#and I like Twenty Seven Steps more overall as a story

[mint-yooxgi]

{27} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader - Final

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 14,770

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Mentions of past mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! The final part to book one!! Ahhhhhh!!! I can’t believe how far I've come!! Never did I expect such a simple one shot to turn into this, but here we are!! I really hope you all like this final chapter, I think it sort of rounds things out nicely and ends on a, quite literal, high note. Also, the two songs I highly recommend listening to during this part appear in the latter half of the fic. They are named when they come up, so I don’t want to spoil them here. I do highly recommend listening to at least the second one, as it is quite significant to the story and the characters. Anyways, enough of my ramblings lol, I hope you’ll all look forward to what book two has in store! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Twenty-Six - Mini Masterlist

A yawn escapes your lips as you slowly trudge your way down the hallway the very next day. You can hear the sounds of your slippers sliding against the floor with each step you take, bringing your hands up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Luckily, you managed to sleep much better last night. An ease settling over your mind enough so that you didn’t need to ask any one of them to influence your dreams. You also opted to sleep alone for the evening, stretching out on your bed as you relaxed into your covers.. 

Looks like that conversation yesterday really did help.

Walking into the kitchen, you freeze right in your tracks.

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times, before a lazy grin is tugging onto your features as you see three males positioned around the counter. All three sporting new hairstyles.

“Well, good morning to me,” you hum, taking in their appearances as they turn to look at you.

Both Seonghwa and San have returned to heads full of black hair. Where San’s is slightly longer in the back, the very ends a silvery blond underneath, Seonghwa has opted to give himself more of an undercut. The best part about the eldest’s cut is that when you get closer, you see a wave like design etched into the sides of his head, seeing as it’s pushed back for the moment. A fact which has you subconsciously stepping into his side to trace the design with your finger as you smile sleepily.

Even Jongho’s new head of fiery red hair suits him quite well, and you cannot help but to nod to yourself in approval of their choices.

“We take it you like the change?” Seonghwa chuckles, a shiver caressing his spine as he feels the tip of your finger ghosting along the side of his head.

“Oh, I more than like it,” you breathe, almost as if caught in a trance as he turns his wide eyed gaze towards you. “I love it.”

Three low rumbles of contentment reach your ears, smiles pulling onto all of their faces.

“Good,” a voice draws your attention to the open entranceway of the kitchen. “We’re glad.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the change in Yeosang’s appearance though. What once were long, bleach blond locks, now sit short, black strands that fall just above his eyes.

“Oh, wow,” you cannot help the gasp that escapes you, forgetting all about Seonghwa for a moment to meet Yeosang halfway in order to brush some of his newly cut hair out of his eyes. 

You feel as if you’re caught in a daze, especially when both Yunho and Mingi walk in sporting newly dyed chestnut locks. Mingi’s hair is styled up and out of his face, while Yunho’s rests parted over his forehead.

Your lips part in awe, a small breath escaping you as you take them all in. Though, the final straw for you is when both Wooyoung and Hongjoong both appear before your very eyes.

Wooyoung still sports his skunk dye, the blond simply having been re-bleached for the moment. Hongjoong, on the other hand, sports newly blond locks, cropped short once again.

You place a hand over your heart, feeling it skip a beat beneath your fingers as you attempt to balance yourself on the counter.

“Warn me next time, fucking hell,” you purposely stare at the floor with wide eyes as you lean heavily onto the one arm you have supporting yourself on the counter. “Can’t wait to tell my mom I have eight handsome as fuck men trying to kill me all at once by simultaneously changing their hairstyles on me.”

Eight chuckles sound around the room, the hint of a pleased growl on each of their lips as they look towards you. Seonghwa even goes so far as to place his hand over your own still resting on the counter, offering you a touch of support as you attempt to wrap your head around their new hairstyles for the moment.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest,” Yeosang steps in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“We thought we should clean ourselves up a bit before meeting your parents,” San admits, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he smiles at you.

“Though, we’re still not entirely done getting ready,” Yunho adds, a gentle smile on his lips as he walks over to your opposite side to place a kiss onto the side of your head.

“You guys already look incredible, I fail to see what else you’d have to do,” you take your time trailing your gaze around the room, glancing over each of them in time.

Another round of pleased growls reach your ears.

“Thank you, Darling,” Jongho grins, a subtle blush creeping up his neck as he absolutely revels in your praise.

“We just want to make sure we look our very best for when we meet your parents,” Hongjoong explains, a loving smile pulling at his features as he meets your gaze.

“We also enjoy looking our best for you,” Wooyoung grins, eyes crinkling at the sides with the honesty of his words.

A small heat rises to your cheeks as you avert your gaze bashfully.

In the next moment, you’re clearing your throat lightly. “So, do you all do your own hair, then?”

“We usually style it ourselves, but Hongjoong is usually the one that cuts and dyes it for us,” Mingi tells you, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes as he looks towards their Captain.

At the way your awe filled gaze turns towards Hongjoong, he cannot help but to smile shyly.

“We usually just tell him what we want, and then he works his magic,” Seonghwa grins, noticing how the younger male suddenly becomes bashful beneath your stare.

“That’s incredible,” the way your eyes shine, a hint of pride echoing within your words, has a blush dusting Hongjoong’s features, the tips of his ears turning red as he clears his throat. “You’re incredible."

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to brush off your praise, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Like hell it is,” you continue to stare at him with wide eye, a large smile pulling at your lips. "My sister is going to love you.”

“You think so?” Never have any of the others seen Hongjoong so timid. At least, not like this.

“I know so.” You hum, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa in the next moment. “She’s also big on fashion, so you two will probably instantly get a free pass.”

“Should the rest of us be worried, then?” Yunho jokes, a grin tugging onto his features.

“She can sometimes be more intimidating that my dad, so…” you trail off, raising your own brow teasingly. “But that’s if she and Vasco actually show up.”

Just like you said you would, you did manage to call your mother yesterday. Only, she didn’t let on if your sister and her husband were coming over for dinner, just that she and your father would be home all day.

“We’ll be prepared for anything and everything,” Wooyoung grins, an eager gleam shining within his eyes.

You smile back, a small nod to your head as you meet his gaze from across the counter. Honestly, you cannot wait for your family to meet all of them. There’s a certain eager pride building within you at the mere thought of getting to show them off to your family after so long of being single, that you cannot wait to see their reactions.

You can already picture it now. Your mother will probably give you her signature look where she blinks in disbelief while trying, and failing, to hide her surprise. Your father, on the other hand, will probably freeze in his spot and look like a deer caught in headlights before awkwardly clearing his throat.

You just have to brace yourself for your sister’s squeal of joy and subsequent ‘I told you so’s and ‘I knew it’.

An hour and a half later, after you’ve had a small bite to eat and finished getting ready, you’re heading towards the main foyer. You’ve already discussed just how you’re going to be getting to your parents house, much to their discontent.

It would be a bit alarming if you just suddenly popped up out of the blue on your parent’s front porch, not to mention with eight men, so you’ve all agreed to drive. Needless to say, you were a bit surprised when they told you that they could all drive cars, they just didn’t for convenience sake.

You had nodded at that, more caught up with the fact that they actually agreed to your idea without any push back. Well, San, Wooyoung, and Mingi still all pouted, but understood that they probably shouldn’t freak your parents out, or draw any unnecessary attention to themselves in the neighbourhood the first time they meet your family. Still, you cannot wait to get back in your car.

Driving has always been a way for you to clear your head; the way you can just cruise down the streets with your favourite music playing through your car speakers has always been able to relax you. Honestly, you’re looking forward to it, and besides, you could really use something to help clear your mind right now. Though, you don’t know how much relaxation you’ll find with Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang all in the car with you.

That was one of the conditions you offered to them. Three of them could ride with you up to a certain point before heading back home to finish getting ready.

That, and you don’t think Wooyoung would have bothered to stop himself from joining you, anyways.

Needless to say, there was a big argument about who would be driving with you to start. You can still remember the way San pouted the entire time after the decision was made. A pout which still paints his features, arms crossed over his chest as the four of you walk towards the main entrance of the house.

“Well, I’ll see the rest of you later,” you say, a giddy smile on your features as you wave to them one last time.

For the first time since that night all of those months ago, you step through the front doors.

The exterior of the building is almost exactly as you remember it to be: grand, sleek, and beautiful. The only difference is that instead of those glass doors with the supposed hotel’s logo on them, they are now intricately carved wooden doors with glass windows covering the upper half of them.

You nod, approvingly, and even though it’s subconscious on your part, the three males that follow right behind you cannot help the way their hearts swell with pride at impressing you yet again in this way.

“Shotgun!” Wooyoung cheers, scurrying passed you and to the front passenger’s seat.

You grin, shaking your head, “someone’s eager.”

“We all are, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles, walking over the the passenger’s seat directly behind the driver’s.

“We just love spending time with you, Starlight,” Mingi says, walking over to his designated seat now.

You quirk a brow. “So, how many times have you guys been driving with me without me knowing?”

Wooyoung shoots you a cheeky look from over the top of your car as he pulls open the passenger door.

You tilt your head expectantly, but the other two also remain silent, smiles tugging at their lips.

A sigh before you chuckle, shaking your head all the while. “Guess that answers that.”

Sliding into the front seat, you’re quick to start the car. Honestly, you’re surprised it still runs as smoothly as it does for the moment, considering you haven’t touched it in months.

“Jongho and I made sure to keep up its maintenance,” Mingi’s voice coming from the backseat has you sparing a glance at him from over your shoulder. “Just in case.”

“I didn’t know you guys were mechanics.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brows raising slightly in amusement. “I appreciate it.”

A moment later, you’ve finished connecting your phone to your stereo, your favourite songs playing gently through the speakers.

“Cars, weapons, machines, the house, you name it,” Wooyoung shrugs. “It’s all just another form of maintenance to us.”

Your brows raise even more as you put the car into reverse and finally drive away from your new home.

“You boys never fail to surprise me,” you hum.

“In a good way, I hope,” Yeosang meets your gaze briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You smile. “Always.”

The entire drive to your parents house is spent teasingly bickering with the guys, laughing all the while. Honestly, it’s the perfect way to clear your mind and focus on the conversation you’re sure to have with your mom when you get home. A fact which you could not be more thankful for.

At some point during the drive, Wooyoung had grabbed your one hand in his, seeing as you were driving with only your left on the steering wheel. The cheeky grin he sent you had you shooting him a brief side-eyed look in amusement, hearing Mingi grumbling about how he wanted to hold your hand instead. Hell, even Yeosang had crossed his arms at this, and you could just tell they were mentally complaining to Wooyoung about it the whole time.

Not that the younger minded. After all, he’s the one that got to hold your hand.

No wonder he wanted to sit in the front.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” you comment, turning onto one of the backroads that lead into your parent’s subdivision.

“Aw,” Wooyoung pouts. “Do we really have to go?”

You only quirk your brow in response. You all agreed that they would transport themselves back home before you reached your parents place, just so that your parent’s nosy neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious seeing four people drive up in a car, only for one to get out of it.

“We just don’t want to leave you, Starlight,” Mingi complains, a slight whine to his voice.

“You all agreed to the terms and conditions beforehand,” you spare a glance at Wooyoung. “Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“I don’t think any of us would complain about spending more time with you driving back home, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles.

“I swear, if you guys could attach yourself to me like a symbiote, you would.” You snort, shaking your head.

Wooyoung smirks, his eyes flashing. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Okay,” Yeosang’s eyes widen, his lips tightening into a thin line. “And on that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.”

“No!” Wooyoung whines, his lips pulling downwards dramatically. “I don’t want to!”

“Neither do I, but we promised we’d stick to the plan,” Yeosang replies, shaking his head at the way Wooyoung crosses his arms grumpily over his chest.

“I’ll probably be contacting you guys soon enough,” you chuckle, noticing how Mingi remains quiet for the time being. “Besides, they’ll need you for the directions.”

Another condition of sending them back early after driving with you is so they can get the best route possible. Not that they’d really need you to show them the directions, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

“We’ll see you soon, Dearest,” Yeosang sends you one final tender smile in the reflection of the mirror before he’s reaching out and teleporting the three of them back home.

A puff of laughter escapes you just as you turn into your parent’s subdivision, shaking your head lightly at their antics.

Blinking, you adjust your focus to the houses around you, rounding the corner to turn onto the street your parents live on. After one more turn, you pull into the driveway, a smile on your face.

Finally, you’re home.

Immediately, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you step out of your car after cutting the engine. A warmth begins to spread throughout your body, radiating from the centre of your chest outwards.

You take a deep breath.

Yeah, this’ll be good for you. You can already tell.

Walking up to the front door, a gentle smile rests on your face. In the back of your mind, you wonder if your mother has left the door open.

Much to your content, she did.

The chime of the front door opening greets your ears, and you can faintly hear music coming from the direction of the basement. Your father must be down there either relaxing or doing something else for the moment, then.

“Hello!” You hear your mother’s chipper voice call out from just around the corner of the kitchen. “You’re here early-“

Her voice gets caught in her throat as she rounds the corner to see you standing at the front door having just finished slipping your shoes off for the moment.

A breathless gasp of your name escapes her as she rushes over to you, wrapping you in her embrace. A hug of which you eagerly return, just as tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, I’ve missed you so much!” She coos into your ear. “I had a feeling you were coming to visit soon after your call yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mom,” you breathe out, practically melting into her arms. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, come in! I’m making my homemade pasta sauce for dinner, you should stay!” She begins to lead you into the kitchen.

“If that’s okay,” you smile softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You gaze catches on the baby grand piano right beside the front entranceway, the wood shining beneath the afternoon sun. It’s slight, but your breath hitches.

“Nonsense!” Her voice catches your attention, shifting your gaze to see her standing beside the entrance to the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You’re family, you could never intrude.”

That warmth returns to your chest. “Thanks, mom.”

“Your father is just downstairs for the moment.” She continues as you walk into the kitchen. “He’s working out on the treadmill like he so often likes to do. It was raining a bit earlier, so he couldn’t go on his regular walk.”

“Oh, he must have been devastated,” you joke, hearing your mother chuckle along with you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grins, moving over to the stovetop to stir the sauce for the moment. “Anyways, please, come sit! Tell me all about what you’ve been up to lately. We’ve missed you so much!”

Pulling out one of the chairs at the counter, you’re quick to join your mother, who now stands eagerly on the other side of the kitchen island. She rests a hand on top of the granite, a giddiness to her features that immediately rubs off on you.

For the next forty minutes or so, you give your mother some updates on your life. Just some basics that don’t give much away as to what you’ve been up to with the boys, nor do you explicitly mention them at all. Though, with the way you notice her smiling at you, her eyes darting to the shining necklace you currently wear, you know that she’s putting a few things together.

“Speaking of that mall,” she begins. “I ran into David the other day.”

“Oh, did you now?” You quirk a brow, amusement shining on your features.

