#also chapter eleven is. coming along but also it is NOT

[skyyknights]

#for context the playlist im currently listening to is mainly sea shanties #also chapter eleven is. coming along but also it is NOT #i need to eat some motivation cheese or smth #the faces left behind #rambling #writing #memes #linked universe

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming. 

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be. 

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now? 

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place? 

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you. 

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life? 

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all. 

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that? 

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?” 

“Was he like that with you before?” 

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty. 

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.” 

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point. 

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?” 

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.” 

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.” 

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.” 

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.” 

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet. 

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.  

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused. 

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?” 

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons. 

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare. 

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction. 

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband? 

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married. 

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else. 

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu. 

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal. 

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her. 

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman. 

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong. 

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own. 

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her. 

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.” 

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse. 

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line. 

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots. 

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.” 

Oh… “He bought more than one?” 

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony. 

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.  

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi. 

There was no you in that vision anymore. 

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband? 

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one. 

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free. 

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them. 

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest. 

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!” 

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy. 

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.  

“Ah!” 

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part. 

“Willow!” 

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell. 

“Willow!” 

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness! 

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all. 

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon. 

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” 

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!” 

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!” 

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension. 

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.” 

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you. 

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.” 

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.” 

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy. 

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?” 

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat. 

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.” 

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.” 

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…” 

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest. 

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.” 

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind. 

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right? 

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again. 

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself. 

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.” 

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever? 

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy. 

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital. 

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you? 

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed. 

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.” 

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son. 

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined. 

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse. 

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself? 

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage. 

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family. 

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight. 

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.” 

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?” 

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it. 

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.” 

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else. 

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired. 

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?” 

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.” 

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?” 

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.” 

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists. 

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there. 

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi. 

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera? 

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet. 

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.” 

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.” 

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life. 

Both choices had no happy endings. 

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind. 

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were? 

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse. 

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!” 

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?” 

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him? 

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them. 

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you. 

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in. 

How sickeningly sweet. 

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality. 

It was out of love that he let you go. 

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too. 

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife. 

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore. 

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses? 

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you. 

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off. 

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries. 

This woman was all he needed. 

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider. 

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important. 

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it? 

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman. 

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you. 

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it? 

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar. 

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life? 

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate? 

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third? 

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing. 

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions. 

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him. 

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you? 

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.” 

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget? 

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?” 

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart.  “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.” 

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.” 

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore. 

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now. 

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway. 

As for you, well… 

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?” 

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire. 

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor. 

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon? 

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news. 

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.” 

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?” 

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy. 

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son. 

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.” 

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?” 

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.” 

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?” 

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself? 

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here. 

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth. 

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over? 

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now? 

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces? 

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.” 

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given. 

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi? 

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞ x

part nine - part eleven

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ and while there's a lot of things you still need to work on, this is a great start to the new, beter chapters of your life

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ I think we needed a lil' cute to calm our tits 🥰 also, absolutely gobsmacked by the love this fic is getting and how involved you all are with it, you guys are seriously the best and I love y'all so much 😘

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y/nusername posted to their story

milliexoxo replied to your story

milliexoxo

someone's getting laid tonight

guessing you're not coming home tonight 🤪

y/nusername

go back to your coloring book

milliexoxo

wow, okay..I see how it is

no but seriously, are you coming back tonight or are you staying with lando so I can double lock the house lmao

y/nusername

staying in monaco, will be back tomorrow

milliexoxo

nice, I'll see you tomorrow then

have fun and don't do things I wouldn't do 😘

y/nusername

okay mom 😘

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y/nusername

📍 London, United Kingdom

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 539,678 others

y/nusername fifty shades of earl grey. 🇬🇧

tagged: landonorris, milliexoxo

view all 2,001 comments

norry4 cute, lando took them to England 😭

milliexoxo talk british to me

milliexoxo not pictured, y/n losing her mind over a bookshop

↳ y/nusername that wasn't a shop, that was heaven.

milliexoxo okay..nerd

landoscar i agree with y/n, every book shop is heaven

yukisan girl stop bullying your mom, we've warned you before 😭

milliexoxo I'm a rebel, I don't listen to no one

y/nusername big imagination for such a little girl

norrizz god I just know zoë is getting spoiled by stepdad lando 😭

carlandooo Charles crying in a corner rn

↳ charliecharlie I mean that's his own fault lmfao

carlandooo true 💀

bradleyfewtrell please tell me you met max 😂

↳ landomax I just know millie will bully max relentlessly 😂

bradleyfewtrell and I just know y/n would get along with max and pietra so well!

norrizzlandoo lando and zoë 😭😭

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milliexoxo

like by y/nusername, logansargeant and 2,671 others

milliexoxo your typical tourist on tour.

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername, maxfewtrell

maxwellmax lmfao yes max 💀

landonorris ❤️ I nodnol?

↳ milliexoxo oh my god you're so funny lando!!!!!!!

norry4 took me a second 😂

landonorizzzz he's taking his annoying stepdad duties seriously 😭

landoscar I feel sorry for the people who don't follow millie and miss out on all this

charlieslec did she just casually expose lando and y/n??

↳ norry4 are you new here? 😂

maxfewtrell but why?

↳ milliexoxo because I can 🥰

yukisan are we all just going to ignore the fact that Logan Sargeant is hiding in the likes? Yes? Cool 😭

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y/nusername

📍 Miami, FL

liked by riabish, landonorris and 609,578 others

y/nusername week 6. 🇺🇸

tagged: landonorris

view all 1,922 comments

landonorizzzz aw lando finally made it to the feed normally instead of the soft launch bullshit 😇

charlesgirlies zoë 🥺😭

milliexoxo look at my girlfriend living her best life, floating around ❤️

norry4 are we official? Hellooo can I finally fully unleash thr landoy/n shipper in me?! 🥺

yourmumsuser my little zoë 🤩🤩

chilisainz zoe being the unbothered queen that she is

landonorris my girls ❤️

↳ landoscar SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT UUUUUUUP 😭

yesrislando brb going to take a bath with my toaster

maxmaxmax man's really pulled a max and stole another driver's girl and child 💀

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Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #lando x reader #charles x reader

[whinlatter]

sirius and ginny: a meta (part 1)

“Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.’

are you a very brave, very reckless, very hot self-destructive rebel with a treacherous sibling and a flair for christmas decoration, harbouring complex feelings about your mother, close ties to crookshanks the cat and spend your days plagued by the memory of your worst mistakes and dark past? do you find yourself constantly being begged to stay in a state of protective confinement to save your life by a young man with a lightning scar, bad hair and crippling abandonment issues? if so, congratulations! you might be one of harry potter's chosen family members, sirius black and ginevra molly weasley! 

basically - i want to talk about sirius and ginny. these are two characters who don’t share a lot of scenes in canon but who, i think, have some clear (if overlooked) parallels: stubborn, fiercely protective of harry, self-sacrificing, admired, principled, haunted (in different ways) by traumatic pasts and betrayals, with complicated relationships with their families and entirely uncomplicated devoted relationships with someone else’s cat. their narrative arcs are successive, with ginny ascending in significance in the series during sirius’ period of decline and ultimate death. and ultimately, they’re also the two people who become, over the course of the canon series, family to a protagonist desperately seeking to build one. sirius and ginny are the two people harry in canon most worries about, wants to protect, and thinks of as someone who embodies the promise of family and home.

sirius and ginny aren’t mirror images of each other. ofc, ginny also has parallels with the only other family members harry claims in the series, lily and james (i mean, especially james - she’s literally a cocky funny flirtatious chaser with a years-long debilitating mega crush who can also catch a snitch like a champ. come on now). it’s also clear in canon that sirius means more to ginny as a hero/role model/ally against her mother than ginny ever means to sirius. nevertheless, the text puts in work to let the reader know we should think about these characters together as somehow aligned. from the beginning of ootp, there are clues and signals in the text that foreshadow ginny’s emergence as someone important to harry, and that subtly let the reader know that the baton of being harry’s ‘person’ is about to be passed from sirius to ginny, two kindred spirits, after sirius’ death. so that's what this meta is about! (consider this my 700th attempt to show that, as the popular fandom complaint/all of reddit still insist, ginny as a character, and especially the harry/ginny romance, did not ‘come out of nowhere’.)

the following meta is part one of two (and yet it's still too long! sorry about it). o in this part, i look at the period from the end of goblet of fire thru the start of half blood prince, exploring how the text sets up the sirius and ginny parallels as a way of foreshadowing ginny’s emergence as harry’s main love interest and place as a family substitute. the second part (tbc) will be what the memory of sirius does for harry’s view of his relationship with ginny, and the kind of positive - and negative - ways this shapes harry’s ideas about love and what family do for each other. i wrote this meta as a way of thinking through some characterisation choices for my current WIP, beasts. if you're following along with that fic, this meta can be seen as a companion piece especially to my thinking behind chapters ten and eleven, so hope proves helpful for some of my thinking behind the sirius and ginny friendship that appears in that project. it's also dedicated to @ashesandhackles, queen of metas, who has reminded me to post this meta precisely 9 million times because she is a long-suffering saint.

ok - sirius and ginny. let’s goooooo!

sirius and ginny before ootp

before OotP, ginny is absent from any plot connected to sirius. ginny doesn’t know the truth about sirius’ innocence, nor does she know that harry, her brother and her friend are in regular contact with sirius and that harry now as a surrogate father/big brother figure to confide in and seek comfort in.  in fact, in one of ginny’s few appearances in GoF, the narration is unusually insistent that the reader knows how little ginny knows about sirius:

“And have you heard from — ?” Ron began, but at a look from Hermione he fell silent. Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about Harry’s godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but themselves and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or believed in his innocence. “I think they’ve stopped arguing,” said Hermione, to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry. “Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?” 

the only other tiny crumb of sirius and ginny we get is the news that the owl sirius bought in PoA and gifted to ron as a replacement pet for scabbers has been embraced and named by ginny. sirius gifting a tiny little spitfire of an owl that annoys ron? it's giving foreshadowing, your honour.

the reader, though, knows who sirius is to harry by GoF. throughout this book, for the first time in the series, harry has a person he can claim as something like a family: someone to worry about, someone who cares about him,who can advise, guide and mentor him, as well as offer him support and consolation in difficult times (‘someone like a parent…’) although sirius has not been able to offer harry a stable alternative home to the dursleys due to his status as a wanted man, he’s still filling a role that previously had been vacant in the series: he’s harry’s person, the surrogate parent chosen for him by james and lily. he’s close by, either by the floo or eventually living (at great personal cost) as padfoot in hogsmeade, and he’s present emotionally for harry in ways that prove incredibly meaningful to his young godson. in times of great of distress, sirius is there for harry to meet emotional needs that ron and hermione (understandably, no shade to them) can’t always meet. the floo scene early on in GoF, during harry’s row with ron, is a particularly good example of this:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —”  For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. …Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days — about how no one believed he hadn’t entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn’t walk down a corridor without being sneered at — and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron’s jealousy . . . Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern… He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption’.

harry derives enormous comfort from sirius’ presence in his life during GoF. he writes to sirius, he repeatedly turns to him for advice, he worries for him more than he does any other person. sirius fulfils harry’s desire to be kept abreast of important information about voldemort and death eaters, doesn’t sugarcoat news for harry, and makes him feel important, cared for and understood. (harry even shows off to sirius telling him about how much of a slay the first task was. ugh). by the time of the third task, sirius is sending harry daily owls, a constant flow of reassurance and concern (‘He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry’s responsibility, nor was it within his power to influence it. If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, he wrote, my priority is to ensure your safety.’) when harry returns from the graveyard at the novel’s end, it’s sirius who races to his side to advocate for him and offer him both words of comfort and physical affection as he processes the traumatic series of events that constitute the climax of the book’s plot. (my personal favourite part is where harry says ‘wormtail cut me with a knife’ and the text says sirius made a ‘vehement exclamation’, which i can only assume is children’s book speak for ‘fucking hell’.) harry goes to bed: sirius stays with him, a literal guard dog as he recuperates. after the most traumatic events of the series to date, the reader is at least consoled that harry potter has a person now, someone he loves for him to worry about and to worry for him, who catches him on the other side of traumatic events and makes them that bit much more bearable.

sirius and ginny during ootp

with sirius' role in harry's life established in GoF, OotP begins with harry, cooped up and restless at privet drive, angry with ron, hermione, sirius, and dumbledore for abandoning him at privet drive and keeping him in the dark. harry arrives at grimmauld place to find an anxious ron and hermione, with whom harry is angry and frustrated for having left him out of their summer hangs and having neglected him, by his assessment, in surrey. it’s the most conflict we’ve seen in the trio in terms of harry vs ron and hermione, and sets up one of the important themes of the book, which is harry no longer being solely emotionally fulfilled by the people he is closest to, including his two surrogate parents best mates but also his godfather. when he encounters sirius for the first time after the order meeting, he finds him surly, bitter, and depressed, furious that he is confined to his childhood home, and (understandably) much less able or willing to offer harry much in the way of comfort, apology or cheering words (‘Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded.’) in this sense, the book opens with harry disappointed and/or more distant from all the people on whom he most depends and is usually closest to, and that there therefore is already an absence of a certain kind of emotional support in harry’s life that the plot demands be filled.

fresh off the back of harry’s row with ron and hermione is ginny’s reintroduction to the reader. after years of being so shy in harry’s presence she was often nearly mute, the reader finds that ginny is not only now speaking, but that her presence turns out to be remarkably refreshing. from her opening scene where ginny enters harry’s bedroom at grimmauld place, the reader discovers the new ginny is confident, up to no good, in cahoots with her most troublemaking brothers trying to intercept the order meeting, enterprising in her mischief (and very happy to lie to her mother’s face about it). she’s thoroughly unfazed by harry’s great display of rage that has just startled and upset ron and hermione. (side note: in both ootp and hbp, ginny’s opening scene is her entering harry’s bedroom, which is the kind of foreshadowing i personally find delicious). everyone else is behaving pretty much as they have been up to this point, but it’s ginny who is showcasing behaviours new to the reader, a signal that she might be about to play a different role in the series than she has done up to this point.

cut to the dinner scene. sirius and ginny are in the room together for the first time. sirius is moody: though he’s still able to laugh, enjoying displays of mischief and humour (the twins and the knife), he’s more bitter than harry and the reader have seen him since PoA. it’s an important scene for lots of reasons (not least the sirius v molly beef), but it’s also one where sirius and ginny are repeatedly drawn into mental association in the reader’s mind. it’s also a great scene because the behaviour of crookshanks the cat literally serves to foreshadow the behaviour of harry james potter in ways that are frankly extremely fun.

so! the sirius and ginny hints start small. from the start of the scene, ginny is amused by mundungus the crook (a man, we will learn, so disdained by her mother):

“Some’n say m’ name?” Mundungus mumbled sleepily. “I ’gree with Sirius. . . .” He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. Ginny giggled. “The meeting’s over, Dung,” said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. “Harry’s arrived.” 

sirius and harry, sat at the end of the table, are both greeted by crookshanks, sirius’ old accomplice from PoA:

'​​Harry felt something brush against his knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped onto Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absentmindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry…

when fred and george’s levitation goes awry, flinging a knife at sirius (now that’s how you foreshadow a death), crookshanks bolts: 

‘Harry and Sirius were both laughing… Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness…’

during the meal, ginny’s with hermione, having a laugh with tonks, a character harry has just met but whom he has already decided to both admire and like. after the meal, when harry’s cheered up a bit and had his crumble (the man loves dessert), crookshanks finally emerges from his hiding place, having been coaxed out from his sulk by - you guessed it - one g. m. weasley:

‘…Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for him to chase.’

a grouchy character, initially drawn to sirius, but prone to lashing out and locking himself away, only to be lured back out into comfort and safety by ginny weasley? wow………. radical

after dinner, the argument between sirius and molly kicks off. sirius is arguing hard for harry’s right to know, though he makes no attempt to advocate for any of the other weasleys or for hermione. ginny’s noticeably singled out in her reaction to this scene, the text highlighting that she is particularly struck by this conflict as if it is of particular personal resonance, including someone standing up to her famously overprotective mother for once:

‘Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius.’

of course, molly loses the argument: harry gets to stay for juicy order deets (‘Sirius was right, he was not a child.’) after the row, ginny is the only person forbidden from hearing information about the order’s activities. suddenly, the roles are switched: it’s ginny who’s now furious and bitter to be kept out of the action:

‘“Fine!” shouted Mrs. Weasley. “Fine! Ginny — BED!”  Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black’s earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke. “Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?”’ 

it’s not just the parallels of confinement between harry, sirius and ginny that are so revealing, it’s also the dual maternal conflicts. ginny loud raging at her own mother sets off the howling relic of sirius’, serving to underline two characters who continue to grapple with maternal relationships that are complex and full of conflict, though by no means solely negative (sirius i see you sleeping in your mother’s bedroom babe. don’t think i think your relationship with walburga is just one of straight hate ok). when ginny later gets knocked down the stairs by fred and george, there’s more direct mrs weasley/walburga parallels, with the two of them literally shouting over each other during the ordeal lol. as such, the readers see that the conflicts being set up for sirius’ character in this book - frustration at confinement, conflict with a mother figure, drawn to more reckless and arguably irresponsible characters (mundungus, the twins) and courses of action - are also conflicts subtly playing out with the new ginny we’re meeting, too.

as the rest of the summer at grimmauld wears on, there are more examples of sirius and ginny foreshadowing. the scenes where the two characters interact serve to place ginny and sirius firmly in the same camp of people harry admires and has fun with, the troublemakers and the rebels. over the prefects issue, ginny not only is sat chatting with the troublemaking adults harry likes most, but actively draws sirius into conversation on the issue, likely knowing the answer will comfort harry, but also showing a curiosity and interest in sirius that suggests she admires him:

“I was never a prefect myself,” said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.”  “Like what?” said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato. “Like the ability to behave myself,” said Tonks. Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.  “What about you, Sirius?” Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh…’

ginny’s choice to try and draw sirius into the conversation bears fruit: sirius confirms james was never a prefect, and harry’s sour mood is suddenly lifted. (‘All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling unusually fond of everyone in the room.’) ginny is thus beginning to provide harry with subtle comfort and reassurance, especially as sirius, struggling with his own confinement,  is taking a less active role in trying to cheer harry up. what i also like is that we have evidence of how ginny views sirius - she’s curious about him and his past, she clearly thinks he and the other new rebellious adults are cool as shit, and she’s drawn increasingly away from her mother’s cautious overprotective approach towards these resistance fighters who prioritise the fight over safety. (it is noticeable to me that ginny does not become a prefect in HBP, suggesting sirius' example proved instructive).

we see more small parallels between sirius and ginny during the cleaning scenes. the battle against grimmauld place is an important symbol of one of the important themes of OotP as a book: a battle over past traumas and their persistent and unwieldy symptoms that are seemingly never-ending. while it’s harry’s experiences that, of course, take centre stage, sirius’, too, loom omnipresent throughout the text. it’s significant, then, that ginny’s own past gets brought up for the first time in three books here, albeit briefly: 

'They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry’s arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut…'

in this moment, we see sirius and ginny singled in the larger group as quick-thinking, shrewd characters, with a good instincts and common sense (if a bit of a tendency to get scrappy). their respective dark pasts are subtly alluded to. sirius whacks a spider trying to attack harry with a book that might as well be entitled my big book of family trauma. ginny, meanwhile, steps in when everybody present starts to be enchanted by a mysterious object luring them into danger by whacking it shut (gee i wonder why!) given this is the book that will see ginny mention the events of CoS for the first time in errrrr three years, it’s significant that the text is careful to draw ginny into this broader theme that unites sirius and harry, the constant reminders of traumatic pasts at every turn. we also see here the revelation that regulus black was a death eater. coming after news of percy weasley’s betrayal, sirius’ bitter dismissal of his younger brother deliberately mirrors ginny and the other weasleys’ attitude towards percy, this sense of pureblood families split over wizarding politics, often fatally. 

while harry fears his expulsion from hogwarts prior his hearing, he continues to fantasise about coming to live with sirius at grimmauld, and about being with a family member and finding an alternative home to hogwarts. sirius, as hermione astutely observes, tries to manage harry’s expectations and not to get his own hopes up: still, when harry is exonerated, sirius is visibly depressed, showing the beginnings of an emotional dependency on harry that harry feels great guilt over.when leaving grimmauld for the start of the school year, sirius, as padfoot, accompanies harry to king’s cross: unlike in GoF, though, he is spotted, and harry begins to worry much more actively about sirius’ vulnerability to capture, about his recklessness and about his judgement. concerned for sirius, and absent ron and hermione, who are in the prefects carriage, the person who stays with harry and offers him company is ginny. she sacrifices her own train journey (presumably with her own boyfriend) to find a carriage with harry and make sure he’s not lonely, bringing him to neville and luna and sorting him out after his embarassing cho run-in. it’s not a coincidence that once again we see ginny here taking care of harry crookshanks:

'“Where’s Crookshanks?” “Ginny’s got him,” said Harry. “There she is. . . .”  Ginny had just emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks. “Thanks,” said Hermione, relieving Ginny of the cat. “Come on, let’s get a carriage together before they all fill up. . . '

once harry’s back at school, having left sirius behind to languish miserably in london, we see he's more isolated and alone than ever. he’s tormented by umbridge, endlessly (though often unfairly) frustrated with ron and hermione, ghosted by dumbledore, yet absent the more stable, reassuring sirius he came to know in GoF, unable to write candidly to him and faced with a much less well sirius in the opportunities they do have to speak face-to-face. as sirius’ mental health declines as he is shut up at grimmauld, his ability to support harry and comfort him starts to falter, and he becomes a much more uneven source of advice and support, particularly during his car crash floo appearance, where he’s much ruder than he has previously been (cutting off, ignoring their pleas for him to be more cautious, the infamous ‘the risk would have made it fun for james’ moment). this new sirius, clearly struggling, is much more happy to do up guilt trip to his godson than we have seen him to up this point (‘I’ll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?’ - you petty little shit, padfoot). all of this serves to increase harry’s anxiety about sirius’ wellbeing and reinforce harry’s sense of emotional isolation. even sirius’ encouragement on the DA is, as hermione points out, partly bound up in more selfish motivations (‘I think he’s really frustrated at how little he can do where he is… so I think he’s keen to kind of… egg us on.’)

ginny’s largely absent in this section of the novel. in the brief moments she does appear, it’s to inject humour (eg. her impressions at the DA meeting) and in little reminders that she now has a boyfriend, no longer harbours romantic feelings for harry, making sure the reader continues to hold her mentally apart from harry. harry, meanwhile, misguidedly tries to seek out a relationship with cho chang, who is showing clear signs of her own emotional distress and inability to meet harry’s emotional needs given her own grief. still, among this, there’s still room for some small subtle sirius/ginny parallels. once the DA plot picks up, we have another little sign that ginny weasley and sirius black think somewhat alike:

“Yeah, the D.A.’s good,” said Ginny. “Only let’s make it stand for Dumbledore’s Army because that’s the Ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?” 

“Trained in combat?” repeated Harry incredulously. “What does he think we’re doing here, forming some sort of wizard army? “That’s exactly what he thinks you’re doing,” said Sirius, “or rather, that’s exactly what he’s afraid Dumbledore’s doing — forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic.” 

with harry's isolation and need for more emotional support established in this first term, christmas at grimmauld offers more opportunity to subtly develop the sirius and ginny parallels, as well as to highlight ginny’s ability to fill the gaps left by sirius’ decline. after the attack on arthur weasley, the group arrive back at grimmauld:

‘Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him. “What’s going on?” he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. “Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured —” 

could this be sirius literally lifting ginny up into plot significance? why yes it could

ofc the weasleys then argue with sirius about their right to go see their father. despite his own frustrations at being trapped at grimmauld, sirius proves the voice of reason and rational decision making against both ginny and the twins’ hotheadedness (ginny asks to borrow cloaks to go to the hospital: sirius: ‘Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!’) crucially, though, when sirius points out that there are bigger things at stake - the work of the order and the resistance movement - it’s ginny who listens:

“Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” said Sirius angrily in his turn. “This is how it is — this is why you’re not in the Order — you don’t understand — there are things worth dying for!”  “Easy for you to say, stuck here!” bellowed Fred. “I don’t see you risking your neck!”  The little colour remaining in Sirius’s face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm. “I know it’s hard, but we’ve all got to act as though we don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?”  Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats on either side of Ginny.  “That’s right,” said Sirius encouragingly, “come on, let’s all . . . let’s all have a drink while we’re waiting…’

there’s a lot going on here: ginny’s willingness to follow sirius’ orders, but also her willingness to accept an argument based on some idea of the greater good before any of her brothers. she and sirius are aligned here, and it’s her decision to accept sirius’ reasoning that proves the catalyst for her brothers to follow. we see here how ginny has come to see sirius: someone she looks up to and admires, an adult whose judgement she trusts and whose worldview she subscribes to. (as a character prone to hero worship - see her view of her big brother bill - i think this is noteworthy, and is behind a lot of my characterisation choices for ginny towards sirius in beasts). but we also see that ginny agrees with sirius' worldview. there are some things worth dying for, and self-sacrifice is part of that.

when harry goes to sirius for reassurance about witnessing arthur’s attack, he finds sirius unable to properly console him and convince him that he was not to blame for arthur’s attack. the reader gets the impression of sirius withholding information from harry (‘He could only see a sliver of Sirius’s face; the rest was in darkness’), and the scene ends with sirius clapping harry on the shoulder and leaving him ‘standing alone in the dark’. while sirius throws himself into christmas preparations, obviously delighted to have company, harry shrinks from the cheer and isolates himself. in the end, ofc, the only person that manages to pull harry out of his dark, brooding thoughts is ginny. the text is careful to note she’s sitting beside him on the tube back from st mungo’s, when he looks very unwell. then, in the ‘lucky you’ scene, she showcases some of the same skills harry first came to appreciate in sirius in GoF. she tells it to him straight: she’s sympathetic, but not overly gushing, and she reminds him of her own intensely frightening experience which she endured alone, something harry can relate to, even if the experience of possession is not.  it’s an important scene for lots of reasons, but it’s also, crucially, the intervention that causes harry’s mood to lift, and he gets to enjoy a christmas with his godfather, the thing he had most wanted in the run-up to christmas, and which becomes the only holiday period harry and sirius ever spend together: 

‘I’m not the weapon after all, thought Harry. His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door toward Buckbeak’s room, singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Hippogriffs” at the top of his voice.’

of course, once christmas is over, sirius slips back into a depressed, gloomy state. harry wants a better goodbye than he gives him, merely giving him a quick one armed hug (there’s a real theme throughout harry and sirius’ relationship of very sparing physical contact on sirius’ part, which is obviously a hole in harry's life ginny will fill in - er - a big way). back at school, harry returns to umbridge’s increasingly draconian rule, maks a disastrous attempt at forging a relationship with cho, and continues to feel lonely, paranoid, and angry. unable to speak to sirius properly via letter or floo - and unwilling to open the present sirius has given him to communicate directly with him, the two-way mirror - harry is increasingly sullen, a mood that only worsens after seeing snape's worst memory.

the easter egg scene is obviously important for hinny for lots of different reasons. but here i just want to highlight how the scene serves to show ginny as both the conduit to sirius for harry, and someone whose behaviour echoes that of sirius in GoF when harry first began to open up to and seek comfort in him. harry is distressed by his now complicated feelings both towards the father he previously revered and towards sirius, who seemed to encourage james’ bullying behaviour. ginny hands harry a chocolate easter egg covered in snitches: chocolate, a canonical source of comfort against dark thoughts, and an egg that reminds him of the love of parent. the act makes him suddenly emotional, though he at first denies he’s upset. ginny presses carefully and sensitively, asking the right questions to get him to confess the source of his worry, waiting for harry to take his time to speak - all behaviours that echo sirius’ own effective listening techniques. ginny’s acquaintance with sirius, and knowledge of how significant he is to harry, is important here, too, and a subtle sign to the reader that he trusts ginny with knowledge about sirius after a long time of having her in the dark about his godfather.  the reader leaves the scene having seen ginny breakthrough to harry emotionally in a way for the second time in the novel, in a way no other character has done (‘he felt a bit more hopeful…’) 

of course, the course of action ginny has set in motion is itself risky and reckless (‘anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve’ is very marauders as a philosophy). the decision to go ahead with the plan the twins come up with is one harry sees as a decision on whether to be more like james and sirius - a risk taker - or to abandon the hero worship for the marauders he has lived with for so long. in the end, of course, it’s a win for the reckless troublemakers: he chooses to go ahead with the plan the twins have crafted and that ginny has set in motion, and to speak to sirius.

and yet. sirius is still alive - there is not need for ginny yet. for the remainder of the book, ginny has to beg to be included in the trio's plans and to be allowed to be a part of the plot to rescue sirius. she’s is often in conflict with harry, showing a lot of sirius’ bitterness at attempts at containment and to keep her out of the fighting. she grates against harry’s insistence that she is too young and inexperienced, and having to remind the trio that she, too, has come to care about sirius and wants to see him safe: 

“I’ve got a broom!” said Ginny.  “Yeah, but you’re not coming,” said Ron angrily.  “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking. 

of course, it all ends in tragedy: sirius, desperate to go to harry’s aid and absolutely gunning for a fight after months of confinement, is killed, leaving harry alone. there a subtle clues that something has shifted in ginny’s relationship to harry and the trio in the scenes after sirius’ death, including ginny positioned as the mirror image to harry in the hospital: 

‘Harry was sitting on the end of Ron’s bed and they were both listening to Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet. Ginny, whose ankle had     been mended in a trice by Madam Pomfrey, was curled up at the foot of Hermione’s bed…’

despite this, in the immediate aftermath of sirius’ death, harry is extremely alone. he is unable to work out what he needs (‘Whenever he was in company he wanted to get away, and whenever he was alone he wanted company.’) he tries to go to hagrid’s, but regrets it (‘He was starting to wish he was alone again’), leaving after hagrid reminds him of sirius’ core traits, an inability to stay out of the fight when he believes in the cause:

“But still, Harry . . . he was never one ter sit around at home an’ let other people do the fightin’. He couldn’ have lived with himself if he hadn’ gone ter help —” 

unlike at the end of GoF, harry is isolated by his grief and the revelation of the prophecy's contents by the end of this book. he goes alone to a secluded corner of the lakeshore, ‘sheltered from the gaze of passersby behind a tangle of shrubs’, and ‘[stares] out over the gleaming water’, and cries alone. there is no sirius or other person to catch him and console him in his grief. his person has died, and there’s a gap in his life again, just waiting to be filled: 

‘Wanting to impress Cho seemed to belong to a past that was no longer quite connected with him. So much of what he had wanted before Sirius’s death felt that way these days. . . . The week that had elapsed since he had last seen Sirius seemed to have lasted much, much longer: It stretched across two universes, the one with Sirius in it, and the one without.’

ginny and sirius parallels in HBP and DH

after sirius’ death, the parallels between sirius and ginny become more important as ginny moves into the centre frame as a character. at the start of HBP, harry arrives at the burrow and discusses his grief over sirius’ death with dumbledore in the burrow broom shed, acknowledging how profoundly the loss of a family member who cares singularly about him is affecting him. ('He felt stupid for admitting it, but the fact that he had had someone outside Hogwarts who cared what happened to him, almost like a parent, had been one of the best things about discovering his godfather . . . and now the post owls would never bring him that comfort again. . . .' beasts readers: there's a reason harry clings to letters!) of course, having reminded the reader of the gap in harry’s life that now needs to be filled, harry goes to sleep, the active reflection on his grief for sirius put to one side so the novel's plot can get underway. he'll go to bed mourning sirius and wake up in a sunlit bedroom. of course, ginny will walk into this bedroom too, only now things will be different: harry potter is back to the search for a loved one, for a family, and he's about to realise ginny is the one he wants to fill it. thus the start of the plot of ginny stepping into the role vacated by sirius beginneth.

so much of who ginny is in HBP is reminiscent of sirius. she frequently leaps into battle as harry’s protector (‘You’re taking orders from something someone wrote in a book?’, ‘Give it a rest, Hermione’), she’s scrappy (RIP zacharias smith), she’s funny and laughs easily in a way that less recalls sirius in the time harry knew him than sirius as harry sees him as a young man, in photographs or memories. she's the one who commits to the insane christmas decorations, determined to cheer everyone up over the festive period as sirius did the year before. she even enjoys the widespread admiration and lust of her peers, a trait that directly recalls sirius being eyed up by his peers in snape's memory. by the novel’s end, after dumbledore’s death, it will be ginny who goes to harry’s side after the climax of the plot and catch him in his grief just as sirius did in GoF, this time over dumbledore’s death: 

‘He did not want to leave Dumbledore’s side, he did not want to move anywhere. Hagrid’s hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another voice said, “Harry, come on.’ A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it.’

their breakup has sirius all over it. taking place at the lakeshore, the place where harry wept alone over sirius a year prior, harry draws on the circumstances of sirius’ demise as a reason he must break up with ginny (‘Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to.’) the breakup does little to shift what ginny has become in harry’s mind, though, and he spends all of DH thinking of her as he once thought of sirius: the person whose safety he most craves, the person he misses, someone he claims as his, and whom he associates with (now banished) hopes of a home and a family:

“It’s not a problem,” said Harry, sickened by the pain in his head. “It’s your family, ’course you’re worried. I’d feel the same way.” He thought of Ginny. “I do feel the same way.”

of course, echoes of sirius will also come into play during open war. it’s now ginny, not sirius, who is the one left behind for her own protection: in the run-up to the battle, harry finds himself once again faced with the prospect of confining his loved one for their safety, despite their desperation to fight and do the right thing. but these are thoughts for part 2…….

#meta #sirius black #ginny weasley #it's not NOT an aged up sinevra ship agenda #hp meta #hp analysis #hinny #marauders #black family #beasts

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Nanny Flo

You woke to the sound of banging on your bedroom door and thought about ignoring it until a voice came through telling you it was Bruce. With a groan, you groggily told him to come in. Coming in, he sat on the edge of your bed as he informed you, much to your concern, that Cassandra had started her ‘cycle’ as he put it. It was pathetic just how ignorant he was when it came to women. 

Sitting up, you put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Mr. Wayne, you are so clueless.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Bruce said, acting offended, but you could see the ghost of an amused smile on his face. You rebuffed his words with a scoff. Throwing off your blankets, you stepped out of bed. You noticed he averted his eyes, and, when you looked down, you realized that you were only in a t-shirt and underwear. With a shriek, you shrunk in on yourself. “Mr. Wayne! Get out!”

Scrambling to his feet to get out the door, he mumbled an apology. You turned, feeling how hot your face was and trying to shake the memory from your head. Now wasn’t the time to think about how your handsome boss just saw you in your underwear, there was a little girl who needed you. 

You went to Cassandra’s room, knowing she’d be there to get away from all the boys. When you approached her door, you found Mr. Wayne standing there trying to talk to his daughter, but, by the look on his face and the screaming coming through the door, he was getting nowhere. Once you got to her door, you could hear crying. Bruce knocked and called out to her. 

“Go away!” She screamed before letting out another sob. 

Bruce whispered to you as an afterthought, “She’s too young.”

You scoffed, slowly pushing him aside. “I don’t think you’re the one to make that call. Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But—”

“Go.”

Bruce nodded and left, stopping to tell Cassie that he loved her. Once he was gone, you knocked on her door. 

“Cass, it’s me,” You said. “I know you’re probably confused and scared right now, but I want to help you.” For a moment, you thought she might want to be left alone. Though, a minute later, there was a click. You slowly opened her bedroom door to reveal her curled on her bed. 

“I hate this,” She sobbed out. “And, I hate everyone.”

When you sat on her bed a small smile crossed your face as you remembered the feeling. Rubbing circles on her back, you soothed her until she could turn around to look at you. “I know, sweet girl. I know. Come here,” You opened your arms and she dove into your embrace. 

As you soothed her, you noticed the dozens of boxes of pads and tampons on her nightstand. Bruce must have gotten to her before you had. It was sweet to see a father try his best, but you could also picture Cassandra getting overwhelmed. 

You explained everything to her, from the different sizes of pads and tampons to what meds best helped with cramps. Getting out a pad that you brought with you, you explained how it would attach to her underwear, along with all the nitty gritty stuff that came with a period. It calmed her enough that she managed to get out a few questions. It was a little sad just how little she knew about herself, but you were glad you could be there for her to explain. 

“Does this mean I’m a woman now,” She asked. 

You tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “No. You’re ten.”

“I’m eleven next week.”

You laughed to yourself. What a birthday gift from Mother Nature. “Still, no. Whoever says that is either a weirdo or a man—Or both!”

Cassie giggled and that’s the sound you were waiting to hear. You offered to watch some TV and relax, the one thing you would want to get if you got your period for the first time again. She heavily agreed and switched on the little pink TV in the corner of her room. After watching an entire season of My Little Pony, there was a knock at her door and Bruce opened slightly to poke his head in. 

“Hi, sweetheart, how are we doing?”

“I hate you,” She groaned, then added. “But I also love you. Please, leave.”

“Understandable,” He said, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, kissed Cassandra’s hair, and urged her to close her eyes. She complied and within minutes she was out. Poor thing, you thought, must have been so exhausted from getting her period and subsequently dealing with it. It was then you slowly slipped away from her. Once you stepped out into the hallway, you took a deep breath before going to find Mr. Wayne. 

Luckily, he wasn’t far. You found him in the kitchen confessing to Alfred about being scared for his daughter. The old man desperately looked to you for release from the situation, which you were happy to provide. 

Bruce got up from his chair, eyes zeroed in on you, and asked, “Is she okay? Does she need anything?” 

You motioned for him to sit back down as you made some coffee. Once you set the mug down you told him what you had explained to her. Finally comforting him with, “She’s fine and asleep.”

“Thank you,” He said. “For being there for her. I don’t…”

“I’m glad I was here, so don’t worry about it.” You moved to get him another cup of coffee. “I’ll fill you in all the things you need to know. First and foremost, never blame her anger on her period. She’ll kill you, and so will I.”

#jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batfamily #clark kent #romance #damian wayne #duke thomas #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #robin #red robin #dcu #dc comics #batman dc #dc batman #slow burn #batfamily and reader #batfamily x reader #batfam #dc robin

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Eleven: The End of All the Endings

summary: all things come to the light eventually (5k words).

warnings: 18+. oral, m receiving; p in v sex; alcohol consumption; unwarranted aggressive touch from another person.

modern day! rich! fake husband! steve harrington

masterlist

——

  It’s easy to feel like a beautiful, powerful being when you quite literally stand in front of the mirrored elevator donning a shimmering midnight colored dress that shifts with every step, red bottom heels beneath clicking with your pacing movements. Around your neck, you wear a diamond necklace, the same very one Steve slipped around your neck that morning and whispered would be the only thing you wore when he fucked you later. 

Heat dances to life in your belly at the memory, disrupted by the ding of the elevator, revealing the handsome appearance of your husband in a too expensive suit and bow tie standing there at the entrance. He’s been at the office all day, wanting to make sure the final pieces of the New Years Eve party were set into place. Had told him to let the party planners handle it, but seeing as it was also a charity event, he wanted everything to be perfect. 

He greets you with a kiss, bent elbow there for you to slide your hand into, shoulder bumping against his. There’s a giddy spring in your step, a delighted burning behind your ribcage that has you asking him where his office is, having never been there to visit him. 

“My office?” he asks, not quite understanding, but leading you down a separate hall all the same. 

The building is all sprawling gray walls, glass cubicles, black desks. A conference room that looks more like an auditorium than anything else, a fully stocked cafeteria and countless other rooms he doesn’t get to name as you’re suddenly swept toward a door that has his name plate affixed to it.

“Mr. Steve Harrington,” you murmur to yourself with a grin, smirking up at your husband as he leans down to push the handle and allow you in. 

Inside, you’re met with a large mahogany desk set against a wall with a sprawling bookshelf that spans one wall to the other. Against the opposite wall he has other shelves, boasting plants and photos that you’ve seen before because some of which are the same you have back at home. 

Your wedding photos, with the two of you looking so happy for two people who barely knew one another at the time. Your fingers brush along the frames, over the sight of him with his hand around your waist, your veil draped over both your heads, foreheads pressed together. The next is another photo from the ceremony. Him, sliding up a ring onto your finger, saying those final, fateful words. 

“You looked so beautiful that day,” he muses, coming up behind you, arms curling around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. He kisses your shoulder, your neck. “You look stunning today, too, Mrs. Harrington.” 

Turning around, you give him a swift kiss and curl your palm around his, dragging him over to his desk. You plop him down in his office chair and notice the photo settled on his desk, set in a dark frame. It’s a newer photo from the holidays. Of you, Charlie and Steve. Your little family finally together, with wide smiles and full hearts. 

