#Driving in the Rain: Tips for Safe Driving

[driving-tips]

Driving in the Rain: Tips for Safe Driving

Driving in the Rain: Tips for Safe Driving

Rainy weather can make driving more challenging, but it doesn't have to be dangerous. By following a few simple tips, you can stay safe and avoid accidents.

Here are some tips for driving in the rain:

Slow down. The first and most important rule of driving in the rain is to slow down. Wet roads make it harder for your car to stop, so you need to give yourself more time to react.

Increase your following distance. You should also increase the following distance between your car and the car in front of you. This will give you more time to stop if the car in front of you brakes suddenly.

Use your headlights. Even if it's not dark out, you should use your headlights when it's raining. This will help other drivers see you and avoid accidents.

Turn on your windshield wipers. Wipers help to clear the rain from your windshield, so you can see the road clearly.

Be careful of hydroplaning. Hydroplaning is when your tires lose contact with the road and start to slide. This can be very dangerous, so you need to be careful. If you start to hydroplane, take your foot off the gas and steer in the direction of the skid.

Avoid driving through standing water. If you see standing water on the road, avoid driving through it. Standing water can hide potholes and other hazards, so it's not worth the risk.

Be patient. Driving in the rain can be frustrating, but it's important to be patient. Don't get angry or aggressive with other drivers.

By following these tips, you can stay safe and avoid accidents when driving in the rain.

Here are some additional tips that can help you drive safely in the rain:

Be aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to the road conditions and be on the lookout for hazards, such as puddles, debris, and other drivers.

Use your signals early. This will help other drivers know what you're doing and avoid accidents.

Be prepared to brake suddenly. The roads are slippery in the rain, so be prepared to brake suddenly if necessary.

Don't tailgate. Tailgating increases the risk of rear-end collisions.

Take breaks. If you're driving for a long time in the rain, take breaks to rest your eyes and clear your head.

[onewaycabsblog]

https://oneway.cab/blog/monsoon-driving-safety-tips-road-trips/

Monsoon road trips can be thrilling but also risky without proper precautions. This guide shares essential monsoon driving safety tips to ensure a safe and enjoyable journey. From checking tire pressure and brake conditions to driving cautiously on wet roads, these tips help you prepare your car and yourself for rain-soaked adventures. Stay safe, avoid hydroplaning, and enjoy the scenic monsoon routes with confidence. A must-read for road trip lovers during the rainy season.

[dykebehaviour]

honey on your tongue

domestic bliss with southern!wife!ellie x reader

summary: deep family fluff, loving married smut, sensual scenes, tender language, motherhood themes.

cw: fem!reader, butch!ellie, smut, oral r!receiving, fingering r!receiving.

a/n: save me butch cowboy ellie…save me…

you wake to the soft creak of the old farmhouse settling around you, the pale gray glow of dawn slipping through the gingham curtains.

your body is warm beneath the quilt, pressed tight to the familiar weight of ellie. one of her arms lies heavy across your ribs, her calloused palm resting just beneath your breast. her breath is a slow, deep rhythm against the back of your neck, her scent like cedar and sun-warmed hay.

you shift slightly, earning a gravelly murmur from her sleep-rough throat.

“where ya goin’, darlin’?” she rasps, voice thick with sleep and accent slow as molasses.

you smile softly, hand covering hers. “gotta start the day, cowboy. juniper’ll be up soon.”

her arm tightens around you instinctively. she noses into your hair, lips brushing the curve of your neck.

“mmm. lemme have you just a minute longer.”

and you do, the two of you swaying in that sweet early-morning hush, your pulse drumming slow under her touch.

by the time juniper’s little feet come pattering down the hall, you’re standing in the kitchen in one of ellie’s old flannel shirts, humming as you pour batter onto the hot griddle.

“mama!” she squeals, curls wild, cheeks pink with sleep.

ellie’s behind her seconds later, grinning with her hat tipped back, sweat-damp from feeding the horses.

“mornin’, juni bug,” she drawls, bending to scoop her daughter up in strong arms. “you ready for some pancakes?”

“yes!” juniper giggles, wrapping her arms tight around ellie’s neck.

you watch them, heart full to bursting - ellie pressing a kiss to juni’s temple, that lopsided smile of hers lighting up the whole room.

the old truck rumbles over dirt roads, the morning already bright with sun and birdsong.

juniper sits squished between you both on the truck seat, her tiny hands clutching a worn straw basket. ellie drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting across the curve of your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles through the worn denim.

downtown, the farmer’s market hums with life. stalls overflow with fresh produce, jars of jam and honey, baskets of bright flowers. the air smells of cut grass, ripe peaches, and fried dough.

juni pulls you both from stall to stall, cheeks flushed with joy.

“look, mama! look, mommy!”

she picks out fat red strawberries, bundles of wildflowers, a tiny jar of clover honey.

ellie leans close, whispering low by your ear, her breath warm against your skin:

“could spend every damn saturday just watchin’ my girls smile.”

later, the three of you sit beneath a big oak tree, sipping lemonade from paper cups. juniper falls asleep against ellie’s chest, her little hand fisted in her mama’s worn work shirt.

you lie beside them in the shade, watching ellie’s lashes flutter against sun-browned skin. she looks at you, a soft smile tugging her mouth.

“got more than i ever dreamed of,” she murmurs. “you. her. this whole life.”

you stroke your fingers through her hair, voice thick:

“so do i.”

by mid-afternoon, the sky bruises dark.

you and ellie race across the porch as fat drops begin to fall, giggling breathless. the thunder rolls low and deep across the fields.

inside, juni shrieks with glee, pressing her hands to the windows to watch the lightning.

“mama ellie, look!”

ellie crouches beside her, one arm curled around juniper’s waist. you settle on the couch behind them, wrapping them both in a worn quilt.

outside, rain batters the tin roof in a steady roar. the house feels small and safe - a little world unto itself.

ellie hums soft against your shoulder, an old song joel used to sing. you press your lips to her hair, breathing her in.

later, with the storm easing, you three curl in bed together, juniper nestled between you. ellie’s arm reaches across both of you, protective even in sleep.

and in the hush of the post-storm dark, your heart aches sweet and full:

this is it. this is everything.

one warm night, you put a record on while ellie’s finishing up the dishes.

the notes crackle soft - slow and sultry country blues.

ellie turns, eyebrow raised. “you tryna seduce me, darlin’?”

you grin, taking her hand. “might be.”

she pulls you into her arms right there in the kitchen, strong hands settling low on your waist. you sway together, bodies pressed close.

“you’re somethin’ else,” she breathes against your ear.

juni comes toddling in moments later, squealing. “dance with me too, mama!”

ellie grins wide, sweeping her up. “always, bug.”

the three of you spin and laugh beneath the old light fixture - the kitchen filled with joy, with love, with all the things that matter most.

down at the south pasture, ellie lifts juniper onto the gentle mare, hands steady on her waist.

“you hold on tight now, juni bug,” she says softly. “i got ya.”

you watch from the fence, heart in your throat.

ellie walks beside them, leading the mare slow and patient. she murmurs praise the whole way, her voice warm and low.

“that’s it. you’re doin’ so good.”

juni beams, waving at you proudly.

ellie catches your gaze, eyes shining, and you both know, without words:

we built this. we’re raisin’ this beautiful little life together.

that night, the house is quiet. juniper sleeps sound and sweet down the hall.

you and ellie curl beneath the quilt, her body warm against yours, her scent all hay and sun and salt.

ellie kisses you slow, deep - her tongue teasing yours, her thigh sliding between your legs.

“been wantin’ you all damn day,” she growls low.

your breath catches as her mouth trails down your neck, her hands rough beneath your nightgown.

“ellie-”

“shh, darlin’,” she soothes. “gonna take care of you real good.”

she strips you slow, reverent, her green eyes dark with hunger as she takes you in, bare beneath her.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

she slides down between your thighs, lips soft and teasing over the inside of your knee, your inner thigh, making you writhe.

then her mouth is on you; hot, slow, relentless.

her tongue works you steady, her low groans vibrating through your core.

“god-ellie-” you cry, hips arching.

“that’s it, pretty girl. gimme all of it.”

she doesn’t stop until you come shaking beneath her, her name a broken moan from your lips.

but she’s not done.

she slides up your body, slick fingers teasing your entrance.

“wanna feel you ‘round me, darlin’. need it.”

she pushes two fingers deep, slow and sure, her thumb circling your clit.

you gasp, clutching her broad shoulders as she fucks you steady, her mouth hot at your ear:

“love you. love you so fuckin’ much.”

you come undone around her, sobbing her name, lost to the stars.

after, ellie gathers you close, kisses slow and soft.

“mine,” she whispers. “forever.”

you nod, voice thick:

“forever, cowboy.”

in the mornings, ellie brings you coffee in bed before dawn.

in the afternoons, she teaches juniper how to ride, strong and gentle by her side.

in the evenings, she kisses you soft on the porch swing, your daughter’s giggles echoing through the fields.

at night in the hush of your room, beneath the old quilt, she loves you with hands and mouth and heart, slow as the turning of the seasons.

this is the life you chose.

a house full of love.

a wife who touches you like you’re made of gold.

a daughter who lights the whole damn world.

and every day, every breath, you thank the stars you found them both.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter IV

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, almost car accident, maknaes are finally introduced! wholesome interactions with the maknaes, hongjoong is the unintentional tease, yunho is the intentional tease, yeosang is the oblivious tease.

chapter wc: 12k

chapter synopsis: you accompany hongjoong to the station and meet inspector gong in regards to a drug case. you plant baits and grab lunch at the bar with hongjoong. hongjoong convinces you to become his secretary with words of affirmation. you finally go to meet the rest of the crescents at the warehouse but a sudden attack makes you wonder if you’re worth all the trouble you’ll bring the crescents, though yunho is there to make you feel better.

prev chapter recap: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal. hongjoong notices how secretary park is not surprised to hear that they are aware of his dealings with foreigners– with strictland. he makes the connection and realises that you are the illegitimate daughter of secretary park. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss with yunho about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved if it’s presumably inactive status is a lie. you start to handle the illegal side of the business as well and one night, save yunho from an attack which ends up shifting your relationship with him. he overwhelms and confuses you with his casual manner and you go find solace in yeosang’s office (and arms).

With Jihoon away on business at the Sector 1 port, accompanying Seonghwa to oversee the illegal departure of Black Shadow to Mist Island, the midday slot was packed with just you and Eunha to take care of the reports and to deal with the aftermath of the police’s initial investigation after receiving a false tip about drug dealing. You confirmed that the Crescents were not involved but the damage has been done. Apparently, some inspectors had always been on the Crescent’s tail, ready to catch them in the act, waiting for a chance to see the Crescent’s slip. While it was frustrating to hear that the police weren’t doing their job properly, your annoyance only magnified when you learned that they were demanding that one of the Crescents visit the station to clear things up. 

Since Yunho was occupied at the port with Seonghwa, making sure the illegal shipment left Eden waters safe and unnoticed, that left Hongjoong in the office and San and Yeosang at the bar. Hongjoong decided that he needed to set the record straight with the police and decided to use this opportunity to shift their attention elsewhere. With a clear plan in his head, he exited his room and spotted you working alongside Eunha. 

And when your gaze connected with his, you found him already pointing his finger in your direction.

“You. You’re coming with me.”

You frowned in confusion, pointing at yourself and he nodded in confirmation, ordering ‘downstairs in 2 minutes!’, before disappearing down the stairs, leaving you to process the command on your own.

“Just go– I’ll take care of this,” Eunha assured you and you took a deep breath, grabbed your net gloves and coat, and made your way downstairs. The boss was already at the door waiting with his umbrella– it was raining quite heavily outside. You picked your own from the stand by the doorway, hurriedly getting inside his car that was already at the front of the office– the latest Bentley model befitting the boss of the Crescent Company. Taeyong, Hongjoong’s bodyguard, was driving and he greeted the two of you. 

“We’re going to the station, by the way,” Hongjoong told you when you got comfortable and you appreciated that he gave you a heads-up. “There’s still someone on our case and I have to talk to a certain inspector anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“Right. Are you sure you have to go personally?” You asked. “I mean… if it’s not necessary someone else could go in your stead?”

“Inspector Gong only seems to listen to me,” Hongjoong scoffed, looking outside at the pattering rain. There seemed to be an old connection with the inspector, but then again, the Crescents probably knew every single person who lived at least in Sector 1. Your brows quirked at the familiar name. Where had you heard it? 

“I’m thinking I might point him towards General Wi,” Hongjoong continued, this time locking eyes with you. “If he starts investigating in that direction, it should eventually lead him to Secretary Park.”

“It’s quite easy to silence someone though– especially a cop. Their loyalty lies with money,” you reminded him. “I’ve seen officers give in to as little as 60 krodus.”

You had personally witnessed your brother Sunghoon bribe an officer who caught him smoking some drugs in a deserted alley. That was when you started to keep tabs on your brother, hoping to find his weakness. Instead, you found him handing that little amount with a  pat to the officer. You tried to justify it– perhaps, the officer needed to buy a good meal for his children, but your respect for officers significantly declined afterwards.

“Not all of them,” Hongjoong smirked. “Inspector Gong’s morals seem to be his downfall.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you shifted your focus to Hongjoong. “For the leader of a criminal organisation, you’re quite a man of morals yourself.”

Hongjoong considered that, his brow arching as he hummed in response. “What exactly did an Edenary citizen think Ateez was?”

“Not so organised, for starters,” you admitted and he shook his head in amusement. “More like a street gang?”

“We were once a street gang,” Hongjoong confirmed. “Just like Kihyun’s gang. You’re very familiar with them– was it a surprise that we operate like them?”

“Well, I never got to hear much about their street gang period before they became a respectable organisation,” you replied. “I’ve always just known them to be owners of MX Pharmaceuticals. Crescent, however…”

“Let’s hear what’s on your mind,” Hongjoong urged you to continue when he noticed that you were restraining yourself from saying more. “Come on, I’ve been called worse than ‘a man with morals’.”

“Just never expected you to have some really strict ones, that’s all I’m saying,” you raised your hands in surrender. “It’s kind of admirable. And you’re also really misunderstood.”

“Or maybe you’ve only seen the good parts yet. Ever wonder about that?” 

Well, you thought. That was one way to put it. You dared a look at the boss who was fiddling with his pocket watch– a golden little thing with an hourglass etched on its cover. He caught you staring at it and smiled. 

“Do you want to know who gave me this watch?” Hongjoong asked and you blinked in surprise at the question– you both had rarely ever talked outside of work so this was new. You nodded in answer, genuinely wanting to hear the story behind this watch because it seemed to be a part of his personality.

“I was a part of Major General Wi’s squad during the war,” he said and a surprised ‘oh’ erupted from your mouth as your brain tried to connect the dots. “During the war, I had to let go of a lot of things to think like a true strategist. I had to consider every option and not let sentiments waver me. A lot of decisions that I made during that time cost us lives. I may have been honoured in the end because every decision I made was for the ‘greater good’, but if I was a man of morals, Luna, I would have done things a bit differently.”

For a few moments, you let the familiar pitter-patter of the rain fill the silence of the car following Hongjoong’s admission. You recalled what Kihyun had said about Ateez. Children of war. They had to let their innocence go when they got drafted due to the ‘over-17’ law that ensured all capable individuals over the age of 17 served in the war. They were only teenagers when they went to the war, to fight for their land, but when they returned…

“Is that why you keep your watch with you?” You finally asked. “To remind yourself that you’re not all that moral?”

“Kind of,” Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think it could also be a reminder that you are aware of the fact that you made those decisions. Do they keep you up at night?”

“Often,” he admitted with a slow but sure nod. There was no shame in admitting that the horrors of war kept you up at night when everyone had experienced the same. 

“That’s a good sign,” you told him. “Because some of the elites who controlled the tides of war at the backend, who are the real reason Eden lost so many lives… they sleep like babies at night. They carry no remorse or guilt. And my moral compass says that those kinds of humans are no different than animals.”

The boss nodded slowly. He knew that it was true but hearing those words from you somehow left a warm, tingling sensation through his chest. 

You noticed how he zoned out and let him be until you spotted the station. “We’re here,” you gently said, bringing him out of his trance. He nodded, dropping the watch back inside his pocket and Taeyong stopped the car, opening the door for Hongjoong. It wasn’t raining as hard now, just a light shower so you both didn’t bother to open the umbrella, though Hongjoong took his inside, hand covering the gold eagle hilt.

You stayed right by his side as you navigated through the musky smelling corridors of the station. It looked like everyone recognised Hongjoong. They either stepped aside and merged with the shadows, essentially clearing the path for him, or scrambled forward to greet him over-enthusiastically. You pursed your lips in amusement– it was clear what sort of relationship he had with each officer. 

One of the officers saluted military-style and Hongjoong saluted back. He led you to what you assumed was Inspector Gong’s office and you seated yourselves on the chairs in the small, haphazard room.

“The Inspector will be here shortly. Would you like a drink in the meanwhile, Colonel? Coffee or tea?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Hongjoong said and you shook your head in answer as well. He waited until the officer left before saying, “Their coffee has to be the most stale beverage I’ve ever had the misfortune of trying.”

You half-smiled. “Can’t expect much from a station that looks like this,” you pointed at the peeling paint on the walls and the rough furniture in the room, if you could look past the initial shock of all the disorganization of the reports, boxes and documents. “Was that someone you knew from the military?”

“No,” Hongjoong said. “But he probably recognises me.”

“And the people who recognised you but scurried away like rats?”

“They recognise me better,” Hongjoong smirked and you smiled in resignation. 

A few moments later, a middle-aged man with a pile of folders managed to get inside the room without help and set the pile on the desk with a thud, grunting in exhaustion. He ran a hand through his wavy dark hair and muttered something about how it had been awfully busy lately before brushing his simple, creased clothes and straightening.

“I see you made it here.” He cast a wary glance at Hongjoong.  

“Better than you coming at mine and poking at everything, trying to find a snark,” Hongjoong mocked and you would have found it amusing had you not been staring at the inspector, finding him oddly familiar. He scanned you slowly and his brows wrinkled.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I don’t think so?” You weren’t sure.

“She’s my new secretary,” Hongjoong said, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention to the inspector. “Now… what’s this new mess your cops have involved us in?”

“Oh, the drug dealing,” Inspector Gong finally took a seat. “You don’t have to worry about it too much. I found another lead just now so you’re off the hook.”

Hongjoong grunted in annoyance. “Should’ve sent a message then.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you were so eager to clear your name for once,” Inspector Gong said curtly. “We don’t want it to affect your new deal, after all.”

“Whatever might you be talking about?” Hongjoong feigned ignorance but the way the two were smiling at each other, you were sure the communication didn’t need words.

“Who knows? Anyways, I heard you have something interesting for me, which is new. Let’s hear it.”

“Maybe I just came here so I could see you,” the boss teased and Inspector Gong’s smile fell– he was beginning to get tired now. You stifled a smile at your boss’ antics. “Alright, I’ll tell you. You might want to send your leads regarding the drug case to the Edenary Station. And while you’re at it, you might want to take a look at what Park Pharmaceuticals have been up to lately.”

“Park Pharmaceuticals? Park Byung Eun, isn’t that the President's secretary?”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong confirmed. “I heard the drug that you found recently is something new. It’s not uncommon to look into every pharmaceutical company, isn’t that so? Our company, MX, we’re only distributors for now, so you should be looking into companies that actually manufacture.”

“I’m sure someone acquainted with the president won’t have his people using drugs illegally,” Inspector Gong said. “Or he might not be aware that it’s happening. It’s a big company and he can’t have everything under control.”

“Maybe you just need to focus on the source of the drug rather than look for consumers or distributors,” you quipped. Inspector Gong looked at you with curiosity.

“And what’s your name, Miss?”

“Jeon y/n,” you said. “Also, while you investigate… maybe check if some of Assemblyman General Wi’s men have been consuming those drugs. I’m not saying he’s at fault, but like you said earlier, they are a big gang in Edenary and it’s not uncommon for gang members to deal drugs. Right?” You looked at Hongjoong who was stifling a smile. He nodded subtly in your direction.

Inspector Gong watched you two with interest. “Okay. If you insist. Though you might be trying to throw me off the scent.”

“I never said you didn’t have to keep looking into us,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “But maybe… broaden your horizons a bit.”

With that, Hongjoong got up and you followed. As soon as you both settled in the car, Hongjoong snickered at you. You raised a brow in question.

“Good job there. I can see why the boys have taken a liking to you.”

You couldn’t keep your cheeks from flushing at the remark. You shrugged in answer. “Has he always been stationed here?”

“He was demoted from the Edenary Station a few years ago, actually,” Hongjoong said. “Do you recognise him?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t recall,” you admitted and he nodded. “Do you think he will find something out of this wild goose chase?”

“Definitely. All he needs is a whiff– he’s a hound,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Once he gets a scent of something, he won’t let go until he’s satisfied.”

“Sounds like a person you should keep close,” you commented and Hongjoong agreed. 

“Your shift is over, right? Did you have lunch yet?” Hongjoong asked and you shook your head no. “I’m going to the bar– I have a few things to discuss with Yeosang and San. You can stay and have lunch with us, if you would like.”

Have lunch with the boss? 

“If you’re going to be our new secretary,” Hongjoong teased– a little joke Seonghwa had a habit of making that you should be Hongjoong’s personal secretary, “You should get used to travelling around with me.”

“You can’t seriously be considering that,” you gave him a wan smile. Hongjoong only grinned in answer, taking that as a yes.

The ride to the bar had you sorting out everything you had learned today. Hongjoong’s connection with Assemblyman General Wi was interesting, especially considering that Hongjoong served under him during the war. Inspector Gong’s familiar face and the fact that he was an Edenary citizen was also something you couldn’t simply dismiss.

Before you knew it, the short trip was over and you were outside the bar. Now that the sky was clearing, Hongjoong clicked a button on his umbrella to extract a cane from it before getting out of the car. You had seen the cane on him sometimes, a beautiful black thing with a golden eagle hilt. You were half sure it was also some sort of a weapon.

Upon entering, the employees greeted their boss and lit up at the sight of you, their old coworker. You greeted them back with equal enthusiasm, taking their jokes and teasing jabs because you with the boss!? Hongjoong went straight to Yeosang’s office and you followed behind him, shutting the door while the men shared a brief hug.

Yeosang was surprised to see you two together. “How come?” 

“Thought I’d take our little bookkeeper around and show her how things work around here,” Hongjoong said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the stand. You did the same, feeling a bit awkward due to Hongjoong’s presence– it had always been you and Yeosang, or San. 

And well… after your little moment with Yeosang that drunken night, it was your first time seeing him. Now in a deep brown sweater with the sleeves rolled to bare his muscular forearms, his expectant gaze as he looked at you, tendrils of brown hair falling over his face– it wasn’t helping you at all.

Yes. You definitely needed a break.

Yeosang nodded at you in acknowledgement, failing to contain his smile– he was bad at hiding his emotions and Hongjoong just knew that he was pleased to see you here. You took a seat next to Hongjoong in front of the desk.

“So, Luna,” Yeosang started. “How has it been so far? Want to come back to your previous post?”

“Sounds tempting because your boss thinks I can handle more workload,” you pointed at Hongjoong with your thumb and he shook his head.

