spun with the force of it. You hadn’t checked to see if he was wielding a weapon, barely even saw the flash of the knife as it sliced up your arm in the scuffle. 

He was young. Maybe nineteen. 

Luckily for you, your bold move was enough to spook him. He didn’t hesitate for a second before he took off running. 

Your damsel in distress was around your age, shaking and still with her open bag in hand.

“Are you okay?” you asked, not yet seeing the blood dripping down your own arm.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look in your direction. Just stared after her retreating assailant. Despite the mounting distance between herself and danger, her shaking took on a more ferocious edge as shock set in. The girl’s back hit the wall behind her, in a second she was on the ground and folding in on herself.

You bent down and reached for her hand. That was when you saw the blood. It had slid down your arm and covered your hand already. Your stomach lurched at the volume. You steeled yourself and looked beyond it, focused on the girl’s face.

“You’re okay. Don’t worry, lovely, it’s over now,” you gripped her hand as best you could as you plied her with assurances.

The throb of your wound registered like a kick in the gut as your adrenaline began to crash. Your butt hit the cement with a thud. Your vision started to swim but you tried not to think about it but rather the girl in front of you. She needed you to hold tight just a little bit longer. That much you could do.

“What’s your name, lovely?”

Her teeth clacked together but she managed to tell you, “Grace.”

“Grace, I need you to take a deep breath.” You led with an exaggerated inhale, and to your relief she followed your example. 

She settled some after three deep breaths together. Shakily, you used your good arm to pull your phone out of your pocket. You passed it to Grace and asked her to dial 911, unable to make out the numbers as your vision blurred. As you listened to her on the phone you couldn’t help but think again of the doctor who had been on your mind before your morning went to hell. Your doctor.

Despite everything, you huffed a laugh. You might see Spencer sooner than you thought.

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Of course you hadn’t anticipated him dropping everything to come see you.

Just like you hadn’t anticipated the somewhat drunk, woozy feeling blood loss would create within you. Without it, you were sure you wouldn’t have texted him at all. 

You didn’t have anyone else to call, so you hoped you would just happen to be headed to the hospital where he worked. 

The paramedics on scene seemed very serious about your injury. You thought they would maybe just stitch you up on scene. They wouldn’t even let you walk to the ambulance, demanding you lie down (and remain) on a gurney. It overwhelmed you, and in a moment of weakness you reached out to Spencer.

But you were secretly glad you had done it. 

When you saw his face as he burst into your room (rather, your curtained off bed), you smiled despite the needle going into your arm. 

He was frazzled, hair an unkempt mess and slightly out of breath. There was relief in his eyes as they locked onto yours. Then he clocked the doctor stitching up your arm. In two quick strides he was there, eyeing both the injury and the doctor’s handiwork. 

Spencer could see the way the blade had swung out, slicing you first shallowly in your lower arm and catching some air above your elbow before slicing deeper into the flesh of your upper arm, creating a long broken line up your arm. 

“Did the laceration on the upper arm nick any arteries?” he asked the doctor, all business. 

“Luckily not, but your girl here was sitting in the cement bleeding for a while before the paramedics got there,” your doctor replied smoothly, unbothered by Reid’s probing. “Once I finish stitching her she’ll receive a transfusion. She’s a bit loopy from the blood loss right now.”

On cue, you pout at Spencer. “You’re not wearing your scrubs.”

He peeks at your displeased expression and he is overwhelmed by a desire to plant a hundred kisses all over your face. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding to see you talking and okay (well, half a breath, he’ll release the other half when you get your blood transfusion and stop looking so ashen).

Distracted by another thought, he only half looks at you as he says, “I’m not that kind of doctor, angel.

“What was the ambulance response time?” He asked the doctor. 

“I would have to ask to find out the exact time but I don’t believe it was longer than normal. I heard from the nurses that she scared a mugger off from some poor girl. Didn’t call an ambulance until she could get the girl calmed down some.”

The doctor turned to you. 

“Just remember next time, Supergirl, that paramedics can settle down people in shock too. Leave something for the rest of us to do,” the doctor winked at you. 

“I left the arm for you to stitch, what more do you want,” you joked, but your eyes were half shut. 

They opened quickly as a thought registered. “What kind of doctor are you then? A psychiatrist?”

The doctor’s brows shoot up, obviously wondering as to the nature of your relationship with Spencer if you don’t even know what kind of doctor he is. 

Spencer is surprised by the itchy feeling it gives him inside. It had given him pleasure to be perceived as your person, the one you count on. He didn’t like this new perception the doctor would have of your relationship. That you didn’t really know each other. Even if it was a lot closer to the truth. 

Spencer’s pleased to be spared having this conversation in front of the doctor as he finishes up the last stitch and says, “I’ll be back with a nurse to set up the transfusion in a minute.” 

Spencer thanked the doctor and pulled up a seat beside you, no longer needing to supervise anyone’s medical handiwork. He sat on your good side so he could hold your hand without causing any discomfort. 

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Confused.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “How does your arm feel?”

“It’s fine, Spence. They gave me the good stuff, I promise. Now tell me what kind of doctor you are because I’m feeling silly.”

It occurs to Spencer then that you may share a commonality. Neither of you enjoy being wrong. Surely that is the explanation for the crease between your brows and the downturn of your mouth, something he is so unused to seeing. 

“You’re not silly. You made a reasonable deduction based on the information you were provided.” 

“The wrong deduction.”

“Well, yes,” he concedes. 

“So?” You look at him expectantly.

“My doctorates are in mathematics, engineering and chemistry, but I work for the FBI in the behavioural analysis unit,” he explained.

You stared at him blankly. This new reality was perhaps too much for your brain to comprehend so soon after a traumatic event.

“I catch killers by creating profiles of who these criminals would likely be based on the behaviour of known offenders,” Spencer attempted to simplify. “Well, not just me. Me and my team.”

“Sure,” you snorted.

Spencer just looked at you. Waited a beat for you to process. 

Realisation dawned upon you. “Oh. You’re serious?”

“I’m not exactly well known for my jokes.”

You laughed. “That’s true.” 

You sat back in your bed and sized him up, considering him within this new context. Reshuffling the picture you had formed of his life outside of your dalliances. 

“Maybe it’s the drugs or the blood loss but I can actually kind of see it.”

It was Spencer’s turn to snort. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I might still ask to see your credentials later. I’m not sure I would know the difference if you handed me your driver’s licence at this point.”

“I don’t have my driver’s licence.”

You shuddered. This is who we’re entrusting the safety of the public with?

“Hey!”

Oops. You hadn’t realised you were talking aloud in your hazy state.

“I’ll take you for a driving lesson one day okay? If you can figure out a way to have so many doctorates you can figure out how to drive under my tutelage.” 

Your eyes started to droop shut as you spoke, and your voice took on a sort of dreamy quality as you pictured the two of you in a car park somewhere driving around in circles. The thought made you feel warm and cosy inside. 

“Come on, baby, stay awake just until they hook up the blood transfusion for me, please?”

You did as you were told with a pout. 

“You and I need to have a chat about your vigilante behaviour.”

“Ah, Mr FBI is here to tell me off. Sorry, Doctor FBI.” You attempted a wink at him, trying to keep the mood light, but all you managed in your exhausted state was a kind of exaggerated blink.

Spencer would remember the moment later and smile, but right now he was too focused on the issue at hand. 

“Baby, I’m serious. What were you thinking? Your life isn’t worth someone’s wallet.”

You grimaced. You wished he had just taken a hint and dropped it. “I didn’t think, okay?”

“That was obvious.” 

Spencer’s clipped tone caused his words to land across your face like a blow. He wanted to stuff them back into his mouth as soon as he said them. You withdrew your hand from his.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just- I got so worried when you called me from the back of that ambulance. Scared me half to death. Now I’m scared half to death that this won’t be the only time you go looking for trouble.”

“I didn’t go looking for trouble, Spencer. I stumbled across them and I thought,” you sighed and looked away from him. “I thought he was going to take more from her than her wallet, and I just reacted, okay? I didn’t go looking for trouble. It found me.”

You sat in silence together for a moment. Spencer could feel some history behind your words and the heaviness in your eyes. He wanted to ask. Wanted to know. But he knew now wasn’t the time or the place.

“That makes sense. I’m sorry I didn’t think. Didn’t try harder to put myself in your shoes.”

“Didn’t you just tell me that was your whole job or something too?” You teased, trying to break the ice that had frosted over between you. 

“Kind of.”

Normally he would dive into a spiel about the exact ins and outs of the process of behavioural analysis but he is interrupted by a nurse. 

“Knock knock,” she chimes.

Spencer stands, allowing the nurse access to you. She works quickly, and with expert ease, unfazed by Spencer’s watchful eye. 

You go quiet as she works, the events (and injury) of the morning catching up with you. Spencer kicks himself internally for not letting you rest. He should have waited to bring up his concerns. Asked about it in a more delicate manner. The panic had a tight hold on him though, and he is unsure there is any version of events in which he would have been able to keep his mouth shut.

The doctor stops by to check in and make sure you’re good to go, and then Spencer can finally breathe a (full) sigh of relief as your blood transfusion is underway. 

“Can I nap now?” Your voice is small, your eyes barely open.

“Of course,” the doctor says, but you’re looking at Spencer. He’s never seen you look so young and vulnerable before. 

Spencer nods. “Let’s get you comfortable, baby.”

He fusses over you, fluffing your pillow and tucking you into your blanket. Once satisfied, he sits back down and reclaims your hand in his. 

“Is there anyone else you want me to call for you?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head no. Sliced open on the street and the only person in the world you have to call is the guy you’re having casual sex with. 

“No family?”

Spencer kicked himself for asking such a sensitive question. Your agreement not to discuss personal issues was in direct opposition to his innate curiosity about you. He supposes today was a special incident though, and for the duration they might be able to exist slightly outside the boundaries of the agreement. 

You had held strong through the whole ordeal, showing little signs of being rattled by the violent altercation of which you had been a part of. But you gave Spencer a watery smile at his two word question.

“You’re not the only one with things to forget, Spencer.”

He brushes the tear off your face as soon as it falls. “Then let me help you forget.”

“I think they frown upon you doing those kinds of things in a hospital room. Particularly one where the walls are just curtains,” you joked.

Spencer refused to acknowledge your lewd comment. “Tell me what book you want me to read to you. One of those romances that you love so much. But one of the classics, otherwise I might not know it.”

You might not know what he does for work, but you know him well enough not to doubt his ability to recite novels to you. 

You drift off to the steady timbre of Spencer’s voice, reciting Austen. He doesn’t start at the beginning, jumping rather to your favourite part so you can fall asleep to something that he knows will make you happy. Spencer doesn’t realise of course, that his presence alone will bring you enough joy to fall asleep peacefully. 

When he is sure that you are well and truly asleep, Spencer steps out to make a phone call. Garcia, despite working an active case, picks up on the first ring. 

“Everything okay, my love?”

“Everything’s fine, thankfully. Listen, I need a favour.”

“I can’t find that info for you until the case is over,” Penelope interjects.

“I know, that’s fine, this is something else.”

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You awake to find two bunches of flowers beside your bed, a card in each one. Curious, your eyes are barely open before you’re sitting up and reaching for the cards. The first identifies the sender as your damsel in distress, Grace, the second identifies the sender as ‘Spencer and the BAU’. 

“Really they’re mainly from the BAU’s tech analyst, Penelope,” Spencer tells you as he re-enters your arm, catching you in the act of reading the card. “She doesn’t really understand the concept of personal boundaries.” 

He hands you the water he had evidently gone to fetch you before reassuming his post by your bed.

You gulp down the water thirstily and ask, “What did you get me if those aren’t really from you then?”

You’re teasing, not actually expectant of anything, but he nods toward your arm. 

You look down to see your injured arm is no longer propped up by a pillow, but by the softest, sweetest teddy bear you’ve ever seen. He’s a gorgeous shade of chestnut brown, with chocolate eyes and a red bow tie. You lift your arm to get a better look and see he has a bandage on his arm to match your own. You melt. 

“I know you’re a florist so the idea of picking flowers that would meet your standards overwhelmed me and I thought maybe they wouldn’t be as special to you somehow? And you’ve been so brave through this whole thing I figured you deserve something special. Maybe you think it’s childish but I thought it would also be useful for keeping your arm elevated so if you don’t like it-”

“Spencer,” you interrupted. 

“Yeah?”

“I love it,” you grin. 

“You do?”

“I do. Thank you so much.” He finally cracks a smile at this, the first you had seen on his face all day. The room becomes all the brighter for it. You are overwhelmed with gratitude for him at that moment. You can’t imagine how sad and lonely this whole ordeal would have felt without him (even the mere thought of him, the anticipation of seeing him) to get you through. 

“And thank you so much for being here, I know this isn’t what you agreed to. Being someone’s emergency contact isn’t exactly casual,�� you laughed, trying to make light of your own guilt.

“I don’t mind. I’m just glad that you’re okay. That’s the most important thing.” Spencer took your hand then. 

You hummed, but you were not entirely convinced.

“Besides, just because we’re getting to know each other a little better doesn’t mean we can’t keep things casual. You know what kind of doctor I am, and I know you’re Batman, doesn’t mean that I’m your boyfriend.”

You laughed a proper laugh then. Spencer has never been one for comedy, but he sees its appeal for the first time as he basks in the glow of being the one to evoke that sweet sound. 

“Okay, so maybe we… rethink the terms of our agreement?” You pray the hope in your tone (and your eyes) don’t betray you.

“I think,” Spencer paused, gave your hand a squeeze, “we do what feels right as we go along.”

You agreed, knowing full well you were throwing yourself headlong into getting your heart broken, because while Spencer wanted casual, the only thing that felt right to you was pulling him closer.

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authors note: low-key put my whole chest into this ngl

I have so many ideas for these two sweeties I started like four fics about them at once which is why this one took so long. Let me know what you want to see from these two!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter IX

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, impending doom arrives, first date with wooyo, lots of tension, smut mdni!! (fingering, oral f! receiving, p in v and all the good stuff).

chapter wc: 14.5k

chapter synopsis: with the illegal shipment and resultantly, the crescents under investigation, you are all on the move. despite the stressful and tense atmosphere, you manage a successful first date with wooyoung. jaebeom confirms that madame tiffany is involved with the elites and you confront hongjoong and seonghwa who remind you that the crescents are a power to be reckoned with. you learn the identity of the last anonymous funder but it threatens the weapons channel and the crescents gather to strategise. the night ends on an intimate note with yunho.

prev chapter recap: jaemin informs you that the sirens have turned on president lee because of his involvement with the hala official, major sung, who you learn from seonghwa is the pseudo-governor of strictland. you can’t shake off the feeling that president lee might be involved with the elites. you go to the bar to confess to yeosang and he talks in detail about what being in a relationship with the boys entails. you understand and agree, finally sharing a kiss with him. the boys gather at the bar to congratulate you for officially becoming a leader, and you take the opportunity to tell them that you would like to be their partner as well. they welcome you and afterwards, you steal a romantic moment with yunho who tells you that there is trouble at the port. someone tipped the navy and they made the crescent’s illegal shipment of black shadow come back, which is odd because in doing so, the navy bends some international waters laws. you have a romantic moment with seonghwa before you go with his guard yuta, and jaemin to meet up with mingi to hide all the crescent’s illegal documents. you learn that mingi, san and jongho were in the same platoon as you during the war though you don’t recognise each other.

Things had never been busier at the Crescent Company– at least not in the past couple of years since you became an employee of the business empire.

The office was, of course, the one that took the brunt of it. With the navy’s tip about the Crescent’s illegal trading now becoming a full-fledged case in the Edenary Station, which just so happened to be the biggest police station in Eden, a follow-up investigation was being carried out. You had to deal with a lot of investors wanting to opt out, inquiring about their safety when they were wholly aware that the Crescent Company was never a very moral and legal business to begin with. You were getting tired of convincing the investors that this tip wasn’t something that could shut the business down when its foundations were still strong.

For how long, they wondered? That question nagged at your brain too. Technically, an illegal trading caught would only result in a trade ban with the concerned country, or worse, a total trade ban for a few years. If you were right, from what you had learned about the Crescents so far, they always had a second plan and a third in case things went south. You and everyone at the Crescent Office were aware of this, yet it hardly did anything to quell the chaos. 

The Crescent Bar was as active as before, though with an influx of new customers hoping to get a whiff of what the Crescent’s future looked like. The warehouse, however, put a halt to most of its illegal production and was sticking with the legal and licensed business in case of a raid by the police. With the production slowing, the trading with Utopia was ultimately going to get affected– if the Crescents couldn’t export the promised amount of weapons parts, they wouldn’t get their share of Black Shadow, which would generate loss at the Bar too.

Hongjoong made sure to assure you that things like these happened all the time, though it couldn’t be denied that the severity this time was perhaps greater. However, every business had to deal with losses. The important thing was to be able to recover from that, stand back up and keep functioning like normal. He was anxious, which was a given, but he was also navigating this catastrophe with an objectivity and a level-headedness that you were starting to admire. 

It had been a good few days since you went to hide the official documents with Mingi. You were on standby at the office while Hongjoong and Seonghwa went out for a meeting with one of the RV spies– for some reason, the RV spies weren’t ready to meet you. Or maybe, the boys did not want you to meet any of the RV spies considering the thing about these spies actively protecting you. 

Yunho and Yeosang had been the only ones to tell you about the spies’ role in your life,  insisting that you did not need to worry about them but you couldn’t help but wonder– who were they? How closely were they watching you? And if they were watching you closely, why did they not protect you the uncountable times you were in danger?

Or had they protected you without your knowledge? They were spies and assassins for a reason– you wouldn’t know if they were watching you right now. Whatever their reasons to protect you were, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. No matter how much you tried to hide or live in the shadows, you were always under observation, and no matter how much you pondered, you couldn’t come up with a reason strong enough to justify your circumstances. 

You could finally understand why Hongjoong was adamant at bringing you out of the shadows. Now that you were in the light, things were slowly and certainly coming to a clarity and you could not wait to see the whole picture, even though the prospect of it sounded downright scary.

The silence in Hongjoong’s office room filled with the loud bell of the phone and you picked the receiver with your usual greeting, physically relaxing when Jaehyun’s voice greeted you instead of one of the investors.

“How have you been?” You asked, leaning against the table. “What’s the news?”

“All good. The news, well… we divided and conquered, Ten and I,” Jaehyun said and you hummed in response. “Our image does not look good, that’s a given.”

“Yeah, you can imagine how chaotic it’s been in the office,” you said.

“The partners and investors are jumpy, yes, but I don’t think this is the right time to pull out. They won’t, rest assured. However, they’ll try to find openings and try to target the business itself.”

“Ah…” you recalled Yunho talking about something like that a few days ago. “That makes sense. Strike while the iron is hot.”

“Exactly,” Jaehyun said. “I’ve got some interesting proposals, though. General Wi is willing to help us in any way that he can, which is… odd but understandable. He’s just trying to secure someone who will have his back at the time of the elections.”

“And he’s worried that his secrets might get leaked,” you added. “Does he have any ideas?”

“He’s looking into the source. We unfortunately could not find that out.”

You paused for a few moments, absently playing with the cord of the phone, before answering, “Yeah, that’s okay. If it was this easy to find out, they wouldn’t have attempted this. Anything else?”

“Yeah, there’s one thing and it might be of importance,” Jaehyun began and you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath, “Inspector Gong is looking into you– your background, specifically.”

“Inspector Gong?” You frowned, straightening. “Why?”

“I thought you’d know?” Jaehyun asked. “Maybe because you’re a Crescent now? I mean, he’s aware of our history, but not yours. And it’s probably nothing, but I just thought you should know in case it is something.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” you sighed. “Actually, can you do me another favour and find out when exactly Inspector Gong was demoted to Sector 1?”

“Oh, I can tell you that,” Jaehyun said. “Some time after President Han got assassinated. I remember because he was one of the few detectives hell bent on investigating officially, because a public assassination happened under his jurisdiction.”

“Did he ever get to the end of the case?”

“He was demoted because the higher-ups wanted to close the case. President Lee apparently had his own private team because he couldn’t trust the police force with this. It was a hot topic back in those days.”

“That would be right after I came to Sector 1 too…”

For a few moments, you both had the receiver in your hands, listening to the static as you processed this information. It was Jaehyun who finally broke the silence and asked, “Do you think you’ve encountered him while you were in Edenary? Before or after your stay in Wonderland?”

“I might have. A very high possibility. I’m not sure if he remembers me, because I don’t,” you admitted. “Why would he look into me, though? And why now?”

“Strike while the iron is hot?” Jaehyun repeated. “He might be doing this to target us. He’s been after us for a long time.”

“Yeah, well, I hope he finds something,” you scoffed. “I’d love to know what secrets I might be hiding.”

Jaehyun laughed, aware of your situation and your involvement with the business. “I think I should look into you too. We might find something of importance.”

“Ha, ha, sure,” you shook your head. A knock sounded at the door and Seonghwa entered, settling on the couch when he noticed you were on call. “Okay, I’ve got to go now. Thank you for the update, Jaehyun. And do look into me– specifically with Secretary Park’s connection. Let me know if you find something new.”

“Sure thing,” Jaehyun said, hanging up. You exhaled deeply and turned in your chair to look at Seonghwa who was stretching while trying his hardest to stifle a yawn. You were getting used to seeing that sight now.

“Was that Jaehyun?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yeah. He didn’t find the source, but Inspector Gong is looking into me these days.”

“I had a feeling he would when you went to see him with Hongjoong,” Seonghwa tsk-ed. “Anything else?”

“Nothing. How did the meeting go?”

“Awful,” Seonghwa smiled in defeat. “They don’t know who the source is either– or they’re lying. It was cryptic but I think if they knew, they would have been gloating about it.”

