#something wild by radiator hospital

[discoidal]

albums for ur valentines day needs ❤️❣️✨

[oozins]

[smileysuh]

dark protector

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Prologue

It’s been six months since your breakup. Six months of self-work and healing practices. Six months of connecting with your spirit guides, hoping you can work through this dark period of your life and come out the other side.

You’ve just gotten off a long shift at the hospital, where you work as an emergency room nurse. Cleaning up other people’s messes makes you feel a little more whole every day, it shows you that while your wounds might be deeper than the skin, you have the resources to fix things that seem unfixable.

After a shower, you slump onto your couch, your hands reaching for one of your tarot decks. It’s as if you can feel the energy radiating off your spirit animal cards, and you remove them carefully from the box, holding them close to your chest.

“Spirit,” you say softly. “I think I’m finally ready to try dating again. But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll end up in the same situation as last time, finding a man who needs to be fixed- I know my pattern is finding broken men, and I’m done with that. I need guidance. I need some sort of sign that will show up when I meet the right person.”

Part of your healing journey was writing down what traits you’d want in a partner. You’d made a list that included, ‘kind, smart, patient, stable, loyal, and protective,’ and you’d folded to your own physical tastes by writing ‘tattoos’ as well. You can’t help it, you like the way art looks on skin, and although all the tatted bad boys you’ve dated in the past have been assholes, you’re holding onto a hope that you can find a good man with tattoos. You know they’re out there, you just have to find one.

“Spirit, can you help me pull a card, and whatever animal is on that card could be a tattoo that my future significant other would have?” you ask. “Please don’t choose a lion or a wolf or something super common- I want an animal that is a little more unique, something that couldn’t just be coincidence… but, I mean, if my soulmate is meant to have a wolf then I guess I can make that work.”

You hate questioning your guides, hate putting boundaries on them. If your soulmate has a stupid, overdone tattoo like every other man with ink, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to shuffle your spirit animal deck. 

You’re not being too fast with your shuffle, you prefer to sit for a long time and wait for cards to pop out rather than force a reading with erratic motions. Focusing on your breathing, and your ask from the spirit, you wait patiently.

Soon, a card pops out, landing on the coffee table in front of you.

An Elk looks up at you, and you take a moment to assess the card before finding the guide book.

You flip to the Earth section, finding the Elk easily. There are a few keywords at the top of the reading, they say ‘Stable, resilient, headstrong, the father.’

Stable is a word you’d written into your boyfriend manifestation notes, and you consider that for a moment before reading further. 

“The great Elk represents the Earth element in its masculine form. This means it provides underlying support and stability amidst life’s many changes. An Elk personality is fully established in themselves and knows their core values. They become known and respected for acting in ways that uphold those values. Sometimes the Elk’s ego can become inflated, but for the most part, they make damn good fathers, mothers, lovers, and friends. The world needs more elk energy.”

You think about the type of man who could be stable, whether that’s financially or emotionally. You’re hoping to find a man as set and in love with his job as you are- the kind of man you could build a future with. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about kids, and the note that Elk personalities make good fathers and lovers makes the feeling of hope stir within you.

However, the Elk - like the Lion and the Wolf -  is a pretty common tattoo. 

“I’m wondering if I should ask for a second card,” you tell your guides. “This deck has numerous animals connected to zodiac signs. Fish for Pisces, Scorpion for Scorpio… I know not all zodiacs have an animal correlated to them, so I won’t use this as a defining factor, but… maybe to make things even a little more specific, could you help me pull a card to represent the zodiac sign for my future Elk tattooed boyfriend?” 

This feels like a lot. And you’re aware that there are only a few cards in this large deck that will actually connect to the zodiac, so you prepare yourself for a dud card.

You begin to shuffle, and this time, a card pops out even faster than the first. It’s face down on your coffee table, and you take a breath, willing this to be a sign.

When you flip the card, you find a lion staring up at you.

The lion is correlated with the Leo zodiac, and you swallow thickly, thinking about the traits generally connected to Leos. The words that come to mind are ‘confident, loyal, ambitious, and protective,’ two of which are traits you’d manifested.

You find your guidebook again, reading the top line of traits: “Patient, regal, a complete master.”

“The Lion is a master of the fire element and the living mascot of self-transformation. A lion personality dedicates their life to personal and spiritual growth. This dedication inspires some and intimidates others, therefore the Lion is respected by all but known intimately by few. Some mistake the Lion as hard to access or aloof, yet those with a keener eye know better. Lions are observant, stealth, and precise in their words and actions. They do not waste energy or resources. This card reminds us that self-mastery is available to all, no matter where our quest begins.”

You consider your reading as you put your deck away and head to bed. A Leo man with an Elk tattoo, someone who is patient, stable, headstrong, loyal, and maybe a little egotistical, but hopefully not in any ways that would be damaging to you like your narcissist of an ex-boyfriend.

You’re prepared to not find a man who fits this bill, but you feel a little better about narrowing down the traits you’re attracted to. Some people don’t believe in tarot, and while you can understand that, this reading has spoken to you in a way that you can’t quite explain.

There’s no timeline to the reading, and you won’t be restricting yourself waiting for a man with an Elk tattoo to sweep you off your feet, but it feels a little easier having some parameters. 

When you fall asleep, you dream of a large man standing in shadows, Elk-like antlers protruding from his head. 

One:

“Tell me again how you found out about this place?” you sigh, getting out of your best friend’s car to stare at the tattoo studio.

“God, I’ve told you a hundred times,” Sunmin rolls her eyes. “One of my sister’s boyfriend’s cousins’s boyfriends work here.”

“I’m going to need you to say that slower.”

“My sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, his cousin is dating one of the artists here, and he says they’re all super hot. And I figured, since your tarot cards told you a few months ago that you’ll find some dude with an elk, a tattoo shop is a good place to look for him.”

“Okay, but please don’t bring up the actual tarot,” you plead. “People judge me for that shit all the time.”

“My lips are sealed but my eyes will be wide open,” she grins.

The two of you enter the tattoo shop, and the air conditioning is a welcome reprieve from the hot summer outside. Your friend chats with the receptionist about her consultation with an artist named Vernon, and soon the two of you are being escorted deeper into the studio.

It’s an open plan layout, with small sections for each artist. Only one man is currently tattooing someone, and you suppose that since it’s the morning, they likely get busier as the day goes on.

There’s a large man who approaches you and your friend as you sit in Vernon’s section. “Hi! You must be Vernon’s ten o’clock consultation! I’m Mingyu. Vernon’s just chatting with our boss in the back, but he’ll be out pretty quick.”

“Hi, I’m Sunmin and this is y/n,” your friend introduces you. “We have no problem waiting.”

“Cool. I don’t have a client for a while, I can keep you guys company while you wait for Vernon if you’d like.”

“We’d love that,” Sunmin beams. 

“How did you guys hear about us?” Mingyu asks, taking a seat on the tattoo artist chair.

“My sister’s boyfriend’s cousin is dating one of the guys who work here,” Sunmin explains.

“Is your sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan?” 

You’re shocked the man was able to follow what Sunmin just said.

“Yup! That’s him!” Sunmin confirms.

“Love that guy,” Mingyu grins. “Yeah, I’m dating his cousin. He told me he’d tell others about the shop but I didn’t think he’d actually follow through with it.”

“Well, here he is, following through,” Sunmin laughs. 

“So is this tattoo consult for you?”

Sunmin nods. “Yup! I’ve always liked ink, got a few small pieces, but I wanted something bigger for my thigh.” 

“How about you?” Mingyu asks. “Any future tattoo plans?”

“Not at the moment,” you respond, gaze shifting to a door that leads to the office in the back. Two men have come out, they’re both quite handsome, dressed in oversized hoodies that obscure any ink on their torsos. 

“I’ve actually been looking at elk tattoos,” Sunmin lies, “know anyone with anything like that?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but one of the men from the back is already approaching. “Hi, are you Sunmin?” he asks.

“That’s me,” your best friend beams.

“I’m Vernon,” the soft looking man smiles. Mingyu gets out of his seat, bidding a quick farewell before going back to his own section. As Vernon and Sunmin begin to talk about her tattoo plans, you find your eyes shifting to the man who must be the boss as he walks over to inspect the tattoo taking place.

He’s got a nice build, and you can see the outline of strong shoulders even from under his large black hoodie. He rolls up the sleeves, and you can see he’s heavily inked, but from a distance, you can’t make out any elk-like marks. 

Sunmin had done her best to try to ask Mingyu about a tattoo fitting what your tarot had told you to watch out for, but you suppose you shouldn’t be shocked that your soulmate isn’t in the first shop you’ve gone into. 

You relax against your chair, listening to Sunmin and Vernon talk.

You’ll do your best to find your Elk inked Leo, but you suppose you can’t rush the process.

Two: 

You’re at a bar with friends when you hear a commotion just outside. As the designated driver of the night, you haven’t touched any drinks, and although it might not be anything serious, your emergency room nurse instincts kick in, drawing you to the possible danger as you quickly make your way to the front of the bar.

You catch the tail end of what’s happening, one bouncer chasing after some guy who’s booking it down the street, and another man being held back by a second security guard. 

The man being held back looks enraged, and he manages to break out of the bouncers grasp- which is when you see blood on the back of his white shirt.

“Fuck that guy,” the injured man snarles, and when he turns, you catch a glimpse of his profile.

It’s the man from the tattoo parlour, the one you assumed was the boss.

While he looks extremely pissed off, you can’t help but approach. “Excuse me,” you say quietly, grabbing his attention. “You’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” He looks over his shoulder, grabbing at his shirt where the blood is. “Fuck, he must have grazed me.”

Must have grazed him… with a knife?

“I’m uh… I’m an ER nurse, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask.

“I’ll grab the first aid kit,” the bouncer tells you, darting back into the bar.

“I’m fine,” the tattooed man tells you.

“Then there’s no harm in me taking a look to confirm that.” You try to smile softly at him.

The man looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I think I was at your parlour last week, my friend had a consult,” you explain. “I’m y/n.”

He looks you up and down. “Seungcheol.”

You can see the anger and tension dissipating from his shoulders. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the curb and I’ll look at your shoulder?” you suggest.

Seungcheol sighs, but does as he’s told. He sits down, grabbing at the back of his shirt. You catch him wince as he tugs the bloodied fabric off, and you’re shocked at what’s revealed.

It’s not the slight gash that makes you take a step back, it’s the Elk head tattoo on the center of his spine, with large antlers tangling up toward the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?’ Seungcheol asks, looking over his shoulder at you again.

“No, it’s not that.” You do your best to compose yourself, kneeling down to look at the wound, although your eyes keep going back to the Elk. 

The bouncer returns with the first aid kit, and Seungcheol sits there quietly while you clean the wound. “You’re right that it was a graze, but I still think stitches would be a good idea,” you tell him.

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Seungheol responds while you press gauze to the wound, bandaging him up with medical tape. 

“Why not?”

“I just don’t like hospitals,” the beefy tattooed man says simply.

You release a sigh. “Listen, I’m going to give you my number, and if there’s any sign of infection, call me, okay?”

“You said you're an emergency room nurse, right?” he asks, standing up when you finish with his shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Words evade you as you look at his chiseled chest, and you do your best not to be too obvious at the way you’re gawking at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I did to piss off the dude with the knife?”

“It’s not important,” you respond quickly. “You identified it as a knife wound, and that’s all I needed to know.”

“I was in the emergency room one time, got stabbed by some kid outside a strip club, the nurses kept pestering me about the details. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like hospitals,” Seungcheol explains.

“Well, your business is your business,” you tell him. “All I care about is that your wound doesn’t get infected, and you take care of it if you’re not getting stitches.”

Seungcheol’s gaze feels hot as he stares at you, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it to you. “Here. For your number.”

Your fingers are shaky as you type in your digits before handing it back to him, and you can’t help but notice the way your hands briefly touch.

“I need a drink,” Seungcheol says. “You coming back inside? I’ll buy you something, as a thank you for not pestering me.”

“No thanks is necessary,” you try to assure him, but Seungcheol is already reaching for your hand.

“Don’t fight this,” he tells you. “Let me say thank you in the way that I know how.”

You allow the big burly man to guide you back into the bar. He orders himself a shot of tequila, then turns to you expectantly.

“Uh, can I get an iced tea?” you ask.

“Not drinking?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” you explain. “My friends are over there-” you turn and catch your whole table of friends staring at you. 

Seungcheol follows your gaze and smirks, offering your friends a small wave. “Okay, so you're a stay in your lane ER nurse, and you’re a designated driver.”

“That sums it up I guess,” you laugh.

“She’ll get an iced tea,” Seungcheol tells the bartender.

You like that he’s not pushing you. Some people pressure you to drink when you’re out, but you like to have your head screwed on straight on your shoulders. You never know when an emergency is going to happen, and your soul calling is helping people. On top of that, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve got a shift in five hours that you need to be sober for.

“I’m trying to find red flags with you, you know?” Seungcheol says nonchalantly. “But so far, I’m not seeing any.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t have any?” you suggest.

“I’ve been told I’m a walking red flag,” Seungcheol muses. 

“Tattoos can be deceiving,” you point out, although, studies do show that people with trauma are more likely to be inked- all your ex’s have had tattoos, and they’ve all had dark pasts. You can’t help you type, and staring at the man with the elk on his back, you wonder if this is going to be just another repetition. 

Your drinks are set in front of you and you watch Seungcheol down his tequila shot. He shakes his head out a little at the taste, and you appreciate the way his dark curls look with the motion. 

“Anyways, you’re here with friends, I won’t keep you,” he sighs.

“Thanks for the iced tea,” you smile softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Seungcheol nods.

You mirror the movement, grabbing your drink and heading back to your table.

The moment you’re seated, all your friends erupt into chatter.

“Who was that?!” one asks.

“He was hot!” another friend notes.

“Wasn’t that the dude from the tattoo shop?” Sunmin questions, looking after Seungcheol. “Is he… bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s the guy from the parlour,” you sigh. “His name is Seungcheol, and yes, someone tried to stab him outside.”

“Jesus!” Sunmin’s eyes widen. “But… he bought you a drink?”

“I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it,” you explain. “He insisted on getting me a drink.”

“Well… that’s nice, isn’t it?” one of your friends says thoughtfully.

“I guess.” It’s clear you don’t want to talk about this further, and your friends quickly go back to discussing something else, but you inch closer to Sunmin. “He has a tattoo.”

“He has a lot of tattoos,” she laughs.

“No, he has like… this big elk head and antlers on his back.”

“What?!” 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you warn her, not wanting her to raise her voice too loud so your other friends hear. You’re quite private about your spiritual leanings. Being a woman of science, and ER nurse no less, sometimes it feels like believing in fate isn’t something that works well with your job.

“We’re talking about this later,” Sunmin tells you.

“Yeah.”

You sit back, thinking about it.

Obviously your interaction with Seungcheol was short. He came off as a bit of a hot head, perhaps you’d even use the word brash- there was certainly a level of ego that radiated off of him as well, but, at the same time, he’s one of the most handsome tattooed men you’ve ever met.

You’d asked your guides for a sign, and tonight, the Elk had bared its antlered head.

Now it’s up to you to decide if you trust in fate, or if this is all just a coincidence. 

Three:

You’re about seven hours into your eight hour shift. Having started at five am, after being a designated driver and getting your friends home at three, you’re quite tired. Things were very busy for a while in the emergency room, but for whatever reason now that it’s noon, things have seemed to calm down a little.

You’re just sitting in the nurse station with your coworker Joshua when your phone buzzes in your pocket. It’s an unknown number, and at first, you’re not sure if you should answer it.

Against your better judgement, you bring your phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“Is this the stay in your lane ER nurse who’s also the designated driver?”

You let out a sigh. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Hi, Seungcheol.”

“Hi. So, I tried to stitch up the wound when I got home, and I’m not sure if I did a good job.”

“You tried to stitch it up?” you ask, already exasperated. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it at the bar?”