“I love this one,” you whisper, settling down on his knee. 

“I love you,” he breathes out, smiling into your searing kiss. 

It’s meant to be innocent. A soft brush of your mouth against his. But being here, in this office with this man, has heat ratcheting in your belly. Desire thrumming, you shift on his lap, hip against his stomach, fingers inching up along the column of his throat, mouth brushing over the hollow of his ear until he shudders beneath you. 

“I want to try something,” you say, sliding down off of his lap, knees resting against the carpet below. “Been dreaming of it.” 

“What are y —”

“Shhh.” 

He leans back into his chair with hooded eyes and a shaky exhale, watching your fingers glide up along his thighs, pausing at the button of his pants, palm smoothed along the hardened ridge of his cock outlined beneath, straining desperately against the fabric. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out as you undo the button and shuck his pants down, freeing him from the confines, thumb gliding over the tip already glistening with pre-cum. “Honey honey honey.” 

Delight curls low in your cunt as his head tips back as you take him into your mouth, too eager to waste any time teasing him further. His curses spur you on, taking him halfway into your mouth, trying to relax your muscles and take him deeper, palm curling around the rest of him and setting a pace that has his fingers clutching against the leather armrests. 

The rasps of your name on his lips and the breathless sighs of him start to fill the room as you start to bob your head, wetness pooling between your thighs that rub together as his hips shift against leather, aroused knowing you’re the one pulling these beautiful sounds from him — you’re the one reducing him to incoherent babble, praises of your mouth, utterances of his love.  

“Oh fuck —” He glances down, your eyes on his face as you smile around his cock, his thumb pressing to the corner of your lips. “Look so pretty like this. Touch yourself, baby. Play with your clit. Wanna watch you.” 

You’re humming around him as you touch yourself. Fingers dip into the well of slick between your thighs, dragging up to your clit, rubbing along it in a way that has Steve’s hand falling to the back of your head, not hindering your pace on his cock, only tethering himself to reality. Craving that nearness as the veins in his neck strain against skin, hips fighting to not thrust up into your throat. 

“Waitwaitwait —” His voice comes out in a rush, your head popping off of him with a loud pop, fingers still rubbing against your clit, needing friction. “I want to be inside you when I come. Get on the desk.”

“What?” 

“On.” He kisses your brow. “The.” A kiss presses against the corner of your mouth. “Desk.” The last is against the shell of your ear, nipples pebbling beneath the slinky material of your dress at the unbridled desire imbuing his tone. “You’re not the only one who’s been dreaming. Know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you right here on my desk?”

He noses along your jaw, down the curve of your shoulder. Slides the shoulder of your gown down just a bit to lay a little nip into the skin there, settling into the cradle of your hips. Ringed fingers move down to push your dress up higher on your hips, fingers pushing your underwear to the side and trailing through your already slick center. 

Your lungs practically fail you as Steve grips himself in hand and tugs you closer to the edge of the desk, sliding into the hilt in a long thrust. Nothing ever prepares you for that initial stretch — the feeling of being so full of him you might explode, heart hammering away like a tattoo against his ribcage. 

“So pretty,” he rasps, setting a brutal pace, fingers clutched tight around the fleshiest parts of your hips, “God you feel so good. Always so good for me.”

It’s a dirty, frantic thing. A push and pull of hips. A furious rush to a finish line you can’t see, and yet flashes behind your eyes. Beneath you, the desk rattles. Shakes with each hard thrust of Steve’s hips against yours. Papers flutter in the air. Pens come crashing to the floor beneath. Your fingers clutch tight in his shirt, his body bowing over yours and knocking you backward so he can cradle your head with his elbows. Your thighs curl around his hips, hoarse cries and whimpers spilling freely, uncaring of those who might hear, as he picks up his pace. 

It’s perfectly obscene. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you. His ragged pants. Your peals of his name. The echo of his desk screeching against the floor. His fingers grip your thigh tight, opening you further, rolling into you with abandon. And you’re screaming — crying his name into the open room as the rubber band snaps and heat lights your body awash in flame. It dances behind your eyes, rattles your bones as you tremble around him, your fingers sliding behind his head to tangle with his hair, dragging him down for a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, his hips falling out of motion as you swallow his own moans as he comes. 

You lay like that for a while. His chest rising and falling against yours, your forehead in the crook of his neck, his hands on your waist and hips. Your dress still sits high on your thighs, he’s still resting on you and within you, your thighs tremble, but all you feel is the glow of love for him. The steady beat of it that lingers behind your ribcage at all times now. 

You murmur it on a breath, his head lifting a bit to take in your features. And then once more. A whisper of, “I love you, Steve.”

He knows this. He’s heard it countless times since you’ve both said it for the first time. But that smile — that amazing smile that slides over his features will make it worth it every time. Like he’s hearing it all over again. Like he still can’t believe it, like he’s still basking in the revelation that as much as you are his, he is yours. Your person, his person, his family.  

“I love you,” he breathes back, brushing his lips over yours and murmuring quickly for you to lay still so he can run into his adjoining office bathroom to clean you up. 

He tends to you in silence. In little brushes along the insides of your thighs, along your hips where he tuts at the marks already forming on your skin, ones you welcome happily and will wear for days with the memory of being loved so well by Steve Harrington. 

Your own fingers rise up to help Steve tuck his shirt back pristinely into his pants. And his gentle palms slide your dress into place, moving down to run along your calves and give them a quick squeeze, before holding a palm out for you to take. You rise to your feet on shaky limbs, leaning into his body for a moment as the wobbly feeling in your thighs subsides. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, offering you the crook of his elbow. You slide your arm through his, looping him in close, just as he should be — as he always should be. “If I get pulled away by clients, please make sure you find me by midnight.”

“Wanna kiss me or something, Harrington?” you tease, but your heart still bubbles with joy at the prospect of ringing in the new year with your favorite person and love of your life, all wrapped in one. 

“One of many New Year’s kisses to come,” he says with a laugh, brushing his mouth against your forehead as he closes the office door behind the both of you. He leads you back down the hall you came, the click of your heels and slap of his Prada hitting the pristine floors, echoing. “I am a man of tradition.” 

“Can we make what we did back there a tradition too? I suddenly am a big fan of family traditions.” 

You’re only joking. Trying to get a rise out of the man — make his cheeks glow red like they always do when you crack an inappropriate joke his way. Something salacious that always seems to ruffle his feathers. Your businessman husband, always so serious. Except now. Now there’s a wicked gleam in his eye at your words, and you know it’s a promise. 

  ——

  In actuality, you lose Steve in the ebb and flow of the crowd early on. As you initially entered the party, your breath hitched at the sight of the place. The rooftop of your husband’s business has been turned into the winter wonderland of everyone’s dreams, only heaters are appropriately placed so it doesn’t quite feel like one in the dead of winter in the city. 

Everything is awash in a lovely blue hue. White furniture has been placed pristinely around tables with golden accented centerpieces, with frostbitten edges. All around you, women and men are dressed to the nines. Gorgeous gowns and designer heels, jewelry with insurance policies attached to them, men in perfectly tailored suits, cufflinks encrusted in gemstones boasting their last names, proof of their elitism above all others. 

Up here, you once again feel out of place. Like so long ago now, on that night Steve had pulled you away for a game of pool. You’d felt it then. This feeling that you were merely Cinderella. Not invited to the party, garbed in a too-fancy ball gown that wasn’t your own, ready to lose one of your Louis Vuittons at the door. 

“And that’s when I said, sweetheart, I would love a third vacation home,” the woman in front of you prattles on, telling you a story that you’ve barely followed for the better part of a half hour, head glancing over her shoulder to where Steve stands near the bar with some expensively dressed clientele of his. “So we are now looking for a place in the Hamptons. We would love it if you and your husband would come by sometime.” 

“That sounds lovely, Linda,” you tell her, offering her a pitying smile. 

From what Steve has told you, her husband is on thin ice with the company as of late. Always showing up late, handing in deliverables late — simply late. But you don’t tell her maybe her husband shouldn’t invest in that new property, as it’s not really your place. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Cami rushing over to the bathroom, and your heart thunders wildly in your chest at the opportunity to escape the increasingly uncomfortable room tightening around you. 

“Oh — I’m so sorry. It was wonderful chatting with you. I need to go help my friend with something. Please excuse me.” It comes out in a breathy rush, Cami’s long head of red curls slipping further and further from view. 

“That is no worry at all, Mrs. Harrington. I’m sure we will see each other very soon at another one of these functions.” 

You want to tell her no, no you won’t but you refrain, hiking up the bottom of your gown in one hand and rushing off behind Cami in the next instant. She’s there, in front of the mirror, when you find her. A beautiful green dress that clings to her every curve. Lovely and dominant — just as she has been every time you’ve seen her. Only this time you notice the rims of her green eyes are tinged red. Like she’s been crying. 

She wipes a tissue along the bottom of her nose and sniffles, just as her head lifts and she catches your reflection in the mirror. A pitiful, watery laugh spills from her as she waves you closer, body turning toward yours once you’re beside her, her arms looping loosely around your shoulders. And then she’s crying. Not softly — full on sobs that wrack her form and have your palms sliding up to press against her back, rubbing up and down like you do for Steve before he sleeps some nights. 

“He’s cheating again,” she whimpers. And your heart breaks over the word again. You recall those memories of your initial meeting with her. How she seemed so sad when she admired your photos, claiming you’d gotten the ‘good Harrington.’ “He thinks I’m an idiot, but it’s not hard to put two and two together when he upgraded my engagement ring. Last time, he bought me diamond earrings.”

“Cami…” 

“I thought he was done,” she cries, palm wiping at her face from over your shoulder. “But he’d been working late and missing the kid’s events and I — I should have figured it out. I went through his phone.” Within your gut, your stomach drops. 

“It’s been going on for months,” she continues, sniffling loudly. “He’s been fucking her for months. His last business trip…there was no business trip. He’d gone away to Miami with her. I found the hotel booking. Two people, single bed. Fuck — how can I be so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid, Cami. He’s an asshole,” you tell her, pulling back a bit to cup her face within your palms. “Him. He’s the asshole. You have a beautiful family together and he’s taken advantage of that. What are you going to do?” 

You want to tell her to leave him. To hang his ass out to try for all he’s worth. To make him regret every choice he’s made toward his wife who quite literally radiates sunshine. And yet — you know you can’t. Can’t tether that line of friendship. Ultimately, it’s her choice. You can try and make her see the light, to make her understand what you’ve seen from the moment you met the man, but you also understand there are years of history between them. Two children between them. 

“After the holiday, he booked us a trip. He wants to work on our marriage. Apparently he got another raise and wants to spoil me.” She brushes beneath her eyes, trying to fix the mascara lines along her lower lashes. “He’d probably booked it right after I found out. So tonight we’ll put on appearances, I’ll be the perfect wife like he expects, we’ll go on our vacation…and then I plan on staying with my family for a while. I’ll take the kids with me.”

“Good,” you whisper, reaching around her to grab a tissue. Pressing it beneath her eyes to collect her tears, you add, “Steve and I are here for whatever you need. In any capacity. Even if you just want to text me.”

“Thank you.” She swipes at her face, turning to the mirror to pinch at her cheeks and bring some color back to her pale, freckled skin. “We should get back out there…before people notice we’ve been gone long.”

“Hey, Cami?” She pauses at the door as you call out her name, offering the barest of smiles. “It’s gonna be okay, you know?”

She presses her lips together. A tense line, cheeks and eyes still flushed from her crying. “Thank you. Really.”

“We’re family, right?” you offer her a little weakly.

“Right.” 

She nods, holding out a hand that you take to offer her strength and comfort as you slip back out into the main party area. There are no words. None that come to your mind, at least, to quell Cami’s heartbreak. To ease the sting of her husband’s infidelity. But there is anger — anger that burns and grows as he appears in your line of sight, taller than most of the crowd surrounding him, taking in the two of you as you slip back into the crowd. 

Breaking away from his conversation, he rushes forward, mouth open to speak to his wife, but she cuts him off with a simple, “I’m going to grab another glass of champagne.” She glances your way, pleadingly, “Will you come wi —”

“Actually, I have a matter of utmost importance to share with Mrs. Harrington.” His eyes land on your profile. Seedy and unrelenting. Stoic as ever. 

“I’ll come find you, Cami,” you tell her, following Theo through the throng of guests, leaving the saddened redhead nodding solemnly in the distance. 

Once out of earshot, and in the privacy of a corner, Theo spits out, “Whatever she told you, you don’t know the full story.”

“Oh, I think I know enough.” You splutter the words out, shocked he even has the nerve to try and defend himself for cheating on his wife. “I knew you were an asshole, but you have a wife — and a wonderful one at that. A family. How do you sleep at night?”

He chuckles. A low, dark thing that has your skin crawling. “How do I sleep? That’s sweet, coming from you, darling.”

You pause, throat tightening. Around you, the music blares. Little sparkles of the beginnings of fireworks dance in the moonlit sky. “What are you —” Swallowing, whirl on the heel, intent on leaving, muttering, “You know what? I don’t want to know. I’ll be getting that dr —”

A hand shoots out to grip your forearm. Tight. “Listen, you little rat. I knew you were up to no good, sniffing after the Harrington name. Taking what was mine. And now I have proof.”

“I don’t know what you’re —” You wince, gasping at the pain radiating from where he’s holding you with a strength that’s sure to bruise. “Theo — you’re hurting me.”

He tugs you forward. Your side wedges between the table and his body, his form keeping you sequestered away from the rest of the party goers, just as he pulls out his cellphone. It’s what he pulls up, however, that has all the arguments rising up dying instantaneously on your lips. The realization of the image sitting before you. The forms are blurry, sure, but there’s no doubting the white dress you wore for your bachelorette. 

No doubt that the silhouette of the person glowing brightly on his iPhone is you.  

His voice is biting. A chilling, dark sound that curls and crawls uncomfortably down your spine. Leaves you breathless before him. “I think it’s best if you watch this and then listen very carefully.”

  ——

  Singing. You’re singing. Wailing. You’re not even sure. And Steve? Steve’s a natural born performer — or rather, he is when tequila is involved. It’s the loosest you’ve seen him. His hair lies messy and unkempt on his head, from having run his fingers through it a dozen times out of nervousness as you pull him onto the stage. 

Your friends start the song and you’re both enjoying yourself. Maybe for the first time throughout the whole process. And it’s nice — honest to goodness nice to simply let loose with him; to pretend you’re not getting married soon under the guise of falsifying a will and procuring money to secure a debt. 

So it’s not really all that shocking when Steve grips you and tugs you near to his side as those final lyrics of the song draw to a close. Nor as his hand loops low around your back and he lowers his mouth to brush over yours. 

It’s an immediate rush of flame. A fire that dances and brims. That grows with every swipe of his tongue with yours. You can taste the salt on his tongue, the tequila on his skin, the sweat in the summer heat. He’s perfectly delicious and, at least for the moment, yours. 

It’s dizzying. A lovely free fall. A spiral and a leap. He tugs you closer and the whoops and whistles of your friends greet your ears. To them, you’re a loved up couple on the eve of a wedding — to you? To you, it’s a stolen moment. A dropped facade, a wall lowering. Until, that is, Eddie and Robin tug the two of you apart, practically scolding you both as they lead you to a side room and toss water bottles your way, telling you to stay out for a few minutes. 

You’re giggling. Hips pressing Steve further into the wall you slam him into once the door closes, his palm tight around your hip, mouth roaming over your throat. Hot. He’s so hot and it’s so hot in this room and you want nothing more than to let the moment simmer. To let yourselves steal a second for yourselves. 

And then he’s laughing. A boyish thing that makes your stomach clench. “I can’t believe we did it.”

“They believed it.” 

“They totally think we’re in love,” he laughs out, sides shaking as he tugs you closer. “I knew it would work, but I thought we’d at least have to do a little convincing.” 

“Looks like you just got yourself a company, Harrington.” Your words slur a little, sides trembling with your own laughter. 

“Looks like I did.”

  ——

  The video ends as Steve draws you back in for another kiss, his palm clutching the dough of your ass a little indecently. The room is spilling, and you know there’s music booming loudly all around you, but all you can hear is the throbbing of your heart. 

The ringing in your ears. 

Because Theo knows. 

He knows. 

And in your silence, he catches you. 

A rabbit caught in a trap, his glittering teeth like that of a jackal. 

And he’s grinning. A satisfied looking one across his lips, his eyes locked on your form. 

Breathing becomes harder as you clutch at a table’s edge, trying to maintain your balance. 

Fear clamors like a cymbal in your chest. A loud, rattling thing. An echo that thrums in your bones. Body bright with uncomfortable electricity.  

“Where do you —”

“Mr. Hawthorne.” Linda’s husband. With him already in jeopardy of losing his job — it makes sense. Your blood chills at the realization. “Funnily enough his family owns that venue. He had the video saved to his phone in case he’d ever need it, he told me. You see, we all have our secrets in this world, and need to be prepared for anything. And, well, when he had his most recent meeting with your husband, wherein his job was threatened — well, fear is a wonderful motivator. He’d been venting to me for weeks and happened to show me the video at lunch one evening…”

The knot in your throat tightens like a crude noose. 

“He’d never watched the whole video, you know? Just saved the video of his drunken boss in case he needed to diminish his character. And then I heard it. The two of you, what you were saying. And all these months you lied to my face, tried to act like you’re so much better than me, meanwhile you’re just like the rest of us.” 

Tears burn behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. 

Refuse to cower down to Theobald. 

“So don’t you dare comment on my marriage, when yours is nothing more than a drunken mockery of one.”

“It’s not.” Your voice breaks and his lips tip upward. “I love him.”

“So here’s the part where you listen, darling.” 

You say nothing and he loves it. 

“You’re going to march back to your husband’s side. You’re going to pretend you know nothing — but you’re going to convince him to sign the company over to me like he should have all those months ago. Aah aaah, no speaking. I know you’re a good actress, I’ve seen you playing a role for months. That boy is in love with you for reasons I’ll never understand, but he’s in love with you all the same. And you’re going to use that to your advantage. You have a month.” 

“A month?” 

“A month. If not, I’ll bring it to my lawyers.” 

Lawyer. Figures, dollars, numbers. Meetings, hearings, depositions. They all flash in front of your eyes. All things you can’t afford. All things you would never be exposed to, had it not been for the decisions made months ago with the man you now know intimately and love. Worry follows in suit, crawling up your throat and cutting off your windpipe. 

“Now go,” Theo instructs, pushing at your back, guiding you in the direction of Steve. He’s surrounded by various businessmen, head thrown back in a laugh, and when his eyes lock on yours from across the room, it ruptures your heart. “It was lovely speaking with you tonight, Mrs. Harrington.” 

The sentiment isn’t returned, and your feet feel like lead as they carry you over to Steve, but you do as he’s instructed all the same. As you approach, Steve opens his arms to allow you in, introducing you to the people he’s talking with. He’s charming as ever, completely unknowing of what you’ve just been hit with, the gravity of your situation presently weighing you down. 

And, for now, it’s better this way. 

Tomorrow, you decide, tomorrow you’ll take action. 

But for now you giggle and trill and act. You portray the image of a dutiful wife, slipping into your husband’s world as you slip on a mask. His friends laugh at your remarks and smile at you like they’ve known you for years. They act like they adore you, and you do the same. Faux niceties, because inside you’re reeling. Inside, you’re wanting nothing more than to scream and run and hide from the crushing reality all around you.  

And later, as the countdown to the ball dropping begins, and the room erupts in chaos and cheers, Steve pulls you in close. He says, “I love you,” before his mouth descends over your own and you taste the bubbly champagne on his tongue and the sweetness of a new year. If it lacks emotion, he says nothing of it. Only kisses you harder, grinning into your skin at the prospect of his tradition he spoke so happily of only hours ago now. He’s kiss bitten and all charm, smitten and in love. And god, you love him too. 

Fireworks explode across the sky. They illuminate Steve’s face as he holds you against him, your back to his chest. His chin hooks over your shoulder as you stand, staring up at the colorful lights flashing above, mouth leaning in to press the sweetest of kisses to your cheek. 

And there, when your eyes lower and trail across the room, you find Theobald with Cami holding herself at his side. Catch the sadness on her face — her hardened stature a direct contrast to the smugness of Theo’s features as he locks eyes with you. 

“A month,” he mouths, sliding his cellphone out of his pocket just enough that the screen sparks to life once more.

And like a stem of a flower snaps when exposed to too much pressure, your heart breaks too. 

��—

please let me know what you think. it means the world to us writers. one more chapter, and then the epilogue. 🩷🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #Steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

part one of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

word count: 7.1k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i decided to split this fic up into like, 3-4 separate chapters, since i felt like having 20.k+ words for a single 'long oneshot' was kindaa excessive lmao 😂 anyways, i'm excited for the future of this little series and what it's gonna look like exploring the relationship between minho and y/n~ 😉 also, for anyone that noticed, YES- i changed my entire tumblr theme after like, 4 months of having it be rainbow haha, so you might not recognize me on your dash with my new look. but yeah, this is the 'new me' for the next few months... i was feeling super inspired to do a muted levanter theme, since it's one of my fav albums/songs from skz haha so here we are!! ☺️

🐈‍⬛ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The clinic was incredibly busy as you stepped through the front doors. Looking around the medium-sized waiting room, you noticed how almost every single seat was taken up by a patient. Because apparently, the hot place to be on a Thursday morning was Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic. 

 You clutched on a little tighter to the carrier at your side, which held your cat Nyx just inside the bassinet. She was an American Shorthair, with a coat as black as midnight and big, ocean-blue eyes. Your parents had gifted you Nyx as a surprise for your sixth birthday, since you had been begging them for a cat all year long. And instantly, the two of you were inseparable. Nyx had been with you for almost every stage of your life - including grade/middle school, high school, and all of university. She was so incredibly affectionate towards everyone, but especially you. She loved curling up alongside you after you’d spent a long, hard day at work and would just cuddle into your skin for hours. 

 Nyx was your stability in everything - she was one of your only friends, even when you were surrounded by other adults your same age at work. And at the ripe age of twenty-four, you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like if she ever left your side.

 But, you weren’t naive, or stupid. 

 And you knew that at some point, Nyx would have to move on from your world and onto a better, and brighter future. 

 Which is why you decided to adopt a female Bengal cat after you graduated from university. Taffy had a brilliant orange-and-brown coat with light green eyes. And because she was so much younger than Nyx, she had a lot more energy. But even still, the two cats got along quite well, despite their huge age gap. Taffy was the troublemaker out of the two and liked to get into mischief with all kinds of things. 

 You took great pride in both of them and the relationship that you had with your two kitties, which is why you regularly took them to the local veterinarian clinic for routine checkups. Usually, you visited every six months, just to make sure that Taffy and Nyx were in perfect health.

 And it’s not like you were complaining about the visits to Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic. It was a beautiful and spacious place, with a friendly bunch of staff and an even better doctor. 

 Doctor Lee Minho had been the continual talk of the town since he had moved into the area three years before, and soon after he set up his practice - which was just a short walk from your quaint apartment - you started going to him for your cat’s regular check-ups. Dr. Lee was incredibly professional with all of his clients, and he had a true knack for animals… but especially, cats. That’s what he prided himself on - knowing the ins and outs of the feisty little beings... since he had three of his own. Some even said that he was a cat himself since he had similar mannerisms to the felines. 

 It also helped that he was insanely handsome. 

 Like, drop-dead gorgeous. 

 You weren’t a fool - you noticed how, every time you visited the clinic, most of the clients were women. And almost every time that you sat in the waiting room, you’d overhear women talking amongst themselves… about how they had dressed up for the occasion, and how Dr. Lee was way too cute for his good. 

 For the most part, all of the comments passed over your head. 

 After all, he was just a veterinarian. He wasn’t anything special… 

 He just took amazing care of the animals that visited his clinic. 

 And he seemed to adore your two cats. 

 And- 

 Perhaps he was kind of, sort of, attractive. 

 If a woman liked the silent, brooding, brown-haired types of guys- then yeah, he was fucking really hot. 

 But, you always tried to push those thoughts out of your mind each time they started to bubble up to the forefront of your mind. You didn’t want to ruin the professional doctor-client relationship that the two of you had been cultivating for over three years. He was an amazing veterinarian with a lot of skill and expertise, and you had a feeling that you taking advantage of your closeness with him, by forcing yourself onto him, would just turn him away. 

 After all, he was always professional and polite with you. Even if he seemed to give you a lot of smiles and laughs each time you had an appointment at the clinic. And even if he seemed overly affectionate with Nyx and Taffy. He was just doing his job, as that’s what was to be expected from a doctor like him. 

 And besides, a guy like him would never go for you. For starters, you had just recently found out that he was five years older than you, landing him at the mature age of twenty-nine. And older guys of that many years never went for you - never stooped that low. Plus, he was a successful doctor and a businessman with his clinic. Whereas you were a struggling woman who was fighting to make ends meet at her low-ranking corporate job. You sat in a small cubicle all day, typing away at a bright computer screen, and Dr. Lee sat in front of patients and animals, actually making a difference in others’ lives. 

 There was also the fact that you were borderline poor- since your job barely paid anything compared to the way that the economy was so expensive. You struggled to pay your bills monthly and lived from paycheck to paycheck. Meanwhile, Dr. Lee rolled up to the clinic in his dark-blue sports car and was always donned in all different kinds of designer dress shirts and slacks. 

 So, yeah, he’d never fall for you. Not in a million years. 

 “Y/N! Good to see you again!” You heard a bright voice call out to you, bringing you out of your daydreams of expensive cars and fancy clothes. 

 Your eyes flitted up to the person sitting behind the front check-in desk of the clinic. Chan, one of the two receptionists of the place, was looking up at you with a soft smile adorning his face. 

 “Oh- hi, Chan… I’m here for Nyx’s check-up.” You mimicked his smile, motioning with a tilt of your head to the carrier where Nyx was situated in. 

 You were on a first-name basis with the entire staff line of the clinic, as you had been visiting it for so many years. Everyone at the clinic was extremely nice, and all of the staff were Dr. Lee’s friends. Soon after you first visited the clinic, he told you about the story of how he had recruited some of his best friends to open the shop with him, and how the rest was history. Even still, you called everyone by their first name except for Dr. Lee - since you decided to keep it professional with him and always address him by his official title well into the beginning of your appointments at the clinic. 

 “Sure thing,” Chan began, tearing his gaze away from you and typing away at his computer. “I see here that Jisung jotted down your concerns for this visit’s file. Has anything changed since you called in a month ago?” 

 You moved your focus onto the carrier at your side, where you saw Nyx resting peacefully just inside it. She had long since gotten used to the clinic and was normally very calm whenever you visited the place. “Yeah, she’s been sleepier than usual, and like- she doesn’t want to eat the food that I’ve been giving her, even though I’ve changed the brand two times already.” 

 Chan’s eyes darted up to you, studying your face silently before they flitted over to the carrier that you had placed atop the counter at your side. “Okay, I’ll add all of that to the notes so that the doctor can take a look,” you noticed how his lips were pressed together in a grim line- like he didn’t like what you had just told him. “You can take a seat, and Yongbok will call you back when they’re ready for you guys.” 

 “Thanks, Chan,” you said, offering him a tiny, weak smile before you headed off to find one of the only available seats left in the waiting room. As soon as you got situated, you gingerly took Nyx out of her crate. She was warm and downy in your hands and purred quietly at the feel of you pressing her furry body against your chest. “It’s gonna be okay, girl, you’ll be alright…” You whispered to her, mouth nuzzling into her silky coat as you placed a gentle kiss against her head. 

 After you placed Nyx back in her crate, you spent the waiting time studying the people around you. Once again, it was mainly women’s faces that your eyes met as you scanned over the entire room. And there were all different types of pets everywhere, from dogs to cats to birds. 

 “Oh, and apparently, Jungmi’s friend saw him out on the streets late at night last week… like, all alone and stuff.” You heard the woman say beside you. She was sitting close to another woman, and their heads were bent at an angle as they gossiped together. “Some girl came out of this one cafe and was hanging all over him, but it didn't seem like he knew her that well.” 

 The other woman snorted lowly, “Well that bitch doesn’t matter, because I’m going to be sure to seduce him this time around. I mean, c’mon- who can resist this shirt?” At her insinuation, you realized that they were talking about Dr. Lee. 

 Even still, you felt the urge to peek over to your side and look at her attire, and when you did, you swallowed down the dryness in your throat. Because holy fuck- she looked like she was about to go to the club. Her shirt had a scoop neckline and was so low, more than half of her tits were hanging out of the loose fabric. It was tight and stretched over her bosom in an alluring kind of way, leaving little to the imagination. 

 Meanwhile, you were dressed in one of your old, baggy hoodies and a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans. Even though it was the beginning of spring, it was still quite chilly out early in the morning. And besides, you weren’t planning on going anywhere else after you visited the clinic, since you had taken the rest of the day off from work, so there was no use in dressing up. Not like you had any nice, sexy clothes like that to begin with, though. 

 In all actuality, you really couldn’t afford to take a day off of work. But, you felt like it was needed after the long week that you had had. After the long year you had had. 

 Suddenly feeling self-conscious while you sat next to Aphrodite herself, your fingers scrambled to yank down the arms of your hoodie as best as you could, trying to let the fabric swallow you up in your seat. 

 Just then, your name was called over the hustle and bustle of the waiting room, and you peered up to see a smiling Yongbok standing in the doorway that lead to the rest of the clinic - where the examining rooms were. 

 In a hurry, you scrambled to pick up your tote bag and hoisted Nyx in her carrier with one arm, following right behind the young vet tech as he lead you through the back rooms of the clinic. The hallway was buzzing with movement, as the other Tech’s, Seungmin and Hyunjin, helped vet assistant Changbin calm down a barking German Shepherd so that they could usher him onto a weighing station that was positioned in a corner of the hallway. Dr. Lee was nowhere to be found… yet. 

 “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Yongbok started, as he motioned to an examining room just off to the right side for you to walk in. You took a seat in the chair that was positioned next to the desk - where the doctor always sat. “Since Hyunjin is almost always the one who first greets you.” The younger man with light blonde hair and big, expressive eyes sighed in an exaggerated kind of way, which forced a quiet giggle out of you. 

 “He’s a good tech though… Taffy especially likes him, I think.” You started, your mind already trailing off to what your younger cat might be doing while being left home alone in your apartment. No doubt tearing into the bag of chips that you had accidentally left atop the kitchen counter. 

 “Mhm- how is she, by the way? I feel like you haven’t brought her in in a while,” Yongbok said, as he slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves. You dragged your eyes away from his form and instead concentrated on unzipping the carrier in your arms, slowly drawing out a lethargic Nyx. 

 “Taffy is good, just being her usual rambunctious self,” you laughed softly, shaking your head as the affection for your other cat took over your thoughts. “She’s definitely very different from my Nyx here, that’s for sure…” 

 Yongok wheeled his chair over to you then, gently taking your old cat from your hands and hoisting her up onto the examination table that was nearby. “I saw in the files that she’s been having problems with eating?” He started, voice growing serious as he began his study of your cat. 

 You nodded slowly, swallowing over the nervous lump that had begun to form in your throat as soon as he placed Nyx on the paper-lined table. You felt your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, and you watched in silence as Yongbok turned Nyx around to thoroughly examine her. “Yeah, and she hasn’t been wanting to play with Taffy either, even though she used to love to.” 

 “How long has this been going on?” 

 “About… four months now?” 

 Yongbok turned to you then, leveling you with a deep frown, “And you’re only bringing her in now?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but was more on the perplexed side of things, as all of the staff at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic knew how much you loved your cats and how you adored taking care of them. 

 You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hating the way that he seemed to question why you hadn’t taken care of Nyx’s symptoms earlier. “I-I didn’t have the money for this appointment until just recently, so that’s why I'm only bringing her in now.” 

 Your gaze snagged on Yongbok’s face, and the way that it instantly melted at your confession... brows furrowing and mouth pressing into a velvety line. The entire clinic must’ve known about your financial situation by now - about how you could barely afford food for yourself, let alone the bills from the clinic - since more oftentimes than not, you’d ask for a grace period from paying for the visits. 

 “I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you’re in the wrong here,” he began, but his slight frown only seemed to deepen as he spoke the words, “It’s just that- these symptoms shouldn’t be ignored for that long.” 

 At that, your heart started beating frantically inside your chest. Your focus landed on Nyx, who was now resting atop the table, with her eyes closed peacefully. “W-What? What do you mean by that? Is something wrong-”

 Yongbok reached over then, giving your shoulder a delicate pat. “I can’t confirm anything myself, but I’m going to take Nyx back to the X-Ray rooms to examine her better. Then, I’ll give the data to Dr. Lee and he can examine the diagnosis.” He gingerly scooped up Nyx into his arms, pressing her against his chest. 

 “O-Okay, but-” You began, but were soon cut off by the way that Yongbok gave you a slight, reassuring smile. 

 “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’m sure Nyx is just fine.” Is the last thing he said, before he was quickly filing out of the room with your cat in his hold, leaving you all alone. 

 And as soon as he shut the door closed, you were a nervous wreck. Your knees bounced up and down, hands turning clammy and breath falling out in shaky gasps as your mind raced a mile a minute with countless thoughts. 

 Would Nyx be okay? 

 Was she sick? 

 What was so wrong with her? 

 The wait time to see the doctor usually wasn’t that long, but this time - this time, it felt different. 

 It felt like each minute stretched out before you in an endless cycle, sending you down a deep and deeper spiral of anguish as you tried to wrack your brain around the entire situation.

 When finally, there was a gentle knock on the door. 

 You had been holding your head in either of your hands, but upon hearing footsteps against the linoleum floors, you peered up to see Dr. Lee closing the door behind him. He was dressed in his usual garb - dress slacks, a simple white button-down, and his white doctor's coat. 

 Dr. Lee was silent, as he wheeled his chair over to you. And only then did you notice that Nyx was missing. That he wasn’t carrying her in his arms- like he usually did when he brought her back from the closed examination room. 

 And you knew the moment that he sat down, that something was wrong. 

 Because usually, when his eyes caught yours as he walked through the examining room’s door, his entire face would light up with one of those brilliant smiles that women gushed over. Usually, he’d be the first one to crack a stupid joke - whether it was something lame about the weather outside, or about the crazy animal that he just had an encounter with before seeing you. 

 But this time? 

 No, this time it was very different. 

 His proud shoulders were slumped low, cheekbones dark with shadows, and plump, red lips pressed together in a firm line. 

 He clenched and unclenched his jaw once, 

 twice, 

 three times.

 Then, and only then, did his eyes meet yours. 

 And they said all you needed to know. 

 Just by the way that his dark, chestnut-brown pupils danced with a myriad of emotions; apprehension, fear, compassion, but most of all… sadness. 

 “What is it?” 

 The words flowed from your lips before you even knew what you were asking, and almost immediately, you were sitting up a little straighter in your chair. 

 Spine going rigid, fists growing tight at your sides. 

 Something swam, cool and deep, inside of you.

 Chilling you to the bone, with tense unease.  

 In the depths of your mind, you felt the pinprick of ominous heartache prodding at the fleshy part of your soul. 

 The part that was weak and emotional and so very tender all of the time. 

 “I’m so sorry.” 

 Was the first thing Dr. Lee said. 

 You already felt the tears flowing, unbidden and unchecked, warming your suddenly freezing cheeks, at the sound of ‘sorry’ leaving his mouth. Because he had never said such a thing to you before. And you never, ever, wanted to hear it come from him again. 

 “What’s wrong?” You prodded again, limbs growing a little shaky in your anxiety. Breath hitching in your chest agonizingly, you could physically feel your heart pushing against your ribs. 

 Aching, 

 Burning, 

 Already seeping with hurt, even though you didn’t quite know what was wrong just yet. 

 Dr. Lee ran a rough hand up and down his face, sighing into his palm, shaking his head once. Then, his fingers were running through his black locks, tugging at the roots just a tiny bit. 

 Almost like, this crushed him just as much as it was about to pain you. 

 “It’s about Nyx.” 

 Swallowing over the huge lump forming in your throat proved very difficult at that moment, but somehow - by some miracle - you did it. 

 Your tongue felt heavy inside of your mouth- like it was made of hard metal. 

 For a few beats, you couldn’t manage to form the right words, but when you did, you already felt the stability seeping out of you. Like you were a hot air balloon that had been poked with a sharp needle, with the scalding air and sanity flooding from you in a single breath. 

 “I’m sorry, Miss. Y/N, I-”

 “Just fucking say it, Dr. Lee!” You suddenly exclaimed, voice straining from your quiet sobs. The fat tears rolled down either of your cheeks, leaving angry wet trails in their wake. 

 He was silent after that, gaze running up and down the length of you slowly. Like you were one of his animals that he assessed daily - like he was testing out your strength and resolve. 

 Then, his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, and they melted into two puddles of grief. 

 “It seems as though Nyx is suffering from an acute form of bone cancer.” 

 And just like, your heart completely stopped. 

 Each breath you took felt garbled and all wrong. 

 Your shaky legs and arms wobbled all around you.  

 The floor crumbled underneath your feet, 

 Breaking, cracking, shattering irrevocably. 

 And in that moment, you wished for nothing more but for it to open up completely, and swallow you whole. 

 Please, 

 Oh, fuck, please- 

 Just swallow me already. 

 Because anything, 

Anything, 

 Would be better than this newfound hell. 

 “No- no, you’re lying.” You said in a low, gravelly voice. You were clutching onto the arms of your chair, holding on for dear life. Like if you squeezed hard enough, you would be able to wake up and all of this would just fade away into a bad dream. 

 “Miss. Y/N, I’m so sorry but-” Dr. Lee started in a calm tone, but his face read everything but calm - as his brows wrinkled with concern and his brown eyes were alight with a certain kind of sadness. 

 “This is a bad dream, it has to be a bad dream,” you cut him off, violently shaking your head from side to side in your disbelief. If you just pinched yourself, maybe then you’d wake up from such a hell. So that’s exactly what you did. 

 Grabbing one of your arms, you frantically pinched at the skin there. 

 Again, 

 And again, 

 And again. 

 The tears blurred your vision so much that it was hard to see what was in front of you - hard to notice the angry red mark that started to bloom out across your flesh at your abuse. 

 Just then, two warm hands took hold of either of yours, fingers sliding between fingers, calloused palms squeezing your own.

 The dark-haired figure was kneeling in front of you then, still holding onto your hands. Your heart felt like it was breaking over and over just beneath your ribcage. With each breath that you took, a new piece of it shattered off to swim in the blood flowing through your veins. 

 “Those symptoms that Nyx has been having are all signs of an acute form of bone cancer, Miss. Y/N. And, they will get worse,” the man said, his low, familiar voice running across your ears and nudging at a tender, warm spot deep inside of you. 

 “B-But she’ll get better, right? You can heal her, right, doctor?” You asked, throat straining from all of the tears. Through your hazy vision, you clutched a little harder at his hands. 

 There was a pause of silence on his end after that, which only made you feel worse. 

 When he finally spoke again, it felt like your world merely crumbled further and further. “Yongbok told me about your… situation, and why you didn’t bring her in earlier. But, because of the wait time, the cancer has developed into an acute case. The only options for helping her at this stage are- amputation and chemotherapy.” 

 It felt like someone took a bucket of ice-cold water and doused your entire form as soon as his words registered in your mind. 

 Because if you hadn’t waited so long to get it checked out, 

 If you hadn’t put it off because you didn’t have the money, 

 If you didn’t have such a low-paying, shitty job,

 Then Nyx never would’ve gotten the cancer in the first place. 

 Instinctually, you ripped your hands out of Dr. Lee’s grasp. It was the first time you had ever had physical contact with him - and the feeling left you feeling both sick to your stomach and also sent anxious butterflies to erupt throughout your system. 

 “Oh fuck- it’s my fault,” you said in an incredulous tone, fingers digging into your scalp and tearing at your roots there. “If I hadn’t waited so long, she never would’ve gotten this and she wouldn’t be-”

 You felt a heavy hand land atop one of your shoulders, nimble fingers pressing into your skin just slightly. Enough to help ground you back to reality. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I promise it’s going to be okay. You just have to take a few deep breaths and-”

 “Where is she?” You asked in a low voice, having the sudden urge to hold your baby in your arms. Maybe, if she just felt you, she’d be healed… “Where is my Nyx, Dr. Lee?” 

 But you didn’t even wait for him to reply, as you tore away from his hold and hurried to the door, grabbing Nyx’s carrier on the way out. Faintly, you registered Dr. Lee calling out to you from behind, but you paid no mind to it and instead ran through the hallway just outside of the examination room.

