#that the magic i felt as a kid can never be brought back.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have something for Johnny if you want.

Johnny x shy!reader that has scarlet witch powers? Being Johnny girlfriend and Johnny family adores shy!reader

‘I’m starting to think my family likes you more then me at this point.’ Johnny says one day as he face planted your shared bed.

‘How so Johnny?’ You asked sweetly as you waved your hand as you brought a blanket over your boyfriend’s body with your magic, never failing to notice the soft smile that grew across his face as he lifts himself from the pillow to face you.

‘Are you kidding me? I mean look at you!’ He exclaims as he gestures to all of you shamelessly, making you feel a little exposed by his beautiful brown doe eyes that never seemed to fail in making you melt. ‘You’re sweet, compassionate, adorable to an unfair extent it makes me question how a being as beautiful as you could exist, and did I forget to mention that you’re an absolute badass with your powers?’ Johnny adds with a smirk as he saw how easily affected you were by his words as he counts off everything he found to adore you for on his fingers.

You groan playfully as you smacked Johnny on his bicep, a sheepish smile began to spread across your lips, all the while attempting to fight back the butterflies that were making their presence known within your stomach. It didn’t matter if you were dating Johnny for a few weeks or a few months, for he would always find ways to make you feel as though no time has passed between the two of you.

You at first didn’t want anything to do with the cocky, overly confident, playboy known as Johnny Storm and stayed away from him for a good while…until you couldn’t and it lead to what you considered the best decision you ever made in agreeing to let him take you on a date. However recently Johnny’s sister Sue, her husband Reed and Ben had been taking note of the subtle changes within johnny and knew someone was the reason behind it, which had lead to Johnny dragging you to the Baxter building more times then you can count to meet his family; whom of which had grown a fondness towards you and your positive influence on Johnny himself.

‘Johnny…’ you drew out his name as you buried your head into his shoulder, holding him close as you selfishly leeched off of his warmth, not that you’d ever tell him this but you were certain with how eager he was to keep you in his arms chuckling. He was very much aware and was more than willing to indulge you as he was just as much addicted to your soft, comforting hugs that he swore to high heavens he would die without.

‘I’m not lying! You should hear them half of the time! Where’s y/n? Johnny, go get your better looking partner. Johnny, where is my future sibling in law, you can’t hog them all the time.’ Johnny replied as he made dramatic voices for the likes of Sue, Ben and Reed based on the most recent interactions with them, most of which were asking for you or wondering how you were in general. Johnny didn’t mind, if anything he was downright ecstatic knowing that his family were just as obsessed with you as he was, he adored how you and his sister got along the most; knowing straight away from the moment he found you and his family sharing stories in the kitchen that this was something he wanted to see more often in the future.

Commitment wasn’t his thing, it never was until he met you, and as cliche as that sounded -and he knew just how cliche it came across- but it was true and Johnny wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d even claim you had put some type of spell on him, to which you only hide your smile from his groan inducing joke in regard to your magical abilities. He even remembered the day that he realised that you were the type of person he wanted to bring to his family, something he never gave a deeper insight into before you mind you as he never felt that deep of connection.

So everyday when he wakes up to see you cuddled into his side peacefully and safely, he considered himself the most luckiest man alive, and he didn’t bother to hide it either as he bragged to anyone with ears that someone as wonderful as you had chosen a hotheaded stud muffin -his words- like him.

You smiled as you cuddled further into him, knowing firsthand that he was right, and you were still getting use to the idea that his family adored you from the moment Johnny brought you to your first of many Sunday family diners. You remembered sweating bullets and tugging at your formal attire, but Sue and Reed were more than welcoming and reassuring, meanwhile Ben was full on teasing Johnny about how he was growing into a true man.

However before you could respond you were quick to remember that you were very much late for your day out with Sue. You gasp upon realisation as you push Johnny away from you, who fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief that you had just pushed him away. ‘I’m late!’ You cried as you moved away from your baffled boyfriend, who had propped himself to his arms.

‘Late for what?’ Johnny asks as he watched you sort yourself out for an outing he wasn’t aware was taking place.

You smiled softly, not wanting to give too much away of what you and Sue had planned prior. ‘Sue wanted help to find something for Reed for Valentine’s Day, and I agreed to help her.’ You half lied, well you weren’t lying about helping his sister find something for Reed, but what you had left out was the fact that you were also using this time to find something for Johnny yourself. To you he deserved something for being such an amazing partner, and you were thankful that Sue was more than happy to help you in doing so during your most recent late night conversations with the blonde woman.

‘I just want to find something for him that he’ll love,’ you told Sue as you allowed your magic to flourish between your fingertips, a nervous habit you had developed the moment you realised that you were capable of feet’s no other magic user has ever accomplished before, it was a comfort to you and brought your mind back to what was most important to you and what was most important to you was Johnny smiling.

She smiles, glad to know that her brother was blessed with someone like you, reached out to grab your hand in hers as she squeezed it in reassurance. ‘Whatever you get him, I’m certain Johnny will treasure forever.’

‘Really? You really think so?’ You asked her, still a little nervous despite having been with Johnny for a while, but that man had a way to make you feel as though you were falling for him all over again and you wanted to hate him for it, and yet you found yourself becoming shy and flustered whenever the man even threw his arm over your shoulder. If this was what love was like then you hoped to stay in this never ending state of adoration and mutual understanding for as long as you could.

‘I know so.’ Sue replied, her eyes had a knowing look to them. ‘Johnny would take anything you give him becuase you were the one that give it to him, that thought that he would like it and all he’ll care about is that you had him on the mind and to show that you care about him.’ She finished, squeezing your hand again when she saw sparks of your magic come to life at your fingertips, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand. You smiled at her. ‘Then I can’t wait for tomorrow.’ You tell her, beaming.

Johnny smiled from his place on the bed, again happy to see you and his sister bond and become close to one another, it was a simple thing that he didn’t know he needed but then again that was the magical thing about you. You made him want simple and small things that he would’ve taken for granted, or not even considered in the first place, and for that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting moments like this in your future together.

However before Johnny could open his mouth to push you for more details on your outing with his sister, the door opened to reveal Sue stood on the other side, obviously having been waiting for you but not showing an ounce of annoyance in the slightest.

‘I’m here to steal your partner.’ Sue says to her brother as she grasps your arm, pulling you to her side.

‘Not the first time my beloved is being stolen from me by you, Reed or Ben.’ Johnny scoffs playfully as he watched you and Sue link arms, already acting like you were in laws for a long time with how relaxed and comfortable you were with one another.

‘Oh you can have them back as soon as we’re finished shopping.’ Sue retorted.

‘So like ten hours from now?’ Johnny sarcastically replies with and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sibling squabble, making him look at you with a warm smile. ‘Don’t I get a goodbye kiss at least from my most beloved?’ Before you could give him his kiss, Sue drags you out of the room with her and out the door, though not before shouting over her shoulder followed by your laughter. ‘You’ve had enough time today to trade kisses, now you have to wait.’

Johnny only groans dramatically as he flops back onto his bed, impatiently waiting for you to come back not even seconds after you left his room, he really was in love like the sappy bastard Ben teased him in being.

[ultravi0lence14]

HIGH TIDE

DEAN WINCHESTER X MERMAID!READER

WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, reader being a baddie

SUMMARY: back at the bunker, sam and dean learn that their fishy friend is more well versed than they assumed.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

the sound of a whirling air conditioner and freezing cold air was the first thing you felt when you woke up. you were more than groggy; more or less feeling like you’d been hit by a bus none the less.

everything was a blur. you remembered saving that kid, watching as that man stared at you from his place in the ocean, but you couldn’t pin point what happened afterward. it was all blurs of pain, anguish, and a weird comfort followed by the feeling of smooth leather under your skin.

your eyes had yet to peel open, the throws of darkness keeping you company as you laid limp on a cold surface. as your senses started to come back, you could faintly hear voices arguing; two, to be exact.

“what are we going to do with her?” voice number one asked, voice lilted in that of slight anger. “we’ve never dealt with a problem like this before.”

“i don’t know, dean,” voice number two said, addressing voice number one as dean. “i’ve been researching the best i can, and nothing is coming up about mermaids losing their ‘magic’ or whatever you want to call it.”

dean, what a beautiful name — wait. losing magic?

at the exact time when the second voices words registered in your head, you felt yourself try and flap your tail. all that resulted was you smacking your leg against the table and searing pain to shoot up your body.

“ow.” you groaned, peeling your eyes open and then throwing your arm over them when the bright lights blinded you. you were so confused. yet slowly, everything was coming back to you in pieces.

the pain in your tail. the sea urchin attacking you. the words these two strangers were spewing. your magic had been ripped away from you, making you a mermaid no longer.

everything you’ve ever known had been ripped away from you. the liberation of the sea, your fishy friends. you didn’t have a family, not remembering ever having one, but the feeling of being torn away from your only home made salty tears leak from your eyes.

somehow, the salt from your sadness brought a semblance of comfort. a reminder of home.

“oh jesus. is she crying?” the voice that you recognized as dean had tore through your reins of sadness and made you slowly peel your arm away from your face. “sam, what the fuck do we do with a crying mermaid?”

not being able to lie to yourself, you couldn’t help but admire the attractive man standing above you. with wild green eyes, and golden skin like that of a sun god, you couldn’t help but stare at his stubbly jaw and attractive features as who you assumed to be sam also leaned over you.

his hair haloed around his face, and you wondered if these two were related from the similarities they bore.

“why are you crying?” sam asked, shifting an arm around your back as you tried to rise on your elbows into a sitting position.

“we’re not going to hurt you, i swear.” sam’s words did nothing to calm your racing heart, and you couldn’t help but glower at the man has he helped you sit at the edge of a wooden table.

“i’m crying because i just got my home and birthright ripped away from me jackass, not because i think you’re going to hurt me.” your words had sam’s eyebrows shooting up, and a snort leaving dean’s lips.

“i like her, sammy, she’s got spunk.” dean smirked over at you, and you couldn’t help but turn your cold glare onto him. pointing a finger at you, dean gave an incredulous look in your direction as he spoke with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “don’t go all ursula on me, princess, i’m the one who saved you from being six feet under.”

a small shred of gratitude shone through your chest at his statement. for if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead.

though you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him, jutting your chin in sam’s direction as you spoke to his companion. “thanks, i guess. but could you tell your friend over there to stop asking stupid questions like a total seaweed brain? i’m trying to grasp onto everything that just happened.”

with his hands in the air, sam took a step back from you and watched nervously as you kicked your feet back and forth, an expression of interest on your face. the flannel around your shoulders and the pair of boxer shorts on your hips had you staring in confusion, yet you decided not to dwell on one of these two changing you and focus on your new found legs.

you always had a tail, never becoming accustomed to legs in general. this was all new to you, and you realized then that you would need these two dopes help if you wanted to make it in the real world.

sighing, you scrubbed a hand down your face before turning to both of the men in front of you. “so sam and dean. . .”

“winchester,” sam replied, crossing his arms over his chest when he assumed you didn’t want to throttle him anymore. “we’re brothers.”

“thought so,” you shrugged, grimacing at the ugliness of the brown coloured shirt on your shoulders. “anyway, i’m very grateful that you two saved me, yet i can’t help but assume i’m not going to be turning back into a mermaid anytime soon. correct?”

sam sheepishly nodded, and dean couldn’t help but marvel at the pair of balls this assumedly innocent mermaid had on her.

“so, i thought maybe you two could help me.” your words left no room for questions, and dean couldn’t help but quirk a brow at your somewhat ridiculous statement.”

“help you?” he inquired, scratching at the stubble on his jaw as he stared at you with a smirk on his face. “i saved you from becoming sea food, isn’t that good enough?”

shrugging, you started combing your fingers through your hair. “in my books, no.” dean’s eyebrows shot up, and you held out a finger to him when he opened his mouth to speak. “i just need a bit of help getting on my feet; literally.” dean smirked at your joke, and you found it fair enough to continue.

“we could work together. maybe find something that could turn me back into a mermaid, maybe not. either way, help me become human for the time being, and i’ll try not to be annoying. deal?”

you spoke to the two brothers like you were making a gang negotiation, and both sam and dean wondered where you got this type of personality from living under the water all your life.

“i know what you’re thinking, and to answer your question, i am a very perceptive person. i see how you humans act and i create my own personality.” nudging sam’s knee with your foot, you grinned at the two men. “how am i doing so far?”

dean smirked at you, eyes racking up and down your frame as he watched you try and get down from the library table. “you’ve got yourself a deal, princess.” arm shooting out as you stumbled on your new found feet, dean steadied you into his chest so you wouldn’t completely fall on your ass. “first thing: try not to fall and break your neck before we could start though.”

“shut up.” you groaned, hands clutching dean’s shoulders as you stared into his sea foam eyes. “now, the first thing i want to deal with is this hideous thing you call clothes.”

“hey!” sam protested, speaking up for the first time in a couple of minutes. “that’s mine!”

“yeah, and it’s ugly.” you shot back, making dean snort and sam to drop his mouth like a gaping fish. “you guys got any dresses? i always saw the pretty girls on the beach wearing them.”

dean made eye contact with sam, silently giving each other an ‘oh dear lord’ look as dean slung his arm over your shoulder and helped you sit down in one of the library chairs.

‘yeah,’ dean thought, rubbing his brow slowly. ‘this is going to be a handful.’

TAGS: @starzify @whisperingdaze @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @gibson-g1rl @deanangel @sunsbaby @haunteres @honeyryewhiskey @florchids @figthoughts @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess @flow33didontsmoke @ilovedeanwinchester4 @whump-loverz @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @djudy99 @ryngzmn

NAT BABBLES: i wanted to make our girl whimsical but also a total princess and slight pain in the ass to both sam and dean (mostly dean)

[softgothbabe]

Fave memory of my grandma:

Christmas. I'm 14 years old. My family is sitting at the dining room table after dinner. My grandma is a liiiittle drunk. Sitting beside me, she leans in to say, conspiratorially, "So, my dear. You're old enough now. Are you hot to trot?"

An hour later, my family is exchanging gifts. I unwrap the one from my grandma. It's a massive pack of jumbo menstrual pads. Like. Diaper-sized 😭

I fucking miss her.

[gublerryswift]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[winterssecrett]

MIDNIGHT TALKS | THEODORE NOTT

ღ 02:00 a.m and the group of snakes was still on the astronomy tower, a place they had started to love when they discovered that professors and prefects never went to “guard” or check for students out of bed. Sleep was something hard to find with how dark and scary things had gotten in school and around the world, so their best option was to be together as a group and as a family.

Astoria was sitting on the floor with Draco’s head on her chest, playing with his blonde platinum hair. Besides her was Blaise, who had Pansy between his legs, hugging her by her waist. And the other three -Theo, Y/n, and Mattheo- were close to the balcony, finishing their cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t smoke much, not as much as her boyfriend, but it was exams week and the stress alongside her anxiety was too much, she needed to take it down a bit.

— I don’t wanna see a fucking book on the rest of my life — Pansy whined, letting out a huff

Draco rolled his eyes — If you pass, you won’t have to.

— can you believe it? In a few months, we won’t be here anymore — Y/n said with a bittersweet tone of voice

Theo nod a that, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend frame. For some reason, he was always looking for her warmth, and since it was so late and so cold, he loved having her close to his body.

— Does it matter? — Draco asked not waiting for an answer — It’s not like things are gonna change, or that we are gonna be able to escape the hell that our lives are.

Clearly the alcohol was working on the blonde, cause otherwise he would have never said something like that. Draco didn’t talk, and definitely not about how sad his life was back at home. All of them, including the whole house of Slytherin were living in the same hell that the dark lord brought, and that’s why no one talked about it, it was easier to pretend that everything was just fine.

— Well, it’s not a surprise. We have been marked and judged since we were kids, like it was our fault the last name that we carry, or the house that we are in — Theo responded with harshness, making her girlfriend frown

Mattheo let out a sigh — We better play our part, right?

He was the most fucked of the group, he was the son of the person that was trying to destroy the magical world for years on end. The silence invaded them and everyone started to get lost in their thoughts, Y/n turned around putting her arms around Theo’s neck.

— Well be fine, right? — she asked in almost a whisper, wondering how bad things were gonna be once they graduated

Theo caressed her cheek — Well be together, that’s all that matters, Bella.