“I just didn’t,” he says simply.

“Send me a pic of the stitches,” you instruct.

“One sec.”

You wait patiently, and Joshua catches your eyes. ‘What’s happening?’ he mouths.

You quickly mute your call. “Some guy I helped at the bar last night got grazed by a knife, he didn’t want stitches, but decided to try to stitch himself up this morning.”

“What the fuck?” Joshua laughs.

“Okay, sent.” Seungcheol’s voice makes you hit the unmute button, and you open your messages to see the picture.

Joshua rolls closer, staring at your phone. While Seungcheol’s broad muscular back is a bit of a distraction, the stitch up job on the wound is sloppy, and draws most of your attention.

“Seungcheol,” you sigh. “I’m going to say this in the nicest possible way. You might be a tattoo artist, but your stitching skills are sub par at best.”

The line is quiet for a moment, then you hear a chuckle. “Someone’s in a grouchy mood.”

Joshua’s eyes widen, and he looks at you for your response. 

“You would be too if you spent all yesterday sleeping, woke up to be a designated driver for your friends, got home at three and had to be at work for five.”

“Oh… are you at work now?”

“Uh huh.”

“I shouldn’t bother you then,” Seungcheol says quickly.

“It’s no bother,” you assure him. “Look, I’m off in an hour. I’ll swing by to your shop to check out the stitching. Most stitches should be sewn within six to eight hours, we’re bordering on twelve- I just want to make sure there’s no infection.”

“You should just go home after work.”

“You should listen to your ER nurse and let her help you,” you retort, too tired to argue with him over this.

Seungcheol makes a groaning sound. “Fine.”

“See you in an hour.”

You hang up the phone and Joshua looks you up and down. “What’s his deal?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, “I couldn’t tell ya.”

Four:

You and Joshua often have the same shifts, and you carpool together to feel more green, so it’s Joshua who drives you to the tattoo parlour when you’re done work.

Seungcheol is waiting outside, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he eyes Joshua as the both of you get out of the car. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol says as you approach, “who’s this?”

“My coworker, Joshua,” you introduce them, and Joshua has the decency to hold out a hand.

You hold your breath, releasing it when Seungcheol gives him a customary curt handshake.

“He’s your ride?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh huh, is that a problem?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable having him around while you check out my shoulder, even if he does work with you” Seungcheol explains. “Listen, I’ve got a motorcycle and an extra helmet in the shop, how about I take you home after this?”

Both men look at you, and for a moment, you feel flustered and put on the spot.

You’ve never been on a bike before- but fuck it, you’re too tired to work through Seungcheol’s weird alpha behavior and territorial mentality about you having a male coworker with you.

“That works,” you agree. “Thanks for the ride, Josh.”

“Text me when you’re home,” he warns, pulling you in for a hug.

You can practically feel Seungcheol staring daggers at the two of you when Joshua pulls away and heads back to his car.

Seungcheol’s demeanor is a bit icy as he leads you into the shop. You notice Vernon and Mingyu. Mingyu even says a loud “Hi, y/n!” and you nod politely as Seungcheol takes you into the back office, closing the door.

“So, is that dude your boyfriend?” he asks, heading to the first aid kit already open on his desk.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last ex, uh… he did a number on me.” 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol takes off his shirt while you grab medical gloves to pull on. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say,” you admit with a sad laugh.

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he decides.

“How about you?” you ask, softly prompting him to turn away from you on his spinny chair so you can assess the wound, gently removing the gauze. 

“What about me?” he counters.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My ex was a bit of a shit show too.”

“Well I guess we’re kindred in that at least,” you smile, leaning close to get a better look at his shoulder. 

Seungcheol shivers slightly, and you think your breath on his throat must have set him off a little, but he stays silent. You notice his hands balling into fists on his thighs.

“I think your stitching can stay, but I’m going to clean your wound again and rebandage it.”

“Sounds good,” Seungcheol responds gruffly.

“While I’m doing this, do you mind if I ask about your tattoo? This big Elk?” You gently graze your surgical gloved pinky finger down his spine, and Seungcheol shivers again.

“Jesus, don’t do that,” he snaps.

“Sorry. It’s a pretty tattoo, I couldn’t help myself.” Your skin is heating with embarrassment, and you notice Seungcheol’s ears turning red too.

“I uh,” he swallows thickly. “My grandma was a tarot reader. She was always doing these readings, very connected to the Earth and shit. She used to tell me I had an Elk soul, like her. Something about spiritual guidance, protection, kindred souls or some shit. I’m not super into that stuff, but when she died, I kept having these stupid Elk dreams. Sort of felt like she was trying to communicate with me- if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyways, I figured if I got the tattoo, I’d feel closer to her, like she has my back.”

This is not the tattoo explanation you’d ever considered would come from a man like Seungcheol, and it takes you a few moments to register it and decide on a response.

“It sounds like you were very close with your grandma, I’m sorry that she passed.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol shrugs it off. “Shit happens.”

And just like that, he’s closing up again.

You wonder if you should tell him about your tarot connections, but you don’t want to sound like some crazy chick if you mention your spirit guides pointing you toward an Elk. Instead, you bite your tongue as you finish up his wound. 

“All done,” you announce.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything as he stands up and puts on his shirt. “What’s your address?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

You show him on the maps where you live. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? Don’t you have… clients?”

“I can get you home and be back in time for my next appointment,” he assures you. “Think of this as another way of saying thank you for fixing me up.”

So far, he’s shown two love languages. He’s bought you a drink, and now he’s doing an act of service. He’d seemed hesitant on touch today, unlike last night when he’d been drinking, and you wonder what his history in relationships is like.

It sounds like you’ve both had shitty past experiences.

You just want to figure him out.

“Have you been on a bike before?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing a small black fullface helmet off a shelf of motorcycle memorabilia. 

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“More tired than anything else,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, my Harley has a sissy bar, so you’ll be okay.”

You don’t even know what a sissy bar is, but you follow Seungcheol out to his bike anyways. 

“Here, we can put your stuff in my saddlebag,” he explains, opening a large additional compartment near the back tire of his bike. “I don’t always ride with these, but for whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to have them on today.”

He helps you put your work bag in his bike, and then, he helps you with your helmet, his fingers delicately grazing your throat as he tightens the strap there.

“If anything is wrong, just tap my thigh,” he tells you, swinging a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

Even with layers of protection over your ears from the helmet, his Harley is loud. It purrs, like a lion, and you stand in a daze for a moment before he makes a motion for you to hop on. 

You’re careful of his injured shoulder as you slowly get on the bike, adjusting yourself on the seat. 

Seungcheol reaches for your hand, settling it on his hip. He opens his visor. “Ready?”

You nod.

He nods back, and the bike roars to life. He pulls out of the parking spot, and you hold on tighter, thankful for the additional padding of a safety bar behind your back- is this the sissy bar he was talking about? 

You can’t dwell on motorcycle terms as Seungcheol gets onto the street, the bike moving even faster. The feeling of summer air is hot but pleasant on your skin as you ride between cars. You get the sneaking suspicion that Seungcheol is holding back on his driving-

You could imagine him weaving between vehicles and being a general menace on his bike, but with you on the back, he’s trying his best to be a gentleman.

You’re shocked at the trust you already have in this man. A man who a little over twelve hours ago, was a stranger.

You’ve never considered yourself an adrenaline junkie, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, everything else slips away.

You’re at your home before you know it, and you almost feel sad when Seungcheol pulls up to the curb. He motions for you to get off, and he joins you on the sidewalk a moment later, quickly helping you with your helmet.

“How was it?” he asks.

“That was super fun,” you tell him, beaming.

Seungcheol grins when he sees the expression on your face. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Listen, keep the helmet for now,” Seungcheol says. “I have your number and I know where you live, so I’ll come back for it.”

You feel your expression drop, and Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, concern written on his face.

“You good?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “Sorry, my uh- my ex used to say that to me. That he knew where I lived when I broke up with him. It felt like a threat, and it’s one of the reasons I had to move a couple of months ago.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Fuck that guy.”

You nod. “Fuck that guy.”

Five:

You’ve had Seungcheol stuck in your head. After he’d dropped you off, it had been hard to sleep, your mind preoccupied with his answer about his tattoo. When you’d finally woken up hours later, you hadn’t been able to help yourself, you’d pulled out your tarot deck.

“Spirit,” you’d breathed. “I think I may have met him. The Elk. And even though you’ve given me the sign with his tattoo, I feel like I need more confirmation. I’m going to shuffle, and if this is meant for me, can you please give me a love card?”

There are numerous cards within the deck that talk about relationships, partnerships and new beginnings, and you’re hoping that one pops out.

You begin to shuffle, closing your eyes and taking it easy.

It’s about a minute before a card pops out. It’s upside down on your coffee table. 

You take a deep breath, slowly reaching out to flip the card.

The Two of Cups stares up at you, and you don’t even have to open your tarot guide book to know what that means. It’s a card of unity, of partnership. Other than the Lovers, it’s one of the most clear relationship cards you can get. 

You stare at it for a long while. The Elk may have been a coincidence. The fact that his own late grandmother had been a tarot reader may have been a coincidence. But pulling the Two of Cups, out of any other card, when seaking confirmation- this feels like fate. 

Part of you wants to be extra sure and ask for the lovers card, but you also think this might be a good time to trust your spirit team. They’ve guided you twice now, and maybe you have to look inward.

Why are you so cautious that Seungcheol might be the one?

Are you ready for a new relationship?

You’d thought you were ready- and here you are, meeting a man who fits your type-

Maybe it’s the fact that he is your type that you’re worried. What if he turns out to be a dickhead like the last ones? You’re still holding onto a lot of fear. You want to protect yourself, which you validate as a legitimate concern.

But… are you going to spend the rest of your life frightened?

Or are you going to try to let go of those fears and learn to trust again, even if it ends up biting you in the ass?

The possible risk is heartbreak, but the possible reward is endless happiness.

Fate can only do so much, this is the part where your own actions will dictate the future.

Six:

“So, how’s that dude with the tattoos doing?” Joshua asks, taking a seat next to you in the nursing station when things have finally calmed down.

“Cheol? I uh… haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off at my place two days ago.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

You shrug. “I’m not sure. We’re both busy people. I work here, and he owns a tattoo shop.”

“I guess that’s true,” Joshua nods. “Maybe you should call him and see how he’s doing?”

You quirk a brow at your friend. “What’s your angle here?”

Now it’s Joshua’s turn to shrug his shoulders. “No angle. I think, as your friend, sometimes it’s important to give you a little push. After all, your tarot said he’s your soulmate.”

Joshua’s one of your only coworkers who you’ve felt comfortable opening up to. He knows about all your spiritual inklings, and you’d filled him in on your whole Elk, Leo, Two of Cups fiasco yesterday. 

“Fine, I’ll give him a quick call,” you sigh. “Strictly as a nurse who wants to see how the wound is doing.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Joshua grins.

You roll your eyes at him, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Seungcheol answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you doing?” you ask, putting him on speaker phone. Joshua might be encouraging you to do this as a friend, but you know better than anyone that he also loves some good tea.

“Doing okay.”

“And your shoulder?”

“Good as far as I know… why? You worried about me?” You can hear the grin in his voice, the fact that he’s loving the concern you have for him. “I’ve had worse, you know.”

“I’d just hate for it to get infected,” you sigh.

“Look, if you want to do your due diligence as a nurse and everything, how about you get drinks with me and assess it yourself?” he suggests.

Joshua grabs your thigh, eyes widening, waiting on what you’ll say next.

“We could do that,” you respond.

“Sounds good, when are you free?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about eight o’clock?” 

“That works,” you nod.

“I’ll pick you up at eight then, and bring your helmet.”

You find yourself smiling. “Will do.”

“It’s a date. See you then.”

“Bye, Cheol.”

Your heart is racing as you hang up the phone, and Joshua immediately repeats Seungcheol’s words, “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” you respond, jittery at the idea.

“Some guys are assholes and say ‘let’s hang out,’ but this one says ‘it’s a date.’”

“That’s a good sign,” you insist.

“A very good sign,” Joshua agrees. “If this dude ends up being the one, I might just have to get into tarot.”

Seven:

You’re surprised to find yourself playing nighttime mini golf with Seungcheol on your date. “What happened to drinks?” you ask as he pays for your tickets and grabs your clubs from the attendant.

He shrugs. “Figured you’re a nurse so you might not wanna get on my motorcycle after I had a few drinks, also the fact that you were designated driver last time I saw you at a bar- I thought this might be more your style. But, I’ll warn you, I’m not going to go easy on ya.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised at how astute this man can be. “I think this will be fun.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol’s wearing black jeans and a charcoal v-neck that shows off his strong shoulders. He’s the epitome of your type: a bad boy with tattoos. Yet, when you begin to play, he’s shockingly patient.

“Let me show you how to hold the club,” he suggests on the second hole, waiting for you to nod before he steps behind you and wraps his body around your own. “Feet positioning is key.” He also gently adjusts your hands, and your heart leaps in your chest when he breathes against your throat. “It might take some time to get used to,” Seungcheol warns, “so don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t come naturally.”

You hit the golf ball, and it goes a lot closer to the hole than your first shot had.

“Did it take a while for you to get into mini golf?” you ask.

“Nah, I was always a natural,” he teases, flashing you a wink before he takes his own shot.

You admire the way his shoulders look with his back to you. “So what got you into being a tattoo artist? Into having your own place?” 

“Well, my grandma passed, and she left me a pretty big inheritance. She always thought I could succeed as a tattoo artist, but before that I was stuck doing blue collar type shit. I think, the money was her final way of telling me to follow my dreams. I’m kind of obsessed with ink, if you haven’t noticed.” He holds out his arms, which are littered with patchwork. “How about you? How does someone get into being an emergency room nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you explain. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars. I’d always been scared of hospitals, but the nurse who helped me in emergency was an angel. She made it less scary, and when it was over, I realized I wanted to be just like her. When people come into the emergency room, it’s never fun. It’s frightening, and cold- and I want to be there for people who are going through that, to be a warm, friendly face.”

“My grandma had a light worker's soul too,” Seungcheol nods. “That’s what she always called it anyways. She wasn’t ever officially trained, but in her later years she got into herbal medicine. Anytime I was sick it was lemon and garlic chicken noodle soup with bone broths and the works- always made me feel a lot better.”

“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Seungcheol agrees. “I don’t know you that well yet, but I think she would have liked you.”

You grin. “Is that an important trait you look for when taking girls to mini golf?” 

Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “It should be. My last ex wouldn’t have fit the bill, and at the time, I thought that was okay, but it didn’t end well.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll talk about mine if you talk about yours,” he suggests. “You said your last boyfriend was a creep when you broke up, threatened to come to your place and shit, he sounds like a piece of work.”

“He was,” you sigh. “I’ve got this thing for big tattooed men, bad boy types. It always leads to me getting my heart broken. He would tell me I was the one and everything, but I found out he was cheating on me with some waitress at the bar he used to go to all the time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… I’m your type.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m sorry to hear that. Cheaters are the fucking worst.”

“Sounds like you’ve experienced something like that too.” 

“Looks like both of our ex’s were cheating fucks,” Seungcheol says. “I know it’s a red flag to talk shit about your ex or whatever, but some ex’s deserved to be talked bad about.”

You nod. “A hundred percent.”

“Did you think you were going to be with your last one forever?” Seungcheol asks after a moment.

“I thought so.”

“Me too with mine, I was just about ready to get her a ring.” He frowns, looking down at his golf ball. With a sigh, he easily knocks it into the hole. “Well, this is just the way life happens I guess.”

It’s clear you both have very similar wounds. You’re shocked at how easy it is to talk about this with Seungcheol. Some people say not to talk about ex’s on dates with new people, but this almost feels therapeutic. You understand Seungcheol better, and you’re sure he understands you too.

It’s promising to know he thinks about the future, that he’s ready to settle down, not all men are.

Maybe you’re both in the same boat with all of this, and that’s a hopeful thought.