“First of all, he was more than happy to look into commissioning a pin of one of the Leaves of Lorien for me.” She says, and recognition flashes in your eyes. 

Your mother has always loved The Lord of the Rings almost as much as you, and she’s admitted to wanting a broach like that for quite a while now. You’re just sad you didn’t think of getting one for her sooner.

“He told me a very interesting thing about when you went to pick up that necklace of yours.” A knowing gleam shines within her gaze.

“What did he tell you?” You hum.

“Well, a little birdie told me that when you went to pick up your necklace, which is beautiful, by the way-“ a pointed look.

“Thank you.”

She nods, smiling faintly. “He told me that there were two men who were with you at the time. Two very handsome men.”

“Of course he did,” you sigh.

“Sweetie, you know if you’re seeing somebody, you can tell me,” she meets your gaze. “Don’t feel like you have to hide your relationships from us. We only want the best for you.”

“I know, mom,” you exhale a long breath, chuckling slightly.

“Even if it’s the both of them that are your mystery lovers, as long as they make you happy. That’s the main thing.” She adds.

“You would be okay with that?” You shoot her a knowing look. “Me, being in a relationship with more than one person?”

She pauses for a moment, considering your words. Then, she’s nodding once. Firmly. “I would.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise.

“Like I said, as long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, that’s all that matters to me.” She nods in confirmation, voice firm.

“Thanks, mom,” you smile. “That really does mean a lot to me.”

“Of course, Sweetie,” she smiles back. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about those two mystery lovers of yours.”

At the wink she sends you, you laugh. “Actually, I would really like for you to meet them all.”

“All? So there is more than one?” Your mom quirks a brow knowingly.

“Oh, there’s more than one, alright,” you chuckle.

“Just how many of them are there?” She frowns lightly, tilting her head in confusion at you.

A tight smile tugs onto your features as you let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Sweetie?”

“Uh, well,” you chuckle nervously once more, eyes flitting everywhere around the kitchen but in her direction for the moment. “There’s…“

“Yes?” Your mother leans forward slightly.

You mumble out a response lowly, enough to have your mother’s frown deepening.

“Pardon me?”

A brief pause.

“There’s eight of them.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you as your mother’s eyes nearly bulge right out of her head.

“Sweetie! Eight of them? Holy shit!” Her jaw drops. “That’s- that’s-“ your mother searches for the right word as you smile sheepishly, “incredible!”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by her reaction. “You’re not weirded out?”

“I mean, I was expecting three at the most, but eight? As long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, you can have as many as you want. Though, your father might have a harder time wrapping his head around this.” She chuckles as she nods, grinning widely. That is, until her expression is becoming serious in the next second. “Honey, you didn’t stumble upon a cult accidentally, did you?”

You cannot help it, you burst out laughing. “No, mom. I didn’t stumble upon a cult.”

She simply raises an eyebrow at you in response. However, before either of you can say anything else, your dad rounding the corner of the kitchen catches your attention.

As soon as he sees you, he freezes in his tracks. He blinks once before a large smile is stretching across his features as he meets your gaze. “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit.”

“Surprise!” You chuckle, waving slightly at him.

“It’s great to see you again, Sweetie.” He says, his eyes shining as he looks at you. “I would give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty at the moment.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be around for a while still.” You smile.

“She’s staying for dinner,” your mother chimes in, and immediately, your father’s smile widens.

“That’s wonderful!”

“I promise I won’t leave unexpectedly again,” you tease, hearing how they both chuckle in response.

“Well then, I’m going to go shower, but I promise to be as quick as I can!” With a new spring to his step, he’s hurrying back the way he came and up the stairs to go freshen up.

As soon as your father is out of earshot, your mother is turning to you with a knowing look on her features. “One hour later.”

You laugh along with her, cheeks beginning to hurt already from how much smiling you’ve done so far today.

Yeah, you really needed this. You just knew it would help.

“I can’t wait for your sister to get here, too,” she hums. “Did she mention she has a surprise for you the next time you see her?”

“Yes, she mentioned something,” you nod, mildly surprised your mother hasn’t already spilled the beans in her excitement.

“Oh, so then, when are we going to get to meet these mystery lovers of yours?” A wiggle to her brows. “Soon, I hope.”

“I was hoping you could meet them today, honestly.” You admit, watching your mother’s reaction carefully.

At the way her eyes light up, you know she absolutely adores that idea.

“I’m making pasta, so there’s plenty to go around!” She grins, already moving to the cupboard to pull out two more large cans of tomato sauce to add them to the pot.

“Do you need any help?” You immediately offer, going to push back your chair and stand.

“Not in the slightest!” She tells you, placing the cans onto the counter. “You just sit and relax. Tell me all about these partners of yours before they arrive!” A brief pause. “When will they get here?”

“I’ll message them now, but probably in about an hour or so,” you smile, a glint shining in your eyes.

“Perfect!” She scurries over to the pot, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the can opener next.

Grabbing your phone, you make a show of sending a message to someone for your mother’s sake. Even if you don’t actually send anything.

You drop your void.

So… you begin, your voice resounding through all of their minds and catching their attention. Who wants to come over for dinner?

You mean…? San replies, an eagerness to his voice.

Yes. An affectionate brush of your mind against all of theirs. My mother is very excited to meet all of you.

You swear you can hear Wooyoung cheering happily in your mind as they all brush back.

We’ll be there in an hour, My Love. Hongjoong replies, and you don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling right now.

With Hwa’s driving, make that thirty minutes. Yeosang chuckles.

Man nearly tore the car door open as soon as you reached out to us. At the way Jongho huffs, you can just tell he’s shaking his head in amusement right now.

Well excuse me if I’m excited. Seonghwa retorts.

Hurry up, you’re all taking too long! Wooyoung whines, and you just know he’s already in the car waiting for the others to join him.

We’ll see you shortly, Petal. Yunho chuckles fondly, brushing against your mind once more.

We love you, Starlight. Mingi hums affectionately.

You smile. I love you, too, My Kings.

Not even a moment later, you close your void.

Your mother manages to pull you out of your own thoughts by speaking, a hum to her words.

“I know that look,” there’s an understanding unlike ever before that paints her features as she meets your gaze. “They must be very special if you’re so caught up in your own little world like this after texting them.”

You avert your gaze, somewhat bashfully, to your phone which rests on top of the counter for the moment, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “They are.”

“Good,” she nods, that motherly look of affection dripping from her features. “I’m glad.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” you grin giddily, wiggling slightly in excitement in your seat.

Your mother chuckles happily, “me neither.”

Almost immediately, you begin to launch into short descriptions of each of them. You don’t necessarily realize just how much your eyes light up as you speak of them, but your mother does. A fact of which warms her heart, glad to know that her little girl is all grown up and in love.

Before you know it, your ramblings span over the course of forty minutes, now able to add in little facts about things that you’ve done together with the guys that you couldn’t before. Minus a few details, of course.

“They all sound like real gentlemen,” your mother nods, approvingly.

You sigh, somewhat dreamily, “they really are.”

“I’m so happy for you, Sweetie,” she smiles widely, a gleam in her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” you return her smile, somewhat shyly as you realize you’ve just spent almost an hour gushing about them to her.

Looks like you care even more about them than you thought. That, and the fact that you can finally talk about them to another person, and that person being your mother, is just so freeing. You’re so glad you can finally share your adventures with your family, even if they’re somewhat altered for the moment. Talking about everything most certainly is making you feel better, and brightening your spirits.

“From the sounds of things, they really love you, too.” She hums, stirring the sauce once more.

Your gaze darts to your hand resting on top of the counter. The same hand Wooyoung had been clinging onto in the car for practically the entire ride. “Yeah. They really do.”

“Just know, if they hurt you in any way, I’ll send both Sammy and Wolfie after them!” She mockingly threatens, turning to you with the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand.

“Oh, boy! I don’t think they’d be able to survive that,” you giggle, grinning right along with your mother. “Speaking of, where is that Monkey Boy? I’m surprised he hasn’t strutted down the hallway looking for attention yet.”

“He’s probably up in your old room, on your bed, sleeping,” she says, eyes briefly darting upwards in the direction she’s referring to.

“Of course he is,” you sigh teasingly, shaking your head.

Just as you go to push your chair out to go see him, a knock sounds at the front door.

Your heart skips a beat, nearly feeling it leap into your throat as you realize just what that knock means.

“Oh, is that them?” Your mother giddily scurries towards the front door, smoothing out the front of her shirt all the while.

“Most likely,” you reply, following right behind her and noticing how she also goes to smooth out her hair. “Relax mom, you look as lovely as you always do.”

“Oh, you!” She smiles bashfully, but you can tell that your words have helped assure her for the moment as she watches you walk passed her.

Reaching for the handle, you’re quick to pull open the door. 

A smile tugs at your features as you see eight familiar males standing just on the other side. “Hello, boys.”

Opening the door wider, you step back to allow them entrance into your parents home. 

“Hello, Dearest,” Yeosang is the first to enter, placing a brief kiss onto your cheek as he steps into the house.

Mingi is the next to step through the threshold, a bottle of red wine held in his hands. As soon as he sees you, a smile lights up his features. “Hi, Starlight.”

Subsequently, as each male enters, they greet you tenderly, either placing a kiss onto your forehead, or your cheek, smiling all the while. What you fail to notice, is how their eyes all light up as soon as they see you, such fond looks of affection shining within their gazes.

Looks of which your mother is quick to catch on to.

She smiles.

Closing the door quickly, you take a step back to observe them all as they stand just inside the foyer. Yunho holds another bottle of red wine, while both San and Seonghwa hold a bottle of white each. Wooyoung appears to be holding a box of chocolates in his hands, while a bouquet of flowers is cradled within Hongjoong’s arms. A book is held in Jongho’s hands.

“Sweetie, you didn’t tell me just how handsome they all are,” your mother teasingly tuts, stepping forward to greet them. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiles bashfully, a blush beginning to dust his cheeks along with Yeosang’s, Mingi’s, and Jongho’s. “I can now see where My Love gets her stunning beauty from.”

“Oh, you’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?” Your mother giggles. “I’m so glad you all could join us for dinner.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Yunho replies graciously.

“Something smells absolutely delicious,” San hums, excitement shining in his eyes.

“You have a lovely home,” Yeosang adds, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you very much,” a certain pride laces your mother’s words as she stands a little straighter.

“Here,” Hongjoong gently addresses your mother formally by your last name. “These are for you.”

“Please,” a certain gleam begins to shine within your mother’s eyes as she takes the bouquet of flowers from Hongjoong’s outstretched hands. The smile that graces her features is nothing short of touched as she sees the type he’s given her. “Call me Kaitlyn.”

The way she addresses all of them has a warmth already spreading throughout their chests. So far, the interaction between them all is going well, and they could not be happier.

“Lillies of the valley?” Her voice is soft, tender as she meets his gaze. “These are my favourite. How did you know?”

Briefly, Hongjoong’s eyes dart over to your figure leaning casually against the wall a little ways away.

“How thoughtful.” She hums. “You must be Hongjoong, then. My daughter says you have a habit of bringing her flowers.”

Again, his gaze briefly darts over to you. The tips of his ears begin to turn red.

“I am.” He nods, somewhat shyly in confirmation.

“She also tells me that you have an eye for design,” a knowing look is sent his way.

“It’s really not much,” he attempts to humbly brush off the praise, the blush spreading down his neck soon after.

“He’s being bashful,” you chuckle, grin tugging at your features.

“In fact, she’s told me a little bit about all of you,” Kaitlyn continues, eyes briefly glancing over all of them with a somewhat fond look shining in her eyes. “Please, do come in.”

Eight affectionate brushes are felt against your void, and you can just tell that it’s them asking you if you’ve really talked to your mother about them. At the subtle way you nod your head in response, they can feel their chests swelling with that familiar happiness even more.

Just then, the sound of footsteps hopping down the stairs reach your ears.

Turning your head, you see your father make it to the second landing of the stairs before lifting his head and stopping in his tracks. His eyes widen significantly before a furrow is pulling to his brow at seeing eight unfamiliar men standing just inside the front entranceway.

You nearly laugh at the sight. Looks like you were right about your father’s reaction.

“Papa!” Your excited voice calling out to him draws his attention.

Not even a moment later, he’s finished walking down the stairs to meet you halfway to wrap you in his embrace.

You bury your head into his chest as he holds you tightly, a large smile on his face.

“How’s my little girl? I’ve missed you,” his voice rumbles out, low and full of rough emotions as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around you.

You giggle. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You fail to see the way your mother gazes on so tenderly at the two of you, but the others do.

Smiles of their own tug subtly onto their features as the intimacy of the moment washes over the room. They can tell that you two haven’t seen one another in a very long time, and the happiness they can sense simply radiating off of the both of you rubs off on them immediately.

After another few seconds, your father is pulling away. His hands rest on your upper arms as he studies your features, a gentle smile tugging at his own. That is, before his gaze is shifting slightly towards the eight males still standing by the door.

“Who…” your father trails off, eyes narrowing the faintest bit in their direction before taking note of the bouquet of flowers now held in your mother’s arms.

“Perfect timing,” you chuckle, stepping away from your father for the moment as a soft smile adorns your lips. “Mom, dad, I’d like you to meet Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Jongho, San, and Wooyoung. My significant others.” 

As you say each male’s name, they each give a polite bow of their heads in acknowledgement towards your parents. Of course, you make it a bit simpler by going in order from left to right, too.

Your father’s reaction is immediate: his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, eyes going wide as he looks like a deer in headlights. You swear he’s also stopped breathing for a moment there as his eyes flit over each of the eight males standing before him.

“It’s so lovely to meet the people who have been the cause of our daughter’s happiness over the past few months.” Your mother smiles, clutching the bouquet of flowers a little closer to her chest.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Seonghwa returns her smile wholeheartedly.

“Truly, it is an honour.” San adds, and you watch as they all bow in unison towards your parents.

“Thank you, again, for inviting us into your lovely home,” Wooyoung voices as soon as they straighten, staring deeply into your mother’s, and then your father’s eyes.

“They’ll be joining us for dinner,” your mother leans into your father slightly, and you watch as you see your father nod in understanding.

“Well then, let’s not stand at the door all day,” the way an instant sense of relief fills the room as your father says this has a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The instant your parents turn around and begin walking towards the kitchen, you shoot the eight of them a thumbs up and a wink. Actions of which fill them all with a sense of pride as they slip off their shoes and follow you further into the house.

As soon as you all enter the kitchen, you see your mother stirring the sauce and your father standing just beside the counter.

“I see you’ve brought wine,” he nods, approvingly. “Good lads.”

Mingi is the first to hand his bottle to your father, jumping into an explanation as to why he chose each bottle as they’re placed onto the counter beside him. You can see how your father continues to nod approvingly at the choices Mingi has selected, listening intently to every word he says.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see San subtly inching towards your mother who stands beside the stovetop. A second later, and he’s offering his cooking services to her to help in any way that he can.

