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sunhoures · 8 months

Text

And It Was All Yellow

pairing: wonwoo (svt) + reader (fem.)

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, photographer!wonwoo, artist!reader (+ journalist!mingyu)

word count: ~5.7k

synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible

inspired by: the text post pictured above ^^ & the song “yellow” by coldplay 💛

posted: august 21, 2023

The weather in Seoul was dull—gray clouds and scattered, drizzling rain suspended over the city since dawn had broken. Most people hated such weather, but Jeon Wonwoo was not one of those people. In fact, he found comfort in the gloominess. He enjoyed the idea of having an excuse to stay in. And if he did need to go outside, he liked that there was a lack of the usual crowd of people that would be around if the weather was more ideal. Traffic was less compacted. Lines of any kind were short (or non-existent). The city was quiet, just as he liked it.

On days like today, he preferred to spend his time inside with a book or playing video games. But work had been scarce for him these past few weeks, so when his best friend, Mingyu, had informed him of a job offer he had no choice but to accept it. That’s how he ended up at a local art museum downtown at 9:45 a.m. on a Thursday morning. Despite the doors not opening for another fifteen minutes, a worker had let him in through the front door when he got her attention and pointed to his camera bag. She realized he didn’t have an umbrella with him, and so she quickly let him in. Luckily he had a raincoat over his outfit and a hat to protect his hair, so the most he had to deal with was a little rain on the back of his neck. He thanked the worker, staying close to the door to get any glimpse of Mingyu arriving.

In the meantime, he watched the cars pass by outside, each one splashing water out of the puddle and onto the sidewalk just in front of the entrance to the museum. He noticed it had lightened up a bit outside, the sky turning from a darker gray to a lighter gray with wispy, white clouds. He wondered if anyone would even show up to this exhibit opening in such weather conditions.

About five minutes after he arrived, Mingyu came knocking on the door, covering his head with a magazine. The worker came back and opened the door for him, deciding to leave it unlocked. Wonwoo’s younger friend came in, complaining under his breath about forgetting his umbrella and getting wet. He shook the sopping magazine, droplets of water falling onto the concrete floor. His gray button-up was a darker gray on the shoulders and sleeves from the rain that seeped into it. Wonwoo noticed the worker glaring at his friend for dripping on the floor and tried not to let his amusement show.

“Forgot your umbrella too?” he questioned Mingyu, “Hopefully your notebook didn’t get ruined.”

His friend looked to the bag he had hanging from his shoulder. The bag didn’t have a zipper, but it did have a flap that fell over the opening to keep it “closed” in a sense. He quickly shoved his hand inside, feeling around for his notebook. When he felt the edges of the paper and confirmed they were dry, he smiled, “All good. And why so early? That’s unusual.”

“I’m never late,” Wonwoo defended.

“Yeah, but if I tell you to be somewhere at ten a.m. you usually don’t walk in until nine fifty-eight.”

The older of the two shrugged, “Got an early start today.”

The two men began their work day, Wonwoo fine-tuning the settings on his camera to his liking while Mingyu made some preliminary notes in his notebook. They set up together in the lobby, but once the artist had arrived, Mingyu excused himself to greet her. Wonwoo stayed in the lobby, taking a couple of test pictures to see if anything else needed to be adjusted. Around him several museum workers, journalists, and other photographers were gathering with the artist. Wonwoo wasn’t the biggest fan of interacting with strangers, so he kept to himself. Luckily, he busied himself with his camera which was enough to keep people from disrupting him.

Once Mingyu returned to his friend, the two joined the growing crowd waiting by the entrance to the new exhibit where a ceremonial ribbon cutting was about to take place. Wonwoo found the ribbon to be a bit superfluous. Nonetheless, he stood towards the back of the small crowd, arms crossed and camera slung around his neck by its strap. He was hired to take some pictures of the event and the art pieces for Mingyu’s article, and that was it. It was somewhat easy money for him, but it did take more time and social interaction than he liked. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for this to be over and go home to edit.

He watched you, the artist, get behind the ribbon and make your speech thanking everyone for showing up. He snapped a couple pictures as you thanked the museum for giving your art a home temporarily. After a few minutes, you ended your speech by giving a small spiel about how art was therapeutic to you and it should be for everyone else. He found himself subconsciously nodding in agreement, because photography was a form of therapy for him as well.

The ribbon was cut after your speech, and the congregation of guests entered the exhibit for the first time. Mingyu and Wonwoo brought up the rear, but they were just as astonished as every single person ahead of them when they saw the art on display. Several paintings of various mediums hung on the walls, varying in size. The large columns in the middle of the room also held paintings on them, each piece of art accompanied by a small plaque with information about it—like the title and date. Mingyu, just like the other journalists, was already jotting down notes in his book, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his pressed lips in concentration. Wonwoo peered around the room, simply taking everything in. His hands held his camera which was still hanging from his neck.

The two friends walked around together, patiently waiting for the other guests to continue on before taking their time in front of a piece to write or take pictures. As they got to the last few paintings, Mingyu made a comment about finding the bathroom, and that he would be back shortly. Wonwoo nodded and continued to snap a few pictures of the paintings before him. He came to a stop in front of a simple painting of sunflowers; the acrylic paint forming a kind of 3D effect on the canvas. He stared at that one for a moment longer than the rest of them, not for any particular reason, he supposed. It didn’t stand out from the others or anything, but he liked it for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Do you like sunflowers?”

Your voice startled him, though he didn’t show it. He merely turned to you, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement as well as a small, polite smile, “They’re fine I guess.”

“This was one of my first pieces I made in art school,” you explained, and it was then he noticed it did indeed have the earliest date posted among all of the canvases in the room.

“It’s nice,” he said, “Congratulations, by the way. You’re very talented.”

Your face broke into a sweet smile despite that being the nth compliment of this morning. Each one felt like a gold star being rewarded to you, and it filled you with happiness. You gestured to his camera, “Do you work for a magazine?”

“Um, sort of,” he shrugged, “My friend does, he just has me shoot pictures for his articles.”

“Oh, I do remember seeing you with someone,” you remembered, “Um, the tall one with the gray shirt, right?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I haven’t gotten to speak with him in depth yet, do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“He should be returning from the bathroom soon,” he replied. Usually Wonwoo was terrible at making conversation with strangers. He dreaded it. But you gave off such a comforting, welcoming energy. He found himself wanting to talk to you about, well, anything, “This weather isn’t too ideal for this occasion, isn’t it?”

“The rain?” you asked, “Yeah, it’s a bummer, but the turn out was great still. I didn’t think so many people would come.”

“Why’s that?” his brow raised slightly in curiosity.

“I didn’t think my art was special enough to warrant such an exhibit. One of my mentors from art school is friends with the head of the museum, and he asked him for a favor. He’s put a lot of time and faith in me, but I don’t think my art is worth such a grandiose gesture,” you spoke so casually, as if it was fact. Wonwoo found your confession to be a little disheartening. Sure, the art might not have the prestige to qualify for the MoMA or the Louvre, but to someone like him who casually enjoyed art, your work was impressive.

“Well, I’m glad he did. Your work is amazing,” Wonwoo was a man of few words, but he hoped the few he could give would bring you some reassurance. And for the moment it did. You smiled warmly, perking up further when Mingyu returned to the both of you.

“Hello again, would you be able to spare a few minutes with me?” he asked you, already getting his notebook and pen from his bag. You agreed, and the two of you began a conversation while Wonwoo continued to snap some photos of the last paintings. When he was done, he waited patiently for you and Mingyu to finish your conversation. Around ten minutes passed, and the crowd was fluctuating as some people left and some newcomers joined. Wonwoo watched the guests observe the art, getting some inspiration to take photos of them as well. He figured some candid pictures would look nice too. He even got one of you and Mingyu discussing the sunflower piece before he approached the two of you again.

The three of you talked for what felt like hours but in reality was only twenty minutes. At some point the conversation had veered from art to your social lives. Mingyu was a very sociable, outgoing person, so it didn’t take long for him to strike a casual conversation with you. He had learned that the three of you frequented the same coffee shop a few streets away.

“We’ll have to get coffee together some time,” you said, “Should we swap numbers?”

Mingyu happily did so, and the two of you swapped phones to add each others contacts. You made a comment about getting with some other journalists, but you promised to stay in touch before leaving the two men with a “thank you for coming!”.

The rain had cleared up by the time the two friends left the museum. They walked together to the bus stop across the street, waiting for the bus that would be passing shortly. While they waited, they talked about the notes Mingyu got and the shots Wonwoo took.

“She was really sweet,” Mingyu said with a smile, “She told me she didn’t have many friends in the city. We’ll have to take her out with our friends some time soon.”

“Sure,” was all Wonwoo responded absentmindedly, replying to a text from his brother.

“She was pretty, too,” Mingyu added in a suggestive tone.

That made Wonwoo look up from his phone with a pointed look, “What are you implying?”

“Nothing,” his friend shrugged, but his expression was telling before his mouth was, “It’s just been a while since you’ve dated is all. You two seemed to be getting along well.”

The older man rolled his eyes, returning them to his phone as he opened Instagram and proceeded to scroll through his explore page, “I spoke to her for five minutes while you were in the bathroom. I’m not going to fall in love with her in five minutes.”

His friend sighed, “You’ll never fall in love if you’re not open to a potential relationship.”

Wonwoo got quiet then, and the conversation didn’t pick up again until shortly before the bus arrived. On the ride he thought about what Mingyu said. It was true, he hadn’t dated in a very long time, since college actually. Now that he was twenty-seven, it was getting harder and harder for him to find himself in a situation to meet someone. He rarely left his house. He spent his free time doing things alone, and when he did go out with his friends he stuck to them pretty closely. On top of all of that, he wasn’t the most approachable person. He wasn’t a cold person, or at least he didn’t consider himself one. But his looks gave the impression that he was, his sharp eyes and straight-drawn lips making him seem standoffish.

And unlike his friends, he didn’t believe in “love at first sight”. The idea of meeting someone for the first time and instantly being head over heels for them just didn’t connect with him. He didn’t understand how others felt that. When he dated in the past, it took weeks, even months to fall for the person he had a crush on. And he wasn’t necessarily upset with the way he lived; he didn’t mind being alone. Since he was a kid, he always felt more comfortable doing things by himself. But lately he realized his day-to-day did feel a little lonely, especially since most of his friends were settling down with their partners or moving away to pursue careers. Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he did need some kind of change.

The first time you hung out with the two men after meeting them at the museum, Mingyu had invited you to join them for lunch. The three of you ate Korean barbecue, learning a bit about each other over a few bottles of soju. Wonwoo didn’t do much talking that time, mostly speaking only when spoken to. You and Mingyu carried the conversations, not that either of you minded. You felt like Wonwoo would need time to open up to you, so you gave him that. Luckily, the two agreed to hang out with you again later in the week. Mingyu had to get some editing done, so he invited you and Wonwoo to keep him company at his apartment.

You were shocked when Wonwoo was the one to engage in conversation with you first, greeting you at the door and welcoming you in. He and Mingyu were preparing a simple dinner, so you sat at the kitchen island watching them cook. You noticed Wonwoo seemed more comfortable talking this time around. Maybe it was because you had hung out already, or maybe it was because he was in a familiar environment. Either way you liked seeing a little crack in the shell that kept his true personality shielded away from you.

Over a couple months the three of you became really close, and you had even met some of their other friends. Mingyu’s office wasn’t far from the art supply store you visited every week, so you made it a habit to visit him every Thursday on your supply runs. The two of you would get lunch or just sit in his office and talk during his break before you returned to your art studio. You really liked the friendship blossoming between you and the two men, but then one day something changed.

Wonwoo texted you out of the blue one Saturday mid-morning asking if you wanted to get some coffee with him. You found it odd that he texted you because he had never done that before. It was usually Mingyu who texted you, or they texted you in a group chat that you had together. Nonetheless, you responded with “of course!” and got dressed.

When you showed up to the café you were confused to see Wonwoo sitting at a two-seater table by himself. You noticed he looked like he put more effort into his appearance today. Normally when you hung out he was in lounging clothes—a simple shirt with sweatpants or maybe loose jeans. The only time you remembered seeing him dressed this nicely was the day you met, and he was working then. But he didn’t mention working today? So what could be the occasion for him to wear off-white pants, a mustard yellow sweater, and what looked like new shoes?

He was reading something on his phone when you approached him, the light from the screen reflecting on his thin-rimmed glasses. When you set your purse down, he looked up at you and gave you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hi, is Mingyu not joining?” you asked curiously as you sat across from him. You didn’t notice when the corners of his mouth wavered for a second.

“No, he’s working. You’re stuck with just me today,” he joked.

You chuckled softly, “Don’t make it sound so bad. Was there a reason you wanted to hang out today though? I have to say I was a little shocked when you texted me.”

It was Mingyu’s idea, but Wonwoo didn’t want to admit that. His friend had pointed it out that the two of you had never hung out alone. He figured it might help Wonwoo warm up to you more if you spent some time together one-on-one. And even though he didn’t say it out loud, Wonwoo knew Mingyu secretly wanted the two of you to work out romantically—for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. Wonwoo wasn’t completely closed off to the idea; you were gorgeous and friendly. But he knew it wasn’t going to be an overnight thing. It took weeks for him to feel comfortable with you as a friend, he could only imagine the time it would take to start a romantic relationship.

“I, um, just realized we never got a chance to hang out alone. We don’t really know much about each other outside of our hang outs with Mingyu,” he said. In that moment he also realized how tense he felt. His legs were stiff and knees were drawn in close together under the table. His fingers toyed with the wrapper of his straw from his iced americano. His shoulders were drawn in the slightest bit, and he could feel his posture was kind of terrible. He tried to relax without making it look obvious that he was tense in the first place.

“Yeah, I guess I figured you just didn’t like to socialize as much as Mingyu did.”

“I don’t, but I’m trying to be better about that,” he admitted, and you felt like you might actually be getting somewhere with him, “He teases me a lot about being a hermit.”

You laughed softly, and he smiled with you, “Well, it’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.”

After an appreciative look from him, you excused yourself to order a drink. Wonwoo immediately opened his phone and texted Mingyu.

wonu 🐈‍⬛: ok i’m here, now what do we talk about?

gyu 🐶: well first, don’t be on your phone smh. second, just ask her questions about herself. seem interested. try not to look bored like you always do

Wonwoo sighed in annoyance, ignoring the last part of his message as he turned his phone over on the table. You returned shortly after, also with an iced americano. He decided to give his friend’s advice a try, “Do you always order iced americanos?”

“Only sometimes. My go-to is usually a hot latte, but it’s a bit warm for that today,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. He nodded in understanding, but he was unsure of what else to say. It was so much easier to converse with people you’ve been friends with for several years.

Luckily you had no issue with it, and you broke the awkward silence up for him, “How long have you been doing photography?”

“I’ve done it as a hobby since I was in high school, but after I graduated I started doing freelance work. So, almost ten years.”

“I’d love to see your work some time,” you spoke fondly, remembering the first time you met, “Your shots of my exhibit were amazing, so I can imagine the rest of your work is too.“

“My stuff doesn’t compare to the art you make,” he said it without even thinking. You weren’t sure if you should take it as a self-deprecating remark or flattery.

Your lips quipped into a thoughtful line before you derailed, “Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”

“Oh, are we playing twenty questions?” Wonwoo joked, sitting back in his chair and sipping on his drink. The sunlight beamed directly across his right eye and onto his cheek. His eye was a deep chocolate brown color as opposed to the dark, cold, almost-black color it usually was. You wondered if his eyes were always that soft.

“Yeah, I’ve just decided. Your turn,” you repeated. You crossed your arms on top of the table, subtly leaning in as a sign of giving him all your attention. He fought the smile wanting to live on his lips, opting to look deep in thought. The two of you went back and forth for nearly half an hour, just asking each other questions. Some answers warranted tangents and story times before you went back to the questions, but you enjoyed it to the fullest. And truthfully, Wonwoo was too. He didn’t think he could get so much enjoyment from a game he used to play with his friends in grade school, yet here he was. On the verge of laughter as you told an embarrassing story from high school in which you were running late to school and didn’t realize until your second class that your underwear was stuck to the back of your shirt.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Wonwoo laughed softly, a crinkle appearing on the bridge of his nose, “I would’ve dropped out of school.”

“I thought about it,” you joked, a bashful smile on your lips as you remembered the story like it happened yesterday, “But yeah, if you’re going to get your clothes from the dryer, double check that your under garments aren’t stuck to them first.”

“Noted,” Wonwoo looked over and noticed that a new couple was sitting at the table behind you. That was the second time new people sat right there. He wondered how long you two had been sitting, but he didn’t want to check his phone in case you got the impression that he was in a rush to leave. Which he definitely wasn’t, “Okay, I think it’s your turn again.”

“Okay, um . . . “ your eyes searched the room for a question prompt, but you were grasping for straws- Wait, that’s it. Straws. The cups of plastic-covered straws on the counter were organized by color, one cup for each color they offered—pink, blue, and yellow, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hm, why don’t you guess?” Wonwoo replied.

If he was honest, he didn’t really have a favorite color. He supposed if he considered it more he would settle for blue or purple, but he didn’t care enough either way. A good ninety-five percent of his wardrobe was black and five percent color, but he just liked black as a good neutral color to wear. He figured he would just let you guess until you decided to give up.

