#I've never noticed how SAD she is here

[share-the-damn-bed]

So, I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong 'cause you guys are going to college together and you're like one of those unstoppable power couples...

[redvexillum]

"EPISODE 5 ISN'T A RAGATHA EPISO--"

So I just finished watching Episodes 4 and 5 of The Amazing Digital Circus for the third time because I’ve clearly given my life to this show and Gooseworx owns my soul. Genuinely, what phenomenal writing. I've seen mixed reception for episode five but I’m thrilled that the majority of the fandom can agree this episode was amazing. Because that means I can scream with all you FunnyBunny shippers and dedicated emotional wrecks alike.

Now. Let me get into why Episode 5 wasn’t just a Jax episode (though it very much was)—but why it was, at its core, Ragatha’s episode. This is gonna be long and laced with “am I overthinking this?” moments. Buckle up.

WHO IS RAGATHA?

When we first meet her in Episode One, she’s nice. Incredibly kind. Super peppy. But there's this teeny-tiny crack in that candy coating. She spirals, just a little, and we see a nervous, anxious edge slipping through her “positive vibes only” persona.

And that spiral? It’s not a one-time thing. It gets worse. The deeper you go into the series, the more you notice how her overbearing positivity feels less like optimism and more like a coping mechanism. A weaponized smile. She’s not just trying to cheer everyone up, she’s gaslighting herself into believing she has to be happy. She has to be likable. That it’s the only way she’ll be accepted.

And in the Digital Circus, where identity is shredded (like you forget your name for fuck's sakes) and everything’s performative? That’s not just sad...it’s devastating.

EPISODE 4: THE CRACKS BEGIN TO SHOW

Episode Four set the entire foundation. When Ragatha gets “stupid sauce” in her eyes and all her emotional filters drop, you finally see her. She stops curating how she’s perceived and just exists...and what comes out? She reminisces of her life (which gets confirmed in Episode 5). Gangle tries to warn her she might get hurt, and her response is almost eerie in how casually she brushes it off.

Sure, it could be a nod to Raggedy Ann and all that doll-abuse lore, but when you learn about Ragatha’s real past: abusive, narcissistic mother, high-society pressure cooker upbringing...that “hurt” starts feeling very literal. Maybe this line wasn’t just random doll humor. Maybe it’s a whisper of childhood trauma, manifesting through a false smile.

And then comes the Gloink Queen. The way Ragatha lights up at the idea of a mother who genuinely cherishes every single one of her hundreds of children? I fucking felt that. It wasn’t just admiration; it was longing. Desperation. Like she never got that kind of love growing up, so the concept itself is intoxicating. It’s this quiet heartbreak that adds a whole new layer to her need for approval.

She hates Jax. Let’s be real. He antagonizes her constantly, pushes every one of her buttons (he literally threw her in a goddamn vat of boiling oil for fucks sakes). But the part that wrecks me? She doesn’t want him to hate her. Not because she likes him, but because anyone disliking her is unbearable. Being disliked means she failed. Means she’s unworthy. Means she’s alone.

That’s why her facade, this grinning, chipper armour? It's everything. And the more we see of her, the more we understand that it’s crumbling.

I NEED YOU ALL TO LOCK THIS SCENE INTO YOUR BRAINS, OKAY? Because this exact emotional thread gets replayed like a broken record all throughout Episode Five. It’s not just a one-off moment, it’s the theme. The cast knows Ragatha’s cheer is fake. And honestly? It makes sense. They’ve been stuck together for who-knows-how-long, and you learn a lot about someone in that kind of nightmare.

But here’s the thing: when someone keeps pushing toxic positivity, constantly trying to “cheer you up” without actually listening, it doesn’t help. It hurts. It makes the person reaching out feel like they’re talking to a wall. Ragatha so badly wants people to open up to her, but she’s terrified of doing the same in return, and that’s where the entire disconnect lies. She’s hyper-aware of how she’s perceived. Her self-image is a prison. And at the core of it all?

Rejection.

Her biggest, ugliest, most soul-deep fear. Because rejection leads to isolation. And isolation? Leads straight back to the kind of loneliness she probably drowned in as a child.

Now, you're probably wondering: why am I still going off about Episode Four when I promised this was a breakdown of Episode Five?

Because Episode Four is the breadcrumb trail. It's the soft warning. The writer’s subtle little “hey, pay attention to her” moment. It’s the appetizer. It preps us, emotionally and narratively, for the main course of Episode Five, where Ragatha's carefully-constructed image begins to crack and we finally, finally, start to understand the full scope of her trauma.

Let’s address the big criticism real quick: a lot of people think this was a Jax-centric episode. And I get it. Jax got depth, growth, actual backstory. But here’s my take: Jax and Ragatha are each other’s foils.

One is warm, soft-spoken, always smiling, but secretly repressing everything real.

The other is brash, rude, antagonistic—but when he opens up? He’s real. He’s genuine.

They’ve been clashing since Episode One, and their dynamic works because they’re mirrors: distorted, but parallel.

Why was using Jax as Ragatha’s foil so brilliant? Because it does two huge things. First, it finally shows us Jax as a person instead of just telling us he’s a dick with a smile. But more importantly?

It amplifies Ragatha.

A foil, by definition, is a character who highlights the traits of another character by contrasting with them. And what better way to show Ragatha’s entire internal collapse than by placing her beside someone who, while difficult and abrasive, actually manages to connect with someone else?

Because as Jax grows closer to Pomni, the very connection Ragatha has been chasing since Day One, it throws Ragatha’s failures into painful high-def. She’s tried everything. She’s been kind, supportive, the “good friend.” And yet, it’s not her Pomni opens up to. It’s not her Pomni laughs with.

And that is why Episode Five is a Ragatha episode. Maybe not in the obvious, center-stage way. But in the subtle, devastating unraveling that plays out just beneath the surface.

Now, let’s talk receipts. I’ve got observations, breakdowns, and repeat viewings of Episodes Four and Five loaded and ready.

I don’t know if it was a deliberate artistic choice or just an organic part of the scene composition, but I can’t not point out how telling it is that the characters are all paired off: Jax and Pomni, Kinger with Zooble and Gangle, and yet Ragatha? She’s standing off in the distance. Alone. Isolated. Visibly excluded from every natural dynamic.

And I really want to believe that was purposeful. A quiet visual cue for us, the audience, to understand not just the social dynamics of the group, but how deeply disconnected Ragatha truly is from the others.

Honestly, I think this was the moment her carefully held-together mask started to split. The start of the spiral. Go back to the earlier episodes and you’ll start noticing it: Ragatha drops a lot of sharp, snarky comments. Some subtle. Some cutting. Whether intentional or not, those little moments are emotional leaks. She drops her filter more often around Jax, which makes sense, she hates him. She doesn’t bother hiding it. But the fact that her snark surfaces at all tells us something: the mask is slipping.

Think about Episode One, when Ragatha spirals, it’s visceral. It’s raw and disturbing in a way the others’ breakdowns just… aren’t. Why? Because for Ragatha, cracking isn’t just about stress or fear. It’s about exposing something she’s worked so hard to hide: her real, “ugly,” human feelings. She’s repressed them for so long, forced herself to smile through it all, because she believes that if she isn’t likable, if she isn’t “good,” she’ll be abandoned.

And now? That bottle’s starting to shake.

I'll circle back to this moment when I dive into the bar scene later (because oof—there’s so much there), but let’s keep things chronological for now.

Right after Ragatha leaves, Jax drops a line on Pomni: “[She] is taking advantage of you.” And it hits especially hard because just before that, Gangle told Pomni she didn’t think Ragatha was genuine. That? That’s when the discomfort surrounding Ragatha starts to really take shape.

Here’s why I think that hit a nerve with the rest of the cast.

They are all constantly fighting for their sanity. For their identities. They’re trapped in this surreal, terrifying digital purgatory where reality is questionable at best and all they’ve got are each other. That’s it. Just a bunch of strangers trying not to fall apart or, worse, abstract.

And when you're in that space? Vulnerability becomes everything. And it’s risky.

Being vulnerable to the wrong person, someone who doesn’t reciprocate, or worse, uses your openness against you is traumatic. It teaches you to close up. To withdraw.

To stop trying.

Now imagine reaching out to someone like Ragatha, who seems supportive on the surface, who says the right things, but there’s a disconnect. You don’t feel like you’re being seen. You don’t feel safe. You don’t feel like you’re talking to someone who’s willing to meet you in the mess.

And when that happens? Of course they gravitate elsewhere. Of course they pair off, find comfort in each other, and leave her on the fringes.

What hurts the most, though, is this: Ragatha wants connection. She’s starving for it. But she doesn’t know how to give it back in a way that feels real. She’s so wrapped up in being “the nice one,” the peacemaker, the cheerful glue of the group, that she can’t drop the act—even when it’s pushing people away. Even when it’s exactly what’s isolating her.

She wants to be close. She just doesn’t know how to be vulnerable.

Now, the biggest lore drop of Ragatha's past, let's break this down:

Throughout the entire series so far, Ragatha always speaks with this carefully curated tone: gentle, friendly, overly polite. But every time she gets a moment alone to monologue? It always derails. Every time. Her words unravel, her tone falters, and what starts as “everything’s fine” ends with something much darker, much sadder.

And this scene? God. This one hurt. Because when she starts talking about her mother, it stops feeling like just another breakdown. It feels like the core of her trauma is being yanked out into the open. She’s clearly an adult. Had a life. A career. Probably responsibilities and routines. And yet, that wound from her mother is still festering: deep, raw, and most importantly?

Completely unresolved.

This is where you see her coping mechanisms in full force. Ragatha has this heartbreaking tendency to downplay her own pain. She’ll smile through it, make a light comment, move on like it doesn’t ache. But it does. And that habit? It sabotages her ability to connect with people in a real, vulnerable way. Because how can someone share mutual pain with you if you never admit to having any? If you can’t even be real with yourself?

Remember when she confessed she hates Jax, but she doesn’t want Jax to hate her? That moment says everything. That desperate need to be liked, even by someone who openly antagonizes her, speaks volumes about her internal wiring. She’s terrified of rejection. Of being disliked. Of being seen as not enough.

And this scene, to me, is one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show. Ragatha is caught in this awful limbo: she wants connection, deeply. She wants friendship, understanding, belonging. But the second she senses discomfort, awkwardness, even the slightest ripple of tension, she backpedals. She shrinks. She brushes it off with a laugh or a sugar-coated phrase. And that’s exactly why the others can’t reach her.

She’s surrounded by people and still completely alone.

This scene also confirms what we’ve suspected all along: her mother had impossibly high standards. That nothing Ragatha did was ever good enough. That she had to perform perfection just to maybe receive love. It was a transaction. "Be the perfect little girl, the perfect daughter, the perfect doll, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll earn affection."

So of course she acts like this now. Of course she wraps herself in forced smiles and gentle words. Because somewhere deep down, she still believes that if she slips, if she messes up, if she shows anything “ugly”...then no one will love her.

Jax was a grade A asshole for this one. No sugarcoating it. He knew how badly Ragatha wanted to be Pomni’s friend. He’s not clueless. So when he swooped in and started getting close to her? Of course it triggered Ragatha. You could practically see her flinch.

And that sting? It echoes through the rest of the episode five from that point onwards. Especially when they get to the ball game scene.

That was the moment Ragatha finally let some of that bottled-up frustration out. She flat-out called Jax out, asking why he was trying to influence Pomni into acting like some careless, insensitive jerk. And yeah, on the surface it seems like just another clash between the two of them, but if you look a little closer (and maybe I’m reaching this), there’s something deeper going on.

From earlier episodes, we’ve seen Ragatha has this habit of telling Pomni how she should feel. She does it in this oddly motherly tone, like she’s trying to guide her, but in a way that almost infantilizes her. In Episode Two, in the candy kingdom bit, Ragatha starts talking to Pomni like she’s a child and Pomni immediately shuts it down: “I’m not a kid.”

That wasn’t just sass.

That was a boundary.

And it clicked for me: Ragatha might be echoing her mother’s behavior here. That condescending tone disguised as “help.” The “cheer up, it’s not that bad” mindset. The insistence that things should be okay, instead of just lettingpeople feel. Maybe that’s all she ever knew. And now, she’s unknowingly replicating it.

So when she follows Pomni’s advice to “try being a jerk sometimes,” and it backfires, when Pomni looks at her, clearly uncomfortable, it hits Ragatha like a rock. That same feeling of rejection, all over again.

And did anyone else notice the glitch when she apologized? Because I sure as hell did. It was subtle, but holy fuck, please don't be the next abstraction!

Then came the "Pomni Saves the Day (Almost)" scene, when it’s her turn to bat. She asks Ragatha if she wants to take her place, to "redeem" herself from her earlier miss. And for just a second, Ragatha lights up. It’s this tiny flicker of hope. Maybe this is her chance. Maybe she can fix things.

Maybe she’s needed.

But then… the game was already over and they won before she had a chance to bat because their evil version is basically KO'd. She turns to Pomni and sees them.

Pomni and Jax. Laughing. Close. Connected.

And suddenly that hope? It deflates.

Just like in the stargazing scene, we get this physical distance motif again. Ragatha is always just far enough to see the connection—but never be part of it. And in that moment, you can see it on her face, this quiet, confused heartbreak. The kind of grief that doesn’t explode...it just sinks in. Like she’s trying to understand why her kindness, her effort, her presence was never enough. Why being “nice” only pushed Pomni further away.

That expression she gives, caught somewhere between confusion, disappointment, and slowly-processed loss? God, that got me. It wrecked me. Because in that moment, she’s not angry. She’s not dramatic.

She’s just... alone.

And then finally… the nail in the coffin. The moment where the silent divide between Pomni and Ragatha becomes undeniable. The moment the entire show has been quietly building toward since Episode One.

Ragatha, who has tried so hard to make Pomni smile. To be her rock. To forge a connection. She wants that closeness. She craves that intimacy. But instead, she watches as Pomni laughs, genuinely, mind you, and effortlessly at Jax’s antics. And the second Pomni notices Ragatha looking? Her smile drops. Instantly. That joy disappears, replaced by awkwardness, tension, that same guarded expression we’ve seen before.

And it says everything.

Pomni can’t be herself around Ragatha. She doesn’t feel safe doing so. She might think Ragatha is a “nice enough” person… but that’s it. That’s where the connection ends. She doesn’t let her guard down. Doesn’t let Ragatha in. Because Ragatha, in all her curated cheer, never really opens up either.

And then the show drives it home with brutal elegance: the group starts to drift off, one by one, naturally falling into their new little dynamics. And Ragatha? Left standing in the middle. Alone. Forgotten. No one turns to her. No one invites her. She’s just there.

For all the time she’s spent in the Digital Circus, Pomni managed to connect with everyone else. Even Jax. And that, right there, is pure devastation for me.

Because all Ragatha has ever known is people-pleasing. That’s how she survives. That’s what she was taught. Be the sunshine, be the good girl, be agreeable and comforting and helpful then you’ll be loved. Then you’ll be safe. But what happens when that mask doesn’t work? When it actually pushes people away instead of bringing them in?

She doesn’t know how to express her loneliness. She doesn’t know how to say, “I’m hurting too.” Because that’s not what was modeled for her. That’s not what her mother taught her.

And this...this right fucking here is why Gooseworx was so right when they said this was a Ragatha episode.

Because Ragatha’s character flaws, the heart of her tragedy, are brought into the light not by spotlighting her, but by quietly contrasting her with a pair of characters we never expected to bond: Jax and Pomni.

From the start, we’re fed this narrative: Jax is an asshole. He teases Pomni. He’s rude, smug, abrasive. And yet… Pomni starts to soften around him. She connects. She even laughs. And you start to wonder...why is he getting through to her when Ragatha can’t?

Because Jax, in his own messed-up way, gets real. He opens up. He admits things. He’s emotionally messy, but it’s genuine. And that rawness, that honesty, is something Ragatha can’t allow herself to show. So while Jax slowly reveals the depth beneath his snark, Ragatha clings to her role: the always-smiling, ever-positive comfort character.

And that contrast? It’s heartbreaking.

You see it at the very end. How alone she is. And the cruel twist? She’s probably the one who needs connection the most. But she’s so stuck in her pattern, so locked in that internalized belief that she has to perform to be loved, that she ends up isolating herself even further.

I can’t stop thinking about this: Ragatha feels like someone who’s spent her entire life just close enough to be seen, but never close enough to be reached. She’s the background character in her own life: present, smiling, helpful… and utterly alone.

And maybe the reason so many people felt like this episode was more about Jax than Ragatha is because we’re supposed to feel her slipping into the background. Just like the cast is starting to overlook her, we as the audience are starting to, too.

That slow fade?

It’s intentional.

Thank you for coming to my rant. I never done a character analysis before, but I just fucking love this series so much.

Read More TADC Character Analysis

[words-4u]

unexpected visit - m.k

pairing: melissa king x librarian f!reader

wc: 1.8k

a/n: SOOO sad the pitt is over but i can't wait for it to come back. truly one of the greatest shows i've seen.

the smell of books is something you will never tire of. not when you were younger and certainly not now. surrounded by books is how you always imagined you’d go, it’s most ideal to you; peaceful, quiet, in between so many worlds and yet alone. it’s certainly how you live, given your chosen career.

it was a quiet tuesday evening and you were pushing a cart of books down a carpeted aisle. you picked up a book on the history of war, scanning the spine for the authors last name. your eyes went back to the shelf and scanned the section until you found the appropriate spot, slotting the book in it’s rightful place.

you were an hour away from closing and barely anyone was in tonight so you put in your earphones, pressing play on some classical music, you let ‘the four seasons: spring 1’ ease you into your closing routine. you even hummed a bit as you went down the aisle putting books back where they belonged.

then there was a tap on your shoulder, it was light, but it spooked you nonetheless. startled, you took out your earphones and turned around.

behind you stood a woman, not much older than you, holding a stack of books. glasses were slightly skewed on her face, strands of hair fell out of her ponytail and her cheeks were red. “oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you,” her eyebrows scrunched with concern.

you smiled at her, “not scared, just surprised.”

“i- um, want these to sign out. if it’s not too late. i ran here to make it on time,” she said, explaining her dishevelled yet adorable look.

“yeah, of course,” you nod. “follow me.”

you moved your cart of books to the side and walked out of the aisle with the woman in tow. “out of curiosity, what were you humming? it sounded beautiful,” she complimented.

“oh,” you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “i didn’t realize you heard that.”

“sorry, i didn’t—“

“no, it’s okay, really,” you reassured her. “it was a classical piece called ‘the four seasons spring 1’ originally a piece by antonio vivaldi but reworked by a contemporary composer called max richter. it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ll hear,”

she gave you a slow nod, “i will have to check that out.”

“I highly suggest it,” you said as you made it to the front desk. you walked around and stood in front of the computer as she placed her books on the desk. her library card sat on top of the first book which you scanned first.

It was quiet for a moment before you spoke, “not to sound like a creep but i-i haven’t seen you here before. are you new… to the area?”

her eyes lit up, like she was glad you noticed. “i am actually. well, new to this part of town.”

you look through her stack of books.

tintinalli’s emergency medicine emergency department resuscitation of the critically ill roberts and dedges’ clinical procedures in emergency medicine

“and clearly… a doctor?” 

“yes! i’m starting my emergency medicine rotation next week and i want to be as prepared… as one possibly could be,” she responded as you scanned each book.

“that’s good. i’m sure you’ll be great,” you gave her a soft smile and finished checking her books out. but you were also checking her out. she was smart, inquisitive and pretty in an understated way. you rarely meet people that captured your attention like she did so as the reciept printed, you decided to shoot your shot, “would you… by any chance, want to grab a coffee with me sometime?”

“as a date?” she inquires. this came as a surprise to her, no one has ever asked her out before. it felt good. 

“only if that’s what you want,” you placed both hands on top of her books and slid it across the table.

she swung her backpack off her shoulder and stuffed her books in, still pondering your request. then she looked up and with a definitive nod said, “i’d like it very much to be a date.”

your nose scrunched with smile you tried to contain. “great, okay. here’s my number,” you grabbed a scarp paper that you tossed aside earlier in the day and scribbled your information down. “and my name which is y/n, by the way,”

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m melissa but everyone calls me mel. i prefer it too,” she grinned. you handed her the paper which she took and held tightly in her hand.

“It was nice meeting you too, mel,” you smiled.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

one of your proudest moments was that day almost 10 months ago because you made that scary first step and it paid off massively. you’re now in a beautiful stable relationship with dr. melissa king and you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

while it was one of the things you admire about her, dating a doctor isn’t always the easiest. the long shifts often take it out of melissa with all the patients and running around the er she’s doing so when she comes over to your place, you know it’s a non-verbal type of night when she unlocks your door and goes straight into the washroom to rinse off. you make her something to eat as she’s likely forgotten during her shift and put her comfort movie on.

on days where’s verbal, she’ll greet you with a kiss and immediately get into all the cool things dr. robby and her senior resident, dr. langdon let her do and you listen with enthusiastic ears but today was neither.

today melissa, who often reads fictional books to unwind, forgot her copy of a wheel of time on your coffee table as she was rushing out to work this morning. since you have a day off, you decide to swing by the hospital and drop it off. 

you’ve never been to her hospital before and you’ve certainly never met the people she’s been working with, not cause she was trying to hide you as she’s told you before, there’s never been the right time. between caring for her sister becca, her job, and trying to be the best and most available partner to you, it was something that never came up and you’ve never really asked. but it was always lovely hearing about these incredible people that she works so closely with.

walking in through the front doors, you enter the waiting room. it was full to the brim with people even sitting on the ground with their backs against the way because there are no empty chairs.

you make it to the large window and smile at the woman behind the glass, “hi there, I’m looking for dr. melissa king. is she busy at the moment?”

before she could answer, an older blonde woman in grey scrubs holding a clipboard overheard your question and looks up, “you know mel?”

you look over at her and nod, “yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

“no kidding,” she smirks. “welcome to the pitt, sweetie. come with me,” she opens one arm as you say briefly say goodbye to the woman behind the glass. you walk up to the older nurse as she leads you through the er doors. “I’m dana.”

“y/n,” you respond. the moment you stepped into the sterile site walls, it hit you. the smell of the sterile air, the constant noise of monitors beeping, people walking briskly in different coloured scrubs. it was overstimulating to you as major shift from your quiet workplace but you could also see it as an organized chaos. 

you spot melissa as she sits on a stool clicking away at a computer. a taller man leans over the top of her computer stand as they debrief. dana leads you straight to her. “mel, you gotta visitor!”

melissa looked up, surprise and glee filled her face. “hey! what are you doing here?” 

the man stood straighter and locks eyes with dana who just stands there and smiles.

“hi baby,” you walk up to her and kiss her cheek. melissa blushes but steps back. she isn’t entirely comfortable with pda so cheek kisses was as far as you go in public. 

“baby?!” a woman walking by repeats. she pulls her black hair into a ponytail. “sorry… you?” she points at yourself, “and you?” she points at melissa. “wow…”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you tilt your head. you couldn’t help but get defensive over mel and your relationship.

“nothing. way to go, king.” she holds up her hand for a high five.

melissa high fives her, “santos, your tone indicates that you’re surprised?”

“well... yes but also happy for you,” she says as walks backwards, away from the group.

“mel, do you want to introduce us?” the older man finally interjects. 

melissa gives her head a little shake, “oh yes! of course! y/n, this is the dr. langdon, my mentor and langdon this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

you reach your hand out to shake langdon’s hand, “it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, dr. langdon.”

“likewise. i’ve heard lots about you,” he says, excitedly. his phone buzzes and he pick up a call, “yeah…oh twice in one day, lucky us.”

you reach into your bag and pulled out the wheel of time. “you forgot your book this morning and i know you love to read on your lunch breaks,”

mel took the book and held it close to her chest. she’s touched. “thank you, you didn’t have to,”

“I wanted to,” you brush your hand down her arm. 

“is it true mel’s girlfriend is here?” two new people join your growing group at the nurses station. 

“oh, wow, you’re real... a-and really pretty,” you smile at the two younger looking doctors.

“this is victoria javadi and dennis whitaker,” mel says stepping closer to you.

before you could say anothing langdon hangs up the phone, "okay whitaker, javadi, you're with me we got another car crash coming in. multiple people injuired. code trauma,"

"oh, what about me?" melissa asks.

"you..." langdon looks at his watch and starts walking away slowly. "can take y/n here on a tour or something."

he notices the hesitancy on melissa's face and posture. "i mean, mel. we'll be fine. y/n," he looks to you. "hope this isn't the first and last we see of you,"

you smile at him.

melissa nods, taking in langdon's suggestion and turns to you when her supervisor leaves. "do you want a tour?"

"i'd love nothing more," you beam at her.

melissa takes your hand and guides you through each station of the pitt. you met dr. robby on the way, who seemed run down but still warm, and dr. mohan who wanted to know everything about being a librarian.

you didn't know what to expect for you unexpected visit but you were glad you came. seeing melissa so confident in the place she calls a second home made your heart swell. other than in your arms, it's where she belonged.

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, ���Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

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[yuansie]

(1) even when there was rain, sunshine came

pairing. caleb x fem! childhood friend! non mc! reader (x childhood bsf! zayne)

synopsis. caleb planted a seed in your heart when you were both young, nurturing it without meaning to until it sprouted and blossomed. it shouldn't have grown this much, not when you knew you could never have him.

genres/aus. angst, fluff, f2l, unrequited love, childhood f2l

warnings. slight ooc caleb (i have not read homecoming or wtv that chapter is called BC BLUESTACKS DOES NOT WANT ME TO FINISH LONG AWAITED REVELRY OR WTV THAT CHAPTER IS CALLED IM STUCK ON CH12...), NOT canon compliant oops (no higher being placing a curse on zayne, no experimentation done on mc and caleb bc josephine is a good person this time BYEEEE), reader has neglectful parent(s) in the beginning kind of, mentions/descriptions of crying, mc is female (she doesn't have a name in here either). if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

rating. sfw but make it lowk very angsty but fluffy ish at the same time.

wc. 8.2 k

a/n. live love laugh angst (but with a happy ending) and live love laugh not proof reading and SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING THIS EARLIERRR uni sucks booty fr !! also, i've come to the decision that i will just make this into a mini series, having about 5-10 chapters maximum !! the ideas keep coming, and i'd like to take a different approach to this prompt/world i've build for this nonmc! reader in an actual caleb series much like my rafayel one! also decided to make it into a mini series bc i cant keep writing and expanding on this and leave yall hanging for longer IOEOIFJAWEOI

YOU’RE EIGHT YEARS OLD WHEN YOU MEET CALEB. it was in the last days of summer, right before the leaves began turning red and yellow and orange. you remember your dad telling you that an older lady moved into the house across from yours, that there two kids living with her: a girl younger than you and a boy your age though a couple months older. he said something about the girl having a special condition but the words went through your ear and out the other because you didn’t care about them; you knew you wouldn’t talk to them anyways.

then, your dad left to go to work and you were all alone.

you were always alone, and you felt that loneliness every second, acutely aware at how it bleeds into your soul and makes you so, so sad. it’s what makes you head to the park two houses down the street and sit at the big, oak tree there. your favorite thing to do is climb it and sit on one of the bigger branches around its middle, feeling as if you could reach the sky and escape these heavy feelings. you blame your dad for making you like this: for making you think that the heavens can help you escape your heavy feelings. he told you once, on a night where he was in charge of tucking you in while your mom worked late at the hospital, that he loves the sky and how it makes him feel like all of his worries are nothing but a speck of dust. he made you think that one day, you could reach the sky and feel what he felt. if you reached out enough, you would be free.

but today you had no energy to do that.

as soon as you reached the oak tree, you sat down and rested your back against the trunk. your eyes watered instantaneously, cold tears dripping down your cheek and to the tip of your chin as you tucked your knees into your chest, your arms holding them in place so they could keep your weeping heart warm. you were so lost in your overflowing sorrow that you didn’t notice a boy running to the tree, not even when he stood three steps away from you.

“why are you crying?”

you snapped your head upwards.

the boy looked surprised, his purple eyes as large as the moon as he stared at you. his back was to the sun, covering him in a golden glow. he didn't say anything as he knelt down, his brows furrowed.

you hiccuped and looked away, angrily staring at your house from where you sat. “go away, stranger.” you see the older boy that lives next door when you avert your gaze from your home. it’s zayne—you recall your mom telling you that you used to have playdates together when you were younger. obviously, you don’t anymore. you don't even speak to one another—perhaps, he thinks being friends with a girl two years younger than him is not worth his time.

you don’t blame him for thinking that; after all, your own parents probably think the same.

before your mind spirals into the inky void that tells you bad things, the boy speaks up. “my name is caleb! now i’m not a stranger, right?” you glance at him from the corner of your eye. caleb grins at you, his smile as bright as the sun. it’s too blinding, you decide, and drop your gaze to the ground. “i guess not…” you mumble.

“so that means we’re friends!” caleb laughs when you quickly look at him again, surprise evident in your features. “now you can tell me why you’re sad!”

you wrack through your brain to come up with an excuse and end up stuttering out, “b-but you don’t know my name!”

“you’re y/n, right?” he laughs again when your jaw drops in comical way, gasping for air in between his next words. “ha! g-gran… talked t-to your… parents!” caleb wheezes, tears in his eyes. “y-your parents told us about you!” once he calms down, caleb lets out a sigh as he sits next to you, nudging your shoulder. “c’mon, you can tell me why you’re so sad now.”

you look back at your house, frowning at how lonely it looked. “i… i don’t think my parents love me.”