Y/n smiled at him with sadness, they had just a month left of school and they were trying to enjoy as much of it as they could. For example having breakfast together everyday, even if they were dying to sleep a little bit more. Partying from Thursday to Sunday with not just their house, but also the other three. Swimming in the black lake at night, and then going to the kitchen to get cups of hot chocolate.

Just a lot of things to be happy in times of death, darkness, and cruelty.

— I love you, cara mía, you know that right? — He said with a small smile

Y/n smiled back at him — Of course I know, and I love you too, darling.

One of Theo’s hands went to the back of her head and brought her close to his lips, almost melting when he felt her warmth. God how he enjoyed kissing and touching her.

— Get a room you scandalous people!

Everyone laughed at Draco’s slurred words, he was gonna regret all of the fire whiskey he had drunk tomorrow morning.

[gold-onthe-inside]

Christmas Request: Spencer catches wind that one of JJ’s kids (or his own kid) doesn’t believe in Santa, so he commits to growing out his beard, dying it white and dressing up as Santa to bring a lil holiday cheer to the kiddos - can be xOC

santa's little helper 🍬🎅

who? spencer reid (post prison) x bau!reader

summary: after finding out henry no longer believes in santa after he missed last christmas, spencer dedicates this year to bringing the magic of christmas back to his godson's life... with a little help from you, of course.

content warnings: fleeting reference to cat adams, a little kissing, spencer with a beard, ambiguous status of reader's relationship to spencer (could be a wife, fiance, girlfriend, up to you),

In the 12 years you've known Spencer, he's never been keen on growing facial hair, and it had never been something you'd thought twice about. And then Cat Adams had come into your lives and had been determined to ruin the happily ever after the two of had fought so hard to make. Spencer's prison sentence had rivalled only Emily's faked death in the pain it had caused you two, the only difference being that at least Spencer wasn't actually dead. The two of you were a month and a half away from the anniversary of his release, and he'd completely stopped shaving for that year, growing out his facial hair.

You hoped that if it was something serious, he'd have told you, or if not you, his mandated therapist. Besides, other than that, he was taking care of himself, eating well, had finally started sleeping better, you had nothing else to complain about. You'd brought the beard up a couple months ago, but his brow had furrowed in concern and his brown puppy dog eyes baring his heart to you when he asked if you didn't like it. "No, I do like it," you had insisted, which was true. You'd learned early on that Spencer could play around with his hairstyles and you found him no less attractive (just never ever grow out a mullet again, for the love of God).

You'd grown used to it, too, his scruff tickling you when he'd kiss you, which was practically every time he got the chance these days. It's your turn to host the Christmas Eve party and the two of you are going over the house with a fine tooth comb, armed to the teeth with cleaning supplies, and that's when you find the white hairspray, mid-way through your bathroom cleanse. Which would go well with the Santa suit tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. You knew Spencer had his silly moments - with his mismatched socks and magic tricks, and with the amount of times he's pulled stuff out of your ear just to make you smile couldn't be counted. But it felt out of character for him to spend the whole night you had planned (Secret Santa, dinner, and Christmas movies) with white hair and a beard.

He's using all the body strength he has in rigorously cleaning the kitchen floor, intent on making it so clean you could eat off of it, when you trudge downstairs, hairspray in hand. "Spence, is this yours?" you asked, skipping the last step, to the kitchen and he looked up, then froze at the sight of the hairspray.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried, sitting on his knees and you narrowed your eyes.

"It looks like you're planning to dress as Santa at some point," you said, leaning against the doorway, and you watched him stand up and pull off his gloves.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it is what it looks like," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on a bar stool. "Henry, uh, doesn't believe in Santa anymore, so JJ and I were planning to let him stay up tomorrow night and catch Santa in the act."

"Oh," you said, nodding at first, but then frowning a little. "I mean, what's wrong with Henry not believing in Santa? He's like, 9 years old. That happens."

"I know it's developmentally appropriate for him to be questioning these things," Spencer said, letting out another little sigh. "But that's not why he doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

Your frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze. "Last Christmas… he asked Santa for me to come home," he said quietly, almost ashamed. "And then when I wasn't there…"

"He stopped believing in Santa," you filled in the rest and he looked so sad. "Spence," you said softly, crossing over to hug him, setting the spray on the kitchen island. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he said, choking a little on his voice as he tucked himself into your arms.

"Honey, you were framed, it's not your fault," you insisted, rubbing his back.

"I just… I can't be the reason he doesn't believe in these things anymore," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Okay, okay," you said, pulling away to look at him, your hands cupping his neck, thumbs stroking his bearded jaw. "Can I help?" His lips twitched into a smile at you.

"Well, um… Honestly, I think I'm gonna make a mess of the hairspray, and you did such a good job at Halloween with Jack's Cyberman costume--"

"I can do that," you murmured, kissing him gently, and his hands loosened to grasp your waist.

Now, here he sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, watching you meticulously section and spray his hair, which was already damp from the shower.

"Did you know," he started, and you hummed in recognition that you were listening. "That Saint Nicholas was a real guy? He was Greek."

"The Greeks had saints?" you asked.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head as you sectioned out another piece of hair, coating it gently in white hairspray. "Not the kind you're thinking of, but Nicholas of Myra was real. Born in the third century. He apparently had a reputation for secret gift giving, like… leaving coins in people's shoes."

"Keep your head still," you chastised through a giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tilting his chin up to keep still. "He died from natural causes in like, 340, which, for the time, was a good run. It was like… a hundred years later that he became a saint, but by then of course, all of the people who knew him personally were long gone."

"I hate when that happens," you murmured, shifting his chin so you could colour his beard next. "Appreciating people for what they've done after they've died."

"Well, he was very well respected during his life. The story goes that three separate couples were having financial trouble, and in those days, a daughter without a dowry would either never get married or would become a prostitute. So, according to the story, Saint Nick came in the middle of the night and climbed onto their roofs, and dropped three small pouches of gold down their chimneys."

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to be quiet or you're gonna taste hairspray," you said, colouring his jaw, just the hair around his lips left.

"Sorry," he said, his words muffled slightly, and you could see that he was trying desperately not to smile, his shoulders shaking. "I'm done," he said, and you were fairly sure the shake in his voice was from suppressed laughter.

You chuckle quietly, colouring the last of his beard. "All done, Mr Claus."

"How do I look?" he asked, getting out of the chair and taking a look in the mirror, his eyes going wide. "This looks incredible!"

"Yeah?" you asked, stepping away. Spencer had a habit of exaggerating your accomplishments, but you had done a pretty good job with his hair.

"You're a miracle worker," he said, turning to face you, and you could see his excitement. "Now, Santa needs to go get dressed." You chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom so he could get dressed, and sat by the foot of the bed, waiting.

When he reappeared ten minutes later wearing the Santa suit, the white hair and white beard you'd given him made him look like an old man, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he did a little twirl. "How do I look?" he asked, and in spite of how silly he looked, you couldn't help but find him handsome.

You laughed to yourself. "Perfectly in character. Though you could use a little belly."

"Are you saying I'm too thin?" he said, faking offence. He knew he was skinny but sometimes a little gentle ribbing was warranted.

"I'm just saying, Santa's supposed to be fat."

"I take good care of my cardiovascular health, thank you very much," he said, and he looked so ridiculous in the suit, with the white hair and beard, that you were unable to take the conversation seriously. "You know, the modern version of what Santa's supposed to look like was invented in the nineteenth century," he said, his hands on his hips, still very much in character. "Before then, Saint Nick was usually described as an older, slender man, and before that, he was more of a demonic black man. It's only in the fifties that the modern image of Santa was created."

"Okay, okay," you said, holding your hands up. "Skinny Santa it is." You checked your watch. "We should go before Henry actually falls asleep."

Spencer's expression went from Santa to slightly terrified very quickly. "Crap, is it time already?"

"Relax," you assured him, kissing his cheek before leading the way out. "It's just a little breaking and entering. You leave the gifts, you slip right back out."

"Just a little breaking and entering," he repeated dryly. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

You snickered quietly, grabbing your coat and car keys. "For someone who's supposed to be a hardened felon, you're so innocent."

He took offence to that. "Hey," he said, as you both started out of the house. "I was incarcerated for three months. I am very much street wise now."

You opened the passenger side door for him. "Streetwise? Really?"

He climbed into the passenger seat, sticking out his tongue at you as you shut the door.

"I know all about the street life," he said, as you got into the driver's side. "I know how they talk, I know what they do, I know..." His voice trailed off as you shot him a look. "Okay, so maybe everything I know about the street life comes from television."

You couldn't help another laugh as you started the car.

His lips curled into a smile when he saw your reaction, and he leaned across the middle of the car to kiss your cheek. He sat back in his seat and you began the short trip to JJ's house. "Alright, JJ said she's gonna leave the back door open," you said, going over the plan with the same gravity you used for unsub takedowns. "There's cookies and milk left on the kitchen counter. The tree's in the living room."

"Got it," Spencer said decidedly, nodding. "Cookies, milk, tree, simple."

You turned off the headlights as you approached the house, killing the engine across the street. Spencer got out of the car and jogged across the street, ducking around the side of the house. He found the back door like you'd said, and went inside, very much in undercover Santa mode. He went into the kitchen, making for the counter where the cookies and milk were, and that's when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. Spencer panicked, trying to find a place to hide, but there really wasn't one. The cookies and milk were left in the middle of the counter, there weren't any cupboards or anything of the sort. He was stuck, with only the Christmas tree as a possible cover. There was nothing he could do but hope that whoever was coming downstairs didn't flip on the light as he dove behind the tree.

The footsteps stopped, and Spencer held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as the Christmas tree needles dug into his skin. He could see a pair of little feet in front of him. They weren't JJ, which could only mean- "Mr Claus?" the little voice said, and he shut his eyes, praying to something, anything that he hadn't been caught by Henry.

After a long moment, he peeked out from behind the tree, only to find Henry staring right at him. "H-hi," Spencer stuttered. "I-I didn't realise you'd be awake."

Henry's eyes went wide. "I-It's really you." He had that childlike glee that came with finding out about the magic of Christmas, and while Spencer would usually give anything to have that look come back on Henry's face, this was a little inconvenient.

"Ah, I-I mean," Spencer fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a valid reason he would be in JJ's house at this moment, wearing a Santa suit and munching on cookies. "Um..."

"Where's your reindeer?" Henry asked, completely enthralled by Spencer, and he realised that he actually hadn't thought of a cover story to accompany the Santa suit.

"Oh, they're in the- they're in the sleigh," he said, and even he thought it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "They're getting a rest while they can."

"The ride must be hard," Henry said, and Spencer was quietly impressed by that. He was just as smart as his parents, and he probably would have called him out on his lie if he'd given an excuse about a magic sleigh.

"It sure is," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm, and he hoped that the rest of the night wasn't going to be as awkward as this interaction had been so far. "Do you mind if I finish eating these? I only get so many breaks tonight." It was the sort of thing he could imagine a real Santa saying and Henry's eyes widened at that.

"Oh, of course," he said, stepping back. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom." And then Henry was running upstairs. Once he was sure the kid had walked away, Spencer leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh and he silently hoped that you weren't watching him struggle. He finished off the last of the milk and the cookies, and, once he'd composed himself, he made his way to the living room and over to the Christmas tree. He dropped the bag of gifts under the tree, just as he was supposed to.

Meanwhile, Henry was upstairs, trying to get JJ to wake up. "Mom, Mom," he said, shaking his mother gently. "Wake up, Mom, you gotta see this."

JJ grumbled as she got up, Will shifting beside her, but still deep asleep. "What is it, Henry?"

"Santa is downstairs," he said in an excited whisper.

"He is?" JJ asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning a little, Henry pulling her out of bed with all his might.

"Yep. He's downstairs in the living room," he said, dragging her out of bed, and he wasn't kidding because his strength was remarkable. JJ let her son pull her down the stairs, neither of them seeing Santa sneak out the back door. He jogged across the street to the car, getting inside. You watched him in mild amusement as he shut the door, and he was slightly out of breath, which was a comical combination with the Santa suit.

"Mission accomplished?" you asked, a smile on your lips.

"I got caught," he breathed, his voice sounding slightly panicked, and your smile faded into concern as you realised he was serious. "But I think I covered it."

"Did he realise you weren't Santa?" you asked.

"I don't think so," he said, and he did seem a little unsure. "He didn't mention anything about it, and he seemed excited by me being there, but I honestly don't know. It's probably a fifty-fifty chance that he realized it was me."

Meanwhile, Henry had dragged his mom downstairs to an empty living room. "I swear he was here," Henry protested, and JJ was still half-asleep and only slightly confused. "I-I saw him."

"M sure you did, baby," JJ murmured. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No, I did see him!" Henry said, looking around the living room. He ran into the kitchen. "And he was eating the cookies and the milk!"

"Well, he probably left, Henry," JJ reasoned, following him. "He's got a lot of kids to deliver to."

The wonder on Henry's face was replaced with disappointment, and JJ pulled the nine year-old into a hug. "I know it sucks, baby," she said. "But I'm sure Santa will have left you lots of gifts." Henry huffed, pouting, and JJ smiled down at his adorable expression. "Come on," she said, starting up the stairs. "Back to bed, kiddo."

Once they reached upstairs, Henry climbed into bed, and JJ tucked him in. He looked slightly upset, but JJ planted a kiss on his forehead. Even at nine-years-old, he still wanted to believe in Santa. "So, you believe in Santa again?" JJ asked.

"I told you," Henry said, his voice indignant, sounding very much like his father. "I saw him."

JJ couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair. "I know."

He gave her a sleepy smile, and then yawned, snuggling down into bed. “Goodnight, mom,” he mumbled.

"Goodnight, baby," JJ murmured. She watched him for a moment, waiting for that slow rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing like only the asleep could, and once she was sure he was asleep, she tiptoed out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, thanking Spencer in her head.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Somehow, Arthur and Merlin end up lying in bed, making out. Things float around the room. Curiously enough, the vases with Merlin's flowers remain in their place.

Arthur: (on top of Merlin, pulls away a bit, looks around, suprised, and then looks back at Merlin)

Merlin: (embarrased and nervous) I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! (lowers the things to their places inmediatly) My magic is linked to my emotions and does that sometimes when my emotions are strong. I normally have good control of it! It hasn't done that in years, I swear!

Arthur: In years?

Merlin: Since I was a kid.

Arthur: (smiles smugly) So... you basically love me so much your magic makes things fly when we kiss?

Merlin: (scolds) Oh, don't go getting a big head! (but he can't help but smile too cause he's relieved Arthur is not freaking out about it) But yes. (blushes more)

Arthur: (mockingly) Now you are going to tell me the butterflies in Leon's chambers were also cause by your magic.

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (pretends to be surprised) They were?!

Merlin: (slaps his chest) Shut up!

Arthur: I'm the Prince, Merlin. You can't shut me up-

Merlin: (kisses him)

Arthur: (Kisses back)

Merlin: (rolls them so he is on top of Arthur and separates the kiss) You were saying? 😏

Arthur: Oh, you can shut me up all you want. (kisses him again)

Kissing Merlin is magic in all senses of the word. Like a breath of air after being underwater drowning, like drinking water after being walking for hours in a hot desert. Arthur never felt more alive, and he is sure of it because, for a long time, he has been dying.

When Merlin told him he loved him just before turning into a tree, he couldn't enjoy it properly. First he was dying, then he was too devasted about Merlin's fate to think in Merlin's last words. The following months the knowlegde of Merlin's feelings started to take place in his mind, but he was too focus on finding a way to fix Merlin's state while being dead inside to dwell on it. It was in the very second he realised he was in love with Merlin, has been for a very long time, that those words hunted him and his already eternal pain turned into agony. Because he realised he wasn't really dead inside. He was still dying, never stopped dying since that day. Constantly dying but never reaching death and that was worst than being dead inside.

So Arthur began picturing "could have been's", even if that only brought him more agony afterwards, it also gave him some sort of relief, hope. Kissing Merlin’s mouth with his own being one of the most recurrent imaginations. And, once he traveled back in time, it was all he could dream of. Every time he encounter Merlin, everytime they were close or Merlin smiled at him. He's been dying to hear his "I love you" again and to kiss those lips so, so much. None of his fantasies live up to this woderful reality.

He was dying and now he is alive.

Merlin: (between kisses, almost a whisper) Gods, I love you.

Arthur: (separates the kiss, breathless) Say it again.

Merlin: (still kind of dizzy from the kiss) Uhm?

Arthur: (almost a plead) Say it.

Merlin: Want to inflate your ego so much?

