#I’m too young to be getting too old for this:(

[bjlipss]

— i would love to go back to the old house;

★ synopsis: you and satoru make a promise to marry each other if you’re both still alone by thirty.

miyan’s notes: no curse au, no warnings, maybe some realness, just fluff and smut. wc: 3681.

you’re both seventeen, laying on the grass behind the school gym, where the sun’s dipped low enough to cast everything in a warm, golden haze.

it’s late spring—almost summer—and the scent of cut grass clings to your clothes, sweet and sharp. someone’s left a soccer ball abandoned a few feet away. the world feels lazy and endless, like nothing important could ever happen here.

you’re side by side, arms brushing but never quite touching, your pinkies just barely grazing sometimes when one of you shifts. satoru’s sunglasses are crooked on his face, and he doesn’t fix them. his white hair is fanned out messily over the grass, and there’s a blade of it stuck behind his ear. he hasn’t noticed.

he was dumped yesterday. you heard about it from someone else before he told you—his ex apparently said he was too much. too loud, too intense, too everything. it made you kind of furious, but you didn’t say that. you just sat with him today, like always.

your first real relationship ended last week. it wasn’t even dramatic. just two people slowly realizing they didn’t quite know how to hold each other anymore. still, it left a hollow feeling in your chest, one you’re pretending isn’t there.

he exhales, slow and dramatic. “you ever think we’re just… cursed or something?”

you snort. “that’s a little dramatic.”

“it’s me,” he says, turning his head toward you, and you can see the curve of a grin forming. “drama is my whole thing.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t say no. he quiets down again, goes back to staring at the sky with a look that’s a little more thoughtful than usual. birds are flying overhead in little staggered v’s, and there’s a faint breeze brushing your skin.

then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, he says, “if we’re both single at thirty, let’s just marry each other.”

you blink. the silence after feels loud.

“what?” you laugh, eyebrows lifting. “what kind of pact is that?”

he shrugs, still looking up. “a realistic one. we already know each other’s worst habits. you can tolerate me. that’s rare.”

“you’re an idiot,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “but sure. yeah. a backup plan. solid.”

you mean it like a joke. like a throwaway thing. but then he turns his head toward you, and his glasses slide down his nose just enough that you can see his eyes—really see them.

“no,” he says. “i’m serious.”

you stare at him. he’s not laughing. there’s something oddly earnest in the way he says it, like he’s offering something fragile and important without realizing it. like a promise he doesn’t expect you to keep, but wants you to want to.

your heart does a weird thing. tightens. pulls.

you swallow. “okay. me too.”

neither of you says anything after that. the sun dips lower. the breeze picks up. the world moves around you, but for a moment, it’s just the two of you in that quiet stretch of time, young and bruised and hopeful.

your pinkies brush again.

this time, neither of you pulls away.

—

years pass.

at first, the promise is a soft, silly memory tucked into the back of your mind like a note in a locker you never emptied. you think about it sometimes—on your birthday, when your heart gets broken again, when you see a wedding invitation in the mail and wonder how people keep getting so lucky. the pact becomes a kind of quiet comfort, a lighthouse in the distance. not real, but there. always there.

you go to university. he does too. different cities, different people, different rhythms. you both grow into yourselves slowly, awkwardly, like plants reaching for light in the wrong season. you learn how to love better. how to walk away when you need to. how to be alone and not hate it.

you date people who are kind. people who challenge you. people who hurt you in ways that teach you something. some of them ask about him, the boy in the old photos, the one whose name still slips out when you’re tired or wine-drunk. you always brush it off, say he’s just someone from your past. nothing more. nothing to see here.

he dates too. once, you find out through a mutual that he’s seeing someone seriously—a girl who’s smart and sweet and nothing like you. it bothers you more than you want to admit. but you never say anything. you just keep your head down, push it away like you do with everything else that hurts. you’re happy for him, you think. you should be.

life moves fast, and slow, and fast again. you move cities. he changes jobs. there are stretches of time where you don’t think about him at all—and then suddenly everything reminds you of him again. a song he used to hum under his breath. the way someone else laughs. a white-haired stranger passing by on the street, so close to the version of him you remember but not quite right. the ghost of him lingers, not haunting you, but following you in the corners of your life.

and then, there are the moments when life tangles your paths back together.

—

it’s your friend’s birthday—an old classmate who’s turned their tiny apartment into a chaos of people and warm lights. the kind of party that’s too loud, too crowded, but you’re here anyway because it’s easier to go than stay home. the tension of being alone hits you in the chest as soon as you walk in. everyone’s happy. everyone’s with someone. everyone’s moving forward, but you’re stuck at some point in the past, lingering in the gap between where you were and where you should be.

you almost don’t go, tired from work, emotionally drained. but you show up, because something tells you to. maybe it’s because you promised yourself you’d stop running from things that make you uncomfortable. or maybe it’s just the weird way life works, pulling you toward the people and places you’re not ready for yet.

you’re standing near the kitchen, sipping a drink you don’t really care about, when you hear it—a laugh that cuts through the noise, familiar and unexpected. a laugh you know instantly, one that hits you in the chest like a familiar song. it’s a sound you haven’t heard in years, but it’s like it never left.

you turn, the crowd of people blurring out of focus, and there he is.

satoru.

he’s leaning against the fridge, talking to someone you don’t recognize, his hair a little longer, his shirt untucked, uncuffed. still so him, but also… different. his face is older, but still beautiful in that effortless way, the same white hair, the same sharp eyes that seem to know you even from across the room.

he sees you. he freezes. and for a second, it’s like time holds its breath.

“hey,” he says, voice soft, almost surprised. “you look…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence. but you hear it anyway. you look the same. you look different. i didn’t expect to see you here.

you smile like you’re not unraveling. like it doesn’t matter that your heart just skipped a beat. “it’s been a while.”

he hugs you then, warm and solid. it lasts a second too long. too much unsaid between you both, but it’s all there in the tension of his arms around you. the promise is still alive in the quiet air between your breaths. but neither of you mentions it.

he leaves before you do.

—

months later, it’s a late-night convenience store in tokyo. you’re tired, bleary-eyed, the kind of exhausted that comes from too many late shifts and not enough sleep. you’re reaching for instant noodles and a bottle of tea when you hear the shuffle of footsteps behind you. you don’t look, too focused on the shelves in front of you. but then you hear it—his voice, soft but unmistakable.

“you live around here now?” he asks, stunned.

you freeze for a moment. and then you turn.

there he is, standing in the aisle like he’s part of some strange dream. his hair is tied back messily, longer than before. he’s holding a bag of sour candies, blinking at you like he’s not sure if you’re real or if his tired eyes are just playing tricks on him.

“yeah,” you say, suddenly self-conscious. “just moved a couple months ago.”

“me too,” he says, a little sheepish. “just moved last week. tokyo’s a lot different from what i remembered.”

you laugh, and for a moment, it’s like you’re both seventeen again, standing in the hallway after class, talking about nothing. only now, it’s quieter. more knowing. there’s a little more space between you both, but you don’t feel it as much as you think you should. he’s still satoru, after all.

you talk for a few minutes, small things. the weather. work. how both of you somehow managed to end up in the same city again after all this time. his hair’s longer now, and so is yours. there’s something different about him, something worn into the lines of his face, but you’re still the same. you’re still the same. the realization hits you like a wave.

when you say goodbye, there’s a small flicker of something in his eyes. like he wants to say something else. something important. maybe you do too. but you don’t.

you both go your separate ways, the moment slipping away with every step, but neither of you forgets it. not really.

—

another year passes. you’re invited to a mutual friend’s engagement party. you don’t know it’s mutual until you arrive and see him standing on the balcony, glass of wine in hand. his back is to you, but you recognize the way his shoulders sit under the weight of the world, the way his posture softens when he’s trying to relax.

you hesitate. for a second, you think about leaving. about turning around and pretending you never saw him, never heard that familiar laugh or felt that same ache in your chest. but you stay. something inside you says that this is the time. that maybe, just maybe, the universe is ready for you to have the conversation you’ve been avoiding for years.

you walk over. he turns, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“this is getting ridiculous,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “we keep showing up like we’re being summoned.”

you laugh, but it’s a little more nervous than you mean it to be. “maybe we are.”

you talk for fifteen minutes, small talk mostly. his girlfriend is waiting inside—he doesn’t say that, but you can tell. he’s polite, but distant this time. something in his eyes is different, more guarded than you remember. and it’s strange. it feels like a wall has gone up between you both, and you can’t figure out why. you want to ask, but you don’t. it’s not your place.

something tightens in your chest, a quiet jealousy you don’t want to feel but can’t help. so you excuse yourself early.

—

and then there’s the funeral.

someone you both knew in high school. someone you weren’t close to, but close enough to go. it’s raining—of course it is—and your coat is too thin for the chill. the crowd is subdued, the kind of heavy silence you only get at funerals. you stand off to the side, trying not to draw attention, but then you spot him across the crowd.

he’s standing alone under an umbrella, his jaw clenched. his eyes are cast downward, but when he looks up, he sees you. his gaze sharpens, like he’s unsure if you’re really there. but then he steps toward you, slow and hesitant.

you don’t speak much. just stand side by side beneath the gray sky, the rain soft on your faces, like a veil between everything that was and everything that could have been. you don’t know if it’s the weight of the moment or something else, but it feels like you’re both seventeen again, standing in that quiet space between friendship and something more.

afterward, when you’re on the train home, your phone buzzes. a contact name that hasn’t been on your phone for a while.

satoru: thirty’s not that far.

you stare at the screen for a long time, the words sinking into your chest like a stone. the promise that’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. but now, in the quiet of your apartment, you don’t reply.

you think about it. about everything. about how he said it, softer than usual, quieter than you’re used to. you think about his eyes, the way they followed yours. the rain on his umbrella. the years that have passed.

you think about his voice, and you wonder if he remembers the exact words. you wonder if he ever stopped.

—

… you almost don’t go. again.

the invitation sits unopened on your counter for days before you cave, peeling it open with the tip of your key. you don’t recognize the name on the envelope immediately, but inside, there’s a handwritten card. a friend-of-a-friend, someone you once shared a table with at a dinner party, who remembered your smile. you had forgotten about them, honestly. but here they are, inviting you into their life, into their celebration. their quiet reminder that life moves on, and people keep finding their paths while you still seem to be standing still.

“it’ll be nice,” your coworker says when you mention it offhand. “dress up, eat fancy cake, forget your life for an evening.”

you smile. nod. pretend it’s not terrifying—the thought of being surrounded by people who’ve figured it out—who’ve found their person, their path, their place in the world. the thought of seeing them again—the ones who chose their someone. and you’re left holding only the pieces of a promise, one you had never quite stopped waiting on.

but you go anyway. because you said you would. because maybe, just maybe, it will be easier to let go of things you’re holding onto by showing up. by being there.

the venue is small and beautiful, tucked in a quiet corner of the city. ivy climbs up stone walls, winding their way to the second floor, the kind of building that feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something important to happen. soft music spills out from the inside, cascading into the courtyard where the last rays of the day spill gold over everyone’s skin, turning them all into something fleeting, something perfect.

you wear a color you’ve always liked on yourself, something soft and simple, but still carefully chosen. it’s funny—how you’ve started choosing your clothes more for yourself than for anyone else. how you’ve learned to dress for the person you’ve grown into, not the one you thought you’d be. you smile as you check your reflection one last time. and then, you spot it—lipstick on your teeth. for the first ten minutes, you don’t know, and then someone kindly points it out, their laugh light and warm. you laugh too, grateful for the small kindness. you take a drink from a glass of champagne that’s almost too pretty to touch, as if it should be saved for something special, and for a second, you almost feel like you belong here.

you don’t know many people at the party. that’s fine. you’ve never been one to throw yourself into the middle of things. you’ve always been the one to drift at events like these, skimming the surface, smiling politely, offering a few words here and there, but keeping your hands folded in your lap when you sit, staying small, staying unnoticed.

you make it through the ceremony. the vows are sweet. you clap when you’re supposed to. you eat a few hors d’oeuvres, and when the music gets too loud and the voices start blending into a buzz, you slip away to the balcony. it’s quiet out here. the city hums beneath you, distant and untouchable. for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

and then you hear it—laughter. soft, familiar. close.

you turn, already knowing. already feeling the weight of it before you see him.

he’s standing a few steps away from the doorway, talking to someone you don’t recognize. sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie a little loose like he’s just been letting the night happen around him. his hair’s still white—shorter now, messier, and there’s something about the way the years have softened him in places you never thought could soften. his eyes still hold that distant glimmer, the one you always tried to make sense of. but now, there’s something more grounded in him—something that matches the tiredness you’ve started carrying around yourself.

he’s changed. and he hasn’t.

your chest tightens.

then, like some invisible thread has tugged at his spine, he turns.

his eyes land on you.

and the world tilts, just slightly.

he goes still.

you don’t move either.

something deep in your ribs aches with how long it’s been, with how many almosts have collected between you over the years. so many moments where he almost looked back, where you almost said something, where life almost collided and made sense. but it didn’t. not then. and maybe not now.

his expression shifts—surprise first, then something warmer. softer. something like disbelief, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, one that you can’t ignore. maybe it’s a memory. maybe it’s hope.

“hey,” he says, stepping closer. his voice is quieter than you remember, like he’s afraid to break the moment. “i didn’t know you were coming.”

you swallow, suddenly aware of how dry your throat is. “me either. i didn’t know we had mutual friends.”

he lets out a breath that sounds too much like a laugh. “of course we do. fate’s had a weird sense of humor since we were seventeen.”

you don’t say anything. you just look at him.

his eyes scan your face like he’s trying to memorize it all over again. he looks at you as though you’re someone he never quite expected to see again, and it feels like he’s seeing all of you, not just the parts he remembers. he’s still beautiful in that effortless way—how he’s always been—but now, there’s something real in it. something tired, something weighted, something that speaks of the years between. of all the things that have happened since.

you speak first. “you look good.”

he smiles slowly, his mouth curving up in that easy way that always made your heart trip. “so do you. better than good.”

you roll your eyes a little. “still laying it on thick, i see.”

“you used to like that,” he murmurs, and there’s something vulnerable in the way his voice dips, something nostalgic, almost like he wants to reach back through time and pull out the version of you that used to smile when he flirted. the version that used to think it meant something. “used to smile when i flirted.”

“used to,” you echo. but your voice is gentler than the words. there’s a quiet understanding between you now. something that was there before, buried beneath everything that has passed.

a beat passes.

and then he asks, almost cautiously, “are you still with anyone?”

you shake your head.

his eyes flicker, searching yours for something. for a sign. “me neither.”

your stomach flips.

there’s something there in his gaze—something that feels like an opening, like a crack where the past might slip back in. you both stand there, framed by the golden glow of the setting sun and the hum of music drifting in from the party. it feels like the air around you is waiting. like the universe has been holding its breath, waiting for this moment, just to see what you’ll do now. to see what the two of you will decide to do with all the time that has passed, with all the unspoken things between you.

“you remember,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “what we said, back then?”

you don’t pretend you don’t. you nod. “yeah. i remember.”

his hands slip into his pockets. he shifts a little, as though unsure of himself, and his eyes stay locked on yours. “at some point i started to think it was just a joke. something we said to make the world feel less uncertain.”

“me too,” you admit, the words soft and honest. “but it never stopped feeling real.”

he tilts his head, watching you, and you can feel the weight of everything hanging in the space between you. “i kept waiting,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost unsure. “not on purpose. not always. but every time something ended, every time i felt alone again, i’d think—maybe we’re still heading there. maybe we just haven’t caught up to the promise yet.”

your breath hitches. it feels like the air is too thick. too much. too many years folded up between you.

“and now we’re thirty,” he says, a small, stunned smile tugging at his lips. “and you’re here. and i’m here. and i don’t want to waste more time pretending like i don’t want this.”

you look at him. really look at him. and suddenly, all the years, all the almosts, all the moments where you left too early or he looked back too late, they don’t feel like failures anymore. they feel like steps—each one leading you toward this. this moment. this chance to finally make good on something that’s been waiting.

you take one step now.

closer.

his breath catches when your fingers brush his, like he’s not sure if this is real, if it’s happening. And then, when you don’t pull away, when you stay there, your fingers lacing together as though it’s always been that easy, something shifts. The years that kept you apart, the missed chances, the long silences—they start to fall away.

you lean in.

and when you kiss him, it’s not loud, not dramatic, not bursting with fireworks.

it’s quiet.

it’s soft.

it’s like coming home.

it’s like finally keeping a promise you never really stopped waiting on.

[myownwholewildworld]

I'm begging you pleaseeee write something where oldmanjoel gets his girl pregnant. I can even see the smug look in his eyes as he walks around Jackson with you, making sure everyone sees how you're glowing, belly swollen with his kid. You, a pretty young thing, allowed a dirty old man like him to claim you like that. Jesus I'm foaming at the mouth wtfffff god bless Viagra

he'd be the proudest, wouldn't he? would think he's the luckiest man alive. he wouldn't have as many problems to get it up either, i'm sure the sight of you pregnant would have him at half mast without an issue. i wonder if he'd have a lactation kink too? and you? you're hornier than ever, so much so, you don't even care you're in public... mhm...

old man!joel miller filth under the cut 👇

All eyes were on you whenever you both were out in public. How could they not be? You held Joel’s hand unashamedly, kissed his knuckles reassuringly if anyone dared to throw him a side glance. This was your old man. The father of your future child. And he knew it—damn, did he know it. Joel would make sure everyone knew who had claimed you, who you belonged to. He was very protective of you, of his baby too. His calloused hand would distractedly caress your very swollen belly over your sundress at any given chance, like he was doing now. You were thirty-six weeks pregnant, perfectly round with his kid. And Joel couldn’t, quite literally, get his hands off you. At every small opportunity, he’d touch you—his fingers squeezing yours, the palm of his hand protectively spread on the small of your back, his lips kissing your temple.