 “Nyx!” You called out, tone turning desperate. You raced down the hallway, sneakers hitting the concrete at your feet. “Nyx!” The tears clouded your vision, so it was hard to see where you going. But even still, you glimpsed Hyunjin coming out from a room in the back of the clinic, with a black mass of fur laying in his arms. 

 You cried out in relief at the sight of her, and in an instant, you were running forward and scooping her up and into your grasp. Pressing your face into her warm body, you cuddled her close. 

 “Y/N-” Hyunjin began, sympathy heavy in his tone. You felt his eyes travel across your face as you looked down at your sickly cat, with fat tears falling down your cheeks and a rapidly-beating heart. 

 “Let’s go home, my sweet girl…” You whispered so that only Nyx could hear you. And you couldn’t help but notice how light she felt in your arms - she hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last few months, and it pained you so much to know that you hadn’t realized it until it was too late. 

 Then you were turning away from Hyunjin, not even giving him any attention, as you rushed through the hallway and pressed onwards to the front desk area. Faintly, you could hear people calling out your name from somewhere in the back of the clinic. 

 But you couldn’t concentrate on any of that. All you could think of was your beautiful cat, who was peacefully sleeping in your arms. “Just a little bit longer, Nyx, we’re almost home…” 

 The rest of the week passed by in a blur of heartache and tears, as you battled with yourself and your mind to try and come to terms with what was happening. 

 With what you were going to lose. 

 It was hard to focus on anything else besides the impending doom that seemed to be right on your doorstep. You were slacking off at your work, which caused your boss to ream you out the next Monday morning. But you couldn’t help it - every time you tried to think about anything else besides Nyx, and losing her, the stormy feelings just came back tenfold. 

 You had found yourself holed up in your office’s bathroom stalls on more than one occasion already, and by the time it hit a week since you had visited the clinic, it felt like all of the tears had been completely drained from your body. 

 Every time you looked at her, you wanted to cry. You wanted to, but your body just wouldn't let you. So instead, you took to staying up late into the night and researching remedies to alleviate the pain of cancer - because truly, you hadn’t gotten a solid five hours of sleep since the diagnosis. 

 After two weeks, you had tried all of the solutions that you could find online - that ranged from implementing natural, whole foods into Nyx’s diet to rubbing lavender oil all over her limbs to try and soothe the pain from standing. Seeing her slowly start to deteriorate in front of your very eyes was possibly the worst part about it all - and how she’d whine and cry while walking around the house. Even Taffy could sense that something was wrong when her friend no longer had the energy to play with her anymore. 

 Throughout all of it, you avoided the phone calls. And they could be from only one ID - since you didn’t have any friends or family members who cared enough about you to call three times a day. Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic called you without fail, and they were adamant about getting in contact. No doubt Chan was on the other line the whole time, trying to talk some sense into you. 

 But you just couldn’t do it - couldn’t bring yourself to walk through those doors and face the dark road ahead that most-assuredly lead to death. Because you had already extensively researched the therapy for treating Nyx’s kind of cancer, and it was looking quite bleak. The procedures were so fucking expensive, it baffled you how anyone in their right mind could be able to afford such things. 

 Everything changed though, when on one Saturday night, you arrived home late from running errands and found Nyx sprawled out on your living room’s small, rickety couch. You scurried over to her side and shook her awake. But she wouldn’t open her eyes. And it seemed like she was hardly breathing. You called out to her again and again, startling Taffy of your presence. 

 When finally, Nyx awoke. After much pleading and crying, she opened her eyes lazily and stretched. 

 And so it was decided right then and there, that you’d go into the clinic that night. 

 You couldn’t afford to put it off any longer, and frankly, you had the feeling that Nyx couldn’t either. It was getting close to eight o’clock in the evening, and the clinic closed its doors for the weekend right at eight, so you made quick haste out of your dingy hell-hole-of-an-apartment. 

 When you arrived at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic, the entire place was dark. You peeked through the windows and noticed the empty waiting room. “No, no- no…” You muttered to yourself, checking the time on your phone and reading that it was a little past eight. 

 You quickly looked around the street, noticing how most of the shops were already closed up for the weekend. Feeling the panic rising inside of you, you began to furiously knock on the glass door of the clinic. If someone was back there, maybe you could get ahold of Dr. Lee and- 

 “Miss. Y/N?” You heard a friendly, faint voice say from somewhere to your side. Turning around to the sound of it, you came face-to-face with Dr. Lee himself. He had his doctor’s coat off and was dressed in his usual work clothes of slacks and a dress shirt. “What are you-”

 You pressed your hands against your chest, trying to calm your heart that was painfully beating against your ribcage. “Dr. Lee- please, it’s… it’s Nyx.” 

 His brown eyes flashed across the length of your form, the fading sunset coloring his skin in an orange and pink kind of glow. “Come inside, it’s too cold out to be standing around like this.” He said, already moving to unlock the front door of the clinic. After all, it was early spring and the nights tended to grow on the cooler side of things once the sun dipped below the horizon.

 “Okay, thanks,” you whispered, following behind him as the two of you shifted through the clinic. Dr. Lee made his way over to a cluster of chairs in the corner of the waiting room.  

 “Please, sit.” He pointed to the nearest chair and waited for you to get situated before taking the seat just beside you. “So, tell me what’s going on.” 

 And suddenly, you realized the gravity of the situation. You realized that it was just the two of you - Dr. Lee and you - sitting inside the clinic, alone. There weren’t any other clients around, there wasn’t Chan or Jeongin, or Yongbok. And all at once, it felt rather… intimate. 

 You squirmed in your seat, your shaking hands beginning to play with the worn hemline of your oversized hoodie. Taking a deep breath, you gathered up all of your courage and leveled your gaze on the nearby front desk that was placed in the center of the large waiting room. “Well, I-I got home today from running some errands, and I found Nyx lying on my couch. But it didn’t seem like she was napping like she normally does… and she, she wouldn’t wake up. I kept trying and trying and-” Your words came out all rushed and garbled, as the tears began to crest over your eyes and you felt your cheeks heating with the flush of emotion. 

 “Hey- hey, it’s okay… don’t push yourself, yeah?” Dr. Lee’s smooth voice did something to the broken part inside of you - caused something to stir and yet settle at the same time. “That must’ve been a very scary experience for you, so it’s understandable that you would be shaken up about it.” 

 And just like that, the guilt piled on even higher. 

 Because Dr. Lee had always been incredibly nice to you and your cats. He had always been there for you guys, through the ups and downs of life, and you felt so horrible for ignoring the clinic’s calls. Because you knew that the team at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic only wanted the very best for you and your cats… and especially, Dr. Lee. 

 “I’m so sorry for ignoring the clinic’s calls,” you suddenly blurted out, feeling the blush rise and pool in your ears at the feeling of Dr. Lee’s gaze landing on you - assessing your nervous state. Your thumbs continued to fiddle with the fabric at your waist, pulling and pulling. “I-I just didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to face the issue. But, I now realize how stupid that was- how stupid I’ve been about this whole thing-” 

 “Don’t ever say that again, Y/N. You’re not stupid, and Nyx having cancer isn’t your fault. This was something that was inevitable and nothing you could do was going to stop it.” Dr. Lee cut through your words. You tried to comprehend what he was saying, but instead, your brain was only repeating the same phrase over and over again. 

 Y/N, 

 Y/N- 

 Y/N. 

 He had used your name, without putting ‘miss’ before it. He had never done such a thing in the past. He had always kept things professional and addressed you by your proper title - just like you had done for him. 

 But all at once, you realized that perhaps you didn’t mind it at all. And perhaps, his dropping the honorifics wasn’t so bad. 

“Still, I’m sorry for not answering the calls,” you said, shaking your head slowly in defeat. You were desperately trying to battle the furious blush that was slinking up your neck at the way that he had said your name. It sounded so perfect and beautiful on his tongue, like- 

 “I was the one making all of those calls, and I can assure you that I didn’t take your silence to heart. I understand what you’re going through right now because I’ve experienced something similar in the past with one of my passed cats.” 

 At that, your eyes tore away from the front desk and landed on Dr. Lee. Your gazes locked, and inside his chestnut-brown eyes, you found so many different emotions there… compassion and gentleness. There was a certain kind of faded light there, as you stared at him. 

 “I… I didn’t know. I just assumed that it was Chan or Jisung…” 

 Dr. Lee shrugged his proud shoulders nonchalantly, like him calling you three times a day to try and work out a treatment plan for Nyx wasn’t that big of a deal. 

 When in actuality, 

 No one in your entire life had ever tried so frantically to get ahold of you. 

 And the fact that it was him- behind the phone, waiting for you to pick up, hearing your voicemail click on every time the dial failed… just made you feel even worse. 

“But that’s all in the past now, so don’t worry about it anymore,” Dr. Lee began, waving a hand in the air to seemingly try and clear your thoughts away. You watched in silence, then, as his hand slid away from his lap and hovered over yours. In a single beat, his fingers were threading through yours, palm against palm. And his hand was so incredibly warm and familiar. “Now, let’s instead focus on Nyx’s treatment, yeah? The sooner we can give her the help she needs, the better.” 

 For a few seconds, the thoughts of your dying childhood best friend had vanished from your mind and were instead replaced with the feeling of Dr. Lee’s hand holding yours and the way that his tongue formed your name, and the way he smelled - sitting so close to you - of warm chamomile and sweet cookies. 

 Immediately, at the mention of Nyx, you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes once more. “I-I don’t have the money.” 

 Silence filled the space around the two of you after that, and you felt Dr. Lee’s gaze studying your form, as you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. “You mean for her treatment?” 

 “Y-Yeah… I, I don’t make that much. I can barely afford her and Taffy’s regular bills as it is. But, having to pay for the cancer treatment on top of everything else? I-I just don’t think I can manage that.” 

 You felt Dr. Lee shift in his seat beside you, making your eyes spring open as you watched the pained expression cast over his entire face. It darkened his cheekbones, shooting a look of pity through his eyes. 

 “The treatment is really expensive, I’m afraid.” 

 The hiccups started then, as the tears traced down your cheeks faster. Your entire body shook with the cries, “This is why I didn’t want to come here again… I didn’t want to hear the news that nothing else could be done except- except that.” 

 It was like the fucking jumbo-sized elephant in the room… 

 The fact that- the only other solution to Nyx’s cancer would be to put her down. 

 To euthanize her. 

 Gone, forever. 

 Just like that. 

 And even though you weren’t naïve enough to think that your cat would live forever, saying goodbye to her in such a way just felt downright… cruel, after everything that the two of you had been through together. But... what other choice did you have? It's not like anyone else was going to pay for the expensive treatment, and your insurance sure as hell didn't cover pet fees. And on top of all that, you couldn't expect Dr. Lee to drop his prices exponentially just for your specific case. That'd just be downright cruel to his other customers that paid the exact amount. 

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Dr. Lee’s words cut through your stormy thoughts. A sharp pain coursed through your broken heart, as you were forced to come to terms with the problem at hand. “If you can’t afford the treatment, then the only other alternative is… euthanasia.”

 You found yourself clutching onto his hand desperately, squeezing his fingers to death between yours, as you peered up at him through glassy eyes. “P-Please… just… just tell me you’ll do it. Because I-I don’t think I can handle it if-” Your voice seized in your chest at the thought of some stranger doing such a thing to your precious Nyx. It was already going to be extremely hard for you, but the thought of some other vet doing it just ripped your heart in two even more. 

 “We offer ethical euthanasia here, so, of course, I’ll do it,” Dr. Lee clutched a little harder on your hand, and the way that his warm, slender digits felt against yours did something to calm a rattling part inside of you. “Do you feel my hand? It is there, Y/N. And it will continue to be there throughout this entire process.” 

 The breath caught in your throat, forming a large lump there, as your eyes widened his way. Because there it was again, him calling you by your first name… with no ‘miss’ in front of it. 

 “T-Thank you… so much. I seriously don’t know what I’d do right now if it wasn’t for you and this wonderful clinic and all of the amazing staff here…” Your voice trailed off, as you felt the warmth of a flush creeping up into your cheeks. 

 “Yeah, well, that’s what we’re here for… to give as much support as we can to our clients.” Dr. Lee’s tone came out soft and quiet, it ghosted over the shell of your ear like an angel’s sweet whisper. 

 “I like it.” 

 You heard Dr. Lee take in a sharp breath at your disjointed words, but before he could ask the meaning behind them, you were talking again. 

 “You calling me by my first name, I mean… I like it, a lot, Dr. Lee.” Your eyes found him in the dim lighting of the room, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn that you saw… something flash deep in those chestnut-brown pupils. 

 But then all at once, it vanished, and he was giving you an easy smile, pearly white teeth on display. And pink, rosebud lips tugging up- wait, why were you thinking about his mouth? 

“Me too,” he said in that delicate way of his, just as he squeezed your palm once more, “I really like it… Y/N.” 

To be continued...

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[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 017: Something’s Brewing

Mornings are for coffee, contemplation, and work visitations. And before you know it, things go from 0 to ‘Eleven’.

author's note: the layout of this chapter is heavily inspired by the writing style of one of my inspirations, @pinkrelish 💘 love you alyson!!

CW: fluff, boyfriend eddie, angst, drinking, smoking, profanities, physical altercations, arguing, aggressive eddie, GENERATIONAL CURSES, eddie misogynistic/ableist one-liner (our fave is also a man at the end of the day), therapist!eleven rise up 🤩🤩, divider from @attxnt

word count: 4.8k words

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

You’ll NEVER. GET. AWAY. from the sound of a woman that loves you.

♡

WEEK-IS-LONG-WEDNESDAY

Eddie doesn't sleep well when you’re not with him. Like a fish out of water, your boyfriend flops and flails around in bed, rolling over his bumpy sheets that still linger with your scent. But before he can even get comfy, it’s already time to start the day.

Son of a bitch.

“Alexa,” Eddie pleads. “Please postpone my cries until tomorrow.”

“Sorry — Eddie… I don’t understand what you meant by please postpone my life until tomorrow.”

“That too I guess.”

———

It’s awfully quiet at Hellfire.

Your friends seem to be protesting your unjust departure, keeping the essence of you alive by paying the Hellfire Girls no mind.

Meanwhile the witches who made you quit are celebrating your absence, laughing and leaning against the wall, entertaining themselves with their week-old gossip that was centered around you. Because without talking about ‘Shy Girl’, they wouldn’t be as interesting. To anyone.

"Yeah and she didn't even have the decency to give her two weeks," Kassidy scoffs. "Just up and left. How immature."

They got what they wanted. You were gone. Controlled, altered, deleted. 86’d, baby. But at what cost?

“Classic Baby Stripper. Can’t handle Hellfire’s heat.”

Now it's their turn to have the spotlight again. Just like old times. Although this time around, that attention is all negative.

But it’s attention, nonetheless.

Emmy and the other Hellfire Girls are seen squirming around, struggling to to reach for a prop that was placed high up on a shelf.

"Mike, I can't reach this thing, can you come get it for me?"

"Sorry, busy," Mike scoffs, shuffling angrily past them.

A couple of raised eyebrows. Okay then…

"Dustin, do you think you can-"

"No. Do it yourself," Dustin snaps.

Every appetizer they ordered from Argyle came out dry or burnt. Any toiletries needed from Nancy were handed over with minimal eye contact and assistance. Jonathan stopped serving them alcohol three peach schnapps ago, but of course those bitches were too busy faking their intoxication to even notice.

And despite everything, they were still appalled. Surely EDDIE wouldn’t approve of this blatant favoritism.

After putting out his cigarette, Eddie makes his way inside with the paperwork needed for your severance check, along with more checks for the club (and Wayne) that he didn’t even want to think about.

"OH EM GEE, HI EDDIE BEAR!" the girls squeal at him. It's their one last attempt to be smothered with love and affection from your boyfriend.

SLAM. The door to Ed's office swings shut.

Chrissy and Nina erupt in laughter, because even despite getting rid of you, Eddie still doesn’t give those girls the time of day.

“Eat shit, you cunts,” Nina chuckles, shaking her head in satisfaction.

While it was obvious whose side The Party is on, the Hellfire Girls are STILL left distraught and confused.

"Do you guys...” Kassidy says. “…kinda get the vibe that everyone seems a bit pissed off today?"

THANKFUL-THURSDAY

"Thank you, come again!"

You had just finished making your 20th peppermint mocha of the morning. And to think you’re going to be here ‘til close…

Being a waitress and barista are two completely different ball parks, something you wish you knew before Steve got you the job at Newby’s not too long ago.

Syrups. Sauces. Coffee beans from robusta to arabica. The just-as-caffeinated juices that would taste a lot better with alcohol in them...

And the damn milks. God forbid you use soy milk instead of almond, otherwise Susan Swayne from the Hawkins Neighborhood Watch Committee will throw a hissy fit for everyone with a satellite dish to see. And you’d much rather not want to end up going viral on Reddit — again.

Sigh.

You’re whisking away at a matcha when you realize that a group of corporate Chads were looking at you for way too long. Your paranoid eyes scan the scene, heart nearly dropping to your stomach as you lean your body into Steve’s for comfort.

"People are staring at me," you report to him at a low whisper.

Harrington is right beside you, wiping the counter down with a wet cloth after spilling some half and half on it. Your new colleague glances over at them before giving you an earnest look of reassurance.

“They probably just have a staring problem,” he says. “New pretty face at a local coffee shop? Of course they’re gonna look at you.”

“I’m almost certain I gave one of them a dance.”

“You’re also making them a coffee,” he points out. “How many people can say that about their dancers? They should be grateful.”

It makes you less stressed knowing you have a male coworker by your side, and that your job predominantly takes place in broad daylight. Your stress is further alleviated when you see Max shuffle back in through the side door after her 15-minute juul break in the parking lot. She gives you a tense nod hello after exhaling a small cloud of 'Wild Raspberry Bubblegum' into the room.

“Back from your break?” you mumble rhetorically, avoiding direct eye contact with her.

“Yeah. I am.”

You and Max got into a fight earlier this morning. It was over something stupid, your first real fight since she found out you were stripping on the low. You’re stunned when she wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind, causing you to hum in endearment. Dearest Maxine…your baby sister.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Max apologizes. "I'm not me when I go without smoking for too long."

"I forgive you," you hug her back. "Thank you for communicating your feelings. Wanna help me with this in-house order?”

“Of course.”

Since your whole lives were spent constantly losing people on such short notice, you, Max, and Billy have made it a goal to never go to bed angry. You all follow through with it 90-percent of the time, which is huge considering your dynamic. You never want to end the day on bad terms with anyone. With how the world operates nowadays, you just never know.

“You guys make coffee for non-heroes?”

And you weren’t going to start the day mad either. To your surprise, your gaze is met with Eddie’s when you turn around. Your boyfriend beams over at you with eager eyes, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he waits to order.

“EDDIE!” you exclaim.

Mister-Leather-and-Denim greets you with his signature dimpled smile. "Hi, sweetie."

You practically leap over the counter to give your man a tight squeeze. He chuckles into you, his cool rings lightly pressing against your back during your embrace.

“Eddie...” you coo. “You came to see me!”

“I sure did,” your man sings as he goes to put you down. “Ohh my goodness… Look at you with your little barista apron! Do a little spin for me.”

You spin. Eddie hoots in adoration.

“Now do a little pose.”

You pose.

“One more turn for me, baby…all the way, all the way, all the way…” he instructs. Suddenly, his palm issues you a rough smack across the ass. “BOOM! There we go. Now we’re talkin’!”

“Hey hey hey, let’s keep it PG,” Harrington scolds him. “Bob watches the cameras when he’s not here.”

“Then Bob should know Eddie’s hands are rated E for everybody,” Eddie tuts, slyly clicking his tongue at Steve. “Didn’t think I’d miss YOU now did you, Big Boy? C’MERE!”

Eddie scurries towards Steve to give him his as well. Smack. Almost like it’s muscle memory.

Max shakes her head in amusement as watches their tomfoolery unfold in front of her. She always used to think you were exaggerating their 'bromance', but now her doubts have been debunked.

“Need some caffeine to kickstart your heart today?” she asks your boyfriend.

“Not particularly, since your sister’s in front of me,” Eddie replies, chuckling at his own cheesy joke. But then he hands her a 20. “I’ll take a cold brew though. Change is yours to keep.”

“My hero, my hero,” Max hums. You watch as she opens the register to acquire the difference.

Your sister starts on Eddie’s drink while you two spend some time together. Out of habit, you fiddle with his hair and then lovingly stroke his face, all while Eddie scans the room around him, his curious fingers dancing over to the plastic tip jar next to the pastries behind you.

“How much for the trail mix?” he comments.

“Ha-ha,” you respond to him dryly.

“Baby you could make this much in tips in a second at Hellfire.”

“I’m not going back,” you respond with certainty.

Eddie’s face drops when he realizes how serious you sound. Tucking his hands back into the pockets, Mr. Tough guy elicits a rather child-like pout.

“But everybody misses you.”

“Not everybody.”

“Everybody who matters,” he corrects himself.

“That’s sweet,” you admit. “But we’ll all still hang out, y’know? I just...really wanna keep our work-life shit separate.”

“I understand, baby,” Eddie frowns. “I just miss your face is all.”

It was a shitty situation those girls put you and Eddie in. But now that you’ve had time to think about it, you don’t need Hellfire anymore. Stripping has rocket-launched you out of debt; and now that you’re comfortably on your feet, with everything you could possibly want and more, you see no need in having a hustle mentality anymore. And besides, everyone and Eddie knew that to you, Hellfire was only temporary.

“I miss you too,” you assure Eddie. “But I'm out of that cacoon now and spreading my wings. Thanks to you. We can celebrate off the clock."

“Now I like the sound of that," Eddie smirks as he pulls you into him again. He gives you another, rather tight, squeeze followed by a delicate forehead kiss. "So amazing to hear, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you.”

FACE-THE-TRUTH FRIDAY

“You’re upset.”

It’s an assumption that irritates the shit out of Eddie. Jane watches your boyfriend as he frantically ushers himself around, stress-cleaning everything at POTIONS while Jonathan takes his lunch. For as long as she's been here, it's been observed that the only thing Eddie seems to be running on today is a hot chip, and yet another cold brew from Newby’s that you had made for him.

“I’m not upset, Eleven.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m NOT,” Eddie insists. “Shy Girl and I are doing great, thank you very much.”

But the psych major doesn’t believe it one bit. Setting the pencil she was twiddling down onto her notebook, Jane narrows her eyes.

“Wanna know how I know you’re lying?”

“Hit me.”

“I never once mentioned Hargrove’s name.”

Caught. Red-handed. A sucker-punch to the ego. Eddie’s cheeks flush an exposed shade of pink, having been read to filth by the girl he and Steve used take turns babysitting when she was a little kid.

“And boys always lie,” ‘Eleven’ tuts. Jane starts to dismantle her waffle fries as if they were pieces of pull-apart bread. She then shoves the Eggo-shaped taters into her mouth. “‘s like it’s in their blood.”

“Girls lie too,” Eddie scoffs.

“But they lie better.”

Eddie pretends to dismiss it, waving Jim and Joyce’s daughter off so she could go with Mike who has probably forgotten to take inventory yet again. But when she doesn’t, and insists on playing therapist, Eddie can’t help but wonder what Jane and Wheeler could possibly be fighting about now.

“Don’t start your relationship off with a lie,” Eleven forewarns. “I can tell you really like Shy Girl. And if that’s the case, I assume you trust her enough to be honest with her.”

"I am honest with her."

“Bullshit.”

He peers back over at Jane.

Eddie’s assets — at this point — have now become a liability. And it was YOU who had to pay the price.

But he knew he still had to be realistic. There was no way in hell that he could spoil you, take you out, buy you nice things, and introduce you to new experiences if his business is in shambles. He needed his dancers.

"If you can’t get rid of those girls, you at least owe Shy Girl the truth,” Jane points out. She finds herself leaning across the bar. "And the truth is... you’re upset about her quitting.”

Eddie shrugs, choosing to gloss over how he really feels in hopes of getting a second opinion. “But I don’t know why I’d be upset. She’s doing what’s best for her.”

But Eleven clears him immediately.

“Because your abandonment issues tell you she gave up too easily,” She shoves another waffle fry into her mouth. “therefore she didn’t fight hard enough for your relationship.”

Man.

“Otherwise, you two would’ve found a compromise by now,” Eleven keeps going. “Meaning she would’ve stayed. Could’ve stayed.”

She pauses for the dramatics while Eddie uncomfortably clears his throat.

“Should’ve stayed," she finishes.

Bingo. It’s like Eleven found a way to invade Eddie’s mind somehow. Disgusted with himself, it also dawns on him that although the kids are much older now, they’re still sponges. That means they can still read into him and everyone else, even more than they could’ve when they were only 12. And this time around, there’s no filter when it happens. It’s a scary thought.

“I liked you better homeschooled.”

SHRUG-IT-OFF SATURDAY

It’s D&D night at Jeff’s house and you’re in charge of food prep. But you really don't see the point in it anymore, considering bank heist campaigns are way more interesting than the messy charcuterie board in front of you.

"I can't believe tonight will go down as the Craigslist Campaign," Max remarks. "That's where Eddie found these guys, right?"

"It's where Gareth found them," you correct her. "I hope they all get along, though. Campaigns are huge for Eddie."

You watch your boyfriend from the kitchen as he does his thing, kneeling on the wooden table as he prefaces the campaign with an introductory monologue. It all makes you swoon. Eddie is just so animated. It's in the dramatic changes in his voice depending on who he's imitating. His theatrical jazz hands. His extremely detailed, and lucid story-telling that slips so naturally off his tongue.

Eddie Munson knows how to put on a show. As a performer yourself, you can appreciate watching his universes come to life. This is a look into Eddie's mind. His world. His safe space. And he appears to be having a lot of fun with it.

Your lip curls involuntarily. A little too much fun, you think to yourself…shamefully, spitefully.

“You’re not mad at Eddie, are you?”

You look at your sister like she's crazy. Max knows you and your micro-expressions like the back of her hand. Wasn't really a hobby she picked up per se, but more of a survival tactic. It makes you second guess yourself. Surely you didn't make yourself that obvious, did you? But even then, you're not even that bitter about it. So why are you physically reluctant in giving an answer that your brain is so sure of?

“No,” you shake your head. “Why would I be mad?”

“He barely did anything to defend you from those girls,” Max points out. “You’re his girlfriend and what do they get? A slap on the wrist for all of the shit they've done? It’s unfair!”

You silently return to your edible arrangement, putting the grapes next to the cheeses and away from the deli meats so that Gareth doesn't get 'the ick'. Then you grab a wine glass to make a rose shape out of said deli meats. Max doesn't back down.

"It's okay if you're upset," she tries again.

"I'm not upset, Max."

"You're lying."

"Am not!" You quickly jump to defend Eddie. "I genuinely think, and know, that Eddie's a keep-the-peace kind of guy. Besides, Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if he fired those girls."

"Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if Billy pressed those charges."

You think about the fight more often than you would like. It was the only time you've truly seen Eddie out of character.

"But that's different. Billy pushed all the right buttons. I know Eddie. He's not as manic as people paint him out to be."

And as if it were a joke, the Universe uses this impeccable timing to launch you into a panic. Soon the sound of shattered glass and moving chairs fill the room, and when you whip your head over to the sound of the commotion, you're stunned to see your man lunging at one of the strangers that were sat at Jeff's dinner table.

"EDDIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" someone yelps.

"You wanna say that shit again?" Eddie demands. "Huh, do you?"

"What the actual fuck," Max breathes out with her hand clutched to her chest. "That came out of nowhere."

"Disrespecting my fucking friend in his own fucking house?!" he gives the guy another violent rattle. "Huh?!"

You're unsure whether to intervene or not, but the guys seem to have it managed so you just stay put in the kitchen. From what you gathered, the guy said something rude to Jeff, making fun of his class and level and using his character skin as a reason for being inferior to him. But clearly, he was still no match for the Dungeon Master.

Eddie shakes his head in pity.

"Classic fucking bard," Eddie spits. "All that talk and all that charisma, but you're still FUCKING WEAK in battle."

"Hurtful..." Dustin, whose also a bard, whimpers.

"Wasn't talking about you, Henderson," Eddie huffs.

Then who was Eddie talking about? Because according to the look on everyone's faces, his rage didn't align with the severity of the issue at hand. The guy did seem condescending and patronizing when you met him, but all he did was poke fun at Jeff. Something the Hellfire boys already do with one another.

Eddie's outburst is enough to end the campaign early, and the guys who allegedly violated Jeff that badly left without a cue. As everyone cleans up after themselves, Gareth locates all the drinks that Eddie has downed tonight and confiscates them. You remember the time Eddie told you drinking makes him feel gross. Makes him act gross too, apparently.

"Eddie, what the fuck, man? Where did that rage even come from?"

"Dude was cocky as hell," Eddie shakes his head at Gareth. "They can act stupid about it, but I see all the underlying shit. They knew what they were doing."

Suddenly your ears perk up. If you had been the one to say that, you could easily appoint those very sentences to the situation with the Hellfire Girls. The burning in your chest is undeniable now. Of course that's how shit starts to feel when it gets personal.

"No one bullies my boys and gets away with it," Eddie says. "They can get out and stay out."

Max looks back over at you, just as distraught. Then she says exactly what you were thinking but were far too afraid to admit. "Where was that energy when you were at Hellfire?"

You and Eddie go to different bathrooms to collect yourselves, both for entirely different reasons. Seeing Eddie that distressed over something so small really had you wondering if he was upset about something else as well. But then you start getting upset at yourself for not putting your concerns first. And this concern was a huge one. He can do that with his boys but not with you?

“Oh my god,” it dawns on you. “I guess I am disappointed in Eddie.”

And then, from the other side of the house, in Jeff's bathroom, it dawns on Eddie too as he sobers up.

“Oh my god. I guess I am upset with Hargrove.”

SUCKER-PUNCH SUNDAY

“You’re early, babe,” you remark.

Little did you know Eddie would’ve been at your door even earlier, had he not been rehearsing what to say in his van...and doom-scrolling the internet for the past hour.

“Just didn’t wanna be late!” is what he comes up with.

You greet him with a kiss shortly before allowing him into the home. Max is working today while Robin and Vicky were out running errands. This left you both plenty of time to hash things out if needed, both in the living room and the bedroom (if it applies).

C'mon, Hargrove, you urge yourself. Just say it.

"Listen..." you both say at once.

You both pause, glancing over at one another in surprise.

"What are you about to say?" you ask him.

"What are YOU..." he counters. "about to say?"

"You go."

"No no," he deflects. "Ladies first, I insist."

You hate that he's a gentleman sometimes. Out of the many situations where you had to rip the band-aid off, somehow this was the hardest one. After swallowing hard one last time, you finally come out and say it.

"I'm..." you begin. "I've been thinking all week. And... I guess am upset with how shit ended with Hellfire."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god, you too?"

Suddenly, the air seems breathable again. You and Eddie both sigh in relief which then extorts a chuckle out of the two of you. At last, you two seem to be on the same page about this minor discrepancy.

"I've been losing sleep over it all week."

"I've been stress-cleaning trying to think of how to come to you about it!"

"Oh my god..." Eddie laughs.

"This is crazy!" you exclaim.

"I forgive you," the two of you say simultaneously.

Your eyes widen simultaneously as well.

"Wait, what?" you echo one another again.

"What do you mean you forgive me?" you hiss. "I should be the one forgiving you, not the other way around."

"Well... you kinda left me in a crummy spot... leaving Hellfire so soon?" Eddie argues. "And you were almost everybody's favorite dancer too. Outside of Chrissy."

"You left me in a crummy spot!" you place your hands on your hips. "By refusing to fire the dancers who made my life a living hell. The bullying wouldn't stop until I quit and you just let that happen."

"Okay first of all, you chose to quit," Eddie snaps. Anger starts to simmer within you. "After I begged you time and time again not to. And you were the one who told me not to get rid of the dancers because it would've been easier to just get rid of you, the one."

"I still expected you to give them some harsh ass consequences!" you exclaim. "And what do you mean I didn't fight hard enough for you? You shouldn't have to make me fight in the first place."

"You know what I mean," Eddie huffs. "And expected? I can't read your mind, Hargrove! How was I supposed to know what to do?"

How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know? Not reassuring at all coming from a business owner and manager. And the gag is Eddie sure knew what to do last night, when something similar happened to his homeboys.

"You literally kicked those dudes out last night for bullying Jeff. At the drop of a hat. But you couldn't do with the girls the same way?"

"Those Craigslist dudes don't pay the BILLS, sweetheart," Eddie emphasizes. "Had they been responsible for my paycheck, I may have approached it differently."

"I don't care anymore!" you exclaim. "Paycheck this, paycheck that. It's the principle of it, Eddie! The girls bullied me and all you did was slap them on the wrist. I expected you to do more."

"There it is again, 'expected'! I'm a simple guy, babe. I can't read you like a puzzle! Say what's on your mind. Why do you have so much trouble speaking up?"

"I shouldn't have to hold your hand through something so simple though. Forget that I'm your girlfriend for just a minute. You should've fired them when you realized they were sabotaging another dancer. And whose to say this was their first time doing it? What if they did it with Isabelle too?"

"Don't talk about Isabelle!" Eddie snaps at you. "You don't know anything that happened with her."

"Oh so now you're defending your ex wife too? OVER ME? Your actual, current girlfriend?! It's just anyone but me at this point. WHY AM I THE LAST PRIORITY? IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP."

"IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP TOO!"

"You don't seem to be fighting for it!"

"You're one to talk! You're the one who left when it got hard."

"I don't leave when shit gets hard," you argue. "I leave when shit doesn't change. When shit becomes toxic."

You did it with your last relationship. You did it when you and Max left Billy. You did it with Hellfire when the torment wouldn't stop. And you might as well do it again with Eddie, if nothing changes.

"You know what apologies without change is?" you grumble. "It's manipulation."

"Oh, so I'm a manipulator now?!" Eddie questions. "I did EVERYTHING you told me to do, but now I'm still a manipulator?!"

"Birds of a feather," you huff angrily. "Living up to the Munson name, huh?"

"That's not fair, baby."

"It is."

"NO, IT'S NOT!" Eddie booms. "How would you feel if I told you that you were living up to the Hargrove name? By blowing shit out of proportion when it doesn't even need to be like that?"

"DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT?" you shout. "DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT? THOSE BITCHES RUINED ME, PUT SUGAR IN MY GAS TANK, AND YOU'RE ACCUSING ME OF READING TOO MUCH INTO IT?"

"Now you're just putting words in my mouth."

"I'd like to put something in your mouth, that's for sure."

"Kinky," Eddie says smartly.

"That's all your mind travels to, is sex isn't it?! No wonder you keep those sluts around."

You and Eddie continue to argue back and forth, the volume of your voices gradually getting louder. Eventually, you grow overwhelmed, and the only thing that will calm you down is a good ol' scream.

Just like a banshee, a high-pitched scream rips through the house.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

You throw a nearby plastic cup at the wall, you're so angry and overstimulated.

"The hell was that?" Eddie questions. A laugh tugs at the corner of his mouth. For a minute, he looks like Billy when he gets a reaction out of you. That really sets you off.

Now you're out for blood. Out for the very thing, every Hargrove wants: the last word. He's right. You are living up to the Hargrove name. But why does it feel so good?

Unable to control yourself, your palms land across Eddie's chest and you shove him into the wall, causing Eddie to short circuit in shock. His face drains to a pale white. Now suddenly, you're Billy. And Eddie is you, looking at you the way you would look at your brother whenever he screamed or punched a wall.

Now Eddie's angry too. As much as he wants to get you back, it's still natural for him to physically refrain himself from doing so. Eddie Munson does not hit women. Wayne raised him better than that.

So instead, he settles for a verbal jab.

“You’re crazy. What is wrong with you, Hargrove?"

It's the damned C word that no enraged woman wants to hear. But now that you've heard it, there's no turning back. You're done with him.

"Get out," you order him.

"Fine," Eddie mutters. "Fine, I'm off to Wayne's anyway!" You stomp after Eddie as he starts making his way towards your door. "He's the only fucking person who seems to understand me."

The two of you share one final look before he heads out.

You hate that it has to end this way, because the devastated demeanor in his beady, brown eyes share that same sentiment. The sorrow is unspoken, but universal. Just as the love and yearning is, even when your words display a lack thereof.

"So you're gonna leave me?" Eddie gulps. "You're gonna leave me, huh? Just like everyone else does?"

You shake your head bitterly. If there's anything about you that you love/hate, it's that you always stand on your business. "Don't worry. Plenty of other bitches in the sea for you."

The final blow to Eddie's chest. Normally Eddie would've been able to recover from that... would've been able to leave the argument untouched after hearing those words... had it not been for you, the only person he truly sees himself with. The only person he would look for in a sea of people.

"I really thought you were different, Shy Girl," Eddie shakes his head. "That's what I get for hiring someone who doesn't understand what the industry can be like."

That's what he hits you with? Just then, the sadness is replaced by resentment entirely.

"I HATE YOU, Eddie Munson," you grimace. "I never want to see your face again."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #strip club owner!eddie #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #stranger things fanfiction #hellfire #hellfire club #joseph quinn #joe quinn #strip club au #hargrove!reader #eleven #001 #millie bobbie brown #eleven hopper #jane hopper #eddie fluff #eddie angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #boyfriend eddie munson #boyfriend!eddie munson #boyfriend eddie

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 9)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: this chapter contains heavy subject matter and a steamy making out sess, proceed with caution.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

“Effie and I wrote these speeches together.” Y/N assures Katniss and Peeta as Effie doles them out. “Don’t be nervous, nothing crazy.”

Katniss nods.

“Just a few words for the fallen tributes of the district. For eleven that is Thresh and Rue,” Effie says, hoping to put their minds at ease.

At present, they are crammed into one vehicle, transporting them to the justice building. Arista is sat between Katniss and Peeta, a doll in hand. Peeta allows the doll to walk along his leg, occasionally dropping it to one side or the other; causing the little girl to giggle. She shouldn’t be here.

People of the Capitol have sent them gifts from the moment they were born, things much too lavish for district twelve. Such items are sold to peacekeepers and the money funnels back through twelve. Keeping them afloat. Very few offerings they keep, like the doll. A tablet for Everest, just like his mother’s. He taps away at it, almost as if he’s playing a game.

“Can I see?” Katniss asks.

The boy nods, holding it across the isle. It’s an agenda…no, a journal. She realizes. ‘Day one, district eleven. Agriculture. The train is five hours from home.’

Katniss blinks rapidly at the screen before handing it back. He shouldn’t be here. “Thought you were playing a game.”

“I have games.” Everest tells her, “you can pick one to play.”

“Show me your favorite.” Don’t worry about all of this. You’re just a kid.

He smiles. “I like this one. You have to dodge the logs and get the dot from one side to the other.”

“I won’t be very good.” Katniss confesses as he hands it back to her.

“It’s for fun, Katniss.” The boy shrugs, “you don’t have to be good.”

Y/N passes an affectionate hand over her son’s hair.

“When I married Haymitch, there was an understanding. Whatever we had to do to stay alive, we would do. But between him and I was also an understanding; that he loved me and that love is unconditional. He wouldn’t leave me if I was scared, he would be patient. He would wait for me. When there were time restrictions, if we couldn’t wait, he would get me through. I think Peeta could be that person for you, Katniss.”

“You think I should marry Peeta?”

“I think you should be his friend.” Y/N corrects her. “All of this pretending to be in love stuff will come easier, I promise. Do it on your terms, take your time.” While you still have time.

Katniss takes this into consideration. She doesn’t dislike the idea of being with Peeta. But the idea of being with anyone seems impossible to her now. Even out of the arena she no longer feels safe…maybe if they make it back home. After they’ve convinced Snow and the districts. Even then, she doesn’t think she can love anyone the way Y/N loves Haymitch; or be loved the way Haymitch loves her.

What Y/N doesn’t tell her is that their toasting, the one Haymitch asked for when she was ready, did not come until two years after their Capitol wedding. After they’d celebrated two ‘anniversaries’ and Everest’s first birthday. She doesn’t tell her how verbalizing ‘I love you’ is painful for Haymitch… how he cried after telling her for the first time. Because he lost every other person he’s ever loved. How his tears broke her heart, how much they still do.

The vehicle comes to a harsh stop before the engine cuts out.

“Crash landing,” Haymitch remarks.

They are ushered out in a single file line. Y/N, Haymitch and the children are left in the viewing room with Effie and Cinna to watch Katniss and Peeta on stage from the projector.

Nothing can go wrong. Katniss repeats the mantra over and over. Nothing can go wrong.

Peeta does most of the talking, he offered and she couldn’t say no.

Arista pays little attention to what’s happening, too preoccupied with chatting up one of the peacekeepers who is trying to keep a hard exterior.