Arthur: Merlin!

Merlin:(softens his expression and smiles, caressing Arthur's face) I love you.

Arthur: (holding himself from crying cause he's finally able to enjoy, he's finally able to say it back) I love you too.

And they keep on kissing. Arthur puts himself on top of Merlin again and, despite his hunger for him, he's gentle and careful. Still wanting to be respectful, his hands touch and caress over the clothes. Merlin, however, is making that task quite difficult, spreading his legs and his hands exploring under Arthur's shirt. Arthur is barely aware of the things in his rooms flying around again and even some jars breaking at some point. The only thing in his mind is Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Leon: (shouting from outside) MY LORD!

Merlin and Arthur: (pull away from each other quickly and the things fall)

Leon: (enters, almost breaking the door down, sword in hand) My lord! Are you... (looks Merlin and Arthur on the bed in quite a state and then the state of the room that is basically a mess. Then turns around, embarrased) My-my apologies. I heard noises and though someone was attacking you, Sire. I-I'll come back later-

Merlin: (all red) No! It's fine. I was leaving. (gets off the bed)

Arthur: (gets off the bed too) Merlin, don't forget- (but when he stands up his trousers fall to the floor)

Merlin: (wide eye, brings his hands to his mouth)

Leon: ...

Arthur: (looks down and then looks at Merlin)

Merlin: (thinking, blushing more than ever) 😳 Oh, gods! Did I do that? When did I untie the laces? Or was it my magic? Nooo how embarrassing! 😫😱 (says with a strangled voice and trying very hard to keep a straight face) Don't forget what, my lord?

Arthur: (also blushing, as he puts his trousers back on) The list of chores I gave you before we...eh... before.

Merlin: (confused) What list- (remembers the list of suspects) Oh, right! (looks around the room and picks up the parchment) I'll see right to it, Sire. (leaves, passing Leon quickly)

Arthur: (to Leon) So... since you interrupted us, better make it worth it.

Leon: The king wants to know if you already have the list of suspects, Sire.

Arthur: I have it. Gather the men. We'll arrest them inmediatly. I just have to... (signals his disheveled self) put myself decent.

Leon: Uhmm... do you... (holding himself from laughing, but can't help but grin) want me to call Merlin for that Sire?

Arthur: Very funny. (orders) Out, Leon.

Leon: Yes, Sire. (bows and is about to leave, but turns to comment) Nice decoration, Sire. (leaves, closing the door behind him)

Arthur: (confused) Decoration? (looks around and notices Merlin's flowers have grown from the vases like vines covering the sufarce near them) This corny idiot. (but he is smiling as he says it)

Merlin manages to warn in advance some of the suspects with Lancelot's help, going house to house. But, as Arthur predicted, several still were arrested in the end.

Time skip. Uther, Arthur, Merlin and the knights in the throne room.

Uther: Have all the suspects been arrested?

Arthur: Most of them. A few have gone to ground.

Uther: Issue a proclamation. All the prisoners will be executed unless the perpetrator of this attack is found.

Merlin: (thinking, affected but not suprised) You wanted to kill them either way.

Arthur: (knowing this was coming, with resignation) I'll see to it, Sire. (thinking) Maybe I can make the suspects part of the sacrifice? That way their deaths won't be in vane. Gods, I don't want to. They are innocents, but I did everything I could to save them and helping them escape would be too suspicious.

Morgana: (enters suddenly, screaming desperate) NO! YOU CAN'T! (runs inside)

Arthur: (very surprised since Morgana hasn't left her chambers in days) Morgana?

Morgana: (to Uther) My lord, none of them are at fault of what happened! They didn't cause the fire!

Uther: We can't be sure of that, Morgana.

Morgana: I am! I am sure because it was me!

Arthur and Merlin: (pale, about to have a heart attack)

Uther: What?

Morgana: I caused the fire.

Arthur: (aproaches, putting himself between Morgana and his father) I think what Morgana is trying to say is that she believes she caused the fire by accident. Maybe lighting the candle at night too close to he curtain. Right, Morgana? (gives her an anxious "don't be stupid and play along with me. WTF do you think you are doing!" look)

Morgana: (ignores him) No, it was magic. I did it with magic.

Merlin: (thinking, in panic) I thought I was the only one who did this kind of madness!

Arthur: (holds Morgana by the shoulders) Morgana, I understand that you don't want these people to die and that you feel guilty. But you don't have to make up this nonsense. None of this is your fault.

Morgana: I'm not making anything up! (to Uther) My lord, you have to believe me I-

Arthur: (shouts, urgently) Merlin, take her out. NOW!

Merlin: (as he takes her out) I'll take you to your chambers, my lady. You still need to rest.

Morgana: (struggling) NO! I'M NOT LYING! I'M A- (but she's dragged out of the room)

Arthur: (to Uther, nervous) You surely don't believe she actually has magic, right father? Is clearly that she is overwhelmed and still very distressed. She never liked when you executed people.

Uther: (with an unreadable expression) Indeed, but she never went as far as to confess she has magic just to stop me.

Arthur: Well, is also the first time you threaten to execute these many people, Sire.

Uther: (with barely contained rage) I know exactly what is happening.

Arthur: (sweats)

Uther: She was enchanted!

Arthur: (sighs in relief)

Uther: Forget the proclamation. They ALL will be executed before sunset! (leaves)

Arthur: (thinking) Shit...

Meanwhile, Merlin dragging Morgana around the halls.

Morgana: Let go of me!

Merlin: Morgana, calm down.

Morgana: I won't calm down! These people are going to be killed because of me!

Merlin: Declaring yourself a sorceress won't save them!

Mogana: (shouts) I'M NOT LYING!

Merlin: (shouts back) I KNOW YOU ARE NOT LYING!

Silence. Morgana stops struggling.

Morgana: ... What?

Merlin: (more quietly) I know you are not lying.

Morgana: You...

Merlin: (puts a finger on his lips in a sign of silence and whispers) Can we go somewhere private?

Time skip. In Morgana's chambers.

Morgana: So... you knew? Since when?

Merlin: A while. Your dreams were my first sign. Those are visions that only seers can have.... And only people with magic can be seers.

Morgana: (hurt and angry) You knew all this time what was happening to me... and you didn't tell me?!

Merlin: I wanted to! But I didn't want to freak you out or to force you to accept something maybe you weren't ready to accept or share. I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready.

Morgana: (sarcastic) Right. So then I would lower my guard and you could stab me in the back!

Merlin: (confused)...what?

Morgana: I saw you in my dream. Giving me poisoned water. (her eyes water but remains angry) I trusted you, you were my friend, and you poisoned me!

Silence. Merlin steps back, like he's been slapped in the face. First his eyes widen in shock, then his expression softens in understanding and, finally, hurt.

Merlin: You said "you were my friend"... Are we not friends now?

Morgana: A friend of mine would never do that to me!

Merlin: You are right and I haven't. And I won't.(thinking) Not in this life. Never in this life. Please, believe me.

Morgana: Then why did I dream that?!

Merlin: I don't know! But I would never hurt you! Morgana- (aproaches, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder)

Morgana: (steps back and yells) Stay away from me!

Merlin: (retreats his hand, his eyes watering) Oh... I see. I can't blame you.

Morgana: Blame me? For what?

Merlin: For believing in a vision of a possible future before believing in me.

Why would he? It's true he didn't inmediatly think illy of Morgana when Kilgharrah told him she would be evil and do harm, but he did stop himself from helping her directly because of that. He left her alone and then betrayed her because of his own fear which only led her to become what she became in the end. He is the last person that can judge her. Still, he can't help but sound sad and hurt. Not only because of her words, but because he wasn't prepare to lose her friendship again.

Has... has he lost her again?

No! He won't give up. He'll fight for her this time. Convince her he means no harm. That she can trust her. No matter how much it costs him.

But for now is clear Morgana doesn't want him near, so he'll repect that and let her be.

Morgana: (feeling bad at Merlin's words) Merlin...

Merlin: (blinks to stop the tears in his eyes and masters a polite smile) It's alright, my lady. I understand completely. My apologies for disturbing you. I won't come near you again unless you want me to. (bows and starts leaving)

Morgana: Wait! (stops him by the arm) I'm sorry. You are right. That was unfair of me. I can't hold you for something you haven't committed.

Merlin: I understand, my lady.

Morgana: Don't call me that! (to herself) Gods, now I understand Arthur. (to Merlin) Merlin, I still want to be your friend. I do believe you, I was just scared and I took it out on you. Please, forgive me.

Merlin: (thinking, relief and emotional) She confronted me about her vision and then apologized. She is so much better than I ever was (says, smiling) Of course.

Morgana: (hugs him) I'm so sorry. I was a terrible friend.

Merlin: (hugging her back) It's alright. Morgana, I wasn't lying when I said I understood. (pulls away) I'm also very scared that you dreamt that, even when I know I don't have any intention of poisoning you or harm you in any way. (thinking) It does worry me a lot. Why did she dream that?

Morgana: Maybe... someone will force you to do it?

Merlin: Maybe. But I don't want there to be the slightest possibility. So... I will give you the perfect weapon to defend yourself from me.

Morgana: (horrified at the idea) No! Merlin, there's no need. I believe you would never hurt me, I really do.

Merlin: I know. But the fear will always be there and if you dreamt it, we may as well do something to prevent it.

Morgana: I don't-

Merlin: Please, let me. If not for your sake, then for mine. Please.

Morgana: (sighs) Fine.

Merlin: (holds her hand an enchants) Blóstmá. (his eyes glow and a flower appears in her hand)

Morgana: (stunned) Wh... what? 😧

Merlin: I'm a sorcerer. A warlock really.

Morgana: What's the difference?

Merlin: Sorcerers have to learn spells and enchantments to master magic. I, on the other hand, didn't have to learn anything to be able to do magic. I just have it.

Morgana: (emotional) Like... me?

Merlin: (nods and smiles) That's the weapon I give you. Now a word of you is enough to kill me.

Morgana: You also know I'm a sorceress.

Merlin: You think Uther would believe the word of a servant over yours? He couldn't even believe yours when you told him.

Morgana: (facepalms herself at the memory) Ugh, I was so stupid!

Merlin: (laughs softly) I'm sure Uther didn't believe it. (turns serious again) But he would believe you if you told him about me.

Morgana: I would never turn you in.

Merlin: Just as I would never hurt you. But just in case, now you are safe.

Morgana: (watches the flower in her hand, her eyes watering) I always been taught that magic is evil, that it corrupts your soul.

Merlin: It is not! (picks up the flower) Magic is not evil, nor is good. It just is. (the flower floats in his hand, moving its petals like a butterfly) Is how you decide to use it that matters. And your magic is a gift, capable of wonderful things.

Morgana: I almost burned down my room.

Merlin: Because you were scared. With time you'll learn how to control it. (the flower floats back to Morgana's hand) I will teach you how to control it.

Morgana: (excited) You will?

Merlin: If you let me, of course.

Morgana: (tears of happiness roll down her eyes) I'd love to.

Merlin smiles. Morgana wouldn't be alone this time. He'll make sure of it.

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers, which is not a mess anymore, though the vines of flowers weren't removed.

Arthur: (in his desk, looking defeated)

Merlin: (enters suddenly) I know how to save them!

Arthur: (confused) Who?

Merlin: The suspects! (sits on Arthur's table infront of him) Uther wants to execute them because he can't find the responsible for the fire in Morgana's chambers, right?

Arthur: Yes.

Merlin: So we just have to take the person responsible to the King before sunset. There, problem solved.

Arthur: (sarcastic) Wow... what brilliant idea, Merlin! Why didn't it occurred to me before? Oh, right. Because there is no one responsable!

Merlin: True, because it was... eh... the thunder. But! What if we could make one up?

Arthur: (more confused)...what?

Merlin: Here me out. I know there is an informant in the castle. Probably a spy from Odin, because he was the one who let Myror get in the castle so he could kill you.

Arthur: (very surprised) Wha-How do you know that?

Merlin: Myror kind of let it slip before he tried to slit my throat.

Arthur: WHAT?! 😨

Merlin: (explains quickly) He entered my room and I defeated him using magic, that's why I didn't tell you. So the informant-

Arthur: (almost shouting) You can't tell me you were almost murdered and expect me to-

Merlin: Let it go, I know. We'll talk about my almost assesination attempt later, I promise. Now focus. I know who this informant is. He was the only one who seemed surprised when you woke up alive the next day. And guess who it is?

Arthur: Who?

Merlin: Bentley!

Arthur: (making memory and then his eyes widen with surprised) That's one of Morgana's guards!

Merlin: Which gives him direct access to her chambers.

Arthur: And you think he was behind the fire in Morgana's chambers too?

Merlin: No, but... he could be... easily blamed for it?

Arthur: ...

Merlin: (sighs) Look, I know this is dishonrable and vile. But you have to understand-

Arthur: I'll do it.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? 😧

Arthur: Being informant of Odin alone would be enough for my father to execute him. Adding him one more crime won't change that. He can take the blame.

Merlin: (still perplexed that Arthur agreed to this so easily, but decides not to dwell on it) Oh... Okay.

Arthur: So, do you have any proof? I'm guessing you've been investigating him for a while.

Merlin: (gets some letters out of his pocket) I got these from his room. (gives them to Arthur and he starts reading them) Supposedly they are from a distant relative and they don't say nothing incriminatory. But I know they are from Odin! They must be coded or something. But I haven't been able to decipher them.

Arthur: (thoughtfully as he analyses one letter) Uhm... The messages are very brief. (stretches the parchment) Yet he used a lot of parchment (points the candle in the table) Light the candle.

Merlin: (gets off the table and starts leaving)

Arthur: (stops him) Where are you going?

Merlin: I need the nips to light the candle.

Arthur: With your magic, Merlin!

Merlin: Oh, right! (blushes) Sorry, the habit. (his eyes glow and lights the candle)

Arthur: (puts the letter near the fire and finds the hidden message) It's invisible tint. (looks at Merlin triumphal, smiling) We have him.

So Bentley is bring before the king, accused of both helping in Arthur's assesination attempt and the attack on Morgana. The guard confesses to be informant of Odin but denies being behind the fire. Not even when Arthur shows the proof: fragments of a vase with a weird smell, which Merlin "found" when he helped cleaning Morgana's chambers the day of the attack, that turned out to be a part of incendiary chemical weapon known as Greek Fire. And both the invisible tint and the Greek Fire were greek technices. Gaius supports the theory and adds that the prolonged exposure to the smell of the chemical could have "effects on the brain" which was probably what made Morgana "delirious". Bently still denies being part of the attack, but the King has had enough. He is sentenced to beheading and, since magic was never behind the attack on Morgana, all the suspects are realeased.

Time skip. At night. In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (after he finishes changing Arthur's clothes) Thank you. I know it mustn't have been easy for you. Lie to your father like that and make that man take the blame, even if he was already a bad person.

Arthur: ...

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: (whispering, to himself) It was actually too easy.

Merlin: (not sure he heard correctly, frowns, confused) Uhm?

Arthur: (holds his hands) Merlin, I have to tell you something. It's nothing bad and it's going to sound crazy once you hear, but you've been honest with me, so I want to be honest with you too.

Merlin: Okay.

Arthur: I... I'm not... I'm from...

Merlin: (worried) What? Arthur, you are shaking. (puts a hand on Arthur's shoulder) Are you okay?

Arthur: (sighs) I'm afraid of sleeping.

Merlin: Oh... is this because of that nightmare?

Arthur: (nods, embarrased) I've been having them for a while. But lately, they are turning worse.

Merlin: What are they about?

Arthur: I... don't remember once I wake up, but the feeling stays there.

Merlin: (knows Arthur is probably lying, but he doesn't push it, respecting his privacy) I don't recall you having nightmares when we were in the farm.

Arthur: Because we slept in the same bed-well, floor there. (holds Merlin by the waist) Your presence always fly the nightmares away.

Merlin: (mocks) Awww, who is being cheesy now? (but blushes at Arthur closeness) Maybe I could... you know... sleep with you tonight.

Arthur: (opens his eyes wide and smirks)

Merlin: (slaps his shoulder) Just to sleep, you pervert!

Arthur: I didn't say anything!

Merlin: And it will be just for tonight. To scare the nightmares away.

Arthur: Of course. Just for tonight.

And from then on, Merlin will never sleep in his chambers ever again.

...

In with this "The Nightmare Begins" ends.