She readily agrees, shooting you a look of acknowledgement in the process.

You smile.

Wordlessly, you move over to grab a small vase from the cupboard, seeing as your mother is now conversing with both San and Yunho for the moment while Wooyoung presents the chocolates to your father. You can tell your parents already like them, seeing as how naturally they’ve slipped into conversation with most of them as they stand around the kitchen.

Once you have the vase in your hands, you move to begin arranging the flowers Hongjoong got for your mother for her. Only, he gently takes your place, automatically placing the flowers in the vase once it’s filled with water.

Your mother just about steps in to stop him, stating how she shouldn’t be letting a guest do that work for her. Yet, at Hongjoong’s insistence, she backs off with a small nod and a smile.

Stepping around the counter once more, you stand just behind the chair you had been occupying for the past while. Placing your hands onto the back of the seat, you spare a glance around the room, feeling your heart swell with fondness at the scene surrounding you.

Just as Yeosang comes to stand beside you, you notice Jongho beginning to converse with your father.

“I brought this for you, Sir,” Jongho presents the book in his hands to your father. “I thought since you’re an author, and one of our,” he spares a brief glance in your direction, “favourite things to do is read and share literature together, I would bring you one of my favourite books.”

Your father nods, accepting the book graciously with a small thank you falling from his lips. “Feel free to call me Nick.”

That cover looks very familiar.

You see recognition flash across your father’s face, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“Oh,” a teasing lilt can be heard within Nick’s voice. “Would you like me to sign this for you instead?”

Immediately, all heads are turning towards your father as Jongho stands there with wide eyes, completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Pardon me?” The shock is clear in Jongho’s voice as he stands there, arms still half raised in the air in front of him as he blinks at Nick in surprise.

“I’m assuming she told you,” Nick chuckles, holding up the book slightly in his hand. “This is my pen name.”

You never thought you would see the day were it looked like Jongho would faint from shock, but alas, here he is, standing frozen to his spot. The youngest looks about ready to spontaneously combust, red creeping up his neck as he turns to look at you with a somewhat tight smile on his lips.

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea.”

Your father chuckles, walking over and bonking you lightly on the top of your head with the book. “Are you still on about that thing that happened in high school with Linda?”

“Oh, fuck no,” you nearly scoff. “The fact merely didn’t come up yet.”

“Linda?” Seonghwa quirks a brow at you, and you can tell from the subtle way they all spare glances at your from the corner of their eyes, they’re all curious about what happened.

You share a look with your father.

“Final year of high school, my homeroom found out who my dad was. Linda just so happened to be a big fan of his work.” You explain.

“I still think you should have torn her hair out when you found out, Sweetie,” Kaitlyn supplies, with an air of casualty to her tone.

Hongjoong nearly drops the flower in his hands.

“Mom, you and I both know that would have been a little too violent at the time,” you reply. “Besides, she ended up getting suspended, anyways."

Mingi frowns. “What did she do?”

“Oh, she became friends with me to try and impress my dad,” you recount, a certain gleam shining within your eyes as you spare a glance around at all of them. “Wasn’t subtle about it, either.”

You swear that if your parents weren’t in the room, eight low growls would have resounded in your ears.

“She used you?” Wooyoung frowns, disgust clear on his features.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t really see it coming.”

Yeosang places a gentle hand onto your lower back, yet you can just tell how he feels at the moment. You can feel it in the way his fingers press into your skin.

So, you decide to quickly change the subject. Sort of.

“Speaking of, did you finally figure out the ending to your next novel?” You shift your gaze to your father.

Instantly, his eyes are lighting up. “I did!”

Nick jumps right into explaining his next novel, excitement clear on his features. The way you can see all of them listening intently to what he’s saying warms your heart. You can just tell Jongho is hanging on to every word.

“In fact,” he turns his attention to Jongho, “come with me.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement as you watch your father lead Jongho into his office right down the hallway, Mingi and Yunho following close behind.

“Oh, now look what you did,” your mother chuckles. “You know how much your father loves talking about his books. Those poor boys will be stuck in there for hours.”

“I heard that!” Nick calls out teasingly from inside the office.

“Believe me,” you grin. “I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”

“Well, when you’re done,” your mother casually raises her voice to include your father in this, “show those three around the house. It’s about time we give them all a proper tour.”

“I think I speak for all of us when we say that we would love that,” Hongjoong turns to smile at your mother, seeing how he’s just finished arranging the flowers in the vase and pushed them to the centre of the counter.

“Alright then,” she places the lid over the pot, turning down the heat on the stove to let the sauce simmer. “You three,” she points to San, Yeosang, and Hongjoong, “follow me."

In the blink of an eye, she’s leading the three of them towards the basement, chatting all the while.

You spare a look at both Wooyoung and Seonghwa, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Come with me."

Without another word, you’re leading the two of them upstairs.

Once you reach the top landing, you’re turning to look at the two of them. There’s a subtle quirk of your brow as your gaze shifts from one male to the other, mentally debating on if you actually need to show them around or not. They’ve probably seen it all before, anyways.

Wooyoung’s brow raises, amusement dancing on his features as he looks around. “So, Gorgeous. Are you going to show us around, or not?”

“I just figured you’ve seen it all before,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Surprisingly, we haven’t,” Seonghwa replies, and at the way he curiously looks around, you can tell he’s not lying to you.

“Alright then,” you turn back around. “Follow me.”

It takes you maybe all of five minutes to show them the majority of the upstairs. That is, until you only have one room left.

Anticipation claws at both Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s chest as you lead them into what they know is your room. Only, from what they recall of your memories, it’s completely different than they expect.

At the mild confusion lingering on their faces, you’re quick to speak.

“It’s been four years since that happened,” you begin, something tugging at the back of your mind. “My parents moved here two years ago.”

Recognition flashes on both of their features as they fully take in your room. Until scowls are pulling on both of their faces as they see what resides on your one wall.

“Honestly, I’m surprised my mom hasn’t taken these down,” you chuckle, looking over the few Taemin posters you have hanging on the one side of your room. “That, and I’m surprised someone hasn’t torn them to shreds.”

At the way you turn your pointed gaze towards your bed, the two cannot help but to chuckle.

There, laying on your bed with his front paws crossed over one another, lays Sammy, your parent’s cat. He has a smug look on his features as what appears to be a fuzzy blanket is bunched up on the end of the bed right beside him. His eyes haven’t left you since you’ve entered the room.

You cross your arms over your chest, a scoff escaping you in the next second. “Why am I getting the ‘welcome home, cheater’ treatment?”

The two males standing on either side of you laugh.

“It’s because you are,” Wooyoung chuckles, taking the time to lean against your desk at the side of the room.

You gasp, as if scandalized, “and here I thought what we had was special, Sammy.”

The moment those words escape you, he’s cooing, flipping onto his back and exposing his belly for you to come and give him scratches.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you chuckle, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. As soon as you start to pet his belly, he begins to purr. “Some belly rubs and all is forgiven, huh?”

“He is a simple man, with simple needs,” Seonghwa jokes, turning to study every inch of your room.

“He’s a Monkey, is what he is,” you begin to coo at Sammy, noticing how he stands back to his feet in the next second.

Laying back on your bed, Sammy is quick to crawl up your body, settling comfortably on your chest.

“Just like old times,” you grin, petting the cat happily as the two males watch on with nothing but affection dripping from their eyes. “Though, I’m surprised he didn’t come running to the front door as soon as I got here, or you guys for that matter. Probably having too much fun with his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

You vaguely motion to your scrunched up blanket laying at the end of the bed.

Understanding flashes across both of their features as Sammy jumps off of you and scurries from the room. 

You sit up, resting on the edge of the bed. A look of nostalgia crosses your features as you take the time to look around your room.

“I may not have been here for long, but I do have some good memories of this place,” you smile faintly, taking note of your somewhat empty bookshelves scattered throughout the room. “Though, I think the majority of my jewelry is still- yep!”

Opening the topmost drawer on the left of your dresser which sits right in front of you beside your bed, you pull out a small box. Opening the lid, your eyes take in the sight of all of your necklaces tangled in one great pile, rings buried beneath some bracelets.

“I don’t think I’ve touched this stuff in years,” you smile faintly, putting the box on top of your dresser for now. “I really only ever wore a few pieces.”

Your eyes dart to your small jewelry tree on the far right of your dresser.

A gasp escapes you. “No way."

Standing quickly back to your feet, you’re quick to snatch what appears to be a ring hanging from a somewhat thick chain from the tree.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” you hum, gazing fondly at the item held in your hand as it sways slightly.

At the two curious gazes you can feel darting between the object in your hand and your face, you’re quick to grab another small ring off of the tree.

“A girl I used to know once got me two versions of the One Ring as a gift. One was this one,” you hold up the one on the chain, “and the other was this one.” A thinner version of the same ring is held in your fingers. “I always-“ you let out a small sigh through your nose. “I always planned to give this one,” you raise the chain slightly in your hand, “to my significant other, if I ever got one. Though, I don’t think I can split it into eight.”

“Then would you-“ Wooyoung clears his throat. “Would you keep the other one?”

“Yes,” you meet his gaze. “I always thought of it as having matching rings without the added concept of marriage attached to it.”

Seonghwa practically collapses on top of the small shelf you have at the end of your bed.

“Did you-“ he clears his throat. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Oh, sure,” you reply casually, placing the two items back on top of your dresser. “When I was younger, I would joke about it all the time. Though, as I got older, it didn’t really have the same appeal to me.”

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung pushes himself off of your desk in order to slowly begin making his way closer to you. He sits himself beside his brother, the both of them looking at you expectantly.

“To have a piece of paper be the sole reason you can even acknowledge the fact that you’re married to someone just doesn’t appeal to me.” You shake your head. “I don’t know if it’s different for you guys, but if we’re together, we’re together. If you call me your wife, then I’m your wife. I don’t need a piece of paper dictating what I mean to you. I’d still sign it if my significant other wanted me to, but I think it’s more meaningful to acknowledge what we are and determine what that is ourselves, than with a signature on a flimsy sheet of paper.”

“Not to mention if things didn’t work out, then you have to go through the whole trouble of filing for divorce.” You add. “At least without a marriage certificate you can just end things without the hassle. It’s just easier that way, I think.”

“So, if I wanted to start calling you wifey…?” Wooyoung grins cheekily, a wiggle to his brows.

“I won’t stop you,” you grin. “Like I said, there are other means of acknowledging being in a relationship that I prefer. The most important being how we define ourselves. That’s what really matters.”

“Okay, so if what I’m understanding is correct,” Seonghwa nods, a gleam in his eyes as a cheeky grin pulls onto his features. “We’re married now.”

“Woah, slow down there, Mars,” you chuckle, turning your attention back to your jewelry tree for the moment. “Let’s make it through some things first before we actually start talking about that.”

At the way you notice him pouting out of the corner of your eyes, you chuckle.

“I’m not saying ‘no’,” you meet his gaze. “Just not yet.”

The way they both visibly perk up has a smile pulling at your lips.

“Besides, I do have something to give each of you, now,” you grin, pulling two pieces of jewelry off of your tree.

Moving to step in front of them, you face Wooyoung first. A necklace seems to be held in your hands as you smile at him softly.

“May I?” Your voice is gentle as you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine, lips parting slightly as he nods.

Stepping into him, you’re quick to bring the thin chain up and clasp it around his neck. A soft smile rests on your features as you look down at the small replica of a belladonna flower staring back at you. At the way his hand comes up to gently grasp the flower in his fingers, gazing upon such a gem with such awe, you know you’ve chosen right.

“Beautiful, but deadly,” you hum, noticing how Wooyoung’s eyes flash in recognition almost instantly.

A moment later, and you’ve stepped away from Wooyoung in order to place yourself directly in front of Seonghwa. Gently, you raise a hand in front of him, motioning for him to give you one of his own.

A look of complete wonder rests in Seonghwa’s eyes as he places his hand softly in your own. He can feel his heart racing as you begin to slide a silver ring onto one of his fingers, your thumb stroking over the metal as soon as it’s in place.

Sparing a brief glance down, Seonghwa takes in the sight of a small diamond embedded within an etching of a brilliant star.

“Planets tend to outshine even the brightest of stars,” you hum, thumb tracing over the band of the ring once more.

Nothing but awe fills each of their gazes as they continue to stare at you. Their hearts race erratically within their chests, hearts swelling as a warmth floods their veins. This moment is so tender to them, so significant, that nothing could take away the pure, unfiltered joy coursing through their very souls at this point in time.

You are everything to them, and this only just proves it.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all bask in this moment together. You take the time to lean into both of them, placing a tender kiss onto each of their foreheads in tandem, a smile gracing your features soon afterwards.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?” The teasing drawl of your mother’s voice catches your attention from the doorway.

You quirk a brow, “not at all.”

The four of them stand just inside your room, the three males looking around subtly. Again, you can see the distaste flash across their features, even if only briefly, at seeing the Taemin posters hanging on the side of the one wall. A fact of which that has your lips twitching upwards in the corners slightly.

“Looks like we finally caught up with you,” your father grins, stepping into the room with the final three males in tow.

The way Jongho still looks completely starstruck nearly has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Well, I’m sure we can leave these fine gentleman in our daughter’s capable hands for the moment,” your mother begins to usher your father out of your room. “Besides, I need to go check on the sauce.”

Nick’s words of protest die on his lips as both Wooyoung and Seonghwa stand back to their feet.

“We’ll join you,” Seonghwa says, already beginning to follow after your parents with Wooyoung right behind him.

Briefly, you notice the two of them share a glance with the six others who have just entered your room, and you just know they’re speaking with one another in their minds. A fact which is only confirmed when six gazes turn towards you as soon as the others have left.

“Good timing,” you grin, walking back over to your jewelry tree. “I have something to give each of you.”

“You do?” There’s a slight bit of pleasant surprise clinging onto Yunho’s words as they all watch you carefully.

“I do,” you confirm softly with a nod of your head, turning your gaze to meet his own for the moment. “I’ve already given Woo and Hwa theirs, so now it’s time for yours.”

Motioning Yunho closer with your finger, you turn to fully face him as he comes to stand in front of you. A gentle smile rest on your features as you hold your one hand out for him, watching as he places his own in your hold in the next second.

Sliding your touch up, you’re quick to clasp an intricate bracelet around his wrist. Soft blue gems glitter up at him as what appears to be a stem of forget-me-nots wrap around his skin.

“I know it can’t replace what once was lost, but it’s a start,” you squeeze his hand, gazing deeply into his eyes.

At the way his breath hitches, you know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“It’s more than enough,” he whispers lowly, eyes shining as he squeezes back.

Tenderly, you bring his hand up to your lips, placing a gentle kiss against his skin.

Yunho’s heart swells in his chest, a loving smile gracing his features. “Thank you, Petal.”

You nod, squeezing his hand one final time as he steps away. The way you can feel the other’s watching you carefully has your attention on them once more.