Everest is slightly more involved, watching the adults around him; gauging their reactions. His mother is anxious, twisting her fingers around the fabric at the back of his father’s jacket.

Cinna catches him staring and smiles. “Can you see?”

Everest nods as all eyes fall on him.

Y/N whispers something to her husband that the little boy can’t make out. Haymitch reaches a hand back then, bringing his son up beside Effie.

The peacekeeper sends Arista back to her parents with a gift. “I got candy.”

“What kind of candy?” Y/N leans down.

“From him,” the girl tells her mother, pointing toward the man in the white suit.

“Did you thank him?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Y/N boops her little nose. “This is actually one of my favorites, do you think we could trade?”

“Well, what do you have?” Arista arches a brow.

Y/N surrenders her shoulder bag. “Anything you want.”

Arista’s eyes light up, “really?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you, Mommy. Here’s your candy.”

“Thank you.” Y/N accepts the tiny wrapped object. Sliding it into her pocket.

“Both Rue and Thresh were so young. But our lives are not measured in minutes, they’re measured by the lives of those we touch around us. For myself, and for Katniss; we know that without Thresh and without Rue we wouldn’t be standing here today.” Peeta speaks from his heart.

Though their speeches were approved by both mentors and their Capitol escort, they do not have the intended effect. A whistle is heard, three fingers in the air, the nearest peacekeepers drawing batons.

“Get the kids away from the door.” Haymitch bites out.

“What about Katniss and Peeta?” They’re still out there.

“I’ve got them,” he promises.

The audience grows to a distraught holler.

“What’s happening?” Everest turns to his mother.

“Come with me,” Y/N tries to keep calm as she takes his hand, moving quickly towards her daughter. Her bag all but forgotten.

“Mommy, why are they doing that?” Arista asks, seeing the older man being forced up onto the stage by peacekeepers.

“Shh,” Y/N turns her away. Hurrying both children up the stairs.

Hearing Katniss protest from the lower level, “no, please leave him alone.” The doors open and she is removed from the stage.

Y/N sits her babies down on the floor, “cover your ears.” They do as they’re told, looking to their mother for comfort. She kneels, keeping them distracted as best she can; from the screams, from the gun shot, from the cruel world whirling around them.

Haymitch carries Katniss, kicking and screaming, toward the stairs. “What did I do?”

“Shhh,” he hushes her as Peeta follows.

“No, Haymitch! What did I do wrong?”

“Shut up. Get in here.” He closes the door behind them.

“I did everything I was supposed to do.” Katniss says, tears flooding her face.

“Katniss,” Peeta runs his knuckles along her arm; hoping to soothe her.

She steals Peeta’s hand, latching on for comfort. “Just help us get through this trip.”

“This trip?” Haymitch snaps two fingers in front of her, “wake up, girl. This trip doesn’t end when you get home. You never get off this train.”

Katniss’ heart sinks at the realization. They’re still stuck on this train.

“You two are mentors now, which means every year they’re gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance. Your personal life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction so that people forget what the real problems are.”

Peeta’s free hand balls into a fist at his side. “So what do we do?”

“You’re gonna smile, continue reading the cards that Effie gives you and you’re gonna live happily ever after. Think you can do that?” His eyes flicker between the pair.

Peeta nods. Katniss follows reluctantly, after Haymitch pats her cheek. Just like he did before she stepped onto the hovercraft for the games.

“Good,” Haymitch says, with a sad smile. “Come here.”

Still in a state of shock, Katniss steps into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. She watches through the window as the man from eleven’s lifeless body is removed.

“You’re gonna be ok, I promise.”

Katniss knows that her mentors will protect her…and Peeta. Anything she does is a collective loss or gain. Anything she does.

————————————————————————

Y/N manages to get through dinner on the train, choking down her meal after consoling Katniss, who refuses to leave her room. Peeta stays with her, opting for in room dining tonight.

Effie isn’t thrilled, but she understands and the younger children keep her plenty entertained.

Y/N and Haymitch break off before it gets late, tucking Everest and Arista into bed. Then Haymitch wanders down to the bar car, returning with a bottle. Seeing mayhem on the monitors of the control room as he passes.

“How the hell are we gonna fix this, Haymitch?” Y/N demands, the second he returns.

He uncorks the liquor, chugging a bit to get through this round of questioning. “There are ten other districts before the Capitol, they still have a chance to calm things down.”

She nods, swiping at traitorous tears. “How bad is it?”

Riots in the streets. “If all else fails, we have the show with Caesar before Snow’s party.” Setting the bottle aside, he pulls her in, “we’ll fix it.”

Y/N melts into him.

Haymitch tips her chin up. She is beautiful…and broken. Glossy eyes soften at the sight of him, lips parted and flushed from tears. “I love you.” The words claw their way from his throat; more painful to keep in than let out.

She kisses him then. Hot and hard, a little sloppy.

Haymitch cups the base of her neck, surrendering to the unrelenting force that is Y/N. The push and pull of her, the need for her.

Falling onto the mattress, lost in the heat of it. Something drops from Y/N’s dress as it’s discarded. The candy.

“You saving this for later?” Haymitch chuckles, holding it between them.

“Traded Arista for it.” Y/N admits, tossing the candy aside. “She got it off a peacekeeper. I’m sure it’s fine but…”

“Can’t risk it,” Haymitch agrees.

“Didn’t want to make a scene either, Everest is watching like a hawk.” She rolls off of him, onto her back.

“These kids,” Haymitch sighs. A gentle hand finds her bump, tracing patterns over the skin there.

————————————————————————

“We want to share with you the sorrows of your losses.” Katniss reads directly from the cards. In districts nine and ten, the crowd was calm. Now in district eight, two members of the crowd raise three fingers into the air. “The tributes of this district-” she breaks off as peacekeepers remove them from the scene; looking to Haymitch and Y/N.

They are no longer left in the viewing room, able to jump in and corral their victors if need be. Showing face to the masses to help calm them. Katniss wonders what kind of deals they had to make to be standing here with them.

Haymitch nods, encouraging her to continue. Y/N follows suit when Peeta’s eyes fall to her, jaw clenched. This is what we have to do. This is what they make us do.

Katniss picks up where she left off. “Were brave and noble warriors, who brought honor to their families and pride to their people. We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, in serving a common purpose. The power and glory of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.”

People from districts three through seven are outraged with this speech, this falsehood, this injustice to the girl they saw in the arena. The Capitol won’t eat your soul, that is a fate much too kind for a victor. They break your connections, they make you theirs.

Districts one and two are more easily swayed, buying into the notion that the games are something to celebrate. The little girl who presents Katniss with flowers tells her that she wants to volunteer; just like she did.

The nightmares come and Peeta stays with Katniss most nights, helping each other survive.

Everest and Arista find ways to occupy themselves. Madge steps in when their parents have to tend the crushing weight of their titles. Tomorrow ends in the Capitol; Caesar and Snow, all in one night.

Y/N sits, legs crossed, beside Haymitch on the gray satin bench of the train car. Katniss and Peeta directly across from them.

“Snow is watching us.” Haymitch says, as if anyone could forget. “If he wants you to pacify the districts, I promise you, he’s not happy. Instead of being in love, you two sound like you’re reciting from a drilling manual.”

“I’m open to suggestions.” Peeta turns his palms up, they’re all grasping at straws now.

Y/N leans forward, “I think-”

“We could get married.” Katniss meets her gaze when she says it.

“That’s not helping,” Haymitch taps a finger against his glass.

Peeta’s eyes never leave Katniss. Of all the times he’s thought about it, wanted it even; someday in the future, when it was real. Not like this, never like this.

“I’m serious.” Katniss decides, “if we’re on this train forever it’s gonna happen eventually, why not now?”

“It does make a statement,” Haymitch huffs a laugh, “I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peeta rises to his feet, “let’s do it.”

“Wait.” Y/N reaches out a hand to catch him, “we still have the show. We can find another way, something else to feed these people and keep them at bay for a while.”

“Like what?” Peeta plops back down in his seat.

“Like a baby.” Y/N forces the poofy skirt of her dress to lie flat against her bump.

“No, if you’re giving them that, we’re giving them the proposal.” Peeta protests. Y/N and Haymitch have already given away too much.

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Alright then,” Haymitch drinks to that, “let’s give them a night they’ll never forget.”

Part 10

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69

#haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x reader #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #moves & countermoves

[rinbowaman]

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER ELEVEN

Its here! and we have one more chapter left after this! I'm sorry it took me so long to post this, its been a busy few weeks but ta-da! DT Chapter 11 here to serve you! I'm really sorry this isn't proofread, I had every intentions to do so but with the constant delay, I just wanted to get this to you once I finished the chapter. So pls enjoy and just ignore the mistakes. This is about 15 pages long on word, so get your popcorn out. Also, DT masterlist up to date, I will go back and hyperlink the chapters at the bottom like i did with SE7EN...eventually.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of murder, mentions of a serial killer targeting young girls/women, step-cest, unprotected smut, implications of family troubles, family past, mentions of unwanted procedures and forced treatments, cursing, i think that's it. Also this isn't proofread, sorry, but i wanted to get this to you guys and not delay anymore than I already have.

The next morning, you woke in a hazy state as you slowly lifted your stomach from the bed. Still nude, you recollect your thoughts as to what your mind could last recall, when it suddenly dawned on you.

………….

“………Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy/nnnnnnnnnn.”

…………

Their deep voices echo in your ears, their taunting tone was all you could remember hearing before passing out from the intensity of overstimulation and soreness, all of which was still present in between your legs as you shit position and sat on the edge of the bed. 

The door gently clicks open from behind, and you hear Heeseung enter. 

“Good morning princess.” You feel the slight drop on the bed from his receiving weight as he kneels and crawls over to you. Cradling you to his chest, he rests each leg around you, his body cupping you entirely as he wraps his arms around your breasts, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Hungry?”

You nod faintly as you rub your eyes. Noting your beclouded state, he gently moves the pieces of hair away from your face while his fingers tap your breast, slightly pinching your areola. “Heejeong is making breakfast…” licking your ear, he tenderly creates a path of small kisses along your cheek. “Come down.” 

You nod in obedience, standing as he remains seated to appreciate the view in the undercarriage of both, your rear cheeks and breasts. Before you walk over to the dresser, you feel his hands copping a feel of your derrière, followed by a light smack. “Heeseung!” You yelp out as you lightly skip a few steps away, giggling your way to the first drawer. You snap back to catch his eye drifting up and down as he admires your body, a half smirk forms when he notices your gaze in return. 

Raising his brows as he bites his lip, he leans back, resting against his extended forearms while his legs remain over the edge of the bed, spread wide open. “You better stop looking at me like that…might just do something about it while Heejeong finishes up downstairs.”

You would have gladly welcomed the invitation had it not been the throbbing pain that became a constant reminder of yesterday's event. 

“Baby…I’m really sore after yesterday. Can I get a little break?” 

“Aww…my poor girl worn out?” Leaning further back, he stretches his arms and bends his elbows, interlocking his fingers together as he rests his head on his palms. Gently swinging his thigh in and out, you watch as his long legs go in and out of the widespread position, practically making your mouth water as you admire his crotch. Yeah, you were sore, but your mouth wasn’t. 

Walking back over to the bed, you place both hands on his kneecaps and kneel in between his thighs, rubbing your palms up and down the length of his extremities. It’s no wonder he and his brother were so tall, the distance your palms traveled felt never ending. Tilting his chin in towards his chest, he slightly lifts up to take in the view of you resting on his groin, slowly unzipping his black, street style cargo pants. 

“Hmm…you really are hungry, aren’t you?” 

You nod as you focus on observing his hardened shaft slowly popping out from the peephole of his briefs, poking through the opening of his trousers. Once it was out in all of its thick and lengthy glory, you lean in and slowly drag your tongue along each inch, beginning at the base. Your fingers remain gripping on the waistband of his pants, all the while your tongue worked its magic on him. He places his hand on the back of your head, intertwining his fingers through the strands of your hair. It was amazing how the two could be so rough, yet their gentle side was the most tender you ever seen, especially in moments such as this, where he merely runs his fingers through your hair, not at all pressing down or pushing you to take him in. He figured after yesterday, he needed to be gentle with his little minx, loving you at a different tempo. 

Gently bucking his hips up, he thrusts his cock up and down as your lips remain attached. “Tell me what you want to do with it baby…” his voice hoarse, yet managed to stay calm and tranquil. 

“I want to show my appreciation and give it love.” You respond back with as you kiss the entirety of his length. 

“Yeah? Show me…”

At his que, you take him all in and savor the clean taste of his skin against your tongue, the feeling of his muscle twitching as you shove it deeper into your throat. Your eyes water while your mouth gags, yet you never break off the momentum and continue to suck and slurp every bit of your labor. 

It didn’t take long for him to cum, considering he had done a number on you yesterday, you would have thought it would have taken longer for him to ejaculate. The taste of his fluid travels down, and finally, you’re able to relax your jaw as you wipe your mouth clean. That’s when something suddenly hit you. It was a sickening sensation that raged strongly deep inside your gut, enough to make you stand and quickly run to the bathroom sink, where you regurgitated Heeseung’s cum, spitting it all out.

Eyes widening, Heeseung furrows his brows out of concern and quickly stands to check on you while hearing you vomit out. It was that moment Heejeong entered to let you both know that breakfast was ready. 

“Hang on—something’s wrong.” Heeseung states without breaking his gaze from the back of your head, continuously stroking your back as he pulls you away from the sink and cradles you with a blanket and lays you down. Heejeong’s expression grew just as concerned, and he joined his brother in comforting you. 

“Do we have anything to give to her? I think she’s sick.” 

The feeling of nausea hits you mercilessly as you overhear the two talk and grab you medicine, comforting you as best they can. Heeseung figs through a drawer nearby to retrieve pain medication, while Heejeong prepares you for a trip to the hospital. Everything was swirling, you grew dizzy and your vision became blurred as you succumbed to the detrimental effects of exhaustion, when a thought popped up in your head, something that just dawned on you when you systematically walked through the symptoms. 

“When…when did I last have my period…?”

………..

Your breaths grew at an increases pace when you realized that your last menstrual cycle wasn’t just late, it never came. You had missed it entirely, yet due to your workload and the enjoyable moments you shared with your stepbrother’s, you hadn’t caught on until now. 

“Oh no…”

“What is it baby? Still feeling sick?” Heeseung taps a couple of pills in his palm and hands it over, “take these, it should help.” Your eyes swell and burst out into tears as you felt deep in your heart that the suspicion of your diagnosis was likely fetilization in the conception stages of pregnancy. You sobbed without saying a word, unsure of how to feel considering your relationship with your stepbrothers was kept secret. How were you going to explain being pregnant before marriage? How would your mothers face be when you lie to her and tell her that it was a result of a one night stand, and that you have no clues as to who the father was, after all, you couldn’t tell her the truth…not to her, or Danny. 

“Why is she crying?” Heejeong asks concerned, with Heeseung looking back at him equally confused. “How the hell would I know? It’s probably because she’s not feeling good.” 

Both men lean in and pat you down softly. “Baby…minx, come on. Shhh…what’s wrong? Where does it hurt? We’re going to go to the hospital, okay? Take the medicine and we’ll head out.” 

Their comforting words gave you the fortitude to finally speak up, regardless that you were pitiful in the delivery of your words as you continued to whimper out your cries. 

“I…I can’t….can’t take those…”

“Shh baby, it’s okay, it will make you feel better.”

“I can’t…”

“Why not?”

“…..Preg-pregnant….I think I’m pregnant.”

The two brothers lowered their hands as they sat and stared, zoning out as they processed your words. 

“Baby, how do you know? Did you take a test?” Heeseung gently speaks as he cups your face. His eyes shine with a glaze of moisture as he seeks an answer from your quivered lips. 

“No…no test…I…I didn’t realize until just now…my last cycle never came…” 

That was all Heejeong needed to hear for him to grab a jacket and head downstairs, telling Heeseung he was driving to the store to get a pregnancy test, among a few other things to bring you relief from your symptoms. “I’ll be right back.” 

Roughly a half hour later, Heejeong arrives with bags in hand. Setting them on the console table, he doesn’t bother removing his jacket, instead, he takes out a soft baked bun, unwraps it and brings it to your mouth while hugging your waist. “It will help, it’ll absorb the acid and relieve you from the nausea, just until we get to the hospital to get real medicine.” 

Rubbing your back, he caressed your body as you bite into the bun. Heeseung digs into the bag and fetches a pregnancy test, one of a few actually. “You got more than one?” 

“Just to be sure.” Heejeong states as he continues to hold the bread up, watching as you take one bite after another. He was right, the bread was helping, just enough for you to no longer feel the nauseous pains rising up. “Good girl, eat it all.” 

Kissing your head, Heejeong rubs your shoulder. The cool scent of his leather jacket was all you could smell as you finished chewing the treat. “That’s my baby…now go pee.” Standing, he presents a hand for you to take, helping you up as you meet with Heeseung, who hands you the test and gently directs you to the bathroom. “Do you need help?” 

You shook your head and enter, closing the door as you open the box and followed the directions. Ten minutes later, your heart sank as Heejeong reads out the results. “Well, it definitley says your pregnant.” 

Heeseung jolts up. “We’re having a baby?” 

“Looks that way.” Heejeong responds back as he takes out another test. “Let’s take another before we go to the hospital, just to make sure.” 

And just as the first, the second test revealed positive results. “We’re going to be daddy’s.” Heejeong smirks over to Heeseung, who slaps his hands together before turning to you. Kneeling before you, he cups your cheeks and places a kiss on your lips. “Mmmmuah! Our girl is having our baby! I wonder if it’s a boy or girl, when are we able to tell?” 

“I have no clue, I think it’s after a few months.” Heejeong states as he takes his phone to Google the answer. 

“I wanna know now.” Heeseung states before turning his head back to you, placing another kiss to your lips. 

“Looks like around four months, they’ll be able to tell. We have to take her to the hospital and get her checked out, she’s gonna have a lot of appointments in the following months.” Kneeling beside Heeseung, Heejeong rubs your legs. “Baby, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?” You shook your head, feeling somewhat relieved that the two were in high spirits over this event. 

“What do I tell my mom?” You shook out, once again wiping your semi-dried tears from your cheeks. 

“Don’t worry about that now baby. Within due time we’ll figure out a crafty story to tell, one that won’t demoralize or degrade you.” Kissing your lips, he rubs the tip of his nose against your forehead and places a second kiss after. “And we’re going to have to refrain from punishments, Heeseung.” 

“I don’t think we have to worry. She’s been very good, even yesterday wasn’t her fault.” 

Looking up to Heeseung, you gave him a questionable look. “But…I did get punished…” 

“Baaaabe.” He states as he tilts his head. “That was more for us, and you.” He chuckles as he playfully gives a soft punch to your chin, clicking his tongue the moment his knuckle gently touches your skin. “I’d say it was more of a gift, one that we enjoyed giving.” Winking, he flares a half smirk while Heejeong continues to rub your back. 

The hospital visit confirmed your pregnancy, the brothers overjoyment didn’t stop there, after you were discharged, they immediately made preparations for the baby room. 

“Give the baby my office, since it’s closest to our bedroom.” Heeseung vocalizes while hugging onto you. The two were clingy to begin with, now that the baby has been confirmed, they had been on you more than ever, even going so far in telling your boss that you required time off, to be at home. You’re not sure how they delivered the messages whether it was through threats or buying him out, either way, they were able to get you a generous amount of paid leave, more than the requirement for absence of pregnancy. 

“Isn’t this exciting, mommy gets to stay with us at home for a long time.” Heejeong winks as he gently rubs his outer hand across your belly. It was far too early for you to begin showing, yet they took in the delightful sensation of rubbing you down. 

“Actually, it be nice if you stayed home permanently.” Herseung chimes in, “You don’t need to work, we can give you everything you want or need.” 

“Wouldn’t you want to be a stay at home mommy and continue making babies with us?” Heejeong joins in as they both turn to look at you. You felt overwhelmed by the pressure of their desire in keeping you home, working at the museum was something you enjoyed and didn’t want to give up, especially since you had worked so hard throughout college and gained the job offer upon graduating. “I…I don’t—“ 

“Think about it babe, we have the house, Heejeong and I both have more money than we know what to do with, why don’t you quit that job and stay with us? Hmm? We can even bring you and baby to work, give you guys a chance to see how daddy’s are at work.” 

“But I….”

“Take some time to think about it. It would be nice having you home, all to ourselves and safe.” 

You’re not sure how to go about with telling them your desire to stay gainfully employed, especially since you feared that despite their wording, you may find yourself not having the choice but to quit. You loved your stepbrothers, and loved it more in how they loved you, yet some of their flaws that are highlighted by their infatuation with you, caused them to be forceful and a bit selfish. You were quite sure, that even with you knowing that your developed fondness for them was due to Stockholm Syndrome, it was quite safe to say that the twins also had a medical prognoses, one that you haven’t been able to figure out, not yet at least, and you’re not entirely sure if you ever will. Is there a proper diagnosis for someone who is so sick in love, let alone two? 

The next week, the boys had ordered in contractors to create an archway in the wall, allowing you to walk to and from the master suite to Heeseung’s old office space, to access the baby with ease. They built a crib, placed nursery banners along the wall, and bought plenty of toys to fill the room. You had to hand it to them, the nursery was adorable, and you were amazed at how well they decorated the room with tasteful furnishings. With the two of them combined, they had an eye for style, even if it was for a baby. “Aww I like the toy basket.” You voiced out, admiring the wicker braided and wrapped to form a wide basin structure that was filled with all sorts of plusher animals. 

“I told you she’d like it. I know our baby’s taste.” 

“Yeah yeah.” Heejeong playfully scoffs as he and Heeseung remained standing with their arms crossed. “Do you like the room baby? We can fuck you in here before baby arrives, just to carry out tradition.” Heejeong winks, while Heeseung raises his hand and voices his agreement to his brothers nomination. “I call dibs on the rocking chair.” 

“Fine. I get the closet space.” 

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious, in here? This is the baby’s room.” 

“We’ll yeah…but the baby is the size of a pea right now, sooooo….” Heeseung gently clears his throat as he reaches for your arm, pulling you hastily into his grip. “So let me fuck you….now.” 

Before you could answer, he had already begin to devour you through an insatiable kiss, one that was enthusiastic as the idea of you carrying his or his brothers baby was bringing out the instinct to breed with you even more. “Give us lots of babies and pass our bloodline along.” 

Heejeong’s hands grips you front behind, as he pulls your face back and angles it for easy access to your mouth, where he too, expressed his oral fixation through tongue and cheek. “Come on baby. Let’s do it.” He whispers as he and Heeseung begin to pull down your dress and strip you, despite your soft pleas. 

Crissening the nursery wasn’t too much of a bad idea once the boys got you past the initial stages of hesitation and discomfort. After stripping you down and subjecting you to positions that gave the most orgasmic fulfillment, you were grateful. What with your hormones fluctuating, causing your sexual desire to be more potent, matching the intensity that of your lovers, you felt satisfied as each brother took you a handful of times. After the nursery, teh three of you moved along, right into the shower. It was tradition, after all. 

……………….

The next day, you asked the boys to take you to the local festival in the city. It was something you had wanted to do, and better now than later considering you were in the early stages of pregnancy. Waiting any longer would have depleted your chances in attending, given your condition in late term, which the doctor had already forewarned you that it would be a time of strict bed rest and healthy diet. But for now, while only three weeks in, why not go out and have a little fun with the boys? 

They didn’t need much convincing, they recalled uou speaking of wanting to go, and of course they were there to please you, it was one of many ways they proved that theh live for your happiness. 

The streets were crowded, and the live music and bustling food carts made it nearly impossible to focus on the main attraction of the parade, yet you didn’t mind. The sweet smell of snacks was enraging your tastebuds, causing an intense craving to take place, a common symptom of being pregnant of course. 

“Can we get those little cakes?” 

“A-ha! Baby is in the mood for sweets, so that’s the magic craving.” Heeseung teases as he walks with his arm around your waist. Heejeong holds your hand and leads you both to the bakery, “Get whatever you want girly, you’re eating for two.” 

“That’s right she is! Come here!” Shifting you in front, Heeeeung hugs your waist and buries his face into the nook of your neck, smothering you with playful kisses and ticklish movements. “Stop! Haha! Heeseung stoooop.” His loving nature causes you to grow weak in the knees, making you fail in, pushing his chest as he continues to “munch” away at your neck. Your soft giggles only promoted him to do more, instilling him the urge to pull you in by the waist, holding you tightly and steadily. 

“Okay-okay you two, let’s order the goodies and get back out there to explore.” Heejeong calmly inserts, taking you by the hand and pulling you in. “What do you want, baby? I’ll get you everything you want.” Kissing your forehead he rests this chin atop your head as he cradles you within his embrace. Heeseung grabs a few drinks for the three of you, and begins to place all the orders of your favorite pastries at the counter. 

“You like the Guava-cheese ones, right?” He asks, flashing a wink your way as Heejeong continues to caress your body; some parts being rubbed down in secrecy as he strategically shifts your bodies around, and grabs a girl hold on your derrière, giving soft pinches as he kisses your ear. “Yeah, those are the ones she likes.” Heejeong answers back in your stead, noting how your lack of response due to the sensation of his tongue thrusting in and out of your ear canal, causes a whirlpool of moans to vigorously pass through your lips instead of words. 

Through the window glass, from across the street and unbeknownst to the three of you, two pairs of raging eyes grow envious and confused at the sight of you receiving the most out of your step-brothers. Affection, love, tenderness, and erotic signals, all exchanged as each brother took his turn to devote unyielding adoration while holding you close; it was all too much for Yeon-Jin and Sa-Ra to take. Crinkling the handles of their purse and wallets in hand, the two girls grit their teeth, enraged at what was currently happening before them. 

“That….fucking….bitch! I’m going to fuck her up!” Sa-Ra moves hastily as she spat her poisoned words, breaching the edge of the street’s walkway before Yeon-Jin grabs on, stopping the former from crossing over. “No wait!” 

“Let me go! I’m serious! I’ll burn her skin off, I swear!” 

“Sa-Ra! We need to play it cool, we already lost favor with the two.” Presenting the voice of reason and realism, Yeon-Jin was just as furious as her counterpart, but knew that long before you came into the picture, the boys had completely lost interest, causing her to rile with suspicion for months, nearly a year even, of the twins desire to break off their relationship with her and Sa-Ra. Despite her fearing the day oncoming, it never arrived. The boys had continued to look at them with dull and voided expressions, seemingly unhappy and annoyed, yet they never solidified a breakup. 

“Sa-Ra…we have to be careful. I know you’ve also been sensing Heeseung and Heejeong’s disinterest in us.”

“Yeah, because of her!”

Yeon-Jin’s raging expression shifts back to the scene of Heejeong caressing your neck with his tongue, subtly rubbing his palms over the curves of your breasts as he discreetly hides it by having you face the corner behind a secluded table. “Yeah baby? Bet you want me to fuck you right here in front of everyone, don’t you?” Reaching up, your palms barely make contact with the wall as you eagerly nod, submitting defeat to the sensation of Heejeong assaulting your skin with the smoothness of his tongue, while simultaneously gripping and squeezing parts of you that should have gone unnoticed by the subtle presence of public strangers, yet it did, all because he was so good at hiding it. Strategically, he pins and continues to mark you as he tenderizes your throat, keeping you hidden off into the dimmed seating area on the other side of the cafe. Watching the man whom she had prospected to marry, for wealth and for his looks, Yeon-Jin’s grip on Sa-Ra’s blouse grows tighter, causing her acrylics to bend out of shape and crack from the pressure.

“I fucking know…..that even though they stopped caring about us before that whore came into their family….I just know she made it worse….so much worse.” 

“Exactly! Let’s mess her up.” Sa-Ra claps Yeon-Jin’s hand into her palms as she instigates the growth of her best friend’s anger. 

“No….we need to do this in a way where the boys won’t suspect us. I have this feeling that they heard about what we did back in high school.”

“What? You mean all those idiots? Heeseung couldn’t have….could he?”

“Why else would they have stopped taking interest in seeing us for so long, even before y/n’s mom met Danny.” 

“Do you think those bitches blabbed and told Heeseung and Heejeong what we did?”

“I don’t know…I just know Heejeong enough, he wouldn’t approve of our behavior back then and neither would Heeseung.”

“I get and see what you mean about treating us like second-class citizens, but Yeon-Jin….even with that stupid slut y/n in the picture…why didn’t they break it off with us? Aren’t you the least bit curious about it?”

“Of course I am! But I’m trying to prevent it. I have no idea why they haven’t called off the relationship but something tells me that they were planning on something.”

“Like what? Public humiliation? Do you think they were waiting for a certain time or event to break it off with us, all for y/n?”

“I don't know….Sa-Ra….but we’re already walking on thin ice, so if we’re going to get rid of y/n, we need to do this in a way where we’re not suspected of anything. I don’t want to affirmatively confirm those snitches against us. We need to do this the right way…..a way where we can get rid of y/n for good and separate her from the twins, then we can do everything we can to establish an engagement and set a date so we can marry those bastards.” 

“Okay….so what do we do?” Sa-Ra crosses her arms and waits for a groundbreaking answer, but it never leaves Yeon-Jin’s lips. Instead, complete silence was all that was emitted as the two girls scurried away, ensuring that their presence remained unnoticed by you and the twins. 

……..

Days had passed since the festival, and you enjoyed the last bit of spring as the days became shorter. You woke earlier than normal this morning, wanting to take advantage of the sunlight as you clipped the roses from your garden, the ones that you and the boys grew together. Placing each stem in the basket, your knees damp from the morning dew, you walk back inside through the double French doors that welcome you into the open kitchen. Setting the basket on the island, you opened the tin container to grab three teabags; the scent of Lavender and Chamomile hits your nostrils as the two men enter and greet you with warm smiles. 

“There she is. Our mommy to be.” 

Chuckling, you shook your head faintly as you prepared the three teacups. “We still have a while before we become parents.” you tease out as you raise your brows and playfully flicked the tip of your finger on Heejeong’s chin. 

“Oh we know. Trust us, we plan to get more out of you before we have to take a long pause…you know, for the sake of the baby and all.” With a raspy voice, Heeseung takes the container from you and finishes the setting of preparations for tea as he gently nods, implying that he would make it in your stead. “I got it baby, just relax.” 

“It’s…just tea, Heeseung.” 

“I know, but you deserve to stand there and look pretty, nothing else.”

Smirking, he dips a bag in each cup before flashing you a wink. The two circle you as they take turns hugging and kissing your forehead, when the sound of intruding footsteps cuts the moment short. 

“So…it’s true…about you three.” 

Your eyes snap wide, as did the boys, yet the furrowed brows of annoyance and anger differed from your confused expression. No doubt, the twins were just as lost, yet their eyes had glared a fierce emotion as you all watched the unwelcome guest make his way inside the kitchen. 

“When they told me about you three, it was so sickening that I was offended by what I heard. But now I see, they weren’t lying, in fact, I am glad that this was brought to my attention before it had reached the papers…my own sons, the heirs to my fortune and business…my years of hard work, doing the most inappropriate acts with their own sister.” 

“First of all, STEP-sister…secondly, what the Hell are you doing here?” Heeseung spat out with a poisonous tongue. Joining in, Heejeong intervenes with a rational question as his brows grew closer to his lash line, expressing the outrage when he heard the words “they”. “When you say ‘they’....are you referring to-” 

“That’s besides the point. You two have shamed yourselves and y/n. Fortunately, I have restrained myself from telling her mother.” Switching his gaze to you, Danny eludes a disappointing tone as he unleashes the full extent of his knowledge in what you had been doing with your two stepbrothers. “I have committed to great lengths of self restraint and not tell your mother about this. No doubt she would be angry with knowing how you’ve behaved…and the fact that you’re carrying a monstrosity from all this.”

You gasped at his newfound words. “Y-...you know?....A-about….about my baby?” 

“You’re baby? That’s hardly appropriate to acknowledge considering you’re carrying something that was put in by one of my sons.” Danny’s offensive tone grows more stern and cold, furthering the rage in the twins, to the point where Heeseung places his foot down and stands in front, keeping you hidden behind as Heejeong hugs you to his chest. 

“You make it sound as if we’re a bunch of sickos. Let me break it down for you, since you’re obviously too dumb to understand how basic science works, Daddio.” Flashing an offending smirk towards Danny, Heeseung continues to disrespect his own father as he stands for your honor, inhibiting the man from tarnishing your name. “WE, are not related. WE, do not share the same blood or DNA, so you can take all of what you have, and leave with it. I doubt anyone is going to care what Heejeong and I do on our own time.” 

“I will deal with you two later. Right now, Y/N will be coming with me.” Transferring his gaze once more, Danny glares into your soul as he reaches a hand, expecting you to take it willingly. “Once it was made out of your unethical relations, I had a private investigator look into the case, that is how I found out about your unwarranted pregnancy. My son’s are one thing, but how could you allow yourself to become ruined by the likes of them? Do you have any idea how this would affect your prospects for a proper marriage later on? Thank God this hasn’t made it’s way around.” 

“Oh? You mean the people who told you about this, are trustworthy enough to keep their mouths shut and not sell this out?” Heejeong spits out, practically hissing as he issues each word. “Let me guess, it wouldn’t happen to be two, money-hungry females that earned your trust and loyalty, would it?” 

“If you’re referring to the girls that you both should have married and impregnated, versus your own sister, then yes. Though I will admit, they are not aware of the pregnancy, I kept that to myself once my guy dug that up.” 

“Oh how convenient for you to all of a sudden check up on us, after so many years of not caring and dipping your dick into other women, ignoring our only mother.” Heeseung turns his head over shoulder and shoots a melancholy stare at the floor upon hearing Heejeong bringing up their mother. After all the time you had spent with them, you still were unaware of the truth and history between the boys and their father, much less the history of their mother and her whereabouts. 

“This isn’t the time for such conversation. Y/N, you’re coming with me.” Turning his head, Danny yells out towards the foyer, his voice bouncing off the walls from the narrow hallway that leads into the kitchen. “In here!”

Your look of confusion transitions into one of fear and anxiety as four large men in white scrubs make their way in, surrounding you and the twins. “W-what…what is this?” you stutter as you watch the men close in. 

“I’m placing you under watch, you’ll be evaluated by therapists and undergo an initial psych examination where we can treat you, among other things.”

“Other things?....” Your voice shook as the sting of fresh tears swell in your ducts. 

“You will have a non-invasive procedure, a chemical abortion to ensure your system is cleared out of anything that my own sons put in there. We can’t allow the world to know what has been going on, it will ruin the future business prospects and our global trade partnerships.” 

Shaking your head vigorously, the tears began to drip down your cheeks as you held onto Heejeong frantically. “No!” 

You shove your face into his chest as you hear the shuffling of Heeseung fighting off a pair of the male nurses, while Heejeong cradles you in and blocks you away from the other two, trapping you against the kitchen counter as he glares at the pairs of eyes directly. “Touch her and I’ll break your hands off.” 

His threat was taken with a grain of salt, as the pair managed to pull him away. Yet with both his hands free from caressing your frame, Heejeong went straight into business as he started to fight off the pair viciously as his brother had done. Together, the two took on each nurse, grabbing onto various items in the kitchen to physically inflict enough pain, causing them to back away. 

“Get out.” Heeseung breathes deeply, catching as much air as the beads of sweat drip down, with Heejeong stepping up to his side, flaring the same state of physical exhaustion. “If you want to get into the legalities of it, what you’re doing is entirely illegal and the fact that you have no evidence to warrant this intrusion, much less taking her away and forcing an unwanted procedure is something that can, and will be used against you if you want to continue to take this further.” Heejeong continues to catch his breath as his grip tightens around the handle of the pan he held in hand. 

“She’s carrying the child that shares the DNA of you or your brother. That’s enough evidence.” 

“But without proof of a DNA examination result or pregnancy, you or the authorities have proper warrants to do this. So get the fuck out.” Heeseung finishes as he tosses the pot, and turns his attention towards you. 

“Come here…come to me.” With open arms, he stands before your cowering state as you rush in to hug his chest. “Shhh…nothing is going to happen to you.” 

“Don’t let them…don’t let them take my baby…” you sob out, your cries muffled by the material of his tee shirt. “I want our baby to live…don’t let them take it away from me.” 

Heejeong’s heart nearly dropped at hearing your cries, and so did Heeseung’s. True, it was too early to tell just which out of the two sired the child, but it never mattered. You three were family, just as they had loved and cared for each other as brothers, they became exposed to a different type of love that expanded into something that was unruly and impossible to live without. The day they saw you and heard you speak, they knew they both felt something for you that could never be replaced, and vowed that, together, they would forever love, protect, and build a family with you. It wasn’t legally printed, yet they had treated and considered you as their wife, their only partner for life and made it clear that you belonged to the both of them, never just one or the either. As you cried out, begging for them to protect the unborn child in your womb, for the first time since discovering your pregnancy, the sense of duty as father’s had hit them. They now knew more than ever, that your well-being as well as their baby, was their responsibility that the two of them, will never fail to uphold. 

Turning his head back towards Danny, Heejeong issues out a glare that you only have seen on occasion, one that never was followed without a malicious act; it was the same that he issued to Jeff before he went missing, and to Kurt, yet due to your interference, the latter was successfully saved, though barely. 

“Get out. Do anything to her, and I promise I’ll kill you myself…Dad.”  With a sadistically wide eyed stare, Heejeong bares the look of psychotic twistedness that Danny had never seen before. It not only was shocking, but scared him beyond matter, yet that wasn’t all that instilled the chill of fear, because he wasn’t just seeing it on one of their faces, but both. 

“I’ll personally take up the task of gutting you wide awake if you or any one of your people lay a finger on her. Don’t test us…Danny.” Heeseung raises his head to reveal an eerily similar expression, it was murderous and frightening. 

“What….what is this? What is with you two? Ho-how-” With his words cut off by the shuttered pause of his breath, Danny takes a step back as he witnesses the transformation of his son’s countenance. “What is this?...You both are…insane.” Just as Danny felt the cold chill vibrating through his spine, so did the nurses as they raised their hands up in defeat and back up, symbolically waving the white flag. “Sir…we’re going to leave now.” One of the nurses speaks up, and with that, the four of them turn to take their leave, quickly exiting as Danny remains left behind. 

“Fine. Y/n will stay here for now, but she will take in the abortion. If you choose to delay it, then it will be done through a surgical procedure, one way or another, it will be done. So take your pick. As for your living accommodations, I will get the evidence and the authorities involved; you cannot win, so enjoy the time being that you have with her. I will not allow this to continue further.” Turning around, Danny stops in mid step before flaring a side eye towards you three. “You both may be my son’s, but remember, I have enough contacts and resources to handle you behind closed doors…do all you want, but I promise that the police and even the higher officials of Government will be on my side.” 

With that, Danny fully exits, leaving you tearful and dreading the future. You knew he was a powerful man, after all, he nearly owned the country with how his massive corporation monopolized the cities and neighboring countries. He had money, power, and people on his side, which was more than what the twins had. 

"What....what are we going to do?...." you asked with pleading eyes, but only saw that the twins had continued to stare out at the foyer space that Danny disappeared in. With their sights locked in at the front door, they raise their hands to pet your hair, caress your chin, as they emit a deep and dark chuckle.

"Oh baby...don't worry about anything. Haven't you learned by now? Hmm?"

Turning their gaze towards you, their psychotic grins reaching the higher levels of insanity that became the stuff nightmares were made of, they tilt their heads as they kept the eerie grins yet a glimpse of the loving affection they had for you emerged from the depths their dark eyes.

"Baby sis...big brothers always have something up their sleeves."

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

Taglist: @hoyeonheeseung , @yohanabanana , @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz@mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana , @heeshees@yumii0828 , @lprww, @mariji , @silcry @cutiejseong

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #yandere fic #male yandere #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x willing reader #heeseung x you #heeseung au #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung ff #heeseung enhypen #heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung x reader #yandere heeseung #heeseung

[deadmenandthedivine]

dead men § the divine

table of contents

Lady Rhea Royce gave birth to a single daughter prior to her untimely death.

Princess Maetilda Targaryen was the sole heir to Runestone.

Her father, the Rogue Prince, kept her by his side, ensuring he always had a Keep to his name. Even after his marriage to the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, he refused to accept an engagement for her. Runestone was his castle. Princess Maetilda was his daughter. The Seven Kingdoms was his playground. There only seemed to be one small problem: the Greens.

The Greens occupied the Red Keep for over half a decade while the Rogue Prince and his future Queen raised their children on Dragonstone as tradition. It would seem having the King's castle and the Conqueror's crown plays an advantage when the dragons dance. It became apparent as the virescent cause does not suffer by delivering the first blows.