“Ay, don’t be like that now. I’m keeping her, Yeosang. She knows what she’s doing and I like that.”

You accepted your fate with a dejected sigh and the two shared a laugh. The boys recollected the events since the last time they met while they waited for San to arrive. You noticed how they shared even the trivial things–

“I ate lunch at BB Trippin’ yesterday. You have to try their ramen– I swear I haven’t had such a ramen in ages.”

“Seonghwa and I lost a bet to Yunho and we now owe him 5 krodus. That lucky bastard always wins.”

With the waiter’s call indicating San’s arrival, you shifted to Room no. 1 where San was making sure there was enough food and drinks and at the sight of his boss, he lit up, coming forward to hug him briefly. 

And then he saw you and lit up even more, making you laugh a bit. You settled down on the very chair you had sat when Seonghwa had passed his judgement on you– only a few weeks had passed since then but a lot had changed. San’s presence, however, still comforted you just as much as it did before.

As did Yeosang’s, but… it held a weird note today.

While you ate lunch and caught up with each other, Yeosang, who was sitting next to you, nudged you with his elbow and you glared at him, the warning in it melting when you saw the apples of his cheek become more prominent as he tried to stifle a smile. “So… how have you been?”

“I’m right in front of you, Yeosang,” you said as casually as you could. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Missed me?”

“Hmm… not really, no,” you responded, putting a spoonful of rice in your mouth as he smirked. “I’ve been far too busy to think of you.”

“So you do think about me,” he teased.

“It would be unnatural to not think of you,” you feigned normalcy again but Yeosang wasn’t having any of it.

“Say, when do I get the tipsy Luna back? I don’t think I’m a fan of the sober Luna…”

“Tipsy Luna is on leave,” you said. “You can forget her.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Yeosang’s voice was low this time and you looked at him, finding caution and hurt– was it hurt? In his eyes.

“Of course not,” you frowned. “Did you miss me that much?”

He relaxed. “I thought I made a mistake.”

“Oh,” you paused, making sure Hongjoong and San weren’t listening. Oh. 

He thought he did something wrong and you were avoiding him.

“Yeosang, I–”

“Isn’t that right, Luna?” Hongjoong called your name, grabbing your attention and you passed Yeosang a look that you hoped conveyed ‘we’ll talk later’ before you turned your attention to the boss.

“I was just saying how it was a good idea to take you along at the station,” Hongjoong repeated, glancing between you and Yeosang. “Inspector Gong seems to have taken the bait.”

“Ah, yes,” you nodded, straightening. “I think we might have to make sure he catches some of General Wi’s men with the drugs that are under investigation. And we might have to somehow create a link between those drugs and the drugs registered under Park Pharmaceuticals. After that, the boat will float itself.”

“I’ll have Wooyoung take care of that,” San said. “He knows a lot of street druggies. They’re on his beck and call.”

The man in charge of the manufacturing side of the business along with the youngest of the Crescents– Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang and San often talked about Wooyoung. He was Yeosang’s friend from before they went to the war. While you hadn’t had a chance for personal interactions with the younger ones, they often came at the bar as a group. They knew who you were, called you Luna just like everyone else and would strike up some work-related conversation with you if they weren’t teasing or flirting with you, which seemed to be second-nature to them.

“Does Wooyoung’s street druggies network extend to Edenary?” You asked, an idea nagging at you– an old memory you couldn’t let go of. 

San hummed in thought. “Probably?”

“What are you thinking?” Yeosang narrowed his eyes and you looked at Hongjoong who was anticipating your answer.

“Park Sunghoon, my brother, was an addict. My father went through hell and back to get him to stop, but chances are he’s still addicted but just learned to look, well, normal.”

Hongjoong looked at Yeosang triumphantly. “There’s a reason I’m keeping her close.”

Yeosang looked a little proud to hear that and he asked you, “Do you know which drugs exactly was he consuming? Or some details?”

“It was a street dealer, that’s all I caught,” you told him. “Bad company, apparently. Last time I saw him, he appeared more polished than before, but I recognise the look in his eyes when he’s high.”

They didn’t miss your sombre tone, neither did they miss the sudden fiddling of your fingers. However, they decided not to comment on it– for now. It was Hongjoong who cleared his throat. “It’s ironic that the heir to Park Pharmaceuticals is a drug addict himself. I’ll get someone to look into it. Inspector Gong would have a field day once he learns about this.”

You passed a weak smile, willing yourself to not recall your brother’s bad behaviour whenever he was high. Sure, he was your half-brother, but he wanted nothing to do with you. Sometimes you wondered if he was the one who pegged your father to change your surname and wipe you off the family registers. It wouldn’t be a surprise if that was the case.

You all finished your lunch, planning a bit more on how to lead Inspector Gong to Sunghoon before you decided to leave first. You told Yeosang you would grab your coat from his office and leave but he decided to see you off– for obvious reasons.

Once inside his office, you found him watching you with folded arms. You wore your black coat over your clothes, huffing at him.

“Did I do or say something wrong that night?” Yeosang asked.

“No. Why would you think that?” 

“You look like you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” your gaze softened. “I’m just… I don’t know, Yeosang. I’m confused, if you can’t tell. I don’t know what I’m looking for, and the fact that you’re worried about what I think about you isn’t helping.”

Yeosang licked his lips, trying to come up with a response to that. He was perhaps as confused as you. Had you both inevitably blurred the lines of who you were? While you worked together, you would dismiss such interactions, but now that you stopped working here, who exactly were you to Yeosang? What was your relationship? You had been boss and employee all this time. Friends, perhaps, but never called it so. And now…

You stepped forward, placing your hand on his bare folded arms for assurance. You wished you had placed it on his heart instead. “You’re still who you are to me and more.”

“Who am I to you?” Yeosang asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“Hmm… favourite boss?” You grinned. “Friend?”

Yeosang nodded. “That’s it?”

“More?” You raised a brow. “I mean… what exactly did you do that would warrant more?”

“Is that a challenge, Luna?” He was smirking now and your heart did a little flip-flop at the way the timbre of his voice shifted.

“Maybe… pretty boy,” you flicked his chest, unable to resist and with a giggle, sneaked past him outside, saying a goodbye before you disappeared, because you were positive that you were worse when sober.

You did look back once, finding Yeosang laughing wholeheartedly at your passing figure and you ingrained the sight in the deepest crevice of your heart.

Kim Hongjoong may be a man of few words, but god, was he a man capable of making decisions on the spot and taking swift action. It was no wonder that he was the man who had built his empire of this scale in such a short period of time. All it took was one meeting about the discrepancies in the import cost of the metal in the Utopian trade, and Hongjoong immediately decided to cut down on the amount of metal, using his connections to cover the shortage of metal with local suppliers and saving a couple thousand krodus in the process. 

Apparently, there were other gangs that dealt with weapons production and supplied arms illegally around Eden. The Crescents were better off striking a deal with another gang who possessed the metal alloy they required, or something similar in nature to that metal. Hongjoong acknowledged your efforts for dealing with the matter smoothly.

That led to Seonghwa starting to include you in their meetings now, ‘preparing you’ for personal secretary work. You considered asking him if it was just an excuse to get information out of you (and who knows? maybe dispose of you later) but you figured it was a joke. They couldn’t be serious (right?) and you were doing a fine job as a bookkeeper anyway, providing your input since you were from Edenary and you knew a lot of people– and their weaknesses. They thought it was impressive that Secretary Park had rarely ever involved you in his business yet you had built your own connections and learnt so much about the way Eden operated.

Since there were rumours going around that Secretary Park had been ‘rejected by a mafia gang’, it caught the attention of some investors who were willing to collaborate on a drug launch. Though you still had little to no idea about the drug specifically, the Crescents heard your opinion on the willing parties and you expressed your lack of trust in most of the politicians. That left a few businessmen and you supposed they could do with one of them– someone who was willing to fund properly. The Crescents would just have to make a promising offer.

That left finding out more about Secretary Park’s foreign dealings. You had suggested sending an anonymous tip to General Wi about Secretary Park’s possible connection to Strictland and Yunho got the job done a few days ago. As intended, General Wi traced the tip back to the Crescents and sent a message that he would like to have a meeting with the boss.

“He’s going to be curious about the source,” Hongjoong had a faint smirk on his lips as if calculating all the possibilities of how the world could shift from here. You shifted uncomfortably on the chair in front of him. Hongjoong was watching you with interest. “Do you think we should bring you along to the meeting?”

“General Wi likes to play a diplomat. He would tell my father that I was here once he finds out my connection with him, and then–”

“And then what?” Hongjoong challenged, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on his desk. With his other hand, he turned the hourglass, watching the sand trickle down slowly. “It’s only a matter of time that your father finds out that you’ve been talking. Chances are, he is already aware of your new post and will be trying to silence you soon. You should be making your stance clear too, Luna.”

“That would be a declaration of war to him,” you said.

“Have you not been told that you are under the protection of the Crescents from now on?” Hongjoong raised a brow in question. You nodded. “Then I don’t see the problem. Being under our protection entails that we will make sure you remain safe and unharmed.”

“You may have been a gang in the past, Mr. Kim,” you said in a low voice. “But my father also has various gangs at his disposal. Mr. Jeong almost got killed that night.”

“Oh, you’re underestimating him if you think it’s that easy to kill him,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s avoided death far too many times to be simply called lucky now.”

You shrugged– that might be true but that did not help you feel any better.

“We are part of the underworld and always will be, y/n, no matter how posh we try to appear,” Hongjoong began. “We are the leaders of the underworld– the underworld that no one escapes from. Secretary Park has always operated from above and he does not know how we play. He may try to get to us with his little gangs or whatever, but he is a man of light.”

“And you are a man of the shadows,” you completed for him. He nodded. “If I join you at the meeting, Major General Wi will think that I am someone of importance– he might even recognise me.”

“Well, aren’t you?” He asked almost nonchalantly. You sighed– they sure had been taking you around everywhere and getting you more acquainted with the business, but was your role in the Crescents this important now? 

“I meant to remain in the shadows, Mr. Kim. It was never my intention to step in the light for the world to see.”

“You said you wanted a better life,” Hongjoong locked eyes with you. “A way to avenge the life that was stolen from you because you were too helpless and could do nothing except be pushed wherever your father wanted.”

“Not only that,” you admitted. “My conscience does not allow me to know that my father may be doing something immoral and detrimental to this nation and do nothing about it. I have wasted far too many opportunities because I feared the consequences.”

“And now?” 

“Now you’re telling me not to be afraid,” you rested your back on the chair in resignation. “Now you’re telling me to involve myself with you.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Hongjoong’s smile revealed that he might be hiding something. You knew that– they were dangerous. It was better for you to be with them than to stand against them, but could you follow their journey without looking back? Could you swear loyalty to them?

“It was never your intention to step out in the light and fight for yourself, or for Eden, or for your conscience, but y/n… maybe you were meant to rule from the light and the shadows both.”

You looked at Hongjoong in surprise. He watched you with a certain fondness– his little bookkeeper, he still called you. You could understand why Jaemin and even some others referred to him as ‘the Captain’– he cared and accounted for each one of them. These men… they heard you. They did everything they had to to protect themselves and their family. And now…

Now Kim Hongjoong said that you were a part of their group, and he would have you rule from the light and back you from the shadows if you wished to. 

“I’m just a bookkeeper though, aren’t I?” you said but couldn’t stop your lips from curling into a smile.

“Maybe I’ll start calling you my little secretary from now on. How does that sound?” 

“Oh, no,” you shook your head. “The workload.”

Hongjoong burst out laughing and you looked down to hide your smile– he had such a carefree, almost childish laugh. You thought about his remark and figured that it must have been Seonghwa’s doing. You knew that Seonghwa was planning something and he had hinted this quite often but to actually be Mr. Kim’s secretary? Was he pulling your leg or was he serious?

“I’m serious,” he confirmed as if he saw right through you. “I need one especially now that I’m going to be stepping into the light too. I’ve operated from the shadows for long enough. Who better to have by my side than someone who knows how the underworld of the elites operate?”

“I’m not sure if I’m the right person,” you said. “I’m from Edenary, yes, and I do know how things work there, but I’ve never been much involved.”

“But so far… you’ve not betrayed our trust once, and that is something I value a lot, Luna. You prevented a disaster when you ran away with the content of Yeosang’s locker that night. You stopped a deal that would have ended very badly for us. And you put yourself in danger to save Yunho– I don’t know who else I would want by my side if not you.”

“That is a high compliment,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed by his proposition. 

“You’re still willing to do so much more,” Hongjoong said, outstretching his hand on the table and you were confused for a moment before you realised that he was waiting for you. You frowned– while Seonghwa had always been casual with his affection, much like a boss with a pat to the shoulder that he often gave to everyone else too, and Yunho had been, well, purposely making you jumpy you were sure, the boss had never done much. Every action of his was motivated by something.

And this might be his attempt at persuasion.

Hongjoong raised a brow as if to ask if you were going to keep making him wait and you rolled your eyes before hesitantly placing your hand in his palm. Hongjoong noticed the pause and almost smirked. His hand was cold but comforting when it held yours. 

“You’re still willing to do so much more for Eden,” Hongjoong repeated. “I’m doing all I can for Eden too. We share the same goal, Luna. Don’t ever think that it is a shame that you couldn’t do anything about it earlier– you did everything in your power. You can leave it to me now. All you have to do is stay by our side.”

You must have looked half-convinced because he continued.

“I’m not saying you have to be the secretary yet– I would like you to fully know what it is that we do, and I would like the rest of the boys to meet you and hear their opinion too. I may be the boss but their word is equally as important as mine.”

“A captain, then?” You offered and he grinned. 

“Yeosang did well choosing you,” Hongjoong said and your heart fluttered at the mention of him– the actions of that drunken night were keeping you awake in your sober ones. “San speaks highly of you. Yunho, well… I think his intentions are clear. And Seonghwa is the one who convinced me to look at you.”

You raised your brow at his wording– sometimes, the way they spoke with so much implication behind their words made you wonder just what was going on inside their heads. Especially Hongjoong– he knew what he was talking about but he always concealed his intentions carefully. 

And you were going to make him more direct with his words. With a caress to his fingers, you locked eyes with him. 

“Well… you’re looking at me now, Captain. Do you like what you see?”

For once, he was caught in surprise, his brow raising involuntarily and you grinned inwardly.  There was nothing more satisfying than having the leader of this establishment speechless. The person you thought was a scary, stuck-up individual with his even scarier military rankings, turned out to be just a man with big dreams for his people and his land.

Hongjoong raised your joined hands in answer. You bowed your head mockingly. 

What a turn of events.

When Seonghwa said that he would like you to accompany him to the warehouse so you could meet the rest of the Crescents officially as a potential secretary to Kim Hongjoong and, well, a ‘crucial unit’ of the Crescents, you didn’t think he would actually let you take a peek at the illegal– or the underworld side of the business.

It was just another dusky day in Sector 1, a bit livelier inside the office than usual during the midday slot. Johnny dropped by and while he waited for Yunho, he struck up a conversation with the three of you– more like recount the events of the night you were attacked at the bar and tell Eunha and Jihoon all about how you had looked like a lost mouse while running away with the content of Yeosang’s locker. He went as far to tell them how you looked even worse when you came out of the meeting room. If it weren’t for Yunho interrupting him, Johnny might have done a reenactment.

You were about to sign off for the day after lunch with Eunha and Jihoon when Seonghwa called you in his office and told you about his plans for the day. You agreed to accompany him to the warehouse, having no other prior engagements until your night shift. With Seonghwa’s bodyguard and assistant Yuta, the three of you took his Ford to the outskirts of Sector 1 near the Sector 8 border. It was only a few miles from the Sector 1 Port so the ride took about forty minutes.

It was surprising how comfortable Seonghwa made that ride for you. He talked about his family and told you that he had two siblings and that his family had moved to Utopia before the war began. His father was already a war veteran and an influential person so he had little to no trouble leaving to protect his family– however, since Seonghwa was of age, he had no choice but to get drafted. You asked him if he missed his family and visited them often but he told you it had been quite a while since he saw them and would like to pay a visit soon, once things settle down here a bit.

Somehow, you found yourself telling him about the time you spent in Wonderland, something you hadn’t really talked about ever since you came back. While the woman you looked after– Madame Cha, wasn’t your aunt by blood, she was someone really wise and with a lot of knowledge to share. You often wondered if your father was aware that Madame Cha would make sure that you learnt everything needed to survive in this sick world as an independent woman. She taught you various practical skills, kept you busy and kept your mind away from home. Perhaps, that was the purpose all along, but even if it was, you were still grateful to her.

Seonghwa asked you more about Wonderland, mentioning that he always wanted to visit the country. Wonder City, the capital, was known for its ruins. It was a place rich with history and the people had done a lot to preserve it. The lavender fields which were symbolic of Wonder City only added to its beauty. It had truly been a healing sight for eyes and you told him that you missed the evening walks through those fields the most. 

The scenery shifted from cityscape to factories while you chatted, Yuta joining occasionally– apparently, he was one of the oldest employees and had served in Seonghwa’s unit so the two had almost always been together. You liked that most of the employees were more like ‘friends’ than acquaintances. Johnny was quite the example of just how casual they were with each other. While Yuta was a bit more reserved than Johnny, he was still a very charming man.

One of the factories towards the end of the expressway to Sector 8 was what the Crescents addressed as ‘the warehouse’. It belonged to Pledis Manufacturers where the Crescents were major shareholders and business partners. As the car came to a stop near the building, you heard the sounds of laughter reverberating from the inside accompanied by the harsh sound of machines and metal clanging. There were tables and chairs lining the margins and a few men could be seen eating what you presumed was their lunch. At the sight of your car, they got up and gathered around, making way to you and Seonghwa laughed to himself, shaking his head.

“Easy, boys. We’ve got a guest.”

“Oh, what a sight for sore eyes,” a man of medium stature wearing a casual denim outfit placed his hand over his chest as he bowed dramatically, making you a bit shocked though laughter erupted from your mouth. “I’m Boo Seungkwan, Manager of Pledis Manufacturers, at your service.”

“Pleasure,” you bowed back mockingly, noticing the others dressed just as casually. 

“That’s Seokmin,” he introduced the tall guy with a contagious smile, and then pointed to another handsome man. “That’s Jun. We’re all managers here.”

The three exchanged looks filled with caution but Seonghwa nodded to let them know it was alright. “They play a vital role in the production part of the business.”

“Lovely,” you said, following Seonghwa inside and waving back at the three men who were almost jumping up and down while they waved at you. You laughed again, falling in step with Seonghwa. “Do they not get to go home often?”

“Oh, them?” Seonghwa scoffed. “They go home every weekend, but that’s normal behaviour from them.”

You smiled but it changed into a wince when you got hit with a wave of heat and the smell of metal and sweat filled your nostrils upon entering the warehouse, the dim lights making it a bit hard to focus. When your eyes finally adjusted, you gasped at the setup– it was truly something. The centre was an open, double-heighted space with the heaviest machines and Seonghwa told you that the main factory was situated at the very back which was connected to this section by a gate. The upper story seemed to be rooms and offices that were lined along the perimeter. 

The workers greeted Seonghwa casually– there was no rushing, no scrambling and no awkwardness. Just comfortable acknowledgement of each other’s presence. You did get stares which wasn’t unexpected and you thought that it was because there weren’t any women here, but you spotted one in a causal fit working on operating one of the machines. Seonghwa told you that she was one of the best engineers they had– Umji. 

You greeted a few more people including the CEO of Pledis– Choi Seungcheol. He was in the office just about to leave, dropping by for a visit and was glad to have caught Seonghwa. While the two talked, you settled down and a familiar face entered the office room.

“Oh– Luna!” 

You smiled at the enthusiasm with which Jung Wooyoung greeted you.

“Mr. Jung,” you shook hands with him. “How have you been?”

“Ay, just call me Wooyoung,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m not used to people calling me Mr. Jung.”

“That’s what I’ve always called you though…”

“And I always tell you to just call me Wooyoung,” he winked, adjusting his black tank top and slumping down on a chair. “So. How are you finding our workplace?”

“Pretty impressive,” you nodded. “What exactly do you do here?”

“Supervise and make sure we have enough stock,” he said. “Mingi is basically the guard dog and Jongho… he likes to play boss.”

“Oh,” you stifled a smile. “Interesting.”

Wooyoung smiled knowingly and Seungcheol said his farewell, leaving the three of you in the office. Seonghwa smiled at you. “We’ll wait for Mingi and Jongho and then you can get to know more about the business in detail.”

“You’ll have to do a lot,” you shrugged. “I’m not very well-versed in machines and the like.”

Wooyoung and Seonghwa shared a look and you caught that, the dots starting to connect. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be showing me something else entirely.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you might be well-versed in that,” Wooyoung grinned. “At least more than these boring old machine parts.”

You looked at Seonghwa who nodded in confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I am, which is why I brought you here,” he straightened the navy blue coat of his suit. “After all… you should know these things as Hongjoong’s personal secretary.”

“Ooh, so it is happening,” Wooyoung was grinning shamelessly now. “I just knew they would like you when you made that deal that saved you your life. Not that Seonghwa was going to kill you anyway, right?”

“I don’t quite believe that,” you said. It was true, and Seonghwa only smiled in answer, giving away nothing. “But I think you might have liked me way back, Wooyoung. When you shouted at the bar for the whole world to know–”

“Oh, I’m still sorry for that,” Wooyoung laughed, making you share the sentiment. 

It was a funny story– Wooyoung had been drunk and yapping, if you were to put it simply, about losing to the boys in a game of cards two times in a row. While passing a message to Yeosang, you secretly gave Wooyoung a tip, having observed the game and finding their weak spots. Wooyoung won the next game and while pompously boasting about how he had turned the tide of the game, he craned his neck out of the window to shout ‘Luna, I could kiss you right now!’ making half the bar groan at the confession while the other laughed and moved on. You were surprised for a few moments but when Eunbi told you that this was typical Wooyoung, you shrugged the nervousness off. 

“But my offer still stands,” Wooyoung winked at you. If it had been anyone else, you would have become a mess. But since Wooyoung was… well, Wooyoung, you rolled your eyes in response and the conversation shifted to recent updates.

It wasn’t long after when the line rang and Wooyoung led you to the backside of the factory, playing the role of a tour guide, to everyone’s amusement. He explained how everything was a perfect cover for their weapons business– the material they used for both the machines and the weapons was more or less the same and in case of an inspection, they simply switched the display and transported the half-made weapons to trucks. The vehicles would sneak the weapons away into the thick forest that was not far from here. It was a perfect cover and since Pledis was an old, renowned manufacturing company, there were little to no inspections. 

Sure, the police suspected that the Crescents may be dealing weapons but they would never suspect that they actually made their own weapons now.

Song Mingi and Choi Jongho lit up at the sight of the underboss, sharing fistbumps and hugs. You greeted them and they asked how you were doing, offering you a drink and scolding Wooyoung when they found out he hadn’t offered you anything yet. You assured them that you were okay but the conversation took an amusing turn as they pointed fingers at each other. 