“A person capable of putting the RV spies off their scent…” You thought out loud. “We’ve had quite a few of those happenings recently. Makes me wonder if the RV spies are all that good.”

“Oh, they are, trust me,” Seonghwa raised his brows for emphasis and you shrugged, not fully convinced. “But you’re right. They might be losing their touch– Hongjoong was sure to let them know. You can imagine what happened next.”

You curbed a smile at the prospect of Hongjoong talking back to the group of assassins but you would expect nothing less from him. A thought gnawed at you. “The RV spies don’t know about the anonymous weapons funder’s identity, right? Do you think that person could be the one who tipped the navy?”

Seonghwa folded his arms in thought. “Whoever did this… their goal must be to cause damage to our business, right? I think the funder would have been better off exposing our weapons channel, because there would be no coming back from that. Someone has a bigger problem with us– at least, I think so. The timing of this… someone must be aware of our new deal and is trying to sabotage it.”

That made sense. You nodded slowly. “A mole?”

A topic everyone was avoiding talking out loud about, yet was being investigated cautiously. Seonghwa glanced at you, silently nodding. 

You got up and went to sit beside him on the couch, your thighs brushing against each other. You poured him a drink and he accepted it, downing it in one gulp. 

“Have you ever had a mole before?”

“A few, yes,” Seonghwa admitted. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s someone from the inner circle– someone we personally know. Usually, it’s someone new or a person with very strong opinions.”

“Which is why the RV spies may not know who the source is,” you concluded. “Because it might be an insider job.”

Seonghwa nodded grimly and you decided to change the topic, taking his hand and squeezing it in hopes of comforting him. “How have you been?”

Seonghwa’s lips curled into a smile and he shifted to pull one leg over the couch, giving you his full attention. “I’m okay. How have you been?”

You suppressed a giggle at the way he searched your eyes. “I’ve been well, thank you for asking, Mr. Park.”

“Would you like to go for dinner tomorrow night?” Seonghwa asked, pressing a kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re just a few hours too late,” you let out a wistful sigh. “Wooyoung’s booked me for tomorrow night.”

“Can’t I join?” He pleaded and you raised a brow, knowing he very well could. Seonghwa shrugged. “He wants you all to himself, a little one-on-one with you. He’s never had that, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m not too worried. He knows how to get me talking and I’m really comfortable with him.”

“That’s good,” Seonghwa smiled, taking a deep breath and looking down. “You know, I’ve been wanting to take you out on dates too. I want to be a proper gentleman. Bring you your favourite flowers, take you out on walks. All I seem to do is give you more burden.” 

“That’s work,” you corrected. “That’s what we do. And it’s not like I’ve been doing this alone– we’re all in this together.”

Seonghwa sighed deeply, “I suppose you are right.”

You understood where he was coming from. “Even if we’re stuck up in this office room worried about and preparing for the worst case scenarios, you’ve still been a gentleman. You bring me chocolates from the reception, a flower from the pot outside–”

“I can do better than that,” Seonghwa interrupted with a laugh. “I just haven’t had the chance.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that. You probably want to go out of your way because we– we’re new, right? I don’t see you doing that with the rest of your… lovers. With the boys.”

“That’s because with them, it’s been a long time– and I do that with them too, just in private,” he confirmed and stifled a grin at the twinkle in your eyes. “You can’t stop me from doing that. It isn’t because what we have is new, it’s because I want to. I want to treat you better because I know I can do better than this.”

You supposed that it made sense. “Alright, you can bring me an actual bouquet of flowers and treat me to a dinner date when we have time. So far, our dates have mostly happened in the office, huh?” You pondered. “I think we might be past the stage of wooing each other…”

“I haven’t tried wooing you properly yet, though,” Seonghwa leaned in to whisper in your ear, making heat creep up your cheeks. “There’s only so much you can do in the office room.”

You shook your head. “You and Yunho… it’s the proximity getting to your heads, isn’t it?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Seonghwa feigned innocence, earning a smack to his chest. “What did he do?”

“He’s just…” you brought your knees up, unable to meet his gaze as you recalled all the times Yunho got romantic in the office. “So full of energy.”

Seonghwa laughed loudly. “He is. I get worried if I see him tired.”

You turned to Seonghwa, your eyes brimming with curiosity. It had been a while since you got to talk to him about such mundane stuff, anything that was not work and business. Seonghwa leaned in to share a sweet kiss before straightening.

“Ask away. I know you must have a lot of questions.”

You inhaled deeply, wondering how to make sense of the tangle of questions that you were harbouring in your head for days now. Seonghwa rubbed your hand assuringly and waited until you were able to form the words. 

“How is it like having so many partners, Seonghwa? I mean… how does it work between you guys? It looks like you hardly have time for each other– especially these days.”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly. He knew this question was long coming and he was glad that you were opening up and asking him– perhaps, hearing the answers would make you feel more at ease. He wanted to clear your confusions away as best as he could.

“It’s… great to have people I can depend on. People who have my back and who I can trust blindly,” he began and you smiled. It was truly a blessing to have utmost faith in someone, knowing you would never get hurt by them.

“After the war, we found each other over a period of time. I think some of us like San, Mingi and Jongho knew that we could never find a home except with each other. We all gladly accepted each other– as brothers and partners at first. As a family. We rebuilt Eden, starting from Sector 5 which took the worst of the war.”

“Because of the Eight Hills– it borders Strictland and Halaland,” you recalled hearing news about Sector 5 long after the war was over and he hummed in confirmation. 

“It was a tough time, I’ll admit, and we naturally found a safe haven with each other. There was no judgement, no jealousy, no restrictions. We were one and we were each other’s, yet free. It wasn’t until we became a gang in ‘64 when we finally talked about it and realised that we would always want to be with each other.”

“That… sounds beautiful, actually,” you whispered, in awe. “Was there really never a fight or some drama?”

“Not really. Someone would complain if they thought they weren’t getting enough attention from someone else, but that’s about it. We all lived together so it wasn’t a big deal at all. We only got separate housing a couple years ago.”

“Can I ask why?” 

Seonghwa chuckled. “It’s hard to live with 7 men and take care of them all at once. It was a unanimous decision.”

“And… how did you pick your housemates?” You asked, intrigued.

Seonghwa stifled a grin. “How do you think?”

“Don’t tell me it was a random pick,” you narrowed your eyes but when he pursed his lips in guilty admission, you shook your head in disbelief. “I figured– you all make the most unbelievable bets when you’re drinking,” you commented. “Can I ask another thing?”

“Sure,” Seonghwa looked at you with curiosity. “Don’t hold back. Transparency is appreciated here, Luna.”

“Are the sparks still there? After all this time?”

It was such a candid question that Seonghwa found himself smiling, moving his hand to cup your face and caress your cheekbone, his heart bursting with affection at how your eyes were just a little wide as you anticipated his answer, looking like you were holding your breath.

“Sounds like an important question, eh? Have you ever been in a relationship, Luna?”

“Tried and failed. Very casual, but it’s been a while,” you told him and he nodded.

“Did you feel sparks?” He asked and you raised your brows at his counter-question, but you felt at ease– there was no mockery in his tone.

“I think? You have to feel something in order to be with someone, right?” 

“I suppose that’s true,” Seonghwa rested his head against the couch, tired. “When you are with the right person, or people, Luna… there are no sparks. Sparks are meant to be exciting but eventually, they die out. It’s what is left after the initial sparks that makes all the difference. For me, personally… it feels like I’m floating freely among the clouds when I’m with them. Untrapped and unbound. That is what love feels like for me.”

His answer made perfect sense. Sparks were only an indicator of a beginning of something– what really mattered was what was left after the smoke cleared. 

You scooted closer and rested your head on his arm while he shut his eyes to rest them. 

Unguarded, vulnerable and exposed, yet… radiating with warmth and gentleness.

You truly were the luckiest if the mafia underboss let you see these sides of him.

There were times when you wondered if you should have never come back to Eden.

After all, would it have been so bad if you forgot about your past, your family and moved on? Was Wonderland not good to you?

Living in the mansion at the outskirts of the Capital, surrounded by expanses of lavender fields, learning about world history, politics and business with Madame Cha, and occasionally practising self defense of shooting with one of her boys– it wasn’t a bad life at all. You were looked after. Madame Cha cared for you as if you were really her niece, and you cared for her as an aunt.

And her boys– Jaebeom and his gang– they would always bring something for you whenever they came around. A flower from the field, an odd scarf that stood out to them in the marketplace, a dagger (which would immediately be confiscated by the Madame) or a ruffle to the hair, a kiss to the top of the head. You were their little sister. Their friend. 

So, would it have been selfish of you to want to continue living with Madame Cha? She sometimes joked about how she would like to pass her establishment to you– she did not have any family of her own and she claimed that her blood relatives were all ‘vultures’. She pretty much ran her trade business with Jaebeom and often mentioned that if you agreed to cut ties with your father, she would take you in as her own. Of course, it took a while before she warmed up to you, and she was awfully suspicious of you when you first arrived.

So, after spending three years in Wonderland when you decided to go back to Eden for good, she wasn’t surprised. She said that she always found you staring at the horizon with a wistful look on your face, looking as if you were wondering what could have been and what could be. She asked you something that would stay with you like a weight on your shoulder–

If you had really cut ties with your father, what was really calling you back to Eden?

At that time, you had no answer to that. When Jinyoung, the second-in-charge of the gang heard, he wondered if you were finally going to look for your birth mother. You told him that according to your father, she was dead and no good would come out of learning about her, but Jinyoung said that if she really was dead, your father should have no reason to hide her identity from you.

And that got you wondering if it really was true. Upon arriving back to Eden, you tried snooping around to find something, anything, but it was always a dead end. Even your half-brother Sunghoon did not know your mother’s identity. So that left your father–

And your father announced himself as your enemy as soon as you joined Kihyun’s company, a partner to the Crescent Company.

You initially speculated that it was Kihyun your father had a problem with. After all, he protected you far too many times from your father. But when you learned that your father still often met up with Kihyun regarding pharmaceutical-related dealings and that the MX Pharmaceuticals also distributed Park Pharma’s products, you started to wonder if your father simply hated you. 

And it was perhaps true, but there was also another answer– your father had a problem with the Crescent Company, and it wouldn’t have been obvious if you had no knowledge about silver light, because it changed a lot of things.

The Crescents would be rivals of not only the pharmaceutical businesses but basically every high-profile man who consumed silver light as a drug, or every person of power to whom the drug was merely a currency to exploit this world’s resources. You could not even fathom out just how extensive their network was. Could an organisation like Ateez really expose their propaganda and stop the exploitation of silver light as a pleasure drug or currency?

If that network had lasted so long without the name of silver light coming out of the mouth of a common man, you were pretty sure that it would be extremely challenging, even with Madame Tiffany’s partnership– and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that Madame Tiffany was going to be the source of the Crescents’ demise rather than salvation…

“I go to make tea for you and you look like you’re drafting a plan to take over the world,” Wooyoung scoffed, having proven himself true when he said that you were distracted the whole evening.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw you staring at the tea leaves for a solid two minutes before you moved,” you countered and he smiled guiltily, settling down next to you and bringing you in for a kiss to your temple before he handed you the cup.

“Now, what’s got my girl all bothered?”

Your response stopped midway when you heard the jingle of the keys and in came Hongjoong and Jongho, discussing something in a low voice and taking off their shoes in the foyer. Their eyes lit up at the sight of you–

But you were busy shaking off your initial surprise. Of course they could come here. This was their house. 

You just didn’t expect them to come back so early, and it seemed like Wooyoung didn’t as well because he let out a frustrated ‘you’re interrupting my date!’, which led to Hongjoong rolling his eyes and Jongho threatening to throw him out, the air filling with friendly squabble as they all settled down in the living room.

The date had truly not been without distractions and interruptions, but considering the circumstances, you would say that it went pretty well. You took the evening off and went to your apartment to get ready, borrowing a cap-sleeved black dress from Wendy who was simply pleased that you were going out with someone, no matter who it was. You promised to tell her who it was some other time but she was pretty sure it was one of the Crescents from the office. You let her believe that and she styled your hair with a jade pin, adding a deep brown fur coat on you as a finishing touch.

Wooyoung came to pick you up, an absolute gentleman to the bone who kissed your knuckles in greeting and opened the door of his car for you. You had dinner at one of the fancy restaurants in the food street of Sector 1– a lavish dinner that reminded you of what you used to eat back home in Edenary. 

Wooyoung was talkative and kept you engaged in conversation, but the two of you were consciously trying to avoid discussing work. You talked about your likes and dislikes, about your past and your relationships, and unsurprisingly, you found a lot in common with him. You both were the type to speak your mind about things so the conversation flowed naturally, drifting from preferences to some stories of your pasts.

But you could tell that the recent happenings were weighing Wooyoung down, even though he did his best to make sure that you were comfortable and having a good time. With a gentle squeeze to his hand as you took a walk in his area, you told him that if he would like, he could talk to you about anything that weighed on his mind. He invited you for tea and here you were, joined by his housemates.

“How was your first date?” Jongho asked, wiggling his brows teasingly and your eyes darted over to Hongjoong who was sitting comfortably on the sofa in front of you, an eyebrow slightly raised indicating his anticipation to hear your answer.

“Well,” you glanced at Wooyoung who was eagerly awaiting your answer. “Let’s just say you all have some competition now. The bar has been set.”

Wooyoung clapped loudly while Hongjoong snickered under his breath, clearly amused. “See? I told you I would set her standards high. Good luck crossing the bar, folks.”

“I’m happy to hear you had a good time,” Hongjoong looked at you earnestly and watched your smile drop. He shook his head and added, “You needed that. It’s not good to be so stressed all the time, and I heard that our little secretary has been zoning out at work a lot.”

Your lips formed into a pout as you folded your arms. “I can’t help it. We tried hard not to get distracted by the work stress during our dinner too, but… decided to give in and just talk at home, with some tea.”

“You guys want some?” Wooyoung asked and when the two nodded, he muttered something about how he brewed extra just in case and in no time, you were all in a deep discussion of the recent updates.

The situation was nowhere near dying down hence the pressure looming over everyone’s head. With the illegal trades put on hold entirely while the Edenary Station investigated the case in collaboration with the prosecution, Hongjoong was worried if Madame Tiffany was going to retract from their recent deal and if rumours about the Crescents’ possession of silver light were going to get rampant.

“They could easily charge us on the basis of illegal drug trade and confiscate all our possession of silver light if it comes to that,” Hongjoong explained. “That’s the worst case scenario but I’m preparing to make it look like our hands are clean. They can charge us but they will never find the evidence that we possess the drug.”

“We’re going to have to contact some underworld dealers in that case,” Jongho clarified. “For now, we’re just hoping we can get away with a heavy fine and they do not dig further.”

You nodded along. “No idea about the source of the tip?”

Hongjoong shook his head grimly. His knuckles almost whitened as he clenched his fists, clearly agitated. You looked towards Wooyoung who was already staring at the boss’s hands, no stranger to his mannerism.

“We’ll get to that,” he assured with a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood again. “I’m getting my boys to sniff around. They’re like hounds so we’ll know in no time.”

“I don’t think it is that simple this time,” Hongjoong admitted, making both Jongho and Wooyoung shift uncomfortably in their seats. Perhaps, this was the first time their leader expressed his opinion about the matter. 

Hongjoong glanced over at his capos and then at you. “Something tells me that this is the beginning of the end.”

You frowned. “The end of what?”

“The end of our attempt to present ourselves as something we are not– a legal, respectable business organisation,” Hongjoong said, straightening his shirt and leaning forward, meeting eyes with the youngests. “I’m coming back from hearing whispers in the wind– someone is trying their damned best to bring Ateez out of the shadows.”

“If they want us back that bad, they can have us,” Wooyoung started. “We can call ourselves the Crescents as much as we want, but we will always be Ateez. A gang.”

“I hope they are just whispers,” you said, your own voice sounding unconvincing and Hongjoong caught that. 

“I hope so too,” he said earnestly, and something told you that he knew about how you would be getting a confirmation soon. You gulped uneasily, checking your wrist for the time.

“Don’t let that keep you up at night, Captain,” Jongho said, getting up and clapping, breaking the tension in the room. “Everyone knows who we are, and this isn’t the first time someone has attempted to trigger us. Once we find the source, everything will fall into place. Business will get running.”

“He’s right,” Wooyoung nodded. “If they want us back so badly, I’m happy to go back to my old ways. It gets tiring to act like a refined gentleman when I’m anything but.”

Jongho laughed mockingly and you frowned at him. What he said next had you covering your mouth.

“You’ve never been a refined gentleman.”

Wooyoung put his hands over his hips, challenging Jongho while Hongjoong got up, sliding between them and joining you in a corner before they started squaring up, finding you thoroughly amused by the scene in front of you.

“I don’t know what I expected when I joined the inner circle, but this…” you watched Wooyoung patting Jongho’s arm aggressively, pleading for him to stop between laughs while the younger had him in a chokehold. “This was certainly not it.”

“They’re still young boys at heart,” Hongjoong smiled rather proudly. “I wish I can protect their spirits forever.”

You glanced over at Hongjoong, curiosity piqued. 

“And what about you?”

Hongjoong’s lips curled in a surprised smile but the only response he gave was a subtle nod– perhaps, a gesture of gratitude that you thought about him at this moment. He clapped loudly and immediately, the boys straightened.

“Take your date home, Wooyoung. You and I have places to go in the early morning.”

“Yessir,” Wooyoung straightened his clothes and beckoned you to follow him outside and you exited the house, joking about what happened moments ago.

It was during the short car ride that Wooyoung took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for today, Luna. I really needed a breather.”

“So did I,” you smiled, playing with the straps of your purse. “It was a wonderful first date, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Had to do our new member some justice. The hyungs keep you holed up in their office, though…” He stole a glance, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m sure you like that too.”

“Hey,” you smacked his arm, no longer shy. “I spent almost two years at the bar too.”

“But Yeosang did not really realise how much he liked you until you left the bar,” Wooyoung shared. “I knew he liked you, though. I told him that he should make a move, but he was wary of you. Makes sense now.”

“Wary of me?” 

“Imagine if he started dating you and found out who you are much later. I’m not sure he would have liked that– he doesn't like secrets,” Wooyoung said, stopping the car when he reached your street.

“Noted,” you shrugged. “I’m not sure I would have accepted at that time either. I had secrets to protect, after all.”

“And are there more secrets you’re keeping, Luna?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes always seemed sharp, however, there was a certain glint to them as he asked that question, almost of a protective nature. If it would have been anyone else, you might have been a bit offended, but since this was Wooyoung, a fierce protector of his group, you did not mind the apprehension in his eyes one bit.

So you slid your hand over his and squeezed it in assurance. “Nothing of importance. I’m a pretty open book now. Especially with Seonghwa and Yunho– I don’t know how they do it, but I find myself speaking my mind and baring my soul when I’m with them.”

The corner of Wooyoung’s lips tugged in a small smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You smiled back and he kissed the back of your hand, the tension breaking as you both broke into laughter. He got out of the car first and opened the door for you, spreading his arms and bringing you in for a nice, warm hug. 

“Don’t stress too much about what’s happened, sweetheart,” he said as he swayed you back and forth in the hug. You squeezed the material of his coat in response. “Things like these happen all the time. It’s just that people forget that we made our way up all the way from rock bottom.”

“And rock bottom never scared you,” you finished and he pulled away with a proud smile. 

“That’s right,” he cupped your face. “I sure hope things get better, but if they don’t, we’ll be okay.”

“I have faith in that,” you said and he kissed the top of your head in farewell.

However… faith can only get you so far, for things get worse before they get better. Just like the cold winds in Sector 1 shifting to an icy breeze with the telltale signs that it had snowed in the mountains, the Crescents’ fate took a darker turn when Jaebeom arrived at the Crescent Office bearing news of confirmation. 

You welcomed Jaebeom into Yunho’s office with a heavy heart, and it did not help that he was struggling to smile. Your stomach twisted in knots, hand almost shaking as you poured fresh tea for the man.

As Jaebeom spoke, the walls of Yunho’s office room felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you as if you were trapped in a small space. You listened to his every word carefully, nodding along and when he apologised for not bringing good news, you told him that it was something you already expected– it was as if deep down, you knew that a storm was coming.

Only you didn’t realise the storm would be in the form of a typhoon, threatening to shake the ground from underneath your feet. Jaebeom got up to leave and patted your head, sharing your sentiments and telling you that he would be in contact for further updates, and that if the Crescents ever needed a helping hand, Jaebeom’s gang along with Madame Cha were at their service. 

That did nothing to quell the unease in your heart. After being left alone, you slumped down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, wishing the sky would burst open and take you away from this dark, wretched world. There were no tears left to cry– with each passing second, you mustered up the little fragments of strength that threatened to leave your body. With each passing minute, you straightened up as you let the information and its implications sink in.

And with each passing hour, you waited. Waited for the underboss to arrive so that you could deliver the news to him. 

Strangely, it made you recall that night when you risked everything to obey Yeosang’s orders and get the contents of his locker safely out of the Crescent Bar, when you were under attack. Except… 

There was nowhere to escape now. No gambles to make, no tables to turn.

It must have been around midnight when the boss and his underboss arrived at the Crescent Office to store some documents and get some ledgers before moving to their house to get some rest. Upon finding the light of Yunho’s office on, they wondered if Yunho had already arrived back from Sector 8– the consigliere had been out all day tracing the source of the tip with Kihyun’s men and had ringed the office to let them know that he might not be back tonight.

But when Seonghwa found you curled up on the couch with your head resting against your knees, he immediately knew something was wrong. Seonghwa glanced at Hongjoong to confirm if he was the only one who got that feeling and when he found the boss’ brows scrunched with worry, he gently approached you.