You thought about it for a moment, but no specific color came to mind immediately. His clothes were mostly black, but lots of people wore black clothing and had a favorite color that wasn’t black. His shirt was yellow as well as the straw for his americano, but there was no other indication that it would be his favorite color from what you could remember. Still, you figured it might be your best guess, “Yellow!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile at your prideful declaration. You said it as if you knew it for a fact.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, really?” your eyes got wide and the grin on your face grew wide. Did you really guess it correctly in one try?

Even Wonwoo was shocked by his answer. Yellow wasn’t his favorite color. He didn’t have one. But you seemed so excited and hopeful and sure of yourself that he didn’t even think twice about his answer.

“Yeah, good job,” he praised you, and he had to admit to himself you looked really cute when you clapped your hands together in a small celebration for yourself, “What’s yours?”

“Pink,” you seemed visibly brighter when you answered. It made sense to Wonwoo. Pink was such a cute, bright, outgoing color. It signified friendliness and sweetness, and all of that just screamed you. Maybe he liked pink too. “It’s been my favorite since I was a kid. Everything I had was pink.”

“Pink suits you.”

You felt yourself flushing at the compliment, your smile turning sheepish, “I think yellow suits you, too. I’m picturing a nice pastel yellow for you. Very spring.”

He tried to picture it: him in a pastel yellow shirt. The mental image seemed foreign, since the mustard sweater he was currently wearing was the brightest color he had ever worn besides white. But he wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“Alright, your turn.”

A few more questions were exchanged between you two, long after your cups were emptied. The patrons of the café that had been present when you showed up were long gone, and new faces took their places. After a while you felt a little guilty for hogging the table for so long, even though it had only been a little under two hours. Wonwoo made a comment about heading out, so you both got up and threw your trash. He walked with you to the bus station, even though he had driven to the café in his own car. You thanked him for inviting you to hang out and told him that you enjoyed it.

“We’ll have to do this again some time, but maybe not tell Mingyu. He might get jealous,” you teased your non-present friend, making Wonwoo laugh softly. He knew for a fact that Mingyu would have no problem with it; he would probably encourage it, if anything.

“I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not usually the jealous type,” Wonwoo replied, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. He tried to think of something you two could do together, and he recalled that during the twenty—more like fifty plus—questions you had said you liked video games too, “If you want, we could hang out at my apartment, play some video games. And order pizza or something?”

“That sounds like fun!” your eyes lit up at the idea. You had never actually been to his apartment before. Every time you hung out was at Mingyu’s place, your place, or somewhere in the city. You wondered what his apartment looked like. He seemed like the type to keep everything tidy and minimal, “I’ll be pretty busy this week, but maybe we can work something out for next weekend.”

“Cool,” he nodded and kept small talk until the bus arrived to pick you and a handful of other people up. He waved you off politely, and when you were out of sight, he let out a hefty sigh. It felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but not in a bad way. He liked you, so there was this small, subconscious pressure that he felt to be more outgoing. He wanted you to like him too.

Over the next few weeks, there was a shift in the dynamic between the three of you, and it seemed to be obvious to everyone except Wonwoo. You and him had grown a lot closer as you started to hang out alone outside of your usual outings with Mingyu and their other friends. And it showed when the group was together. You always took the seat closest to Wonwoo. He laughed more at your jokes. You complimented his outfits—which were slowly but progressively becoming more colorful. He offered to walk you to your car or the bus or home whenever he could. Yet, still, when asked if anything was going on between you two, he seemed confused.

“It’s not like that,” he told Mingyu when the two were walking to a job they had booked one afternoon—a restaurant opening, “________ and I have gotten close, but not that close.”

“Hey, I know you wear glasses, but you can’t be this blind,” his friend retorted, “You two like each other.”

Wonwoo faltered a bit as he walked, but tried to play it off, “Did she say she liked me?”

“No, but she doesn’t need to. Neither do you, but as your best friend it would be nice if you told me these things.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Mingyu had made him think you had finally admitted having feelings for him.

“You two act like you’re in your own world all the time. The guys notice it, too, not just me,” Mingyu continued, “And since when do you like yellow so much?”

The question took Wonwoo so off guard that he laughed incredulously, “What?”

“She’s always giving you stuff that’s yellow. And you started wearing yellow clothes,” Mingyu pointed out. And it was true.

The first thing you had gifted him was a simple pen; it was a sunflower yellow color with black lettering etched on the side that said ‘hello, sunshine!’. He was confused when you had handed it to him that second time you hung out together to play video games. You showed up on his doorstep, telling him to close his eyes and put out his hands. When he had opened them again the pen was sat in his palms.

“What’s this for?”

“Nothing, I guess. I was at the supply store and noticed it by the check out, and I thought about you. So I got it for you. It’s cute, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo honestly had no reason to use such a pen since his day-to-day work required little writing. And most of his notes were made in his phone, but the sentiment behind your gift made his heart flutter, “It is. Thank you, _______.”

And nearly every time after then you had gifted him things similar. While at the park with him and Mingyu, you bought him a banana flavored popsicle, solely for the fact that it was yellow—and you were relieved to find out he liked the banana flavor. When you went bowling with their friends, you gave him the yellow ball and left yourself with the last one which was brown. When you went to Mingyu’s to see the two of them, you had brought them each a keychain from a new pop-up shop that was near your art studio. You gave Mingyu a red one that had a soccer ball on it while Wonwoo’s was yellow and had a sunflower on it. You had initially got it because of its color, but the flower reminded you of the day you met him, so it held even more sentiment.

And recently, Wonwoo’s favorite water bottle had broken, so while you were out shopping you had found one that was similar to it. The cap was a little different, but it had the same shape and size, and it was a golden yellow hue.

When you gave it to him, the two of you were about to leave his apartment to get some dinner at the fried chicken place down the street. You had mentioned that you had a surprise for him, then you fished the bottle out of your tote bag to show him. His heart skipped a beat and a smile crept onto his lips when he saw it.

“I know you probably won’t love it as much as your other bottle, but hopefully you still like it,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He took it from your offering grasp and shook his head.

“I do love it,” he said.

“You can leave it here while we go eat,” you turned towards the door, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder. But just before you could reach for the doorknob, Wonwoo’s voice called your name, making you turn back to face him, “Hm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized he was a lot closer than you thought, just a foot or so away from you. His tall frame seemed to tower over you, causing you to have to look up at him. You could see a struggle happening behind his eyes, as if he was going back and forth in his mind trying to decide on something. You were about to question him when suddenly he leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to your cheek. The skin that he touched felt hot in his wake, the warmth spread across your face and ultimately your whole body felt heated under his gaze.

“Thank you, ________. For everything,” he spoke softly, his anxiety apparent in his tone. He averted his gaze, looking down at his hands. A bracelet that you had bought him last week was wrapped around his wrist—white beads and yellow smiley face charms decorating it. For some reason seeing the jewelry gave him the little boost of confidence he needed to ask, “Would you like to make this a date?”

Your eyes widened even further, but you couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies going wild inside your chest, their fluttering wings tickling your heart. Your crush on Wonwoo had started long before his crush on you had formed, but that didn’t bother you. Because you knew that he liked you now, and you couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “Yes.”

A charming smile grew wide on his face, prompting you to grin too. Happiness bloomed inside you, and the two of you walked out of the apartment suddenly feeling shy after wordlessly admitting your feelings for each other. Despite his nerves, though, Wonwoo found the courage to take your hand in his as you walked down the sidewalk to the fried chicken place.

Along the way you pointed out some yellow canola flowers planted outside of an office building, and Wonwoo decided in that moment that he would never get tired of the color yellow. The way your face lit up when you saw it or gave him yellow-themed gifts, he would always find it cute. As far as he was concerned, the entire world could be covered in the color yellow, and he would be content just knowing it made you happy. He no longer would appreciate rain; instead, he would look forward to sunny days when the bright, yellow sunlight would remind him of you and your kind heart. Maybe yellow wasn’t his favorite color at first but, over time, it would be.

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tired-teacher-blog · 2 months

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

It's well past seven and the studio has started welcoming its clients, everyone is here, even the one who's always late -Mr Shirakumo- has already walked in hurriedly moments ago, however your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

It's weird and worrisome, he has never missed a day's work and to top it all off, he's not even picking up his phone to respond to your calls.

You only want to make sure he's alright, even if your plans fall through, it's totally fine as long as he reassures you he's alright.

You look up the dark wintery sky and breathe out heavily while wondering what to do, should you wait for him in the studio? Or should you just go home? In any case, you cannot keep standing outside your shop in this freezing weather.

How ironic, this was supposed to be a pleasant evening that you've been awaiting for the whole day, but now you're alone, cold and miserable, and worst of all you are clueless as to what's keeping him away.

Maybe you should drop by his place, that would be totally fine right? But, doesn't him not responding to your calls mean he wouldn't prefer seeing you now?

In the end you decide to gather up your courage and walk into his studio to see if the others have heard from him.

_ "Oh yeah! He just called to say he won't be coming because he's busy with something." is what Mr Yamada responded to your question.

Well, at least he's alright..

You drag yourself home and go straight to bed because today has been exhausting, first it was that mind twisting encounter with the mysterious lady, and now your boyfriend's inexplicable avoidance of you.

You're too tired to even feel bad for yourself, your brain is fuzzy and your limbs are aching and all you want to do is fall asleep and forget about everything that happened today..

A knock, and another, and a persistent ringing of the door bell..

You cannot hear anything though, not yet at least, since you're deep in slumber and curled up under the covers, but the knocking doesn't stop, and neither does the ringing, in fact they get much louder and more urgent that your body jolts in surprise and you're instantly sitting up with terror stricken face and a trembling frame.

It's almost 11 o'clock, that's what you read on your phone as soon as your vision is focused, so who might this be?

You wobble your way to the door hurriedly, watching your steps in the dimly lit hallway until you reach the blaring pounding on the poor door.

_ "Wh.. who is it?" you're frightened and will not open to anyone blindly.

_ "It's me."

It's him, you can recognize that voice among million others, "Shouta.."

You clumsily struggle with the door lock that refuses to budge, cursing under your breath and almost whining at the device until it's finally undone, and as soon as you pull the door open and look up at him with eager eyes, total darkness engulfs you as he bolts in to hug you tightly.

_ "Shouta, wait, hold on." your words are muffled against his chest as he slams the door behind himself with a swift kick of his foot and steps inside with you still in his arms.

You hug him back and give in to his wishes, walking backwards as he hastily guides you to your room and practically throws you onto the bed before climbing on top of you and proceeding to remove your delicate sleep shirt.

It's all happening too fast that you're unable to keep up with him, what has gotten into him? Why is he being so forceful and impatient? He hasn't even utter a single word yet and it's worrying you sick.

_ "Shouta please.. just.. talk to me." you struggle between sloppy kisses but he doesn't seem to actually hear you.

He has never been this way before, and it's making you suspect that something might have happened, so could him not showing up this evening be the reason for his strange behavior?

He's still not talking, and is instead gnawing at the soft skin of your chest while his hands are squeezing your thighs scarily tight, that you're positive to gain bruises by morning.

When did he manage to tear away your panties? And how could he discard his own clothes when his hands have never left your body?

Is this what he wants? Sex, right now? You wouldn't have opposed to it, certainly, but you wish you could at least understand what's troubling him.

_ "Shouta wait, wait please talk to me," not a response still, as he is now drawing his saliva coated fingers from his mouth to bring them to your cunt.

_ "Please stop! Shouta you're scaring me!" you didn't mean to sound loud and whiny, but doing so seems to have finally snapped him out of it.

_ "I'm.. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry please forgive me." he sits up at once, kneeling between your legs while pleading with a sorrowful voice and a regretful expression that break your heart.

You can understand his reaction perfectly though, he has never been rough with you, and the idea of accidentally mistreating you frightens him, but what he miserably failed to realize, is that you're actually concerned about what's troubling him and so, you rush to explain.

_ "No, no that's not it," you shuffle around the blankets and sit across from him, knees touching as you gently lift up his head and cradle his cheek, "what scares me is this look on your face," you force a reassuring smile before continuing, "something's wrong isn't it? Can't you tell me what it is?" you try carefully to make sense of the situation.

_ "I just want to be with you tonight." he's obviously not ready to open up yet, and that's fine, you don't want to force an answer out of him, you're just glad he came to you.

_ "Me too Shouta, I want to be with you tonight and every night!" and the giggle you let out afterwards is genuine, and it reaches him as he visibly relaxes at last, "so, you want to lay down with me?" you suggest and he instantly nods before pushing you down on your plushy mattress and collapsing on top of you.

_ "I'm sorry for missing our date tonight, and for being so forceful just now." he mumbles faintly against your chest but you catch every word perfectly.

You are aware of the compromising position you're in right now, fully naked and pressed underneath him, but it's okay, you don't mind it at all, you're perfectly comfortable even like this.

_ "No, don't apologize that's totally fine, you're here now and that's all I want." you kiss the top of his head while threading your fingers through his raven locks as he nuzzles you deeper, "oh by the way, what about Eri? Where is she?"

_ "She's home, I asked her nanny to spend the night with her 'cause I didn't want her to see me like this."

_ "You're right, she's really smart and she would have known that something was off." you respond fondly and hug him even closer to yourself, "just get some sleep okay? I'll be right here when you wake up."

It doesn't take much longer after that for his breath to even out and deathly clutches to loosen up, however, the same thing cannot be said about you as you spend the rest of the night fighting with endless questions that didn't seem to have any logical answer.

What happened to him? Why does he look devastated? Why can't he open up to you? And.. and, does this -in anyway- have anything to do with the mysterious lady who visited your shop earlier?

You feel useless and defeated while your beloved is clearly suffering, you wish there was anything more you can do than offering him a shoulder to lean on, but that's all you're allowed to do now.

You sigh heavily and kiss his head again before closing your own eyes and trying to forget about it for now, but sleep eludes you as expected, and you know that it's going to be a long night..

To be continued..

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dumbslxtclub · 11 months

Text

you're on your own, kid | e.m - part twelve

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: as your relationship with eddie blossoms, the weight of truth reaches it's breaking point.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 20, anxiety, heavy angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, brief mention of vomiting

word count: 10.8k+

a/n: some of this was inspired was inspired by the poem ‘i wish i were two dogs then i could play with me’ by anne carson. I apologise for the long absence, life has been crazy but I’m very proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy! sorry in advance for the angst it’s about to get real. as always, shoutout to @dickfics69 for helping me xx

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog @reidstea @sashaphantomhive @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86 @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95 @taintedcigs @harry-bowie-mercury @micheledawn1975

↳ one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

Part Twelve: Lovely To Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Who knew scanning video tape barcodes could be so fun? An inherently arduous task made tolerable thanks to the warming weather, every monotonous motion laced with sun-soaked dopamine. The stale interior of Family Video is washed in a stream of sunlight, the clear sky leaving no interruption for the desired warmth.

The chill of winter has all but dissolved, the new season budding in blossoms dancing in lush trees and children without jackets in the park. But, beneath the surface, something more has begun mingling in your blood. Your veins are laced with the giddy joy of a new beginning, something fresh and exciting. Like the first pages of a good book, popping open a fresh bottle of wine. As with all beginnings, they have their own tonality, an addictive vibrancy that makes them so elusively special. Ebbing with firsts, ‘what ifs’ and unadulterated hope. Leaving you behind the store counter with a schoolgirl grin, completing the most mundane of tasks with enthusiasm. With every video returned into the system, another mountain forms as Robin returns to the front desk. She picks up the two latest additions from the pile, examining them with scrutiny.

“Woof. 9 ½ Weeks AND Body Heat? Someone had a big weekend.” She places them onto the steel rolling shelves, beginning to categorize the sections. Monotonous doesn’t even begin to describe the store’s activities, Robin falling especially victim to their dullness today. “Speaking of, did you get up to anything interesting?”

“Well, Audrey’s learnt how to chuck her bottles across the room. So I guess you could say things were pretty wild around my neck of the woods.”

“Guess I’ll cancel her pee-wee baseball lessons then.” She quips back, busying herself with the tapes.

It’s a funny thing, dishonesty. How it sits on the roof of your stomach, digging its heels into your gut whenever it sees fit. You’ve elected not to tell Robin about your date with Eddie, nor your second kiss, for a myriad of reasons. As your closest friend, you understand that she is just looking out for you, protecting your vulnerable heartspace. With your connection to Eddie growing, complication is bound to follow. And in such a budding stage, it just doesn’t make sense to make a mountain out of a molehill.

When you’d first approached her about your potential date with Andy, she’d responded in a similar manner, driven by protectiveness. But you knew, she could see an innate craving for something more than she could provide. It was only natural. Your new identity was tied to being a mother, full stop. It had been a long time since you felt wanted, attractive, desired. A longing to be wined and dined, treated like so much more than milk-providing breasts on legs. And she wanted you to get back out there, into the real world and away from your comfortable nest of motherhood. You are strong, Robin is well aware of this, fighting the urge to protect you and Audrey from the big bad world. Of course, hindsight is a funny thing, and she should have ripped Andy a new one before he had the chance to do anything stupid. To assume he was capable of being a decent human being for an evening was clearly expecting too much.

But with Eddie, it’s so different. Comfortable in ways you couldn’t articulate, you felt a sense of consistent safety you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Life has just become easier with him around, day to day tasks much more enjoyable in his company. And so, you’ve resolved to just dip your toes into the idea of it evolving into something more. It’s not so much lying as it is withholding the truth.