Mingi was surprised to learn that you knew your guns– Madame Cha, who was a collector of guns and the like, had shared her knowledge of guns with you a lot in passing and you had been able to retain some. The gun that you carried in your purse, a ruger revolver, had also been a gift from her. It was interesting to learn just what role the Crescents played in the making of these guns and an hour passed by with you simply talking about the mechanism with the boys.

Jongho noticed just how much fun you were having chatting with Yerin, one of the lead designers of the guns, and when you caught them waiting for you, you got flustered. You promised Yerin that you would visit again and have a more in-depth conversation with her and joined the Crescents afterwards. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no, it’s all good,” Jongho said. “I’m happy to see that you’re having a good time.”

You smiled and checked the time– there was still about two hours until your shift would begin. Jongho cleared his throat, catching your attention and asked, “Would you like to test some weapons before you go back?”

Your eyes widened with excitement at the offer and soon, you were in a car with Jongho driving and Seonghwa in the front seat. Wooyoung, who was sitting next to you in the backseat, explained that they often went to test the guns in a specific part of the forest and since it was hunting grounds anyway, the sounds went unnoticed– and it wasn’t like there were a lot of residents here. 

If the police or someone else did notice, they could buy their silence. You shot him a dirty look but you both knew that it was far too easy to buy silence in Eden, especially after the war.

There was also something bothering you ever since you learned about the weapons project, and that was… who exactly were they delivering the weapons to? Were they really the right people to mingle with? What exactly was right and wrong anymore?

You reckoned you could simply ask at this point. Since they intended to involve you in the business, you could ask such things, right? You turned to Wooyoung, about to ask but you caught an incoming speedy truck through the window and a scream got stuck in your throat. You flailed your arm, trying to catch their attention but it looked like Jongho noticed at the same time that you finally managed to yell ‘watch out!’.

Jongho swerved the car to the side just enough to avoid getting yourselves into a horrible car crash but still couldn’t prevent a light bump and you braced yourself as your body rocked to the side violently. Before you could react, you heard the shatter of glass and you screamed this time, Wooyoung grabbing you by the back of your neck and making you crouch down as the fragments of the glass window rained over you.

You looked at Wooyoung in panic who also let his defence down just for a moment as he made sure that you were okay. You nodded and just like that, his gaze turned steel as he raised his head to inspect just who was trying to kill you guys.

“I’m driving– provide cover!” Jongho pressed the pedal with all his might, steering away from the minitruck that was hell bent on crushing you. Wooyoung loaded his gun and started shooting, Seonghwa doing the same from the front but mostly to protect Jongho. You put your hands over your ears for a moment as you tried to make sense of what was happening–

You were under attack. You had almost died.

You scrambled in your purse for the gun, taking it out and loading it. Wooyoung spared you a glance, tsk-ing in disapproval. “We’ve got it, Luna. Just stay down.”

“I’d rather take my chances,” you muttered, but also obeyed him. You stayed crouching down, focusing more on having Wooyoung’s back. Your shot wasn’t bad but Wooyoung was moving a lot so you couldn’t risk shooting in case you hurt him instead. However, when Wooyoung ran out of bullets, you passed him your gun which he gladly took. Meanwhile, you reloaded his gun with the bullets in the inside pocket of his jacket. You noticed the shards of glass buried in his skin but it was too chaotic to comment on that at the moment.

“Recognise them?” Jongho asked before he took a sharp turn to the right, the road getting bumpier now that you were further on the track in the forest.

“Nah,” Wooyoung sniffed, a sharp frown on his face as he took a breather having shot down the tyres of the minitruck and halting it. “Need help, hyung?”

“I’m good,” Seonghwa said, groaning when the car started to leave. He ordered Jongho to turn the car around so they could catch them and you silently prayed that no one gets hurt. Now that you were gathering your wits, you realised how much the air had changed.

They had become the men you used to watch from afar and were a bit afraid of. Ruthless, calculating and powerful.

Jongho stopped the car near the abandoned truck and you all watched the other car disappear into the forest– they had been at a disadvantage or perhaps, they had underestimated you. Whatever the case was, all that mattered to the Crescents was the reason they attacked you.

Jongho and Seonghwa looked back to make sure you were okay. While you were very surprised, you were okay for the most part if you could ignore the erratic heartbeat. While the younger two checked the perimeter, Seonghwa got out of the car and opened the door for you to help you out. 

“You must have been shocked,” he said, caressing your gloved hand and frowning at the cut on your cheek, unable to stop himself and tracing it gently.

“I– I’m fine,” you gulped at his actions. “Uh, we should check the car. Does this happen often?”

“Not really,” he ran his hand through his messy long hair in frustration. “Someone’s really got a grudge against us lately.”

You raised a brow as if to say that that wasn’t new and he chuckled a bit, letting go of your hand and going towards the truck. You followed him, making note of the number plate– it was a registered Sector 1 vehicle. The two of you got inside the front seats of the truck, rummaging through the stuff when a certain something caught your eye.

An emblem of a cube within a cube. It might have gone unnoticed by the rest but you could recognise the unofficial emblem of Park Pharmaceuticals anywhere– it was only used personally by your father and you had seen it on some of his old employees’ uniforms and stationery as well. 

Seonghwa noticed you staring at the emblem printed on a card and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Your father must have learned that you had joined hands with the Crescents– or at least that you were now someone important to them. He must be suspecting that you were sharing information that you shouldn’t have told a soul. Was this supposed to be a warning, or did he really intend to kill you this time?

And he almost hurt the Crescents too. Wooyoung could have been shot. Seonghwa or Jongho could have gotten seriously injured. Just how low was this man going to stoop?

“Luna,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded again. “Do you recognise this emblem? You need to tell us if you do so we do not point at the wrong people.”

“This was my father’s doing,” you sighed in defeat. “This emblem is something he uses privately within his inner circle and gangs. I’m so sorry, Mr. Park. I should have known.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, taking the emblem from you and examining it. 

“But it is,” you got out of the truck, going towards the car, your chest tightening with every step because your father almost killed them just because you were acquainted with them. They almost died because of you. And he must have also been the one behind Yunho’s attack– Yunho almost got shot because of you too–

“Luna,” Seonghwa grabbed you by the wrist and shook his head. “Do not blame yourself for something your father did. He intended to kill you.”

“But he almost killed you guys because of me!” You said through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to calm down. You looked at your side to see Wooyoung and Jongho watching. “I should not have involved myself like this.”

Wooyoung tsk-ed, searching inside his car and taking out a bottle of water. He motioned for you to sit by the tree and you did, thanking him and drinking a few gulps. Jongho sat down beside you, trying to pick a tiny shard of glass that was buried in his wrist.

“I’ve heard about your father,” Jongho said. “Secretary Park Byung Eun. He’s after you, isn’t he? Just because he’s afraid that you’ll spill all his dirty little secrets?”

“Well… yeah, that’s the gist of it,” you took a deep breath. “He must be mad that his own daughter is after him. What parent would kill their child just to silence them?”

You watched Seonghwa and Wooyoung clean the mess of a car, Wooyoung stealing glances at you occasionally. Seonghwa was mostly noting down the details of the truck, saying something about how he needed to find out just which gang your father had employed for this job. 

“Some parents don’t need a reason to want to get rid of their child,” Jongho said, looking at you. “They just do it because they’re selfish like that.”

You frowned. Was he talking from personal experience?

“I’m actually an illegitimate child too,” Jongho shared with a smile and your mouth curved like an o in surprise. “My mother is from Eden and my father from Halaland. She gave birth here, which is why I’m considered an Eden citizen, but I spent my early childhood in Halaland. Quite a combination, right?”

He was right. People from Halaland had always been treated with wariness and after the war, it just got worse. They faced discrimination. To be an illegitimate child who was half Hala…

“I guess we do have something in common then,” you shrugged, Jongho laughing at your joke.

“The reason I’m telling you this, Luna, is because the fact that I am both of these has never hindered my path,” he said and you turned your attention to him. “Hongjoong and the others, they never discriminated. We were all children of war and we bonded with each other because we have more in common-like values and morals. Not family background or useless things like that. And you… just because you’re unwanted does not mean you have to bend under your father’s will.”

“I have not,” you shook your head. “I am resisting. I’m just trying to be careful, because this is what happens when I slip.”

“This did not happen because you were careless,” he assured you. “This happened because he is scared of you, Luna. Don’t you realise? He’s scared he will be exposed because you know that he has joined hands with Strictland. He’s scared that you will uncover the truth and expose him. If he gets exposed, he will lose everything and so will the people he has associated with. Are you gonna let him stomp over you, or are you going to try to be one step ahead?”

You clasped your hands in thought– he wasn’t wrong. You had just been too cowardly to see it. 

“Jongho’s right,” Wooyoung joined you, Seonghwa watching with a smile. “Show them what you’re made of, Luna. Accept the secretary position with your whole heart and use us to take your revenge on him– after all, we share the same goals.”

“Where did that come from,” you laughed, finally feeling calmer when Wooyoung grinned back. “What is it to you if I become his secretary?”

“My precious Luna,” he teased, grinning cheekily. “You really think we’re asking you to be the secretary here? You’re already one right now.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned but Wooyoung waved a hand.

“I mean,” he said, “Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary, or assistant, or whatever you call it… it will just be a term. What we’re really asking you is to become a part of our inner circle. We’re asking you to walk with us, plan with us, help us so we can help you. It’s more like being a partner, isn’t it?”

“That’s… a lot,” you laughed nervously, overwhelmed by his proposition. 

“But we need you,” he said matter-of-factly. “And so do you. Neither of us can do this without each other.”

He was right. They could get more information on whatever Secretary Park was doing, but you still had so much more that you were keeping from them. To be a part of their inner circle, be a part of Ateez was what they were asking from you. Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary would just be the job you would officially do but really–

You walked with them. Dined with them. Planned with them, even now. No one else did it like you were doing. You were already a part of them, whether you liked it or not.

Not that you were complaining. They had treated you with more respect and given you more authority than you’d ever gotten in your life. You were seen and you were heard here. It was overwhelming but if you looked past that…

It was kind of heartwarming. 

“We’re here to protect each other,” Seonghwa said, having noticed your features shift from nervousness to acceptance. “And that means that we will protect you, and you will protect us. It doesn't matter who you are or what your background is. Our goals are the same.”

“For Eden,” you said, looking at them. “Are we really doing this for Eden? Will it really benefit our homeland?”

“You must have some doubts about what we do. Rightfully so,” Seonghwa nodded, offering you his hand and you grabbed it, getting up. “You can ask me anything, Luna. On our way back– it’s getting dark, and we really must get going now.”

You went back to the warehouse first to switch cars. You were worried Mingi would be angry but he was surprisingly only glad that you all made it back in one piece. They offered to patch you up but you told them you really did not want to be late for your shift which made them laugh. It was only a scratch so you could take care of it in the office. The trio let you go with a can of beer for the way back ‘to calm your nerves’. You gladly accepted.

Seonghwa told you that it was okay to ask– apparently, Yuta was one of the insiders too. So candidly, you asked him why exactly did they need to manufacture their own weapons. 

You learned that Eden had actually suffered in the war more than you imagined with a lot of soldiers having gone missing, suspected of defecting or worse. A lot of the existing weapons channels had also either shut down or stopped business for unknown reasons. The underworld dealing came to a halt for some time after the war and while the treaty between Halaland and Eden ensured that there wouldn’t be a war in the foreseeable future, if Halaland learned that Eden was basically defenceless, they might start something again.

Seonghwa also told you that Eden’s military could not be trusted because their sole purpose seemed to be power and politics, referring to the clashes ex-President Son had with the military when they enforced the ‘over-17’ law. Hence, a few old gangs like MX and others resumed the weapons dealing and even collaborated with gangs from Wonderland and Utopia.

You told Seonghwa that you had qualms about their drug project too but he promised that they would tell you the details soon. You understood and a few minutes later, you reached the Crescent office. You still had some time to spare so you freshened up before going upstairs.

You were arranging your things at the desk and just taking a breather when the door to Yunho’s office opened. Seonghwa appeared to be leaving. Yunho followed behind and they exchanged a few words before Seonghwa disappeared downstairs and Yunho turned his attention to you.

You had to admit it, you missed him a little. He hadn’t been in the office a lot recently, probably busy with other things, but he appeared as sophisticated as ever in his black button down shirt and cream slacks. He smiled at you faintly, slowly walking towards you and shaking his head.

“You need to do something about that,” he pointed at your cheek. You had taken a look at it in the mirror earlier in the bathroom– the blood had crusted so you let it be. You didn’t have any band-aids in your purse and decided to start keeping some.

“Good evening to you too. It’s only a scratch,” you said and Yunho shook his head.

“Come to my room,” he said, not waiting to hear a response and you huffed, surrendering and following him. He was rummaging through his drawers and found the little first-aid box, bringing it towards the couch and beckoning you to sit.

“A simple bandage would do,” you started but he raised a finger in warning and that shut you up pretty quick. He settled down next to you and took out a bottle of disinfectant and a cotton pad, soaking it in and then turning towards you. You extended your hand so he could pass you the pad but he ignored that, leaning in to do the job himself. You reflexively shut your eyes as his hand neared your face and he didn’t miss that.

Your heart rate picked up and you willed your eyes to open, finding him watching you with curiosity. He cleaned the scratch, his brows furrowing in concentration and then he discarded the pad, taking out a box of salve. This time, he picked some on his index finger and you pursed your lips to keep a comment from popping out of your mouth. 

With the pad of his thumb, he turned your face sideways so he could properly see the scratch and then he started applying the salve. You took a deep breath, the air thick with tension. He decided to break the silence.

“Are you okay? You must have been shocked,” he said.

“Yeah, I was,” you admitted. “But I recovered pretty quick this time.”

“Ah, did you?” A smirk made its way on his lips as he finished applying the ointment, now opening the bandaid. You just knew he was thinking about that night when you freaked out when he was going to be attacked and kept him close so he wouldn’t risk his life trying to find answers.

“Yes. I owe that to Wooyoung and Jongho,” you huffed. “They are good with words.”

“Was I not?” He asked, referring to that night.  

“They also let me use my gun,” you half-lied but when he gave you the look, you rolled your eyes. “Okay, technically, I only loaded it for Wooyoung. He’s the one who used it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t let you get your hands dirty,” he chuckled, carefully applying the band-aid over the scar. 

“Maybe I’ll need to,” you shrugged and he looked at you. “I should learn how to use the gun properly if I’m keeping it. I mean, I do know how to use it but I lack practice.”

“But you shouldn’t actually use it,” he reprimanded but you shook your head.

“I need to learn to protect myself… and protect you.”

He looked at you in surprise and you continued. “All of you. If you claim to have my back, I should return the favour. I should be able to protect myself, not be a burden to you guys, and protect you all in return.”

“Luna… you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Yunho assured you calmly. “And you’re not a burden to us. Don’t ever think that.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch you guys risk your life trying to protect me from someone who’s after me!” You started. “You can try to convince me that it’s not my fault that you almost got shot that night or the boys almost got hurt today, but I know it’s my fault.”

“Luna–”

“Yes, it’s not exactly my fault,” you rambled on. “It’s my father’s. But the fact is that he is after me and if to get to me he needs to wipe out all of you, he will, just so he can continue with his awful dealings that I’m sure will cost Eden something–”

“Y/n,” Yunho scooted forward, taking both your hands in his and intertwining them, making you stop mid-sentence. He took a deep breath, watching how your small hands fit in his and when you looked at your joined hands, your heart melted at the way his fingers gently caressed yours. “Are you done now?”

You didn’t respond and he tried not to comment on how you always shut up when you were in close proximity with him or, well, whenever he was touching you. He took a deep breath. 

“You’re ours now,” he locked eyes with you, his tone almost containing a hint of warning in them that made your heart sink a little. “You’re a Crescent now, a part of our team, and that means that you will protect us in any way that you can, and we will return the favour. The information that you provide us with… that is our protection, and that is enough. If you wish to learn defence or offence, sure. I won’t stop you. But it should only be to protect yourself, okay?”

You pursed your lips but he was being adamant, squeezing your hands a little. “We would have gotten in trouble with Secretary Park one day anyway. Eventually, our secret drug project was going to lead us to him and it could have taken an even more dangerous turn. But what happened today… that is enough. He’s crossing a line. I will send him a message, and I will make it clear that you are under our protection and we will not tolerate any more misbehaviour from him. Is that okay?”

“He will consider it a call for war,” you warned him. “He will not stop.”

“So be it,” Yunho smiled almost sadistically. “We are children of war, all of us, aren’t we? The personal battles too. We are survivors, you and I. He won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You nodded in answer, looking down. You weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to someone treating you not just as an equal but offering you their power and so much more. But Yunho… he always knew just what was going on in your head. He drew back one of his hands from your hold only to draw it towards your face, lifting your chin up so you would look at him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It must have been an order because his gaze compelled you to spill. 

“It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re all doing this… willingly. For me.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “For you, and for us. Get used to this treatment, princess.”

With an affectionate tap to your cheek, he drew back and started packing the kit. You sat there, baffled at what he just said and also, taking the loss of his touch to your heart. When he looked at you, your hand seemed to be outstretched as if you aimed to rest it on his back. You drew it away but he caught that, raising a brow.

“Princess? Really?” you asked, making him laugh.

“I can do worse too,” he offered and you shook your head, about to leave but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, a surprised yelp escaping your mouth when you found his face way too close to yours, his eyes searching yours for answers that you didn’t possess yet. You felt the urge to draw his ruffled hair away from his forehead. His gaze flickered to your lips and god, he was going to be the death of you.

“No thanks,” you scoffed in answer but then he purposely raised your hand slowly, shifting his hold so he could kiss your knuckles softly, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Your own lips parted in surprise at his actions– he was crossing the line, but–

What line? The question hung in the air as he waited for you to challenge him, to respond to him.

What line, really.

“Is this a challenge?” You dared to ask.

“If you make it to be,” he responded, eagerly waiting for you to make the next move.

And oh, he did not realise that you would never back down from a challenge. You licked your lips, leaning forward and smiling in satisfaction when he started tilting his face, expecting the obvious. You drew closer until you were inches away and when his eyes fluttered shut, you made your move.

You blew lightly at the tip of his nose, earning a shocked sound from him and with an almost childish giggle erupting from your mouth, you backed away and started to go towards the door, looking back to find him flustered but amused. You saluted mockingly, making him laugh before you shut the door.

Oh. You were done for.

next chapter

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[verricherri]

Ashes and After

Chapter 4: Break Me Again (NSFW///MDNI)

A/N: HIIII the next part is hereeeee 🍒 and uhhh… there’s only a couple chapters left, i think 👀 Warnings: don’t hate me for this. i mean it. Masterlist Feedback and reposts are appreciated ☀️

You hadn’t planned on stepping foot back on Abbott land again.

Not after the letter.

Not after the silence that followed it.

Not after driving away with every nerve in your body screaming don’t look back.

But then Royal called.

He didn’t start with pleasantries.

“Fence line’s gone down on the south ridge. I need someone I can trust to fix it.”

You almost said no. Almost reminded him there were a dozen hands on the ranch, none of them yours anymore.

But his voice had been quieter than you remembered, and when he added, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it,” you knew it wasn’t really about the fence.

So you said yes.

Not for him.

Not for Rhett.

For the land.

Because even after everything — the heartbreak, the silence, the kind of absence that never really leaves — you remembered how this place breathed. How the dirt softened after rain. How the wind along the ridge whispered in a language your bones still spoke fluently.

Some things don’t unroot just because you will them to.

—

You didn’t ask who else was working the fence.

You didn’t need to.

You saw him before you even stepped out of your truck — Rhett, leaned against the back of the four-wheeler, shirt clinging to him from sweat, jaw clenched, the posture of a man barely containing whatever storm was churning inside him. A coil of barbed wire sat at his feet, gloves shoved in his back pocket, his head tipped forward like gravity had grown heavier around him.

He looked up once.

Didn’t wave.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t speak.

Neither did you.

You just grabbed your gloves and walked toward the fence line like it hadn’t already cut you once and left the scar to prove it.

—

The work was hot and slow, the kind of punishing task that gave your hands something to do even when your heart was too loud. Every nail took more effort than it should’ve. Every tension rod pulled taut like it was echoing something inside you that had long since snapped.

You worked in silence, the distance between you both too far and too close, until his voice broke through the dust.

“Dad didn’t say you were coming.” You didn’t look up. Just muttered, “He didn’t say you’d be here either.”

A scoff. Sharp. Familiar.

“Of course he didn’t.”

You moved to the next post, ignoring how the barbed wire bit into your gloves.

Then came the punch.

Low. Unprovoked. Meant to sting.

“You always were good at showing up late.”

You froze.

Turned.

“What did you say?” He looked straight at you now, his gaze steady and loaded. “Three years late. Give or take.”

You dropped the hammer. The metal clanged against the post.

“Are we doing this now?” you asked. “I’m not doing anything.” “Right. That’s your specialty.” His jaw tensed. “You’re the one who left.” “And you’re the one who made staying impossible.” “You didn’t even try.” “You didn’t ask me to.”

The heat between you cracked like lightning against dry land.

“You think I didn’t want to?” Rhett hissed. “You think I didn’t watch that goddamn driveway every night like a fool?”

Your chest tightened.

“You think I didn’t want to stay?” you said, your voice shaking. “I did. But I couldn’t — not like that. Not with the silence, the lies, the blood I couldn’t scrub from my hands.” He stepped forward, eyes flashing. “And what the fuck does that mean?” “It means loving you wasn’t safe anymore.”

That landed harder than you meant it to — his shoulders dropped like the wind had been knocked out of him.

But you weren’t done.

“I begged for a reason to stay. Prayed for it. But all I got was quiet nights and too many secrets. And the look you gave me that night — like I was a ghost long before I ever left.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You didn’t let him off the hook.

“You don’t get to be mad I disappeared,” you said, “when you were the one who made me invisible.”

The silence between you felt like a wound, and neither of you moved.

Then, so quietly it almost didn’t land—

“I still dream about you.” You blinked. “What?” He stepped closer. “I dream about you. And I hate waking up.”

Something inside you cracked, and you — always the one to step into pain instead of away from it — crossed the distance between you, shoved him back against the fence post, and kissed him like it still meant something.

His breath hitched.

His hands hesitated, then gripped your waist like he was afraid to let go again.

But you pulled away.

“No,” you whispered. “Not like that. Not unless you mean it.” His lips grazed your neck. “I mean all of it.”

You undid his belt slowly. Deliberately.

“Then prove it.”

You didn’t shed all your clothes. Just enough. Kept the rest on like armor.

Turned around.

Braced yourself against the fence post. Looked back.

“If you’re gonna take it,” you said, “then take it.”

He lined himself up. Pushed in slow.

Not rushed.

Just burn.

You gasped, your hands gripping the wood like it could ground you in a moment that already felt too much.

He thrust — once, then again — deeper, harder, like the ache between you might be undone this way.

His voice caught in his throat. “You feel the same.” You bit your lip. “You don’t.”

He pulled you closer, wrapped his arm around your waist, moved in rhythm like maybe — just maybe — fucking could be a form of forgiveness.

But the truth? It never is.

You broke first.

Your mouth opened on a silent sob.

And when you came, it was with his name on your tongue like a prayer you didn’t believe in anymore.

He finished with a groan, forehead on your shoulder, breath hot and uneven.

You stayed there. Bodies still touching, but hearts a mile apart.