You straightened at the sight of Seonghwa, sighing in relief but your heart quickly twisted with anxiety at the sight of the Captain. How were you to tell him that you both had doomed the Crescents, perhaps, with no return?

“Did something happen?” Seonghwa held you by your shoulders and scanned your figure. You pursed your lips and took a few deep breaths, motioning at Hongjoong to take a seat. 

“I finally heard back from Madame Cha,” you looked at the Captain and he raised a brow, leaning forward, eager to hear more. You wondered if you were the only one feeling bile rise up your throat.

Surely, Hongjoong had no idea who Madame Tiffany was, right?

About a minute of silence passed with the men exchanging glances between each other. Hongjoong exhaled, slumping back in resignation.

“Just tell us how fucked we are, Luna. I’m ready to hear it.”

A short laugh escaped your mouth and Hongjoong resisted the urge to comment on the sarcastic tone of it. “Fucked would be an understatement, Hongjoong. Tiffany is involved with the elites who are pushing for Strictland’s nuclear operation to become successful.”

“Strictland’s nuclear operation,” Hongjoong repeated, his gaze sticking on the teacup you had been drinking from. 

“Their end goal is triggering a regional war so Eden and Halaland get distracted. Strictland can test their nuclear weapons around that time, but there are rumours that as soon as Strictland makes that move, Eden or someone else from this continent might attempt its annexation,” you added and Seonghwa cursed under his breath.

“Triggering a regional war– they could achieve that through a lot of ways,” Seonghwa deliberated. “Either blow Strictland’s cover and make it known that the nuclear base has been active, or find another reason important enough that turns Eden and Halaland against each other. Either way, the Treaty of the Eight Hills gets violated.”

“If they need to test their nuclear weapons, a war could be a good time to do that,” Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment, head hanging low in defeat. “I can’t believe we’re close to seeing another war in our lifetime.”

Silence filled a room at his statement before Hongjoong spoke again. “Madame Tiffany signed on the silver light deal with us while knowing exactly who we are. The question remains– did she agree on silver light’s medical distribution to have the upper hand as she controls the world of the elites, or does she intend to end us– our company?”

“If she was the one who tipped the navy about the shipment to Mist Island…” Seonghwa said what you both were thinking out loud. “It would be the very first step to trigger our doom. She must be working with an insider to know exactly how much damage this would do–”

“We don’t know that yet,” Hongjoong looked at the underboss and your eyes twitched at his statement. “It could be anyone–”

“It can not be anyone, and you know that, Captain,” you declared and Hongjoong cocked his head at the stiffness of your tone. “Think about the timing of this all. Tipping the navy right when we’re about to launch the silver light drug? Too big of a coincidence.”

“I’m trying to give her the benefit of doubt and see if we have another enemy– someone who might be far worse than Tiffany,” Hongjoong counter with narrowed eyes. “Tiffany might be a bait even in their game if she really signed the deal of silver light for another, much sinister purpose.”

“Don’t be fooled, Hongjoong,” you told him. “The elites– they all work together, not against each other. If Tiffany is part of the elites who intend to make sure that silver light never sees the light of the day as a medicinal drug, then you don’t have just one enemy but an entire group of people with power, from all over the continent–”

“You think I did not consider that when I shook hands with that woman?” 

Hongjoong’s tone was so cold and sharp that it made you hold your breath. 

“I needed someone with power to be our partner on this. Someone with a status that could match that of the elites. So what if they are a member of the elites themselves? If that means that they protect us when we launch this drug into the market, it doesn’t matter who they are.”

“You know how limited our options were, Luna,” Seonghwa said in a soft tone, sliding his hand over your clenched fist and rubbing it assuringly.  “Sure, signing with Tiffany could be a big mistake, but we don’t know that yet, and we cannot take the next step until we confirm that Tiffany intends to destroy our company. You know how important this deal is to us. You understand, right?”

“I do,” you took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. “I just… I keep seeing my father’s cocky smile when he learned that we’re aiming to partner with Tiffany. It’s as if he knew.”

“We’ll start looking into it properly now that we have a potential lead,” Hongjoong said, this time much gently. “We will also make preparations for what could be another attack on the Crescent Company.”

You nodded in gratitude and Hongjoong held your gaze– if this was just another day, he would have reprimanded you for talking to him like that, but he understood how anxious this made you considering you already had an inkling of what the elites had been planning all this time. 

“Can your source…”

“Lim Jaebeom,” you told Hongjoong and he nodded, memorising the name. 

“Can Jaebeom name all parties involved in this scheme if possible?”

“I’ll send him a message and arrange a meeting,” you said. “He shifted his focus on Madame Tiffany now but he’s been looking into this for a while so his information can be trusted.”

“Good. I trust you, Luna,” Hongjoong said, getting up. “Let’s go home and get some rest. We’ll start planning in the morning, okay?”

You nodded weakly and Hongjoong gazed softly at you, drawing closer and resting his hand on your cheek. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he almost whispered and you mustered up the remnants of your diminishing strength to meet his eyes. “We are warriors, all of us. Not just the nine of us, but the rest of the employees of the Crescent Company. All of us share the same goal– to protect this homeland and to provide the next generations with some sense of security. If that means that we have to fight the very people who wish for the demise of the entire continent… so be it. They may be the leaders of this society, but we…”

“We are the leaders of the underworld,” you quoted him and watched his lips curl in a satisfied smirk. “The underworld that no one escapes from.”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong said, planting a chaste kiss on your temple. “Straighten your shoulders and never look back, you hear me?”

You looked in Seonghwa’s direction, finding him smiling almost proudly. He passed a subtle nod and you finally managed a smile on your own.

These men would remind you time and time again that no matter how dark it gets, you rule the darkness. You had no reason to be afraid.

That did not help the stress too much though, and naturally, you found yourself standing outside the back exit of the Crescent Bar yet again, staring at the dim lights that peeked from the frosted windows. You debated going home instead but your heart knew what it wanted so you discreetly made your way to Yeosang’s office, not bothering to knock but slightly opening the door to check who was inside.

San spotted you, seated on the chair in front of Yeosang and he smiled at the sight of you, urging you to come inside. Yeosang’s eyes lit up as soon as you entered but when he found your shoulders sunken and form weary, he immediately knew something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked, hesitantly getting up as if unsure what to do.

“Not really,” you let out a short laugh, looking up at the ceiling and willing yourself not to break down. Now was not the time. 

San and Yeosang moved in synchronisation as if they had done this several times already. San took your bag from you and placed it on the table, taking off your coat next and going to hang it on the stand. Yeosang gently brought you in a hug, caressing your head silently. 

You took a deep breath– the warmth of his hug was definitely helping with the ease of your mind. You felt San’s hands on your shoulders, gently massaging the tension out of your body while you stood still. The two of them waited until you broke apart, feeling a bit refreshed. 

“You wanna talk about it?” San asked, hands still on your shoulders and a light kiss planted on your cheek.

“I already did, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Things will be okay, they assured me. I’m just…” you sighed, meeting eyes with the both of them.

“Tired?” Yeosang suggested and you laughed in admission. “Sick of it?”

“You can curse at them if you want to,” San squared up, making you laugh harder. “We’ll join. Hongjoong can be an ass, right?”

“Stubborn ass–”

“An extremely stubborn ass,” you interjected Yeosang and they smirked in victory. “What makes it more frustrating is that he’s always right.”

“This!” San clapped in agreement. “If he rubbed this in our face, that would perhaps be better than the silent victory judgmental glare thing that he does.”

You chuckled under your breath– so it wasn’t just you. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s easier to deal with someone pompous than to deal with someone who doesn’t realise their own power.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Yeosang assured, but then glanced at San. “Or not.”

“You don’t get used to it,” San corrected. “You just learn to live with it and deal with it.”

“Sounds tiring,” you sank down on your chair and Yeosang poured you a drink, the duo snickering at something. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” San smiled. “It’s just nice to know that you found your way here.”

“Yeah, it’s on my way home. Don’t make too much of it,” you teased and San poked your shoulder before settling down on the chair next to you on your left, clasping his hand around yours. 

You made small talk, getting some recent updates on how the bar was functioning (without you, you made a point to highlight). The conversation shifted to your recent date with Wooyoung and how he could not stop boasting about being the first and only gentleman in the group.

“It’s funnier this time because usually, he’s an absolute goner who can’t keep his hands off a new partner,” San revealed and that piqued your curiosity. “He’s taking his time with you. He must really like you.”

“He’s always liked me, don’t be mistaken,” you told him and the duo agreed– Wooyoung was perhaps the only one of the Crescents who was friendly with you before you became a bookkeeper. “I thought he’s a bit sceptical of me, but maybe that’s just me?”

“How so?” Yeosang asked.

“He asked if I have any secrets that I’m keeping from you guys. He seems very protective of you all.”

“That’s just how he is,” San chuckled. “It’s not scepticism, not really. Just his protective nature.”

“He probably wanted to see how you would respond,” Yeosang snickered in amusement. “He knows right away if someone lies.”

“I… will keep that in mind for the future,” you said and San narrowed his eyes.

“Who do you plan to lie to?”

“Not him,” you said and the boys laughed. “You seem gullible. You’d be my target, San.”

“Not fair!” He tried snatching his hand away but you kept your grip tight around his hand. 

The sound of your laughter filled the room. Outside, a woman with silver hair hiding the little of her face that was visible from her cloak stood near the door with her own drink in her hand, her lips threatening to curl into a smile. As soon as the door of the office opened, she shifted her body towards the shadow in an attempt to appear inconspicuous.

As you said your goodbyes to the men, San escorting you to the exit, you thought you heard Yeosang’s voice– ‘winter’, he said. You turned to look but there was no one in the shadows anymore.

However, the next day as you switched your belongings from one bag to another, you found a crumpled piece of paper. Being the kind of person who usually folded paper instead of crumpling it, you flattened the paper and found a message written on it.

You read it, once, twice. And then you tossed it in the fireplace.

“What do you mean it was Secretary Oh Jungse?”

Hongjoong’s voice practically boomed in the room as he spoke into the receiver, making you and Seonghwa pause in the middle of arranging the documents. Seonghwa looked at you but you shrugged, not recognising the name.

“And you’re positive about the source?”

For a moment, you straightened, heart beating with anticipation. Did you finally have the source of the tip? Had it finally worked out? 

But Hongjoong’s tight grip on the receiver revealed that it was perhaps something else, probably of a more alarming nature. As if to confirm, Hongjoong slammed the receiver down to end the call and you shivered, the temperature in the room noticeably dropping.

It was another gloomy morning in the Crescent Office with you and Seonghwa compiling some reports to present to the Edenary Office to help with the illegal shipment case. The ringing of the telephone had started to sound ominous for a few days now. You had stopped expecting to hear any good news, and watching Hongjoong clench and unclench both his fists and his jaw while his gaze fixed at the revolver lying on the table had you squirming in your seat.

“What is it?” Seonghwa asked, but Hongjoong shook his head, still processing the information.

Seonghwa got up and moved towards the main desk where Hongjoong sat. He gently approached him with an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, rubbing it to provide some comfort. You watched as the tension in the boss’ body started to dissipate with each gentle rub, and you could see that Seonghwa was muttering assurances, fixing his hair and caressing his face every once in a while.

Hongjoong took a deep breath and looked towards you, motioning you to come closer. You dropped the files on the table and took the seat in front of him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“It was Yunho– someone is deliberately targeting our business. Remember the anonymous funder for our weapons project? The one whose identity we could not find out?”

“That’s Secretary Oh?” Seonghwa frowned. “Isn’t he…”

“President Han’s secretary,” Hongjoong confirmed and your jaw went slack after hearing the connection. “The man who supposedly went into hiding when President Han was assassinated. He was supposed to deliver the funds to us but got arrested on suspicions of treason. He’s under interrogation right now.”

“I remember hearing things about that man,” you leaned forward. “Things like how he might have been involved in the assassination itself, or how he was targeted after the assassination as well.”

“I don’t think he was involved in the killing of the president, but you can never be too sure,” Hongjoong pursed his lips in thought, holding Seonghwa’s hand and squeezing it to let him know that he was okay now. “The Edenary Station is now aware of our weapons project and is going to proceed with investigation, but… I’m not sure if they learned that from Secretary Oh or if this was pre-planned.”

“They must have tortured him quite a bit for him to confess,” Seonghwa winced at the thought. “Secretary Oh has done a lot to hide his identity. To be caught now of all the times…”

“Or someone found out about Secretary Oh and decided to use that to expose our weapons dealings,” you countered and Hongjoong agreed. “I’m going to ring the Edenary Office and get Jaehyun on the move. I know how the Edenary Station will proceed with this case.”

“You do that,” Hongjoong passed you the receiver and you called Jaehyun, requesting him to keep watch over Secretary Oh and see who visits the man or if anyone bails him. Jaehyun assured that he would keep an eye and check the public sentiment while he was at it.

“So now…” you said when you ended the call. “All of Eden will know that the Crescents have been smuggling weapons.”

“Not so quickly, no,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Edenary Station will make sure the public does not learn about this. The public will be with us on this because the majority of the war veterans believe that our current office isn’t doing a good job with the nation’s security. And President Lee’s position will not look good if the public learns that a ‘gang’ is doing more for national security than the office.”

“Plus with Major Sung’s recent visit, people are already condemning the president,” Seonghwa added. “They wish to learn what they talked about, but President Lee is keeping mum.”

“As he should be,” Hongjoong stretched his neck, producing cracks. “The boys are on their way here, all of them. It’s time we get things straight and retaliate against whoever is targeting us.”

You finished compiling the report with Seonghwa while you waited for the rest of the Crescents to arrive. Yunho, San and Yeosang were the first ones, having been out making sure that the silver light batches were safely moved to a different location in case the recent happenings were a scheme to stop the Crescents from trying to manufacture the drug into the market. The warehouse boys arrived next after making sure to get rid of any tails that would lead the Edenary Station to find their base for weapons dealings. 

You were all chatting among yourselves, catching up and exchanging updates when Hongjoong clapped to get everyone’s attention. The boys started to settle down, but you pursed your lips in amusement when you saw Yunho, who was standing next to Hongjoong, shoot subtle glares at anyone who had not shut up yet. He caught you stifling a smile and you watched his eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief.

“How’s it looking at the warehouse?” Hongjoong asked Mingi.

“Pledis has agreed to pause all weapons-related manufacturing until things settle down. They won’t back out. We spread the word in the underground network and all weapons dealings and exchange will be put to a halt until further notice.”

“I met up with Changbin,” Wooyoung said and you asked Jongho, who was sitting next to you, about who Changbin was. You learned that he was a member of Chan’s gang– Wolfgang. “They’re also going to pause all dealings because they fear that they might get exposed, and they are open for a chat in case we want to team up and find whoever is behind this.”

You were surprised to hear that. You had kept the little chat with Chan back at Edenary from the boys since they were rivals, but hearing that they were open to being allies for once had you intrigued. 

“Team up?” San scoffed. “That’s new.”

“They wouldn’t want to get involved with the police either,” Jongho mused. “They may be our rivals but we share the same goal.”

Hongjoong nodded, revealing the contents of his phone call with Yunho and a string of gasps and curses sounded across the room. “Now… what do we make of this?”

“It can’t be denied that we are being deliberately targeted,” Wooyoung started. “I would like us to focus on why Secretary Oh, of all the anonymous funders, was the one chosen to be exposed like this– he was attacked, you say, and arrested? His life could be in danger.”

“Sounds like a good place to start,” San agreed. “It can’t be a big coincidence– not anymore. Someone is trying to attack the very foundation of the Crescents. Of Ateez.”

“I feel like we’re missing a big link among all the things that have happened recently,” Yeosang spoke with a sense of sobriety and you looked at him, grateful that he felt the same. “With Tiffany’s possible connection to the Strictland programme and our deal with silver light which, by the way, she’s awfully quiet about… I’d like to have some eyes on her too.”

“I agree,” Seonghwa began. “Either she does not fear a tarnished reputation, or… she’s involved somehow. I still don’t get why she would opt for this route– tipping the navy and then exposing an anonymous funder. If she wants silver light all to herself, she could have gone for a less messier option.”

“I doubt that,” you commented, making everyone look at you. “These elites… they have a way of operating, especially when they aim to create some significant damage. The quicker, less messier options do not sound appealing to them.”

Hongjoong nodded in consideration. “Either way, we have to take a step back and secure our footing. Yunho, if you will?”

Yunho nodded, getting up and looking around the room in thought. “I think first and foremost, we need to make sure that the weapons channel remains safe and unexposed to any outsiders. That means that we must form partnerships with other gangs and we should start contacting the funders to let them know about the situation– anonymous ones too.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hongjoong exhaled. “Mingi, Wooyoung, and Luna– you can work on this since the three of you have the most connections. If you need some help, Yunho or Seonghwa can join.”

You agreed, meeting eyes with your new partners who passed you a nod and a cheeky smile. 

“Next, San and Yeosang should continue to make sure the silver light medicinal production begins at one of the MX Pharmaceuticals’ factories. It doesn’t matter if someone is targeting us to stop the launch of this medicine because the only people who might be behind this must want to keep the current status of silver light intact– a pleasure drug.”

“The elites,” you sighed and Yunho nodded. “Do you reckon that these are the same people who are working for the Strictland programme?”

“That’s what me and Jongho will start looking into,” Yunho said. “We’ll get General Wi and other Edenary figures to start sniffing around too and see where it takes us. We might need you to join us in that case, Luna.”

“Happy to help,” you assured.

“Hongjoong,” Yunho looked at the Captain. “I think you are due a meeting with President Son. If there’s one person who might know where Secretary Oh’s loyalty stands, it’s him. And make sure we know what Madame Tiffany’s stance on this is.”

“Fine, I’ll contact them,” Hongjoong groaned. “Can’t say President Son will be pleased to hear that we want to meet him.”

“I don’t think he’ll be that mad to see you,” Wooyoung chuckled as the Captain’s pout deepened. “You’re just a tiny bit intimidated by him, admit it.”

“Yes, so what if I am?” Hongjoong pulled out his pipe to everyone’s amusement, Seonghwa automatically retrieving a lighter from his pocket and helping Hongjoong. “It would be unwise not to be intimidated by the person who ran this country for the majority of our lives.”

“Well then,” Yunho clapped in conclusion. “I think we’re all sorted now. Captain?”

Hongjoong took a deep smoke, meeting eyes with all of you before he started. “I think it is about time we stopped acting like the Crescents and started acting like Ateez. Do you get what I mean?”

Silence filled the room and you watched how each one of them shifted in their seats at Hongjoong’s proposition. Hongjoong leaned forward, taking another smoke and clearing his throat. 

“Some fucker out there has forgotten that we rose from nothing, and we are not afraid of the darkness, yeah?” Hongjoong’s voice had significantly deepened and you were surprised at the change in his demeanour. “Get your weapons out. Show them what we are made of. We will not allow our establishment to fall, you hear me?”

There was another moment of silence and Seonghwa took the lead then, straightening his coat. 

“We will probably get attacked more often– our bases and offices might get compromised, so let’s be careful and on guard, okay? We have to stay one step ahead now, so everyone… get to business.”

“And it’s probably not one person,” Hongjoong completed his train of thought, saying out loud what everyone suspected. “I really don’t think it’s just a single entity anymore. We’ve got a mole, that’s for sure. Find them immediately and report to me, and make sure our people are protected before you step out in the field, got it?”

A chorus of ‘yes boss’ and ‘yes captain!” echoed in the room, the men immediately starting on breaking and dividing tasks while you went to take the now empty chair beside the Captain who offered you his pipe jokingly. He was surprised when you accepted.

Hongjoong watched you blow the smoke, the noise in the room almost fading momentarily and he shook his head lightly. You asked him for a favour and he raised a brow in question. You explained that it was something that weighed over your mind and you always wanted to do, and he agreed. 

After the meeting, you finished your tasks for the night and informed Eunha and Jihoon about the shift in your duties. They took over your work, assuring you that they got it covered and prayed for you– anything to end this mess, they said. If your presence at the warehouse would speed things up, they would gladly let you go. 

After sending Hongjoong and Seonghwa home for the night, Yunho joined you in the office, watching you fret over the unfinished work. He assured you that it was okay, but you weren’t having any of it. When he shut the folders to your protests, your pout deepened and you folded your arms.

“Do you want to come over at my place?”

“At your place?” You narrowed your eyes and he laughed discreetly. “What are you planning?”

“Ramen and cuddles, if you will?”

You pretended to think for a moment but agreed. How could you resist the offer–

“And some kisses if we can squeeze that in too.”

Right. 

“So you’re just lovesick, huh? None of the boys giving you attention lately?” You teased, getting up and gathering your things. 

“Oh, Wooyoung almost killed me with affection earlier,” Yunho recalled with a laugh and you scoffed. That sounded like Wooyoung, alright. “I just miss you. Is that so bad?”

“I miss you too,” you said, linking your arms, too tired to continue teasing him. The two of you started downstairs. “We haven’t had one stress-free moment ever since you decided to give me some space, Mr. Jeong.”

“That’s when you were still pretending to make up your mind about us,” he said, opening the door of his car for you and you gasped scandalously. Yunho got in himself, looking at you before starting the engine. “Hope nothing holds you back tonight.”

With a wink, he started to drive, stifling a grin when you smacked his shoulder and folded your arms. You tugged your coat closer, still feeling the cold from when you stepped outside the office and you looked outside of the window, finding not a single star in the sky.

“Looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

“Or snow,” Yunho whistled. “Would love to see some snow soon.”

You looked over at him. “Seems like someone has some fond memories of the snow.”

He smiled and nodded in answer, the rest of the short trip passing by with talks about your weather preferences when you reached a small house in the same neighbourhood where San’s house was. 