“what?”

“i mean,” you rest your head on your knees, your voice now muffled. “they’re never home and they never spend time with me.”

your dad is often away, being the colonel and all, which means he’s gone for months at a time. it wasn’t always like that, but things changed when that forsaken tunnel appeared above the city. your dad was one of the first to answer the call, to fly in the sky to protect the world from wanderers. so it isn’t his fault and neither is it your mom’s that they’re never there. she’s a doctor, a colleague of your next door neighbor's parents.

it is not your fault they are both needed by more people and by more important matters.

caleb’s about to say something when a girl calls out his name, running until she stands in front of you two. you don’t pay attention to her, and instead keep your eyes focused on your house. you wish your parents were home more, that they’d spend more time with you. the girl ends up leaving after she speaks to caleb, who watches her go with a careful eye.

“sorry about that,” he says, scratching his cheek. “gran sent her to tell me it’s time for lunch, but don’t worry! i’ll stay here with you until your parents are back!”

you blink at him, feeling your eyes start to burn. “you’ll stay?”

“mhm!” he smiles, and this time you actually don’t turn away. caleb laughs softly, leaning forwards to wipe away at the tears that fall from your wide eyes. “why are you crying again?”

you didn’t even notice that you had stopped in the first place. “i-i don’t know.” you do know.

it's the first time someone ever stayed with you in a long time.

caleb, surprisingly, calmed you down in a matter of seconds. he stayed with you until the sun began to set, when the blue sky became tinted by orange and pink. he made time go by fast, making you smile and laugh until your cheeks and stomach hurt. and he was surprisingly attentive, noticing immediately the way you perked up when you saw your mom’s car drive down the road and stop in front of your home.

“you ready to go now?” caleb stood up and stuck his hand out, waiting for you to grab it.

“your hand is warm,” you mumble, gripping tightly onto his hand as you lead the way back to your house.

he giggles and nudges your shoulder. “my hand is warm?”

“mhm.” it’s very warm, akin to the blankets you wrap yourself with during the cold days of winter.

and just like that you were at your front door, shyly waving goodbye before going inside. the doorbell rang shortly afterwards, yet before you could open the door, your mom had already done so. you left and headed up the stairs and into your room, telling yourself you’ll eat something after your mom retires for the night.

but that never happens.

because the strangest thing happened afterwards: your mom came up to your room and talked to you, apologizing for making you feel lonely and abandoned.

you know it was caleb’s doing: why else would your mom be like this?

without meaning to, caleb planted a seed in your heart that day.

when you’re ten, you realize that you’ve changed the slightest bit. you’re a little more outspoken, a little more confident in yourself; and your world that was once monochrome is now full of color, full of warmth and life.

you have memories where you’re laughing until your stomach hurts, where you’re learning to love apple and bake apple pies to perfection, where you’re learning to do cartwheels with the little girl while his laughter echoes in the air. it’s all thanks to caleb—he reached out to you, deciding to integrate you into his world. you’re forever thankful that he decided to talk to you two years ago, thankful that he spoke to your parents about your feelings because otherwise you would be stuck in the dark.

caleb has brought light and warmth into your life, and now you are never cold and lonely. he even sticks to you like glue at school, never leaving you alone for a second in the classroom because somehow you always manage to be in the same class as him. sometimes you grow tired of having to keep up with the energetic boy, sometimes the fatigue wearing your bones down and rendering you useless. caleb seems to know when that happens, or maybe he doesn’t. what matters is that he seems to time his golden smile; it is a smile so radiant that it melts away what weighs you down.

and always being with him has made you adopt some of his habits, his attentiveness being the one that shines through the most. it’s what makes you notice your next door neighbor. days of careful glances makes you learn that he’s always reading on the porch of his house or he’ll do the same inside by the window, that he’s never with any other kids his age and that he’s never at the park.

maybe you should talk to him and—

“y/n~” caleb nudges your shoulder. you jerk in surprise and wobble on the tree branch you both sit on, gripping tightly onto the wood while you lean forwards from your lack of balance. the boy yelps and takes a firm hold of your arm, stabilizing you. “you scared me!”

you huff, glaring at him. “you scared me! i could've fallen just now, dimwit.”

he pouts, “but that's your fault! you weren't listening to me.”

“yes i was!”

“oh yeah?” caleb raises an eyebrow. “then what was i saying?” he snickers when you don't reply, gently nudging your shoulders this time because he learns from his mistakes, you know! “see? i was right. you keep staring over there.” he gestures in the general direction of where you keep staring. his finger touches the green leaves of the tree, the tips fading into a yellow color.

autumn is coming. not yet, but it will be there in due time.

you decide to tease him a little. “pft, you’re pointing at the leaves.”

his lips curl into a frown. “you know what i—”

“caleb!”

the eight year old girl comes running up to the tree, huffing as she points up at your best friend. “i-it’s time for dinner!” she tilts her head over at you, beaming. “gran said you can come, sis!”

caleb looks at you, “you coming?”

you smile at the girl before shaking your head, moving towards the tree trunk. “i need to do something,” you grunt, shimmying down whereas he just jumps off the branch and lands with a thud. the girls gasps and you gape at him with wide eyes once your feet hit the ground, “are you okay?”

“a-okay!” he grins, standing up proudly as if he didn’t just scare the living daylight out of you. caleb flexes a boney arm, “i’m strong, after all!”

“yeah, okay hercules.” you chortle, rolling your eyes. “i’ll see you around.”

you watch as he and she wave goodbye at you, caleb hooking their arms together as they disappear into their house afterwards. you notice that there's a tightness in your chest when you see them hold hands or hook their arms together—it happens sometimes, not always. like right now: your chest tightens a little, feeling heavy. you chalk it up to wanting to do that with caleb one day and go your merry way.

your mom is startled when she opens the front door just as you reach out for the doorknob. she holds a container with cake inside. “goodness,” she chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “you scared me.”

“are you going next door again?” you move to the side so your mom can walk out.

she hums, “i am! i left some—”

“can i come this time?” you usually don't go to the dinners your mom has with zayne’s family every friday, always heading to hers and caleb’s house instead despite your mom’s best efforts in convincing you to join her. you always had an inkling that she wanted you to spend time with the older boy next door.

your mom beams at you so wide that you’re taken aback as she drags you to the li’s front door. did it really mean that much to her that you want to join this time? well, you’re on a mission to get close to zayne so that he can have friends too.

speaking of the devil, the door opens immediately after your mom presses the doorbell, revealing the older boy. his eyes widen the slightest bit when he sees you, though he quickly regains composure, his features relaxing. with a small smile, he greets your mom. “hello, mrs l/n.” he directs his gaze at you next, “hi y/n.”

you blink in surprise. “…hi zayne.” you didn’t expect him to remember you because you don't particularly remember much about him.

he steps aside just as his mom appears from behind, momentary shock melting into a warm smile. “y/n! i’m so happy to see you! will she be joining us?” her eyes flit up to your mom, who nods excitedly.

you’re ushered inside and into a seat not even a second after being welcomed in. “we always have a plate and cutlery out in case you stop by,” mrs li says. a lump forms in your throat and it’s hard to swallow. you feel awful, knowing that every time you chose to stay with caleb, the li family had hope that you’d stop by and eat with them.

still, you somehow manage to smile at the older lady. “i’ll make sure to come with my mom from now on.”

“really?”

you nod. “of course,” holding out your pinkie, mrs li laughs and hooks her own with yours. “i promise.”

mrs li heads into the kitchen with your mom, leaving you and zayne alone at the dining table. he sits in the chair next to you and you fidget in your seat, not sure how to break the stifling silence. what would caleb do in this moment? he’d probably say something stupid or just go ahead and ask to be friends… that’s something only he could do easily, but for you? that’s a challenge.

“you look worried.” zayne says, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

you frown and play with your fingers, “was it that noticeable?”

zayne hums as the two moms come back with pots of food while chatting about your dad. “you aren't doing a good job at being subtle.”

his comment makes you huff through your nose, the corners of your lips curling upwards. caleb says that to you all the time, claiming that you make it is easy for him to read you.

“smiling suits you.”

you stop breathing and stare at the boy with raven hair, slowly blinking while the moms plate the food and continue talking. zayne glances at you again and then looks at his plate, eyebrows furrowed as he picks up a fork and pokes at the carrots, nudging them into a corner. “did i say something wrong?” he mumbles.

he didn't say anything wrong… it’s just that no one has said that to you. not even after your change, even if it was a small one.

not even caleb.

you shake your head, “no.” coughing, your eyes shift to his hands, seeing how he stabs the last carrot on his plate and places it in the corner along with the rest. “you… you still don’t like carrots?” you vaguely recall a memory from when you were about five: you and zayne were eating a plate of oranges when he suddenly spat it out and a chewed piece of carrot was then laying on the table. his mom had cut small pieces of carrot inside his bowl alone with the oranges, trying to trick him into eating them.

zayne’s hazel eyes widen. “you remember?”

with a snort, you answer, “you spit out the carrots every time your mom tried tricking you into eating them. that’s pretty hard to forget, if you’re asking me.”

his ears flush the lightest shade of pink, making you giggle as your fingers wrap around his plate, rotating it. with your other hand, you grab your fork and take his carrots.

“…thank you.”

“i should be thanking you,” you hum, “i love carrots.”

whereas you and caleb are polar opposites and only have a thing in common, you and zayne are not. you’re so alike: reserved and quiet, both sticking to what you deem is the vicinity of your personal bubble. it was easy to befriend him again; by the end of what remained of summer, you had introduced him to caleb and her. it did take a month and a half of convincing, of relentless pleading that convinced zayne to follow you to the park where she and caleb were playing as usual.

caleb and zayne didn't get along well right off the bat, and they always argued. it took you aback in the beginning, not used to seeing caleb argue so… pettishly with someone. much less with zayne. zayne baffles you every time he mutters under his breath about how caleb is ‘so annoying’ because all he does is talk about dinosaurs or is ‘a child’ during friday dinners at his house. well, he is a child, so he’s not wrong there. but with that logic, he should also be calling you a child and yet he doesn’t.

zayne does, however, get along well with her.

you see it in zayne’s attentiveness to the young girl, you see it in the way his voice softens when he speaks to her, and you see it in the way he hangs onto her every word as if it were something sacred.

you also see it in the way his ears sometimes turn the lightest shade of pink when he speaks to her.

when you think about it, they’re both alike in that way.

the sun is in the sky, bright and warm like the boy next to you.

“he’s trying to steal her from me,” grumbles caleb. he swings his legs back and forth while the two of you sit on a tree branch, zayne and the girl sitting underneath on the other side of the tree. she’s teaching him how to braid a crown of flowers, and you can see the small curl of his lips. he’s smiling a shy sort of smile only reserved for her.

“he can’t steal her from you because she isn’t an object.” you tear your eyes away from them and focus on the brooding boy beside you, taking note of how he pinches his brows together and pouts, mumbling something under his breath. while the branches and its leaves provide good shade from the sweltering heat, there is still sunlight that peeks through gaps, and golden specks manage to coat caleb’s figure. “that means you can’t have her either, cal.”

your words have him turning to you quickly, his eyes wide. “i can’t have her?”

“of course not!” your silent admiration of seconds ago dissipates as you scoff, flicking his forehead. he yelps as you continue, “she’s a person! you can’t have people; that’s weird.”

“but that monster is stealing my best friend!”

you frown, blinking once. “zayne isn’t a monster.” but caleb sure seems like one at the moment, you think. a monster of green envy.

“yes he is!”

“zayne is not a monster.” you repeat, irritation beginning to bubble in your chest because caleb wouldn't be saying such things if he didn't have this weird rivalry going on with zayne. “don’t say that about him.”

“why are you defending him anyways?” caleb narrows his eyes at you. “you’re supposed to be my friend—”

friend. best friend. you realize he hasn't ever really called you his best friend because she’s his best friend while you think he's yours. if he doesn't think that of you, then you can’t think that of him… right?

you both whip your heads to the ground, clambering down the tree as zayne calls out both yours and caleb’s name. if his voice hadn’t betrayed the frantic feeling swirling in it, maybe you wouldn’t have this overwhelming sense of dread. when you both round the tree trunk, you see that his face is pale, and he’s holding onto her. she’s trembling, her face paler than zayne’s as if all the color had been drained from her features, and she’s heaving and trembling uncontrollably. the sight makes your stomach drop to the ground as caleb dashes forwards, dropping to his knees while yelling about getting granny josephine to them. you honestly don't remember running to their house, asking josephine to help the little girl—it’s all a blur. all you can remember is how the two boys finally had something in common other than their care for the younger girl: their expression.

they were both horrified.

and you wonder if you looked like them.

your eleventh autumn was just like any other, but this time it was different because of him.

you decided to stay the night after having dinner at zayne’s so he could help you study for your science test on monday. caleb would have been the one helping you, being in the same classes and all, but he was helping her study. while you do love and care about her, you care more about your grades because surely the tests in middle school are harder than the ones in elementary, right?

you’ve been inside zayne’s room before. more often than not, after dinner, you’d end up in there with him while talking about everything and nothing. sometimes you’d both be quiet, content with just being next to each other while reading a book on his bed, and sometimes you both would talk about current hobbies and interests.

“where will you sleep?” zayne’s voice comes from near his bed while you head towards his desk.

“in your bed, duh.” your eyes skim over the surface, chuckling at how tidy it is… until your eyes fall on a haphazardly hidden pieces of paper underneath zayne’s stack of notebooks. weird, you think. zayne likes keeping notebooks, books, and papers separate from each other.

“why would you sleep in bed with me?” he asks.

“we used to sleep in the same bed when we were children.” which is true: your moms have a photo book with evidence in it from your younger days together. “i don’t see why we can’t if we’re still children.”

you hear him huff through his nose. he’s probably pinching it right now. “you’re eleven and i’m thirteen. you’re a child and i’m a teenager.”

“didn’t you say that teenagers are fourteen-year-olds and up the other day?” your fingers wrap around one of the notebook’s spine, carefully lifting it and whatver notebooks are on top and pull the pieces of papers out.

your eyes scan the contents of one of the pages, highlighted words aiding in your understanding of what it is that you’re reading. medical school… majors… he’s looking at colleges.

“well, yes.”

you turn around and hide the papers behind you. “so that means we can share the same bed, right?”

zayne sighs, shaking his head while his lips curl upwards just the slightest bit. “you win this round, miss know-it-all.”

you grin at him and bring the papers out. “you sure i’m a know-it-all?”

the older boy stares at the papers you wave in the air, staying silent as if trying to find the words to explain something to you. you raise your eyebrows. “staying silent makes you look like you were hiding something from me.”

“well… i am. was, i was.” zayne corrects himself and sits down at the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him. you take a seat and eye him. “i’ve been trying to tell you this past summer that… well…” he sighs. “i skipped grades.”

“oh—” you gasp, eyes widening to the size of saucers. “so this means…”

majors.

medical school.

he’s grad—

he exhales slowly. “i’m graduating from high school this year.”

you feel the world go still. you hear your breathing. you feel cold. suddenly, you feel deep and heavy dread wash over you.

after this year, zayne will leave.

your best friend is leaving you.

“why are you crying?” zayne panics, clumsily wiping the tears you didn’t know were falling down your cheeks. the pad of his thumb is a little rough against your skin, but his touch is soft. he’s trying to be gentle, and it makes you feel more gloomy.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, hiccupping as you look down at your hands, watching the tears he doesn’t manage to wipe away fall onto them. “it’s just…” do you tell him? that you don’t want him to leave you alone? sure, caleb is a great friend but you’ve come to realize, since the incident last summer, that she will always be his top priority and—

majors. medical school… her.

“you’re doing this for her, aren’t you?” your voice is quiet.

you love her, you do. she’s like a little sister, and you obviously care for her like they do. but they care more, they love her more. you don’t quite understand the intensity of their love for her. and despite their burning ardor in wanting to be there for her and how it always ends up making you invisible, you can’t bring yourself to ever hate her. she’s innocent, just living her life while the two boys flock to her. she didn’t ask for their attention or love, it’s just that she’s so easy to love.

“…don’t tell her.” zayne’s hands fall from your cheeks and grab onto your hands. his touch is cold, unlike caleb, but it doesn’t make you flinch away from him. you let him take your hands into his, holding them carefully. “please.”

you huff through your nose. “if that’s what you want,” you answer. “it isn’t my place to tell them, anyways.”

it’s quiet, peaceful almost if you weren’t so caught up in the sinking feeling your chest. your heart just sinks and continues to sink in black ink, growing heavy. zayne’s voice timidly calls out your name. “you’re still crying. there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“i don’t want you to leave.” because if he leaves, you’re afraid that you’ll have to admit the ugly truth you know, deep down, about caleb. it’s a truth that is so clear to everyone, a truth that you see every single time they’re in their own world. a world that pushes you and zayne out like the waves when they leave shore and retreat back into the ocean.

the older buy chuckles, and you look at him through your wet lashes, noting how his hazel eyes flicker with quiet care in them. “i’m not leaving yet.”

“keyword being yet,” you mumble, gripping onto his hands now. “…i’m being dramatic, aren’t i?”

zayne opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “i should be happy that you’re doing something so cool. i mean, skipping basically all of high school and graduating super early? that’s so cool… and i’m here crying like a baby over it.”

“but your reaction is reasonable,” zayne says. “i’d be upset, too, if my best friend told me all of sudden they’d be leaving at the end of the school year.”

best friend. not just friend.

“i’m your best friend?”

“naturally.” zayne responds quickly. “you know me better than anyone, just as i know you better than anyone.”

just like that, your tears stop falling and the sun peeks out from the cloudy sky inside you.

the rest of the night goes smoothly: zayne helped you study for your science test, which you both found boring after an hour because all of the questions were easy, and you spent the rest of your time talking with him. you wanted to know of his plans, what he’s thinking, about what he wants to do after graduating. you both fell asleep in the midst of your conversation, though you wake up at three in the morning because you felt weird. your own body was telling you that you forgot to do your night routine. so when you wake up, all blurry-eyed and dazed, the first thing you can see is your sleeping best friend. after a couple of blinks, your vision clears up and you’re aware that you’re close to him. in fact, you’re close enough to see and count his dark eyelashes. you pout, no way he has prettier eyelashes than i do. the thought goes away as quickly as it had formed in your mind, replaced by the icky realization that you fell asleep without brushing your teeth. so you sit up, gently waking zayne so he could do the same. when he stirs awake and stares at you with squinting eyes, he knows what you mean when all you do is wordlessly point at your mouth despite the sleepy haze of his mind. and just like that, you both silently head to the bathroom and brush your teeth next to each other, quickly going back to his bed and falling asleep once more.

when morning came, you both find yourselves staring at his mom with confusion as she giggles and repeatedly asks how you both slept during breakfast. you think she must have seen something while you both slept, though you decide to let your suspicions go when you bid the li family goodbye and head next door to your house.

mom will probably tell me about it later tonight, you think just as you shove your house keys into the lock. you push the door open and kick your shoes off your feet, sliding them to the side and slipping into your slippers when you step inside. you hear someone running down the street, and right when you’re about to close the door, you hear your name being called out.

“i didn’t see you at all yesterday!” caleb runs up to you, a bright grin plastered on his lips. with his back to the sun, he looks as if he's bathed in gold. “pips missed you, you know? what were you up to that—what’s that?”

you blink once and suddenly he’s in your bubble, burning fingers gingerly touching your eye. you close it on instinct, and he runs his thumb over your eyelid. you can see yourself reflected in his eyes from this close. his warmth seeps into your skin, and you have the urge to lean into his touch. your heart lurches and skips a beat, feeling excited and calm at the same time.

“what’s what?” you cough, taking a step back.

he frowns, his thumb now under your bottom lashes. “your eyes are red and puffy. are you sick or something? you feel oddly hot.”

oh, that’s right. you cried yesterday, and you feel as if your heart is ready to jump out of your chest and into his arms where it wishes it could be.

“i’m fine. it’s just that i watched a sad movie after dinner with zayne,” you sigh, gently pushing his fingers away from your eyes. zayne’s words echo in your head, a quiet reminder that you can't tell caleb because he’d tell her right afterwards.

caleb huffs through his nose, his lips curling into an amused smile. he shakes his head once, his purple irises reflecting the warmth he radiates. “you do cry a lot while watching movies, don’t you?” he leans back and tilts his head at you. “alright.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “alright… what?”

“even though you’re clearly hiding something from me, i believe you.” caleb pinches your cheek, the amusement in his lips softening. “i’ll see you later?”

“yeah…” you say, dazed, but shake your head quickly. “wait, what are we doing?”

caleb laughs, the hand pinching your cheek now covering his mouth, “don’t tell me you forgot that we’re supposed to study for the science test on monday?”

“about that…” you look away from him. “zayne helped me study for it last night.”

his silence has you taking a quick glance at him. caleb seems shocked and his eyebrow twitches, though it disappears and is replaced by something you can’t quite describe. a forced smile of sorts? “he helped you study?” he asks. “then what’s your verdict? will the test be easy or hard?”

you scratch your cheek, thinking. “well… even though he helped me study for a bit, i say the test is going to be very easy.”

“guess that means i won’t study.” caleb shrugs and ruffles your hair, a real smile on his lips now. “talk to you later, short stuff.”

“i am not that short, cal!” ever since he’s grown an exact inch taller than you, he acts like you're a midget now.

you watch as he waves goodbye, walking backwards for a couple steps with a laugh before twisting around and heading down the street. he’s probably heading to the small dessert shop nearby to pick up some of her favorite doughnuts—it’s what he does every saturday morning.

your twelfth autumn marks your first one without zayne.

he left at the end of summer, right as the tips of the green-yellow leaves on your favorite tree began turning a slight orange, barely noticeable. his disappearance had gone unnoticed until yesterday, half way into the fall quarter and midway into october. you’re in the middle of reading a book, one of your dad’s that he let you borrow, on his bed laying on your stomach while caleb helps her do her homework at his desk. he has a singular picture on it that he puts down whenever you're over, but you never ask why he does that.

“where is zayne?” she wondered aloud, tapping her pencil against her chin. “i haven’t seen him around lately.”

“huh,” caleb clicks his tongue in thought. “now that you mention it, neither have i.”

both their eyes land on you, though you don’t bother looking up. with practiced ease, you reply. “i haven’t seen him around.”

“but you go to his house every friday? and he’s your best friend? surely you know something.” she leans forwards in her chair, trying to get a better look at you.

“i go every friday because i made a promise to his mom,” you retort, finally looking up. with a shrug, you continue, “his mom hasn’t said anything about his whereabouts, so i’m just as clueless as you bunch.”

the girl drops it, a smile now on her lips. “your dad is coming home soon, right?”

you blink in surprise. “you remember?” you mentioned it in passing, it was when she and you were watching caleb during basketball tryouts. you told her that your dad would be coming back soon from the fleet, how you were excited to finally see him after so long.

caleb huffs a laugh through his nose, “of course she remembers, short stuff.”

you grimace, rolling onto your side and reach out to grab something in your vicinity, which happens to be a pen on his bedside, and fling it towards him. “you are literally just a couple inches taller than me, cal.” he’s actually a whole head taller than you now, and caleb's growing into his features. his cheeks have started losing their softness, his eyes a little sharper now. he has a natural, boyish charm, something that makes everyone notice him at school.

he loudly laughs, the pen stopping right in front of him before he swats it away. it lands with a clatter against the floor, somewhere in his room. with a huff, you lay on your back. “better work on that aim, short stuff~” he sings, getting up from his desk and heading over to his bed. you look up at him, your lips pursed as he pinches your cheek, purple eyes warm with mirth. his hair falls over his eyes, making its color look deeper. “how else are you going to get into the aerospace academy with me?”

you raise your brows, “you're acting as if you're already in.”

“well—”

the girl hums. “so you both want to leave me.”

just like that, caleb is back at her side and you’re all alone. “i would never leave you, pips.”

“pinkie promise?”

you watch from the corner of your eye how he wears a soft smile as they wrap their pinkies, his touch lingering.

you aren't stupid; in fact, you pride yourself in being so smart and attentive. so, you know that the tightness in your chest is because of caleb, because of the feelings you harbor for him. you aren't stupid, so you already know that caleb can never be yours, that he can never feel that way for you.

because he is hers.

with a sigh, you close your eyes and will yourself to calm your aching heart. you should be used to the ache that settles in your chest when this happens, but here you are.

later that day, right as the sun begins to set, you bid her and granny josephine goodbye. the taste of her apple pie from dinner lingers in your mouth.

“you don’t have to walk me home, cal.” you say, chuckling as you bump shoulders with him. instead of walking across the street, you walk down the sidewalk.

he hums, following you, “just let me be a good friend, short stuff.”

“you just love rubbing it in, don’t you?” you grumble, stepping into the park. your feet take you to the tree until you’re in front of it. you look behind you, raising an eyebrow at caleb. “i’ll stay here for a few minutes, so you can leave if you want.”

“i’ll stay.” at his confirmation, he moves past you, a faint scent of apples lingering in the air along with the sweet, woody smell from the oak tree as he scales up the trunk with ease. “your turn!”

“yeah, yeah.” you huff, rolling your eyes as you climb the tree and make it to the branch caleb chose to sit at. you breathe in and out slowly.

“the tunnel makes the sky look ugly.”

you snort, slightly baffled at the sudden proclamation from the boy. “where did that come from?”

“what?” caleb shrugs with a laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. “it does make it look ugly. like, really ugly.”

your quiet giggles get louder, and you throw your head back. “that is the first time i have ever heard anyone say that.” you wheeze, your laughter so strong you wobble on the branch. caleb wraps an arm around you to keep you from falling, his touch making you still instantly.

“you need to be careful,” he says. “one of these days you’re going to end up falling and i’ll fall with you.”

“if i ever fall, it’ll be because of you.” you cough and attempt to shimmy away from him, though his grip slightly tightens, preventing you from getting away.

the brunette absentmindedly taps on your arm with a finger. “i’d never let you fall… you know that.”

he’s saying that because you're his friend, and he is fiercely protective of those he cares about: the people in his inner circle. you are a part of it, you know that, and yet your heart cannot help but to stupidly flutter at the illusion of a hidden meaning behind his words.

“…it’s getting late.” which is true—the oranges and pinks of the sunset are now bleeding into a purple hue. “i should get going now.” you don't wait for him to say anything; you just climb down the trees as quickly and possible and book it to your home.

caleb is not far behind you.

stepping on the first step of your house’s porch, you stop and turn around. you’re eye to eye with caleb.

caleb wears a boyish grin on his lips, something that makes your stomach flip. “i have something for you.”

“oh? and what would that be?” the corners of your lips turn upwards.

“how about you close your eyes?” you shut your eyes, hearing intently to the boy shuffling. you feel a warmth brush against your cheek, trailing over to the back your neck. “give me a second.”

you hold your breath. caleb’s fingers work nimbly, and something cold hangs around your neck. there’s silence for a beat; he’s still close enough for you to hear his breathing until he leans away. “open your eyes.”

they flutter open at his command, and flitter down to see a necklace. there is a cloud with a wispy appearance right at the bottom, and small translucent beads hang from it in white and blue. the chain around your neck is decorated with solid white and blue beads.

“do you like it?” caleb scratches his neck, eyes carefully watching your reaction.

your voice comes out quiet, shy. “i do.”

you hear the smile in his voice. “i’ve been trying to give it to you since your birthday.”

“what?” looking up from the necklace, you blink at him repeatedly. “but my birthday—”

“i know.” he laughs softly, shaking his head. “i’ve had it since last year, and… i just didn’t know how to give it to you. i thought now would be a good time.”

i thought now would be a good time.

his words echo in your mind, and you take a deep breath. you also have something you want to give him: it’s sitting in the drawer of your desk, in a small box. “do you… do you want to come inside?”

you’ve never invited anyone inside your house, inside the walls that is your safe space. zayne is the only one who has stepped foot inside, who has made it up the stairs and into your room on more than one occasion. caleb used to bug you about that when you two first met, into the early months of your friendship. he thought it was weird that you were always over at his home while he had never gone inside yours. his complaints stopped when you introduced zayne to them—probably because he didn’t want to be around him despite the desire he had to discover what lays hidden in your home. you like to think that he finally decided to wait until you were ready to show him what’s inside.

caleb’s eyes are wide with surprise. “you want me to go inside?”

“i also have something for you.”

despite the poor lighting of the porch lamp, caleb is still akin to gold. he smiles and you turn around to unlock the front door, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. when you open the door and hold it open for him, caleb is all too quick to walk inside, following you up the stairs into your room after you shut the door. his eyes scan the inside of your room as soon as you turn on the lights, shuffling over to your desk as he stands by the doorframe. the color of your walls are a light blue, strings attached to the ceiling with paper clouds hanging at the end. he realizes there’s glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling after squinting. there’s a book shelf in the corner of your room, right besides your desk. the top shelf has a few trinkets: a small airplane, a blimp, a cap.

he assumes it's your dad’s cap, the one that goes with his uniform.

the second shelf has a couple of books, a stuffed animal in the form of a snowman, and a picture: the last one you took with your parents. last summer, you and your family took a trip to verona. in the picture, your dad has you hoisted onto his shoulders, an arm on your legs to keep you steady while the other is wrapped around your mom. everyone wears a smile, yet yours is the brightest one out of the three. caleb’s chest swells with pride, knowing he did the right thing all those years ago when he found you crying at the big oak tree.

the third shelf has a picture, one where it’s you and him. he remembers when, where and who took the picture. it was on your last day of school, your fifth grade promotion ceremony, and your mom took it. again, your smile is the brightest one. though, upon further inspection, he realizes your picture is different from the one he has on his desk. you’ve decorated it with small stickers, ones of golden and purple swirls that sit on the frame.

then there’s more books. another picture frame—is that zayne? you and zayne as children… oh, well you look at that? another picture frame of you and zayne. a recent picture, it seems, decorated in the same manner as his. he’s not sure when or where or who took this picture—

“think fast!”

caleb blinks and the flying box stills in front of him, floating in the air before it can hit his chest. “uh… why?”