With the final tape scanned in, you toss it onto the shelf, nearly bowling over Robin’s efforts in the process. She shoots you a warning glare before sighing, glancing melancholically at the clock.

“Ah, all that stands between me and a turkey sandwich is…” She picks up a video at random and glances down at it. “... Xanadu?! Oh my god-”

She drives the cart around the corner, cussing out the poor customer's choice in film. Smiling at her antics, you busy yourself tidying the cluttered desk. Taped to the monitor is a curated collection of film pictures Robin had Jonathan develop. The ultrasound photo still sits in prime position, with a copy of the hospital image below it. Another picture is tacked to the corner of the screen showing you and Robin cuddled up in bed with Audrey sandwiched between you, all in accidentally coordinating shades of blue. You remember that night, Eddie had dropped by after work and lost it laughing at the three of you perched in bed like the grandparents in Willy Wonka, quickly racing to the kitchen to retrieve Jonathan’s camera. Moments immortalized in stillness, energetic happiness radiating out of them.

So lost in the memory, you barely register the sound of the bell above the front door ringing.

“Late return charges got you grinning like that, sweetheart?” Averting your gaze, you watch as your babysitter of choice enters the store. Eddie shoots you a warm smile, one hand gently supporting the black carrier strapped to his chest. Audrey, pacifier in mouth, faces outwards with limbs dangling aimlessly in the confines of the holder. It��s hard to miss the small purple bow clipped to the crown of her head, something that was not part of her ensemble when you dressed her this morning. Like maneuvering his own personal puppet, Eddie picks up her limp wrist to wave it in your direction. The docile baby glances up at the metalhead with curiosity, seeking out the phantom manipulating her arm.

“I can’t rent you R-rated films with a minor present, I’m afraid.” You quip with a smile, pressing your palms into the counter.

“Shit.” Eddie points to the door, backtracking a step and glancing down at Audrey. “Let me just go and tie her up out front real quick, alright?”

“Please don’t tie my daughter up on the street like a dog.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about her.” Eddie grins. “But maybe we should lock in that date before we break out the ropes and collars, hm?”

His comment immediately causes your cheeks to flush, suddenly feeling stifled in your sickly green vest. Images of compromising positions flood your mind, notably featuring the handcuffs strung up in Eddie’s bedroom. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat, Eddie’s smile faltering at the sight.

“I- I mean… fuck, oh-” His hands quickly fly to Audrey’s ears, protecting her from his cursing. “- just, pretend I never said that, okay?”

“Not a chance. You’re never living that one down, Munson.” Your melodious laughter sets Eddie free. “Where’ve you two been today?”

“Y’know, just all of her favorite places. Had to head into the shop to pick up my paycheck, the guys couldn’t get enough of her. ‘Specially Bob, or Ed, I forget- he’s been going on about her for weeks so I thought if she visited he might shut up about it.”

“Using my daughter as bait? Classy.”

“You know me all too well, sweetheart.” He’s quick to catch the pacifier as it tumbles out of Audrey’s mouth, her face screwing up in disgust while he tries to feed it back to her. “Oh, and she met a dog today. It was a beast of a thing, a Rottweiler or something. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited, she grabbed its ears and everything. Thought it might bite her head off. It did lick her on the face though, but I suppose that’s good for her immune system.”

“Sounds like you two have been on quite an adventure.” With Audrey now within arms reach, you lean over the counter to give her a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, giving Eddie enough time to quickly shove the pacifier back into her mouth.

“Speaking of which… what are the chances of you getting work off this Friday afternoon?” His voice is hushed, and laced with an edge of the cheekiness you’ve come to adore. With a quick survey around the shop, you inspect to make sure Robin is out of earshot.

“I think I could pull some strings.”

“Good, good. I might have something fun planned for us.” Eddie smiles sheepishly, readjusting the weight of the carrier. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Henderson might finally be ready to go solo with Squid.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I mean- I didn’t see anyone chewing on the electrical cords so that’s an A in my books.”

“Glad to see you’ve got high standards.” You tease, the grin on Eddie’s face only growing..

“I sure do.”

Quick question, what the hell does one wear on a date? For your outing with Andy, Robin took charge of your wardrobe and crafted an outfit with complete ease. The stakes were lower, you suppose, not overly concerned with your appearance. But for today’s mystery date with Eddie, you’re finding yourself digging into the deepest crevices of your wardrobe for something that screams I’m trying, but not too hard. And, as fate would have it, nothing is jumping out at you. That shirt? Too old. These pants? Don’t fit anymore. Those socks? They’re Audrey’s, not sure how they got in here…

Huffing, you plant yourself on the floor in a nest of unacceptable garments. Your daughter sits peacefully in her bouncing recliner, gaze contently following your every move while she gums at her caterpillars antennae. Grabbing two half decent short-sleeve tops, you hold them up in the baby’s direction.

“What do you think, little miss?” Audrey continues her chomping assault, not at all interested in your predicament. You sigh, tossing the shirts into the pile of mediocrity. “God, it’s easy for you. You look cute in everything.”

Articulating your last word with a tickle, you drink in the way her mouth spreads into a toothless smile. She’s really beginning to grow into her own looks, her features forming beyond the universal blob baby look. Her hair is getting a slight wave to it, still comedically thick on her head. Pouty lips combined with her chubby cheeks give her maximum squishability factor. And as you look down at the mess of clothes covering the floor, you can’t help but cast your mind 16 years into the future. Rummaging through your daughter’s wardrobe in search of the perfect first date outfit, taking her to the mall just outside of town hunting down the dreamiest of prom dresses. It’s all racing by before your eyes. A spiral begins to form if you think about it for too long, so you quickly dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

In the end, you decide to keep it simple. A boxy button-up paired with some acid-wash mom jeans and a leather belt. Your hair is on its last legs before wash-day, so you elect to tame it with a bandana wrapped at the nape of your neck to hide the greasy mess. And Converse to complete the ensemble, because, you know, you don’t have all day. Your babysitter will be here any minute.

Dustin is smilier than usual, if that’s even possible. Grinning from ear to ear, watching you dart across the room with his hands on his hips. Making no effort to help you find your keys, but rather engaged watching your one-man Monty Python sketch.

“All ready for your big date?” The teenager articulates the last word with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. It stops you in your tracks, shooting daggers his way and doing little to wipe his smile away.

“For the last time, it’s not a date!” You lie through your teeth back to him. “I told you, we’re just going to hang out as friends. Adult friends. You know, without the presence of a baby.”

“Sure, sure. So, you got all glammed up for nothing?”

“Oh my god, I am not glammed up!” Glancing down at your outfit, you subtly worry that you may come off as trying too hard.

“I’m just saying…” Dustin throws his hands up defensively, the traces of a smile still playing on the corner of his mouth. “... you do look really nice, though.”

A humble grin makes itself known, abandoning your fruitless search to cross over to the younger boy. With figures like Steve and Eddie in his life, it’s easy to see where Dustin gets his chivalrous manners from.

“Aw, thanks, Dusty.” Flinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight squeeze with the explicit purpose of embarrassing him. The teenager relents quickly, giving your back a firm pat as you hold him to you in a vice grip. Giggling at the way he squirms in your arms, you take a few wobbly steps to keep him locked into place.

Burrowing your face into his mess of curls, you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort of his embrace. He’s always been a cuddly kid, and perhaps you weren’t aware of how much you needed this until now. The pair of you stand there for a beat, allowing the moment to morph from playful teasing into genuine support. Two kids, sharing a history of pain, guilt and loss. Finding solace in one another, the older enveloping the younger and soothing whatever lingering ache burns beneath their collective sorrow. He misses Steve. God, how he misses him.

It seeps through the pores of his fingertips, gently caressing your spine in small circles. As if, if you were to listen closely, beyond the dull hum of the refrigerator and the scattered bird calls outside, you could hear it. The tiniest voice, buried beneath unkempt curls, asking will it ever go away? And you both know the answer. It won’t, but you’ll learn to live with it. Together.

Biting back the swell of tears wetting your tongue, threatening to make themselves known, you refuse to crumble before him. Not today. Not on a day as happy as this.

If it’s true that Eddie has little experience with dating, he sure as hell masks it well. With a handful of daisies clutched in his fist, he’s the epitome of confidence as he raps on your door three times. Claiming the flowers were for Audrey (and definitely not for you), he quickly shuts down Dustin’s insinuations before shuttling you out the front door to his chariot. He always opens the door for you, but the small gesture makes you giddy with girlish excitement. And as soon as he joins you in the dingy interior, positive the pair of you are out of Dustin’s prying eyeline, he leans over the center console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. The brief contact causes your heart to skip, chapped lips meeting soft skin so casually it’s disarming. A calloused thumb brushing your chin, edging your face in the direction of him, drinking in every imperfection dancing across your skin in the fading afternoon light. Noses lingering inches from one another, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes preceding a Cheshire-cat grin.

“Ready for our next adventure?”

With a nod, clicking the gears into drive, the van rolls out of the sun-bathed trailer park and onto the winding roads out of town. It’s easy, the silence that exists between you while you tune out to the sound of whatever metal cassette is shoved into the car’s stereo. Pulling further and further out of the small town, away from the noise. The bustle of life, the judgemental whispers. To some unknown destination, where the two of you will be free to just be.

It comes into view around half an hour into the drive, sticking out like a sore thumb against the lush forest surrounding you. A kitschy, neglected sign with what appears to be a beaver toothily smiling down at you, waving its unoiled, mechanical arm at passers-by. Silly Putter Mini Golf. Pulling into the tiny parking lot, you study the loud canary yellow clubhouse building while Eddie clambours out of the driver’s side. It’s totally cheesy, down to the pathetically flickering lightbulb on the welcome sign. And you couldn’t love it more.

Swinging the passenger side door open, your date extends his ringed hand outward.

“Ready to get your putt on?”

With utmost ease, Eddie sinks the ball on his second shot. You could be mad at his seemingly god-given talent, but it’s hard to stay upset watching his hips sway like that in those dark jeans. Even at a children’s putt-putt course, he’s shown no interest in dressing more family friendly. Under your breath, you mutter praise to the inventor of muscle tank tops, now privy to the way his sinewy muscles flex with each stroke of the golf club. Occasionally, the handle of the club would clink against his wallet chain draped out of his pocket, drawing your attention back to his narrow hips. As far as you were concerned, you were a winner tonight, regardless of the scores.

“Yes! Gotta catch up, sweetheart. I’m beating you by…” He pulls the small scorecard out of his back pocket and grins. “... five points.”

Shooting a distrusting look in his direction, you pace to meet him on the prickly astroturf.

“What?! I thought you said it was three?”

Snatching the page away, Eddie holds it tauntingly above your head. He swings it around like a kite, mocking your stature while the only other family here passes by you with milkshakes in hand.

“That was before you hit the windmill twice on the last hole. Bit embarrassing, if you ask me.” He pokes, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “Tell you what. You make this in less than two shots, I’ll call it even. Even throw in some fries afterwards, as a sign of good showmanship.”

A competitive energy charges through your body, a daring smirk playing on your face. Through your lashes, you challenge the metalhead’s smug demeanor, flirting with the notion of friendly competition.

“Deal.”

With a newly confident stride, you make your way to the fluorescent pink tee you’d picked out for yourself, placing the equally obnoxious green ball atop it. It’s a fairly easy set up, two small hills creating a valley that would lead you straight to the hole. A mechanical crocodile snaps out of the wall sporadically, directly in line to your goal, hinges chomping at nothing. You assume the stance, needing to bend over slightly to accommodate the child-sized putter you were gripping. The crocodile seems to be popping out every five seconds, and so you brace yourself until it begins its certain retreat. Drawing your putter back, you hear it click against the ball, knowing immediately you overshot it. The ball rolls over one of the bumps in the turf, into a direct line with the crocodiles elongated snout, sending it back in your direction with a pathetic tumble.

“Shit.” You groan, attempting to tune out the smug laughter behind you. A tattooed arm comes into view over your left shoulder, pointing to the red flag sticking out of the ground.

“The holes over there, sweetheart.” Eddie quips matter-of-factly.

“Gee, thanks. What would I do without you?” Shooting daggers at your entirely too-smug date, you elbow him in the ribs before setting off in the direction of the ball. It seems your jab did little to quell Eddie’s laughter, who quickly catches up to you.

“Think you need to work on your form.”

“There’s a form needed for mini-golf?”

“Mhm, form I possess by the bucketful.” God, he’s a smug little shit sometimes.

Incredulous, you welcome his challenge with wide-open arms. “Alright then, genius. Enlighten me. Show me how it's done.”

Eyebrows disappearing into his messy bangs, Eddie’s doe eyes twinkle with boyish mischief, a prominent dimple playing deep into his cheek.

“Here.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers you in the direction of your goal, now partially obstructed by the protruding crocodile snout. “Line ‘er up.”

He angles himself around you, back pressed to abdomen, warmth emanating from the thin cotton of his shirt against yours. His feet shuffle to either side of yours, boxing you into his cradling hold. Snaking his bare arms along yours, starting at your elbow, each finger wrapping gently around the girth of your forearm. He lingers a moment too long, you don’t complain. Slowly working his way down to your wrists, locking his digits around the boney flesh. Breath on the nape of your neck, adrenaline pumping too fast for you to look anywhere but the lime-green golf ball at your feet.

“That’s it…” His chest rumbles against your ribcage, coaxing vibrations of praise causing your fingertips to go numb. “Nice and gentle, okay?”

One slow nod is all you manage, feeling his gaze burning into your profile. You watch as the rusting reptile makes itself known against the fake grass, gaping jaws ready to foil your next putt. As it begins its retreat, you take a deep inhale, feeling your ribs expand against the comfort of Eddie’s sternum.

“Go.” Barely a whisper is required, his lips so close to your ear you can practically feel their plush sanctuary. In tandem, Eddie gently pulls your wrists sideways before encouraging you forward with perfect momentum. Metal meets plastic with a firm thud, propelling the ball forward. It rolls, and a collective breath is held. As if the future of the world hinges on this single stroke. Picking up sand and debris along the way, the bright sphere travels across the turf towards its goal. It hits the lip of the hole before tumbling in with a clatter, sending your arms skyward in celebration as you discard the putter.

“Yes!” Gleaming with joy, you spin on your heels to press a firm finger into Eddie’s chest. “In your smug, stupid face, Muns-”

Victory is swiftly cut short as an arm wraps around your hip, grip settling in the groove of your waist. You slot perfectly into the crook of his lean body, softness meeting strength entirely channeled into closing the gap between you. The sheer momentum of it knocks a sigh loose from your chest, clinging to the anchor of his chest with bunched fists entangled in his shirt. His free hand nestles beneath your chin, a firm thumb pressing and guiding your eyeline up to his. Eddie shines with pride. Smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head at your antics with pure amusement, feeling the contagion of your joy.

Angling your chin slightly higher, Eddie presses his lips down onto yours with fervor. A blend of your two previous encounters, it’s passionate yet careful, a marriage of wanton desire and delicate care. You lean into it, drawing him closer by the cloth adorning his torso, chasing the taste of his kiss. As if to commit it to memory, to learn how it sits in your mouth and if the needy aftertaste ever dissipates. Muscles not just for decoration, but with the greater use of keeping you pressed intimately to his body. His thumb brushes against the groove of your jawline, dancing across the expanse of skin he is yet to be acquainted with. But there will be time for that later. Eddie is the one to pull away, a proud grin still plastered on his face.

“Good job, sweetheart. Ready for your prize?”

Food always tastes better when someone else is paying for it. The fries have the perfect crunch to them, the outer a golden brown against the fluffy white potato now filling your mouth rapidly. Eddie claims that they only came in a package deal with two cans of soda, but you have an inkling he may be lying about that. Your date watches as you shove the greasy food into your mouth, taking a long sip of his Coke.

“Looks like you’re enjoying your winnings over there.”

“Mmm-“ You mumble through a mouthful of starch. “Feels like there’s a birthday party in my mouth.”

Eddie’s brows furrow with amusement at your choice of words, shaking his mane of curls.

“Shit, actually, there’s something I don’t know about you. When is your birthday?”

Swallowing the thick mass of carbs, you slyly redirect your gaze to the quickly-emptying plastic basket before you, picking at a few deep-fried crumbs.

“Next week…” You pray to the heavens your admission was mumbled low enough for Eddie to catch it as some ambiguous month in the distant future. But it seems the years of heavy metal assaulting his ear drums has done little to subdue his sense of hearing.

“Next week?!” Theatrically, Eddie slams his soda down on the picnic table, likely taking off some of the tragic peeling paint in the process. He looks positively incredulous, brows raised to maximum height behind his bangs. “And you’ve been keeping this a secret, why?”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal-“

“Not that big of a-“ Fingers splayed on the periwinkle blue wood, he braces himself forward with a deep inhale. “Sweetheart, now I’m gonna have to plan a big bash in less than a week. How could you do this to me?”

As if it’s the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Chuckling nervously, you wave your hands in a flurry before his deadpan expression.

“Oh no, absolutely not. Uh-uh, not happening.”

“But-”

“Eddie.” Your tone is firm, gaze boring into his. “I’m turning twenty, it’s not even an exciting number. Plus, I have a baby, in case you forgot. Not sure how many nightclubs would let the pair of us in. If it means that much to you, I’ll have you and some of the kids over for a movie. That’s my limit, though.”