“I heard that you came up with the housing arrangement very randomly,” you said as you got out of the car and Yunho chuckled at the memory. “Do you like how it turned out?”

“It never mattered who we got paired with,” he admitted, unlocking the door for you and turning on the lights. You took off your shoes, greeted with a surprisingly homey vibe with warm-toned interior and furniture. “We only really come here to rest. Plus, we crash at each other’s house too often anyway.”

You nodded, taking off your coat and hanging it on the stand before following Yunho to the kitchen. While it almost looked unused, there were still signs that someone was taking care of the house. You stood near the counter and watched Yunho quickly make work of the few ingredients that he found, tossing the ramen in the pot. You offered help but he insisted that he was fine so you decided to set the table.

“Is Yeosang not home?” You asked and he shook his head.

“He’s probably with Mingi tonight– I saw the two of them leaving together earlier.”

“Do they still have some work, or…” 

Yunho glanced at you. “They’re probably going to blow off some steam before they start working tomorrow.”

“Ah, right– oh,” you subconsciously put your hand over your mouth when you realised what Yunho had implied and he laughed loudly. 

“Is it strange to hear things like that?” 

“No, not really,” you confirmed. You had seen your fair share of open relationships in Edenary– and half of the time, you had been too young to fully understand what it meant. “It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to picture some of you together.”

“Well, you’ll be quite surprised to learn how closely knit we are,” Yunho finished cooking and brought the pot to the table, the two of you settling down with a few cans of beer. “Took us a few years to get here, I’ll say, but it has never been better.”

You nodded, asking if he could tell you more– as much as he was comfortable with, and he was pleased to find you eager to learn more about them since you were a part of them now too. You learned that Mingi and Yeosang were quite alike, often seeking solace in each other’s company, even if it was just sitting together in silence.

“And how are you with everyone?” You asked, resting your face on your hands as you gazed at him with curiosity. Yunho found that adorable and his eyes curved as smiled at your question. “What sort of a relationship do you have with everyone?”

“Hmm… let’s see,” Yunho pondered for a moment, drinking a few sips of his beer. “Mingi and I have always been together so he’s someone I’m always looking for in a room full of people, if you haven’t noticed already.”

“Yeah, you two absolutely love each other,” you agreed. “Moral loyalty and all that.”

Yunho grinned. “I think with Yeosang, it’s… more on the comfortable side. He takes care of me a lot, especially now that we live together. His presence… you know how comforting it is to sit in one room with him, right?”

You nodded. “I keep finding myself going back to the Crescent Bar and to his office when I’m overwhelmed.”

Yunho smiled. “With the younger ones, I’m able to have fun and let go, be adventurous and wild. But with the hyungs, they just need someone to take care of them and I’m happy to be that for them.”

“It’s surprising because they appear very calm and put-together, very refined,” you started, producing a snort out of Yunho. “But they’re just like the rest of you. Worse, if I have to say.”

“That’s true,” Yunho laughed heartily. “They are worse. The younger ones always take care of them, but don’t you be mistaken, Luna. The hyungs can be quite… dominating when they want to be. It’s almost scary.”

“Dominating,” you repeated, drinking as you analysed the implications behind that word. “How nice.”

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” Yunho chuckled in a low tone.

“Nothing,” you feigned innocence, finishing the last of your beer. “Absolutely nothing.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes but you took a deep breath, looking around. “It’s just really nice to sit and talk. Haven’t done that in a while, even with Wendy.”

“We’ve all been far too busy,” Yunho agreed, getting up and quickly cleaning up before taking your hands and making you get up, twirling you around once which made you laugh out loud rather uncharacteristically before he steered you to the living room. 

“It’s always like this though,” Yunho continued as he settled you down on his lap and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. He took off your hair clip and began to smoothen your hair, running his fingers through the strands occasionally. “Something is always happening. Not one peaceful moment ever since we started, but that became the norm for us. That’s why we always try to find some normalcy while we can.”

You let his words sink in, just like you let the warmth of his skin seep through his clothes and into yours, just like you let the sound of his breaths sync with yours. The contact of his fingertips on your scalp as he lightly massaged it made you close your eyes and snuggle closer until the tip of your nose met the crook of his neck.

“Well, this is nice,” you whispered, the feeling of being in his arms almost intoxicating. “It’s going to be a while before we get to be like this again, isn’t that so?”

“I suppose so,” Yunho sighed. “You’ll be very busy with Wooyoung and Mingi, and I’ll be busy with Jongho hopping from one place to another–”

Yunho paused mid-sentence when he felt the soft skin of your lips press against his neck lightly and he shifted underneath you. “We might still see each other– well, I’ll try to make time for you if you want–”

He stopped talking yet again when you moved closer and craned your neck to kiss the curve of his jaw. Yunho held your hand and peered down at you, finding your eyes laden with something he had definitely not seen before.

“Love… what do you think you are doing?”

“Squeezing in some kisses?” You responded and Yunho shut his eyes as if in pain, shaking his head. 

“If you tease me like that, I don't think I’ll be able to hold back. I am very sensitive these days, Luna.”

“And where did you get the idea that I want you to hold back?” You pulled away to look him in the eyes. “I thought we both wanted each other.”

“Of course I want you,” Yunho’s brows furrowed in concentration as he cupped your face. “But… I want you to be comfortable first. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or… I don’t want you to think that I’m demanding something from you. I would never–”

“Jeong Yunho,” you cupped his face, caressing the curve of his cheeks and swiping the dark tendrils of his hair away from his forehead. You locked eyes with him, finding hesitation if the slight shake of his voice wasn’t already a sign. “I want this– I want you. Is that okay?”

“That’s okay,” he nodded slowly, visibly gulping. “Do you know what you are getting into?”

“Yes,” you nodded, unable to resist pecking his lips. You lingered at his bottom lip purposely. “Do I have to say it out loud?”

“Are you sure?” Yunho asked yet again, inching closer until the tips of your noses brushed.

“Absolutely,” you whispered, “I– I want you. I want you so bad that it’s killing me–”

Yunho did not need to hear another word. He let his hand crane your neck as his lips met yours in a kiss like none other, deep and demanding in every sense now that there were no boundaries. You sighed in relief, kissing him back and sucking at his lower lip, gladly opening your mouth for him when he swiped his tongue across your lips.

Yunho slid his tongue inside your mouth, switching between licks and kisses and you found yourself letting loose with every little groan that you earned, getting more comfortable with each kiss to your lips or on your face, your body moving in tandem with his hands that traced your curves. Before you knew it, you were straddling him, your skirt riding up and Yunho’s hands found purchase on the bare skin of your thighs that your stockings didn’t cover, causing you to break apart and look at each other in surprise.

“Is this okay?” Yunho asked, hands unmoving. “Use your words, love.”

“More than okay,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. “You can touch me. However you want.”

Yunho nodded, joining your foreheads and matching the pacing of your breaths, his thumb starting to trace your bare skin. You shifted in his lap, feeling the telltale signs of a bulge and met his eyes, exchanging a kiss to assure him that you were okay before rolling your hips on his bulge, making him throw his head back and laugh in disbelief.

“You like that?” You asked, making the same movement again and he looked at you challengingly, daring you to do that again.

That did nothing to stop you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“Whatever,” you shut him up with another needy kiss and this time, Yunho let his hands roam over your upper body, both of you making quick work of unbuttoning each other’s shirts. You made him take his white dress shirt off completely, running your hands against his toned muscles while he traced his fingers against the outline of your black bra, looking almost entranced, his chest rising up and down in deep breaths.

Before you could make a move, Yunho was bringing you closer, kissing you once before he let his lips trail along your jaw and down your neck, breathing in the scent of you. You squealed in surprise when he picked you up effortlessly as he muttered, “Fuck this. I’m taking this to bed.”

You wrapped your legs around him and between fits of laughter and some teasing jabs, he reached his room and gently laid you on his bed after taking off your shirt and throwing it to the side. While he stared at the sight of you in his bed, imprinting it in his mind, you took a quick look around.

“Nice room,” you commented. It was quite simple with monochrome decorations. 

“That’s all you can think of right now?” Yunho pressed his hand in the middle of your chest, feeling your heartbeat and smirking in satisfaction. 

He had his answer. He pulled you up and removed your bra in a matter of seconds, swallowing any other comment with a heated kiss and soon, you lost yourself in how his lips felt against your own. On how his lips felt as they left a searing trail down your neck, making your back arch when he started fondling your breasts and sucking on them, alternating between kisses and littering your skin with a reminder of what you were doing tonight. 

You curled his hair between your fingers and when he paused near your belly, you pushed him downwards– a sign that it was okay. He looked at you for confirmation and when you nodded, he took off your skirt, leaving you in a soaking wet underwear.

Yunho continued to trail kisses down your thighs, pulling the stockings down, and something inside him broke when he traced his thumb on the wet patch on your underwear.

“Someone’s been enjoying this,” he commented, locking eyes with you. His gaze was dark and you could tell that he was doing his best to take this slow.

“Clearly,” you scoffed, knowing fully well how hard he was as well.

“Tell me, love. Tell me what you want me to do to you tonight.”

You took a deep breath at his commanding tone, feeling a fresh wave of arousal course through you as his breath caressed your thighs. “Touch me, Yunho.”

“How?” 

You looked at the mafia consigliere, almost in disbelief. Did he want you to say that out loud too? 

Oh, but what a sight he was, looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“However would you prefer… Lieutenant Jeong?”

The last thing you saw was Yunho’s smirk before he looked down, his hair hiding his face as he pulled your panties down in a swift motion and you barely had time to shrug them off before he spread your legs apart, cocking his head in satisfaction at the sight of you before attaching his mouth to your core.

The moan that his action produced out of you came from somewhere so deep within you, quickly masked by another as he continued to suck on your aching clit, providing you with both relief and edging you to no end. You dug your fingers in the sheets, in his hair, anywhere as he continued with his ministrations, licking a stripe up your wet folds and teasing with his finger before crawling up and meeting your lips in a kiss, making you get lost in how you tasted on his tongue. If that wasn’t enough, he inserted his finger inside you, making you squirm in pleasure. 

He watched you intently as he pumped his finger inside and out, exploring your cavity and muttering praises. 

“Yunho– I don’t think I can last very long, fuck–”

“That’s okay,” he caressed your head with his free hand, inserting another finger inside you and holding you in place as you squirmed with need. “I need to hear your pretty little sounds some more– don’t be shy. You’re doing so well for me.”

As your breath started quickening, a telltale sign of an approaching orgasm, Yunho started to rub your clit in circles and pump his fingers inside at a rapidly growing pace, and perhaps the last straw was the way he kissed the top of your stomach because you came crashing down, your moans filling the room. All the while, Yunho muttered praises about how good you were, how you did so well for him, how pretty your moans sounded to him, and how he wanted this so bad too.

He got up to grab a towel from the stand and wiped his fingers before he got back on his position on top of you, kissing you deeply as if he had nowhere else to be, the movement of his lips leisurely but full of desperation. You traced your hands down on his abdomen and he broke apart to look you in the eyes and make sure you were okay once again.

“I want you,” you told him and he exhaled as if still in disbelief. “Please. Don’t make me beg.”

Yunho bit his lips before unbuckling his pants and taking them off, leaving himself in just his boxers that struggled to hold the sheer size of him. Your lips parted in surprise at the sight of him– you were aware that the man was big but this? Your mouth felt dry yet your core throbbed, knowing what it wanted. 

As Yunho took off his boxers, you sucked your breath when his cock sprang free, riding upwards and painfully hard. You met his gaze, sharing a small laugh before he moved to take something out of his pocket–

“Of course,” you shook your head at the packet of condom. “Always keeping it on you, eh?”

“Just in case,” he teased. “But really. My intentions tonight were only to feed you and take care of you.”

“Squeeze in some kisses,” you quoted him, reminding him of what he said earlier. “And… some orgasms?”

“Never said that, but I’m not complaining. Are you?” He raised a brow and you told him to shut the fuck up and get started. That had him snickering and after he finished wearing the condom, he slid between your legs, letting his hard length slide against your wet folds as he peppered kisses all over your face. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body aching with need all over when he started to suck on your neck. While he kissed you, he started to slide his length inside you and when you winced painfully, he stopped right away.

“It’s just been a while,” you assured him. “Be gentle.”

“Of course,” he nodded, understanding and caressing your head, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Just relax, okay? Breathe.”

You obeyed, following his movements. He caressed your thighs, easing the tension out of them and when you fully relaxed, you finally realised how much you had stiffened. He pushed a bit more inside, this time caressing your abdomen and easing the tension from there.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, continuing to rub your thighs, switching to your abdomen every once in a while. “Deep breaths. Just let go, and if you want to stop, let me know, okay?.”

“Yessir,” you managed, relaxing some more.

“You’re safe with me, okay?” He kissed your head again. “I would never hurt you. Let me know if it’s too much.”

Somehow, those words were what made the remaining tension in your body snap and Yunho found himself sliding in easier, though he made sure to monitor your reactions, slowing himself considerably. Once he was fully sheathed inside, he cursed out loud.

“How does it feel?” He asked, unmoving. “Fuck, you’re so tight, love.”

“So full,” you breathed shakily simply because you were finally starting to feel the arousal come back with full force. “Move, please.”

Yunho nodded, sharing open mouthed kisses with you as he started moving rhythmically in and out of you. His movements remained gentle until you felt comfortable enough to take control, wrapping your legs around him once again. That was when he started to pump inside you harder, your kisses growing sloppier and moans intermingling with your breaths. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, holding your face as he pumped inside you harder, the interval between your breaths growing shorter. “Wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “So long. I– I needed you. So long now,” you managed to say.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said, resting his lips against your cheek. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am I,” you breathed, “you’re doing so well.”

“Fuck,” Yunho latched his lips on the crook of your neck as he pumped harder. “Cum for me, darling. Cum all over my cock.”

You nodded, moments away from a shattering orgasm which you achieved exactly when Yunho put some pressure on your clit with his thumb, your loud gasp echoing off the walls, the dim lights of the lamps filling your vision as your eyes widened and you came with a force that made you wonder if you would even be able to stand up again. 

Yunho, however, was not done. He kept pumping you through your orgasm, his own breath shaky and with his hands holding your hips and a few harsh thrusts, he groaned deeply as he came, riding out his high and dropping on top of you, peppering kisses on your neck as if thanking you for the ride. 

It took you both a few moments to recover before he lifted himself up, making sure you were okay. You nodded and he caressed your face lovingly.

“I know people say that you shouldn’t say these words with your dick inside someone,” Yunho laughed. “But lord help me, Luna. I love you so much.”

You laughed at his admission, kissing his cheek. “I think I love you too, Yunho. Very, very much.”

Yunho grinned, sliding out of you and quickly discarding his condom before bringing some towels to clean you up. You let him take care of you, watching him with a smile.

“Or maybe it was the sex,” you teased, poking his thigh with your toes.

“Hey,” Yunho almost whined, pulling you by your legs and making you laugh out loud in surprise. Yunho attacked you with kisses all over your face until you admitted that it was not (just) the sex but also actual feelings. 

You really did love him. You told him that he was blind if he didn’t see that in your actions already.

So he picked you up and took you inside the shower. You let the big, scary army man bow down on his knees as he cleaned you up and kissed your skin. You let the gangster wash your body, holding you as if you were fragile. You let the consigliere hold you close, wrapping you both in one big towel as you struggled to make your way out, teeth chattering with cold as you put on whatever you found and got inside the covers, quickly.

You let the man– your friend and your partner– hold you protectively as you both fell asleep in the warmth of each other’s embrace.

next chapter

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[radioactive-alien-thing]

Azuretime x reader polygamous please! We need more of them frfr

I'm not sure about the specific plots, but maybe when Azure came out as a killer for the first time and they all reunited?

You can choose whether or not reader was also in the cult. But they prooooobably didn't know about the sacrifice? Maybe they might've also almost got sacrificed, but Two time failed and they got Forsaken™ first?

Yeah, that's about it. I think. I forgot to say when I said we need more Azuretime x reader, I meant angst 😈😈 /hj

The relationship is gonna so strained, but the dynamic would be kind of interesting?

Take your time with the requests! Your health and happiness is the first priority!

❤️❤️❤️❤️ /Platonic

HAAAIIII omgosh sorry this took so long!!! and sorry if it’s. not the best!!! i hardly write angsty so thank you for this practice!!! hope u enjoy regardless<3

azure x two time x reader - unspoken confessions

not much really concerns you these days. after numerous weeks(?) of being stuck in a eerily cold & horrific realm, as if you were a lab rat in a cage, putting on a show for some mysterious ‘spectre’, you’ve pretty much gotten used to it.

of course, you still prayed to the Spawn every day, clinging to your faith in rough times like these. and you prayed for your partners, too- wherever they were. if they were even safe. at least they didn’t have to suffer in this place, wherever you were… could be hell, could be purgatory. you weren’t all too sure.

but it didn’t take long for things to shift and you quickly regretted ever feeling hopeful. eventually, two time ended up in the same realm as you, though something about them was off. you noticed it right away, the air of tension, the defensive glint in their eyes. they felt distant, hesitant. when you reached out for a hug, relieved to see one of your partners after convincing yourself you never would again, they flinched.

that’s fine, though. that’s absolutely okay, you told yourself. two time must be incredibly overwhelmed. confused, maybe even scared. after all, there was only one way to end up here, and it wasn’t exactly by natural fate. you didn’t pry, they didn’t want to talk about it. but when you finally mentioned your attacker fleeing and leaving you to bleed out, a small frown flickered across their face. just for a moment, you thought you saw something, some hint of emotion. you couldn’t tell if it was concern… or maybe regret?

so you brought up your second biggest concern, a bit of anxiety settling in. azure. what about azure? was he okay? at the mention of his name, two time slightly stiffened, but their eyes continue to hold that same manic look, tense as if they were holding something back.

you barely got an answer. it hurt. you needed to know. but every time you tried to learn more, two time redirected the discussion back to the Spawn, always circling back to the one thing they were utterly obsessed with. and though you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, praise be to the Spawn, you were starting to grow agitated.

eventually you ended up in a match together, forming a tiny pact to watch each other’s backs. you noticed the spectre had let them keep their dagger, though you didn’t ask why. a weapon’s a weapon, and it’s pretty useful in this case. maybe it didn’t mean anything.

you’ve already repaired a few generators, but the lack of a killer was making you increasingly anxious. where the hell were they? did taph blow them up already? where was all the usual bloodshed? something was off.

“two time? two time?” you call out, presuming they had ditched you. so much for loyalty. you even made a mental note to give them absolute hell for it later, but the sight you walked into stopped you cold.

you initially didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t deny it for long. it was azure, but not the one you remembered. they were different- stronger, more intense. scarier. it didn’t take long for it to click. they were the killer.

azure’s eyes look almost regretful, maybe even sad, as their hands tighten around two time’s neck, choking the other cultist on the ground. the sight hit you like a truck and left your head reeling. instinct took over and you lunged forward, trying to pull them apart. everything went all blurry for a moment. azure’s eyes widened when he saw you, filled with a conflicted emotion that didn’t match his actions. it was almost like he wasn’t in control at all.

you did successfully manage to shove them apart. two time weakly crawled away, gasping for air. azure just stood still, shaking, hands twitching.

your eyes drift over to the small wound you left on azure’s cheek while trying to save two time. slowly, he reached up to graze it. every little move was tense.

without a word, azure turned sharply and forced himself to trudge away, footsteps unsteady. you didn’t try calling out to him. he didn’t bother looking back. all you could do was stare at the empty spot where he once stood, his silence louder than any words he could’ve left.

[sturniololuvz]

Chris's finding out his daughter has some kinda of problem, like endometriosis or POTS

“Tilted”

Chris noticed something was off long before anyone else did.

At first, it was little things — you’d stand too fast and have to sit back down, or complain that your heart was racing even though you weren’t doing anything. You’d get pale, dizzy, breathless. Some mornings you couldn’t even get out of bed.

He thought maybe it was anxiety. Or a bad cold that wouldn’t go away.

But one afternoon, when he came home and found you collapsed on the floor of the hallway — eyes glassy, breathing fast, too lightheaded to speak — he knew something was really, really wrong.

The hospital was cold.

Chris sat at your bedside, jaw clenched and heart in his throat as the monitors beeped steadily beside you. You were barely awake, just whispering short answers when the nurses asked questions.

Eventually a doctor walked in. He spoke gently. Too gently.

They explained what it was — POTS. A nervous system disorder. Your heart and blood pressure didn’t regulate properly when you stood up. That’s why you were always dizzy, weak, nauseous. Why walking to the kitchen felt like running a marathon.

“It’s chronic,” the doctor said. “There’s no cure. But it can be managed.”

Chris just nodded.

Even though his hands were shaking.

⸻

Later, when they let you go home, Chris helped you into bed. He was quiet the whole way there.

You looked at him with wide, tired eyes. “Dad?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Chris’s chest cracked open. “Why the hell are you sorry?”

“I don’t want to be broken.”

He sat beside you slowly, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re not broken.”

You didn’t say anything. Just picked at your blanket.

Chris leaned in, brushing your hair back gently. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “What if I can’t do the stuff I used to?”

“Then we do new stuff,” he said, voice tight. “Together. You’re not doing this alone.”

A pause.

Then quietly, you whispered: “I just want to feel normal.”

Chris wrapped his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever had.

“You are normal,” he said fiercely. “You’re just dealing with something hard. But I’m with you every step. Okay? Every dizzy moment. Every doctor’s appointment. Every time you need to sit on the bathroom floor because the world’s tilting sideways—I’ll be right there.”

You nodded into his chest, and he kissed the top of your head.

⸻

That night, he stayed in your room, sitting in a chair next to your bed, just in case you needed him.