Eight: 

Seungcheol can’t seem to get you out of his head. 

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly superstitious man. His grandma had been spiritual, and he’d always loved that aspect of her. He’d enjoyed doing tarot readings and making all sorts of elixirs with her in the garden. She’d told him he’d be a successful tattoo artist, she’d seen it in the stars, and while she’d been a big part of making that premonition come true, he wonders what else she might be right about.

Seungcheol’s grandma had always told him he’d end up with a healer like her. A doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse- she wasn’t very specific, but she’d said his soul would call in a light worker when the time was right.

He feels drawn to you, his little emergency room nurse, designated driver, light worker. 

It’s been such a short amount of time, but there’s something unexplainable about the way he feels.

“You look distracted,” Mingyu muses, coming to join Seungcheol outside the tattoo parlour where he’s puffing on his vape.

“Just thinking.”

“About your birthday party tonight, or that girl you brought through the other day?” Mingyu presses, grinning as he bumps his shoulder against Seungcheol’s. 

Seungcheol can’t help but sigh at his friend’s prying ways. 

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything, but summer is almost over and you need a backpack. My angel has been surrounded by testosterone motorcycle rides for months, and we’d all love another girl to be part of the group. You should invite her out tonight.”

Of course Mingyu’s coming at this from an angle of having a girlfriend. He and Wonwoo are obsessed with their ‘little angel,’ and Mingyu’s always talking about the joys of being in a relationship. It can get somewhat tedious for Seungcheol.

“Don’t you have a client soon?” Seungcheol sighs.

“Point taken, I’ll leave you be,” Mingyu says, patting him on the shoulder. 

As soon as his friend is inside, Seungcheol pulls out his phone. He thinks about what he’s going to say to you, before typing out an easy, “Up to anything tonight?”

He’s shocked by how quick your response is. “It’s Sunmi’s birthday this week so we’re celebrating tonight since it’s Saturday.”

Seungcheol’s mood drops, and a moment later, you’re calling him.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you respond. “How are you doing?”

“Not so bad.” He wants to tell you that it’s his birthday tonight, wants to try to convince you to come, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to guilt you, doesn’t want to mess up your plans. “What’s up?”

“I just… I know we’ve only gone on one actual date, and I only met you a week ago, but… I just want you to know, when I go out tonight, I’m not going to be hitting on anyone or anything.”

He’s taken aback for a moment. “I wasn’t really worried about that.”

“Okay! Good! I just- I know with your ex and everything- and I just, I figured I’d clarify, even though we’ve only been on one date, I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl.”

He respects that you’re so direct about this, and he appreciates your loyalty. You really are a good person. 

“I’m a one girl at a time kind of guy,” Seungcheol says finally. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.”

“Me too.” He can hear your smile, and it makes his heart swell. 

“Anyways, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, bye, Cheol.”

Nine:

You’re having a great night. The drinks have been flowing, and you’re having a fun time celebrating Sunmi’s birthday. Things are fuzzy in the best way- until you hear a familiar voice say your name.

You turn to find your ex standing close to you at the bar, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s been a while,” your ex states.

You can’t even find the words to speak, suddenly getting drunk seems like a horrible idea.

You’ve just started to feel safe again, to feel stable- you’d thought being out with your friends, you could let loose, but now your ex is here and your heart is beginning to race.

“Have you been drinking?” your ex asks, coming to stand closer to you at the bar top, where you’d been sipping a gin and tonic. 

“I, uh-” your words catch in your throat, and you swallow thickly. “It’s Sunmin’s birthday.”

Your ex nods, and when you look toward your table, you see Sunmin gaping at you.

Turning away from Sunmi, your ex addresses you. “Is she still a huge bitch?”

“I-” you want to defend your friend, but you feel frozen. You can’t think- you’re completely overwhelmed, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your heart like thunder in your chest.

“We need to talk,” your ex says next. “Come outside with me.”

He grabs your arm, and then a hand wraps around yours. You turn to see Sunmi standing there, glaring at your ex. “What do you think you’re doing?!” she asks.

“Y/N and I need to have a chat outside,” your ex sighs, being very dismissive.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” Sunmi insists. “Honey, do you want to go with him?”

You quickly shake your head, moving closer to your friend for safety.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” your ex rolls his eyes, tightening his grip on your arm to the point where it almost hurts.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” Sunmi insists, somehow successfully tugging you away from your ex. 

“Run away, but I’ll be right here to talk to her when you’re done.”

It feels like a blur as Sunmi races you to the woman’s washroom. “Y/N,” she helps you to the sink, looking at your face. “Are you okay?”

“I-”

Sunmi pulls you to her chest, hugging you deeply. “We’re going to sort this out,” she promises.

“How?” You feel like crying. All the emotions come flooding back, the fear, the helplessness-

“We’re going to call Seungcheol.”

“What?” You’re in shock. “We can’t do that!”

“We can, and we will. Men like your ex only respond to other men. We’re calling him. Give me your phone.”

Reluctantly, you hand Sunmi your cell, turning on the sink to splash your arms with cold water.

“Hi, Seungcheol?” There’s a pause. “No, this is Sunmi. I’m out with y/n, we’re at a bar on Elm and fifth street, her ex just showed up- okay, okay, yeah, we’re in the bathroom in the back.”

She hangs up and you look to her for an explanation.

Your friend lets out a sigh. “As soon as I said your ex was here, Seungcheol said to give him five minutes. I’m going to keep you here and he’ll come get us, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry to ruin your birthday.”

“Honey, you’re not ruining anything,” she assures you, pulling you in for another hug. 

You hold back tears while you wait with Sunmi, and in no time at all, there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Seungcheol pokes his head in, and you see his expression drop when he sees you.

“What happened?” he growls, coming to join you.

“Her ex was trying to drag her outside-” Sunmi tries to explain.

“He touched you?” Seungcheol asks, anger laced in his words.

You nod, pointing to your forearm. 

“Grabbed is more like it,” Sunmi breathes.

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “Okay, I’ll get you out of here. Just hold onto me and we’ll get out of here.”

You nod again, allowing Seungcheol to gently take your hand. He guides you out of the bathroom, and you huddle close to his side as he walks you through the bar- you almost think things will go smoothly when your ex steps in front of you.

“Who’s this, you’re new boyfriend?” he asks, venom dripping from his words.

Seungcheol stops in his tracks. “So you must be the dip shit ex.”

“Say that again, asshole,” your ex growls, eyes narrowing.

“You must be-” Seungcheol broadens his shoulders, “the dip shit ex.”

Your ex releases a laugh, and then he’s taking a swing. It feels slow and fast at the same time, Sunmi tears you away from Seungcheol, who dodges the punch easily, only to land a blow to your ex’s stomach-

“Y/N! Sunmi!” Mingyu’s voice appears out of nowhere, and suddenly two strong arms are wrapping around you and your friend. “Outside!”

Mingyu keeps you close as he gets you and Sunmi out of the bar while a commotion ensues in your wake. Four motorcycles are pulled up on the curb. You recognize Vernon, and there’s another man you’ve never seen before.

“Cheol’s starting shit,” Mingyu tells his friends quickly.

“We heard your ex was here?” Vernon offers, giving you a sympathetic look.

“He threw a swing at Cheol when I got inside,” Mingyu tries to explain. “Y/N, we’re going to get you out of here, Wonwoo pass me the spare helmet from the saddlebag.”

“What about Seungcheol?” you ask, watching the men fuss.

“He can take care of himself,” Mingyu assures you, helping you put on the helmet.

“Cheol will meet us at our place,” the new man, Wonwoo, says. “When he gets hot like this, he doesn’t drive very safely.”

“Trust us,” Mingyu pleads. “We just gotta get you out of here, your ex made the first swing, and nothing good can come from this now.”

You turn to Sunmi and she squeezes your hand. “It’s okay, get out of here. I’ll text you what happens.”

You can’t even think as Mingyu gets onto his bike and you awkwardly take the seat behind him. You can’t comprehend how things happened the way they did- how fast the altercation had been before your ex had taken a go at Seungcheol.

As you leave the bar, heart thundering in your chest, it’s the most you can do to try to slow your breathing, your body still carrying the trauma that you’d endured with your ex, the wound you’d thought was healed now torn open.

Ten:

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask as Mingyu covers you with a large fluffy blanket on his couch. “I mean- you just said your girlfriend is four months pregnant and sleeping in the other room-”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu assures you.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You’d found your ability to speak again once you felt safe and in Mingyu’s apartment, and now, you can’t help the anxiety bubbling inside of you. You feel like a burden- and it’s an all too familiar feeling from your time with your ex.

“You didn’t ruin it, we were almost done anyways,” Wonwoo notes. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y/N, deep breaths,” Mingyu tells you, sitting on the couch next to you, offering your calf a reassuring squeeze.

“Is Cheol going to be okay?” you ask.

“He’s going to be fine, that man has never lost a fight,” Mingyu explains, smiling softly.

In the distance, you hear an engine revving, and Wonwoo sighs. “There he is.”

Not even five minutes later, Seungcheol is practically bursting through the door. His eyes find you on the couch, and you’re quick to stand, allowing him to envelop you in a hug. His heart is racing in his chest, he’s clearly panicked, and when he pulls away, he looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” he questions, cupping your face as if checking you for injury.

“I’m okay, are you okay?” you retort.

“Just a few bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

You find yourself laughing, and as you laugh, your eyes well up with tears. Now that he’s here, you finally feel like you can take a deep breath, and he’s quick to tug you back to his chest as you cry.

“I’m going to give you a moment, then I’m going to take you home,” he tells you, hand smoothing up and down your back.

You stay in his arms until you feel a bit better, and when you pull away, Mingyu is offering you a tissue. You clean yourself up, say your goodbyes, then Seungcheol walks you out with the spare helmet in hand.

He doesn’t say anything on the way down, but at the bike, he hands you his fullface. “Want you protected,” he tells you, grabbing the bucket helmet from your grasp.

You nod, putting on the helmet and allowing him to help you fasten it up. 

You’re quiet as you both get onto the bike, and Seungcheol adjusts your hand to his hip, squeezing gently. 

The bike roars to life and you take off.

It’s a different feeling to be on a motorcycle while still a little drunk, and you find yourself throwing your head back to look up at the night sky. 

You’ve seen the stars before, but on the back of Seungcheol’s bike, it feels like you're experiencing them for the first time. 

You lose track of time doing this, and the ride is done sooner than you’d like when he pulls up to your building. “Come on, baby,” he says softly, helping you take off your helmet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

He holds your hand, helping you with your keys to get into the apartment complex. The elevator ride is quiet, but his hand is a reassuring constant, warm and large wrapped around your own.

He’s never been to your place, and you feel a little self conscious as you open up your door. It’s a modest apartment, one bedroom- there’s really nothing to be insecure about, but you think maybe your anxiety from the bar incident is just making you a little crazy.

“How about you sit down, and I’ll get you some water?” he suggests, helping you to the couch.

You kick off your high heels, curling up on the cushions while Seungcheol putters around your kitchen. He already looks like he belongs here, and for a brief moment, you can forget about your ex.

Seungcheol rejoins you on the couch, handing you the cup. “Here.” 

“Thank you.”

You sip on your water, trying to breathe properly again.

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dropping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you. 

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.” 

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table. 

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal- 

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

It’s a soft kiss, not the kind of first kiss you’ve ever had before. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately try to dominate you like men in the past have, he lets you set the pace. You lean in closer, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you deepen the kiss. 

Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you, and it’s a somewhat awkward position on the couch like this, so he simply pulls you onto his lap. 

You lose yourself in the kiss, allowing all your anxiety to dissipate while you enjoy the safety Seungcheol provides. 

After a while, Seungcheol pulls away, and you’re both breathing heavily. 

“How… how do your knuckles feel?” you ask.

He laughs, looking down at his hands. “I might black out my fingers when this is all healed,” he admits. “I get into too many barfights. My grandma used to say it was the Leo in me.”

“The Leo in you?” you repeat, heard thumping wildly in your chest.

“Yeah, I uh…” he lets out a soft chuckle, “I didn’t wanna pressure you to come out or anything after I heard you were at a friend’s birthday party, but it’s sort of my birthday today.”

You’re frozen for a moment. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a Leo,” you say again.

“Uh huh. You’re not about to tell me some weird zodiac rule about our signs not being compatible, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” You take a deep breath. Just a short time ago, you’d decided not to tell him about the Elk tattoo meaning, and now here you are, about to tell him everything. 

You’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the bar situation, or the slight tipsyness, but you think fuck it, if he could tell you about his tarot loving grandmother, you can tell him about this.

“A few months ago, I did a reading,” you begin to explain.

“A tarot reading,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. And I asked my guides to show me a spirit animal card that would be a tattoo on the person I’m supposed to be with. The card came up as an Elk- and before you tell me it’s a very common tattoo, I know it is, which is why I asked for further clarification with them telling me the zodiac of this person too-”

“And they said Leo,” he breathes.

You nod. “Then, when I met you, the Elk lined up, but I still wasn’t sure, so I did another reading on us, and the Two of Cups came out, it’s a love card. So with those two cards, and now the fact that you’re a Leo-”

“Is this your way of telling me you think I’m your soulmate?” Seungcheol grins.

“God, I should have guessed you’re a fucking Leo,” you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be rude,” he tuts, gently pinching your hip. “If it’s any consolation, my grandmother always told me I’d end up with someone in the medical field, and you’re an ER nurse.”

“She really said that?” you ask.

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol’s gaze dips to your lips then back up again. “I wonder if she saw this future.”

Your heart melts. After your last relationship, where the lovebombing came on fast, you’d promised yourself not to get burned by that sort of thing again- but here you are, falling for Seungcheol way quicker than you ever have with anyone else in the past.

Even so, something about this feels so right.

You let out a breath. “One time with the Elk may have been coincidence. Two times with the Two of Cups card was a little odd. But three times with your Leo Zodiac-”

“I guess the question is, do you believe in fate?” Seungcheol moves closer.

“I think you know that I do,” you laugh.

Seungcheol’s hands squeeze your hips, and he doesn’t say anything else as he brings his mouth to yours.

You kiss him eagerly, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your chests together. His tongue glides against your own and it feels like magic- there’s a bulge growing in his pants, and you can’t help but begin to grind down against him.

Seungcheol releases a small groan and it’s music to your ears, prompting you to apply more pressure to his cock when you wriggle against him.

With a sigh, Seungcheol pulls away. “Baby,” he says softly, “you’ve been drinking and I don’t want to take advantage tonight-”

“I swear that whole situation with my ex sobered me up,” you admit. “Besides, maybe I want to give you a birthday present.” 

“A birthday present?” he repeats with a chuckle.

You nod. “Cheol, I haven’t even kissed anyone in months- I’m already practically drenched from making out, you won’t make me wait even longer, will you?”

He studies your face, and you can see the moment he folds. “We can do this, but at any point if I think you look drunk, we have to stop. I don’t want you to regret this being our first time.”

“I could never regret this,” you promise, leaning in to press your lips to his throat.

Seungcheol throws his head back, his fingers digging into your hips again. The low moan he releases tells you that he has a sensitive neck, and you enjoy simply teasing him for a minute while you mentally prep yourself for what’s to come next.

You do want to move on, and this is one of those steps.

You’re not afraid of it. You had been frightened about intimacy with someone new, but Seungcheol makes you feel more safe than you’ve ever felt in your life.

You want this. 

You shift a little on Seungcheol’s lap, reaching down to cup his cock with your palm. 

Seungcheol swallows thickly, his hands smoothing up and down your hips. “Are you sure?” he asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you?”

“It’s your birthday,” you point out. “And you took care of me at the bar, I think it’s my turn to show some appreciation.”

He doesn’t argue with you, and you can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He lets out a deep breath. “I know it’s early,” he says, “but… if we do this, I don’t want any confusion. I want you to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Honestly? I’ve been yours since practically the moment I saw you take your shirt off so I could clean your shoulder wound.”