Just as Yunho begins to step away from you, you lock gazes with San across the room. With a motion of your head, he’s quick to begin making his way over to you.

“It’s a little on the nose, but I can’t picture it with anyone else.” You hum, turning briefly to grab another chain off of your jewelry tree.

Holding up the chain, an intricate trident pendant swings slightly in the air.

You meet his gaze, noticing how San comes to stand directly in front of you and blocks the others from your sight.

Wordlessly, you mouth ‘My Aquaman’ to him once more, noticing how a pleasant shiver trails up his spine as you move to clasp the chain around his neck. You’re sure a pleased growl would have escaped him, too, were it not for the current situation he finds himself in.

As soon as the clasp in in place, a brilliant smile is shining on his features. Almost immediately, one of his hands comes up to begin toying with the charm affectionately, staring down at it in awe.

Slowly, San begins to back away from you, and you meet gazes with the next male.

“Moonlight,” you smile softly, motioning him forward with one of your fingers.

Mingi steps towards you eagerly, a grin tugging on his features as he watches you grab another piece of jewelry from the tree.

Again, you present your hand, palm facing upwards, to him, and almost instantly, his own is placed in yours. Your fingers settle over his pulse, flipping his wrist as you wrap a leather bound bracelet around it. Once Mingi turns his hand back over, he nearly lets out a gasp in shock.

There, sitting against the back of his wrist, is an intricately carved silver crescent moon, swirl like designs hidden within. The leather straps holding it in place are a dark brown, almost black, tied securely around his wrist curtesy of you.

“Starlight,” his voice is but a breathless whisper on his lips.

“The stars cannot shine without their moon.” You smile faintly, meeting his gaze as you squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back, eyes shining with unshed tears as he steps away from you.

The next male you call over to you is the youngest, of whom is more than happy to make his way over to you as soon as you motion for him to join you. 

On the necklace you hold up to him hangs an intricate charm of a book. Although small, the silver cover is carved with vines, a small clasp near the side.

“Open it.” You encourage, allowing the charm to dangle between the both of you.

Wordlessly, Jongho reaches forward, grasping that little silver book in his fingers. The moment he flicks the clasp open, his breath hitches in his throat. There, held within the book, rests a small diamond heart, hidden within the pages of the novel.

He meets your gaze, eyes shining with all the unspoken words he wants to say. Yet, he doesn’t have to, for you already understand.

Stepping forward, you’re quick to secure the chain around his neck.

A bashful smile tugs at his features as a blush begins to creep up his neck. Instantly, his fingers reach up to begin toying with the charm, thumb brushing over the little pendant as he slowly backs away from you.

The next male you turn to begins walking towards you as soon as you meet his gaze. A soft smile rests on both of your features as Yeosang comes to stand before you.

“I’ve had this one since I was small,” you say, turning briefly to pull another necklace from the tree.

Again, you meet his gaze, and you know you don’t even have to say anything else for him to understand how much this single piece of jewelry means to you. How much he means to you.

The treble cleft pendant is small, a diamond shining in the centre of the worked silver. You’ve had it since you started learning to play the piano, and you know that he knows just how significant this piece is to you. To the both of you.

Once the chain is clasped around his neck, you brush your fingers over the pendant lightly. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has a smile tugging at your features once more.

“Thank you, Dearest,” you can hear the emotions within his voice as he meets your gaze, eyes shining with that all too familiar love and fondness he always looks at you with.

A nod of your head is all he receives back, that same look of fondness shining within your eyes as you watch him step away from you for the time being.

Now, for the final male who stands directly in the centre of all of his brothers.

Locking gazes with him, a soft smile pulls at your features. That is, until your eyes are briefly darting around to the other five males standing around him.

“May we have a moment alone?” The words haven’t even finished leaving your lips when the other five are moving to exit your room.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Yeosang sends one final smile your way before closing the door behind him on his way out.

Turning your gaze back to Hongjoong, you notice how he stands, somewhat nervously, by your desk. His hands are clasped in front of his body as he shuffles slightly from foot to foot, the faintest hue of red dusting the tips of his ears.

“At first, I wasn’t sure what to gift you,” you begin, noticing how his eyes briefly dart up to meet your own. “After all, what could I gift the man who has given me everything?”

“Your happiness and love are gifts enough, My Love.” He replies, and you can just hear the sincerity in his tone bleeding through.

You shake your head lightly, that soft smile of yours still pulling onto your features. “It took me a little while, but I cannot picture it with anyone else.”

“My Love?” His breath hitches ever so slightly as he sees you beginning to make your way over to him.

“Close your eyes.”

The moment those words leave your lips, his eyelids are fluttering shut. You can see how anticipation claws at him, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he hears you approaching him.

The sound of a chain rustling reaches his ears, and he cannot help the shiver that caresses his spine as he feels the ghost of your touch grace the sides of his neck. A moment later, and he feels a small weight settle on the skin of his upper chest.

“I have had many ideals about love, Hongjoong, and you have always managed to go above and beyond every single one of them. You all have.” Keeping your voice low, you bring a hand up to gently caress the side of his face. At the way he immediately leans into your touch, you smile. “Open your eyes.”

The first thing that greets Hongjoong’s gaze is your face, looking at him so tenderly as that soft grin tugs at your lips. He can feel his heart racing inside his chest as he notices your eyes glance briefly down towards the necklace you’ve just secured around his neck. Not just any necklace. A chain with the One Ring dangling from it.

Hongjoong’s breath gets caught in his throat, eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration and love as he meets your gaze. “My Love.”

“I’m sure you overheard me talking about this earlier,” you reply, somewhat knowingly.

“I did,” his voice comes out a little strained, choked by his emotions for the time being.

“Then you know how much it means to me, in more than one way.” Your thumb tenderly brushes against his cheek.

“I do.” He breathes, tears finally gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, My Love. This means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Hongjoong,” you smile, meeting his gaze before leaning in and placing a tender kiss onto his forehead. Your next words are a mere whisper against his skin. “I believe you.”

A comfortable silence settles around the both of you as you continue to stare into one another’s eyes. The love you can see shining within his gaze sets your heart racing, a look you’re sure is mirrored in your own.

“Come on,” you grin, grabbing his one hand in your own. “Let’s go back downstairs before my mom starts to think we’re canoodling.”

The way his eyebrows raise in amusement has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Canoodling?” The grin that pulls onto his features is nothing short of devious as his eyes flash.

“Now, don’t be getting any ideas, Captain,” the way you teasingly drawl out that one title of his has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. You lean in slightly, voice low as your breath tickles the shell of his ear, “we still have dinner to get through.”

The faintest of growls escapes his lips, and you can feel the way the grip he has on your hand tightens ever so slightly. Only, before he can so much as respond, you’re pulling away from him. A bright smile paints your features as you let out a faint giggle.

“Come on,” this time, you begin to tug him towards your closed door. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Leading him back out of your room, you’re quick to rejoin everyone downstairs. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way all eight of them all seem to be standing a little straighter, eyes gleaming with a newfound shine as your look around at all of them.

In fact, a few of them seem to be crowded around your mother’s side as San stirs the sauce for her. It looks like he’s even started getting the noodles ready to be cooked as she turns the page of whatever book they seem to be so engrossed in.

That’s when you realize just what they appear to be looking at.

“Oh, and this was when she was four and we had her taking ballet,” your mother points at a picture in the album. “They were dancing Swan Lake that year, it was so cute!”

“I didn’t realize she had taken ballet,” Wooyoung hums, a grin tugging on his features as he spares a glance towards you.

“Mom,” a slight panic to your voice.

“And this was her first birthday with cake all over her hair,” Kaitlyn coos, a knowing smile pulling at her lips as she meets your gaze.

“Mom, please,” your eyes go wide, feeling as Hongjoong quite literally slips through your fingers to go join his brothers peering over your mother’s shoulders.

“I tried to stop her, Sweetie, but you know how your mother gets with your baby photos,” Nick chuckles, crossing his arms lightly over his chest as he leans back against the counter.

You sigh, “unfortunately.”

“Oh!” Your mother squeals as she turns the page once more. “And this is when she dressed as a little lion cub for halloween when she was three!”

“Mother.” You’re torn between being completely mortified, and laughing in disbelief. You shake your head in defeat. “They were bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I think your mother’s just happy to finally be sharing them with the people you care about,” your father hums, nudging you slightly with his elbow as you rest beside him.

“You’re damn right I am!” Kaitlyn grins. “What is a mother’s job if not to embarrass her daughters in front of their significant others?”

“Now I know how Crystal feels,” you chuckle.

“Speaking of your sister, her and Vasco should be here soon.” Nick comments. “They’re a bit excited for today since we can’t do dinner together next week.”

“What’s next week?” You inquire casually.

“Well, I’m taking your mother out for a special dinner,” he replies.

“Right,” you nod, almost subconsciously. “It’s your anniversary next week.”

The words fall so easily from your mouth that you don’t even register them until you feel the stillness settle itself over the room. That’s when the reality of your situation is hitting you.

You can feel eight subtle glances directed towards you for the moment as you freeze in your spot. For a second, you swear you forget to breathe as your eyes zone in on the floor at your feet. With everything going on, the actual date seemed to have slipped your mind.

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, feeling eight gentle caresses against your void in tandem. You brush back.

“Thirty-five years, right, pops?” You turn your head, noticing how your father smiles as he meets your gaze.

“That’s right.” He confirms with a happy nod.

“Alright,” you push yourself off of the counter, meeting your mother’s gaze once more. “Is it tuned?”

Kaitlyn’s brow furrows slightly in confusion before recognition flashes within her eyes. “Actually, it was just tuned Friday.”

You smile faintly, “good.”

You barely make it three steps out of the kitchen before your father is calling your name, a slight confused furrow to his brow.

“How would you like to relive a memory, papa?” You turn to smile at him from over your shoulder, motioning for them all to join you at the front of the house.

At the way you notice the eight of them hesitating, you’re quick to reach out to them with your mind. You all can join us, you know. This one’s for you as much as it will be for them.

The moment your words echo throughout their minds, they’re all quick to join you. Of course, San briefly turns off the stove, shutting the fan off of the cooktop for the moment so as not to interrupt the scene that is about to occur. A fact of which earns him an approving nod from your mother, causing a subtle blush to creep up his neck.

There’s a giddy spring to your father’s step as he moves over to prop open the baby grand piano as you pull out the bench to sit. You see your mother step in beside him, the others surrounding you on either side. Still, you cannot help but allow your fingers to hover above the keys for a moment, hesitating.

The last time you saw a piano, you had been harshly thrown into it, the strings snapping against your skin. Even now, as you look down at the ivory beneath your hands, you cannot keep the memories from coming to mind.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, and you turn your head to see Yeosang smiling softly down at you. There’s an undertone of concern hiding behind his eyes as his thumb tenderly rubs against the skin of your back, and you just know that he’s reminding you of what they’ve been telling you all throughout this past week.

They’re all right here. She cannot hurt you anymore.

Subtly, you nod your head, turning back to the piano in front of you. Again, eight gentle caresses are felt against your mind, soothing you even further as you flex your fingers out before placing them on top of the keys.

Turning your attention to your parents, you see them already gazing at you so fondly. Your father’s one arm is wrapped around your mother’s shoulder, just as her arm is wrapped around his waist.

“It’s been a while since I played this, so you’ll have to excuse any mistakes,” you smile lightly at them. “This one’s for you.”

The opening notes to Elton John’s Your Song begin to fill the house, transposed slightly in order to make the key more comfortable for your range when you begin to sing.

“Sweetie,” your mother’s awe filled voice reaches your ears as both your parents look on at you with awe.

The pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet as you begin to sing. Your voice echoes throughout the open space, comforting them all like a blanket with each note that you hit. A fact which makes their hearts all race in their chest as they register that this is for them, too.

Not even a second later, your father is extending his hand out to your mother in offering, a loving smile pulling at his lips. A hand of which your mother places her own in somewhat shyly. 

Pulling her in closer, your parents begin to slow dance to the melody that you create for them with this meaningful song. Each cannot help the way tears gather in the corners of their eyes, reliving very special memories all the while as they get lost in each other’s embrace.

The moment you hit the chorus, you drop your void.

“I hope you don’t mind,” every single tender emotion you’ve ever felt towards all eight of them washes over their very souls at this moment in time.

“I hope you don’t mind,” all the love, happiness, affection, and fondness you have for them floods their sense, and each male cannot help the way their breaths hitch silently in their throats.

“That I put down in words,” you smile, heart swelling in your chest as you think of your eight Kings surrounding you at this very moment. You brush against their minds. “How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”

You only play the first verse and chorus, but you can just tell from the way your parents turn to look at you afterwards that it was more than enough. Especially when you notice your mother quickly bring her hands up to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you, Sweetie,” Nick’s voice is rough, choking slightly on his emotions as he meets your gaze. “That truly meant a lot to us.”

“It’s not every day you get to dance to your wedding song again, just like the first time,” your mother chuckles, eyes shining as she leans into your father’s side.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile at them.

“I don’t think we’re the only ones who enjoyed it,” at the way your mother’s eyes briefly dart behind you, you’re quick to turn around.

Eight tender gazes stare back at you, eyes shining with the emotions they cannot put into words for the moment. Emotions of which wash over you, seeing as you have yet to close your void to them yet. A fact of which makes you smile as you are once more surrounded by that familiar warmth you have come to experience with them, comforted by their love and affection just as you always are.

Again, you tenderly brush against their minds, of which they immediately brush back.

Standing from the bench, you’re quick to step out. A faint smile rests on your features as you move to stand beside Jongho for the moment who currently leans against the railing of the stairs for support.

Just as you go to say something the sound of the front door opening draws your attention. You hear the scraping of nails against the hardwood floor before you feel yourself being tackled to the ground, wet, slobbery kisses being placed all over your face.

“Wes!” You giggle, attempting to catch your breath after getting the air knocked out of you. “Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Wes!” The booming command of your sister’s voice reaches your ears, and immediately, the dog is sliding off of you. “No jumping!”

“It’s okay, he’s just-“ the words die in your throat as you sit up to see your sister being helped through the door by Vasco.

The catch in your breath is noticed by all as your gaze settles in on Crystal’s stomach, swollen and round. The way you can see her smiling at you softly, your mother practically beaming out of the corner of your eyes, has you on your feet in an instant.

“Surprise,” she breathes, watching as you come to stand before her as Vasco gently shuts the front door behind them.

“You- I-“ you blink, fresh tears springing to your eyes as you take in her figure standing before you. You laugh, nothing but pure joy pulling at your features as the first of your tears begin to slide down the side of your cheeks. “You’re pregnant.”

She nods. “I am.”

“I’m going to be an aunt,” you voice, gaze darting between her stomach and her eyes.

“You are,” she confirms, her own voice now slightly rough as her emotions wash down upon her, too. “Again.”

You fall to your knees, hands hesitant in touching her stomach. That is, until you see her smiling down at you, a subtle nod to her head.