“gotta be on your toes if you want to be in the aerospace academy with me.”

he laughs. “look at you, already acting as if you’re in.”

you shrug. “you do the same.”

“touché.” his eyes look down at the box. with a hum, he grabs and opens it, blinking once. inside sits a necklace, one with a small, silver sun on it with a purple gem in the middle. “…a sun?”

“you remind me of the sun.” you mumble. “you’re warm like it, too.”

caleb beams so wide his cheeks start to hurt, and there's faint blush on his cheeks that spreads to the tips of his ears. “i’m like the sun?”

“mhm.”

“funny… because i got you a cloud because sometimes you’re calm and happy, sometimes you’re gray and gloomy, and there are times when you’re like a storm.”

you stare at him, wide-eyed, and he continues. “tell me when you feel like there’s a storm in you.” he gets closer to you so that he can tap on the necklace that hangs around your neck. “so i can shine the sun on you... i will never hurt you with my warmth.”

it’s a silent promise that he’ll be there for you.

“and if you do?”

“then you can hit me!”

his fingers twitch, his foot taking a step forwards. but there’s a knock on your door before it’s pushed open. both you and caleb watch, confused.

your mom has a night shift and wouldn’t be back until morning.

caleb doesn't see a thing before you’re already leaping forwards into the arms of a man in a black uniform, his cap falling onto the ground. he recognizes the man as the one that holds you on his shoulders in the picture on your bookshelf.

your dad, the colonel of the farspace fleet.

caleb smiles to himself, his hold on the tiny box in his hands slightly tightening. he will be there for you, whenever you're sad or happy or mad.

he will be there.

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taglist. @ellieevu @ryusjwks @llamabois @kazbrkker @1ncpst @babythotbox @angelwhizpers @miffysoo

[thighsa]

Hi. I wanted to know if you are working on that Izone Minju idea with old men?

That ask sounded hot, so I wanna know to look forward to it or not.

Request :

SILENCED BY AGE

Kim Minju X Grandpa's Friends

Warning : Non Con Smut (please don't read if you don't like it, thanks!)

CHAPTER 1

Kim Minju, a fresh-faced 23-year-old, stepped off the crowded bus with a gentle sigh, the chilly air of the early spring evening kissing her cheeks as she made her way down the quiet street. She had been a member of the world-renowned K-Pop group, Iz*one, but now, her days were filled with a different kind of spotlight: the solitary glow of a single bulb in a dusty nursing home room. Her grandpa's health had been failing for some time now, and with no one else to turn to, she had taken on the role of his primary caregiver.

The nursing home loomed before her, a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour she had once known. The scent of antiseptic and the distant chuckles of the elderly filled her nose as she pushed through the heavy doors. The receptionist, a plump middle-aged woman with a kind smile, nodded in recognition. "Ah, Miss Kim, you're here to see your grandpa again. He's in a good mood tonight."

Minju nodded and made her way down the dimly lit corridor, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor. She pushed open the door to room 306, revealing her grandpa, Mr. Kim, in a wheelchair by the window, staring out into the darkness. He turned to her, his eyes brightening. "Ah, my little Minju," he croaked, reaching out a trembling hand. "You came."

Her heart swelled with love as she took his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Of course, Grandpa. I'll always be here for you." She began to unpack the small bag of goodies she had brought him, his favorites from their weekly market trips before his health declined. The room was small and simple, with a single bed and a few personal items scattered about, a sad reflection of the vibrant life he once led.

As the weeks passed, Minju grew closer to the other residents of the nursing home, their grandpa-like charm and gentle teasing a comforting balm to her lonely soul. Most of them are widowers, each with stories of love and loss that stretched back decades. They seemed so innocent, so harmless, their flirtatious comments and innuendos slipping past her like whispers in the wind. But there was something in their eyes that made her feel... different. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

One evening, as she sat with her grandpa watching the news, Mr. Park, a sprightly octogenarian with a twinkle in his eye, sidled over to her. "Miss Kim," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You're so pretty, so young. You must have a boyfriend, yes?" His friends chuckled quietly from their chairs nearby, their eyes glinting with mischief.

Minju blushed, shaking her head. "No, Mr. Park. I'm busy with my career." The grandpas feigned disappointment, their eyes never leaving her as she continued to care for her grandpa, their gazes lingering on her curves and the way she moved. It was innocent at first, but soon she noticed the way their glances grew more brazen, their smiles more knowing.

The fateful evening came when Minju's grandpa complained of the cold. She excused herself to the storage room to grab a fresh comforter. The room was a maze of shelves, filled with linens and supplies, and she had to navigate through it carefully. As she pulled out the requested item, she heard the squeak of the door opening.

Mr. Lee, one of the more talkative grandpas, shuffled in, his eyes twinkling with something more than innocent curiosity. "Ah, Miss Kim," he began, his voice a raspy purr. "Alone at last." He leaned heavily on his cane, the room suddenly feeling much smaller. "You know, I've noticed how much you care for your grandpa, how you've given up so much for him. It's quite admirable."

Minju's stomach lurched as she took a step back, her hands gripping the comforter tightly. "Mr. Lee, I'm sure my grandpa would love to see you, but he's a bit tired right now."

Mr. Lee's smile grew wider, his teeth gleaming in the soft light. "Nonsense, I just want a little hug from such a lovely young lady like yourself." His eyes swept over her body, and Minju's heart began to race. Something about his tone sent a shiver down her spine. She felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, and she knew she needed to get out of this situation quickly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lee," she began, taking a step backward, only to feel the cold metal of the shelving unit against her spine. "But I really should get back to Grandpa."

Mr. Lee's smile morphed into something predatory. "Ah, come now, Miss Kim. Just one little hug, that's all I ask." His voice was a gravelly whisper, his hand reaching out to her.

Minju's heart hammered in her chest, the room spinning as she tried to find a way out. But she was trapped, the towering shelves of supplies blocking her escape. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Mr. Lee, please, I don't think this is appropriate."

But Mr. Lee's hand was already on the door, the click of the lock echoing through the small space. "Oh, don't worry, my dear," he said, his voice thick with a lust that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. "Your grandpa's sleeping soundly, and the nurses are busy with their rounds."

He took another step closer, and Minju felt the heat of his breath against her neck. His hand reached out, landing firmly on her ass, squeezing it as if it were a piece of fruit he was testing for ripeness. She gasped, her eyes going wide with shock and fear. His other hand followed suit, cupping her breast through her sweater, his thumb flicking against her nipple. She tried to push him away, but his grip was surprisingly strong for a man his age.

"Mr. Lee, please," she pleaded, her voice shaking, but he was deaf to her protests. His hand moved up to her neck, gently caressing the soft skin as his thumb traced the line of her jaw. His eyes bore into hers, dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged against her ear. His other hand continued to roam, sliding down her waist to squeeze her ass again, his thumb pressing against the fabric of her skirt, hinting at the flesh beneath. "So... young and firm."

Panic surged through Minju as she realized the extent of his intentions. She tried to push him away, her heart racing as she felt his hands moving over her body with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl. "Please, Mr. Lee," she whispered, her voice strained. "We can't do this."

But Mr. Lee was not to be deterred. He leaned in closer, his breath reeking of minty toothpaste and something darker, something that made her stomach churn. "You're just like your late mother," he murmured, his hand sliding up her thigh. "So sweet, so innocent." His voice grew gruffer, hungrier.

With a sudden burst of strength, Minju pushed him away, the comforter slipping from her grasp. She stumbled backward, her head colliding with the cold, hard wall. Stars danced before her eyes, and she felt herself slipping, the room spinning out of control.

Mr. Lee took advantage of her daze, his hands grabbing her shoulders and slamming her back against the shelves. The force was enough to knock the wind out of her, and she felt her legs give way. She slumped to the floor, her vision going dark. The last thing she heard was the rustling of fabric as he dropped to his knees beside her, his breathing heavy and ragged.

When Minju came to, the world was a haze of pain and confusion. Her head throbbed, and her body felt cold and exposed. She looked down to find her clothes torn to shreds, her pale skin stark in the dim light. Her panties were gone, replaced by a piece of fabric lodged in her mouth, gagging her. Panic surged through her as she struggled against her binds, her wrists and ankles tied tight with strips of her own clothing.

Mr. Lee loomed over her, his phone held out at an odd angle. The sickening realization dawned on her: he was recording her. His gnarled fingers traced the line of her body, his eyes feasting on her like a starving man. She tried to scream, but the fabric muffled her cries, turning them into pathetic whimpers that only seemed to excite him further.

He leaned down, his tongue snaking out to lick the salty tears from her cheek. The sensation was so foreign, so disgusting, that she nearly vomited. His hands roamed further, one sliding down her chest to pinch her nipple, the other reaching up to hold her face still as he clenched his teeth around the tender peak. Minju's eyes rolled back in her head as she gagged on the fabric, her body writhing in a futile attempt to escape his touch.

With a grunt, Mr. Lee pulled away, his eyes alight with a depraved hunger. He slid two of his thick, wrinkled fingers down her trembling thighs, pushing them into the warm, untouched folds of her virgin pussy. The intrusion was sudden, painful, and Minju's body tensed, her eyes wide with horror. He moved them roughly, as if she were nothing more than a toy to be played with and discarded. She had never felt anything so violating, so wrong, and the pain was like a living thing, twisting and coiling inside her.

Her thoughts raced as she searched for a way out of this nightmare. She had to get away, had to tell someone, but the gag in her mouth muffled her screams, and her body was useless against the weight of his own. His breath was hot and foul against her neck as he whispered sweet nothings, his voice a parody of tenderness. She felt his erection pressing against her leg, and she knew what was coming next.

With a grin that sent a shiver of revulsion through her, Mr. Lee unzipped his pants, freeing his swollen cock. It was a sight she never thought she would see, and it filled her with a mix of terror and disgust. He stroked it slowly, the veins pulsing as he took in the sight of her vulnerable form. His hand moved to her face, the fabric of the gag sticky with her tears and saliva.

"Look at me, Minju," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Look at what you're doing to me." He forced her chin up, his hand pressing against her cheek, and she couldn't help but stare at his twisted expression of pleasure. The phone in his other hand held steady, capturing every second of her degradation.

With a grunt, Mr. Lee positioned his cock between her trembling legs. She could feel the warmth and wetness of her own arousal, despite the fear that held her captive. Her body was betraying her, responding to his touch despite her mind's desperate screams of no. He leaned in, his weight pressing her into the cold floor as he lined himself up with her entrance. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain that was about to come.

The moment he entered her, it was like a hot knife sliding through butter. She bit down hard on the gag, muffling her scream as her body stretched to accommodate his thickness. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, stealing her breath away in a fiery rush. His grip on her face tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed in deeper, filling her completely.

Minju's eyes watered as she felt him inside her, her mind racing with the horror of what was happening. She had never been with anyone before, had never even been kissed in the way she had read about in romance novels. And now, her first time was being stolen from her by this monster of a man who had once been her grandpa's friend.

Mr. Lee's hips began to thrust, each movement a brutal invasion that made her feel like she was being torn apart. She could hear the wet slap of his flesh against hers, the sound echoing through the small room like a taunt. His grip on her face didn't waver, his thumb pressing into her cheek as he held her in place, forcing her to watch the perverted show he was putting on for his own sick amusement.

Her virginity was lost in a flash, the pain so intense it was almost unbearable. She tried to clench her legs together, but his weight was too much. All she could do was lay there, sobbing and trembling as he took from her what she had been saving for someone she truly loved. His eyes never left hers, the hunger in them growing with each thrust. He was a man possessed, driven by a lust that had been festering for years, waiting for this moment to claim her innocence.

Mr. Lee's strokes grew more vigorous, his breaths turning into grunts of pleasure. Minju felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she felt his cock pulse inside her, releasing a warm, sticky flood that filled her up. The feeling was alien, disgusting, and she felt her body convulse around him. The fabric in her mouth was wet with drool now, and she could taste the bitterness of her own fear.

He pulled out, the sudden absence of him inside her leaving her feeling empty and violated. He stood up, his pants still open, his cock still hard and gleaming with her innocence. He looked down at her, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "Now, Miss Kim," he said, his voice cold and hard. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll make sure that video goes viral. You'll be known as the nursing home whore." He chuckled, the sound sending chills down her spine.

Minju's eyes widened in terror as she took in the reality of his threat. The video, the proof of her defilement, was in his hands. Her career, her reputation, her very identity as a virgin, all of it could be shattered with a single click. She nodded, her eyes pleading as she struggled against her binds. He took his phone and tucked it into his pocket, the smug look on his face telling her that he had won.

Mr. Lee bent down, his grip on her jaw tight as he pulled the fabric from her mouth. The taste of her own fear and saliva made her want to retch, but she held it back, her eyes never leaving his. "Now, my little cumdump," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "You're going to clean me up, and then we'll pretend like this never happened." He held his cock out to her, the last remnants of his release still glistening on the tip.

Minju felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over her as she nodded, her voice a hoarse whisper. She took the shaking hand he offered and allowed him to pull her to her knees. The floor was cold and unforgiving, but she knew she had no choice. She leaned forward, her trembling hands supporting her as she took him into her mouth. The taste was bitter, the smell of his arousal filling her nose. She closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth of his flesh as she licked and sucked, trying to erase the evidence of what he had done to her.

Mr. Lee's eyes rolled back in his head, a low groan escaping his lips as she worked her mouth around his cock. He had taken her innocence so easily, and now he was taking her dignity as well. Her eyes remained closed, tears streaming down her face as she cleaned him, her mind racing with the reality of what had just transpired. How could she ever face her grandpa again? How could she go back to her life, knowing what these men had done to her?

After a few moments, Mr. Lee pulled away, his cock clean and glistening. He tucked it back into his pants with a self-satisfied smile. "Good girl," he murmured, patting her head like a pet. "Now, remember, not a word." With that, he turned and left the storage room, the door creaking shut behind him.

Minju remained on the floor for what felt like an eternity, her body trembling with shock and disgust. She managed to untie the makeshift binds, her trembling hands clumsy with fear.

The clock on the wall ticked away the moments, each second a painful reminder of the horror she had just endured. She knew she had to compose herself, had to act as if nothing had happened. But as she stumbled back to her grandpa's room, the weight of her violation felt like it was crushing her from the inside out.

Mr. Kim slept peacefully, oblivious to the monster that had just claimed her innocence. Minju took a shaky breath, willing herself to push the memories aside. She had to be strong for her grandpa; she couldn't let him see the fear in her eyes, the pain that was now a permanent part of her.

As she settled him into bed, Mr. Kim's eyes fluttered open. "Is everything okay, Minju?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Yes, Grandpa," she lied, her voice wavering. "Just making sure you're comfortable."

Minju's hands trembled as she tucked the blankets around Mr. Kim, avoiding his gaze. She couldn't tell him what had happened, not now, not ever. She kissed his forehead and whispered a goodnight before retreating to the chair beside his bed. The darkness of the room seemed to swallow her whole, the shadows playing tricks on her mind as she replayed the horrific events of the evening.

Exhaustion eventually took hold, and she slipped into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of Mr. Lee's leering face and the pain of his touch. The hours passed slowly, each tick of the clock a painful reminder of the silent prison she now found herself in.

CHAPTER 2

In the deepest part of the night, Minju was jolted awake by the sound of a gentle knock on her grandpa's door. She sat up, her heart racing, as one of the nurse's voice called out to her softly. "Miss Kim, Mr. Lee wants to see you in his room."

Her stomach churned with dread. She knew what he wanted, and the thought of facing him again made her skin crawl. But she had no choice. The video was his leash, and she was his unwilling pet. She slid out of bed, careful not to wake her grandpa, and wrapped a robe around herself. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

Mr. Lee's room was down the hall, and she walked there with leaden feet. The corridor was silent, the only sound her own racing heart. When she reached his door, she paused, her hand hovering over the handle. Another knock, more insistent this time. "Miss Kim, don't keep an old man waiting."

Minju took a deep breath and turned the knob, the room inside dimly lit by a single bedside lamp. The curtains were drawn, and the air was thick with the scent of his cologne, which now made her stomach twist. She stepped inside, and before she could even fully close the door, Mr. Lee's hand was on her, his grip firm on her wrist as he spun her around. His eyes glinted with excitement as he looked her over, his hand sliding down to cup her ass.

"Ah, Miss Kim," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he squeezed her cheek roughly. "You're even more beautiful when you're scared." He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing her neck as his other hand began to roam, his fingers sliding under her robe to trace the sensitive skin of her back. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach, a cruel reminder of what was to come.

"Now, now," he said, his voice a low purr. "Let's not waste any more time. I've been thinking about this all night." He released her and took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to unbutton his pajama top. His chest was covered in a thin layer of silver hair, his skin wrinkled and spotted with age. "Undress me, my dear," he ordered, his voice thick with lust.

Minju's hand trembled as she reached out to obey, the weight of his gaze heavy on her. She helped him shed his top, revealing a stomach that hung over his pajama bottoms. His skin was soft and cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the hardness of his erection that pressed against the fabric. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the task at hand.

Mr. Lee handed her a small bottle of oil that he had been hiding under his pillow. She uncapped it, the scent of something musky and overpowering filling the air. He patted the edge of the bed, and she swallowed hard, her legs wobbling as she sat beside him. He lay down, his eyes never leaving hers as she took a deep, shaky breath and began to massage the oil into his back. Her hands moved in slow, deliberate circles, her thoughts racing as she tried to find a way out of this nightmare.

"Oh, you do massage so much better than the nurses here," he groaned, his voice a gruff growl that made her skin crawl. "They're all so rough and uncaring. But you, my dear, you have the gentle touch of an angel." His words were a mockery of the situation, a twisted game that only served to deepen her humiliation. She continued to work the oil into his skin, her stomach turning as she felt his muscles tense beneath her trembling fingers.

"I want you to stop massaging me with your hand," he said, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Undress and use your breast to massage my back, body to body." Minju's heart skipped a beat. The very idea of using her naked body to service this vile old man was repulsive, but she knew better than to argue. With trembling hands, she undid the tie of her robe, letting it fall open to reveal her bare skin.

Her modest breasts were heaving with fear and revulsion, but she knew he was watching every move, his eyes devouring her. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself as she straddled him, her legs shaking as she settled her weight onto his thighs. The feel of his skin against hers was like a brand, searing her with a sense of wrongness that she couldn't ignore. She leaned forward, her breasts pressing into the oily expanse of his back as she began to move them in slow, deliberate circles. The friction was strange, the sensation of her nipples against his flesh making her want to scream.

Mr. Lee's hand slithered around her, reaching for the bottle of oil. He poured a generous amount onto her chest, his gnarled fingers smearing it across her skin as he chuckled to himself. "Looks like you need a little help," he said, his voice thick with lust. She felt his hand close around her breast, guiding it against his back as he took the bell nipple clamp from the bedside table. Her heart raced as he held it up, the cold metal glinting in the dim light.

"This will make things more... interesting," he murmured, a wicked smile playing on his lips. With surprising deftness, he attached the clamp to her nipple, twisting it tight until she gasped in pain. The sensation was sharp, a bolt of agony that shot through her body. "Now," he said, his voice gruff with excitement. "Massage me with your clamped nipple."

Minju bit her lip, the pain making her eyes water as she began to move her chest against his back again. The metal pinched and pulled at her sensitive flesh with every stroke, the sound of the bell chiming with every movement she made. It was a twisted symphony of pain and pleasure, and she hated herself for the way her body responded, her nipples growing harder despite the torment.

The sound of the bell woke up Mr. Park and Mr. Cho from their nearby rooms. They had been lying in bed, listening to the TV, when the faint ringing caught their attention. Curiosity piqued, they both shuffled out into the hallway, the sound growing clearer with every step. They followed it like it was a siren's call, until they found themselves standing outside Mr. Lee's door, their hearts racing with anticipation.

Mr. Park's hand hovered over the doorknob, his breathing shallow and quick. He glanced at Mr. Cho, who gave a nod of encouragement. Slowly, Mr. Park turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges squeaking like a confession. The sight that greeted them was not what they had expected. Minju was straddling Mr. Lee, her robe open, her breasts bouncing with the movement as the metal clamp chimed with each press against his back. The room was thick with the scent of oil and lust, and their eyes widened with excitement at the sight of the young, vulnerable girl being used so wantonly by the man they had known as a harmless old neighbor.

Mr. Cho's gaze fell to the clamp, his eyes lighting up with perverse interest. "Looks like she's been a good girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement. Mr. Park nodded, licking his lips as he took in the scene. They had always had their suspicions about Mr. Lee's intentions, but to see it playing out in such an explicit manner was beyond their wildest imaginations. They watched in silence, their own desires growing with every twitch of Minju's body, every whimper she couldn't hold back.

Mr. Lee's eyes flicked to the doorway, and he saw his audience. His grin grew wider, his eyes glinting with a malicious joy as he beckoned them closer. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I see you've come to join the party." Minju's eyes grew wide with horror, realizing she was not the only one who knew about her degradation. The fear of being watched by these men she had once considered harmless was almost as overwhelming as the pain in her chest.

Mr. Park stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving Minju's breasts. "We wouldn't want to miss this, would we?" He said, his voice a low, hungry growl. Mr. Cho followed, his own gaze lingering on the sight of Minju's exposed flesh. Mr. Lee chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Good, good," he murmured. "The more the merrier."

"Miss Kim," Mr. Lee said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I want you to keep doing what you're doing, but I think it's time to introduce you to some new friends." He gestured to the two men standing in the doorway, their lust palpable in the air. "Mr. Park and Mr. Cho here have been wanting to meet you for quite some time."

With trembling hands, Mr. Park reached out to close the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing through the room like a gunshot. Mr. Cho followed suit, drawing the curtains and ensuring no prying eyes could peer in from the outside. The room was now a cocoon of darkness, the only light coming from the bedside lamp that cast eerie shadows across their leering faces.

Minju's eyes darted between the two new intruders, her mind racing with fear. Mr. Lee's hand slithered down to her waist, his grip firm as he whispered, "Don't worry, my dear. They're just here to make sure you don't get lonely." His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a cold sweat break out across her skin.

Mr. Park took a tentative step forward, his eyes locked on the clamped nipples that stood out against her pale flesh. "Can I?" he asked, his voice shaking with excitement. Mr. Lee nodded, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "Go ahead. She's all yours to play with."

Minju felt Mr. Park's hand on her shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle as he took over her massaging duties. She couldn't hold back the tears anymore, the reality of her situation too much to bear. She was nothing more than a toy for these depraved old men, their lustful gazes stripping away the last vestiges of her dignity.

Mr. Cho shuffled closer, his eyes gleaming as he reached out to caress her thigh, his trembling fingers leaving a trail of oil in their wake. "So soft," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "So perfect." The words were like a knife in her soul, a painful reminder that she was no longer in control of her own body.

Minju's tears fell in silent streams, her eyes never leaving Mr. Lee's as she felt Mr. Park's hand move down her back, his grip tightening on the clamp. He tugged it gently, and she couldn't help but moan, the pain morphing into a strange, twisted pleasure that made her feel even more ashamed. She felt Mr. Cho's hand move up her leg, his thumb brushing against the wetness between her thighs. "Ah," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Look at how ready she is for us."

With surprising strength, Mr. Cho reached around and ripped her panties from her body, the fabric tearing away with a sound that seemed to echo in the stillness of the night. He tossed the ruined garment aside, his eyes never leaving hers as he took the bottle of oil from the bedside table. She felt the cool liquid cascade over her, running down her back and pooling in the small of her back, making her skin glisten. His hand followed the trail, his palm cupping her ass and squeezing it roughly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as if he was trying to mold it to his will.

Mr. Lee's voice was like a whip crack, ordering her to remove the robe that barely clung to her. Minju's trembling hands obeyed, the fabric pooling around her wrists before sliding off, leaving her completely exposed to their hungry gazes. She felt a fresh wave of humiliation as the two men took in the sight of her, their eyes raking over her body like it was a feast laid out before them.

Mr. Lee's hand remained firm on her waist as he guided her back into the position she had just vacated, her breasts now oiled and slick from the massage. "Miss Kim," he instructed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're going to continue massaging me with your tits, just like before. Don't stop, no matter what happens."

Minju's eyes remained locked on his, filled with a mix of fear and defiance as she felt Mr. Cho's hands on her hips. His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered, "Mr. Lee, you haven't used this hole yet, have you?" His grip tightened, and she felt something thick and hard pressing against her unprepared anus, the tip of his erection probing the tight ring of muscle. Panic surged through her, but she knew better than to resist. She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, her body trembling as Mr. Cho's oiled hand reached around to caress her clit, his other hand guiding his cock into position.

Mr. Park stepped closer, his own excitement palpable as he unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free, standing proud and erect in the soft light of the lamp. He took her right hand, which was still shaking from the trauma of her recent assault, and wrapped it around his shaft. His skin was hot and slick with precum, and she felt him shiver as she tentatively began to stroke him, her movements clumsy and forced. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a harsh contrast to the gentle stroking of her hand. "You're going to make me feel so good."

Her eyes remained on Mr. Lee's, her silent plea for mercy lost in the sea of his depravity. He simply chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched Mr. Cho's cock disappear into her tight anus. She felt the head of Mr. Cho's cock breach her, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was as if she was being torn apart from the inside, her body no longer her own.

With a brutal thrust, Mr. Cho rammed his dick into her virgin ass, the sound of her scream echoing off the walls of the small room. She threw her head back, the pain so intense it was almost unbearable. She could feel him stretching her, filling her with his disgusting lust, and she wanted to die. But she couldn't. She had to keep going, had to keep up the facade for the sake of her grandpa.

Her hand continued to stroke Mr. Park's cock, her movements jerky and awkward as she tried to focus on anything but the agony in her ass. She felt Mr. Cho's hand move to her clit, his fingers moving with a speed that seemed inhuman. He began to rub her clit with a fervor that matched the tempo of his thrusts, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through her body.

Minju's screams grew louder, her body convulsing as she was pushed to the brink of sanity. She could feel Mr. Cho's balls slapping against her ass with each thrust, the pressure building in her stomach, her mind a whirlwind of despair. The pain was so intense it was almost unbearable, and yet, there was something... more. Something dark and twisted that made her body respond despite her mind's screams for it to stop.

Mr. Cho's grunts grew louder, his grip on her hips tightening as he plunged into her with an almost animalistic fervor. Each thrust was deeper, faster, his cock stretching her to the point she thought she might break. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort to stay upright. The clamp on her nipple was forgotten, the pain lost in the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely.

Minju felt her body start to shake, her muscles straining against the relentless onslaught. Mr. Cho's cock was thick and unforgiving, pushing into her with a force that left her struggling to breathe. Her eyes watered, and she bit her lip hard to keep from screaming, the pain in her ass a constant reminder of her degradation. Yet, amidst the horror, she felt her own arousal building, a traitorous response that made her hate herself even more.

Suddenly, Mr. Park leaned in, his eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. His hand reached for the bell nipple clamp, and without warning, he gave it a firm pull, drawing her nipple outwards and elongating it to an almost painful length. The sensation was strange, a mix of agony and a dark, twisted pleasure that sent a jolt straight to her core. She gasped, her eyes flying to Mr. Lee's, who watched with a detached amusement, his hand still firmly on her waist, guiding her movements.

Mr. Cho's thrusts grew more erratic, his breaths coming in pants as he fucked her hard and fast. His hand never stopped working her clit, the relentless pressure building into a crescendo of pain and pleasure that had her entire body trembling. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a rhythmic beat that matched the pounding of her heart in her ears. The pain in her ass was a living, breathing entity, consuming her, making her aware of every inch of his cock as it plunged in and out of her.

Mr. Park took advantage of her distraction, leaning in to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and rank. "You like that, don't you?" His words were almost a taunt, and she could feel his cock pulsing in her hand, his excitement palpable. He gave the bell clamp another sharp tug, and she felt her nipple stretch even further, the metal digging into her tender flesh. The pain was exquisite, a white-hot line of agony that traveled straight to her clit, making her hips buck involuntarily.

Mr. Cho took the cue, his own excitement reaching a fever pitch. He pulled almost all the way out, the head of his cock teasing the entrance to her ass before slamming back in, making her body jolt. She could feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. Her hand on Mr. Park's cock moved faster, driven by the need to distract herself from the pain, to find some semblance of control in this twisted game.

Mr. Park stepped back, his eyes still locked on hers as he bent down and picked up the shreds of fabric that were once her panties. He held them up with a twisted smile, the flimsy material seemingly innocuous in his grip. With a deft twirl of his wrist, he wrapped the fabric around her right nipple, the oil from her massage making it stick to her skin. He tugged it tight, the fabric biting into her sensitive flesh. The clamp was already a torment, but the addition of the fabric was like a brand new level of hell.

Mr. Cho took a deep breath, his cock still buried in her ass, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched Mr. Park's cruel play. "I think she's enjoying it," he said, his voice strained with his own pleasure. Mr. Lee chuckled, his hand moving to her other breast, giving it a rough squeeze. "Look at her, begging for more."