In bed, Joel was insatiable—he’d wake you up eating your sweet pussy, or fingering you, or worshipping your oversensitive boobs. And when you were putty in his arms after a few orgasms, Joel would kiss your tummy, speak to his child about the wonderful life you three would live together, about how much he loved them already. It melted your heart, filled your soul with a warmth you had not known for a long time now. Life was good. And you had never been hornier for Joel—the pregnancy hormones running wild through your veins, getting aroused just by merely thinking of him ploughing you into the mattress, on the kitchen’s counter, against a wall, in the bath, on the rug by the chimney. There was no surface in your home which had not been sweat on. But you were not at home, you were out in public, and your cunt was getting embarrassingly wet. You could feel the slick between your folds, securely trapped in your slit while your clit throbbed. “Joel, I need to sit down,” you interrupted his conversation with a man. His eyes shot to yours with worry and said his goodbyes to the man before guiding you to a bench in the community hall. He sat down and quickly manoeuvred you to have you perched sideways on his lap. “What is it, sweetheart?” Your pout curled up into a grin, your lips pressed to his ear. “I’m wet, baby. So much I worry it might soak through my sundress,” you admitted in a whisper, kissing his cheek. Joel straightened his back, and you felt a pulse radiating from his bulge lodged between your buttocks. His fingers dug in the flesh of your hip before dropping and smoothing out over your ass cheek. His body was catching up, another throb coming from him when you grinded your ass on him. “You have no underwear on,” he croaked, pecking your right shoulder. You giggled, shaking your head. “Nope. I thought it’d be easier… just in case… you know…” you mumbled while your right hand sneakily slithered down. You slightly lifted off your right leg so your fingers could find the zipper in his trousers and pull it down. Your hand curled around his growing erection to free it from its imprisonment, and you quickly readjusted your position on his lap, so his girthy cock was pressing against your puffy pussy lips. Joel bit the skin on your shoulder to rein in a moan. Your smile widened. “In case you wanted to fuck me here? Now? So everybody can see how good you make me feel, how good you use and destroy my pussy, how good I take your cock… How good you fuck me. So they see why I am yours and only yours,” you teased him, squirming a little. “Fuck,” Joel groaned between clenched teeth. He could never say no to you.

[suuuupernovaaa]

new beginnings

summary: joel finds out he’s going to be a father

age gap, joel 50s, female in her 30s, pregnancy, HEA, fluff

TW: mention of pregnancy loss

MASTERLIST

For the third day in a roll, you skip patrol. You wake up exhausted as if you haven’t slept a wink all night, your stomach rolling until you get a few bites of toast down, and the smell of your body wash makes you nauseated all over again.

You know what it is. What it all means. But you’re pretending you don’t. You’re pretending this isn’t familiar territory, that you haven’t been here before and therefore don’t know what it could be.

It’s just a stomach bug. It’ll pass. Never mind that you’ve missed not one, but two periods.

That could be stress. You bury the word down deep, the very idea of it, and go about your day. By noon, you’re feeling better, able to help out down at the restaurant for a while until Joel returns, finding you there serving drinks in the early evening.

You’re dead on your feet, gray circles under your eyes, but you won’t admit it to yourself.

“Darlin’, you look bad,” Joel says by way of greeting as he saddles up to the bar.

You scoff. “Hello to you too, asshole.”

A whiff of whiskey hits your nose and you turn, gagging into your elbow. You take a few deep breathes, in through your nose, out through your mouth, and it passes.

“What is going on?” Joel asks, his voice thick with concern.

“I’m coming down with something, or maybe I ate something that didn’t disagree with me.”

“Every day the last two weeks?” Tommy mutters as he carries a case of supplies behind you, and you glare at him.

Joel looks from you, to his brother, then back to you.

Unfortunately, Joel is smart. You could have found yourself an idiot, but no, it could only be Joel for you.

“Let’s go home,” he says, his eyes wary and full of recognition, and you sigh and join him on the other side of the bar.

He zips up your jacket for you, all the way to the top, and you slap his hand away with a teasing grin.

“I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you chide him, and his jaw falls slack.

He says nothing, though. Not on the walk home. Not when you take your coats and shoes off inside the door. Not when you follow him into the kitchen, where he fills a kettle and places it on the stove.

“What are you doing?” you ask finally.

“Tea helps, I hear,” he replies, and you just nod.

After another tense, silent moment, you ask, “Are you mad?”

His eyes widen as they meet yours. “Mad? No, honey, just… shocked.”

You laugh and shrug. “We’ve been doing a whole lot of the thing that makes babies.”

He shakes his head. “Well, yeah, I know that. I’m just, when did you find out?” He steps closer to you, reaching out to hold your hand in his.

“Well, I guess I’ve known a while. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared,” you look down at his hands, strong and calloused, holding yours. “I lost the last one.”

His lips form a thin line across his face. “You never told me.”

“I never told anyone. I was young, 20. Only made it maybe, 10 weeks. It hurt like hell. She’d be 15 now.”

“She?”

You shrug. “I had a feeling. Could’ve been wrong.”

He shakes his head. “No, moms know.”

Something about that - moms know - breaks a dam inside of you, and you fall forward into his arms, a mess of tears. You’re mourning your lost child all over again, and so scared for this new one, all at once. The sobs are heavy, your body heaving, your bones tired.

“Oh, baby, it’s all right,” he says, scooping you up and setting you into the kitchen counter, and holding you tight in his arms while you cry. “It’ll be okay. I’m with you, whatever happens.”

The kettle begins screaming then, and you let him go so he can take it off the stove.

“I want this one to stick, Joel. Especially because it’s yours.”

He walks back to you, and places his hands on either side of your tear stained face.

“Me too. I’m old as hell, but I’d love nothing more than to be a father. To have a kid with you.”

A small smile graces your lips, and a giant one crosses his. “We’ll go to the clinic tomorrow. Make sure everything’s okay. It’s supposed to be a good sign, that you’re sick. Mean’s the baby is strong.”

You perk up, new tears filling your eyes. “Really?” You feel hopeful, for the first time since you knew you could be pregnant.

“Really.” His hand trails down, and rests on your stomach. It will be a while before you’re showing, but he does it anyway. “I love you. I’m here with you, for all of it. You and me.”

You rest your forehead on his and take a deep, steadying breath.

“You and me.”

[rainy-day-gracie]

jealous

jackson!joel miller x reader

cw: explicit smut (minors dni), jealous!joel miller, pwp, pre-established relationship (fwb), alcohol consumption, swearing, dirty talk, angry sex, exhibitionism sorta (they're in public but no one sees), light choking, use of a gag (panties oops), fingering, teasing, begging, a HINT of assplay, joel is ferallll but so is reader hahaha

wc: 1.5k

a/n: hello all in order to distract us from the trauma of season 2 here is a jealous joel miller fic. things get nasty but that's how we like it.

masterlist

-

Joel’s knuckles were white as he kept a grip on his whiskey, sipping it slowly, deliberately, imagining his white knuckles knocking out the guy’s teeth. 

The guy with his hands around your waist, on your ass. 

He knew you were doing it on purpose. 

Dancing, flirting, glowing in the lights of the dance hall.

Joel savored the burn of the whiskey, trying to distract himself from your smile, your laughs, your touch, none for him. He supposed he deserved the punishment, but the way you were dancing… pure cruelty, if he were being honest. 

It was past midnight, Jackson’s young kids sound asleep, and the music and dancing took on a new spirit. Instead of the family-friendly twirling and turning, intimacy cast a shadow over the dance floor, lights dimmed and everything slightly hazy with the lighting of cigars.

Cigars thanks to you, getting lucky on a patrol in an abandoned rich neighborhood. Joel wondered how much people were willing to trade with you, giving away whatever they could just for the burn of tobacco on their tongue. 

Joel wanted the burn of something else, something other than whiskey, or a cigar. 

–

You’d been watching him the whole night, glooming in the corner of the hall, a dark shadow coiling with rage. 

You’d known what your dancing would do to him, pressed close to men younger than him, smaller than him. 

His last words, spoken in the soft light of sunrise pouring through his bedroom curtains, echoed in your head as you fixed your eyes on him.

We both know I'm no good for you, too old, too mean. Better for both of us that this never happens again. 

You hoped he burned at the sight of your hands on another man, another man you both knew you didn’t want. 

A grin spread across your face as Joel sipped his whiskey, a slight shake in his hand. A loaded gun, cocked, and ready to fire. 

He tilted his head, his dark eyes on you lighting your body with desire. 

As the clock struck one in the morning, you unraveled yourself from the man you’d been dancing with, giving him a polite smile, and wished him goodnight. Although he was a good dancer, there was only one man you wanted coming home with you. 

If you played your cards right, he would be. 

Keeping your eyes forward, passing Joel entirely, you left the hall with a smile. 

The night was cold, late fall casting a chill over Jackson. Frost covered the ground, and your breaths were white with warmth. Only a handful of people wandered the streets, sleepy quiet overtaking the town. 

Boots that weren’t yours crunched the grass behind you, and you knew who followed without having to turn around.

You grinned to yourself, keeping your eyes fixed ahead. Keeping him chasing. 

Climbing the steps of your house, the boots behind you went quiet, as if he were hesitating. 

You put a hand on the front door, but didn’t turn the knob. 

There was silence for a moment as you waited, until the boots moved again. Loud thumps against the wood of your porch, slow, deliberate. A shadow rose behind you, not touching, but his voice sending goosebumps down your arm as he spoke for the first time. 

“You gonna open that door, or I’m gonna fuck you right here on the porch?”

Desire shuddered through your body, and you gripped the door handle to keep from jumping on him. “I thought you said this was never happening again.”

Joel growled. “That was before you grinded up on guys you don’t belong to. Now, open that door, or the neighbors will be gettin’ one hell of a show.”

Letting go of the handle, you turned to face him, anger panging through you. “‘You don’t belong to?’” 

Joel clenched his jaw, stepping forward until your back pressed against the wood door. His dark eyes peered into yours, and as he spoke, his whiskey scented breath mingled with yours. 

“Don’t lie and say you were doin’ all that dancing just for fun,” Joel growled. “Don’t pretend that you wanted any of those boys.”

You huffed a laugh. “Yeah? And what do I want, Joel? You tell me.”

Joel straightened, stiffened. “I don’t know.”

“Now who’s the fucking liar?” You hissed, pushing him back with both hands on his chest.

Joel grunted at the impact, his eyes darkening. In an instant, his hand wrapped around your throat, not hard, just enough to keep you pinned against the door. Arousal flooded your core, and you gave him a wicked grin. 

“What do I want, Joel? Do I want a nice little man and a picket fence? Do I want to be left the fuck alone?" You smirked, breathing to let him smell the booze on your tongue. "Or do I want to be fucked so hard I don’t remember my own name?”

“Careful, girl,” he hummed, your pulse thundering under his fingertips.

“You’re the one that followed me like a dog on a leash,” You breathed, pushing his hand off of your throat with a shove. “Too old, too mean, remember?”

Joel was silent, though his nose brushed against yours like he was barely keeping from sinking his teeth in. 

When you spoke, your voice was low, and raw. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe I like my men old and mean?”

Joel grabbed the neck of your shirt, pulling you away from the door in a single tug. Pushing you forward, he bent you over the rail of your porch, your hips biting into the wood as you caught yourself. 

Behind you, Joel grinded his hips into your ass, denim on denim, his cock hard pressing through his jeans. He leaned over your bent torso, whispering in your ear. 

“You stay bent over like this until I’m done with you, and maybe I’ll give you what you want so badly.”

You huffed a laugh. “Oh, what’s that, old man?”

“To come on my cock so many times that you lose count,” he growled, reaching around to unzip your jeans.

You tensed, eyes scanning the street where party stragglers stumbled to bed. “Joel, there’s people out here–”

“Better stay quiet then, huh?” He said, pulling down your waistband roughly, making you moan at the force. “Oh, baby, your sweet little cunt is droolin’.”

He pulled at the elastic of your soaked panties, making you yelp out into the dark street as the cloth snapped against your core. 

“You know better than that, baby.”

In an instant, Joel tugged your panties up, up, up, pulling the cloth roughly into your cunt before the fabric ripped against your skin. You whimpered, unable to stifle your desire as he quite literally tore the panties from your pussy. 

Cunt exposed, Joel drove a finger into your slick like he couldn’t help himself, and as you moaned in response, he stuffed your soaked panties into your open mouth. 

“Much better, baby, much better,” Joel groaned quietly, like he didn’t even care if you heard him or not. You keened at the praise, his calloused finger tracing patterns up and down your soaked core. “I know all of this is for me, even though you’ll pretend it’s not. Your little stunt at the dance did the trick you wanted it to, right?”

The digit slipped inside of you, in and out before you even had a chance to react. You squirmed under his touch, and he pressed his free hand against your spine to hold you against the wood. 

“I never was a jealous man,” he rambled, playing with you. “Not until I met you. Not until I saw the way every man in this damn town drooled over you. Not until you let me into your bed, and I was stupid enough to leave it.” 

You arched against the wood, desperate, your moans stifled by the panties between your teeth. 

“Poor thing, been missin’ me, huh?” 

Your eyes fluttered as he pushed two fingers into your weeping cunt, curving them to press against your g-spot with the same precision he uses to pull the trigger of a rifle. 

“I’ll let you come on my fingers if you admit that you’ve missed me, baby,” Joel growled, playing with your core like his favorite toy. Your whine of pleasure was muffled by the gag in your mouth, but he chuckled at the sound. “Having trouble?”

He thrusted his fingers in and out, in and out, winding you up tighter and tighter. A tidal wave rose in your belly, and he knew it. 

“C’mon, speak up,” he teased, curling his fingers expertly. 

You mouthed around the panties, desperate for him to give you what you want. Humming with delight, he dug his free hand into your mouth, pulling out the panties as you gasped for breath. 

“I missed you so much, Joel,” you cried, forgetting where and who you were as he pushed a third finger into your core. 

“Then why were you dancin’ with another man, grindin’ on him like a little slut?”

“I-I wanted to make you jealous, I wanted you to want me–”

“Oh, baby, you ain’t gotta do nothin’ for me to want you,” he drawled, and mercifully pressed a fingertip against your neglected clit, and you moaned into the night. “Now, come for me, baby. Prove just how much you missed me.”

You obeyed with a cry, your cunt pulsed in response, his fingers relentless on your skin. Your core clenched around him, nails biting into the wooden railing as you came on his hand. Your knees buckled slightly, and he drove a hand into your hair, pulling your head up.

“No, no, no, baby, we’re not done yet.”

Joel pulled his fingers from you slowly, chuckling at the whimpers that left your lips. Lightly, he traced his soaked fingertips up the curve of your ass, circling that tight ring of muscle above your wet cunt. 

“Get inside. Or I’ll take this ass right here.”

-

[bweeeb]

FUCKED

Joel Miller x young reader

Summary: Joel gets caught with a hard-on when you're not supposed to be at his house. Your dad wouldn't be too happy to hear about it.

warnings: bad writing, i think this sucks, smut, light sex, cocksucking, cum inside, exposed sex, slutty reader, age gap, they get caught, we all wanted him so yes.

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And there you were — sitting outside with your hair down, wearing an oversized shirt that clearly wasn’t yours, probably stolen from one of your friends.

Joel felt like a goddamn pervert, standing there at his kitchen window, watching you blow out smoke from the joint, the weed scent drifting into his backyard — and still, his cock hardened at the sight of you laughing, lazily bringing the joint to your lips.

It made him feel even worse knowing your dad was his friend. He had no business thinking these kinds of thoughts about his neighbor’s twenty-year-old daughter.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Joel yanked himself away from the window, forcing himself not to do anything stupid — like touching himself right there at the sink, or worse, running upstairs to his bedroom for some damn privacy.

"Hey, I dropped the stuff from the truck in the garage,"

Tommy’s voice pulled Joel out of his thoughts, but all he got in response was a low grunt.

"You still stuck on that, man? Thought I was the one hooking up with college girls and you were the one judging me."

"I’m not gonna do anything," Joel grumbled. "Just tired. Need to clear my head."

Tommy smirked, grabbing his keys off the counter.

"Yeah, tired and backed up. Obvious."

"Shut up," Joel muttered.

"I’m serious, man. Try keeping it in your pants while Sarah’s gone, alright?"

"Get the hell outta here."

When Tommy finally left, Joel threw himself onto the couch, cracked open a beer, ordered a pizza, and flicked on the TV. Anything to get you off his mind. Anything at all. But then the doorbell rang — and there you were, hair messy, that sweet, mischievous smile on your face.

"Hi, Mr. Miller. My dad’s still at work, and basically everything at home stopped working."

Joel frowned.

"What do you mean, kid?"

"The wiring’s shorted out, the heater’s dead, no lights, no phone… everything’s just gone."

Joel shook his head, stepping aside to let you in. "Well, come on in."

"Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Joel," he corrected gruffly. "Told you to call me Joel."

You just smiled that soft, knowing smile and curled up beside him on the couch.

"Sorry if I’m ruining your night," you said sweetly.