Despite only holding claims to one of the foundational keeps in the Vale, Princess Maetilda finds herself wrapped up in the center of the conflict. At the mercy of the men around her. Prince Aemond seeks to take what belongs to him, most especially the Rogue Prince's bronze babe.

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

✧.*.·:¨ ✘♚✘ ¨:·.*.✧

✫ prologue — rumors from runestone

✫ chapter one — cold landings and green castles

✫ chapter two — a father’s praise

✫ chapter three — mysteries that muddy the keep

✫ chapter four — what the trees see

✫ chapter five — the maids that bloom in spring

✫ chapter six — bound in old magic

✫ chapter seven — the fate of wagging tongues

✫ chapter eight — dead flowers and garden bugs

✫ chapter nine — new leather boots

✫ chapter ten — an old man’s guilt

✫ chapter eleven — the tower tapestry

✫ chapter twelve — drowned in insignificant details

✫ chapter thirteen — the ghost of years coming and years past

✫ chapter fourteen — what the lady beetle does

✫ chapter fifteen — dragons have horns

✫ chapter sixteen — relearning from the same mistakes

✫ chapter seventeen — last suppers and sealed deals

✧.*.·:¨ ✘♚✘ ¨:·.*.✧

A/N: i do bend the plot of hotd/tweak the lore of the vale just a lil bit for my own convenience. also i'm not well versed in historical outfits and stuff so my descriptions may not be accurate to the time. but it's gotta be like that sometimes, you know?

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #targaryen oc #daemon targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #masterlist #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x reader #dead men and the divine #hotd aemond #hotd #dad!daemon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc

[ckret2]

Chapter 21 of honestly everyone's just sorta used to Bill being the shack's prisoner now (title tbd): Stan & Ford have a birthday party! Bill is not invited. He still manages to find a way to be fiendishly evil.

Also featuring: Wendy deciding what she thinks about "Goldie," the shack's mysterious secret "guest."

####

Mabel slid a piece of paper across the gas station front counter, listing a dozen scratch card serial numbers spread across three different games. "I'd like these numbers in these cards, please!"

The cashier gave the paper a dubious look, then looked at Wendy. "We're not supposed to sell the scratch cards outta order."

"Please?" Wendy asked. "Just a little exception? For us?"

"We really wanna play our lucky numbers," Mabel said. "Plus, I had a vision. In my sleep."

She and Wendy gave him their best big-eyed hopeful pouty looks.

The cashier shrank back. "Well..." He averted his gaze from the adorableness that was Mabel, and sighed. "Just this once. But I don't want to see you two in here with your nonsense again." He started unrolling one of the spools of scratch cards, inspecting the numbers. "These'll be over a hundred dollars."

Wendy winced. "Ooh. Mabel?"

Mabel offered three dollars and a quarter. "That's fine! Can we start with 177 from the beach cards?"

She received the card, depicting a pastel beachy scene next to five miniature bingo boards. She confidently scratched off the card to reveal its winning numbers, pointed at the fourth bingo board where she'd just gotten bingo, and said, "That's $200! Our payout, please."

The cashier took the card, inspected the numbers, and stared at Mabel in amazement. She grinned at him. Wordlessly, he opened his cash register, pulled out several twenties, and offered them over.

"Thank you!" Mabel accepted the money and pointed at the paper. "The rest of our cards, please?"

As they left with eleven scratch cards, Mabel handed Wendy three twenties—"Here! For helping!"—and stuck the rest of the change in her pocket.

"Dude. That was awesome. You were so cool in there, like—" Wendy put on her coolest, most unruffled expression. "'Our payout, please.'"

"That's just the kind of rock star I am." Mabel put the scratch cards in her bike's basket. "Thanks for the help, Wendy!"

"Sure, any time." Especially if she got a surprise $60 out of it. "Heading back to the shack?"

"Yeah! I've gotta finish decorating for the party!"  Mabel waved as she took off down the road. "See you then!"

"See you." She guessed that meant she wasn't invited to hang until the party started. Given the touchy situation inside the shack, no surprises there.

She wondered what Goldie had to do with Mabel's interesting trick with the scratch cards. She was sure there was something.

####

Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Hey! How's that cake coming along?"

Mabel stopped arranging dozens of candles in the frosting to point at the door. "Out, Bill! Nobody's getting cake until the party!"

Dipper said, "You don't even deserve a slice."

"Agree to disagree!" Bill said. "But if you don't give me one anyway, I'll annoy you about it for weeks."

"He can have a slice at the party," Mabel said. "The cake's big enough." A couple of overcrowded candles spilled off the edge of the cake. Mabel picked them up and carefully stuck them back in.

Bill fought back a laugh. "Are you sure about all those candles? If you light 'em all up at once, you'll burn off everyone's eyebrows," he said. "But unfortunately, you'd also melt the frosting."

"The frosting's already a mess," Mabel said, peering at the barely-visible HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAN & FORD hidden beneath the forest of candles. "But Soos doesn't have any of those number-shaped candles, so..." 

"Roman numerals," Bill said.

"Oooh." Mabel looked at the cake thoughtfully, and started pulling out candles. "How do you make 62?"

"LXII. Fifty-ten-one-one," Bill said, then shot a grin at Dipper—who was glaring at Bill for answering before he could. "Isn't that right, smart guy?"

"Yeah," Dipper grumbled.

"You kids take the credit if they ask about the candles," Bill said. "They'll just get grumpy if they know I had any influence on the decorations."

Mabel carefully tilted the bottom leg of the L just enough to keep the tip out of the frosting, and started smoothing out the rest of the candle-pockmarked surface. "Now I've got enough empty frosting to add some decorations!" Mabel said. "I don't have enough time to draw something complicated. Maybe rainbows?"

Dipper shook his head. "I don't think either of them would be into that."

"Draw gold bars," Bill said.

Mabel blew a raspberry. "That's what you'd want on a cake!"

"No, I'd want me on a cake. Stanley likes gold! Stanford should like gold more, you could help him develop a taste for it."

"No."

Dipper suggested, "Maybe you could draw gambling stuff on Stan's side of the cake? Since they couldn't have their birthday party in Vegas like he wanted." Dipper shot a sideways glance at the reason they had to stay in Gravity Falls. (Bill shrugged. It wasn't like he'd asked the Stan twins to stay in town.) "You could do poker chips or playing cards or—"

"Dice!" Mabel said. "Dipper that's perfect, they both like dice! We can put normal dice on Grunkle Stan's side and nerdy dice on Grunkle Ford's—"

"Oh, that's great! I've got my DD&MD dice bag in the attic!"

"I'll look in the board game closet!"

Dipper and Mabel took off. 

Bill waited until he was sure they were gone.

He checked out the kitchen window for witnesses, then picked up a dozen abandoned birthday candles, licked off the frosting, and hid the candles in his hoodie's hood. Too bad they hadn't left a matchbook out, but Bill knew a fun little trick with an empty aluminum can and a tube of toothpaste that would work just fine.

When the kids returned and Mabel stuffed the remaining forty-odd candles back in their box, they never noticed any were missing.

####

Mabel had put herself in charge of the guest list. Which explained why, along with Stan and Ford's actual friends, all Mabel's friends had been invited; as well as—among other people—the mayor ("he's like the Mystery Shack's best customer, Grunkle Stan!"), Shmebulock ("Jeff said Shmebulock stole the Journal 4 you started last fall, I was hoping he might gift it back"), and the Hand Witch and her boyfriend. ("Whaaat, Grunkle Ford you met her TOO?! What a coincidence! Dipper, did you know he met—oh, you did. I didn't read those pages!") It would have been a lot more awkward if not for the fact that the birthday boys were awed and humbled that so many people had attended knowing they were coming to a birthday party for Stan and Ford Pines, and none of the guests had even been bribed.

When Soos and Melody helped Mabel carry out the birthday cake, Ford laughed at the sight of it. "Did you make Roman numerals out of candles? How clever! Stanley, do you know what Roman—"

"Yeah, yeah. I watch the Football Bowl, you know," Stan said. "Honestly, I was expecting this thing to be covered in candles."

"I almost went that route," Mabel said. "But I thought I'd save that kind of firepower for the Fourth of July."

"Hah! That's my girl."

"Happy Birthday" was sung, candles were blown out, and the party lined up to get their cake. Mabel cut a slice, loaded it on a paper plate, then glanced toward the attic window. "I'll be right back! I've gotta use the bathroom. Don't open my presents until I'm back!"

She trotted into the house, taking the cake, a napkin, and a plastic spoon with her.

####

Bill met Mabel at the top of the stairs and scooped the cake out of her hands. "You're my hero, star girl." He carried it halfway back to his window seat, stopped mid-step, and asked, "You got a piece with my name on it?"

"I got the slice with the 'Birt' and took off the extra frosting!"

"Oh," Bill said. "Heh. That's—cute." And he looked so much like he was trying to pretend he wasn't genuinely touched by the gesture, that Mabel didn't have the heart to tell him she'd only thought of it halfway up the stairs.

He flopped back in his usual window seat post—where, Mabel couldn't help but notice, he had a perfect view of the party happening outside without him. She grimaced. "I'm sorry you can't come to the party," she said. "But you did torture and try to murder the birthday boys... and most of the party guests... and left half of them with lingering trauma..."

"Speaking of, how's your therapist doing?"

"Oh, good, she's good. I think she's gonna write a paper about Mabeland."

Bill fell silent, staring out the window. Mabel almost went downstairs—when he said, "You know, I was the only person who gave Stanford a gift on his thirtieth birthday."

Mabel turned back around so fast she almost tripped on the top step. It wasn't often she got a double dose of Bill lore and Grunkle lore. "You were?"

"He didn't make new friends in Oregon and he didn't keep up with his old friends from college. His parents mailed him a gift, but it got here a week late. So I taught him a couple spells to see the stars during the day and keep rain from landing on him, and told him where to be in Portland that afternoon if he wanted to pick up a free cake from a fancy bakery."

"Aww. That was... nice of you." But Mabel had to hesitate before saying it, automatically wondering what Bill's motives had been for giving the gifts and what his motive now was for sharing this. 

Bill waved a hand dismissively. "Ahh, they were parlor tricks. They're easy, flashy cantrips that impress humans but don't do any harm," he said. "Not much harm, anyway. That night he told me all about how he was the only human to see his zodiac constellation on his birthday. The genius spent all day staring at the sun so he could see the stars!" He laughed.

But it quickly petered out. "And now I'm personally banned from his birthday party. Funny, huh?"

Maybe Bill was trying to get Mabel to pity him; but she kinda thought he was just pitying himself. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Losing friends is tough," she said. She paused. "And that's why we should be nice to them."

Bill cracked up so loudly Mabel half expected the party outside to hear him. "Okay, Glory Unicorn! I've learned today's moral about friendship. Get outta here. See if I ever tell you anything again." But he was grinning as he shooed her off.

####

When Mabel came back cakeless, Dipper gave her a dark look, but said nothing.

"Are we opening gifts yet?" Mabel picked up a box and flung an arm around Dipper's shoulder. "You've gotta open this one first! It's from both of us to both of you!" She waved it at Stan and Ford until they took it together.

Ford pointed at the card that said, "To our Grunkles, from your gniece and gnephew!" "That isn't how you spell niece and nephew?" Stan elbowed him.

"Nope!" Mabel said. "But it's how you abbreviate great-niece and great-nephew."

"Ah, I see! Very creative."

"Nice recovery," Stan muttered. Ford elbowed him back. Together they tore off the wrapping paper and opened their box.

Inside were two more boxes, each small enough to hold in one hand—a square one labeled "Stan" and a long narrow one labeled "Ford."

Stan opened his box and pulled out a thick gold chain with a coin dangling from it. Engraved on the coin in sloppy text were the words "#1 Grunkle."

Soos held up a hand. "I did the engraving! First try."

Mabel pointed at the coin. "We made it out of pirate treasure that we have for reasons that we can't talk about! There's a skull on the back!"

They'd hung it from his favorite gold chain. He'd been missing it for a week—and he'd never even suspected the kids. How about that. Choked up, Stan said, "It's—it's great." He took off the chain he was currently wearing, chucked it into the bushes, and put on his gift. "C'mere, you two." He wrapped his arms around Dipper and Mabel.

Soos held his arms out hopefully. Stan rolled his eyes, but waved him over for a hug too.

Ford opened his box. "A pen?"

Dipper said, "It has an ergonomic grip, can take standard ink refills, writes super smoothly—I tested it out myself—makes a very satisfying click, and it's red with gold trim to match your journals."

Mabel said, "I helped pick out the design!"

"... And that's why it's also sparkly."

"I didn't do the engraving on that one," Soos said. "We had a lotta spare pirate coins but only one pen, so. They got it done at the mall."

Ford rotated the pen in his hand until he spotted the (more professional-looking) engraving on the barrel, filled in with gold. "Mine says #1 Grunkle too?"

Dipper said, "C'mon, we're not gonna choose between you two."

Stan said, "Oh, I see how it is! Trying to butter us both up, are you?" He reached under Dipper's hat to ruffle his hair. Smiling, Ford carefully slid his gift into his coat's breast pocket next to his usual pen.

####

When Bill saw that Mabel was back outside, he got up, left the rest of his cake on the window seat, scooted aside a storage box sitting forgotten in a corner of the attic, and pried a loose board from the wall.

He took his stolen candles out of his hood, wrapped them in the party napkin Mabel had given him, and stashed them in a plastic sandwich bag where he'd already stowed a crushed cider can, its edges torn and sharp.

Then he re-hid the bag, fixed the wall, replaced the storage box, gently brushed some cobwebs over the floor to hide the trail in the dust where he'd scooted the box, and turned away from his hiding spot.

To see a gnome wearing a journal like a backpack.

They stared at each other.

"You didn't see anything," said Bill.

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

Bill eyed Shmebulock, the staircase, the window—and then dropped into a crouch, knees and feet spread apart like a sumo wrestler, teeth bared.

Shmebulock cracked his knuckles.

Five minutes later, Bill added Journal 4 to his hiding spot, with a mental note to find a new hiding spot the gnomes didn't know about later.

Unfortunately, Shmebulock escaped with Bill's cake.

####

Wendy squinted up at the blonde shape in the attic window. "You know—all this last week, I kept thinking I saw someone up there. I just assumed it was my imagination," she said. "Guess Goldie didn't get invited to the birthday party, huh?"

"Nope," Dipper said. "And for good reason."

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, sounds it."

Dipper glanced toward his grunkles. At the moment, Ford was opening a cheap set of watercolor paints and giving Mabel an exasperated look. ("I thought we could try them out together! And hate them together!" "All right, that might be fun.") He lowered his voice and picked at his cake. "So. You found out the big secret, huh?"

"Yup," Wendy said. She lightly punched Dipper's shoulder. "Hey—don't look so glum, man. I'm not mad you didn't tell me. There's some kind of family drama and a missing person case involved. I get it—you don't talk about that kind of stuff outside the family."

"Yeah, hah. Right," Dipper said. "So, what do you think of... Goldie?"

Wendy glanced up at the figure in the window. "We didn't talk a whole bunch before Goldie and Stan started arguing about plagiarism," she said, "but I got that she's some kind of wildcard paranormal investigator who gives off insane grifter energy. And seems really mentally messed up from being trapped in another dimension, but like, the kind of messed up that probably makes you fun at parties?" She was already mentally playing Goldie off of her friend group, trying to figure out how well she'd mesh with them. She seemed like the kind of person who'd be into some harmless trespassing and recreational vandalism. "How old is Goldie? She was working on a Ph.D., so that's what, mid-20s? Mid-20s but actually mid-50s after not aging for thirty years? Honestly, if I just met her on the street I would've thought she was like, 15. She does not look her age." Maybe it was the lack of makeup?

Under his breath, Dipper muttered, "You have no idea." He glanced away from Wendy, stuffed a large forkful of cake in his mouth, and mumbled to himself, "How much should I say? Sharing too much could be dangerous, but if I don't say anything..." Mumble, mumble.

Wendy would never tell Dipper how funny it was that he monologued to himself and hoped nobody would notice. Usually she'd politely ignore him, but if there was something dangerous... She lightly elbowed him. "Dipper. Come on," she said. "I can tell something's eating you. You can trust me."

"Ugh, I know, but..." Dipper glanced again at the rest of the birthday party—just far enough to be out of earshot, currently entranced by some thingamajig Fiddleford had gifted the Stans—and let out a heavy sigh. Voice low, he said, "Okay, Wendy, listen. For your own safety, you need to know that Goldie is way worse than whatever you heard about him last night. And I can't tell you why, because of reasons I also can't tell you—believe me, I wish I could tell you, but—don't trust him, okay?" Dipper gave her an earnest, pleading look. "Just don't. He's dangerous. That's all I can say."

It figured that even after Wendy learned the big secret, she'd just find another, smaller secret hidden underneath. Like a matryoshka doll. (She quietly made note of the "he" and wondered if Goldie had been part of the queer scene in the 80s, or if he'd only figured himself out while he was in ghost land.) "I'm assuming he's dangerous for Weird Spooky Paranormal reasons?"

"Yeah," Dipper said, teeth grit. "Yeah, basically."

He wanted to tell her more, she wanted to know more, and she was ready to play 20 questions on Goldie's backstory. Picking through what she'd learned last night for clues, Wendy asked, "Is it connected to Ford's research? All the weird magic stuff he got into?"

"Um." Dipper shrugged uncertainly. "Y...yeah? But... bigger than that?"

"Is it portal stuff." What was the most dangerous thing she knew of that was connected to the portal. "Is it Bill stuff."

Dipper let out an anguished groan, pulled off his hat, and buried his face in it. "I can't tell you more than I already have!"

"Oh my god it's Bill stuff."

Dipper eloquently said, "MRRGHF."

"Okay got it, so Goldie was some kind of Bill groupie or discovered how to summon him or something. Something like that. I don't need to know the details! But he's totally Bill-adjacent."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yep." Dipper nodded emphatically. "Bill-adjacent is... the best way to describe Goldie."

"But Bill's gone, right? So Goldie's like a cultist without a cult leader. Doesn't that mean he's harmless now?" Wendy asked. "Or do you think he's gonna try to cause the apocalypse in honor of his boss or whatever."

Dipper tugged his hat back on his head and straightened it out. "I'm sure he'd try to end the world again if he could, but... we're all still trying to figure out what he can do."

"So, domestic terrorism risk. Cool," Wendy said. "Y'know, I sorta expected to run into a guy like that in the shack eventually, but I always thought they'd be here because of Stan, not Ford." She rolled her eyes. "I'll warn you if he starts talking about ending the world or anything."

"Thanks, Wendy." Dipper glanced uneasily toward the birthday party. (They were still distracted, currently trying to douse the flamethrower on Fiddleford's birthday gift. It was trying to eliminate the competitor gifts.) "Just... don't tell anybody else, okay? If the town finds out that Goldie is—you know—Bill-adjacent..."

"Relax." She pantomimed zipping her mouth. "I'm not gonna organize an angry mob."

She glanced up at the attic window. Goldie was still up there, staring down at the party. He noticed Wendy staring and made a face at her.

She made the same face back, and saw him silently laughing. Okay, he had bad taste in friends, obviously; but Goldie seemed kinda cool in an unhinged way. From what Wendy had gathered, Bill had conned and then betrayed half the people she knew—and if the Pines had only just managed to get Goldie back on this plane of reality, months after Weirdmageddon, that meant Bill hadn't bothered to rescue him when he could, so Goldie was just another victim. Maybe he just needed to be reintegrated into society.

Dipper said, "Hey, Stan just poured punch on the robot and it made the fire worse. Do you think we should help?"

Wendy looked at the fire—and looked up at the fire. She was moving before she spoke. "Yeah, let's do something about that."

They rejoined the rest of the party, and Wendy put Goldie out of her mind.

####

Ford stared at the ring on his left sixth finger.

Welcome back, the Hand Witch had said.

Thirty years ago, he'd met her at a carnival. She'd told him that he'd chosen the wrong allies and would doom himself for it. She'd given him a ring with a blue cabochon and told him that if it ever turned black, there was no hope for him.

He'd dismissed her as a phony palm reader; and, the night he'd decided Bill was right about Fiddleford not being bold enough to follow through with the portal project, the ring had turned black, and he'd thrown it in the lake.

Now here it was on his finger again.

He didn't think her a phony now. Everything she'd told him had been true. And anyway, it was hard to doubt she had real magic when she spent half the party trying to stop two small disembodied hands from escaping her pockets to visit Mabel. 

"Why are you giving this back to me?"

"It's your birthday! And I thought it might be useful."

"For what? Am I in danger?"

"I don't know, I'd have to give you another reading to see." She had pulled a cartomancy deck from her pocket. "Do you want me to?" The card on the bottom of the deck had been a triangle with a snake slithering through its eye socket.

Ford hadn't wanted a reading. He knew now that what he'd called superstition back at that carnival might be a legitimate form of prophecy he simply didn't understand; but he was tired of living his life by signs and portends.

All the same, it was comforting to see that his ring was blue.

Ford's view of the ring was blocked by Stan shoving over the "Get Out Of One Misdemeanor Free" coupon Mayor Cutebiker had given as his birthday gift. "Hey, do you think I'd get in trouble if I made a buncha copies of this?"

Ford took the coupon and inspected it thoughtfully. "If you do get in trouble... a coupon counterfeiting charge couldn't possibly be worse than a misdemeanor, could it?"

"That's what I like to hear!"

It had been a surprisingly long day—and, by far, the best birthday either of them had had in well over forty years. (Was it really that long?) Now they were retired to the parlor Soos and Abuelita had converted into a double guest room, sitting on their beds facing each other as they got ready for sleep.

There was a knock at the door. Ford stood. "Coming—" He opened the door to see Bill's grinning face, a foot from his own. "Oh. You." Ford resisted the urge to step back, in case Bill interpreted as an invitation to come in.

"Hiya, birthday boy!" Bill's gaze immediately drifted down to Ford's coat pocket. "Hey—new pen? I like the sparkle, adds a little pizazz."

"What do you want, Cipher."

"Just to hand this over." Bill pressed a couple of envelopes into Ford's chest, and kept them pinned there with a fingertip until Ford reluctantly took them. "I knew you'd hate getting something from me at your party, so just for you I waited until all the festivities were over. You're welcome."

Ford studied the envelopes. They were two pieces of yellow construction paper that had been folded into envelope shape, and written on each one, in lurching crayon text that drifted up and down, was "Stanford" and "Stanley". "You made cards?"

"You're flattered."

"I most certainly am not."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'" Bill shrugged. "Hey, they're your birthday gifts. Toss them in the fire if that makes you happiest. You just might wanna open them first—you know, to make sure I didn't write a fire-activated explosion spell on the inside."

Stan grabbed his envelope out of Ford's hand and eyed it in deep suspicion. "And why did you make these?"

"Because it's your birthday. Come on! Why am I explaining this, it's your species's ritual."

"I mean why are you doing it? We all hate each other. We're planning your execution, here," Stan said. "So what's your angle?"

"What do you need my measurements for, you pervert."

"ALL right—" Stan stepped toward Bill, cracking his knuckles, and was only stopped by Ford's hand across his chest.

Bill leaned back against the hallway's opposite wall. "Whoa! Consider this a peace offering! You know—'no hard feelings for all the murder, attempted or planned'! I can be a polite house guest, even if I'm not a voluntary one." Bill smiled wryly, "I'm trapped on an alien planet where I know less than a dozen people and all of them hate me. It gets boring." He looked directly in Ford's eyes. "And we've got history. Is it so hard to believe I might want to be friends again?"

This time, Stan had to put a hand across Ford's chest.

Ford said, "You're up to something."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement."

"Then you don't want an answer. Enjoy your gifts! Or don't, I'm not your boss." Bill waved, and slunk around the corner back toward the living room.

Ford shut the door. He sat on his bed, examined the envelope, and glanced at Stan, who was sitting on his bed doing the same thing.

They grimaced at each other.

"Okay," Stan said. "Is this more dangerous if we do open it or don't open it?" He hefted his envelope in his hand. "This thing's pretty heavy for just a card."

"Is it?" Ford's wasn't very heavy. He turned on a lamp on a bedside table and held the envelope up in front of it, trying to see through the construction paper. "I think he's counting on us to open these. I doubt he set a trap that will activate if we leave it closed—it's not his style."

"So, what do we think. Some kinda hypnotic mind-control magic that's activated by reading it? Or is he just trying to bribe us into liking him better?"

"He probably doesn't have hypnotic mind-control magic. If he did, why would he have spent so long trying to manipulate humans into doing his bidding?"

"I dunno, maybe he's stupid."

Testily, Ford said, "He's not stupid."

"No—listen, I've been thinking about this for months," Stan said. "You spent thirty years hopping between a zillion different dimension, right? If there's already safe portals out there, why'd he spend so long tricking someone into building a crummy one that'd destroy the universe, instead of using one of those? He's gotta be stupid!"

"I've... wondered the same thing about the portal," Ford admitted grudgingly. "But, no—I've seen him use so many roundabout tricks to manipulate minds that if he were capable of overt mind control, I'm sure he'd have used it by now."

"Fine, so mind control's off the table. But we're probably safer if we leave these alone. If we open them, they might be an annoying attempt to kiss up to us, or they might be dangerous." Stan waved his envelope like a fan. "And, we're gonna open them anyway, because not knowing will kill us, right?"

In his youth, Ford had arrogantly looked down on Pandora. "Of course we're going to open them."

They opened their envelopes.

They both contained a sheet of type paper folded in half with nothing on the front and messages written inside. Ford's read, "Stanford– I'd tell you to go to hell, but you'd barely be there long enough for it to be worth the trip. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Charming. Particularly out of the heel who'd just claimed he wanted to be friends.

"Hey, what is this?" Stan held his letter out for Ford to see: "Stanley– You were only the accomplice. I won't hold a grudge. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Stan pointed at the last word, "Is this some kind of curse?"

"A signature. Bill's real name isn't 'Bill Cipher'—it's just one of many nicknames he uses when communicating with humans. And, when writing to people who know him well, he prefers to sign with that nickname. It's pronounced déos." It meant awe—whether manifested in the form of fear or reverence. And it probably was no coincidence that Bill had picked a word that, to the untrained ear, sounded so much like the Latin deus—god.

Once, long ago, waking up to find his own hand had written a letter signed by "Awe" in a foreign alphabet had filled Ford with awe. Now... well, now it looked a little try-hard, didn't it. "Between you and me, I think Bill likes that signature best because it starts with a triangle." In Bill's handwriting, the delta looked unusually equilateral.

"Really fond of his own face, isn't he," Stan said, digging in the envelope for the rest of his "gift"—and he pulled out a handful of scratch cards. "What the...?"

How the heck had Bill gotten his hands on those? Ford checked to see if his envelope had the same—and came out with five pieces of notebook paper instead, still tattered on the edge from being torn out of a spiral notebook, covered front and back with writing—multiple languages, some inhuman, with a smattering of complex sigils and symbols. The first line on the first page read "Spell to Resurrect Fowl (chicken, turkey, duck, etc.—funny at dinner parties!)" Ford slapped the pages face down on his nightstand without reading the next line.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

"Magic," Ford said, voice flat with irritation.

"A trap—?"

"No. Magic for me. Spells I don't know. The kind of knowledge I'd—document in my journals."

Stan processed that. He tossed his scratch cards down on his own nightstand. "Lemme get this straight," he said. "Less than two weeks since he tried to kill us, with no access to the outside world and no resources at his disposal but his stupid wits—without even getting his hands on a freaking envelope—he somehow managed to get us both thoughtful, considerate gifts that are deeply relevant to our personal interests and passions! Is that about right?"

"It seems to be, yes."

"That jerk! I oughta ring his neck!"

Ford nodded in agreement. "I didn't know you're into scratch cards." He tamped down the urge to lecture Stan on the statistical improbability of making a profit.

"See, if even you didn't know, now I'm even madder that he does!" Stan groaned in frustration. "I kicked the habit. Still like playing 'em if I get them as a gift."

"Hmm." That was all right, then. Couldn't lose money on scratch cards if somebody else had spent the money.

They glared together at their thoughtful, relevant, deeply unwanted gifts, trying to decide what to do about them. Stan was the first to let out a resigned sigh and snatch his up. "What the heck. They're already paid for, I'm not gonna throw away potential free money just because it came from him." He fished around in his discarded pants pockets for a quarter. "But I'm not gonna enjoy myself!" He flipped through the cards, noting they were each labeled in a corner from 1/11 to 11/11, and muttered, "Why'd he draw triangles on some of the numbers?"

Well, if Stan had caved into his curiosity... Back into the box, Pandora, and perhaps we'll find hope at the bottom.

"Mabel must've helped him get these," Stan said. "It's the only way. And these cards have glitter and unicorns all over them." He scratched off his first card, and said, "Hey, three bunny faces—how 'bout that? I made thirty bucks already."

"At least it's not a total waste," Ford muttered, skimming the pages before him.

It was a treasure trove.

A spell to uncook food. The cipher to decrypt the Voynich manuscript. A potion to change eye color. A river stone submerged not five miles away that, when dry, hovered. A ritual involving five hours of meditation and a lot of mushrooms that opened up psychic communication with Earth's nearest alien neighbors. An illusion to make the floor look like lava. ("Good for games if you're very bored and oppressed by gravity.") The names of five hitherto-unknown demon nobles, the sigils to summon and bind them, the fields of knowledge and political influence in which they were most helpful, and a few personal tips on how to best to twist their arms into doing a favor. A complicated way to grind glasses that let one see, depending on prescription strength, anywhere from several seconds to several minutes into the future. And on and on.

And Bill didn't just toss down a few mystical-sounding words and move on: in a few terse sentences after each spell, he hinted at the principles that made them work (freely mixing magic, physics, and metaphysics), the people who'd created or discovered the trick (whether human, inhuman, unearthly, or transdimensional), where Ford could go digging to independently verify the information if he didn't want to take Bill's word for it—and what other, greater things someone might use these tricks to do, if only they fully understood how they worked, if only they had the right teacher. Bill had filled the margins, scribbled extra info in red pen in between the rows of black to double the amount of text he could cram on each line. Ford could fill an entire journal just by copying, disentangling, and expanding on everything Bill had packed into this dense five-page grimoire.

Bill had given Ford more in this letter than he had in all the years he'd been posing as Ford's friend—excluding those accursed portal blueprints. He'd shared the kinds of things Ford had always dreamed his Muse might show him. He gave it away like a free sample to entice a new customer. Five pages of deep secrets meant nothing to Bill and his infinite knowledge. He could have done this all along. He only did it now to try to bribe Ford into sparing his life: see what you could miss out on?

As Ford read the pages, his hands trembled in rage.

"—two hundred dollars, two hundred fifty dollars," Stan muttered. "Those are the biggest yet." He waved the scratch cards at Ford. "I don't understand it! That's eight winners in a row! I've made almost a thousand bucks just by scratching these off—that's not luck! How's he do it? What kinda weird alien magic gives you scratch card telepathy?"

"I don't know. I had no idea he could identify winning scratch cards," Ford said. "But I'm not surprised."

Stan shook his head in amazement, and scratched the next card.

Ford crushed the notepaper pages into a ball.

And he smoothed them back out. Bill was a monster, but this knowledge was precious. 

He looked at the Hand Witch's ring like it might tell him the correct course; but no matter which way his thoughts swayed, the gem remained a steady blue.

"This card's a thousand bucks all by itself," Stan said. "I've never won a thousand in my life. There's no way..." He scratched furiously at the last card, revealing symbols patterned after an array of gems and jewelry. "Five hundred!" Scratch scratch scratch— "Times five?! That's—!" He seized up all his cards and quickly tallied his winnings. "That's a total of nearly five thousand dollars!" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Who needs Vegas? This monster's been better to me than she ever has!"

"Stanley, that's exactly what he wants you to think," Ford snapped. "He's giving us everything we want so we'll be more reluctant to kill him. This is less than chump change to him! Don't forget that his goal—"

"I know! I'm not stupid, I know what he's doing. Lotto numbers aren't worth the safety of the universe. But sh—shoot, Stanford, he handed me five grand for free and I'm keeping it."

"Fine," Ford said. "Fine. I suppose there's no point in throwing it away on principle."

"Darn straight!"

Ford glowered down at his underhanded "gift"—this little glimpse behind the veil into the mysteries of the universe. His whole chest bubbled and burned with rage; but beneath it—twinkling like a lonely star, twinkling like hope at the bottom of Pandora's box—was something he hadn't felt since Bill betrayed him.

Awe.

It was like waking up to a letter from his Muse.

This was who Bill could be—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—and he chose not to be. Why?! When this was so easy for him—why did he have to be what he was instead?

This charitable act only made the true Bill look even worse by contrast.

Ford re-smoothed the pages, carefully folded them in half, and stored them back in their construction paper envelope. He'd leave them there until he'd independently researched every one of these spells and ensured they did what Bill said they did and that there weren't any hidden side-effects.

And then he'd see about adding this information to his current journal.

No point throwing it away on principle.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks!)

#(me drawing Ford: *checks image reference a dozen times for tiny details*) #(me drawing Stan: *scrawls him out without consulting a reference once* Yeah that's grunkle shaped. Post it.) #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

[disillusioneddanny]

The Story of Us - Chapter 1.

Bruce Wayne stared over the prone body of his closest friend, his hands clasped behind his back. “What happened?” he asked, looking between Clark Kent, Jon Kent, and Conner Kent as they all lay upon the hospital beds not moving, barely breathing.

The doctor looked over at him and sighed. “We don’t know. There was a fight with Lex Luthor and something happened, he infected Clark with something and it must have been contagious because it spread to both Superboys,” she said softly, standing up from where she had been crouched before the heroes. 

“Do we have any idea what it is that infected them? Or how to fix it?” Batman asked gruffly, still staring at one of his closest friends. 

The doctor shook her head sadly. “No, we do not.”

Bruce nodded his head and left the hospital room. He soon found himself in the conference room surrounded by the Justice League Dark and the main members of the League. 

He looked at the large screen behind him and let out a breath. “Yesterday at eleven forty-five in the morning Superman engaged in combat with Lex Luthor where he sprayed a strange red substance at Superman. From there, he found himself without his powers, his wife reports that he had developed a cough as well as a fever. From there he spread it to both Jon and Conner who developed the same symptoms. Lois called us this morning to inform me that none of the supers were waking up. We don’t know what is causing this illness and we aren’t sure how to fix it.”

Bruce looked at the main team of the Justice League first. “I want you all to start looking for Lex Luthor, turn over every rock, every stone until you can find him. Bring him here as soon as you do so that we can find out what he knows. Justice League Dark, I want you all to start looking for a cure as soon as possible. Do whatever it takes to find something that can fix them.”

“Bats,” Constantine said from his seat, blowing out a lungful of smoke. “I may know someone who can fix the supers.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “And who would that be?”

“I’ve heard whispered about a healer, but we’ll have to trade for his services. I don’t know what exactly he is, rumors say he’s a demon from another realm,” Constantine winced at that. “Not an evil demon, mind you, but a demon nonetheless.”

“What would he want for a trade?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. 

“We’ll have to summon him first,” Constantine said and Zatanna gave him a nervous look. 

“You sure? If you’re talking about who I think you are, he’s the most powerful healer. But he was prominent in the War for the Infinite Realms. He isn’t someone to mess with,” Zatanna said softly. 

The Infinite Realms had Bruce’s ears pricking slightly. He hadn’t heard those words in twenty years, not since Danny had left to fight in the war. Not since they had fallen out of communication with one another. It hadn’t been something either of them had planned to happen. 

Danny had gotten pulled into the war, Bruce had gotten dragged into the role of being Batman. Bruce knew he was half at fault, he had never reached out. He had become too consumed, first with being Batman and then he had adopted Dick, and then Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Damian had all come along and they had become his entire life. 

And Bruce assumed that whatever Danny was out there in the Infinite Realms doing, he was busy too. Maybe he’d have to see if that old summoning line still worked, even after twenty years of nothing between them. He shook himself out of it. 

“Beings of the Infinite Realms usually will tell you what they want when you summon them,” Bruce said. “Go ahead and summon this healer. We can see if they are willing to make a deal with us.”

“You know about the Infinite Realms?” Constantine barked out. Diana looked between the two with a frown. 

“What is the Infinite Realms?” She asked curiously, her brows furrowed. 

“The Infinite Realms is the center of all dimensions, it’s what keeps the multiverse connected,” Bruce told her. “It’s also the land of the dead, it’s where realms like the Fields of Asphodel, Heaven, Hell, Paradise, all reside. The main beings who reside there are known as ecto-entities, more commonly known as ghosts. The United States of America used to have acts in place called the Anti Ecto Acts that declared them non-sentient monsters who needed to be destroyed. One of the first things I did as Bruce Wayne when I had taken my mantel was overturn those acts as they violated meta-protection laws. I know of some of the beings there but the only healer I know of is a yeti named Frostbite.”

Zatanna shook her head. “This guy is much stronger than Frostbite,” she said and looked up at Bruce. “They call him the Great One. We can summon him, give me some time to find the correct sigils but we can summon the Great One and see what he’s willing to trade to fix the Supers.”

Bruce nodded once. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Let me know when you’re ready. I will be in the medical bay until then.”

With that, Bruce stalked off to stand vigil over his friend until the others could find a way to contact this Great One and see what he could do. 

Tim looked up from his seat beside Conner and frowned. “How did Lex even make this stuff? Do we even know what it is?” He asked, brushing hair out of Conner’s face. 

“There has to be a way he even found a weakness such as this. What could he have done? How could he have even found something that could hurt them so badly?” Damian said from beside his best friend. “Not only that but how will this affect Conner and Jonathon? They are not full-blooded Kryptonians, not like Clark. We can see that by how their symptoms were not as severe, yet they are also comatose,” Damian murmured. 

“I don’t know,” Bruce said with a sigh, taking a seat beside his son in between Jon and Clark’s beds. “I don’t know but we are hoping to get some answers. The Justice League Dark are summoning a healer that is known to be one of the best. I am hoping that they will have some answers,” he said. 

“I can’t lose another friend, Bruce,” Tim said quietly, his head bowed as he rested his forearms on his thighs and stared at Conner. “He’s my best friend.”

Bruce just nodded his head and looked at his own best friend, knowing exactly how his son was feeling. 

It was three hours later that Zatanna came in with a small smile. “The summoning is ready,” she said. “From John’s research, he might not even demand a trade for his services. He seems to be more benevolent than we thought he was.”

Bruce nodded and looked at his sons. “Let me know if there are any changes,” he said quietly. 

The boys nodded and Bruce quickly followed the magician down the hall to the large room where the summoning was taking place. 

A large sigil had been drawn on the ground with chalk, different symbols in a large circle. Bruce watched as Zatanna sat before it crossed-legged and Constantine lit the surrounding candles. 

“Great One, we are here to ask for your assistance,” she said before slipping into a language that Bruce had not heard in a very long time. It had sent him down a path of nostalgia as he heard the ghost speak. It was unlike any language he had ever heard, Danny had spent hours trying to teach him the language when they were teenagers. Danny had said he was so-so at speaking it but he had learned enough of the language to at least understand when others were speaking it. 

Bruce listened as the magician asked for The Great One to grace them with their presence and watched as a swirling green ectoplasm vortex appeared in the summoning circle and a loud pop sounded in the room. 

Once the ectoplasm cleared away Bruce blinked a few times at the figure in front of him. 

“Phantom?” 

check out the master list here for all chapters <3

#dpxdc #dis dreams #dis writes

[mint-yooxgi]

{27} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader - Final

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 14,770

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Mentions of past mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! The final part to book one!! Ahhhhhh!!! I can’t believe how far I've come!! Never did I expect such a simple one shot to turn into this, but here we are!! I really hope you all like this final chapter, I think it sort of rounds things out nicely and ends on a, quite literal, high note. Also, the two songs I highly recommend listening to during this part appear in the latter half of the fic. They are named when they come up, so I don’t want to spoil them here. I do highly recommend listening to at least the second one, as it is quite significant to the story and the characters. Anyways, enough of my ramblings lol, I hope you’ll all look forward to what book two has in store! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Twenty-Six - Mini Masterlist

A yawn escapes your lips as you slowly trudge your way down the hallway the very next day. You can hear the sounds of your slippers sliding against the floor with each step you take, bringing your hands up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Luckily, you managed to sleep much better last night. An ease settling over your mind enough so that you didn’t need to ask any one of them to influence your dreams. You also opted to sleep alone for the evening, stretching out on your bed as you relaxed into your covers.. 

Looks like that conversation yesterday really did help.

Walking into the kitchen, you freeze right in your tracks.

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times, before a lazy grin is tugging onto your features as you see three males positioned around the counter. All three sporting new hairstyles.