Hope you enjoyed it ^^

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense

[goldsainz]

❝ LOVE AT FIRST WAVE ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x surfer!reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . a surfing mishap leads to meeting the cutest guy you’ve ever seen.

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . probable inaccurate depictions of surfing, no use of y/n.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i said i would do this is… and i have… so better late than never… also this is my first written piece of 2024!!! pls tell me how this is, i’m a bit rusty so i need all the advice i can get (be nice cause my feelings will get hurt otherwise😔)

[ word count: 1,1k ]

The sea was the calmest place you knew. 

Ever since you were a little kid you loved going and hearing the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the feeling of liberty swimming gave you, most of all you cherished the peace it brought you.

That's how your love for surfing was born, with it being the best excuse to spend time at sea, you found yourself indulging in it far too much. So mucus so, that you ended up signing up for a worldwide surfing competition. 

That’s how you ended up in Australia, surfing in one of the most beautiful places you had ever been in. It was a magical place to be in and you found yourself very content with the place so far.

The beaches were not as crowded as you were used to, but even then, you didn't care much for how the beach was but more so the sea and its waves. You had spent almost all day, taking a few breaks when the sun was too strong, surfing and testing the waters. 

You felt at peace. Or at least for a while.

You were riding a wave, when a scream alerted you. You were no stranger to people surfing and believing they could handle the power of the sea, just to be disappointed when they realised they could not manage. At the very rost, after a few minutes they resigned and took to tanning. 

You swiftly stopped what you were doing and swam towards the noise, there you found two guys laughing whilst another gasped for air. You couldn't decipher if he was alright, but you supposed he was by the way his friends were reacting.

“Hi,” you interrupted their laughter, smiling at them when they turned around at the voice, “I heard a scream and wanted to check if everything was alright. ”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” one of the guys says with a  smile “He’s just not very good at this.”

“Hey!” the guy who was coughing chastises, rubbing his hands over his face as he tries to dry it.

You look at him more attentively, and realise how attractive he is. Which comes as a surprise to you because a few minutes ago he seemed to have been trampled over by a wave. 

“Yeah, a lot of people are surprised by how hard this is.” you comment, making small talk to stay around the cute guy a little longer. 

The moment he hears your voice again, he looks at you and is mesmerised by what his eyes see. He had heard you the first time you spoke, but he was busy dealing with the salty water and coughing fits, so it was a bit hard to put a face on the voice. But even then, your voice was a melody to him, that for a split second he wondered if he was in the presence of a siren. 

“He exaggerates, I just underestimated the wave by a little.” he says, suddenly feeling the need to defend whatever talent he has. 

“It’s okay,” you respond with a laugh. 

Your laugh.

Even though he has just heard it for the first time and wants to hear it forever. The theory of you being a siren doesn't seem so outlandish to Charles now.

“Thank you for trying to, uh… rescue me?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you.

“It was nothing, I know how rough the sea can be.”

“Still, I’d like to thank you somehow.”

By now his friends have dispersed a little, they stay close to him but not so much that they hear your conversation. Though they know well enough what is going on, muffling their giggles at his attempt at flirting. Even after he almost drowned, he doesn't lose his ways.

“Really, it’s nothing,” you wish you could smack yourself the moment you say those words. You have a cute guy insinuating taking you out as a ‘thank you’ and you’re so dense you brush off the invite.

“Well, I’m not leaving this beach until I can somehow repay you for your kindness.” he knows he’s being dramatic. You didn’t really do much, you just approached him and his friends to check if he was drowning and he’s acting like you saved his life or something. But he doesn’t know how to act. He just knows he can’t let you go.

“We could meet by the beach bar? They make a really good piña colada.” you suggest, adjusting yourself on your surfboard.

“Yes,” he responds quickly, maybe even far too quickly but he doesn’t care, “That would work.”

“Okay,” you answer, smiling yet again which in turn makes Charles smile.

“Okay, then.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, though they feel like forever to him. He swears he could look at your for eternity and not get bored, there is so much to you and he doesn’t even know anything about you.

“What’s your name, by the way?” you ask shyly, aware of the strange situation you’ve found yourself in, “If you’re gonna take me out for drinks I should probably know your name.”

It is a breath of fresh air to have someone not know him. He is always happy to take pictures or sign autographs, but every once in a while he longs to not be recognised and lead a life away from the public eye.

And so when he goes to answer he has a huge smile on his face, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. You find it incredibly endearing, and you resist the urge to kiss him on the cheek and see how it feels under your lips. 

“It’s Charles, yours?” you respond with your name, and he finds it —just as everything else about you— so charming.

“Well, don’t drown until then, please.” you joke, and you watch him playfully roll his eyes.

“The wave came out of nowhere, so it wasn’t my fault.” he tries to justify himself, but he knows he’s just lying to save face. 

“Sure it wasn’t,” you assure him, but he sees right through you, “I’ll see you then?”

“Yes,”

“Great, I’ll be waiting.”

“Me too.”

You linger a little longer, and then say your goodbyes, waving at his friends who make their way over him now that your conversion has finished. 

Looking into the distance, you can tell you have a while more to be in the sea before the sun sets. You swim away from the charming guy you just met, butterflies flutter in your stomach and it is not because of the waves.

And though you love the sea, you can’t wait to get back at land and reconnect with the stranger you just met.

-ˋˏ *.· taglist . . . @lorarri @lpab @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @saintiastri @saintslewis @leoramage @toomuchdelusion @anthonykatebridgerton @enhacolor @gulabjamoon @toomuchdelusion @louvrepool @ravisinghs-wife @nouvellevqgue @hobiismyhopeu @starlightpierre @lecsainz @kkeelss @namgification @minkyungseokie @gothgirlez @f1version

[ikkyfics]

Ask me to stay

Peter Maximoff x fem!mutant!reader 

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home 

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort 

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it) 

Masterlist

It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you. 

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids. 

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity. 

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation. 

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.” 

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.” 

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.” 

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you. 

And he never changed. 

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you. 

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—” 

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face. 

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.” 

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause. 

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side. 

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.” 

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art. 

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.” 

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!” 

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh. 

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess. 

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race. 

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things. 

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier. 

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!” 

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.” 

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.” 

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy? 

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days.    (...) 

The week had been a real nightmare. 

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying. 

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator. 

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight. 

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand. 

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough. 

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led. 

It was in this state that Peter showed up. 

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him. 

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—” 

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding. 

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?” 

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor. 

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control. 

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!” 

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth. 

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless. 

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle. 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop. 

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence. 

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind. 

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed. 

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be? 

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way. 

But now, he was hurt. 

And for the first time, you felt completely alone. 

(...) 

Three days. 

Three days without a sign of Peter. 

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you. 

The others noticed, of course. 

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt. 

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

But nothing helped. 

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing. 

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away. 

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles. 

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.” 

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life. 

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world. 

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest. 

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you. 

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.” 

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears. 

Peter wasn’t okay. 

You knew that. 

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do. 

Deep down, you already knew where to find him. 

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort. 

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking. 

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.” 

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.” 

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest. 

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio. 

Peter was in his element. 

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player. 

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more. 

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up. 

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled. 

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?” 

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze. 

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story. 

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff. 

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper. 

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?” 

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath. 

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat. 

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more. 

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.” 

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you. 

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.” 

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat. 

He felt the same. Peter felt the same. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.” 

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?” 

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?” 

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?” 

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement. 

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand. 

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth. 

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever. 

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now. 

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment. 

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.” 

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?” 

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically. 

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below. 

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—” 

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.” 

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate. 

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was. 

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

“Mama, are angels real?”

Eddie asked Annie this question on a random Tuesday night when they were watching cartoons in the living room of the trailer. He was six years old and had never once stepped foot in a church to even really know what an angel was.

“What do you mean, baby?”

“They have wings, right? Wouldn’t we see them if they were real?”

“Well, we don’t know for sure, I guess. They could be and just have magic that hides them.”

She changed the subject, not wanting to get into religious discussions with her much smarter kid.

It never came up again.

🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

When Eddie woke up in the hospital, his first words were directed at his Mama.

“Angels are real. He saved me.”

She didn’t think much of it; The boy was on enough pain meds to put down a horse.

But he brought it up again the next time. And the time after that.

“Where’s my angel?” He’d ask.

And she’d have to try to fake a smile and say he must be busy saving other people.

Eddie nodded like that made sense.

And then she met Steve. Steve had been so busy volunteering, he hadn’t had time to visit Eddie or Max much, but since they delegated tasks a bit better, he decided to use his free time to drop by. He brought some tapes and a Walkman, a magazine with Metallica on the cover, said he figured Eddie would like some entertainment that wasn’t the nurses gossiping outside the door.

Eddie woke up while he was there and beamed.

“My angel!”

Annie Munson felt like every organ in her body just floated away.

She looked to Steve’s shocked face, silently prayed he wouldn’t think it was too weird.

She watched as his features relaxed, a genuine smile pointing towards Eddie.

“I dunno about that, Eds. I’m just good at CPR and can lift people.”

“You saved me.”

Something weird was happening with Steve’s face, something like sadness and anger crossed it before it settled back into something similar to fondness.

“Of course I saved you. You saved us.”

“Maybe we’re both angels.”

Annie covered a short as she looked out the window, tried to give them some semblance of a private conversation.

“Maybe you should get some more rest.”

“Will you stay?”

Annie’s brows raised in surprise, but she didn’t say anything or turn to look at Eddie’s bed.

“I’ll stay until I have to pick Robin up.”

“And then you’ll come back?”

“Sure, Eds.”

Eddie passed out after the promise and Annie finally looked back at them both.

Steve’s hand was covering Eddie’s, his eyes drooping like he hadn’t been getting enough rest.

“You know there’s a cot in the corner for when I stick around at night. You might as well use it tonight if you’re comin’ all the way back here.”

Steve startled, but calmed when he realized she was smiling at him, genuinely offering it.

“If he wants me to, I’ll stay.”

“So you’re the angel he’s been talkin’ about.”

Steve’s entire face and neck went red.

“I was just doing what anyone would do.”

“Well, I think I’ll agree with Eddie on this one. You’re an angel to us.”

[lacydollette]

SUNRISE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: bf!sam x fallen!angel!reader

warnings: sam winchester x fem!reader, fallen angel!reader, established relationship, this shit is just fluffy asf, and ik that angels don’t need to sleep in spn but just pretend okay?!

“What are you planning, Samuel?” You teased softly, though your voice full of warmth while you were all cuddled up into one of Sam’s oversized flannels. “You’ll see,” he repeated with a sly grin, glancing at you briefly before turning back to the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The morning had started with Sam gently shaking you awake, his voice low and soft as he told you to get dressed cause he had a surprise for you. You had groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow. You really weren’t an early bird, but once you saw the spark in his eyes and the boyish grin on his face, you were convinced.

Now, as you sat beside him, your curiosity growing with every passing mile, you couldn't help but feel grateful for whatever it was he'd planned. Sam had a way of making you feel grounded, even when everything else seemed overwhelming, making your first time on earth more memorable than you had ever expected.

You didn’t get much peace these days—adjusting to earth was overwhelming for you sometimes—but you were handling it better than anyone Sam had ever met before.

You weren’t just anyone; you were a fallen angel, still learning your way around the human world. You approached everything with childlike innocence—your excitement over simple things like the hum of a washing machine or the sweet taste of maple syrup often left Sam grinning from ear to ear. But one thing you haven’t experienced yet was a sunrise over the ocean. When you first told him that, Sam had promised himself to make it happen. And now was the time.

When he pulled up to the beach, your breath got caught in your throat. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, the horizon glowing in the light of dawn. You stepped out of the car, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, and just stood there for a moment, staring.

“Sam,” you whispered, not really registering the sight infront of you. Sam came around to your side, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “I remembered you said you’d never seen a sunrise at the beach. Thought we should change that.”

Your chest ached, but in the best way. You looked at him, eyes glassy. How could someone be so thoughtful, so good? You didn’t deserve him—at least, that’s what you often thought—but he made you feel like you did. “Thank you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He led you down to the sand, where he spread out a blanket for the both of you. You quickly kicked off your shoes, laughing softly as your toes sank into the cool sand. Sam just watched you, his heart doing that annoying little flip it always did when you smiled like that.

As you settled in, the first rays of sunlight broke over the water, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. Your eyes were wide, full with wonder as you watched. You had never seen something this magical.

“It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined,” you said, voice trembling with awe. Sam leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Not as beautiful as you.” You laughed, a quiet, disbelieving sound, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you turned to face him, pressing your forehead against his. “You do too much for me,” you mumbled softly. “Not even close,” he replied.

The sunrise wasn’t the only thing you experienced for the first time this morning. Sam brought out a side of you that you didn’t know even existed—the carefree, playful side. When the sun was fully up, you both ran along the shore like little kids, laughing as you splashed in the waves.

“Catch me if you can!” You called, your laughter echoing as you darted away from him. “Alright, im coming for you!” Sam shouted back, sprinting after you. You felt so free running around the sand, the slight ocean breeze hugging your body.

When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You clung to him, your cheeks flushed, heart so full that it could burst.

Being with Sam felt like home.

tags: @beausling @sammyluvr @nuemanfilms @rubyvhs @chevroletdean @figthoughts @gibson-g1rl @mxltifxnd0m @angelicjackles @deansbeer

[sailtomarina]

Charlie and the Chomping Cabbages

Watching Charlie Weasley had never been so rewarding. He’d done you the favour of pulling off his shirt in the midday heat, sweat perfectly outlining every single one of his ridiculously toned muscles. Shoulders and chest broad enough to wrestle young dragons and abs you could bounce a roll of Galleons off of. The leather breeches he wore clung to his arse as he squatted down to inspect the garden.

“And you think a dragon did this?” He pointed at the long gouges in the earth marring the once perfect line of Chinese Chomping Cabbages. A fair few still remained, but more still had been ripped from their cradles and strewn across the plot.

“I don’t think; I know.” You raised a challenging brow. No matter how fit you thought him, you knew he was dead wrong in this matter. “I saw it happen.”

This time he fully stood up, both hands propped on his hips in a decidedly aggravated manner. “Why didn’t you just say so from the start?”

“I did,” you stressed, already near your boiling point from the sheer thickheadnesses of the Dragonologist. “And I quote, ‘That can’t be right. I need to see the scene first hand’.” 

He scowled at your impression. Perhaps dropping your voice to a comical low and waving your arms about wasn’t quite the best way to convince him. What he didn’t know was that you’d never have teased anyone you didn’t like in such a way. Your usual tendency was all straight backs and stiff collars.

“Well, I stand by what I said then. I see no reason why a dragon would attack your cabbages like this unprovoked.”

You pounced. “Aha! So you admit that, if provoked, a dragon very well might have dragged their stabby claws right through?” Only, instead of jumping in place like you meant to, your ankle rolled upon landing. “Ahh!”

Your arms flailed as you fought to stay upright, and Charlie threw his arms forward in an attempt to catch you. All of his mass amounted to nothing with your legendary clumsiness, and you both hit the dirt in an unceremonial thud that knocked the breath right out of you.

The loss of air could also be attributed to his body on top of yours.

“Ow.” He started to shift, then froze before he could fully lift his weight. “Don’t look to your left.”

You looked to your left.

A gigantic cabbage bared its teeth an arm’s length away from your face. How you’d tended your garden without noticing what could be an award-winning Brassica you’d have to consider later.

“Ch-Charlie? How is not looking at it going to help?” you whispered. Who were you kidding? It’s not like speaking quietly was going to save either one of you.

“Merlin, he’s huge,” the wizard muttered. You stifled an inappropriate joke. Difficult, given the way your smaller body fit against his.

You knew you only had precious seconds before the produce launched itself at you. Your magic wasn’t quite fast enough to cast anything particularly useful before those teeth ripped out your throat. You needed something hard, and fast.

Hard and expendable, so obviously not that.

“On the count of three, shove off,” you instructed Charlie, keeping a close eye on the twitching leaves. You felt him nod, the bristle of his cheek rubbing against your own.

Inner green leaves started to arch inward. “1.”

The outer layer flared open like a lizard’s crest. “2.”

Clenched teeth loosened. “3!”

Palms flat to the earth, Charlie pushed himself away in a surge of power, and you brought your far hand around in front of you.

The weapon: a stray carrot that had rolled against where you lay.

The attack: jamming said carrot straight into the jaws about to devour you.