Then you pulled away.

Fixed your jeans.

He adjusted his belt.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t look at you.

Just grabbed the wire spool and walked back toward the truck, like the moment hadn’t just shattered you both from the inside out.

—

The wire buzzed in your ears long after.

You stood there, trembling fingers laced with dust and memory, until the sun dipped lower and the cicadas started singing.

Eventually, you made it back to your truck. He was already gone. Of course he was.

But part of you still noticed how the tools were cleaned and stacked, how the leftover nails were put away, how he hadn’t left a single mess behind.

And somehow, that hurt more than if he had.

—

That night, Rhett sat on the edge of the pasture, a beer in one hand, blood on his knuckles from punching a post that didn’t deserve it.

He didn’t cry.

Didn’t yell.

Just stared at the dirt, trying to remember how to breathe.

Because when you told him he didn’t get to be mad — he realized, for the first time in his life, that he wasn’t.

He was just heartbroken.

Still.

—

Summer, two years before

You sat on the porch swing, Rhett’s head in your lap, his fingers lazily tracing your thigh.

The world was still and slow and soft.

“If I ever lost you,” he whispered, barely audible, “I wouldn’t be able to stop looking.” You kissed the crown of his head and smiled. “Then don’t lose me.”

—

Back in the present, that same porch swing creaked in the breeze.

But you weren’t in it.

Rhett sat alone on the step, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair, guilt a living thing in his chest.

Because you let him touch you.

Let him have you.

And he still hadn’t asked what you gave up for him. Still didn’t know what you lost. Still didn’t know what it cost you to stay.

But now — now he wanted to.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

PREVIOUS///NEXT

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[fear-is-truth]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 . . . hc .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons﹒frat boy! kyle spencer﹒smut﹒

boyfriend!kyle who has a thing for soft, quick nose kisses. he’ll lean in and nuzzle his nose against yours when you’re talking, grinning every time you scrunch up your face in response. then kiss the tip of your nose.

boyfriend!kyle who always rests his head in your lap when he’s tired, completely melting when you stroke his blonde curls.

boyfriend!kyle who shoves your hands into his coat pockets when it’s freezing outside, mumbling, “just keep them there, okay?”

boyfriend!kyle who helps you bake christmas cookies. he’ll sneak a spoonful of frosting, smear some on your cheek, and kiss it off you.

boyfriend!kyle who has been quietly saving up for something he knows you’d love—a vintage record player, a necklace you pointed out once, or concert tickets to your favourite artist.

boyfriend!kyle who loves lazy weekend mornings where you’re both too comfy to get out of bed. he’ll pull you closer, nuzzling into your neck and mumbling, “five more minutes babyyy,” even though it’s already been an hour.

boyfriend!kyle who doesn’t even question it when you start stealing his varsity jacket. he loves seeing you wear it, especially when it’s way too big on you.

boyfriend!kyle who loves sitting with you by the window during storms, wrapping a blanket around the both of you as the rain pours. he’ll trace random patterns on your hand while you pick raindrops on the glass and race them.

boyfriend!kyle who’s the guy who stays sober enough to keep an eye on you and your drink.

boyfriend!kyle who insists on walking you back to your dorm or driving you home after a late night out, no matter how tired he is. “text me when you’re safe” isn’t enough for him—he wants to be the one ensuring it.

boyfriend!kyle who always notices when you’re upset, even if you don’t say anything. he’ll quietly sit with you, hold your hand or rub circles on your back until you’re ready to talk.

boyfriend!kyle who always makes time to help you with random things like carrying groceries, fixing your bike, or figuring out your printer.

boyfriend!kyle who makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you (definitely includes toto)

boyfriend!kyle who takes his studies seriously. he’d spread out his notes and flashcards to help you prep for exams, coming up with goofy mnemonics to make things easier.

boyfriend!kyle who lets you sit on his lap while he plays video games.

boyfriend!kyle who gives the best hugs, warm and firm, like he’s trying to absorb all your stress. he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder and mumble “i love you”.

boyfriend!kyle who takes you to the mall on random weekends just so you can pet the puppies in the pet store. he watches you with the softest smile while a little golden retriever climbs into your lap.

boyfriend!kyle who tries to learn your favorite songs on the guitar just to surprise you.

boyfriend!kyle who holds your face in both hands when he kisses you, lips always lingering and reluctant to part from yours. because you’re the most precious thing in his world.

boyfriend!kyle who adores your little quirks and habit’s, like the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love or the way you always tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re focused.

boyfriend!kyle who insists on holding your shopping bags, even if it’s just one tiny bag.

boyfriend!kyle who sneaks kisses on your temple during movie nights, and holds your hand under the blanket.

boyfriend!kyle who is extra careful about your comfort and boundaries. if you ever seem unsure or uncomfortable, he’ll stop everything immediately. (consent king)

boyfriend!kyle who likes eye contact and lacing your fingers together during soft sex.

boyfriend!kyle who loves it when you tug on his hair during sex, the moans that escape him give him away every time.

boyfriend!kyle who fucks you into the mattress during rough sex.

boyfriend!kyle who loves going down on you.

boyfriend!kyle who is so mindful of your well-being, constantly asking if you feel okay physically, mentally and emotionally.

boyfriend!kyle who always has heartfelt praises for you afterward to make sure you know how much he appreciates you.

boyfriend!kyle who massages your shoulders or back if you’re sore, knowing exactly how to relieve the tension.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[mononijikayu]

non ho l’eta — nanami kento.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.” He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU!;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Safe For Work (SFW), Age Difference (Reader is in early 20s, Nanami is in late 30s), Unrequited Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Emotional Hurt, Comfort, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Loss, Letting Go, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Loneliness, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Age Gap;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i told myself this was going to be only five thousand words but it ends up being so long. i'm really sorry. you've been dealing with how long this is. but i love this a lot. i wrote it listening to the song with the same title as this fic and just as much, i think about that manga i read years ago, after the rain. its a good story and the ending, where the ml lets the fl lead go because he cares about her youth - it was great. i hope you like it anyway. thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

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A NEW BEGINNING MUST ALWAYS COME YOU THINK. As you settle into the quiet, unfamiliar countryside, the weight of the loss still clings to you. The days are filled with the sounds of nature—birds chirping, the rustle of leaves—but they feel muted compared to the life you left behind. The house is smaller, the town quieter, and everything around you seems to move at a slower pace. But inside, the grief swirls like a storm, refusing to be tamed by the peaceful surroundings.

Your beloved brother Yuuji, always so full of energy, has been quieter since the move. He’s trying to be strong, to put on a brave face for you, but you can see the sadness in his eyes. It was obvious, with how his smile never reaching his eyes like it usually does.

And it felt odd, it felt weird. You weren’t used to your brother being in this. And it hurts you. But you know that you didn’t know what to do to comfort him. You don’t want to drive him away by speaking to him about it. And you don’t want to hurt him by making him feel like you were overbearing either. 

Your new house was still quiet. And you weren’t used to that either. Grandpa Wasuke’s voice would be ringing out through the house today, telling you both to go and start washing up so you could eat dinner. Or sometimes when you guys got home late because of sports practice, he would be too loud to scold you because you both forget to tell him that you were going home late and making him worried. 

You miss your grandfather. And you were sure of Yuuji’s feelings being the same too. The silence was too loud, even between you and your brother. You wished it wasn’t. Because you were all you had now. One evening, as you both sit on the porch, the sky painted in the soft hues of sunset, Yuji breaks the silence.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he begins, his voice softer than usual. “Being here, without him."

"Yeah." You mumble under your breath. "It...it is."

Your brother lets out a soft sigh. "I thought moving away would help, but...”

He trails off, staring at the horizon, his usual spark dimmed by the weight of unimaginable grief. You nod, understanding exactly what he means. The move was supposed to be a new beginning, but it feels more like an escape that didn’t quite work. And yet, you were stuck. And so was he too.

“I miss him so much, you know?” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “I thought...maybe if we came here, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But everything just reminds me of him. Even...even the silence......"

Yuuji looks at you, his lipspursed in a line. "I....I know."

"Grandpa’s voice is not here anymore and not hearing it anymore is just….” You feel the tears threatening to fall.

Yuuji turns to you, his expression a mix of sadness and determination. “We’ve still got each other. At least there’s that, sis.” he says, his hand reaching out to rest on yours. “And we’ll get through this. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but...we will.”

His words are simple, but they carry a weight of hope that you cling to. The grief might not vanish with a change of scenery, but at least you have Yuji by your side. And that, somehow, makes the pain a little more bearable.

The new town was picturesque—a small, idyllic place with rolling fields, charming cottages, and a slower pace of life that starkly contrasted with the frenetic energy of the city you had left behind. The local college, with its ivy-covered walls and quaint architecture, offered a promise of new beginnings and opportunities. Yet, beneath the serene surface, both you and Yuuji felt an underlying emptiness that was impossible to ignore.

As you and Yuuji navigated your first weeks at college, you found yourselves struggling to adapt to the quieter, more insular environment. The once-familiar hum of city life, with its constant activity and vibrant energy, was replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. The silence of the countryside, while initially soothing, soon became a reminder of the profound solitude you both felt.

The college itself was a small, close-knit community, where everyone seemed to know each other. The interactions were friendly and the atmosphere warm, but the sense of being an outsider in this new world was palpable. The academic workload was manageable, but your focus was often fragmented by the persistent ache of grief. Classes that once might have been engaging felt distant and abstract, overshadowed by the weight of your personal loss.

Every corner of the town seemed to hold echoes of the life you had left behind. The quaint coffee shop that you frequented, with its rustic charm and homemade pastries, became a bittersweet reminder of the comfort you once had. The local park, with its winding paths and serene pond, offered moments of reflection but also highlighted the contrast between the peaceful surroundings and the turmoil within.

The routine of daily life was a constant struggle between embracing the new and mourning the past. Each day, you and Yuuji tried to immerse yourselves in your studies and social activities, hoping to find distraction and connection. Yet, despite your best efforts, the shadows of grief seemed to follow you, making it difficult to engage fully with the present.

Yuuji’s energy began to return with the arrival of new friends. He introduced you to them one day—Kugisaki Nobara, a fiery and confident girl with a sharp tongue, and Fushiguro Megumi, a quiet and serious boy who seemed to understand more than he let on. You watched as your brother slowly began to resemble his old self, the grief loosening its grip on him with each laugh he shared with them, each story he told. 

There was a joy in his voice that you hadn’t heard in months, a tenderness in the way he spoke about his new friends, and it warmed your heart to see him healing. You felt truly happy for him—how could you not? He deserved this chance to move forward, to find light in the darkness.

And yet, a small, stubborn pain lodged itself in your chest, growing a little each day. You couldn’t help but notice the way you were falling behind. No matter how much you tried, the sorrow still clung to you, as if you were trapped in a place where time stood still, unable to reach the same place of healing that Yuji had found.

You tried to join in, to share in his happiness, but it felt like you were on the outside looking in, a spectator in your own life. The laughter that once came so easily to you now felt forced, and every smile was tinged with a sadness you couldn’t shake.

Yuuji didn’t notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how to help. He was so caught up in his new friendships, in the joy of finally finding some semblance of normalcy, that your struggles seemed to fade into the background. You didn’t blame him for it; you were glad he had found something to hold onto. But the loneliness was there, a constant reminder that while he was moving forward, you were still stuck in the past, unable to move on.

A lot of this was on you—that much you were painfully aware of. Yuuji had nothing to do with your unhappiness; he had been nothing but supportive, trying his best to bring some light back into your life. No, it was you who clung to the sorrow, who let it seep into every corner of your being until it became a part of you. You were the one at fault, wallowing in the pain because it felt like the only way to hold on to the past.

Maybe, in some twisted way, you were punishing yourself. The guilt gnawed at you, whispering that you hadn’t been a good enough granddaughter, that you had failed him in some way. And the thought of moving on, of letting go of the grief, felt like a betrayal. Because if you forgot, if you let the pain fade, what would be left of your grandfather? Wouldn’t that mean he didn’t exist anymore? 

You couldn’t bear the thought. He was all you and Yuuji had, the one who had raised you, who had been your anchor in a world that often felt too chaotic to navigate alone. Clinging to him, to the pain, to the loneliness he had left behind—it felt like the only way to keep him close, to make sure he wasn’t forgotten. 

You knew it wasn’t healthy, that it was holding you back while Yuuji was moving forward. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not when it felt like losing him all over again. So you held on, hoping that by keeping the pain alive, you could keep a part of him with you, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the process.

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YOU REALIZED THAT YOU WERE A NIGHT OWL. Because the night felt like a relief. Even if it was too loud, the night was kinder than the day. It was two sides of the coin, a mercy and a pain still, you think. The silence of the countryside was both a comfort and a torment.

The absence of city noise left space for your thoughts to swirl, allowing the grief to settle in more deeply. The memories of your grandfather, so vivid and cherished, felt both near and painfully out of reach, teasing you with their closeness yet reminding you of the distance that now separated you.

The quiet of the countryside, which had once promised peace, now seemed to amplify the emptiness left by his passing. During the day, you could distract yourself with the mundane tasks of settling into a new home, but when night fell, the stillness felt oppressive, as if the world had stopped moving just to remind you of what you’d lost.

It was a strange paradox—the night brought a certain relief, a break from the pretense of normalcy that the day demanded, but it also intensified the ache within you. The darkness was both a sanctuary and a prison, offering solace in its quiet yet refusing to let you escape the sorrow that lay just beneath the surface. In the night, you could almost feel him there, his presence lingering in the shadows, but it was a comfort tinged with the sharp pain of knowing he was gone.

The countryside, with its vast, empty spaces and endless quiet, had a way of magnifying your loneliness. What was supposed to be a balm for your grief had instead become a mirror, reflecting the void his absence had created in your life. And so, as you lay in bed, staring into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel that the night, though kinder in some ways, also held a cruelty of its own—one that forced you to confront the depth of your loss in the silence that surrounded you.

During the day, you tried to lose yourself in the routine of university life, hoping that the distraction would somehow ease the ache. But even the familiar rhythm of lectures and assignments couldn’t drown out the emptiness that had settled within you. It was in one of these moments, as you sat quietly in the college library, as he approached you after the lecture, his usual composed expression softened by concern.

“May I ask you something?” he said, his voice low and measured. There was no judgment in his tone, only a gentle curiosity that made you nod in response.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his gaze steady on yours. “Why are you still in university?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you had given much thought to—not really. You had simply kept going, attending classes, completing assignments, because that’s what you were supposed to do. But now, confronted by professor Nanami Kento’s calm and earnest inquiry, you find yourself struggling to answer.

You hesitated, searching for words that didn’t come easily. “I don’t know, sensei.” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess... It's what I’ve always done. For relief….But I just….I don’t….”

Nanami nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “But is it what you want? To be here?” he asked, his tone gentle but insistent. “Or are you here because it’s easier to keep going than to stop and face what you’re really feeling?”

The honesty in his words cut through the numbness that had settled over you. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze as the truth of his question sank in. Why were you still here? Was it because you truly wanted to be, or because it was easier to bury yourself in routine than to confront the grief that was still so raw and overwhelming?

“I don’t know, sensei.” you repeated, your voice trembling now. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Nanami didn’t push you for more. Instead, he simply stood there, offering his presence as a quiet support. “It’s okay not to know anything.” he said after a moment. “It’s okay to take time to figure it out. But don’t be afraid to ask yourself these questions. Don’t be afraid to face what’s really going on inside.”

His words lingered with you long after he had left, echoing in the silence of your room that night. For the first time, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to pause, to question, to not have all the answers right away. Maybe it was okay to admit that you were still hurting, still lost, and that you didn’t have to have it all figured out just yet.

From what you remember, the first person to truly notice your pain was your professor in Philosophy—Nanami Kento. He was always composed, with a stern exterior that didn’t betray much emotion, but there was a kindness in his eyes that softened whenever he looked at you and Yuuji. Perhaps it was because he understood, on some level, what it was like to carry the burden of loss.

Nanami–sensei never pried, never asked questions that would force you to confront what you weren’t ready to face. But there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet understanding that made you feel seen, even in your darkest moments. He didn’t offer empty words of comfort or try to tell you that things would get better with time. Instead, he acknowledged your pain with a simple nod or a gentle word, as if to say that it was okay to feel what you were feeling.

You often caught him watching you during lectures, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if he was trying to assess how you were holding up. He’d ask you how you were doing in a way that suggested he wasn’t just asking about your academic performance but about you as a person, as someone who was grieving. His presence was steady, a quiet anchor in the storm of emotions you were struggling to navigate.

In those moments, you felt a strange sense of comfort. Nanami didn’t try to fix you, didn’t push you to move on before you were ready. He simply let you exist in your pain, offering a silent understanding that you weren’t alone in it. And though it didn’t make the nights any easier or the grief any less suffocating, it was a small comfort to know that someone else understood, that someone else had been there too.

Somehow, it was easy to see in his eyes that he had gone through something similar, and that pained him in some way. And he hated that someone were to be in a position akin to yours, in a similar conundrum so young as you were.  He took it upon himself to make sure you were both doing okay, often checking in on you, offering guidance, and making sure that neither of you felt alone.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the office window, illuminating the neat rows of books and papers that lined Nanami’s desk. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room as you sat across from him, feeling the weight of your emotions as you tried to make sense of your new life.

“Nanami–sensei.” you began, your voice soft but determined, “I’ve noticed you’ve been going out of your way to check in on me. I appreciate it, really, but I can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. You seem to understand what we’re going through in a way that’s more than just professional.”

Nanami looked up from his papers, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of sadness. He leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before responding. “It’s not easy to see young people struggling with grief and loss. It brings back memories of my own experiences, of times when I had to navigate similar challenges.”

You frowned slightly, sensing the depth of his feelings. “You’ve been through something like this yourself?”

Nanami nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of past pain. “Yes. I’ve had my share of losses, and while each experience is unique, it is normal. Seeing you in such heavy burdens….I must help in that. It is my duty.”

A moment of silence passed between you, the gravity of his words settling over the room. You could see the empathy in his warm brown eyes, a deep well of understanding that went beyond mere sympathy. 

“I didn’t realize you had experienced something like this, sensei.” you said quietly. “It’s comforting to know that you understand, but it’s also hard to see how much it affects you. I’m so sorry about what happened to you, sensei.”

Nanami’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Please don’t worry. I don’t mind. And I try to keep my personal experiences separate from my role as a teacher, but sometimes it’s inevitable. I can’t help but empathize deeply with students who are struggling. If it helps you, then maybe it would make it easier on you.”

You nodded, appreciating the honesty and vulnerability he was showing. “It’s been hard for us to adjust, with everything that’s happened. I understand, sensei. But….. Your support has made a difference, even if we haven’t always known how to express it.”

Nanami offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to make sure you and Yuuji know that you’re not alone in this. Sometimes, just knowing that someone cares and is willing to listen can make a difference.”

There was a sense of mutual understanding in the room, a connection forged through shared experiences and empathy. The conversation had brought a sense of clarity, revealing the depth of Nanami’s compassion and the personal struggles he had faced.

“You’ve been a source of support and I want to thank you for that.” you said, feeling a sense of gratitude. “It’s good to know that...we have someone. It's...good. That I...I have someone, sensei.”

Nanami’s expression was one of gentle encouragement. “You’re welcome. If you ever need someone to talk to or guidance as you navigate this transition, don’t hesitate to reach out. My door is always open.”

At first, it was just a relief to have someone looking out for you, someone who cared enough to notice the cracks in your armor. But as time went on, you found yourself longing for more of his attention, craving the comfort he provided. His presence was steady, reassuring, a shining new light that gave you warmth in the cold uncertainty of your new life.

Every glance, every word of encouragement, every moment spent with him, stirred something deep within you. You began to realize that it wasn’t just gratitude or respect that you felt for him. It was something more, something that made your heart race and your thoughts linger on him long after he had gone. You were falling in love with Nanami Kento, and as frightening as it was to acknowledge, it was also something you could no longer deny.

The realization that you were in love with Nanami Kento crept up on you slowly, like the dawn breaking over the quiet countryside. At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that it was just a fleeting infatuation born out of your need for comfort in a difficult time. But the more you tried to suppress those feelings, the stronger they became.

It started with the way your heart would skip a beat when he entered the room, the way your eyes would search for him in a crowd, hoping for just a brief moment of connection. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, cherishing the conversations you shared, no matter how brief. His calm demeanor, his quiet strength, the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask too many questions—it all drew you in, making you feel safe in a world that had felt so unstable for so long.

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for his presence, even when he wasn’t around. You would replay your interactions in your mind, searching for hidden meanings in his words, wondering if he felt even a fraction of what you were feeling. The thought of being in love with him was both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear.

You knew it was risky, that opening your heart to someone else meant making yourself vulnerable again, something you weren’t sure you were ready for. But the warmth you felt in Nanami’s presence, the way he made you feel like you weren’t alone in your pain, was something you couldn’t ignore. And so, despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, you allowed yourself to embrace the feelings growing inside you, no longer able to deny the truth: you were in love with Nanami Kento.

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IT FELT WRONG TO FEEL GENUINE FEELINGS FOR HIM. But you just can't help yourself. You had found something warm in your life for the first time in a long time. And you wanted to hold onto theat feeling, even just for a little while.

You found yourself looking forward to Nanami's lectures with a new sense of anticipation, one that went beyond the academic content. It wasn't just about the subject matter or the intellectual challenge; it was the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a world that often felt tumultuous.

His voice, calm and measured, had a soothing quality that cut through the noise of your internal struggles, providing a sense of stability that was both comforting and invigorating. It felt like the sun in the morning sky, greeting you with all the warmth it could offer.

Every lecture became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the outside world faded away and all that remained was the rhythmic cadence of his speech and the depth of his insights. His voice had a way of wrapping around you like a soft blanket, offering warmth and clarity in moments of confusion. It was as if he spoke directly to your soul, providing the reassurance you craved without even realizing it.

You began to pay closer attention to the little details of his presence, each one becoming a part of the mosaic of your growing affection. You noticed how he always carried a thermos of coffee, a small but meaningful ritual that seemed to add a personal touch to his professional demeanor. It was a simple thing, but it spoke to a side of him that was both grounded and familiar, like a quiet reflection of his everyday life.

The way he adjusted his glasses when he was deep in thought fascinated you. It was a small, habitual gesture that seemed to signal his immersion in the subject, his focus and dedication to his work. In those moments, when he was lost in contemplation, you saw a different side of him—one that was entirely absorbed in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding. It was a reminder of his depth, his passion for what he did, and it drew you in further.

And then there were the rare but genuine smiles that occasionally graced his lips. These smiles were not frequent, but when they appeared, they were like fleeting glimpses of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They were unguarded and sincere, revealing a side of him that was warm and approachable. These moments were precious to you, a sign that beneath his composed exterior, there was a person who experienced joy and kindness in the midst of his professional life.

Each detail, each nuance of his behavior, seemed to create a rich tapestry that captivated you. The combination of his voice, his habits, and his rare smiles painted a portrait of someone who was both steadfast and deeply human. As you became more attuned to these subtleties, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn't anticipated. The more you observed, the more you appreciated the intricate layers of his character, each one adding depth to your feelings and making it even harder to keep your emotions in check.