“Well, good morning to me,” you hum, taking in their appearances as they turn to look at you.

Both Seonghwa and San have returned to heads full of black hair. Where San’s is slightly longer in the back, the very ends a silvery blond underneath, Seonghwa has opted to give himself more of an undercut. The best part about the eldest’s cut is that when you get closer, you see a wave like design etched into the sides of his head, seeing as it’s pushed back for the moment. A fact which has you subconsciously stepping into his side to trace the design with your finger as you smile sleepily.

Even Jongho’s new head of fiery red hair suits him quite well, and you cannot help but to nod to yourself in approval of their choices.

“We take it you like the change?” Seonghwa chuckles, a shiver caressing his spine as he feels the tip of your finger ghosting along the side of his head.

“Oh, I more than like it,” you breathe, almost as if caught in a trance as he turns his wide eyed gaze towards you. “I love it.”

Three low rumbles of contentment reach your ears, smiles pulling onto all of their faces.

“Good,” a voice draws your attention to the open entranceway of the kitchen. “We’re glad.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the change in Yeosang’s appearance though. What once were long, bleach blond locks, now sit short, black strands that fall just above his eyes.

“Oh, wow,” you cannot help the gasp that escapes you, forgetting all about Seonghwa for a moment to meet Yeosang halfway in order to brush some of his newly cut hair out of his eyes. 

You feel as if you’re caught in a daze, especially when both Yunho and Mingi walk in sporting newly dyed chestnut locks. Mingi’s hair is styled up and out of his face, while Yunho’s rests parted over his forehead.

Your lips part in awe, a small breath escaping you as you take them all in. Though, the final straw for you is when both Wooyoung and Hongjoong both appear before your very eyes.

Wooyoung still sports his skunk dye, the blond simply having been re-bleached for the moment. Hongjoong, on the other hand, sports newly blond locks, cropped short once again.

You place a hand over your heart, feeling it skip a beat beneath your fingers as you attempt to balance yourself on the counter.

“Warn me next time, fucking hell,” you purposely stare at the floor with wide eyes as you lean heavily onto the one arm you have supporting yourself on the counter. “Can’t wait to tell my mom I have eight handsome as fuck men trying to kill me all at once by simultaneously changing their hairstyles on me.”

Eight chuckles sound around the room, the hint of a pleased growl on each of their lips as they look towards you. Seonghwa even goes so far as to place his hand over your own still resting on the counter, offering you a touch of support as you attempt to wrap your head around their new hairstyles for the moment.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest,” Yeosang steps in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“We thought we should clean ourselves up a bit before meeting your parents,” San admits, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he smiles at you.

“Though, we’re still not entirely done getting ready,” Yunho adds, a gentle smile on his lips as he walks over to your opposite side to place a kiss onto the side of your head.

“You guys already look incredible, I fail to see what else you’d have to do,” you take your time trailing your gaze around the room, glancing over each of them in time.

Another round of pleased growls reach your ears.

“Thank you, Darling,” Jongho grins, a subtle blush creeping up his neck as he absolutely revels in your praise.

“We just want to make sure we look our very best for when we meet your parents,” Hongjoong explains, a loving smile pulling at his features as he meets your gaze.

“We also enjoy looking our best for you,” Wooyoung grins, eyes crinkling at the sides with the honesty of his words.

A small heat rises to your cheeks as you avert your gaze bashfully.

In the next moment, you’re clearing your throat lightly. “So, do you all do your own hair, then?”

“We usually style it ourselves, but Hongjoong is usually the one that cuts and dyes it for us,” Mingi tells you, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes as he looks towards their Captain.

At the way your awe filled gaze turns towards Hongjoong, he cannot help but to smile shyly.

“We usually just tell him what we want, and then he works his magic,” Seonghwa grins, noticing how the younger male suddenly becomes bashful beneath your stare.

“That’s incredible,” the way your eyes shine, a hint of pride echoing within your words, has a blush dusting Hongjoong’s features, the tips of his ears turning red as he clears his throat. “You’re incredible."

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to brush off your praise, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Like hell it is,” you continue to stare at him with wide eye, a large smile pulling at your lips. "My sister is going to love you.”

“You think so?” Never have any of the others seen Hongjoong so timid. At least, not like this.

“I know so.” You hum, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa in the next moment. “She’s also big on fashion, so you two will probably instantly get a free pass.”

“Should the rest of us be worried, then?” Yunho jokes, a grin tugging onto his features.

“She can sometimes be more intimidating that my dad, so…” you trail off, raising your own brow teasingly. “But that’s if she and Vasco actually show up.”

Just like you said you would, you did manage to call your mother yesterday. Only, she didn’t let on if your sister and her husband were coming over for dinner, just that she and your father would be home all day.

“We’ll be prepared for anything and everything,” Wooyoung grins, an eager gleam shining within his eyes.

You smile back, a small nod to your head as you meet his gaze from across the counter. Honestly, you cannot wait for your family to meet all of them. There’s a certain eager pride building within you at the mere thought of getting to show them off to your family after so long of being single, that you cannot wait to see their reactions.

You can already picture it now. Your mother will probably give you her signature look where she blinks in disbelief while trying, and failing, to hide her surprise. Your father, on the other hand, will probably freeze in his spot and look like a deer caught in headlights before awkwardly clearing his throat.

You just have to brace yourself for your sister’s squeal of joy and subsequent ‘I told you so’s and ‘I knew it’.

An hour and a half later, after you’ve had a small bite to eat and finished getting ready, you’re heading towards the main foyer. You’ve already discussed just how you’re going to be getting to your parents house, much to their discontent.

It would be a bit alarming if you just suddenly popped up out of the blue on your parent’s front porch, not to mention with eight men, so you’ve all agreed to drive. Needless to say, you were a bit surprised when they told you that they could all drive cars, they just didn’t for convenience sake.

You had nodded at that, more caught up with the fact that they actually agreed to your idea without any push back. Well, San, Wooyoung, and Mingi still all pouted, but understood that they probably shouldn’t freak your parents out, or draw any unnecessary attention to themselves in the neighbourhood the first time they meet your family. Still, you cannot wait to get back in your car.

Driving has always been a way for you to clear your head; the way you can just cruise down the streets with your favourite music playing through your car speakers has always been able to relax you. Honestly, you’re looking forward to it, and besides, you could really use something to help clear your mind right now. Though, you don’t know how much relaxation you’ll find with Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang all in the car with you.

That was one of the conditions you offered to them. Three of them could ride with you up to a certain point before heading back home to finish getting ready.

That, and you don’t think Wooyoung would have bothered to stop himself from joining you, anyways.

Needless to say, there was a big argument about who would be driving with you to start. You can still remember the way San pouted the entire time after the decision was made. A pout which still paints his features, arms crossed over his chest as the four of you walk towards the main entrance of the house.

“Well, I’ll see the rest of you later,” you say, a giddy smile on your features as you wave to them one last time.

For the first time since that night all of those months ago, you step through the front doors.

The exterior of the building is almost exactly as you remember it to be: grand, sleek, and beautiful. The only difference is that instead of those glass doors with the supposed hotel’s logo on them, they are now intricately carved wooden doors with glass windows covering the upper half of them.

You nod, approvingly, and even though it’s subconscious on your part, the three males that follow right behind you cannot help the way their hearts swell with pride at impressing you yet again in this way.

“Shotgun!” Wooyoung cheers, scurrying passed you and to the front passenger’s seat.

You grin, shaking your head, “someone’s eager.”

“We all are, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles, walking over the the passenger’s seat directly behind the driver’s.

“We just love spending time with you, Starlight,” Mingi says, walking over to his designated seat now.

You quirk a brow. “So, how many times have you guys been driving with me without me knowing?”

Wooyoung shoots you a cheeky look from over the top of your car as he pulls open the passenger door.

You tilt your head expectantly, but the other two also remain silent, smiles tugging at their lips.

A sigh before you chuckle, shaking your head all the while. “Guess that answers that.”

Sliding into the front seat, you’re quick to start the car. Honestly, you’re surprised it still runs as smoothly as it does for the moment, considering you haven’t touched it in months.

“Jongho and I made sure to keep up its maintenance,” Mingi’s voice coming from the backseat has you sparing a glance at him from over your shoulder. “Just in case.”

“I didn’t know you guys were mechanics.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brows raising slightly in amusement. “I appreciate it.”

A moment later, you’ve finished connecting your phone to your stereo, your favourite songs playing gently through the speakers.

“Cars, weapons, machines, the house, you name it,” Wooyoung shrugs. “It’s all just another form of maintenance to us.”

Your brows raise even more as you put the car into reverse and finally drive away from your new home.

“You boys never fail to surprise me,” you hum.

“In a good way, I hope,” Yeosang meets your gaze briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You smile. “Always.”

The entire drive to your parents house is spent teasingly bickering with the guys, laughing all the while. Honestly, it’s the perfect way to clear your mind and focus on the conversation you’re sure to have with your mom when you get home. A fact which you could not be more thankful for.

At some point during the drive, Wooyoung had grabbed your one hand in his, seeing as you were driving with only your left on the steering wheel. The cheeky grin he sent you had you shooting him a brief side-eyed look in amusement, hearing Mingi grumbling about how he wanted to hold your hand instead. Hell, even Yeosang had crossed his arms at this, and you could just tell they were mentally complaining to Wooyoung about it the whole time.

Not that the younger minded. After all, he’s the one that got to hold your hand.

No wonder he wanted to sit in the front.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” you comment, turning onto one of the backroads that lead into your parent’s subdivision.

“Aw,” Wooyoung pouts. “Do we really have to go?”

You only quirk your brow in response. You all agreed that they would transport themselves back home before you reached your parents place, just so that your parent’s nosy neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious seeing four people drive up in a car, only for one to get out of it.

“We just don’t want to leave you, Starlight,” Mingi complains, a slight whine to his voice.

“You all agreed to the terms and conditions beforehand,” you spare a glance at Wooyoung. “Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“I don’t think any of us would complain about spending more time with you driving back home, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles.

“I swear, if you guys could attach yourself to me like a symbiote, you would.” You snort, shaking your head.

Wooyoung smirks, his eyes flashing. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Okay,” Yeosang’s eyes widen, his lips tightening into a thin line. “And on that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.”

“No!” Wooyoung whines, his lips pulling downwards dramatically. “I don’t want to!”

“Neither do I, but we promised we’d stick to the plan,” Yeosang replies, shaking his head at the way Wooyoung crosses his arms grumpily over his chest.

“I’ll probably be contacting you guys soon enough,” you chuckle, noticing how Mingi remains quiet for the time being. “Besides, they’ll need you for the directions.”

Another condition of sending them back early after driving with you is so they can get the best route possible. Not that they’d really need you to show them the directions, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

“We’ll see you soon, Dearest,” Yeosang sends you one final tender smile in the reflection of the mirror before he’s reaching out and teleporting the three of them back home.

A puff of laughter escapes you just as you turn into your parent’s subdivision, shaking your head lightly at their antics.

Blinking, you adjust your focus to the houses around you, rounding the corner to turn onto the street your parents live on. After one more turn, you pull into the driveway, a smile on your face.

Finally, you’re home.

Immediately, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you step out of your car after cutting the engine. A warmth begins to spread throughout your body, radiating from the centre of your chest outwards.

You take a deep breath.

Yeah, this’ll be good for you. You can already tell.

Walking up to the front door, a gentle smile rests on your face. In the back of your mind, you wonder if your mother has left the door open.

Much to your content, she did.

The chime of the front door opening greets your ears, and you can faintly hear music coming from the direction of the basement. Your father must be down there either relaxing or doing something else for the moment, then.

“Hello!” You hear your mother’s chipper voice call out from just around the corner of the kitchen. “You’re here early-“

Her voice gets caught in her throat as she rounds the corner to see you standing at the front door having just finished slipping your shoes off for the moment.

A breathless gasp of your name escapes her as she rushes over to you, wrapping you in her embrace. A hug of which you eagerly return, just as tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, I’ve missed you so much!” She coos into your ear. “I had a feeling you were coming to visit soon after your call yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mom,” you breathe out, practically melting into her arms. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, come in! I’m making my homemade pasta sauce for dinner, you should stay!” She begins to lead you into the kitchen.

“If that’s okay,” you smile softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You gaze catches on the baby grand piano right beside the front entranceway, the wood shining beneath the afternoon sun. It’s slight, but your breath hitches.

“Nonsense!” Her voice catches your attention, shifting your gaze to see her standing beside the entrance to the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You’re family, you could never intrude.”

That warmth returns to your chest. “Thanks, mom.”

“Your father is just downstairs for the moment.” She continues as you walk into the kitchen. “He’s working out on the treadmill like he so often likes to do. It was raining a bit earlier, so he couldn’t go on his regular walk.”

“Oh, he must have been devastated,” you joke, hearing your mother chuckle along with you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grins, moving over to the stovetop to stir the sauce for the moment. “Anyways, please, come sit! Tell me all about what you’ve been up to lately. We’ve missed you so much!”

Pulling out one of the chairs at the counter, you’re quick to join your mother, who now stands eagerly on the other side of the kitchen island. She rests a hand on top of the granite, a giddiness to her features that immediately rubs off on you.

For the next forty minutes or so, you give your mother some updates on your life. Just some basics that don’t give much away as to what you’ve been up to with the boys, nor do you explicitly mention them at all. Though, with the way you notice her smiling at you, her eyes darting to the shining necklace you currently wear, you know that she’s putting a few things together.

“Speaking of that mall,” she begins. “I ran into David the other day.”

“Oh, did you now?” You quirk a brow, amusement shining on your features.

“First of all, he was more than happy to look into commissioning a pin of one of the Leaves of Lorien for me.” She says, and recognition flashes in your eyes. 

Your mother has always loved The Lord of the Rings almost as much as you, and she’s admitted to wanting a broach like that for quite a while now. You’re just sad you didn’t think of getting one for her sooner.

“He told me a very interesting thing about when you went to pick up that necklace of yours.” A knowing gleam shines within her gaze.

“What did he tell you?” You hum.

“Well, a little birdie told me that when you went to pick up your necklace, which is beautiful, by the way-“ a pointed look.

“Thank you.”

She nods, smiling faintly. “He told me that there were two men who were with you at the time. Two very handsome men.”

“Of course he did,” you sigh.

“Sweetie, you know if you’re seeing somebody, you can tell me,” she meets your gaze. “Don’t feel like you have to hide your relationships from us. We only want the best for you.”

“I know, mom,” you exhale a long breath, chuckling slightly.

“Even if it’s the both of them that are your mystery lovers, as long as they make you happy. That’s the main thing.” She adds.

“You would be okay with that?” You shoot her a knowing look. “Me, being in a relationship with more than one person?”

She pauses for a moment, considering your words. Then, she’s nodding once. Firmly. “I would.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise.

“Like I said, as long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, that’s all that matters to me.” She nods in confirmation, voice firm.

“Thanks, mom,” you smile. “That really does mean a lot to me.”

“Of course, Sweetie,” she smiles back. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about those two mystery lovers of yours.”

At the wink she sends you, you laugh. “Actually, I would really like for you to meet them all.”

“All? So there is more than one?” Your mom quirks a brow knowingly.

“Oh, there’s more than one, alright,” you chuckle.

“Just how many of them are there?” She frowns lightly, tilting her head in confusion at you.

A tight smile tugs onto your features as you let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Sweetie?”

“Uh, well,” you chuckle nervously once more, eyes flitting everywhere around the kitchen but in her direction for the moment. “There’s…“

“Yes?” Your mother leans forward slightly.

You mumble out a response lowly, enough to have your mother’s frown deepening.

“Pardon me?”

A brief pause.

“There’s eight of them.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you as your mother’s eyes nearly bulge right out of her head.

“Sweetie! Eight of them? Holy shit!” Her jaw drops. “That’s- that’s-“ your mother searches for the right word as you smile sheepishly, “incredible!”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by her reaction. “You’re not weirded out?”

“I mean, I was expecting three at the most, but eight? As long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, you can have as many as you want. Though, your father might have a harder time wrapping his head around this.” She chuckles as she nods, grinning widely. That is, until her expression is becoming serious in the next second. “Honey, you didn’t stumble upon a cult accidentally, did you?”

You cannot help it, you burst out laughing. “No, mom. I didn’t stumble upon a cult.”

She simply raises an eyebrow at you in response. However, before either of you can say anything else, your dad rounding the corner of the kitchen catches your attention.

As soon as he sees you, he freezes in his tracks. He blinks once before a large smile is stretching across his features as he meets your gaze. “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit.”

“Surprise!” You chuckle, waving slightly at him.

“It’s great to see you again, Sweetie.” He says, his eyes shining as he looks at you. “I would give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty at the moment.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be around for a while still.” You smile.

“She’s staying for dinner,” your mother chimes in, and immediately, your father’s smile widens.

“That’s wonderful!”

“I promise I won’t leave unexpectedly again,” you tease, hearing how they both chuckle in response.

“Well then, I’m going to go shower, but I promise to be as quick as I can!” With a new spring to his step, he’s hurrying back the way he came and up the stairs to go freshen up.

As soon as your father is out of earshot, your mother is turning to you with a knowing look on her features. “One hour later.”

You laugh along with her, cheeks beginning to hurt already from how much smiling you’ve done so far today.

Yeah, you really needed this. You just knew it would help.

“I can’t wait for your sister to get here, too,” she hums. “Did she mention she has a surprise for you the next time you see her?”

“Yes, she mentioned something,” you nod, mildly surprised your mother hasn’t already spilled the beans in her excitement.

“Oh, so then, when are we going to get to meet these mystery lovers of yours?” A wiggle to her brows. “Soon, I hope.”

“I was hoping you could meet them today, honestly.” You admit, watching your mother’s reaction carefully.

At the way her eyes light up, you know she absolutely adores that idea.

“I’m making pasta, so there’s plenty to go around!” She grins, already moving to the cupboard to pull out two more large cans of tomato sauce to add them to the pot.

“Do you need any help?” You immediately offer, going to push back your chair and stand.

“Not in the slightest!” She tells you, placing the cans onto the counter. “You just sit and relax. Tell me all about these partners of yours before they arrive!” A brief pause. “When will they get here?”

“I’ll message them now, but probably in about an hour or so,” you smile, a glint shining in your eyes.

“Perfect!” She scurries over to the pot, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the can opener next.

Grabbing your phone, you make a show of sending a message to someone for your mother’s sake. Even if you don’t actually send anything.

You drop your void.

So… you begin, your voice resounding through all of their minds and catching their attention. Who wants to come over for dinner?

You mean…? San replies, an eagerness to his voice.

Yes. An affectionate brush of your mind against all of theirs. My mother is very excited to meet all of you.

You swear you can hear Wooyoung cheering happily in your mind as they all brush back.

We’ll be there in an hour, My Love. Hongjoong replies, and you don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling right now.

With Hwa’s driving, make that thirty minutes. Yeosang chuckles.

Man nearly tore the car door open as soon as you reached out to us. At the way Jongho huffs, you can just tell he’s shaking his head in amusement right now.

Well excuse me if I’m excited. Seonghwa retorts.

Hurry up, you’re all taking too long! Wooyoung whines, and you just know he’s already in the car waiting for the others to join him.

We’ll see you shortly, Petal. Yunho chuckles fondly, brushing against your mind once more.

We love you, Starlight. Mingi hums affectionately.

You smile. I love you, too, My Kings.

Not even a moment later, you close your void.

Your mother manages to pull you out of your own thoughts by speaking, a hum to her words.

“I know that look,” there’s an understanding unlike ever before that paints her features as she meets your gaze. “They must be very special if you’re so caught up in your own little world like this after texting them.”

You avert your gaze, somewhat bashfully, to your phone which rests on top of the counter for the moment, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “They are.”

“Good,” she nods, that motherly look of affection dripping from her features. “I’m glad.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” you grin giddily, wiggling slightly in excitement in your seat.

Your mother chuckles happily, “me neither.”

Almost immediately, you begin to launch into short descriptions of each of them. You don’t necessarily realize just how much your eyes light up as you speak of them, but your mother does. A fact of which warms her heart, glad to know that her little girl is all grown up and in love.

Before you know it, your ramblings span over the course of forty minutes, now able to add in little facts about things that you’ve done together with the guys that you couldn’t before. Minus a few details, of course.

“They all sound like real gentlemen,” your mother nods, approvingly.

You sigh, somewhat dreamily, “they really are.”

“I’m so happy for you, Sweetie,” she smiles widely, a gleam in her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” you return her smile, somewhat shyly as you realize you’ve just spent almost an hour gushing about them to her.

Looks like you care even more about them than you thought. That, and the fact that you can finally talk about them to another person, and that person being your mother, is just so freeing. You’re so glad you can finally share your adventures with your family, even if they’re somewhat altered for the moment. Talking about everything most certainly is making you feel better, and brightening your spirits.

“From the sounds of things, they really love you, too.” She hums, stirring the sauce once more.

Your gaze darts to your hand resting on top of the counter. The same hand Wooyoung had been clinging onto in the car for practically the entire ride. “Yeah. They really do.”

“Just know, if they hurt you in any way, I’ll send both Sammy and Wolfie after them!” She mockingly threatens, turning to you with the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand.

“Oh, boy! I don’t think they’d be able to survive that,” you giggle, grinning right along with your mother. “Speaking of, where is that Monkey Boy? I’m surprised he hasn’t strutted down the hallway looking for attention yet.”

“He’s probably up in your old room, on your bed, sleeping,” she says, eyes briefly darting upwards in the direction she’s referring to.

“Of course he is,” you sigh teasingly, shaking your head.

Just as you go to push your chair out to go see him, a knock sounds at the front door.

Your heart skips a beat, nearly feeling it leap into your throat as you realize just what that knock means.

“Oh, is that them?” Your mother giddily scurries towards the front door, smoothing out the front of her shirt all the while.

“Most likely,” you reply, following right behind her and noticing how she also goes to smooth out her hair. “Relax mom, you look as lovely as you always do.”

“Oh, you!” She smiles bashfully, but you can tell that your words have helped assure her for the moment as she watches you walk passed her.

Reaching for the handle, you’re quick to pull open the door. 

A smile tugs at your features as you see eight familiar males standing just on the other side. “Hello, boys.”

Opening the door wider, you step back to allow them entrance into your parents home. 

“Hello, Dearest,” Yeosang is the first to enter, placing a brief kiss onto your cheek as he steps into the house.

Mingi is the next to step through the threshold, a bottle of red wine held in his hands. As soon as he sees you, a smile lights up his features. “Hi, Starlight.”

Subsequently, as each male enters, they greet you tenderly, either placing a kiss onto your forehead, or your cheek, smiling all the while. What you fail to notice, is how their eyes all light up as soon as they see you, such fond looks of affection shining within their gazes.

Looks of which your mother is quick to catch on to.

She smiles.

Closing the door quickly, you take a step back to observe them all as they stand just inside the foyer. Yunho holds another bottle of red wine, while both San and Seonghwa hold a bottle of white each. Wooyoung appears to be holding a box of chocolates in his hands, while a bouquet of flowers is cradled within Hongjoong’s arms. A book is held in Jongho’s hands.

“Sweetie, you didn’t tell me just how handsome they all are,” your mother teasingly tuts, stepping forward to greet them. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiles bashfully, a blush beginning to dust his cheeks along with Yeosang’s, Mingi’s, and Jongho’s. “I can now see where My Love gets her stunning beauty from.”

“Oh, you’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?” Your mother giggles. “I’m so glad you all could join us for dinner.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Yunho replies graciously.

“Something smells absolutely delicious,” San hums, excitement shining in his eyes.

“You have a lovely home,” Yeosang adds, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you very much,” a certain pride laces your mother’s words as she stands a little straighter.

“Here,” Hongjoong gently addresses your mother formally by your last name. “These are for you.”

“Please,” a certain gleam begins to shine within your mother’s eyes as she takes the bouquet of flowers from Hongjoong’s outstretched hands. The smile that graces her features is nothing short of touched as she sees the type he’s given her. “Call me Kaitlyn.”

The way she addresses all of them has a warmth already spreading throughout their chests. So far, the interaction between them all is going well, and they could not be happier.

“Lillies of the valley?” Her voice is soft, tender as she meets his gaze. “These are my favourite. How did you know?”

Briefly, Hongjoong’s eyes dart over to your figure leaning casually against the wall a little ways away.

“How thoughtful.” She hums. “You must be Hongjoong, then. My daughter says you have a habit of bringing her flowers.”

Again, his gaze briefly darts over to you. The tips of his ears begin to turn red.

“I am.” He nods, somewhat shyly in confirmation.

“She also tells me that you have an eye for design,” a knowing look is sent his way.

“It’s really not much,” he attempts to humbly brush off the praise, the blush spreading down his neck soon after.

“He’s being bashful,” you chuckle, grin tugging at your features.

“In fact, she’s told me a little bit about all of you,” Kaitlyn continues, eyes briefly glancing over all of them with a somewhat fond look shining in her eyes. “Please, do come in.”

Eight affectionate brushes are felt against your void, and you can just tell that it’s them asking you if you’ve really talked to your mother about them. At the subtle way you nod your head in response, they can feel their chests swelling with that familiar happiness even more.

Just then, the sound of footsteps hopping down the stairs reach your ears.

Turning your head, you see your father make it to the second landing of the stairs before lifting his head and stopping in his tracks. His eyes widen significantly before a furrow is pulling to his brow at seeing eight unfamiliar men standing just inside the front entranceway.

You nearly laugh at the sight. Looks like you were right about your father’s reaction.

“Papa!” Your excited voice calling out to him draws his attention.

Not even a moment later, he’s finished walking down the stairs to meet you halfway to wrap you in his embrace.

You bury your head into his chest as he holds you tightly, a large smile on his face.

“How’s my little girl? I’ve missed you,” his voice rumbles out, low and full of rough emotions as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around you.

You giggle. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You fail to see the way your mother gazes on so tenderly at the two of you, but the others do.

Smiles of their own tug subtly onto their features as the intimacy of the moment washes over the room. They can tell that you two haven’t seen one another in a very long time, and the happiness they can sense simply radiating off of the both of you rubs off on them immediately.

After another few seconds, your father is pulling away. His hands rest on your upper arms as he studies your features, a gentle smile tugging at his own. That is, before his gaze is shifting slightly towards the eight males still standing by the door.

“Who…” your father trails off, eyes narrowing the faintest bit in their direction before taking note of the bouquet of flowers now held in your mother’s arms.

“Perfect timing,” you chuckle, stepping away from your father for the moment as a soft smile adorns your lips. “Mom, dad, I’d like you to meet Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Jongho, San, and Wooyoung. My significant others.” 

As you say each male’s name, they each give a polite bow of their heads in acknowledgement towards your parents. Of course, you make it a bit simpler by going in order from left to right, too.

Your father’s reaction is immediate: his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, eyes going wide as he looks like a deer in headlights. You swear he’s also stopped breathing for a moment there as his eyes flit over each of the eight males standing before him.

“It’s so lovely to meet the people who have been the cause of our daughter’s happiness over the past few months.” Your mother smiles, clutching the bouquet of flowers a little closer to her chest.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Seonghwa returns her smile wholeheartedly.

“Truly, it is an honour.” San adds, and you watch as they all bow in unison towards your parents.

“Thank you, again, for inviting us into your lovely home,” Wooyoung voices as soon as they straighten, staring deeply into your mother’s, and then your father’s eyes.

“They’ll be joining us for dinner,” your mother leans into your father slightly, and you watch as you see your father nod in understanding.

“Well then, let’s not stand at the door all day,” the way an instant sense of relief fills the room as your father says this has a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The instant your parents turn around and begin walking towards the kitchen, you shoot the eight of them a thumbs up and a wink. Actions of which fill them all with a sense of pride as they slip off their shoes and follow you further into the house.

As soon as you all enter the kitchen, you see your mother stirring the sauce and your father standing just beside the counter.

“I see you’ve brought wine,” he nods, approvingly. “Good lads.”

Mingi is the first to hand his bottle to your father, jumping into an explanation as to why he chose each bottle as they’re placed onto the counter beside him. You can see how your father continues to nod approvingly at the choices Mingi has selected, listening intently to every word he says.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see San subtly inching towards your mother who stands beside the stovetop. A second later, and he’s offering his cooking services to her to help in any way that he can.

She readily agrees, shooting you a look of acknowledgement in the process.

You smile.

Wordlessly, you move over to grab a small vase from the cupboard, seeing as your mother is now conversing with both San and Yunho for the moment while Wooyoung presents the chocolates to your father. You can tell your parents already like them, seeing as how naturally they’ve slipped into conversation with most of them as they stand around the kitchen.

Once you have the vase in your hands, you move to begin arranging the flowers Hongjoong got for your mother for her. Only, he gently takes your place, automatically placing the flowers in the vase once it’s filled with water.

Your mother just about steps in to stop him, stating how she shouldn’t be letting a guest do that work for her. Yet, at Hongjoong’s insistence, she backs off with a small nod and a smile.

Stepping around the counter once more, you stand just behind the chair you had been occupying for the past while. Placing your hands onto the back of the seat, you spare a glance around the room, feeling your heart swell with fondness at the scene surrounding you.

Just as Yeosang comes to stand beside you, you notice Jongho beginning to converse with your father.

“I brought this for you, Sir,” Jongho presents the book in his hands to your father. “I thought since you’re an author, and one of our,” he spares a brief glance in your direction, “favourite things to do is read and share literature together, I would bring you one of my favourite books.”

Your father nods, accepting the book graciously with a small thank you falling from his lips. “Feel free to call me Nick.”

That cover looks very familiar.

You see recognition flash across your father’s face, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“Oh,” a teasing lilt can be heard within Nick’s voice. “Would you like me to sign this for you instead?”

Immediately, all heads are turning towards your father as Jongho stands there with wide eyes, completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Pardon me?” The shock is clear in Jongho’s voice as he stands there, arms still half raised in the air in front of him as he blinks at Nick in surprise.

“I’m assuming she told you,” Nick chuckles, holding up the book slightly in his hand. “This is my pen name.”

You never thought you would see the day were it looked like Jongho would faint from shock, but alas, here he is, standing frozen to his spot. The youngest looks about ready to spontaneously combust, red creeping up his neck as he turns to look at you with a somewhat tight smile on his lips.

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea.”

Your father chuckles, walking over and bonking you lightly on the top of your head with the book. “Are you still on about that thing that happened in high school with Linda?”

“Oh, fuck no,” you nearly scoff. “The fact merely didn’t come up yet.”

“Linda?” Seonghwa quirks a brow at you, and you can tell from the subtle way they all spare glances at your from the corner of their eyes, they’re all curious about what happened.

You share a look with your father.

“Final year of high school, my homeroom found out who my dad was. Linda just so happened to be a big fan of his work.” You explain.

“I still think you should have torn her hair out when you found out, Sweetie,” Kaitlyn supplies, with an air of casualty to her tone.

Hongjoong nearly drops the flower in his hands.

“Mom, you and I both know that would have been a little too violent at the time,” you reply. “Besides, she ended up getting suspended, anyways."

Mingi frowns. “What did she do?”

“Oh, she became friends with me to try and impress my dad,” you recount, a certain gleam shining within your eyes as you spare a glance around at all of them. “Wasn’t subtle about it, either.”

You swear that if your parents weren’t in the room, eight low growls would have resounded in your ears.

“She used you?” Wooyoung frowns, disgust clear on his features.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t really see it coming.”

Yeosang places a gentle hand onto your lower back, yet you can just tell how he feels at the moment. You can feel it in the way his fingers press into your skin.

So, you decide to quickly change the subject. Sort of.

“Speaking of, did you finally figure out the ending to your next novel?” You shift your gaze to your father.

Instantly, his eyes are lighting up. “I did!”

Nick jumps right into explaining his next novel, excitement clear on his features. The way you can see all of them listening intently to what he’s saying warms your heart. You can just tell Jongho is hanging on to every word.

“In fact,” he turns his attention to Jongho, “come with me.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement as you watch your father lead Jongho into his office right down the hallway, Mingi and Yunho following close behind.

“Oh, now look what you did,” your mother chuckles. “You know how much your father loves talking about his books. Those poor boys will be stuck in there for hours.”

“I heard that!” Nick calls out teasingly from inside the office.

“Believe me,” you grin. “I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”

“Well, when you’re done,” your mother casually raises her voice to include your father in this, “show those three around the house. It’s about time we give them all a proper tour.”

“I think I speak for all of us when we say that we would love that,” Hongjoong turns to smile at your mother, seeing how he’s just finished arranging the flowers in the vase and pushed them to the centre of the counter.

“Alright then,” she places the lid over the pot, turning down the heat on the stove to let the sauce simmer. “You three,” she points to San, Yeosang, and Hongjoong, “follow me."

In the blink of an eye, she’s leading the three of them towards the basement, chatting all the while.

You spare a look at both Wooyoung and Seonghwa, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Come with me."

Without another word, you’re leading the two of them upstairs.

Once you reach the top landing, you’re turning to look at the two of them. There’s a subtle quirk of your brow as your gaze shifts from one male to the other, mentally debating on if you actually need to show them around or not. They’ve probably seen it all before, anyways.

Wooyoung’s brow raises, amusement dancing on his features as he looks around. “So, Gorgeous. Are you going to show us around, or not?”

“I just figured you’ve seen it all before,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Surprisingly, we haven’t,” Seonghwa replies, and at the way he curiously looks around, you can tell he’s not lying to you.

“Alright then,” you turn back around. “Follow me.”

It takes you maybe all of five minutes to show them the majority of the upstairs. That is, until you only have one room left.

Anticipation claws at both Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s chest as you lead them into what they know is your room. Only, from what they recall of your memories, it’s completely different than they expect.

At the mild confusion lingering on their faces, you’re quick to speak.

“It’s been four years since that happened,” you begin, something tugging at the back of your mind. “My parents moved here two years ago.”

Recognition flashes on both of their features as they fully take in your room. Until scowls are pulling on both of their faces as they see what resides on your one wall.

“Honestly, I’m surprised my mom hasn’t taken these down,” you chuckle, looking over the few Taemin posters you have hanging on the one side of your room. “That, and I’m surprised someone hasn’t torn them to shreds.”

At the way you turn your pointed gaze towards your bed, the two cannot help but to chuckle.

There, laying on your bed with his front paws crossed over one another, lays Sammy, your parent’s cat. He has a smug look on his features as what appears to be a fuzzy blanket is bunched up on the end of the bed right beside him. His eyes haven’t left you since you’ve entered the room.

You cross your arms over your chest, a scoff escaping you in the next second. “Why am I getting the ‘welcome home, cheater’ treatment?”

The two males standing on either side of you laugh.

“It’s because you are,” Wooyoung chuckles, taking the time to lean against your desk at the side of the room.

You gasp, as if scandalized, “and here I thought what we had was special, Sammy.”

The moment those words escape you, he’s cooing, flipping onto his back and exposing his belly for you to come and give him scratches.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you chuckle, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. As soon as you start to pet his belly, he begins to purr. “Some belly rubs and all is forgiven, huh?”

“He is a simple man, with simple needs,” Seonghwa jokes, turning to study every inch of your room.

“He’s a Monkey, is what he is,” you begin to coo at Sammy, noticing how he stands back to his feet in the next second.

Laying back on your bed, Sammy is quick to crawl up your body, settling comfortably on your chest.

“Just like old times,” you grin, petting the cat happily as the two males watch on with nothing but affection dripping from their eyes. “Though, I’m surprised he didn’t come running to the front door as soon as I got here, or you guys for that matter. Probably having too much fun with his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

You vaguely motion to your scrunched up blanket laying at the end of the bed.

Understanding flashes across both of their features as Sammy jumps off of you and scurries from the room. 

You sit up, resting on the edge of the bed. A look of nostalgia crosses your features as you take the time to look around your room.

“I may not have been here for long, but I do have some good memories of this place,” you smile faintly, taking note of your somewhat empty bookshelves scattered throughout the room. “Though, I think the majority of my jewelry is still- yep!”

Opening the topmost drawer on the left of your dresser which sits right in front of you beside your bed, you pull out a small box. Opening the lid, your eyes take in the sight of all of your necklaces tangled in one great pile, rings buried beneath some bracelets.

“I don’t think I’ve touched this stuff in years,” you smile faintly, putting the box on top of your dresser for now. “I really only ever wore a few pieces.”

Your eyes dart to your small jewelry tree on the far right of your dresser.

A gasp escapes you. “No way."

Standing quickly back to your feet, you’re quick to snatch what appears to be a ring hanging from a somewhat thick chain from the tree.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” you hum, gazing fondly at the item held in your hand as it sways slightly.

At the two curious gazes you can feel darting between the object in your hand and your face, you’re quick to grab another small ring off of the tree.

“A girl I used to know once got me two versions of the One Ring as a gift. One was this one,” you hold up the one on the chain, “and the other was this one.” A thinner version of the same ring is held in your fingers. “I always-“ you let out a small sigh through your nose. “I always planned to give this one,” you raise the chain slightly in your hand, “to my significant other, if I ever got one. Though, I don’t think I can split it into eight.”

“Then would you-“ Wooyoung clears his throat. “Would you keep the other one?”

“Yes,” you meet his gaze. “I always thought of it as having matching rings without the added concept of marriage attached to it.”

Seonghwa practically collapses on top of the small shelf you have at the end of your bed.

“Did you-“ he clears his throat. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Oh, sure,” you reply casually, placing the two items back on top of your dresser. “When I was younger, I would joke about it all the time. Though, as I got older, it didn’t really have the same appeal to me.”

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung pushes himself off of your desk in order to slowly begin making his way closer to you. He sits himself beside his brother, the both of them looking at you expectantly.

“To have a piece of paper be the sole reason you can even acknowledge the fact that you’re married to someone just doesn’t appeal to me.” You shake your head. “I don’t know if it’s different for you guys, but if we’re together, we’re together. If you call me your wife, then I’m your wife. I don’t need a piece of paper dictating what I mean to you. I’d still sign it if my significant other wanted me to, but I think it’s more meaningful to acknowledge what we are and determine what that is ourselves, than with a signature on a flimsy sheet of paper.”

“Not to mention if things didn’t work out, then you have to go through the whole trouble of filing for divorce.” You add. “At least without a marriage certificate you can just end things without the hassle. It’s just easier that way, I think.”

“So, if I wanted to start calling you wifey…?” Wooyoung grins cheekily, a wiggle to his brows.

“I won’t stop you,” you grin. “Like I said, there are other means of acknowledging being in a relationship that I prefer. The most important being how we define ourselves. That’s what really matters.”

“Okay, so if what I’m understanding is correct,” Seonghwa nods, a gleam in his eyes as a cheeky grin pulls onto his features. “We’re married now.”

“Woah, slow down there, Mars,” you chuckle, turning your attention back to your jewelry tree for the moment. “Let’s make it through some things first before we actually start talking about that.”

At the way you notice him pouting out of the corner of your eyes, you chuckle.

“I’m not saying ‘no’,” you meet his gaze. “Just not yet.”

The way they both visibly perk up has a smile pulling at your lips.

“Besides, I do have something to give each of you, now,” you grin, pulling two pieces of jewelry off of your tree.

Moving to step in front of them, you face Wooyoung first. A necklace seems to be held in your hands as you smile at him softly.

“May I?” Your voice is gentle as you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine, lips parting slightly as he nods.

Stepping into him, you’re quick to bring the thin chain up and clasp it around his neck. A soft smile rests on your features as you look down at the small replica of a belladonna flower staring back at you. At the way his hand comes up to gently grasp the flower in his fingers, gazing upon such a gem with such awe, you know you’ve chosen right.

“Beautiful, but deadly,” you hum, noticing how Wooyoung’s eyes flash in recognition almost instantly.

A moment later, and you’ve stepped away from Wooyoung in order to place yourself directly in front of Seonghwa. Gently, you raise a hand in front of him, motioning for him to give you one of his own.

A look of complete wonder rests in Seonghwa’s eyes as he places his hand softly in your own. He can feel his heart racing as you begin to slide a silver ring onto one of his fingers, your thumb stroking over the metal as soon as it’s in place.

Sparing a brief glance down, Seonghwa takes in the sight of a small diamond embedded within an etching of a brilliant star.

“Planets tend to outshine even the brightest of stars,” you hum, thumb tracing over the band of the ring once more.

Nothing but awe fills each of their gazes as they continue to stare at you. Their hearts race erratically within their chests, hearts swelling as a warmth floods their veins. This moment is so tender to them, so significant, that nothing could take away the pure, unfiltered joy coursing through their very souls at this point in time.

You are everything to them, and this only just proves it.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all bask in this moment together. You take the time to lean into both of them, placing a tender kiss onto each of their foreheads in tandem, a smile gracing your features soon afterwards.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?” The teasing drawl of your mother’s voice catches your attention from the doorway.