Seungcheol releases a chuckle. “Really?”

“Uh huh, you make me fucking feral.”

He lets out a groan of appreciation. “It’s been hard to control myself too. That day at the studio, when you touched my back tattoo- I was so close to breaking. Wanted to throw you onto my desk and make you feel good.”

You imagine what that would have been like, and it makes you moan. “Why didn’t you?”

“I could tell you had a past, and I didn’t want to scare you off,” he admits. “I’ve been… trying to be a good boy.”

Your bad boy trying to be good to make you comfortable. You really hit the jackpot with Seungcheol.

“Cheol, I’ve told you I have a thing for bad boys,” you tease.

“So maybe I should take control right now,” he suggests with a grin.

“Let me suck you off, and then you can take control,” you tell him, pulling away. “I’m going to get on my knees now.”

Seungcheol watches you slip onto the floor infront of him, and your hands find his belt. You try to focus on your task of getting his pants off, but you enjoy sneaking glances at him, seeing his pretty face as he tries to keep composure.

He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans down, and his cock slaps up against his lower abdomen, hard and already leaking.

He’s a decent size, somewhere between six and seven inches, and his cock is as girthy as the rest of him. You lick your lips, grabbing the base so you can adjust him toward your mouth as you lean in.

“No teasing,” Seungcheol warns, voice softening when he says, “please.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Liar,” he laughs, reaching out to stroke your head.

You slip the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue. 

“And that’s the teasing I was talking about,” Seungcheol muses. “Feels good though.”

You sink further down onto him, beginning to suck as you move up and down.

“Fuck, that feels even better,” he groans.

When you were with your ex, blow jobs were an expectation, and because of that, you never really enjoyed them. There’s something powerful about doing this of your own volition, about making the conscious choice to pleasure Seungcheol.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the motion of providing this for him. Hallowing your cheeks, you suck hard when you’re near the tip, and Seungcheol groans loudly, shifting further down on the couch so you’re not bent over him in such an awkward position.

“You’re good at that, baby,” Seungcheol says. “But there’s only one birthday present I’d enjoy more than this.”

You let out a “hmm?” sound, an inquiry.

“When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

Your pussy throbs at his words, and you increase your speed on his cock, letting out a moan of appreciation. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he asks. “Say the word, baby, and I’ll make it happen.”

You pull off of him, your hand smoothing up from base to tip to pump him while you address your beautiful dark protector. “I just want to make you feel good a little while longer.”

His expression softens. “Making me feel really good.”

You grin, returning to your task. 

Seungcheol’s hand is gentle in your hair. He caresses you while you suck him off, never applying pressure or trying to get you to deep throat him. It’s an ever constant, soft touch, and you’re shocked at how much of a gentleman this heavily tattooed, bar fighting, Leo can be. 

“Baby?” His voice draws you from your thoughts. “I know I said you could say the word and be done, but- this feels too good, and I don’t wanna bust the moment I begin to fuck you.”

You pull off of his cock with a pop, smiling up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He lets out a shaky breath and grins. “Where’s your bedroom, gorgeous?”

“Right there.” You point at the door adjacent to the living room.

“Come on, baby, it’s my turn to take care of you.” He helps you to your feet, pulling his pants back up, and you’re shocked when he throws you over his uninjured shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom while you erupt in a fit of butterfly fueled giggles.

Seungcheol lays you softly onto your bed, staring down at you. He takes in your silky shirt and your dress pants, you like to be more classy when you go out, to keep up with your reputation as a nurse.

The two of you are very different people. He’s black ripped jeans, plain tshirts and tattoos. And you’re classy outfits, scrubs, and a healer’s touch. Somehow, even with these differences, the two of you work. Like Yin and Yang, complementary forces, light and dark.

“Can I take these off for you?” he asks, tugging at your pant leg.

You nod, watching the way he begins to undo your button and zipper. He’s slow with his motions, precise. It’s not a rush to get you naked, it’s an enjoyed exploration, and you love the way his eyes glow when you lift your hips to allow him to pull the fabric off your lower half.

“You’re so pretty,” Seungcheol muses.

“Yeah?”

“That day you were in my shop with your friend, doing a consult with Vernon- I was trying to act like I was watching my newest apprentice work, but… I kept looking at you. And then, outside the bar, when you showed up again-” Seungcheol shakes his head, his hand smoothing along your leg gently. “Baby, you’re going to turn me into a believer.”

“Invisible string theory, perhaps,” you grin.

Seungcheol chuckles. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

He takes off his own shirt, and you watch the way his muscles move under his skin. He’s littered in tattoos, patchwork on his arms and chest. There must be a hundred small to medium sized tattoos, and you want to know the story behind each and every one.

But there’s a time and a place for that, and right now, you’re eager for something else.

Seungcheol gets on top of you, and you immediately thread your fingers through his soft dark hair, pulling his lips to your own.

Your free hand explores his muscular shoulders, careful of the bandage still on his bar wound, and you’re practically tingling with how attracted you are to this man.

He kisses you deeply, cupping your face while his other hand braces him to the bed over top of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he grinds against your panty clad core.

The pressure on your clit has you moaning, and Seungcheol responds by kissing down your throat. He licks at your collarbone, and then his hand moves from your cheek to your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks.

“Uh huh, there’s a tie at the back.”

Seungcheol pulls off of you, and in one motion, he flips you onto your stomach. His warm hand smooths over your shoulder, toying with the tie there.

You hold your breath in anticipation as he begins to undo the corset style back of your slinky top. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck that makes your body erupt in goosebumps. 

You enjoy the way he takes his time with your shirt, and he slowly helps you slip it off. You’re laying flat on his bed, your tits pressed to the comforter, while Seungcheol explores your back with his hands. He traces the curvature of your sides, pressing kisses along your spine. Soft curls tickle your skin, and you’re grinning like the Cheshire Cat at how good this feels.

Seungcheol flips you over again, and his gaze dips to your exposed breasts. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, gently groping your chest, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You watch him swallow thickly, and then he’s leaning over, taking the sensitive bud in his mouth while you tangle your fingers in his curls again.

With his mouth on your breast, his free hand slips down your body, and he tugs your panties down just enough for him to access your core.

Two digits rub between your pussy lips and you feel him smile against your nipple. “You weren’t lying about being wet, baby.”

“Would never lie to you,” you breathe out shakily.

“No?” He circles your clit and you moan loudly. 

“Never,” you repeat, pushing your hips up toward his hand, needing more friction.

Seungcheol rewards you by slipping both of his digits into your wet core, pressing his palm to your clit as he begins to finger fuck you. He sucks on your breast while he does this, and you’re lost in the sensations he provides.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper when his teeth graze your nipple, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers.

“Wanna make you cum,” Seungcheol says, pulling away from your breast to look down at you.

“Then make me cum,” you respond, nodding at him.

Seungcheol presses one last kiss to your lips and then he shifts down the bed, pulling his fingers from your core. He gets onto his knees at the foot of the mattress, dragging you toward himself and pulling your panties off.

He spreads your thighs. “So pretty,” he muses. “Everything about you is so fucking pretty.”

Your skin heats, it can be hard to take a compliment, but something tells you that Seungcheol will get you used to this kind of praise.

He leans forward, eyes meeting yours as he presses a kiss to your clit. You jolt at the small contact, releasing a shaky breath.

No one has eaten you out in months, and your core is already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Gonna take care of you,” Seungcheol promises, and you know that this promise extends far past the sexual setting you’re in right now.

He moves forward again, capturing your clit in his mouth while his digits easily slip into your pussy again.

You throw your head back, enjoying the sensation of him worshiping your cunt. He’s gentle with his motions at first, kitten licking your sensitive bud. You know he’s getting used to your sounds, figuring out what pressure works, what you enjoy, whether thats sucking, or more gentle stimulus.

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Like the way you crook your fingers.”

He responds by applying more pressure to the ‘come hither’ motion he’s making, and you release a whine at how good it feels.

“Just like that,” you whimper.

He sucks your clit harder too, and you moan louder, hips bucking toward his face.

Seungcheol’s free hand finds your lower abdomen and he pins you to his bed, keeping you still while he works on your pussy.

You can feel your walls clenching around him, and Seungcheol releases a groan of pleasure. It adds to your own feeling of euphoria that clearly he’s enjoying this. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’s usually a giver, and the fact that he doesn’t see this as a chore has you able to enjoy it fully, unlike certain past experiences where men had to be begged into eating you out.

Sex with Seungcheol - even foreplay like this - feels so natural. You’re not as in your head as you usually are, with his nonverbal communications and moans, you can be certain he’s enjoying this as much as you are, and it gives you the confidence to give yourself over completely to the pleasure.

Sex should always be like this, you realize.

There’s no pressure, no worrisome thoughts, it’s just two souls connecting physically in a way that’s mutually beneficial. 

Having not been eaten out in a long time, it’s not surprising that you’re extremely sensitive, and Seungcheol works you all the way to the edge before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Cheol-” you whimper, threading your fingers in his hair, “I’m gonna-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, he sucks harshly on your clit, and your words become moans as your orgasm surges through you.

His hand on your abdomen keeps you steady as he works you through your high, sucking on your clit until your legs are shaking on his broad shoulders.

Seungcheol pulls away, and you open your eyes to watch him wipe the back of his mouth, licking his fingers clean. 

“Still want this?” he asks, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his jeans.

“More than anything,” you smile.

A moment later, Seungcheol is as naked as you are, and he gets between your thighs again, lips returning to your own. He doesn’t immediately slip his cock into you, instead, he grinds against your core, teasing your sensitive clit and driving you wild.

You kiss him eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair and groping his muscular shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him despite the need growing inside of you.

You’re reminded again that there’s no rush.

You can take pleasure in this without feeling like you need to be getting fucked to be worth something.

You’re a hundred percent sure that if you’d told Seungcheol you’re not ready for sex, he would have stopped, cuddled you, and not taken it personally. There’s this feeling that Seungcheol is going to be around for a long time- and as crazy as it is with how short of a time you’ve known him, you know that your connection runs deeper than your physical attraction.

Seungcheol shifts slightly, grabbing at his cock. You bite at your lip while you wait for him to line it up with your core, and you break your kiss, panting. Your eyes meet as he slips the head of his length into your wet hole, and you both groan at the feeling.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol moans, sinking in inch by inch. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“You feel better,” you retort, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

“Impossible,” he grins, burying his face in your throat as he begins to fuck you.

You claw at his shoulders, crying out with each thrust. He fills you so well- he has probably one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever taken, and the way he stretches you out is like heaven, like he was made to be in your pussy.

The sounds he’s making are unlike any other pleasured noises you’ve ever heard.

Nothing has ever felt this right.

Seungcheol’s uninjured hand finds your own, and he laces your fingers, squeezing you reassuringly as he fucks you harder, his speed increasing.

His lips are hot on your neck, and it feels delightful. You love just laying back and taking everything he’s giving you. He’s so big, like a warm, weighted blanket covering your form.

Your toes are already curling at how deep he’s hitting, and your thighs shake desperately around his hips.

“Cheol-”

“Yes, baby?” he asks.

“You just- fuck, this feels so good-”

“You deserve to feel good,” Seungcheol tells you. “You work so hard for others, I’m lucky I get to be the guy working for you.”

Your heart swells at his words. Past boyfriends’ haven't ever truly appreciated how hard it is to be an emergency room nurse. You spend your whole shift taking care of others, and that high pressure, intense mentality bleeds into your personal life. It's a sweet relief to be the one on the receiving end, to relax and know that you can fully give yourself up to the pleasure and desire you feel, without feeling obligated to return this favour with future sexual gratifications.

Seungcheol’s lips meet your own, and you get lost in him, moaning desperately as he works your pussy open.

His thrusts slow, and he stays completely still inside of you for a moment, then pulls away.

“Can you shift onto your side for me?” he asks. “One leg straight on the bed, the other thigh pulled closer to your chest.”

It’s a position you’ve never tried before, but you trust Seungcheol, and you’re quick to adjust. You lay half on your side, one leg stretched between his knees while you bring your other toward your breasts. 

Seungcheol’s warm hand finds your thigh, and he helps bend you, his free hand guiding his cock to your pussy again.

When he pushes in this time, it feels even deeper, and you let out a squeak at the stimulation.

“You like that?” he asks, hand moving from your thigh to your breast, where he gently pinches your nipple.

“So deep- I feel so full-” you whimper.

Seungcheol only grins, and he’s an absolute vision in this position. He’s practically on his knees, and his chest is all exposed and gorgeous. His tattoos are beautiful as he massages your breast with one hand, the other on your thigh, anchoring you while he fucks you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sideways angle or what, but he’s hitting a spot that has your toes curling tight, your pussy clenching.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Shit, I should have asked this before-” Seungcheol says, voice shaky, “do I need to pull out or-”

“I’m on birth control,” you assure him. “You can cum inside.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans, rutting into you even harder. 

“Kinda want you to fill me up,” you admit.

“You’re way too sexy, baby, holy shit-”

You can tell your words are doing a number on him, and it makes your core throb with pleasure.

“Can you rub your clit?” he asks. “Want you to cum with me. I hate cumming alone.”

“Yeah.” Your hand slips between your thighs awkwardly, and Seungcheol decreases his pace  to give you a chance to catch up to his pleasure.

His movements are slower now, more precise, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that has you crying out again.

“You look so good like this,” Seungcheol tells you. “My pretty little nurse.”

For some reason, his words just do something to you, and your core throbs even harder. “Cheol, I’m close-” you warn him,

“Tell me when you’re almost there and I’ll go fast again.”

You focus on the sight of him, on the tattoos and muscles, his strong features and the pretty dark curls. His small groans egg you on, and you’re at the edge in no time, giving him a nod. “Okay-”

He releases your breast, using both hands on your leg now to steady himself as he fucks you stupid, your whole body jolting with each motion. You let out a desperate whine, rubbing your clit even harder-

“Fuck, fuck-” Seungcheol groans. “Feels so fucking good- fuck, cum with me, baby, cum with me-”

You moan in response, your core clenching down desperately on his cock as your orgasm explodes through you. Your whole body shivers with endorphins, heart racing in your chest.

Seungcheol throws his head back, releasing an extremely sexy groan as he cums with you, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts slowly and deeply, working you through your orgasms.

You rub your clit until you can’t take it anymore, tearing your hand away.

Seungcheol slumps forward, stilling completely, and you greedily grab at his shoulders. He collapses half on top of you, and you thread your fingers through his hair, panting hard.

His forehead rests against your own, and you both just try to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt connected to someone the way you feel connected to Seungcheol in this moment. It’s all consuming, and it makes you emotional as you come down from your high.

Seungcheol must notice your shaky breathing because he opens his eyes and looks at you. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m just-” you swallow thickly. “I don’t know-”

You can’t voice it, can’t voice the way you’re feeling. There are so many thoughts swirling around in your head, so many past traumas rearing their ugly faces and making you second guess yourself-

“I’m yours, and you’re mine,” Seungcheol breathes, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, he can clear all of your anxieties, as if he was able to read your mind and see your fears. 

You’ve always been drawn to bad boys, to men who you envision as some kind of dark protector- and now, you think you’ve finally found the right one. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! this fic is written in conjunction to my other story 'crossroads,' read more about Mingyu, Wonwoo, and their y/n here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Seungcheol’s thrusts get faster, and he rests his forehead against your spine while he rails you into the blow up mattress at a campsite where anyone could walk by. His baby fever is at an all time high, and he’s fucking you like a man who means every word he’s saying.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, sex in a campsite, exhibitionism, staying quiet during sex, pussy eating, fingering, large/muscled/tattooed Cheol, quickie, baby fever, dirty talk, breeding kink, praise, breast worship, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 180

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

 bonus

It’s been just under a year since you started dating Seungcheol, and through him, you’ve found a family. Many trivia nights, and bowling excursions have been spent with Seungcheol, his friends, Sunmi, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend Jeonghan. Once you’d met everyone face to face, it had been much easier to track Sunmi’s convoluted explanation of her connection to the tattoo parlour, and it’s been a joy to become so close with so many wonderful people.