Minju felt the fabric of her panties tighten around her right nipple, Mr. Park's grip growing stronger with every twist of the makeshift rope. The pain was unbearable, a sharp, burning sensation that seemed to pulse in time with Mr. Cho's thrusts. She could feel her orgasm approaching, a dark, twisted parody of pleasure that she knew would only serve to further humiliate her. She wanted to scream, to beg for them to stop, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Mr. Park leaned closer, his breath hot and moist on her neck. "Look how much you're enjoying this," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Look how wet you are." His hand moved down her body, his thumb sliding through the slickness of her pussy before pressing against her clit, adding to the torment. The fabric of her panties grew tauter, the pressure on her nipple increasing with every twist. The clamp's bell chimed a mournful tune with every jerk of her body, a soundtrack to her degradation.

Minju's eyes watered, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she tried to hold back the scream that was building in her chest. She couldn't believe the depth of pain and humiliation she was enduring, her body being used and abused by these old men. The fabric around her nipple grew tighter, the pain blossoming into a white-hot agony that was almost unbearable. She felt like she was being torn apart, her body a plaything in their twisted game.

Mr. Cho's grunts grew more insistent, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. She could feel his cock swelling inside her anus, his orgasm imminent. The thought of him filling her up with his cum was too much, and she couldn't hold back any longer. Her body convulsed, her pussy clenching around Mr. Park's invading thumb as she came, the pleasure ripping through her like a tornado of despair.

Mr. Cho roared as he climaxed, his cock pumping rope after rope of cum into her tight, unprepared hole. The sensation was indescribable, a mix of pain and violation that made her want to scream. The pressure built until she felt like she was going to burst, the warm, sticky fluid filling her up and stretching her to her limits. When he finally pulled out, she couldn't help but whimper as she felt the emptiness, the blood and cum dripping from her gaping anus painting a gruesome picture of her degradation.

Mr. Park watched with a perverse fascination, his own climax building as he saw the evidence of their depravity spilling from her body. He stepped closer, his cock in her hand now slick with precum and her own arousal. His eyes never left hers as he brought himself closer, the head of his cock nudging at her bruised and swollen pussy. "My turn," he said, his voice a low growl.

CHAPTER 3

Mr. Lee nodded in agreement, his own desire clear in his eyes as he positioned himself on the bed. He beckoned her closer, his cock standing proudly erect, a symbol of the power he wielded over her. Minju felt her legs give out, but the two men were quick to support her, their grip on her firm and unyielding as they guided her to the bed. They sat cross-legged, facing each other, a macabre reflection of a scene from a twisted fairy tale.

Mr. Park took his place opposite Mr. Lee, his cock jutting out like an accusation, eager to claim its share of her pussy. She trembled as she felt the head of Mr. Park's cock nuzzle against her slick entrance, the anticipation of the pain to come making her stomach churn. Mr. Lee leaned in, his breath hot in her ear. "Now, Miss Kim," he murmured, his voice a serpent's hiss. "You're going to show us what a good girl you can be."

With a cruel twist of his wrist, Mr. Lee yanked the rope tied to her nipple, the clamp biting deeper into her sensitive flesh. The pain was like a bolt of lightning, making her cry out, her body arching as she was forced onto Mr. Park's cock. It filled her, stretching her pussy to the brink of pain. Mr. Park's eyes never left hers, his own desire mingling with the satisfaction of watching her struggle.

"Now, Mr. Cho," Mr. Lee said, his voice thick with lust as he gestured to her quivering body. "Why don't you get ready for the main event?" He smirked, the gleam in his eye leaving no doubt about what was to come. Mr. Cho nodded eagerly, his hand already moving to his cock, stroking it to full hardness once more.

Mr. Lee turned his attention to Minju, who was sobbing quietly, her eyes darting between the two men as if searching for an escape that didn't exist. "Miss Kim," he said, his voice a mockery of tenderness. "You're going to be our little sandwich now. And remember, no matter how much it hurts, you don't get to come until we say so."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she felt Mr. Park's cock pressing against her still-sore pussy, Mr. Cho eagerly watching from the side. With a sadistic smile, Mr. Lee nodded to Mr. Park, and with a single, brutal thrust, he filled her, the two dicks stretching her beyond anything she had ever imagined. She couldn't hold back a scream, her body arching back as she took them both, their grips on her hips keeping her in place.

The pain was unbearable, a fiery agony that seemed to consume her entire being as she was forced to accommodate the two thick, old-man cocks. Mr. Park's dick slammed into her pussy, the friction sending waves of pain crashing through her body, while Mr. Lee's cock invaded her ass, the head of it pushing against the bruised, sensitive flesh. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to adjust to the intrusion, her mind reeling with the horror of her situation.

Mr. Lee reached up to wipe her tears away, his touch surprisingly gentle given the brutality of the act. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a soft growl. Minju's eyes flew open, meeting his, and she felt a strange mix of fear and resentment. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You're going to take us both, Miss Kim. And you're going to do it like a good girl."

Mr. Park took the cue, his grip on her hips tightening as he began to move his cock in and out of her pussy, the movement rough and unyielding. "Come on, baby," he coaxed, his voice a sick parody of sweetness.

Minju felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over her, but she knew she had no choice. With a shaky exhale, she began to rock her hips, trying to find some semblance of rhythm amidst the pain. The two men watched her intently, their eyes feasting on her struggling body as if it were the most erotic thing they had ever seen. The fabric of her panties around her right nipple grew tauter with each movement, the bell chiming a twisted lullaby of despair.

Mr. Park's cock slammed into her with each thrust, the sensation of being split apart by two men at once an agony she never knew existed. Yet, she couldn't deny the way her body responded, the depraved pleasure that seemed to coil around the pain, wrapping itself tightly around her very soul. She bit her lip, trying to keep the moans at bay, but they slipped out, low and guttural, filling the room with the sound of her degradation.

Mr. Cho's hand was back on her clit, his fingers moving with a precision that was almost terrifying. He watched her face with a twisted glee, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed her closer to the edge. "If you want this all to end," he panted, his voice a harsh echo of Mr. Park's earlier words. "Start moving your hips and show us your horny facial expressions. I want to hear your lewd moans also."

Minju felt a hot blush creep up her neck, her cheeks flaming with shame. But she knew better than to argue. With trembling legs, she began to rock her hips, her movements jerky and forced at first, but gradually growing smoother as the pain gave way to something else. Something darker, something that made her stomach clench with a perverse excitement she had never felt before.

Mr. Cho's fingers worked her clit with a brutal efficiency, drawing out sounds she had never made, sounds that seemed to fuel the old men's desire. She moaned, the sound a strange mix of pain and pleasure, a symphony of degradation that filled the small room. Mr. Park's thrusts grew more insistent, his cock driving into her with a force that made her vision swim. She felt Mr. Lee's grip on her ass tighten, his own need to dominate her apparent in every movement of his hips.

Her face contorted into a mask of lust, her eyes glazed over as she twerked her hips, grinding down onto their cocks. "Oh, yes," she moaned, the words torn from her throat. "Fuck me harder, please!" The words were foreign, a betrayal of everything she had ever known, but they slipped from her lips as if they belonged there.

Mr. Park grinned, his grip tightening on her hips as he began to match her rhythm. "Look at you," he panted. "So eager for more." He thrust harder, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the air.

Mr. Cho leaned in, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure as he whispered, "Say it again. Tell us how much you want it." His thumb pressed harder on her clit, and she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips. "Yes," she gasped, her hips moving of their own accord. "Fuck me harder. Please."

The grandpas watched her transformation with a mix of awe and glee, their own arousal spiking at the sight of her submission. Mr. Park's thrusts grew more powerful, his cock plunging into her soaked pussy with an almost savage need. "Look at her," he said to Mr. Cho. "Our little slut is loving it."

Minju's moans grew louder, her hips moving in a frenzied dance as she took the three cocks in one time, her body betraying her with every twitch and jerk. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but the only one that seemed to matter was the desperate need for release. She was theirs now, their toy to use and abuse as they saw fit.

Her pussy clenched around Mr. Park's cock, the sensation of fullness overwhelming as she felt Mr. Lee's cock hit her g-spot with each thrust. The pain in her ass had transformed into a burning need, a hunger that consumed her. She could feel Mr. Cho's cock thicken, his excitement palpable as he watched her degrade herself before their eyes. "Oh, yes," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "More, please, I need more."

Mr. Park's thrusts grew erratic, his eyes glazed with desire as he watched her body take them both. "Look at you," he grunted, his voice strained. "Such a good girl for your grandpas." The sound of their bodies slapping together grew louder, a testament to their depraved passion.

Minju's moans grew louder, her voice a symphony of pain and pleasure as she was filled beyond capacity. "Oh, grandpa," she whimpered, her hips bucking wildly. "It's too much, please..." But even as she begged for mercy, her body betrayed her, her pussy clenching around Mr. Park's thick cock, urging him deeper.

"Good girl," Mr. Cho murmured, his thumb pressing down on her clit with a merciless precision. "Take it all for us, take it all."

Minju's body was a canvas of pain and pleasure, her moans now a constant backdrop to their depraved symphony. She had become a masochist's dream, a living, breathing embodiment of innocence corrupted. "Daddy, yes," she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she ground her hips down onto their cocks, the word slipping from her lips as if it were the sweetest of endearments. The grandpas' eyes lit up with a twisted delight, their grips on her body tightening in response.

Mr. Park's cock pounded into her with a ferocity that made her vision swim, her pussy clenching around him like a vice as she took them both in her pussy. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own climax. Minju's eyes rolled back in her head, her moans growing louder as she felt the pressure building within her.

Mr. Lee took the opportunity to lean in and whisper in her ear, his breath hot and heavy. "Call me daddy," he demanded, his voice thick with desire. She whimpered, her eyes flying open to meet his, the word a strange, dark thrill on her tongue. "Daddy," she gasped, her hips bucking as Mr. Cho's thumb worked her clit into a frenzy. The grandpas' eyes lit up, their grips tightening on her body as she gave in to their depraved whims.

With a sadistic grin, Mr. Park took his hand and slapped her face, the sound echoing in the small room. Instead of pain, she felt a jolt of pleasure, the sting on her cheek sending a bolt of electricity straight to her core. It was as if her body had been rewired, pain now a conduit for pleasure. She moaned, the word "daddy" slipping from her lips like a prayer.

Mr. Cho's hand left her clit, instead reaching out to slap her left breast, the nipple clamp chiming with the impact. The pain was intense, but instead of screaming, she gasped, her back arching as the pain transformed into something exquisite. The men watched her with a mix of astonishment and excitement, their eyes gleaming as they realized the depths of her newfound masochism.

Mr. Park took his turn, his hand landing on her cheek with a resounding crack, the sting spreading like wildfire across her face. But instead of recoiling, she leaned into it, her body craving the pain as it melded with the pleasure from their brutal fucking. The grandpas' eyes widened, and they shared a knowing look, their grips on her tightening as they grew more eager to push her boundaries.

Mr. Cho took his cue, his cock joining Mr. Park's in a relentless rhythm that had Minju's pussy stretched to the limit. The sensation of being filled by both men was almost too much, a delirious mix of pain and pleasure that had her writhing in their grasp. Mr. Lee, not to be outdone, began to move his own cock faster, the sound of his hips slapping against her ass cheek a gruesome counterpoint to the chiming of the nipple clamp.

Her cries grew more desperate, her body a playground for their depraved desires. Mr. Park leaned in, his teeth grazing her neck as he whispered, "You're going to take us both, baby. You're going to be our little cum dumpster." The words were like a knife in her soul, but she found herself pushing back onto their cocks, eager for the release she knew was just out of reach.

Mr. Cho's grip on her hips tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he felt his orgasm approaching. He slammed into her one last time, his cock buried to the hilt before letting go with a roar. His hot seed filled her pussy, mixing with Mr. Park's as they both came inside her, their combined cum overflowing and spilling down her thighs. The sensation of being filled by two men at once was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that seemed to reach down to her very core.

Mr. Park pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with the evidence of their shared violation. He and Mr. Cho stepped aside, allowing Mr. Lee to take his place. The older man's eyes were feverish with lust as they lay down on the bed, Mr. Lee's cock still buried in her ass. "Finish her" Mr. Cho said with a grin, his own cock still hard, the head gleaming with Minju's juices.

Minju's body was a wreck, trembling and sobbing, but she felt Mr. Lee's cock begin to move within her, his strokes rapid and merciless. He gripped her bruised breast tightly, his thumb flicking the nipple clamp with a sadistic glee that sent shockwaves of pain through her. Each twist of the clamp coincided with a thrust into her ass, creating a symphony of agony that she could no longer ignore. Her eyes were wide with fear and confusion, her mind a jumble of emotions she couldn't begin to process.

Mr. Cho and Mr. Park stepped back, their own climaxes subsiding as they watched Mr. Lee claim her one last time. They stroked their own cocks, not yet fully spent, eager to see the culmination of their twisted games. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the air charged with the electricity of their depraved desires. Minju's cries grew louder as Mr. Lee picked up his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against her ass a sickening reminder of her degradation.

Summoning every ounce of her will, Minju began to moan, the sounds forced and unnatural. She knew that the quicker she could make Mr. Lee cum, the sooner this would all be over. Her eyes locked onto his, she threw her head back, arching her spine and pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts. It was a performance, a desperate bid to appease the monster inside the man she had once looked up to.

"Yes," Mr. Lee grunted, his eyes glazing over with pleasure. "Just like that. You're such a good girl for your grandpa." Each word was a knife twisting in her stomach, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. The only thing that mattered now was escape, and if playing their twisted game meant she could leave this room with some shred of dignity, she would do it.

Minju's moans grew louder, each one a desperate cry for relief. "Daddy," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Please, I need it." It was as if speaking the words gave them power, a dark incantation that bound her to their will. She felt Mr. Lee's cock swell within her, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove himself deeper, harder.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she clenched her anus tighter than ever before, feeling the pressure building. "Oh, yes," she moaned, the words torn from her as Mr. Lee's cock slammed into her over and over. "More, daddy, more." Her body was a battleground, a war between the pain and the strange, perverse pleasure that seemed to be fighting for dominance.

Mr. Lee grunted, his pace increasing as he felt her tighten around him. "That's it," he said, his voice strained with his own need. "You're doing so good for me." Her anus was a vice around him, her muscles contracting with each of his thrusts as if trying to milk every last drop of cum from his balls.

Minju's moans grew more frantic as she felt his cock swell even further, the pressure within her building to unbearable heights. "Oh, daddy," she whispered, her voice a mix of pain and desperation. "Please, please." Her body was a symphony of sensations, the pain and pleasure intertwining until she couldn't tell one from the other.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she focused on the feeling of Mr. Lee's cock inside her, the way it stretched and filled her so completely. She clenched her anus tightly, feeling his length throb with every thrust. "Yes, yes," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "It's too much, please, I need it." Her body was no longer her own, a mere receptacle for their lust.

Mr. Lee's breath grew ragged as he watched her face, his eyes narrowed with concentration. "Look at me," he snarled, his grip on her hips unyielding. "Look at your grandpa as he fucks you." The humiliation of his words brought a fresh wave of pain, but she complied, her eyes locking onto his.

Her anus clenched around him, tighter than she had ever thought possible, the sensation pushing him to the brink of release. "Fuck," he grunted, his hips jerking as he drove into her. She felt him swell, the head of his cock pressing against her inner walls, demanding release. Her own body responded, a strange mix of pain and pleasure that made her moan once more.

Minju opened her eyes, her pupils dilated with lust. She had never felt so used, so degraded, and yet she was desperate for more. She leaned into Mr. Lee's touch, her face a mask of wanton need. "Daddy," she whimpered, her voice a breathless plea. "Please, let me have it."

Mr. Lee's eyes narrowed with excitement as he watched her transformation. She was no longer the shy, innocent girl who had walked into this room. She was theirs, a plaything for their twisted games. He thrust into her one last time, his cock pulsing with the force of his climax. She felt his hot seed fill her, the sensation sending her over the edge. Her own orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing around his cock as she screamed his name.

Minju's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger as she felt the warmth of their cum inside her. She turned her body around, her eyes blazing with a fiery determination. Straddling Mr. Lee, she positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy, her eyes never leaving his. "You're the one who started all of this," she hissed, her voice low and filled with rage. "Turning me into a slut." With a vindictive smile, she sank down onto him, her pussy enveloping his length.

Mr. Lee's eyes widened in surprise as she began to ride him with a frenzy that matched the intensity of their earlier encounters. Her hips moved with a wild abandon, each bounce sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain through her bruised body. The grandpas watched, their expressions a mix of shock and arousal as she took control.

Her breasts bounced with every downward thrust, the clamps pulling at her nipples, sending jolts of pain-laced pleasure to her already overstimulated brain. Yet, she didn't stop. Instead, she leaned forward, her hands pressing down on Mr. Lee's chest as she bobbed up and down, taking his cock deep inside her. Her moans were no longer forced; they were genuine, raw expressions of the carnality that had been unlocked within her.

Mr. Cho and Mr. Park watched, their own cocks hardening once again as they took in the sight of their young, once-innocent plaything now eagerly fucking their ringleader. They could see the fire in Minju's eyes, the fierce determination to take what was hers by force. It was a sight that both terrified and thrilled them, a testament to the depths of her depravity and their own twisted power.

Minju felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of pain and pleasure that threatened to consume her. Her pussy tightened around Mr. Lee's cock as she rode him, her body moving almost of its own accord. The clamps on her nipples jangled with each thrust, the pain sending bolts of electricity straight to her clit. She threw her head back, her hair a wild mess, her breasts bouncing with every movement.

With a scream that was equal parts rage and ecstasy, she came, her squirt spraying across the room like a fountain. The warm fluid coated Mr. Lee's chest and stomach, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. Her body trembled, the force of her climax stealing her breath. But she didn't stop. Instead, she moved faster, her hips a blur as she ground down on him, her eyes never leaving his.

Mr. Cho and Mr. Park watched with rapt attention, their own cocks hardening again at the sight. They reached for their phones, eager to capture the moment for their own twisted memories. The flashes of light bathed the room in a strobe effect, highlighting the sweat on their bodies and the raw desire etched on their faces. They snapped photo after photo, eager to immortalize Minju in her moment of ultimate degradation.

Her orgasm subsiding, Minju felt a sudden weakness in her legs, but Mr. Lee's iron grip kept her in place, his cock still deep inside her. "Look at you," he taunted, his voice thick with his own arousal. "Our little cum dumpster." The humiliation of his words, combined with the cold reality of their situation, brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

Mr. Cho and Mr. Park circled the bed like vultures, their phones held high, eager to capture her debasement. The flashes of their cameras pierced the dim light, painting the room in a stark, clinical white that only served to highlight the stark contrast of the scene unfolding before them. Minju's body was a canvas of sweat and semen, her dignity shattered into a million pieces.

Her hips slowed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she felt Mr. Lee's cock pulse within her. His grip on her waist tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as she squirted again, the force of her orgasm making her vision swim. The feeling of her own wetness coating her thighs and the sound of her juices mixing with their cum was a symphony of degradation, and she knew that she had reached her breaking point.

With a final, desperate push, Minju felt her body give out. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto Mr. Lee, her breaths coming in short, erratic bursts. The world went dark around her as she fainted, her last conscious thought a silent scream of despair.

THE END

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections

Three weeks into your new position as ATEEZ's assistant, you had settled into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. What had initially seemed like a daunting task—managing eight alpha idols' complex schedules—had evolved into something that felt almost instinctive. You'd quickly learned each member's habits, preferences, and needs, sometimes anticipating them before they even voiced them.

"Coffee," you said, placing a steaming mug beside Hongjoong as he hunched over his laptop in the studio, deep in composition mode. He'd been there since before dawn, working on tracks for their upcoming album.

He looked up, momentarily disoriented as he surfaced from his creative focus, before his eyes softened with appreciation. "How did you know I was about to look for some?"

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "You get this specific crease between your eyebrows when you're caffeine-deprived and trying to work through a melody."

Hongjoong's eyebrows rose slightly, an impressed smile spreading across his face. "That's... remarkably observant."

"It's my job to notice things," you replied, though you both knew it went beyond professional responsibility. There was something about the eight of them that made you unusually attuned to their needs—a connection you couldn't fully explain but had stopped questioning.

"Well, thank you," Hongjoong said, his fingers briefly brushing yours as he took the mug. The fleeting contact sent a familiar warmth through your hand that you studiously ignored. "What would we do without you?"

"Probably forget half your schedules and subsist entirely on ramyeon," you teased, earning a chuckle from the alpha leader.

"Sad but true," he admitted, taking a sip of the perfectly prepared coffee—just the right amount of sugar and a splash of cream, exactly how he preferred it.

---

The mid-morning sun streamed through the windows of the main house as you moved through the living room, tablet in hand, finalizing the week's schedule. The past three weeks had transformed your relationship with the space—what had once felt like an intimidating mansion now felt almost like home. You knew which floorboard creaked near Seonghwa's room, which chair in the dining area was Jongho's favorite, and which cabinet held San's secret stash of chocolate.

"There you are!" Wooyoung's voice rang out as he bounded into the room with characteristic energy. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I've been right here for the past hour," you replied, glancing up from your work with an amused smile.

"Well, I didn't think to look in the obvious places," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, you're a miracle worker—how did you manage to reschedule that conflicting interview? The production team said it was impossible."

"Nothing's impossible with the right combination of polite persistence and creative solutions," you replied, trying to downplay your achievement. In truth, it had taken several hours of negotiations and a promise of exclusive behind-the-scenes content to convince the production company to adjust their filming schedule to accommodate ATEEZ's sudden comeback preparation timeline.

Wooyoung's eyes widened dramatically. "That's it. I have to marry you. I can never manage my life alone now that I know what efficiency actually looks like."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks despite knowing this was just Wooyoung's typical exaggerated banter. Over the past weeks, you'd grown accustomed to his playful flirtations, which he dispensed as freely as his bright smiles.

"I'm pretty sure your future spouse would have something to say about that arrangement," you replied, playfully swatting his arm with your tablet case.

"Details, details," Wooyoung dismissed with a grin before dropping down onto the couch beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Seriously though, thank you. That schedule conflict was stressing me out."

"That's what I'm here for," you reminded him, though you were touched by his genuine gratitude beneath the dramatic declaration.

Wooyoung's expression turned suddenly serious, unusual for him. "You know you've become indispensable to us, right? And not just for the schedule management."

Something in his tone made your heart beat a little faster, and you found yourself struggling to maintain eye contact with the alpha. There was an intensity in his gaze that belied his typically carefree demeanor—a glimpse of the alpha nature that his playful personality often concealed.

"I just do my job," you replied, aiming for lightness but hearing the slight tremor in your own voice.

"No," Wooyoung said, shaking his head. "It's more than that. You... fit with us. In a way that's hard to explain."

The moment hung between you, charged with something neither of you was willing to name. You were saved from having to respond by Yeosang's timely entrance into the living room.

"There you both are," he said, his observant eyes taking in your proximity on the couch and the slight flush on your cheeks. "Y/n, the stylist called about the concept photos. They need final approval on the selections."

"Right," you said, perhaps too quickly, rising from the couch. "I'll call them back now."

As you moved toward the office, you felt Wooyoung's eyes following you, the weight of his unfinished sentiment lingering in the air.

---

You've developed a unique relationship with each member over the past three weeks. Seonghwa had become a steadying presence, often joining you for quiet morning coffee before the chaos of the day began. Your conversations ranged from books you both enjoyed to thoughtful discussions about the industry, his alpha presence calm and nurturing in a way that contrasted with the others.

Yunho had appointed himself your unofficial gaming partner, insisting that you needed breaks from work and dragging you to the entertainment room at least twice a week for what he called "necessary stress relief." His competitive nature was matched only by his genuine joy when you managed to beat him, making it impossible not to laugh along with his enthusiastic reactions.

Yeosang had slowly opened up to you through shared quiet moments—passing you books he thought you might enjoy, occasionally commenting on your work with insightful observations. Just yesterday, he'd left a small potted succulent on your desk with a note that simply read, "It reminded me of you. Resilient." The gesture had touched you more deeply than you cared to admit.

Jongho, despite being the youngest, often took on a protective role, making sure you didn't overwork yourself and occasionally bringing you healthy snacks with mumbled comments about "maintaining energy levels." His strength and seriousness were belied by moments of unexpected gentleness that always caught you by surprise.

San had become something of a confidant, his perceptive nature making him quick to notice when you were stressed or overtired. He had a talent for appearing with exactly what you needed—a quiet moment, a silly joke, or sometimes just silent company as you worked through a challenging task.

As for Hongjoong, your relationship with the leader was perhaps the most complex. His alpha presence was authoritative but never domineering, and you'd fallen into a comfortable working relationship that was punctuated by moments of connection that sometimes left you breathless—a shared glance of understanding across a crowded room, the brush of fingers when exchanging documents, late nights working side by side in comfortable silence.

But it was Mingi who had perhaps surprised you the most.

---

"Who's that?" Mingi's deep voice came from just behind you, making you jump slightly. You'd been waiting in the lobby of KQ Entertainment for the members to finish their recording session when an unfamiliar alpha producer had approached, asking about ATEEZ's schedule.

"Lee Taejun, a producer from another entertainment company," you explained quietly as the man retreated to check his phone after you'd informed him the members would be at least another thirty minutes. "He wants to discuss a potential collaboration."

Mingi hummed thoughtfully, his tall frame moving subtly closer to you in a way that had become familiar over the past weeks. Whenever unfamiliar alphas were around, particularly male ones, Mingi seemed to gravitate to your side, his protective instincts evident in the way he positioned himself—never imposing, but clearly present.

"Did Hongjoong-hyung approve this meeting?" he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Yes, it's on the schedule," you assured him, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth that radiated from his proximity. Despite wearing your scent blocker faithfully, you found yourself increasingly sensitive to Mingi's presence—like your omega could sense something you couldn’t.

He nodded, satisfied with your answer but making no move to create more distance between you. "Just checking. Some of these producers can be... persistent."

You bit back a smile at his protective tone. "I can handle persistent producers, Mingi. It's part of my job."

"I know you can," he replied, his voice softening. "You can handle pretty much anything. Doesn't mean you should have to do it alone."

The simple statement caught you off guard. Over the past three weeks, you'd noticed Mingi's protective tendencies, but this explicit acknowledgment of them was new. You glanced up at him, finding his expression uncharacteristically serious, his dark eyes intent on yours.

"Thank you," you said quietly, meaning it. "But I'm okay, really."

Mingi's serious expression melted into a warm smile that made your heart stutter embarrassingly. "I know. You're probably more capable than all of us combined. Still doesn't mean I can't look out for you, though."

Before you could formulate a response, the elevator doors opened, and the rest of ATEEZ emerged, bringing with them a burst of alpha energy and animated conversation. Mingi's attention shifted, but he remained close to your side as the group approached.

"Recording's done!" San announced triumphantly. "And Jongho absolutely killed the high note in the bridge."

Jongho ducked his head modestly at the praise, though a pleased smile played on his lips.

"That's fantastic," you said, genuinely happy for them. The past week had been intense with comeback preparations, and this recording session had been particularly important. "Right on schedule too, which means you actually have time for lunch before the meeting with the choreographer."

"See? This is why we need you," Wooyoung declared, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Always thinking about our stomachs."

"I’m glad I have redeeming qualities," you replied with a laugh, acutely aware of how Mingi's eyes tracked Wooyoung's casual touch.

"There's a new place nearby that supposedly has amazing jjigae," Yunho suggested, already pulling out his phone to check the location.

As the group discussed lunch options, you felt a subtle shift in the air beside you. You glanced over to find Mingi still watching you, a contemplative expression on his face. When your eyes met, he didn't look away as he might have in your first days working together. Instead, he held your gaze with a quiet intensity that made your skin tingle.

There was something in that look—something you'd been noticing more frequently from all of them—a question, perhaps, or a recognition that neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge.

---

The development of your bond with Mingi had been one of the more unexpected aspects of your first three weeks. Initially, he had seemed the most reserved around you, despite his normally outgoing nature with the others. You'd attributed it to shyness after the awkward first-morning encounter when you'd seen him shirtless, but gradually, you'd come to realize it was something else entirely.

Mingi's initial distance had given way to a subtle but unmistakable protectiveness that manifested in countless small ways. He was often the first to notice when you were overworking, insisting you take breaks with a gentle persistence that was difficult to refuse. He had a habit of appearing with water or tea when you'd been talking for too long during meetings. And most notably, he seemed to have an almost preternatural awareness of your presence, his eyes finding you across rooms, his body gravitating toward yours in crowded spaces.

It had evolved into something beyond professional courtesy, beyond even friendship, though neither of you had put words to the change. There was an unspoken understanding between you—a connection that seemed to require no explanation.

---

That evening found you in the main house's kitchen, preparing tea while reviewing the next day's schedule on your tablet. The members were scattered throughout the house, enjoying a rare evening with no official schedules. Seonghwa and Hongjoong were discussing production details in the living room, their voices a low, constant murmur. Wooyoung and San had disappeared to the game room with Yunho, while Jongho was in the home gym. Yeosang had retreated to his room with a new book after dinner.

Mingi's deep voice suddenly broke into your concentration. "You're still working?"

You looked up to find him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his tall frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He'd changed into comfortable clothes—loose sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt that did little to conceal his broad shoulders and defined arms.