Eddie huffs, resolving himself to defeat. “Fine. No strippers, then.”

“Oh, now that you mention strippers…” A grin takes over your face as you waggle a fry in his face, likely sending salt fragments onto Eddie’s shirt. Before you can bring it to your awaiting mouth, he swats the perfectly good fast food out of your hand, sending it catapulting to the ground for some poor, underpaid teenager to clean up later.

“Party in your mouth, huh?” He quips, stealing the larger of the two potato sticks stuck to the paper lining the basket. He pops it into his mouth with a grin, shooting you a suggestive look.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

The energy between the two of you is so, so easy. You sip your cool soda, indulging in the sugary carbonation clinging to your teeth. Eddie does the same, studying a terribly constructed pyramid situated on one of the holes. No pressure to speak, or not speak, just basking in the glow of one another’s company. The air is cool under the downlights, a mild spring evening setting the scene for what a true date night should look like.

“I’ve gotta ask-” You begin through a mouthful of food, somewhat unceremoniously. “- how’d you get so good at mini golf? I just wouldn’t expect you to be the kind of guy to spend his free time at a place like this.”

“Ooft, judging a book by its cover, are we?” Eddie places his drink back on the picnic table, grinning beneath the fluorescent snack bar sign.

“Oh, never. Heavy metal and putt-putt go hand in hand, as far as I’m concerned.”

Eddie shakes his head, grinning while he peers down at the condensation accumulating on the metal can.

“I, uh- I used to bring Dustin out here.”

“Dustin? Really?”

“Yep.” There’s a loaded silence between the pair of you, something that isn’t uncommon as you exchange stories of your past. “After, um- y’know, everything happened. He kind of… shut down. A bit like you did, for a while. Didn’t want to play DnD, or see anybody, really. So this one day, I just drove over to his place and dragged him out of bed saying ‘C’mon, butthead. I’m taking you outta town’. He kicked up a bit of a fuss, but I just sort of army-marched him out the front door. We drove around for a while, not really talking and stumbled on this place. He shot me that stupid grin of his for the first time in forever, so we came in. It sort of became a weekly thing after that, and I hate to admit that I actually enjoyed it after a while.”

Swirling a fry around in too much ketchup, your meal is all but forgotten as you find yourself enthralled by Eddie’s recollection. That all too familiar pang of sadness returns, regret manifesting quickly in your body. You wish you were there for Dustin. You should have been. You wish you were stronger earlier, able to provide him with the care he so desperately needed. In the past few months, you’ve watched the teenager really step up, busying himself with baby books in order to be the best ‘uncle’ he could be. He’s a close second behind Eddie when it comes to making Audrey smile, lapping up every second he gets with her. God, Steve would be so proud of him.

“He’s a good kid, even if he’s an annoying little shit sometimes. And Steve…” His thought trails off, running his finger around the edge of the soda can. “... Steve was good for him. Gave him someone to look up to, a role model sort-of. Almost like a big brother, I guess. So I didn’t mind running around a shitty mini-golf course with a creepy beaver sign if it made him happy.”

Abandoning your meal, you reach across the table to take Eddie’s hand in yours. The tips of his fingers are cold from the refrigerated beverage, and you wrap your palm around the icy skin with warm reassurance.

“You’re a good man, Eddie.”

Eddie’s lips curve into the most imperceptible smile, humble and felt almost entirely inward. For a fleeting second, he wonders if that could be true.

Eddie was meant to drive you straight home. The roads were quiet at this time of night, no traffic bar the occasional truck making its way in the opposite direction of the small town he unfortunately called home. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this full. Not literally, of course, given you guzzled down the majority of hot food before he had a chance to get to it. But it didn’t matter, not the slightest.

He felt proud.

Proud while he watched you dig through the bucket of tees, looking for the perfect Barbie pink one that wasn’t chipped or dirty. Proud of his excellent golfing form, thankful for all the practice he’d gotten through restless evenings with Henderson. Proud of the way you jumped up and down, hands raised to the heavens as you sank your shot in half the time it had taken you on every other hole. Proud of how he scooped you into his arms, like every cheesy rom-com he’d had the displeasure of watching. Proud of the part he had to play in your happiness. Proud to be seen with you.

He was meant to drive you straight home.

He had every intention of doing so.

Satiated with pride, he could resolve to spend the remainder of his evening grinning stupidly to himself in the isolation of his room. The humble home across the trailer park suddenly feels closer, anyway. Until, your hand snaked its way across the center console onto his thigh, your touch feather light but the weight heavy. For a brief moment, he wonders if you reached for something but overshot, a simple mistake. And then, you linger. Fingernails scratching the course denim clinging to his legs, shockwaves sent down his skin with every delicate stroke. Absent-minded. Loaded.

He knew the stakes had just been raised.

The two of you had been close like this dozens of times before, particularly in your pregnancy. Eddie never saw the need for one of those pregnancy pillows advertised on late-night infomercials, when you apparently saw him as the perfect substitute. Back then, those exchanges meant almost nothing. A tiny back scratch here and there, drawing small circles on your forearm while you dozed off with your entire body weight pressed to his shoulder. Thoughtless interactions, designed purely to comfort and set you at ease. The familiarity that has perhaps always existed between the pair of you, now morphing into something new.

Thumb smoothing the faded-black material, tiny rotations etched over and over.

Hypnotic.

The bravery that overtook him was phantom, ghostly desire edging his knee ever so slightly further in your direction. As if to say please, don’t stop. I’m right here. His eyes remain firmly locked onto the dark road, using only the occasional streetlight to guide his path. Besides, he doesn’t need to look at you to feel your gaze on his cheek. Not that he could bring himself to, if he tried. He wonders if he blacked out earlier. Got hit in the head with a rogue club and passed out, ascending to a heaven in which he would be fortunate enough to experience such a sensation. Heart pounding in his chest, he lets out an unsteady exhale as your fingers snake deeper into the groove, caressing at more sensitive flesh. Inward, where the skin is far more sensitive.

Eddie isn’t a greedy man.

Until he is.

“Baby…” The foreign pet name slips out as a moan, barely perceivable beneath the soft hum of the cassette’s tune filling the car at a low volume. Somehow, in those two syllables alone, he crosses a line. Bares his soul to the wolves, knowing well the potential ramifications, the bloodshed that follows vulnerability.

The digging of your fingernails into the meaty flesh at his utterance is his breaking point. The green light he sought out. With cautious fervourency, he pulls off the road quickly, wheels clattering along the asphalt excuse for a truck stop. The car is quickly clicked into park before the metalhead can cognise it, tearing the constricting seatbelt off his body. Your hand never leaves its spot.

Turning to you, wide-eyed with want, he pauses. Gives himself whiplash from the flurry of activity leading to the sudden stillness. It’s intrinsic, no need for words anymore. Redundant wastes of breath.

His lungs hitch, adrenaline pulsing in the tips of his fingers.

Can we?

Lips parted ever so slightly, a rise of your chest and dazed fluttering of eyelids answers.

Yes.

It’s not clear who lunges first. What is clear is how your bodies instinctively shape around one another, quick to absolve the space between you. Lips collide with lips, desperately seeking respite. Wanton moans are pulled effortlessly, fistfuls of hair tangled in clammy fingers drawing the two of you impossibly close. Imperfect fumblings as shirts are clutched desperately, fueling the fire burning in the pits of Eddie’s stomach. The pace is entirely unsteady, soft brushes bleeding into firm tugs of teeth piercing tender flesh with just the right amount of force. Embarrassing, unadulterated need at the forefront of every motion, and neither of you cared. God, it’s almost perverse. How Eddie corrupts something so soft, so sweet, with every fevered kiss. Like he’s tainting you with his taste, as if he could lap enough of you up and absolve his unworthiness. The likelihood of that working is slim, but god damn Eddie is willing to try.

It’s still not enough.

The plastic console separating you is driving him mad. He needs to be able to grab, clutch, caress every square inch of you with no obstructions. You make him bold.

Bold enough to slip his wandering hand beneath your far thigh, the smallest hithering motion enough to feel the weight shift above his palm. Unceremoniously, you clamber over the glove box after unclipping your seatbelt, haphazardly swinging your foot into the horn. The beep echoes through the isolated rest stop, a mumbled apology being quickly swallowed by Eddie’s lips. Blindly guided, he directs your knees to either side of his hips, showing no qualms with the limited driver’s side legroom. His hands find your hips, tentatively hovering above his lap, shaky thighs taking the brunt of your weight. With small, caressing circles of your hip bone, he soothes you as he always has. Encourages you to share the pressure, begging to be the bearer of it. No wrong answer, only whatever you’re comfortable with. Perfect the way you are.

Ringed fingers press gently into the small of your waist, drawing you closer still to his body. This seems to encourage you to relent to your tiring muscles, finding solace on Eddie’s tense thighs. A safe distance, but so close to danger. To unbridled want. Neither of you care.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as you speckle kisses along his cheek, dancing down his jawline and finding sanctuary on his neck. Nipping slightly at his pulse point, he can’t help but squeeze a bit tighter. Relishing in your exploration, mentally mumbling Hail Mary’s for his good deeds from past lives that lead him to this euphoria. A gasp escapes his throat as you latch onto a particularly sensitive spot, causing his hands to seek refuge on the meat of your hips. He squeezes, eliciting a similar wanton moan that vibrates against his stubbled skin.

“Is- is this good?” A sentence loaded with various meanings tumbles out, his grip loosening slightly.

“Mmm.” You murmur, tracing the familiar trail back along his jaw and to his aching lips. “So good. So good to me, always.”

A knot forms in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. So good. So good. For you. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be. It fucking underscores every day, trying to do right by you. Constantly trying. He lives for it. For the smiles, the exhales of safety, the reassurance, the comfort…

It’s gotten him more hooked than a drug ever could.

So why.

Why can’t he accept it?

The praise, the love, everything you dish out effortlessly. But to want and to deserve are very different things, the latter being something that Eddie factually knows he is not entitled to.

It returns, a tidal wave of despair crashing over his heart, encasing it in a riptide of emotional debris and darkness. The taunting ticking of the second hand that haunts him constantly, the grip on his happiness slipping…

“Hey.” He gasps out, ringed fingers grazing your cheek as he pulls away. So close still he can see the flushed-red outline of your lips, the blissed out expression in your eyes quickly morphing to concern.

“Shit, you okay?” You pull back, brushing a loose curl out of the frame of his face.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” A stabilizing breath does little to quell the erratic beating of his heart. “Just- maybe we should, like, take things a bit slower? I- I just don’t want all this to be too much, too fast.”

Brows furrowing slightly, it’s hard to miss the minute disappointment reflected across your face.

“Oh. No, yeah, of course.” Letting out an awkward chuckle, your unoccupied hands take to fidgeting with your now-loose blouse. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away…”

“No, no-” Eddie reassures, a smile growing on his sore lips despite the gnawing ache in his chest. “Fuck, you were- it was perfect.”

A bashful grin cuts through the nerves etched into your skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” God, you make him too bold. Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dips forward to steal another miss from you. “Just want to do things right. Be a gentleman and all that.”

“You? A gentleman? Since when?” You poke.

“Since always.” The tone returns to easy as always, if not charged with a certain afterglow of electricity.

“So, what’s the next step in the courting ritual then?”

“Dunno. Guess I’ll have to pull off a grand gesture of some kind.”

Thursday afternoon, counting down the minutes until the clock strikes 5pm and frees you from this grind. Happy fucking birthday to you.

Robin has been fussing over you non-stop for the past 24 hours. Apparently, a little birdie told her about your upcoming birthday (something you’d diligently kept private), sending her into a frenzy. She insisted on at least taking you out for dinner to celebrate your birthday at Benny’s, and practically stuffed her version of appropriate birthday attire into a duffle bag this morning for you to change into post-shift. In all her festive glory, she returned from her lunch break with a pink-frosting covered cupcake and tried to involve no less than three customers in a group rendition of Happy Birthday that was less than successful. And despite the unwarranted theatrics, you can’t deny your gratitude. Seeing how she dotes on you, dedicating her every movement that day to your happiness. And frankly, it’s not dissimilar to every other day. The love, the care that the two of you feel for eachother simply heightened for your first day of your twenties. Luck has never been a word you’d use to describe your life, but today, it feels fitting.

Keith has been goaded into closing the shop up solo tonight, Robin sparing no detail of the utmost importance to this diner dinner. She’d also arranged for Eddie to bring Audrey along, clocking in around 12 total hours of unpaid babysitting and a bushel of brownie points. Then, once the grown-ups have hung out, some of the younger kids will bike to the trailer park for a late-night movie. Spending the remaining hours of your birthday with everyone you love.

The small bathroom cubicle adjoining the workroom is cluttered with makeup and clothes, the two of you primping yourself in privacy. Tonight’s outfit of choice appears to be a band tee, tied at the waist with a flowing maxi-skirt, clashing in your mind but makes sense to Robin, apparently. To level the playing field, she dug out some of your nicer boots for the occasion. Internally, you worry for Audrey, and how it’ll be once Robin realizes she has two life-sized Barbie dolls to dress up. But secretly, you like it. It feels very you, whatever that means now. Comfort meets expression, an identity crafted beyond Mom.

Smiling at yourself through the rusty bathroom mirror, Robin swipes on her mascara.

“How do you feel? Older and wiser yet?” Robin asks, eyes bugged out in concentration.

“More of the former, I’d say.” You chuckle.

“What about the outfit? I felt pretty proud of it, very rocker-chic meets fairy princess.”

“It’s great, Rob. All of it.” Lips pursing together in an emotional smile, you drink in the image before you. You look your age. No dark circles or fine lines present, concealed under just the right amount of makeup. Hair just the way you like it, not confined to a three-day-old ponytail. You recognise her, from another life. The girl you used to be. And she’s so happy to see you.

Robin shoves the mascara tube into her tote bag, throwing it over her shoulder. “Ready to hit the road?”

With a nod, you hold the door open for her, the imposing fluorescents of the video store coming back into view.

“Oh, nearly forgot. We’ve gotta make a pit stop along the way, if that’s alright with you?” Following her trail, the two of you burst out the front doors and into the brisk evening towards your Pinto.

“Sure.” You reply. “Just lead the way.”

“Robin, where the hell are we?” Glancing around one of the seedier streets of Hawkins, you shrug your handbag a little closer under your armpit and remind yourself that you did, in fact, lock your car. It’s fairly innocuous, an assortment of goods shops and a vintage record store, but you’ve never ventured this far into the heartland. Robin is a few paces before you, studying the signs of various closed businesses along the road. Her face lights up as you approach one particular building.

“Bada-boom.” She announces with a proud grin, stopping in front of a large, black building. The paint is sun-faded, lined with scratched-off band posters graffitied with lewd scribbles. Against the dark sky, your only indication of the name etched into the doorway awning comes in the form of a passing car blaring its lights.

“The Hideout?” It rang a bell, yet you could not work out for the life of you what the two of you were doing here. “Dude, is this a nightclub? It’s a Thursday!”

“Not exactly…” Her brazen smile makes you slightly nervous. “More of a live music venue. I’ve just gotta pick something up from here, then we’ll be off to dinner. ‘Kay?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just wait outside-” “No!” Robin quickly clears her throat. “I mean- I’m not leaving you out here on these mean street all alone without me to protect you.”

Shooting you a bright smile, you have to take at face value that she’s being entirely serious right now. Locking her arm through yours, she urges your unwilling feet further to the entrance.

“Is it even-” Answering your half-finished question, Robin pushes open the door to the venue, the interior pitch-black. “Are we even allowed to be here?”

“Yes, dingus! Just c’mon…” Once again, you’re placing literal blind faith into your closest friend. She might as well have tied Eddie’s bandana over your eyes as she did at Christmas, nothing but the slightly sticky floor beneath you to guide you forwards into oblivion. Her arm is your liferaft, swimming through pitch-black waters towards god knows what. In the distance, you hear a strange scuffling of feet, not belonging to either you or your co-worker. It sends chills down your spine, suddenly feeling very out of your depth. It’s disorienting, and totally alien.

“Seriously, Robin. Can we-” Your hushed tone is directed to the girl beside you, who stops in her tracks. You plant yourself beside her, the strangest feeling of being able to make a figure out through the void before you. A fleeting moment of movement, another shuffle of shoes on tacky wood ground.

And in the flash of an eye, brightness burns your retinas, momentarily blinding you. It forces you to squint, a desperate attempt to identify these unfamiliar surroundings. A spotlight of sorts bears down on you before Robin quickly releases you from her vice grip and jumps to the side. But as one sense is returned, another is quickly abused, a raucous sound brutalizing your eardrums.

“Surprise!” Numerous voices call out at the top of their voices, unable to be individually dissected amongst the barrage of confetti poppers bursting into the sky. As your eyes grow accustomed to the warm spotlights around the venue, you make out familiar shapes. A mess of scruffy curls buried beneath a baseball cap. Two young boys with arms slung around one another jumping up and down, perfectly manicured bangs flinging haphazardly. The flash of a camera you’d borrowed months ago. There’s only a few of them, but their energy fills the space tenfold.