Gently, you place your hands on her stomach, fingers trembling all the while.

“I swear to you,” you begin, keeping your tone low as you meet her gaze all the while. “For as long as I shall live, no harm will ever come to this little one.”

You fail to see the way eight males straighten ever so subtly behind you, for they know that those words you have just spoken are true. They will do whatever they can in their power to make sure that you keep your promise, protecting that child as if it were their own. After all, it’s exactly what you would want. It’s exactly what you are going to do.

Your sister places a tender hand on top of your head, humming all the while. “I know.”

Softly, you lean forward to rest your forehead against her stomach, feeling the way your sister places her hands atop your shoulders. She gives you a reassuring squeeze, revelling in this tender moment with you as her sister, the meaning deeper than either of your parents will ever realize.

“Now, are you gonna sit there on the floor all day, or are you going to introduce me to your mystery lovers here?” The teasing drawl of Crystal’s voice manages to catch your attention.

“You caught me,” you sigh, a chuckle falling from your lips as you move to wipe your eyes.

“I knew it!” She jeers, practically pulling you back onto your feet in the next second. “Vasco, didn’t I keep telling you that she was probably hiding more than one mystery lover?”

At the way she turns eagerly to her husband standing beside her, you can just tell that you’ve been the topic of many conversations regarding this.

“You did, Honey,” Vasco chuckles.

“Let’s see,” Crystal hums. “Just how many of there are you.”

You quirk a brow in amusement, watching as she nods her head as she counts off each male.

Her eyes widen significantly. “Eight! There’s eight of you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you huff slightly, a teasing quirk to the corner of your lips.

“Blink twice if she’s paying you,” Crystal leans forward slightly, arms spread as if to hold you back at a moment’s notice.

“Crys!” You complain loudly, shooting her an exasperated look in the next moment.

“I’m just teasing you,” she chuckles, flinging an arm around your shoulders in the next second. “After all, what are big sisters for?”

“And here I was going to play you a song,” you hum, amusedly.

At the way her eyes nearly bug out of her head, she’s quick to begin apologizing. “You can still play me a song! I promise I won’t joke anymore!”

“You just missed her performing for us a few minutes ago,” your father adds, somewhat knowingly.

“Well, now you have to play for us!” Crystal states, matter-of-factly. “It’s not fair of you to deny little Elijah a chance to hear his aunt perform when she’s offering.”

“You’re having a boy?” Your eyes shine as you meet your sister’s gaze.

She nods, and immediately you wrap her in your arms. A hug of which she eagerly returns.

“He’s coming home.” She whispers lowly in your ear, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

A few moments later, you pull away, staring deeply into her eyes. Gently, you bring your hands down to grasp hers in your own, guiding her over to the piano. Carefully, you help her sit in the chair closest to the bench, giving her knee a light squeeze once she’s settled. 

Not even a second later, Vasco comes to stand beside her.

For the second time that day, you settle yourself onto the bench, fingers hovering over the ivory. Your heart swells, and you find yourself taking a deep breath in.

With the first chord you play, you immediately begin to sing. The soft tune of Marianas Trench’s Forget Me Not fills the air, and the longer you perform, the more you find yourself glancing at your sister out of the corner of your eyes.

“I’m here to remind you, what’s lost is never gone,” you meet her gaze, and you hear her breath hitch as you do so.

You blink, facing forward once more.

“I’m not ready for what’s to come,” again you brush against those eight strings within your mind, letting them know that this song is for you as much as it is for her.

“But I wanted you to know, I still need you, my friend,” you smile faintly, hearing her breath hitch once more as understanding flashes within her gaze. “From the line to amend, to the cradle again.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your parents holding onto one another as they watch this scene unfold before their very eyes. Tears line their vision, one already making its way down the side of your mother’s cheek.

“If memories are shadows, we’d best not waste the light.” Too many painful memories threaten to consume you, reminding you of all of your darkest times. Yet, beneath all that darkness, there is still hope. A golden hue that shines through with all the good memories you have, with all of them.

“I know you’re not quite here, but you’re not quite gone,” you will always hold onto your memories, even the bad ones. A sentiment that you know your sister shares as the first of her tears begin to trail down her face. “Sometimes the night gets darkest before the dawn.”

The only sound that can be heard throughout the house is you, the piano accompanying you accentuating your voice and the notes that you play. The song encompasses everything you wish to say to your sister and her unborn child, but also to yourself and your Eight Kings. You know the future is uncertain, and you know the road will be difficult, but you’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.

“Life’s too short but the end is so long.” The final notes trickle out, softly ringing through the air as you still your hands over the keys once more.

The sound of your sister sniffling draws your attention to her and you turn your head to see her practically clinging onto Vasco for dear life. Her lower lip wobbles, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes frantically before meeting your gaze.

Everything she wants to say to you, you can see in her eyes. The gratitude, the understanding, but most of all, the love you can see shining within her gaze as she looks at you comes through clearly. A fact of which that has you smiling softly, the subtlest of nods to your head in acknowledgment as warmth floods your chest.

Eight tender caresses brush against your mind, and you let them in.

A content hum escapes your lips as their emotions wash over you for the moment. Shamelessly, all eight of them share with you exactly how you have just made them feel, for watching you, hearing you perform for them like this, means more to them than you’ll ever know. The fact that you have trusted them with such an intimacy which also reflects moments shared with your family has warmth flooding their veins, hearts pounding erratically within their chests.

“What a first impression I must be making,” Crystal jokes, drying her eyes. “Here I am sobbing in front of your significant others, and I don’t even know their names yet.”

You chuckle, a soft, teasing quirk to your lips, “what are younger sister’s for?”

“They’re staying for dinner, so there’ll be plenty of time for proper introductions then,” Nick adds, soothingly rubbing a hand over your mother’s back seeing as she’s finally calmed down for the moment.

You stand, moving to rest between Yunho and Seonghwa. Even though you’re only standing beside the two males, you can feel them all surrounding you, offering you comfort yet again in their own ways.

You smile.

“So,” your mother clears her throat, clapping her hands once to catch everyone’s attention, “who’s hungry?”

[ploppythespaceship]

Star Trek: Prodigy - Season 2

I've finally caught up with the second season of Prodigy, and despite my annoyance with how it was given to Netflix, barely promoted, and dropped all at once... I'm happy to say it's another great season of Trek. It's not perfect, there were definitely plenty of things that annoyed me, but overall it's an even stronger outing than the first season that cements the show's place as my favorite of the modern Star Trek shows.

I cannot stress enough -- if you passed on this show because it's animated, because it's a kid series, because you don't like the modern Treks, anything like that, you owe it to yourself to at least give it a try. I desperately hope we'll get a third season.

Full spoilers under the cut.

What I Liked

I'm a sucker for convoluted time travel plots, so the main arc of this season was right up my alley. I was glad to see the more interesting story lines of the first season weren't abandoned, like Solum and the Vau N'Akat -- instead, they take center stage.

The timeline and all the paradoxes were honestly so complex I'm surprised they went for it on a kids' show, but I had a blast with it. Like all time travel plots, it does fall apart if you poke at it too much -- but that doesn't matter! It's fun, and it's there to facilitate the characters and the universe.

It's also just a relief to see a season that's actually long enough to properly tell the story it wants to tell. This is a full twenty episodes, meaning there's actually time for the major plot beats to breathe, time to develop the characters, time to explore their relationships. This seems so basic that I almost feel I shouldn't be pointing it out at all, but modern TV seasons keep shrinking. This is an example of how to do it right.

As a life-long Janeway/Chakotay shipper... my heart is happy. Even if they don't officially hook up, there's so much there.

Also, this show does better by Chakotay in a handful of episodes than Voyager did in seven years. He has an honest to goodness character arc. We actually learn what tribe he comes from. We get a glimpse of why he chose to join the Maquis. He gets to actually be cool.

In general, I like how to legacy characters are handled in this show. They're included purposefully, with meaningful arcs and relationships, but still very clearly playing second fiddle to the cast of new characters. That's exactly how it should stay.

Dal has a solid arc. Last season he learned how to step up and be the captain, and this season he learns when to step aside and let someone else take charge. And frankly I love that for him.

Overall, the characters are as charming as ever. Rok and Zero are easily my favorites, and the rest are a ton of fun. Admittedly, Maj'el took some time to grow on me, but she eventually did -- and her budding relationship with Zero is utterly adorable. I love how it's never really pointed out or harped on, it's just shown through their interactions.

What I Didn't Like

Unfortunately, the animation is still not great. I don't typically watch shows with this animation style, so maybe it's par for the course, but even after two seasons -- forty episodes! -- I find it odd and distracting. The main issue is that characters and voices don't match. The lip sync is often fairly off, and the vocal performances are often much more expressive than what's on screen.

Also, while the vast majority of the character designs are great, there are definitely more stinkers this time around. The Doctor looks atrocious. Wesley is a bit terrifying. And Zero's corporeal form is so bland and uninspired that I was relieved to see them return to a metal suit again.

You can definitely feel the hands of the writers contorting events to make sure that all the same characters are the protagonists again. They're not really naturally set up to be involved in these events, and I wish it felt a tad more natural. (If we do get a season three, it looks like they're better set up for a new story line, so I hope this won't be an issue going forward.)

For the most part, the blending of serialized and episodic works quite well. But two episodes in the first half of the season definitely don't work for that -- the racing episode, and Zero receiving their corporeal body. The overarching plot has been established with a fair amount of urgency, so stopping for these unrelated one-offs felt incredibly out of place. Thankfully, the second half of the season did much better with this, finding ways to weave the individual episode plots into the overall narrative in a less jarring way.

I do not like how Wesley is characterized in this show. I think having him come back is fun and his role in the story fits well, but writing him as a wisecracking jokester simply does not suit him. Wil Wheaton is also somehow a worse actor now than he was as a teenager, so his performance makes me cringe. He's easily the worst part of the season for me and the one thing I will dread on rewatches.

While the voice cast is largely excellent, I did find Jankom's voice to get grating after a while. Jason Mantzoukas always seems to go straight to 110%, when many scenes call for slightly softer deliveries. It genuinely sounds like he wasn't in the same room as everyone else, and it makes his lines really stand out. Jankom has always been the least interesting of the main cast, but this season made me actively start to dislike him, and it was purely due to the performance.

I was NOT expecting the end to tie directly into the Mars attack, and I'm curious to see where that can go next season. I think that era of the Federation's history is ripe for exploration, and I hope this show will get the chance to do that.

[wild-as-a-winter-storm]

Before series 2 comes out, I wanted to post how I would have structured HOTD series 1, most particularly in terms of when I would have had cast changes and time jumps and stuff. This is how I think things could have worked better without changing the overall story they went with in the show that much. (Though some small changes will be mentioned).

Episode one- 101 and (mostly) 105 AC

I would have a great council prologue bit, like the actual show. I would like to have quickly shown alicent looking after jaehaerys, like in FAB, I think it's an interesting detail that could have been added pretty easily. Possibly some other extra bits and pieces too.

And then for the main bulk of the episode, I would have similar events to ep 1 in the actual show- aemma pregnant, viserys wanting a son, aemma and the baby's deaths, heir for a day, etc, and of course rhaenyra being named heir. I would have a young actress of around 8 for rhaenyra, and for eighteen-year-old Alicent, Emily Carey.

Episode two- 105-106 AC

Again fairly similar to the show, I would have Viserys being pressured to find a new wife, considering Laena, setting up his relationship with alicent. I wouldn't have the whole thing with rhaenyra going to get the egg back from daemon, cos she's too young really, instead filling it out with viserys and alicent's wedding, establishing what alicent and rhaenyra's stepmother and stepdaughter relationship is like. Maybe a quick flash forward to aegon's birth. And again, an eight-year-old (ish) Rhaenyra and Emily Carey as Alicent.

Episode three- 111/112 AC approx

Fairly similar to the show in terms of the plot, but this would be a bigger time jump forward. Would maybe squeeze rhaenyra going to get the egg from daemon in at the beginning here, but it might not work- then the stepstones war, the hunt, and so on. Would have to be a later birthday for aegon than his second I expect. For the cast, I'd have a change here to Milly Alcock as rhaenyra and Olivia Cooke as Alicent.

Episode four- approx 113 AC

Again, fairly similar, rhaenyra and her shenanigans with daemon and criston, daemon being banished. Could include the dinner in the book where the blacks and greens are established in this ep, but could be ep 3 or 5 instead. That's definitely something I'd want in there somewhere. Again, Milly Alcock as rhaenyra and Olivia Cooke as alicent.

Episode five- 114 AC.

Laenor and Rhaenyra's wedding. Rhea dying and Laena/Daemon set up. More Rhaenyra and Harwin than in the show!! Maybe Jace's birth (as you'll see in the next ep I'm not having Joffrey's). Again, Milly Alcock as rhaenyra and Olivia Cooke as Alicent.

Episode six- 120 AC.

Even though this is a considerable time jump, I actually wouldn't do a cast change, just do make-up to make them look older. Milly could play both seventeen and twenty-three. Exploration of the whole Strong bastards thing, their rivalry with aegon, aemond and daeron, tensions between alicent and rhaenyra. Maybe some more setting up the fact that aegon and helaena are going to be married. Laena and Daemon in pentos and her death, as in the show, and lyonel and harwin's deaths. Possibly laenor's here as well rather than in seven, but it's flexible. Again, Milly Alcock as rhaenyra and Olivia Cooke as alicent.

Episode seven- 120 AC.

Similarly to the show, opening with a funeral on driftmark. Could be either laena's or laenor's tbh. Aemond claiming vhagar, losing an eye, the aftermath of that. rhaenyra and daemon getting married. Getting repetitive now but for the last time haha, Milly Alcock as rhaenyra and Olivia Cooke as alicent.

Episode eight- 129 AC.

Story/content wise I would keep this exactly the same because it was gorgeous, I think most people agree it was the best ep. So the whole dispute over Lord of the tides thing, viserys climbing the steps of the throne, the dinner, viserys dying, etc.

The main change would be that for me, this would have been a bigger time jump episode. Obvs nine years is a big gap, and I wouldn't just have had new actors for all the kiddos like in the show, I would now have Emma D'Arcy as a Rhaenyra now in her early thirties, and an older actor, in her forties, as Alicent. I know it's a shame to lose the great dynamic Emma and Olivia have, but yeah this version of mine is keeping it closer to the book, and focusing more on having actors of the right age.

Episode nine and ten- 129 AC.

Similar to the show, but Emma and the older actor for alicent again. Might seem sad that Emma only gets two episodes, and I love them don't get me wrong, but they would of course have plenty of time for more content in later seasons!