"Just finalizing tomorrow's schedule," you explained, trying not to let your eyes linger on how the soft fabric clung to his chest. "There's a last-minute addition to the photoshoot concept that I'm trying to accommodate."

Mingi pushed off from the doorway and moved into the kitchen, the space suddenly feeling much smaller with his presence. "It's almost 10 PM. The schedule can wait until morning."

"Says the man who composes until 3 AM," you countered with a raised eyebrow.

A smile tugged at his lips. "That's different. That's creative work—it comes when it comes. You're doing admin work that your brain needs to be rested for."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his logic. "Is that your professional opinion on administrative efficiency?"

"Absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "I'm an expert in all things schedule-related, as evidenced by how often I oversleep and miss breakfast."

The teakettle whistled, and you turned to pour the hot water into your waiting mug. You felt rather than saw Mingi move closer, his warmth at your back sending a shiver down your spine despite the steam rising from the kettle.

"Chamomile?" he asked, his voice closer to your ear than you'd expected.

You nodded, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened at his proximity. "It helps me sleep."

"Good choice," he murmured, reaching past you to open a cabinet above your head. The movement brought his chest briefly against your back, his arm extending alongside yours. For that fleeting moment, you were effectively surrounded by him, his alpha presence enveloping you in a way that made your omega instincts stir despite the blocker.

He retrieved another mug and placed it beside yours. "Make one for me too?"

You nodded, grateful for the simple task to focus on rather than the lingering warmth where his body had pressed against yours. As you prepared a second cup of tea, Mingi leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that his arm occasionally brushed yours.

"You know," he began, his tone conversational but with an underlying seriousness, "you've changed things around here. In a good way."

You glanced up at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

Mingi seemed to consider his words carefully. "It's hard to explain. Everything just feels more... balanced, I guess. Since you arrived. The house feels more like a home."

Something about his phrasing—the house feels more like a home—sent a warm flutter through your chest. "I'm glad," you said softly. "I've only been trying to do my job well."

"It's more than the job," Mingi said, echoing Wooyoung's words from earlier that day. His eyes held yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "You must know that by now."

The implication hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning neither of you was quite ready to articulate. What exactly was the "more" that both Wooyoung and Mingi had alluded to? And why did it feel so significant, so charged with potential?

You handed him his tea, your fingers briefly touching his around the warm ceramic. The simple contact sent a jolt of awareness through you that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the alpha standing before you.

"Mingi," you began, not entirely sure what you wanted to say but feeling the need to address the tension that had been building between you—between you and all of them, really—over these past weeks.

"You don't have to say anything," he interrupted gently, his deep voice soft in the quiet kitchen. "I just wanted you to know that we—I—appreciate you. Not just for what you do, but for who you are."

The simple sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, making your chest ache with an emotion you weren't ready to name. "Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a silent exchange that seemed to communicate more than words could. Mingi's eyes dropped briefly to your lips before returning to meet your gaze, the question in them clear despite remaining unspoken.

The sound of approaching voices broke the moment, and you both stepped back slightly, creating a more appropriate distance as Hongjoong and Seonghwa entered the kitchen.

"There you are," Hongjoong said, his eyes moving between you and Mingi with a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "We were just discussing the schedule for next week's variety show filming."

"I've got the preliminary timeline here," you said, grateful for the professional topic as you reached for your tablet, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of Mingi's presence still beside you.

As the four of you discussed the upcoming schedule, you couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, the way their eyes occasionally drifted to where Mingi stood perhaps a bit closer to you than strictly necessary. There was an awareness in those glances, an understanding that spoke of conversations you hadn't been privy to.

Later, as you made your way back to the guesthouse in the cool night air, you found yourself reflecting on the strange tension that had been building over these three weeks. It wasn't merely attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something deeper at play—a connection that defied explanation, a pull toward these eight alphas that went beyond rational understanding.

You reached up to touch the scent blocker behind your ear, a habit that had become almost unconscious. For the first time, you found yourself wondering what might happen if they knew—if the barrier between your omega nature and their alpha senses were removed. The thought sent a shiver through you that wasn't entirely from fear.

As you entered the guesthouse, your phone buzzed with a message. Opening it, you found a text from Mingi:

Sleep well. Don't stay up working on that schedule. It can wait until morning.

The simple message, caring but not overstepping, made you smile despite the confusion swirling in your mind. Whatever was happening between you and the members of ATEEZ—whatever this unspoken connection was building toward—it couldn't be rushed or forced. For now, it was enough to know that in just three short weeks, you had found a place where you belonged, even if the full nature of that belonging remained undefined.

You sent a quick reply:

Already in bed. Tea worked its magic. Goodnight, Mingi.

Setting your phone aside, you settled into bed, knowing that tomorrow would bring more of the same delicate dance—professional boundaries maintained while something deeper and more complex continued to grow beneath the surface, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

---

The next morning, it took less than five minutes in the main house to realize that something was different. The normal morning chaos was present—Wooyoung complaining loudly about being woken up, Yunho raiding the refrigerator, Seonghwa preparing breakfast with practiced efficiency—but there was an undercurrent of energy that hadn't been there before.

"Good morning," Hongjoong greeted you as you entered the kitchen, his eyes lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," you replied, accepting the coffee mug he offered. "Is everything okay? Everyone seems a bit... tense this morning."

Hongjoong hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Seonghwa before responding. "We received some news late last night after you left. The company wants to move up the comeback date by two weeks."

You blinked in surprise, immediately calculating the implications. "Two weeks? That's going to compress the entire production schedule."

"Exactly," Seonghwa confirmed, flipping a pancake with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "Which means we're all going to be under pressure for the next month."

"I'll rework the schedule today," you promised, your mind already racing through the adjustments that would be needed. "We'll need to prioritize the final recording sessions and choreography refinement."

"See?" Wooyoung said, appearing in the doorway with his hair still rumpled from sleep. "This is why we need you. Anyone else would be panicking right now."

You smiled despite the challenge ahead. "Oh, I'm panicking internally. I just hide it well."

"No, you're not," San countered, coming up behind Wooyoung. "You're already solving the problem in your head. I can practically see the schedule rearranging behind your eyes."

You couldn't deny it—your mind was indeed already mapping out solutions, contingencies, ways to make the compressed timeline work without burning out the members. It was what you did best: creating order from chaos.

"Well, whatever happens, we'll handle it together," you said with more confidence than you felt. "That's what teams do, right?"

"Right," Hongjoong agreed, though something in his expression suggested he was thinking of a word other than "team."

As you took a seat at the kitchen island, accepting a plate of pancakes from Seonghwa with a grateful smile, you couldn't help but notice how the members seemed to orbit around you this morning—Mingi taking the seat beside you, his leg occasionally brushing against yours; Jongho appearing with fresh fruit he silently added to your plate; Yeosang placing your tablet within easy reach after charging it overnight.

Small gestures, casual touches, attentive glances—all conveying something that went beyond professional courtesy or even friendship. There was a possessiveness in these actions, subtle but unmistakable, as if each of them was staking a small claim on your attention, your presence.

And despite your best efforts to maintain professional boundaries, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at their collective attention, the rightness you felt surrounded by these eight alphas who had somehow, in just three weeks, become essential to your life in ways you were only beginning to understand.

Whatever challenges the accelerated comeback schedule would bring, whatever complications might arise from the unspoken tension building between you and the members, one thing was certain: you belonged here, with them, in this strange new life you'd created. The how and why of that belonging might remain mysterious, but the fact of it was becoming more undeniable with each passing day.

As conversations about the day's schedule flowed around you, punctuated by Wooyoung's dramatic complaints and San's teasing laughter, you found yourself studying each member's face, wondering if they felt it too—this sense of inevitability, as if all of you were being drawn together by forces beyond your control or understanding.

Catching Mingi's eye across the table, you saw in his gaze a reflection of your own thoughts—questions, certainly, but also a quiet acceptance of whatever might be unfolding between you all. He offered a small, private smile that sent a flutter through your chest, and for that moment at least, questions didn't seem to matter quite as much as the simple truth of your connection.

Next>>

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[ashwhowrites]

I'm so happy you're back and your requests are open!!

Can I request Eddie Munson who tries to get your attention but you’re stuck on someone else? Could be Steve or something. Eventually you notice him and a happy ending?

I love this trope! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

Notice me

Eddie had his reasons for disliking Steve Harrington. He knew he had petty reasons but reasons were reasons. Eddie knew who Steve truly was before he changed in the eyes of Dustin. Eddie tried to be nice about Steve for the kid but he couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever he talked about him. To him, Steve was the shallow boy he was in high school.

That's what he'd tell Dustin anyway.

Another huge reason was the girl Eddie had been in love with for years had her eyes set on Steve. Steve might have been the king, a rich daddy and good looks but Eddie knew he could never love Y/N the way he could.

Luckily for Eddie, Steve was still caught up on Nancy. Which he had no idea why. If Y/N was standing in front of him, Nancy would never be thought of again. But that's where they were different.

Y/N was friends with Steve but ached for so much more. It pained her to try to get Steve to see her in a new light, but he still had feelings for Nancy. It frustrated Y/N, Nancy was in love with another guy but Steve still wanted her.

She had absolutely no clue that her friend Eddie was desperate to get her attention. And that he had been trying for years.

~~~

Y/N sat on the curb as she frowned. She attended this party in hopes of talking to Steve, but he was searching around for Nancy. Y/N was positive she wasn't here but Steve didn't care. She wore her best dress, spent hours on her hair and makeup and still Steve barely glanced in her direction. She felt crushed as she held back tears.

Eddie walked up to the party, a toolbox in his hand as he prepared to sell. His attitude shifted from the party to Y/N sitting on the front curb.

"Want some company?" He asked. She looked up as someone joined her. She smiled as Eddie looked down at her with a soft look.

"Sure, Eds," she smiled. "I'd love your company."

Eddie smiled at her words, his heart fluttering. He sat next to her, not wasting a second to wrap his arm around her shoulder and bring her into his chest.

In his arms, she tried not to break down. She was embarrassed he already knew she was upset but she tried to soak in Eddie's comfort.

"Here to sell?" She asked, not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room.

"Yeah, unfortunately," he laughed. She enjoyed the vibrations coming from his chest. "I'll gladly take all of their daddy's money though."

She laughed as she cuddled into his chest. "Gonna buy yourself something nice with it? New watch or bracelet?" She joked.

"Nah, I've got you on my arm. I don't need that shit."

She smiled at his words, trying to forget how sad she felt about Steve. "You're the best, Eddie. Thank you for being my friend."

Eddie smiled but his heart cracked. He wasn't sure what to do to make her see him as more than a friend but he wasn't going to give up.

"You don't have to sit out here with me. I know you have work to do," she sighed. She went to pull away but he kept her in place.

"I want to," he reassured her, "Wanna get out of here? We can rent a movie."

Y/N debated on the option, but she was still desperate for Steve. "I appreciate it, Eddie. You go sell, make good money. I'm going to see if I can find Steve."

Eddie tried not to show how sad he was as she kissed his cheek and stood up. He grabbed her hand to stop her and she looked down at him.

"You look beautiful tonight, by the way. In case the jerk face doesn't notice, you should know."

She smiled to the ground as she rubbed his hand as a thank you before letting it go.

He turned his head to watch her disappear into the party. He stood up and kicked a rock near his foot. He shook off his disappointment and the rejection. He grabbed his drugs and headed to the backyard. He hated Steve Harrington.

~~~

Y/N knew she tried too hard to seek Steve's interest but she couldn't stop herself. She just wanted him so bad. He was inches away from her all the time, making her want to connect their lips and never let him go. It was torture to talk to him, breathe in his cologne, and not have him the way she wanted.

She wasn't sure what Nancy had that she didn't. Even with their history, Nancy didn't love Steve the way Y/N did. He was so blinded by Nancy that he couldn't see how perfect Y/N was for him and how happy she could make him.

She sighed as she played with the straw in her drink. She frowned as she watched Steve lean against the wall to talk to Nancy. It was Steve's birthday and they were all huddled at his house to celebrate. She was glad Steve's parents weren't ever around so she could drink everything in Steve's dad's bar.

As usual, Nancy gave him short answers, clearly wanting to be anywhere else. It was painful that everyone could see how pitifully in love he was but Nancy. Y/N felt out of place as the room was filled with people she didn't know. As his friend, it wasn't with it. But if they were together, she'd stand by him in any crowded room because he felt safe. After a few more drinks, she gave up on Steve.

She slightly stumbled out of her seat, walking over to Steve and Nancy.

"Sorry to interrupt, Happy birthday, Steve. I'm going to call for a ride and head home,"

"Oh yeah, thanks for coming," he said quickly, not even looking at her as he jumped right back into Nancy. Y/N felt her face burn in embarrassment. She turned and quickly walked away. The faster she walked the more she realized she needed that ride. She headed for the phone on the wall and dialed the familiar number.

~

She soaked in the night air as she lay in the grass. It was uncomfortable, stabbing her skin but she didn't mind. Her eyes closed as she breathed in. The alcohol swimming around her head. She shouldn't be surprised every time Steve ignores her, but for some reason, she thought it would be different at one point. One day he'll realize Nancy isn't the one for him and come to her. She could wait for that day.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck,"

She opened her eyes as she heard Eddie's voice getting closer to her. She smiled when he appeared in front of her, a worried look on his face.

"You little shit! I thought you were passed out and hurt!"

"Come lay down with me," she giggled, the alcohol taking more effect. "Let's look at the stars!"

"Honey, you're drunk. How about we go home?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Please?" She whispered, Eddie sighed as he saw the begging look in her eyes.

"Fine, but only for a little bit! Sticks and shit get stuck in my hair," he grumbled laying next to her. He looked up at the stars like she asked, his hands on his chest. "I don't know what I'm looking at."

His heart fluttered as she laughed. She tilted her head until she was hitting his shoulder. She pointed up to the sky, her arm between them as he followed it. She began to point out the stars above them, knowing every name.

Eddie wasn't surprised she knew all of them. She amazed him every time he learned something new about her. If she had any flaws he didn't see them. When he dreamed about his future, she was it.

"Which ones can I wish on?" He muttered.

"Shooting stars, but those are hard to find. Why? Do you have a wish?" She asked, she tilted her head up to look at him. He looked breathtaking under the moonlight. His big brown eyes reflected the stars and Y/N felt this new emotion towards him.

He shrugged, still looking above. "I've got one in mind." She couldn't tear her eyes away, she had never noticed how beautiful he was. She felt this desire to kiss him, and it scared her.

"What is it?" She whispered. Eddie turned to look at her, shocked to see her already looking at him.

"I can't tell you because then it won't come true," he teased. She let out a smile, agreeing to his statement.

"I hope it comes true for you," she said.

She didn't know she was the only one who could make his wish come true.

"Let's get you home, sweets," he said as he got to his feet. He held out his hand as she sat up.

"Can I stay with you? I don't want to be alone," she asked, hugging her knees. She looked lost and sad. And Eddie wished he could take all her pain away.

"I've got your favorite shirt cleaned, and Wayne made his famous Mac and cheese for dinner," he smiled as her face lit up. She jumped to her feet and grasped his hand.

~

Y/N enjoyed her warm bowl of Mac and cheese as she sat in Eddie's T-shirt. Her legs tossed on his lap as he flicked through the channels. His free hand rubbed up and down her shin, goosebumps raised under his touch.

She immediately felt better in the presence of Eddie and his trailer. There wasn't a bad day that Eddie couldn't turn around. The alcohol slowly left her system as her tipsy energy decreased.

"Hey," she said softly as she nudged him with her foot. His hand stopped moving and he turned to look at her. "Thank you for coming tonight."

He wanted to say so much. He wanted her to realize she called him when she was sad, not Steve. He wanted her to realize he knew how to make her feel better, and Steve wouldn't know where to start. He just wanted her to finally see he was the one who picked up her broken pieces when Steve didn't pick her. But he couldn't.