And when your heart started racing again at 3 a.m., it was his hand you reached for first.

⸻

It wasn’t just your life that changed after the diagnosis.

It was Chris’s, too.

He started researching at night when you were asleep — scrolling through forums and medical sites, watching TikToks by other teens with POTS, trying to figure out what the hell a “compression sock” was and why everyone kept recommending salt tablets.

He learned the difference between “I’m tired” and “I’m crashing.”

Between “I’m dizzy” and “Everything is spinning and I can’t feel my legs.”

He started keeping water bottles in the car.

Electrolyte drinks in the fridge.

A sticky note on the mirror that said, “You can’t fight your body. You can only work with it.” — and he made you write it, so you’d believe it.

⸻

Your morning routine got longer.

Chris never used to wake up before you. Now he was up before the sun — filling a bottle with Liquid I.V., setting out your meds, warming your hoodie in the dryer so your body wouldn’t panic from temperature change.

He helped you sit up slowly. Feet over the side of the bed. Count to ten before standing.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

When it didn’t, Chris never got frustrated. He just crouched beside you on the floor and held your hand.

“We’ll wait it out,” he’d say. “It’ll pass. You’re doing amazing.”

⸻

School was the hardest.

You had to take breaks. Miss classes. Explain to teachers who didn’t understand why you couldn’t “just try harder.”

Chris started coming to your appointments with a notebook and pen, writing everything down like a soldier on a mission.

At your 504 plan meeting, when the counselor said, “Well, it’s not like she looks sick,” Chris’s jaw flexed — and he said, “If she needed a wheelchair, would you still say that?”

The room went silent. He never raised his voice. But everyone listened.

⸻

The bad days still came.

Sometimes you’d cry because you hated your body. Or because you felt like a burden. Or because you just wanted to run down the hallway without getting winded.

And every time, Chris reminded you:

“You’re not a burden. You’re just a fighter in a body that doesn’t always play fair.”

Sometimes he’d tell you about the first time he saw you walk — how proud he was. Or how brave he thought you were just for trying every single day.

⸻

One night, when your alarms had gone off twice, and you’d nearly passed out in the shower, Chris knocked on your door just to check in.

You were curled up under your heated blanket, clutching a stuffed animal you thought he hadn’t noticed you still kept.

“I’m tired of being sick,” you whispered.

Chris didn’t say anything right away. He just came over, tucked the blanket around your shoulders, and sat beside your bed.

“I know,” he said finally. “But I’m proud of you every single day. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks, your heart rate finally slowed.

⸻

[graceisinthelibrary]

I dare you… to do prompt number 9 “I can’t believe you said that” from drabble list #15.

Tiny personal preference for humour over angst this afternoon, but happy with anything really!

Thank you 🙏

Sorry, this took a while, but here we go...

“You should have known better… A man your age shouldn’t take these kinds of risks.” 

“I can’t believe you said that.” Siegfried blinked and stared at his housekeeper who wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement. Audrey Hall was enjoying herself and she was enjoying herself way too much. 

“Why ever not?” She returned the question, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief that would delight him under normal circumstances. In this special case, however, he found himself at the receiving end of her wit, and he didn’t appreciate it. “It’s true,” she added with a twinkle in her eye. 

Siegfried looked down on himself, feeling self-conscious. He was barefooted, missing his left sock and there was a big hole all over his right upper thigh. His torn boxers were peeking out and he was glad the part that undoubtedly identified him as a man was hiding on the other side. Otherwise this moment would be even more embarrassing than it already was.  

“Drop them,” she said, now giggling and at least she did him the favour of turning away. “Was it really Buttercup?” She asked while he was slowly peeling out of his shredded clothes. 

“She was in a bad mood,” Siegfried defended himself. “Bloody monster.” 

“You’re only angry because you couldn’t send in Tris,” she retorted. “But then perhaps he would have been quicker…”  

“I was in the ninth circle of hell, Mrs Hall. Some sympathy wouldn’t go amiss.” Exasperated by the suggestion he had been too slow, too old to be precise, to escape from a vicious creature like the sow, he picked up his trousers. In his estimation they were beyond repair and a mawkish feeling of grief overcame him. His housekeeper was right. He was getting old and if he had waited a second longer before jumping over the fence, he would have to mourn more than just his favourite tweed trousers. 

“You’re alive and in one piece,” she reminded him as she turned to him. “But you should leave a beast like Buttercup to James.” 

“I’m perfectly capable of dealing with a bloody sow!” He barked. 

Audrey grabbed the evidence and stretched her arm through the impressive hole in the trousers’ leg. 

“Looks more like the sow was dealing with you. You could have broken your neck!” She told him and now there was no amused sparkle in her grey eyes and the wrinkles that were now grading her forehead were telling a story of their own. 

His housekeeper was worried and she didn’t appreciate his pig-headed behaviour. 

Aware that his beard couldn’t cover the flush that creeped into his cheeks, he avoided her eyes. He mumbled something like, “It wasn’t that bad,” and looked once again down to his feet. His boots and his left sock were still in Buttercup’s pen. In other words they were lost. Lost because he had been too slow, because his good instinct had vacated him. 

With all the energy he could muster, he turned around. He had to find some proper clothes - and what was left of his dignity. 

“Wait!” She called after him. He stopped and his fingers cramped around the doorframe. Hearing her exasperated sigh and her firm footsteps, he waited for a continuation of her annoying albeit justified rant. But then he felt her arms wrapping around his torso from behind. With her hands placed on his chest and her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade, she held him tightly. 

“I need you, Siegfried Farnon,” she said and her voice was almost husky, almost coy. “I can’t lose you to a bloomin’ sow.”

He looked down to her hands. They felt warm even through the layers of his waistcoat and shirt, he felt her grip and his heart beated faster, as if it wanted to jump straight into her tender hands. The possessive gesture made him breathless. 

Feeling the sudden need to have a look at her face, he turned around. Admiring the aristocratic features of her face, beginning with sharp cheekbones and ending with the dimple on her jaw, he ran his thumbs along her face. “I’ll always come home to you. I may lose my trousers in the process, but no bloody sow will ever stop me.” 

“You’ve got to look after yourself!” She pleaded with him, her lower lip quivering.  

“But you already do that,” he quipped gently. “And you do it so effortlessly.” 

He leaned in to kiss her and her arms flew around his neck. As the kiss deepened and they got lost in each other, Siegfried pressed her against the doorframe. Only too aware that he was only half-dressed he felt how his desire for her grew and that there was no way to hide it. 

Her giggle returned as she pressed both of her hands on his bottom, she licked her lips. “Maybe I were too rash in me judgement.” She squeezed his ass and he felt a familiar twitch that made him blush. “You aren’t over the hill,” she whispered.

“Care to join me upstairs…I think your thesis needs further investigation.” The thought of getting this formidable woman upstairs into their bedroom was taking over his entire being. Buttercup’s vicious chase of him became a distant memory while the vision of her body entangled with his sent shivers through his system. He would outrun a thousand Buttercups to achieve the same result - over and over again. 

[millerskitty]

Running If You Call My Name

❥ dbf!joel / f!reader x joel miller

❥ (18+) nsfw

❥ reader insert

❥ medium burn, no outbreak au. some timelines are changed to fit the story.

dividers by @/saradika !

warnings: angst, confrontation, minor burn injury

word count: 1.7k

tag list: @foxin5billion @victoriaholland @persiar9

masterlist

Chapter 10

Winter was back in full swing and you were excited to have some vacation time. You’d managed to get Joel and Sarah to go to the Trail of Lights with you. It was a drive thru Christmas light and decoration event and it was your favorite thing to do during the holidays. Pop would be hosting Christmas for you and the Millers with the addition of Joel’s younger brother, Tommy.

“Whatever happened to that Caleb fella?” Pop asked, looking up from his crossword puzzle. You sat across the living room on the sofa watching tv.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat, surprised by his sudden inquiry, “he uhh, he was kind of too perfect. It was off-putting, I guess.”

“Huh. A guy can’t even be too perfect these days.” He clicked his tongue and continued to look down his glasses at the puzzle, crossing out the word “bewilderment.”

“Well, I just don’t want a guy who tries too hard to impress me, it comes off as phony, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” Pop sounded unamused then spoke after a beat of silence, “What about Tommy?”

”Miller?” You squeaked, trying to keep your facial expression as neutral as possible.

“Mhmm, he’s not too much older than you.”

“Tommy’s uhh, you know, Joel’s brother.” You wanted to eat your words as they left your mouth.

”Yes, and?” Pop looked down at you over his glasses now. “Why does that matter?”

“Pop, I’m not talking about guys with you!” You shrieked, feeling small under his gaze. You jumped up and scurried off to your room, plopping onto your bed with a sigh.

If you hadn’t just given it away he was probably onto you, testing you and you’d failed. Your skin prickled with anxiety. You wanted to make things right, to tell him the truth, but you couldn’t calculate the fallout. You hated not knowing the outcome or where you would go if he disowned you for choosing the Miller brother who was over a decade older than you. You liked to believe that your loving father wouldn’t make a big fuss over it, but Joel’s paranoia was rubbing off on you.

~

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. You’d finished wrapping gifts for everyone attending the holiday at your home. You’d gotten Pop a fishing rod that he’d put back on the shelf, too frugal to indulge despite being able to afford it. You also got him some high end fishing sunglasses and some new shoes. Joel was getting some strings for his guitar, a steering wheel cover for the one that was rotting away in his old pickup, and Pop pitched in to get him a brand new cooler.

Sarah was harder to shop for; her style was constantly evolving. You decided to treat her to a mini shopping spree with a few gift cards loaded from her favorite stores and a couple of vinyls to go with her expansive collection.

Tommy was getting some hunting gear and cologne. Everything was labeled from you and Pop, so you made sure to get Joel something special for when you were alone.

Around noon, Pop met you in the kitchen to start cooking in time for dinner at six. You cranked up some music and got to work, side by side. Pop was the more efficient chef, outdoing your progress and making damn sure you knew it. He was competitive in the kitchen. He threw back the rest of his beer, stepping out for a cigarette break just as the Millers arrived to help.

You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped your hands on your apron before answering the door. Joel greeted you with a friendly hug and walked past you holding a tray of brisket. Sarah jumped on you, making you swing her around a bit before setting her down. She rushed to the backyard to greet Pop as you turned around and welcomed Tommy in with a warm hug.

“Where do I put this?” Tommy asked, wielding a large case of beer.

“God, we’re gonna have to go out and buy a second fridge!” You giggled.

“If only it was snowing. Texas, am I right?” He playfully rolled his eyes, making his way to deposit a few cans of beer into the freezer.

“Hey you.” Joel waited behind you, sizing you up with his eyes.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Eve.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re opening gifts tonight.” You said, leading Joel to the kitchen he’d been in at least five hundred times. He looked delicious, he’d trimmed his beard and he smelled so good. His cologne was clean and woodsy, lingering on you from your hug.

“Pop is waiting for y’all to fry the turkey.” You said to the men, “And you’re gonna help me peel potatoes and carrots.” You said to Sarah who’d come in and started peeking at the dessert in the fridge.

Sarah jokingly saluted you, taking her place at the counter and you peeled vegetables for half an hour while you chatted about her upcoming senior year at high school. A surge of emotion sprung tears to your eyes as you discussed Sarah’s future. It felt like just yesterday she was a silly little girl bossing you around at her tea parties. You fondly remembered chasing each other with the water hose and having horror movie marathons. Now she was contemplating going out of state for college, leaving her old man behind. Leaving you behind.

The sound of your name snapped you out of your reminiscence. “Hello?” Sarah asked, looking between you and Joel who was just coming inside from the backyard.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you, stepping closer but being mindful to leave a few feet between you.

“Nothing, I’m just feeling a little emotional.” You chuckled, “The holidays, am I right?”

“Right, what those mean reindeer did to Rudolph still doesn’t sit right with me either.” Sarah joked, mashing potatoes animatedly.

Joel rolled his eyes before giving you a serious look that said “Are you really okay?” You nodded, assuring him you were fine. He didn’t press further and stepped outside for a smoke.

The interaction made you realize just how lucky you were to have the Millers in your life. You may have lost a parent at a young age, but the universe gave you two wonderful people to enrich your life. You would die for your little village.

You were interrupted from your snowballing emotional realization when Pop jumped into the kitchen using his oven mitts as crab claws, squatting and walking like a crab for effect. Sarah found it the most amusing, hooting and hollering as he pretended to pinch her.

The timer for the baking macaroni and cheese went off and you stepped forward at the same time that Tommy moved forward to dodge you, but you ended up playing the back-and-forth game for a few moments. Tommy chuckled and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you aside and then went the other way. Your skin prickled at his touch and you knew without looking that Joel had seen the interaction from behind the glass door. You didn’t have to look to know the stern look that was plastered on his face.

You snuck a glance as you pulled the baking dish full of macaroni out of the oven and found that you were right. His jaw was clenched as he took a drag from his cigarette and put it out. When his eyes locked onto yours, you couldn’t look away, which was a nasty mistake. You had tipped the macaroni dish towards yourself and some of the liquid cheesy lava spilled onto your shirt and you dropped the dish onto the counter, jumping back.

The cheese mixture was boiling hot and you lifted your shirt halfway up to relieve your burning skin. Tommy didn’t hesitate to jump into action, having become a first responder a few years ago after a brief stint in jail for bar fights.

“Fuck,” You hissed, looking down at your stomach in pain.

“Move, lean back.” Tommy said, lifting you up and onto the empty kitchen counter. “Keep your shirt up, honey.”

“The fuck just happened?” Joel asked, rushing in from the backyard.

“She’s gonna be fine, just burnt herself with the mac and cheese.” Pop said, his face twisted as he watched you wince from the pain of peeling your shirt up to expose the burn.

“Need ice.” Tommy said, turning to wet a kitchen towel. Sarah rushed to the garage to grab ice from the deep freezer.

The initial shock of the pain started to die down and you were able to assess the damage. It was a small patch of splotches from where the cheese mixture had soaked through just moments before you pulled the shirt from your skin. When Sarah returned she was going to hand the ice to Tommy when Joel stepped forward and took it from her. He held his hand out for the towel that Tommy had soaked with water.

“Whatcha doin’ bro, I got her?” Tommy said, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I got her, gimme the towel.” Joel said calmly.

“I’m a medic, I got this.” Tommy said, confusion growing thicker in his voice.

“She’s m- I can help her, go check on the turkey.” Joel pulled on the towel. Tommy reluctantly released it to him and stepped away.

You were sitting on the counter in shock, no longer registering the tingling, throbbing pain on your skin. You looked at Pop who avoided eye contact, but his eyebrows gave him away. He was thinking, digesting the scene and remaining silent. For now.

Joel wrapped the wet towel around the ice and gently patted it over your skin. You looked up into his eyes and there was something there. Jealousy. Concern. He was being reckless, risking everything because his brother put his hands on you more than once. He’d lifted you up by your hips and set you down onto the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing. Joel had seen it all and couldn’t let it slide.

You winced as he applied more pressure, the melting ice sliding down into your jeans.

“Sarah, can you please go to my closet and grab the blue dress that’s hanging on the door?” You asked her, eager to remove her from the awkward scene that had just unfolded.

“You bet. Be right back.”

“So Joel.” Pop said, and you closed your eyes. Fuck.

“Yes?” Joel asked, not taking his hand off of your injury.

“How long you been after my daughter?”

[paperclips37]

Just a little something I'm working on.

Aka Frank is an idiot and everyone else sees how he feels before him. (Jack Abbot is a hard guy to write.)

-----

Back at work 6 months after a near year long “sabbatical” was a lot. He’d worked for it. Harder than he’d ever worked on anything before. Withdrawal had been easy in comparison to what had come next.

Building his life back up.

Coming back to The Pitt.

Facing everyone.

The divorce had been the easy part of it. He and Abby had been far past breaking point when he not only admitted his addiction but brought home a fucking dog. Then he’d blown anything else straight out of the water. Splitting custody, family therapy it was working out as best it could. But it still sucked.

Frank Langdon: expert in making all the wrong decisions.

Smoking being one of them. But better that than a handful of pills. The tendrils of smoke twisted up into the darkening air.

‘You do know this is the therapy spot right Langdon?’ Jack Abbot appeared next to him on the roof.

‘Ahhh the sacred site.’ Abbot chuckled. One hand reached out silently asking. Frank passed over this nearly empty pack and lighter. ‘Those things will kill ya.’

‘Not dead yet Langdon.’

Silence swept over them. Standing shoulder to shoulder staring out at the city. How many of those sirens were heading towards them? Abbot coughed awkwardly.

‘I’m proud of you.’ Frank’s head whipped around to stare at the attending. Abbot was keeping his eyes fixed at the city. ‘Most people wouldn’t have the strength to come back and face everyone.’ Frank felt his face contort into utter bafflement.

‘Thank you?’

‘Langdon.’ Suddenly Frank could hear the army man in his voice. Not the one from the heat of chaos. This was the one that led people.

‘I thought you hated me?’ He was only half joking. Abbot had a connection with Robby but always seemed to give him the side eye. Little jabs here and there. Frank never quite knew where he stood with him.

‘I never hated you. It’s more fun to let you think that.’ He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. Frank had to respect a man determined to have fun. And he kept up the act for a long time.

‘And people think I’m an asshole.’

‘That’s because you are.’

‘Who here isn’t?’ Frank retorted sharply, but not with any real bite. They both chuckled, then paused thoughtfully. Considering the questions. Abbot turned his head to Frank. Eyebrows raised to his hairline.

‘Mel.’ In unison. Frank ground out the cigarette under his foot and leaned over the barrier.

‘She’s one of the few...’ Abbot mused almost more to himself than Frank. ‘She has grit but keeps her soul intact. Not many like that.’

‘She’s always Mel.’ Frank smiled softly at the complement. Abbot’s right eyebrow quirked upwards. The look on his face was curious and something else. A something else that made Frank’s cheeks heat up.

‘You guys are close huh?’ There was an implication that Frank didn’t know what to do with.

‘I mean yeah.’ He crossed his arms, not defensively. Abbots faced twisted in scepticism. ‘She’s a good friend. One of the best.’

Mel had been one of the few people who didn’t treat him any differently post rehab. That 4th of July shift she’d found him frozen outside the doors to the Pitt. Robby stood on the other side; just staring at him. Face forcibly neutral. He’d seen her out of the corner of his eye approaching her. Blonde hair shining in the sun. She’d stopped at him. Did a double take at seeing him.

‘You’re here!’ Her voice was so joyful. Happy to see him? It felt like an alien feeling.

‘In the flesh.’ Mel didn’t just feel her emotions: she embodied them. Her face brightened like a sunrise and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. Her grin somehow brightened even more.

‘Lets go!’

She’d written him whilst in rehab. Even visited a few times. Kept him up to date on her weird cases and hospital goings on. Even brought him medical journals she’d thought he’d like.

‘Just a friend?’ Frank froze at the question. Abbots tone was purely curious. No judgement or anything else in it. ‘You’re different with her. Less of an asshole.’ The last comment came with a gentle punch to the arm. Frank was still stuck at the question. And the commentary.

Sure they tended to work on cases together, work the same shifts when it suited their schedule. Even carpooled from his new apartment. Even had a group chat with her and Becca. Monthly movie nights. Mel had even hung out with him when he had Tanner and Taylor. And they adored her. But all kids seemed to gravitate towards her. They were close. Frank even thought of her as one of his best friends.

‘Am I?’

‘Oh god am I the first one to point this out? What- How- I can’t-’ Abbot was stammering. Frank recoiled at the sight. And the conflicting feelings burning in his chest. He felt exposed. Maybe he liked being with her more than a friend strictly would. Mel was that person. They clicked. Easier than he had with anyone before. But she also made him better. A better teacher, a better doctor, a better friend and even Dad.

‘I’m gonna go. See you back there.’Abbot very awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up.

Frank opened his mouth to say something but only a vague squeak came out.

Of course Mel was his friend. There was nothing else to it.

Right?

[greenleaf4stuff]

A Rainy Night In Eregion

(my other TROP fanfics)

Silverscars (Adar x Celebrimbor) for TROP Cozy Cuddle(s) Week 2025. Fluff, some humor. Celebrimbor, wrapped up warm under the covers with a book, waits for Adar to come to bed as well. Only for the uruk to arrive dripping wet and shivering (despite what he might claim) from the ice-cold temperatures and the rain outside. As he shivers and his teeth chatter, the elf shows concern and coaxes Adar into cuddling for warmth. Celebrimbor might suffer cold feet at his shins, a chilly nose at his neck and freezing hands on his body. But he’d do it again for Adar any time.

Yaaay my first fic for Cozy Cuddle(s) Week 2025! :D And of course it’s silverscars again. I had a few ideas bouncing around my head once I first heard of the event, but only managed to sit down and actually write this down about 2 weeks before it started. The idea just wouldn’t leave my head! I hope you lovely people will like this! Enjoy!

Thank you again @rivendellwatch for organizing this event, and good luck to all the lovely writers, cheerleaders, readers, graphics makers, commenters and other people who participate in it! <3

(For those of you who prefer to read this fanfic on AO3, here is the link)

Autumn had arrived in Eregion. By day, this meant the trees were hanging full of leaves in the colors of golden yellow, fire orange and sunrise red. Gatherers would go out to collect mushrooms in the forest across the river, and parents would collect acorns and pinecones with their children to decorate their houses with.

By night, however, this meant that temperatures would drop to the point that Celebrimbor preferred wearing a thick cloak as he walked back to his private quarters, and would often light the fireplace – or put in more wood – as soon as he entered any room.

Autumn also meant that big, dark clouds hung over the city at times, as was the case on this very day. It thankfully hadn’t started to rain until the late evening however, and so the Lord of Eregion had reached his chambers without any problems, aside from some mild shivering.