An average-sized Chinese Chomping Cabbage can be slowed down by a larger-than-average root vegetable. This, however, was the largest specimen you’d ever seen, and your carrot was on the smaller end of the spectrum.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

Its sacrifice gave you just enough time to roll away and for Charlie to sweep you up and into his arms. The cantankerous comestible hesitated just long enough to snap straight through the carrot before rotating to follow.

By this point, Charlie had whipped out his wand, while his other arm held you close against him where he could keep you safe. Unfortunately, this meant that you couldn’t quite reach your own wand jammed below your armpit. With a series of slashes, Charlie attacked.

“Diffindo!”

The slicing spell would have sheared straight through a regular cabbage. This one? Only the top couple of layers peeled away, further enraging their attacker.

“Charlie! This isn’t your average dinner cabbage! You have to use something stronger!” You fought his hold so you could grab your own wand.

“I’m trying! It’s not like I’ve ever done this before!”

Your wand came loose from its holster just as the behemoth rolled towards you, teeth clacking the whole while. The two of you stood with arms extended, sending spell after spell at the monster that never seemed to shrink or slow.

You could stand your ground and be forever known as the first recorded humans on the Romanian Reserve to die by Chomping Cabbage, or you could run and henceforth be labelled as the tamer and researcher who fled an overgrown vegetable.

Decisions, decisions.

One that was made for you with the loud roar that filled the air, then a gush of wind that nearly knocked the two of you right back to the ground. A flash of red filled your vision.

“Norberta!” Charlie cried. 

The Norwegian Ridgeback couldn’t quite flatten the cabbage with one swat of her powerful talons, but she could follow it with a slash of her tail and a stream of fire. An overwhelming stench of burnt vegetation filled your nostrils.

“Ugh. So long cabbage rolls and salad,” Charlie said in disgust. He gently turned you to look up at him. “You alright?”

Sweaty and covered with dirt as you both were, sex should have been the last thing on your mind. You’d just escaped death. A deadly dragon continued to stomp through the remaining rows of cabbages. Your crops were a lost cause. But Charlie looked down at you and only you, the deep blue of his eyes drinking you in while he continued to cradle you close.

“I told you Noberta had it out for my cabbages.”

His jaw dropped at your words, and you laughed aloud. As if you’d let his hunkiness deter you from proving yourself right. Charlie threw his head back and laughed along with you, the fullness of it invading your chest and giving you the courage you’d lacked until this point.

Up went your hands into his wild auburn locks, threading fingers through the curls and tugging his lips down to yours. He jerked in surprise at the touch, then deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head and a swipe to the seam of your lips.

And that was the story of how you snagged Charlie Weasley, one you told time and time again over countless flagons of beer and fresh-from-the-oven cabbage rolls (minus the teeth).

WC 1203

Cross-posted to Facebook, Tumblr, & AO3.

Hump Day drabble written for the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group.

Prompt: “I’ve never done this before.”

Okay, so I blasted past the 1k word limit. See what 2 weeks away from home does to me? (and coffee too late in the day)

I have an intense craving now for cabbage rolls, the likes of which my childhood friend’s mother used to serve up to us on a regular basis. I haven’t tasted that nostalgia in what feels like years.

Chinese Chomping Cabbage users unite! Who needs spells when you have carnivorous vegetables?

I almost forgot to note my infrequent use of 2nd person. I recently started playing with this following a pov workshop in one of my writing discords. Let me know what you think!

[pyro-les]

Rescue - Agathario - part 1 of 3

1,124 words - Warnings: mentions of death

Taglist: @thecavalrywife @hannah-0730

Rio had first found her when she took yet another soul, a young witch taken all too soon. It was sad seeing people with so much potential die so young, the poor girl had only lived till her mid twenties before being brutally killed just outside her own home by a witch hunter. The sight wasn't pretty but it was nothing unusual however what she would never forget was the look on the childs face ehen she walked out to see her morher dead. Seeing the poor souls of the deads family react to their loved ones fate was never easy but with young ones it was so much worse, especially in cases like this where they had no one else.

"Who are you?" The child spoke, breaking Rio out of thoughts.

Looking back down towards the child, timid and scared but not backing away. How could she even see her?

After a pause, not knowing what to do since no one had ever seen her while she collected souls before she decided to honestly introduce herself. "I'm Rio."

The child smiled up at her before looking down at her mum. Her white dress was staring to turn red with blood, it was no sight for a child but atleast the hunter hadn't burnt the body like many would.

"She's not okay is she?"

The kid was clearly smart and surprisingly keeping her emotions somewhat in check. Rio felt bad for the kid, with this kind of response the kid had likely been warned by her mother this could happen and that's a difficult conversation for a kid so young. And she would know, having once having to have told her own child the same thing so so long ago.

"I'm so sorry." Rio replied meaning every word, she may be the embodiment of death but that didn't mean she hadn't felt grief. She knew first hand how horrible it was to loose family, and she atleast had someone to help her through the pain, this child had no one.

She had to help.

"Where will she go?" The child asked, looking up to Rio who had come to stand just in front of her.

There was no point in lying, the child deserved to know the truth. "I'm going to take her to the next realm."

The child nodded, seemingly not questioning why it was Rio who took her. "But where will I go?"

It was a good question. The kid couldn't stay here, witch hunters were ruthless and if they realised earlier there had been a magical child inside the house she would already be dead. "You don't have anyone left for you?" Rio asked hopefully even though she already knew the answer, only being confirmed when the child solemnly shook her head.

"You can come with me." Rio said nervously, she never expected to take anyone else in attempt loosing Nicky but she couldn't leave the kid here. It's going to be hard, for both her and Agatha aswell as the kid who's life was being so suddenly changed but there was no other choice.

The child nodded, probably a bit too trusting but it was good, it made it easier. "Where will we go?"

"Home" Rio replied with a soft smile, kneeling down for the child to climb into her arms.

She held her close as she stood, remembering the last time she held someone like this, remebering the worst experience of her life. The child hugging her back being the only difference, she could hold Rio close while Nicholas couldn't and never would again.

Trying to pull herself out of her thoughts she spoke softly to the girl "It'll be OK, I won't let anyone hurt you."

Rio opened a small portal to just outside her own home. A small cottage in a forest, it wasn't much but the purple flowers outside and the faint feel of the protection spell around it made it feel like home.

Feeling Rio's magic nearby Agatha came to the door to greet her wife, pausing seeing the small girl in her arms as the portal behind her slowly fizzled out.

"Brought in a stray?" Agatha asks, even with the sarcastic wording it was clear she was worried.

Walking closer to her wife Rio hummed, "she had nowhere else to go." Agatha nodded knowing she would explain the rest later.

"Who are you?" The girl asked, finally speaking after just looking around since the change of location.

Agatha looked to Rio for help, not entirely sure on what to say. "My wife." Rio stated, setting the girl down.

Seeing her looking around curiously Agatha spike to her, "you can look around if you want hun."

The girl then looked upto Rio, "But what if he comes back?" So she had seen what she was rather hoping she hadn't. The girl had watched her mother be murdered.

Kneeling down in front of her, Rio took the girls hands in her own. "No one can get you here." "We'll look after you." Agatha added on, putting her hand on the girls shoulder.

Looking between the two of them the girl smiles and whispers a small "thank you" before walking into the house curiously. The fact that the kid was still keeping it together after all she had been through in under an hour was ridiculous. She was certainly tough and judging by the unfamiliar magic in the air she had alot of magical potential too.

Offering a hand to help Rio of the ground Agatha asked, "what happened?"

Keeping hold of Agatha's hand Rio shook her head, emotion clear in her voice, everything she shoved down to be strong for the child now showing. "She was alone. Her mother was gone and she would've been too, couldn't just leave her there. I'm sorry it's just, she, she reminded me so much of him."

Her eyes softening Agatha put her free hand to Rio's cheek, gently brushing her hair out of her face "shh, shh. There's no need to apologise." Stroking her thumb over her cheeks Agatha comforted her wife, "you did the right thing."

"I didn't even ask you-"

Hushing Rio, Agatha spoke again "You didn't have to."

Rio smiled at Agatha, starting at her theough watery eyes, all of the emotions of the day starting to catch up to her. She was so grateful to have Agatha here, she was so understanding, so gentle, Rio truly didn't know what she would do without her.

Stepping closer Agatha finally brought Rio into a soft kiss, her other hand coming up to her face while Rios own instinctively wrap around Agatha's waist.

Slowly breaking the kiss, their foreheads still touching Agatha quietly speaks, "We'll look after her."

[kpop-stories-21]

Day 1: Engineering Fate

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Tropes, & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Modern Fantasy AU, Magic AU, Spooky Themes, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut, Fluff

Content & Trigger Warnings: Human!Reader, Human!Yunho, spooky content, magic, halloween celebration, haunted house, one short horror scene in the haunted house but it's over pretty quick, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), foreplay, fingering, teasing, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Summary: You're not even in town yet and already strange things are happening. Luckily, you encounter a handsome mechanic who is willing to get your car (and maybe your insides) in shape.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @jeonrose @galaxystardragoness @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @okiedokrie-main @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @bxffietheblxxdy @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @kwanisms ATEEZ tags: @deltamoon666 @lovelyhange @uraharasfavoriteexperiment

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cultofdionysusnet || @sandsofire || @wonderlandnet

MDNI banner, divider, and support banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

«-Yesterday | Day 2-»

You'd moved to the city to attend uni, but you made sure to come home every year for the week-long Halloween Festival. By now your professors and friends were used to you disappearing around the spooky season, and there were never any objections to you attending lectures remotely so long as you continued to work on assignments and homework.

For as long as you could remember, Halloween had always been your favourite holiday. So living in a quaint town well-known for being "modernly medieval" and for the Halloween Festival held there every year was like a dream come true. If you didn't have a wish to pursue further education on your path to becoming a lawyer, you might've stayed there your whole life.

This year, however, was off to quite a different start. As you pulled your sputtering blue Mustang convertible onto the gravelly shoulder of the road, you wondered how the hell you would ever make it into town. It was the first day of the Festival and there wasn't much traffic. Most people came early so they could enjoy the entirety of the week without the energy lag from travelling.

As you were pondering your options, the sound of a car engine coming towards you grabbed your attention. Praying the driver would be kind and not an asshole, you stepped out of your car, beginning to wave as soon as the black Camaro came into sight. To your great relief, the driver pulled over when they saw your frantic gestures.

The door opened and a tall raven-haired male unfolded long limbs as he slid out. He was absolutely gorgeous, his smile wide and infectious as he loped over to you with something akin to excitement in his steps. He made you think of a giant puppy as you watched him approach.

"Car trouble?" He asked, voice husky.

You nodded. "I felt a bump like I drove over something about a quarter mile back, but there wasn't an animal or anything in the road so I just assumed I rolled over some object that flew out of another car and went on. Now I'm worried that whatever it was may have hit something underneath."

The man's smile widened. "Well you're in luck! I happen to work part-time as a mechanic and I brought my tools with me, so I'll just pop under there and see if I can figure out what's wrong."

Relief flooded through you and you were finally able to return his smile.

"Name's Jeong Yunho, by the way."

"I'm Kim Y/N. Nice to meet you Yunho. I really appreciate this."

Yunho waved a hand dismissively as he retrieved his tools and lowered himself to the asphalt. "I'm just glad I could help."

As Yunho began to work you leaned against the side of your car, watching him intently.

"So what brings you down this way?" You asked curiously. "Are you here for the Festival?"

"More or less." Yunho replied, grunting. "In addition to being a mechanic, I also work part-time as an engineer. I have a standing job at the Festival every year to make sure the rides stay in top condition all week long. But even if I didn't have this job I'd still come down every year, since this is where I grew up."

Your eyes widened with excitement, finally figuring out why his name had seemed familiar. It had been ages since you last met one of your childhood friends. "You used to live here too?"

Yunho poked his head out the side of your car, recognition flooding his handsome features. "Oh my God, Y/N! I thought your name sounded familiar, but I told myself I was just imagining things." He smiled broadly. "I'd hug you, but I don't think you want grease and oil all over your nice clothes."

You giggled. "I appreciate the consideration."

It didn't take much longer for Yunho to finish by examining your car, the two of you catching up on each other's lives. Once he was out from under your car, you put the key in the ignition and turned it, letting out a joyous cry as the engine roared to life.

Yunho offered to follow you to the Festival in case anything else happened, and you accepted. Upon arriving, the two of you were about to part ways when you invited him to have dinner with you once he was done working for the day. He agreed, and you told him where you'd be staying before waving goodbye.

After Yunho left you checked into your room at the inn and then wandered around, trying out some of the rides and grabbing lunch before approaching the large tower-like building that held the magical haunted house. This was probably your favourite attraction, hands down. It was created with wild Fae magic, offering eight different levels for all who entered. The magic also remembered what levels each person had completed, so you never had to repeat the same experience twice. Really, they were more like horror-themed escape rooms than bonafide haunted house experiences. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped in.

It was pitch dark save for the outside light coming through the open door. In that light you discovered a flashlight, which you happily picked up. As soon as you did so, the door slammed shut behind you. And so it begins, you thought excitedly as you turned the flashlight on and began to examine your surroundings.

You were in some kind of basement, bits of trash all over the dirty floor along with what looked like an old briefcase. Moving forward, you picked up the briefcase and looked it over carefully. You found a numerical padlock keeping it shut and set it back where you found it, making a mental note to keep your eyes peeled for a five digit code.

Further exploration revealed a desk on which were several notes spattered with a dark substance that could have been either blood or something equally unpleasant. You examined them carefully but found no important information, just stuff pertaining to the backstory of the level.

In the back of the room was a wall covered with graffiti. That was odd, since there were no marks anywhere else in the room. Closer examination revealed a blacklight on a stand, and an idea came to mind. Dragging the blacklight around so it was aimed at the wall, you turned it on. Amongst the jumble of paint was the distinct image of five numbers, most likely the code to unlock the briefcase. Repeating the numbers under your breath, you made your way back to the briefcase and put them in. An audible click echoed through the room and you let out a quiet cry of joy.

Inside the briefcase was a large metal key and an odd triangle-shaped artefact made of some smooth material you didn’t recognize. You pocketed both objects and began searching for a door, assuming the key you’d obtained would get you out of this room. As you were walking you suddenly heard a deep, rumbling growl and froze, doing your best to remain motionless in the hope that whatever was in here with you would lose interest and return to wherever it came from.

The tapping of claws against the hard floor reached your ears, coming slowly closer. You regulated your breathing, praying that you were being quiet enough. Heavy, guttural breathing sounded from directly behind you as your heart pounded a staccato beat against your ribcage. Please, just move on. There’s nothing interesting here. Something wet nudged at the back of your knee and you bit your lip to keep from squealing at the disgusting sensation. A massive tongue licked a stripe up your leg and you dug your teeth further into your lips.

A whistle echoed from somewhere above you and the creature turned, bounding toward the sound with thudding steps that shook the ground slightly. When silence reigned once more you exhaled shakily, releasing some of the tension in your body. Locating a fairly clean rag you’d seen earlier, you wiped the creature’s saliva off your leg and resumed your search for the door to the next room. Your leisurely attitude had vanished with the reminder that this was no walk in the park, you needed to get out of here fast before the creature or its master found you.

Determined, you looked around quickly and found the door within minutes. You pulled the key from your pocket and tried it. It slid in and turned without issue, taking a little more of the tension away. You cautiously pushed the door open and stepped into a much brighter room, sunlight streaming through large glass windows. From the opulence of your surroundings you guessed you were in a mansion of some sort, probably a cover for whatever horrors went on in this place. As quietly as possible, you approached the first door you could immediately see and checked if it was locked. It wasn’t, and you tiptoed into the room.

This was a bedroom, possibly the master suite but you couldn’t be sure. On the dresser was a large, golden key with intricate carvings. You quickly pocketed it and resumed looking around.

Aside from the key, the bedroom was pretty empty, so you stepped out and approached the next door. This one was locked, so you tried the gilded key you'd found. The lock clicked and you were in.

You were in what appeared to be an office. A door at the back of the room caught your eyes and you went to open it. Revealed was a set of stairs going down, probably back to the basement. You closed the door back, no way you were going into that hellhole a second time. Searching the rest of the room proved fruitless, and you moved on.

You now stepped into the lobby, the front doors calling you enticingly. Pulling the golden key from your pocket, you eyed it curiously. To hell with it, you decided. Approaching the front doors you inserted the key and turned it. The doors swung open and bright white light filled the area, blinding you.