And, at the center, you see a lean figure with a Kirk Hamlett haircut raise a squirming lump high above his head, not unlike a certain Disney movie that wouldn’t come out for another good eight or so years. Eddie, in what can only be described as his best cut-off band tee, proudly holds Audrey high above the group, her chunky legs bunched up to her body as she looks around entirely confused. As the last syllable of their celebration dies off, as if on cue, Audrey’s face screws up in a dramatic pout, a loud cry echoing through the venue at a volume the others only could hope to have achieved. Eddie’s face quickly transforms to worry, eyes squinting with embarrassment.

“Oh, fu-” Eddie quickly lowers her, cradling her head towards his collarbone. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you, Squid.”

Shushing her and pacing a step towards you, he bounces your baby from side to side. Her cries begin to lull, her fist tucked tightly at his clavicle for emotional support. Likely giving his neck a few scratches from her razor-sharp fingernails, she clings to the neckline of his shirt like a spider monkey, pulling it down with a subdued whimper and revealing one of his tattoos.

“Eddie? What-” You’re stunned. Shell-shocked from the sudden onslaught of sensation and attention, closing the space between you and the metalhead.

“How’s this for a grand gesture?” Spinning on his heel, Dustin rushes over to present a frosting-covered monstrosity on the bar. The icing is baby pink, with large globs that could be letters on top, with a handful of mismatched candles shoved into the floury concoction.

“Ta-da!” The younger boy grins, fixing one of the especially lop-sided candles. “Sorry it’s nothing special, I didn’t have much time to work on it…”

“You- you threw me a birthday party?” You ask, wide-eyed to Eddie.

“Ah-” He raises a finger, readjusting the subdued baby in his arms. “A surprise birthday party. In case you missed the keyword over the little hellraiser's scene-stealing cry.”

That familiar feeling returns. Overwhelmed by love and eyes solely on you. A small pile of presents sits on one of the bar tables, along with a few cards. Far more modest than the endowment you received from the group months earlier. Smiling faces, slightly tentative as they attempt to interpret your expression. But that thumping in your chest is not from anxiety this time. It’s from an overflowing sense of gratitude.

A teary smile takes over your face, rushing to embrace Eddie and Audrey in a tight bear hug. The baby nestled between you burbles and squirms, and you raise your lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear to whisper a heartfelt “thank-you”.

The party is in full swing. Of the faces huddled in groups around the intimate venue, you initially only recognise half of them. Mike, Lucas and Will order root beer from the bar under Eddie’s strict supervision, not wanting any wasted minors on his track record. Dustin and Erica are engaged in a heated conversation with a few older boys, each of them wearing shirts printed with the name Corroded Coffin. You’d only crossed paths with them a handful of times at campaign nights, but they shared Eddie’s welcoming nature, trying to involve you in their conversation about elves or something. Nancy and Robin were trying to liven up the dance floor, which mostly involved Nancy swaying to the beat and Robin putting on a full-scale musical number around her. With Audrey not in the arms of any of her allocated babysitter’s arms, there was only one place left to search. Jonathan was taking a picture of the group in the adjacent booth, El and Max grinning either side of an unfamiliar face. His long, dark hair proved most entertaining for the infant on his lap, a glazed-over expression dancing in his red-rimmed eyes.

“Woah, woah! That’s not for playing with, little dudette. Try this instead, I know it keeps me entertained.” From his Hawaiian shirt pocket, he pulls out a small set of keys, passing them to Audrey’s greedy fingers. She squeals, flinging the keys up and down in delight.

“God, she’s so cute.” El gushes, smoothing her pint-sized overalls over her legs.

“I know, right. She looks so much like Steve, it’s insane.” Max affirms. “Alright, Argyle. Quit hogging her.”

The redhead scoops her hands around Audrey’s waist, bringing her up to eye level with a cooing expression.

“You know they’re born without kneecaps? How gnarly is that?” Argyle states, turning to El with complete sincerity.

“No way that’s true.” Max shoots the older boy a signature dead-pan look, readjusting Audrey in her arms, who is now getting a good amount of drool on the keychain.

“Swear on my life! I read it somewhere, they’re born without propellers.”

“You mean patellas?” El corrects.

“Yeah, that’s the one! Or maybe it’s dogs I’m thinking of…”

It’s beautiful, watching over your own party as a voyeur. An event that has brought together all of the closest people in your life, the common thread being you. It makes you sick with love.

“How’re you enjoying the event, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice reaches you before he does, a glass of tan-colored liquid in hand.

“It’s perfect, really.” You reply with a grin. “All that’s missing are the Jell-o shots.”

“Gonna treat us to another Flashdance number?” Cheeks flushing over his statement, you stammer a response.

“How- how did you…”

“Don’t think I’d forget a spectacle like that.” He winks, a devilish grin spread across his lips. “Livened up that night’s dealings, that’s for sure.”

It’s strange, remembering a time before this. A time when Eddie was just a face in the crowd, Steve the undisputed King of Hawkins, and you with no clue what the coming years held in store. It feels like a lifetime ago, and simultaneously feels like an eternity you’ve spent with this eclectic family by your side.

“Getting on the beers tonight, Munson?” You tap a nail against the edge of his glass teasingly.

“Nah, confiscated Henderson’s root beer for my own selfish purposes.”

“You’re not gonna have a celebratory drink with me tonight?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Sounds a bit cliche, but I feel weird drinking around Squid. Just don’t want to be the kind of guy who does that around a baby, makes me feel like my dad or something.”

You swear your heart swells to three times its normal size. He might be the most considerate man you’ve ever met.

“Besides…” Eddie continues, pointing to the Hellfire boys. “... don’t want to be a mess on stage for the grand finale of the night.”

You gasp, mock excitement written all over your expression. “Strippers?!”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Maybe later, if you ask nicely.”

He did it.

Eddie pulled it off. From the house-shaking rendition of Happy Birthday, to the (in his humble opinion) absolutely killer set courtesy of Corroded Coffin, to shuttling the younger kids home before the bar opened to the public. He fucking did it. He did good.

The dingy bar is now filled with the usual patrons, the bouncers not bothering to check the ID’s of the occupants inside who could pass for being over 21. Last he saw you, you were dancing arm in arm with Robin and Nancy, screaming Everybody Wants to Rule The World at the top of your lungs. He’d never seen you so free, so vibrant. Moving like no one was watching, twirling and laughing and holding your friends. Just as you deserved to be. A twenty-year-old for one night, before another 364 days devoted to being a mom.

The cool breeze is welcoming, soothing his warm skin under the clear night sky. Stars swimming in the endless expanse of night, delicate kisses of light kissing the pitch-black veil. He can breathe. It used to be suffocating, looking up at the infinite nothing. It would clog Eddie’s throat, choking him in bleak nothingness. Wrap him in a coat of terror, a black mirror designed to play back every fateful mistake of his miserable life. Now, it welcomes him. And he isn’t afraid to embrace it. Baby steps, learning to love the dark parts of his being.

In his arms, he rocks Squid back and forth gently. She’s long since dozed off, the burden of being the life of the party clearly hung too heavy on her tiny shoulders. On her ears sit the smallest fluffy earmuffs, an investment courtesy of Dustin just for tonight. She was the best little groupie he could have asked for. At one point, Robin brought her onstage and placed her feet on the ground, bopping her up and down to the music. The crowd roared, and she giggled and squealed like she was the headliner act. Might have shown the band up, honestly. Eddie didn’t mind.

He’s getting better at stealing moments with her. Giving into his need to dote on her unabashedly. He could stare at her for a lifetime, and that wouldn’t be enough. He needs to imprint in his mind the way her eyelids flutter when she sleeps, commit to memory the O-shape of her mouth when she lets out a sleepy yawn. He wants to record her laugh, keep it forever. He wants every waking second to be dedicated to her.

“Have a good night, Squid?” He mumbles, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. “Not bad for your first party, eh? Just you wait until your birthday. All of this will look like child’s play.”

Squid wriggles restlessly, burrowing into Eddie’s chest. Against his sternum, he can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, the tiny grunts of sleep deep in her lungs. It makes him grin like a mad-man.

“Y’know, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He readjusts her carefully in his arms, hushing his tone slightly. “I think- I think you and your mom are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

His words hang heavy in the still air, the empty alleyway the only recipient to his confession.

“Can you believe I was scared of you? Of these tiny hands-” He tickles her palm with his pointer finger, the baby clasping around it instinctually with unbridled strength. “- and these little feet. God, I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. But, I’ll tell you something, just between you and me. There are much scarier things out there. And I’m not talking about monsters or alternate dimensions, although I do promise to protect you from that, cross my heart.” He raises his free hand to his heart, as if the sleeping infant would know any different.

“In this big, bad world, I think the scariest thing is to be alone. And I’m gonna make sure you never feel that way, if I can help it.”

Eddie is rambling, word vomit spilling past his lips faster than he can contain it. No scapegoat of weed or alcohol to blame his honesty on. He gently rocks Squid back and forth, the motion soothing both of them.

“Y’know, I know you’re not mine. But-” Teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, fingers pulling down her overalls. “- I dunno, it kinda feels like you’re mine in my heart.”

With a deep exhale, Eddie allows his honesty to wash over him in all its brutal glory. Knee-buckingly raw, and he leans into it, for once. Allows the love to pump through his veins with every beat of his cynical heart, waking up parts of him he thought were gone for good. But the moment of solitude doesn’t last long before Robin comes barreling out of the back door, almost crashing into the nearby trash cans.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake her?” She apologizes, sloshing her half-finished gin and tonic onto the pavement.

“Nah, you’re in luck. Squid’s out like a light.” He pulls out another milk crate, beckoning the tipsy liability over. “Having fun in there?”

“Yeah, yeah- I am.” It’s a half thought, words dancing on the tip of her tongue not ready to be spoken yet. “The kids get home alright?”

“Eventually, had to drag most of them out by the end. Henderson wanted to hide in the bathroom and then ‘blend in with the older crowd’.”

“Wonder where he learnt that one from.” Robin smiles, nudging the metalhead.

“Hey, don’t look at me. Wasn’t my doing, for once…”

“Mmm…” She replies, taking a swig of her mixed spirit. Staring down at the lime slice, she swishes the glass around as if deep in thought. Glazed eyes laced with melancholy, radiating off her being.

“Something on your mind?” Eddie asks, angling his body more in her direction.

Robin’s mouth screws up as if she’s tasted something bitter, unable to bring her gaze to meet the man before her. But he doesn’t need to look her in the eyes to see the tears swelling on her waterline, quivering with her next sentence.

“We have to tell her…” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, suppressed anxiety trickling in with every syllable.

Eddie feels his blood run cold, the familiar pang of dread hanging low in his stomach. He shakes his head defiantly.

“Not tonight, Rob. Please…” The plea is firm, fraying at the edges. Not ready to face the inevitable.

“No, no. Not tonight, but it needs to be soon.”

“Can we please not do this right now?” Eddie doesn’t mean to be so forceful with his words, but fear is a powerful thing. It poisons his blood, pushed further through his system with every erratic beat of his heart.

Robin’s eyes continue to well up with stinging tears, her grip on the glass tightening. “The guilt is eating me alive, Eddie. I just… I don’t know how to do it.”

Eddie sighs, desperate to keep what little control he possesses.

“We need to do it the right way, got it? You, me, Henderson and her. We can all sit down and…” Robin runs her hand through her hair with exasperation at Eddie’s suggestion. Even the gentlest of options sounds like a monumental task. “Just give it a bit more time…”

“There is no more time!” She retorts, her volume loud enough for her to quickly glance down at the sleeping baby to make sure she didn’t wake her.

Eddie stands up, readjusting Squid in his arms. He’s doing his best to stay calm, and not let the inevitable spiral begin, a fruitless battle. “I’m not doing this right now, okay?”

The liquid courage is working wonders on Robin right now, standing up to face the metalhead eye-to-eye. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way, Eddie. You know as well as I do that she has a right to know.”

Eddie’s mouth is open and ready to voice another stern reply, when it’s interrupted by a meek voice behind him. The soft tone does little to soothe the ache growing in his abdomen, not daring to look over his shoulder at the source.

“I have a right to know what?”

Haze.

Disorder.

Stumbling your way through the overbearing smog flooding your consciousness. Gripping to the worn sofa in your living room like it’s a buoy, the only thing grounding you in painful reality.

It’s fragmented, the onslaught of new information cluttering your mind, unable to be sifted through logically.

Owens.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you’ve lost all faith in your legs to keep you upright. Sea legs giving out beneath you, collapsing under the weight of a burdened mind. You quickly put Audrey in her bassinet the second you arrived home, stepping back from her small body like she was made of fire. Delicate, precious, amidst the crumbling ruins of life.

Found.

No.

No, you need someone to cling onto. Polyester beneath your fingernails can never compare to flesh and blood, pumping with life and hope and comfort. Oh god. Craving arms, muscle and sinew engulfing your body, soothing and shushing like you’ve done with your baby countless times. Desperate for the luxury of kindness.

No one to dote.

No one to care.

No one to witness the mortifying pain of existence.

No one to observe the torment they cursed you with in the first place.

Steve.

Crawling up your throat like bile, burning your esophagus as hot lava. You’d welcome the respite of vomit, the substance of it, the satisfaction of exorcism. But no, the painful tar claws its way through your tract, bringing biting tears to your eyes. Hell manifesting in your being. Truth collapsing with a heavy hearted I’m so sorry, bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway while you retreated. Words spilling out helplessly from your loose tongue, rage of betrayal driving every consonant and syllable. To never see you again, let alone speak to you.

The loss of everyone, everyone. Robin, Dustin, Nancy, fuck- Eddie. They all knew. They coaxed you through the loss, never allowing for hope to breed. Lies built on mountains of lies, a shamble foundation of friendship. Arms that held your daughter with gentleness and altruism, seemingly all fabricated. Tainting her with every touch, every smile, tongues bleeding as they bit back the truth. Too numb to cry, to even indulge in the agony of feeling.

Beginnings are special, because most of them are fake. Artificial and man-made, entirely composed of brain chemistry and justifications. The person you become after your first glass of wine was already there, fretting below the surface of your facade, chipping away at the mask you present to the world. They never left.

You are at the end of beginning.

#dumbslxtclub #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #dad!eddie #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #singlemom!reader

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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XVIII.

GIF: Originally posted by @khun-sam

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hello there, how are things? Many of you may be aware that it’s Tom Sturridge’s birthday today so I’ve decided to release this chapter a day early to celebrate! I really hope you like this one, let me know. I’m squeeing at the thought of you reading it! Take care, all my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

-----------------

Morpheus meets you at the end of the bridge that is furthest from the palace. He stands with his hands on the stone side as he surveys the lake.

“Hi, Morpheus,” you begin, your tone as bright as the sun above you. “Where are we going today?”

He looks towards you with a mischief loaded smile.

“There is something that I would like to show you.”

Your curiosity is ignited. “Okay. I’ll let you lead the way.”

The King of Dreams sets off with his usual powerful gait.

“How was your day?” He asks.

“It was quite lovely, actually. The summer weather is doing me a lot of good.” Seasonal affective disorder usually hit you hard. “What did I miss when I was awake?”

“My sister spent some time with me.”

“Your sister?”

“You seem surprised.”

You fumble for words. “Well, um, it’s just that you’d never really mentioned your family before and now you've made contact.”

"Our conversation last night inspired me.”

Happiness literally radiates from him and it warms your heart.

“I’m really pleased for you, Morpheus," you say warmly.

“I told her about you.”

Your eyes widen with shock. You were not expecting that at all and the thought of people talking about you was a sensitive issue. “What did you say?”

“Just about your nocturnal abilities and how we are managing them.”

Your chest caves in with relief; it was nothing too embarrassing thankfully. “Which sister did you see?”

“My elder sister, Death.”

“What is she like?”

He looks down, selecting his words. “She is wise and compassionate beyond measure and I admire her a great deal. I think you would like her.”

“It sounds like you have a strong bond.”

He nods. “I would go as far as saying that she is my preferred sibling.”

You laugh. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to have a favourite. From what I’ve observed, it tends to annoy the others.”

“I can assure you that there is no shortage of friction-inducing incidents in my family, regardless of whether I declare that I prefer my sister.”

“Oh.”

He comes to a stop and you follow suit.

“We’ve arrived,” he announces. “This is Fiddler’s Green.”

You stand at the mouth of something that instantly reminds you of an illustration of a glade you would find in a fairytale story book.

Swathes of green grass stretch out before both of your boot-clad feet. Pockets of wildflowers create a mosaic of colours giving detail to the viridian background. Delicate ox-eye daisies contrast against the electric purple splashes of cornflowers. The cowslip look like little yellow fireworks. Foxgloves of every colour imaginable rise up higher than the rest of the flowers with confident majesty.

Tall trees, heaving with blossom fill the upper third of your vision. In the distance there is a waterfall. It flows with torrents of aquamarine into a pool below that is as blue as Morpheus’ eyes. It has been so long since you have seen one that it makes your soul sing.

Pink blossom petals scatter in a gentle breeze, falling like fragrant snow. You notice that the breeze moves like breath. Rhythmically. It flows languidly in and out using the glade as its lungs.

You are completely silent, overwhelmed by the scenery. It is another one of those moments where you feel humbled.

"Is something amiss?" Morpheus questions.

"Not at all."

His eyes narrow a fraction; he is completely unconvinced.

"You've become very quiet all of a sudden."

“Can you blame me?” You look down feeling self-conscious.