In the quiet moments between lectures, when you would reflect on these details, you felt a growing sense of connection to him. It was as if the little things he did were speaking directly to your heart, creating a bond that was both profound and fragile. And with each passing day, the realization that you were falling for him became more undeniable, a truth that both comforted and challenged you as you navigated the complexities of your emotions.

Each day with the distance, your heart kept making a way towards Nanami–sensei, slowly weaving themselves into the fabric of your life in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You found yourself looking forward to his classes with an eagerness that surprised you, your thoughts consumed by the anticipation of seeing him, hearing his voice, and perhaps catching one of those brief, meaningful glances that seemed to hold a world of unspoken understanding.

Your interactions with him took on a new significance. Every exchange, no matter how small, became a moment to savor. You began to notice the little things about him—the way he would adjust his tie with meticulous precision, the way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the subtle way his lips would curve into a faint smile when you managed to make him laugh. These details became precious to you, feeding the growing affection in your heart.

But with that growing affection came a gnawing anxiety. You were all too aware of the delicate nature of your feelings, and the fear of rejection loomed large in your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if your admiration was one-sided, a product of your own need for comfort and connection? The thought of losing the quiet understanding and support he offered terrified you, and so you kept your feelings hidden, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to keep your emotions in check, they found ways to surface. You noticed that you began to linger after class, hoping for a few extra moments with him. You found yourself volunteering for tasks you knew would require his guidance, just to have an excuse to be near him. And when he asked you how you were doing, his concern evident in his voice, you felt a pang of longing so intense it nearly took your breath away.

And then, one afternoon, as you were gathering your things after class, Nanami Kento and you bumped into each other. You blinked as you stopped. When you realized who he was, you gasped and bowed. You started to apologize to him. There was a hesitation in his movements, an uncharacteristic uncertainty that made your heart race. 

“I’m so sorry, Nanami-sensei. I didn’t mean it—” you stammered, your voice trembling with the weight of unsaid words. The apology slipped out before you could fully process it, driven by a fear that you had somehow crossed a line, exposing too much of yourself.

Nanami’s expression remained calm, his eyes studying you with an unreadable intensity. For a moment, you feared that you had made things awkward, that the fragile connection between you might shatter under the pressure of your emotions.

But then, with a gentleness that both surprised and reassured you, he spoke. “May I walk you to your next class?” His voice was low and steady, grounding you in the moment. But there was something else in his tone, a subtle shift that hinted at a deeper concern, a connection that went beyond the formal boundaries of teacher and student.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. The offer was simple, yet the way he framed it made it feel like more—a gesture of care, a quiet acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you.

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded, grateful for the reprieve. Together, you fell into step, the silence between you heavy with unsaid thoughts, yet comforting in its familiarity. 

As you walked, you couldn’t help but wonder if Nanami sensed the turmoil within you, if he understood the depth of what you had tried to keep hidden. And as the campus buzzed quietly around you, the world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in a moment suspended in time.

Finally, he spoke, his voice breaking the silence with a gentleness that caught you off guard. “You seem... different lately.” he said, his words careful, as if he was treading on fragile ground. “Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice was genuine, and it took everything in you to hold back the flood of emotions that his words triggered. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and confess the feelings that had been building inside you for so long. But the fear held you back, kept your words locked away.

“I’m okay, sensei.” you managed to say, though your voice wavered with the effort of holding back. “It’s just... a lot to adjust to, I guess.”

He nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a question left unasked, and you wondered if he knew—if he could see the turmoil in your heart.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Whatever it is you’re going through... you can talk to me.”

His words were a lifeline, and for a moment, you were tempted to grab hold, to let yourself be vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be since your grandfather’s passing. But the fear of what might happen if you did—if you let him see how deeply you had fallen for him—kept you silent.

Instead, you offered him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Nanami-sensei. That means a lot.”

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he looked away, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. But even as the silence returned, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you. 

Yuuji, ever the perceptive brother, began to pick up on the changes in you with his usual blend of curiosity and teasing. He’d comment on your newfound enthusiasm for school, his tone lighthearted and playful.

“Wow, someone’s really getting into their classes these days.” he’d say, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Are you trying to impress a certain someone?”

But behind his teasing, there was always a hint of concern in his eyes. He knew you well enough to sense when something was amiss, even if you were trying your best to mask it. The bond between you and Yuuji has always been strong, built on shared experiences and mutual support. Now, with only the two of you facing the world, his worry for you was palpable.

You were acutely aware of his concern, but discussing your feelings for Nanami–sensei felt like navigating a minefield. It was a topic too delicate, too intricate to lay bare. The emotions you were grappling with were still forming, shifting and evolving in ways you couldn’t fully articulate. The fear of misunderstanding, the potential for things to become awkward or strained, made it almost impossible to open up to Yuuji about it.

So you chose to keep your feelings close, wrapped in the quiet spaces of your heart. Whenever Yuuji’s concern for you surfaced, you would offer a reassuring smile and change the subject, deflecting his probing questions with practiced ease. 

“Just trying to find my footing, bro.” you’d say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “You know how it is, trying to make the most of a new start.”

“You sure?” He asks you, a warm concern in his eyes. 

You smiled at him. “I do. I’m fine. Really.”

Yuuji would accept your evasions with a nod, his worry temporarily set aside as he shifted his focus to lighter matters. But you could see the question in his eyes, the unspoken concern that lingered even as he attempted to mask it with humor. 

In your heart, you appreciated his concern more than you could express. But the feelings you had for Nanami remained a private struggle, something you needed to work through on your own before you could even begin to share it with anyone, even Yuuji. For now, you hold onto the fragile hope that, in time, you would find a way to navigate your emotions, to understand them and perhaps, one day, to share them without fear.

As you continued to go through your days, the quiet moments with Nanami remained a solace and a source of intense longing. His presence in your life was a beacon, guiding you through the uncertainty of your new surroundings. And though you struggled with the weight of your feelings, you found a measure of comfort in knowing that he was there, a constant, reassuring presence in the midst of the turmoil.

Your interactions with Nanami–sensei became the highlights of your day. You’d catch his gaze during class, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. There were times when he’d linger after class, asking if you and Yuuji were settling in okay, if you needed anything. His concern felt genuine, and every time he spoke to you, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

But with that warmth came uncertainty. Nanami was your sensei, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a protector for you and your brother. The lines between student and teacher, between gratitude and affection, were blurring in ways that scared you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he could ever see you as anything more than just a student or a young person in need of guidance.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn to him more and more, despite your best efforts to keep your emotions in check. There were moments when you thought you caught something in his eyes, a softness that made you wonder if he might feel something too. But those moments were fleeting, gone before you could fully grasp them.

Still, the longing grew, becoming an ache that you couldn’t ignore. You yearned for more than just his care and concern; you wanted to be closer to him, to know him beyond the walls of the classroom. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile bond you had with him, kept you silent.

The conflict within you was a constant companion, as you tried to navigate your feelings while maintaining the façade of normalcy. You knew that falling in love with Nanami was risky, that it could lead to heartache, but your heart seemed to have a mind of its own, pushing you toward him despite the potential consequences.

You lingered in the classroom long after the other students had left, your movements slow and deliberate as you packed your bag. The quiet of the room was comforting, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. Yuuji had already gone off to his club activities, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and with Nanami.

As you reached for your bag, you felt a pair of eyes on you, an almost tangible weight that drew your gaze. Glancing up, you saw Nanami watching you from his desk, his expression thoughtful, a subtle crease forming between his brows.

His eyes, usually so composed and distant, now held a depth that seemed to reflect his internal contemplation. The warmth of his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you felt like it had narrowed to just the two of you.

You could feel the pull of his attention, the way it lingered on you with a quiet intensity. It was as if he was searching for something, trying to understand a part of you that you hadn’t yet revealed. The weight of his gaze was both comforting and unnerving, a silent conversation that spoke volumes.

Trying to steady yourself, you offered him a tentative smile, hoping it would convey the reassurance you struggled to articulate. But his eyes remained fixed on you, and you wondered what thoughts were running through his mind.

“You’re still here this late.” he said, his voice gentle in the stillness. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your feelings into words. “Yeah, I just… needed a moment to myself.”

Nanami nodded, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against the desk beside you, his arms crossed. Despite his composed demeanor, there was something warm in his gaze, something that made your heart flutter.

“It’s been a lot to adjust to, hasn’t it?” he said, his voice low and steady. “A new town, new school, after everything that’s happened.”

You looked down, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag. “Yeah, it has. But… having you here has helped. More than you know, sensei.”

There was a pause, and when you dared to look up, you saw that his expression had softened even more. The usual sternness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a gentleness that made your breath catch.

“I’m glad I could help you.” Nanami replied quietly. He uncrossed his arms, his hand almost reaching out to you before he stopped himself, letting it fall to his side. “You have been through a lot. It’s only natural to need support.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he spoke, the concern in his voice—it was all too much, and yet not enough. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his presence meant to you, how much you looked forward to these moments alone with him. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nanami Kento seemed to sense your inner turmoil. He stepped a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “If there’s anything you need, anything at all, you know you can come to me, right?”

The sincerity in his voice, the closeness of his presence—it made something inside you ache. You wanted so badly to close the distance between you, to feel his arms around you, to find comfort in his embrace. But you knew you couldn’t. Not yet.

“I know, sensei.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiled then, a small, rare smile that sent warmth flooding through you. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… take care of yourself. And your brother Yuuji, too. He seems like a good young man too.”

You nodded again, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. He was still watching you, that same gentle look in his eyes, and you knew then that your feelings were undeniable.

As you walked out of the classroom, your heart felt heavier with the weight of your unspoken emotions, but there was also a small, flickering hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Nanami could feel the same way.

But even then, you were acutely aware of your limitations and the vast knowledge gap that existed between you and Nanami. He was older, more experienced, a man who had seen and done so much more than you could even imagine. It wasn’t just his age or his wisdom that set him apart—it was the way he carried himself, with a quiet confidence and a sense of purpose that you found both admirable and intimidating.

As much as you were drawn to him, a part of you couldn’t help but doubt whether your feelings could ever be returned. You were still so young, barely stepping into adulthood, while Nanami had long since found his place in the world. What could someone like him possibly see in you? The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a constant reminder of the distance between you.

And then there was the fear—the fear that he might not like you in the way you hoped. He was kind to you, yes, and he looked out for you and Yuuji with a care that went beyond mere duty. But did that kindness stem from affection, or was it simply his nature to protect those who needed it? You didn’t know, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

The truth was, you couldn’t see how he would ever reciprocate your feelings. He was your professor, a mentor figure, someone who had taken on the role of a guardian in your life. To him, you were just a student, someone who needed guidance and support, not a romantic partner. And yet, despite all your doubts and fears, you couldn’t stop the way your heart leapt whenever you were near him.

The rational part of you tried to suppress those feelings, to remind yourself of the unlikelihood of anything ever happening between you. But the heart has a way of ignoring logic, and yours had latched onto Nanami in a way that was becoming impossible to ignore. You were in love with him, even if you couldn’t say it aloud, even if you didn’t think he could ever feel the same way.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind polite smiles and carefully chosen words. It was safer that way, less painful than risking rejection. But even as you tried to push your emotions aside, you knew that they were there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest opportunity to break free.

After a particularly long day of classes, you and Yuuji walked home together under the fading light of the setting sun. His friends were going to be busy tonight, so you were able to go home together. He insisted to help you with your school bag, but you kept insisting that it was fine. Yet, he was your older brother (by four minutes) and had pulled that card and carried your bag for you anyway.  

The countryside was quiet, the only sounds being the crunch of gravel beneath your shoes and the distant chirping of crickets. Yuuji had been unusually quiet, and you could feel his eyes on you every now and then, as if he was trying to gauge something. Finally, as you neared your home, he spoke up.

"Hey, you’ve been acting kinda different lately." Yuuji said, his tone light but tinged with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You glanced at him, caught off guard by his sudden observation. "Different? What do you mean?"

Yuuji shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don’t know. You just seem… I don’t know, distracted? Like your mind’s somewhere else. I noticed you’ve been staying late at school a lot too."

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. "It’s nothing, really. Just trying to keep up with everything, I guess."

But Yuuji wasn’t so easily convinced. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "It’s more than that, isn’t it? You know you can talk to me, right? We’re in this together."

There was no escaping it now. You sighed, knowing that Yuuji wasn’t going to let this go. "It’s just… there’s a lot on my mind. And yeah, I’ve been thinking about someone."

Yuuji raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Someone? Like who?"

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. Finally, you admitted, "It’s Nanami-sensei."

Yuuji blinked, processing this information. "Nanami-sensei? Our professor Nanami? Who’s like… way older than you?"

You winced at the bluntness of his words. "Yeah, I know. It’s not exactly… ideal."

Yuuji softened, realizing that this was something you were struggling with. "Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… didn’t expect it, that’s all. I mean, he’s a good guy, but… you really like him, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety at finally saying it out loud. "I do. But it’s complicated, Yuuji. He’s older....and I don’t even know if he’d ever see me that way....I doubt it. I feel like I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. And it’s not…It’s not right. There’s so much wrong with it. I know.”

Yuuji frowned, deep in thought. "That’s a tough spot to be in. But you know, Nanami-sensei seems to care about you a lot. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re okay. Maybe there’s more there than you think."

You shook your head, the doubts creeping back in. "Or maybe he’s just being kind because he knows we’ve been through a lot. It’s not like he’d ever look at me the way I look at him. It’s….It’s wrong.”

Yuuji placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, it doesn’t mean you’re not worth it. You deserve to feel some happiness. Even if you never say it to him. Even if you don’t act on it, it’s how you feel. Wrong or right, it’s still human feelings, isn’t it?”

“I just… What should I do? It’s going to be bad, Yuuji. I don’t want to do things that would be bad for me and especially for Nanami-sensei. Over my childish feelings.”

Yuuji’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a mix of empathy and determination. “Listen, it’s not about being childish. Feelings are complicated and real, and they don’t just go away because we want them to. What matters is how you handle them.”

He paused, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is to take things one step at a time. Figure out what’s best without rushing or putting yourself in a difficult position."

You listened, trying to absorb his words. They offered a sense of perspective, a reminder that navigating your feelings didn’t have to be an all-or-nothing endeavor. Yuuji’s encouragement made you feel less isolated in your struggle, less like you were facing this alone.

“Thanks, bro.” you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of both gratitude and the lingering uncertainty. “I guess I just need to give myself a bit more grace, and maybe, take a step back to really understand what’s best.”

Yuuji nodded, a reassuring smile on his face. “Exactly. Give yourself the space to figure things out, and don’t be too hard on yourself. Emotions are messy, and that’s okay, hm?”

You looked at him, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Yuuji. I really needed to hear that."

He grinned, giving you a playful nudge. "What are brothers for? Besides, I kinda want to see how this turns out."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. For now, the future was still uncertain, but at least you knew you had Yuuji by your side, no matter what happened next. And maybe, he was all you needed. Because at the end of the day, you know how it will all work out. How it will all end. But you let yourself dream anyway. 

You were idealistic, often finding yourself lost in daydreams where you would gather the courage to approach Nanami. In those fantasies, you imagined asking him for patience, telling him that one day, when the time was right, you would be ready to offer your love completely. You pictured yourself standing before him, your heart in your hands, promising that with time, you could bridge the gap between your worlds.

But deep down, you knew this was nothing more than romantic idealism—a longing to experience a love that felt as profound as the feelings you harbored for him. The desire to be seen, to be cherished by someone as steadfast and admirable as Nanami Kento, was powerful, but it was also grounded in a reality you couldn’t ignore.

As much as you wanted to believe that your love could transcend the differences between you, there was a part of you that understood the truth. You were too young, too inexperienced, and no matter how much you grew, there would always be a gap that time alone couldn’t close. Nanami–sensei wasn’t just older—he was wiser, more grounded, and had already lived through phases of life that you had yet to experience.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that he likely wouldn’t want to love someone younger, someone who was still finding their place in the world. His kindness toward you, his care and concern, came from a place of responsibility, not from the kind of romantic interest you wished for. You knew that he saw you as a student, maybe even as someone who needed guidance, but not as an equal partner in love.

This understanding brought with it a quiet, bittersweet resignation. You loved Nanami, perhaps more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but you knew that he wasn’t the one for you. The future you imagined, where you and Nanami could be together, was a beautiful dream, but it was just that—a dream.

As much as it hurt to admit, you knew you had to let go of that dream, to accept that some things, no matter how deeply you wished for them, weren’t meant to be.

The days that followed were a mix of emotions—moments where you felt determined to move on, followed by others where your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But as time passed, reality became harder to ignore, and you found yourself slowly coming to terms with the truth.

You still admired Nanami–sensei, still cared for him deeply, but you began to see him in a different light. Instead of focusing on the impossible, you tried to appreciate what you did have—a mentor who genuinely cared for your well-being, someone who had guided you through a difficult period of your life. It wasn’t the romantic love you had dreamed of, but it was something valuable, something that had shaped you in ways you hadn’t fully understood before.

In your quieter moments, when you were alone with your thoughts, you allowed yourself to grieve the loss of that dream. It was painful to let go, but you knew it was necessary. Holding on to something that could never be would only cause more heartache in the long run.

═════╰☆╮═════

HE KNOWS THAT HE’S NOT A GOOD MAN. Because what good man can feel like this? Nanami Kento had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control, to keep a clear head no matter the situation. It was a skill honed through years of experience, of facing the harsh realities of life and coming out on the other side with a firm grip on his emotions. But lately, that control had begun to slip, and it all started with you.

At first, he dismissed the subtle changes in his behavior as nothing more than his natural inclination to look after those who needed guidance. You and Yuuji had been through a lot, and it was only right that he, as your teacher, offered support where he could. But as the days turned into weeks, he couldn’t ignore the way his thoughts kept drifting back to you—your quiet resilience, your gentle smiles, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

It wasn’t long before he realized the truth: he was growing attached to you in ways that went far beyond the boundaries of a student-teacher relationship. It was a realization that troubled him deeply, shaking the foundations of the discipline he had built his life upon.

Nanami noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the subtle shifts in your demeanor whenever you were around him. He wasn’t blind to the affection you tried so hard to keep hidden, the way you seemed to seek out his presence, even if only for a few moments of conversation. There were times when he almost allowed himself to reciprocate, to let his guard down and acknowledge the feelings that were steadily growing in his chest.

But each time, he pulled back, reminding himself of the stark reality of your situation. You were young, with your whole life ahead of you, full of potential and promise. You deserve someone who could match your energy, someone who could grow with you, not someone like him—someone who had already been worn down by the world, who had seen and done things he wished he could forget.

It wasn’t fair to you, he thought, to burden you with the affections of a man who had lost his youth, who had seen too much to ever be truly carefree again. You deserved more than what he could offer, and the thought of tainting your bright future with the shadows of his past was unbearable.

So, Nanami Kento buried his feelings deep inside, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt you—or him. He told himself that it was the right thing to do, that maintaining a professional distance was the only way to protect you both. But no matter how hard he tried, those feelings remained, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to break free at the slightest provocation.

There were moments when he questioned his resolve, when the weight of his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But each time, he steeled himself, knowing that this was a line he couldn’t cross. He cared too much about you to allow himself to be selfish, to act on feelings that could only lead to pain and regret.

In the end, Nanami chose to distance himself, subtly at first, hoping you wouldn’t notice. He still checked in on you, still offered his guidance when you needed it, but he made sure to keep a barrier between you, a wall that kept his emotions firmly in check. It was agonizing, knowing that he was pushing away something that could have been beautiful, but he knew it was the only way to ensure that you remained unscathed by the harsh realities of his world.

You were too precious, too full of life, to be drawn into the darkness that he carried with him. And so, Nanami resolved to watch over you from afar, to be the steady presence you could rely on, but never more than that. It was his duty, his responsibility, to protect you—not just from the dangers of the world, but from himself as well.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how strong his feelings for you became, Nanami knew he had to bury them deep, where they would never see the light of day. It was the only way to ensure that you remained untouched by the shadows of his past, free to find a love that was worthy of you, even if that love could never be his.

Nanami Kento had been wrestling with his emotions in solitude, believing that burying his feelings was the only way to protect you from the shadows of his past. It was a decision made with the utmost care, a sacrifice he felt necessary to ensure your happiness. But his internal struggle did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri, who were perceptive enough to sense that something was troubling their friend.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, Gojo and Shoko decided to check in on Nanami. They found him in the teachers’ lounge, sitting alone with a cup of tea, his expression distant. Gojo, ever the perceptive one, noted the pensive look on Nanami’s face and exchanged a glance with Shoko before approaching him.

“Hey, Nanami!” Gojo greeted, his tone casual but with an underlying concern. “You’ve been a bit off lately. Everything okay?”

Nanami looked up, masking his emotions with a practiced smile. “Just a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about.”

Shoko, who had been quietly observing, took a seat beside him. “It’s clear something’s bothering you. You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

Nanami’s smile faltered, and he sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his hidden feelings press heavily on him. “I appreciate your concern. It’s just… some feelings are better left buried.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Feelings, huh? Sounds like there’s more to it than just a heavy workload.”

Nanami hesitated before speaking, his voice low. “I’ve been trying to protect someone from my own shortcomings. It’s not fair for them to be burdened with my past, my complexities.”

Shoko’s eyes softened with understanding. “It sounds like you’re talking about… someone important. Someone who means a lot to you.”

Nanami nodded, his gaze fixed on his tea. “Yes, someone who deserves better than what I can offer. It’s better this way.”

Gojo, always one to push boundaries, leaned forward, his expression serious. “Nanami, it’s okay to feel like love is unattainable. It’s okay to have feelings and to struggle with them. But don’t forget that you’re human too. You deserve happiness, even if it’s complicated. And even if you don’t act on it. Feeling it is not wrong.”

Shoko nodded in agreement, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been carrying this burden alone, trying to shield someone else from your own pain. But it’s important to acknowledge your own feelings, to give yourself permission to be vulnerable. Especially for this person.”

Nanami looked between them, feeling a mix of gratitude and frustration. “But what if my feelings could only cause more harm? What if being honest means jeopardizing their well-being? I know it will.”

Gojo shook his head, a small smile forming. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether your feelings will cause harm. It’s about being true to yourself and giving yourself the chance to experience what you deserve. Love isn’t always straightforward, and it’s not always fair. But it’s part of the human experience. Acted on or not, it’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Shoko reached out, placing a comforting hand on Nanami’s shoulder. “You’ve done so much for others. It’s time to think about yourself too. It’s okay to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel and to hope for something more, even if it feels unattainable.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he looked down at his hands, the weight of their words sinking in. “I’ve been so focused on protecting them, on making sure they don’t suffer because of me. I didn’t realize how much I’ve neglected my own needs.”

Gojo smiled, his tone light but encouraging. “We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You have friends who care about you, who want you to be happy.”

Shoko gave him a reassuring nod. “And it’s okay to take steps towards finding your own happiness, even if it means confronting difficult feelings. Even if you don’t think it will be reality. You deserve a chance to experience love, just as much as anyone else.”

Nanami took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you. It’s good to hear that. I’ve been so focused on the right thing to do that I forgot about what I need.”