You stepped back out onto the grounds of the festival, lower lip extended in a slight pout. You'd hoped to see more of the level before leaving, but your curiosity got the better of you as usual.

You'd clearly been in there for a while, the sun was nearing the horizon and many of the attractions were turning their lights on.

"Having fun?" Came a voice from behind you.

Startled, you jumped and whirled around. Yunho stood there, a lopsided grin on his face.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" He teased.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making him chuckle. "I did the first level of the haunted house, so I'm still slightly on edge."

“Understandable. You ready for dinner?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly and both of you laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Yunho said, still chuckling a little.

The two of you began to walk, making your way back to the inn you were staying at. Once in the small restaurant area, you made your orders and chose a place to sit. Once the food arrived you dug in, silence reigning for a bit as both of you enjoyed your meals.

When both plates were empty, you looked up at Yunho and grinned. “We sure enjoyed that, didn’t we?”

He nodded, returning your grin.

Before either of you could say anything more, a server approached and announced that the restaurant was closing. You apologised for keeping them and asked Yunho if he wanted to talk more in your room. He agreed and the two of you went up to the second floor where your room was located.

You and Yunho talked long into the night about various memories from your childhood and where some of your friends went after you both left. Somewhere along the way the conversation came to crushes and past relationships, and Yunho casually dropped a rather shocking bit of information.

“I’ve had a crush on you since like eighth grade, I think. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

You stared at him in surprise as your brain processed what he’d just said. You’d had a crush on him for just as long, but you never in your life imagined he might’ve returned those feelings. “So have I.” You admitted.

You gazed at each other in silence for a moment, then Yunho leaned toward you a bit and murmured “Y/N, may I kiss you?”

“Please.” You whispered, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders as your lips met and bliss exploded throughout your body.

One large hand tangled in your hair, while the other spanned at least half of your waist. You clung to his shoulders for dear life as fireworks went off behind your closed eyelids. He deepened the kiss, and it felt like he was trying to swallow you whole as he gently tugged you closer until you were sitting in his lap. You shifted, wrapping your legs around him as you tried to get impossibly closer. After what felt like years you parted for air, a string of saliva linking you together.

You yanked at the buttons on his shirt as desire rose within you, a sudden want that was almost crippling in its intensity. Shaking hands hindered your efforts and Yunho’s long fingers stopped you.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He inquired. You whined, and he chuckled. “Patience, love. You’ll get what you want in due time.” Pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, you felt a shiver go straight to your core at the sight of his toned body. You busied yourself running your hands all over his skin, mapping every line of corded muscle you could find and stopping only to lift your arms when Yunho removed your blouse.

“Like what you see, love?” He asked, a coy smirk on his face.

“Yes, very much.” You moaned out as he dragged his thumbs over your nipples, each touch resulting in a jolt of pleasure that heightened your desire to almost a fever pitch. You needed him inside you yesterday, and you made sure he knew it.

“Please, Yun-ah, need you…can’t wait!”

“Easy now, my love. Just a little longer.”

Tenderly he laid you back onto the bed and you relished in how small you felt as his large frame hovered over you. He made short work of your pants and underwear, eyes widening as he took in just how wet you were. “Look at you, soaked already and I’ve barely even done anything.”

He slid two fingers into you, the long digits brushing your sweet spot and drawing a porn-worthy moan out of you. He added a third and you jolted a little, unused to the stretch but not in pain.

Yunho’s gaze darkened with desire as he continued to work his fingers inside you, curling them just right. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching off the bed in response to his expert touch. Each thrust of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting your nerves and leaving you gasping for more.

“Y/N, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.” The promise in his words sent a thrill through your core, tightening the knot of desire that was building inside you.

“Yunho, please… I can’t take it anymore.” You whined, desperately seeking his lips with yours again. The kiss was a feverish clash of tongues and teeth, a collision of passion that made your head spin.

Withdrawing his fingers, Yunho leaned back, his eyes locking onto yours, igniting an unspoken understanding between you. “I want you to tell me at once if anything hurts, okay?” You nodded and he positioned himself between your legs, his broad shoulders framing your body perfectly, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how tiny he made you feel. “Just relax, love. I’ve got you.”

“Please, I need you!” You begged, squirming beneath him, your body craving him. He nodded slowly, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward, teasingly brushing against your entrance with the tip of his thick length.

“Such a good girl.” He praised softly, his fingertips ghosting over your clit as he leaned even closer, ready to enter you.

When he finally pressed inside you, it was blissful torture. He filled you to the brim, stretching you out in a way that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from your core. You let out a cry of sheer delight, your body clenching around him instinctively.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He growled, pushing deeper as he held your gaze, his expression a mix of lust and admiration. “You’re so fucking perfect. Such a sweet, tight little cunt and it's all mine.”

You moaned at that, body trembling with arousal as the filthy words tumbled from his lips.

He started moving, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. The stretch felt incredible, and you were all too aware of how small you felt compared to him. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, sending waves of pure ecstasy crashing over you.

“Yunho!” You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built higher. He picked up his pace, his body slamming into yours with relentless force.

“Let go for me, my love. I want to feel you cum around me,” he commanded, and that sent you over the edge. Your body responded to his words, the coil within you snapping as you arched your back and let out a scream of pleasure.

“Yunho! Oh my god!” You cried, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. You could feel the heat of your orgasm pulsing through your veins, every nerve ending igniting in ecstasy.

“That’s it, Y/N,” he urged, his voice dripping with lust. His pace increased, driving you deeper into the haze of pleasure. “Just like that. You feel so good wrapped around me like this.”

He continued to move inside you, your sensitive body still trembling from your first orgasm when the familiar tension began to build again. The way he held you, his large hands gripping your hips, made you feel both safe and completely consumed by desire.

“Yunho, I’m close again!” You whimpered, lost in the intensity of the moment as he chased his own release.

“Then let go, baby. Cum for me again.”

With one final thrust, he found your sweet spot again, and it sent you spiralling over the edge for the second time. You screamed his name, a high-pitched sound filled with pure ecstasy as you felt your body tighten around him, a second orgasm washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

“Y/N!” Yunho groaned, his own release following closely behind as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you completely.

You both took a moment to collect yourselves, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breaths and soft whimpers as you rode out the waves of pleasure. As the world slowly came back into focus, Yunho collapsed beside you, pulling you close against him.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a satisfied smile on his face. And as you lay there in the aftermath, feeling cherished in his embrace, you couldn’t help but agree. You snuggled up to Yunho, enjoying the warmth of his body as he curled around you and held you close. You drifted off to sleep with a content smile on your face.

«-Yesterday | Day 2-»

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 2 - The Pearl Does Not Mourn The Shell Summary: Charles performs a delicate surgery on Arthur, carefully removing embedded fragments and stabilizing his condition while revealing startling details about his unique anatomy. As the procedure unfolds, you grapple with the profound connection you've formed with Arthur, confronting both the cruelty he's endured and the overwhelming pull between you. wc: 8k tw: blood, gore, descriptions of monster anatomy Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

In the several months I'd been working for Heartland's Aquatic Rehabilitation and Restoration Program, I had never seen Charles Smith—our unshakable, seen-it-all marine vet—look so utterly dumbfounded.

"Christ, John, you seriously weren't kidding." He muttered into his fist, resting his elbow on one knee as he crouched to Arthur's level, eyes scanning every inch of the impossible sight before him.

The minutes leading up to Charles' arrival had been tense, filled with John's grumbling about how much convincing it had taken to get him out here. Apparently, Charles thought the whole thing was a joke—until John's persistence, and maybe the sheer desperation in his voice, finally wore him down.

Now, watching his gaze trace Arthur's long, scaled form with barely concealed awe, I felt only slightly vindicated.

"He's some kind of merman, isn't he?" I asked before I could stop myself. The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It sounded ridiculous. Childish, even. Magical sea creatures belonged in bedtime stories, not in the real world—not bleeding out on the beach beneath my hands.

And yet... what else could I call this beautiful beast dying before us?

Charles clicked his tongue, standing up to stretch his back as he slowly walked around Arthur's long torso and tail, taking in every detail. "I'm inclined to say yes." He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or more specifically, a Siren. Though I'm nowhere near qualified to make that call."

Arthur's reaction was immediate. His slitted blue eyes narrowed further, dark and untrusting, watching Charles like a cornered animal sizing up a new predator. He tried to turn his torso to follow Charles' movements, but the motion sent a fresh jolt of pain through his body. He winced, his muscles seizing.

Instinctively I knelt closer, pressing a warm reassuring hand to his shoulder. I could feel John's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as he took in the familial gesture. But I ignored it, Arthur seemed to welcome my touch, and right now he desperately needed a friend.

"We need to get him back into the water," I said, glancing at Charles. "His gills are drying up, and the salt will help clean the wound."

Charles gave a sharp nod. "Agreed. We can figure out what he is later. Right now, we need to move him." He turned toward the shoreline, motioning to the little pilot boat rocking against the current as it was brought up to the beach. "I've got the medical supplies on the Atlantis. Lenny's waiting for me onboard. If we can get him into the boat I'll take care of the rest."

Lenny Summers was Charles' veterinary technician assistant—a college intern earning credits over the summer. Bright, eager, and probably not even remotely prepared for whatever the hell this was. The more people we brought into this, the more the reality of what we were doing finally settled in. And that frightened me.

Or rather, it frightened Arthur.

The thought of putting him through more discomfort, of forcing him into the unknown with strangers, made my chest ache. But he was in pain, bleeding out and losing strength with every passing minute. I trusted these people with my life. When it came to aquatic rescues, we pulled together like a well-oiled machine. We had to. It was our purpose and our pride.

John, however, was the most apprehensive. And he wasn't sold on the idea of helping him yet.

"We're really doing this?" He shot me a look, exasperation written all over his face as he watched Charles jog toward the boat to push it back into the water in preparation for the move. "We're really bringing this thing back to central? Do we even know if this is .... safe?"

A huff of irritation slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

Thing.

The word felt wrong. Cruel, even. It reduced him to something lesser—something disposable. And yet, how could I call him anything else when I still didn't fully understand what he was? But I did know one thing: Arthur wasn't just some mindless creature washed up on the sand, some anomaly to be studied and cataloged like a rare fish. He was someone.

He had a name.

He had feelings.

He had pain. I could see it in the way his body tensed, the way his gills flared with each labored breath. In the way he reacted to my touch, that brief shimmer of light that sent my heart leaping. I could see it in the haunted depths of his eyes, dark and sharp, filled with something distinctly aware. He wasn't just reacting to the world around him—he was understanding it. He was understanding me.

Not only did he recognize my words, but he had trusted me enough to answer them. To give me his name. That alone meant something. It meant everything.

Because a thing wouldn't have done that. A thing wouldn't have looked at me the way he did, with wariness and fear, but also something softer, something vulnerable. A thing wouldn't have been able to trust. And if he could trust me, then I owed him more than being dismissed as some nameless thing.

"John," I sighed, shaking my head. "Come on. There's a risk that comes with every job, you know this."

He wasn't heartless. Just blunt, practical, and—if I had to guess—mildly horrified by the entire situation. And truthfully I couldn't blame him. John wasn't a marine biologist or a vet. He was a maintenance technician for the rehab center, responsible for keeping the lights, pumps, and filters running. Hell, the guy couldn't even swim! But more than that, he was Hosea's son, and his father had instilled in him the same core values that ran through the foundation of this program. And I'll be damned if that man didn't put his heart into every creature we rescued, no matter their size, their condition, or the risk.

So, I gave him a pointed look and asked, "What would Hosea say about this?"

John opened his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

"We save those who need saving. Protect those who need protecting."

John exhaled hard through his nose. I could see the moment he caved, his shoulders slumping in reluctant resignation.

"And give all creatures a fighting chance," he grumbled, finishing the mantra we all knew by heart.

Exactly. And Arthur? He deserved that chance.

I couldn't help but smile. Things were finally coming together—we were going to get Arthur some help, whether John liked it or not.

I glanced down at him. His body was trembling from pain and blood loss, but his focus wasn't on his wounds. He was watching the men's movements like a hawk, his sharp eyes darting between them, tracking every step, every shift in posture. It seemed like the male of my species was only good at setting him on edge.

"It'll be okay, Arthur," I murmured softly.

At the sound of his name, he twitched, his gills flaring slightly.

"We're going to get you the help you need. Just try to relax."

It felt strange, comforting something that wasn't quite human, yet it came as naturally as breathing. I didn't know why his well-being had become so important to me, why the thought of his suffering made my chest ache. He looked utterly beautiful and broken. How could someone do something like this to him? It made my heart fill with anger and a burning need for justice. All I knew was that I wanted to ease his pain. That I needed to.

When Charles returned, we quickly revised a plan to get him to the boat. With his sheer size and the wound sapping his strength, it was going to be nearly impossible to move him without causing more pain.

"Let's try dragging him into the shallows first," Charles instructed. "Once he's in the water, we can maneuver him onto the mat and move it back to the boat." He glanced between John and me, rubbing his chin in thought. "John, you take the tail. I'll grab his, uh... shoulders."

The moment the men stepped forward and took hold, Arthur reacted.

A sharp, fearful cry tore from his throat, the kind of sound that came from deep within the chest—primal, instinctive, desperate. His entire body locked up, muscles rigid as if bracing for a blow. His fingers twitched, then dug into the damp sand, claws sinking deep, scraping against the shifting grains as if trying to anchor himself, to stop whatever was coming.

Panic rolled off of him in waves, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow gasps. His gills flared wildly, his breath hitching like a drowning man just barely keeping his head above the waves. His tail trembled, not in pain, but in fear. I felt his mood shift like the wind. A fear so intense it crackled in the air between us like a coming storm.

I could see it in his eyes—wide, dark, filled with something close to terror. It wasn't just the pain making him react this way. It was them. It clicked in the back of my mind, a realization as cold as the seawater lapping at our feet.

He does not trust men. A man must have been the one to do this to him.

Oh, I should have known. Men have always had a way of ruining what they cannot control, of breaking what they cannot possess. I will never understand why—why something as breathtaking as Arthur, something so otherworldly and rare, could be seen as nothing more than something to take. To own. To conquer.

Power and greed have driven men to do unspeakable things—to the land, to the sea, to each other. History is littered with the bones of what was once beautiful, turned to dust in the hands of those who saw value only in domination. Arthur was no different, he was not safe from their cruel hands.

Someone had looked upon him, upon the sheer wonder of his existence, and instead of reverence, they saw opportunity. They saw something to be used, or worse—defiled. And like so many things before him, he had suffered for it.

"Wait! Stop!" I shouted, throwing my arms out in front of them. "He's afraid of you, afraid of your touch."

The urgency in my voice made them freeze, but John let out an annoyed groan. "Are you serious?"

"Talk to him," I insisted, glancing down at Arthur's rigid form. His tail twitched, the thick muscle spasming as if preparing to flee—but there was nowhere for him to go. "Explain what you're doing before you just grab him like that."

John scoffed. "You really think he understands a damn word we're saying?"

"Yes," I said firmly, eyes locked onto Arthur's terrified expression. "He does. He's just scared. I'm afraid whatever he's been through is far worse than we can imagine. Just talk to him, please. I promise he understands. He told me his name is Arthur."

Silence stretched between us. John looked skeptical, but Charles gave me a considerate look before nodding.

"Alright. But we need to move quickly—he's losing too much blood."

I moved into position near Arthur's torso, carefully placing my hands just above where his human skin gave way to shimmering scales. His breathing was uneven, and when I pressed lightly, I could feel the tension running through every fiber of him, muscles wound so tight they trembled. Trying not to stare at his gaping wound, I met his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

Charles cleared his throat and crouched beside us. "Uh... Arthur. My name's Charles. I'm a vet. Well, a doctor I s'pose. I–um–I help sea creatures when they're hurt." He spoke slowly, making sure Arthur was watching his mouth, and his hands. "We need to get you into the water. It'll help you breathe better." Charles gestured to the water than to his own neck, inhaling and exhaling exaggeratedly.

Arthur's eyes flicked to him, his expression wary. I could feel his hesitation, his body still rigid beneath my hands.

"Once we get you there, we'll move you onto a rubber mat and tow you to my boat," Charles continued, motioning toward the water where the pilot boat bobbed in the waves. "From there, we'll take you back to the center where I can examine you—make sure you'll be okay."

Arthur didn't move. His shoulders remained tight, his jaw clenched, but something in his gaze flickered—uncertainty, trust warring against fear.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "Charles wouldn't hurt a shark even if it bit his finger off. You can trust him. You can trust us."