You quirk a brow, “not at all.”

The four of them stand just inside your room, the three males looking around subtly. Again, you can see the distaste flash across their features, even if only briefly, at seeing the Taemin posters hanging on the side of the one wall. A fact of which that has your lips twitching upwards in the corners slightly.

“Looks like we finally caught up with you,” your father grins, stepping into the room with the final three males in tow.

The way Jongho still looks completely starstruck nearly has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Well, I’m sure we can leave these fine gentleman in our daughter’s capable hands for the moment,” your mother begins to usher your father out of your room. “Besides, I need to go check on the sauce.”

Nick’s words of protest die on his lips as both Wooyoung and Seonghwa stand back to their feet.

“We’ll join you,” Seonghwa says, already beginning to follow after your parents with Wooyoung right behind him.

Briefly, you notice the two of them share a glance with the six others who have just entered your room, and you just know they’re speaking with one another in their minds. A fact which is only confirmed when six gazes turn towards you as soon as the others have left.

“Good timing,” you grin, walking back over to your jewelry tree. “I have something to give each of you.”

“You do?” There’s a slight bit of pleasant surprise clinging onto Yunho’s words as they all watch you carefully.

“I do,” you confirm softly with a nod of your head, turning your gaze to meet his own for the moment. “I’ve already given Woo and Hwa theirs, so now it’s time for yours.”

Motioning Yunho closer with your finger, you turn to fully face him as he comes to stand in front of you. A gentle smile rest on your features as you hold your one hand out for him, watching as he places his own in your hold in the next second.

Sliding your touch up, you’re quick to clasp an intricate bracelet around his wrist. Soft blue gems glitter up at him as what appears to be a stem of forget-me-nots wrap around his skin.

“I know it can’t replace what once was lost, but it’s a start,” you squeeze his hand, gazing deeply into his eyes.

At the way his breath hitches, you know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“It’s more than enough,” he whispers lowly, eyes shining as he squeezes back.

Tenderly, you bring his hand up to your lips, placing a gentle kiss against his skin.

Yunho’s heart swells in his chest, a loving smile gracing his features. “Thank you, Petal.”

You nod, squeezing his hand one final time as he steps away. The way you can feel the other’s watching you carefully has your attention on them once more.

Just as Yunho begins to step away from you, you lock gazes with San across the room. With a motion of your head, he’s quick to begin making his way over to you.

“It’s a little on the nose, but I can’t picture it with anyone else.” You hum, turning briefly to grab another chain off of your jewelry tree.

Holding up the chain, an intricate trident pendant swings slightly in the air.

You meet his gaze, noticing how San comes to stand directly in front of you and blocks the others from your sight.

Wordlessly, you mouth ‘My Aquaman’ to him once more, noticing how a pleasant shiver trails up his spine as you move to clasp the chain around his neck. You’re sure a pleased growl would have escaped him, too, were it not for the current situation he finds himself in.

As soon as the clasp in in place, a brilliant smile is shining on his features. Almost immediately, one of his hands comes up to begin toying with the charm affectionately, staring down at it in awe.

Slowly, San begins to back away from you, and you meet gazes with the next male.

“Moonlight,” you smile softly, motioning him forward with one of your fingers.

Mingi steps towards you eagerly, a grin tugging on his features as he watches you grab another piece of jewelry from the tree.

Again, you present your hand, palm facing upwards, to him, and almost instantly, his own is placed in yours. Your fingers settle over his pulse, flipping his wrist as you wrap a leather bound bracelet around it. Once Mingi turns his hand back over, he nearly lets out a gasp in shock.

There, sitting against the back of his wrist, is an intricately carved silver crescent moon, swirl like designs hidden within. The leather straps holding it in place are a dark brown, almost black, tied securely around his wrist curtesy of you.

“Starlight,” his voice is but a breathless whisper on his lips.

“The stars cannot shine without their moon.” You smile faintly, meeting his gaze as you squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back, eyes shining with unshed tears as he steps away from you.

The next male you call over to you is the youngest, of whom is more than happy to make his way over to you as soon as you motion for him to join you. 

On the necklace you hold up to him hangs an intricate charm of a book. Although small, the silver cover is carved with vines, a small clasp near the side.

“Open it.” You encourage, allowing the charm to dangle between the both of you.

Wordlessly, Jongho reaches forward, grasping that little silver book in his fingers. The moment he flicks the clasp open, his breath hitches in his throat. There, held within the book, rests a small diamond heart, hidden within the pages of the novel.

He meets your gaze, eyes shining with all the unspoken words he wants to say. Yet, he doesn’t have to, for you already understand.

Stepping forward, you’re quick to secure the chain around his neck.

A bashful smile tugs at his features as a blush begins to creep up his neck. Instantly, his fingers reach up to begin toying with the charm, thumb brushing over the little pendant as he slowly backs away from you.

The next male you turn to begins walking towards you as soon as you meet his gaze. A soft smile rests on both of your features as Yeosang comes to stand before you.

“I’ve had this one since I was small,” you say, turning briefly to pull another necklace from the tree.

Again, you meet his gaze, and you know you don’t even have to say anything else for him to understand how much this single piece of jewelry means to you. How much he means to you.

The treble cleft pendant is small, a diamond shining in the centre of the worked silver. You’ve had it since you started learning to play the piano, and you know that he knows just how significant this piece is to you. To the both of you.

Once the chain is clasped around his neck, you brush your fingers over the pendant lightly. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has a smile tugging at your features once more.

“Thank you, Dearest,” you can hear the emotions within his voice as he meets your gaze, eyes shining with that all too familiar love and fondness he always looks at you with.

A nod of your head is all he receives back, that same look of fondness shining within your eyes as you watch him step away from you for the time being.

Now, for the final male who stands directly in the centre of all of his brothers.

Locking gazes with him, a soft smile pulls at your features. That is, until your eyes are briefly darting around to the other five males standing around him.

“May we have a moment alone?” The words haven’t even finished leaving your lips when the other five are moving to exit your room.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Yeosang sends one final smile your way before closing the door behind him on his way out.

Turning your gaze back to Hongjoong, you notice how he stands, somewhat nervously, by your desk. His hands are clasped in front of his body as he shuffles slightly from foot to foot, the faintest hue of red dusting the tips of his ears.

“At first, I wasn’t sure what to gift you,” you begin, noticing how his eyes briefly dart up to meet your own. “After all, what could I gift the man who has given me everything?”

“Your happiness and love are gifts enough, My Love.” He replies, and you can just hear the sincerity in his tone bleeding through.

You shake your head lightly, that soft smile of yours still pulling onto your features. “It took me a little while, but I cannot picture it with anyone else.”

“My Love?” His breath hitches ever so slightly as he sees you beginning to make your way over to him.

“Close your eyes.”

The moment those words leave your lips, his eyelids are fluttering shut. You can see how anticipation claws at him, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he hears you approaching him.

The sound of a chain rustling reaches his ears, and he cannot help the shiver that caresses his spine as he feels the ghost of your touch grace the sides of his neck. A moment later, and he feels a small weight settle on the skin of his upper chest.

“I have had many ideals about love, Hongjoong, and you have always managed to go above and beyond every single one of them. You all have.” Keeping your voice low, you bring a hand up to gently caress the side of his face. At the way he immediately leans into your touch, you smile. “Open your eyes.”

The first thing that greets Hongjoong’s gaze is your face, looking at him so tenderly as that soft grin tugs at your lips. He can feel his heart racing inside his chest as he notices your eyes glance briefly down towards the necklace you’ve just secured around his neck. Not just any necklace. A chain with the One Ring dangling from it.

Hongjoong’s breath gets caught in his throat, eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration and love as he meets your gaze. “My Love.”

“I’m sure you overheard me talking about this earlier,” you reply, somewhat knowingly.

“I did,” his voice comes out a little strained, choked by his emotions for the time being.

“Then you know how much it means to me, in more than one way.” Your thumb tenderly brushes against his cheek.

“I do.” He breathes, tears finally gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, My Love. This means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Hongjoong,” you smile, meeting his gaze before leaning in and placing a tender kiss onto his forehead. Your next words are a mere whisper against his skin. “I believe you.”

A comfortable silence settles around the both of you as you continue to stare into one another’s eyes. The love you can see shining within his gaze sets your heart racing, a look you’re sure is mirrored in your own.

“Come on,” you grin, grabbing his one hand in your own. “Let’s go back downstairs before my mom starts to think we’re canoodling.”

The way his eyebrows raise in amusement has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Canoodling?” The grin that pulls onto his features is nothing short of devious as his eyes flash.

“Now, don’t be getting any ideas, Captain,” the way you teasingly drawl out that one title of his has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. You lean in slightly, voice low as your breath tickles the shell of his ear, “we still have dinner to get through.”

The faintest of growls escapes his lips, and you can feel the way the grip he has on your hand tightens ever so slightly. Only, before he can so much as respond, you’re pulling away from him. A bright smile paints your features as you let out a faint giggle.

“Come on,” this time, you begin to tug him towards your closed door. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Leading him back out of your room, you’re quick to rejoin everyone downstairs. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way all eight of them all seem to be standing a little straighter, eyes gleaming with a newfound shine as your look around at all of them.

In fact, a few of them seem to be crowded around your mother’s side as San stirs the sauce for her. It looks like he’s even started getting the noodles ready to be cooked as she turns the page of whatever book they seem to be so engrossed in.

That’s when you realize just what they appear to be looking at.

“Oh, and this was when she was four and we had her taking ballet,” your mother points at a picture in the album. “They were dancing Swan Lake that year, it was so cute!”

“I didn’t realize she had taken ballet,” Wooyoung hums, a grin tugging on his features as he spares a glance towards you.

“Mom,” a slight panic to your voice.

“And this was her first birthday with cake all over her hair,” Kaitlyn coos, a knowing smile pulling at her lips as she meets your gaze.

“Mom, please,” your eyes go wide, feeling as Hongjoong quite literally slips through your fingers to go join his brothers peering over your mother’s shoulders.

“I tried to stop her, Sweetie, but you know how your mother gets with your baby photos,” Nick chuckles, crossing his arms lightly over his chest as he leans back against the counter.

You sigh, “unfortunately.”

“Oh!” Your mother squeals as she turns the page once more. “And this is when she dressed as a little lion cub for halloween when she was three!”

“Mother.” You’re torn between being completely mortified, and laughing in disbelief. You shake your head in defeat. “They were bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I think your mother’s just happy to finally be sharing them with the people you care about,” your father hums, nudging you slightly with his elbow as you rest beside him.

“You’re damn right I am!” Kaitlyn grins. “What is a mother’s job if not to embarrass her daughters in front of their significant others?”

“Now I know how Crystal feels,” you chuckle.

“Speaking of your sister, her and Vasco should be here soon.” Nick comments. “They’re a bit excited for today since we can’t do dinner together next week.”

“What’s next week?” You inquire casually.

“Well, I’m taking your mother out for a special dinner,” he replies.

“Right,” you nod, almost subconsciously. “It’s your anniversary next week.”

The words fall so easily from your mouth that you don’t even register them until you feel the stillness settle itself over the room. That’s when the reality of your situation is hitting you.

You can feel eight subtle glances directed towards you for the moment as you freeze in your spot. For a second, you swear you forget to breathe as your eyes zone in on the floor at your feet. With everything going on, the actual date seemed to have slipped your mind.

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, feeling eight gentle caresses against your void in tandem. You brush back.

“Thirty-five years, right, pops?” You turn your head, noticing how your father smiles as he meets your gaze.

“That’s right.” He confirms with a happy nod.

“Alright,” you push yourself off of the counter, meeting your mother’s gaze once more. “Is it tuned?”

Kaitlyn’s brow furrows slightly in confusion before recognition flashes within her eyes. “Actually, it was just tuned Friday.”

You smile faintly, “good.”

You barely make it three steps out of the kitchen before your father is calling your name, a slight confused furrow to his brow.

“How would you like to relive a memory, papa?” You turn to smile at him from over your shoulder, motioning for them all to join you at the front of the house.

At the way you notice the eight of them hesitating, you’re quick to reach out to them with your mind. You all can join us, you know. This one’s for you as much as it will be for them.

The moment your words echo throughout their minds, they’re all quick to join you. Of course, San briefly turns off the stove, shutting the fan off of the cooktop for the moment so as not to interrupt the scene that is about to occur. A fact of which earns him an approving nod from your mother, causing a subtle blush to creep up his neck.

There’s a giddy spring to your father’s step as he moves over to prop open the baby grand piano as you pull out the bench to sit. You see your mother step in beside him, the others surrounding you on either side. Still, you cannot help but allow your fingers to hover above the keys for a moment, hesitating.

The last time you saw a piano, you had been harshly thrown into it, the strings snapping against your skin. Even now, as you look down at the ivory beneath your hands, you cannot keep the memories from coming to mind.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, and you turn your head to see Yeosang smiling softly down at you. There’s an undertone of concern hiding behind his eyes as his thumb tenderly rubs against the skin of your back, and you just know that he’s reminding you of what they’ve been telling you all throughout this past week.

They’re all right here. She cannot hurt you anymore.

Subtly, you nod your head, turning back to the piano in front of you. Again, eight gentle caresses are felt against your mind, soothing you even further as you flex your fingers out before placing them on top of the keys.

Turning your attention to your parents, you see them already gazing at you so fondly. Your father’s one arm is wrapped around your mother’s shoulder, just as her arm is wrapped around his waist.

“It’s been a while since I played this, so you’ll have to excuse any mistakes,” you smile lightly at them. “This one’s for you.”

The opening notes to Elton John’s Your Song begin to fill the house, transposed slightly in order to make the key more comfortable for your range when you begin to sing.

“Sweetie,” your mother’s awe filled voice reaches your ears as both your parents look on at you with awe.

The pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet as you begin to sing. Your voice echoes throughout the open space, comforting them all like a blanket with each note that you hit. A fact which makes their hearts all race in their chest as they register that this is for them, too.

Not even a second later, your father is extending his hand out to your mother in offering, a loving smile pulling at his lips. A hand of which your mother places her own in somewhat shyly. 

Pulling her in closer, your parents begin to slow dance to the melody that you create for them with this meaningful song. Each cannot help the way tears gather in the corners of their eyes, reliving very special memories all the while as they get lost in each other’s embrace.

The moment you hit the chorus, you drop your void.

“I hope you don’t mind,” every single tender emotion you’ve ever felt towards all eight of them washes over their very souls at this moment in time.

“I hope you don’t mind,” all the love, happiness, affection, and fondness you have for them floods their sense, and each male cannot help the way their breaths hitch silently in their throats.

“That I put down in words,” you smile, heart swelling in your chest as you think of your eight Kings surrounding you at this very moment. You brush against their minds. “How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”

You only play the first verse and chorus, but you can just tell from the way your parents turn to look at you afterwards that it was more than enough. Especially when you notice your mother quickly bring her hands up to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you, Sweetie,” Nick’s voice is rough, choking slightly on his emotions as he meets your gaze. “That truly meant a lot to us.”

“It’s not every day you get to dance to your wedding song again, just like the first time,” your mother chuckles, eyes shining as she leans into your father’s side.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile at them.

“I don’t think we’re the only ones who enjoyed it,” at the way your mother’s eyes briefly dart behind you, you’re quick to turn around.

Eight tender gazes stare back at you, eyes shining with the emotions they cannot put into words for the moment. Emotions of which wash over you, seeing as you have yet to close your void to them yet. A fact of which makes you smile as you are once more surrounded by that familiar warmth you have come to experience with them, comforted by their love and affection just as you always are.

Again, you tenderly brush against their minds, of which they immediately brush back.

Standing from the bench, you’re quick to step out. A faint smile rests on your features as you move to stand beside Jongho for the moment who currently leans against the railing of the stairs for support.

Just as you go to say something the sound of the front door opening draws your attention. You hear the scraping of nails against the hardwood floor before you feel yourself being tackled to the ground, wet, slobbery kisses being placed all over your face.

“Wes!” You giggle, attempting to catch your breath after getting the air knocked out of you. “Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Wes!” The booming command of your sister’s voice reaches your ears, and immediately, the dog is sliding off of you. “No jumping!”

“It’s okay, he’s just-“ the words die in your throat as you sit up to see your sister being helped through the door by Vasco.

The catch in your breath is noticed by all as your gaze settles in on Crystal’s stomach, swollen and round. The way you can see her smiling at you softly, your mother practically beaming out of the corner of your eyes, has you on your feet in an instant.

“Surprise,” she breathes, watching as you come to stand before her as Vasco gently shuts the front door behind them.

“You- I-“ you blink, fresh tears springing to your eyes as you take in her figure standing before you. You laugh, nothing but pure joy pulling at your features as the first of your tears begin to slide down the side of your cheeks. “You’re pregnant.”

She nods. “I am.”

“I’m going to be an aunt,” you voice, gaze darting between her stomach and her eyes.

“You are,” she confirms, her own voice now slightly rough as her emotions wash down upon her, too. “Again.”

You fall to your knees, hands hesitant in touching her stomach. That is, until you see her smiling down at you, a subtle nod to her head.

Gently, you place your hands on her stomach, fingers trembling all the while.

“I swear to you,” you begin, keeping your tone low as you meet her gaze all the while. “For as long as I shall live, no harm will ever come to this little one.”

You fail to see the way eight males straighten ever so subtly behind you, for they know that those words you have just spoken are true. They will do whatever they can in their power to make sure that you keep your promise, protecting that child as if it were their own. After all, it’s exactly what you would want. It’s exactly what you are going to do.

Your sister places a tender hand on top of your head, humming all the while. “I know.”

Softly, you lean forward to rest your forehead against her stomach, feeling the way your sister places her hands atop your shoulders. She gives you a reassuring squeeze, revelling in this tender moment with you as her sister, the meaning deeper than either of your parents will ever realize.

“Now, are you gonna sit there on the floor all day, or are you going to introduce me to your mystery lovers here?” The teasing drawl of Crystal’s voice manages to catch your attention.

“You caught me,” you sigh, a chuckle falling from your lips as you move to wipe your eyes.

“I knew it!” She jeers, practically pulling you back onto your feet in the next second. “Vasco, didn’t I keep telling you that she was probably hiding more than one mystery lover?”

At the way she turns eagerly to her husband standing beside her, you can just tell that you’ve been the topic of many conversations regarding this.

“You did, Honey,” Vasco chuckles.

“Let’s see,” Crystal hums. “Just how many of there are you.”

You quirk a brow in amusement, watching as she nods her head as she counts off each male.

Her eyes widen significantly. “Eight! There’s eight of you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you huff slightly, a teasing quirk to the corner of your lips.

“Blink twice if she’s paying you,” Crystal leans forward slightly, arms spread as if to hold you back at a moment’s notice.

“Crys!” You complain loudly, shooting her an exasperated look in the next moment.

“I’m just teasing you,” she chuckles, flinging an arm around your shoulders in the next second. “After all, what are big sisters for?”

“And here I was going to play you a song,” you hum, amusedly.

At the way her eyes nearly bug out of her head, she’s quick to begin apologizing. “You can still play me a song! I promise I won’t joke anymore!”

“You just missed her performing for us a few minutes ago,” your father adds, somewhat knowingly.

“Well, now you have to play for us!” Crystal states, matter-of-factly. “It’s not fair of you to deny little Elijah a chance to hear his aunt perform when she’s offering.”

“You’re having a boy?” Your eyes shine as you meet your sister’s gaze.

She nods, and immediately you wrap her in your arms. A hug of which she eagerly returns.

“He’s coming home.” She whispers lowly in your ear, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

A few moments later, you pull away, staring deeply into her eyes. Gently, you bring your hands down to grasp hers in your own, guiding her over to the piano. Carefully, you help her sit in the chair closest to the bench, giving her knee a light squeeze once she’s settled. 

Not even a second later, Vasco comes to stand beside her.

For the second time that day, you settle yourself onto the bench, fingers hovering over the ivory. Your heart swells, and you find yourself taking a deep breath in.

With the first chord you play, you immediately begin to sing. The soft tune of Marianas Trench’s Forget Me Not fills the air, and the longer you perform, the more you find yourself glancing at your sister out of the corner of your eyes.

“I’m here to remind you, what’s lost is never gone,” you meet her gaze, and you hear her breath hitch as you do so.

You blink, facing forward once more.

“I’m not ready for what’s to come,” again you brush against those eight strings within your mind, letting them know that this song is for you as much as it is for her.

“But I wanted you to know, I still need you, my friend,” you smile faintly, hearing her breath hitch once more as understanding flashes within her gaze. “From the line to amend, to the cradle again.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your parents holding onto one another as they watch this scene unfold before their very eyes. Tears line their vision, one already making its way down the side of your mother’s cheek.

“If memories are shadows, we’d best not waste the light.” Too many painful memories threaten to consume you, reminding you of all of your darkest times. Yet, beneath all that darkness, there is still hope. A golden hue that shines through with all the good memories you have, with all of them.

“I know you’re not quite here, but you’re not quite gone,” you will always hold onto your memories, even the bad ones. A sentiment that you know your sister shares as the first of her tears begin to trail down her face. “Sometimes the night gets darkest before the dawn.”

The only sound that can be heard throughout the house is you, the piano accompanying you accentuating your voice and the notes that you play. The song encompasses everything you wish to say to your sister and her unborn child, but also to yourself and your Eight Kings. You know the future is uncertain, and you know the road will be difficult, but you’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.

“Life’s too short but the end is so long.” The final notes trickle out, softly ringing through the air as you still your hands over the keys once more.

The sound of your sister sniffling draws your attention to her and you turn your head to see her practically clinging onto Vasco for dear life. Her lower lip wobbles, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes frantically before meeting your gaze.

Everything she wants to say to you, you can see in her eyes. The gratitude, the understanding, but most of all, the love you can see shining within her gaze as she looks at you comes through clearly. A fact of which that has you smiling softly, the subtlest of nods to your head in acknowledgment as warmth floods your chest.

Eight tender caresses brush against your mind, and you let them in.

A content hum escapes your lips as their emotions wash over you for the moment. Shamelessly, all eight of them share with you exactly how you have just made them feel, for watching you, hearing you perform for them like this, means more to them than you’ll ever know. The fact that you have trusted them with such an intimacy which also reflects moments shared with your family has warmth flooding their veins, hearts pounding erratically within their chests.

“What a first impression I must be making,” Crystal jokes, drying her eyes. “Here I am sobbing in front of your significant others, and I don’t even know their names yet.”

You chuckle, a soft, teasing quirk to your lips, “what are younger sister’s for?”

“They’re staying for dinner, so there’ll be plenty of time for proper introductions then,” Nick adds, soothingly rubbing a hand over your mother’s back seeing as she’s finally calmed down for the moment.

You stand, moving to rest between Yunho and Seonghwa. Even though you’re only standing beside the two males, you can feel them all surrounding you, offering you comfort yet again in their own ways.

You smile.

“So,” your mother clears her throat, clapping her hands once to catch everyone’s attention, “who’s hungry?”

#yandere ateez #yandere au #ateez scenario #ateez imagines #yandere seonghwa #yandere wooyoung #yandere yunho #yandere jongho #yandere san #yandere yeosang #yandere mingi #yandere hongjoong #hongjoong scenario #jongho scenario #yunho scenario #san scenario #seonghwa scenario #wooyoung scenario #mingi scenario #yeosang scenarios #yandere kpop #demon au #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenario

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Still With You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Six

Summary: Jungkook comes to pick you up for your "date". Pairing : Luna (reader) x Jungkook and Jimin, f2l love triangle Word Count: 3.7k~ a/n: I have part one to eleven written already so I figured I would just post this to fill up some space until the next update :) Start from the beginning

After stargazing for a little while longer we make our way back to Seoul and I feel myself getting a little tired. While dozing off I hear Jungkook ask if I want to stay the night at his place and I softly nod yes before falling asleep. 

Once we pull into his driveway he calls out to me and brushes the hair out of my face. "Luna, we're here" he says softly, I groan in response and he in turn smiles. After he gets out of the car he comes around to the passenger side and opens my door and sees my eyes start to flutter open. "There she is" he says with a smile on his face, helping my drowsy form out of the car and to his front door. 

Once we get inside he locks the door and comes over to me to usher me into his room, but before he gets the chance to I pull him into a soft embrace. "What's this for?" he says with an amused tone in his voice. "Nothing, I'm just really thankful I have you in my life" I say slowly strengthening my hold on him to pull him closer. 

"Me too Luna" he says resting his head on mine and returning my embrace. "Now come on, time for bed" he says loosening my grip on him. I let go and nod my head while yawning and rubbing my eyes at the same time. He laughs at my sleepiness while I hold my hand out, waiting for him to lead the way.

He pulls down the covers and helps me into my side of the bed. We tend to take turns sleeping at each other's houses once in a while so we've pretty much claimed many things, such as sleeping on a specific side of the bed every time we're there. 

I flop down and roll around a bit to get comfortable. Once I've settled down into a comfortable position he grabs some clothes to change himself into before following soon after. 

When he gets in bed he scoots over and pulls me close. I'm so exhausted from everything that happened today that I don't even give it a second thought. After resting my head on his chest he gives me a soft kiss on top of it and starts talking to himself for a while not knowing that I can still hear him since I'm still somewhat conscious. 

"I wish you wouldn't hold back as much as you have been recently. I know there's something going on and I know it's something besides me. I just... I wish life was simple again like when we were younger..." he finishes running his hands through my hair before eventually drifting off to sleep right along with me.

I wake up to the smell of breakfast and I feel my stomach growling, now realizing how hungry I am. I go to the bathroom and straighten out my appearance a bit before going to the kitchen. 

"Good morning" I say still feeling a bit groggy. "Good morning baby. Did you sleep alright?" he asks, turning around to face me. He's shirtless and dressed in only grey sweats that mind you are hanging dangerously low on his waist. I gulp at the sight and quickly shift my focus to what he's cooking. 

"Like the dead" I say in an effort to laugh off my flustered feelings but he ends up catching me checking him out anyways. "Let me go put a shirt on and then we can eat" he says as he passes by me ghosting his hand on my waist and placing a kiss on top of my head. He tries not to acknowledge what I had done not wanting to tease me because of last night but also wanting to act like we normally do. 

I know that he asked me to come over because he was worried about me and I'm thankful but now that I know he has feelings for me I feel I'm almost giving him false hope with everything we've been doing. We've been this close since we were kids so suddenly stopping would be too hard on both of us.

He makes his way back to the kitchen now adorned with a black tee shirt and places the rest of the food on the table and looks up at me expectantly. "So are you gonna come eat or what?". I widen my eyes realizing how I haven't made any moves to get closer ever since I came out.

"Oh, yeah, sorry I'm still trying to wake up" I say making excuses for my continued awkwardness. We both start eating and sit in silence for a while, not really knowing where to start and although it's a little awkward it's not uncomfortable which is reassuring. 

"Thanks for having me over" I say glancing up at him briefly. "Of course, I knew my girl needed me" he says softly, smiling at me and clearly amused that I won't make eye contact with him. 

I take a big bite of food at that exact moment and I start to feel embarrassed after what he's said but also the fact that I can't even respond properly. I look up at him with widened eyes as a way to show him that I'm still chewing and he laughs at my effort. 

"It's okay, go slow, take your time. I wouldn't want you to choke" he says and I blush at the possible double meaning and end up choking anyways. I grab my water and take a big drink of it before coming up for air. I can only manage to let out an awkward laugh before going back in to have another mouthful of food.

I can tell that he's seen the fact that I'm blushing but thankfully doesn't acknowledge it. "So" he starts. "Do you have any plans for the day?" he asks taking a sip from his water. 

"Mmm" I say before swallowing the food I had in my mouth. "Not really. I have the day off thankfully but I didn't really plan anything besides us hanging out last night" I say before taking another sip of water. "Why? Do you?" I ask curious as to what he might have planned for the day. 

"I'm supposed to hang out with the guys later but I'm not exactly sure what we're gonna do" he pauses for a second before continuing with an excited smile on his face. "You should come with us!" he says brightening up at the idea. "I don't know Kook, you know how I am with new people" I say getting ready to turn him down. 

"Come on! You said no last time so you can't turn me down again! It'll be fun! We'll only go for an hour and then we can come back here and spend the day together. Deal?" he says with doe eyes that he knows I can't resist. I was able to avoid his gaze last time but this time I'm struck with their full power. He adds a pout as well making it almost impossible to say no to him.

"One hour?" I question making sure that we're in agreement. "One hour and if you really can't handle it then we'll come home okay?"  he says and my heart does a little flip when he uses the word home instead of 'my place' or 'my house'. 

"Okay" I agree reluctantly. "Yes! This is gonna be great!" he says getting a sudden boost of energy. "Can we pass by my place first? I should probably put in effort to be bit more presentable since it's my first time meeting them" I say after finishing up my food. "Of course! But you know you have clothes here too" he says reminding me of that fact. "Yeah but those are all sweats and tee shirts. I just told you that I wanted to look a bit more presentable silly" I say laughing and helping him clear the table. 

"Whatever, just don't dress too cute! I don't want them to start flirting with you" he says and I can hear a slight streak of possessiveness in his voice. I get butterflies in my stomach again but start laughing at the fact that he's now doubting himself. 

"And what makes you think that you can tell me what to do? Maybe I want them to flirt with me" I say patting him on his chest as I walk past him back to his bedroom with a smug smile on my face. He gets a hold of my forearm before I can get too far "Luna" he growls with a warning tone. "What? What's the harm in having a little fun?" I say continuing to tease him, satisfied with his reactions.

"That's it, we're not going" he says letting go of my arm and walking past me into his room before I can. "Oh come on I'm just kidding! It'll be fun meeting them!" I say starting to warm up to the idea. He turns around and makes direct eye contact with me. "On one condition" he says. Rolling my eyes I respond "What is it?" feigning irritation. 

"No flirting. I can't control it if they're flirting with you so just don't flirt back alright?" he says and I can't help but smirk at his blatant jealousy. "Okay I promise, no flirting" I say winking to tease him further. 

"Now are you gonna call them and figure out what we're doing today?" I ask, trailing off but expecting an answer. "I'll take you home and then while you're getting ready I'll text the group chat and see what they have in mind" he relays while gathering his clothes and a towel and taking them to his bathroom. 

"Mind waiting for me while I shower?" he asks, tuning on the water and coming back out to check with me. "No I don't mind, I'll just talk to Grey until you're finished" I say looking down at my phone ready to send her a message. He nods and goes back into the bathroom taking a quick shower as he had said and finishes in record time.

"That was fast" I say looking up at him now dressed in jeans and a plain black tee while still drying his hair with a towel. "Yeah I wanted to get going since we still need to go to your place". 

Since he usually doesn't take long it's not that surprising that he finished so quickly but I make sure to help him blow dry his hair before we go anyways. I grab my bag while his gets phone, keys and wallet and we head out. 

Once we reach my place he grabs my hand and leads me up to the door which is something I guess we normally do but it's not something I had ever given any thought to until now. 

Taking notice of all of these little things we always do together after what happened last night is making me feel really stupid. Like why didn't I notice all of this until now? How has he put up with me being this clueless for so long? 

If the roles were reversed then I would hope that I would've confessed to him a long time ago but knowing how guarded and sensitive he can be I guess it kind of makes sense. 

He opens the door with his spare key and lets me in first like he owns the place. "You know this is my apartment right" I say laughing at him. "Yes I do but what's yours is mine and what's mine is mine" he says amused with himself.

"How is that fair?" I complain, turning back around to face him while he closes the door and looks back at me with the most adorable bunny smile. "Aw come on Noona you know I'm kidding. You can have whatever I don't want" he says giving me a kiss on the cheek and then running away. 

"Jeon Jungkook you're asking for it!" I say running after him. After a minute or two I decide to take matters into my own hands and pretend to trip and hurt myself. "Oh shit! Luna are you okay?" he says rushing over to me on the floor seeing my face scrunched up in pain. I guess I'm a better actress than I thought I was. 

Once he gets close enough to check on me I tump him hard on the forehead. "Ow! What was that for?" he says rubbing the area where I hit him. "You know exactly what that was for Jeon. Now just sit still and look pretty for me while I go take a shower alright?" I say starting to get up and seeing the slight surprise on his face at my directions. 

He gets up and clears his throat and mutters a "Yes Noona" before sitting on the couch, doing exactly as I told him. 

I had no clue I could get him to behave like this with such a simple command but I decide to play into it and say a quick "Good boy" before turning around and heading off to my room to get ready.

While I'm in the shower I take time to think about everything that happened yesterday and process it all. The meeting with Jimin was sweet and innocent which I liked but for now I think staying friends is the best option. 

I don't really know him other than he's a nice guy who is really into to me. But it seems like he wants to go too fast and I'm not really comfortable with all of that. He said that he is okay with taking things slow but I don't even know if I want to be with him like that. How long is he willing to wait in terms of taking things slow? Is he going to stop coming to the store like I asked him to? 

I guess for now Jimin is still a question mark but I don't want to string him along if I don't feel the same way. 

Things start to get a bit more difficult when I think about everything with Jungkook. He has been such a constant in my life for so long that the thought of switching things up in our relationship just feels terrifying. Based off of everything that happened it seems like he's willing to hold off on the subject so I guess I've got some time to think things though.

After I'm done with my shower and getting dressed I hear Jungkook whine from out in the living room. "Luna are done yet?" he asks while knocking on my door and I open it to see him looking down at me with an impatient expression. 

"Luna they're waiting we have to get going soon" he says watching me head back into my bathroom where he follows soon after. 

"I swear I'm almost finished give me like 10 more minutes" I respond leaning over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror to put my mascara on while unbeknownst to me Jungkook starts to check me out. I catch a glimpse of him doing so in the mirror and I feel my cheeks start to warm up. 

"You're not wearing that" he says coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Kook you can't tell me what to do all the time" I say turning around to face him. Big mistake. 

He pulls me in closer and brings one of his hands up to brush a stray hair out of my face. "Fine but if you don't change I'm just gonna stay glued to you like this the entire time. Unless, that's something you want?" he says looking down at my lips and back into my eyes. "F-fine, I'll change" I stutter while untangle myself from his embrace. 

I go back to my closet and change into an oversized sweater that falls off one of my shoulders and some jeans to replace my leggings and cropped sweater. "Better?" I ask, rolling my eyes at him. He comes up to me and brings his hand up and touches my bare shoulder making me shudder at the feeling and fixes my neckline so its sitting on me 'Properly' and takes that same hand and runs it down my arm lightly to place his hand in mine. 

"Perfect" he says tilting my face up after my eyes had been watching the path his hand had been trailing. I nervously gulp and release myself from his hold yet again. "You said they were waiting for us right?" I ask, clearing my throat before I continue. "Come on let's go" I say heading towards the door. He laughs at my nervousness and catches up to me and opens the door before I get a chance to do so. 

Once we get into the car and buckle up I start to ask him where we're going. 

"You never told me what we're gonna do today" I say curiosity peaked. "You never asked" he says driving with one hand on the wheel and keeping his eyes on the road. "Well I'm asking now" I say sitting back in my seat. 

"It's a surprise" he responds simply, looking over at me for a second with a cheeky grin. "What? But it wasn't a surprise earlier!" I groan, irritated at the fact that he's leaving me in the dark. 

"You kept our stargazing a secret so it's only fair that now I get to keep this a secret. But don't worry we're almost there. I'm sure you'll be able to guess when we get closer" he says ending the discussion. 

"Fine" I say and bring my knees over to rest on the door instead of leaning against the middle, turning away from him continuing to pout. He spares me another glance and giggles at my posture but continues from then on in silence with only the sound of the radio playing softly in the background.

Pulling into what looks like an almost abandoned parking lot a few cars come into view. 

"What are we doing here?" I ask nervously. "Shhh it's a surprise remember" he says while unbuckling his seatbelt. I reluctantly follow in suit as he comes around to my side and opens the door for me. 

"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?" I ask taking his hand and getting down from the car. "Don't worry Luna I got you, just relax and stay by me" he says taking my hand and walking toward the other cars up ahead. As we get closer I see a group of 5 guys finally getting out of their cars. 

"Jungkook you made it!" one of them says who seems incredibly enthusiastic at our arrival. "Oh and is this your Noona you've told us so much about?" he asks motioning to me. "You've told them about me?" I whisper to him and see his jaw slightly tighten at the playful manner that is already starting to build. 

"Yeah" he says before clearing his throat "This is my Noona, Luna. Noona these are the guys I've told you about" he says motioning towards them. 

"Well let me start off by introducing myself. My name is Hoseok but you can call me Hobi if you'd like, everyone does" I bow slightly in greeting while the next one introduces himself. 

"I guess I'm next. Hi Luna I'm  Namjoon but don't worry about being too formal with me as well,  feel free to call me whatever you'd like" he says with a soft smile. "Yeah like Joonie" the next says in a teasing manner. 

"Hey Luna my name is Taehyung but you can call me Tae if you'd like" he says taking my hand and giving a soft kiss on the back of it. I widen my eyes in response and feel myself getting a bit flustered by it. Jungkook swiftly takes my hand out of Tae's before he can get in another word.

"Hands off my Noona! Got it?" he says protectively placing himself between Tae and I. "Aw look at Kookie getting jealous" another says walking over and peeking his head around Jungkook's form to catch my eye. 

"Don't pay any attention to Tae, he's harmless. I'm Jin by the way" he says with a soft smile. I smile back in response feeling the tension that had been built fade away. 

"Okay children give her a breather and Jungkook stop being so touchy, you know we won't steal her from you" Hobi says while walking towards us,  gently moving Jungkook to the side so they can all see me.

 "I might!" Tae calls in the background. I instinctively take a hold of Jungkook's now balled up fist that loosens a bit by my nonverbal reassurance. "Ya! Do you want to scare her away?" Namjoon scolds. I laugh at the interaction and glance over the group to see the last one still standing in place. "I'm Yoongi" he says slightly uninterested. Well okay then...

"Hobi, Namjoon, Tae, Jin and Yoongi. Did I get that right?" I ask listing off the names that had just been thrown at me. "You have a really good memory Luna, but Jungkook never did tell us how old you are. Do you mind if we ask?" Hobi asks with a smile on his face. 

"Oh yeah I'm the same age as Jungkook just a few months older" I say shyly. "Aww so you're still younger than then rest of us. That's so cute!" Tae says jumping into the conversation. "Oh! Really? Then would you like me to call you guys Oppa?" I question really hoping the answer is no. 

"Only if you want to. Don't feel pressured to keep up appearances, we don't really worry about that stuff when it's just us anyways". I let out a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding and relax a bit more. 

"But I wanted her to call me Taehyung Oppa" Tae says with a pout. "Tae don't pressure her or you'll scare her away" Jin warns with an authoritative tone. Guessing from his scolding I would say that he's the oldest in the group. Although from his looks he couldn't be much older than Jungkook. Tae's playfulness visibly tones down, doing as Jin had ordered and a sudden silence falls over the seven of us.

"So are we gonna do this or what?" Yoongi asks finally speaking up. "Do what?" I ask looking up at Jungkook expectantly. "You'll see" he says grabbing my hand and walking us over towards the group.

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[abibliophobiaa]

I Will Wait

Chapter Two (9k)

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness​ 

18+ only for mature themes, alcohol consumption, and eventual sexual content. fem!reader

one (9.9k) | next (15k) | masterlist  |  AO3  |  🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. if you didn't check out the prequel publications (hot off the press on our series masterlist), make sure you do, since they provide important backstory for the IWW universe! read them carefully; there are secrets. 😉

Eddie’s passion didn’t scare you, but anxiety now crawls up your throat as your eyes dart to the clock on the wall, which reads just after eleven. Frozen in sudden indecision, you just stare at him with surprised eyes.

“What?” Eddie scoffs, “Did you think we wouldn’t need to eat? What kind of assistant are you?” He crosses his arms, arching a critical brow, nose wrinkled in a scowl as your mouth falls open. For a moment, you’re at a loss. 

An unexpected voice interjects, smooth and calm. “My dude,” Argyle drawls, “to be fair to the little lady, she did ask you if you wanted her to do anything. And she did exactly what you told her to do.” Faced with Argyle’s defense of you, Eddie’s scowl deepens and the tension in the room rises.

You swallow down your panic, squaring your shoulders and standing tall under his disapproval. “I apologize for the oversight, Mr. Munson. I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Seriously, Ed?” Jeff cuts in, pushing off the sunken couch with his hands on his knees, eyebrows drawn together in frustration. “Was she just supposed to—”

“No, no. It’s my fault,” you assure the group with a smile, stepping in the line of fire to calm the sudden unease and keep the situation from escalating. “I’ll run and grab food for everyone and be back in no time.”