"You’re not," Joel lied. But every second you were sitting next to him, he could barely think straight — the scent of you, the warmth of your body — it was all driving him insane.

"I saw you smoking earlier," he muttered. "Shouldn’t be doing that."

You laughed, a sound that made his skin heat up.

"Come on. You never smoked a little to relax?"

"In college," he admitted. "But trust me — you don’t wanna get hooked on that crap. Your dad wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about his daughter turning into a pothead."

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping.

"So you’re saying this because you care what my dad thinks... not because you care about me?"

Joel shot you a sideways look.

"Why the hell would I care about you?"

You giggled — and then you moved the pillow from his lap, your hand finding the bulge he’d been trying to hide ever since you walked through the damn door.

"Looks like you do," you whispered.

"Stop," Joel warned, grabbing your wrist — but he didn’t pull you away.

"I don’t think you want me to stop, Joel."

You pouted, and Joel cursed under his breath, the fight draining out of him. You sank to your knees between his legs, pulling him free from his shorts, and took him into your mouth without hesitation.

"Shit," he groaned. "We shouldn’t be doing this."

But he didn’t stop you. Not even close.

"Oh baby," you murmured around him, making his eyes roll back."You wanna cum in my mouth, Joel?" you asked sweetly, and he gave a broken, desperate

"yes."

You sucked him harder, faster — until his hips bucked, his hand tightening in your hair — just as your phone buzzed against your butt. He snatched it up, meaning to ignore it, but then saw the name flashing across the screen: your father.

"Fuck," he muttered. You didn’t stop. You just smiled up at him wickedly — and answered the call.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel hissed under his breath as your father's voice came through the speaker.

"Sweetheart? That you?"

"Hi, Ron," Joel said quickly, trying not to gasp.

"It’s Joel. She’s... uh... she’s stuffing her mouth, with...with pizza in the kitchen."

You gave him a warning look. Play it cool.

"Ah, figures. Got the alert about the outage. Just checking in to see if she was alright."

"Yeah," Joel managed, his voice strained as you sucked him deeper.

"All good here."

"Thanks for looking after my little girl."

"Yeah, no problem..." Joel said, right as you climbed into his lap, threw your shorts aside, and sank down onto him without any warning.

His head fell back, a deep groan tearing from his throat.

"I’ll let her know you called,"

Joel gritted out, barely hanging on.

"Alright. Thanks, man."

Without waiting for a goodbye, Joel ended the call — and immediately grabbed your hips, bouncing you hard in his lap.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered.

"You feel so fuckin' good."

"You’re so big, Joel," you whimpered against his neck, clinging to him.

Joel's hands gripped your waist tighter, his thrusts deep and desperate, his need overwhelming him completely.

You shattered first — your whole body trembling as you cried out his name — and Joel followed right after, cumming deep inside you with a low, guttural growl. When it was over, the room was filled with nothing but your panting breaths — until you both heard it. A familiar voice, furious and dangerous: "What the hell did you just do to my daughter, you son of a bitch?"

You were so screwed.

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[bettystonewell]

IF YOU LEAVE

Chapter 1: Pretty in Pink

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

In the spring of 1988, Dean meets the girl of his dreams, he just doesn’t know it yet. 2k words

Tags: fluff, angst, young Sam and Dean, slow(ish) burn romance, childhood sweethearts, friends to lovers, 80s, 90s, season three, spans three decades, eventual smut, Rufus - crotchety at any age

@chevroletdean is celebrating 500 followers with a writing challenge! Liane made the beautiful mood-board above for me to work with. You can find more about the Milestone Celebration HERE. I’m gonna try and finish this before the 18th, but consider this chapter my piece for the challenge 😘

Next Chapter

April 1988

The first time Dean saw you was in third grade, Mrs Petersen’s class, but it wasn’t until during recess on the second day that you spoke. Your hair in pigtails, him with dirt on his knees, and a simple exchange over a juice box, because you were yet to learn how to filter.

At that point, as children often do, you didn’t think to ask for each other’s names, and when both boys walked through Bobby’s front door that afternoon, and he asked “How was school? Did you talk t’any other kids today?” He got a smile and a grunt as both boys ran up the stairs to their room.

“That great, huh?” He scratched his forehead under his cap, and went back to the kitchen to continue supper, and the hex bag he was making up for Rufus. The idjit had shown up on his doorstep earlier that day.

“I thought you didn’t have any Rugrats?” Rufus thumbed to the hall he’d come out of. A bottle of Jack in the other.

“I don’t,” Bobby said. But just as Dean didn’t realise the significance of you in his life at the time, Bobby hadn’t realised the boys in his either.

Dinner was simple that night. Bobby wasn’t a chef, but he was determined to give the Winchester boys something normal for once in their young lives. It’s why he’d enrolled them in the local school in the first place. Bought them bags and shoes. New clothes for Sammy because Dean’s hand-me-downs were far too big for the little tyke.

He’d even taken them to a barber, somewhere he never took himself, and signed Dean up for the school lunch program.

Yeah, he was growing soft. Lucky he had Rufus to point out the fact further with his outright stares and grins.

He was just doing a good deed. Looking after the future. Wasn’t that a part of being regular folk? Never mind the lady ringing up his groceries at the supermarket had frowned at him when he didn’t have a valid excuse for why they weren’t at school that day or two days before that.

Balls. That’s what it was. And he’d kick Rufus’ if he were close enough to reach with his boot.

Comments about him getting old, also balls. If Rufus was dumb enough to keep hounding him, he deserved a gun to his sack. Don’t worry ‘bout his steel caps.

He cleared his throat. Took a swig of beer and then settled his eyes on Dean. The kid was a smartass, but he was respectable, and had to open up, eventually. “So, did you learn anything today?” he asked. Tried to force a smile onto his face.

But Dean only shrugged, still defiant he should’ve been out there with his father.

“Well, what about your teacher? What’s her name?” He knew she was a she from the paperwork, Mrs Peters, or something like that. He just didn’t bother to remember in front of Rufus.

It didn’t matter though, because Dean shrugged again and shoveled another bite of meatloaf into his mouth.

Kids.

“My teacher is Miss Reeves,” young Sam piped up. Kid was smart for a four-year-old.

“Yeah? And what’d you do with her?” It’d been a long time since Bobby had graduated high school. Had no idea what kids in preschool did, besides the ABCs, he supposed. “Did you, ah,” he looked at Rufus for guidance, but the idjit had none. “Did you colour…or…sing a song?”

“I used blue, and red, and green for the grass I draws.” Sam beamed.

Okay… “That’s great, kid,” Bobby said.

Rufus downed another shot of Jack. The glass, sharp against the table when he hammered it onto the linoleum top. “Real great.” His tongue clicked. “What about you Dean? You colour, too?”

But when Dean said nothing, “Didn’t think so,” tumbled outta Rufus’ mouth.

“You could’ve given him a chance to answer.”

“Didn’t need to. He’s not gonna. Look at him.” Rufus swiped his hand out in front. His brow raised when Dean did say something, though, and then he looked interested.

“I met a girl,” he said, resorting back to his former slouching when he noticed both men frozen and staring at him.

It was the loudest he’d spoken since living under Bobby’s roof. The first time he’d shown emotion other than attitude, and Bobby couldn’t help but smile. Until he thought harder about the issue.

Did he have to give these kids the bird and the bees talk, too? Hell no, he wasn’t!

His fingers scratched through his beard. That smile of his fell to a thin, pursed line. Bit of teeth spiking through the gap.

“A girl, huh? Like a girlfriend?”

“No!” Dean lost his chin to his neck. “She’s my friend, and she’s a girl.”

Simple. Obvious. Bobby felt the fool. Until he asked the all important question.

“What’s her name?”

What was your name?

Dean couldn’t answer that because he didn’t know. You were a girl, you’d been nice to him, and you didn’t like orange juice. That was the extent of it. You’d played your game after that. The one where he chased you, and you ran, much like what hunters did. Only, you weren’t a monster, and he didn’t hunt.

Not allowed to. Too young to do anything more than babysit Sammy and stay with Uncle Bobby.

He knew they weren’t related.

When he stepped into the classroom the next morning, books in hand, his eyes swept the room. No, he wasn’t interested in the US map, or the globe in the corner. He didn’t care that Mrs Petersen was scribbling sums on the board ready for the day’s lessons or for the tall boy with the extra tires whose farts created a war zone as he walked through the dust cloud.

No. He focused on you. Hair once again in pigtails, hot pink t-shirt and matching nails, which he thought little of because it was all too…girly, but then you smiled at him and his nose tingled as a result.

“Hi Dean,” you even said, and it was all he could do to not smile back as he took his seat in the row behind you and the Bat-signal drawn onto your right heel.

He needed to learn your name.

Of course, to a nine-year-old, “You like Batman?” was far more important. He asked you that when he sat down next to you at lunch that same day. The pale green plastic of his lunch-tray, just fitting in between yours and the boy’s to his left.

Your look of disgust was apparent even from your side profile, and unlike his smile, Dean couldn’t hold back his laughter when you turned. Not only did you spit out the word, “No,” but a sliver of strawberry jello came with it.

You wiped at your chin and poked your tongue out, which made him laugh harder.

“I like Michelangelo more, but my brother says he’s stupid.” Your head and eyes dropped to look under the table. “Didn’t like it when I told him the Ninja Turtles would beat Batman up.”

“Well, Leonardo might,” Dean said, and you frowned. “With his help,” he added.

His nose tingled again.

There was lots of that over the course of the week and the one that followed. Dean learned your name, and that your mom’s middle one was Mary. It only took a couple of extra days - but from the moment you bonded over your favourite cartoons, the two of you became inseparable, and Bobby was pleased.

Both Winchester boys had a chance at normal life. Well, semi-normal due to the talismans and arsenal in his basement.

And while Rufus refused to show his face again, as long as Sam and Dean lived under his roof, Bobby didn’t mind. He rather enjoyed that. But it didn’t stop other hunters and their problems from showing up on his doorstep, and on one particular Saturday morning after hearing from Bill Harvellle, he dug deep into his wallet for a couple of dollar bills and handed them to Dean.

“Why don’t you take your brother and that friend of yours to the arcade or somethin’,” he said, then narrowed his brows at the boy. “Call the house line ‘round five. Make sure it’s safe to come home.”

Dean took the money and shoved it in his front pocket. “Yes, sir.” He nodded once, and then grabbed Sammy by the hand and pulled him to the door.

The air was warm when they stepped outside. As Dean always did, he put the needs of his baby brother first, pulling off the four-year-olds jacket, then tying it ‘round his waist. He did the same with his and they were off. Sam on the handlebars of the bike Bobby had fixed up for them, Dean peddling with all his might into town.

It was hard work, and by the time they reached your house, he was out of breath, but it was worth it to feel the wind in his hair.

Cheeks puffed, neck hot and sweaty under the collar of his T-shirt, he knocked on your front door with a tight fist, and took a step back.

The dark wooden floorboards creaked underneath his sneakers. Footsteps from the other side moved closer, and he was soon met with your grinning smile and a bright pink scrunchie in your hair.

He scrunched his nose up, but that turned upside down when he saw the Ninja Turtle action figures in your hands.

“Hi Dean,” you said, peeking around him to look at Sam standing next to their bike. “You guys wanna come in and play?”

But they didn’t. Just as Bobby had suggested, Dean had other plans, and after checking in with your mom, the three of you headed to the local arcade.

Whirs. Dings. Whistles. The electronic piano jingles and a rocking soundtrack that tried its best to overcome everything else greeted you when the tinted glass doors rattled open. Lights, as far as the eye could see, of neon pinks, greens and blues and a carpet, littered with stains of mud and grass from the other kids already there, matched all that was overhead and surrounding.

Sammy clung to Dean even tighter. His little hands tugged on the base of his shirt. While on the other side of him, your face reflected the excitement hammering up his legs.

Until this stage in his young life, Dean had only been to an arcade once. The lucky timing of a classmate’s birthday party at a different school he spent all of two weeks in, well before being dumped here at Bobby’s.

That place was awesome, but this? It was awesome, too. There was just something about not being accompanied by adults that made it better.

Pacman and Donkey Kong called his name. Q-Bert, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Space Invaders. Pin-ball and claw machines.

“Look! They have a Ninja Turtles one!” You pointed towards the back where a large machine plastered with their now fluorescent green faces stood out amongst the rest. “C’mon Sammy.” You grabbed the youngest boy’s hand and ripped him away from Dean.

“Hey, wait,” he called, but under all the noise, it was a lost cause.

With a huff, and one eye on you both at all times, Dean jogged over to the change machine by the door and swapped his money for quarters. You guys were the worst. Annoying. Impatient. Yet the way you grabbed the chair for Sam, and held it steady for him while he climbed up, had Dean’s nose buzzing again.

His nose buzzed like that every time he saw you. Playing games, eating lunch in the cafeteria. Riding your bikes through the streets of Sioux Falls, side by side, that same wind in your hair.

It’s just a shame it didn’t last long.

Never did.

Sam and Dean Winchester flew through towns as many times as there were months in the year, sometimes more. The Spring of ‘88 a rarity. Their stint at the local school and preschool, even rarer, and one soon forgotten.

Until 1997 when Dean found himself enrolling at another school in Sioux Falls.

He didn’t know the significance of that either, but he soon would. You’d make him.

Next Chapter

Am I shooting myself in the foot by releasing this part when I haven’t finished the rest? Probably, but I’m used to it. We’ll be diving into three stages in Dean and readers life in this one - up next - 1997.

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[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter VIII

"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 sort of arrives, lots of kissing so we can call luna a serial kisser now-

chapter wc: 11.7k

chapter synopsis: jaemin informs you about the political shift with the sirens turning on president lee because of his involvement with a strictland official. you finally have a conversation with yeosang and at the bar, you decide to confirm your relationship with the boys. they warmly welcome you as a true leader. meanwhile, at the port, the illegal shipment to mist island returns unexpectedly with the navy hot on the crescents’ tail.

prev chapter recap: on your last day in edenary, you go prepared to the ju residence where eden newspaper’s 50th anniversary is being celebrated. you learn about the cuff bracelet hongjoong gave you from sunmi, heiress to maddox and co.. you meet chan of wolfgang and he shares tips about assemblyman kim. you are surprised when the assemblyman recognises you from years ago and you offer him the crescents’ support. you return to sector 1 and the crescents catch up with each other. you make up with hongjoong and he admits the bracelet he designed was intended to match the crescents’ rings. he has delayed madame tiffany’s deal and you are still waiting to hear back from madame cha. anxious, you go to the bar to find yeosang but run across san who offers a drinking session at his house. you get honest with each other and you learn about the crescents’ relationship. the night ends on a romantic note and you make up your mind about the crescents. you hear back from madame cha’s gang member, jaebeom, only after hongjoong signs the deal. he implies that the crescents’ doom might be around the corner.

“Good day, Missy,” the fifteen-year old Jaemin took off his newsboy cap to bow, ever the gentleman.

“That’s Miss Luna for you,” you tried keeping the smirk to yourself but the young informant was far too observant to miss it.

“Just Luna then,” he set his cap on his hair. “I bring news for the Captain.”

“And if you’re his informant, you must know that I am the Captain when he’s not present– sort of. At least, for you.”

“I’d say you’ve become the chief mate,” Jaemin considered, attempting to do some justice to the rankings. “I should make this official. The Captain has found his mate.”

The Captain has found his mate. You covered your cheeks to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“Considering you’re lounging in his office and all,” he added with a shrug, continuing to inform you that he never saw this coming. The last time you had interacted, you were still a bookkeeper bordering the lines of a secretary. 

“Lounging is not the right word. I’m working,” you motioned at the documents splayed out on the table and he pointed at your cross-legged position.

“Don’t let the Captain catch you like that. He’ll discipline you.”

“Oh, shut up already,” you told him, beckoning him to sit. “What’s the news?”

“I still don’t know if I can trust you, so if you do me wrong, I will be out for blood, but,” he stopped you before you could throw something at him. “There’s been a shift in politics. The Sirens have crucified President Lee.”

“President Lee?” You asked. “Not General Wi? I thought he was their target. Doesn’t the Siren Rebel Party work to make sure that the military does not pull the strings of the parliament?”

“That’s right,” he folded his arm, proud to be the bearer of this news. “The Sirens have been protesting against a possible martial law for a while, because that would mean the army gets to make decisions regarding the issue with Strictland and its immigrants here. But anyways, they won’t publish this in the newspaper. Mr. Jang of Eden News is acquainted with President Lee so he will take special care not to publish anything about the scene the Sirens created. He’ll make sure nothing gets out.”

“Hold on,” you said. “One thing at a time. What scene did they create?”

“I’ve heard that they made a puppet of President Lee and set it on fire,” he said and you grimaced. “The cops got to them and they had to flee. They will try to torture the information out of the ones they caught, but I think they will still get away with it. They always do.”

“Woah,” you grimaced. “Now, how are Mr. Jang and President Lee connected?”

“I thought you would know, considering you’re an Edenary citizen and all,” he said and you shrugged. You were aware that the partners, Mr. Jang and Mr. Ju, didn’t see eye to eye on all things but made good partners nonetheless. 

Jaemin continued. “I don’t know how much they go back but when President Han was killed, there weren’t many articles published in the newspapers. Only the Edenary citizens who were present at that time have an idea of how exactly the events of her death took place– the rest only know the rumours that she was assassinated, some not even aware that it happened at a public event.”