“I suppose not. This place is supposed to have that effect.”

You take a couple of steps, sending dandelion clocks into dizzying spirals. They disperse far and wide. There’s a suggestion of a path so you take it, walking right up to the edge of the body of water.

Shafts of sunlight refract spectrums through the liquid. Its surface is lightly dappled by the action of the waterfall. The sound is serene.

You carry on strolling absentmindedly until you decide to take a rest a few paces from the tree line.

There’s a cluster of bee orchids nearby, you notice them as you sink into a cross legged position. Morpheus, who has been walking beside you the entire time, sits next to you. The sun is warm on your face and you feel so contented that you close your eyes.

However, not long after, you are forced to open them again because your sixth sense starts pinging.

You find Morpheus staring at you.

"What?" You ask as a nervous blush bleeds across your chest and up your neck to your face. “What are you thinking about?”

"I am recalling the first time that I met you,” he replies.

Your stomach muscles pull inwards. "I'm still really sorry about that. I was quite stubborn wasn't I? And talkative. I can’t begin to imagine what went through your mind when I immediately told you that you were attractive. You must have thought I was a right odd duck. Not that there's anything wrong with ducks. Ducks are great... Sorry, I've started babbling.”

You look at your hands resting in your lap.

"I cannot deny, it was one of the more eccentric encounters that I have had with humans.” His tone changes from playful to reassuring. “But I cannot hold it against you. You were dangerously sleep deprived, and I have since got to know you as a person.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” you deadpan.

“I’m not.” He replies abruptly, missing your sarcasm. “You are a remarkable being and spending time with you brings me great pleasure.”

“I feel the same. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

You both become silent.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a strange movement from inside Morpheus’ coat. You tilt your head to one side inquisitively.

“Have those stars always been there?” You ask as you focus in on the galaxies tracking across the lining of the garment.

“Yes," he says softly.

You wonder how you missed them before. You lean in, wanting to see them in greater detail.

“They’re beautiful,” you breathe. “Are they real?”

“Yes.”

Your fingers extend instinctively but you pause before you get too carried away.

You find his eyes.

“May I?”

He nods and pulls the coat open a little further to aid your endeavour.

You shuffle closer, reaching out with your dominant hand.

A thrill goes through you as you make contact. Your gaze widens and a little gasp falls from your mouth. The sensation is nothing like you expected it to be.

The stars swirl trails of warmth over and under the layers of your skin with the faint tickle of an ASMR reaction. You wonder what it would be like to actually wear the coat and whether it would feel like heaven.

You look back to Morpheus. His eyes are closed and there is a peaceful expression on his face.

The whole thing suddenly strikes you as feeling very intimate.

You pull your hand a centimetre back and Morpheus' eyes flutter open. You make to retract even further when his own hand captures yours.

Your lips part in surprise. He relaxes his grip.

"I apologise.”

"It's okay.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I oftentimes recognise that I am touch deprived and may find myself craving it."

“It’s okay,” you repeat again. “I understand that feeling too."

To add evidence to your reply, you return your hand to his, releasing a wave of shivers from the residual energy of being in contact with the constellations.

Morpheus’ eyes are locked with yours as he speaks. "You're trembling."

"There's a lot of power in that coat," you murmur.

He hums in response, and the sound goes right to your chest.

“There’s a lot of power in you too.”

All he can give is a controlled nod in return. You can literally feel the anxiety seeping out of him.

There are candyfloss coloured petals flying about you, settling on both your bodies and the grass you are sitting on.

You are getting delirious. You question if you should have touched the coat for as long as you did.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears. It’s galloping away, showing no signs of slowing down.

You can’t handle the intensity of his gaze anymore. You close your eyes.

Morpheus’ breath is cool on your cheeks. Then, his equally cold fingertips graze your cheek, your jawbone.

Suddenly the touch is gone. You are crestfallen, about to open your eyes again when his lips brush yours.

The act is so tentative that it makes tears prick from behind your eyelids. You daren’t move.

He kisses you again. It’s fleeting and chaste, loaded with care and respect. It makes you feel as if you are the most delicate thing in the universe.

You decide that you like the emotion it invokes within you. To be treated with reverence; it was something you desperately wanted to receive and also share with someone. And so when Morpheus’ lips find your own again, you return the sentiment with as much of your being as you can muster.

---------------------

"What a way to go to bed with those thoughts inside your head."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponyboys-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear @sandman-33 @sallysal9 @asiludida164

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glaciertea · 6 days

Text

Tales the Songs Weave

Notes: The floodgates are opening. Also! There are some influences/inspirations from the amazing @politemenacephd fic, A Fortunate Mistake. I'm sure that's a house name by now, but it's such a good read. 12/10. Highly recommend!

CW/TW: Mentions of drug use, grief/mourning (in a way, yeah), anxiety

Chapter 9: I'm Going to Give All My Secrets Away

Word count: 5.1K

You rocked from side to side, anticipation sweeping over your body as you swished your head back and forth, your hair following with every pivot.

“I hope he didn't get lost.”

You pulled your phone out and reread the last texts you sent to each other. You planned to meet early, enough to beat the crowds despite it being a Thursday morning.

Taking one final inspection of your clothes, you sighed out. A frilly, floral lilac romper you took from your job, a white turtleneck, and some ankle boots you dug from underneath your bed.

“Is this too much? Am I overdressed?”

“I think it looks good on you.” A voice sprung out of nowhere, but you instantly recognized it.

“Miguel! You made it!”

You bounced on the balls of your feet before taking a glance over at him. “And my, you sure do clean up nicely. Maybe I'm underdressed.”

He donned a black pullover sweater that hugged every curve of his muscles, gray chinos, fancy leather black boots, and his shades. You bit your tongue to release yourself from daydreams dipping into treacherous territories.

“I believe we are both appropriately dressed. Ready to head through?”

You enthusiastically nodded your head as you made a beeline through the pergolas with different dangling flowers, welcoming them in.

“So this is also your first visit?” Miguel trailed a bit behind, not wanting to overtake you with his steps due to his much longer legs.

“Mhm. I've been passing here so much during my commute to the shop. I know they allow a certain part to be free to the public, but I think you have to pay once you get to this pretty gate surrounded by hedges of animals. Or so that's what I've read on the website.”

Your eyes glimmered at the many hues of Mother Nature. The sky was blue with very few clouds, and the weather was perfect for a stroll.

Miguel couldn't help but observe your eagerness, a crack of a smile breaking in. You were so exquisite. So endearing.

And it afflicted him because of what he exactly wanted to disclose. But he shook them away as the day had just begun, and he had no desire to ruin what bit of chance he had left with you.

After making it out under the pergolas, they were greeted by several stone fountains, surrounded by bushes of azaleas, roses, and a few others. Manicured hedges and trees decorate the picnic tables and benches that line the gorgeous scenery.

“This is the part that is free to enter, but beyond that archway is the rest we have to pay for. And so far, I believe this will be worth every penny.”

“I agree.”

Wiping your hands on your romper, you spied one of the splatter-painted benches. “Would you like to sit and take in the environment for a bit before jumping into the big sections?”

“That'll be a good idea.” Miguel held his arm out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You ambled towards one in the middle that presented a view that oversaw the fountains and all. Settling down, you both inhaled the refreshing atmosphere.

The only noises that rang around were the water jetting and trickling, birds whistling whimsical melodies, and your boots occasionally crunching the perfectly cut grass.

“I hope it stays like this for the day. It said Thursdays are pretty slow, unless there's a school trip or rented-out event. And luckily, on the calendar, there's nothing going on today.” You crossed your legs, swaying them leisurely.

“You certainly did your research for this.”

“Of course! I want this hanging-out date to be decently fun.”

Miguel quirked a brow at that. “Hanging out date?”

You became flustered; your mouth managed to act faster than your mind. You did latch onto the idea of this being a date, as you secretly hoped for it to be. But you didn't want him to know because you were nervous about spooking him away.

“Well, I– uh, yes! Well, more so hanging out than the date part. I mean, I know I told you Monday that it could be whatever you want it to be, so if you want it to just be hanging out between two friends… a-are we friends?”

Miguel dipped his head down at you. He never personally put a label on what precisely your relationship is with each other.

He's undeniably sure he relishes your company and the equanimity you give him. How he's able to unwind with no hassle of being hounded whenever he's close to you.

“Yes, we are friends.”

You couldn't contain your giddiness as you did a little dance. “Oh my gosh! I've been meaning to ask but didn't know how! I mean, even though we do spend a lot of time with each other, I didn't want to assume and pressure you into a domain you weren't comfortable with.”

Miguel was going to miss those jabbers. Your tender temperament.

“Thank you. And I'm glad you're happy to be friends with me, of all people.”

“Hey! Why would I not? You are a very sweet, patient, loving, and caring gentleman who always manages to put a smile on my face… how you light up the days when you laugh, the fun we have, how we're able to converse about what goes on in our thoughts. How handsome you are…”

You gazed out over the man, getting lost in his features.

Miguel's heart raced at the adjectives you used to describe him. How depressing it'll be when you learn he's the opposite of all of it.

“Right! What I'm trying to say is to stop that. Don't speak so ill about yourself. You are a terrific person, and I want you to be able to take that with stride and pride.” You hoisted yourself up, holding your palm out.

“So shall we explore what Mother Earth has in store for us?”

Miguel was entirely speechless. He's so used to mostly negative connotations that hearing any favorable terms, especially from you, threw him off heavily. But it also stroked his ego, which had bubbled up earlier.

His enormously harsh and brawny hand engulfed your dainty one, but it seemed so right. “Si, I'm very excited to know as well.”

You battled to keep your composure, as you frankly didn't foresee him taking it. It was a fight you had to win.

Fingers entwined, you make your way to the gate, where Miguel paid for both of your entry tickets, despite your attempts to use your card.

“No. Guarda tu billetera. Remember, I'm supposed to be treating you.”

You promptly gave up when he whispered in your ear. You begin to reflect on how you simply fall from grace whenever you're near him. It was too easy.

Way too easy.

The garden was bountiful. There were different varieties of plants, ranging from shrubs, flora, trees, and more. An aesthetic kingdom of creations in harmony. Trails winding into split sections as they hugged a serenely large, sparkling crystal blue lake.

“This is magical. It's like I stepped inside a fantasy novel!” You waltzed in some more before doing a twirl with your arms wide out.

A wistful smile emerged from Miguel. He adored the terrain, as he hadn't encountered anything so naturally expansive. Well, besides the vast majority of colorful spiders at the HQ. But what molded this into a more unique case was your presence. It added more to an experience he hasn't sensed in forever.

And this will be another chapter closed when the sun sinks into the horizon’s line.

“Do you wanna see the map, Miguel? It looks big in person, but this place is decently tiny.”

You slid back over to him as you held out the map in front of both of you.

“Should we make our way towards the tulip clusters and go from there?”

“That sounds like a plan. Lead the way, and I'll follow suit.”

Bowing your head, you folded the paper and placed it in your bag. Journeying ahead, you were dazzled by the profusion of flowers decorated into numerous shapes and designs, or how they were authentically grown.

You both wandered towards a pathway until you looped back to the beginning before consulting the map and then headed in an entirely new direction.

And your conversations, just as plentiful as the wildflowers, were full of liveliness.

You discussed whatever popped up in your minds, ranging from tales of your younger days to just the everyday moments in life. You did most of the speaking, and when you detected that you prattled on a bit too much, you'd start to apologize excessively.

“Hey, you're fine. I enjoy hearing what you have to say. It lets me know you're having a good time.”

“But I also want you to be able to speak your mind as well. I love to know even a sliver of what you're feeling.”

Miguel sensed his spirit and heart crack. Damaging spider webs formed, threatening to destroy the security he fictitiously fabricated.

He was conflicted, but he knew. “I want to. I will; trust me. Just not right now.”

You tipped your head at the statement. “Whenever you are comfortable, Miguel.”

You grazed his arm before swiveling your head around the flowers bordering them.

“You know, as we were walking, I had a revelation. A form of interpretation, one can say.”

“And what would that be?” Miguel shadowed your gaze.

“If we were flowers, what would we be viewed as? Everyone would have a slew of choices for one another, but what would be the most common?”

“That's an interesting concept. If you were a flower, I could see you as a sunflower or a daisy. Maybe even a tulip.”

You folded your hands, placed them on your thighs, and looked up at him.

“Would you like to know why I chose those flowers?” Miguel angled himself so the sun could project off you just right, giving your skin that glow.

“Tell me one, and the other two can be a mystery.” Your fingers wiggled in a mystical sort of manner.

Miguel released a brisk waft out of his nose as a snicker merely snuck its way out. “Eres una mujer tonta que adoro mucho. The reason I chose daisies as one is because they're known to represent new beginnings. They bring joy, hope, and cheerfulness.”

Miguel clenched his hand as he prevented himself from stroking your cheek and hair. “And you certainly do yield those qualities.”

You were dazed when he expressed that, clearly drawn back from his response.

“O-oh. Thank you; that's very kind of you.” You tried to hide your giddy smile at his conception of you.

“Now my turn!” You clasped your hands near your chest.

“Alright. What do you perceive me as?” His eyes reflected curiosity as he locked onto you.

“I think you would be a red petunia and a purple hyacinth. Oh! And lavender and marigold.”

Miguel intently gathered your choices; a hint of astonishment poked its way through.

“That's fascinating, especially with… the marigold.” Miguel creased his heavy brows.

The flower that connects life after death.

He was thankful for shades so he could conceal his honest reactions.

“Should I also explain one, or do you want it all to be a secret and leave it up to interpretation?” You teased him as you secured a few inches towards him.

“Usually I would prefer to know everything, but for now, let's leave it in the air.” A smile tugged on his face.

“Deal. Now, shall we continue?”

“Si, sigamos adelante.”

“I'm gonna assume you're agreeing with me! Onwards!” You leapt a foot off the ground and did a quick spin, managing to stick the landing smoothly.

A full-on grin ultimately stumbled on Miguel as you made your way to another part.

As the day continued, more people filled the garden. It wasn't crowded, but a good handful of people passed by every several minutes. You stooped over, leaning into a bush of peonies as Miguel stood by.

“You know what I enjoy about flowers?” You leaned in to sniff one.

“What's that? How they can smell like a permanent perfume department?”

You couldn't help but snort as you nodded your head. “And they say you aren't funny. Yes, I love the fragrance each one gives, but there's more to it.

“How much life they give. These colorful, beautiful things bring so much to us. They give food to the bees, the butterflies, and more. How they grow to show us what the world graces us with.

“How emotions can be expressed within one. Many bring joy, love, and compassion. But some can even show sadness, sorrow, or anger. But I sometimes envy them.” You brushed over a peony with your thumb.

"Why is that?" Miguel squatted next to you.

“They aren't afraid to present vulnerability.”

Miguel's brows furrowed, and his face crinkled in puzzlement. “I don't think I understand.”

“When a flower wilts, it shows it by the petals falling and the colors losing their glowing hue. It could be saying I need more water or sunlight. Or maybe they just need someone to talk to. They aren't afraid to ask. And when given that love, even if it's just a cup of water, they are able to grow back. Brighter than ever.

“They show it's okay to drop those defenses if you truly need help. There will be someone who wants to see that radiating color spring. Oh! I'm sorry for rambling. Do you want to go this way? I don't think we've been into this section.” You adjusted your romper and idly stretched.

Miguel was stunned. It still never ceases to amaze him how you comprehend existence. Even as a mundane flower, you manage to observe more. And it stung his heart more. He didn't deserve someone with a soul like yours. His was dark compared to your light.

The further you traveled into the gardens, the more he learned how warm and gentle you were. The more it frightened him when he finally revealed what he was and what he did.

You rotated back when you noticed Miguel didn't budge. You head back, crouching next to him, concerned if you offended him.

“Miguel? You okay? Did I say something that hurt you?”

He suddenly snaps back from his inner torment.

“Huh?! Oh, no, no. No hiciste nada mal. You are fine, just lost in thought. What you said was very graceful and poetic. You know, I've been meaning to tell you that you have a very beautifully passionate heart.”

You squeaked as you flailed your wrists. “No, no! Thank you, but no! Just how I personally understand the world around me. Um, differentiating opinions and views, you know?”

“And my view and opinion of you won't change.”

You plastered a dumbfounded countenance. “Thank you, Miguel.”

Miguel sucked in a gulp of air before exhaling. “I think I'm ready to share more of how I'm feeling.”

“Are you sure, Miguel? I don't want to force you into something you're not-”

“Listen. This is what I want; this is what I want–need to get off my chest. You aren't forcing me into anything–no corner, nothing like that.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip and bobbed your head. “Here, let's go sit somewhere. I think I saw a resting area near the entrance.”

You made your way back, and the atmosphere brewed a high, rising strain, mostly from Miguel. Sinking onto the garden bench, you both observed a playground across the stony tracks and hedges.

A group of school kids were sprinting and climbing on the jungle gym excitedly. A scowl nearly surfaced on Miguel. It was as if the universe was purposely mocking him.

The shouting of children and trees whooshing in the breeze caught your ears before you emitted a breath of air.

“You okay? It seems you are a bit… lost?” Your voice faint as Miguel dazed at nothing in particular. He was fraught with anxiety about how to even begin foretelling his horrid misdeeds.