To my surprise, John chimed in, albeit gruffly. "Charles is good people," he said. "You'll be safe with him. I can promise that."

Arthur's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his body still coiled with tension—but slowly, ever so slightly, he allowed it.

"Alright," Charles exhaled. "Let's move."

On the count of three, we lifted him.

A sickening suction sound came from the sand as his body peeled away, his thick, sluggish blood turning it into something almost cement-like, making every movement more difficult. Arthur hissed sharply, his claws scraping uselessly at the shifting grains beneath him before taking purchase against my shoulder. His movements were heavy, and I could feel the tips of his claws, but my body was the least of my concerns.

We didn't hesitate. The moment we had him up, we moved as quickly as possible toward the water, uncaring as the waves crashed against our thighs. My legs ached with the weight, but I focused only on Arthur, on his face, the way his dark blond hair fanned out in the wind, strands clinging to his damp skin.

But as soon as the seawater lapped against his wound, everything went to hell.

Arthur sucked in a sharp, wheezing breath, his entire body jolting with pain. His clawed hand squeezed my arm, his fingers trembling violently. I braced for the sting of his claws, expecting him to dig into my flesh again, but instead—

A guttural, pained noise tore from his throat.

"H-hurts..."

The rasping, barely formed word made my stomach plummet.

John recoiled, nearly dropping his lower half. "Holy shit!"

I barely had time to process the horror in John's voice before Arthur convulsed violently.

"Hold on—" I started, but before we could react, his entire body seized, muscles spasming.

And then—he retched. We lost our grip as he lurched forward, vomiting into the water, his entire frame wracked with violent tremors. The sudden movement sent us stumbling, struggling to steady him, to help him, but every jolt of his body sent another agonized groan from his lips. The waves crawled higher, their force threatened to pull us down. John couldn't go out much further or he risked drowning.

This was too much. Too fast. He was already so weak, and this was making him sick.

"We need to move now!" I shouted, my voice laced with panic.

Charles was already running toward the boat, grabbing the rope and pulling it toward us. The rubber mat was secured in a net, the same one we used to transport large animals from the shore to the rescue center. It had carried dolphins and sea turtles home before, but looking at it now, I wasn't sure it would be enough to hold Arthur.

Still, it was our only option.

John and I maneuvered Arthur toward the net as gently as possible, but every shift, every touch made him shudder in pain. He let out low, agonized whines, his hands twitching like he was fighting the instinct to struggle, to flee.

I wanted to tell him it was okay. That we were almost there. That this nightmare would be over soon. But the moment his exhausted body slumped into the net, I wasn't sure if he even had the strength left to believe me.

Now came phase two: getting him somewhere safe.

"I'll take him from here. Lenny's starting the engines now—meet back at central, yeah?" Charles called as he hauled himself into the boat, already jerking the rope-start until the motor roared to life, shattering the stillness of the night with its low, guttural rumble.

The moment the engine flared, Arthur flinched. His entire body tensed, his fins bristling, and before I could react, his hand shot out—grasping for something, for me.

My breath hitched.

His fingers, cold and slick from the seawater, wrapped around my arm—not forceful, not clawing, just holding. Seeking.

My heart thundered in my ears.

He was scared, and he turned to me. He was hurting, and he wanted me. The thought made my pulse race. What the hell am I even thinking?

His grip was firm but careful, as if afraid of causing me more harm. His deep blue eyes, dark as the depths he came from, locked onto mine, wide and pleading. The unspoken desperation in them clenched something deep in my chest. He didn't want me to leave.

"It's alright, honey," I whispered, curling my fingers over his. "I'll be right behind you. It's a short ride—we'll see each other again soon."

But my reassurance wasn't enough. His hand tightened ever so slightly, his silent plea pressing into my skin. I looked up at Charles, who was watching the exchange carefully from his seat in the boat. He saw the look in Arthur's eyes. The same look that was making it impossible for me to let go.

Charles exhaled sharply, then nodded.

"Get in."

I didn't need to be told twice.

I barely registered the way the boat dipped under my weight as I climbed in, my attention still locked on Arthur. Even as Charles revved the engine again, sending a new vibration through the small vessel, Arthur didn't let go until I was fully seated beside him. Only then did his fingers finally loosen, his body slumping slightly, as if the last of his fight had drained from him now that I was here.

John, still knee-deep in the water, didn't question my choice to go with them. He was already wading back to shore, calling out over his shoulder. "I'll head over and get a tank set up—meet you guys out back by the docking station."

Charles lifted a hand in acknowledgment, adjusting the throttle as we started to pull away from the shore.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted over the growing distance, "Thanks, Marston—guess I owe you one for not getting eaten!" I teased.

John scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah—just don't make a habit of rescuing sea monsters with bigger teeth than me!"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the small smile tugging at my lips.

As we rolled steadily through the waves, the boat cutting a quiet path through the dark water, I found myself unable to look away from Arthur.

The sea cradled him, the gentle rise and fall of the waves lapping at his body as if beckoning him home. His hair, damp and tangled, fanned out around his face, strands clinging to his forehead and cheekbones, catching the moonlight in silvered streaks. He looked otherworldly like this—half-draped in shadow, half-illuminated by the cold glow of the night, a creature caught between two worlds.

I leaned over the side, the salty wind curling around me, and with the back of my finger, I carefully brushed a strand of hair from his face. His skin was damp beneath my touch, cooler than I expected, but solid, real. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Only watched me with tired blue eyes.

His tail, impossibly long and heavy, hung over the edge of the net, draped at an awkward angle. Even now, with the weight of exhaustion pressing into him, the powerful muscle beneath the iridescent scales seemed restless, twitching faintly with every shift of the boat. The moonlight danced across its surface, catching on deep purples and midnight blues, reflecting colors I had never seen in any ocean-dwelling creature before. I couldn't help but wonder what it would look like in motion—how it might cut through the water with effortless grace, how the strength of it could propel him through the depths like a phantom of the sea.

He exhaled slowly, a shuddering breath that told me how much pain he was still in, how much energy it was taking just to be here. But even as his body trembled with exhaustion, his eyes never left mine.

Dark, slitted, full of something that felt like a deepening connection. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

I had no idea what I'd just signed myself up for. But I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn't letting him go.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

By the time we arrived, John already had one of the portable rehabilitation pools set up. It was a simple structure—three feet deep, circular, not nearly big enough for Arthur to swim freely. But at this point, rest and medical attention were far more important than movement.

Moving him from the dock to the tank was an ordeal. Excruciating, even. Arthur was heavy, his body limp from exhaustion, and every shift elicited a barely audible groan of pain. It took all four of us—John, Charles, Lenny, and myself—to maneuver him from one place to another. John secured the ropes around the mat, bracing himself as Charles, Lenny, and I heaved with everything we had. Muscles burned. Breath came short. But after several agonizing moments, Arthur finally slipped into the water with a dull splash.

Charles immediately left for the lab to grab his tools, while Lenny darted to his office in search of anything—a textbook, an encyclopedia, a scrap of knowledge that might tell us how the hell to care for this creature. Essentially, we were all grasping in the dark. But we had to try.

Because Arthur's life was slipping away with the tide.

His body barely reacted to the movement anymore, his exhaustion so deep it was as if his mind had already begun retreating. That was not a good sign.

Once we managed to maneuver him onto a small raised platform within the pool—a stable place where we could examine him without fully submerging him—I finally got my first good look at him under the bright lights.

I barely noticed that my clothes were soaked, clinging to my skin in the humid warmth of the facility. All I could focus on was him.

Under the harsh glow of the overhead fluorescents, his iridescent beauty dimmed. His slitted pupils narrowed further, not from fear this time, but as a biological response—filtering the light. My first thought was that his natural habitat must be dark, perhaps underwater caves or deep ocean trenches. Somewhere far from the reach of men.

Then my gaze shifted downward.

Scars.

Not just the fresh wound bleeding sluggishly from his abdomen, but old ones. Evidence of past suffering etched into his skin like an unspoken history. Some were thin, mere whispers of pain long healed, while others were brutal—deep, jagged reminders of wounds that had once bled as freely as the one we fought to mend now.

They shimmered beneath the water, their silvery-blue hue catching the light like polished opal beneath the skin. The edges of some were raised, the texture of thickened scar tissue standing out against the otherwise smooth expanse of his scales. Others had left behind gaps, places where iridescence had been stripped away, leaving dull, uneven patches behind.

Near the base of his tail, where it flared outward in elegant, fin-like extensions, a particularly thick scar curled around the muscle—its shape unmistakable. It wrapped around like a noose, the flesh there rawer-looking than the rest, as if something had bitten deep, tightened, and held. A rope burn. A restraint. Proof that he had been bound.

A sick feeling coiled in my gut. Someone had tried to claim him. To own him.

John cleared his throat, standing on the platform next to the pool. For once, there was no sarcasm, no skepticism in his expression—just grim understanding. For the first time, he was really seeing the extent of the damage Arthur had endured.

"He's in bad shape," John muttered. His voice was quieter than usual, like speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile. "You sure someone did this to him? Could've been an animal—fighting over food, territory, or..." He hesitated, then sighed. "A mate?"

It was a logical assumption. John always saw things through the lens of nature—where creatures acted on instinct, not cruelty. He understood that better than anyone. The scars that marred his chin, cheek, and nose were proof of that.

I knew the story well. A year before I'd come along, John had nearly died rescuing an ancient alligator, an old beast with jaws powerful enough to crush bone. He'd been alone, and in the chaos of the rescue, the gator had turned on him, snapping its massive jaws around his face. Somehow, miraculously, he survived. And yet, not once had he blamed the creature.

Because animals didn't hate. They didn't torture.

Men, on the other hand...

I flexed my fingers, and pain flared up my wrist. The wound Arthur had given me throbbed, likely reopening from the exertion. I made a mental note to change the bandages when this was all over.

I guess now I'd have my own scars to match John's.

I shook my head. "These aren't natural wounds," I said firmly. "They were deliberate. The flesh around his wrists is torn—like he was bound." My voice wavered, anger and grief mixing into something heavy in my chest. "And his tail... there are marks where scales should be, like he was tied to something."

John exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He didn't argue. Didn't try to offer another explanation. Because deep down, we both knew.

I swallowed hard and let my gaze drift lower, where skin met scales. My stomach clenched as my eyes landed on the gaping slit, the deep, angry wound that should not have been there.

Arthur's mating slit had been mutilated. There was no question about it now. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't nature.

This was human cruelty.

John leaned forward for a closer look—and audibly winced.

"Well..." he muttered after a beat, rubbing a hand down his face. "He's in good hands now."

As if on cue, Charles stormed back into the room, dressed in a wetsuit and carrying a bucket full of medical tools.

"I've gotta get home to Abi and Jack," John said, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle. "They're not gonna believe a damn word of this."

As he turned toward the exit, Charles laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's keep this quiet until Hosea gets a look in the morning," he said. "Warden Adler's gonna have a field day with all the paperwork."

John gave a short nod, then disappeared through the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, Charles dropped down into the water, setting the bucket on the platform. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached for a bottle of orange iodine. I followed his lead, tugging on my own gloves before laying out his tools. Right now, this was just an examination. Once we understood what we were dealing with, then we could prepare for surgery.

"Lenny's getting the heating pads ready," Charles murmured as he worked, his focus already locked on Arthur's still form. "He's also mixing a small dose of morphine and amoxicillin into the water—should help him relax."

"How's he doing?"

I exhaled. "Bout as good as he looks."

Arthur lay motionless on the platform, his eyes lidded, his breathing shallow. The rhythmic flare of his gills was soft—too soft. His body was struggling to regulate oxygen, the sluggish movement of his operculum suggesting respiratory distress. Shudders wracked his frame at irregular intervals, a clear sign of metabolic exhaustion, likely from prolonged stress and blood loss. His dermal layer, normally slick and hydrated, appeared pallid in some areas, the delicate membrane at the edges of his fins already beginning to dry.

I quickly grabbed a small electric siphon, submerging one end into the water while using the other to gently trickle cool, saline-rich seawater over his gills and along his body. The moisture would help maintain an osmotic balance, preventing dehydration and further physiological strain while we worked to stabilize him.

Charles frowned but said nothing, reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. He pressed the cold diaphragm to Arthur's chest, his brows furrowing almost immediately. He moved it to another spot. Then another.

"That's..." He trailed off, eyes widening slightly. "That's incredible."

I stiffened. "What?"

Charles pulled the scope away, draping it around his neck again as he lifted Arthur's wrist to check a pulse. When he looked at me, there was a strange mix of awe and urgency in his expression.

"He has two hearts. Two separate pulses."

My mouth parted, the weight of the revelation settling over me. Two hearts.

Without thinking, I leaned in, pressing my cheek against Arthur's chest. He was warm, alive. And then—

There it was.

A second beat, a second rhythm—steady yet fragile, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Two hearts pulsing in tandem beneath my skin, their cadence slightly off-sync, creating a melody that was both foreign and mesmerizing. It was deeper than a human heartbeat, stronger. A low, thrumming vibration that resonated through my fingertips, like the distant rumble of waves crashing against the ocean floor. I could feel him everywhere—not just beneath my hand, but in the space between breaths, in the weight of the water around us, in the quiet, unspoken connection passing between us.

Before I could process it, a new sound reached my ears—deep within his chest, muffled. Like listening through water. A rumble of sorts. Soft, rhythmic, soothing even. A sound that felt content, almost like...

Purring.

But before I could make sense of it, Charles cleared his throat. His expression had darkened, his attention locked on the wound below Arthur's abdomen.

His jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was grim. "It looks like a deep puncture from a serrated object. The surrounding tissue shows signs of severe trauma, with multiple lacerations radiating outward, suggesting the weapon was forcibly removed. The uneven tearing indicates that barbs or jagged edges caught on the muscle, intensifying the damage. There's significant swelling and inflammation, and given the sluggish bleeding, he's already lost a dangerous amount of blood. We need to clean and close this quickly before sepsis sets in."

I watched as Charles' gentle hands pressed lightly around the torn flesh, his fingers careful but firm as he assessed the extent of the damage. Arthur twitched beneath his touch, a faint tremor rolling through his abdomen, but he didn't fight. The tissue was inflamed, the edges of the wound swollen and raw, the deep gash weeping sluggish, dark blood. When Charles carefully prodded the area just beneath the torn skin, Arthur's muscles tensed, a low, pained whimper vibrating from his chest.

It felt wrong to witness this. Wrong to see him like this, laid out and vulnerable, his body carved open like something to be studied rather than saved. My throat tightened with something dangerously close to guilt, as if my presence alone was an intrusion, as if I had no right to be here. The wound was so personal, a violence inflicted not just on his body but on him. Whoever had done this hadn't just tried to kill him—they had tried to take something from him, to take away some part of what he was.

I had to remind myself that we were here to help. That this wasn't an autopsy or an examination—it was a fight to keep him alive.

As Charles was about to speak again, a deep rumbling voice filled the silence. It was strained, and almost incomprehensible.

"Har—poon." Arthur breathed.

The word sent a chill through me.

Harpoon.

A weapon made for hunting. For killing.

I felt my stomach lurch as the implications settled in. Someone had done this to him on purpose. Someone had looked at Arthur—not as a living being, not as something intelligent or sentient—but as prey. As a trophy.

Charles' jaw flexed, his hands stilling over the wound. His usual clinical detachment wavered, giving way to something darker—something close to anger.

"A harpoon," he echoed, voice low. "Son of a bitch."

I tried to imagine it-the pain and the fear.

The sheer agony he must have endured as cold metal tore through flesh not meant to be pierced. How long had he suffered with it lodged inside him, the jagged edges digging deeper with every movement? How desperate must he have been to rip it out of his own body, his instincts driving him to escape, no matter the cost? Had he been hunted? Dragged from the water, struggling against the ropes that bound him? Had he looked into the eyes of his captors and seen nothing but greed, nothing but ownership?

No one deserved that. No creature, no person.

I glanced at Arthur, watching the slow, pained rise and fall of his chest. He had survived something unthinkable. Something that should have killed him. And yet, here he was-clinging to life, trusting us, trusting me.

Arthur flinched slightly at the curse, his gills fluttering as his breathing hitched. I reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his arm. He was cold to the touch, his body trembling despite the warmth of the water.

"You're safe now," I murmured, my fingers brushing over his damp skin. "No one's going to hurt you again."