“Hmm… why would he not publish articles about his wife getting killed like that? It could have earned him votes, if nothing else.”

“That’s what’s strange. He claims he kept it under covers to respect his wife but he never shuts up about it in his campaigns and broadcasts,” Jaemin said. 

“Why do you think President Lee was targeted this time?” You asked.

“Oh, right. That’s the thing– apparently a Hala Official is arriving soon for ‘discussion’ on the improvement of relations between the two nations. The Sirens claim that the man should not be the face of that discussion because he usually handles the Strictland affairs and is known to play dirty–”

“He’s related to Strictland?” You narrowed your eyes.

“That’s what I said,” Jaemin leaned forward, clasping his hands in a manner similar to a certain boss of a certain company. “He was present when the Treaty happened. He’s not very famous even in Halaland, so it’s kind of strange but not strange at the same time because he is a Hala official. The Sirens must have thought things might take a weird turn after their meeting, so that’s what they protested.”

“And they won’t mention this in the newspaper.”

“Right,” Jaemin concluded with a grin. “Juicy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” you muttered. “How did you find all this out?”

“Oh, I just run errands for the elites,” he said casually, getting up. “But I only answer to the Captain.”

“How loyal,” you smiled. “How did you manage to get him to take you seriously?”

“I told him a Captain must have a pet by his side– someone who can shapeshift and be his eyes and ears. Someone as loyal as a dog, as sneaky as a rat, as sly as a fox, and as cute as a bunny–”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t mention the last part,” you chuckled.

“You wanna bet?” He said in all seriousness. “You’ll take me with you the next time you go to the warehouse.”

“Why do you want to go there?”

“Because it’s been a while. The warehouse boys spoil me,” he grinned. “And don’t worry about finding me– I’ll find you when you’re about to go.”

With that, he bowed mockingly before leaving, your smile falling as you processed the new piece of information. 

You really needed to dig into everything that was happening. There had to be a connection somewhere with the things happening in Strictland. If President Lee himself really was involved… you shuddered at the possibility. 

You wished you had asked Jaemin the name of the Hala official but you weren’t sure you would recognise him anyway. You decided to wait for one of the boys to come who might be able to identify the man with the description you had. You felt like you really needed to talk about everything related to Strictland again, to look into the Sirens and their involvement, to look into Mr. Jang and his media censorship–

But your mindspace was still occupied with Jaebeom’s warning. It had been three days and you still hadn’t heard back from him. No one else was aware that you had met up with him, and you intended to keep it that way. Every moment, you prayed that his suspicions would simply be that– suspicions. Not facts.

Burying yourself in work was easier now. You were finding that you had a special talent for multitasking when you were stressed. You could work speedily but then you would have a moment where you would zone out for a significant period of time until someone would interrupt you.

And it was Seonghwa who interrupted this time, whistling in a low volume as he entered the room, apparently feeling good. You didn’t move, only shot a glare at him before continuing to stare holes into the stained glass of the window.

“Well, someone clearly forgot to have lunch,” Seonghwa checked the time. “Weren’t you going to wrap this up and go home to rest for the evening?”

“I’m almost done,” you told him, sighing at the bundle of paperwork. “I think I’m more suited for field work.”

“Should I have a car prepared for you–”

“No, I think I’m good here,” you buried your face in your hands momentarily. You are only suited to stay in the shadows, your father’s words rang in your head. Maybe he was right. Maybe working from the spotlight was finally taking a toll on you.

“What are you stressed about?” Seonghwa asked gently, sitting in front of you across the table. He passed you a bar of chocolate that he must have grabbed from the reception on his way upstairs. You popped a cube in your mouth, letting the rich texture of it soothe your nerves.

“Stuff. I’m always stressed though, don’t worry,” you tried to joke it off, knowing it would never work in front of Seonghwa.

“Is it about Madame Tiffany?” 

You shrugged in obviousness. “You know I won’t relax until I hear back from my sources.”

“Ah, nothing that can be done about that then,” Seonghwa slumped back. “Anything else bothering you, my love?”

My love.

“Uh,” you bit your lips in nervousness– he clearly had no idea of the recent progression. Yunho had kept his mouth sealed for once, and you were glad because once everything was official, you wouldn’t be able to hide how these casual terms affected you to your very core. “Yeah, Jaemin came by. Have you heard about the recent news?”

“Oh, yeah, I caught him on my way to the port earlier in the morning,” Seonghwa told you. With the recent shipment of Black Shadow due for export to Mist Island soon, he had been quite occupied at the port since he came back from Edenary. “Strange happenings.”

“Do you know who the Hala official is?”

“That would be Major Sung Dongil,” Seonghwa said. “He’s a very respected and a hated personality in Halaland. Some believe that his aggression caused Halaland most of the war casualties.”

You nodded slowly. “So he’s not very loved back home, and he’s related to Strictland in some unknown ways.”

“He’s basically in charge of Strictland’s status– kind of like a pseudo-governor of that area.”

“So… he would be well aware of whatever goes on in Strictland, right? Nothing would go past him,” you said.

“He should be. If he isn’t… that means he needs to do a better job.”

“And now he’s meeting with President Lee,” you folded your arms, voice dripping with suspicion.

“Not the first time this has happened, and it’s not unusual for him to meet with President Lee,” Seonghwa mirrored your position. “Whatever happens in Eden affects Strictland too– especially because there’s still the matter of illegal immigrants. That’s probably the reason they’re meeting, and if the Sirens Rebel Party heavily comprises those immigrants of which most are illegally residing here, it makes sense that they got angry and protested the way they did.” 

“True,” you scratched your chin in thought, slumping back again. “I’m probably just overthinking again.”

“That’s why we like you,” Seonghwa chuckled. “Sometimes overthinking makes sense– especially when it comes from you.”

“Well, the overthinker in me wants to look into Major Sung and why President Lee keeps using media censorship to his advantage. I heard about how he never talked about his wife’s public assassination yet brings that up for pity votes every now and then.”

“Understandable. Let’s just wrap up the new deal first, yeah? I can have someone look into Major Sung for you in the meanwhile,” Seonghwa asked and you agreed, thanking him. He took over the files and asked you to go and take a breather and you laughed, staying to finish it before eventually leaving with a kiss blown his way. He shook his head in amusement, smiling through work for a good while after.

It was a little awkward, very overwhelming and kind of nerve-wracking but very familiar to wait for Yeosang in his office in the Crescent Bar. 

But it was something that needed to be done in order for your relationship with the boys to progress. In order for there to be a clarity to who and what you were– as a Leader, as a Crescent and as their romantic partner. 

You still were not sure how your relationship was going to progress with some of them– that included Hongjoong, first and foremost. There certainly was palpable tension between you two, but he respected you perhaps as much as you did (despite all your squabbles). He held you in high reverence and reminded you how important you were to them and to their cause at every step, and it was thanks to him that you were Luna of the Crescent Company now. 

As for the boys in the warehouse… you couldn’t say anything about it yet. You were content with your current situation– three of them already reciprocating your feelings felt unreal. Perhaps, this was how it was supposed to be. They were the ones opening you up to the idea of love and how it came in all forms. They were also teaching you how to be good at receiving love. They sure knew how to give it.

You were now on the way to shift your relation with Yeosang. Four of the Crescents wanted you. No wonder you felt like you were drowning, overwhelmed with the idea, while also feeling as if you were taking your first breaths after remaining underwater. 

The warm atmosphere of his office room and its familiarity comforted you like a lover’s embrace while also soothing your nerves for the discussion. Yeosang entered after a few moments in the middle of instructing one of the employees. When he finally finished and turned towards you, he clapped with a pointed look.

“I see you’ve almost finished my precious wine.”

“It was there for me,” you said as you shifted awkwardly, realising that he was right. The previous three quarters were down to a few sips. “It was looking at me.”

Yeosang laughed, settling down on the couch beside you. “How have you been? And what’s stressing you out so much that you almost drank the entire bottle? Not that I mind a tipsy Luna…”

“I’ve been well, for the most part,” you said. “The stress– you know why. Work stress. And… I wanted to talk to you about something, but first tell me how you have been. I heard you’re almost prepared to ship Black Shadow to Mist Island?”

“Yep,” he sank down, a tired groan escaping his mouth. “The police have been sniffing around so it was tough to get around them. We just hope it can leave the Eden territory without any trouble. Once it crosses the Eden waters, we’re mostly safe.”

“I sure hope so,” you said. “Why are they sniffing around? Is there a mole?”

“There actually might be– far too many strange coincidences have been happening, but San and Yunho are looking into it so I’ll leave it to them,” he said. 

No wonder Yunho had been so busy these days– you hardly caught him in the office anymore. 

“So? What did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” you turned towards him, stifling a smile– he looked far too welcoming in the brown tones of his outfit that perfectly complimented his hair and milky skin, almost creating a coffee-like contrast. It didn’t help that he was rolling his sleeves again, showing off his sculpted forearms. 

“Well?” Yeosang repeated, noticing how you zoned out, oblivious to your gaze stuck on his arms. 

“Right– uh… I wanted to tell you that, uh…”

“You sure you want to talk?” Yeosang teased. “Maybe another glass of drink to loosen your lips?”

“Shut up,” you glared at him. “I like you. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“Yeah…” he nodded after a moment of silence. “Never would have known if you hadn’t told me.”

“Yeosang,” you groaned and he laughed heartily, finally pulling you closer by your wrist. “It took me so much courage to come here and you can’t stop joking around.”

“Think of it as my coping mechanism,” he said in a serious tone, looking at you with caution and anticipation in his eyes. “Because I’m trying to find the words and the courage to tell you that I like you too.”

“I know,” you nodded and he looked at you pointedly, but soon the two of you were sharing soft, guarded smiles.

“This is kind of weird,” you admitted and he agreed. “But yeah. I wanted to tell you that I like you. And I like… the others too.”

“Elaborate,” he requested gently.

“Well, I like Yunho, you know that,” you said with a laugh and he smiled. “I like Seonghwa. It happened in Edenary– he’s just so… you know? Comforting. Caring. He’s so gentle.”

“That he is,” he agreed wholeheartedly.

“And… I don’t know how it happened but it happened recently with San. I went to his place–”

“You didn’t!” Yeosang gasped scandalously and you smacked his arm, making him snicker.

“Just to talk! I was actually here for you but you were out and he offered to take me anywhere I wanted. We decided to go to his place to drink and whine, but one thing led to another. We only kissed though.”

“Nothing else?” He teased.

“Just… a lot of kissing and cuddling– god, do I have to share everything with you?”

“I mean… he is a good kisser–”

You gaped at him. “Yeah… He is.”

So that’s what you were getting into. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Who else have you kissed?” 

“I thought you knew everything by now?” 

“Yeah, but I need answers from you. Who else have you kissed, Kang Yeosang?”

“Do you really want to hear the answer?” Yeosang leaned forward, inches away from your face. “Shall I add another to the list?”

You gulped visibly, making him grin and he pulled back, caressing the skin on your arms to let you know that he was only teasing. He cleared his throat and asked, “Have you made up your mind yet?”

“I have, but I wanted to talk to you before I made it official,” you told him. “I want to be with you, Yeosang. With you, and Seonghwa, Yunho, and San. And with more, if they will have me. I want to be a part of… this.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” Yeosang tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in the process. 

“I’m sure,” you insisted, your gaze steel. You had never been more sure of anything, and it was not just the thrill you felt in your veins. It was your heart singing for them, something like a knot in the middle of your chest that tightened with yearning everytime that you thought about them.  

Yeosang smiled and kissed your forehead. “Welcome to the gang, sweetheart. I think I should tell you the obvious while I’m at it?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded. 

“First and foremost, confidentiality,” Yeosang said and you nodded in understanding. “Us… we know everything about each other. We’re one. You can choose to share that with us, or keep your business with each of us private among us– that doesn’t matter. If you choose to remain private, we will make sure not to discuss relationship dynamics with you among each other.”

“I think if I’m sharing all of you, I don’t mind. We’re all together, so…”

Yeosang smiled proudly, very pleased to hear that. “Don’t worry, we don’t always talk in such detail. In the beginning, it was a little awkward navigating our way through this. We had to talk to learn about each other. Now… it’s become a habit.”

“No, I like it. I like how close you are. It makes it feel like you all have this little bubble.”

“And now you’ll be a part of that bubble,” Yeosang said and you smiled. “The thing about confidentiality is that we keep our relationship from anyone who is not us private. Very private, and you know why.”

“Because it’s unconventional,” you said and he nodded. “And because they will wish they were us.”

Yeosang laughed darkly at your comment. “They still do. But that’s just another weakness they can manipulate to take us down. They already know we are each other’s strength and weakness, but it’s better if our relationship is kept in the dark.”

“Understandable,” you agreed. 

“The second thing is something you already know– that it’s okay at any point moving forwards if you want to be with only one of us, or a few of us, or even none of us. You’re not bound to us in any way, Luna. You can explore outside of us if that is what you wish for. Of course, we would prefer to keep you all to ourselves. All of us have at some point tried something out of our circle but we never liked it. No one understands us like we do.”

“What about me? Do you feel like I could fit?”

“That’s what I mean,” he caressed your cheek again. “You don’t have to fit in. Just be yourself, and find what you like. Let it progress naturally.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, suddenly having a moment of clarity. “Thanks for telling me that.”

Yeosang tapped your cheek lovingly. “Lastly… have fun. And be careful.”

“Of who?”

“Of your desires,” Yeosang said. “Being with us is not as complicated as it sounds. You can find comfort and solace in anyone of us– whether it be of platonic, romantic or sexual nature. I just want you to navigate these waters without worrying about the consequences within our group. That means that we won’t mind what you do with one or the other. But we would also like for you to be clear of what you want with us to avoid confusion. We will respect your wishes and boundaries and will expect you to do the same, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, understanding and also surprised how eloquent Yeosang was as he talked about this. “Just keep it undramatic and have fun?” 

“That’s a loose translation of what I said,” Yeosang chuckled. “But yeah. There’s no jealousy going on, nor will there be in the future. We’re all one, but if you don’t want all of us, that’s fine.”

“Have you had previous partners like me?”

“We tried, yes,” Yeosang nodded. “It always ended badly– silencing them wasn’t the problem. They tried to break us, and it made us wonder if that was their intention from the beginning.”

“I hope none of you got that vibe from me?”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re here, Luna,” Yeosang smiled knowingly. “Do you think Yunho, of all the people, would have warmed up so quickly to you? Do you think Seonghwa, who wanted to kill you that night, is kind to anyone like he is to you?”

You shook your head. He was right– they must have felt something different with you. Something good and pure.

“Do you think the maknaes will accept me?” You asked cautiously.

“Oh, they are the accepting ones– you just overcame the hurdle that was us,” Yeosang admitted and you scoffed in shock. “It would have been hard to win us over if you got acquainted with them first.”

“Good thing that I was your bookkeeper then, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s probably how it started,” Yeosang kissed the back of your hand. “I’ve had my eyes on you for quite a while, Luna.”

“I heard,” you admitted and he nodded, knowing someone must have told you already. He simply couldn’t believe you were here, wanting to be a part of them. Wanting to be with them, accepting them as they were. He had shot every arrow at you in this conversation, scared to find you having cold feet but here you were, letting him kiss your hand repeatedly, watching with glazed eyes. 

“We waited far too long, didn’t we?” You asked in almost a whisper and when he spread his arms, you immediately scooted closer, melting into his embrace and enjoying the kisses he planted on the top of your head. “I’ve always had a thing for you, just so you know. It’s hard not to, because you’re very handsome and charming.”

“Stop,” Yeosang laughed– in all of his life, he would never get used to people telling him how handsome he was. Even when the boys told him, he always got shy.

“But you are,” you pulled away to look him in the eyes. “You’re too good to be true. And to me, you always feel like home, Yeosang.”

Yeosang’s heart felt full. He cupped your face with one hand, his brows scrunching with something like amazement and disbelief and you were sure your own expressions reflected exactly that. You were finally in his arms, his. You were his, and he was yours.

Yeosang swiped his thumb across your lower lip and you shut your eyes momentarily, exhaling shakily. When you dared to look at him, you found his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“May I?”

You nodded and he stifled a smile, pecking the tip of your nose first and making you relax as you giggled. You both moved closer naturally until there was no distance between your lips, sharing the softest of kisses that made your heart melt like candle wax. You moved your lips along his, alternating between deep kisses and pecks, caressing each other’s skin wherever you found easy access. 

Being in his arms filled a void in your heart that had been there for a long time now. The void of yearning. Oh, how you had restrained yourself from crossing boundaries with him while you worked as his bookkeeper. All to hide your identity– if you had known earlier that he would be so accepting of you, you would have yielded right there. 

It had taken far too long, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you hoped you conveyed that in the way you held him and kissed him– with deep respect and love. Once you felt short of breath, you drew apart, eyes fluttering open and finding his cheeks flushed.

“You’re a good kisser too.”

Yeosang choked on his laughter. “I didn’t imagine you would weaponise that piece of information.”

“Well… that’s how it’s going to be with me. Get used to it,” you pecked his lips and he deepened the kiss while keeping it soft and undemanding. You smiled through it and snuggled into his warmth.

You could definitely get used to this.

“Do I have to set up a meeting to make this official?” You asked. “What’s the next step?”

Yeosang chuckled, caressing your back assuringly. “San is handling that. It’s only going to be dinner with lots of wine so don’t worry too much. Just think of it as another work agenda– we’re basically doing this to congratulate you on becoming a Leader, but you can make an announcement there. Also, that man is the most obvious being on this planet– it’s clear as day that he was pleased about the other change.” 