Now, it might seem like all of this is just about making it closer to the book, and that is certainly one of the big advantages that would come here, but I think it would have some other things which would make the show better as well, particularly in terms of consistency of the age gaps between characters. I think the case of Rhaenyra and her siblings is one which sticks out a lot from the show- she goes from looking about 15+ years older than them to... what 5, max? Which is weird. And a lot of people have pointed out that alicent looks almost the same age as her children in the later episodes, which is true and this structure would have helped with that. I know I focused on rhaenyra and alicent for when I would have cast changes, but I would have switches in that same spot for the younger characters too ofc. Those like viserys, daemon, rhaenys, are a bit more difficult, so haven't fully come up with an answer as to whether I would have any cast changes for them. Another thing with this new structure is that it would show just how young a mother rhaenyra was. She had three kids at twenty. Ofc in the show they wanted Alicent to be more the one with that young mother thing going on, which is a valid choice tbf.

What do people think? I know it's certainly not perfect, but yeah, could have been interesting!

[muses14]

Those Years In Quest of Honor Mine (Review)

Type: Chinese Novel (BL) Genre: Historical Author: Man Man He Qi Duo Rating: ★ (1.5) Summary: Yu Ziyou and Zhong Wan served different masters.

They had once been the closest of souls, and were the bitterest of enemies.After losing the fight for the throne, Zhong Wan brought his two young masters with him far toward the borders for the sake of survival. He relied on the little friendship that existed between him and Yu Ziyou when they were young. He borrowed some of his personal belongings while also dropping various hints around which made everyone think that there was something intimate going on between them.

Given the Yu Clan’s powerful authoritative presence in the imperial court, this appearance of a close tie allowed Zhong Wan to live a much better life than before. As such, the stories he cooked up began to carry more and more weight.

As rumors of their lovely romance spread a thousand miles into the horizon, Yu Ziyou, who was located in the distant capital city, eventually caught wind of his deeply moving and epic love affair. In a trance, Yu Ziyou, who had been completely brainwashed for seven years, believed in them. He guessed something special really did happen between them back in those years…

Characters: Zhong Wan He starts off in the novel at the age of 24. He’s described to be good looking and very intelligent. He is quite the flirt and teases Yu She on the regular. He has endured many hardships in life and was raised by an adoptive mother and father. He has a weak constitution due to something that had happened to him. Can’t go into detail without spoiling. He also has three step siblings whom he cares for. Yu She At the start of the novel he is 23. During his youth he was a very kind and strong willed individual and adhered to all rules. But as the years went by he started to change and had “bouts of madness”. I believe it is mental illness of some kind but it was never said which. Gradually he becomes less prone to wild behavior and mania thanks to Zhong Wan. Relationship: Uh, hmmm... Zhong Wan liked Yu She as soon as they met. They were 15 and 16 at the time. Zhong Wan loved to joke around and mess with Yu She, and Yu She would get angry. It was cute, honestly. Then they separated for years and reunite in their twenties and Zhong Wan still felt as strongly for Yu She as he did years ago, and it was quickly found out by the other. Eventually they both fess up to their feelings for one another. Their relationship wasn’t anything amazing to me. It was just there and had a few cute moments. Supporting Characters: Xuan Congxin. She’s the real queen here! I liked her a lot and was sad she didn’t get as much screen time as I’d have liked. The rest were meh. Overall: This novel was...boring. The plot is not strong and had “comedy” riddled in all parts. It felt intrusive when you came to serious topics and it ends with a joke or something witty the author wanted one of the characters to say by the end of the chapter. She said it took her sixteen years to write this, and it’s telling (at least to me) that it was written when she was young and got polished more and more as the years went by. The title drew me to this the most and was why I decided to read it. And I have seen people question others with something akin to “why read a novel you don’t enjoy much and then rate it really low?” Why not? Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and while they did not enjoy it as much as someone else, feedback, whether negative or positive still gives it attention. Nothing is perfect, after all.

[inthegardensofourminds]

Mood board inspired by Baby You Were My Picket Fence by @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​

“You’re pretty humble for a demon.”

[arlecchno]

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x f.reader ]

masterpost

tropes and aus - enemies to lovers, detective & modern au, very slow burn, forced proximity

summary - you hate scaramouche. you really do. he's infuriating, a douchebag and he always manages to finish off cases more than you. he hates you too. you're mean, annoying, and overall a bitch. what happens when you both suddenly get paired up in a mission that will lead up to the both of you being stuck together?

warnings: mentions of guns, blood, drugs and everything crime/police related, slight angst, alcohol consumption, death mentions, swearing (bc it's scaramouche ofc), mostly crack i think, spoilers for scaramouche's name, childe's name and signora's name, kinda ooc scaramouche

status: COMPLETED!!!!

a/n: my first ever fic!!! i'm pretty new to the blog and i've been thinking of making a fic revolving around the police/detective environment and i think it fits scaramouche pretty well. i'm very much in love with the enemies to lovers trope and the slow burn, and what is a scaramouche fic if it isn't enemies to lovers? exactly. i'm very excited to start this series and i hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as i love writing it!

extra note: grammatical errors may occur as english is not my first language! feel free to point them out so that i can learn from my mistakes~

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

one | prologue

two | mission start

three | him

four | step 1 - be friends

five | sunshine & city lights

six | the frat party

seven | cat and mouse

eight | someone new

nine | i'd die for you

ten | the incident

eleven | flashbacks

twelve | trial day

thirteen | guilty

fourteen | look of love

fifteen | stay

sixteen | love is in the air

seventeen | everything has changed

eighteen | be your date

nineteen | forelsket

twenty | stage one, denial

twenty-one | where it all went wrong

twenty-two | the story of us

twenty-three | thoughts and feelings

twenty-four | a rollercoaster ride

twenty-five | viktor and yun jin

twenty-six | mission... accomplished?

twenty-seven | purple hearts

twenty-eight | epilogue

afterword

specials !

another day, another case

the die hard way

© arlecchno do not repost or plagiarize any of my works.

[fratboykate]

Your tags about Yelena and Kate moving in and the 2 spoons just murdered me. Thanks for that Papi 😩 So when can we expect a cfau type of story for them? 😂

Forks! Where did spoons even come from? Haha. Not me having people begging me in the AO3 comments to finish CFAU and I'm here cranking out 1,500 ficlets no one asked for in an hour.

DISCLAIMER before we even do this: I don't read comics. I don't watch Marvel movies/shows. I don't know anything about these two characters beyond what I've seen in these five episodes of Hawkeye so I don't want to hear any "she wouldn't do or say that". I don't care lol. It's 3:20am, I'm up, I just wanted to expand on this one headcanon I talked about earlier. That's it. Don't even with me because I know y'all too well.

//

Let's quickly set the scene for where they are as humans/in their relationship in my head at this point. Fast forward six months after that dinner scene in 1x05. Kate is using Bishop Securities to help Yelena track other Widows and deprogram them. It's a Whole Thing now. Yelena is training Kate to be a more skilled fighter/overall well rounded "superhero adjacent" thing (or whatever it is you want to call what Hawkeye does). They're being good gays and about to Uhaul. Kate surprised Yelena with the key to an apartment that has a view of Rockefeller "...so that come Christmas time you can see the tree every day." It got her laid. More than once. So many times. Okay, that's the basic fork headcanon backstory.

Now, they're supposed to be moving into the apartment but before they can go in Yelena stops them at the door and she pulls out a blindfold.

"Last time that came out I had bruised ribs for three weeks."

"I am not teaching you how to actually LISTEN during a fight this time, am I?"

"I don't know....There was also that one time you told me we were going to get our take out and ten minutes later drove the car into the Hudson."

"Escaping a sinking vehicle is a necessary survival skill. My father says you learn faster and better when you are not expecting the lesson. You made it out in four minutes and twenty two seconds. It was not a bad time. For a first timer."

"What's in there? Is there a seven foot man that I'll need to fight with my hands tied behind my back?"

"No."

"Ninja stars that'll come flying full speed at me?"

"No."

"Uh...a pissed off alien trying to retrieve a priceless artifact that I'll need to defend?"

Yelena hangs her head back laughing then gets on her toes to kiss her much too tall girlfriend.

"No angry aliens. Trust me, yes?"

"Always." Kate smiles and steals another kiss.

"Close your eyes then. No blindfold."

"Yeah, let's hold on the blindfold. Still too soon on that one."

"Are they closed?"

"Tight."

Kate can hear Yelena open the door. Yelena holds her hand then guides Kate inside. By her vague memory of the layout, Kate can tell they're heading to the kitchen.

"Okay. Move this way. More this way. A little this way. One step that way." Yelena keeps adjusting Kate trying to place her in just the perfect spot. "Open them."

Kate opens her eyes and on the empty counter there's...two forks.

"Two forks. Because we two people now. Not just one person anymore."

Kate takes a moment to internalize the forks and the immense meaning they hold. She stares at them for a long beat then turns to Yelena, eyes brimming with tears.

"You hate them." Yelena's face falls."I knew I should've asked Laura for recommendations instead of Clin-" Yelena is cut off by Kate's lips on hers.

"I don't hate them. Not even a little."

"Okay? Me and Clint did good job then?"

"The fact that it took two of the world's most dangerous killing machines to pick forks is...impressive but yes, you did an amazing job."

--

Hours later, when they're sweaty and tired after unloading the moving truck, they make Mac & Cheese with Sriracha like that first night.

They have no chairs yet because they didn't bother packing anything except for the one pot they needed. It's all the energy they can muster. As soon as it's done cooking, Kate ungracefully slides her body down the cabinets directly next to the stove. That's as far as she can move. Pizza Dog promptly finds his place next to her and stares with his one good eye, begging for a serving. Kate relents.

Yelena might always be in control in most other aspects of their relationship but she's also the Smol to Kate's Tol so she's resigned herself to often being what she learned Americans call "Little Spoon". When Kate rests her back against the cabinets, Yelena shamelessly sits between her girlfriend's legs and presses her back to Kate's chest. You'd think after six months of this, Kate would be used to feeling Yelena's skin against hers but it still makes her stumble and whatever thing she was rambling about at seventy five miles an hour gets derailed for half a second.

"Do I make you nervous, Kate Bishop?" Yelena tilts her head to look up at Kate with a playful grin while she shoves a forkful of macaroni into her mouth.

"Pffft...me? Nervous? By you?...." The fake cocky façade breaks. "Yeah. A lot. All the time, actually. Like, constantly. Angry swarm of wired butterflies right up in here." Kate points to her stomach. They look at a each other for a long moment then burst out laughing. Yelena pulls Kate's chin down and they kiss.

"You really like the forks, yes?"

"They're good forks. Top notch." Kate tells her with a smile.

"Wait till you see spoons. Well, they are same as forks, but spoons. They are in box somewhere. There is knives too. Clint and I got the whole set."

"Wow. You guys did all that by yourselves?"

"I am sensing some sarcasm there." Kate shrugs and smiles. "You are lucky you are sexy or I kill you."

"Yeah yeah, I've heard that one before."

"It is truth. I could. You would not even know what happened. But I would never."

"'Never' is a big word. What if I eat the last fry one day? Or accidentally break one of your guns?"

"Then I just divorce you. But never kill you."

"Oh, so you're planning on marrying me? Is that what I'm hearing? Because, see, in order to divorce someone you sorta have to marry them first."

"Clint might have helped me buy other things."

Yelena shrugs. Kate's eyes go wide.

"What does that mean?!"

Yelena shrugs again.

"It means that Clint is...what you say..."Grumpy"...but Avengers get good deals on expensive things. He is great to take places."

"Baby, you can't just say that and then not..."

Yelena kisses her and jumps to her feet.

"Soooo many boxes left. Look at all the boxes." Yelena goes to work on the overflowing one on the counter. Kate also stands. She flips Yelena over and pins her again the counter.

"You can't say things like that and then do the Spy Deflecting Thing. That's just being a tease."

"I do not think you have ever complained about that before." Yelena tells her as she easily slips out from where Kate held her down and heads for the living room.

Kate follows, reaches for her arm, pulls her towards the wall, and pushes her against it face first. Yelena's cheek is now making contact with the cold paint. It's rough but not forceful, just enough. Kate knows she's pushing all the right buttons.

"Kate Bishop do not start things you cannot finish."

In one swift motion Yelena has not only reversed their positions - Kate now being the one tacked against the wall - but she has also managed to hold one of Kate's hands above her head while her other hand teases right over the edge of the tattered training shorts Kate had thrown on earlier.

"Oh, I can finish."

Kate stares at Yelena defiant. Yelena's hand slides under the elastic waistband.

--

They give the apartment a proper christening that night.

Despite Yelena's desire for an intricate proposal, Kate Bishop can be quite convincing (read: annoying) and Yelena was talked into showing the ring she had purchased that week soon after they woke the next morning.

[knjoodles]

sallang; taehyung | 01

pairing: singlefather!taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

recommended song: come on get higher by matt nathanson

word count: 2K

warnings/author’s note: this first chapter is slightly suggestive. nothing that i’d consider smut-worthy, but a warning never hurts! i’m also starting this as a mini-series, with short chapters and an overall short story. glad to be back!

summary: handsome, intelligent, fashionably late: taehyung seems to be a total package, and you’re all for it. that is, until his rain-checks and delayed appearances become so frequent that you feel left in the dark. what could he possibly be hiding?

sallang - a word describing the manner of the wind blowing lightly.

lowercase intended

this is a major waste of my time is what you thought as you rhythmically tapped your fingers against the clothed wooden table of a local restaurant, your knee bouncing impatiently against the floor, your free hand holding your head, glancing around in pure boredom. with how much time you’d spent staring at the wall beside you, you’d probably noted every color its paint compiled. it was your first date with a man from tinder who you realized was way out of your league — and you began to fear that he realized it way before you did.

snaking your phone from your back pocket, leg still bouncing, a deep sigh escaping your lips, you opened his profile once again. “kim taehyung, twenty-five, huh?” you filed through his tab once again, mumbling as you read. “likes reading, going to the beach… do you like being late, too?” you hissed, “because, from the looks of it, its like you get off on—”

“excuse me?”  

your thoughts of innermost annoyance suddenly subsided at the sound of a deep, masculine voice from above you. your head darted upwards to find none other than kim taehyung standing in black slacks with a complementary white shirt to match, his chest rising and falling, almost like he’d run to your date. “are you (y/n)? i’m taehyung… from tinder?” his eyebrow pricked up as he finished his sentence, an embarrassed smile cracking across his face. you stared at him for a moment, taking in the man standing before you. (y/n)? upset at kim taehyung? never. seeing him in person, you’d almost completely forgotten you were irritated.  

“yeah, that’s me. have a seat,” you smiled awkwardly, chuckling softly. you watched as taehyung hooked his casual blazer, previously wrung lazily around his arm, onto his chair. he sat down quietly, moving his seat closer to the table, adjusting his glasses and jet black hair. a moment of silence fell between the two of you, taehyung picking up his menu to appear preoccupied in the dinner menu. you smiled to yourself, catching glimpses of his eyes blinking rapidly as he excitedly scanned the text, a habit that’d already made itself known. you began to notice how he’d glance up at you every so often, chewing his lip, flustered, almost as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words to do it.