“My brain is foggy. I know I have to tell you, but I don't know where to exactly start.” His left leg began to jitter, restlessly bouncing as his nerves skyrocketed.

You hovered your hand over the knee, just as you did when you first hung out together. He watched you as the limb slightly decelerated, your fingers massaging in circular motions.

“And I'm afraid that if I do tell you, everything will fall out of place.”

You joined your legs, eyeing the children gleefully darting around playing, before twirling back to Miguel, eyes affixed on him as your hand proceeded its movements.

“You don't have to, Miguel. Remember, only when you're truly ready for something to be told is, of course, okay with me.”

Miguel was marginally drawn back by your reply.

“But I said that I would tell… are you not upset?”

You shrugged your shoulders. "Why would I be? Everyone is entitled to keep a few thoughts and sentiments to themselves."

His jaw clenched. He didn't have to force himself? He could go at a pace he desired?

But now that's not the case. He had to rip the abundance of bandages with no hesitation. He couldn't hamper it; he was conscious of his decision. He just wasn't prepared to lose you.

After one inhale and a long exhaust, his mouth opened.

“As you know, I'm Spider-Man. You know my purpose is to protect you and the citizens of Nueva York.”

You made sure to only listen. Holding onto every word he gave.

“But there's more to my position as Spider-Man than just that. Are you aware of the massive building that's been erected in the middle of the city?”

You incline your head.

“Do you know what it's for?”

Ashamed, you shook your head. You passed by it a couple times, never engaging enough to digest the purpose of the structure. You presumed it was another megacorporation.

“Inside those walls and structures lie hundreds of others. An elite strike force of spider-people dedicated to protecting the multiverse.”

Your head remained slightly sloping, but your face stayed the very same.

“Do you know of the theory that there are multiple alternate universes? That there’s a surplus of variations of you, but each exists slightly or drastically different from one another?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, that theory is true. And I lead varying types of Spider-Man who capture anomalies that don't belong in those worlds. To make sure a universe doesn't collapse within itself.”

“That's why you're always so tired…” You mumbled before clamping your hand to your mouth. “I'm so sorry; that was rude of me to say.”

Miguel chuckled at that. “No no. You're right. It's not a light job. I'm usually alert. I barely stray away as I have to command and distribute tasks. Well, minus the times when I stepped away for-”

He eyeballed you for a second, biting his cheek, before diverting back to the original topic. “I'm not just Spider-Man. I'm an operation. The day I learned I wasn't the only one was mind-boggling, to say the least. But I soon recognized how disparate I was.”

“How so?” You asked meekly.

“How the story is supposed to go is that Spider-Man gets bitten by a radioactive spider. Rather it be at a lab or a flower shop, they will always be punctured by one.”

Miguel focused on the cloudy sky before gazing back at you. That steady, composed face didn't falter once.

“I, on the other hand, was infused with one. Remember that night when I bit that woman and my body was in a frenzy?”

“I do; it was our first time meeting.” You both smiled at how far ago that encounter was.

“Well, I did some samples because I had to know what caused my body to berserk the way it did. The slew of stimulants that circulated within the woman was ridiculous. But there was one that caught my attention. The one I had personal history with.”

Miguel huffed a huge blow of air. “Rapture.”

He circled his neck, anticipating the judging leer of disgust from you. Yet he was greeted with two blinks, your hand still rubbing his knee.

“Take your time.” Your voice held that sincerity.

That baffled him. Why were you not sneering? Standing up and denouncing him before turning away, abandoning him forever?

“Before I became this figure, someone I knew drugged me with it, and I became highly addicted. The reason why my immune system reacted that way was to prevent any sort of damage to me. To battle it.” He grunted.

“Rapture messes with a human's DNA, and I for certain wasn't going to let this thing forcibly destroy me. So, I began to rewrite my own DNA. Everything seemed fine until a jealous coworker sabotaged my process, and then I became… this.”

Miguel held his claws up, his eyes glossing over the monster he became. A curse with no reverse or means of escape.

“I've done so many wrongs ever since I became this thing. Wrongs that I fear will hurt more and more people.”

You squeezed his knee as your eyes searched his face. Even though the shades concealed him, you felt the pain radiating off of him.

“It wasn't your fault, Miguel. You were forced into a situation that you attempted to escape from. I'm so sorry you went through something traumatic like that.”

You chewed your tongue as Miguel let you continue. “And there will be times where you may do something unpleasant, but it's how you go about resolving them. And Miguel, you are a good person.”

You removed your hand and stroked his arm. “You are keeping thousands of universes safe and the people of Nueva York. You may make mistakes, but you strive to do the right things.”

Miguel choked back a snort. “I'm not a good person. I did heinous things. I-”

A lump caught in his throat. He had to snatch this bandage off. The one that hardly contained the gaping wound. The one that was going to fade everything. The one that will unveil the fiend he truly is.

“I got my daughter killed. I-I killed my daughter.”

He envisioned the terror and revulsion from you this time. And yet, nothing changed. An extra state of peculiarity, but still the same. You waited for him. You perceived that there was a significant amount of context behind the words he blurted.

He couldn't drop the subject. He had to press on. “There was a world where I was happy–well, a version of me. I had a family, a beautiful daughter. And that copy of myself… was killed. So I went and replaced him because I didn't want her to be alone.”

His eyes glassed as the memories faded. “I thought what I did was safe, that I was just taking care of my daughter and being there for her. Just being so happy.”

Miguel held back the tears. “Then one day, during her football match, the world just started to glitch. It began to unravel.”

Miguel dug his claws into his scalp as you mindfully detached them, preventing him from doing any damage to himself.

“Did you know it was going to do that?”

He violently shook his head. “No, no, of course not. But it's my fault! She's gone because of me. She died in my arms because of me! And this is the bear I must burden! It is an endless tribulation. The clock that will never stop ticking, dangling the fault I caused!”

The wooden bench made an ear-wrenching din as Miguel's claws restlessly grated it. You withstood it as your concerns for him rang through.

“They say time mends all wounds, but it's sometimes hard to tell when it exactly begins. Does it happen naturally? Or does it begin with you? It's a scary thought because it can be unknown to some.”

Miguel held his breath as you spun your body to him, showing you were ready to understand.

“You hold this guilt as a constant reminder, but in a way, it's unfair to you. You couldn't have known something like that would come.” You rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“But I did–I did cause it.”

“You didn't, and I think that's the hardest part. When something around us is out of our control and falls, one of our usual instincts is to blame. And for many, it's ourselves.

“You're locked in this cage, having to grasp a constant reminder of a traumatic experience no one, no parent, should ever go through.”

“I-I…” Miguel didn't know what to say.

“I'm so sorry you went through that pain. I'm so sorry, Miguel. You both didn't deserve that pain. I may not be able to relate, though I can sympathize. You believe you're a bad father, but you're far from it.”

“But I got my daughter killed…”

“But you didn't mean for that to happen.” Your voice was soft.

Shuffling over some now, you glided both of your thumbs on all of his knuckles.

“You are still a good father; things like that will never change. You love and care for her, and I believe your daughter loved you with all her heart.”

Your eyes refused to give up their hold on him.

“Would you like to know why I chose those flowers for you?”

Miguel nodded his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Purple hyacinths are gorgeous as they stand tall and proud, but they hold so much sadness to them. Red petunias are striking, vivid, and vivacious, but they also represent the anger they keep. But underneath is that marigold and lavender." Your intent never changed.

“Those flowers that show tranquility and that beauty for life. The lavender brings peace and serenity as it fills the air with its loving scent, soothing the aching mind. Marigold is that lively golden yellow that can be spotted beyond the many reds and purples.

“I know underneath you hold that marigold and lavender buried deep within, they want to blossom out. To be free and seen.”

“La muerte no es el final, sino una continuación del viaje.”

He mumbled it so lowly and swiftly that you couldn't quite catch it.

You refrained from asking. When he was ready to tell, you would be by his side.

“¿Por qué estás haciendo esto? ¿Por qué no te enojas? Ay, you are too gentle.”

Miguel rested his back on the bench as the kids’ voices reverberated between the two. Full of hope, innocence, joy, and full of amazement.

The jubilation he craved. The memories he misses.

“I don't think it's because I'm gentle; I think it's because you just want someone to listen. You are facing so many things alone that it doesn't sound like there are many in your corner.”

You directed your finger towards his glasses. “May I?”

Miguel's breath hitched as he hesitantly bowed his head.

Removing the shades, you mindfully placed them in-between your thigh and his, and you gazed into his glossy eyes.

Under the shade, they remind you of wine red, smooth and sweet. But now, you could only see the red petunias. The purple hyacinths.

“Know that I'm here for you. I don't know how the ones at your job interact with you–besides Peter, of course. It sounds like he enjoys interacting with you a bit too much.”

A puff of laughter escapes from Miguel as a small smile appears on yours. “But I'll always be right here. Even if I were to move somewhere else, I'll still be right there, Miguel.”

You began to run your thumb against his cheekbone.

“I will be here until you discover that field that's blanketed with nothing but lavender and marigolds.”

Snap.

“Thank you. I'm so… Thank you.”

“Of course.” You beamed as your stomach rudely began to rumble.

“I think my stomach is trying to eat itself. I think they have a cute cafe here, a befitting choice for this place.” You carefully placed the shades back into his claw as Miguel glazed over them.

You stood up and stretched. “Lunch will be on me! I know it's supposed to be you paying me back, but I want to treat you as well.” You followed Miguel with your eyes as he stood up to his full height.

“I can still sense there's something on your mind. Well, there are many things, but a specific one. You can tell me if you'd like.” You nudge your hand against his, making an offer to hold it if he wanted.

“I'm scared in a way. I don't want to hurt you.” Miguel instinctively pulled back a bit, as you did as well, understanding.

You both began to trek over to the main gate as your eyes fixed on the lake.

“I don't believe you'll hurt me. If something were to arise, we'd find a way through it. Unless it was something super bad, but I have a strong gut feeling that things will be okay!”

You paused in front of an archway arrayed with an assortment of flowers. “And my view and opinion of you won't change.”

Miguel didn't utter a single word. Not a single sound escaped.

You gulped, wondering if you had done anything wrong, until you felt his fingers in your hair. The hues from the floral and sun made you only shine brighter.

Miguel had taken his sunglasses back off, his eyes straining in the sunlight, but he didn't care.

“Miguel?”

He leaned down. “Gracias, mi corazón.”

Your lips were soft, and Miguel tasted something sweet as he dipped his head down even more. Your eyes widened until they were heavily closed.

Your arms clumsily tried to wrap around his neck until you got it. He moved his hands to your hips, hearts beating against each other's chests. Miguel could hear yours.

He wondered if you could hear him too.

Pulling away, you both panted heavily. You grasped his face between your palms, carefully knocking your forehead against his.

“Are we still friends?” You cheekily grinned, receiving a hefty laugh from him.

“Yes, a tiny bit more, I would believe, but yes.” He stole one last kiss before your stomach snapped at you two, growling loudly. Miguel couldn't help but laugh even harder.

You lovingly captured every crease in his face and how beautifully he fits into the scene around him. How the gold from the sun really suits his tanned skin.

“Te adoro, corazón. Now let's get something to eat.”

Hand in hand, you two amble to the cafe with no words, as your presence near each other tells it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: I won't keep plugging it in, probably like every few chapters so it doesn't get annoying haha, but if you'll like to tagged when I update for the next chapters, you can click here💞

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you

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toomanyplotbunnies-sendhelp · 3 months

Text

Hello and welcome to Day 13 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"

I have been a bit under the weather so this is a bit later than I would have liked to post but oh well...

As I said in yesterday's post, today I will talk about another My Hero Academia System AU, but this time, Izuku is unlucky to be actually trapped (alongside other people - OCs mostly) into a System that gives them a series of tests with the very real possibility of them dying during said tests.

This idea is heavily inspired by the novel (and manhwa) "Global Examination" - which I urge you to check out cause it is awesome.

The title for this fic is: System 16-564-53

(The title is kinda important for the story so if you wanna, try deciphering it)

In this AU, Izuku never went to U.A, thus never becoming a hero nor getting All Might's Quirk - which means Mirio got One for All.

Izuku instead continued his life, getting into college after going into military service for a year or so. While in college, Izuku gets a sketchy email about him being selected as a participant in a contest, which he ignores. At least up until Izuku wakes up in the middle of nowhere (together with 9 more strangers) where System 16-564-53 tells them they are in a series of tests where their lives will be at stake.

Of course, one of the people there doesn't believe an iota of what it was said by the System, which prompted it to kill the "nuisance" as a warning for the other "players".

And so, Izuku finds himself in a position where his insecurities need to be left aside so that he can get out of here alive - and, hopefully, he can help the others survive too.

Unbeknownst to Izuku, the System is actually a part of All For One - one of the many Quirks he stole - which has its own hidden agenda with the tests. One thing is for sure, however, this is CLEARLY not the first time such tests have happened.

Some details:

Most of the people Izuku interacts with in the System are OCs. But there will be mentions of some other characters from the series.

Izuku is badass and has so much knowledge that comes in handy here.

Because Izuku is badass, most of the other "players" actually fall for him. I actually have an OC that I literally called "Simp" in my notes. His name is Yutō and he is my baby.

I actually have an Alternate AU where Hero!Izuku from Canon meets Yutō from the canon dimension, and they fall in love there, too.

Numbers and how things are worded play a very important role here.

All For One is the cause of everything and Izuku, in any universe, still ends up fighting against him. (Poor guy, even in an alternate universe, he can't take a break)

So this is about it. What do you think? Good? Bad? Kinda crazy/crack idea?

Let me know!

Have a great day/night and take care of yourselves!

Till tomorrow,

-TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help

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thepinkproof · 2 years

Text

REIGN OF TERROR

chapter five

You were born for him, he just knows it and you’re the only one who can cure him.

Genre: Yandere!Vampire Jungkook x Reader - a 10 chapter series inspired by Tangled and Beauty and the Beast

Warnings: yandere behavior, suicidal attempts and talks, violence, eventual smut, DEATH, reader is not mentally stable, slight cursing, torture, MANHANDLING

Taglist: @silversparkles11 @mwitsmejk @outro-kook @bishuthot @kooliv @syunchl @lauritakamaki @ash07128 @darkuni23 @era-genius @doublebunv @etsuko-99 9 @bbl32 @hoseoks7swrld @sweetbtsfoever @bxbyyyjocelyn @crazy-eight17 @mageprincess7 @devilsbooksworld @breadgeniedope @cara-18 @yourtmblrgirlfriend @sleepy-time-dreamy @angelarin @faerikitty @iloverubberduckiez-blog

word count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist| Next

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Y/N smiled brightly as she heard the door knob rattled. She had showered and brushed her hair and teeth making sure she was perfect.

"Hi Jungkook." Y/N exclaimed, half of her face full of teeth.

"Hello beautiful." He complimented as he kissed her forehead.

Her cheeks turned red, almost forgetting what she was so excited about. "I painted you something!" She revealed a canvas to him.

Jungkook looked at the canvas in amazement. It was a self portrait of him. He has seen many self portraits of him but this one was done abstractly. It was very unique in his eyes.

He looked at her as she watched him for a reaction. He found her desperateness to please him cute. "It is almost as beautiful as you my love." He complimented.

She was excited that Jungkook liked her drawing but that wasn't the only reason she was excited. She was anticipating to ask him a question.

"Can we go outside today?" She pleaded.

Y/N waited for an answer as Jungkook was silent. "Baby I'm busy today, I'm afraid I can't fulfill your wishes."

Y/N's smile dropped. "Can't Alana take me outside then?" She suggested desperate to have her wish.

"No."

"B-But I-"

"You're not daring to talk back to me are you? When I saved you." He questioned her with intimidating eyes.

She took steps back in fear. "No I just, please don't be mad at me."

"Remember when you said you were mine, that means I control what you eat, wear and what you do. You're suppose to be a good girl and obey me." He hissed at her.

She mentally degraded herself for asking such a ridiculous question. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to spend time with you since you're always busy and I thought the best way was to spend it outside because I've never seen it." She admitted as she tried to blink away her tears.

"It's okay sweetheart. We can spend time together right now."

"But I thought you were busy." She asked in confusion.

"I can make time for you, we just can't go outside right now. The weather is terrible and I want your first time outside to be a bright and sunny.” He assured her making her hold his arm in excitement.

He liked seeing her smile which is why he promised her this. "I have to train for a battle tomorrow but I will let Alana take you to the library."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/N looked at the walls of the hallway so curiously as she slowly walked. The walls were all artistically painted in such detail.

Alana chuckled at her. "My lady, take my hand for you won't get lost." She told her.

Y/N took the younger girl's hand but her attention was still on the interior details. "Where is everyone?" She asked wanting to see new people.

"This floor was closed for the day, only few people are allowed." Alana answered.

"I heard most buildings have windows, where are the windows?"

"Vampires don't like sunlight. Over the years we have adapted to it but we still don't like it. The weather been quite sunny over the few days so its ordered to keep them all closed." Alana explained.

Y/N stopped walking. "I wanted to go outside but Jungkook said it was raining yesterday." She said in confusion. Was he lying again?

Alana raised her eyebrow as she pulled Y/N hand to keep walking. "My king probably don't want to take you outside because of your smell."

"My smell? Do I have an odor?”

"You have a strong, unique smell. If vampires smelt you they would most likely try to drink from you."