Sunmi’s sister’s boyfriend, Jeonghan, is cousins with Mingyu and Wonwoo’s girlfriend, who’d had a beautiful baby girl this past January, and now, it’s the baby’s first summer. You don’t mind the shift of hang outs to be more baby inclusive, and now, you find yourself at a campsite with the whole gang.

While everyone is quite enamored with the little baby girl, Haesoo, no one is more obsessed than your boyfriend Seungcheol. You always get to see him coddling her while out and about as a group, but in the past three days at this campsite, you’ve contracted a serious case of baby fever.

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[rafecameronssl4t]

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

[thefearandnow]

Cover of "Something Wild" by Radiator Hospital

[sniktya]

Highs and Lows pt. 1

a/n : Logan was my first love, I'm so excited he's getting the appreciation he deserves <3 There are not nearly enough slow burns for this man so ... here we go?

w/c : 2146

warnings: war, descriptions of gore, angry Logan

Tennessee , 1862

Bodies lay broken on the battlefield, a bleak expanse where life had been stamped out by the merciless weight of war. The sky, once vibrant with the colors of dusk, was now a dull gray, smothered by smoke and the stench of death.

Just a few miles north, a field hospital was a scene of chaos and suffering. Blood-stained tents and rows of cots filled with maimed soldiers. She stood alone, her once white apron ruined by gore, her eyes hollow with exhaustion. Torn banners fluttered weakly in the wind—the last gasps of the dying echoing from the trees. It was a chorus of agony that clawed at her mind, driving her to the brink of madness.

She longed for silence, a moment of peace. But there was no peace to be found here, no quiet moment to ease the turmoil within her.

Her hand trembled as she reached out to the nearest soldier, his face twisted in anguish. She could feel the life slipping from him, could sense the darkness closing in around his soul. She held his hand and, with a murmured word, his breathing slowed, the scowl on his face melting into tranquility. His hand went limp under hers.

She could feel the dark toll of magic creeping up her arms, the black veins spreading further toward her heart. For every life she spared, there were dozens more she could not save. The weight of their suffering bore down on her like a curse, a reminder of her powerlessness in the face of such overwhelming destruction.

Her magic, once a source of pride and purpose, now felt like a burden she could hardly bear. Every spell she cast drained her, every life she touched took a piece of her with it. And still, the cries continued, an unending dirge that filled the air, drowning out all thoughts of peace.

*Enough,* she thought bitterly, her eyes closing against the horror before her. *Let it end. Let there be silence, if only for a moment.*

She sat on the side of the cot right behind her, the soldier covered by a white sheet. A big red circle marked where his chest used to be, torn to pieces by a cannonball.

He was a lost cause from the beginning, gone in an instant.

“Lucky,” she mumbled to herself. Gathering a breath to prepare herself for the next patient, she felt something twitch beside her.

A horrified gasp escaped her. She scrambled to get away, knocking over various bottles and buckets that littered the floor.

A pulse, faint but insistent, thrummed through the air, drawing her attention. She hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the strange energy radiating from his prone form. It was unlike anything she had felt before—raw, wild, untamed.

Against her better judgment, she approached him again, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached for the sheet covering his body and slowly pulled it back.

The sight that greeted her was both horrifying and impossible.

His chest was torn open, a gaping wound that should have claimed his life long ago. The flesh was shredded, bone exposed, blood soaking into the ground beneath him. But as she watched, the torn muscles began to knit themselves back together, the ragged edges of his flesh crawling across the wound in a grotesque dance of regeneration. The gash closed before her eyes, healing with a speed that defied all logic, all laws of nature.

She recoiled, her breath catching in her throat. This was no ordinary soldier. No human should have been able to survive such a grievous injury, let alone heal from it. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, but there was no explanation that fit.

The witch’s heart pounded as she stared at him, a mixture of fear and fascination swirling within her. The darkness creeping up her arms seemed to throb in response, as if the magic within her recognized the anomaly lying before her.

She should have left him, moved on to the next patient. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of his body piecing itself back together, from the strange, primal energy that clung to him like a second skin.

Slowly, she reached out with her magic, probing the edges of that energy, trying to understand it. But the moment her power touched his, it recoiled, like oil meeting water.

Whatever force was keeping him alive was fierce and utterly foreign to her. She could sense it now, beneath the surface—an indomitable will to survive, something that went far beyond human instinct.

Her gaze lingered on the man’s now-closed wound, her thoughts churning with dread and temptation. The dark veins on her arms had already spread to her elbows, an ever-present reminder of the toll her magic demanded.

She was running out of time—her strength was fading fast, and the war was far from over. But the power coursing through this man, this strange and impossible being, was terrifyingly alive.

She knew she shouldn’t. Tampering with such forces could have dire consequences—her magic was already dangerous enough. But desperation gnawed at her, the weight of all those lives pressing down on her conscience.

If she could harness even a fraction of his power, she could continue her work, could heal those who were beyond her reach.

Maybe she could be saved, too.

She knelt beside him, her hand shaking as she placed it over his chest. The energy pulsed beneath her palm, ferocious and unyielding, a force of nature that seemed to resist her touch.

She hesitated for only a moment before drawing her magic forward, coaxing it toward the slumbering force within him.

It responded instantly, lashing out like a cornered beast. Pain seared through her, ripping a cry from her throat, but she didn’t pull back.

She couldn’t.

As she channeled the energy into herself, a jolt of power surged through her body, mingling with her magic in a chaotic dance.

She gasped, the force of it nearly overwhelming her, but she pushed forward, driven by the need to survive. She could feel her arms tingle, the corruption retreating under the flood of new strength, but something was wrong—terribly wrong.

The power didn’t stop.

It crashed into her like a tidal wave, sweeping her away in its torrent, tearing at her very essence. She tried to pull back, to sever the connection, but it was too late. Her magic twisted and writhed, entwining with his in a violent embrace that she couldn’t control.

Panic surged within her, but before she could react, his eyes snapped open.

Logan awoke with a roar, his instincts kicking in before his mind could catch up. The agony of his wound was gone, replaced by a strange, disorienting haze.

He didn’t know where he was, didn’t know who was crouched over him, but he could feel something pulling at him—something invasive and terrifying.

With a snarl, he lashed out, his claws unsheathing with a sickening SNIKT.

The witch barely had time to react before the sharp bone claws pierced her side, slicing through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.

She cried out, collapsing onto the ground as pain laced through her, hot and blinding. For a moment, she thought she was done for, but then she felt it.

An intoxicating heat, a hum of cells regenerating. The wound began to close almost as quickly as it had been made.

The pain receded, replaced by a flood of energy, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She glanced down at her side, nauseated to see the flesh tie itself back together, the blood on her gown the only sign of what had happened.

She looked up at Logan, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. His confusion was palpable, his anger seething beneath the surface, but she couldn’t afford to be paralyzed by fear.

Drawing on the newfound strength coursing through her veins, she pushed herself up, her magic flaring to life.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a green pulse of energy crashing into him, forcing his body to seize up. He fell to the ground, his muscles locked in place, unable to move.

Breathing hard, she stumbled back, her heart racing. She had to get away—had to put as much distance between them as possible before he recovered.

Without a second thought, she turned and ran, the sounds of his growls echoing in her ears as she fled into the night.

Her feet carried her deeper into the forest, the lights and sounds of the field hospital fading fast. Soon, there was nothing but the crunch of leaves under her shoes and the rushing of blood in her ears.

The moon was high, casting silver light through the dense canopy of trees. She could hear him behind her, closing in fast. Ragged gasps escaped her as she stumbled through the underbrush, her heart racing. The forest was thick, dark, and eerily quiet, the air heavy with the scent of earth and pine.

Her arms were trembling from the lingering effects of the energy she had channeled, leaving her unsteady. She didn’t know where she was going, where she could find refuge from the creature on her heels.

With gritted teeth, she threw a hand back, muttering an incantation. Trees bent and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, but Logan barreled through them, tearing them aside as if they were paper.

A branch embedded itself in her dress and sent her flying face-first into the cold, damp ground.

It knocked the breath out of her.

Gasping, she turned to lay on her back. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she could see the stars peaking through the crown of trees. 

She tries another spell, but the words falter on her lips. In an instant he was above her, his eyes glowing with animalistic intensity, claws extended and ready. 

It’s the first time she takes them in, the moonlight making them look almost translucent. For a moment they simply stare at each other. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” 

She lays frozen under his gaze, unsure of what to say. What did she do to him ? 

“I don’t know “ she muttered. 

He advanced towards her and she held her breath, waiting for him to strike. Instead, she could hear his claws redact with a sickening grinding sound. 

He bent down and hauled her up by the collar of her dress. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She knew he could end her life in an instant, and the wild look in his eyes told her he was barely holding himself back.

"That won’t do", he snarled.

He pushed her backward till she felt the roughness of bark dig into her back. He held her there, his closed fist pressed against her stomach. Beneath the rage, she could feel a deep sense of unease radiating from him.  

"You’re not runnin’ from this.” His eyes, fierce and wild, bore into hers. 

“Whatever you did, you’re gonna fix it.” 

“I... I tried to draw from your strength to heal myself,” she admits, her voice barely a whisper. “But our powers… they clashed. I don’t know if there is a fixing it.” 

“You expect me to believe that?” Logan’s scowl deepens, his jaw clenching as he leans in closer. 

He presses his fist harder against her stomach, making her wince. But she doesn’t look away, meeting his gaze with a mix of defiance and desperation. 

“Whatever happened, it wasn’t intentional. Your power… it did something to mine. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, searching her face for any sign of deception. His breath hitched slightly, betraying a moment of uncertainty, but it was quickly swallowed by his anger. 

Their noses were mere inches apart, his eyes seemed pitch black. His voice drops to a low, menacing whisper, each word laced with venom.

“Stay the hell away from me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. For a moment, time seemed to stop. She felt the weight of his threat, the danger in every syllable. 

Then, without warning, Logan pushed away from her. He turned on his heel and stormed off into the darkness, his heavy footsteps fading into the night. 

She remained frozen in place, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps as she watched him disappear into the shadows.

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the trunk of the tree, clutching her chest where his fist had been. 

As she sat there, trembling in the cold night air, a single thought echoed in her mind: What have I done?

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I won't go into detail on the female OC's appearance, I just don't enjoy writing from the reader's perspective.

[klausinamarink]

his lips still blue

rating: T | cw: hypothermia, supposed character death | tags: established relationship, supernatural/horror vibes | wc: 948

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 2: Came Back Wrong

—

Three days.

Steve was missing for three days and everyone already thought about the worst case scenario. Eddie blamed Chief Hopper for quelshing their hopes for pointing out how the recent snowstorm delaying the search was covering Steve’s tracks. Even Robin had bit her lip in thought so hard that it bled.

But Eddie refused to think about it. He didn’t even dare to let any of those thoughts contaminate the hope he kept nurturing in his chest. Because Steve always survived the toughest shit, no matter how bizarre it may be. A brutal fist fight with three men? He apologized about getting his sweater ruined despite his concussion and bleeding face. A wild bear attack that nearly took Will Byers? Steve was more worried about the kid than himself. Freak mall fires? He worried that Eddie would be mad at him for missing their anniversary date while being treated for third degree burns on his sides.

Getting lost in the woods and three and half feet of falling snow? He had to come back with an embarrassed smile and frostbite in his fingers and toes.

Eddie clutched the blankets tighter around him. He stared out the window for so long that his eyes ached. But he worried that if he looked away, even for just a minute, then Steve would be lost for good and wander endlessly. It was a silly superstition, but Eddie was a beggar at this point.

He shivered, the blankets barely substituting his husband’s steady warmth. He should probably make some tea but what’s a cup of tea going to do in bringing Steve back?

Knock. Knock.

Eddie startled, his gaze breaking away towards the front door. He gave out a sigh, got up from the couch, and shuffled towards it. Already the small hearth of hope in his chest is sputtering out with the image of Hopper giving the dreaded news. He burned that away as soon as it popped into his head.

“What is-” The words died in his mouth just as Eddie opened the door.

Steve stared back at him. His hat and gloves were missing, his jacket was partially covered with snow, and his lips were a startling blue. Alive.

Eddie immediately threw his arms around his husband, weeping and kissing him in relief without a care of how cold Steve’s lips felt.

—

It took another few days for the hospital to allow Steve’s discharge. Despite the waning hypothermia and everyone’s prodding, Steve hadn’t explained the story of his absence. Only that he had been trekking through the woods as usual and… nothing.

Doctors presumed it might’ve been some traumatic amnesia from exposure. Honestly, Eddie couldn’t care less. He was just fucking glad Steve was back.

Steve was quiet on the way back. Eddie tried not to overwhelm him with his own questions, but kept him in a massive blanket pile. Steve was still horribly cold despite the heaters. It was a surprise that he wasn’t shivering either.

“I made you tea,” Eddie pushed a warm cup to his hands. He tried not to frown at how oddly chilly they felt. “Peppermint with honey and shredded cinnamon - your favourite.”

Steve just blinked down at the cup. His lips, once flushed back to color at the hospital, were paled into a bluish tint. He set the cup back down on the table. “I don’t want it.”

“You should really drink something warm, sweetheart. You’ve been outside for-”

“I like it cold.”

Eddie blinked. Waited for Steve to elaborate but instead his husband turned his eyes towards the same window Eddie had been looking out during the three days of hell.

Finally, Eddie sighed. Tugged Steve up by his hand, still cold against his own warm palms. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

He tucked in Steve extra diligently with another blanket and laid right next to him. It felt strange - his husband back to his side yet his usual warmth was barely radiating off his body. It worried Eddie and he made a mental note to go to the hospital in the morning if Steve’s body heat stayed like this.

Eddie thumbed lightly over Steve’s lips, still in that bluish tint. That worried him too. He whispered, “What happened out there, sweetheart?”

Steve said, “I like it cold.”

Somehow, Eddie fell asleep.

—

Eddie woke up with a violent shiver. He blinked rapidly, vision adjusting to the dark. Once it did, he saw that the bedroom windows were wide open, letting in gusts of flurries.

He cursed, his hand reaching out automatically to Steve-

It patted on a cold, flat blanket instead.

Eddie was quick to jump out of bed, calling out Steve’s name. The entire cold was freezing and every window was open. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the front door was open, exposing the view to the woods where a trail of footprints led there.

He hurriedly put on his warmest jacket and boots as he rushed outside. The crunching of snow seemed to echo louder than calling out Steve’s name.

He kept his eyes on the footprints, sucking in frigid air into his lungs as he ran.

His hands felt numb already. He put the gloves on, had he?

Eddie licked his lips once, wincing at the chapness.

He stumbled over something and fell into the snow. It bit through his face, stung it to one expression as Eddie lifted his head up.

Steve was in front of him. His hands were already on Eddie’s cheeks, thumbing away the snow. Then he leaned his head in.

Eddie only caught a glimpse of his still-blue lips before his eyes shuttered shut at the much-needed warmth.

[fairyniceyeah]

⌛⭐ Day 5: "It's not as bad as it looks."

Bite/Swelling/Disfiguration

@juneofdoom

Day 4: "Does that hurt?"

Summary: While filming at a park, Seonghwa gets attacked by a dog.

CW: wild animals, blood, fainting, hospitals, needles (implied)

Whumpee: Seonghwa

Caretaker: Hongjoong

They had blocked off the entire park for the content shooting. While on one hand Seonghwa felt a bit bad for the locals who now had no access to it, on the other hand he was happy they were able to play in the whole area without any worries.

It was a miniature version of Capture the Flag they were filming, with Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang and Jongho on one team and Hongjoong, San, Mingi and Wooyoung on the other. While Jongho and Yeosang had been sent on reconnaissance mission to find the other’s flag, Seonghwa and Yunho were supposed to stay behind to protect their own flag.