"I'll always be there when you need me."

~~~

The weather was warm and Dustin invited everyone out to play a game of baseball. Eddie brought Y/N and Dustin to the field. Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Mike met them there.

"Who are the captains?" Dustin asked as he smacked his hand against his glove.

"I will," Steve said as he stepped forward.

Eddie rolled his eyes, not surprised he wanted to be the frontman. He caught a glance of Y/N staring at Steve as she bit her lip. Eddie wasn't afraid of some competition.

Eddie stepped forward and Y/N was surprised.

"Alright, let's see what you got pretty boy," Eddie smirked as he patted Steve's chest.

Dustin wasn't surprised by the heat between them, but Y/N was new to seeing just how much Eddie couldn't stand Steve. Eddie was never the type to want to run around and sweat. He could care less about this shit and all of a sudden he wanted to run the team and to go against Steve.

Steve looked down at Eddie's hand, shoving it off his chest as he glared at him.

"Pick first," Eddie growled. Steve didn't look away from him as he called Nancy's name.

"Y/N," Eddie called. She happily skipped to his side. She felt excited she was his first pick.

"Mike" Steve called

"Dustin" Eddie called

"Robin" Steve called

The teams were set and the game started. They separated to warm up and then started the game.

"Think they'll tackle each other half way through?" Robin asked as she guarded first base. Y/N laughed behind her as she kept her foot on the base, waiting for Eddie to bat.

"Definitely,"

Y/N watched as Eddie stepped up to bat. She couldn't help but check him out as he smacked the bat against his sneakers. His legs displayed as he wore black shorts and a tight white T-shirt. Even from across the field she could see his dark ink. His hair was tied up, thanks to her.

"Don't be scared to throw it like a man this time, Harrington," he smirked as he sent Steve a wink. This was the first time Y/N had ever seen Eddie do a sport, and she wasn't sure if he should be trash talking.

Steve threw the ball with all the anger in his body, the ball cracked against the bat as Eddie swung. Y/N watched in awe as Eddie hit it out of anyone's reach. Nancy went running after the ball as Eddie started running. Y/N stood on the base shocked.

"BABY! YOU GOTTA RUN!" he screamed as he ran towards her. She snapped out of her thoughts and ran as fast as she could. Eddie was right behind her, encouraging her as she hit the second base. "GO! GO! GO!"

She squealed with excitement as she kept running, Eddie hot on her feet as she smacked the third base.

"HOME RUN! GO! GO!" Dustin screamed from home base as he waited to bat.

Y/N pushed through and landed on the base, Eddie right behind her. She screamed as Eddie picked her up and twirled her in the dirt.

"THAT WAS SO FUN!' she screamed, the adrenaline pumping through her. She looked down at Eddie as he gently dropped her to her feet. "I didn't know you knew how to play!" She said shocked as she smacked his shoulder. "That was fucking impressive."

"I always have tricks up my sleeve," he winked as he walked to grab his bat. Y/N tried to shrug off the blush she felt creeping on from his wink.

The game started to get heated quickly as Steve and Eddie ran laps around each other. Neither were giving up and being fueled by their competitiveness.

Steve was just an out behind winning the whole thing. He couldn't stand the thought of Eddie winning. He didn't have much against the guy, but Eddie hated him so Steve returned the favor.

Y/N ran as fast as she could, trying to make it safely to the base. With her foot an inch away she felt Steve smash against her, ball to her stomach. She cried out in pain as she dropped to her knees, the ball knocking the wind out of her.

Steve didn't notice at first, caught up in the heat of the game. He became alert real quick when Eddie ran over.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!" Eddie screamed as he shoved Steve. Steve threw down the ball and glove, getting back in Eddie's face.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. DON'T PUSH ME!" He gave Eddie a hard shove, making him stumble a few steps back.

"You don't play rough with a girl like that," Eddie said with a clenched jaw. He was becoming very protective over her and everyone was getting worried a fight would break out.

"Eddie, I'm okay," Y/N said as she breathed through her words. "It was just an accident." She clenched her stomach and Eddie turned to look at her. "Don't start something."

Eddie scoffed as she blamed him. "Seriously? He fucking hurt you! And I wouldn't be surprised if it was on purpose." Eddie spat as he turned to Steve.

"I'd never hurt her," Steve fought back.

"Like you even give a shit about her," Eddie snarled. "Your head is so far up Nancy's ass you've got no idea how much you've been hurting Y/N."

Y/N gulped as Steve casted a look towards her. "Eddie please just shut up." She begged.

"You know what, fine," Eddie scoffed as he backed up. "It's always going to be Steve anyway." He sent a sad glance towards Y/N and walked away. She stared after him, a twist in her stomach.

Steve walked over to check on her, his hands on her skin. She wanted to soak in the feeling but her eyes followed Eddie. She pushed Steve away and ran to follow Eddie but he was gone when she made it to the parking lot.

~

Y/N normally wasn't nervous to see Eddie, but knowing he was upset with her didn't settle right. After the gang left the field, Steve dropped her off at Eddie's.

Originally she was going to get her car and let Eddie have space. Yet, she welcomed herself into his unlocked trailer and found him in his room.

She knocked on the open door, alerting her presence. He looked over his shoulder from his spot on his bed, letting out a puff of air before he turned back around.

"I'm sorry I made you upset," she said, walking into his room. She sat on his bed, but he didn't turn around. "I hope you know you mean more to me than he does. You're my best friend and you always will be. And it was rude of me to tell you to shut up. I just didn't want Steve to know how I felt."

"I know I mean more to you than Steve as friends. But I want to mean more than him in other ways," Eddie admitted. He kept his back towards her as he spoke his wall.

"What does that mean?" She asked

Eddie sighed as he rolled over. He sat up and looked down at his hands. "You know how you've been trying to get Steve to notice you romantically?"

"Yeah," Y/N sadly sighed.

"I've been trying to do the same thing with you," he confessed. He nervously looked up from his hands to see her reaction.

"You like me?" She asked. He hated the pitiful look in her eyes. She felt guilty for hurting him and never noticing.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed. "For a long time."

Y/N was shocked. She didn't know what to say. She never once thought Eddie liked her as more than a friend. She was as oblivious as Steve was apparently. But she couldn't deny how her attention had shifted to Eddie lately.

"And I know you like Steve and I'm nothing like Steve."

Y/N shifted closer, "Remember that night of Steve's birthday?"

Eddie nodded, eyeing as she continued to move closer.

"I wanted to kiss you," she confessed. "I thought you looked beautiful and I had this huge urge to kiss you. I thought maybe I was drunk. But I woke up thinking the same thing."

"Really?" Eddie gulped. He was getting nervous as she got even closer, his heart racing.

"Really. Then I wanted to do it again at the baseball field. My stomach had butterflies the whole time, and it was not because of him."

"Do you want to do it now?' he asked, flicking his eyes to her lips.

"I do," she shyly smiled. She held her breath as he moved and held her cheek, leaning in.

She felt fireworks erupt in her stomach as their lips touched. She worked her way onto his lap as the kiss deepened, both wanting to be as close as possible.

After that kiss, she never thought of Steve again.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[alchemistc]

in three, two, one (anxiety)

The door swings on its hinges to reveal the crossed arms and unimpressed expression on Henrietta Wilson's face.

"Okay," Tommy says, with no idea what he's about to experience.

Hen doesn't move, but she does lift an incredibly judgmental brow. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Well. No sugarcoating it, then. "Several things," is not an answer that's gonna make her happy, however it is the one he has available to him at the moment.

Hen rolls her jaw the same time she purses her lips, and Tommy remembers that for a while there he'd stopped having an expressive face around her because he was afraid she'd somehow know.

She had known, but not because his eyebrows did half his talking for him.

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know what answer you wanted from me."

"Not that one."

And then suddenly Hen is in his house.

He doesn't really have people over. He's certainly never had Hen over.

He took a sledgehammer to a side wall three days ago and he hasn't had more time to work on it than sweeping away the debris.

It's very noticeable.

Hen stops in her tracks halfway down the main hall to stare at it. "Several things," she repeats mockingly, under her breath, and makes a beeline for the kitchen that's now clearly visible behind the skeleton of a non-load-bearing wall.

He hasn't seen the 118 since the funeral. Not unexpected. Definitely not on purpose. He's always been just a hair outside of that group.

"So, my best firefighter is moping because the man he's been obsessed with for more than a year now hasn't called, and you're... knocking out walls."

"I've been meaning to knock out that wall for three years."

Her eyes roll around in her skull for a while before they catch his gaze. It's not an easy gaze to ignore. "Sure, nothing to do with the fact that the one conversation I know you two had in recent memory has to do with how annoyingly small and closed in the kitchen in his rental is."

A single moment of levity in a horribly sad day. But Evan hadn't asked to talk. Evan just lost the man he considered a father. So Tommy made small talk, and bit back the envious beast inside him when Eddie and Evan devolved into a squabble about the general layout of the house.

It had just reminded him of his plan, is all. The plan he's had for years, now. Nothing to do with Evan at all.

"You want some coffee? Orange juice? Maybe my drill so you can just lobotomize me instead of giving me cryptic, judgy eyes?"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Tommy shoots her an exasperated look. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here against my own nature, to tell you to grow a pair and reach out to the man you stole government property and committed multiple felonies for."

"I've texted Howie," Tommy shoots back, just to avoid the inevitable for a few more moments. Out of all of them, he definitely never would have expected Hen to be the one staging an intervention. Or whatever this is meant to be.

The glib response was a mistake. The cheese Danish she tosses at his head looks delicious even as it bounces off his cheek and sails to the floor.

Tommy sighs. "Evan is fully capable of picking up the phone."

His daring rescue had ended in a loss. A major one. Tommy still doesn't fully understand what Athena had been thinking, asking him to help the 118 carry Bobby to his final destination. Something about firsts and lasts, although he'd been a little too wired to catch more than the gist, when she'd called.

"And what, exactly, is your issue with picking it up?"

The million dollar question. He'd dropped everything the moment he heard I need your help and it's weird and probably super illegal. A little breathless, like he was running. Like Tommy has heard him countless times in much more pleasant scenarios. But then there'd been Bobby. The funeral. Evan's stoicism leaking from his pores, three weeks on.

They'd both done a great job of making it not Tommy's place to do anything about that. And grief - grief changes the whole world. Entire personalities. The loss hasn't even had time to fully bruise over, even for Tommy. He doesn't know how he could have a place in that. Doesn't know if he'd even be wanted if he tried.

"So you're both idiots, is what you're telling me."

"Where'd you get those danishes?" Tommy asks, because avoidance is his bread and butter.

Hen's got a big ass Tupperware full of them he hadn't noticed until she cracked it open to commit assault with a pastry.

Hen groans. "These are Buck's Missing Tommy But Still Not Calling Him For Some Reason Danishes. Pretty sure he hasn't slept in three days. Half the station woke up to some sort of baked good on their doorstep this morning."

The fact that Tommy wasn't in the rotation probably means something. His house is a lot closer to Evan's than Hen's, Maddie's, likely Ravi's too.

"Eat a danish and call him, idiot," Hen says, and shoves the Tupperware at his chest.

---

The danish is to die for. Perfect flaky crust. Cream cheese mixture to die for. Three blueberries on top, a perfect little dusting of powdered sugar.

Tommy eats three in the husk of his kitchen and decides he hates the subway tiles he installed after he hooked up with Evan and immediately blew up any chance at reconciliation.

He's got the oven pulled out and a crowbar in hand to yank them out before he manages to take another full breath.

Hen seems to think he's got another shot at this. At the life he'd dipped his toes into, constantly darting away from that first chill of the water, never allowing his body to get comfortable. Never allowing his mind enough time to adjust to the temperature of it.

And yet somewhere along the way Evan had baked himself into Tommy's life - his routines, his itineraries, the day to day mundanity of Tommy's life. He'd made the world momentarily brighter, exponentially more terrifying.

Tommy'd been looking for ways to bail out even as he was giving Evan glimpses of his life.

He'd waited too long. Given himself too many allowances. Let Evan settle under his skin, in his bones.

Tommy lays the crowbar out on the counter. Wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans.

Reaches over the back of the oven to grab his phone.

Bangs his head on the overhang of the microwave as he tries to slip out from behind his panic project.

Well.

This is gonna go well.

[gemmawritess]

"Baby I'm Yours"

A/N:I've been randomly just getting ideas for fics all day and I needed to write at least one so as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy:)

Summary:A new receptionist at the tower is being more friendly than your used to, luckily your boyfriend Bucky comes to the rescue for you

Warnings:Receptionist is kinda touchy(not much) other than that just some fluff(please say if I've missed anything:))

WC:1.4k

Your day was going well so far, you had just left your shared apartment much to Bucky's dismay as he wasn't required to come in today so you had to go in alone. As you walked in your eyes were darting around trying to find Keira, the old receptionist that you enjoyed talking to on your way in and out but instead you encountered the new guy, Jamie. "Where's Keira?" you asked puzzled as she was never not here and quite frankly you were confused. 

"She left, some family thing" the man replied not seeming to care about what happened to her.

 "Oh well I'm Y/N" you smiled sweetly reaching out to shake his hand as he quickly grabbed your hand and shook it for a little longer than most but you didn't notice.

 "I'm Jamie" he replied in awe. 

"Well I'll see you round then!" you said happily as you pulled your hand away before him and walked off to greet Nat who was keeping the elevator open not noticing how Jamie watched you with lingering eyes as you disappeared into the elevator. 

It was a boring day without Bucky being there, he always finds spare time in his day to talk to you more like he isn't already dating and living with you but you kept your cheery composure up as you went to the front desk to say bye to Jamie. "Hey Y/N!" he said hurriedly as if you were about to run off on him.

 "Hi Jamie" you replied sweetly, like you would to anyone but this just hooked Jamie in more as he tried to get some small talk in and you compiled for awhile. "Uhm it's getting quite late and my boyfriend will be worried" you said trying to still seem nice as you glanced at your watch then at Jamie as he stumbled his words around to eventually get a sad "Oh cya then" out as you started to speed up your pace out the door, eager to get home to your favourite person even though it wasn't even that late you just wanted to be at home.

Bucky was almost pacing a hole in the ground in front of the door as he already heard your footprints approaching. He was ready to almost tackle you with one of his bear hugs. You open the door with a sigh of relief ready to be met with what you're convinced is the love of your life as you're pulled into him. "Hey Buck" you said only slightly muffled by his chest as he was basically trying to merge you into him, "Hey Doll" he breathed out acting like he needs you more than the air he breathes, which is honestly true in his mind. It's not often you two are apart even for just a day so each of you are always more clingy with each other after you're apart. "God today was boring without you" you said as you managed to get you and Bucky to your couch without him letting his arms unwrap from your waist "How do you think I feel" he chuckled in reply as you just gazed at him as you blushed, even after months of dating Bucky still always manages to get you flustered.

The night was just a simple one, your favourite kind. Bucky was glued to you, always having his chin resting on your shoulder as you fixed up a small dinner for you both while he tried to distract you by kissing all down your neck "If you give me a hickey Barnes" you threatened as you cupped his cheek trying not to let out a laugh as he almost pouted at your words and just returned to looking at you, admiring everything he could see. After dinner you returned to the couch and laid down as Bucky's weight on top of you was such a comforting, maybe a little suffocating feeling but you were happy that he's so comfortable with you to display this much vulnerability and affection to you. His beard tickled your neck as he asked how your day was "nothing much to report, it was boring without you" you told him as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair, while you smiled just never getting over the fact that you found someone as perfect as Bucky. Right after saying that you heard tiny snores being emitted from your boyfriend "let's get you to bed" again you laughed as you tried to get him up but he wouldn't budge and just kept lying on you. You just gave up, it's impossible to move a super soldier against his will, even worse an unconscious one so you just inhaled his cologne that you'd always loved on him and shortly after you fell into a soft sleep.

You woke up with a massive grin on your face as you then realised you and Bucky had overslept, now normally both of you would be unphased but Tony had told everyone that there was an extremely important meeting today at 8AM sharp, it was currently 8:15 AM. You left off the couch and sprinted to the shower for the quickest shower known to man while Bucky got dressed and left out some clothes for you. It was a challenge to get to the meeting in time and Jamie saw you run in and tried to get you to talk to you "Can't talk sorry man" you said running by him as Bucky closely followed noticing how Jamie just moped in reply as you and Bucky ran to the elevator. While Jamie saw that your necklace fell off, the necklace that Bucky gave you on your birthday, the necklace that you never took off as it was so precious. Jamie didn't know any of course, only that you'll surely come back and this will give him an excuse to talk to you more.

You were distraught when you naturally reached for your neck to hold your necklace only to find that it wasn't there, you ran to Bucky holding back tears as you didn't know what you'd do without it because it means so much to you. "Shh it's ok y/n I promise" he cooed as he saw that you were about to break into tears and quickly brought you into his side. He spent the rest of the day asking his teammates if they had any clue where it was and if they had seen it but of course no one knew and just replied with a simple "Sorry Buck, I haven't". You were frantically retracing your steps searching for anything to see where it was when you came to the conclusion that it must surely be at the front desk and at least it was the end of the day so you went to find Bucky and went down in the elevator also checking if it was somehow in there. You ran up to Jamie the moment those doors opened, he somehow managed to sneak out a sly "Lost something?" before you as you were panicking "Y-Yes yes do you have my necklace?" you almost yelled at him so desperate to get it back as he just chuckled and smiled while he tried to grab your hand while you took it from him. Before you had to say to Jamie to let go of your hand Bucky came to rescue. "Found it, baby?" he said as he glared at Jamie while pressing a kiss to your cheek noticing how uncomfortable you were near Jamie. Bucky almost growled at Jamie saying "Thanks for finding my girlfriends necklace, you won't be needed again" he said with his most intimidating stare as Jamie just gulped looking like a deer in headlights absolutely dumbfounded you were dating the winter soldier. You just tucked yourself back into Bucky's side as he wrapped his flesh arm around you and walked out of the tower giving Jamie one last glare.

"Thank you for that, I don't know what I would've done without you" you whisper while staring at your necklace glad that it's back on your neck. "Anything for my girl" he spoke back in his normal soft tone around you as he blushed at you going on your tiptoes to kiss him. "Baby I'm yours" you said to him holding back a smile as you gripped his face with your palm as he just laughed and tucked you into him and softly kissed your head, perfectly content with you. "Wouldn't want it any other way" he whispered as you two slowly walked back home enjoying each other's embrace.

A/N:Bloody hell once I get writing, I cannot stop. I hope you all enjoyed!

[kabuki-writes]

The Laugh of Nero

chapter: 4 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 5

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius faces the consequences of his conspiracy, while his daughter unexpectedly meets Emperor Caracalla alone for the first time.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 3.6k

Romans loved the story of old philosopher Seneca. He was once the teacher of Emperor Nero almost 200 years ago and although body was dead, his life continued through writings: one of it being the drama 'Octavia'. It was a popular play in the amphitheaters of Ancient Rome and beyond. And it was a favorite of yours.

The plot focused on three days during which the Emperor divorced and exiled his wife Claudia Octavia and married another, his lover Poppaea Sabina. It was indeed a tragedy, that gave the audience a glimpse into the madness of Nero, the wisdom of Seneca and the tragedy of Octavia. Oh how you could relate to Octavia. The divergence between her fear, hatred and sadness against her will to withstand and be wiser than what was thrown against her, it intrigued you. Somehow you felt the same in your current situation. On the one handside you feared the future and displeased the attention of the Emperors on you, yet you wanted to do everything to persevere. In a way, the stoic nature of Seneca's character in this play gave you some kind of guidance too. Stoicism, maybe you needed to stick to that even more as you were not able to control your surroundings as it seemed?

You took your seat in the upper-ranks of the amphitheater, accompanied by two of your closest friends. Cicero was one of the grandsons of senator Gracchus and now served as one of the senate’s transcriptors for as long as he was not old enough to candidate for a political mandate himself. The other one was Lydia, the daughter of General Britannicus, who fought alongside your father countless of times and was now fighting with his legions in the far north of the Empire. "Oh, i hope Scato is going to play Octavia this time! The last time i saw him in the role of Electra - it was just mesmerizing. He is just so handsome", Lydia sighed, as she always seemed to be that actor's number one supporter. You and Cicero laughed in response before you gave your friend a small pat on the shoulder. "I already heard that you approached him after the last play. Beware actors, Lydia. They might be charming, but they're also free spirits," you explained with a smirk on your lips, before Cicero added. "Oh everyone would run, when they hear about her father."

"Come on! Stop it! I am just daydreaming! I know he will never let me spend time with someone that isn't a boring military officer!" Lydia turned her face away because she turned completely red, but as she did, she noticed the black armory of the Praetorian guards, who escorted one of the Emperors to the royal box of the Amphitheater. "y/n, Cicero, look!"

You quickly turned your eyes to the scene and your face went pale in an instant, when you saw the luxurious decorated robe, the blonde-ginger hair and the golden laurel wreath. That profile, the curved nose and the make up... you instantly noticed, which brother was here to witness the play of 'Octavia'.

Nero.

In that very moment, he turned his head in an attempt to take a look at the crowd and you tried your best to keep your head low, while your sight was locked to the stage in front of you.

"Is everything alright, y/n?", Cicero asked irritated, while he tried to make sense of your sudden change of behavior.

"Yes, yes i just... i've never seen Emperor Caracalla here."

"Really? He comes to the theater quite often to watch plays", Lydia managed to say, before the crowd slowly fell silent as the first actor slowly walked on stage. The young woman next to you blushed and you could feel Lydia's hand clinging on your arm as if she needed something to hold on - the actor was indeed Scato and the costume he wore was 'Octavia' - a flowing robe with a long, curled wig and extravagant make-up that captured the sadness of her character perfectly.

But you couldn't really focus. Your eyes went to the royal box, the best place to watch the play in a comfortable isolation from the rest of the spectators. Here he sat, accompanied by an entourage of 'friends' and a little monkey which sat on his lap. Suddenly his eyes went from the stage over the crowd and suddenly, he saw you. Your heart sunk to your feet and you instantly turned back to the stage to witness Scato's monologue. He had seen you... and what you were not able to witness now was how he turned to one of his Praetorian Guards, to which he whispered an order.

You tried to keep calm as you stared at the stage, where Octavia was now accompanied by a chorus, who wept for the terrible treason she had to endure when Nero decided to take another woman as his wife. Meanwhile your fingers clinged into the fabric of your toga-styled dress as you gathered your thoughts. You still recalled the words you'd talked with him at the Collosseum - the way you had his attention. Women would kill for what you were able to get if you just continue - but then you heard the words of your father, you saw his worried eyes in front of you and you knew something was terribly wrong.

You were so encaptured in your own thoughts that Lydia grabbed your arm again, but this time it was not because she was about to fall for the man on stage, but because a Praetorian Guard was standing right at the side of your seats and pointed at you. "You. Follow me," he ordered in a very demanding tone, while your friends looked at you in shock. They didn't know what you'd witnessed before, so you grabbed their hands and just gave them an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about me, we see each other soon, alright?", you whispered before you stood up and followed the guard upstairs to the place where Emperor Caracalla had his seat.

_________________________________

"y/n, what a pleasant surprise to meet you here! Please, take a seat!", you heard the voice of Emperor Caracalla as you stepped into the royal box of the amphitheater and bowed to him.

"Leave us, Go!", he hissed quickly to his entourage, who - without a word - got up from their seats and left as quickly as they could, but not without giving you a two-faced look. It was almost as if they already knew something you didn't, as if they both pitied and envied you at the same time. You hold their glances to not give in to any mockery they might've had in their minds and would speak out to each other when they were gone. Then it was only you and the young Emperor,... and his pet monkey, which was seemingly busy eating grapes from a bowl of fruit.

With slow, careful movements you approached the seats in the front and sat down beside Caracalla, his eyes never leaving you as you did. "A funny coincidence, is it not? I remember that we talked about 'Octavia' and here we are now", he chuckled, while he leaned back and for a moment, he watched the stage, where Seneca approached Nero about the divorce of his first wife.

"A coincidence, indeed", you answered and followed his glance. There he was, the mad Emperor, who complained about the unfair treatment of him through his own mother, which he cursed over and over again. At that point she was already dead - believed to be murdered by an order of Nero himself.

"You haven't fully answered me back then, when i asked why you see yourself as Nero". The question came from your mouth while you still followed the actor's movements in his luxurious decorated robes, a red wig on his head - it somehow reminded you of Caracalla.

"The play is written to portray him as a monster, am i sitting next to one?"

Maybe it was almost too bold to ask that. You already regretted speaking those words out loud, when his view instantly switched to you, his blue eyes digging into you like a sharp blade. Suddenly, he simply burst into a resounding laughter, that made your lose your breath for a moment, as you stared at him with irritation.

"Gods, you're really amusing", Caracalla grinned wide, showing off his gold tooth. Nonetheless he gave you an answer. "It depends..."

He raised his hand and let his little monkey climb on it. When he reached his shoulder, Caracalla took a grape and fed it to the animal, before it started to groom his wild hair. Not caring about it, he continued. "Everyone views Nero as mad for breaking the chains that his mother and his predecessor layed on him. He never loved Octavia, yet he had to marry her. He never wanted to be Emperor, yet he became one. His mother tried to control him, so much so, that he needed to get rid of this old hag." The last words were almost a hissing tone, as if he was speaking of something he could truly relate to.

"Now everyone is plotting against him, the Gods, his damned first wife, his teacher, all of Rome, only because he started to follow his own path and married the woman he loved. A tragedy, truly - not just for Octavia, don't you think?"

He looked straight into your eyes, waiting for your answer and you sensed that this was a key moment, where you could say something wrong. In a way, you could see what he meant, but there was something he didn't see. Nero broke the chains, yes, but he broke them with cruelty, murder and terror.

"Isn't everything in our lives a tragedy?", you asked and it seemed to please Caracalla, as his bright grin returned, before he turned to the stage once more, crawling his pet monkey while he followed the next scene.

Oh how he could relate to those words. No one could understand the tragedy of his own life, always being seen as the underestimated, 'weaker' and younger brother. But he enjoyed this talk more than he was willing to admit. And he was sure that you were able to understand him to a certain degree, the first woman to do so.

Suddenly, his pet jumped over to you, climbing onto your shoulder and taking a strain of hair to look at your curls.

"Dondus, no! Don't hurt the fair lady!" In an instant, Caracalla jumped from his seat, but before he tried to take the monkey again, he noticed your sudden yet beautiful laugh and how you reached out to pat Dondus carefully, softly, with your filigran fingers. How he wished that those fingers would touch him in that very moment, while his hands stiffened.

"It is fine, please - don't worry", you said quickly, since the monkey didn't hurt you in any way - in fact the way he climbed on your shoulders, touched your hair with his tiny fingers and groomed them with interest in his dark eyes, was very cute. And your reaction was honest.

"I think, he likes you", Caracalla mumbled, while he returned to his seat, still watching you how gentle you were with Dondus, one of his only 'real friends'. It was his own pet, his alone and caring for him often calmed his mind. Just as you did in this very moment since no word came from his mouth - he just watched. Why, just why does he have to share you with Geta soon...

Slowly he reached for his cup of wine and poured it down in an attempt to numb his thoughts over this damn fact.

"You said you see yourself in Octavia, but you could be Poppaea", he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

"I could be," you responded, the focus laying on 'could', while you were still playing with the little monkey. In a way you started to find your path in this game. "Either way my fate would end in death then."

Caracalla laughed boisterous once again in response to your words, while he raised his cup. "And yet you would live in delight instead of agony. Let us toast to the inevitable death of us all". You took your cup and followed his toast.

"To the tragedy of us all." As you drank a first sip of your wine, you still saw how he looked you straight into the eyes. It was clear that he just waited for the next chance to say something and this time he was closer than before, leaning over the armrest of his throne. The Emperor was close enough for you to smell the scent of his perfumes and the wine on him.

"I just know we will have a lot of fun, once we see each other more often," he chuckled. His words hit you, but you tried your best not to drop your mask of neutrality. You'd almost began to enjoy this conversation up to this point. What did he mean by that?

Should you ask? No, it would be terribly impolite to question something like that in the presence of an Emperor. Only your lips parted, while you searched for your next words. Caracalla was the one to grin again, his gold tooth shimmering in the lights that came from the stage of the theater. And his next words rang through your ears like a bell.

"Don't forget to thank your dear father, once you're back home."

_________________________________

Marcus Acacius walked through the hallways of the Imperial Palace, escorted by the Praetorian Guard. He was not in chains, but wore his dark brown leather armor with the wine red whool cloak and his helmet under his arm - the armor of a General. In fact, he didn't really know why he was even here in the first place. It was quite early for a new war campaign, but he stopped to question them long ago anyways. It wouldn't be a surprise, if the Emperors had already found a new target for their obsession. The mere hunger for expansion was enough to never satisfy both Geta and Caracalla, who simply took military like Acacius and moved them on a map as if they were simple toy figures. The glory of Rome was what they promised the people, yet all the older man had seen was death and despair over and over again - even though he always came back with a victory laurel wreath on his head. What an irony.

The fact that everything was like the last times he was called to the palace, made him unobservant to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap. He was sure that his secret was still a secret - that he and the senators were safe in a way. Maybe safe enough to carry out their plan once the time was ready for it. How wrong he was on this...

When he stepped into the throne room, the guards behind him closed the door and he greeted Emperor Geta according to the protocol in situations like these. "My Emperor", he said with his fist on his chest and his eyes locked on the young man, who stood in front of one of the two elaborately designed thrones, which were placed on a platform at the center of the room.

"General Acacius! It is good to see you again. Come forward...," Geta called and his waving hand was a signal for him to move, to come closer. As he did, Marcus noticed that the other twin was missing, but this wasn't a surprise too since Caracalla was often 'occupied' with other things. In reality, he simply hated politics and rather threw himself into diffent forms of pleasure in an attempt to escape the stuffiness.

They were not alone, a couple of Praetorian guards stood at their distinct positions as they always did and therefore the general simply ignored them.

Meanwhile Geta had to force himself to keep a straight face, when the traitor approached him as if nothing happened at all, as if he was not about to put a sword into his neck with those filthy senators - just as Julius Caesar got betrayed by his kin and the senate as well. The young Emperor would not let this happen again.

"Tell me, General, why did i call for you?"

Acacius brows furrowed, while he looked to the map table, which was standing alone in front of the great window. It was untouched.

"I thought you might answer me that, your Grace. The last time we talked, you granted me a pause before i will regroup my legions in Ostia and start the next campaign in Numidia."

Geta's laughter filled the room in response to the General's words and it took him even more strength to not scream at him.

"Oh, don't worry, Acacius. This plan hasn't changed yet."

Yet. A feeling of unease creeped up his body, as he stood still, his eyes locked on the pale, gingerblonde royal, who stood in front of him in a toga of black and gold.

"But let us be honest now, shall we? I question your loyality to me and my brother, to Rome. As i know, you're meeting with members of the senate," Geta called out and even though this was true, Acacius kept a straight face, hiding his fear in trained perfection.

"As you know, my dear wife is the daughter of senator Galba. Is it now regarded as treason to meet with my father-in-law?"

Geta stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Acacius in an instant, while his jaw clenched in anger. His mind was like a volcano, ready to erupt at any second.

"Do you think we're fools!?", he hissed with an even more aggressive undertone that grew louder with each word. Marcus had to tackle the urge to say 'Yes', in fact there was even so much more he wanted to say right now. That they were tyrants, mad, arrogant and overall spoiled little brats, which he cursed at every given second of his life.

"We know what you're up to Acacius - a snake amongst the men we regarded as the most loyal to our father and to us. How dare you turn against us and plot with those maggots from the senate, even though you've seen that they were not able to rule an Empire for yourself! Have you no respect for Emperor Septimius Severus, who gave you all what you're now!?"

It was too late, he obviously knew. And Acacius was not even able to put in words how much he hated himself for not being able to keep it as a secret long enough. It not only put his own life in danger but the rest of his family too, his wife... his daughter. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of the consequences that might errupt in the aftermath of this audience. Yet he couldn't hold back what was laying under his tongue for so long: "You father still holds my greatest respect and loyalty even after his passing... may the gods grant him peace in elysium. But i've seen your shortcomings many, many times. You lack the wisdom and restraint he had, yes maybe even the love he had for Rome and its people. You and your brother are not worthy of the crowns he placed upon your heads."

Geta's eye twitched and he grabbed a dagger, placing it right in front of Acacius' throat. His whole body trembled in pure wrath at the audacity of that General's words.

"I should kill you now Acacius! I should kill you and all those filthy senators for that treason!", he screamed at him, while his opponent only responded with a cold and collected gaze. This look alone made him Geta even more aggressive and hateful towards Marcus, but killing him would only create another problem - so he went with the path he had already planned in his mind.

"My brother was right, you are a Brutus. But we're not Julius Caesar", Geta hissed against Acacius, leaning his head to the side for a moment, as he studied his stern facial expression. Oh how much he hated it that he didn't fear him. The Emperor wanted to change that.

"We should start all over again, shall we? As a hero of Rome, the people won't be pleased with you being crucified publically... But we can still kill your wife... your daughter?", he started and noticed how - even for a second - the corners of Acacius' mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something against this. Now there was fear, something Acacius tried desperately not to show, but Geta still noticed.

A wide, knowing smile appeared on his face and he nodded in silent agreement. "Ah, now you see the consequences. Yes, i am not above killing you kin and let you watch... but it would be such a shame, such a waste... especially for your beautiful daughter. I wonder how you will explain to her, that you threw her young life away because of your pride"

The blade of his dagger was dangerously close as the tip touched his skin at his neck, while Acacius stood in an almost frozen position.

"I have a proposal for you, Acacius...it is the only option to safe your own life and the ones of those you love the most - wed your daughter to me."

Geta's word hit Marcus like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened in response to the request of the Emperor in front of him. And his heart broke in that very moment.

"I will not sell out my daughter like this", he answered with a firm tone in his voice, but Geta only smirked and leaned forward, whispering in his ear with an amused undertone. He knew that Marcus wasn't able to say 'No' in any way. He loved his daughter too much to watch her die.

"One option, General. She either becomes my wife - and i will make her Empress of Rome. Or she will be crucified alongside your pathetic senators..."

He would always choose her life, but at what cost.

_________________________________

Tags:

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[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｓｗｅｅｔ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ♡

♡ Pairing: tattoo artist!ex boyfriend!chan x chubby!fem!tattoo artist!reader, best friend!stray kids

♡ Genre: angst/smut/fluff

♡ Summary: After a year abroad spent perfecting your craft, you decide to return to the shop that you started at to reconnect with the people you love but how will your friends react to your sudden return? And how will your ex feel when he finds out your back in town attempting to reclaim your place in his shop and maybe even his heart?

♡ Word Count: 5.8k-ish