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “He’s so goofy.”

“Don’t let anyone hear that. He’s supposed to be the scary one of us. At least first impressions.”

“I think first impressions… Hongjoong wins in that department,” you shuddered lightly as you recalled the ice cold gaze he gave you when he first saw you in the office. “Or Yunho, if he tries.”

“Wait till you see Mingi or Wooyoung look at someone like that. If looks could kill.”

You made a mental note to witness that, and the conversation steered from one thing to another. Never once did you feel out of place in his arms.

You belonged there.

The calm before the storm. 

It was always a short period of tranquility after a storm would wreck everything in its wake.  Impending doom seemed to be your life’s companion. It stuck at your side at the calmest periods of your life like an old friend, and then grew in intensity as the calm wore off to welcome the storm like a lifelong enemy. 

It felt like you were standing at the borderline between calm and storm– your gut was restless with anxiety and that was only a sign that something was about to go wrong. You could just pray that the intensity of it would be mild. 

Perhaps, this was not even the calm before the storm. Maybe you were simply getting squirmier with each passing day not hearing back from Jaebeom, or mulling over little pieces of information that did not sound too bad in retrospect, but put in a certain context or connection seemed more damaging to the business.

Whatever it was could wait a little longer. 

You were in Room no. 1 at the Crescent Bar tonight with all the boys present, sharing a hearty dinner. They welcomed you warmly, making a huge deal and you were half-sure it was just to annoy you, courtesy of a certain Kang Yeosang who knew you didn’t like being the centre of attention very much especially when you were going to be talking about important things here, but you could pretend this was all about your promotion from secretary to a Leader. 

However, the boys who knew– Yunho, San and Yeosang– kept exchanging suggestive glances with you and you kept mouthing at them to ‘stop’, which they were getting quite a laugh out of. The rest were thankfully oblivious, but that didn’t mean they were doing anything less. 

The warehouse boys got you a few gifts– a gun designed by Yerin, its hilt encrusted with a pearl which gave it ‘the Luna touch’, as they quoted. It was a beautiful beretta and they promised to teach you with that gun so you could get familiar with it. They also gave you a small dagger with a customised engraved cover that you could carry in your purse or even your boot. 

You asked them if you needed to expect an attack anytime soon but they laughed, saying every Leader carried a few guns and daggers on them. Wooyoung went as far as to say that it was a part of their ‘style’ and you accepted the gifts, amused but also appreciating their sentiments.

You were done eating and were now watching the boys talk about the little things, their voices intermingling in the room. Wooyoung and San were having a heated debate over something related to working out and Yeosang was intently listening, sometimes agreeing with one or the other. Yunho and Mingi, as usual, were in their own little bubble and you watched them with fondness spilling out of you– you loved the way the two looked at each other. Not only the two, all of them. The way they all looked at each other and cared for each other was something otherworldly.

Seonghwa was explaining something to Jongho– it looked like they were discussing something related to work with the way Jongho sketched over the table to make his points clear to Seonghwa. And here you were, watching them, your eyes travelling to Hongjoong who had also finished eating and was now looking at you from across the table.A smile graced his lips as your eyes met, making your heart flutter. 

He raised an eyebrow as if to ask if you were doing okay and you nodded, the silent communication carrying on when Wooyoung’s voice rose and San burst into laughter, the two of you shaking your heads at the duo. You took a few deep breaths, looking at your left where Yunho sat. You didn’t interrupt his conversation with Mingi, simply brushed your fingers against his and he understood, wrapping his fingers around your hand to give you strength. You knew that you did not need to hide that you were holding his hand but you still kept it under the table, silently letting his touch calm you. 

You waited for the conversation to die down a little and then you signalled Yeosang who got up and clapped to get everyone’s attention.

“What?” Jongho asked.

“I just want everyone to shut up for two minutes so Luna can talk about something,” he announced and you groaned, curling into Yunho’s side as everyone laughed knowingly or in confusion. Yeosang pretended he could not see you, finding the ceiling incredibly interesting, knowing damn well that he should have phrased it differently–

But this was his charm. 

“Right, so…” you started, squeezing Yunho’s hand. “I just want to thank all of you for giving me such a warm welcome for finally joining the inner circle.”

“No need for a thanks, darling,” Wooyoung waved his hand in dismissal. “This wasn’t anything special– we could have done so much more!”

“No, this is enough,” you laughed. “Just… thank you for accepting me and considering me someone worthy of becoming a Leader.”

“Honey, we’re not as good as you make out to be,” Seonghwa admitted, some of them agreeing. “There’s no such thing as being ‘worthy’ of becoming a Leader.”

“You are a mafia organisation, though,” you commented. “I think there is such a thing. It sure felt like it.”

“Yeah, tell him!” Mingi clapped. “Not anyone can be a Crescent!”

Seonghwa shook his head, laughing at the attack. “I just mean that because you felt like one of us, you became one of us. That’s all there is to it.”

“Well,” Hongjoong began. “We do have a strict code here, as you very well know now. We actually were not open to having another ‘Leader’, if you must. It’s just that you earned it. You found your own spot here– we were pretty much helpless watching you become one of us. It was as if you were always meant to be here, yeah? And not anyone can achieve that.”

Your heart swooped at his admission. He was always so clear about his views and feelings, and to hear that from him felt like an accomplishment. He always insisted there was no boss among them but he truly was the captain. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Seonghwa added and you all laughed. “Anyone can become a part of our organisation, the Crescents, but you found your own spot in our little circle.”

“Running on sheer confidence, holding key information and being able to hold us accountable? I think we needed that,” Jongho laughed. “I mean, we, the younger ones, don’t spend everyday with you but from what we’ve seen… the hyungs really needed a dose of someone like you.”

And then started bickering and finger-pointing because whatever did he mean? And how dare he? While Mingi and Wooyoung defended their precious youngest, asserting that while they were away, the hyungs started to get too pompous and they really needed someone to humble them– that someone being you who was a mere bookkeeper telling them what was wrong and right, stopping them from sabotaging their business and working to improve it while also entrapping them in the little ‘love bubble’ they had going on, according to Jongho. 

“We see the way you look at her!” Mingi continued, pointing at San, Yeosang, Seonghwa and even Hongjoong. “You’re not fooling us! She’s becoming your favourite. Rightfully so,” he added the last bit as he looked at you and you gave him an okay sign. 

“I like the warehouse boys more though,” you commented, earning gasps. “They’re… my type of boys.”

Chaos erupted in the room, San and Yeosang clinging on to each other in a fervent display of heartbreak, Seonghwa covering his ears with his hands as if he could not hear anything, Hongjoong sitting with his hurt pride and Yunho bringing your joined hands up in the air for everyone to see– an act of betrayal, it was. When you recovered from laughing, you placed your joined hands on the table for everyone to see.

“While we’re talking about this, I would also like to say that… I want to be your partner. All of you, if you will have me,” you said, meeting eyes with each one of them. 

There was a moment of confusion because what did you mean? You were already partners. And then it hit, Yunho’s hand caressing yours all the confirmation they needed. 

“You mean, like… partners? In our relationship?” Seonghwa was the first one to ask, unaware of the recent progression.

“Yes,” you felt a bit exposed with all their eyes on you, but you held strong, watching the boys talk among themselves, those who knew explaining to those who didn’t. “I want to try it with my whole heart. And I want to know if all of you are willing to accept me– you don’t have to–”

“But we will,” Hongjoong said in finality, the rest agreeing immediately. “I suppose you’ve talked in detail about this? To someone?”

“Yes,” you looked at Yunho, Yeosang, and San. “I know what I’m getting into. I’m ready.” 

Mingi whistled at your admission. “I hope they told you that you can take it easy? You don’t have to be so stressed about it.”

“Of course,” you nodded, relaxing and realising you must have appeared to be a bit tense. “I just wanted to say it out loud while all of you were present. And I’d like to hear what each of you think about it.”

“I mean, I’m good,” Mingi shrugged and you smiled at his casual nature. “Wherever the flow takes us, right?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. 

“I’m more than good,” Wooyoung grinned. “When can I officially take you out on your first date? Because I bet none of these fuckers have taken you out yet–”

And that started another finger-pointing session, though Wooyoung was officially winning that one. None of them had actually taken you out on a date yet. Even the ones you were intimate with. 

“I’ll make sure my first date is you,” you promised Wooyoung and he raised his fist in victory. 

“Can I tag along?” San asked expectantly.

“No, you lost your chance!” Wooyoung smacked his hand. “Give me some alone time with my girl!”

You grinned, looking at Jongho who was highly amused by the turn of events. You raised a brow and he shook his head. 

“Like Mingi said, wherever the flow takes us?”

You nodded, a silent understanding passing between you both. While it was not awkward with Jongho in any way, he was still more like a friend than anything else, just like Mingi was. Wooyoung, being Wooyoung, was going to take his chance and see where it takes him, but these two were the more cautious and reserved ones. You were not going to push them, just like they were not going to demand anything from you.

“So you’re officially our girl now,” San clapped once and rubbed his hands, a devilish smirk on his face. “I actually really like the sound of it. I think our group needed a feminine touch.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, laughing. “Don’t make it sound weird!”

“No, he’s right,” Seonghwa agreed, downing his drink in a single gulp. “Too much testosterone around here.”

You shook your head, letting them argue further and getting to hear stories about them now that you knew everything. How the boys depended on each other and barely cared about each other’s personal space– they might be criminal lords but were just boys at their hearts. Seonghwa revealed how San would always hang out in his room even when they were doing nothing. Mingi liked his alone time and he wanted others to respect that but that did not stop him from making his home in San’s room or Seonghwa’s room– or even in someone else’s house. 

From what you heard about Hongjoong’s shared house with Wooyoung and Jongho, Wooyoung was basically the housekeeper, which made a lot of sense. He made sure everyone ate their meals, mostly cooked with Jongho and complained about how Hongjoong was a baby who needed a nanny to take care of him. Apparently, the mafia boss did not know how to look after himself and Hongjoong admitted being guilty of that. 

Yunho and Yeosang shared a house and you thought it was a good combination in the sense that the two always brought out the calm in each other. You were imagining their space to be the most soothing, and you made a mental note to ask them both how it was like to live with the other.

Just like that, the night of drinks, admissions and acceptance passed and wrapped up with a beautiful conclusion. Your heart felt full and you never felt out of place. This was where you were meant to be, and they made sure to never make you feel anything less– and the funny bit was that they were not attempting to do that consciously. This was just how it was supposed to be– the pieces had fallen into place.

You said your goodbyes to everyone, and oh, you got a sneak peak of what would soon be called normal now. Yeosang pecked your cheek before leaving, and Seonghwa cupped your face and planted a deep kiss on your forehead, saying he couldn’t wait to talk to you in private. San and Wooyoung both also kissed your cheeks but it seemed to be an inside joke and they disappeared into another room, snickering about something. You were mostly in shock at the sudden demeanour change though you could not complain. It was heartwarming. 

You spotted the boys exchanging hugs and kisses too– the ones who wouldn’t be seeing each other any time soon. Jongho was mostly avoiding any physical contact but he tapped your cheek teasingly as he exited the room, laughing devilishly at your shocked face. Mingi was supposed to leave with Jongho so he rushed to catch up with him, ruffling your hair and you shut your eyes in defeat.

This was what you had signed up for. You laughed as you looked at Yunho, who was leaving the room with Seonghwa, speaking about something in an urgent tone. 

That left you with Hongjoong. The air felt cold all of a sudden as he walked towards you, swirling his cane and poking his tongue in his cheek to keep himself from grinning.

“You look like you want to kill me and feast over my bones,” you commented and he scoffed.

“Feast, maybe, but kill? You think too lowly of me, love.”

Oh. you pursed your lips as he drew closer, watching you with a sort of curiosity. 

“I heard something interesting, recently,” he said in a low voice for only the two of you to hear. “‘The Captain finds his mate.’”

“Just another title to add to my name, eh? Bookkeeper, secretary, chief mate,” You tried joking your way around it but he wasn’t having any of it. He took your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact with you and successfully melting your insides.

“Well, I quite like the sound of it,” Hongjoong said, smirking. “See you in the morning… mate.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” you raised your fist for emphasis though your voice came out weak, making him chuckle. You muttered a curse. Forget the warehouse boys– he was going to be more challenging than all of the boys combined. 

You exited the room and took a turn to the corridor that led to the backdoor when Yunho appeared out of the shadows, taking your hand and leading you to an empty, dark corner. Before you could ask him what was happening, he twirled you around and pressed your back against the wall, swallowing your surprised gasp with his lips, making you instantly drop your bag and melt in his arms. 

“Our girl,” Yunho muttered in your ear, voice thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I love the sound of that?”

“Oh, god,” a shaky breath left your lips, your senses heightening in pleasure. “You’re crazy.”

“For you,” he kissed your jaw. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Definitely,” you brought his lips back to yours, sharing another passionate kiss. “I missed you so much. In Edenary. Here. Don’t you ever give me space again.”

Yunho chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice sounding inside your skull and you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him pick you up. You laughed at the height difference and he melted into your hug, content in this position.

“Someone could see us,” you whispered. 

“I don’t care,” Yunho whispered back, kissing your neck and burying his nose there. “I only have a few moments before I need to go. Let me make the most of them.”

“Where do you have to go at this hour of the night?” You asked, cupping his face and tucking his hair back. 

“To the port– the situation does not look good. I’ll let you know when I actually know something about it,” he said and you nodded. “I’m just waiting for Johnny.”

“Stay safe,” you kissed his forehead, going back to hug him. You stayed like that, limbs wrapped around each other while he gently rocked your bodies until you heard Johnny’s very loud voice call for Yunho, the both of you laughing at his arrival. With a final soft kiss to your lips, he let you go reluctantly. You wished you could keep him all to yourself for the rest of the night.

He did steal a few more moments, insisting that he drop you off on his way– it was only going to take him a minute, and he wanted to make sure you were safe, something about how the police were becoming a problem so the gangs might take this opportunity to create another ruckus again. He managed to steal one last kiss before watching you disappear inside your house and Johnny shook his head at the sight.

“You big chump, you.”

Yunho shot a glare at him but the men ended up laughing, Johnny making an effort to keep the mood light because he knew Yunho was absolutely going to snap when he would hear about the events at the port in the past couple of hours that took place in his absence. 

The storm had arrived, in the literal sense and the metaphorical. 

The night had been washed in a fierce torrent of rain, the sharp patter of it accompanied by globs of ice which kept you restless throughout the night. You and Wendy were light sleepers so the next morning began with a groggy start, both of you sitting next to each other to process the weight of being alive and drinking coffee to help with that. You took to the corner of the living room next to the window to watch the sky open up. Since you were on the second story, the view from up here wasn’t much, crowded by other apartments in the area. 

Still, you could tell that the storm wasn’t going to end any time soon. It had only magnified the confusion and anger of the Crescents at the Sector 1 Port. Their shipment of Black Shadow to Mist Island was rumoured to be returning back, and in the previous evening it arrived accompanied by the navy who had not let it pass the Eden territories, insisting that the shipment was illegal. 

It was illegal. That wasn’t the problem– the problem was who told them? It had been about three years since the Crescents started smuggling Black Shadow to Mist Island. They always knew that one day they would get caught and would have to pay a hefty fine, at the very least. They found ways to involve the police, to make fake licences, to make it seem like the shipment was meant for some other land instead of Mist Island, and made basically every preparation in case they were caught. 

However, the Crescents had also familiarised themselves with the police procedure. In case of suspected smuggling, the nation that was about to receive the shipment was going to deal with the police first before sending the case back to the country of origin. That was the international law, which meant that in no possible scenario would a shipment return from halfway across the ocean.

Yet, that was exactly what had happened. Mist Island never received the shipment and they would not be able to help calm things down. The navy would report to the main office in Edenary and it would be hard to get out of it unscathed– the main office was full of scavengers waiting to have a taste of the Crescents’ doom.

The atmosphere at the Crescent Office today was thick with tension. Everyone was busy clearing the records in case the police decided to investigate the whole company for illegal trade. Yunho had been out almost all night for damage control. He went to rest in the morning and Seonghwa took his place, the boys from the warehouse accompanying him. You stayed in the office with Hongjoong, trying to pull some connections and keep the news from blowing up.

It was not a good time for this to happen, considering the pharmaceutical side of the business was just about to flourish thanks to the new deal to launch silver light as a medicinal drug. If they started investigating all the shipments going out from the Crescents, they might catch on to the copper the Crescents import for weapons manufacturing, and Pledis Manufacturers, the partners of the Crescents, could be under threat too. If Pledis pulls out at this sensitive time to protect themselves, the weapons channel might be exposed or come to a stop altogether.

So it was no wonder that Hongjoong sat grim in his chair, staring into the distance and strategising while you helped him check discrepancies or flaws in his plans and made calls. 

“I think you could really send a few men to look into who tipped the navy,” you suggested, having just finished making sure that the next shipment to Utopia was rescheduled. It would be a mess if they found out that you were exporting weapons parts to them. 

“I think it’s a shot in the dark,” Hongjoong said and you knew that he was partly right but also highly focused at solving the problem first. 

“Think about it, Hongjoong,” you said, placing the pen back on the table and unbuttoning the cuffs of the sleeves of your black shirt, wanting to roll them to avoid discomfort. “Not anyone can tip the navy– they don’t take everyone seriously. And while we’re at it, we might want to look into why they tipped them now. This isn’t your first time trading with Mist.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply. “You’re right. Who could tip the navy? Is someone trying to distract us from our new business prospect? Is this a bait? Or did some bastard get lucky with the timing?”