They had hidden it at the back of a huge rock, easily missed if running past but glaringly obvious if you approached from the other side. So Yunho and Seonghwa tried to keep the other team’s runners - Seonghwa didn’t yet know who they were but he supposed that San and Wooyoung would be most likely - away.

So far, it had been boring on their part. The area probably was a bit too big for only eight players but he liked the thrill of the game nonetheless. Both he and Yunho were hidden behind some bushes, their cameramen not too far away. This was the sad part about the kinds of games sometimes - the cameramen were more easily spotted than the members themselves. Yunho was in his eyesight but too far away to speak. Seonghwa’s radio rustled and Yunho’s voice came through.

“Did you hear that, hyung?”

Seonghwa, glad that finally something was happening, stopped his breathing to listen for any suspicious sounds. And indeed there was some rustling coming from in front of them. Had the other team’s members managed to run around them? 

He nodded at Yunho and the other waved in a backwards motion. They needed to protect the flag and so they got closer to it, shuffling slowly. The other team would not get the flag today.

They reunited closely to the small clearing in front of the rock. If they caught the other team’s runners before they reached the flag, they would be in “jail” for a time of five minutes, a good advantage for them.

The rustling came closer and Yunho and Seonghwa both readied themselves for a game of tag, holding their breath. Seonghwa could feel the excitement radiate off of his dongsaeng. Yunho loved these thrilling games.

A snarl came from the direction of the bushes and suddenly the air was tense. That didn’t sound like any of the members. In fact, it didn’t sound like any human would be able to make that sound.

Then, a dog stepped out of the underbush. 

It wasn’t one of those fluffy, small ones that people carried in their purses and people loved to coo over.

No, instead it was a huge, brown hound, more muscle than anything and face drawn in a grimace, fangs on display and saliva dripping. His ears were laid back, giving him an even scarier appearance. Out of the corner of his eyes, Seonghwa saw the cameramen step back slowly, freezing when the dog’s wild, yellow eyes landed on them. 

Their odds in this game of chase had been shuffled.

But the cameramen seemed less exciting than the two idols directly in front of the dog. 

Seonghwa felt his mouth go dry and his body start to shake. He never really had been the biggest fan of dogs, more of a cat person, and everything taller than knee-height was scary. Slowly a hand grasped his hand in their own and squeezed.

“Yunho?”, he whispered, his voice barely audible. Yunho looked straight forward, staring straight at the dog and made himself look as tall and broad as he was.

“Don’t move, hyung”, he said in a low voice, “no sudden movements. Just stay where you are. Try to not look scared.”

Seonghwa didn’t know how he was supposed to do the last thing, basically trembling in his shoes. His heart was beating so fast and loud he was sure the other members could hear him. Oh God, he hoped the others were safe. Blood was rushing in his ears.

It happened so fast - Seonghwa wasn’t able to tell what exactly triggered the hound but then he was charging. Within a few seconds he was upon them and even as Yunho let out a startled yelp, Seonghwa was frozen. 

Just then his mind seemed to wake up and Seonghwa, without any conscious thought, pushed Yunho aside. Then pain exploded in his upper arm and he screamed.

His mind hazy, Seonghwa returned to consciousness. Voices were washing over him and then the pain came. He scrambled to get away from the source of burning, pushing against the hands holding him. He needed to get away, be safe.

“Seonghwa? Hyung, you are safe”, a voice whispered, soothing him. Soft hands ran through his hair and he sighed. He was still scared out of his mind, a terror he couldn’t explain. But slowly and surely he started to feel calmer.

“Can you open your eyes?”, somebody asked and then Seonghwa realized they were likely talking to him. After all, his eyes were closed.

As he blinked his eyes open he looked up into scared, shiny orbs that turned concerned when they saw he was awake. 

“Hey, Hwa”, Hongjoong whispered, “you’re okay, you’re okay.” It was his hand that was cradling Seonghwa’s face, brushing back his hair. Even despite the comforting motion he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of terror rooted deep inside him.

“Wha’ hap’n?”, he slurred. As his eyes adjusted to the harsh light he realized he was in a hospital room. Something terrible must have happened for him to land there. He looked around, needing to see if his dongsaengs were okay. 

But none of them were there.

“Where are the kids?”, he asked, pushing himself up in a panic. Or well, at least tried to. His right arm flared with pain, giving up under his as soon as he put any pressure on it.

“No, don’t”, Hongjoong warned and reached over to catch Seonghwa before he could fall back down on his apparently injured arm, “you’ll tear your stitches.”

“Stitches?”, Seonghwa asked, blinking back the pained tears gathering in his eyes, “why? What happened, Hongjoong? Where are the kids?” 

He needed to know they were safe.

“The kids are well. They’re at the house we rented for the stay here. Yunho was just discharged, he is worried about you”, Hongjoong explained and at the same time explained nothing.

“I’m scared”, Seonghwa confessed, “why am I so scared? What happened to Yunho?”

Hongjoong seemed to contemplate on what to say but at Seonghwa’s pleading glance, he gave up. 

“We were at a park, filming a game of capture the flag. Suddenly your cameraman radioed SOS. The managers, the medic team and I went to check out what had happened and well …”, the captain went quiet, sounding like he needed to push back the memories he faced. “You were laying on the ground bleeding and unconscious and Yunho was sobbing over your body. I was so scared, Hwa. The cameramen said you were attacked by a dog…”

The way Hongjoong said it - attacked by a dog -, while not intentional on the captain’s part, made it seem so nonchalant, so trivial. 

But it wasn’t. Seonghwa knew this would affect him forever, affect them all for a long time. He’d never forget the animalistic hate in the hound’s wild eyes.

“The dog?”, he asked quietly, suddenly uneasy despite knowing that nothing could happen to him in the hospital room. 

“It left after it bit you. Yunho kicked it, that was apparently enough. Animal control is looking for it”, Hongjoong explained, taking Seonghwa’s hand in his, “you’re safe, don’t worry. The wound, while wide, wasn't as deep as we feared at first. They stitched it up and you got all the relevant vaccinations as soon as the ambulance brought you here. It’ll leave a scar but it’s not nearly as bad as we feared. You’re okay.”

Seonghwa nodded, chewing on his lip. He didn’t feel okay.

Then he remembered what Hongjoong had said earlier. “Yunho? You said he got discharged? Why was he in hospital?”

“Shock”, Hongjoong said, “he was shaking really badly when we arrived, really pale. They sent him to get checked out just in case and he got the vaccinations as well. He was really worried about you. We all were.”

“Oh.”

They were interrupted by a doctor coming in, greeting them and introducing himself with a name Seonghwa nearly immediately forgot. “You’re really lucky”, the doctor stated, “I’d like to look at the wound one last time but then we can get you discharged.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Hongjoong helped Seonghwa sit up and the the doctor unwrapped the bandages on Seonghwa’s right arm. Slowly, swollen red and bruised skin came into view, held together by blue stitches. It was disgusting and Seonghwa suddenly felt lightheaded. He let his head thunk back against the headrest of the bed.

“You okay?”, the doctor asked. Seonghwa nodded and swallowed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Hongjoong was looking away - for the better probably - but his hand sneaked to grasp Seonghwa’s.

“It’s not as bad as it looks”, the doctor said gently, “in fact I think it will heal well. Don’t put any strain on it for the next two weeks and then come back to get the stitches taken out. Otherwise just follow the treatment plan you will receive with your discharge papers. You’re free to go as soon as I get that ready.”

“Alright”, Seonghwa said and took a deep breath.

He was okay - as long as he never had to see a dog again. That would be a problem for a different day. 

For now, he was safe and as well as he could be.

Day 6: "They don't care about you."

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024  

Notes: People, when I was on vacation we went to watch the sunrise on a field. We didn’t know it belonged to somebody and suddenly a dog started to charge at us full speed. I am really scared of dogs myself and in that moment, I can tell you, I think my heart stopped. My friend knew to stand her ground and held me in her arms. We are fine and the dog didn’t hurt us at all. But ever since I’ve been having a few nightmares about being chased and so on. 0/10, wouldn’t recommend.

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 6: Sydän

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2k a/n: snurprise you're getting two bc i made it too girthy lmfao. pulcino = chick (as in baby chicken), cucciolo = cub, angelo = angel next

To say that the air shifted was a massive understatement. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife and you just knew the receptionists were holding their breath as they watched. 

You could feel Corazon’s eyes on you as you walked over to your father and he greeted you with a kiss on both cheeks accompanied by a tight hug. “Oh, my child. I have missed you.” His voice was warm as he smiled at you.

“I missed you too. Let’s go talk in my office, yeah?” You turned, leading your dad down the hallway. You refused to look at Corazon. You could feel the emotions radiating off of him and not a single one of them was positive. There was confusion, betrayal, anger, just about everything there. The feeling of guilt began to wash over you. Maybe you should’ve been honest from the beginning? Told him who you were? Too late now.

Marco was standing in the hallway, staring with wide eyes. He looked as white as a sheet and you knew why. This was one of the worst possible outcomes that could’ve happened. 

“Marco, my boy!” Your father greeted him with a large smile. “How’s your pops? Are you keeping him out of trouble?” He greeted the man the same way he greeted you. After all, he was your best friend and basically your brother at this point. He knew your dad and his father was your father’s best friend. Marco was family as far as he was concerned.

Marco gave a sheepish laugh, hugging him back. “Oh, you know. He’s just like he always is. Stubborn and overbearing sometimes.” He cast you a nervous glance and you shook your head. You had no idea what to do right now. You had no idea how you were going to explain this. Corazon was definitely going to hate you after this. Hell, you didn’t even know why your father was here.

Continuing back on to your office, you closed the door after your father and the two accompanying him. “What the hell are you thinking?” You looked at your father with a look of bewilderment, your eyes wide and wild.

“What? Can I not visit my own child at their place of work?”

“No! You know that! And you know why you can’t either!” You covered your face with your hands, groaning loudly before plopping in your chair behind your desk. You sat there for a moment before looking at your father. “What was so important that you had to come to me unannounced?” You were irritated. You didn’t enjoy being thrown wrenches in your perfectly oiled machines. It threw off your entire day.

“I just wanted to see you, pulcino.” He frowned, looking genuinely hurt. You let out a long sigh, feeling bad. You didn’t mean to snap at him, but everything was just happening all at once. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, papi, but you can’t just spring in on me like this. You know how sensitive the general atmosphere of the hospital is. This is a neutral ground so someone like you here with the fact that you’re my father, is going to make people talk. Some people will grow suspicious.”

“But not many people even know you’re my child. I hardly showed you to the world. You killed the few that saw you the one night I tried to put you on the field. You even took Edward Newgate’s name when you left the family to help hide the fact we’re related.” He frowned deeply. You knew that he hated that fact. It was something he understood, but it didn’t mean he was happy with it.

You let out another sigh. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, papi. I’m not ashamed of being your child, I just didn’t want people to be scared to receive care here.” You shook your head, smiling. “I am happy to see you. Just…shocked is all.”

“And bad timing?” He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. You cocked an eyebrow at his sudden change of demeanor.

“What is the missing Donquixote doing here in your hospital?” 

You blinked, thinking for a moment. You shook your head. “Just the same as everyone else. Either know someone here or getting treatment.” 

“He sure didn’t look like that. He seemed very comfortable with you.” 

“Well, his son does work here.” 

“Oh? I didn’t know he had one.”

“Yeah, apparently. His son is one of my interns. Smart kid. I’m assuming that’s why he went ‘missing.’ It’s not like Doflamingo is as kind as you are. He probably wasn’t going to just let him leave that easily.”

“Does Doflamingo know he’s back?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I have no idea. We’ve never talked about the past or anything like that.” 

“But…he was going to ask you out? Without knowing about you? Or you him?”

You nearly choked on your own spit - on air. Your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull with how wide they went. “What are you talking about?” Your father just looked at you with an unamused expression. “Oh, I thought it was obvious.” He looked at the two men with him. “Was it not obvious?”

“It was kind of obvious, boss,” they said in confirmation.

You just stared at him for a long moment, your brain running a million miles an hour. “Huh?” Your brain wasn’t computing. “Oh. Oh. You’re rebooting. I’ll give you a minute.” Your father watched as your brain tried to process what he was telling you. After all, he was your dad. He knew your mannerisms, even if he wasn’t around you all the time. You had always been like this.

Corazon was going to ask you out? Why? That didn’t make any sense. Well, you knew Law and Marco seemed to be trying to play matchmaker, but you didn’t think Corazon was actually interested. Though, you supposed he kind of had to be if Law was trying to set the two of you up. Fuck, this was all too much right now.

Then you snapped back into it.

“Wait, is that why you interrupted when you did?”

Your father nodded, moving on as if your hard reboot was the most normal thing in the world. Which, to him, it was. “Yes. I knew that if I didn’t interrupt when I did, I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to you. It would be way too awkward after.” 

You nodded slowly, still processing but you shook your head. “I’m too busy for all that anyway. Besides, now that he knows who I am, he will lose all interest, yeah?” 

Your father frowned, waving a hand. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You never know what Fate has up her sleeve.” 

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Between you, Marco, and pops, Fate is all I hear about.” That caused your father to laugh. “Ed was always a sucker for cliched things like Fate.” He shook his head. 

The both of you just grinned at each other. A somber silence fell over the room. That was something you always appreciated about your father. Sometimes, it was okay to just sit in silence with him. It was never awkward. Then you finally spoke up. “What is this really about, papi?” 

Your father looked at you for a long time before sighing. “Well, I suppose this is one last time I wanted to ask you what you truly wanted. Do you want to stay in this neutral environment you created? Or did you want to come back?” 

You blinked. This was something you weren’t expecting. Why now? Of all times, why now? He only asked once before, but that was years ago. Ever since you had left, he respected your decision. Why was he questioning it now?

You just nodded. “Yes. This is what I want. This hospital is everything I wanted.” You let out a small chuckle. “A place of solace in this toxic land of sin or what have you. A safe haven for everyone. An out for those who need it.” You were talking about more of your underground side of things. It was something you were very proud of.

“I love you, papi. You know that I do, but that violent lifestyle isn’t for me. It’s just too much.” You shook your head and sighed. You wanted to help, not hurt.

“You’re just like her, you know.” You looked up, seeing a fond, pained expression on your father’s face. “You’re just like your mother. She didn’t like this lifestyle either. She just wanted to help everyone like you did.” He let out a hollow chuckle. “You inherited my skills, but your mother’s personality.” 

Your own, sad smile spread across your face. You were young when your mother passed, but you had plenty of fond memories to look back on. They were painful, bittersweet. The both of you loved your mother. She was the light in your life. She taught you many things that you still held in your heart. She was the one who brought warmth to your father’s cold teachings. They had been a good balance at the time.

“Anywho.” Your father sniffled, shaking his head. Talking about your mother never lasted long or ended with tears. Neither of you liked crying, so the conversations about her were always short lived.

“I just wanted to ask. Before I start looking and training for another successor, you know?” 

You nodded, understanding. You knew that since you weren’t taking over the family, someone had to. Even if your father died before he had one set in place, it’s not like the family would fall apart. Eventually someone would rise up to the position, but this was the most surefire way to make sure things run smoothly. Easy transitions and all.

Your father stood up with a groan. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I also just wanted to see how things were going here.” He smiled at you warmly, pride showing on his face. “I’m really proud of everything you’ve done. You did it all on your own and that’s no easy feat. No one messes with you and you can hold your own if you try. You’ve got a pristine reputation.”

Your own heart swelled with pride. You stood up, going over to hug your father tightly. “Thank you, papi. It means a lot.” You felt like crying, but you held it in right now. You’d probably break down later over noodles or when you talked to Marco. “ Keep up the good work, tresorino.” You nodded, kissing his cheek before pulling away.

“I will. Stay safe and good luck finding a successor.” You smiled widely at him.

You walked your father to the entrance once more. There was no sign of Corazon. You weren’t surprised. You knew he wasn’t going to stick around. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you never saw him again. Part of you hurt because of that. You found yourself enjoying being around him. He always made you laugh and felt like you didn’t have the weight of the world crashing down on your shoulders. 