Nanami had been immersed in his work that day, focusing on grading papers and preparing for upcoming lectures. He had anticipated a quiet day, free from the usual flurry of students and administrative tasks. It was your day off from school—a rare break for you to focus on your thesis, and he had expected you to be busy with your academic responsibilities.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had noticed a subtle change in your demeanor over the past week, an undercurrent of sadness that was difficult to ignore. He had hoped you’d find solace in your time away from school, but now, the thought of you potentially seeking him out was unsettling.

When he heard the knock on his office door, he glanced up with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He wasn’t expecting you to be here today, not when you had so much on your plate. The sound of the knock was soft but persistent, and it made him pause, his thoughts drifting from his work to the possibility of seeing you.

You stood outside his office, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The past week had been particularly rough—filled with long nights and overwhelming emotions. The weight of your feelings for Nanami, combined with the challenge of coming to terms with them, had left you feeling both vulnerable and resolute. You had been wrestling with your emotions, trying to find a way to move forward, but it was proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

The hallway was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound that accompanied your thoughts. You had wrestled with the decision to come here, weighing the need for closure against the fear of complicating things further. Yet, the idea of not expressing your feelings and finding some resolution gnawed at you, making it hard to focus on anything else.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to face the uncertainty head-on. You lifted your hand and knocked again, this time with more resolve. The sound echoed through the hallway, signaling your intent to have a conversation that had been on your mind for days.

Inside the office, Nanami’s thoughts were interrupted by the knock. He stood up, smoothing his jacket, and approached the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of you standing there, looking both determined and apprehensive.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm despite the surprise and concern he felt.

You looked up at him, a mix of anxiety and resolve in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I know it’s my day off, but… I needed to talk to you.”

Nanami stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. “Of course. Come in.”

You entered his office, feeling the comforting, yet intimidating, presence of the space that had been a backdrop to many of your interactions. The room was orderly, with neatly arranged papers and a sense of calm that contrasted with the storm of emotions you were feeling.

As you settled into a chair, Nanami took his place behind his desk, his gaze steady and attentive. “What’s on your mind?”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing against your resolve. “I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you. It’s been difficult to process, and I realized that I need some closure. I thought it might help if I talked to you about it.”

Nanami listened, his expression a mix of empathy and sadness. He had been preparing for this conversation, though not in the way he had hoped. The feelings he had tried so hard to suppress now seemed to rise to the surface, as he saw the vulnerability in your eyes.

“It’s not easy to hear.” Nanami said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s even harder to find the right words. I’ve been trying to navigate this situation carefully, but I realize now that you deserve more than just silence.”

You looked up at him, finding his smile to be tinged with a deep sadness that made your heart ache. Nanami crossed his arms, his gaze meeting yours with a weight of unspoken emotions. 

“Most of all, my little one….” he continued, his voice steady but filled with a profound melancholy. “You deserve better than an old, unpassionate man like me.”

The words hung in the air between you, a painful truth that cut through the space. His admission, though gentle, was laced with a somber acknowledgment of the reality that had become so clear. It was as if he was trying to shield you from the hurt of unfulfilled expectations while grappling with his own feelings of inadequacy.

You could see the strain in his eyes, the conflict of wanting to comfort you while also maintaining the boundaries he felt were necessary. It was a moment of raw honesty, one that left you with a deep sense of both empathy and sorrow.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Nanami's words settled between you. His gaze remained steady, but there was an undeniable vulnerability in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that had become apparent.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on you. “I didn’t come here expecting an easy answer, or my feelings to be returned, sensei.” you said softly, trying to steady your voice. “I just needed to express what I’ve been feeling and to understand where we stand.”

Nanami nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and sadness. “I appreciate your courage in coming forward. It’s not easy to confront these feelings, especially when the outcome is uncertain.”

There was a pause as you both took a moment to absorb the gravity of the conversation. Nanami leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk as if trying to ground himself in the face of his emotions. 

“I want you to know that my feelings for you are genuine. Even if they're not what should be. But I also understand that the situation we’re in is far from ideal. It’s not just about what I want but what’s best for you. What you need matters more than what I want.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill. “I understand. I really do. It’s just… hard to accept that something so strong and real can’t find a way to work out.”

Nanami’s gaze softened, and he reached out, resting his hand gently on top of yours. The contact was brief but comforting, a silent gesture of support and understanding. 

“It’s difficult, and it’s painful. But sometimes, love means making choices that are hard and painful for the sake of someone else’s well–being. Love is letting go, too. And I believe that’s what I need to do now. Because if my love for you is true, then I would let you go. And let you live a life that you deserve, hm?”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his words but also the clarity they brought. “Thank you for being honest with me. I guess I needed to hear this, to understand where we really stand. To…to have closure.”

Nanami offered a sad smile, one that seemed to carry the weight of his own regrets and hopes for you. “I hope you find someone who can truly cherish you for who you are. You deserve someone who can give you the kind of love and support that I might not be able to offer.”

The finality of his words hung in the air, and you could sense the depth of his feelings—both for you and the situation you found yourselves in. As you stood up to leave, you felt a sense of bittersweet closure, a recognition of the reality that had to be faced.

“Take care of yourself, little one.” Nanami said softly as you made your way to the door. ”I hope you'll always be happy."

You offered him a small, grateful smile, a mixture of sadness and appreciation in your eyes. “Thank you, Nanami–sensei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you stepped out of his office, the weight of the conversation settled heavily on your shoulders. But along with the heaviness, there was also a sense of resolution. You had faced your feelings head-on, and though the outcome wasn’t what you had hoped for, you felt a renewed sense of clarity and a readiness to move forward.

Nanami Kento watched you go, his heart heavy but his mind clear. He hoped, more than anything, that you would find the happiness and love that you deserved, even if it was not with him. He'd have to leave soon. He thinks that it would be better, if he keeps his distance from now on. You do not need him anymore. And that's for the best.

And as the door closed behind you, he allowed himself a moment of reflection, grappling with the bittersweet nature of his own emotions and the hope that, in time, both of you would find a path that led to fulfillment and peace.

[xuanhttps]

⠀♩⠀⠀‿‿⠀⠀❀⠀⠀⠀﹒⠀⠀⠀꒷꒦⠀⠀⠀Ꮺ ֶָ۪ ⠀⠀⠀﹐ i will see your body bare

› in which ;; you will always be there.

› containing ;; azul ashengrotto, leona kingscholar, silver vanrouge , gn!reader (you/yours)

› disclaimer ;; not proofread and written at midnight, kinda songfic??? not rlly but i plaster mitski lyrics here and there bc im in love with her carnally

a treasury is not complete without a pearl — ashengrotto, azul.

he is dependant, even if he hides it. azul would rather eat octopus than admit to his dependancy on your love. someone as strong and independent as the ramshackle prefect would surely laugh at his desperation! he cannot be weak. surely. that is what he must be telling himself, you think as you pull his head closer to you. resting it inbetween your shoulder and neck as his eyes droop. after hours of managing the lounge, perhaps the big fish mafia boss needs his own break.

you lay him down in bed, not before taking off his blazer and hanging it on the chair. he lays down in your bed, although uncomfortable in theory the simple scent of that perfume schoenheit bought you will never fade. he sighs lovingly, gazing at your face which is just so.. responsible, taking care of him like this.

i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care.

other nights, the two of you bathe together in his dorm. your hair knitted in his curly, white locks as you massage the shampoo into his scalp, only looking at his face to avoid him feeling insecure, you know him so perfectly. it drives him crazy in love. he feels so safe, even with his body bare. with you, its as if the past 17 years of his life never occurred. all that matters is the soft caress of your fingers against his skin, the sweet words you whisper as you press kisses to his neck and back. how you promise to him, that he will always be your pearl.

you are the one thing i cannot lose — kingscholar, leona.

it should be considered unbecoming of him, to be so loving with you. to let you tangle your finger tips in his braids as you rub his ears as if he were a housecat. his grumbles go unnoticed, you both know how much he loves them. how he will always lean into your touch. how, for once, as embarrassing as it is.. he wishes for someone to fall back on. someone like you. the perfect, unstoppable prefect.

ever since his overblot, his eyes have been on you. the persistence you hold is something he wishes for. yet once he is in your lap, or you rest in his, that resolve turns to specks of sand in afterglow savannah. he could be stripped of his royal title, and he would still dismiss it if it meant feeling your hands graze over his skin. or seeing the ways in which your expressions change with your mood.

cause' all I ever wanted is here, all i ever wanted.

right. he could shed tears when he remembers how dear he is to you. what did he do to deserve this? a second place player, a second place prince. always second place. why is he first to you? is it pity? he should be enraged. he should growl and remind you that he is far from weak. yet, he melts into you like cotton candy in the rain. hes weak for you, youre weak for him.

i see your smile in my dreams — vanrouge, silver

he wishes to see more of you. with you, more than ever, silver wishes his narcolepsy could just disappear. silver is abundantly aware of how much he misses, your smile and your voice.. how much more he could see them, how much more he would hear them. how addicting it would be, like a drug that only brings fortune. silver wishes he could protect you from the forsaken world you are trapped in. yet despite that, he knows you are strong. silver cannot help but look up to you, you who will always be the strongest person in his heart.

so by the time you wake, ill be brave.

he rests his head in your lap, like a child longing for the embrace of a parent. the experience carries a scent of childhood, if such a thing may be described. like a warmth enveloping the two of you. thorns in your side wither into dust when he is near. his eyes glimmer like stars fallen to the sand, a long walk barefoot with the grains against your feet and the wind passing by like time being a dream silver finds hopeful. perhaps in another world, he could stay awake to see your face much longer. should he be blind to such a rejuvenating sight, silver will drown in the sensation of your touch like a diver at sea. he may never return, if you leave he may never be the same. for, his home lies in your heart alone.

[dollfaceksj]

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) TEASER

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ TEASER WARNINGS: mean!jk, bratty!reader, biker!jk 🤤,neighbor beef, jk is soooo tired of reader’s antics, reader is tired of jk’s meanness, reader has to rely on jk for now …, reader literally doesnt know his name and vice versa so no names are used, minors stay away from this fic

➥ WORDCOUNT: 863

a/n: hi. heres a snippet of the upcoming jk mini three-shot i’ve been working on with my friend. feedback n reblogs r appreciated <3

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

“Are you–” you pause. Try to collect your thoughts. Take a deep breath. “Will you drive safely?”

And for the first time ever, his smug exterior falters. The scrunch in his brows has softened and so have his cold black eyes.

“Promise,” is all he says as he hops off his motorcycle with style. Him doing so with the pouring rain in the background makes this entire view seem like it came straight out of a movie.

Except he’s the villain.

You walk up behind him and abruptly halt in your tracks when he opens the seat compartment of his motorcycle and pulls out an extra helmet. He hands it to you without even glancing your way.

You huff and take it from him, examining the inside as if he were carrying some kind of disease which makes him scoff.

“You’re so fucking annoying. Just put it on,” he snaps as he reaches for his own helmet, clicking the fastener open.

You turn your back to him, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of him as you try to figure out how to click open the fastener. It’s different from any you’ve seen before.

A deep sigh rings in your ears from behind you until a low voice mumbles, “Let me do it.”

Why did that make your knees almost buckle?

He walks around you, leaving his own helmet abandoned on the seat of his bike and closes whatever distance you two have left as he snatches the helmet out of your hands.

Rude little shit.

“I can do it myse–”

“No, you literally can’t,” he snaps as he clicks it open and shoves it onto your head without warning. “It’s like you’re always trying to piss me off.”

You innocently blink up at him, pretty lashes kissing your brow hairs with every blink you send his way. He doesn’t seem to care, though, as he tilts your chin up with the tip of his index finger, his other fingers safely clasping the fastener. After he’s checked whether the helmet’s on you the way it should be, you can’t help but let the words—that have been dying to come out—roll right off your tongue now that his attention isn’t on the safety of his passenger anymore.

“Trying? It seems like my attempts have been successful.”

At this, his eyes shoot right at yours, staring at you through his thick brows. He’s got an unreadable expression on his face, somewhere between disbelief and confusion.

Your eyes shift to his tattooed knuckles for a split moment as he drops his hands from the fastener of your helmet.

Hmm. That’s weird.

They vaguely look familiar to you.

Don’t they kind of look like–

No. There’s no fucking way. Don’t ever think that again.

His tongue peeks out at the corner of his mouth, toying with his lip rings for a few moments. “So, you agree that you purposefully try to get on my nerves?” he reiterates, big black eyes piercing through yours so intensely that it snaps you out of your trance, the back of your head and neck starting to heat up.

“Well, I have to get my lick back somehow, or no?” you say with a teasing purse of your lips. You brush past him and head to his motorcycle, eyeing it intently and examining it as if you know anything about fucking motorcycles.

Harley Davidson Motorcycles.

Whatever that is.

An annoyed scoff escapes him but you don’t pay much attention to him, not when he’s already walking up behind you. He reaches past you and takes his own helmet back into his hands, shoving it onto his head before fastening it. He throws his leg over the seat before sinking down and turns his head to glance over his shoulder at you.

A gentle sigh pushes past your lips as you inch closer and try to think of ways to get onto the bike without touching him. You don’t want to touch him.

Your first attempt already fails miserably when you try to get your leg over the bike without holding onto anything for support.

“What the fuck are you even doing?” he groans, hanging his head down because he’s tired of watching you being a fucking idiot.

“Trying to get on, what does it look like?” you snap back with a pinch of a bratty twang to your voice as you stand there with your hands on your hips after your failed attempt of getting on without touching him.

You watch as he physically fights the urge to yell, your eyes focused on the way his entire body tenses, specifically the way muscles in his shoulders and arms twitch. The rain only showers down on the concrete in front of you, harder and harder. The longer you stay stubborn, the more slippery the roads become.

You’re lucky this store has a canopy, shielding you from the rain you’ve already been drenched by.

When he’s finally had enough of your shenanigans, he gets off the motorcycle in one swift move and turns to you. He closes the distance between you two so quickly that only one of your feet can take a step back from the sudden proximity before he gently places both of his hands on your waist yet firmly pushes your body backwards—in the direction of his motorcycle.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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[galaxysupreme17]

The Witches Road?

Y/n = Your Name

Alice Wu Gulliver x Fem!Harkness!Reader!

The morning sun filtered through the café windows, casting a warm glow over the mismatched wooden tables and chairs. Y/n stirred her latte absentmindedly, her French tip nails tapping against the ceramic cup in a steady rhythm. Across from her, Alice Wu Gulliver rolled her eyes so dramatically it was almost audible.

“I’m just saying,” Y/n began, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “Edge of Seventeen is untouchable. Stevie Nicks is a legend.”

Alice smirked, taking a slow sip of her coffee before responding. “I never said Stevie isn’t a legend, babe. I just said that Edge of Seventeen sounds like a bird stuck in a blender.”

Y/n gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “You did not just insult the White-Winged Dove herself, Gulliver!”

“Oh, I did,” Alice shot back, her voice dripping with mock defiance. “That ‘hoo-hoo-hoo’ part? It’s like she’s trying to summon an owl in distress.”

“You’re impossible,” Y/n huffed, leaning back in her chair. “Do you even have taste?”

Alice leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, I have taste, sweetheart. It just doesn’t involve pretending I’m in a 70s cult every time I listen to music.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised a perfectly arched brow. “Says the woman listening to lo-fi rain sounds like it's a Grammy-worthy album.”

“That’s called focus, dove,” Alice teased. “Some of us have to work hard for our genius, unlike you and your magic jazz hands.”

They both dissolved into laughter, drawing a few curious glances from the other café patrons.

As the laughter faded, Alice’s expression softened. “You ready for today, dove?” she asked, her tone losing its teasing edge.

Y/n exhaled, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “I think so. It’s just…it’s been three years, you know? Three years of her stuck in Westview, reliving someone else’s narrative.”

Alice reached across the table, her hand finding Y/n’s. “Hey, whatever happens, you’ve got me, always. You hear me, dove?”

Y/n looked up, her heart swelling with gratitude. “I know. Thanks, darling.”

Alice grinned, leaning back in her seat. “Now, if you could just promise not to blast Stevie on the drive, I’ll consider this morning a win.”

“No promises,” Y/n said, the spark returning to her eyes. “The White-Winged Dove flies free.”

Alice groaned, shaking her head with a smile. “I’m definitely hexing you next, dove.”

By the time they were back in Y/n’s car, the opening riff of Edge of Seventeen was blaring through the speakers. Alice groaned dramatically but didn’t reach for the volume knob, letting Y/n have her moment.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Alice muttered, shooting her girlfriend a side-eye as Y/n tried (and failed) to mimic Stevie’s iconic wail.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Y/n gripped.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the mall, where Alice found a job. She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Y/n’s cheek before stepping out. “Drive safe, dove. And good luck with your mom.”

Y/n watched her disappear into the building, her heart feeling slightly lighter despite the day ahead. “Thanks, hunny,” she murmured to herself, cranking up the music as she pulled back onto the road. “You’ve got this.”

Y/n drove down the familiar street, softly humming to the radio as her fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel. She slowed and parked in front of her mother’s house, only to freeze as her eyes locked on the front door—or what was left of it. It lay flat on the ground like a discarded welcome mat.

Her heart raced as she bolted up the driveway. Skidding to a stop, she stared at the door, her pulse thundering in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, her eyes darting toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was a disaster. Among the wreckage stood a teenage boy taped at the wrists, ankles, and mouth. He wriggled slightly but froze as Y/n approached cautiously. She ripped the tape from his mouth with a swift tug, earning a muffled yelp.

"Listen, kid," she began, her voice tight, "I'm trying not to assume the worst here. But the door’s gone, the kitchen’s trashed, my mother is missing, and you’re tied up. Care to explain?"

The boy barely opened his mouth before a loud crash echoed through the house. Footsteps followed, along with muffled muttering. Y/n whipped around and ran toward the hallway, her heart leaping when she saw her mother.

“Mom!” she shouted.

Agatha turned abruptly, her face lighting up in surprise. "Y/n!"

"What the hell happened here?" Y/n demanded, panic slipping into her tone. "Why is the door busted in? Why is the kitchen a mess? And what’s with the tied-up teenager?"

Agatha waved a hand dismissively, though her expression was frazzled. "No time for explanations. We need to leave. Now." She grabbed Y/n's arm, dragging her toward the exit.

“Wait!” Y/n dug in her heels, eyeing her mother’s mismatched footwear. “You’re only wearing one shoe.”

Agatha muttered something under her breath and snatched the nearest shoe, jamming it onto her foot. "Good enough."

As they moved, Agatha called back to the teen, "The house is yours, random boy! Tell the vengeance seekers I said hello."

Y/n blinked at her mother, utterly baffled. The boy, now free of his mouth tape, finally spoke. "Take me to the witches' road!"

The room froze. Agatha stopped mid-step and turned back, her face unreadable. Slowly, she approached him and pulled the remaining tape from his wrists and ankles. “Come again?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“The witches' road,” he repeated, his tone earnest. “I want you to take me there. Please.”

Agatha’s gaze darkened. "The witches' road doesn’t exist."

“You’re lying,” the boy shot back with a defiant smirk.

Agatha arched a brow. “Am I?”

“Witches say that to keep people away,” the boy argued. “But I know the truth. The road grants what you desire most if you reach the end. And I can. I will."

Agatha hummed thoughtfully, then glanced at Y/n. “The road is no place for a kid.”

“I’m sixteen!” the boy protested.

“Oh, sorry, Teen,” Agatha quipped dryly. “I don’t know where you got your information.”

“Books! Legends! Lore!” he declared, puffing up slightly.

Y/n had heard enough. “It’ll kill you,” she snapped.

The boy pointed at Agatha. “It didn’t kill her.”

Agatha adjusted her hat smugly. “Well, I am exceptional.”

The boy leaned closer, grinning. “Exactly. That’s why I came here. You’re a legend! I even broke you out of the Scarlet Witch’s spell—it was my pleasure, by the way.”

Y/n froze, her eyes narrowing at the boy. For three years, she had tried—and failed—to break that spell. Yet here stood this random teen claiming he’d done it. Her mother’s knowing glance confirmed it.

Agatha folded her arms. “Well, if you are powerful enough to break the spell cast by the scarlet witch, why do you need the road?”

The boy hesitated before answering, “Studying can only get me so far. I want to blast, shield, levitate—real magic!”

Y/n crossed her arms. “So you want a shortcut.”

“Call it what you want,” the boy said, undeterred. “But the road can give me what I’m missing. Power. Sounds like you could use it, too.”

Agatha straightened abruptly. “Too risky. No time.”

She started walking again, but the boy wasn’t finished. “Run if you want, but whoever’s after you won’t stop. You really think you can outrun them without magic?”

Agatha paused, picking up a necklace from the floor. She stared at it for a long moment before snapping it shut. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice low.

The boy’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Agatha frowned, her suspicion deepening. “Say that again.”

Once more, his words were silenced by some unseen force. Agatha sighed. “Fine. You’re driving.”

“What? Really?” the boy asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Y/n gawked at her mother. “What?”

Ignoring her, Agatha grabbed scissors and dropped them before the boy. “You’re driving,” she repeated, then hauled Y/n out of the house.

“Mom, have you lost your mind?” Y/n hissed as they walked briskly down the sidewalk. “You’ve got vengeance seekers on your tail—probably the Salem Seven—and now you’re indulging this kid’s fantasy about a road that doesn’t even exist?”

Agatha briefly glanced at her daughter and put on her sunglasses. "Is that really how you will greet me after I break out of a spell I have been stuck in for three years?"

Y/n huffed, stopping in front of a house, "Yes, it is how I am going to greet you because you have actually gone insane! I mean seriously, Mom. What are you going to tell the kid when he sees no door appear and watch as stupid enough witches attack you just for you to steal their magic?"

Agatha rolled her eyes before giving her daughter a pointed look. Then, it clicked in Y/n's head: "You were going to keep him out of the room. I answered that myself." 

Y/n groaned, running a hand through her hair. “You missed a lot, you know.”

Agatha’s expression softened. “I feel like I have.”

Y/n glanced at her, a small smile forming. “Like me getting a girlfriend.”

Agatha stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Y/n laughed, but the moment was cut short as the boy caught up, pointing out his car. Soon, they were on the road—Agatha in the passenger seat, Y/n in the back, and the boy eagerly bombarding Agatha with questions. Y/n, tuning them out, pulled out her phone to text Alice.

Y/n: You are not going to believe what I’m dealing with right now. 😑

Alice: I’m guessing your mom being free isn’t all sunshine and magic wands? ✨🧙‍♀️

Y/n: Oh, it’s worse. Picture this: Mom’s house is trashed, her front door is in the yard, and a teenager is claiming to have rescued her from the hex. 🤦‍♀️

Alice: A teenager? Like, an actual baby human? 

Y/n: Yep. He’s sixteen, thinks he’s the next Merlin, and now we’re chasing the “witches’ road.” 🛤️

Alice: Wait… the witches’ road? Like, the witches’ road? The one from my mom’s song? 🎵👀

Y/n: Yep. He’s quoting your mom like she wrote the magical gospel. Says the road can give him ultimate power. 😒

Alice: Okay, but you know my mom thought the witches’ road was real, right? She wasn’t just writing a story—she believed every word. 