“Someone of influence– that’s who the navy listens to. That means it’s not just any other bastard who lucked out. It has to be someone who knows about the recent happenings.”

Hongjoong curled his lips in thought. “Secretary Park?” 

“I thought so too, but it’s unlike him to tip the navy. He shoots from the front, not from the back,” you said and he agreed. “Some reputable gang?”

“Unlikely,” he said. “They know very well that they can’t mess with the Crescents and get away with it.”

You made an impressed face, making him smile for a moment. “I think it’s probably someone who knows about the silver light business, and they’re trying to throw you off while they pull another stunt which would be far worse.”

“But Madame Tiffany is the only one aware of this silver light business,” Hongjoong folded his arms. “Secretary Park may have an idea but if he was aware of what we were doing, he wouldn’t have simply watched it happen all along– he would have done something earlier before we ever made a deal. That leaves just the Crescents, MX Pharmas who I don’t suspect at all, could be a mole but they wouldn’t tip the navy…”

For a brief moment, your father’s knowing smile flashed before your eyes when he said that he wanted the Crescents to make a deal with Madame Tiffany. You felt a wave of anxiety in the pit of your stomach, recalling Jaebeom’s little warning. 

Could everything be connected? But Secretary Park wouldn’t do that, you both were right about that. Madame Tiffany had just heavily invested in the deal, so why would she hurt herself now? She could have pulled this stunt before she made a deal with the Crescents.

“God, I’ll go insane. Are we doing something to keep this from the media?”

“Wooyoung’s handling that– he has connections with some people in Eden News,” Hongjoong told you.

“Great. I’ll make preparations for all the possible outcomes then?”

“You do that,” Hongjoong let out a tired sigh. “I’ll help you out–”

“You’ve been up all night. You should go and get some sleep, I’ll take care of things here,” you said softly but he opened his eyes a fraction wider as if to show you that the lack of sleep didn’t affect him. However, his eyes were bloodshot and you snorted.

“You’ll start to look like death, Joong,” you joked. “Just take a nap– go. I’ll handle things in the meanwhile, and if we need you, we won’t hesitate to call your residence. Hopefully you pick up the phone.”

Hongjoong poked his tongue inside his cheek and you wondered what the smug expression was for until you realised you hadn’t addressed him by his name. 

“Joong, eh? Heard that from Seonghwa?”

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” You suppressed a smile. Hongjoong shrugged in response, considering if he should take a nap or just stay–

“Just go,” you laughed. “Shall I order you to go?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes but you weren’t one to back away from a challenge.

“Kim Hongjoong. Joong,” you said in your most assertive tone and he shook his head in amusement. “Go and get some rest. That’s an order.”

Hongjoong got up and sauntered around the table, stopping in front of you and tucking his thumb under your chin to raise your face so he could look you in the eyes.

“One day, I’m going to do something about that mouth of yours, y/n.”

It was a promise, and it registered in every part of your body. It was an effort to stop the noise that threatened to leave your mouth at the suggestiveness of the situation. He licked his lips slowly, swiping his thumb on your lower lip before drawing away with a smirk and leaving.

You pursed your lips, lightly slapping your cheeks so you could come back to your senses and get some things done. After collecting yourself, you straightened and picked up the contacts diary to call the Crescents’ residence in Edenary.

After a few rings when you were starting to lose hope, Jaehyun finally picked up the phone and you made small talk before asking how the situation looked in Edenary.

“It’s not being blown out of proportion yet,” Jaehyun began. “Which is both a good sign and a bad sign. I feel like there’s another hit coming and we’re just waiting for it.”

“And that’s why I called,” you said. “Remember what we did the last time I was here?”

“Had fun,” he laughed a bit and you hummed in amusement. “But yes. I got you.”

“Yeah, and while you’re at it, see who the public suspects. Also, can you see if we have a connection in the Edenary station?”

“The police station? We don’t, actually,” Jaehyun admitted. “But I’ll look around. I think Inspector Gong might be our best option because as much as he hates us, he’ll actually look into this fairly. We might also need a favour from General Wi– he could certainly pull some strings.”

“Yeah… remind him that he owes us a few and let’s find the source as soon as possible, yeah?” 

Jaehyun agreed and you ended the call, taking a few deep breaths. Now that you had sorted things out, you felt a bit more at peace, just waiting to hear back from one of the boys. You went towards the couch, curling on the very welcoming soft seats and shut your eyes, feeling the throbbing headache grow more intense with every second. 

You didn’t realise when exactly you dozed off but upon opening your eyes, you found Seonghwa mirroring your position on the couch across you, though wide awake. You looked around trying to get your bearings, checking the time on your wristwatch.

“Oh dear. I napped throughout the afternoon!”

Seonghwa chuckled. “That’s alright. Hongjoong is probably still asleep, and I just came back about half an hour ago. We sorted the mess at the port.”

“How’s it looking?” You asked, stretching your limbs.

“I honestly can’t say yet,” Seonghwa admitted. “I’m just hoping they don’t conduct a full investigation– now’s not a good time. And on that note, we must transport some important documents elsewhere.”

“You mean the ones in the safe here?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Mingi owns an apartment near the warehouse. It’s registered under his cousin’s name so it’s a safe place to store them.”

“Alright. Do you want me to go ahead and do that?” 

“No, it’s alright,” Seonghwa straightened. “I can go, I’m just waiting for Yuta.”

“Oh, you look tired, though. At least I got my rest,” you joked and he smiled wryly. “I can go with Yuta. We go to the warehouse first, right?”

“Yeah. Are you sure, though? I’m perfectly good to go, Luna–”

“Hwa,” you called his name in warning and he pursed his lips. “Do I have to order you like I ordered Hongjoong?”

“You ordered Hongjoong?” Seonghwa laughed in disbelief. “What did you tell him to do?”

“To go take a nap,” you said. “And you– you don’t have to take a nap, you can just… shut your eyes for a few moments like I did.”

Seonghwa nodded sarcastically and you smiled– he didn’t look as weary as Hongjoong but you knew that he put more effort into appearing put together too. His hair was curling at the ends probably due to the wet weather, not styled to perfection like it usually was. His eyes still sparkled with energy but his shoulders seemed to be drooping.

“You need a massage while we wait?”

“Oh, that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Seonghwa sat a bit straighter and took off his coat. You walked behind the couch where he was sitting and smoothened his white shirt around the shoulders, rubbing your fingers into the tight spots on his neck and collarbones. He groaned in relief and you smiled in satisfaction, continuing to rub and pull the tightness from his body. 

“Where did you learn that?” 

“Madame Cha,” you told him. “She would make me massage her sore parts until she was content, which means I had to learn to do a good job.”

“Did you ever hear back from her?” Seonghwa asked and he noticed your fingers pausing for just a second.

“Kind of. She’s acquainted with a gang and one of their members is here on some business. He’s still looking into some things so he promised to let me know what’s up once he has a clearer picture.”

Seonghwa also noticed how vague your answer was. “Everything okay?”

He really noticed everything.

“Yeah, he’s actually looking into some political stuff and he’s just making sure Madame Tiffany is not a part of the people who’re stirring up trouble lately.”

“Hmm…” Seonghwa tapped your hand to let you know that you could stop now. He held your hand and steered you in front of him so he could look at you. “Did you tell Hongjoong?”

“I don’t want to tell him anything before I’m sure of what I have,” you explained and he nodded, understanding. “You know that it’s too late anyway– I only heard back from them at the beginning of this week.”

“That’s okay,” Seonghwa squeezed your hand in assurance. “Can you let me know first when we hear back?”

“Of course,” you frowned. “I didn’t take a wrong step, did I?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Seonghwa pulled you closer and made you settle on his lap, your eyes widening in surprise. His other hand went to rest on the small of your back. “Hongjoong is handling a lot at the moment and I don’t want to burden him with more. I’m sure you feel the same.”

“You all are dealing with a lot,” you said, noticing the bags under his eyes. “That’s why I decided to keep it to myself until I had an answer.”

Seonghwa smiled. “You and I think alike, in that sense. Remember that you can lean on us at any time, Luna. No matter when, no matter who.”

“I know,” you brought your hand up to cup his face, hesitating a bit and he raised a brow. You locked eyes with him– you hadn’t been intimate with him in any way after the kiss in Edenary, and now that everything was finally sorted out… 

“What’s stopping you?” Seonghwa whispered, squeezing your sides as if to comfort you.

“I just had flashbacks to when you were about to kill me–”

Seonghwa laughed loudly. “You want me to beg for your forgiveness, love?”

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Hmm… I quite like the sound of that.”

Seonghwa shook his head, scoffing and you finally cradled his face to make him look at you. You traced his cheekbone and sucked in a breath– he was beautiful. He pulled you closer on his lap and you continued to entangle your fingers in his hair while you caressed his face.

Seonghwa heard the honk of his car and whispered, “Yuta’s here.”

“I know. I should get going, right?” You asked, eyes fixated on his lips and he nodded, wanting nothing more than to keep you in his arms for the rest of the night. 

However, none of you was ready to let the other go. You moved in tandem as your lips met, kissing leisurely as if you couldn’t hear the honk of the car outside. You dipped your weight against him, curling your fingers in the soft strand of his hair. His own hands rested on your hips to keep you in place and he swiped his tongue along your lips to make you open up.

His tongue explored the cavity of your mouth and you hummed in pleasure, the surroundings disappearing into nothing– all you could feel was Seonghwa kissing you ever so gently, his hands squeezing your hips, the warmth of his body radiating on yours, just Seonghwa, your Seonghwa–

A sharp knock sounded on the door and you drew back with a startled gasp, gazes still stuck on each other’s parted lips. Before you could make a move, a familiar voice sounded.

“Mr. Park? Luna?”

Oh, Jaemin. That menace. He had promised to find you when you would go to the warehouse and here he was. 

You shared a quick peck and a giggle before you went to open the door. Jaemin stood with narrowed eyes, observing the two of you.

“Were you… fighting?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Let’s go,” you squeaked, grabbing your things while Seonghwa’s laughter boomed in the room. You shot him a glare before leaving the room, asking Jaemin to wait in the car. You joined him after grabbing the documents from the safe, cooling your cheeks with the back of your hands.

You greeted Yuta as you got inside and passed him the documents which he slid under the seats. Jaemin asked if he could take the passenger seat but Yuta insisted it was unsafe right now and he was better off sitting in the back with you. Jaemin’s annoyed expressions thoroughly amused you and you patted his back in a sign of comradery.

“Tell you what– next time, you can sit in the front. We’ll have Yuta sit in the back and I’ll drive.”

“If you’re driving, I’d rather stay at home,” Jaemin folded his arm and you and Yuta shared a laugh.

“Oh, I was a good driver. I used to drive a lot when I lived in Edenary.”

“Really?” Jaemin asked. “What car?”

Thus, the forty minute drive passed in a breeze as the three of you talked about cars and your lifestyle in Edenary. The conversation steered to Yuta’s past and how he found the Crescents a good few years ago, the group of them hired as bodyguards for their commendable street skills. 

Finally, you got to learn about who Jaemin really was– an orphan boy who had taken upon himself to take care of the younger kids in the neighbourhood where he lived. He told you that the first few years when he left the orphanage for the streets were hard but it was Seonghwa who had found him before anyone else, and you weren’t surprised in the least to hear that. Seonghwa always kept a watchful eye on the kids and the women. A guardian of sorts.

Mingi had remained in the warehouse, waiting for your arrival. He told you that the boys were running some errands– Wooyoung was making sure the warehouse would be ‘clean’ in case of an inspection, and Jongho was out bribing some police officers. Apparently, Jongho was an expert. 

Jaemin and Yuta disappeared inside after Yuta handed Mingi the documents. You stood next to Mingi at the entrance, your hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat and you took a deep breath– it was chilly here since it was an open area.

“Would you like to stay here, catch up with the girls? Or would you like to accompany me to the house?”

“I’m okay either way– if you’d like some company I can join you.”

“Come along then,” Mingi smiled. “I’ll show you around.”

It didn’t feel awkward to drive with Mingi– it was the first time the two of you were alone yet there was a sense of familiarity especially because of the stories you had heard of each other. Surprisingly, though, you did not talk much about work or the boys. The conversation somehow steered from the documents to silver light to the war.

“I heard you were a soldier during the war– who was your commander?” You asked. 

“Captain Byun,” Mingi said and you looked at him in surprise. “You know him?”

“You know his partner, Captain Yoon?” You asked and he nodded, glancing at you in between driving. “I was drafted in his medic squad.”

“Oh, that means we must have crossed paths at some time,” Mingi laughed in disbelief and you agreed, surprised at the revelation– who would have thought? Perhaps, you had even treated him at some point– the two captains had often worked together.

“I don’t recognise you, though,” you told him. 

“I don’t either, but it’s been years,” Mingi said and you supposed that he was right. “I don’t think I would recognise most of the soldiers who worked with me either. Everyone scattered, and we all changed a lot after the war.”

“True…” you said and Mingi dug out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Take a look inside– there’s a photo,” Mingi said and you opened the wallet, finding a worn out photo of a group of men in uniform. You extracted it and checked the date. It was from February, 1962, a whole eight years back.

“Where are you?” You asked and he laughed, urging you to look carefully. You did and a gasp left your mouth– 

“Is that Jongho?” You asked and he grinned. “And that– that lanky tall boy has to be you!”

“That’s me,” Mingi laughed. “There’s another one in there if you can recognise him.”

“It must be San, he told me you were all in the same platoon but I don’t think I can find him…”

Mingi stopped the car, having arrived in front of the house. He drew closer and you passed him the photo. When he pointed at a small boy, you put your hand over your mouth.

“No way that’s the Choi San.”

“He’s changed the most out of all of us,” Mingi said almost proudly and you took a closer look. That was a boy in the picture and the San that you knew… he was a man, all muscles and presence. Mingi continued, “He’s still the same person, but physically, he’s changed quite a lot.”

“Unbelievable. Jongho is very recognisable, so are you though you’ve also changed, but San? I’ll have to ask him to show me more photos of him from before the war.”

Mingi chuckled. “You do that. Come on, let’s hide the documents.”

Mingi did a quick scan around the neighbourhood before opening the car door for you and you accompanied him inside the shabby house. It looked like no one lived inside which you supposed made a good spot for a hideout, even. Mingi told you that the house had a lot of secret compartments so you would be scattering the documents. You memorised each spot, making small talk as you went back to the warehouse.

On your ride back to the Crescent Office, Jaemin fell asleep, tired from all the energy he spent– he had as much a busy day as the rest of you, if not more. You let him rest his head against your shoulder, feeling a sense of peace, Yuta’s low humming lulling you into a calm headspace.

Things were going to be okay. The storm would pass.

But before a storm dies down, it leaves something irreparable in its wake. For you, for the Crescents, the storm was no longer a sign of ‘impending’ doom, because doom had arrived in the form of a whisper, a news carried by someone who was only a messenger yet felt the burden of the news on his own shoulder.

And that messenger was Jaebeom, finally bringing a message of confirmation in your office in the early hours of a morning in Eden when the sky had just started to clear, the clouds having wrung every drop of water they held. With each word that he spilled from his mouth, you felt the walls of Yunho’s office room tighten until they threatened to swallow you whole. 

For once, you were sorry to be right about someone.

And once again, you were surprised at how wrong you were about the same person.

next chapter

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taglist pt 1:

@lorensonebraincell @sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @jjaemasung @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @vcutparis @missbangtangirl @zaynsfl4m3s @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @katerade23 @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @curse-of-art @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @chanst1ddies @softsanglix @yongility @sang-09 @sweetinsaniiity @a-teez-4-exo @omgsuperstarg @saintriots @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic

[lovelybucky1]

okay so dad!matt is rotting my brain so how about this: matt is older than reader and somehow she comes into his life, whether she be a client or the daughter of a client/friend. he takes her on almost like a protégé, maybe given her an internship at the firm. he tells himself it's because he wants to protect her like he would a daughter but in secret he can't stop thinking about bending her over his desk.

he is so ashamed of his feelings and hide them very well but quickly notices that she trusts him "like a father".

she on the other hand is quite attracted to him but she also sees him as a protective father figure and feels ashamed of her attraction because "that's almost her dad"

lots of pining and being confused by their moral compasses and immense attraction and need for the other person and ahhhhhh

- 🪆

i love this so much oh my god

you’re the daughter of a long time and well paying client of matt’s. when the client asked if his daughter could intern at murdock and mcduffie, it was hard for matt to say no. you don’t bite he hand that feeds, after all. he was worried about having a spoiled young girl from harvard law working under him, seeing as he specializes in helping the less fortunate, but that turned out to not be his biggest problem.

you’re sweet, kind, humble, and devastatingly sexy. devastating because you’re in your early twenties and he’s pushing forty.

he tried so hard to keep it professional, but you were insistent on getting to know him on a personal level and he couldn’t resist. after you became closer than the typical boss/employee, he tried to friendzone you, or more accurately, dad-zone you. he took on a mentor role and constantly called you kid, trying to put that space between the two of you. no matter how many times he reminded himself of your age, your inexperience, your innocence,he couldn’t help but imagine you bent over his desk.

despite how perceptive he usually his, he had no idea you felt the same. his own feelings were clouding his judgement and he didn’t realize how your heart races when you see him, how it skips when he called you kid in that warm, gentle tone. you didn’t mean to fall for your boss. you know he’s way too old for you and you’ve even referred to him as your work dad, but late at night, your fantasies always include him.

you started to dress up more for work which feels ironic because you work for a blind man, but you don’t know what else to do. somehow he seems to have taken notice. your skirts are shorter, still professional, but they show off more of your legs. you bought a new perfume, something sweet and alluring. you even started wearing your hair different, just to get his attention.

the two of you reach your boiling point late one evening while you’re helping him work on his opening statement. he had asked you to read it back to him, partly to catch errors, but mostly because he wanted to listen to your voice. you’re sitting close, your voice soft in the small, quiet room. this time, matt is paying attention to all of his senses and catches how your breath hitches when his thigh makes contact with yours.

tension is thick in the air, confessions sit heavy on the tips of your tongues.