The other men mumble an agreement, seemingly happy that it didn’t become a larger issue. You attempt to make eye contact with Eddie as you prepare to leave in a hurry but he pays you no mind, bending at the waist to confer with Argyle. Deciding it would be better not to ask additional questions and potentially cause your new client more displeasure, you loop your pocketbook over your shoulder and push out into the hallway— leaving the pressure of the confrontation behind.

As soon as you reach the elevator again, the mirrored doors sliding closed behind you to grant a moment of privacy, you allow your shoulders to deflate. While you are no stranger to dealing with unearned irritation directed your way, the speed with which Eddie seems to ricochet between moods is staggering. It leaves behind a sense of instability that threatens to shake the very foundations of what rests upon it, as though even a single moment of vulnerability could send you flying off your feet.

With each passing hour, you understand more and more clearly what Steve was referring to when he insisted that Eddie ‘needed someone who could handle him.’ And, despite the subtle missteps so far, you find yourself ever more determined to make sure that person is you.

The doors slide open to the bottom floor and you exit with a renewed vigor, setting your attention to completing the task at hand. Your shoes echo even louder across the tile now that the building is seemingly devoid of life— the front desk and lobby beyond are entirely empty. With that sight comes the startling realization that you are in an unfamiliar part of the city in the middle of the night, and you have to find something quick to bring the boys to eat. A slight hesitation as you rack your brain for the best way forward ends up being your salvation: your savior coming in the form of an older man making his way out of one of the double doors across from the entrance. He pushes along a bright yellow bucket by the handle of his mop, water sloshing loudly as he inches forward, head bopping to the beat of whatever plays from the headphones settled on his ears. You immediately power walk over to him, the movement catching his eye as he rears back in near alarm and slides one of the cups off his ear to face you.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” you greet with a smile, “I was wondering if you might be able to help me?”

Wrinkled, deep set green eyes blink back at you, surprised and unsure, as he drawls out, “What can I do ya for?”

“I’m not from around this side of town and I need to grab some food quickly. Do you have any recommendations for something that would be open around this time?”

He visibly relaxes, eyebrows raising in pleased surprise as he offers a grin that lacks a few of his teeth, the others yellowed from nicotine. “Boy, are you a fan of chopped cheese?”

In another strike of what feels like fate, you find yourself eternally grateful for the city that never sleeps.

Following the janitor’s vague directions, you cross the threshold into a brightly lit sandwich shop that is bustling with energy despite the hour. Blue collar workers of all kinds fill the space, conversing happily and giving each other a hard time between bites of greasy food. And, to your relief, none of them seem to pay you any mind as you make your way to the counter and pick out a variety of food from the handwritten board that hangs above the cash register. The man taking your order doesn’t say a word other than to tell you the total, which alerts you to the fact that you weren’t given a way to pay for this. Gritting your teeth, you offer up the cash from your own pocketbook, nearly emptying it completely, and watch with a sense of dread as he gets you your change and huffs that it should only be a few minutes before it’s ready. You make a mental note to reach out to Steve about how situations like this should be handled in the future and to get reimbursed for what you just paid.

Stuck with nothing to do but wait, your attention wanders across the room. There are many different types of men here – some young, some old, some dirty and tired, some fresh-faced and ready to conquer the day. Converging between the swap of shifts, sharing stories and shooting the shit. No one table is excluded from the revelry, each group interacting with what seems like everyone in the room. A contained ecosystem of hard earned repose and comradery between people who may not know each other by name, but by the hardships and struggles they each experience day by day. Forged in the dark of night and the effort of refueling around a hard day's work – both in body and soul.

A bark of your name rockets you back into reality and across the slightly sticky floor to receive what you’d ordered, throwing out thank you’s and other platitudes as you grip the plastic bags in your fists and push back out into the night in a hurry.

You’re borderline out of breath by the time you’re yanking at the cold metal handles of the studio’s heavy doors, a stark contrast to how you had crossed the threshold just a few hours ago. You shuffle across the tile as fast as your heels will allow; once safely in the elevator again, you take the time to catch your breath and return to some semblance of order, preparing to face what the rest of the night holds for you.

There’s a rush of air as you shoulder your way back into the studio, feeling eyes on you immediately. “Food’s here,” you offer, lifting the bags with a smile. Gareth and Harry sigh in what looks like relief, the former immediately hopping over to you as if he can not wait another second to get his hands on whatever you had brought. You shoo him over to the coffee table between the couches, sparing a glance through the glass as you pass. Jeff and Eddie face each other with warring grins, appearances almost taunting, fingers flying across strings as they play a duet that only Argyle can hear. Ripping your attention from the booth, it takes mere moments for you to spread your bounty across the wood, a huge pile of hot fries in the middle and a selection of sandwiches with vague lettering sharpied on their paper wrappers. Gareth and Harry both grab for one, seeming not to care exactly what’s on it, as you also grab one of the greasy sachets and slip it to Argyle. He looks surprised for a moment but then offers you a leant back nod, a lazy smile, and a thumbs up before returning his attention to the mixing board before him.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie and Jeff to realize the food is here. They tumble out of the recording room, exchanging friendly jabs as you sit down on the couch beside Harry, carefully unwrapping your own sandwich. Caught up in the whirlwind of your new job, you hadn’t noticed just how hungry you���ve become until the soft hero roll emerges from greasy parchment. The sandwich is split in the middle, and as you pull apart the halves, putting one on the coffee table so you can dig into the other, Jeff and Eddie stagger their way over to the couches, pushing one another as they go; Jeff makes it to the table first, flopping down beside Gareth on the opposite couch. You’re distracted from their bantering by a groan of deep contentment.

“Oh, my God,” Gareth moans around a mouthful, tilting against an unphased Argyle. “This is so good.”

Harry nods his eager agreement. “I love chopped cheese,” he says, his voice a quiet rumble beside you, and you smile at him. He glances at you shyly before returning to his meal with a pleased curve to his lips.

You’re about to take a bite when the couch dips down on your other side; it draws your eyes to wild curls and stiff limbs as Eddie snatches the final sandwich from the table. He unwraps it hastily, widening his knees and slouching against the creaky leather of the couch, eyes locked on his dinner. He looks largely neutral, but there is a vague tightness to his brow, a pinch to his mouth that implies he’s annoyed by something. And when his knee nudges even further into your space, nearly brushing against yours, it becomes clear what that is.

He doesn’t seem to like that you’re taking up space beside him, that he has to accommodate you in any way, even in something as simple as sharing a couch. Whereas Harry is sitting normally at your side, and on the other couch, Jeff, Gareth, and Argyle are happily fitted together, you are forced to shift over in order to avoid his aggressive elbow as Eddie tears at the paper of his wrapped sandwich. He slouches even lower into the couch, as if to insist on his own comfort at the expense of yours.

You scoot closer to Harry and return your gaze to your sandwich, trying not to let Eddie’s behavior affect you as you take the first bite. Savory meat, melty cheese, crisp lettuce and sweet tomato act as an adequate distraction, and all that fills the recording room are the crinkling of parchment and the muffled sounds of food being enjoyed until you ask, “So, what’s the new album going to be called?”

It opens the floodgates. The guys are more than happy to inform you of their creative decisions over greasy chopped cheese. They talk over one another as they gesture wildly, threatening to fling loose lettuce and bits of steak all over the leather couches and the cherry-wood coffee table as they recount the story of their latest album’s conception. The only one who stays quiet is Eddie— though, as you sneak peeks at him from the corner of your eye while you eat your sandwich as daintily as you can, he doesn’t seem to be sullen anymore. Instead, a faint smile plays on his lips in-between giant messy bites of beef and cheese as he lets his bandmates enthuse over their latest creation. Even when they mention him specifically, like when Harry remarks, “It was Ed’s idea to have the whole thing represent someone’s life going down the shitter,” Eddie merely nods, his cheek dimpling as he sucks grease from the pad of his thumb.

By the time empty crumpled paper hits the coffee table, the guys are ready to return to recording with a sense of renewed vigor. They lurch up from the couch, bellies full and fingers itching for their instruments as they file back into the recording studio. Argyle mosies his way to the soundboard and you follow him, surveying the different lights, switches and sliders with curiosity; you watch his hands flit around the complex board with practiced ease, tapping and nudging things so quickly it’s hard to follow.

Argyle angles the mounted microphone closer to his lips to drawl, “Alright, ah… Jeff—” He snaps his fingers, shooting a finger gun towards the plexiglass. “What’re we starting with?”

You look up towards Jeff to see him flash an open palm and a peace sign, which seems incomprehensible until Argyle confirms. “Track seven. Sweet.”

Jeff shoots him a smile and a thumbs up, and as you look away, your gaze catches deep brown.

Eddie is staring at you.

As soon as you register it— the split second you catch him watching you— Eddie’s eyes widen and dart away, expression flashing with an emotion that looks out of place on his typically-assured face. And then it’s gone. Just as quickly, as though it had never existed, that vulnerable expression is replaced by a quirked eyebrow, smugly narrowed lips, and an even, penetrating stare as his eyes return to yours. Before you can even think about it, he’s beckoning you toward him with a crooked finger.

Obligingly— it is your job, after all— you leave Argyle’s side and pull open the heavy glass door to the recording room.

The space is not overly generous, but it is large enough to give each band member a comfortable buffer of space with his instrument. The drums are set up near the back, with Harry on the left and Jeff on the right, a guitar strapped against his chest but flipped around to the back as he stands in front of the keyboard. There’s a boxy amp covered by a shield to dampen the sound in the corner opposite the door, and Eddie is standing beside it, dark-clad legs spread wide as he hooks a forearm casually against his red electric guitar.

“Yes?” you ask him neutrally, though it’s difficult to hold back the roll of your eyes when he doesn’t reply, merely beckoning you with that same finger again. You breathe slowly through your nose as you walk over to him, planting your feet right before him though your heels wobble slightly on the springy carpet. Your pleasant face grows a touch flatter as he regards you silently, blinking slowly— clearly wanting to keep you waiting, to make you pay for the split-second of whatever he’d felt when you caught him staring.

Eventually, a crooked grin spreads on Eddie’s lips as he looks at you, and your brow twitches in alarm as Eddie abruptly lifts one heavy booted foot and thumps it down on top of the amp. The move stretches his tight pants even tighter, pulling the rips at his knees to reveal pale skin underneath. It draws your eye, tempting it to run over the angular bones; they’re strong and dense, substantial beneath string that cuts shallow indents into his skin.

“Tie my boot.”

Your gaze shoots straight to his face. “Excuse me?” you ask, neutral mask slipping as some incredulousness leaks through. 

Eddie’s expression doesn’t waver as he nods his head towards his foot in a flippant little jerk. “Laces are loose, and I don’t wanna take Sweetheart off.” When he pats the guitar fondly, you realize he’s referring to his instrument. “Such a pain. So be a good little assistant and tie my shoe for me.”

You look at the scuffed Doc Marten propped against the top of the amp’s shield near your upper thigh. Indeed, the laces on Eddie’s boot are untied, dangling loosely, but you also notice that they’d clearly been tied very sloppily— they aren’t even laced all the way up to the top. Sucking your teeth and resisting a grumble, you comply with your client’s demand, bending slightly at the waist to tighten the laces before you tie them. But the thought of doing this again— ever, really— causes irritation to pang deep in your stomach. If he’d just tie his shoes properly, I wouldn’t need to do this. 

Rather than just knotting the laces, you take a moment to thread them deftly through each hole, tugging extra tight between each row until you reach the top where his pants are stuffed into them. With a quick pair of bunny ears and a double-knot, you’re done, straightening at the waist and staring again into Eddie’s face, unable to keep the defiant spark from your eye.

You find Eddie with his lips twisted smugly, tongue bulging against one cheek, dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Well,” he says, his voice deep and musical, “now you’ve gotta do the other one up to the top, too. A rockstar can’t have two mismatched boots. What will my fans think?”

“Fine,” you say, a little tightly, waiting for him to switch that foot to the amp. But he doesn’t; instead, Eddie just stares at you expectantly until you huff a tiny indignant breath and crouch down to retie his boot on the floor.

You know, then, that the entire thing has been meant to humiliate you, to remind you of your place— squarely below him, looking up at him as he towers over you, curls a wild cyclone around his pale, angular face. The fact isn’t lost on the others. “Really?” Harry’s typically quiet voice is a scoff, and you yank extra hard on Eddie’s laces as you hear his defense of you, feeling vindicated. I hope I cut his circulation off. He’ll never ask me to tie his shoes again, you think sourly, flexing your calves as you tug the double-knot tight and begin to rise.

Though the plush carpet in the recording room is good for sound absorption, it’s not so good for balance when one is wearing heels; you find your left foot wobbling as you try to straighten so hastily, and a spike of adrenaline bursts inside you as you feel your ankle weaken.

Two things happen.

One: your hand darts out, automatically seeking stability from the closest object, which just so happens to be Eddie. Your fingers clutch the bony knob of his knee, pressing desperately to threads and the hot skin exposed between them.

Two: as you waver, Eddie sways forward and his hand jerks out to catch your opposite elbow in a firm, broad palm, applying pressure to keep you stable.

Instantly, you burst with feeling. 

Sparks bloom from each point of contact, racing up your arms and trailing goosebumps in their wake until they meet in the middle behind your ribs. They pop and fizzle, colliding as tingling waves that reverberate outward from your center. The feeling overwhelms you, making your breath catch in your chest and your spine jerk ramrod straight as you push up from Eddie’s knee. The cold solidity of his guitar brushes against your front as he straightens with you; his head jerks back so you don’t collide with his chin.

Just as quickly as it happened, in the matter of a second, Eddie’s hand drops from your elbow and you step back from him, crossing your arms beneath your breasts. That same uncanny feeling from earlier— that low pang in your stomach, not altogether unpleasant— returns, reignited by the feeling of his hot skin under your fingers and the firmness of his grip on your arm.

“T-thank you,” you start to say, voice wavering slightly as you try to recover from the sudden unexpected intensity of your feeling. But then Eddie rubs the side of his neck with the same hand that caught your elbow. When his chunky rings glint in the light of the room, demanding your attention, it lingers on one in particular.

It’s a heavy dose of reality when you see the platinum band on his ring finger, more elegant and polished than the chunky aggressive rings adorning his other fingers. He’s my client. And he’s married. 

It’s all that’s needed to have you stamping insistently down on that feeling again. When you glance at Eddie’s face, the wideness of his eyes and the downturn of his mouth belies the same tension you suddenly feel. Desperate to cut through what suddenly envelops the room, you blurt a lightly teasing remark. “Next time, Mr. Munson,” you say, “wear velcro shoes if you don’t know how to tie your boots.”

Thankfully, your voice doesn’t waver this time, and your lips even curl in a small smirk when you hear the strength of Gareth’s sudden barking laughter. You don’t wait around for Eddie to offer a response; with Gareth’s mirth accompanying you, you stride from the room, letting the thick glass door mute the sound of his amusement as it thumps closed behind you. You’re grateful for the privacy that the distance affords you; you have no interest in letting Eddie see how his proximity affected you in the booth. You won’t let him see the momentary chink in your tweed armor, the effect just a knick of his touch has had on your composure.  

The cold glass door provides respite for your heated body as you lean against it. You take a moment to collect yourself, to rescue your composure from the pull of Eddie’s rip current before it can be swept further out into turbulent waters. Your hand settles over your heart, feeling it thud wildly against your palm as you wait, reminding yourself of the need for patience. You’re no stranger to feeling this pressure of restraint. Breathe in. Breathe out. Eventually, your goosebumps settle, your blood stops burning, and your lungs fill with air once more. 

Once you feel a little more composed, you retreat to the soundboard to keep Argyle company, hoping that his mellow presence can imbue in you the tranquility needed to survive the night. Gathering every remaining ounce of poise you possess, you lift your chin and look through the glass to see the band preparing for their next take. Gareth makes himself more comfortable on his stool. Harry and Jeff check the tuning of their instruments. And then there’s Eddie, who appears to be more interested in staring you down with those dark eyes instead of preparing to play. He folds his arms over his chest, and his sharp gaze sizes you up in a clear response to your earlier sass. You stare back, eyes unblinking and face impassive. Though the prickling heat threatens again, you don’t let it show, thinking of Jason and all of his attempts to intimidate you into submission. Don’t let him. I never gave Jason the satisfaction, and he won’t get it either.

“Alright, my talented amigos. Show me just how rad you can be.” When your staring contest with Eddie is broken by Argyle’s fried drawl, you’re not entirely sure who is the victor.

Argyle leans back in his swivel chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, his giant headphones hung abandoned on the hook mounted beneath the soundboard as the studio blares with sound. You stand at his side for some time, watching the guys perform. And as the music picks up, you find yourself hypnotized by their talent once again. The familiarity of lifelong friendship makes the band’s coordination appear seamless, almost second nature as Eddie and Harry catch eyes across the room, nodding together when guitar and bass fall into sync. Eddie leans back, lifting his angular guitar as he flourishes at the end of his next lick, and you watch the bobbing of Jeff’s head deepen as he shoots his friend a broad grin.

Time passes, enough time for you to retire to the couch, though you choose the one that still affords you a view into the recording room. There’s no less wanting from the men— no less striving for their product—  but as the night goes on, the process seems to begin taking a physical toll on them. You’d watched the growing consternation as Argyle asked Eddie to re-record a verse several times; his voice is straining, fatigued from the hours of singing, and you can hear the difference. When it cracks again not even two lines in, resulting in another failed attempt, instruments squeal to a halt as Eddie shakes the dented microphone by its stand, soft nose wrinkled up and teeth bared in frustration.

“C’mon—!” he grinds out, and you’re half up off the couch before Argyle takes over, interjecting with his calm drawl.

“Bro, maybe you should think about resting those bodacious vocal chords,” he suggests. “Give those puppies a break.” 

 Eddie snorts in stubborn refusal, his damp curls shaking until his head abruptly stills. His face lights up as though he has had a groundbreaking revelation; a playful smile slides across his plush lips. 

“I know just the cure,” he sing-songs dramatically, pursing his lips as, with a jerk of his arm, he snaps his fingers in your direction. You can hear the sharp sound vaguely echoing through the microphone inside the recording room.

Within a moment, you’re at the glass door; despite the earlier tension, it’s all water under the bridge now that it’s time to do your job. You dutifully pull it open to poke your head inside. “You summoned me?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, brows flashing and voice utterly serious. “Listen carefully, now. I have an incredibly urgent task for you.” He pauses dramatically, brown eyes wide in an attempt at earnestness. “It is of the utmost importance.” 

Internally, you brace yourself, knowing that whatever he says next will be anything but important. You feel the impulse rise up your throat, sarcastic words dancing on the tip of your tongue. Maybe you should take acting lessons from your wife. It takes considerably too much effort to resist it, but you do; instead, you raise your eyebrows and incline your head towards him in a nonverbal prompt— Go on. 

“I need you,” he claps his hands together, folding his fingers until just his indexes are pointed at you, “to go get me some whiskey.” 

The recording room hums with reactions from the rest of his bandmates: a groan from Jeff, a delighted guffaw from Gareth, and an uneasy sway from Harry, accompanied by a little uncomfortable chuckle.

Exasperated disbelief creases your brow. “...Whiskey?” you question once you’ve recovered from the initial shock of the request. You’d known what Eddie would ask wouldn’t be serious, but you didn’t expect it to be this absurd.

Eddie’s voice, even croakier than usual thanks to his fatigued vocal chords, is full of condescension. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Don’tcha know that whiskey can soothe a sore throat?” His tone sharpens, a victorious smile curling on his lips as he eyes you. “You wouldn’t want me to delay this album now, would you? This voice is our money maker.”

“More like his voice drives us up the wall,” Gareth wisecracks. Eddie swiftly knocks him upside the head, hushing the drummer immediately, though the younger man’s eyes glitter in amusement as he rubs the back of his head. 

When you continue to hesitate, any last vestiges of playfulness slide from Eddie’s face. “Listen.” There’s that hardness you’d been confronted with at the beginning of the night; his tone brokers no argument. It’s the tone of a man who’s driven countless personal assistants toward the door with their tails between their legs. “You’re my PA. Doing what I say is your job. So if I ask you to get me a bottle of fuckin’ whiskey, you do it. Do you understand?”

You swallow. He is right; it is your job. “Of course, Mr. Munson,” you reply, face carefully impassive as his eyes search yours. When he leans back and huffs through his nose, your shoulders relax fractionally.

“Alright, guys, let’s take a break ‘til the good stuff gets here,” he says, pulling Sweetheart over his neck and setting the guitar on the stand beside him. “Run along, now,” he says mockingly, flicking his fingers in your direction.

As they all start to drift towards where you stand, your mind races; automatically, you move out of the way for them to exit the recording room, holding the door as you think. Yes, it is your job to do what he asks, and it would also give you a chance to escape the studio for some time to be away from his taunting. But something makes you pause. You’ve already depleted your cash source from buying the men dinner. How were you going to pay for a bottle of whiskey, too? You’re not their ATM. And while you aren’t typically in the habit of pressing the issue, as the men take their seats on the couches to wait for you, you decide you will not be jeopardizing your financial stability for the sake of buying this man booze.

You let the glass door thump closed, mentally steeling yourself as you pull your pocketbook over your head. “And how would you like to pay for your whiskey?” you ask Eddie. “I can take your card, or you can give me cash.” 

He casts a glance of disbelief around the couch he’s sprawled on, catching his bandmates’ eyes. They’re quiet, attention bouncing between you both as Eddie scoffs, “I’m not giving you shit. Just pay for it yourself and get Harrington to reimburse you.”

“Well, seeing as how I already paid for your dinner, I’m a little low on funds,” you explain, careful to remain firm but not contentious, standing tall against his onslaught. “So, it’s either you give me a way to pay or you don’t get your whiskey. The choice is yours.”

 The silence in the room after you deliver your ultimatum seems heavier, more oppressive than a moment ago. It’s a tense standoff: you in your heels and tweed, standing calmly at the edge of the coffee table, and Eddie in his leather and chains, staring up at you through the wild curls of his disheveled bangs. Everyone else in the room is looking between you and Eddie as if they’re eager to see the next serve in a verbal tennis match. The silence extends for an uncomfortable duration, but you refuse to break under the heaviness of his stare. You know your request is more than reasonable, and the justice of it keeps you from backing down.

Eddie Munson may be stubborn, but so are you.

With a huff, Eddie shifts his hips, tilting so he can reach into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. With a sneer, he digs limber fingers in the envelope and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, holding it between two fingers and extending his hand with a dramatic, resigned flop. You smile politely in thanks, but when you attempt to take it from him, his fingers tighten on the paper. 

“Don’t get any of that cheap shit,” he orders, eyeing you as he keeps a firm hold on the bill. You two are tethered by the thin, green paper, which would tear if one of you applied more force. But you don’t; instead, you reply, “I understand, Mr. Munson.” When he still doesn’t let go, you add, “Is there a brand you prefer?”

Eddie grunts, finally releasing the bill, effectively freeing you from his hold. “Just none of that Carver piss-water,” he mutters. “Top-shelf, or as close as you can get with this. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” The word slips out automatically, like it would for Steve Harrington, or Jason Carver, or your boss at the community college you worked at prior to Carver Distilleries. Eddie doesn’t comment, but the sudden gleam in his eye— amber brown, like sun through whiskey— follows you onto the elevator and onto the sidewalk as you burst out onto the city streets.

The hustle and bustle of New York city has noticeably waned now, and it has you hastily pushing up your sleeve to check the dainty watch strapped on your wrist. The time is late— later than you are typically awake, nearly too late, in fact— and it dawns on you that you’ll need to find an option soon since closing time for most places is rapidly approaching. Your eyes dart across the buildings on the block, searching for the word ‘liquor,’ but a quick survey yields no results. Picking a random direction and hoping for the best goes against everything inside you, but in your desperation, you realize you have no choice. 

A glance to the right yields nothing but darkened windows and silence, so left it is.

You hasten your pace, walking one block and then another. And when the neon sign flickers the words ‘Starcourt Liquor’ above your head, managing to find a liquor store with ten minutes to spare before closing feels like a miracle. 

The shop owner seems less than thrilled to have you entering his business so late, so you toss an apologetic grimace in his direction before rushing to the whiskey section, eyes scanning for nothing but price— as close to a hundred bucks as possible to follow Eddie’s instruction. Being so unthorough makes your stomach squirm as you rush back to the front and thump the thick glass bottle on the countertop, but you don’t have even a moment to second-guess yourself. You always ruminate on your options, assessing the choices carefully before selecting the best one. This— plunking down a pricy purchase without even examining the label— is enough to have panic biting at the back of your throat.

Nevertheless, the purchase is quickly made, and you jingle out the shop door with Eddie’s whiskey bottle wrapped in paper. As you make your way back to the studio, you try to shake away your negative thoughts. Clearly, if I want to survive being Eddie Munson’s PA, I’m going to have to stop overanalyzing everything and go with my gut sometimes. 

More than anything else tonight— Eddie’s taunts, his cold demeanor, the nerves that accompany a new situation— this thought is what rattles you the most. It’s something you’ve always struggled with; the pressure to be the best version of yourself has led you to dissect every decision that is presented to you. Every choice, no matter how seemingly small, feels significant when you consider the implications of what’s awaiting you. There’s always this little voice in your ear whispering insidiously: 

Choose right, and you’ll find what you’ve always been searching for. All that you want will be yours. 

Choose, y/n. 

Just choose, but you’d better not be wrong.

When your heel nearly gets stuck in a crack on the sidewalk and you stumble to keep your balance, you realize you need to snap out of it. This is just a bottle of whiskey, you remind yourself. Eddie will have to take what I give him. Finally, you’re back inside; the records line the walls, the elevator dings, and before long. you’re faced with that heavy metal door again, the one that separates you from your client beyond. 

You pause before opening it. You think of all the tasks you’ve accomplished today; you think of how you’ve prevailed against all of Eddie’s little tests.  

“I can do this,” you remind yourself in a whisper. “I can do tough things.” And you know it’s true. It just takes your own voice sometimes to drown those sibilant whispers out, to remind you of the light inside, standing strong and tall and steadfast against the waves.

Confidence renewed, you open the door to find the band deep in discussion with Argyle. Their heads turn at your entrance, and the conversation pauses. But unlike earlier this evening, when the pressure of their stares felt oppressive, they glance off you now. Your light swings in their direction, washing them with a glow that chases the threat of shadows away.

“Will this suffice, Mr. Munson?” you ask, handing the bottle over to Eddie. He takes your offering from your outstretched hand, leaving it empty. You fold your hands in front of you, waiting as he silently turns the bottle over in his broad grasp, assessing the label carefully. After a moment of extended silence, Eddie finally looks up at you. A dimple emerges with the stretch of his smirk; ruddy ringed fingers close firmly around the neck as he wrenches the cork off with a pop and takes an unceremonious swig.

The whiskey must be strong, because his adam’s apple only bobs twice before he’s lowering the bottle from his now-slick lips. And you were right; when he isn’t glowering at you, the amber of Eddie’s eyes looks just like warm light shining through a whisky glass.

“Just what the doctor ordered,” Eddie quips, swiping the back of his tattooed hand across his plush lips. They drag with his fingers before pulling into a grin. “Now buzz off, you little insect. We’re busy here.” 

Eddie waves you off as if you actually are an insect, and the sting of his blatant dismissal is only soothed by the sympathetic looks Harry and Jeff dart your way as he continues planning with his fellow band members. It’s rude, certainly, but at least it releases you to your own devices.

Still, when the men shuffle back into the recording room, your hands begin to fidget with the anxious desire to feel productive; you’re caught between aiming to make a good impression but not wanting to disrupt the band’s creative process, especially as Eddie has made it clear that he doesn’t need anything from you. If they don’t need me right now, then I’ll just have to make myself busy.

An idea comes to mind. You think back to how your first task of the day brought you to the mess that is Schmackin’ Records’ studio closet. The small space is overflowing with cardboard boxes affixed with nonsensical labels, which only makes everyone’s job harder— yours and Argyle’s, in particular. Revisiting the closet would allow you to continue familiarizing yourself with Corroded Coffin’s discography while helping to make things more organized— two birds, one stone. 

You search the studio for supplies; masking tape, a marker, and other items useful to you are all, ironically enough, found buried within the very place you’re looking to organize. With a quick roll of your sleeves and accompanied by the gravelly voice of Eddie in your headphones, you get to work. You methodically relabel each box by artist and organize each item within in meticulous chronological order. You’re careful to store away any loose cords and equipment scattered on the floor, winding each coil in a perfected loop before tucking them away in appropriate storage spaces. It’s soothing to make sense of the chaos, to bring peace to disquiet, to bring order to the disorderly. You’ve always found comfort working like this, left to your own devices within your element, thriving in the peace of solitude.

Nearly three hours later, you’ve rearranged the collection in its entirety. The closet looks neat and tidy, vastly improved from what you initially stumbled upon hours ago. You return to the lounge area feeling accomplished, heels thumping against floors, head tipped up high as you move to rejoin the main room. The band is situated around the soundboard, listening to a playback from one of the tracks they just recorded while Argyle offers feedback. Upon seeing you reappear, Argyle pauses his commentary, wheeling chair twirling enough until he’s facing you, eyes darting up to yours.

“Hey there, dudette! Where have you been hiding?” he asks, head bobbing with his words. That dark, shiny raven hair dances in the dim light, casting it in a honey glow, those soft eyes of his kind and comforting—enough so to quell the rapid thrum of your heart as the others shift to gaze your way.

“Ah, I noticed that some of the items in the storage closet were in need of organization,” you reply sheepishly, awkwardly throwing a thumb over one shoulder, indicating the closet you’ve since reorganized. “I fixed some of the labels and cleared off the floor. I hope that isn’t a problem.” 

“Well that is mighty nice of you,” Argyle compliments, reaching his hand up to give you a high five. Your hand claps against his, warmth curling around your palm, lips tugging into a soft smile at the man lounging before you.

Your actions seem to intrigue Eddie, those liquid amber eyes of his darting in your vicinity. He peers around you towards the newly-organized space, brows climbing high against his forehead. When his gaze returns to yours, his face is masked in an unreadable expression. He looks as though he is trying desperately to hide that he is impressed. 

“Maybe I should tell you to buzz off more often,” he comments, and only then does he allow it: the slightest dimple of his cheek as he smirks. And yes, it’s still a smirk, but it’s significantly less sharp and cutting than the ones he’d aimed at you earlier tonight. 

The observation isn’t a compliment, but you suppose it’s the closest thing to one you can expect from Eddie. Despite the urge to rise to challenge those words, his manner makes you pause; you’re still trying to think of how to respond when he turns away from you, seemingly already exhausted by showing you a scrap of kindness. 

As the boys file back into the recording room and the night continues to stretch on, you feel a palpable shift in energy within the studio. Their playful nature has transitioned to something less enthusiastic and more irritable. They reach a point where they’re spinning in circles – stuck on a track that isn’t quite ready yet. You listen to them debate over stylistic differences, hung up on the minute details embedded in the sound. As an observer, you clearly recognize that exhaustion has clouded their creative flow and left them feeling drained, each quick to argue and reluctant to concede to the others. 

You’re empathetic to it, really. Your feet are screaming for solace after spending hours confined in heels. Your head is pounding from the constant barrage of sound and pressure to problem-solve. You check your watch – 4:37 am. Your new schedule is so out of sync with your normal circadian rhythm, and your body is paying the price for it. 

The boys continue to bicker, too engrossed in perfecting the song to recognize the need for a break. You are not alone in your observations, as Argyle suddenly leans forward on his chair, pensive and serious as he regards the room.

“Alright, my dudes. I think we’ve made some gnarly progress. How about we pick up with these shmackin’ tunes tomorrow. Same time?” Argyle’s suggestion sends relief through your exhausted body, knowing that you may soon be graced with some respite. 

A silence befalls the group as they weigh Argyle’s counsel. Gareth, Harry, and Jeff remain silent, looking to Eddie for a decision. You find this odd. Is it because Eddie is the front man, or because they believe he is most likely to be defiant? After a moment of consideration, Eddie acquiesces to Argyle’s suggestion. You take this as your cue to call a private driver on Eddie’s behalf. 

You watch the men as they gather their belongings and prepare to leave. The impending rest lifts their spirits, and their banter returns in full swing. Gareth and Harry playfully nag Jeff about ‘getting home to the Mrs.’ while making kissing noises. The loving undertone in their teasing is indisputable, and Jeff waves them off goodnaturedly. As the three continue exchanging quips, you notice that Eddie remains uncharacteristically quiet, his lips downturned as he watches them joke around. Chin tipped down, dark eyes not quite caught in a glower, but he’s certainly no ray of sunshine. He turns away from them, choosing instead to hang back with Argyle as he prepares to close up the studio. 

“You did good, newbie. See you around!” Gareth playfully calls out as he leaves. Harry opts for a simple, shy wave as he follows Gareth’s lead. 

“Hey, uh… can I talk to you for a minute?” Jeff’s quiet request feels gentle, so unlike the orders Eddie has sent your way today, the latter’s requests feeling more like demands. The two of you make your way to the corner of the studio to speak privately. 

“Yes, of course. Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, nothing like that. You don’t have to be in PA mode with me, okay? I just wanted to tell you that you did a great job today.” Jeff offers, smiling kindly. His words bring warmth to your cheeks. 

“That’s very kind of you,” you answer, grateful for the small reassurance. 

“Listen, I understand that Eddie isn’t the… easiest person to work with.” His whole body stiffens with a sympathetic wince. “I’ve known him since we were kids. Trust me, his bark is worse than his bite.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” The defense falls from your lips instinctually, ingrained in you from your days at Carver Distillery. 

Jeff is quick to reassure you, “I’ve seen you handle it all day. I wasn’t lying when I said you did a great job. Just remember that the first day is always the hardest. Hang in there, okay?” 

The two of you watch as Argyle and Eddie head in your direction, encroaching on the privacy of your conversation. With a gentle pat to your shoulder, Jeff leaves your side before making his way to the door. On his way out, you catch Jeff giving Eddie a hard stare. His eyes convey a clear message: play nice. 

“Really rad to meet you today, dudette. Catch you later!” Argyle sees you and Eddie out, offering a friendly wave as he closes the door. 

As you stand in the hallway with Eddie, you realize that this is the first moment you’ve been alone with the rockstar since meeting him. The entire night, you’ve watched him parade around the studio - soaking up the attention that his skills and antics attract. As quickly as the realization hits you, it’s replaced by shock. Eddie is making his way down the hall without so much as a glance in your direction. By the time you realize what’s going on, he’s halfway to the elevator. 

You quicken your step, heels clacking loudly against the tile as you increase your pace. Eddie enters the elevator, and hits the button for the ground level. Without hesitating, you wedge your arms between the doors to halt their closing. 

“Thought you could escape?” Your tone is light as you attempt to break the tension of being stuck with someone who clearly does not want you around. Eddie stares firmly ahead at his distorted reflection stark against those silver walls, seemingly too indifferent to look your way. 

“More like you need to learn how to keep up,” he snorts as he rolls his eyes. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion. Perhaps it’s Eddie’s endlessly mocking tone. Either way, his unfair dismissal irks you in a way that has sarcasm rising to your tongue.

 “Are you sure you can fit in this elevator with the size of that head?" You retort. With that, he turns his gaze toward you. The weight of his stare feels imposing in the small elevator, amber eyes practically molten as they dart upward and greet yours.

A smirk plays on his lips, the sight of it curling deep within your gut. "And which head are you referring to, doll?" Steve warned you this would happen, but Eddie’s audacious flirting still bewilders you. Your surprise is interrupted by the ding of the elevator signaling your arrival. Unsurprisingly, Eddie does not wait for you. You follow after him, quick behind his step having anticipated his rush. 

“You're not going to tell me how I did on my first day?"

“You survived, didn’t you?” he offers, sounding wholly bored with the question.

Undeterred, you press on, “Is there anything I could have done better today?”

“Are you always this needy?” He doesn’t even look your way, voice dripping in disdain.  His brusque tone further stokes the flames of indignation you felt spark to life in the elevator. 

“Says the man who asked me to tie his shoes,” you retort. You’re too caught up in your annoyance to notice Eddie has stopped walking. You collide with his back, feeling his hard muscles tense from the unexpected force. Slowly, Eddie turns to loom over you. Your breath catches in your throat, panic starting to build. You took things too far, and he’s going to fire you on the spot. You’re sure of it. 

To your surprise, you find mirth dancing in his eyes. A smile tugs at his lips. 

“Keep that up, and I might have to keep you,” he chuckles. With a wink in your direction, Eddie exits the building and swiftly slides into the awaiting vehicle. 

I might have to keep you.

I might have to keep you.

I might have to keep you. 

His words haunt you on your commute. They keep you company like a phantom friend on the subway. They trail beside you with every step closer to home.  

The sky awakens with hues of pink and orange, ready to welcome the sun in a new beginning. You pass strangers on the sidewalk, and you note the contrasting personalities present at this time of day. People on the still crowded streets of New York City stumble home after the last call. Runners rise to hit the pavement to chip away at their morning mileage. Twilight offers these night owls and morning birds the chance to cross paths in the painted sky, a contained ecosystem of push and pull that circles around itself with the same ease as the moon and the sun. A stark reminder that sometimes, that’s all you need for opposites to flourish together – the right circumstances. 

You stand in front of your apartment door, and you make a promise to yourself. Once you cross that threshold, you will take care of yourself. You’ve spent hours sprinting to accommodate the needs of others today. From now until your next shift, you will be unhurried in your self care. 

You savor the warmth of the shower soothing your aching muscles. You relish the softness of pajamas against your skin. You enjoy the cleansing feeling of your skincare routine.  

You run your fingers through your hair, and you stop at that cherished spot behind your right ear. You can’t see it, can’t see the swirling patterns you’ve only seen captured in pictures throughout the years, but you know it’s there. You press your fingertips to your soulmark with the gentleness owed to such a sacred gift. You briefly allow your mind to wander, to wonder if somewhere out there your soulmate does the same, gentle brushes of fingers against the mark that signifies an eternal bond with a person you haven’t met, yet feel you’ve known your whole life.

Turning to your towel rack, you gently pat your face dry of any remaining droplets of water, slipper-covered feet careful as they meander down the small hallway so as to not wake a sleeping Angela within her own bedroom. Once inside, your fingers curl gently around the golden door handle and slowly push it shut, flicking on your bedside lamp as you lower yourself down into your bed. You root around in the top bedside drawer for a familiar notebook and pen, stickers scattering onto the floor from where they’re tucked into the front page of the well-loved spine, little hearts and smiling faces, flowers that you’ve previously decorated pages with. You bend to retrieve them, clicking the top of your pen and pressing it thoughtfully against your chin once settled back on your pile of pillows. You open to a new, unadorned page. The blank sheet stares up at you, lines stark against pages, full of space for your thoughts to be written. The tip brushes the page, etching the present date into the top left corner, and you begin. 

Dear Soulmate, 

I started a new job today. It’s…definitely different. I’m working for Eddie Munson. Yeah, Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin. He’s…well, he’s not Jason Carver, that’s for sure. He’s rough around the edges, but I don't think he’s particularly cruel. Sure, he made me run around doing errands for him, and I wasn't particularly fond of having to tie his boots, but it’s not like the blatant disrespect Jason would casually throw my way.

If anything, he’s a little confusing. And yet there’s something in him. I don’t know what it is yet, but it seems like he’s…searching for something, almost. Does that even make sense? I mean, what could he be looking for? He’s a rockstar. But there were just moments sometimes where I felt this… restlessness inside him or something. I don’t know. It makes me wonder who Eddie Munson is. Who he is really, at least. Not the Eddie Munson from all the news articles and bad publicity, or the Eddie Munson he tries to portray himself as in front of others, but the real man beneath. 

Anyway, enough about me. What was your day like? I hope it was better than mine, at least. I’m just getting home and the sun is coming up, but there’s this new excitement I feel growing. This could be really life changing. I hope one day soon I can tell you all about it. Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring me closer to you. I should probably head to bed. Not sure when I’ll be needed come tomorrow, but I’ll write to you soon and tell you everything. 

Giving the ink on the page a chance to dry, you reflect on the wild nature of your first day. It proved to be challenging, and it tested the strength of your resolve. You think back to Eddie’s simple assessment – “You survived, didn’t you?” He was right. You did survive. In fact, you might even argue that you had thrived under the watchful gaze of Eddie Munson.  

You are smart. You are capable. You are resilient.

You repeat these affirmations to yourself like a promise, as you shut the notebook and settle down to go to sleep. They’re a reminder of your inner flame, which flickered today under Eddie’s scrutiny. Yet, you know this to be true - Eddie Munson will not be the one to extinguish your light.

the next chapter will be released on @blue-mossbird​’s blog!

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