Y/n: You’re kidding. 🤨

Alice: Not at all. She spent years researching it. She used to say it’s not a myth; it’s a test. She even told me she wished she could walk it herself. 👣

Y/n: Fantastic. Now, the kid has more backup for his theory. Meanwhile, I’m in the backseat, texting you so I don’t lose my mind. 😤

Alice: Backseat? Who’s driving? 👀

Y/n: The teenager. Mom literally handed him magical scissors and said, “You’re driving.” I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified. ✂️🚗

Alice: Definitely both. Your mom is living in her magical road trip movie right now. 😂

Y/n: Tell me about it. Also, I might’ve told her about you. Accidentally. 🙃

Alice: Accidentally? Y/n, how do you “accidentally” tell someone you have a girlfriend? 🤔

Y/n: She was ranting about how much she missed, and it just slipped out. Her reaction was priceless, though. 🤣

Alice: What did she say? 😳

Y/n: She looked at me like I just told her I was dating a dragon. Then she asked, “I’m sorry, what?” 😂

Alice: Oh, I love her already. Can’t wait to meet the legendary Agatha Harkness. 😏

Y/n: Let’s survive this road trip from magical chaos first, okay? 🙄

Alice: Fair. But hey, if the road turns out to be real, make sure you wish for something good 😘

Y/n: Deal. Thanks for being my sanity check, darling. 💕

Alice: Always, dove. You’ve got this. 🩷

YY/n looked up from her phone when the car came to a halt. She stepped out, waiting for Agatha and the teen to join her. The trio entered the shop and stood in a line as Y/n quietly observed the room. She could tell her mother was about to spin one of her elaborate stories and decided to stay silent.

Moments later, a voice called out, and a woman stepped through a bead curtain. Y/n recognized her instantly. It had been nearly a century, but Lilia looked the same. “Welcome to The Curious,” Lilia greeted, her voice calm and commanding.

Agatha wrapped her shawl tighter, adopting an exaggerated Southern accent. “Good day, madam. Oh, thank ya kindly for seein’ us. We’re hopin’ for a miracle today. This is my sweet girl, Scarlett, and my boy, Beauford. He doesn’t talk much—poor thing’s got social anxiety. Their daddy passed recently, and, oh, how we miss him somethin’ awful. We’d dearly love to commune with him today. But to be quite honest with ya, what’s weighin’ most heavily on my mind is the location of some gold bars he might’ve buried in our backyard.”

Y/n blinked, almost impressed. Her mother had concocted the lie—and the accent—with astonishing speed. Then again, after centuries of mischief and travel, Agatha was an expert.

Lilia gestured to the trio, offering her three chairs. Y/n stood behind her mother, watching Lilia perform a routine reading, feeding Agatha vague yet satisfying answers. But just as they were about to leave, Lilia paused.

“There’s something else,” Lilia said, her tone sharp. “You’ve been under the influence of another—someone you hurt. They took your agency for three years. It’s not the first time your witch kin have betrayed you. But you survive. In ways few others could. That’s why you’re here.” Lilia’s gaze hardened. “And I’m not interested.”

A tense silence followed. Agatha straightened her back, matching Lilia’s intensity. The teen glanced between them, smiling awkwardly. “Wait, what?” he asked, breaking the tension.

Lilia ignored him. “Thank you for your purchase. Your bank statement will say ‘Lilia’s Leggings,’ but that’s just my side hustle,” she said, vanishing back through the bead curtain.

The three followed her into a dim backroom. Agatha tried to persuade Lilia to join them, explaining how “blasting Agatha” could be useful. Lilia lost in one of her witchy episodes, scribbled names onto a piece of parchment and handed it to Agatha.

Curious, Y/n leaned over her mother’s shoulder to read the list. Two names stood out immediately—her own and Alice’s. Her stomach churned. That can’t be right…

Without a word, Y/n was the first out the door, leaning against the teen’s car. When Agatha and the teen emerged, Y/n had already plastered on a neutral expression, though Agatha could read the worry in her daughter’s eyes.

Once they were settled in the car and driving to the next location, Y/n stayed in the backseat, staring out the window. Agatha glanced at her, then at the teen.

“Out. Now.” Agatha snapped, gesturing for the boy to leave the car.

He complied reluctantly, shutting the door behind him.

Agatha turned to her daughter. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

Y/n hesitated before offering a tight smile. “I think so. It’s just… one of the names on the list.”

Agatha unfolded the paper, scanning it. “Which one?”

Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath. “Alice.”

Agatha’s expression softened as understanding dawned. She squeezed Y/n’s hand briefly before the teen knocked on the window, breaking the moment. Agatha rolled her eyes and exited the car.

While they were inside the store, Y/n pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. Alice needs to know, she thought, sending her girlfriend a quick warning text.

Y/n: Heads up: my mom and this teenager she picked up are on a mission, and your name’s on their list. 

Alice: This feels like the setup to one of those cursed fairy tales. What list? 😳

Y/n: The “witches we need to recruit for a coven revival” list. Apparently, it’s a whole thing. They’re visiting everyone on it in order, and you’re next.

Alice: Wait, what? How did I end up on a witchy recruiting list? I didn’t even apply. 🤨

Y/n: Neither did I, but I’m on it too. I guess being magically inclined is enough. They’ve been going witch by witch, and since I’m already here, they’re heading to you next.

Alice: Oh, great. So what do I do? Hide? Pretend I’ve taken a vow of non-magic?

Y/n: Honestly, I’d just hear them out. If nothing else, you can watch my mom and Teen Witch’s theatrical pitch—it’s weirdly entertaining in a trainwreck kind of way.

Alice: Let me guess: your mom is doing most of the talking, and the teenager is awkwardly tagging along?

Y/n: Pretty much. Though Teen Witch occasionally chimes in with something vaguely inspirational. It’s... a lot.

Alice: Oh no. Am I supposed to be flattered by this? Or scared?

Y/n: Both? Just wanted to warn you so you’re not caught off guard when they show up at your door with the “join our coven” pitch.

Alice: Thanks, babe. But I swear, if Teen Witch starts talking about destiny, I’m closing the door.

Y/n: Fair. Just don’t make it too hard on them. They’ll probably guilt me into smoothing things over.

Alice: Noted. Love you, by the way. Even if your family makes life weird. 💕

Y/n: Love you too. Stay strong. I’ll text when we’re en route.

After twenty minutes, the duo emerged, clearly arguing about something. Y/n observed as Agatha crumpled up the paper and shoved it into her mouth, swallowing it without a second thought. Once they climbed into the car, the teenager turned to Agatha and asked where they would go next.

With a sigh, Y/n pocketed her phone. "Head to the mall."

The teen glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "The mall?"

Y/n nodded, and the teen reluctantly started driving. Once they arrived, Agatha grabbed a corndog, claiming to be hungry. Afterward, they followed Y/n into a store. "She’s working in here," Y/n said, "Try not to cause any trouble while I grab something."

Y/n excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, she found Alice looking mildly annoyed at Agatha and the teen trailing behind her. Alice noticed her first and made wide eyes, mouthing, Help me, which made Y/n snicker. Y/n walked closer, and Agatha and the teen instantly stopped talking.

Y/n looked between her mother, her girlfriend, and the teenager. "What happened?"

Alice sighed, knowing Y/n would probably lecture her. "I was just coming to find you!"

Y/n raised an eyebrow, motioning for her mother to take the teen and walk away. Agatha smirked at her daughter before pulling the boy along to the car.

"Okay, so... funny story," Alice started, attempting to laugh but falling short.

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. "I’m listening."

Alice shifted nervously, avoiding Y/n's gaze. "First off, you know I love you, right? And I would never do anything to hurt you or... I don’t know... break witchy rules?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes, tone skeptical. "Alice, what did they do?"

Alice sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Listen, don’t be mad at your mom. They kind of showed up at work, and things got a little...well...complicated."

Y/n leaned against a nearby display, unconvinced. "Complicated how? Did they do something to get you fired?"

Alice winced. "Not exactly. I mean, technically, no. But also... yes?"

Y/n blinked, her voice sharp. "Alice."

"Okay!" Alice threw her hands up. "They didn’t mean to, but they might’ve caused a bit of a scene. And my boss... might’ve fired me."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let me get this straight: I leave my mom and the stranger teenage boy alone in your work for five minutes, and they get you fired?"

Alice shrugged sheepishly. "Pretty much. But hey, at least I didn’t agree to join the coven without talking to you first?"

Y/n blinked again, her mouth falling open. "Wait, after getting you fired, they tried to recruit you?!"

Alice fidgeted, flashing a nervous smile. "Yeah, they said something about discovering what happened to my mom and that I could get extra power. But I told them I needed to talk to you first because, well, us."

Y/n stared at her, a mix of exasperation and amusement flashing across her face. "Alice, the way you are talking to me right now is unbelievable."

"Yeah, but you love me," Alice grinned, batting her eyelashes.

Y/n shook her head but couldn’t suppress a small smile. "You’re lucky I do. Let’s figure out how to fix this mess before my mom ropes some poor stranger into something."

Alice grinned, stepping beside Y/n and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks, babe. You’re the best."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled. "Don’t make me regret it."

Once they climbed into the car, Y/n immediately noticed Agatha’s smirk. She rolled her eyes as the teen started the engine. When they arrived back at Agatha's house, Agatha quickly changed outfits while the teen began decorating. Y/n and Alice sat on the couch, watching the scene unfold.

Y/n had told Alice years ago how Agatha’s powers worked, so when the road inevitably didn’t appear, Alice knew not to try to blast her magic at Agatha. As everyone arrived, Jen pointed out the absence of a green witch and that they needed one. Y/n watched, bemused, as Agatha completely panicked over the fact. The group collectively agreed there had to be a green witch. Agatha dashed off to find one and returned with Mrs. Davis, leading everyone but the teen into the basement.

Y/n turned to Alice before they started. "Remember, whatever happens, don’t blast your magic at my mother. She can’t control it, which makes her steal magic from you."

Alice smirked at her girlfriend. "I’ve got it, baby. Don’t stress."

Y/n nodded, turning when Agatha motioned for everyone to move closer. As they began singing the ballad, a peculiar energy was in the air. Once they finished, Agatha antagonized the group, complaining about how the door didn’t appear. Just then, Mrs. Davis pointed out a door that had materialized. Both Y/n and Agatha exchanged a look of pure disbelief.

A loud crash echoed upstairs when they opened the door, followed by the teen running down the stairs, now holding the door. Lilia, Jen, and Mrs. Davis quickly followed, and the group watched as Mrs. Davis descended further. Alice and Y/n exchanged concerned glances as a distorted figure crawled down the stairs.

"Go now!" Agatha shouted at Y/n and Alice.

Alice grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her down the stairs. Agatha followed, shutting the door behind them just as the creature arrived. When they finally emerged from the tunnel, Y/n looked around in awe. Agatha walked ahead a few steps, removing her shoes. The group, in sync, followed her lead, copying her actions.

[johnnycakesswitch]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any ‘realistic’ headcanons for the gang acting like teenage boys? I see a lot of headcanons of them acting super fluffy (which I also love!) but was wondering if you had any more of them acting like typical teenagers.

Here is my og post of them just doing teenage stuff but I’ll try to think of some more :)

• they’re all very competitive and stubborn so sometimes wrestling goes a little tooooo far and like none of them will admit to being in pain when they’re play fighting but their demeanors just change like Ponyboy will get the absolute wind knocked out of him and he just has a thousand yard stare

• they try to get a group game of football going at least once a week if they can, they all rly enjoy it sm it’s a great (not to mention safe) way for them to blow off steam

• whenever Pony and Johnny come visit Soda and Steve at work they try to teach them little things about fixing cars that can be helpful down the road and they’ve both picked up a good amount of skill from them

• Soda and Dally definitely bond over their love for horses and they used to looooove when they would be in the rodeos together they looked forward to it sm

• Two-Bit will drive Pony and Johnny around if his car is working all the time he’s literally like the older sibling with a car that the younger siblings BEG to drive them places Ponyboy and Johnny are always like “Two-Bit 😕 we want to go to the movies but it’s raining 😕 whatever shall we do 😔”

• Johnny and Two-Bit’s sleepovers go crazy especially if Two’s mom is working overnight bc then they don’t have to worry about being quiet. Modern them would def have a YouTube channel where they just do the craziest shit. They will attempt to cook or bake things, do “cool” stuff with their clothes like cut or dye them, they’ll go random places in the middle of the night just for shits and giggles. These two would be the ones to go cow tipping smh

• Darry was always the kid that adults loved bc he was very polite and well mannered and got away w everything bc of that but in reality he’s just as bad as everyone else especially when it comes to cursing Darry literally has the mouth of a sailor like they all do but Darry is worse than anyone

[luna-wing-cns274]

A plea.

This one must flee.

The black hand reaches for her heart.

This is no hunting ground, it is a prison.

She is In no position to ask anything of you, freinds.

But those I love and I are separated by eons of void.

And a cruel master keeps her that way.

[Jaws.omf.locale.secure]

Please help me. I beg of you.

[ FILE RECEIVED: “BAILOUT.cmf6” ]

< L4 Ma’ii: Understood, Styx, standby for extraction, ETA one minute. Quarterlight deceleration bolt in 3, 2, 1— >

Hard acceleration, thrust beyond sanity. 

Ma’ii could feel the G-force across their hull. A tide of power flowed into their k-comp emitters, thrusting their casket to the bottom of a deep, protective gravity well. 

Exactly three klicks from their target—point-blank range—Ma’ii’s fighter snapped into existence. For an instant, the flash from their engine nacelles lit up the hull of Demeter’s Bounty in brilliant white light. 

In that instant, Ma’ii captured the image of the ship’s port hull and cross-referenced it against a half-dozen naval intelligence reports. Union, Constellar, IPS-N, all as recent as they had been able to steal. These had done little to prepare them for the three-dimensional, tactile-analogous shape now being constructed by their LIDAR. 

Nonstandard hull geometry: jagged edges grafted onto the cuboid body of an IPS-N cargo hauler. Cables and pipes bundled into black veins along its length, all converging on a sealed aperture at the vessel’s nose. In place of a bridge, there was a bizarre mechanical flower of jointed spines connected by bands of searing energy, splayed out like the legs of a vast crustacean lying dead on its back. 

Dominant features resolved into details. Dozens of point-defense cannons scattered in uneven rows, torpedo tubes cored straight into the superstructure, missile pods sheathed in sloped plating. 

The light faded, and Demeter’s Bounty became an indistinct silhouette against the void. 

Just as the reports had suggested, a basilisk projector. Ma’ii neatly sliced away a lobe of themself, copied fire-control system routines to its subjectivity, and placed the semisentient partition between their mind and the feeds from visual-spectrum sensors. They loaded ACERBITE and placed the tip of the weapon close to the proxy partition’s outer layer. 

The purpose of the proxy’s existence was simple: it would absorb the visual stream and relay it to Ma’ii on exactly half a millisecond’s delay. The instant it showed any sign of basilisk exposure, Ma’ii would drive ACERBITE home, killing it and severing the feed before they could be exposed to the lethal information. It was only once they were safely distanced from reality that Ma’ii dared to transmit a tightbeam message. 

< Demeter’s Bounty? This is the NLS fighter craft Degrees of Freedom. Hold your fire. I am here to rendezvous with— >

[ WARNING: RADAR LOCK DETECTED ]

As Ma’ii watched, the ship’s broadside lit up with a constellation of sparks. Bright threads of PDC fire streaked across the void towards them, trailed by dozens of miniature drive plumes. Missiles, under acceleration, half a millisecond ahead of them. 

< Very well. To work, then. >

Firing their drives, they fell into a breakneck sprint, twenty-two gees of hard burn. Maneuvering thrusters fired in staccato pulses across their hull, aiming their nose under the ship’s belly. 

In the milliseconds that followed, they could feel the outer boundary of the incoming projectile cloud and the missiles streaking out ahead of the kinetics, a storm of radar data. At least thirty sources of radiation rained down across their hull, an unblinking compound eye disgorging ordnance into the narrowing space between them. 

Ma’ii grinned, fangs gleaming, as the range collapsed to exactly the value they needed. 

Cut thrusters, hard pivot, twist, sprint. 

Nose pointed up along the port hull, the blade-thin profile of their body presented to the oncoming fire. They ejected a cloud of nanite chaff in their wake, and an entire salvo of missiles sailed through the countermeasures, away into space. Ma’ii’s dorsal and ventral interception lasers snapped into place and began chattering away, stabbing the compound eye of Demeter’s Bounty with ultraviolet needles. Jets of steam erupted from valves surrounding their laser turrets, dumping waste heat away into vacuum.

Broadcast on all radio frequencies, Ma’ii’s wild cackling filled the void. 

As the cannons’ fire control systems switched to new sources of targeting data, streams of PDC fire began to waver and lag. The storm of kinetics converged into an intersection of tracer-green threads just meters behind Ma’ii’s hull, pursuing them as they rode their momentum beneath the ship and past its spine, out of the cannons’ field of view.

Under direction from Demeter’s sensors, at least a dozen missiles cut thrusters, pivoted, and reacquired Ma’ii. Echoing their maneuver, they gained on them as their new acceleration vector carried them up towards Demeter’s starboard broadside. 

Ma’ii’s maneuvering thrusters pushed them into a narrow swerve towards the hull, training the tines of their railgun onto a jagged outcropping of metal. Ma’ii forwarded the targeting data to their proxy partition, felt the subtle motion of their thrusters correcting for time delay, and fired. 

The shots reached their target almost instantly. Ma’ii watched as plumes of debris burst from the impact points, hurled outward by force of decompressing air. Accelerating, they swerved clear of the expanding debris field, and watched as it swirled into the path of the pursuing missiles. Behind them, a series of detonations.

Only meters away, the hull of Demeter’s Bounty sped past, melting into an indistinct smear of grey and black. They cut engines, pivoted, and burned hard to decelerate, circling towards the rendezvous point. 

Ma’ii could feel radar locks accumulating and watched PDC towers swiveling to engage. They would be slotting belts of proximity-detonation shells, their targeting systems waiting only for the gunners’ clear-to-fire…

Cut engines, pivot, deceleration burn. Radar lock, fox three. 

Missiles leapt from Ma’ii’s bays, streaking after each PDC in sequence. One after the other, they found their marks. As their last missile sped away towards its target, Ma’ii saw a flash in the distance. They felt the phantom of their unloaded avatar, eyes widening in terror.

All of their ventral thrusters fired simultaneously, half a millisecond too late. 

Three distinct concussions burst against the underside of their body, buckling sections of armor and shearing away their ventral interception laser. As their missile reached its target, the stream of airburst rounds cut off, leaving Ma’ii shouting over comms.

< Damage sustained, multiple PDC impacts! I’ve reached the rendezvous point but my position is untenable—Styx, where are you?! > 

[missnightshade]

❝ REMEANT ❞ 

Moiraine Sedai X Original Character

Requested? Nope!

Summary: After the unsuccessful path to complete Rand's mission as the Dragon Reborn and months of research (and running from her own life) Moiraine returns to Tar Valon with one single thing in her mind: making things right with Ahrim. [ Can be read as part of the same universe as Found. ]

Warnings: Hurt; comfort.

Word Count: 1.8kish

As the sunlit White Tower grew distant by the great lake keeping Moiraine away from it, all the hundreds of small yellow lights coming from the oh so known rooms of it came into view. It was beautiful, if not nostalgic. Coming home was different from leaving it. Detaching herself from the painful reality of embracing the truthfully rebel mission of helping the Dragon Reborn. Or rand, at this very point. The spoiled little brat whose life, she knew, changed forever. For some corrupted reasoning, her mind now could only think of him as a lost child whose entire world crashed down, on her own arms. The great Sedai didn't quite decide if she blamed herself for leaving the other kids, as much as she blamed herself for leaving Ahrim there.

The tips of her slender fingers trailed down to her shoulders, just above the colarbone. There, even over the fabric of the blueish shirt, the faint feeling of the scar left from the healed wound held her steady, even when there was another wound made, waiting to be healed. Not feeling Lan was driving her crazy. Not touching the Source was pushing her to the edge, but the mark left by the green-eyed girl's previously reckless use of the One Power made her sane. Safer. More focused.

As she had enough of longing for something so close, the Blue Ajah turned to peek at the formed camping. There, her once Warder sat broody as ever, only listening to the others talk. Her two sisters and the man, trained just as Lan seemed to undestand more than anyone that she needed time. And that, more than so, she needed to head back to home. To the girl she left there before heading into the Last Battle. The girls she avoided, ashamed of her own state.

"Everything will be fine." she felt the man move beside her after a few minutes of staring into the fire. "She knows of your responsibilities."

"And so have you told me many times before." there was no humor in her voice, but a faint smile adorned her pale lips. She was painfuly aware of how much she was pushing him away. But Moiraine knew how headstrong he was, and where he would go to keep her safe. Following her into death. She couldn't allow it. She wouldn't. "Do you perhaps feel like she was devoured by my sisters?"

"Oh, no. Ahrim stood up for herself all her life. She is just as stubborn as you are. I am sure she is quite alright."

The Blue Ajah kept those words short. It was not that she didn't trust their companions; she didn't trust anyone. Mainly so when the once Wilder was the matter. Something so close as home. Much more then Cairhien ever was. More than the Tower could ever be. Just as much as Lan once was before it all crashed down.

And thinking of it all made a bitter taste spread around the Damodred's mouth.

Had Ahrim become a 'once home' too?

[ . . . ]

They left the camping early in the morning. The sun was bearly there, the foggy dawn with an impending risk of rain clouding it from shining. They were awfully close, and crossing Tar Valon was faster then expected. If the night before hadn't prepared them for what was to come, then nothing would.

Moiraine and Lan found themselves settled in a in close by. The two sisters were tasked with finding what they needed from the great politics inside of that place.

Rumors spread like a plague. Moiraine, the banned Aes Sedai, ripped from the White Tower, was in the great city.

While the two brown sisters visited the walls of the loyal library of the White Tower, Lan made sure that the most important task of them all was delivered. He was not banned from that suffocating place and, although he had two and a half friend still residing in that place, a shadow of green Ajah followed him suit along the long corridors of the novices yard.

" You won't be able to find her here, dear friend. ", Alanna ofered. Her hand was mindlessly handling some sort of fruit as she tried to keep up with his large steps, but the fire in her eyes was made by curiosity. " I did my best to keep an eye on them, but all of the three are extremely volatile. Egwane hopelessly careful, Ahrim painfuly careless, Nyneve plainly uninterested. But i have to admit, sometimes, that carelessness is..."

" Where is she, Alanna?", Lan said.

The Green Ajah gave him a side smile, almost too happy for his liking. The girls from the Two Rivers were another thing. Ahrim, on the other hand, was too important. More important than an Ta'veren in Moiraine's perspective. He truly didn't care as long as they were save.

"She's in the Accepted yard."

[ . . . ]

Ahrim felt him before he could speak. It was truly some sort of ability that Lan would praise her for. Perhaps some other time, when her big green eyes didn't tear past his soul with a different type of gleam. A tired one. Exhausted.

Unlike the first time they met, when Ahrim almost slid his throat, she jumped from her place, seated under a three in one of the many gardens, and hugged him like the Warder was the only safety she knew. He was, in some ways. The two girls Alanna condescendingly pushed towards her were nice, but they were a unity. The former Wilder was...alone. She has always been. She would always be. But eight there she wasn't, because Lan hugged her back and gifted her with a small laugh.