The other part of you knew this was for the best. You both were from the same world, but from opposite sides. You still had one foot in the door as well. You were in contact with your father, you ran your underground hospital. He completely cut off all ties. Hell, his brother wasn’t even sure if he was alive last you knew. 

“Don’t stress about things too much, angelo.” Your thoughts stopped as your father spoke, ruffling your hair. Something he always did when he saw you were thinking a little too much. You were standing by the entrance now. “Things will work out if they’re meant to, yeah?” You nodded with a small sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Fate and all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.  “Love you, cucciolo.”

“Love you too, papi.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead before finally leaving with his cronies. You waved as he left, reality suddenly hitting you. Ah, fuck. You were really in it now. Where the hell was Marco?

[thirteens-pocket-watch]

I've decided to compile all the small pieces of information about future episodes that RTD has given in his Letter from the Showrunner segments in DWM. I've only included things that can tell us something about the episode, so stuff like Bad Wolf investigating if using a certain title is permitted hasn't been included here. I've included the issue each point was given in and I will obviously update after future issues

(Last updated 14.09.24)

2023 Specials

The Star Beast

- Contains the words westerly, pelican and dreams (584)

- Page seven contains the line "Oh, Nerys and her big mouth!" (585)

- The reconstructed opening scene made from fan recordings of filming contains lines that were cut from the final version of the episode (595)

Wild Blue Yonder

- Contains the words wild, Southampton, vegetable, Flux, bean and starlight (585)

Extra

- RTD refers to a "terrifying scene with Sue" and two celebrity historical figures in the upcoming specials (596)

- None of the specials will air on the 1st, 17th or 23rd of November (596)

Series 14/Season 1

Space Babies (Episode 1)

- Contains the words roar, Glastonbury and conquistador (589)

- The title was said aloud in Star Trek: Picard 3 (590/591)

- Scene 11 is headed as INT. CONTROL ROOM and the stage directions say "THE DOCTOR and RUBY walk in to find a cool, sleek, metal CONTROL ROOM, full of CONSOLES" (598)

The Devil's Chord (Episode 2)

- Scene 10 is set INT. CANTEEN. DAY (585)

- Contains the words Liverpool, legions and non-diagetic (586)

- The title of the episode was revealed (598)

73 Yards (Episode 4)

- Had the line "I once went to the top of the Shard" cut from the script (589)

Rogue (Episode 6)

- Page 10 contains the line "I am ruined" and it is said by a character named Emily (598)

- When talking about watching the final mix of this episode, RTD threw in the quote "Live vivisection!" (602)

The Legend of Ruby Sunday (Episode 7)

- First line of the script is INT. COFFEE BAR, USA - DAY, 1947 (584)

- RTD said he recomends midnight viewing for this episode because "it's shocking, frankly, and there might be screaming!" (603)

Empire of Death (Episode 8)

- Contains the words kingdom, gold and Tigella (592)

- Contains the words terror, dust, pizza, Einstein, death and opera (598)

- One of the above words is also in the title (598)

Extra

- An unspecified episode had the word "sixpence" in the title before the plot about said sixpence was cut (591)

- There is a crucial scene, designated 27B, in an unspecified episode with an as-yet unannounced guest star (593)

- The aforementioned scene contains the debris of a fallen statue with an 8 foot tall head as part of the set (593)

- The last scene to be filmed for series 14 was a scene in the TARDIS in the "middle bit of the finale" (whether this is episode 7 or 8 is not specified) and the Doctor slides to the ground at some point during the scene (594)

- RTD says the following about the upcoming season: "Will we ever see Mondo Caroon? Where exactly is Bertie Lester? And how many people does it take to fly an asteroid hopper?" (603)

Series 15/Season 2

Episode 1

- Scene One features none of the regular cast (600)

Episode 2

- The episode features a guest star who's been in the show before but in a different role (600)

Episode 3

- RTD mentions that Ncuti Gatwa is rehearsing with a Special Guest Star for their 13th episode. I assumed he was referring to his 13th episode with Gatwa and didn't count the anniversary specials (597)

Episode 7

- RTD mentions a text message from Verada Sethu and says "(my reaction to Season 2, episode 7, Sc. 48 as her character faces... oh, you'll see!). I'd just said, what great rushes" (605)

Extra

- An unspecified episode contains the words garden, firmament and diploma (592)

- An unspecified episode contains the words radiation, moth and skiffle (597)

- The sets include a hotel, a chamber and a hospital (597)

- More sets are listed, including the UNIT OPs room, the Sundays' flat, "a set so real we could rent it out as its actual self" and an "absolute labyrinth of a set" (potentially an actual labyrinth based on a previous comment from director Makalla McPherson) (601)

- RTD confirmed that the 2025 season will not contain an episode celebrating 20 years of New Who (602)

- On the 8th March 2024, RTD claimed they were "shooting a scene that will live forever in Doctor Who history" (602)

- The "climax" of season 2 contains the words tinderbox, Croydon and threshold (603)

- RTD says "oh, I wish you could see that guest star" about the aforementioned episode (603)

- A "great guest star" is once more alluded to when RTD brings up Phil Collinson doing ADR with them in July (607)

- The director that the above mentioned ADR is being recorded for is Amanda Brotchie (607)

- RTD mentions a "particular shot of London (...) for FX work" and and "important drone shoot in a major city, thousands of miles away" for s2 (607)

[maeonline]

re: @teddytoroa question game

favourite colour: red is my theme colour of course, especially like dark reds and maroons and burgundies wow

last song: listening to something wild by radiator hospital, for the reasons... before that was listening to mgmt as june plays often lol

currently watching: tv shows are dungeon meshi and house md (another juniper fave).. more big into movies tho and last watched first reformed and want to watch poor things soon to catch up on yorgosees for kinds of kindness, which seems interesting and ill wanna watch that at the cinema.. big into going to the cinema again lately....

currently craving: a good night sleep where i will wake up rested and rejuvenated lol, lmao. i am craving getting sourdough and coffee tomorrow tho the saturday speciall yippee

coffee or tea: coffee by far im a coffee nerd now i have lots of opinions of coffee like that i like coldbrew and filter and that i like freshly ground beans

triangle attack @weedclown69 @skintightraiden @goblord

[sigritandtheelves]

All Along, Like Fire (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

PG-13 | 2.1k wds | MSR, AU

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I got stuck and then it grew a plot and now it might take a minute to resolve it :/

--

1995

Something was very wrong.

Their case had wrapped up and they were filing paperwork when Diana dropped in. Mulder had expected awkwardness, even avoidance, but the look on Scully’s face was pure terror.

She said she wasn’t feeling well. She said she felt sick. She said “excuse me” with a little nod to Mulder and Diana and now he hadn’t seen her in three days.

There was an email saying she wouldn’t be in, that she was visiting her mother, and then she worked from the forensics office and avoided him. Mulder scrubbed his hand over his face and tried her number again: home and then cell, home and then cell. Nothing. He replied to her email a third time.

On the morning of the fourth day, she sent another email, just two short words, but they punched him in the gut:

I remember.

—

“Melissa, what if I can’t trust him?” Scully sat on her sister’s couch, tucked around a throw pillow.

Melissa’s had listened in stunned silence as Scully explained her fragmented memory. She sat now with furrowed brow, fingers tight over her lips in concern and disbelief—first that Dana’s partner was married, and then that said wife was somehow involved in her sister’s kidnapping. Melissa couldn’t believe that the broken, sad-eyed man who’d hovered in the hospital could have knowingly done anything to harm Dana. “You didn’t see him when you were first brought to the hospital. He was wild and desperate for answers. There’s no way he could have been a part of what was done to you. I’ve never seen anyone so… devastated.”

Scully remembered the way Mulder had looked at her in the hospital, the way he’d snuck in to curl around her late that night. He’d held her until she fell asleep and she’d felt so safe. What radiated off of him in those moments felt dangerously close to love.

But then a horrible thought struck her, and she voiced it aloud: “What if it was just guilt?”

What if he’d known something was coming, that she was in danger, that Diana had some connection to whoever had done this? The thought of Mulder as untrustworthy shook a deep foundation of her being, and Scully felt sick. What if he’d caught her up in his orbit, seduced her even, in that first year for this express purpose? She’d been deceived by men before: charmed and swept up and manipulated into believing she wasn’t worth their whole hearts. To think she’d let it happen again was unbearable.

Scully couldn’t even bring herself to tell Melissa that they’d slept together--not after the Daniel fiasco and her already shaky sense of self respect. She’d been stupid to let it happen again.

Melissa moved from the armchair to sit beside her sister. “You can’t know until you talk to him, Dana. You have to tell him what you know.”

Scully squeezed the pillow harder. “I know,” she said, though she knew what it would mean. She would tell him, and he would hate her for it. The truth, she thought, might bring their partnership crashing down around them and would probably leave them both alone.

—

Even in the darkest depths of those grieving weeks, Mulder had never given in to getting this shitfaced drunk. In the shitty bar, clinking glasses and classic rock and noisy voices all blurred together. He had a small booth to himself, and let his eyes go fuzzy in the amber lights as he knocked back another shot. Diana had left for Germany early in the morning, but he couldn’t go back to that apartment tonight. He didn’t want to face her things or her smell—or the truth that she could have had anything to do with what happened to Scully.

Scully. Oh god.

He’d been an absolute bastard to her, an unimaginable asshole of epic proportions. She’d looked so afraid, and he’d yelled at her, actually yelled at her that she was wrong.

Fuck.

He’d been so angry precisely because he suspected that she was right. But if she were right, he was a blind idiot. He was a duped pawn, and even more at fault for Scully’s torment than he’d originally thought. He considered all the post-coitus confessions to Diana, dumping his thoughts about every case, every discovery they’d made, and he felt all the liquor in his guts roil and threaten to come back up. All the information she’d literally fucked out of him. What an absolute dipshit.

He needed to get out of here. He needed answers, proof, something that would help him fix this absolute cock-up of a situation.

There was only one number to dial that might help him get both of those things. Mulder fumbled for his phone and stared hard at the display, trying to press keys with uncooperative fingers. He nearly misdialed twice, but finally the line was ringing.

“Yello?” A perky voice for almost two in the morning—Langly.

“S’me, turn off the tape.”

Muffled, turned away from the phone: “Hey, it’s Mulder. I think he’s drunk!”

A rustling, and then Frohike’s voice: “Mulder? What’s up?”

“I need a ride,” he slurred. “And some answers.”

—

“Shit,” Frohike said.

“Yeah,” Mulder agreed. He was slumped across the Gunmen’s couch, head pounding, only a little less drunk. He’d told his friend everything, including about his more-than-partnerly indiscretions with Scully.

“Well,” the shorter man started fiddling around with some computer parts. “I can check in on where Diana has flown, but only if she was using her regular FBI credentials. Unmarked black helicopters don’t usually leave a passenger manifest.”

Mulder groaned and turned his face into the side of the couch. “Gotta tell her I’m sorry.”

“Who, Diana?”

He shook his head. “Scully. I’m such an asshole.”

Keys clacked away as Frohike did his funky poaching. He didn’t say anything for several moments, and then he stopped typing to look at Mulder. “Listen,” he said, and Mulder rolled his head back to look at him. “I don’t really have the credentials to comment on anybody’s love life,” he began, “and Diana is one hot tamale, I think we could all agree on that.”

There was quiet for a moment, so Mulder prodded: “But?”

“But Scully doesn’t seem the type to make wild accusations. And she’s done nothing but steer you straight for the last year and a half.”

Mulder grunted.

“She’s honest and she’s good, and you’re a goddamned lucky sunofabitch to have her—and you probably shouldn’t have done what you did, though I sure as hell understand.” He cleared his throat, and Mulder wanted to curl up and die at that moment. “Way I figure, you’ve got a choice here, G-man,” Frohike explained. “Because I don’t think there’s any way you can keep both your partner and your wife.”

The silence after that was heavy. Eventually Frohike returned to his keyboard, clicking and clacking and searching for anything that might make this terrible dilemma easier, while Mulder debated between blacking out and throwing up.

—

Scully came to the office crisp and put-together the following Monday, though her heart had never felt heavier. She was buttoned up over the pain of his disbelief—his vehement denial and rejection. She’d told him the truth as gently as she could, and he’d pushed her away. She understood how hard it must have been to hear, just as she understood that after her realization, there was no way she could work with him anymore. Their situation was impossible. She had barely made it through the meeting with A.D. Skinner, and now she stood at their office door feeling like a traitor, like a quitter.

She loved this job, even when Mulder’s ideas were crazy. No, especially when his ideas were crazy. But working with him now put them both in a terrible position. She couldn’t work with him if he stayed with Diana, but if he left her, Scully would be the reason for their parting.

She couldn’t do that again—couldn’t stand the thought of being even partially responsible for another broken marriage.

There were other ways to find justice, and Scully would pursue them on her own.

He looked surprised to see her, sat up straighter, and in his glasses and rumpled shirt he made her think of their first meeting. Scully flashed on the fear and excitement of that case, on cold rain and the scent of candles and wind whipping through pine trees. She didn’t want to do this.

She had to do this.

“We need to talk,” she told him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

A heater rumbled lukewarm air into the basement office, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Scully took a few steps closer to the desk and crossed her arms in a self-protective gesture.

“Mulder,” she said, gentle, working through the fear. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to believe me. Why you maybe can’t.”

“It’s not that.“ He shook his head. “Scully, I’m sorry for the way I acted before, I shouldn’t have—“

“No,” she cut him off. “I mean thank you, but I understand. You need proof, or at least something more than my broken memory. I, of all people, understand that.”

“I have proof,” he said.

“What?” She wasn’t expecting that. She felt a shock of something like dread zip down her spine and suddenly wanted to sit down.

Mulder was nodding, an expression of anguish on his face. “I, uh, I had Frohike and Langly do some digging,” he explained. “Diana hasn’t been in Europe, at least not all of the times she said she was.”

Scully walked over to the chair in front of his desk and dropped into it, her legs no longer willing to hold her up.

“And there’s more,” he said. “Worse.”

“Worse?” Now her heart was thumping. What could be worse?

Mulder chewed on the inside of his cheek, as if debating how much to tell her. He opened a folder on his desk and passed her a sheet of paper. “Everywhere she went, women went missing, then came back sick. Sometimes more than once.”

There was a list of names and addresses on the sheet—forty, maybe fifty names, most in Pennsylvania and Ohio. “Mulder, oh my god.” She looked up at him. “The scale of this—how long has this been happening?”

He shook his head. “Years, at least. Maybe decades.”

He had found all of this so quickly, and now there were leads, maybe real information about what had happened to her. This was something they could actually follow up on—could she really leave now? Transfer back to Quantico and try investigating all of this on her own? Mulder’s face was a mixture of excitement at finding a lead and misery at what it meant. Even with answers he was still trapped in an impossible situation.

“Mulder, I came here to talk because I was going to leave—to go back to teaching until I could figure this out. Until you could figure this out.” She looked away, unable to meet his reaction to this. He was quiet for a long time and she could feel his eyes on her.

“You wanted to leave?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to, no.” She risked a glance at him and her own conflicted misery was reflected back at her. “But I didn’t want to be near you if you were still… with her. I didn’t want to come between you, but I couldn’t—and after what happened with us—“ she shook her head. “It was a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“You must feel so betrayed,” she said. “I’m so sorry… I know how hard it can be to trust people.”

His voice was thick, on the verge of tears, and now it was he who wouldn’t look at her. “I still trust you, Scully.”

His words sent fire through her. She could feel herself blushing. “I trust you, too,” she said, almost inaudible. And she meant it. No matter what doubts she’d had sitting on Melissa’s couch, sitting in the same room with him now she knew her instincts were right: he was good. He was safe. He would never hurt her.

But their trust alone couldn’t solve this problem. “Mulder… what are you going to do? What can you do?”