Now, he was safely tucked into bed and had managed to warm up again. The fireplace was not properly lit anymore but still glowing faintly, and would hopefully keep the rooms at a temperature that wasn’t freezing cold till the early morning hours.

Leaning against the headboard with two thick, fluffy pillows at his back, most of his body safely hidden underneath a mountain of blankets, and with a book in hand, the smith found it easier to bear the change of the seasons, even if he found himself missing the sun at times.

There was a faint chill in the air even in his bedroom, however, which made him pull up the covers with a small frown. He reminded himself, not for the first time, that the seasons were beneficial for the animals and the plants, even if he, as a singular elf, was not particularly fond of the resulting changes. Or that the prospect that the warmest days of the year might be over.

He also reminded himself that this meant he’d have time for different things – less walks in the gardens perhaps, or standing outside the balcony to drink tea, but instead more evenings he could retire early and read, or spend time in bed with the one he loved and cared about.

It was still hard to believe at times, that he and Adar had found each other. Or how they had done so. Their relationship had begun rather tumultuously, when the leader of the uruk and his most loyal children had managed to sneak into Eregion, and steal Celebrimbor like one would a treasure.

Right from underneath Annatar’s nose. Who was actually not called Annatar, but Sauron, and who had been pretty angry about the smith’s disappearance, to say the least. He’d learned much from Celebrimbor already, but as it turned out, he still couldn’t make the rings for men on his own.

Luring the Deceiver into a trap, fighting and defeating him had taken a long time, and put the elf into much danger, but it had all been worth it in the end. Eregion and Mordor were now safe, as was all of Middle-earth, and Celebrimbor and Adar, well…

It seemed as if shared concern for their people and conviction to kill Morgoth’s Shadow once and for all could serve as more than just a way to collaborate. Celebrimbor still didn’t know exactly how it had happened, but – they’d become rather fond of each other. To the point of protecting each other from the elves, the uruk, and Sauron alike.

To the point that now, years and years later, they were still feeling the same kind of affection for each other as what had grown between them in the uruk camp. Yes, mundane everyday life had found its way into their relationship as well, as was to be expected, but nobody could deny they were still very much in love with each other.

Least of all the two of them.

Case in point, Celebrimbor had tucked Adar’s covers underneath his own, so that when Adar returned to their chambers, he could give him the warmed sheets to lay under. The uruk often claimed to be impervious to the elements, in response to which Celebrimbor nodded and pretended not to be aware of the way the other shivered after being outside for longer periods of times.

He’d learned that yes, the uruk as a whole were able to withstand great heat, like that of the Orodruin and Mordor, but once water froze into ice, they were as vulnerable as anyone else. Including Adar. Who of course pretended otherwise to set a good example, and appear stronger than he truly was.

Celebrimbor supposed it had been necessary in the past. In time, Adar and the uruk might learn that they didn’t have to posture and push themselves beyond their capabilities to survive, but that would certainly take more than a decade.

As Celebrimbor pondered this, he began to hear steps approach their quarters. The elf perked up, put the book aside – Rúmil, which both Elrond and Adar had recommended to him and which Celebrimbor tried his best to enjoy, but found he simply could not, no matter how hard he tried – and sat up higher in bed.

He’d recognize these steps anywhere; Adar still wore his armor when he made his rounds, and his steps were usually slow and heavy, chainmail clicking as he walked.

The uruk was faster than usual, and his steps sounded slightly…off. In a way Celebrimbor couldn’t quite explain.

The reason for this soon became clear, as the door to their shared quarters was being pushed open and Adar entered. After a brief moment of standing in the open door, the uruk walked over to their shared bedroom, where he again came to a standstill after taking just one step inside.

Celebrimbor felt his eyebrows rise so high they threatened to disappear into his hairline, and was quite sure he had to look utterly flabbergasted as he beheld Adar.

The Lord Father of the uruk wasn’t just wet. He was drenched. Water was dripping out of his hair, down his face, out of his chainmail and from his tunic. His steps had sounded differently because his boots were waterlogged and squished as he took each step, dragging water everywhere.

The elf was ready to ask if the other had fallen into the Glanduin, right when a lightning strike outside made him jump and turn his head towards the windows. He’d been so immersed in his thoughts, and picking apart all the ways in which he disliked Rúmil’s poetry, that it seemed he hadn’t realized that it had begun to rain in earnest.

Not a light spray, either. No, it was pouring, raindrops seemingly huge and incredibly loud on the windowpanes, and coming so fast and in such numbers that Celebrimbor couldn’t tell apart individual drops no matter how hard he tried.

He turned his widened eyes back onto Adar, who still remained standing in the door. He looked slightly paler than usual, and wore a grim expression.

“Apologies,” the other spoke into the silence of the bedroom. “I got held up as I tried to make my way back to you.”

“By Eru,” Celebrimbor replied, and clutched at the covers, “What happened to you?” He found himself worried. Elves and uruk were far less likely to fall sick than most other peoples of Middle-earth, but with the way Adar looked, the smith wasn’t sure if this would be enough to protect him in this instance.

He thought he could see Adar’s hand tremble as the uruk hid his naked one behind the one with the gauntlet.

The other’s answer sounded almost wry. “I think I should have left for Eregion earlier than I did. But Glug came to me with a report that he deemed urgent, and when I made to finally leave,” he lifted his chin and motioned it towards the window, “it was to this.”

Celebrimbor was almost certain that he could see Adar’s lips tremble, before he clenched his jaw and hid any motion behind a stoic expression.

The elf blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I- You look like you got caught in a flooding,” was the best he could come up with. He was tempted to get up and out of bed, but when he moved to do so, Adar held up a hand and bid him to remain seated. Considering that the air that hit the elf’s skin was far more chilly than he had anticipated, he was quick to follow the uruk’s motion.

The yearning to help the other somehow remained nonetheless. “Is there anything I can do?”

Adar shook his head. “I am afraid not. Let me just- get these off,” he indicated his armor and clothes, “And hang them in front of the fireplace.”

He lifted a foot to go and walk, only to pause at the sound of wet leather and the way water dripped from his boot as he did. He exhaled a breath and added, “And maybe find something to dry myself with, before I join you.”

Celebrimbor nodded, “There’s um- there should be some towels you can use. From when I took a bath some hours ago.” It was the best he could offer. He’d selfishly decided against putting yet another log into the fireplace earlier to stay in bed, snug and warm, and Adar had often insisted that he did not need for Celebrimbor to prepare his night clothes for him, preferring to choose himself as he came to bed each night.

“I got your blanket underneath my own. So that will at least be warm, once you return,” the elf offered, and felt a bit of tension ease from his body as Adar turned back towards him over his shoulder and gave him a small, grateful smile in response. The elf couldn’t help but return it with one of his own.

“That is much appreciated, Tyelpe. Thank you,” the uruk said, voice soft, before he visibly tore himself away and strode back in the direction of the fireplace. Soon, noises of chainmail rattling, metal clanking and wet fabric being stripped from damp skin could be heard. Adar even took time to squeeze out his long hair, by the sound of it.

The servants would surely scold the two of them something fierce come morning, but Celebrimbor didn’t care in the least. He reached over, and hugged Adar’s pillow to himself to warm that up, too, as he looked for anything else that might help the other fight off the chill once he came to bed.

He was fairly certain he’d seen the other shiver already, as well as Adar’s attempts to hide it. The elf had no doubt the other had lost much body heat in the rain, and knowing how utterly miserable that could be, he wanted to try and help the other reclaim it – and quickly.

The smith knew that elves were naturally more resistant to illness than most other peoples of Middle-earth, and that the uruk also were rather hardy, but he had no idea whether or not it was to same degree his own people. Adar was more prone to pruning in water than him, and he also left footprints in the snow and the mud to a much higher degree than Celebrimbor and the other elves did, for example.

There was no telling what Morgoth’s and Sauron’s foul magic had wrought, and Celebrimbor wasn’t terribly keen to find out whether or not Adar might be able to get gravely ill from running around being wet and cold from the rain.

The smith tried to peek through the opened door and into the rest of their shared quarters, but due to the relative dimness, he could only see Adar’s silhouette, standing close to the fireplace as he seemed to dry himself with the towels that Celebrimbor had used earlier that day.

Illuminated by the orange glow of the embers, and the faint light of one or two candles that still burned, the uruk cut a striking figure as he moved. Despite being quick and efficient, Celebrimbor had…a few things to look at.

He couldn’t find any enjoyment in doing so, however, since he could clearly make out that Adar’s hands were shaking now, and how his whole body seemed to twitch with tremors that he did his best to fight down.

The uruk also kept the towels tightly wrapped around himself as he came back into their bedroom; he was seemingly doing his best to remain composed, but it was obvious to Celebrimbor – who saw Adar everyday and was used to his more slow, measured, even movements – that the other was more hurried than he usually was.

The handle to his wardrobe slipped out of his fingers once, causing Adar to curse under his breath, before he pulled the heavy door open and blindly reached inside, quick to draw out a set of smallclothes and a thicker nightshirt. He was so quick to pull it on that he almost got tangled in the garment.

“I can help you,” Celebrimbor offered, and motioned Adar to come over. The uruk briefly halted, his pride warring with his need for warmth, before he walked over to the bed. He didn’t even close the door to the wardrobe.

The elf was by now convinced that Adar was actually freezing, even if he did a formidable attempt at hiding it from him. Celebrimbor reached out and untangled the fabric, then helped to pull the garment over Adar’s head and down his arms.

As Adar looked up and Celebrimbor moved to gather the other’s long, dark hair and move it out of his collar, he saw with a surge of worry that the uruk’s lips had turned a slightly purplish color. He’d seen similarly on the men if they got too cold, though their lips went blue; he supposed it might be due to Adar’ black blood that his looked differently.

And then he startled as his fingers touched Adar’s skin.

“By Eru. You’re cold as ice!” He exclaimed. His body wanted nothing more than to recoil, the other’s temperature so low it seemed to suck the warmth out of his fingertips, but Celebrimbor’s concern pushed him to ignore his instincts and reach out again.

The difference between the elf’s and the uruk’s body heat felt like a shock to the smith, and even Adar twitched at the touch to his shoulders, and drew in a small hiss, though he was quick to grasp Celebrimbor’s hand as the elf hesitated in response to his noise. The uruk’s fingers, too, were chilled.

“I suppose the metal leeched much warmth out of me,” the uruk pondered, and visibly tipped towards the elf before he caught himself and slightly drew back again.

The movement reminded the Lord of Eregion that he still had the other’s pillow and covers, and was quick to relinquish both, putting down the pillow and then drawing back his own blankets to hand over the uruk’s.

Adar had already begun to draw the nightshirt over his legs, and gladly reached over to take the blankets to cover himself. He nodded at Celebrimbor in gratitude, only the movement was jerkier than usual.

With how cold the other’s hands had been, it stood to reason that moving the heavy covers was difficult for Adar, perhaps even painful, and so the smith quickly reached over to help him.

It was then, as the uruk wrapped himself up, that his attempts to hide his shivering failed him; his teeth began to chatter despite the way he clenched his jaw, hands shaking before he managed to hide them. The rest of his body followed quickly. Celebrimbor tried to ignore it even as he tucked Adar in and pulled back his dark, damp hair so he wouldn’t lay on it.

Within a few moments, Adar was tightly wound in the covers, with only his eyes poking out. Celebrimbor would have found it cute, if he wasn’t so concerned about the uruk.

He gave up one of his own throw blankets from the end of the bed and draped it on top of Adar’s as well, then moved to lay down, turned onto his side and drew his own covers up to his own chin. The elf soon lay face to face with Adar, and watched in his cocoon of blankets.

“T-thank-k y-y-ou, T-t-tyelpe,” the other tried, but soon clamped his lips shut again.

“Of course, Beloved,” the smith replied, frowning. He bit his lip and pondered on what to do; he could get up and try to put some more logs into the fireplace, but even if he managed to reignite the fire, it would take some time until its warmth spread to their bedroom, and he himself would likely be freezing as well by the time it did.

Two cold fingers below his mouth drew his attention; Adar was looking intently at him as he gently, but insistently, pulled Celebrimbor’s lower lip out from between his own teeth. “Y-you will r-regret that l-l-later,” he breathed, body still jerking involuntarily from the cold.

At least these movements meant the other was slowly beginning to warm up, as the elf had learned. “D-do not w-w-worry on m-my behalf.”

Celebrimbor gave him a lopsided, wry grin, and caught Adar’s hand between his own, warming his ice-cold digits between his palms. “I can’t help it. It pains me to see you so unwell.”

“I-it will only t-take an-n-nother m-m-moment,” Adar tried to reassure him, but also reached out with his other hand, both of which the elf soon held clasped in his own. He brought them to his lips and breathed onto them.

Again, Adar hissed. At the smith’s worried look, he explained, “Y-your breath is v-very hot on my c-c-cold skin, i-is all. P-please d-d-don’t stop.”

Celebrimbor was quick to nod, and continued to blow warm air onto the uruk’s chilled fingers. Again, he was torn, with his body insisting on keeping his hard-won warmth and comfort for itself, while his heart ached to share it with the other – even if Celebrimbor knew that he, too, would make noises of discomfort if he did, at the very least. Just Adar’s hands alone caused a shiver to run down his own spine.

But the other was still shaking, and the elf wouldn’t – couldn’t – see him be so miserable.

“Come closer,” he insisted, and reluctantly moved one hand to lift the edge of his blanket to make his point. “It’s warmer below my covers, and I can share my body heat with you this way.”

Adar immediately made to argue, in response to which Celebrimbor stared at the uruk with a frown and cut in, “No arguments. I will find no sleep seeing you like this,” and because he couldn’t help it, he added with a quirk of his lips, “And even if I could, your teeth chattering would surely keep me awake anyways.”

Adar snorted in response, but there was a faint hint of smile on his face as well. He hesitated for only a moment, and did not insist on asking Celebrimbor if he truly was sure, as he usually would have done. Another indication of how uncomfortable he had to be.

The uruk was slow to move at first, reluctant to give up what little warmth he’d managed to accumulate, but then he fastened his movements, sliding across the small distance between them as Celebrimbor lifted up the edge of his blanket further up and opened his arms, cool night air making him shiver. Adar gladly followed his invitation, only sparing a moment to drag over his own covers and half-pull them over the elf’s.

If the night air had already brought an unwelcome chill to Celebrimbor’s skin, it paled in comparison to the shock that Adar’s freezingly cold body turned out to be. It felt as if being hugged by winter itself as the uruk wound arms around his middle and moved in close, his large hands two distinctly cold points on Celebrimbor’s hips that made his stomach muscles tense when Adar slipped them under the elf’s nightshirt.

Soon, they were chest to chest with one another, yet more cool skin touching Celebrimbor’s own as Adar pressed his nose to the elf’s neck and also, finally, lifted one of his legs to throw it over the Celebrimbor’s hips and entangled their legs.

The elf had clenched his jaw with a groan as Adar moved in close, but otherwise had managed to bear it despite the way his own body began to shiver at the physical contact.

He did, however, end up cursing – and rather loudly, too – as the uruk tucked in his feet and set them onto the smith’s shins.

“A-are you sure you didn’t fall into the Glanduin after all?” Celebrimbor finally asked, once he’d managed to regain his voice. His words came out unusually high-pitched and sounding like a whine.

And yet, he still lifted his arms and wrapped them around Adar’s middle and shoulders in turn, drew other even closer towards himself. They were both shivering by now, and the elf blindly reached to try and spread all their blankets over them both in the faint hope that they might warm up again faster this way.

“Y-yes, I am,” the other replied. He was clinging to Tyelpe, desperately chasing his warmth. “B-but this is almost as dire, it s-seems.”

They both miserably remained this way for a while, wrapped around each other and waiting for feeling to return to their limbs. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to take terribly long until Adar stopped shaking quite so badly. His teeth soon stopped chattering as well, and while he remained burrowed into Celebrimbor’s chest and neck, his grip eventually slackened a little, too.

The elf counted it as a victory, even with how uncomfortable Adar’s feet on his shins remained. “Better?” he gently asked.

The other slowly nodded into his neck, and brushed a kiss against the skin. Celebrimbor would have liked to claim that the resulting shiver was from something other than the cold, but sadly, that would have been a lie. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” the elf replied, and buried his own nose in Adar’s hair; it was slowly drying as well, which was a relief. “I hope you are prepared to act as my pillow for the rest of the night, and the nights to come. Those cold feet of yours could be used as torture devices.”

A small chuckle came from Adar, and he rubbed his thumbs over Celebrimbor’s hips. “Well, serves you right. Now you know how I feel most nights.”

The elf leant back with an offended noise and peered down at the crown of Adar’s head with an incredulous expression. The uruk willingly reliniquished his place from where he was tucked into the smith’s neck to look back at him. The grin he wore made Celebrimbor reach out and very lightly pinch the uruk’s nose as he glared balefully at him. “Very funny. So this is the thanks I get for being a concerned partner.”

Adar’s grin turned into a smile, then, soft and fond. His whole expression softened, in fact, which made him look incredibly – and unfairly – attractive, in Celebrimbor’s opinion. “No. This is,” the uruk said, then leaned up and gently kissed the smith’s lips.

Who let his eyes slip closed as he leaned into the touch with a small hum, ever unable to resist the other’s affections. It was merely a press of lips, nothing particularly deep or passionate, but it conveyed Adar’s thanks easily and clearly with how close he pressed, the small sigh of relief as their lips touched.

It made Celebrimbor tighten his hold on Adar and draw the other a bit further up as he kept him close, while the uruk angled his head into a more comfortable position and cupped the back of his Celebrimbor’s head, gentle fingers rubbing at his scalp in just the way the elf enjoyed best.

When they eventually parted, Adar didn’t move far, but instead brought their noses close to softly rub them against each other. “Was that adequate?” he teased, lightly. Celebrimbor noted that his teeth had fully stopped chattering by now, and only mild tremors shook his body from time to time.

He smiled at Adar with just a hint of mischief. “Hm. Perhaps as partial pay. I’d like to have another one, just to be sure,” he said, so soft it was almost a whisper, and brushed his mouth against the uruk’s, who opened his own and tipped his head further up to bring the two of them together once more.

“That can be arranged,” he said, voice rumbling, and then they were kissing again.

It took quite a bit of time until they felt warm enough to be truly comfortable, but gradually, they did. The elf noticed it in how Adar eventually fully relaxed into the bed, and how he himself forgot about where the uruk’s feet were, and rather focused on the comfortable weight of his leg slung over his own hip, the way the other’s breath was an even, calming lull as he lay in Celebrimbor’s arms.

He was pleasantly sleepy by the time Adar hummed and pecked Celebrimbor’s lips once more, before he asked, “Do you want to change positions? You asked for me to act as your pillow, after all.”

“Hm-hm,” the smith confirmed, and gladly let the other be the one to shift the two of them around this time, until Adar lay on his back and had Celebrimbor tucked into his side, with his head on Adar’s chest, where the elf slung an arm over his hip. The uruk’s own arm similarly snuck over the elf’s shoulder, with his hand finding its place on Celebrimbor’s nape.

“This is nice,” the smith confirmed, his words mumbled and yet, he was certain Adar make out what he said.

It was the uruk’s turn to kiss the top of his head, hand once again buried in the elf’s locks. “Sleep, if you can, Tyelpe,” he said, voice quiet. “And thank you again.”

“Always,” Celebrimbor replied, though he was so tired he was barely aware of it. Now that they were warm and he was so comfortable, with Adar’s heartbeat beneath his ear, he was quickly falling into slumber. “Love you.”

“I love you too…Beloved,” Adar replied. It was the last thing Celebrimbor heard before he fell asleep, the other following soon after, both of them warm and comfortable, wrapped around each other in their bed as the storm continued to rage outside, unable to reach them for the rest of the night.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sundew: Chapter 3 (Tom Hiddleston x Mia (OC))

CW: Mia's poor ability to plan things... Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- AO3 -- Kofi Buy Kit a kofi and donate to the fund for publishing original works!

“Let’s go!” Mia cheered as she tucked the box into her large purse after checking for the twentieth time to make sure she had her wallet, phone, and room key. It was time to make their way to where Mia was pretty sure Tom would be filming. 

Stepping onto the city streets quickly made Mia realize she was far beyond her capabilities. Everything and everyone was just so damn busy. Mia intended to take the subway to where about she thought Tom would be filming but the maps and the system confused her. She asked someone and their rushed answer made her feel no more confident in what she was doing. 

A taxi would be a better option. It was expensive, sure, but at least she was sure to end up where she wanted to be. Catching a cab proved to be far harder than she expected as well. Through it all, Mia had no choice but to keep a positive attitude and brave face while yellow car after yellow car drove past her.

What she wanted to do waws cry. Crying wasn’t really an option though, not with Sally with her. She had to be strong and confident for her daughter. She had to have everything under control for her daughter. She had to figure out how the fuck to get around New York City on her own, for her daughter. 

Finally, a yellow car pulled over, and she was on her way. Sally was taking to the city far better than Mia. The small girl’s face was pressed against the window. Each building that passed was met with an oooh or ahhh.

“First time here?” The cabbie asked, weaving through the traffic, taking what openings he could find to sneak further ahead. 

“Yeah,” Mia answered. “First time.” 

“You here to see the actors?” The cabbie asked. “I’ve been getting a few of their groupies wanting to hang out around the filming locations, hoping to catch sight of some fancy pants actor or another.”

“Oh,” Mia laughed, the sound awkward. That wasn’t so far from the truth of why she was there. At least in her case, she wasn’t there to see just any random actor. 

“Is that what you’re after too?” The cabbie backtracked. “I ain’t ever seen one who brought their kid in toe.” 