Y/N was sure that wasn't it. If Jungkook thought people would drink from her he would give her guards. "Maybe Jungkook just doesn't like the sunlight." She tried to convince Alana, or better yet herself.

Alana opened the empty library's door. "My lady, look around you. Nobody is here for a reason. My king wants to keep you a secret."

It all made sense. Why she haven't even left the room since she got here. Why would Jungkook want to keep her locked away? It had to be a reason to it, it just had to be. He was the good guy.

Or was he.

Y/N breathed heavily at her thoughts in confusion as she stood in the middle of a library full of books, but it was like she had no answer. Alana looked at her concerned, "My lady, calm down."

"Is everyone trying to use me? Why do everyone lie to me?" Y/N asked her servant.

Alana held Y/N's shoulder to calm her down. "I never lied to you, my lady." She assured Y/N. Y/N stared at her as she slowed her breathing.

"I'm confused. I don't know if I can trust him, I don't know what to do."

Alana sat her down in the nearby chair. "You're beautiful, smart, and kind. Your blood is almost exotic as your looks. Everybody craves and want you, and when you have something someone wants, you don't give it, you display how powerful it is so that everyone will worship it." She told the older girl.

Y/N stared at Alana as she pondered her words. Was she just giving herself to Jungkook? I mean he did deserve her, he saved her.

Or did she save him?

He would be dead without her.

She had the power, not him.

"Are you saying I should stand up for myself to Jungkook?" She asked.

Alana quickly shook her head. "I would never suggest such thing my lady. I am loyal to Jungkook and I believe that he is the supreme king. I am just suggesting that you are more confident in your abilities, you did read the book I gave you right?”

Y/N nodded as she looked a figure who was reading a library book. She thought this library was empty. "Who is that?" Y/n asked pointing to the man.

Alana quickly looked back. Seeing who it was she quickly put her head down. "Oh it's nobody my lady."

"I am a vampire with super hearing just like you Alana." The voice spoke. In seconds the man speeding to the two girls causing Y/N to jump back in fear.

"Don't be scared young one. My name is Min Yoongi." He introduced himself. He gave Y/N a long and attentive stare that intimidated her, almost as if he was checking her out.

"M-My lord, my master has issued this is a closed floor." Alana stuttered eyes stuck to the floor.

"Your master and I are close friends, I was just searching for a book, or smell if I may admit." Yoongi said glancing over to Y/N who took a step back.

"D-Don't hurt her!" Alana blurted at him in fear.

"Oh no, I would never hurt Jungkook's girl. No need to get jealous Alana, you will always be my favorite girl." Yoongi flirted making the girl feel uncomfortable.

"My lord, I am just the former king and Y/N's servant!"

"And you use to be my whore."

"Don't speak to her like that!" Y/N yelled at Yoongi.

Yoongi laughed at her bravery. "Are you not Jungkook's whore?"

"Don't speak to us using such derogatory terms. I'm nobody's whore, yet you seem to be Jungkook's by the way you're constantly checking the door to see if he's coming when we speak." Y/N challenged him by stepping closer.

Yoongi red eyes became darker in rage. He speedily pinned Alana to the wall. "I may can't hurt you Y/N but I can sure hurt her."

His hands wrapped itself around Alana's neck as he choked her against the wall. "I'll kill her just like Jungkook killed your parents." He threatened.

Y/N was too distracted by his words to react. She never thought about what happened to her parents. She just assumed they were alive, living happily without her. But why would Jungkook kill them?

Yoongi chuckled at Y/N's frozen figure as Alana helplessly looked at her. "Enough of this slow death. It's not my usual type but I could go for vampire blood right now." Yoongi showed his fangs and started to harshly suck on the girl's neck causing her to scream in pain.

Y/n watched as Alana fell over to the ground in unconsciousness. She gasped in shock as Yoongi smirked at her before speeding out of the room.

"Alana!" Y/n finally reacted. She ran and crouched to the girl's fallen figure.

Alana's eyes were fluttering in unconsciousness. Her pale face let out wheezes of pain. Y/n noticed that her skin was flaking, almost like it was forming its own grave.

Her hands touched Alana's face. "I'm losing you, please tell me how to help you."

"Blood, I need blood." Alana voiced rasped in a weak voice.

There was no guards, or anyone around. How could she give her blood? "Help! Jungkook! Anyone! Help." She screamed.

Y/n could tell Alana didn't have much time left. She hesitantly looked down at her hand. "Drink." She demanded holding her arm to Alana.

Alana looked at her in disagreement. "Just do it, let me save you." Y/n said. Alana's fang opened up as she harshly sucked on Y/n's arm to fight for her life. Y/n watched as Alana's body regained a more healthier pale to distract from the pain.

She could feel herself getting weak as Alana seemed distracted and engraved into the taste of her blood. Seeing Y/n's worried face, she finally removed her fangs from her arm.

Alana breathed heavily. "W-What have I-I done?"

Y/n furrowed her eyes in confusion. "You've done no wrong Alana."

Tears ran through Alana's face. "Please my lady, don't tell my master I've drunk from you. H-He'll kill me." She sobbed.

Y/n quickly hugged her servant, resting her head on her shoulder. She too was filled with anxiety of today's events. "I won't tell. I vow my secrecy to you just as you have vowed your loyalty to me."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n's face was pressed against a solid chest. She felt a hand drag through her hair in a relaxing manner. She fluttered her eyes open, enjoying the moment for a second.

He was warm, contrasting to a vampire but his heartbeat was nonexistent. Nonexistent, almost like his honesty.

She attempted to lift her head up but it was harshly pushed down by him. "Trying to escape?" He muttered.

She used all her strength to push away from him. Y/n positioned herself at the side of the bed. "Escape is a term to use when someone is a prisoner." She mumbled.

"If you wish to speak so unkindly at me use your full tone of voice."

Y/n coldly looked back at him. "You're a liar." She hissed at him.

"Why would you think such a horrendous thing about me baby?"

Y/n glared at him for his lack of awarness. She crossed her arms. "If I were to walk out that door right now would you let me?"

Jungkook's jaw clenched as he glared at her like a volcano ready to erupt. His hand grabbed her arm. "Don't you fucking dare think of leaving me."

"So I am a prisoner?"

"Do it look like I keep my prisoner in the finest room, on a comfortable bed beside me, eating the finest food in the world? You aren't a prisoner, you're my possession, you're mine. Nobody can fucking look at you, smell you, taste you or touch you but me. There's no capable escape from me because you belong to me." He finally admitted in an intimidating, authoritative voice she's never heard before.

Her mouth slightly opened in shock, but she quickly closed it and nodded. "Thank you for finally telling me the truth."

He smiled at her as he took out a bouquet of flowers, all of different sorts of colors."It's an apology gift for not letting you go outside yesterday. They are all rare flowers from the royal garden. Hopefully, i can show you in person soon." He innocently said holding the flowers out to her that was held in glass vase.

Y/n stared at the flowers in amazement as she took them from her hand. She was in awe at not only the flowers but Jungkook.

He was deceiving, yet beautiful.

Just like her.

"It's beautiful Jungkook. I-I love it. Thank you." She forced her nose in the bouquet of flowers to smell their aromas. "Flowers need sunlight to last, are you aware?” She stated looking at him.

He stared at her conflicted before sighing. Jungkook got up from the bed stretching his arms. "Follow me."

She tried to stay calm as he got keys to open a door she thought was to a closet. When he opened it a hallway was revealed. The walls had swords and weapons displayed that all look like they told a horror story. There was a few windows on the wall but Y/n kept looking at the swords.

"There's more to my part of the castle than our room. I'm not particularly fond of sunlight so I keep windows out of my bedroom." Jungkook explained.

"The swords, are these the ones you used in battle?" She curiously asked.

He slightly grinned, happy that she was curious. "Yes my darling, this one here in my favorite." He said pointing to the one most decorative to display. "It's was passed down to me, it's the sharpest sword in the world made of carbon nanotubes. I've killed thousands with it."

Her eyes widened as she awkwardly nodded. "Do you miss being king?" She asked looking into his brown eyes.

"Of course, i've been training everyday to get the title back, for us. I need the power to protect you, to bring vengeance to the people who hurt the both of us." He said looking at her like she was his purpose.

"When it's your time to reign I want to be the first one bowing down to you." She said kissing him on the cheek, something she learned from him.

Y/n took her vase of flowers and sat them by the window. Her eyes stared at the scenery outside. It was so beautiful. The birds that were caught in the trees, the green grass, the sun shining through the land.

"Why steal beautiful flowers from their natural habitat and put them in a vase for display like its an object, just because its beautiful." Y/n seethed looking at the window.

Jungkook's face was full of confusion. Suddenly Y/n pushed the vase on the window causing it to crack, quickly jumping out of it. Jungkook let out a scream as she fell out the window.

She didn't know what floor she was on when she fell but she heard a terrible crack on her leg. Despite the pain, she got up and limped towards the woods.

"Heal." She muttered in encouragement to her leg. Her legs started to feel normal so she increased her speed throughout the woods.

It didn't matter how fast she went, it just matter how far she got.

Y/n ran for about half an hour until her legs felt weak. Her legs slowed down so she decided to finally take in her surroundings. Her hands ran through the bark of the tree as she felt its rough texture.

She took a deep breath and inhaled the musky, fresh smell. The smell of sweet freedom. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the animals. The birds humming and the crickets riveting. It was so peaceful.

"Oh look who we have here." A voice said interrupting her tranquil moment. The exact person she was expecting so she didn't turn around to look at his face.

"You're a little dumb thing roaming your luxurious scent in a wood full of vampires. Not all of them are as sweet as me."

"I'm anything but dumb." Y/n seethed looking at a huge rock.

"You're lucky Jungkook wants you dear child because your scent is driving me insane. It's such a shame I can't hurt you." He continued.

"Yoongi, is that your name?" Y/n said finally turning around.

He curiously raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Min Yoongi, one of the strongest warriors in vampire history." He bragged as he circled around her frozen body that mysteriously held no fear.

"It must be a shame to hide behind a mask to kill and not get lionized and honored. In all my history lessons not once have I've heard of the name Min Yoongi." Y/n said to man with an amusing grin.

Yoongi's jaw clenched for a second before smiling. "What a shame it is to simply be a weak prisoner, a woman that is worth only for her blood, a hmm... what's the word... an defenseless object ."

Y/n could not lie his words had truth. She was treated like an object by everyone she met. "Aren't we all objects, you came here because you are one." She argued.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Enough chit chat, it's time to go back to Jungkook ."He said gesturing her to follow him. He started to walk but she stayed still.

"You're an object just like me but you do all his dirty work right?"

"Shut up." Yoongi warned as he fisted his hands.

"You said Jungkook killed my parents?" Y/n asked him for confirmation.

Yoongi laughed. He figured his comment aboit her parents would piss her off. He couldn't hurt her physically but he could emotionally . "Yeah he did, with such cold blood. The looks on their eyes as he made them suffer for hours. They didn't fight much, since you were gone they didn't have much will to live. It was truly the most torturous death someone could experience." He explained the dark event in a jolly voice.

He stared at Y/n with a smirk as her eyes started to get glossy. She tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. An expression she picked up from Yoongi. "The day I was born Jungkook became sick. It would've been impossible for him to kill my parents days later. You were the one who put an end to their lives."

Yoongi scoffed at her. He felt alarmed at her cleverness but yet he kept a facade. "So I did the dirty work? But who do you think called the order princess? It was Jungkook."

"I find that hard to believe, but it doesn't matter. You still lied to me...I despise liars."

"Who cares what you despise Y/n? Let's go now!" He yelled harshly grabbing her arm.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at him before picking up a huge rock and banging it on his head. He fell over in pain. He touched the back of his head as blood splattered all over his hand. "You fucking bitch." He groaned as he got up.

Y/n hastily pulled out an object as Yoongi sped towards her in vampire speed.

His face dropped as he felt something deep up in his heart. A stake.

He once again fell to the ground, speechless.

"Did you know that my kind are not only used for healing? The older generations also called them Equalizers because they could extirpate humans and vampires equally. Meaning, they don't need a stake to kill a vampire. One blow at any part of the body with any object and they die as easily as a human." Y/n spoke as she hovered over Yoongi's body.

"I learned all this information about myself from a book." She added with a chuckle.

Yoongi looked at her with pure hatred. "Then why did you kill me ....like a human ...with a stake?" He questioned her, blood spluttering out his mouth with every word.

"Because how would a weak prisoner, a woman that is worth only for her blood, a hmm... what's the word... an defenseless object ever kill one of the strongest vampire in history?" She mocked with a victorious grin. She watched as Yoongi stared at her with widened eyes as his body lost consciousness and used her fingers to close his lifeless eyes.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n ran through the woods towards the castle screaming. "Help! Help!"

She heard tussles in the grass knowing someone was near. A vampire suddenly sped right in front of her.

"Y/n we've been looking everywhere for you. Jungkook would be disappointed in you." Taehyung said to the distraught girl.

The girl did not look like she running away from the castle. She looked relieved to see him.

"I-I- I ran into Yoongi, h-he caught me and then humans came they threw a stake right through his heart. T-They tried to get me but I got away. Please! W-We have to hide from them." She said out of breath.

Taehyung looked at her in confusion and shock. "Yoongi is dead?" She quickly nodded her head. He blinked his eyes in grief. "Let's get you to Jungkook."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n tried her best to hold in a smirk as Taehyung escorted her to Jungkook's room. Her plan wasn't to run away, it was to kill Yoongi.

She knew she couldn't escape Jungkook. The truth was that Yoongi's confession of her parents dying affected her. It hurt her more than knowing Jungkook lied. Her parents were innocent and yet they were killed simply for birthing her. She thought about it all day.

Her hurrah was ended when she saw the look on Jungkook's face.

Pure anger.

"I'll take it from here Taehyung." He said as he roughly pulled her into the room. A loud bang echoed as he shut the door.

He swiftly pinned her body to the nearby wall. His elbow was against her chest as he glared at her. He noticed she didn't cower away, but she glared at him back. "I trusted you and you ran away." He growled.

She moved her face closer to his. "You're nothing but a liar."

Jungkook grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the vanity. He forced her head to look in the mirror. His dark eyes stared at their reflection with authority as his grip on her hair tightened. "Look at you baby, so bold and fearless after you've disobeyed me. That's clearly a problem, you're a spoiled little brat who deserves a punishment."

"You think I haven't been punished before, they tried everything, slapping, whipping, electric torture, all of it was immensely painful but each time I healed and became immune. There's no amount of pain or punishment that could truly discipline me." She said looking at his eyes through the mirror.

It angered Jungkook to know that they hurt you but he was even more surprised at you. He cocked his head at her behavior. It was different from her usual innocent jolly mood. He brought his lips to her ear. "Their is one weakness an Ethereal has that will cause them extreme pain such as The Middlemist's red flower. Ethereals can not heal from this rare flower. The side effects are scarring, swelling, pain, and in extreme cases...death." He whispered in her ear, a passage that she immediately recognized.

Y/n's eyes widened. For the first time today, she was scared. She didn't feel like she was at the top of the world.

Jungkook's grip let go as he started to rub her soft hair. "I read that from the book you hid from me." He whispered in her ear once again as he looked in the mirror.

She tried to keep her confidence. "I won't apologize for something as simple as going outside or reading ." She said. Jungkook could tell from her voice she knew was loosing the battle.

He picked her up bridal style as he slowly walked to the bed staring at her eyes. "You know why I don't want you outside...? You have a strong, delicious scent. If it spreads outside the vampires will start looking for you. If they taste you they will become stronger and then I will have multiple problems to worry about because I will have to kill them. I thought both of our focus was to kill Namjoon."

His reason was exactly as Alana said. She didn't realize until now that he was just trying to protect her. "Why couldn't you just be candid with me from the beginning?"

Jungkook threw her on the bed. "I am a king. I shouldn't have to explain my orders to anyone. You care for honesty like all do, but trust is more important." Jungkook affirmed. Y/n thought for a moment that he had forgiven her but his face still mirrored an angry man.

"Trust must be earned."

Jungkook's hand wrapped around her neck as he positioned her head to look at his. "And I am the sole reason you exist there shouldn't be anyone more obedient to me than you." He fumed.

Y/n did not back down. Even now, he was still lying. "If you really read the book like you claimed, you will know the only reason you exist is because of me." She shot back, referring to his sickness she healed.

Jungkook angrily let go of her neck and pushed the rest of her body back to the bed. "Don't overestimate yourself sweetheart. You need me. I have the one thing that could kill you."

"Since your small hand is always touching my tattoos I thought you will want one yourself. Before you got Yoongi killed-"

"I didn't kill Yoongi!" She blurted.

"If you would've never ran away he would be alive sweetheart ."

"As I was saying, before you killed him I was able to get The Middlemist Red flower turned into a serum. I can use it as ink to tattoo my name right on your pretty body." He continued. He could hear Y/n's heartrate finally rise. It was exactly what he wanted, her to fear and love him. He would work on the other half later.

Y/n was scared but she didn't beg him to stop. She had too much pride.

Jungkook turned her body over. With one large tear, he opened up her shirt. His hands roamed her bare back. "Right here is perfect." He mumbled when his hands reached her lower back.

"You see the terrible things you make me do when you disobey me. This is going to hurt really bad sweetheart. You won't heal from this.”

•••••••••••••chapter 6 07•22•22•••••••••••

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