She imagined him confronting his wife, accusing her, being laughed at and gaslit and then having all of their leads disappear. Would Diana disappear as well? Maybe pull some strings and have Scully killed? Then she imagined the alternative: Mulder staying married to her, pretending not to know, living a lie. Neither seemed a very good option.

“We can begin with these women,” Mulder said. “We can begin by getting their stories.”

She met his eyes across the desk and after a moment, she nodded. Yes, she thought. They could find the truth.

—

End Part 3

Go to Part 4

[myeuphoricmindset]

Haunted by you — Eddie Munson

Chapter two

chapter one & tags/warnings — here

masterlist

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

➴ ➴ ➴

Perhaps her childhood visit to the bright white hospital with the grippy socks wasn't a mistake. This is the very reason they sent her away- because she saw people who weren't really there. But that was years ago; she was just a kid with a wild imagination and a talent for making up stories, or maybe that's what they made her believe. There hasn't been an encounter since, until now.

Daisy's gaze remained fixed on the man perched casually on her kitchen counter. The last remaining tear on Daisy's face falls as she stares blankly at him.

He said her name.

He's dead

He said her name.

He said her name.

And he's dead.

Trying to process all of this at once has given her a pounding headache. Daisy found herself teetering between laughter and continued tears. However, one thing she was certain of was her name lingered in the air between them. Her breath caught in her throat, and terror coursed through her at the way her name rolled off this stranger's lips.

"How do you know my name? Are you some sort of stalker?" Daisy's voice quivered with unease, but she found it simpler to ask this than to confront the perplexing notion that he is dead. All of this felt absurd, even ludicrous.

"No," he chuckled, then shook his head, his brown eyes reflecting concern as he observed her growing fear. "God, no."

He began to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender, but then a realization seemed to dawn on him, and he pointed at her, his brows furrowing.

"How could I be a stalker when you're in my house?"

"Stop avoiding my question. How do you know who I am?"

"Well, the officer said it. Ms. Daisy Morgan." He looks at her, his eyes trailing over her face.

The terror still courses through her veins, but as she looks at him longer he doesn't seem like a threat. His eyes radiate warmth, and even his tone, though tinged with sarcasm, carries a playful vibe. Besides, if he had bad intentions, wouldn't he have acted on them by now?

But then, there's that nagging worry: He could be one of those psychopaths that starts friendly, making you believe he's harmless and then he ends up cutting your limbs into tiny pieces and burying them in the backyard like a dog with a bone.

The stranger casually taps his chin, as though something suddenly came to mind, capturing Daisy's focus.

"Oh, and I know your name from Grace. That's your mom right?" He adds, though he appears to be well aware of the answer.

Daisy's stomach plummets.

He knows her name. He knows Grace. He knows how to get into this house. Questions bubble up ready to pop.

"You know —knew Grace?"

He shrugs, "We were roommates for a time. Although, she couldn't stand me. Even tried calling the priest to remove me." He shakes his head as he chuckles.

Daisy stares at him in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"I'm not bullshitting you," He gracefully slides off the counter, appearing unfazed. "The guy walked around throwing fucking holy water into the air. I mean, I hadn't been that entertained in years, so I quite enjoyed the performance."

He casually brushed his black jeans, as though the counter wasn't already spotless. Daisy couldn't help but wonder if he was a product of her imagination. But he moved and acted too real. She could feel his laugh within her chest and hear her name on his lips, making her whole body react. It's beginning to freak her out.

In an attempt to validate reality, she decides to employ a familiar tactic she had used in the past. Her strategy is simple: assign him a name. If she were to ask about his name and it differed from the one she had crafted in her thoughts, then she would find herself, well, let's just say she would be fucked. The silver lining is that it would confirm her sanity. However, the downside is that she would be faced with the disconcerting truth that she was, indeed, talking with a ghost. Either way, it was an unsettling situation.

Now, who does he look like?

Daisy studies the man before her, who persists on recounting his encounter with a priest. He is handsome, the pretty kind. The kind that might make others feel self-conscious. Because, who looks like that, anyway? His skin is flawlessly smooth, his curls look soft and fall just right, and his eyes are captivatingly deep brown. Brown isn't a special color, but the way it looks in his eyes makes you believe that it is. He carries himself with an effortless blend of confidence and ease, even as his words are often laced with sarcasm and playfulness.

Choosing a name is tough, but just to keep things simple, she goes with the first name that comes to mind: Joseph.

Daisy cuts in, her curiosity piqued, "What's your name?"

He looks down at her, "Oh, damn. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Eddie,"

Eddie. Not Joseph. Damn it.

He extends his hand for a handshake, but his gesture doesn't quite sit well with Daisy. Is he trying to be funny? Does he find this situation humorous?

Daisy isn't finding it amusing at all.

Clutching onto a fragile strand of hope that things might not be as they seem, Daisy cautiously raises her hand to meet his. His head tilts ever so slightly, assessing her, and their brown eyes locked as they await her next move.

He looks real, which shakes Daisy's convictions to their core. His chest rises and falls, his eyes blink, and his lips curve into a genuine smile. All too real.

"I'm not going to hurt you. If that is what you are worried about," he reassures her.

She didn't know what to expect, but the cold sensation against her palm just before her hand moved through his was not it.

"Well, shit. I was really hoping things would be different." He groans and leans back against the kitchen counter, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Different?"

"People usually don't see me. So, why can you?"

Daisy shrugs, feeling completely lost. How could she know? Right now, nothing makes sense. Frustrated, she gets to her feet, still feeling dazed.

"Listen," she says with a sigh, glancing around as if hoping her thoughts will magically clear up. "Maybe you should go haunt someone or something else. I can't handle... whatever this is. I need to go to bed and wake up with a clear head."

"No can do," he replies casually, making his way into the living room.

"W-what do you mean, 'can't do'?"

Daisy follows him, observing as he drums his fingers on the couch while walking toward the record player.

"She never played this, you know," he mentions, lifting an Etta James record and giving it a once-over. "Our music tastes, well," he hesitates briefly, exhaling softly, "weren't exactly similar, but it would've been nice to hear something. The house felt as lifeless as she was." He glances at Daisy, his expression slightly pained. "Sorry," He places the record sleeve back on the table.

Daisy shrugs it off. But, she does takes note that he can pick up things, which is odd because he can't even touch her. But it's not worth dwelling on. None of this matters. She just needs to usher this ghost boy out and get some sleep.

"Alright, Come on," she says, walking past him and holding the front door open.

Eddie's brow arches, and she can see him suppressing a smile, which irritates her. "It was a pleasur—well, not really. But you've had your spooky visit, so you can head back to hell or wherever you came from."

He chuckles, "Hell? Do I look like I belong there?"

She points at his shirt, giving him a sharp look.

Eddie's gaze drops to his shirt, bearing the words "Hellfire Club," and he erupts into laughter. His laughter reverberates through the otherwise silent home, perhaps the only laugh to echo within these walls since they were built.

Daisy, however, remains unamused, her eyes locked onto him.

Eddie glances at his wrist, checking his watch, and takes in a sharp breath. "You're right," he concedes, "I should head back to the club I manage in Hell. Got a lot of work waiting for me." He briefly meets her gaze before making his way toward the front door. "The devil really depends on me. Can't let him down."

"Good luck with that," Daisy replies, avoiding eye contact as she widens the door for his departure.

"Thank you, I'll need it."

Eddie steps outside, a smile lingering on his face, and Daisy wastes no time in closing the door. She releases a heavy sigh and leans her back against the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over her. But before she can fully let go of the weight on her shoulders, Eddie's voice shatters her moment.

"Fuck, I got my days mixed up. Hellfire doesn't meet until Tuesdays."

Daisy lets out a piercing scream as she notices Eddie's head protruding through the door, his body seemingly absent or on the other side. Whatever she's witnessing, it's absolutely terrifying.

"What the fuck!" She stumbles back, clutching the banister for support.

Eddie laughs as he casually walks through the door. No, not around it, but right through it. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"Screw you," Daisy hisses.

"That's fair."

"Go away! Seriously," Daisy stands taller, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She takes a step forward, locking eyes with him. "I don't want you here," she says, her words deliberate and harsh.

Eddie's gaze softens, and his jaw tenses as he steps back. "If I could go, I would've left years ago. But I'm stuck here. So, you'll either have to deal with it or leave."

Leave? If only.

The reality is that she can't leave, and she doesn't want to stay. But she has to. There is nowhere for her to go. To make matters worse, she's utterly exhausted. If she were to lie down, even on the floor, she might fall asleep. Her eyelids feel as heavy as her heart.

"I have nowhere to go," Daisy admits softly.

They lock eyes, silence stretching between them. Something in his gaze begins to dissolve her anger. He's giving her those lost puppy eyes, and it's infuriatingly unfair. Why should she care if he's sad or hurt? She's only just met the guy. But she's not cruel; she still has a heart, even if it's shattered into a million pieces.

Eddie frowns. "Well, me neither. So, I guess we are stuck with each other."

Daisy's gaze drops, and she scolds herself for feeling a twinge of sympathy and for being harsh with him.

"So, what, you really are..."

"Dead? Yeah," Eddie replies casually.

It's sinking in, but not quite. Honestly, how does one even begin to grasp what's happening here? So, Daisy doesn't try to make sense of it. She accepts it, as if it's no big deal that she's standing here conversing with a ghost. It's the simplest way to cope and prevent a full-blown mental breakdown.

"Cool," Daisy says, sounding as stupid as she feels.

"Cool?" Eddie looks amused. "Well, okay then. Uh, should I show you to your room?"

"Wait, are you like... the dead butler?"

Eddie stifles a laugh as he rubs his face. "Don't you think I'd be wearing a suit or whatever butlers wear?"

"Yeah, you're right. Butlers definitely don't wear... that."

"That? What do you mean? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie responds in a defensive yet playful tone.

Daisy sidesteps his question and grabs her bag. "So, this way?" She points upstairs and starts making her way up.

"Wait, no. What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Eddie calls after her.

Daisy reaches the top of the stairs, where the hallway splits into two directions. She pauses, uncertain of which way to go. Eddie catches up, still muttering about her previous comment, but she interrupts him. "Which one isn't haunted by the ghost of my mother?"

"Oh, no. Grace isn't here. At least, I haven't seen her."

"Yeah, I'm sure she would have made her presence known by now." she says, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, I see. Mommy issues?"

Daisy shoots him a glare, and Eddie's lips tighten before he clears his throat. "Her room was downstairs, in case you were worried."

"I'm not worried, just curious," she replies, raising her chin.

"Mhm."

She rolls her eyes once more and pivots on her heel, heading for the room at the end of the hallway. Before she opens the door, she looks back at him. "Should I be concerned that you're going to watch me sleep?"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie mutters, making his way back down the stairs. "Go to bed, Daisy." With the next step, he vanishes.

Daisy stands in the doorway, gazing at the stairs, doing her best to process her bizarre reality. Deciding not to dwell on it, she closes the door and flops onto the king-sized bed.

════ ⋆Eddie⋆ ════

Eddie gracefully glides into the dim, empty room below, with only the moonlight filtering through the windows. Yet, he doesn't require light, for he resides within the shadows.

There it is, or rather, there she is, sitting gracefully in the alcove, framed on a wall adorned with colors he's memorized over the years.

Daisy's brown hair appears duller, her eyes seemingly lacking depth now that he's met her face to face. It's now evident that Grace painted this from a photograph, not from her memory. She failed to capture Daisy's true beauty.

God, she was beautiful.

The house seems quiet to the average ear, but Eddie hears everything—the gentle brush of the wind against the windows, the slow drip of the upstairs bathroom sink, and the constant, distant tapping, a reminder that he's trapped in the in-between worlds.

He's grown accustomed to these sounds. What he wasn't accustomed to was the soft crying from the room just above him. An ache forms in his chest at the sound of Daisy's cries, a physical sensation he hasn't felt in years.

Maybe it's because he hasn't spoken with someone in an unhealthy amount of time, or perhaps it's because he feels compelled to care for this girl, having admired her on the wall for so long. He worries he might be the cause of her tears. But, from the moment she entered the house, it was evident she was upset about something, which eased his pain slightly, suggesting he might not be the cause. Yet, it awakens an old, familiar emotion—anger.

Who could have hurt her?

None of this should concern him. He doesn't truly know her. Loneliness and sadness within his mind have led him to create ideas and versions of a girl he's never met.

Shame and disgust wash over him, especially when he contemplates how she can see him and whether she might find a way to set him free from this house. The thought terrifies him, yet it also provides him with hope.

But how could he even begin to entertain such thoughts while she cries herself to sleep? He turns away from the moonlit painting, closes his eyes, and vanishes into the shadows.

┗━━━ chapter three coming soon ━━━┛

Taglist: @tlclick73, @eddiemunson4life420 @boxofsmittens @sweet-villain @all-time-otaku @enam3l @steveoswhore

Comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

[boag]

@shrimpdealer tagged me to post 9 albums so here are some of my personal all time favorites in no particular order<3

1. Lana Del Rey - Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd (2023) 2. A. G. Cook - Britpop 3. Juice WRLD - Death Race For Love (2019) 4. Mir Fontane - Camden (2017) 5. Radiator Hospital - Something Wild (2013) 6. Alex G - DSU (2014) 7. Hop Along - Get Disowned (2012) 8. Suicidal Tendencies (self-titled, 1982) 9. Dance Gavin Dance (self-titled, 2008)

I tag everyone who wants to do this !!! Say I tagged u I wanna see them

[vikasgarden]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. alcohol in glass decanters. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. dark alleys. empty streets. driving at night . horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast. england. analog cameras.

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. spiders. books.

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒. bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks scrunchies. queerness. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. mausoleums. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see. black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 & 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks. bite-marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. abandoned houses. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking / backpacking.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒. daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. suspicion. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

tagged by: @acedecoeur tagging: @vasted , @verflcht , @fireburial , @bvtchcr

[everharrt]

The soft, neon liminal glow. The comforting whir of a commercial dryer. The gentle tones of synthwave pouring through the so-clean-you-could-eat-off-any-surface of the laundromat. These were the ingredients of Esmé's long nights at The Lucky Coin. 24 hours, for your convenience, meant that someone needed to be behind the register. Usually nights were much easier - people working second shifts came in and laundered their hospital scrubs, anyone within a certain block vicinity that happened to be a night owl would come by and sip the complimentary coffee while they waited for their things to be done.

Anyone new might think he looked out of place with his expensive suits and nice hair cut, but by now he was a staple of the business. He was always busy running the books in some fashion, budgeting out bills and jotting down things in the planner for the day crew to tend to. Even his handwriting was immaculate - something almost technical as if a robot were writing instead of a man. Some of the units needed servicing. The gas man was coming later to read the meter. There was a leak in one of the bathroom faucets that needed to be looked at.

It looked less like a place to wash your things and more like some nighttime laser bowling alley with the soft neon glow. That hot pink that radiated off of the marble tile and filled the otherwise dimly lit business with a little life. It kissed his skin and added the illusion of an expression against his features even, something that made him look less like a statue behind the register.

Though he did perk a little when she approached. Tongue was slow to leave his mouth, wet at his lips as the ghost of a smile graced them after. He handed her some change slowly, amusement glimmering behind wild green hues.

"i don't think you want me to go."

She'd been in here a few times before, at night. Maybe during the day when he was asleep or tending other business, he wasn't sure. He was familiar enough with her to know her by appearance, the shape of her frame as it filled the door when she entered with her sack of whatever needed washing. Full-lipped smiled were always offered when he nodded in greeting and once or twice he'd pulled a garment bag from the cupboard under the register for her to use for her delicates. Nice things.

"Admittedly," he swallowed, fingers grazing her palm as he dropped the coins into it, "It'll go back to being lonely when you leave."

Not that they'd spoken much. The addition of a second body was more than enough to sate that existential empty feeling places like this tended to gather when just one person occupied them. He looked down at her through his lashes, set his hands on the counter's edge before him and clarified.

"Maybe I could take you out for coffee sometime."

@florrentine, from here. accepting.