His gaze flickered to mine, pupils dilated from pain, exhaustion heavy in his expression. But beneath it all, I could still see the trust lingering there—the fragile, unspoken understanding between us.

Then, a tear slipped down his cheek.

It caught the dim light, iridescent and heavy, like a fragment of the ocean itself. Not the clear, fleeting tears of a human, but something denser, more substantial. It clung to his skin for a moment before falling, landing on the platform with a barely audible plink. When I glanced down, I saw it resting there, round and smooth, like a tiny, imperfect pearl.

My breath caught. Monsters can cry.

The realization sank into me, heavy and inescapable. Arthur wasn't just some enigmatic creature from the depths—he felt. He suffered. He mourned. And there was something hauntingly, devastatingly beautiful about that.

Charles exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed back from the wound. "We need to get this cleaned and stitched now. I don't like how much blood he's lost."

I nodded, steeling myself. "What do you need me to do?"

He gestured toward the bucket of supplies. "Start by flushing the wound. We need to clear out any debris before we even think about sutures."

I reached for a saline bottle and some gauze, carefully pouring the solution over the torn flesh. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body jerking at the sensation. His hand shot up, gripping my wrist—not as tight as before, but enough to make me pause.

I met his eyes again.

"It's alright," I soothed, rubbing my thumb over the back of his knuckles. "I know it hurts, but this will help. Just breathe, Arthur."

His fingers twitched, then slowly, reluctantly, he let me go.

Charles worked quickly, his hands steady as he examined the deeper damage. His brows were furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a firm line as he carefully maneuvered around the torn flesh.

"The good news is that the wound is mostly superficial—no major organs were damaged," Charles said, his voice steady but grim. He paused, lifting a bloodied fragment of jagged metal between his fingers. Small but wickedly sharp, it gleamed under the sterile light, slick with Arthur's blood.

"The bad news," he continued, shifting his attention back to the wound, "is that there's still a significant fragment embedded deeper in the tissue. It's lodged between the muscle layers, likely near the ventral nerve pathways. If we don't remove it, there's a high risk of infection, necrosis, or even nerve damage."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "We have to get it out."

Charles nodded grimly, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile cloth. "Yeah. But it's deep, and judging by his pain response, it's close to something sensitive." His gaze flickered to Arthur's face, his expression unreadable. "This isn't going to be easy on him."

Arthur let out a low, uneasy sound—almost a growl. He might not have understood every word, but he knew what was coming. His claws flexed slightly, his tail twitching in agitation despite his exhaustion.

I took a breath, pressing my palm lightly against his chest, just above one of his two hearts. His skin was warmer there, the faint rhythmic pulsing steady beneath my fingers.

"We're going to fix this," I promised. "But it's going to hurt. You need to trust us."

For a long moment, he didn't move.

Then, slowly, his gills flared in what might have been a sigh, his body relaxing deeper. A silent surrender. Hopefully it was a sign that the morphine in the water was easing his pain. What he was about to endure would be excruciating.

Charles gave me a quick look. "Hold him steady."

And with that, the real work began.

I focused on keeping Arthur calm as Charles plunged the forceps deep into the wound, his movements precise yet cautious. The slick muscle twitches under the intrusion, his body instinctively trying to recoil, but he held still, his trust in us outweighing his pain. I watched as Charles maneuvered carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, the metal tool vanishing into the torn tissue in search of the embedded fragment. Arthur's fingers curled against the wet platform, his claws scraping against the slick surface, but he never lashed out, never tried to stop us. His breathing grew more labored, his gills flaring and closing in uneven bursts, as if his body couldn't quite decide whether to fight or surrender. His tail tensed, the powerful muscle twitching involuntarily, and a faint, guttural sound escaped his throat—a noise that sent a pang of guilt straight through me. He was trying to be strong. Trying to endure.

I moved my palm gently down his chest in a soothing gesture, feeling the rapid, unsteady rhythm of his twin heartbeats beneath my fingers. "Almost there honey," I murmured, unsure if I was reassuring him or myself.

Charles exhaled sharply as he dropped the last fragment into a metal dish. "That's the worst of it, but..." His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the wound itself, examining the torn flesh with something close to fascination.

I watched as his fingers pressed lightly around the top and the edges, his expression shifting from concern to something more analytical.

"What?" I asked, my nerves on edge.

Charles hesitated for a moment, then sighed, his gaze fixed on the wound as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "I've been trying to make sense of his anatomy all night, but I think I understand it better now." He met my eyes with a seriousness that sent a shiver down my spine. "Arthur has both male and female reproductive anatomy."

I blinked, not fully grasping what he meant. "What?"

Charles gestured to the gaping tear in Arthur's abdomen, where the harpoon had torn through flesh that, by human standards, shouldn't have been there. The area was swollen and raw, but the shape of it was undeniable. "When we first examined him, I suspected something was different. Now I'm sure—Arthur is intersex. Specifically, his anatomy mirrors some species of deep-sea creatures, like certain fish, that possess both male and female reproductive organs." He motioned to the area near Arthur's pelvis, where I could now see the distinctive characteristics more clearly. "The slit opening here," he said, "is where you'd expect female reproductive organs to be. But as you move further down, past the injury, there's a separate opening—closer to what we'd see in a male of most marine species."

I stared down at Arthur, my mind racing to keep up with the new reality unfolding before me. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Charles leaned in, his voice low but matter-of-fact. "It means he's capable of both carrying and producing offspring. In the wild, this adaptation allows some species to reproduce even when mates are scarce—survival in extreme environments." He looked at me, gauging my reaction before continuing, "Arthur could potentially mate on his own or with another of his kind—if there are others. But until we study him more, it's hard to know for sure."

I glanced at Arthur's face, searching for any sign that he understood what we were saying, but his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. He was barely holding on, too drained to react.

Charles exhaled slowly, looking down at Arthur with a mixture of awe and respect, "But this is the first time I've seen anything like it in a creature so... human in form."

My heart thundered in my chest, beating against my ribs like a caged bird. There was so much more to him than I realized. Oh how I was hurting for him. Was this why he had been mutilated? Did someone try to strip him of his autonomy, of his natural instinct to reproduce and start a family? Someone hadn't just simply wanted to hunt him. They had wanted to take something away from him. Erase something vital. Something sacred.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for Arthur's hand again, gripping it gently.

"You're safe now," I whispered, more to myself than him.

Charles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lenny should be back any minute. He and I will finish suturing the wound tonight if you want to go home and get some rest. It's gonna be some time before he's gained his strength back."

I shook my head before Charles even finished speaking.

"I'm not leaving him."

Charles gave me a knowing look, but he didn't argue. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and rubbed his temple as he spoke with a light chuckle. "Didn't think you would. Looks to me like he's bonded with you." He glanced down to where I held Arthur's hand in my own, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. Then he gestured toward the door with a tilt of his head. "I've got some spare clothes in my office. They'll be a little big on you, but they're dry."

It wasn't much of an offer, but it was better than sitting here in wet, bloodstained clothes. My body ached from the strain of the night, and my wrist still throbbed in dull protest beneath the gauze.

"Thank you Charles," I murmured, glancing back at Arthur one last time. He hadn't moved, his body limp in the water, his breathing shallow but steady. He was still with us. That was enough—for now.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

I made my way down the dim hallway, my soaked shoes squelching against the tile as exhaustion began to weigh down on me. Charles' office was small but cluttered with medical textbooks, old research notes, and a whiteboard full of scrawled reminders and sketches. A pile of folded clothes sat on a chair, and I grabbed the first set that looked comfortable—a soft, oversized sweatshirt and a pair of worn sweatpants.

I peeled off my damp clothes, wincing at the way they clung to my skin, and slipped into the dry fabric. It smelled like antiseptic and faint traces of cologne.

For the first time since the night began, I let myself breathe.

I sank onto the worn leather couch in the corner of the office, curling my knees to my chest. The room was silent, save for the distant hum of the filtration system and the occasional muffled voices from the lab where Lenny and Charles worked.

The weight of everything pressed down on me at once.

Arthur.

His pain. The way his deep blue eyes had locked onto mine, pleading and vulnerable. His gaze had pulled at something deep within me, a tether that I couldn't quite name but couldn't ignore either. The faint shimmer of light dancing across his wet skin, the soft, rhythmic purring that had vibrated through me, a soothing but bittersweet sound. His presence had settled in me like a force I hadn't anticipated, an undercurrent that kept drawing me closer, leaving me more entangled with each passing moment. I could feel something—something—between us, growing, almost tangible in its intensity, and it both terrified and fascinated me.

The harpoon.

The thought of it sent a tremor through my chest. The sickening knowledge that someone had driven that metal into his body on purpose. They had wanted to hurt him. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt the jagged edges of that cruelty cut into my own soul.

I shuddered, hugging my arms around myself as if that could hold together the pieces of me that were beginning to fracture. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the image of his torn flesh wouldn't leave me. The helpless sound of his groan, raw with agony, echoed in my mind. His fingers had clung to me, not with force, but with a desperate, trembling need I couldn't ignore. It wasn't just fear I had sensed in him—it was trust. He had turned to me in his darkest moment, and somehow, somehow, I had become the one thing that could make him feel safe.

It was all burned into my memory. A delicate, painful imprint. One I couldn't erase, no matter how hard I tried.

I didn't remember closing my eyes. Didn't remember the moment exhaustion finally won. But at some point, sleep pulled me under.

A hand on my shoulder jolted me awake.

"Hey," Charles' voice was softer than usual. "It's done."

I blinked against the dim light, disoriented. My body felt heavy, my mind sluggish, like I had been underwater myself.

"What time is it?" My voice was thick with sleep.

"Almost dawn," Charles said. "Lenny and I finished the sutures. He's stable, but it's gonna take time."

I pushed myself upright, my heart already pulling me toward the lab. "Is he—?"

"He's still asleep," Charles assured me. "But he's breathing easier now. The pain is more manageable."

That was all I needed to hear.

I stood, giving Charles a nod of thanks before heading back down the hall. The scent of salt and antiseptic filled my nose as I stepped back into the lab.

Arthur lay at the bottom of the pool, his massive tail curled slightly, his body finally still in the way a resting creature should be. The water was dark and calm, gently cradling him in its weightless embrace. I exhaled softly, relief washing over me.

Moving without thought, I stepped onto the platform beside the pool and lowered myself down. The cold tile pressed against my back as I curled up close to the edge, my fingers just inches from the water's surface.

I should have gone home. Should have left him in Charles' capable hands. But I couldn't.

Not yet. Not when he had spent who-knows-how-long suffering alone.

"I won't let them hurt you," I whispered again, more for myself than for him.

And with the gentle sound of the water lapping against the pool's edge, I let sleep take me once more—this time, beside him.

AN: I know we're all wondering what happened with the harpoon, our beloved reader will be getting some answers in the next chapter. As well as some sweet/hot moments that will send her spiraling as she begins to have deeper feelings for our seaboy :)

[lucysarah-c]

Hi! Happy new years eve ✨🥂 hope you had an awesome 2023 and all my best wishes and blessings for 2024 🫶🏼

Now, I can’t get this idea out of my head. Levi adopting a kitten with his girl. I always thought of Levi like a cat person, idk he just seem to fit on it. And as a cat person myself I would love to read something about it.

I can imagine him thinking is a bad idea but then he cant go anywhere in the house without the kitty 🫶🏼 so adorable I guess

Ahhh happy new year!! Thank you for all your well wishes and sending them back to you! I'm sorry it took me this long to write this for you sweetie! T-T so sorry

It started in the least expected way. Levi and his group of friends had been trying to find new ways to spend time together in their difficult adult lives. They wanted to revisit certain activities they used to enjoy in their glory college days and bond a little. You, of course, didn’t complain. If Levi decided to go camping with his friends or hiking on any weekend, it was also a chance for you to hang out with your friends at home, maybe watch a movie he doesn’t like, and have a “me” afternoon. It was all positive until Levi began to notice something during their hangouts.

Dogs.

All of them, particularly Mike and Erwin, had their own respective big, fluffy, loyal-to-death dogs that they would take with them on hikes, jogs, or even camping trips. You could see from the look in your boyfriend's eyes that he was envious. The only reason you and Levi hadn’t adopted any pets before wasn’t because of you in particular. You grew up with pets, loved them, and felt that the house was missing something without a fluffy companion. And don’t get me wrong, Levi had always had a soft spot for animals. But, in his own words, “As a kid, my family could never afford one… and Kenny hated them so.”

When you two moved in together, he didn’t want any pets due to "too much hair, too much mess, and too much money spent on the vet." But now, you could see in his eyes that he desired one, especially when they took pictures with his friends' dogs, and Levi hardly ever took pictures himself. Sooner or later, you brought up the idea, and he seemed excited. You quickly guessed that he wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it since perhaps his pride stopped him from admitting that now all the previous reasons he had given you to say no weren’t that important.

One lazy Saturday, you were walking past the doors of a shelter. Both of you admitted that if you were going to get a pet, it would be a rescue, giving the chance for an animal to live the American dream (two adults with good salaries, a pretty house, and no kids) after someone had made them believe they were trash. Both of you talked to the receptionist, who said that soon she would walk both of you to the dog’s department to choose. But when the guide came back and you were ready to go in and check out the puppies with your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be found.

Quickly, you followed the sound of people talking, and there he was, talking to a vet at the cat’s side of the shelter. The vet seemed to be deeply engrossed in conversation with him as you reached his side.

“Lev? Love, they are waiting to show us the dogs,” you called to him before smiling softly at the vet, acknowledging their presence.

“Oh, I was just telling him that she never gets close to anyone, not even to us. It was almost magical seeing her trying to reach out to him,” the vet said, and you quickly concluded it was the cat that was rubbing the top of her head against the front of her cage, trying to reach Levi.

“Aww, poor thing,” you said as you bent down slightly to have a better look at her face and perhaps give the cat some love through the small space of the bars. But the cat quickly moved away from your touch and softly hissed.

It hurt you, despite knowing that all cats have their temperament, until the vet spoke again, “Oh, she has always been a little grumpy; she’s not a fan of people.”

Levi also bent down to the cat's level, and he seemed to be the chosen one because the cat was continuously bumping her head against the cage, seeking more love from him. “Well, that makes two of us,” he commented, admitting his antisocial tendencies.

“When we found her, we thought she was feral because of the damage from living on the streets and her attitude, but we found she was chipped. We contacted the owner, but he said that since she couldn’t have more kittens, they left her in the streets,” both of you slightly raised to look at the shelter’s owner with heartbroken faces. “She’s been here for a while, but nobody wants her because she’s old, grumpy, and because of all the pregnancies she had, she has FIV, which is an expensive treatment an-”

“I’m taking her,” Levi interrupted the vet without a second thought, and you were about to comment that the plan was to get a dog, nothing against taking the little cat.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of responsibility, and she’s rather old,” the vet warned.

“I’m sure. What do I have to do to take her home?” Levi replied with confidence.

That’s how Chai Tea, or just Chai, came into your life. She was a grumpy old lady, but you two loved her to death, especially Levi. She seemed to be a golden brownish Persian, which made sense given her breeding history, but one of her ears was damaged from living on the streets, giving her a permanently angry face. The first sign of her enjoying being a spoiled princess was during her first visit to the vet after her adoption, when the instructions were to reduce her food rations because she was already a bit too chubby.

“Shhh, don’t listen to the vet. You’re perfect,” you heard Levi whispering as he rocked her in his arms in the kitchen. “Here, have some ham.”

She was obsessed with him, and he was obsessed with her. Did Levi complain about the hair? A lot, but at least he took the effort to vacuum and brush her himself. In his own words, “If I can make her life worth it for even a little bit at the end of it, then I’ll do it.”

It was endearing to receive a text message from Levi saying "On my way home," and then witness the little fluffy ball rushing down the hallway with her short legs once you tell her "Chai! Daddy is coming home!"

It was incredibly cute how she would meow all the way to the front door, occasionally looking back at you to make sure both of you were going to greet him.

It’s rather funny how he went to a shelter to get a big dog for his "bro's" adventures and came back with a cat that demanded to be picked up and rocked in his arms while he prepared dinner. Even funnier is how he accepted it. Now your camera phone is full of pictures and videos of Levi humming lullabies, sleeping with a cat on top of him, or holding her up in the air so she can hunt a moth.

A little bit jealous? Perhaps. Sometimes, Levi seems more eager to greet the fluffy cat when he gets home than he is to greet you. But being able to give an elderly cat a second chance was a better experience than anything else.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @s0meb0dy-0nce-t0ld-me @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!