“No, no.” Mia couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “My boyfriend works on the crew. I’m visiting him as a surprise.” 

It wasn’t so much of a lie. Tom was on the crew, just not as a crew member. He was a part of the talent. The lie was enough to settle the conversation before he demanded far too much of her remaining money for payment upon dropping them off and disappearing into the distance. Or at least trying to- he got caught up in the less than flowing stream of traffic. 

Now that Mia was here, she realized she didn’t actually know what her next steps should be. There were people crowding off to the side, held behind a metal fence. That seemed like as good of a place to start as any. 

“I’m hungry,” Sally whined, reminding Mia that in all the rush of trying to get from one place to another, the time for lunch came and passed, leaving their stomachs empty and the little girl’s energy levels low. 

“I know, Sally-bug.” Mia squeezed her daughter’s hand as they joined the crowd. “We’ll see Tommy, then we’ll go get food, I promise.” 

Mia stood awkwardly with the people all trying to get a glimpse of the actors. She asked a few people if they saw anyone or knew how to get in touch with anyone and was largely blown off. The actors wouldn’t come by here until they were leaving and then they would probably be ignored. 

This wasn’t going to be Mia’s way to Tom. The last thing she wanted to do was admit defeat and call Tom and ask him to help her. The whole point of this was to surprise him as much as possible. Just when she was about ready to call it quits, she saw someone that looked something like security. 

“Excuse me?” Mia called out, waving her arm at him. It took a few tries to get his attention before he came over to the fence. “Excuse me!” 

“Can I help you, miss?” The man sounded like he didn’t want to hear whatever it was she had to say. 

“I’m here to surprise my husband.” Mia was counting on the sounds of the city and the surrounding people to keep her words from Sally. “I- Could you take me to him?” 

“And who’s your husband?” The security guard was slightly more engaged in the converation now. 

“Tom…” Mia hesitated. “Tom Hiddleston?” 

The guard laughed at her. He actually laughed. 

She never felt so inadequate as she did when he laughed at the very idea of her being Tom Hiddleston’s wife. Of course, why would he believe her when she was standing out on the street with the other weird stalker groupie fans?

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Mia pressed. “Just let me show you some pictures of us together and you’ll see?” 

“Fine.” The guard rolled his eyes. “Let’s see what photoshopped pictures you’ve got.” 

Mia was very much looking forward to putting him in his place when she pulled out her phone. There were selfies taken of the three of them at the parks, at the pool. Sure, someone could have photoshopped some of them but the two of them wet, holding each other poolside? 

Of course, as was on brand with the general vibe of her whole trip, she went to unlock her phone just in time to see the battery die. 

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Bad word, Mommy!” Sally was quick to remind Mia that little ears were always listening. 

“Something the matter?” The guard looked less than impressed at the sight of her dead phone. 

“It’s dead.” Mia stuffed it back into her purse. “Just take a picture of me and show it to him?”

“Ma’am,” the guard sighed, “I’m not bothering him with this.” 

“Please,” Mia was not above begging now that calling Tom wasn’t an option. “Just please, show him a picture of me? He’ll confirm it. I’ll wait, it’s fine.” 