“i’m sorry for being so late,” he admit, sighing. “i had something to take care of earlier, and it took a lot longer than i’d hoped,” he set his menu down, toying with its edge with his finger. “i...” he paused, “i apologize. i know it must’ve been inconvenient for you.” you took this moment to eye taehyung's hands, slender and dainty, his fingers long and adequate.  

you laughed at his slightly frantic tone. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. you’re here now, right? let’s focus on that. you wanna tell me a little more about yourself, ot should i go first?” you assured, smiling comfortingly. “your bio only tells me so much.”

“uh, okay!” he nodded, resting his hands on the table. “well, i’m taehyung, i recently received my bachelor’s and i’m aiming for a phd in english, i don’t care for coffee all that much, i love pretty much all animals you can find, and… i’m 5’11".” he introduced himself with detail as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, pulling them up to only reach past his elbows. “how about you?”

“oh, my turn?” you questioned, earning a giggle from the man facing you. “i guess it’s only fair. i’m (y/n), i’m pursuing law as of now, we can lay low on coffee if you’d like — i don’t really mind. i like going on simple dates, i love music recommendations, i love musicians, and i’m significantly shorter without these heels on.” you finished, content that either taehyung had a really bad sense of humor or that your finishing line made a better impression than you’d thought it ever could. 

“does this fulfill your requirement of a simple date?” taehyung inquired playfully, lightly patting the table.

“it does,” you replied, tone flirtatious. you noticed taehyung eyebrow raise and jaw tighten at your response as he cracked a smirk, entertained at the shift in energy. that look jumbled your insides, but there was no time for that. you expelled those thoughts from your mind as you cleared your throat, silently scolding yourself. your moment was interrupted by a waitress, the same one who’d pitifully watched you poke at the complimentary sourdough bread slices with an empty seat in front of you. offering to kindly take your menus and your orders, the two of you obliged. as she scurried away from your table, a notepad with messy handwriting scribbled across it dangling from her waist apron, you turned back to taehyung, whose eyes were glued to you, one of his hands caught in his hair as he ran a hand through it. “hey,” he muttered, his voice deep, his eyebrow habitually twitching upwards once more. was he trying to make you unravel in the middle of your date?

“oh my god,” you laughed, trying to shake off how flustered you were. “you can’t just do that and expect me to be okay!” you joked.

“do what?” he chuckled in return. “the deep voice? i can’t control that; it just happens sometimes,” he smiled at his lap, looking back up at you soon after. “you said you were interested in musicians?”

“i mean, it’s not a necessity, but yeah, i find musicians especially interesting.” you explained, reaching for your glass of cold water, ice half melted.  

“i don’t want to brag, but when i was in high school, i was in a band.” he grinned as your jaw dropped. your mind raced with thoughts of how flawless he was, from how well he dressed to how every secret of his made him ten times more attractive. “it was just seven of us, seven of my friends. some would rap, some would sing. i was a singer, and i was really invested in the group. after we all graduated, the group kind of fell out, but we’re all still friends. cool, huh? i would play a little bit of everything, from piano to guitar. more piano, though.” he added, tilting his glass of water towards you, his attractive grin infectious.  

“that’s crazy,” you gasped, leaning forward in your chair. “ever thought of getting the band back together? you’ve got the looks!”

“the looks?” he repeated, laughing excitedly. “you’re giving me too much credit here, (y/n),”

“i don’t think you’re giving yourself enough,” you replied, raising your eyebrows, challenging his humble temperament.  

the two of you dined contentedly, taehyung's charismatic personality and contagious smile catching you every time. the conversation, surprisingly, were never boring, they flowed into one another the way good friends converse after not seeing each other for a long time. his mannerisms and aura struck you as welcoming and comforting, as if he was a bright, warm light you wanted to step into. he was safety embodied, he was a simple, gentle man, with kindness and love pouring out of his soul. to your multiple objections, taehyung covered the bill, still feeling guilty over arriving late. a part of you inexplicably pitied him; you felt as though you should’ve at least pitched in half. it may have just been your morals being challenged, but you almost felt obligated to pay him back.  

dusting off his trousers, taehyung arose from his chair, your date coming to a close. a wave of childish frustration fell over you: you didn’t want it to end, not yet! to your surprise, he glided to your side of the table, chivalrously offering his hand to help you up. you smiled and took his hand graciously, his endless good-natured acts perplexing you. who was this guy? other than being late, was there really a flaw?

as you arose from your seat, you decided the answer to the latter question was no. this was absolutely the best date you’d ever been on: he wasn’t obnoxious, he wasn’t boisterous, he didn’t ask you for anything afterwards… you’d been with your fair share of unforgettably horrible men. taehyung was different, though: it wasn’t that he was just more decent than the men you’d previously gone out with, it was his aura, his persona, it was something above physicality that made you fall for him more than you thought you should.  

“thank you for the lunch,” you smiled graciously as he accompanied you out of the restaurant, opening the door for you as well. “this was really enjoyable! i hope we can do this again soon.”

“me too! thank you for being so nice to me despite me being late.” he returned your kind grin before grasping for his buzzing phone in his pocket, pulling it out to check an apparent text. “i, uh…” he swallowed, now visibly anxious. “would you like me to walk you to your car?” his tone completely different from his physical state.  

“i’m just over there!” you motioned to your car, stammering, confused by his sudden shift in energy. “if you have something important to get to, you go ahead!” he relaxed slightly, thanking you kindly and pulling you into a warm embrace. it felt shocking, but not in a bad way — his very intimidatingly handsome appearance contrasted with how gentle he had been with you. should you have liked him this much on the first date alone?

“i’ll see you soon! i can text you my number on tinder later. thank you again!” he jogged backwards, still making eye contact before he finished his statement, where he then turned completely and began dashing towards his car. you found him charming and funny and it made you smile.  

spinning on your heel to walk towards your car, you spun the chain of your car keys on your finger, the thought of taehyung still with you. he’d been perfect: good-hearted, humble, witty… you could go on. you sat quietly in the front seat of your car, thumbing the leather of your steering wheel. part of this felt very suspicious — how could someone be this perfect? how could someone be this enjoyable, this wonderful, this considerate? you didn’t want to feel this way about him as he felt wholly genuine, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of possibly being lied to. was he messing with you? he absolutely could be. what would you know?

you'd thought yourself into a corner. suddenly, you felt very bad, sitting alone in your car in a silent parking lot. you closed your eyes tightly and sighed loudly, trying to expel as much upset as you could from your body. you’d just had an amazing date! you shouldn’t be feeling this bad afterwards. taking a moment to collect yourself once more, you started your car, dusting yourself off before driving yourself home, the scent of taehyung’s faint cologne lingering in your mind.

i missed u guys :}. enjoy this piece from me!

[welllpthisishappening]

It all kind of happens in slow motion.

One second, Emma hears the crack of the bat and the requisite roar of the crowd, and the next her eyes have widened to a size most scientists would likely advise against. Because, standing at home plate, that same home plate multiple baseball players are sprinting toward, is her kid. More or less waiting to be run over. That is, of course, until Killian Jones.

———

Word Count: 4.1K Rating: Flufffy fluff fluff of the fluffiest variety AN: Writing has been something of a legitimate challenge for me in the last few weeks, but earlier this week @ohmightydevviepuu sent a link to this tweet, tagged me, and said what I basically took as an unspoken prompt. Like, you’re going to send me video of a bat boy getting scooped up at home by a player in the middle of the game and then think I won’t write about it? Not possible. Even with the aforementioned writing challenges. Nothing stands a chance against my love of baseball. Here’s hoping the Yankees turn it around in the second half. Neither Aaron Judge or I deserve the season we’ve had so far.

———

Biologically speaking, Emma Swan is perfectly aware that the current positioning of her heart is more or less impossible. 

Stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach, it makes her all too aware of the now-empty chasm in her chest, stretching out toward her arms and threatening the structural integrity of her lungs, neither of which appear all that intent on working properly. Oxygen is a luxury not currently afforded to her capillaries. Instead, nerves mix with anxiety and the telltale flush of adrenaline that probably also makes her look relatively crazy because her pupils are definitely dilated and she does not know nearly enough about science to be making any of these claims. 

Whatever, really. 

It feels like that ooze from that movie. FernGully, Emma thinks. With the fairies. She thinks they were fairies. She’s not entirely certain they were fairies. 

And the ooze was definitely oil, obviously. There was a message involved in that movie. Not one that she appreciated when she was seven and Tim Curry’s animated-oil voice sort of freaked her out. But, like, she gets it now. The environment, and everything. With or without fairies. With Robin Williams, though. 

She’s positive about that, at least. 

Robin Williams was definitely in that movie. 

Less positive about the ability of her heart to actually split itself in half, as it seems wont to do at the moment. So, as to make it easier when it inevitably soars out of her mouth and falls onto the scuffed-up clubhouse floor beneath her feet. Naturally, this will happen simultaneously. For maximum effect. 

Much like the fireworks currently exploding over the left-field bleachers. 

She’s not sure if fireworks do explode, actually. That seems dangerous. Likely to lead to injuries and sounds that don’t resemble the  oohs and ahhs a ballpark generally inspires. Explode probably isn’t the right word. Maybe something more like…detonate. 

No, that’s worse. Way worse. She’s got to learn more words. Find a thesaurus or a dictionary or—a fireworks expert would be ideal, honestly.

Someone who could give her a detailed description of the inner-workings of a Yankee Stadium pyrotechnics display on a Tuesday in July, enough words that Emma’s mind would still for a few moments, allowing her to catch her breath and reestablish a consistent heart rate, and both of those problems could also likely be solved by sitting down, but the chair to her left looks a little wobbly, and her legs appear to have minds of their own because science is rather quickly becoming a lie and—

“Is he alright?” She spins. Nearly falls over. Her knees are also awfully wobbly, that’s why. 

Despite all of that, and the overall circumference of her pupils, the voice doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t even flinch. Shows absolutely no signs of imminent stumbling. And that’s probably because the voice is a man, one who is in possession of world-class instinctual reactions, and his hair is still damp from his post-game shower and it absolutely makes her something of an atrocious mother to acknowledge that last thing as quickly as she does. 

His shirt sleeves are noticeably sticking to his biceps, so that helps too. 

Opening her mouth, Emma is going to say words that are both vaguely intelligent and passably accurate, absolving this Major League Baseball player of any of the guilt he so obviously feels. Which is just patently stupid, really. None of this was his fault. None of it was anyone’s fault, really. 

Except maybe the idiot who left his bat at that particular angle across home plate, but Emma’s an adrenaline expert these days and walk-offs are understandably exciting. First walk-offs more so. 

She’s happy for Scarlet, really. 

They won the game. 

Everything is fine. Great, even. She nearly jumps twenty-six feet in the air at the next boom of fireworks. 

The pinch between the Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows gets—

Pinchier. 

The little roll of skin draws Emma’s attention, effectively robbing her of the ability to respond like an almost-sane person, but she’s also still trying to rationalize why she can remember the words to several FernGully songs while also being unable to recall what flavor PopTart she had for breakfast earlier this week and she figures watching her kid nearly get run over by professional athletes approximately forty-two minutes before gives her a fairly reasonable excuse. 

For opening and closing her mouth no less than eight consecutive times. 

Like a goddamn fish. There were no fish in FernGully. Least not so far as she remembers. 

It’s entirely possible she squeaks on attempt number five. 

The Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows do not move. It’s equal parts frustrating and incredible to behold. 

“I should probably thank you, right?” Emma asks, not quite regretting the words immediately, but it’s awfully close. That gets her some movement. Of the eyebrow variety. One eyebrow, specifically. Arching up, it somehow still manages to pull her attention directly toward eyes that should be the star of their own marketing campaign. Not quite Yankee blue, but distractingly blue, and it takes everything in her not to huff as dramatically as she wants to. Once the athletic trainer is done with Henry, Emma is going to make him examine her lungs. Rationality rules the day. 

Major League Baseball player shakes his head. It’s dumb to call him that. She knows his name. Knows at least some of his history. Is still staring obnoxiously at his freakishly attractive face. 

Freakishly is kind of mean, too. As far as descriptions go. 

“Unnecessary,” he says, an undercurrent of worry still clear in the letters. Ducking his head, he takes a cautious step forward, almost as if he’s wary of what Emma will do, and she supposes that’s fair. What with the impressive vertical she’s in possession of these days. “Anyone would do that.” “I’m not sure they could, actually.”

At some point in this otherwise shitty experience of a night, Emma is vaguely confident something will go the way she wants it to. Aside from winning. She’s glad they won. Seriously. 

“No?” “No,” she echoes, and it’s not like she can feel him. A few feet of space separates them, so whatever heat appears to be wafting off the Major League Baseball player in front of her, with his damp hair, and stupid, stupid, stupid eyes is as impossible as any of the various impossibilities currently taking place within her person. 

And yet. 

He sticks his hand out. 

It’s disarmingly earnest. 

“Killian Jones,” he says, confidence replacing the nerves, and Emma begins to see why there are so many stories. And Twitter threads. Regarding his face and the potential for that face to date a variety of other attractive faces across at least four of the five boroughs. Somehow Emma doesn’t think Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, is schlepping out to Staten Island for a date. 

Nor does she believe that Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has ever once let the word schlep pass through his conscious mind. 

She takes his hand. 

It is—

Surprisingly warm. And...not quite soft, that’d be impossible with the job he performs almost nightly. But the calluses on the pads of his fingers aren’t as rough as Emma expects, which also suggests she’s managed to ponder the overall texture of Killian Jones’s fingers in the last twelve point six seconds, and that’s not entirely true. What is true is that Ruby thinks Killian Jones is real good-looking and has determined that the phrase quite a catch is the pinnacle of humor, so, sure, Emma has possibly considered the possibility of paths crossing and intersecting, and her hand looks minuscule wrapped up in his. So, that’s something to think about later. 

Their arms move. Bob up and down as society dictates they should, and he’s smiling at her, and she’s trying not to look like a serial killer, straining to hear the voices behind the door, and it does not work. 

“Why do you think people are so consistently fascinated by fireworks?” If he’s surprised by her absolutely inane question, he doesn’t show it. That’s points. For what, Emma hasn’t totally decided yet, but it’s something, and it’s probably good, and they’re going to play that clip on loop for weeks. Longer, probably. 

Every goddamn day if the Yankees make the postseason. 

When the Yankees make the postseason. 

Her dad wouldn’t appreciate the buffer. Leaves room for loss, and that is not the Nolan way. Not when there are championships to win, and this was supposed to be the best possible time. Smack dab in the middle of the season, with the All-Star break looming, Henry would get to suit up as batboy for one game that didn’t mean much and wouldn’t draw too strong of a spotlight, no murmurs about nepotism by internet trolls who couldn’t possibly define the word with any sort of accuracy, but also like to shout about canceling and culture with an almost alarming sense of self-righteousness, so, of course, the whole thing was now blowing up in their face. 