♡ Warnings: chan's really down bad for you and the littlest bit posessive, strong language, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, male masturbation, creampie, oral sex (m&f receiving), overstimulation, a lil nipple play, orgasm control if you squint, pet names (beautiful, pretty, baby), a lil hair pulling, and that's about it.

♡ A/N: So somehow I've written myself into a series of sorts all taking place in one tattoo shop. Seungmin's here if you'd like to read it. I'll for sure be doing one for all of the boys because why not? This one's a lot more angsty than the other one but I had a nice time writing something different so, as always, I hope you enjoy it, babes.

You stand with your back to the night, casting your starry eyed gaze upon the soft white glow of the neon sign that hangs overhead. It reads Social Path Tattoos & Piercings. This place isn’t new to you, even if the nerves rattling through your system might imply otherwise.

You’re more than familiar with it. You used to spend every waking moment in this place. Even slept here a couple times when you were a bit too tipsy to drive. And coming back to it after a year overseas is surreal. You dreamed of this a thousand times before finally biting the bullet and hopping on the next plane back here. Back home. 

You made it. Through the chaos of the airport, racing through crowds to make it to the Uber you may have called a little too soon. Through an hour of bumper to bumper traffic, listening to your driver give you dating advice you definitely didn’t ask for. Through a hell of a check in process at the hotel and lugging half your life up to the 8th floor of the lavish building.

You survived all of that to make it to this moment and you can’t even bring yourself to step inside. What if you aren’t welcome? What if the men you once called “family” consider you nothing more than a stranger now? It’s only been a year but so much has happened. There were so many tears the day you left, so much sadness—so much anger. Maybe you should’ve stayed away.

“Next time you have to get one. I’m telling you, it didn’t hurt at all” a tall girl with a septum piercing tells her friend as they exit the shop. 

The shorter girl by her side stares at the fresh tattoo on her friend’s arm with equal amounts admiration and fear. “Liar. It’s needles stabbing through your skin. There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.”

Noticing the tattoos peeking out of your strappy crop top, the taller girl turns to you for some back up. “Tell her it doesn’t hurt,” she pouts. 

In all your years as a tattoo artist you’ve never once lied to a client but you aren’t on the clock right now and can’t bring yourself to kill whatever glimmer of hope this girl might have of winning her friend over. 

“It doesn’t hurt” you lie to her friend, knowing damn well that, while it isn’t torture, it’s far from painless. “It might sting a little but you’re tough. I can tell. You’ve got it.”

“Thank you” the tall girl smiles, holding the door open for you. “Headed in?” 

“Uh…” you hesitate, chewing at your inner lip. There’s so much weight to that question. A weight she can’t possibly fathom. Swallowing your pride, you give her a smile and a nod, slipping into the shop. 

“Have a good night!” the girls say kindly, going about their night and abandoning you in the doorway. 

Breathing in deep, you take a few more steps before stopping to take in the scene around you. The shop is as alive as it's ever been, the lobby buzzing with customers busy picking out jewelry or waiting their turn to be seen.

The front desk is still straight ahead, marked by a small statue of an orange cat named Cheese. It’d been Minho’s idea to get it when you all went on a drunken flea market adventure and none of you were sober enough to shoot him down. The walls are still adorned with elegant, hand painted art courtesy of Hyunjin, the best photo realistic artist in the shop. The city even. 

The checkered floors are the same, an expertly polished black and white patchwork to match the charcoal color of the walls. Even the couch you bought in from your apartment is still positioned in the corner where a bunch of college kids are currently lounging. A lot has happened on that couch. A lot more than they know. God you hope the boys have cleaned it.

Everything is just as you remember it but the energy’s something new entirely. It’s the contradiction of finding familiarity on an alien planet. 

“You need something, babe?” the bubbly girl at the counter asks, waving you over. This is new. They used to force you to work the front desk on weekends, the guys alternating weekdays based on whoever lost at rock, paper, scissors. But now there’s a new face. She seems sweet though so you make your way over to her. At least one person’s happy to see you. 

“Yes but no but yes? I guess” you ramble, indecision painted all over your face. Observing your appearance she doesn’t take you as the kind of girl to be hesitant about what she came to a place like this for but she comforts you nonetheless. 

“It’s okay” she says, reaching out a sympathetic hand to touch yours, “Everyone gets nervous sometimes. I mean, I work here and even I almost freaked when I got my bellybutton pierced but it’s okay. You know what you wanna get done?”

“Actually, I’m not here to get anything done. I used to work here a long time ago and I just thought I’d drop by and see…”

“You’re fucking joking” a voice from your past interrupts. Before you even turn to look, you know exactly who that voice belongs to. Seungmin. 

“It can’t be. I’m hallucinating” he gasps, clutching his chest. “A ghost? In our shop?”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. You’ve missed them. “A ghost? Am I dead now? Is that what you consider me?” you sniffle, pretending to cry. 

“Oh, my god. Stop it. Come here” he says, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. He throws his arms around you, squeezing you into the tightest hug. In an instant it melts away your worries of not being welcome here. This is the warmest you’ve ever seen Seungmin greet someone and you feel special for being the recipient. 

“Squeeze me any tighter and I will be a ghost” you tease, pulling back the slightest bit to get some air. As you do you notice something new on his face. “When did this happen?” You marvel at the shiny silver jewelry decorating his eyebrow. 

“You hate it don’t you?”

“Ssh, I don’t hate it. I like it. It’s cute.”

Seungmin blushes, rubbing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide it. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the girl at the counter staring daggers through Seungmin’s soul. It’s easy to see that there’s something going on here and she doesn’t like him blushing over other girls. 

“Ooh, someone’s got a girlfriend” you sing and the counter girl giggles. You can’t help but adore how sweet it is when Seungmin lights up at the sound of her laughter. But you can’t deny that it drags up bittersweet memories of when that was you and...

“Follow me. Everyone’s here tonight. I know they’ll be happy to see you” Seungmin says, ready to escape the lobby before his cheeks overheat from all the blushing. It’ll kill his reputation if the guys find out. He leads the way to the back, as if you need the guidance. You remember exactly where you’re going.

“So…” he sighs, feeling the weight of your return for the first time, “How was Japan?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. It’s beautiful over there and I learned so much from my apprenticeship. I was super nervous at first, you know? But everyone at the shop was…” You stop yourself short, fearful that your fond memories of your time there might come off as bragging. You may have had fun in Osaka but it still paled in comparison to the place you come from. 

Seungmin picks up on it, glancing back at you to give you a comforting smile, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m happy…we’re happy that you did what you needed to do. It’s nice to have you back though. You are back, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. That depends on what he says. You know how he was when I left.”

Seungmin says nothing, only nods. He knows oh too well how his best friend was when you left. And those months after spent stewing in a bitterness that only thinly masked the pain of losing you. He watched it play out until the sting had faded but only enough to pretend that things were okay when they weren’t. 

“Yongbok, what’d you do with my kit?” Changbin shouts across the room, tearing his station apart in search of his prized possession. 

A few stations away a busy Felix rises from his chair, directing his client towards one of the full body mirrors in the corner. “Why are you yelling at me? I don’t have your kit!”

“I’m not talking to you! I’m talking to him!” Changbin points a finger at a shocked I.N who’s been innocently prepping for the next person in line.

“You called my name!” Felix snaps and it dawns on Changbin that he’s been calling the wrong person. 

Changbin fights himself not to laugh at his own mistake. He puts his head down, discovering his kit tucked away under his table. “Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

I.N querks an eyebrow at him, arms folded across his chest, “Why do you always do that? You can never call me the right name.”

“Because he’s old” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath, still loud enough for the others to hear. Changbin picks up a towel to throw at him but hesitates when he notices Hyunjin’s in the middle of a tattoo. 

“It’s okay, old man,” Han teases, patting his friend on the back. Hyunjin might be busy but Han on the other hand is free enough to invade his personal space so it’s a slap on the back of the head for him. 

“Can you guys be adults for a second? We have a guest” Seungmin announces but you hardly mind. This was what you missed while you were gone. No matter how kind the artists at the other shop were to you, they could never replace your boys. Even in their most chaotic moments there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Seungmin’s voice draws all of the attention in the room to you and everyone falls silent. If there’s anything else they needed to say the thoughts have evaporated in your presence. It’s quiet for long enough that you begin to worry. Thoughts creep back in that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Seungmin may have been happy to see you but the others?

Just as you begin to doubt yourself, the room erupts in cheers and you find yourself at the center of the world’s biggest group hug. Their joy overflows as arms wrap around you, one set swapping out for another and then another swiftly enough to leave you dizzy. 

“You’re back! Why didn’t you tell us? Ugh, I missed you” Han says, pinching your cheek in an act of cute aggression he simply cannot control. 

Felix hugs you so that his cheek is flush against yours, “You’re staying, right? You have to stay.” 

This is nothing that you expected it to be. You’re flooded with enough joy to make a girl cry and you can already feel the tears welling up, you’re right on the verge of it. A year of wondering if you’d made a mistake. A year of worrying that the people you loved hated you for your decision. All of those doubts are shedded in the arms of these seven men. 

“What’s all this noise?” Chan groans, his eyes barely open as he steps out of his office, “I was trying to sleep for once.”

“Sleep? Shouldn’t you be working?” I.N says, never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartass. 

Chan lets out a yawn, stretching those muscular arms you very vividly recall drooling over and on. “You’ll pay for that, kid. But seriously, what are you guys doing out here?” 

The guys step away, gesturing towards you and his arms drop to his sides. Suddenly he’s reminiscent of a balloon at the end of a party, melancholy and deflated. You watch the light in his eyes die in real time and it makes you sick to your stomach to be looked at this way. It wasn’t always like this. In the old days he’d have you in his arms right now, showering you in kisses. But these aren’t the old days, no matter how badly you wish it were. 

He starts in your direction, one slow, agonizing step of his black boots after another. He stops a few feet away from you as if some invisible barrier is keeping him at bay. His expression is hard as stone as he studies you like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. 

“Hi” you manage in spite of the sudden lack of moisture in your mouth. You get the sense that you’re on trial for some horrible crime and Chan, the judge that he is, has no intention of offering you leniency. 

“It’s really nice to see you. You look…good.” There’s such a softness in the way that you are with him. The wisp of a smile on your lips, the gentleness in your posture. You’re soft as a marshmallow for this man and the fire of his anger’s enough to burn you to a crisp. 

“Chan, don’t be…” Changbin tries to reach his best friend but Chan snatches away, sparing you one last glance before disappearing into his office.

The door slams hard enough that the hinges creak and the wood seems to splinter. The others? They don’t hate you. In fact, they adore you with all of their hearts. But him? You’re positive he does and now you want to cry again but for a different reason altogether.

Han pats you on the back, bringing you close to him, “I’m about to work on my sketch for my next client. Will you help me?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. It might be better if I go.”

“What? No! You just got here!” Hyunjin pouts, his bottom lip quivering. “You’re really gonna walk out and leave some poor soul at the hands of his drawing skills?”

Hyunjin’s attempt at making you laugh works like a charm and a giggle escapes you. 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks, poking his lip out even more. 

“Yes, that means I’ll stay.”

“Yay!” Han cheers, grabbing onto your hand and dragging you over to his station.

He hops right into it, spilling all of the details about the tattoo and asking your opinion on it. At first you struggle to focus on helping him. As much as you want to, you can’t shake the mental picture of how Chan looked at you. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t need to. He said everything he felt without so much as parting his lips. 

Periodically you find your gaze drifting over to his office door, the pit of your stomach twisted with the anxiety over his next appearance. But the door never opens, not even a crack, and before you know it you’re fully engrossed in helping Han work on his sketch. Your styles are different but he admires you as an artist and soaks in every drop of your input like a sponge. 

As the night rolls on you find yourself at one station after another, helping the guys with what you can. You slip right back into their group dynamic with ease. It’s as if your spot was always here waiting for you to hop right back in. It’s like you never left. The minutes melt into hours and you find yourself lingering behind with them far beyond closing time. 

“We’re all going out for drinks. You’re coming right?” Felix asks as you group filters out of the shop, filling up the space on the sidewalk. 

“Yes, she’s coming. She doesn’t have a choice!” I.N answers before you have a chance to. The boys have already begun moving towards their destination and he drapes an arm around your shoulder to make sure you keep up. 

“I’m coming” you laugh, tapping him on the back of the hand, “I do need to run back to my hotel and change first though.”

Changbin looks you up and down, finding not a single thing wrong with your current fit. “Why? You look beautiful.”

As flattered as you are, there’s no way you’re going out on the town in a crop top and a pair of sweatpants. You might not be planning on switching into a ballgown but a change of wardrobe is definitely in order. 

You bat your eyelashes, grateful for the compliment, “Sweet but no. I still need to change. Just text me where you’re going.” Reaching into your pocket for your phone, you realize you must’ve left it behind. “Shit, I left my phone.”

They all pause, prepared to turn back and help you find it. “We’ll just go back and grab it” Han insists but you shut him down, not wanting to delay their plans. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ll just grab my phone and I’ll meet you there in a few.”

I.N opens his mouth to protest but you throw a hand over it before he can speak. “I’m not a baby, you guys. I got it. I’ll be quick, I swear.”

Shared glances between the seven of them play out a silent conversation that you aren’t in on. They want to look after you, especially after you being so far away for so long, but you’re stubborn and they know you won’t give in no matter what they say.

“Fine” Seungmin relents, “If you aren’t there in an hour we’re coming to get you!”

“Yeah and we’ll raid your hotel room, eat up all your snacks…” Han throws in for extra impact. 

“I’ll be there. I swear! One hour!” you promise, skipping back towards the shop. 

“An hour!” Hyunjin shouts after you, waiting until you’re safely back inside to continue on.

Inside the shop the lights are turned down, not completely off but dimly lit enough that you almost trip on your way to the back. You frantically search every station—in things, under them—but your phone’s nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, where is it?” you shout in frustration.

Standing in the middle of the floor, you take a deep breath and contemplate where it could be. You were at Han’s station first and then you went to sit with Felix for a bit but Changbin called you to the front for something. That’s it. Maybe it’s there.

You turn to jog back up front when a sound from behind you stops you in your tracks. It’s the sound you’ve been dreading all night. The slow creaking of the door to Chan’s office. Your heart almost stops dead in your chest. You’re frozen, stuck right where you are. You can’t even bring yourself to turn around when you feel the weight of something on your shoulder.

“Looking for this?” he asks, tapping you on the shoulder with your phone. 

Hesitantly, you take it, turning to find yourself face to face with the man you used to call yours. Chan seems less angry now but his nose is red and his eyes are puffy. You can tell from the gloss dancing on the surface of them that he’s been crying. 

“Thanks. Sorry for leaving it behind, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you here?” He asks the question so bluntly that you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. 

“I don’t understand—”

“Why’d you come back? I thought you were confident in your decision. I thought that was what you needed. But now you’re standing in front of me so why?”

“Well, I…” you sigh, giving yourself a moment to process your own feelings, “I missed it. The shop and the guys and you.”

Chan’s jaw tightens, your profession placing him right back on edge. “You miss me?” he scoffs, “That’s not the truth. Try again.”

“But it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t!” he finally snaps, raising his voice at you in a way he never has before. “If you missed me then you would’ve called. You would’ve texted me. Do you know what that felt like for me? I haven’t heard your voice in a year.”

“Because you told me you didn’t wanna hear it!” you shout back, the tears you’ve been suppressing all night pouring from your eyes. It hurts to cry this hard. The tightness in your chest is unbearable. You’ve never cried this hard in front of someone before, not even him, but there’s no holding it back. “I blew up your phone all day every day for weeks begging you to talk to me. I might’ve left here but I didn’t leave you. You left me. You broke my heart and I’ve cried for you every night since. So hate me all you want but I won’t torture myself for you anymore.”

Four hours. That’s how long he spent pacing in that office spiraling down an emotional hole. He thought he knew what he’d say to you if he had the chance. All of those words left unsaid would come tumbling out. Those feelings of abandonment. That pain. He’d have the words to put to them that’d make you understand what you did to him.

Watching the tears stream down your face, none of those words matter now. He’d worked you up in his mind to be a villain, totally opposite to the girl he fell in love with. Blinded by his own bitterness he couldn’t see that you were still her. You are still her. And now he can’t ignore it. 

Tucking an arm around your waist he pulls you in, your face pressed into his chest. His fingers find your hair, stroking the soft strands. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s touched you. His body’s flush with the sort of warmth flowers must feel on a sunny day.

Chan leans in, his plush lips skimming your ear, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just had so much anger when you left and I didn’t know how to deal with it but I don’t hate you. I’m so sorry.”

The tremors of his voice give you goosebumps. He sounds as broken as you do and just as lost. You shake your head, pulling back from him. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come” you say, wiping the tears away. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’ll stay away this time. I promise.”

You walk off, your arms wet with tears that won’t stop falling. Your chest’s thumping and the shop seems darker than it was when you came in. Footsteps follow behind you lightly enough for you to question if it’s all in your head. If there’s something you’ve left behind then let it stay that way. You won’t turn back. Not this time.

It’s a silly thing to do but you’re doing it. 

Draped across your bed in a towel, you sip from a bottle of red wine and cycle through a heartbreak playlist that gives your lonely heart the company it desperately needs. The tears stopped a half hour ago, the last of them being shed in the shower. Your eyelids feel raw from all of the salty waterworks and your body’s exhausted.

A few feet away your phone sits on a table, lit up with text messages from the guys. After hearing what happened a few of them insisted on coming to get you but you can’t crawl your way towards the closet for the life of you. If not for their persistence you’d be content to rot in your hotel room for the rest of the night, drowning your sorrows in this bottle of overpriced wine.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Nobody’s home” you groan, face down in the blanket. There’s a pause. Some shuffling on the other side of the door. Maybe it worked?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you toss the bottle aside and drag yourself over to the door. “Can’t a girl rot in peace?” you pout, swinging the door open. 

“If this is what you look like when you rot then rot all you want” Chan says, flashing you a smile so genuine you’re positive you must be dreaming. 

You stick your head out into the hallway, looking around for the other guys but there’s no one else in sight. “Chan, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Honestly? I’m afraid you’re gonna leave again before I can beg you not to.” 

With not a drop more of explanation he pushes his way into the room, kissing you like his life depends on it. His tongue glides over yours, savoring the taste of you mixed with the lingering sweetness of the wine. The kiss is so consuming you can barely get a breath in but air is vastly overrated when a kiss is laced with this much passion. There’s a year of longing inside of him and he pours it into you boundlessly. 

Tucking his hands behind your legs, he lifts you up, fingers delighting in the softness of your thighs. He missed this. The tenderness of your kiss. The plushness of your figure. The light, fruity scent of your perfume filling his lungs as he plants open mouthed kisses down your neck, suckling at your smooth skin.

His lips never break from you as he lays you across the bed, tearing your towel away like it’s nothing. His palms massage the fullness of your figure, riding every curve to cup one of your breasts. Your body tenses in response to his touch, moisture pooling between your thighs. 

Chan drags his tongue across your cleavage, his stiffening bulge pressed right against your core. “Tell me you’ll stay this time” he begs, lovesick eyes flicking up to you, “Don’t leave me again.” 

Brushing his hair out of his face, your fingers skate along that immaculate bone structure of his, bringing him up for another breathless kiss. His thumb brushes your nipple, making small circles on the tip of the bud, and you shudder. 

“I’ll stay” you moan, your thighs growing slick with your arousal. 

He pinches the bud, grinding his clothed cock against you harder this time, “Promise me.” 

Chan sounds so needy and it only worsens how badly you ache for him. You guide him back up to his feet, slipping to the edge of the bed to kiss his cock through his pants. You press your palm to it, riding the outline of the print while your other hand dips under his shirt to feel his abs contract with every touch. He tugs his shirt up over his head, giving your hands free reign of that beautiful chest.

You smile up at him, pulling down the band of his pants and his boxers at once. His cock springs free, thick, throbbing, and as deliciously veined as you remember. You stick your tongue out, licking up the arousal dripping from the tip. You smile up at him, your tongue retreating to say the words he wants to hear. “I promise.” 

You press your lips to the tip, taking it in further this time. You swirl your tongue around it, enjoying the satisfied groans that fill the room the more you take him between your fluffy cheeks. Your mouth is so warm and wet around his cock. It’s like heaven.

You relax your throat, taking him as far back as you can, before pulling back the slightest bit to wrap your fingers around the base. You rock your head back and forth, wrist rotating as you pump his shaft. You can feel every little twitch of his cock, taste the precum dripping on the back of your tongue, and it has you soaking through the blanket beneath you. 

Chan reaches down to play with your hair, utterly incapable of taking his eyes off of you. You look too pretty drooling around his cock for him to miss a minute of it. He wants to be like this forever with you. Not only this but everything. He wants to be with you. Near you. Inside of you. Anything you’ll bless him with. He just wants you right here, looking at him with all of the love and admiration you do with his cock throbbing down your throat. 

“My beautiful girl” he coos, tilting his hips in to push into you a little more. “All mine, yeah?” 

With your mouth stuffed so full of him he hardly expects you to answer. Your hum of agreement vibrating down his length is more than enough to let him know that you agree. You’re his again. You’ve wanted to be for so long and at last you are.

That knowledge is almost as intoxicating as feeling him on your tongue. Chan tangles his fingers in your hair, bringing your head back far enough that the head of his cock only ghosts your glossy lips. He plants a kiss on your forehead, staring so deeply into your eyes that you almost lose yourself. 

“Bend over for me, baby” he whispers and you nod your head, swinging around in the cutest way to assume the position.  

You crawl onto your knees for him, back arched and ass in the air. “Is this good, Channie?” 

If only you could see yourself from this angle. Your body’s beyond perfection and your pussy’s glistening like diamonds. He can’t stop himself from tasting you, a hand palming your ass as his tongue darts into your core. 

“So fucking good” he hums, his face buried between your thighs. His tongue dips up, dragging between your folds and teasing your clit. Your body trembles and he grabs your hips, lapping at your clit until his face is soaked in your juices.

“Channie, please, ah. Too much” you whine but your body tells a different story. You’re soaking wet, your walls so needy you’re clenching around air. Your hips arch and swirl, almost riding his face.

Chan’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, his free hand between his legs to stroke his cock as he devours you. His tongue pushes back into your core and your walls flutter around it, leaking like a faucet. His cock throbs in his palm, drenched in a mixture of your saliva and his arousal. He feels so out of it, so completely absorbed in you, that he’s racing towards his high faster than he’s ready for. 

Dragging his tongue out, he steadies himself, gripping your hips to bring himself right to your entrance. You wiggle your ass excitedly and he laughs, licking you from his lips. “You want it that badly, baby?”

You look back, serving a pouty face that’d bring even the toughest man to his knees. “I just wanna see how much you’ve really missed me.”

“I’ve missed you so much” he moans, sinking into you with one motion. You both nearly collapse at the dizzying pleasure of it. Your walls cling to his length as he bottoms out, filling you up perfectly. “I was going crazy without you” he confesses, pulling out and slamming into you even harder. Your body jiggles, the softness of your hips borderline sinful. 

You cry out, biting your tongue to avoid a noise complaint but the moans still spill out. Those broken, beautiful moans. Every stroke rides your sweet spot, pushing you further towards absolute ruin.

“I’ve needed you so badly” he coos, savoring the wet snapping sound of your body colliding with his. “Just like I need you right now. Fuck, I don’t know how I lived without this pussy.” 

Throwing his head back, he settles his knees at the very edge of the bed, bouncing you in his lap. He fucks into you faster, your juices splashing up and decorating his abs. Blindly you reach for a pillow, dragging it over to bury your face in because you know it’s coming. You feel it and so can he. Your legs are shaking, you can barely keep your body straight, and your walls are spasming too wildly to spare his sanity. 

You’re almost there, knocking right at the door of you high. But instead of keeping his pace, he slows down, every movement careful and purposeful. He angles himself against your sweet spot, making sure he doesn’t miss it once, and teases you to the point that your body’s almost crying to cum. “You ready to cum for me, hmm? You want it?”

“Mmhmm” you whine, eyes watering, “Let me cum, Channie, please.”

How can he deny the request of such a pretty girl? Picking up speed again, he thrusts into you, and your orgasm rips through you like an electric current. You bite down on the pillow, your brain going fuzzy as you cream all over his cock, moaning his name in broken syllables.

Chan has the glimmer of a thought to pull out but he’s too addicted to the feeling of you clenching to follow through on it. It’s too late anyway, his heart’s already skipping beats, his seed spilling out into the warmth of your core. His movements grow sloppier, both of your bodies getting weaker by the minute, but he doesn’t stop until your knees give out.

You summon the energy to roll onto your back, giving that poor little pillow a break, and Chan collapses on top of you, his head resting on your soft belly. “You know” he pants, massaging your love handles, “This music is really sad.”

You giggle, your awareness of any music playing having faded away the moment his lips found yours. “You’re right, it is kinda sad, but I was sad.”

“Was?” he asks, propping his chin up on your belly, “You’re not sad anymore, right?” 

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I am.”

“And you really meant what you said? That wasn’t just sex talk?”

You need a second to think about what it was that you said. You’re sure you said a few things when he was inside of you. All of which you meant, of course. “Oh, that I’ll stay? Yeah, I meant that. As long as that’s what you really want.”

Chan climbs on top of you, strong arms caging you in as he hovers above you. “More than anything.” 

He kisses you and you close your eyes, letting yourself fade into him. You don’t regret going off to find yourself, it was something you needed to do, but there’s no doubt in your mind that this is where your heart is. With the shop. With the boys. And, more than anything else, with Chan. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi lovely ! you asked for kny requests and i've just finished my kny volume 22 re-read, so thats perfect timing 💙

I was wondering if you could write something with Yoriichi — (tw for potential child loss)

Maybe a hurt/comfort fic where his pregnant wife actually survives the demon attack while he's away (but maybe she gets quite badly injured and their unborn child doesn't make it, if you want to add a little extra angst to it. If not then that's totally fine, this man deserves a happy ending after all 🥺)

Of course, you're the writer — feel free to take any creative direction you'd like or ignore this request if you're not comfortable with it. Have a lovely day/night! <3

Again, I'm beyond sorry you were forced to wait for this so long! But here you go honey, let me know what you think <3

Yoriichi saving his pregnant wife and unborn child just in time

Pairing: Yoriichi x pregnant!wife!reader

Word Count: 4,2k

Synopsis: You never expected to face a demon ever again, especially not when you are about to deliver your child while your beloved husband Yoriichi is in search for a midwife. Will you and your child be alright? Will your husband make it back on time?

Warnings: injury, horror, child birth, tortue, description of death, extreme angst to fluff, last part is not proofread

Notes: Since the first Yoriichi fic I wrote, I'm so deeply in love with his character that I adore writing him so much! Since this fic took a while, I would totally appreciate your support through liking, commenting and reblogging this fic - thank's a lot babes <3

He can’t get enough from simply looking at you. You with your head in the clouds, you with your hand mindlessly roaming around the soft grass underneath, the other one caressing your heavy pregnant belly, you when you give him those surprised eyes as soon as you notice his presence.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that you’re already here”, you say in a small panicky voice.

You didn’t expect your beloved husband back this soon. If you would have known that he’ll be here by know you would have cleaned the whole house, made him something to eat and-

“I can only imagine what is going on inside your head again.”

His soft but at the same time rough hand touches your cheek gently, the loving gleam in his fuchsia eyes making you blush in an instant. All the voices in your head stop right in their track when he’s around.

Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Your savior, your best friend. And most importantly, your husband and father of your future child.

“How are you feeling, love? Did you enjoy your afternoon?”, he questions, eyes wandering down your body to your swollen belly.

It was hard leaving you alone in a state like this, but he wasn’t able to resist the urgent call from last night. He might be nothing but another simple man holding a sword, but it is his responsibility to save those who are in need. What else is he able to give to this world?

His hand lands on your belly, feels the tiniest kick of his unborn child against the palm of his hand. At least he was able to create a smaller version of you. Is it a boy, a girl maybe?

“I hope our child is a reflection of you”, he finally mutters into the silence, a small but somehow sad smile forming itself on his lips.

You suddenly forget how to breathe, glossy eyes fixated on his captivating sight. Oh, oh much you hate the stinging fact that your husband thinks so negatively about himself. Why can’t he see all the heroic things he has done so far, how respected he is in the demon slayer corps? Why can’t he see that every inch of his body is flawless? Out of instinct, you let your head rest against his broad chest, breathe in his strong scent. If you could only stay like this here forever, his hand resting against your body while the sun tickles your skin-

A violent moan escapes your lips when a sharp pain runs through your stomach. A kick. A really rough kick, to be exact.

“Are you alright, love? Did something hurt you? Is it the baby?”, your husband asks feverishly, his usual neutral face garbled by worry lines on his forehead.

“Just a kick”, you press out, still fighting to regain your composure.

“I will search for a mid-wife, (y/n).”

His words make your eyes widen in an instant, a wave of fear crushing down on you. Is it really time already? You look down at your swollen belly, so big that you aren’t even able to sit down properly anymore. This has to be the ninth month of your pregnancy.

Your heart sinks. The ninth month. If the books you’ve read are accurate, it really is time.

“I can’t do this, Yoriichi.”

Thick panic runs through your veins, forces your heart almost out of your chest. You aren’t ready to deliver a child, let alone to be a mother. All the things you haven’t read yet, the things you’ve probably never heard of…What if you mess it up? Until you met Yoriichi, all you were able to do was trying to survive. Your mother never had the chance to tell you about those things, isn’t here anymore to stay by your side.

You are…on your own.

“Look at me, (y/n). I will go out and search for a mid-wife and I’ll be back at sunset, you hear me? Just stay inside the house and nothing will happen. I promise to return as early as possible.”

Fuchsia eyes that radiate through your soul immediately. An angelic voice that calms down your tingling nerves with only four sentences. Strong arms that lift you off the ground and lead you back into the warmth of your home.

But know, it’s not the wooden cabin that feels like home. Your eyes wander to the neutral expression he wears on his face, only betrayed by a worried glow in his orbs. It’s him, your beloved husband.

“Are you feeling alright, love?”

You take a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Eyes focused exclusively on him until your mind finally silences. It’s just you and him. You and your beloved husband, the man you would trust with your life without battling an eyelid, the man who made you the person you are today.

“I do”, you breathe out.

Your heartbeat tames down as well as the kicks of your unborn baby, Yoriichi’s hands keeping you from falling over.

“Promise me to lock the doors and wait in bed until I return, (y/n).”

A seriousness you only know from him when he is forced to leave at night veils his calm eyes.

“But…you will be back before the sun sinks, right?”

He gifts you a small smile, hand caressing your cheek so gently that you almost forget about the worry lines decorating his face. The truth is that the next midwife lives miles away. Even if he gets to the village as soon as possible, the sun will be about to set when he returns. Yoriichi can’t help but clench his other hand into a fist next to your stomach. The sheer thought of not making it in time, that you’ll be defenceless.

“Don’t worry, love. Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

But he cannot allow himself to fail you, to leave you alone in those oh so merciless nights. He will return, no matter what it costs.

He presses a soft kiss against your forehead before grabbing his sword tightly.

This. This is his fate, his family. You are his whole life.

And he’ll do everything to protect you.

-later that evening-

You are exhausted. Over the last few hours, your body was haunted by waves of pain coming and going like the seasons. Again, you dig your nail into the wooden floor, your heavy breaths hanging in the thick air. You definitely don’t need a midwife to tell you it’s time. Yes, your baby is on its way.

And your husband didn’t return yet.

Your glossy eyes dart towards the window, witness how the sky outside turns bright red in the down-going sun. Is Yoriichi alright? You know how cruel life can be. Maybe he met a person who needed to be saved on his way, maybe the midwife is too old to rush to your side in time.

“Rest your eyes and be assured that I’ll return as soon as possible.”

Those words. Even though he’s not yet by your side, you are able to feel his powerful presence around you, how he calms down your aching heart.

“Everything will turn out alright”, you mutter to yourself while caressing your tummy.

“Everything will be alight…”

You allow your lids to rest, body relaxing for the first time since your husband left. You will get through this, you will deliver your wonderful child tonight. A tiny bundle of joy, an image of its father. Is it a boy, a girl? As long as your child is healthy, you couldn’t care less.

Carefully, you curl up on your futon, snuggle yourself into the blanket that still holds his scent. Maybe you’ll be able to catch a few hours of sleep until he finally comes back. Sleep sure does sound very appealing at the moment.

But just when your breath begins to steady, a violent scratch forces you to sit straight up. It came from outside, without a doubt. Is it an animal, is it…

Your throat gets tight immediately, glossy eyes staring at the closed window in sheer horror. The trees bend back and forth peacefully in what looks like a tender night. But that scratch, it sounded exactly like claws digging into hard wood, sent shivers down your spine immediately. You know that sound all too well, experienced what it means to get slaughtered by a demon before. Just before your whole family died violently, this was exactly what you’ve heard.

Out of instinct, you bury yourself into the corner of the room, the blanket that holds Yoriichi’s scent still pressed against your now shivering body tightly. Please, let it be nothing but a wild animal, let your husband come back home soon. Maybe this is nothing but a nightmare and you’ll wake up any given minute-

A violent pain runs through your body so suddenly that a shriek escapes your lips. Suddenly all air escapes your lungs, the way your belly cramps making you see start. No, you know exactly what this means, that this is not the right time to deliver a baby. Isn’t there anything you can do to stop this? You still need to wait for your husband, the midwife, for this gut-turning feeling to vanish. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, sharp and fast breaths hanging in the thick atmosphere.

But it doesn’t stop there. As if this wasn’t enough already, you can only stare at the door that gets opened painfully slow, claws digging into the wooden frame.

Without any doubt, this is a demon.

You press your sweaty palm against your mouth, force yourself to stop screaming, to stop breathing.

“I know you’re here, human. You smell like a…woman.”

It’s like all life is drained from the dead shell of your body, widened orbs staring at the frightful creature that makes its way into your home. Get up, fight, defend yourself like you saw Yoriichi do countless times, use the knowledge you gained from him.

But you don’t move an inch, don’t dare to look away. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still. Out of all the nights you’ve spent together with your husband, this is the first away from him, the first without his protection. Is all of this a dream, a hallucination to test your nerves?

The second the monster’s deadly red orbs meet yours, you get hit by reality. No, this isn’t a dream.

This will be your death.

“I knew you were here, lady. Let me help you up, okay?”

“N-no. Please d-don’t”, you whimper under your breath.

Your coward of a body doesn’t even fight back when he lifts you off the ground with ease, his nails digging into your soft flesh.

“Oh, you’re expecting a baby, don’t you? Well, does this count as a double kill, then?”