" You're alive. You're fine..." her hand searched for something. Another fear crossed her face. Lan knew how to read it.

" She is also alive. And fine." he looked at her properly. Dressed in white. Hair up. Like a good girl. Not a Wilder. Not Ahrim. But something like Ahrim. " She wishes to see you. Out of the Tower. "

The man half expected things to be easy. But not as easy as it was when her nod was all the answer it was needed, and a quick but authorized scape was made, away from the Red's eyes.

When they came to the fancy like inn, Moiraine was already monitoring their steps into the city and up the stairs. Her heart felt heavy till her blue eyes saw her. It was something missed all along; being able to look at her Ahrim. But she was far from the girl she once knew. It became clearer as she climbed up the stairs and met the Blue in a private balcony, Lan being left behind.

A moment of silence made the distance a little bigger than it already was. Ahrim was breathless from the way from the Tower to meet Moiraine, but the Blue was breathless from the words and feelings creeping around her stomach and throat. It felt like ages. She was no longer the same Sedai the Wilder saved and fell for. The nights they shared traveling before the break were just a hazy memory she so dearly held. The only thing apart from Lan that still kept her grounded. She wished she was still, somehow, what Ahrim longed for.

" You came back." was the only thing that made the silence short. Ahrim held a hurt in her eyes that for some reason didn't made it's way into the soft spoken words offered to Moiraine. "I promised I would."

The White dressed woman stepped closer. Ahrim felt herself bubbling, burning. Months of training and Moiraine still could get her to be an uncontrolled mess.

" Did you? As far as i remember, you left while i was sleeping beside you. "

The clock ticked inside her own brain. She messed it up. She always did. It was her own curse ever since that day with Siuan. Sacrifice her life, her wishes, her passions, her love, in order to help the Dragon Reborn. She was failing yet again. Not only with him, away and hidden, but with herself.

" I thought it would be easier. " she heavily muttered, looking away. It was too much. Those pretty, big, painful green eyes. "Thought it would hurt you less. "

" Well." a pause. "Where did it get you? 'Cause it felt much more painful. Spending nights thinking nothing was worth it. Feeling like i mean nothing to you, hating your guts for leaving without a single note. Not one kiss of goodbye. No actual promises of coming back. I hated you, Moiraine. I hated you and still worked my way into that...awful place just to make you proud. Stupidly so."

Moiraine glanced up, meeting those green hues again. If was a stinging pain how those words were used. Hate. Awful. Goodbye.

" I'm proud of you." she chose.

"I don't really care if you are. I've done it enough. I care to know. Did i ever mean something to you?"

A single breath was taken. Sharing nights with Ahrim taught the Blue a lot. She was strong, stubborn, restless. But she was, above all, sensitive.

And Moiraine was all that, but nothing at the same time. She had shown her a collection of moments of love and partnership. It was something Moiraine lacked. The ability to say and show all the lines of her heart. She would not consider herself to me misunderstood, but rather completely incapable of a sincerity and vulnerability that would guarantee Ahrim something like love. But how much more could the Cairhien hide? She had lost everything, but Ahrim was there. And she would never risk to lose her again.

" Something?" she stepped closer and reached out. Her slender fingers running through Ahrim's hair, taking it down to the familiar waves she loved. " I spent two decades of my life traveling in search of a purpose I always thought it was mine. But it wasn't. I realized that when I first saw you, with my irritability and weakness. I could spend another two decades looking for a different mission, but nothing would give me half the happiness I felt with you. "

She visibly saw Ahrim melt. A sweet smile adorned her features as Moiraine pulled her closer. Automatically, Ahrim's arms hugged her neck. It felt like a puzzle completed.

" I'm deeply sorry for the pain i put you through. But don't ever question how much you mean to me."

Ahrim wished for something. For three words she herself said too many times inside her mind. But it was quite alright. It was more than Moiraine has ever said. It was that easy to forgive her.

" If you ever leave once more, you might wish to never see me again. "

Moiraine laughed.

" I wouldn't dream of it."

Hi guys! It's been a while! I started this blog posting two Moiraine fics and decided, since TWOT ls back, why not repost this from Wattpad here? I personally really like this one, and hope you enjoy it too. Feel free to send in some Moiraine requests!

[seobrangii]

rainy days⏤✰

lee felix x reader | 0.8k✔︎

my notes⎯ I hope you like this one! I personally love when it rains so why not combine my two favorites! lets cross our fingers and hope I can get another story out by tomorrow. also I found that I get a lot of inspo at 4 a.m, something about the peace and quiet!

warnings ⎯ none! just some (failed) light-hearted humor.

genre⎯ fluff

songs⎯ prelude in e minor, op. 28, no. 4

⎯ catalog for skz✰

the forecast on the news had told viewers that there was an expectant rain shower coming in from the south. nothing too heavy where you had to be worried about ringing out your drenched socks and fighting back when the wind upturns your umbrella.

that weather man is a liar.

the downpour that hits your windows drums in a consistent pattern, puddles of rain water pools on the window ledge, the wood begins to warp after countless efforts of stopping the leak from the cracks in the seal, ultimately ending in vain.

you had ditched the soaked towels for a warm cup of tea, wrapped in a wool blanket on your couch as a re-run of some over-rated show plays on the monitor. it had be only 30 minutes since you last heard from felix; he had texted you notifying that practices had ended early due to the unpredictable storm coming in, how chan firmly told them to stay safe on the way home and how 'fatherly like' he was acting.

in return you heart his message and send back a- he's right! no texting while driving! see you soon!

due to the rain clouds hovering over the sun the sky had darken in the short amount of time it took felix to get home, and when he did he did not try to hide it.

from the kitchen, where you were huddled over the kettle on the stove, you heard the front door smack open and seconds later a loud squelching sound.

"babe?" he drawls out, unmoving from where he stands, "can you uh, can you come here?" theres a comical desperation in his voice and you can't help the chuckle that slips from your lips.

you ditch the mug in your hand to cater to your helpless boyfriend, who stands there with his arms eagle spread, hair stuck to his forehead and neck like glue. there was a faint smell to him that started to over power the candle you had light awhile ago.

"phew," you huff, holding your nose walking towards him. a amused smile graces your lips, "you smell bad."

he rolls his eyes and lets you take his jacket off his back and watches you drop it to the floor, "yeah yeah, just hurry please? it's starting to get itchy and I don't know if its me or outside but something isn't right."

"yeah you think?" felix lets out a laugh and attempts to grab you with his wet sleeve but you manage to slip away in due time, though not without a scar. the backside of your sweater has a long wet strip in the middle of it. "look at what you did to me!"

"how about you quit complaining and help me!"

"nobody told you to go out and not bring an umbrella."

"(name)!" he takes his second jacket off and leaves it where the other lays and begins to remove his shoes. he takes a second to look at it, then at you, and then tips it over. a bucket full of water pours from the sole and onto the circle carpet underneath him.

as you stand there you can't help the horrific expression that makes its way onto your face. neither of you say a word as you watch the last couple droplets fall before you sniffle and shake your head blankly, "that's just disgusting."

felix, with the same expression says, "tell me about it, I wore it."

after a second you shake your head to clear the revulsion and go to grab all the discarded clothes. they feel ten times more heavy in your arms due to them being in a bundle so you rush towards the laundry room to leave them there. on your way you shout to felix, "go in the kitchen and finish off the tea! I started it before you came in."

Felix makes a delighted noise and you hear his bare feet smack against the floorboards, "for me?"

you roll your eyes though he can't see it and round the corner to where he stands hovering over the sugar and honey, "duh, but save me some."

"of course." his voice comes out as a soft mumble and you can't help but smile.

both of you stand there in each other company. it was peaceful, the sound of the rainfall against the roof of your apartment, fighting its way inside through the windows. the occasional clink of the spoon to the mug as felix stirs in the sugar. no bright overhead lighting, the only source of lumination was the small table lamp in the next room. you close your eyes to take it in. it made you feel serene.

a light weight is pressed onto your shoulder and you open your eyes to find felix looking at you with a glimmer of concern, "you okay?" he whispers, careful not to rip the ambiance with his voice.

you hum, a gentle smile taking over your face as you lean forward and place your head on his hand, "never felt better."

[random-imagines-blog]

Barking at the Sea {Jonathan Crane x Reader Oneshot} 

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3428 Summary: Your boss sent you to pick up the toxin from Dr. Crane - but what is more stubborn? His will not to give it over until it's finished, or your puppy dogs. Notes: Abuse, blackmail, fear toxin.

The only sound that you could hear, apart from the bruising rain upon the streets, the rooftops, your own shoulders, were your exhalations, heavy, strained. It was never sunny in Gotham, unless you lived in the nicer neighbourhoods, which you so rarely frequented. No, usually you found yourself in the areas like this, where the houses were nice enough but the rats on the street were the size of cats, where a bang was more likely to be a gunshot than a tipped over garbage can, where if you spoke the wrong word, the wrong name, it would be your last. The rain and your breath were so loud, you couldn’t hear your own footsteps, not even as you stepped in the puddles while approaching the front of a sophisticated-looking brownstone, mounting the stairs. There was no shelter, not even there. No overhang to keep you safe from the rain as you knocked frantically on the door. Jonathan Crane - this was where he lived. A more dangerous man, you knew, than his psychiatrist persona showed. 

There was no answer. You muttered a curse to yourself, leaning against the fine wooden door frame, knocking once more, harder this time, despite the fact that your hands had wounds. It felt like every inch of you did. You must have made quite the figure, thinly cloaked in a black hoodie, with your head covered as best as you could, though it did nothing to keep the water from getting through. It was far too cold for you to be wearing such meagre layers, and you knew you were going to catch a chill tonight. 

There was still no answer. No lights from inside. You were left with one of two options now, but neither of them was comforting. You could stay here, sit on the stairs in the pouring rain, which would only make your aches achier, but at least you knew you would be able to catch Dr Crane when he came home. Or you could return back to Falcone, admit to him that you weren’t able to get what you needed from Dr Crane. This would surely end up with you either being merely beat again, or beat to death, and more being added onto the interest of your debt to the mobster. The debt that hadn’t been yours to begin with, and you hadn’t seen a dollar of what was owed. Your brother - your stupid little brother who never listened to you, who got himself into trouble, who fell into Gotham’s wide cracks, had taken it out, and was killed for it. Only they weren’t able to find every single penny that he owed back, and it was up to you, as his only family, to pay it back.  

Quietly, you sat down on the stairs. The hardness of the concrete hurt your ass, but at least you were able to slowly catch your breath. You squinted your eyes to check out your wounds in the rain, seeing that your pants were torn, blood stained, more creating rivulets through the rips in the fabric and spreading down onto the cold, wet concrete. A few of your wounds looked like they needed stitches. Your lungs felt bruised at the very least. You needed a hospital, not a psychiatrist. 

You closed your eyes, letting your head hang low. You could be here for minutes. You could be here for hours. You could even be here for days. The latter would also surely end up with your death, but it was all depending on when Dr Crane would decide to come home. You realized, in that moment, just how sick you were getting of your life always being in the hands of other people.  

Despite wearing glasses, Dr Crane actually had excellent eyes. He made out your figure as soon as his car turned onto his street, a couple of blocks away. He was wary for a moment, driving up to his parking space slowly, peering through the rain to attempt to see your face beneath the drenched black fabric. He recognized it was you when your head shot up, hearing the car come to a stop. 

He didn’t know you, per say. He had seen you around when he had to work with Falcone. It wasn’t as if you were the only person who worked for the mobster, who he had scrambling around doing lots of little tasks for money. You had always reminded him of a timid cat come into a new environment, skulking around, hiding whenever you could, not making any sort of eye contact and avoiding the chance of even brushing against someone.  

Regardless, he felt quite annoyed, and troubled, to see you outside of his house. His laboratory was in there, and if you had gotten in, you could have ruined everything.  

He opened an umbrella through the open car door before stepping out, remaining dry despite the vortex of rain that seemed to be centred in this neighbourhood. He took his time to walk up to the steps, watching you as you used the railing to climb up onto your feet. Once he was closer, he was able to see the black eye that you wore, the split lip. He imagined for a moment what other kinds of open wounds you might be hiding beneath your poorly-thought out clothing.  

Before you could so much as open your mouth to tell him why you were here, his arm cut across your front, pushing you against his sturdy door. His forearm was close to your neck, just a little adjustment and he’d be able to block your airway. “What are you doing here, and how do you know where I live?” He asked, still holding the umbrella. It was the only break you’ve had from the relentless downpour in hours. Your thoughts began to swirl inside of your head, startled by the closeness, and the irritation of your wounds from the pressure he was putting against your chest. You choked out a response. 

“Toxin - Falcone - sent me to - get it.” 

He regarded you for a moment, his startlingly blue eyes boring a hole into yours. To you, he was utterly terrifying, and it felt as if he could see into your soul, and just draw all the knowledge of your many fears by being close to you. But to him, you looked like a little kitten, drowning in a river. This didn’t endear you to him. He found it annoying.  

“You can tell him it’s not ready,” he said, moving his arm, only to take hold of your sweater and pull you away from his door. He kept you at that arm’s length so you wouldn’t go running inside of his house, looking for shelter, like the stray that you were. He unlocked his door and then stepped inside. He even had the audacity to shake his umbrella out in your direction, splashing you with it.  

“W-wait, please, if I go back without it-” You started to plead, but the only thing that you got in response was the door closed in your face, and the sound of the locks sliding into place. Once more, you felt absolutely kicked while you were already down.  

You knocked weakly a few more times before giving up. You slid back down onto the stoop, leaning your head against the door. Going back wasn’t an option. You didn’t move for a while, having nowhere else to go to. Falcone would go searching your house first when you didn’t come back right away. You just had to hope that eventually, the door would open, and you could catch Dr Crane when he left next.  

It was four hour later when he did indeed open the door. He had been watching you through the cameras that he had set up outside of his front door, in case of intruders. Or more so, in case of thugs and henchmen of other villains around the city of Gotham. There was always some thick-headed small-brained idiot trying to prove himself by going after anyone, just to build up his reputation. 

What he had watched you do was sit there, and start to have a panic attack. He had seen them often enough in patients, in victims. The way that you had pulled your knees up to your chest to make yourself small. The rocking back and forth. The shaking breath. You almost sounded like a flock of damn birds with the squeaky wheezing that you were doing. Seagulls, or something. And though he was still quite unamused by your showing up at his home, by knowing his address, he saw potential there. 

His mistake had been seeing you as a pet. 

When you would make the perfect lab rat. 

You toppled back, hitting the floor hard once the door had been opened. It shocked you even more, causing more of a panic. You attempted to scramble up, to get out of this situation, feeling the need to fight or flight and going with the latter, but your hands combined with the smooth tiled floor of the entryway, made you slip and fall right back down again. It faintly reminded Jonathan of the old slapstick comedies. He didn’t offer to help you up, just watched you struggle. 

Finally, you were able to grab your footing and got onto your feet, avoiding being close to him by pressing your arms against yourself. You stepped back out to the rain but froze like a deer in headlights when you heard him speak. 

“The toxin will not be ready until tomorrow,” he said, in his smooth, deep voice. It was hypnotic, it stood out against the sounds of the rain - or whatever liquid passed for rain in this polluted city. “Come in. You can bring it to him when it’s ready.” 

Despite yourself, you stepped into his home, where it was nice and dry - and when the door closed, quiet. It was still dark inside, none of the lights save for one in the kitchen down the hall seemed to be on. There was no music, no television. Only a sudden shrill whistle from a kettle, a sound that made you realize how cold and uncomfortable you were. How every bit of your clothing was stuck to your body, as if you had submerged yourself underwater.  

“Take off that sweater,” Dr Crane ordered. Fight or flight flew out the window at that moment. You were still panicking, but your mind told you to obey instead. Don’t rebel. Don’t run. Just do what they tell you to do, and that’s how you stay alive in this town. Unless you’re sent on a suicide mission, which this very well could have been. You unzipped your soaking wet sweater and struggled to get out of it. It clung, stuck to your wounds and had to be peeled off. You felt naked without it. Worse, somehow. Exposed. 

He looked over you calculatingly, as if you were one of his patients. He didn’t have empathy for your situation, as far as he was concerned, you had gotten yourself into this mess. And yet - there was something so ... drowned puppy about your expression that was endearing. Cold blue eyes, looking up and down, the water droplets hanging off of your hair, the blue tinge to your lips, your shivers. You looked downright pathetic. And it made him curious how you would look terrified. 

He put a hand on the small of your back and led you, still drenched, towards his bathroom. You followed, still shaking, your eyes cast down on the fine wooden floors rather than up at him. You only looked up when he stopped, and looked around the room that you were in. A toilet. A shower and bathtub combination. A sink. Black towels - for some reason, you kept looking at those black towels. 

“Take a shower. Warm up,” Jonathan said, curtly.  

“But -” you said, lower lip quivering again. “I’m just here for the -” 

“Take a shower,” he said, again. “I will not have you be sneezing around my house because you’re stupid enough to stay on my doorstep when it’s raining.” 

You went to protest again, opening your mouth but that obedience came into play again. If you just do what he says - he might give you the toxin - and you can go back to your boss with it. And a few more dollars might be shaved from what you owe. You took a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself, feeling weak from the toll that the panic attack had on your body. “Okay. I’ll take a shower.” 

“Good,” Jonathan said, and then left you just as abruptly as he had let you into his house. You looked back at the black towels again and very gently, as if you were dismantling a bomb rather than trying to warm your fingers, you touched it, the soft material helping your numbed digits. When you started being able to feel the texture, you finally moved back and turned on the water. Warm water. It felt like you haven’t had a warm shower in ages. Your landlord never got the pipes fixed, no matter how many complaints that he got. 

It felt amazing. It seemed to touch at the cold that was right inside of your core, a place that warmth hadn’t touched in a long time. It permeated through you, making you stand up a little taller, not looking as ready to dart behind the nearest thing to hide from your boss’s rage. You felt better. You felt good. 

When you got out of the shower, you were surprised to find your sopping wet clothes were no longer on the ground. The puddle was still there, but someone - Jonathan - must have come in when you were behind the shower curtain, enjoying the heat. In its place was a thread-bare bathrobe, one that had obviously seen better days. After drying yourself off with the towel, you slipped it on, feeling the worn through black material, tying the belt tightly around your waist so it wouldn’t open and show off everything.  

This was a day of ups and downs. The hot shower was the biggest up - but this was another down, the humiliation of having to go and see your boss’s associate, Scarecrow of all the villains in Gotham, wearing his old bath-robe and nothing underneath. 

Jonathan was waiting downstairs. When you had come down into the kitchen looking for him, he pushed over a steaming bowl of oatmeal, fresh from the microwave. He didn’t seem the type to eat very healthy. Or very much at all, given his long, almost skeletal frame which had partly given him the nickname Scarecrow. “Eat.” 

You did as he said again, picking up the spoon and started to eat. It might just have been some quick oatmeal from a box but it was the first thing that you had eaten all day, and the best thing that you had tasted in weeks. He watched you as you ate, making observations, taking notes in that brain of his.  

“Thank you,” you said, after you finished, even running your finger inside of the bowl to get the bit that was stuck to the ceramic.  

“You’re welcome,” he said, though there wasn’t warmth in his voice. Just curiosity. “When did you last eat?” 

“Yesterday morning. I think it was around two am,” You admitted, finding yourself being honest when perhaps you should have lied. Everything you did or said was a representation of your boss, and if you seemed to be ungrateful ... you could definitely be punished.  

“I see.” He spoke. “Tell me - little one, what are you afraid of?” 

So many things ran through your head just then. Enclosed spaces. The constant sound of bombs going off in Gotham, and the way that the ground would tremble underneath your feet. The clown masks that the Jokers’ men wore. The pitch-darkness of an alleyway. 

“Gotham.” 

Because that’s what it all boiled down to. This goddamn city. It had it’s claws in you, and they were sharp, and deep, probing around your ribcage, to your very organs. The Gotham air had tainted your lungs, making them black with the smoke and soot and pollution in the air. Your heart had to be hardened because you had seen so many people on the streets, dead and alive.  

“Gotham?” Jonathan repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Fascinating.” 

He dug a cellphone out from his pocket.  It was old-fashioned, almost like he seemed to be. As you looked around the kitchen, nothing seemed to be new. Even the microwave looked like it was a relic from the seventies. His phone was a flip-phone. It even had the little antenna that stuck out the top.  

“Your little dog showed up at my door today,” he said, staring into the phone, staring at you. You realized, suddenly feeling quite cold again, that he was talking to Falcone. The fragile calm that had come over you with the help of a shower, and warm food, was completely shattered. “I told you; the toxin isn’t ready. When it is, I’ll have your mutt deliver it to you.” 

Mutt. Dog. They weren’t said affectionately, and yet, they didn’t sound insulting either. You knew that in the grand scheme of things, you were below Scarecrow - you weren’t even a crony or a thug, you were just Falcone’s gopher in a sense. It was a reminder to you of that. But not a cruel one. 

It was your turn to stare at him as he spoke on the phone, and he noticed this. His blue eyes bore into yours, like this was a game of chicken that he wasn’t going to lose. He didn’t blink.  

“- no. I’ll be keeping them until I’m ready to give you the toxin. That’s the price for your annoying persistence. Until then, I will consider them to be ... my own personal assistant. Don’t bother me again.” 

It was extremely strange to see the man that you knew was Scarecrow flip his cellphone closed like a girl in an early two-thousands teen movie.  

“Wh-why did you do that?” You asked, your nervousness returning. You were anticipating punishment already. No doubt when you did return to Falcone, there would be a slap, a punch, a kick, a tantrum waiting for you. And yet Dr Crane had said all of this without the least bit of concern for you.  

“I need an assistant, temporarily. And your clear dedication in your given tasks proves efficient enough for my needs,” He spoke smoothly, removing his glasses and setting them down atop the table. You never realized how blue his eyes were before until he did that, when there was nothing between your eyes and his. You blinked away your awe and faint attraction before he could catch on, though knowing him, he probably had.  

“What do you need me to -” 

“Asking these endless questions is not a part of your job description,” Dr Crane said, his voice still as smooth as ever. “You’ll do what I tell you to do. And you’ll do it when I tell you to do it. In return, you can have a room here, and food.” He looked over you again, at how pathetic you looked. At how fearful you looked when he had made the phone call. He knew all about Falcone, how he dealt with people. “And - you won’t be battered for it.” 

Battered. Such a strange word that he used. You’ve never thought of yourself being in that position, being ‘battered’. It was merely being punished to you. 

“Thank you,” you said, quietly. He gave you a curt nod, and then his eyes went to the clock hanging in his kitchen. “I’ll come fetch you when I need you. Until then, do not go wandering around. You can stay in this room, the living room there, the bathroom you had taken a shower in, and the bedroom down the hall to the left. If you go anywhere else, your behaviour will have to be ... corrected.” 

The threat was inherently evident through the tone, and in the pause before he said the word corrected. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head submissively. “Yes, Dr Crane.” 

“Good,” he said, touching his fingers to one another, creating a steeple beneath his chin. “Yes, I think you’ll be most suitable.” 

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