“matt-”

“don’t.”

“but-“

“we can’t.”

it’s as close as you can get to confronting it without putting words to your feelings. no i’m too old, i’m your boss, i’m friends with your father. just, we can’t.

as much as it kills you, you understand. in fact, you understand so well that you begin to date another lawyer at the firm. he’s a first year from harvard, and despite being in the program at the same time, you never saw him around campus. he’s exceptional, a literal genius, and he treats you well. he’s great, except he’s not matt.

its been two months and you’re working late with matt again, scanning case files in his office. at this hour, in this small of a space, nothing good can come. you’re close again, touching at the ankles, thighs, and almost the shoulder.

“sweetheart-“

“don’t.”

“please-“

“we can’t.”

no i’m too young, i’m with someone else, you’re my boss. just we can’t.

“i don’t care,” he breathes.

he grabs your face and kisses you, lips gentle but full of passion, longing, and something darker. something you’ve both been pushing down since you’ve started working together.

“matt,” you gasp.

“i can’t stop myself,” he mumbles against your lips.

you have no idea the devil that hides behind the mask of matt murdock.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

after giving it a lot of thought, I got a nice of people to be the lost boys :)).

ari levinson should definitely be the “leader" of the group. I mean , look at him !! it’s pretty self explanatory. now , for the rest :

frank castle, bucky barnes , thor , steve rogers , loki , pietro maximoff.

you can totally tweak it if you want to !! 🫶🏾

a/n: i rewatched the 2003 peter pan before scribbling this down (was that movie also one of the ones that awoke something inside of you growing up? because it did for me in too many ways omg). alright, some peter pan lost boys au headcanons, let’s go!!

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

okay, so in the peter pan spirit, ari would definitely be the one you first meet and who gets you roped into it all and takes you with him to neverland. 

i’m imagining that you’re in a phase in your life where everything is just going horrible, everything is super stressful and you don’t know how you’re supposed to juggle it all.

that’s when this dude shows up in the middle of the night

at first you think it’s a dream, but nope, it’s an actual human being, strange as he is (maybe it’s the classic fight with his shadow and you help him see it back onto him after he’s caught it)

also, omg, is that dude flying? yup. definitely floating. 

(also let’s just go over the basics, they may be called the lost boys, but they motherfucking grew up if you know what i’m saying. sure, they lads all came to neverland as children, but in this version, let’s just underline the fact that they aren’t frozen as kids, just in case one person randomly stumbled over this and got confused. but that also means that they are a group of guys who have from a young age been isolated from women, especially everyone but ari who doesn’t get the luxury of just flying off to london for the lols and then coming back home with new and scandalous tales)

but anyhow, we all know how the story goes: ari instantly becomes obsessed with you the second that he lands in your window and simply has to take you with him back to neverland (coaxes you to him with the whole “one girl is worth twenty boys” and the prospects of teaching you how to fly)

and naturally, you think of the invitation as the escape from your miserable existence that you’ve been just waiting for, and you didn’t even have to go through the pain of quitting your job first, you could just disappear into the night with some hunky dude

now, straight ahead from the second star on the right, when you reach the morning light neverland, i’m imagining that classic moment where there is a little pirate incident, you get separated from ari and then the lost boys find your passed out form after you crash land. 

and then all just stare at you in your sleep, probably studying your unconscious form purely out of curiosity because they haven’t seen a girl in forever 

maaaaybe they also in that exploration find some very special spots that don’t mirror their own, but makes you whimper in your sleep and leak against their untrained touch. 

maybe when you finally wake up, they beg you to teach them all that you know, quench their curiosity with a little anatomy lesson perhaps?

also…. flying + smut? oh boy…… i mean, the porn practically writes itself… being gangbanged in the clouds? bro, where do i sign up

and now, do you at some point get kidnapped by a dirty, grumpy old pirate? maybe so hehe. maybe the boys gotta come save you. or maybe the pirate turns out to be a little bit too hot himself, oops

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The New Regular

Dr. John Carter x Reader

Words: 1868

Summary: The bartender of the hospital staff’s go to place meets a new, and desperately in need of a drink, doctor. 

Notes: Funnily enough, the first person I started writing for for ER is Doug Ross (which I will finish and post at some point, because God I love George Clooney) But I thought this short and sweet one would be a nice refresher for all of you getting into the show after the traumatising experience of The Pitt. Enjoy! 

-

It tended to be pretty quiet this time of night. The only ones left were night-shifters and drunks from earlier who hadn’t figured out a way home yet. You didn’t mind, though. This was your favorite part of the night, when everything started dying down and the music got slow. It was an old Billy Joel when he walked in, still in his scrub shirt and hair sticking up at every angle. 

You finished cleaning the glass in your hand and set it aside, watching the clearly newish doctor stumble his way up to the bar with the exhaustion of a just-ended shift weighing his shoulders down. 

“You look awful,” you said, giving him a small smile. “What can I get you?” 

“Something strong,” he muttered without looking up. His eyes are glued to the bar in front of him, and it isn’t hard to see that it’s been a rough day. 

It’s a look you’ve come to understand well, being the closest bar to County General. Whenever a doctor has had a long, hard shift, you could usually find them sitting across from you, hoping for something to ease the stress away. This guy was different, though. You could tell he was new because he still had this look to him, like he was exhausted but still ready to go right back in if they asked him to. 

Plus, you didn’t know any cynical old doctors who were this cute. 

You slid the drink you titled ‘Medicine’ across the bar towards him. You poured yourself one too for the hell of it. “Physician heal thyself.” 

The cute doctor laughed humorlessly and picked up the glass, but didn’t drink. 

“That bad, huh?” You sipped on yours, leaning on your elbows against the bar.

He snorted. “How much time do you have?”

Scanning the room, you found the one person who’d still been ordering. “Bertie, I’m cutting you off!” You shouted at the older man.

“What? I’m not even half-” He started to protest, but fell face first onto the wooden surface. 

The young doctor stood up, but you put a hand on his arm. 

“He’s fine.”

Sure enough, a great snore echoed through the quiet space. 

He sat back down. “Do you get a lot of hospital workers in here this time of night?” He asked. 

“Sometimes. Depends on how bad the shift is. Most of the time, it’s patients coming through. As if they still have the money to spend after visiting you guys.” You took another drink and let the burn coat your tongue. 

Finally, he did the same, though he made a bit of a face when he tasted it. “Jesus, what is in that?”

“You said you wanted something strong,” you snickered. God, he really was cute.

He drank some more, visibly trying to keep his reaction to a minimum, and set the glass back down. 

“I’m John, by the way,” he said. “Not that you, um, asked.”

“Y/N.” Pulling up the stool you kept behind the bar, you sat across from him. “So, are you going to tell me what’s got you coming to this joint, John or would you prefer to brood in silence like some of the other doctors?” 

You’d been trying to get Doug Ross to open up to you for years to no avail. The man was more closed off than the toughest safe, using his charm and flirting to cover up his deeper issues. He liked to tell you that you didn’t need that psych degree you were studying for; it seemed you were already practicing just fine.

“I lost a patient,” John answered, his voice going quiet. 

“Your first?” You asked gently. 

He shook his head. John ran a hand down his face and downed the rest of his drink. The mix of emotion and liquor turned his eyes glossy. 

“Doesn’t make it easier, though, does it?” He said. His hand went over his face again, then again through his messy brown hair. “I mean, it feels like for every person we help, there’s another going to the morgue. It just makes you wonder what the point is, you know? Like, why am I even trying? Why are any of us?” 

You leaned down so you could look him in the eye, his face still trained down at the bar. “It sounds like you could use another, doctor.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. A faint smile teased his lips. “Maybe just a beer this time.” 

“You got it.” You opened up a bottle and set it in front of him. Sitting across the bar felt too unnatural, so you abandoned your chair and walked around to the barstool next to him. “So tell me about yourself, John.”

“Hm?” His gaze still had that distant, faded look to it. 

“You said you weren’t sure why you were there. You didn’t see the point,” you said. “Well, tell me why you started, and maybe that will help you see.” 

“Oh, I, um, I don’t-”

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think about wanting to be a doctor?” 

“How much my family hates it,” he blurted. He laughed, surprised at himself. 

“A rebel then?” You teased, nudging his shoulder. It was just nice to see him come back to himself a bit. 

He shook his head. “That’s not it, though. Or, at least, not the only reason.” A new kind of distance takes over his features. One that inspired a bit of awe. “I want to help people.” 

There’s a pull in your chest, one that you have to push down to keep yourself from leaning over and just smacking a kiss to those pretty, pouting lips. 

“How very noble,” you teased instead. 

He snorted. “Watch me get vomited on a couple of times, then you won’t think so.” 

“A humble doctor.” You raised a brow. “That’s got to be a new one for me.” 

“Not just that,” he grimaced, which broke into a smile. “I’m studying to be a surgeon.”

You leaned forward and ran your fingers through the front of his hair, making a point to narrow your eyes and huff. 

“What are you doing?” He laughed, but leaned into your touch. 

“I’m looking for a horn,” you said. “You’ve got to be a unicorn or something.” 

John pulled away and shook out the poof you’d left in his hair. He didn’t even look like the same person who sat down, the beaming smile on his face lighting up every corner of the room. 

The next time he came in was better. He’d saved someone that day-a little boy who’d drowned. It was a close call, but he was going to be okay. Just listening to him go on and on, it wasn’t hard to see that John Carter was exactly where he was meant to be. 

The next time he was down again, but you were able to get at least one smile that night. 

Every week, he came in. Sometimes he didn’t even get a drink, but he’d still leave you a tip at the end of the night. You told him he didn’t have to, but he never listened. One night in particular, when the bar was absolutely slammed, you didn’t get to talk to him as much, but he stayed anyway. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a shadow,” Megan, your fellow bartender that night, smirked at you. “Either that or he can be your first patient when you become a real shrink.” 

“God, I hope not,” you sighed, overly dramatic. She looked at you with a quirked brow and questioning look. A grin spread across your face. “Then I couldn’t ask him out.” 

She gave you another look that said ‘Fair enough’ and hustled off to help her next customer. 

John stayed until the crowd died down despite how exhausted his own shift had made him. There was something about being around you, every time you smiled or took a second to come talk to him that just made him feel awake. As other patrons filtered in and out and in and out again, he stayed. 

He swirled his club soda around his glass and watched you wipe down the last of the tables. John wasn’t sure how long he’d been coming to the bar. A couple weeks at least. He’d kicked himself more than once for leaving without asking you out. He always ended the night by laying his cash on the bar and telling you goodnight, looking back through the gaps in the neon sign to see if you were watching him leave. 

“So, Dr. Carter, is tonight the night?” You asked, leaning over the bar with a smirk. 

His eyes went wide and his cheeks turned red. Could you read minds? Were you that good at your psych degree?

“W-what?” 

“Are you finally going to let me make you another surprise drink?” You asked, as if there was no other possible meaning to your words. 

“Oh, um…” His cheeks only continued to redden. Sometimes he could still taste the, um, strong, concoction you first made him and the idea of having anything like it gave him a pre-drinking hangover already. 

You laughed, loving the way his face changed colors when you got him flustered. Might as well keep going. 

“I’m just kidding,” you said. “I want to know if you’re finally going to ask me out or if I’m going to have to do it myself, Dr. Carter.” 

If you thought his face was red before…

“I-um-I was just waited-oh, uh, I-” He couldn't remember the last time he was this much at a loss for words. “That would be-” John forced himself to swallow and take a breath so he could attempt to stop looking like a total idiot. “Do you want to get drinks sometime?” 

You glanced around you at the various bottles and liquor you were surrounded by every day. 

“Maybe dinner?” You suggested. 

“Right. Yes. Dinner. Of course. Dinner.” He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up again. You waited. He stared. You waited some more, smile creeping wider and wider across your face while you waited for him to get it. “Oh. Yes. Do you want to get dinner? With me? Tomorrow night?”

You leaned across the bar and kissed his cheek. “I’d love to.” 

That grin of his lit up and it felt like the whole dark bar brightened with it. 

“Great! I can, uh, I can pick you up at 8? There’s a place close to mine, it’s not the fanciest, but it has some really good chicken parm and-”

“You’ve already sold me on it, doctor. Leave some to be a surprise,” you teased. You flashed him one last wink and started back towards Megan at the other end of the bar to finish closing up for the night. 

She glanced at you over her shoulder and you caught a knowing look in her eyes. “I take it we’re going to be seeing even more of him then?”

You wiped down a spot you’d already cleaned and watched the young, handsome doctor watching you. 

“Yeah,” you said, blush tinging your smile. “I hope so.” 

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy can't believe how fast everything happens. (tw: mcd)

Tommy gasps in shocked delight when the back of his head hits the wall with a dull thud. Evan is breathing into his ear, frantic and hot.

“Hm. Sorry. Fuck, Tommy. Can I …”

“Yeah.” Tommy is already tilting his head to the side, giving Evan more space to kiss, nibble, bite.

The answer is always yes when it comes to Evan. That’s probably a bit pathetic.

And this is probably a bad idea.

Tommy couldn’t care less. He doesn’t have the energy to think straight. Not when Evan is touching him like this. With this burning hunger in his eyes and his tongue sticking out between his teeth, grinning and laughing and moaning and begging, please, please, please.

Not when he breathes out Tommy’s name like a prayer. “Tommy. God. Tommy …”

Yes. Say my name, Tommy thinks, and he runs his fingers over Evan’s back, feeling the faint scratches his nails leave behind. His marks. Say my name.

He missed this.

And later, when he struggles to find a comfortable position to sleep in on the mattress, with Evan already snoring, his hair a mess, drool drying on his chin and his face relaxed, making him look so soft and young, Tommy wonders what this means.

He wonders so much, he buys a bottle of champagne and feels stupid when he leaves without it.

* Evan doesn’t call. But he sends a long text. 

It’s a lot of rambling about too many changes happening at the same time, being scared of being lonely, and about how it’s unfair that he used Tommy to feel something familiar for once.

It ends with: I’m sorry.

I’m not, Tommy thinks, closing the chat without writing anything. He thinks of the champagne in the fridge of Eddie's old house. A part of him is delighted at the idea of Evan finding it and feeling guilty all over again. He thinks of the hiss Evan let out when Tommy’s nail scratched a little too deep. I’m not sorry. I hope it still burns.

* “I did it for Chimney,” Tommy says, letting his voice sound as cold as possible, even though his heart is already fluttering like it always does in Evan’s presence. Stupid little thing.

Evan’s face falls. “Oh. Yeah. That’s fair,” he says quietly, looking away.

And Tommy can’t.

He can’t.

What did you do to me? I can’t even be mean. Never had a problem with that. Not if I wanted to be.

“And for you,” he admits. Damnit. But it’s true. Of course it’s true.

Evan looks at him, his eyes lighting up, his mouth opening in surprise and awe and … God. He’s so cute.

If it wasn’t for the military chasing them and for the fact that this time, Tommy probably won’t get out of this without consequences, he might have tried to kiss Evan.

* Bobby Nash is dead.

He is dead, and Tommy watches Evan break down in a hallway, wailing and writhing and despairing.

Bobby Nash is dead.

Tommy is so numb, he barely reacts when he’s told he will lose his license for the time being. There will be investigations, some people in uniform say sternly. And he doesn’t care.

Because Bobby Nash is dead, Evan is curled up on a cold floor, and Tommy can’t even hug him.

Bobby Nash is dead and they’re all alone with their grief.

Tommy stares at the monitor, watching as a couple of paramedics in hazmat suits try to get Evan to uncurl. He stares, hugs himself, and wonders how it all went downhill so fast.

(AO3 Link)

[nightislands]

Just saw the teaser of Jasper from The Talamasca, and him watching Daniel only continues to prove my theory that he’s Marius.

I recall someone mentioning that in Blood and Gold (correct me if i’m wrong, I haven’t read it) Marius, Mael and Avicus are referred to as the 3 biblical Magi, one of whom is named Caspar… or Jasper, and this seems to be a major theme, especially with Marius giving out gifts of gold.

Now in TVA, which I have read, Marius is also quite openly giving out gold to the boys in the Palazzo. He is also described as having the hair of, and resembling young Lorenzo de Medici “right from the painted wall”.

That is referring to the Procession of the Magi, which is a mural depicting Lorenzo de Medici in the guise of the Magus Jasper.

Marius was described to appear more “icy” than Lestat, such as his cobalt blue eyes. It wouldn’t be a stretch for Marius to have white hair instead of a platinum-blond type of color too.

As for his age, while he’s supposed to appear to be in his 40s, I believe they’re going to make him (if he isn’t already) the old man in the beginning of TVA who paid to sleep (literally, not to have sex) with Armand on their way to Venice.