Your baby getting killed? If that thing ends your life, it means your unborn child will never experience dawn, will never get to see the face of its father, will never take in his scent. Your glossy eyes widen in sheer horror, tears now streaming down your face like waterfalls when a single frown form on your forehead.

You couldn’t care less about your own life. After all, you were lucky that Yoriichi saved you back then, didn’t even deserve to survive when your whole family had to die before you. But that oh so innocent child that might have the eyes of its father, the blessing of your life right after your husband. That innocent life cannot be taken.  

There is no way you will let this creature lay hands on it.

Your body reacts faster than your mind. With a surprisingly well-placed kick, you free yourself out of the monster’s casual grip. You need to get out of the house, out where you are able to find shelter, to run away. Your lungs feel like bursting any given minute, legs trembling underneath the weight of yourself and the unborn baby you still carry right under your heart. Even if it means you’ll die in vain, even if you won’t be able to see Yoriichi’s tender eyes ever again, you have to make sure your child is safe.

“I underestimated you, stupid woman. As it seems you didn’t give up on life yet”, the creature purrs what feels like right next to you.

A new nauseous wave of panic rises up your veins, makes you sprint even faster through the thick woods that surround your house. This has always been your favorite place to be. The calm trees waving back and forth in a soft breeze, your husband right by your side-

Your husband. Just the thought of never getting to see him again makes your heart ache. You didn’t even get the chance to thank him one last time, to let him know how much he truly means to you, that he’s way more than the man who saved your life back then.

He’s everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed.

A sharp pain that radiates through your lower body sends you straight onto the ground immediately, figure cramping so violently that you can’t catch your breath. No, this is not the time labor, not when a demon is this close.

“Oh, there you are. Did you really think you can run away like that? You, a little human? You made me so man that I will kill you as painfully slow as possible.”

You try to lift your trembling figure off the ground, try to get back onto your feet, to sprint down the forest you know so well. But just when you’re about to get back onto your knees, a stinging pain in your right thigh paired with a contraction sends you straight back.

A violent scream escapes your lips.

Red. Everything around you is discoloured red. Is this your blood? Did this thing kill you already, are you going to die? Despite the way your guts start to turn when you follow the trail of blood, you can’t look away. And there it is indeed, a gaping hole in your leg, throbbing and bleeding.

All color that is left now drains from your face. With an injured leg, your chance to escape this demon’s claws is non-existent. Which means…

Your heart skips a beat, threatens to fail you any given second. What about your unborn child? A violent storm of anger and determination clouds your mind, makes all logical thoughts vanish into thin air.

“You can’t kill me”, you press out.

Since the day you first laid eyes on a demon, you accepted your own death. Your life is worthless anyway, compared to great warriors like your husband himself. But that oh so innocent child, that tiny life you were given to. You ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles stand out white and lift your throbbing self off the ground. You cannot allow a demon to take the life of that unborn baby.

“I won’t allow you to touch me.”

You realize the stupidity of your words after they spill out of your mouth in rage. You, not allowing a demon to touch your puny figure? Another contraction makes your guts turn and vision almost go black.

As expected the frightful creature draws closer, its unpromising pair of razor-sharp teeth glittering in the dim moonlight. You never expected to see a demon this close again. Oh, how much you hoped you’d never find yourself in that situation again. But you have to get through this, have to make sure you will survive long enough for the mid wife to deliver your child to this world.

His child.

“I’m sorry Yoriichi. I never planned on leaving you alone like this”, you mumble to yourself, shaky lips tinted in salty tears.

“But this all I’m able to do.”

-Yoriichi’s POV-

Something seems off. Is it the way the trees bent back and forth in the soft breeze of the already set sun? Is it that distant smell that hangs in the air, the one that reminds him of fresh blood and lavender?

“We must make haste. I can sense that danger is ahead of us”, he speaks out with firm voice.

He promised you that he’ll be back before the sun goes down, that he will make it on time before demon are able to roam around freely. Are you feeling alright? Is the pain unbearable at this point? Do you still hold trust for him in your heart? His footsteps pick up instinctively, eyes set on the visibly stressed man behind him. In contrary to most people, Yoriichi doesn’t fear the night or the demons it brings. The only thing he fears at the moment is what you have to endure without your husband by your side.

With every he takes forward, the stinging smell of blood mixed with lavender becomes more urgent in his nose.

Lavender.

He always wondered how you did it. Even after washing, all your clothes kept that calming scent that surrounded you as if you were standing in a lavender bush. A smell so sweet that it caught his interest back then before he caught a glimpse of your fascinating orbs, a smell that always reminds him of home. Yoriichi’s home will always be where you are, where the sensation of lavender is the strongest.

Lavender, the stinging smell of blood that hangs in the air. His eyes widen when his mind starts to race. The smell, it radiates from the direction of your shared home, from the direction that usually fills him with excitement. Can it be…?

His heart starts racing uncontrollably while he dashes forward and draws his sword. Let it be nothing but coincidence, a cruel joke his thoughts play on him. But the stinging fragrance of lavender mixed with iron fills his heart with dread, makes his mind go numb. What if you got attacked by a demon, what if you are in great danger? All because he didn’t live up to his promise, because he didn’t make it on time. His eyes roam around the dark area, desperately searching for a sign.

And then his eyes find you.

Yoriichi’s heart stops.

There you lay, leaning against a nearby tree with a puddle of blood surrounding you, widened eyes starring straight into the face of a demon who hollers above you.

“No one is coming to save you, stupid girl.”

He doesn’t waste another second. With a swift motion of his sharp blade, Yoriichi beheads the demon on top of you while a toe-curling scream escapes your lips. Just one look at your sliced-up kimono reveals countless injuries, especially a gaping hole in your thigh. You hold onto your swollen belly for what looks like dear life, eyes still widened in nothing but shock.

“(y/n)”, he gently speaks out while letting himself fall down next to you.

You have to blink a few times. The demon, it was just about to dig its sharp teeth into your sensitive skin, to take the life of your unborn child in front of your eyes.

Maroon.

But those aren’t the deadly red orbs. No, those oh so gorgeous eyes look so familiar that your heart tames down in an instant. Could it really be, is it possible that it’s…him?

“Yoriichi.”

You breathe his name into the night like a prayer.

Maybe this is nothing but an illusion, a cruel trick your own brain plays on you.

“Words can’t express how sorry I am for arriving too late. I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone this long, for causing this to happen”, his oh so familiar voice blurts out.

Yoriichi’s usual so composed face twists in sheer agony, eyes filling with salty tears. All of this is his fault. He should have arrived sooner, he should have made hurry, he-

“We didn’t come this far to worry now. Please, help be delivering this child, let it all make sense”, you press out while grabbing his hand tightly.

It doesn’t matter that you’re severely injured, it doesn’t matter that your beloved husband took longer than expected to come back to you. All that matters now are you, him and your unborn child that waits to be delivered.

“Allow me to assist you.”

A foreign man suddenly speaks out with sweat dripping from his forehead in waterfalls. Just when another wave of nauseous pain hits you with full force, as if you got kicked into your stomach by a horse. You fail to breathe for a second, hands holding onto your husband for dear life.

“You are already close, it won’t be long now”, the man reassures you while gently opening your legs.

“You can do it, (y/n). After all the things you had to endure today, you will be able to get through this. With me by your side. I love you more than any words could ever say, darling.”

One more push.

One more wave of pain before your body goes numb, before you lose the ability to feel anything except for sweet nothingness.

Until a loud shriek finds its way to your ear.

A violent scream, almost frustrating. When you open your eyes again, you are greeted by a crying but alive bundle of joy, carefully wrapped into a white cloth and placed onto the arm of its father.

Those eyes.

“I prayed every night that he would have your eyes”, you whimper with tears running down your cheek uncontrollably.

You did it. You saved your beloved child who looks just like its father, you managed to somehow stay alive.

“She”, the midwife corrects you gently.

“She…”, you mumble with a small smile.

The last thing you see are the troubled maroon eyes of your husband before your world goes dark.

-the next day-

A foreign but still so familiar laughter fills the atmosphere around you with joy while you see nothing but black. When your stubborn lids finally open, you are greeted by the wooden ceiling you know so well. This is your home, without any doubt.

The home a demon invaded.

The home where you feared for your life while your husband rushed to the midwife in order to deliver your child.

Your child.

You get up way too quickly, glossy eyes darting around the room without a real aim. Is your baby okay? What happened after the delivery? All you can remember are those familiar maroon eyes that looked so much like the orbs of your beloved husband. Your husband…Where is Yoriichi?

“Don’t move too quickly, love. The doctor strictly forbids you to be in a haste”, his gentle voice speaks out next to you.

Just a few moments later, you get invited by the warmth of his arms swallowing you whole. Out of instinct, you let yourself fall against him, press your very own body into his despite the scorching pain that immediately takes over your whole self.

Right, you were attacked by a demon the night you gave birth. How did you manage to escape? Are your injuries critical.

But most important: How is your baby?

“Look what you have accomplished. A little wonder. Just like you, my love”, your husband murmurs, carefully lifting a little bundle off a blanket nearby.

Your heart nearly stops when you catch a glimpse of her. Those maroon eyes are the last thing you remember before everything goes black. With shaky hands, you start caressing her puffy cheek. This. This is what you fought for, what makes it all worth it in the end.

“She has your eyes”, you hush, tears now streaming down your face in waterfalls.

“And your hair”, Yoriichi replies with a soft smile towards you.

“(y/n), I promise I’ll do anything in my power to protect you and her from something like this. I promise I will stand by your side no matter what. And I hope that someday, you will be able to forgive me for not being there for you when you needed me the most.”

The second your husband’s voice cracks, you can’t hold onto yourself any longer. You wrap your arms around him and your daughter longingly, take in the scent who gave you strength that night.

“There is nothing to forgive and nothing to feel sorry about. You did your very best and that is all that matters. I love you, Yoriichi. And I have to thank you for saving both of us just in time.”

“You are my greatest treasure on earth”, he mumbles against your lips while giving you a passionate kiss.

What a plot twist, what a happy end after all. Yesterday you were sure your life is over, that you won’t live onto the next day. And now you’re lying in your house, holding your giggling daughter while pressing your heavy head against your husband’s broad chest.

“Well, I fear I will have to share this special place by now”, you comment while gazing at your perfect little daughter.

“This might be true, love.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san

[amysteryspot]

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony tries to salvage what's left of his marriage and discovers what his wife is truly worth. (Part one)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV Show)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, cheating and lots of angst. English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread.

Word Count: 4648

A/N: After so long, this piece is finally here. Thanks for patiently waiting and thanks @cevansgoodgirl for the help.

There is a mix of a scene with Laurie and Amy in Little Women and another one with Benedict and Tessa (the model/painter in 02x05), just so you know.

He remembers the first time he saw her—really saw her.

The (Y/L/N)s were guests in Aubrey House, and (Y/N) was in the balcony with Benedict while both their mothers and most of their siblings were in the lawn.

Anthony is not even sure what drew his attention when he was passing by, he did not have a habit of eavesdropping, but he got himself held back when his brother commented on (Y/N)’s painting.

"I declare that's rather good." Benedict said making (Y/N) huff.

“We both know that good is not enough, Ben.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Anthony could understand what his brother was talking about. The painting was a rendition of the scene unfolding before them—their siblings playing around while their mothers watched over them. It was rather good, indeed.

"It doesn’t matter, there's no place for me to do art."

Benedict frowned. "That's quite the statement to make at twenty. If you don't think you're good enough you have plenty of time to try some more, do better." He pauses, poking her. "You say that to me all the time."

"Then perhaps inform the academy.” She says, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Although two of the founding members are women, we are still not allowed to enter the classroom. It doesn't matter how much money we do or do not have."

"At least not while clothed." He comments, making (Y/N) throw the rag she was holding at him, which Benedict swiftly catches, changing the subject. "Well, now that you’ve given up all your artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?”

“Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.”

It was as if Anthony was seeing his sister speak.

“You sound like Eloise.” Benedict took the words out of Anthony’s mouth.

“Maybe she has been rubbing up on me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“You are searching for a husband, then?” Benedict asks, helping her pack her things.

“Yes.” She replies sheepishly.

“That's where Mr Scott comes in, I suppose.”

Anthony had noticed how Mr Scott had taken an interest in (Y/N), he never thought she felt the same.

Benedict continued. “You’ll accept him if he comes down properly on one knee?”

“Most likely, yes.” She said, pausing to look ahead for a moment. “He’s rich, respectable.”

When Benedict stifles a laugh, she lightly slaps his arm and Anthony has to fight back a smile. “Don’t make fun.” (Y/N) reprimands him.

"I’m not, I’m not, I promise.” He pauses. “It does sound odd coming from you.”

"I've always known that I would marry rich. Why should I be ashamed of that?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you love him." Benedict answers in a more serious tone.

Once upon a time Anthony would have easily seen himself at his brother's place, talking about love, but not anymore.

"Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person." (Y/N) says, closing the trunk with her paints, pencils and brushes inside.

"I think the poets might disagree." Benedict offers softly.

"Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” She reminds him. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't stand there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me."

For the first time since he stopped to hear the conversation, hiding himself between the curtains, Anthony felt like he had overstepped a boundary, so he made quick work of fleeing the scene, her words echoing inside his head.

Anthony remembers Benedict joking about how him and (Y/N) would make a good match. He listens as his brother tells him about the conversation he had with her and Anthony feigns ignorance to the subject, despite having heard the entire interaction. Benedict’s voice turns into white noise in the background as Anthony is transported back to a conversation he had with Daphne last season.

At the time he didn’t understand his sister’s words—perhaps, he never would. Daphne and (Y/N) shared the same struggles, but his sister had been set in marrying for love, (Y/N), on the other hand, had already resigned herself about having to marry for convenience.

It was then that Anthony recognized that the both of them were, indeed, a good match. (Y/N) was beautiful, well mannered, educated and very good at charming people. She came from a not very rich but respectable family. Anthony knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, despite his fame as a rake. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice to marry (Y/N), which made making the decision so much easier.

Anthony visited her the next day, explaining his proposal to her.

“You listened to us?” She blinked a couple of times, trying to digest the information.

“Yes,” he confessed, “and I’m terribly sorry for it, but we have to recognize that this might have been for the best.”

He observed as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, a little frown on her face. She was beautiful this way. Even more than when she was charming half of the ton in the many social events he had seen her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lord, why marry now?”

Anthony sighed. “My mom has been forcing my hand since Daphne married. Even before that, if I’m being honest. It’s time to find a good wife, settle down, and fulfill my duties.”

“Don’t take my question as an offense, but why me?”

She seemed unable to quite grasp his words. Anthony wondered if she still hoped, deep down, to marry for love and that her conversation with his brother had been only a fickle attempt to protect herself.

“You’re intelligent, (Y/N),” He kneeled in front of her. “You are beautiful and your family is respectable. If you are serious about your words to my brother, we both want the same thing from such a union.” He paused. “Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and Anthony caught himself observing the action with a little more intent than he should.

“No, my lord, I believe it wouldn’t,” she said.

“Then why not make the best we can from a predicament we can’t escape?”

She averted his gaze, looking out to the balcony where her maid was sitting and reading a book, while watching over them.

Anthony took the opportunity to look at her—hair carefully brushed and pinned up, the way the light contrasted with her silhouette, making it easier to see her nose, her lips, the  curve of her neck…

“If I were to accept your proposition, would you be committed to this relationship?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know that for our society standards maybe that’s too much to ask, but if I can’t be loved I’d wish to at least be respected.” She looked straight into his eyes and then Anthony understood what she was asking of him.

“You have my word that once we are engaged the only woman in my life will be you.”

Anthony asked her father for permission to court her in the same day, then he got properly down on one knee a second time to ask for her hand in marriage, the two of them married within months. Benedict had been shocked by the whole ordeal, but all he cared about was seeing his brother and his friend at least a little bit happy.

The process of knowing each other had been smooth, a lot easier than what Anthony first anticipated. (Y/N) took her duties as the lady of the house seriously, making a point of listening to Violet quite often. His siblings seemed to adore her even more than they liked him, and although inexperienced, as he knew she was, (Y/N) had proved herself to be a good lover. For all of those reasons, Anthony thought that keeping his promise wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

Then he discovered that Sienna had never left town and Anthony, who always prided himself in being a man of his word, proved himself to be as bad as the rest of the men he was surrounded by.

He fell back into the sheets with Sienna, and not long after that his relationship with (Y/N) became purely a show. At first, Anthony thought his wife was oblivious to his escapades, but he had clearly underestimated (Y/N)’s intelligence.

They never shared a bedroom, but there was no disguising how his visits to her chambers happened less and less, as there was no denying the gossip of the house staff that could only lead her to his broken promises.

Anthony expected a fight, things being thrown at him, screams and hits, but they never came, and that was somewhat worse.

One night when he got home after meeting Sienna, (Y/N) was sitting in the dressing room between their chambers, knitting. She lifted her eyes from her work to bid him good night. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how her smile fell from her face as she took in his disheveled state. Anthony felt ashamed for the first time in years.

(Y/N) didn’t give him time to explain himself for being so late—maybe it was for the best because he honestly didn’t know if he could find a suitable excuse for that—she just got up, leaving her unfinished work resting in the loveseat, and marched to her room.

Anthony sighed, throwing his coat away carelessly. The force knocked out (Y/N)’s knitting to the ground and Anthony groaned before bending down to take it. He furrowed his brow when he recognized the pattern—an onesie.

Maybe Daphne was pregnant again? She would’ve told him, right? Simon would, for sure. Then it hit him. Holding the unfinished piece between his fingers, Anthony realized that that was the reason why (Y/N) had stayed awake waiting for him until that hour—she was pregnant and wanted to tell him the news. Instead of the happiness she must have expected, she only received the sight of an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage.

(Y/N) never mentioned it to him and Anthony pretended as if he didn’t know, waiting for her to make the first move, tell him at her own time. (Y/N) never said it though, but he couldn’t ignore the knowledge, and the more time he passed observing her, the more evident it became to him that his wife was, in fact, expecting their first child.

In no time she distanced herself from him and all came to the point of no return in the night where she had gone through the loss of their child alone while he was rolling in the sheets with Sienna.

Anthony tried to reach out to her, succeeding only one time, a week after that fateful night, but in the following weeks, there hadn’t been much talking between them. (Y/N) would barely answer his greetings or the occasional question he threw her way trying to start a conversation. They had a few events to attend and these were the only occasions where she would grant him more than a couple of words. Anthony knew that that was all pretend for the sake of their reputation.

She refused every attempt he made to apologize or explain himself—not that there was much to explain. He couldn’t blame her, even if he wanted her forgiveness. It was her right to hate him and not want him around after he broke his promise to her.

They had never talked about it. Not until today.

(Y/N) was holding Augie, smiling down at the baby that smiled back at her, barely blinking with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This one seems really enchanted by you,” Daphne comments, caressing her son’s little fingers.

“He’s just getting used to me,” (Y/N) answered,  smiling at his sister.

“Well, it’s good training, since I guess you and Anthony will probably have one of your own soon.”

Is as if Anthony’s blood turns to ice. He looks at his wife whose expression turns into shock and then sadness in the blink of an eye. He recognizes the tears pooling in her eyes as she gives the baby back to Daphne and excuses herself, leaving the drawing room too quick not to draw attention.

He hurries back after her. Simon gives him an apologetic look to which Anthony answers with an equally sad smile. It doesn’t take him long to find her, bend down in the windowsill of one of the windows of the library, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing while the other rested on her belly.

(Y/N) doesn’t hear his approach, but when he touches her as if she was expecting him too. She jumps as far away from him as she can get as if his touch burned her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” she doesn’t finish the sentence but Anthony could hear it loud and clear in his head.

Don’t touch me with the same hands you’ve touched her just a week ago.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Anthony reassures her, raising his hands so she can see them. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too, but I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” she sobs, hands clutching tightly at her dress.

The sight breaks his heart. Anthony wants nothing more than to take her pain away and make it his, even though he is mourning the loss of their child with her. He knew her pain was fairly worse than his, she did not only lose a child but she had been losing her husband too.

“Why, Anthony? Why us? There are so many couples that don’t love each other and still have children, why can’t we?”

Anthony takes a step forward, then two, and then he’s bringing her into his arms, wrapping her tightly against his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. She struggles against his touch a little, but she’s so worn out that it doesn’t take much for her to relax into him.

(Y/N) fists the lapels of his waistcoat, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself cry.

“I wanted them so bad, Anthony,” she whispers between sobs, “so bad.”

Me too, he wants to answer. Me too.

They stay in the library, in silence, for a while. When (Y/N) finally stops crying, exhausted, Anthony takes her home without even saying goodbye to his family, sending a maid to let them know his wife was not feeling well.

Their relationship shifts after that day. (Y/N) appears so exhausted by the recent events that slowly, she starts to let her guard down again. Anthony is careful when dealing with her, his wife is fragile and the sadness in her runs so deep that he is always afraid to say or do something that will put her through more pain.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” She says, making him look up from his papers to see her already staring back at him.

“I always worry.”

“I won’t break if we talk about it,” she guarantees. “We have to talk about it.”

Anthony is not sure if she’s talking about their baby or Sienna. Either way it wasn’t exactly a conversation he was eager to have.

“How are you?” He asks before he can contain himself. Anthony wanted to ask that for a while but never found the opportunity.

“Healing,” she answers, “or trying to.”

He nods, nervously picking at his nails.

“When did you discover?” She asks.

“The onesie.” He looks up at her.

“The onesie,” she scoffs.

“You were… waiting for me?” His question is almost inaudible, full of regret and shame, but Anthony knows that she heard him.

“Yes,” she answers, “I was.” There’s a pause, and then the blow to his face. “Obviously you were occupied with more important matters, my lord.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I know about her,” she confesses. “I’ve always known, just didn’t want to acknowledge it and have to face the fact that my husband, the one that promised to respect me, at least, had so quickly forgotten his own word.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries to explain but it seems like (Y/N) has had enough of silence.

“Oh, I know, my lord. This is entirely your fault.” She paused. “And hers. Not that it will matter for anyone, I’ll be the one to blame, after all.”

Her words cut through him the same way they did the week after her miscarriage: it’s always the woman’s fault. Hers or Sienna’s, it didn’t matter. Anthony would never understand the full extent of the pain it was to be a woman in their society, he would never fully understand how much he put her through and yet, would never be blamed for it.

There’s no answer to her words, no explanation for his behavior or broken promises. All he can do is watch her swallow the tears that were threatening to fall and take a deep breath. Anthony opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“That night,” she says, “the night I… lost our child. You were with her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anthony felt the need to answer it anyway, his voice low with shame.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she hums.

“If I could go back—”

“The outcome would have been the same.” She says.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there for you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Anthony always knew that, since the moment he put foot inside their house and heard her screams, but hearing her say it had another weight.

“Are you still seeing her?” She asks, looking at him.

“No, it won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) scoffs. “Forgive me if I have trouble believing in it, my lord.”

“I know I haven’t been a good husband. God, I have been barely a good man since we married, but I promise you, I’ll learn from my mistakes and I’ll do better by you. I’ll be a better man, a better husband, one that you deserve and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get close to deserve you.”

The following days, they start to talk more during meals, and the silence that falls between them when they’re both at the drawing room—Anthony working and (Y/N) reading—is not uncomfortable anymore. Each day that passes makes Anthony believe that they can fall back into the friendship they had right after they married.

He doesn’t see Sienna again. Anthony sends her a letter telling her that they should stop seeing each other because he doesn’t want to hurt his wife anymore. Which is the truth. Every time he thinks about the last time he met Sienna, his wife’s cries of pain and sorrow plague his mind and he just can’t see himself hurting her even more than he already had without even realizing it.

Anthony watches her playing with Gregory and Hyacinth in the garden. His younger siblings are fighting for her attention but she doesn’t seem to mind, going back and forth in between the two of them with ease. Then she looks at him, a huge smile on her face that made him smile too. Her attention was quickly snatched from him to his siblings again and Anthony felt a pang of jealousy in his chest—he didn’t want to share her attention.

In the past few weeks, Anthony discovered that his wife was more than the character of the perfect wife that she played for the ton. She was very much real and very much a woman with desires and ambitions. Everything that happened between then made her more bold, she didn’t take his poor excuses anymore, she talked openly about all sorts of things and Anthony caught himself wanting to listen.

“Hum, did you finally realize that you got a diamond in your hands, then?”

Anthony turned his head to look at Benedict, who had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

His relationship with Benedict was stranded since his brother discovered about Sienna. Anthony didn’t blame Benedict, he was friend’s with his wife since they were kids. He only had himself to blame for being so foolish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony answered, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t observing their siblings with (Y/N).

“Keep lying to yourself then,” Benedict smirked, turning away to leave.

Anthony called after him. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Benedict sighed. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you. I just expected more from my brother.”

“I know,” he agrees. Benedict makes a move to go out the door, and then comes back, pulling Anthony into a hug.

“Look, I could say a thousand things to you, but nothing will undo what’s done.” Benedict says when they part, a hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “Just… learn from your mistakes and do better. You’re my brother and I love you, but trust me when I say that you don't deserve (Y/N). Can you imagine what mother would have done to our father if they ever found themselves in the same situation?”

“They loved each other,” Anthony protested to prevent his mind from wandering.

“You are truly oblivious, brother of mine.” Benedict scoffed.

His brother’s word haunted him for the rest of the day and all the way back to their home. Always perceptive, his change in behavior didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N).

“What happened,” she asked when they were alone in the dressing room.

Anthony hummed, turning around to look at her and trying not to get distracted by her beauty as she braided her own hair after taking off the jewelry.

“Nothing.”

Her reflection raises a brow at him.

“Do better,” she warns, getting up and walking up to him, face softening as she stands in front of him. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

He nods, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his face. Anthony’s eyes close.

“Is it about her?”

The question gets him off guard. His eyes open instantly to look at her and he drops (Y/N)’ hand instantly.

“No,” he answers, “no,” he adds firmly, cradling her face in between his hands. “There is no one else in my life but you. There won’t be no one else in my life but you.”

“Anthony…” She breaths, closing her eyes as her delicate hands take hold of his wrists.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but refrains. It’s not the time for that. They’re both healing and he doesn’t want to taint whatever it is they’re creating by getting ahead of himself. Instead, Anthony presses his lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleads, not sure where the urge to stay close to her came from. Anthony expects her to put up a fight, but (Y/N) only nods, murmuring an okay, before guiding him to her room.

It’s the first time since that fateful night that the both of them sleep through it, getting up later than usual the other day.

Their first kiss after everything that threatened to push them apart for good, happens so suddenly that none of them expects it.

(Y/N) had received the news that one of her younger sisters was going to marry the man she loves, her happiness made her throw herself at him and before either of them could realize, they were kissing each other.

It was just a chaste peck on the lips at the beginning. When they realized what had just happened they parted, his wife didn’t bother to step away from him to escape his embrace. They just stared at each other, eyes flicking between their eyes and their lips and then she placed a hand at the back of his neck, bringing him close to seal their lips again.

Anthony responded in kind, his hands on her waist, traveling up her back as he tasted her. It was like he was kissing her for the first time. They were discovering each other again, learning what each other felt like.

Desperately, Anthony wanted to discover what the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was. Since before they married (Y/N) made him feel different, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He pushed it down to the depths of his mind—the last thing he needed was feeling something other than respect and partnership for his wife.

He protested when (Y/N) parted her lips from his and it took him a second to notice Benedict standing at the door, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that our mother is waiting for (Y/N) downstairs. Something about the charity?”

“Oh,” his wife exclaimed, “I had forgotten about it,” she said, wriggling herself away from his arms, making Anthony growl in frustration.

If she noticed, (Y/N) made a good job at ignoring it. The same couldn’t be said about his brother.

“I figured,” Benedict smirked.

“Not a word,” (Y/N) warned as she passed him by, slapping his arm playfully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anthony watched as she turned around, stealing one last glance at him before disappearing and taking his breath away with her.

“Huh,” Benedict hummed, “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony asked, “And what do you see, dear brother?”

“You love her.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “we’re just good partners.”

“Good partners don’t kiss like that.”

The ride home was silent, but Anthony’s heart fluttered in his chest when (Y/N) searched for his hand. Could Benedict be right? Did he really fall in love with his wife? He frowned while looking out of the window of the carriage and (Y/N) might have noticed it, because she made a move to take her hand away from him. Anthony didn’t let her.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

“Something Benedict said to me.”

“If it is about the kiss, don’t mind him. It won’t happen again.”

Anthony looked at her exasperated.

“I surely hope you’re not serious about that.”

“Anthony…”

“How can I live without your kisses again is unknown to me.”

“You lived quite well without them all your life,” she smiles, shyly.

“But now that I know them, I can’t anymore.”

Painfully slowly, she moves closer, giving him the chance to meet her halfway and bring their lips together again.

It’s like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day and Anthony can’t seem to get enough of her. They get so distracted that they don’t even realise the carriage has stopped in front of the house until the door is open.

Recomposing themselves, he observes as (Y/N) giggles at the situation and feels his heart flutter at the image.

As they prepare to retire for the night, Anthony stops for a minute before following her into her room—he has been doing that for quite a few nights.

When she notices that he hasn’t entered the bedroom, (Y/N) looks back at him with a frown.

“Anything’s wrong?”

Anthony smiles, “No, nothing’s wrong,” he answers, as she extends her hand for him to take, and they retire for the night.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains III

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: You miss Caro

It's unusual to see you in kit.

You usually end up in your school uniform or your gardening overalls or the soft linen clothes Caro buys at home in Norway that are perfect for the hot Barcelona weather.

You've never had any big interest in football, at least not enough to wear jerseys outside of watching Marta and Barcelona play.

But this is your special Norway shirt.

It's not even yours, not really.

It was Caro's, straight from her side of Marta's wardrobe.

It hangs over your knees as you sit in the swinging chair with your reading book with all the little flowers in separate pots. You'd been reading to them a lot lately.

"I've got snacks," Marta says, approaching you with a little plate of homegrown celery and carrots.

She slots into the little space next to you, an arm over your shoulder as you lean into her.

"I miss Caro," You say," When is Caro coming home?"

"She'll be home soon," Marta says," She's still playing for Norway right now."

"But I want her home!"

You're whining now. Like wearing a jersey, this is unusual for you. Your bottom lips wobbles dangerously until you're burying your head in Marta's chest and clutching at her shirt.

"I want Caro!"

"Conejita, Caro is-"

"Caro!"

Tears fall from your cheeks as you curl around Marta, your snacks forgotten as she gently rests her hand on the back of your head.

She should have expected this really. You had grown attached to Caro now that she's around more. You crawl into Caro's side of the bed in the morning before school for extra cuddles. You let Caro do up your school shoes and give you the last kiss before heading into the school building.

You adore Caro and Marta should have really known that this separation wouldn't do you much good.

You crawl into Marta's bed that night, fast asleep and holding Caro's pillow.

"I didn't mean to make her sad," Caro says, wincing slightly as she gazes at you through the video call.

"I think she just got used to having you around," Marta replies," It's not your fault. She hasn't dealt with me going away to camp for a while now. I think she's forgotten what it's like."

"I..." Suddenly, Caro feels choked up. She hadn't expected seeing you like this with your sad, little scrunched up sleeping face would affect her like that. "Give her a kiss for me?"

"Of course. I'll tell her you wanted her to have lots from you."

"Thank you."

It's amazing how expressive a child's face is. Caro hadn't ever really thought of that before. Of course, there's Skatt who had always worn her heart on her sleeve and Estrella who always looked like she was halfway between judgement and pure boredom.

Caro has known Skatt for years now but she hadn't even considered the little faces she made. She knew, in theory, that everything Skatt thought was on her face but she'd never paid attention to it.

But now that you're in her life, Caro can't help but notice.

The image of your sad face with your downturned lips and the frown that stayed on your features even as you slept.

It's an image that stays with her through all the training and gym work and even as Caro eats, stubbornly stabbing the food on her plate with a fork.

It's an image that stays with her as she prepares to walk out for the match as well.

Little feet pitter-patter around as Caro weaves through her teammates and their mascots, shuffling through the line to get to her place.

She nearly falls straight over as something unexpected crashes into her legs and Caro whips her head downwards.

To tell off or to yell.

She hasn't quite decided yet.

But her words stick in her throat.

"Caro!" You say, hugging her legs and looking up at her.

"I...What are you doing here?"

You let go of her, taking a step back. "Do you not want me here?"

Caro shakes her head, getting down on her knee to pull you into a proper hug. "Of course I want you here. I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Caro. That's why we came. I'm even wearing your shirt."

Marta stands a little way away, a fond smile on her face as she sees Caro litter kisses over your face.

"You're not going over?" Mapi asks, Skatt hanging off her arm dressed like a happy little ladybug.

"I'm letting them have this moment. I've had Conejita cuddles every day for years. Caro's got a lot of catching up to do."