The guard was less than eager to do it, but something about her begging made him feel sorry for her. Perhaps it was pity, or he was just looking forward to telling the delusional fan that Tom was, in fact, unaware of who she was and calling the cops on the stalker. 

~~~~~<3

Tom was eager for a break, though they were far and few between. They’d run through this scene a handful of times and something about it just wasn’t hitting right. They were going to keep trying until it was just right. 

He was frustrated, more so than he really should have been. The reality is he wasn’t angry at the crew or his fellow actors who kept failing to hit the marks. He was frustrated with the nagging feeling that something was not right with Mia. She wasn’t dressed how she would for work when he called. 

He was thankful for the break when one was called out. The reality was he wanted to get away long enough to get to his phone and call Mia. She was probably working and would be angry with him if he called repeatedly and scared her, but he would. It would be worth it to put his mind at ease. 

Nothing about the call earlier felt right. She was dressed wrong. The bathroom was wrong. The voice was wrong. Everything was wrong. Tom needed reassurance. He needed Mia to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like. 

When he finally got his phone in his hand and hit the call button on Mia’s contact, he expected it to ring. Instead, the call went straight to voicemail. Tom hit the end call button, only to turn around and hit the call again. 

“Excuse me.” A security guard approached Tom as the call once again went to voicemail. 

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to make a call at the moment. Is it urgent?” Tom looked between the guard and his phone again. 

“It’ll just take a minute.” The guard pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up an image. “There’s a woman outside asking to speak to you. She insisted I show you her picture. Said she’s your wife and that you’d want to see her. I know the fans can be crazy, but she insisted.” 

“Let’s see it then,” Tom sighed as he leaned in to look at the picture on the guard’s phone. He expected it to be just another fan standing in a sea of fans. What he was faced with was the sight of the woman who’d been on his mind for the last few hours, standing with the rest of the people. 

“Bring her back.” He was breathless as he looked at her. 

“Are you serious?” The guard was clearly not expecting that request. Tom couldn’t blame him, he wasn’t expecting to make it either. 

“That’s my wife.” The smile that spread over his face was full of boyish glee. 

The man walks away, leaving Tom trying to come to grips with the emotional whiplash. He pulled at his costume and adjusted his hair, anything to busy his hands while he waited. 

Outside, Mia waited impatiently for the guard to return or some sign that her attempt to gain access wasn’t a total failure. There really wasn’t a plan B. She couldn’t call for help or call for Tom. She had no choice but to try to convince whoever she saw that she was really who she said she was. 

Mia was fully prepared to try again to make her case when she caught sight of the guard. He walked intently back toward her. Either he was getting ready to tell her to get the fuck out of there, or he was coming to say he believed her. Mia really hoped it was not the first option. 

He nodded toward her as he stopped in front of the gate. The chain rattled as he unclipped it and pulled the two sections apart. Mia’s heart lept into her chest as he held out his arm in invitation. “Ma’am.” 

Mia rushed forward, pulling Sally behind as they both slipped through the opening of the gate. The guard held up a hand as others rushed to follow. 

“Just her.” 

“Thank you so much,” Mia was quick to say as he clipped the gate closed again. 

“I’m sorry for-” 

“It’s no trouble,” she was quick to interrupt the guard. “You didn’t know. No one was expecting us. It was a surprise. I didn’t exactly come here with anything on hand to help my case. It’s fine!” 

She was rambling. It wasn’t intentional. Mia just didn’t know what she was supposed to say or do. This was a situation she had never been in before. This was the first time she was acting as the Tom Hiddleston’s wife in any public sense without him by her side. 

“He’s right down here, waiting for you.” 

“Thank you,” Mia said again. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything or… I don’t know.” 

“They were just taking a break.” The guard shrugged. “It’s been a day for them. They could use the reason to have a longer break.” 

“Mia!” Tom’s voice carried easily over the open space, drawing Mia’s eyes to a man she’d seen so many times and yet the man she was looking at was somehow also someone she’d only really seen a handful of times before. 

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom  @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia  @princess-ofthe-pages, @tom-hlover Get on the tag list of follow #sundew for updates!

[shokuto]

I feel logically Damian should be up there with Cass in terms of raw fighting ability seeing as they were both raised to efficiently murder people by every martial art since they could walk

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

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[seumyo]

akaashi couldn’t be nonchalant as people made him out to be.

NOTE. Inspired by @/nethsukii’s post from TikTok!

Everyone always assumed Akaashi was the most level-headed person in the room, nonchalant in some cases, the calm voice amongst the chaos, the unshakeable setter with cool eyes and a brain that always operated two steps ahead.

That reputation didn’t change when he got a girlfriend—it intensified. People whispered about how lucky you were to have someone so composed, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent, and stable. A boyfriend who wouldn’t raise his voice, who’d remember anniversaries without being reminded, who’d bring you tea when you had cramps, and listen to you vent without interrupting.

And okay—yes. Two of those things were completely true.

But the “nonchalant” part? That one was a bit misleading.

Because if you asked Bokuto, or Konoha, or literally any of Akaashi’s closer friends, they’d tell you: he’s anything but nonchalant when it comes to you. Sure, he looks calm, but beneath that is a man whose brain short-circuits when you so much as bat your eyelashes at him thrice rather than twice. He’s an intense romantic disguised as a stoic intellectual. And the intensity isn’t dramatic or grand—it’s absurdly, endearingly specific.

“Did you know you sneeze in three stages?”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your grilled cheese sandwich. “What?”

Akaashi, seated across from you at his kitchen counter, wore his usual composed expression. His glasses slid a bit down his nose, but he didn’t push them up. He was too focused on you. “Three stages,” he repeated. “You do this little build-up thing first—your eyebrows scrunch, your nose wiggles like a bunny, and then you hold your breath for a second. That’s stage one.”

You stared at him with an expression of genuine confusion. “You studied my sneeze?”

“I observe,” he corrected smoothly, reaching for his cup of tea like this was just another normal afternoon conversation and not borderline concerning.

“Stage two is the sneeze itself. It’s never dainty. It’s loud. Forceful. Passionate.”

“That’s a weird adjective.”

“Am I wrong?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Yes?” You looked down at your sandwich. “I… don’t know how to properly respond to that.”

Akaashi gave the faintest smile, his eyes flickering with mischief. “Stage three is the little sigh you do afterward. Like you just survived a great war. Then you sniff once and pretend it didn’t just shake the room.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, “but it’s endearing. You sneeze like a bazooka. It’s adorable.”

“No one’s ever called a bazooka adorable.”

“I’m a trailblazer,” he said matter-of-factly.

-

There were his journal entries—yes, journal entries—about you. You found one once by accident, tucked between a book of poetry and a volleyball strategy book. He didn’t write about major milestones like one might expect. No, you found out your boyfriend documented the way your nose crinkled when you lied, or how your left hand twitches a little when you were anxious.

There was an entire paragraph dedicated to the way you wrapped your scarf, how it was “disarmingly efficient, yet always crooked to the left, like her heart’s trying to lean on someone without asking.”

Who says that?

Akaashi Keiji, apparently.

He once paused mid-sentence in a phone call with Bokuto because you, half-asleep and grumpy, had mumbled something unintelligible from the other room (you had come over for a project and fell asleep after lunch). “She sounds like a disgruntled possum when she’s waking up,” he said dreamily. “It’s charming.”

...

“Akaashi. You okay?”

“More than okay.”

-

Akaashi even adjusted his wardrobe—not that he admitted it. You mentioned once, half-joking, that he looked really good in dark green, and suddenly half of his winter clothes were moss, olive, or emerald. You caught on when he started showing up with sleeves rolled halfway up because you once muttered something about liking the veins in his arms.

“Yum,” you murmur, squeezing his triceps before bursting into a fit of laughter after realizing how embarrassing you’re acting.

But you learned long ago that there was never such a thing as too embarrassing when Akaashi acted the same, if not to a greater degree. He wasn’t nonchalant. Not even close. He was... silly.

A helpless romantic who never made grand proclamations or public gestures but instead memorized the oddest, most mundane things about you like it was part of some sacred text.

And yet, he wasn’t clingy nor weird to the point of you being uncomfortable. He knows your boundaries well. He wasn’t overbearing or overly expressive. He just noticed. Quietly, constantly, lovingly. He didn’t tell you he loved you every day in words, but he knew the way you curled your pinky when you drank from your mug.

He knew you got cold at 3 a.m. even in the summer and always made sure a blanket was within reach. He noticed when you rewatched the same ten-minute section of your favorite show because you liked the background music.

He remembered the exact number of sugars you took in your coffee and the fact that your favorite mug was slightly chipped, but you used it anyway because it was a gift from your cousin. He once stopped mid-sentence while talking to Bokuto on the phone just to say, “She’s humming the Sailor Moon theme in the shower again,” with a fondness so full it made Bokuto gag.

Man, he was whole-body deep into loving you.

-

How Akaashi often spends a lot of time thinking about things that weren’t even that serious.

Like how, that one time, you laughed at someone else’s joke for a few seconds longer than how he’d normally get from you. He doesn’t even get jealous when someone’s flirting with you because he knows—you know—and you’re both trusting of one another.

But to hear you laugh for 1.7 seconds longer?

You might as well give up now, because this man is persistent.

“Are you seriously keeping time now?” you asked, laughing at his behavior.

“Yes, my dad raised me to be competitive.”

“Don’t bring him into this, Keiji,” you laughed.

He looked at you as if you hung the moon and individually painted the stars in the beautiful night sky itself. “You’re very pretty,” he says. “I think I might experience a heart attack.”

You hugged him so hard you nearly knocked his glasses off.

-

When you painted your nails—usually some soft pastel or neutral tone—he would watch intently, chin in his hand like an art critic evaluating a masterpiece. At first, you thought he was just being polite (to try and appear interested, since guys don’t usually find interest in these sorts of things), but when you noticed the way he always commented on the color and style like it was a whole personality trait, you realized it wasn’t an act.

“Oh, that shade of sage green,” he murmured once. “It makes your fingers look like they’ve been kissed by a forest spirit.”

“What does that even mean?” You laughed.

He blinked, entirely serious. “It’s a compliment.”

“Keiji, I told you. If you’re going through something, you tell me—not just like—act this way.” As a joke, of course.

He laughed too.

Eventually, Akaashi started doing them for you. It began as a fleeting thought—you had been painting your left hand with your non-dominant one, struggling to keep it clean, when he silently plucked the brush from you and started painting with delicate strokes.

“You’re going to mess it up,” you warned.

“I have steady hands,” he said with all the gravitas of a surgeon. “We did this in Home Economics, remember?”

“...Yeah.”

From then on, it became a quiet ritual. You’d sit in his lap or next to him on the bed while he carefully painted your nails (he prefers the first one but isn’t shameless enough to tell you most of the time), brows furrowed in concentration, tongue sometimes poking out as he focused too hard. And every time he picked a color, it came with an elaborate reason.

“This one reminds me of the sky right after it rains in early spring. Soft, muted, but a little hopeful.”

You’d pretend to roll your eyes, but your heart would always flutter. Because you won the boyfriend lottery with him.

Akaashi was just built like that. When you two cooked together, he’d narrate what you were doing like it was a documentary on divine beings. “And now, the goddess stirs the pot, bestowing warmth and nourishment unto mankind.”

“Stop it,” you giggled, flicking water at him. “Don’t narrate it like that. You’re making it sound like a case study.”

“But it’s fun,” he says with a smile.

“You’re so weird.”

“I’m so in love with you.”

And he truly is.

And you believe him.

Akaashi wasn’t nonchalant. He was soft-spoken, yes. Composed, yes. But behind that calm exterior was a boy with a mind full of your quirks and a heart that was overflowing with enough love to swallow you whole. And somehow, that made you feel even more lucky than you already were.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[graceisinthelibrary]

This drabble is for @royalbesties who asked for prompt no 8. of the drabble list #15. The prompt was "Wanna test it for yourself?"

Siegfried Farnon admittedly liked his drink, but in this special case he didn’t need any strong liquor to be drunk. On this warm evening in July he found himself drunk on love. 

Her glittering eyes, the dimples that graced her beautiful face, those cheekbones that cut right through his heart… he wasn’t tipsy. He was plastered. Gone. Beyond help. 

“Want to test it for yourself?” The glass she handed him was filled with her own summer wine. A housemade wine made of various fruits and the certain “Je ne sais quoi” as she phrased it - meaning that it was her secret ingredient that she wouldn’t reveal to the Almighty himself. 

“I’m not sure,” he said, pretending to be wary of the contents. 

“I won’t poison you,” she said, making it obvious that the idea had crossed her mind more than once. The mischievous expression in her eyes amused and besotted him even further. Why oh why did he have no control over himself when it came to her? 

He endlessly reminded himself of her position and his own. There were lines they shouldn't cross and yet they had crossed most of them countless times. He had always blamed the things they had in common: their age, the service for King and Country during their war, their losses that had shaped them so cruelly… but it wasn’t just that. Blaming their circumstances for their bond didn’t do them justice. There was something beneath all of it that linked them together. Something more beautiful than their past would suggest, something lasting and deep that they both didn’t dare to name. 

He sniffed at the wine and the sweetness of summer filled his nostrils. The sweetness that reminded him of her. These days she was using a soap that gave him shivers every time he smelled it in the bathroom or when he walked along the upper hallway. The way that led straight to her bedroom door. The guiding fragance was an instrument of torture and every so often he imagined how he would dive his nose into her hair or kiss the one spot at her neck, knowing it she would react with gooseflesh and a soft moan that gave away her own desire for him…

He did it again. Clearing his throat, he raised the glass to his mouth and sipped from it. The taste was bewitching. Not as sweet as he had imagined, but that made it all the better. 

“Strawberries,” he said as he eyed the red liquid. “And raspberries…” 

“Very good,” she praised him. “What else?” 

“Elderberry?” He drank more and every drop was as perfect as she was. 

“Syrup from last year.” She smiled, happy that he liked her “brew”. “It were a good year for fruit,” she explained and leaned over to give him a refill. Her blouse, light blue and with a wider collar than the one she usually wore, fell a bit open. The sight of her naked skin and the subtle rim of her bra that he spotted was too much for him. 

“Obviously…” Suddenly it felt very hot in the kitchen and he fiddled with his tie and his tight collar. 

“Is it too strong for you?” She asked with a chuckle. The question was a challenge - one he couldn’t ignore. 

“Don’t you know me at all?” He returned the question, trying to sound as brash as possible. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. 

“Sometimes I feel I know you too well…” And she did know his every weakness - at least the obvious ones: his big ego, his moods, his forgetfulness to name the more charming vices. He was sure if she knew about his secret desires, his naughty visions or his internal struggle when he looked at her bedroom door after he came home from a late night call, she would probably drown him in her summer brew. 

He picked up his glass and drank more from the wine and the delicious taste took over his whole existence. He watched her as she whirled around her kitchen and mourned profoundly when she slipped into her pinny, covering her magnificent curves in the practical garment. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t allow Carmody to taste it,” Siegfried suggested, pointing at the carafe on the table. 

“Why ever not?” She chuckled. 

“It could… fuel certain… ideas - like a love potion. What’s the name of the land girl that has turned his head?” 

“Doris,” she said. “She’s a nice lass. I think she would be good for him. He needs someone carefree and honest who won’t play games with him.” 

Although he overall agreed with her assessment, he was intrigued. “And what do we need?” 

Pondering over his question she poured herself a second glass of the wine and tilted her head. “Someone gentle…maybe a bit…daring, but not too much.” With a sigh she put down the glass. “What do you think?” 

“Sometimes I wonder if I already have everything I need…,” he mused. 

“I weren’t talking about family,” she said. 

“Me neither.” Feeling bold now that this woman’s summer brew had spread through his veins, he rose. With deliberate steps he closed the distance between them and only stopped when they stood an inch apart. 

“Maybe I am a fool,” he began. “But I think I have to kiss you.” 

“Oh, you are a fool,” she replied with a smile that played around her lips and danced in her eyes. “But I very much want you to kiss me… maybe that makes fools of both of us.” 

As his heart raced with bliss, he thought about all the things they had in common and cupped her face with both of his hands.  

“I don’t think I’m fooling myself when I admit that I’m deeply in love with you.” 

“So kiss me and let’s be fools together,” she whispered and leaned in to receive the kiss she had been waiting for. 

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Caleb

Caleb always talked about how he would he would show you around SkyHaven when you got there. It was never an 'if' with him it was always a 'when'. Perhaps that should've been your first red flag, but when you have feelings for someone those red flags look a little pink A/N: I was chillin' in the N109Zone while I wrote this. Sylus rubbed my feet and brought me food.

↢ previous ... continue ↣

“Just give me some time….”

What did he mean by that? The memory of the way his voice shook and how it seemed like he was talking more to himself rather than you — haunted you endlessly. You spent your days on edge, looking over your shoulder, tossing and turning in your sleep and waking up out of breath. You were never able to use your phone again after that it just wouldn’t turn back on. You spun the new device in your hand flipping it over to see the new phone case you purchased for it.

Apples.

“Well thanks for the new phone Caleb” You mumbled to yourself, setting it aside on your desk before sitting down to get to work. Part of you missed playing Love and Deepspace, but you couldn’t bring yourself to download the app again after what happened with Caleb. For months you had managed to fall for that pixelated man only for it to end the way that it did. You still had no clue what he meant by ‘Give me some time’ but it gave you chills nonetheless.

“Hey!” You jumped at the sound of Camerons voice aka your work bestie. “What?” The word rushed out of you. She stared down at you with a concerned look “I’ve been trying to get your attention I called your name at least ten times” You blinked rapidly as you looked around trying to gather your scattered thoughts. You hadn't realized you were spacing out “I’m sorry I was just trying to get this finished by end of day” You smoothed out your shirt and turned to face your friend “What's up?” Just when you thought it would be bad news you watched as a saccharine grin spread across her face. “Somebody had these delivered” She pulled a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind her back and gently placed them in your lap. “Just for you”

Your whole face lit up as you looked down at the gorgeous flowers. No one has ever gifted you flowers before. The gesture almost made you combust just from staring at them. Carefully picking them up, you took a long sniff relishing in the floral notes that filled your senses. After getting a good sniff you quickly searched the flowers for a card to see who your secret admirer could be.

‘𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑷𝒊𝒑-𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒂𝒌 ♡ ͏𝑰 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 -𝑪 ’

Your heart dropped to your ass in an instant; it can’t be Caleb he’s not real. You sprang to your feet letting the flowers fall to the floor — petals broke away from the stems as you kicked it away. The room grew blurry as your lungs constricted and your heart pounded like a drum in your ears. The last thing you saw was your friend reaching for you before you were suddenly counting the ceiling lights. Cameron shook you by your shoulders trying to get you to breathe properly. “What was in those flowers!? What did you do? Should I call 911?” She wasn’t speaking to you she was looking over her shoulder — who's she talking to? Please don’t let it be your boss that lady is strict enough as it is. She’ll have you head on a stick if she finds out you passed out on the clock.

“No I'll take it from here” A tall looming shadow stood over you; his face came into view as he leaned down and cupped your cheek in his hand. “Let’s go home pipsqueak you don’t look so well” Caleb? But how? You wanted to flinch away from his touch or get up and scramble away from him but your body was so heavy. “Ca…Caleb” It was so hard to speak your words coming out slurred as you continued to become even dizzier. “How?…..” His smile was blurry but his voice was clear "I take it you missed me considering this phone case"

The world seemed to be going by in flashes. First you were on the floor and next you were in someones arms and now you’re watching flashes of light pass by as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “Get some rest” A gentle hand rubbed small circles on your back willing you to sleep. The heavy weight of sleep outweighed your will to stay awake.

You were groggy as you rolled over and instinctively snuggled into your pillow. You wanted to go back to sleep, but the smell of breakfast had your stomach growling. Breakfast? You sat up in a panic looking around the foreign room. This was not your room and this was not your city. Fumbling out of bed you somehow managed to wrap your feet up in the sheets falling to the floor with a hard thud “Fuck that hurt” just then you heard heavy footsteps heading your way. Terror set in as you tried to untangle yourself from the blankets as the footsteps grew closer. “Come on come on come on” you begged the sheets that seemed to continuously grip onto your legs. “You can’t be serious” You whisper-yelled to yourself.

The room door opens softly and there stands Caleb with a look of worry. “What happened?” He rushes to your side and tries to help untangle you. “Caleb!?” Your eyes are practically bulging out of your head staring at the man in front of you. You wriggle and flail only making things worse “Hold still!” Caleb pins you in place with his evol as he unwraps your lower half from the sheets and blanket. “There. All done” He meets your stare and gives you those same puppy dog eyes that you remember all too well.

“W-where am I?” It took everything in you to keep from cowering into the corner. You knew there was no point in trying to run since he could quite literally pin you in place. He beamed as he gestured towards the floor to ceiling window “Welcome to SkyHaven I hope you enjoy your stay” He said with a wink. Your lips curled into an angry frown while your eyes ping ponged between the view and him. “What? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I don’t understand how I'm seeing you” You rolled your shoulder to try and quell the pain radiating from it. There will definitely be some bruising or at least some soreness later. “That’s classified information Pip-squeak” Before you could ask anymore questions Caleb pulled you to your feet like you weigh nothing. You looked up at him almost entranced by how handsome he is. You shook your head and snatched your hands from his. “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse! Take me home!”

He tilted his head and reached a hand out to caress your cheek “You are home” Although he had the warmest smile and lovestruck eyes; you couldn't help, but feel like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you. You stared dumbfounded; words escaping you.

Say something. Say something!

“I have to leave soon but I wanted to share a meal with you before then” That's when you noticed he was dressed in his colonel uniform — damn he looked so good too, but you refused to tell him that.

Suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you out the door. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up with his long strides. “I can walk on my own Caleb let go” You yanked at his grip and surprisingly he let go — only for him to swiftly sweep you off your feet and carry you bridal style into the dining room. He gently placed you in a chair and sauntered off to the kitchen returning with your favorite juice, a glass of water, and scallion pancakes. You stared at your plate not sure if you’re happy or pissed.

“I didn’t poison it so stop poutin’ and eat before it gets cold” You glanced at Caleb who occupied the seat next to you. He sat in a relaxed position with his head resting in his palm; studying you intently. You were still hesitant to eat anything this man put in front of you considering he kidnapped you to another world and won’t tell you how to get home. Caleb reaches a hand across you grabbing your knife and fork and slices a piece of your scallion pancake — popping it into his mouth with a subtle groan. He cuts another piece and turns the fork to you “See it’s safe”

You hesitantly part your lips as Caleb pushes the food into your mouth. The flavors bursting on your tongue had you audibly moaning as well. Caleb was a fantastic cook — you snatched the fork from his hand and dug right in taking a few sips of your drink to wash it down. The weight of his stare has you slowing down and immediately wiping your mouth “What are you staring at?” Calebs eyes soften as he slowly scans your face “You’re even more beautiful in person”

Even though you weren’t happy with him those words still gave you butterflies — you’ve been trying so hard to suppress them. You dropped your gaze and moved the last bits of your food around your plate “Don’t flirt with me you’re gonna make me nervous” He let out a soft chuckle and flicked your nose before leaning back in his chair — flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Caleb really was breathtaking; those violet eyes almost had you in a trance. You couldn’t help, but take in all his features — your eyes going from his eyes to his lips, taking notes of how full and soft they looked.

Continuing your perusal, you let your eyes move down, taking in his long muscular, but lean frame. His legs seemed to go for miles and you watched him spread them just a little wider when your eyes reached his lap. “You like what you see pip-squeak?” You finally snapped out of your self-inflicted trance and shook your head “You’re easy on the eyes even though you make my nervous system stand on end” You pushed your empty plate away, crossing your arms over your chest as you sat back in your chair.

Caleb didn’t respond immediately — opting to just give your cheek a caress as he grabbed your plate. His silence was unnerving to say the least. Is he upset? Are you the reason he’s upset? Staying quiet seemed to be the best option. “So I’ll be leavin’ for three days I want you to stay here and when I get back I promise to give you the grand tour of SkyHaven” His voice was accompanied by the sound of dishes clattering and running water.

“Three days?!” You choked on your drink causing you to cough loudly. Caleb stopped what he was doing and rushed to your side — rubbing your back as you caught your breath. “I’m not staying here for three days! I have a life back home!” You pushed his shoulder so you could stand and get some space. You knew by the way his brows furrowed and the chilling demeanor that washed over him in an instance that you’d made him mad. “And how exactly do you plan on getting ‘home’ pip-squeak?” He took a step toward you making you step back. You didn’t get far as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you flush against him. His eyes were becoming wild — this was the same look in his eyes before he ruined your phone for good. His heart was also beating rapidly in rhythm with yours.

You: Tell me how! Caleb: Didn’t you say you hated your job? You: Yes but- Caleb: Weren’t you the one who said you wanted someone to take care of you for once? You: Caleb I didn’t mean- Caleb: So why not stay here and be happy …. with me?

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you stood there letting part of yourself give in to him while the other half was ready to run out the door. Where would you go though? Who would help you? There’s no way Caleb is actually cruel enough to keep you here knowing damn well you don’t belong in this game. “I-I can’t” You croaked out not knowing if you wanted to kiss him or kick him. You watched Calebs’ expression fall, but he quickly covered it with a small grin. He stepped away from you and you almost chased after him due to the loss of warmth. He gripped you by your chin and you stood there frozen not sure what his next move would be. He narrowed his eyes as he searched your face for what? You didn’t know. To your surprise he placed the softest kiss on your lips. The gasp that followed was swallowed up by him as he deepened the kiss. Your mind screamed at you to give him a swift kick to the crotch, but your heart was melting in the palm of his hand.

You kissed him back with the same fervor.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly close. Caleb kissed you like he would never have this chance again while simultaneously savoring your lips like he had all the time in the world. He tapped the side of your thigh and you swiftly lifted it without question. Caleb picked you up, holding you close as he moved across the room and laid you down on the couch. He pulled away breathless and dropped his forehead on your chest “If we keep going I’ll be late for work”

“I should probably get home anyway Caleb we can talk about this another day, but let me go home first” You ran your hands through his hair — it was soft. He lifted his head and for the first time, since bringing up home, his eyes showed no sign of anger. “You’re right” He stood to his full height and helped you to your feet. “Lets get you some pain medication for your shoulder” He brushed his fingertips over the darkening area “Then I'll tell you how to get home” his words were almost a whisper.

“Thank you” You could feel the tension melting off of you in waves.

“Follow me” He helped you to your feet and headed down the hallway towards what you assume is his room. You followed closely behind him; stumbling a few times to keep up. Once you were in his room your stumbling became much harder to control. Your breathing was becoming heavy and your head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. You braced yourself against the wall willing the dizziness to stop.

“What’s wrong? Come lay down” Caleb said feigning concern. Your body was too heavy to even try to fight him so you allowed him to guide you into his bed and you felt a soft kiss on your forehead right before drifting off to sleep. “I’ll be back soon”

The room was dark only lit by the moon through the window when you woke up. You sat up glancing around the room trying to figure out where you were. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust, but once they did you saw the outline of a small lamp on the nightstand next to the bed.

No he didn’t.

You bolted out of bed at the sudden realization that you were still in Calebs home. “Caleb!” You yelled as you ran down the hall out into the living room. The place was dark and quiet not a single sign of another person. You ran to the front door, frantically trying to open it, but somehow Caleb managed to bolt this door shut making it impossible for you to leave. “He locked me in?” Think.

The windows!

You opened one of the few windows that wasn't floor to ceiling and found that it luckily wasn't sealed shut. Freedom was in reach. You went to put one leg out the window when you were met with an electrifying pain. “Ow! Damn it!” There was some kind of electromagnetic wall just outside the window. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Your breathing was ragged and tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. “Fuck you Caleb you were never going to let me leave”

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[sinner-as-saint]

drag me under

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader 

Run-through: After what has to be one of the most exhausting and exasperating meetings he’s ever had with the Bishop and Mother Superior, Father Charlie desperately needs a quick release. It was wrong, he knew and he’d repent for it later. Except, what he thought was going to stay as a secret between him and God ends up involving a third witness – you. 

Themes: smut, explicit language, mentions of infidelity, degrading kink

Fuck. He was close. 

He’d shut himself inside the confessional booth a few minutes ago because he absolutely needed to get his mind off certain things. Those meetings always left him feeling like a damned pressure cooker, and he always needed to let out some steam after. 

All that arguing, and having to keep his cool and maintain composure when all he wanted to do was yell and tell them all that he was right and they were wrong. It had to be the generational gap, but sometimes he felt like he was being tortured with how much his mindset differed from those of his superiors. Why couldn’t they just let him do things his way? 

But he pushed all that aside for a moment. Just a moment, that’s all he needed. Fist wrapped around his throbbing cock, his spit and precum giving him just the right amount of lubricant, his head thrown back against the thick wood as he worked his fist up and down his cock, as fast as he could. 

He tried to keep his gasps and moans as quiet as possible. It was late in the afternoon, there wouldn’t be anyone around during this time, but just in case. A groan left his lips anyway, and he bit his lip immediately after. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… 

He could hear how fast his fist moved, the friction was almost just as good as how he remembered sinking into a warm body felt like. Almost, not quite as exhilarating though. 

Fuck! 

A few more tugs, a couple more unrestrained moans later, and he came with a loud sigh. Spilling all over his hand, gasping for breath as he blinked a couple times, already feeling his thoughts flowing much easier. His all black suit, his collar around his neck didn’t feel as tight and constricting anymore. 

He quickly cleaned himself up with a handkerchief he’d have to put in the trash later, he sighed one more time as he made sure to fix his clothes and was about to walk out of the booth when he heard a timid, soft, almost hesitant voice ask: 

“Are you done, Father?” 

He froze. 

Shit. 

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a young woman on the other side. He tried to look but the screen only allowed him a partial view of your face. Okay, okay, don’t panic. He could still get out of this situation. Maybe you didn’t hear what he was doing. Maybe you’d just gotten in here. Maybe you were too naive to even know what those sounds were. 

He cleared his throat again, “How, uh, how long have you been waiting for?” He tried his hardest to sound apologetic for making you wait. 

A moment of silence. Then you replied, “Long enough.” 

That voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? 

He said your name out loud. A pause then, “Is it you?” He asked. 

A sigh. Then, “Yes, Father.” 

Ah. He let out a quiet breath, relieved. 

He had no reason to worry if it was you. You were what he called a lost little lamb, too innocent for her own good. He knew your family. They were nice people who frequented the church, and lately your parents had been worried about you since they found out that you had a troublesome boyfriend who was nowhere near the god-fearing type your family wanted you to date. 

He also knew that you, unlike your parents, were not seen very often at church. He saw you here and there, sometimes at charity events, or sometimes at the tennis court with your mom. But never in the confessional booth. 

Father Charlie sat up straight, looked ahead at the wooden door and asked, “This is your first confession?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“And what would you like to confess?” He asked, knowing he was going about this all wrong. No signs of the cross, no ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’, but he was impatient and… intrigued. What could a shy, timid girl like you have to confess?

“I… I slept with my boyfriend.” 

He couldn’t help but turn towards the screen. He watched you as you fidgeted and squirmed. “Did you?” He didn’t recognise his own voice. 

“Yes, Father.” You answered. “But that’s not all.” 

“Oh?” 

A trembled sigh left your lips, then you said, “While we were, um, when he was...” You struggled to speak. 

And Father Charlie felt weirdly interested all of a sudden, so he urged, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He cooed gently, using the soothing voice he always used with everyone. “Use your big girl words, come on. When he was, what?” 

“Father, I cannot say it.” Your words sounded heavy with shame. 

So he urged you even further, “Like I said, you’re safe here. Now tell me. When he was, what? On top of you? Fucking you? What happened, did he hurt you?” 

“No,” You said quickly. “No, he was… gentle.” 

Father Charlie raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

You let out a shaky breath and confessed, “I wanted him to…” You trailed off, “I know it’s wrong to want these kinds of things, but I didn’t want him to be gentle. I wanted him to be rough. To make it hurt.” 

Another shaky breath left your lips, and this time Father Charlie felt like he was the tormented one. He frowned as he looked down and noticed that he was hard again. Shit. 

He cleared his throat again. “I see.” 

But you were quick to add, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? To want things like that? Isn’t it, Father?” 

There was a strangely innocent desperation in your voice even as you referred to sinful things. The kind of innocence he wanted to take into his hands and crumble it into pieces but also preserve it at the same time. 

Fuck, he was hard. And it was painful because you were right there. 

“Depends,” He answered, “What other things do you find yourself wanting?” A small, quiet gasp left your mouth. Father Charlie caught himself smirking at the sound of it. “And don’t lie. I can’t help you if you lie.” He noticed movement on the other side of the screen. Maybe your hand touching your neck out of nervousness. 

“I… I like being told what to do. I like authority. I like…,” You gasped, as if not believing you were actually saying all this out loud, “I like it, I mean I like the idea of men being mean to me, in bed. I want them to take what they want from me, with consent of course. But I don’t want them to be gentle about it.” 

Oh fuck. 

“That’s, uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. His cock was making his trousers tighter. His hands were shaking with the need to grab and feel a warm body. Preferably that of a shy young woman who thought she should be ashamed of her desires. “Yes, that’s not right.” He did his best to sound stern and disappointed. 

A soft sound came from the other side. Sounding a lot like a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Father.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I should go.” 

It all happened too quickly. The sound of the door opening, the sound of you trying to rush and get out. Before he knew it, he was out of the booth as well and stopping you from leaving. Your wrist in his hand, his chest heaving, tears down your face, a shocked look in your eyes. 

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, looking down at you and noticing the way you didn’t even fight him. Aww, a lost little lamb indeed. 

“No.” You whispered, going along with the movement as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall, beside the booth. 

“You’re disobedient,” He noted, “I should punish you for that.” 

“Yes,” You mumbled, like you were ready to be punished for your sins. 

“Yes, what?” He chided. 

“Yes, Father.” 

And oh, how he would’ve loved to have you on your knees in front of him. To have his cock in your mouth. To make real tears stream down your face, ruining your makeup. But he didn't have too much time. 

He stepped closer, trapping you between the wall and his hard body. He noted the way your eyes remained fixated on his white collar, those teary, innocent eyes. You didn’t even know the treasure you were. 

“Look at me,” He ordered. 

You did. Unable to look away once you did. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, you know that, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded at him. “And I need to punish you, because I need to make sure you’re good from now on, don’t I?” You nodded at his words again. “Good,” He whispered, then grabbed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. 

He fucking that little gasp of surprise that left your mouth as he kissed you, hot and messy. His hands reached down and bunched your dress up before he slipped his hand in between your legs.

He chuckled into the kiss when he felt your flimsy underwear. “See now, good girls don’t wear things like this. You understand?” He whispered, running his knuckles along your wet folds and smearing your arousal around through the thin fabric. “I’m gonna have to take it off, okay?” 

You nodded again. 

And he did, he slid your underwear down until it fell to your ankles. He watched as you stepped out of them and he immediately slid his knee in between your legs, followed by his hand again. “This is all part of your punishment,” He whispered into your ear, and watched how you shivered upon feeling his warm breath. He slipped his two fingers into you with ease and smirked against your skin as he felt your arousal coating his fingers, which he curled inside of you, hitting all the spots which made you gasp and moan.

You whimpered and closed your eyes, sighing and moaning when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your throat. He chuckled, sliding his fingers in and out of you, “See what a little slut you are? Cheating on your boyfriend, and letting me touch you however I please,” He scoffed, “Is this what you came to do? Was this your intention?” 

You bucked your hips against his hand impatiently. “Please,” You murmured. 

He pulled his fingers out, and messed with his belt, undoing it and the zipper on his trousers until he pulled his cock out. “Please what?” He asked, rubbing his wet fingers along his hard cock, “Huh? What do you want?” 

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

“Oh?” He taunted, “You want this cock? Huh?” He leaned in and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a lowered voice that sent shivers down your back, “Does this little slut need a cock in her?” 

“Yes,” You murmured, unable to take it anymore. 

“Yes, what?” He growled. 

“Yes, Father.” You quickly corrected yourself. 

He smirked, smug. Then he lifted you up until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your back against the wall, and the two of you partially hidden by the booth. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned out loud. 

“Shh,” He reminded you, “Quiet.” 

“Please,” You whined, eyes shut. “Please, Father…” 

“Shut up,” He hissed as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “Shut your needy little mouth up.” 

You moaned as he pushed himself into you. Stretching you out as he went. His nails digging painfully into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours sliding into his hair as he filled you up nicely. 

“So fucking wet for me…” He whispered against your cheek as he rocked in and out of you. “I bet you’re not this wet for your little boyfriend, huh? Does he feel this good? This big?” He chuckled. “Does he know you let random men fuck you?” 

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering when he began moving in and out of you. His cock reached places that had you whining out loud. 

“Shh,” He hissed again, “Shut up, you little slut. Shut the fuck up.” He groaned as he fucked you. He kept an eye on your surroundings, just in case someone wandered in. 

But you kept moaning like crazy so he did the only thing his lust-filled brain could think of, he brought out his soiled handkerchief from earlier and shoved it in your mouth, and slapped his hand over your mouth. “Yeah, that’ll shut your filthy mouth up, huh? Is this what you wanted? Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like the needy little whore you are, does he?” 

Your moans sounded muffled now, and he fucked you relentlessly, earning more and more muffled whines and moans and whimpers out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he fucked you harder, reaching deeper. 

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust. “Filthy girl.” He sped up into you again, making you cry out. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? You couldn’t help but spread your legs for me, huh? Even for a man of God? You couldn’t help it.” He taunted. “What else would you do for me? Would you come here everyday and let me have you? Hmm? Would you let me fuck your needy little pussy like your boyfriend can’t?” 

He knew you couldn’t answer him, so he chuckled and continued as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Fuck, he had missed this. He’d missed making a beautiful girl lose control while he was inside her. He knew you couldn’t think right, he was so fucking deep inside you that all you could do was whine and cry, and let him take what he wanted from you. Which is exactly what he did. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you harder and faster against the wall. 

His hand left your mouth, making sure his handkerchief remained nice and snug in there, and reached down until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, he squeezed just enough to make your eyes widen. “Yes,” He goaded you, “You like that, don’t you? Your messed up little head likes this,” He taunted. “It’s filthy in there, isn’t it? You think about these things at night? When you touch yourself before going to bed? Is this what you’ll be thinking about from now on?” 

Your body shuddered, trembling in pleasure. He looked down and noticed the slight cleavage of your sweet little dress. Fuck, he wished he had time to really peel it off your body and have you crawl around naked just so he could look at you. He was sure he could spend a lot of time just looking. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He chuckled, his body moving expertly against yours, “No, how could he? He’s just a boy. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a dirty girl like you.” He leaned in, whispering against your wet cheek, “This is what you needed. I’m what you need.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess already, and he could tell by the muffled by wanton moans that he could still hear that you were so, so close. 

“I bet he doesn’t even come inside you, does he?” He scoffed, “I think he’d be too scared to do that.” He pulled away and looked into your eyes. “But you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Remember, it’s all part of your punishment. You wanna be a good girl and take all of it, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Go on then, you little slut. Come for me. Come all over this cock like the needy, desperate whore you are.” He let out a strained moan, “I said,” He spoke, menacingly, “Come for me!” 

Your body tensed up, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair, before you let go and came undone around his cock. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching his neck and a loud muffled moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. 

Father Charlie groaned as he came shortly after, spilling inside of you. And fuck, even he could feel how much he filled you up. 

He pulled the now wet cloth out of your mouth as you both felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs. He replaced the handkerchief with his fingers, gliding two of them across your tongue, in and out of your lips as he said, “You’ll come back, won’t you?” He whispered against the corner of your mouth as you caught your breath while sucking on his fingers. “Now that you got a taste of what it’s like, you’ll be back as often as you can just to let me fuck you again. Won’t you, little lamb?” 

—

a/n: call me sister megan bc i’m frothing–

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.

So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.

Mr crawling

Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.

He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.

‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.

‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.

‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.

While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.

Mr silvair

The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.

He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.

He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.

Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.

He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.

Mr Scarletella

Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.

He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.

He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.

His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.

Mr Hood

Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.

He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.

It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.

It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.

Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.