I think him being that old man would also make sense of why Armand saw Marius as a savior when he bought him later on, and why he sensed that the old man—while not having sex with him— “regarded him as something quite valuable, to be preserved for sale.”

Armand also goes on to say “I thought I was a being kept by him like a fatted calf to be sold for food.”

Also,

This description sounds just like him.

I also know there’s a theory about Raglan James being Marius and not Jasper, but I think it’s possible that if Daniel is really going to be taking over David Talbot’s character, that Justin Kirk may play Daniel in the future, since

1. Daniel is a dying old man who has been refusing to become a vampire, and David was also originally a dying old man who refused to become a vampire despite the offers he was given.

2. To me he kind of looks like how Daniel is described in the books. This would also allow them to skip over David taking over the body of an Indian man. (or he may briefly switch bodies with Rashid, we don’t know, but now it would be possible for him to not be in that position for too long)

3. Switching bodies with Daniel would allow him to get to Lestat

I haven’t quite figured out the specifics though, and I’m not 100% confident in either of these theories but I thought it might open up a fun conversation!

[peyismyname]

something like bunnab bc her n*gga dropped the bag

warnings: BLCK!reader inteded, WEALTHY!kento, pushing the age gap limit a bittttttttt far.., pretend kento has tattoos😓, kento in a rut, idek js enjoy reading

wc:

inspired by the song whim whamie by PLUTO, and YK NIECE

what could you say? you were a broke young adult who had barely finished college, those bills were kicking your ass! you’d been told you were pretty time and time before but you never knew how to put it to work. and you damn sure weren’t doing porn. it wasnt until you saw the most gorgeous man ever at a small coffee shop that you almost considered (just for him). silky blonde hair, big brown eyes, sleeves of tattoos, all around just beautiful.

so when you come up to him and compliment him on his hair and you ask what dye he uses he’s surprised. “oh this isn’t dye, but i could afford to dye it. some gray is coming in.” “oh well i think you look great! it suits you.” you say in an obvious attempt to seduce him or just get a free chai.

you two sat down and chatted for a good 15 mins before he asked to buy you a coffee. you declined at first but that was only a ploy to get him to insist. so what did he do? he fell for the trap, he insisted. “oh how could i resist buying one of those pretty lattes for one of the most pretty lady i’ve seen.” you smiled softly before he lead you to get up and you two went to the counter. he asked what you’d like, it took everything out of you to not say ‘you’. “uhm since you insisted, a small latte please.” he looked down for his wallet, it was beat up and ragdy. it was time to put it down!! you were scared the card was going to decline for a $7 coffee. but instead he pulled out an american express black card. your eyes widen a bit, how could someone who had cut up wendy’s coupons and a million different gift cards in their beat up ass wallet own a black card?!

after he bought you that drink from the coffee shop it’s been uphill from here. you stated going on more frequent dates, or as you’d like to call it hangouts because you ‘weren’t ready for a relationship.” or “working on yourself”. which were complete lies you just didn’t want to open your heart. but wow did you open your pussy faster.

you weren’t the most religious person but you vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t have sex until you found the right person who truly loved and cared about you. that wouldn’t have been until marriage if you hadn’t met kento.

how fast you opened the door to his house. it was a bit smaller than expected for a wealthy person. but boy you couldn’t say the same about his cock.

he spent hours, upon hours fucking you. you could tell pretty easily that he was in a rut. the way he’d mumble things to you. not just sweet nothings, no. it was nasty, filthy. “oh yeah you like that? o-oh you like that you fucking slut,” he emphasized every word with a slap on your clit, while he had you in the meanest mating press. “oh yeah slut, i’m gonna get you pregnant, make you a mama.” you were shocked at first but you didn’t mind. “kids? kento don’t you think you’re a bit old?” the way you put it was obviously a joke. he knew too but decided too play a bit too. “oh yes i have tattoos older than you. but you still wanna fuck?” he said with a slight chuckle. and with that comment it went on all night. neighbors be damned.

you started experiencing pregnancy. it didn’t make sense. kento was a couple years over 40 so that would mean it would be harder for him to have kids. so you chugged a whole bunch of plan b only to find out that plan b only worked for sex drive not pregnancy. so you took the test..

all rights reserved to me ®

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Pancakes pt. 2 (Bucky x Reader)

word count: 0.5k+

a/n - @decadentpaperpizza this one’s for you

The restaurant Bucky took you out to was a fancy local French restaurant you’d grown up going to with your family. It had always been a special occasion ordeal—someplace you got to go to once a year. Fancy, yet familiar. Special, yet it felt like home. You didn’t recall mentioning the place specifically to Bucky, but you wouldn’t be surprised if you had. It felt rather fitting that it be the place to host your first ever date with the grouch you’d grown to like. 

“Thank you,” you said as he pulled out the chair for you to sit down. He looked good in his suit, and you liked the feeling that he’d wanted to dress up nice for you. 

“Of course,” Bucky replied softly as he sat down across from you. 

“Have you been here before?” you asked, not quite sure what to talk about. 

“No, but you said it was really good, so I’ll trust you,” Bucky answered with a soft smirk. Oh, so you had mentioned it before. 

You grinned. The conversation flew rather easily from there. Bucky had gotten to know you pretty well recently, but it seemed like there were always new things he was finding out about you. 

When the waiter arrived, he recognized you. “Oh my goodness! It’s been so long, oh wow, you’re a full adult now, my god!” You found yourself being hugged by the man you recognized, a smile of joy on your face. “And who is this dashing young man?”

“Oh, no, he’s old as hell,” you answered, and Bucky laughed, amused by the difference of your humorous tone from the waiter’s more proper. 

“I’m Bucky, sir,” he held out his hand for the waiter to shake it. 

The waiter shook his hand with a bright smile. “Good to meet you. Can I get you both started with drinks, maybe?” 

The rest of the night was an influx of people who knew you, who remembered when you came by a few years ago, or remembered you as a child. And you happily introduced them to Bucky each time they came by. Someone not being ashamed of Bucky…to him, that felt new. And it felt nice. 

When it was over and you were walking through the cold, wearing Bucky’s jacket as you made your way to the car, Bucky spoke up. “Everyone really knows you there, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I wish you could take me to somewhere where everybody knows you. I mean, I know that you can’t, I just wish it were something that I could share with you too.”

Bucky smiled at your words. “Honestly, these days, people who know me are limited to exactly Sam and Steve. And you, now.” 

“What about back then?”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t know. I think a lot more people knew me. I was more outgoing, charming, flirty, I guess. But I like here. It’s nice. It’s… genuine, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. You gently took his hand, holding it in yours as you walked through the echoey parking garage. 

Bucky grinned. He got the feeling that whatever was going on between you now was going to last for a long time. 

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@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13

[maysrinn]

Hi I have another question but who is president in the other universe where Coriolanus stayed with Lucy gray in district 12, and if snows a peacekeeper in this au dose that mean Lenore dove gets into more trouble cause her uncle busts her out.

Hi welcome back!

1. I never really thought about who would have become president if Coriolanus had stayed in District 12 with Lucy Gray. One thing’s for sure: I wouldn’t pick any of the characters we already know, or even one of his classmates. Snow was uniquely sharp, but not uniquely evil, in my opinion. Anyone could have been just as cruel and power-hungry if given the chance. Maybe Dr. Gaul would have found another protégé after Coriolanus failed his little district test and never returned to the Capitol. The new president would likely be someone we don’t know, just as ruthless toward the districts, but without Snow’s sharp mind.

__________

2. By the time Lenore Dove is born and raised by the remnants of the Covey, Coriolanus isn’t just a Peacekeeper anymore, he’s the commander of District 12. And Lenore Dove? She’s a constant headache. She always manages to get herself into trouble, because really, what’s he going to do? Scold her? Put her in time-out? He tries, lecturing her endlessly and keeping her stuck in his office for hours, forcing her to listen to another one of his “valuable life lessons” about freedom, discipline, and responsibility.

But deep down, he’s exhausted. Lenore Dove reminds him so much of Clementine Auburn, wild and stubborn, and he had been genuinely relieved when his own daughter eventually grew out of that rebellious phase. Now it’s happening all over again, and Coriolanus knows he’s far too old and tired for this kind of nonsense. Half the Peacekeeper unit probably knows Lenore Dove by name and exactly where to find her when she’s once again caused some kind of chaos. Some of them have even made a game of it, betting on how long she can stay out of trouble before someone has to drag her back to the commander’s office.

Coriolanus: Tell me, Lenore Dove, what great threat to district society did you commit this time?

Lenore Dove: I sang a song. Technically, that’s called culture. Covey culture.

Coriolanus: You sang The Hanging Tree in front of the mayor. During the remembrance ceremony. In front of children. I thought we talked about this-

Lenore Dove: Children singing! Oh no! Next thing you know, they’ll be thinking too.

Coriolanus: Freedom without order leads to chaos. Chaos leads to rebellion…

Lenore Dove: here we go again…

Coriolanus: …Rebellion leads to ruin. I was there, You know this. We have spent decades building a fragile peace on the ashes of war… and you choose to sing it anyaway?

Lenore Dove: hmm It’s a good song. Catchy. Real earworm.

Coriolanus: The foundations of civilization are built on respect. Discipline. Stability. Not nostalgia for anarchy and bloodshed!

Lenore Dove: … we had a hanging last week… Sooo… no requests for The Hanging Tree at the Hob? Got it.

Coriolanus: This is not a joke!

Lenore Dove: you’re right, it’s a balled.

Coriolanus: I’ll inform your aunt-

Lenore Dove: so she can rip u a new one? Like last time?

Coriolanus: oh yes, perhaps I’m really into that-

Lenore Dove: whoah! to many information, I’m not trying to mentally picture something…

Coriolanus: *sigh* …One day. Just one day without paperwork because of you. That’s all I ask-

Lenore Dove: …admit it I keep u young, and in that case I’m here all week!’Commander’

Later that night he’s ranting and venting to Lucy Gray about everything while Lenore dove is sleeping safe and sound in her bed 🪿

[gojosatoruhumper]

Don’t leave me behind | Yeon Si-eun x reader

Summary: what if Y/n was the one that got hit by the truck instead of Si-eun?

Warnings: kind of angsty, comforting fluff

WC:1.7k

Notes: I think it is a little rushed, but I already got a better idea in mind, ill try to upload it as soon as I can

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You and Yeon Si-eun have been friends for a little while now. You are Su-ho’s sister, always been close with him. Although you were only a year younger than them, Su-ho always tagged you along with Si-eun and Beom-seok.

You were shy around them at first but grew close to them, especially Si-eun. You could see right through him - he really needed a hug and someone that cares about him.

Su-ho would always tease Si-eun about you, telling him to not hurt you and always take care of you, even calling him brother in law to piss him off even further.

At first he hated the constant teasing, but soon realised maybe he did care a lot more about you than he should have.

At first it started with lingering stares that lasted a little too long, then studying sessions with him when you couldn’t understand certain subjects because Su-ho wouldn’t been much help.

He didn’t show it directly but he really did like helping you, quiet time together and you two being so close together when he explained the questions.

Sometimes when his dad wasn’t home you would cook him food as a thank you, inviting Su-ho from time to time.

And sometimes when he was focused on his own work he would suddenly hear your breathing change - you would fall asleep. At moments like these he would gently tuck you into his own bed, texting your brother you fell asleep and would be staying the night. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he would definitely crack a smile at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping in his bed.

You always felt bad when you would wake up in his comfy and warm bed while he slept on the couch.

You would always scold them for getting into fights, helping them with the wounds, cuts and bruises. You would always feel sorry for them. But never Beom-seok. As well as you could see right through Si-eun, you always had a gut feeling Beom-seok wasn’t as nice.

And after the incident, you broke. After you heard what happened to Su-ho you ran straight to the hospital.

You opened the door, tears already falling down your cheeks. Si-eun was already sitting there, you could see how broken he was.

He almost thought you were gonna be mad at him, for not coming to him in time. But how could you be mad at him?

He stood up, now fully facing you as you walked over to him, sobbing.

“Y/n” he said just above a whisper “I’m sorry” he felt his eyes watering, a hot tear streaming down his cheek.

You looked up at him, “Si-eun why are you sorry?” “None of this is your fault” you continued crying, suddenly feeling warm hands around you. “He’s going to be okay” he tried to reassure you, not even sure himself if his friend will really be okay.

You both stayed the night at the hospital, you falling asleep on Si-eun, staining his shirt with your tears. He woke up before you, slowly getting up and putting his blazer on you. Even with your eyes closed he could see how swollen and puffy they were from crying.

As he stood beside you, he gently brushed your hair out of your face with his delicate fingers, observing you. He always has been an observer.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

And well after him beating up Woo-young and Beom-seok, he needed to move to Eunjang high school. In his mind he did that for Su-ho and you. You cried in his arms once again. And he let you.

Eunjang was further away from your current school, which is closer to Si-eun’s old one. But that didn’t stop you from visiting him as often as you could. Sometimes even taking a taxi to his home late at night when he couldn’t fall asleep.

The sleeping pills didn’t work, but you sleeping next to him did. You started seeing him more than a friend a while ago, but never saying anything since you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had.

You could see that Si-eun was still having a hard time in school, getting into fights again. You would always patch him up, like you used to.

His mom didn’t mind having you around, she could see you had a good impact on her son. When Si-eun’s friends spotted you two together walking home, the teasing started all over again.

Si-eun never stopped blaming himself for what happened, but you always reassured him it was most certainly not his fault.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was late already and you were heading home, worried about Si-eun. He told you what has been happening in school and it made you so anxious. You felt your phone buzz, picking it up.

“Hello, is this Y/n, Ahn Su-ho’s sister?” you were confused for a second. “Yes?” you answered, eager to get home faster so you could go check up on Si-eun.

“Im calling from Sungang University hospital, i couldn’t reach anyone else but you, your brother is in critical condition, is there anyone who could come right away?” You stood in the middle of the crosswalk, frozen.

You felt tears swelling up “..huh?” you said, still frozen in shock as you look up to a truck driving. Everything went black.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Si-eun got the heart wrenching phone call. You were in the hospital, Su-ho in critical condition. He dropped everything he was doing, not waisting any time, running as fast as his legs could go. He couldn’t lose you as well. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself.

As he stepped into your room, machines connected to your body, he was fuming with anger. Angry with himself, if he was there, with you this wouldn’t have happened.

He checked up on you and Su-ho, and finding out Su-ho was doing better he went back to your room. He stayed there by your side till morning, falling asleep to the beeping sounds.

You were moved to another room in the morning, only an oxygen mask and a heart monitor connected now. Hu-min, Hyun-tak, Jun-tae as well as your grandmother came in to check on you during the day. Si-eun needed to go back to deal with Beak-jin but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you like this.

The sun started to go down and he was still worried as ever. His eyes were on you, all day and night.

He was now alone with his thoughts, thinking about all the times you were there for him. He couldn’t thank you enough for that. He felt guilty for putting you through so much worry, you always checking up on him, always coming over to cheer him up the best you could.

He felt you shift on the bed, hand reaching for the mask on your face, trying to take it off. Your eyes landed on Si-eun, not even thinking you started smiling to yourself, he really cares about you, doesn’t he? He stood up.

Suddenly your smile dropped as a sat up, stinging pain appearing in your head. You whined at the pain. “Y/n, lay down” he said, but you didn’t move. “Is he okay..?” you asked with furred eyebrows, eyes looking at Si-eun with concern. “He’s okay now, don’t worry” he somewhat smiled at you.

You loved it when he smiled at you, it showed how he cared about you. And right now he looked so cute with messy hair, standing and looking at you.

But suddenly you can see tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as he watched you. “huh, Si-eun is everything okay?” you asked. “Y/n I can’t lose you, not after what happened to Su-ho” he sat down, looking at your expression.

You didn’t want him to worry about you, he already worried about enough things, you couldn’t make it even harder for him than it already is.

“Si-eun” you spoke, throat dry. “Hm?” he replied, raising and eyebrow. “Come here” you said, moving more to the edge so there was somewhat space in this small bed.

He stood there for a second. “I said come here, please?” you asked. He slowly got in bed with you, looking at your delicate face. “Si-eun I’m fine, nothing will happen to me” you explained, knowing he probably was blaming himself for what happened to you.

Your faces so close you could hear his light breathing. You reached your hand to his face, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “Si-eun did you know how pretty you are” you say, barely awake, whole body aching, your hand going back to your side.

He stiffened in shock, not knowing what to do, he never really knew what to say in situations like these. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew what to do. His hand was on your cheek, caressing it, slowly bringing his face to yours, just millimetres away.

Your heart was beating now faster, the beeping on the screen going faster, making you a bit embarrassed. He closed the gap, his chapped lips coming in contact with yours.

You both broke the kiss, him surprised at his actions. You smiled at him, bringing him closer, hugging him and resting your head on his chest. “Can you please stay with me for tonight?” you asked, now eyes closed.

He relaxed a bit, not replying. “Y/n..” he said, looking up at the ceiling, bringing his hand over your torso, hugging you lightly. “Hm?” you hummed, listening to his heart beat.

“I think.. I think I’m in love with you” he said, cracking the smallest smile, you couldn’t see it, but you could tell by the way he said it.

You stiffened up, but relaxing seconds later, hugging him harder. “I love you too, Si-eun” you replied, almost in a whisper. “Please never scare me like this again” he asked, closing his eyes and bringing you even closer to him, hugging you harder, like he never wanted to let go and protect you from all the horrors in this world.