Much like the goddamn fireworks. 

It wasn’t Will Scarlet’s fault. 

Wasn’t Henry’s fault, either. 

His job was to get the bats out of the field of play. Doing it while the field of play was still active was a mistake any kid could have made. Just so happens that it’s Emma’s kid, and the grandkid of the Yankees’ hitting coach, and that means something to the New York media and the New York fans, and if Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman with an arm that can make cross-field throws with ease, wasn’t also so quick-thinking and sure-footed, scooping Henry up as he crossed home plate and avoiding the ensuing swarm of players at home plate, all intent on celebrating Will Scarlet’s first-ever career walk-off, Emma can only imagine what would have happened. 

Trampled. Stepped on. Broken bones. Concussions. 

They’re checking Henry for a concussion now. He absolutely does not have a concussion. He was laughing while he was carried off the field. Like he hit the walk-off. 

Front office is absolutely petrified she’s going to sue them. 

The thought hadn’t even once crossed Emma’s mind. Plus, she’s sort of busy. Holding Killian Jones’s hand. His stupid, warm hand. 

“Bright colors,” he says, responding to a question Emma’s nearly forgotten about. Jumping is more challenging when his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “Flash, boom. Taps into baser instincts, I think.” “You think people’s base instinct is to enjoy explosions.” “Phrasing that as a statement makes me think you don’t agree with me.” “You didn’t want me to thank you,” Emma points out.

“Well, no,” he says, and the precise way his eyes drop does something specific to all of her instincts. Leaves her flush with a heat that reminds her of Fourth of July sparklers rather than any sort of massive explosion, and that’s not bad, per se, although it’s admittedly a little surprising. As is the slight uptick of precisely one side of his mouth. It takes her a moment to realize he’s smirking at her. And another for her subconscious to admit that it’s working as intended. Her shoulders drop half an inch. While Emma pulls her hand back to her side. “Thanking me suggests I did anything to warrant the thanks.” “Big words.” “For a dumb athlete, you mean.” “That wasn’t a question, either.” “No,” Killian repeats, “it wasn’t.” “I’d really like to thank you. I—Dad told him when to come out of the dugout, so he definitely knew the rules, but I think he was super worried about you tripping over the bat.”

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. Which is no less than forty-seven thousand times more powerful. Equivalent to staring directly into a solar eclipse or gazing upon the dark side of the moon, and Emma should at least do some research before coming up with these internal examples. Basic Google searches would provide her with the necessary information. 

“That’s more or less what he told me, yeah.” Emma’s nose creases. “Talked your ear off after your daring rescue, huh?” “Keep complimenting me like this, and my ego won’t know what to do with it.”

She hopes she’s not blushing as much as it feels like she is. The state of Killian’s eyebrows and the precise curl of his lips make that seem unlikely. “Your reflexes are unparalleled.” “Something about big bucks and why I get paid them.” “Oh,” Emma laughs, unable to stop herself, and she doesn’t remember deciding to stop pacing, only that her knees appreciate it once she has, “you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” “I think I’m moderately funny, not the hero you’re suggesting I am—” “Oh, I never used the word hero.” “—And you never actually told me your name.”

“Because you don’t know who I am.” It’s not a question, either. Neither one of them mention that. 

“I do,” Killian concedes, “Henry was also fairly quick to mention exactly who he was and where his mother was sitting.” Emma’s nose is going to freeze in this position. “But I gave you my name, which makes it only fair that we’re all square and whatnot.” “Whatnot, huh?” “Yup.” He pops his lips on the letter. Which is also unfair. In, like, the grand scheme of the world. The black ooze that is not actually oil when used in this particular metaphor recedes. Leaves Emma with a chest cavity that is partially full of butterfly wings and the growing sense of anticipation that isn’t quite as nerve-wracking as it should be. Like she’s about to step into the batter’s box with two outs and runners in scoring position. She’s totally going to hit against the shift. Fluttering her fingers at her side, Emma doesn’t lift her hand. It doesn’t matter. 

Killian’s eyes drop. To the movement. And her. And part of her shies away from that because part of her has spent a lifetime tucked into a shadow that didn’t belong to her and doesn’t belong to Henry, but now there’s some joke about Peter Pan to be made because they live in an internet-age and Killian Jones has a very good face. So. Viral video, enter stage right. Starring Henry Swan, Killian Jones, and the inevitably uneven pitter-patter of Emma’s traitorous heart. 

“Emma Swan.” “I think you should sit down.”

“Why is that, exactly?” “I’m worried about your legs.”

Whatever noise she makes can’t quite be classified as a scoff. It hurts her throat too much. And it’s not a laugh, either. Even as the butterflies threaten to rise up in mutiny of Emma’s more rational feelings, and she gets the distinct impression that Killian is reading her mind. Trying very hard, at least. 

“Sounds like a line.” “Might be a line,” he admits, which draws another wholly inhuman sound out of Emma’s barely-functioning lungs. 

“Did he kick you on the lift?” Killian hums. “You’d kick too if you were just hauled off your feet, so I understand the reaction. What I’m more worried about is the inevitable bruise on my foot from the bat landing there.” “Ah shit, really?” “I’ve had worse.” “But not in 4K video that people will play on loop for the rest of the news cycle. If not longer.” Narrowing his eyes, Killian doesn’t immediately respond. Mind reading requires a modicum of focus, Emma assumes. Instead, he rests a hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the chair and ignoring the soft crack her left knee as it bends. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “Stop sounding so confident.” “I can only sound how I am, Swan.” “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve reached nickname status yet,” she mumbles, pushing down the soft rush of metaphorical insects doing their beset to soar out of her barely-parted lips. “But, yeah, I—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally terrified in the moment.”

“Understandable. Grown men barrelling down the third-base line at your kid are a lot to take in.” She snorts. It’s not cute. Not dignified. Killian smirks. “Should you be concerned that the Scarlet was making such solid headway behind you? Are you exceedingly slow?” “I am league average.” “How fast can you get out of the box to first?” “I’ve never timed it.” “Liar, liar.” “Please don’t make a crack about my pants,” Killian says, “I won’t be able to cope.”

“Oh God, you think you’re charming, too.” “I’ve had no complaints.” “To your face, at least.”

Throwing his head back, the laugh that erupts out of him is not of volcano proportions. Of which there was also one in FernGully if Emma’s memory is to be trusted.  An arm circles his middle, stretching muscle and ensuring that Emma notices just how corded that same muscle is, the slight bend of his wrist leaving her off-kilter. When he meets her gaze, she swears his eyes are brighter. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Killian concedes, “no one has flat out told me I was lacking charm to my face.” “This thanking you thing is going great.” “And I continue to not need thanks. Why are you worried about the video getting out there? Filmed in 4K like you suggest, at least we’ll all look great. Sharp pixels and whatnot.” “What do you know about pixels?” “You basically heard the extent just now.”

She’s getting better at laughing. The ooze has almost all but disappeared, Emma twirling a strand of hair around fingers that are intent on moving, and it’s an old habit. One Killian’s gaze catches on. Immediately. Quickly. Seriously, Emma needs a thesaurus. “Baseball’s always been my dad,” she says. “And that’s—well, we’ve lived this game, me and my mom, weekend series and West Coast swings, waiting up for him to get home because the flight got delayed, but Henry’s just a kid, getting thrown into this world because of his last name and who his family is? That sucks. Nothing was supposed to happen tonight.” “Nothing did happen.” “Because of you.” “I’d like to believe Scarlet, ridiculously fast as he might be, would not run over a small child,” Killian says. “And, uh, for the record and all that, I got a bad jump off first because I didn’t know if they were going to catch it in left. No one wants to get caught on the base paths.” “Yeah, that’d be embarrassing.”

He must hear the hitch in her voice because the next thing Emma realizes, her fingers are twisted back up in Killian’s, and she’s warm and falling and flying, and it’s good and weird, and the door swings open. 

They both jump.

So, that’s something. 

Rushing out quickly enough that he nearly trips over his own feet, Henry’s head leads the way and finds Emma’s stomach, a tangle of limbs, and overly-excited words, all of which rival the now-finished fireworks display in volume. 

It takes Henry about five and a half run-on sentences to notice Killian standing there. 

His eyes widen. His mouth drops. Killian grins. Emma tries very hard not to die. It only sort of works. 

She blames the faulty body parts she’s in possession of. 

“Killian,” Henry exclaims, clamoring back to his feet and nearly falling again in the process. Hands that belong to both Emma and Killian dart out, steadying Henry while their eyes meet over the top of his head. Killian winks. He tries. It’s more like a blink than anything. “Hi, hi! You did so good tonight! And we won, and I got to go on the field and—and, it was so,” Henry heaves a deep breath, “we were so good.”

Collective pronouns do something to Emma’s entire state of being. 

Flips it on an axis she hadn’t been aware previously existed until it almost feels as if this was the path they’d been directing themselves toward from the start. Her eyes flit toward Killian. Who is already watching her. 

“We did,” he nods, “maybe next time, though, you wait one extra second to grab Scarlet’s bat, ok?” Seeing her own nose scrunch reflected back on her kid is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to Emma. The vibrating phone in her back pocket, might be. 

It’s one-hundred percent, Ruby. 

“That’s what grandpa said too,” Henry grumbles, digging a toe of the cleats Emma’s mother bought him last week into the ground, “but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Definitely dying, then. A systematic shut down of all necessary internal organs. It’s not as bad as Emma would have expected. 

Neither one of Killian’s knees crack when he bends. That seems heavy-handed. 

“And I don’t want you to fall either,” he says, “so we agree, right here, right now, not to let the other one fall, huh?” Emma holds her breath. Ignores the pinch in her lungs and the clearly unstable nature of both her mind and her heart, digging her nails into her palms. To ensure she isn’t tempted to haul Henry back toward her. Or push that one strand of hair away from Killian’s forehead. 

Henry nods. “Deal.”

They hook their pinkies together. 

It’s adorable and as endearingly charming as everything else Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has done since he walked into that hallway. Less so when her dad emerges from the office, the athletic trainer on his heels to not-so-quietly inform Killian that he can’t just blow off post-game like that, and the second wink is as bad as the first. 

She does her very best to memorize the movement. 

And the joy on Henry’s face the next morning when a box arrives on their doorstep, a genuine, game-worn Killian Jones jersey inside. She doesn’t notice the note at first, tucked between the cardboard and the tissue paper someone must have bought for him. He can’t have bought that tissue paper himself. He just—it’s unfathomable. 

Emma knows he bought the tissue paper himself. 

As clearly as she knows that those numbers in that particular order will lead to Killian Jones answering his phone and that her voice likely won’t shake when she replies to the question written in surprisingly loopy script. Which is why, Emma will argue, she does reply. In the affirmative. To several questions over the course of the remaining season, and they don’t star in any more viral videos, but there are a few pictures once they clinch the division. 

Drops of champagne cling to the tips of Emma’s eyelashes and the ends of Killian’s hair, hands on her waist that blaze a quick path up her back and around her middle, and she has to tilt her head up to get the right angles. Of lips. While they kiss in the middle of the clubhouse, the hat someone forced onto Emma’s head falling and it’s impossible to hear over the sound of celebratory fireworks, but she can somehow still hear Henry’s laugh ringing out from the general area near Scarlet’s locker, and his jersey collection is growing at an impressive rate. 

No one can withstand the overall cuteness of him. 

Emma included. Emma, especially. 

Sometimes she worries she’s so happy she’ll burst, unable to contain the sort of emotion her body is still acclimating itself to. But then she realizes just how dumb that is and happiness cannot possibly be quantified, and her head is buzzing enough from champagne that she nearly misses Killian when he says, “people love the bright spots, Swan.” It’s not the most romantic thing he’s told her. Doesn’t crack the top five, quite frankly. She swoons all the same. With her kid laughing and her team winning and that’s about all the sentiment she’s willing to acknowledge before her tongue is in Killian’s mouth. He groans. She grins. 

And he’d been right about the video. It wasn’t the embarrassment Emma worried it could be. Was mostly relegated to the corners of the internet set aside for formerly popular content as soon as the season ended, spoken about only in fond recollection as the other seasons went on and the wins kept coming and all three of them stand on a parade float with the World Series trophy a few dozen feet away, several Novembers after that first game. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, then. 

And yet Emma never entirely forgets. What the video meant and what it did and she’s not remotely surprised when it finds its way back to the forefront of the sports zeitgeist on a Wednesday in July. Most mentions come with similar taglines and messages. Something about feeling our age and wanna feel old because that bot boy, David Nolan’s grandson, Killian Jones’s stepson, he’s getting drafted now. 

Got drafted, technically. 

Third round, video of the soon-to-be third baseman for the San Diego Padres makes the internet circuits and garners plenty of interest. It’s not the most exciting video, though. Henry just hugs his family. Who hug tightly back. 

What is more exciting is the box that arrives on Emma and Killian’s doorstep. With a note that eventually earns a frame next to the last one and a wholly official, game-worn jersey that has a noticeable streak of dirt across the left sleeve. From sliding head-first into home plate.  

[mint-yooxgi]

{25} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 18,000

Warnings: Heavy Angst. PTSD and Trauma. Heavy Guilt. Talks of what happened between OC and Miyeon when the boys were gone; descriptions and recollection of past torture. Mental illness: description of suicide and a failed suicide attempt, depression, anxiety. Hurt/comfort. Talks of insecurities and uncertainty. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Please heed the warnings carefully, this is quite an intensive chapter. I almost started crying while writing out a certain part of it, so be warned. Anyways, I wasn’t expecting for it to be this long, nor was I expecting to end it where I did, but I promise the next chapter will be full of an insane amount of fluff. I still have a lot planned for this series, so I really hope you all like this chapter! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Mini Masterlist

Darkness surrounds you. A calming, quiet darkness that settles within your mind as you rest. One that you allow yourself to get lost in, drowning in the stillness for however long that you can.

Time passes, you’re sure of it. Though, you’re not quite sure how long you spend within the confines of your own mind. What you think you do know, however, is that you are safe. No sense of danger forebodes within your subconsciousness for the moment. A fact of which makes breathing all the easier.

Or perhaps you’re already dead.

No. That’s not right.

Through the darkness, memories begin to appear. Vaguely, you see the remains of a completely decimated dance studio, an almost unrecognizable corpse twisted off to the side. In the back of your mind, you recall being surrounded by eight sobbing figures, holding onto you as tightly as you had been clinging onto them.

It wasn’t all a dream, was it? You hope beyond everything that it wasn’t. That when you wake up, you’ll be back in your room, surrounded once more by all eight of Your Kings who are sure to be watching over you right this very instant.

You don’t think you’d survive if that isn’t the case.

Slowly, you feel yourself walking somewhere within the confines of you mind. A faint glow begins to get brighter and brighter, drawing you towards it with every passing second. Once you reach it, and without any hesitation, you step through the blinding threshold, allowing the warmth to embrace you once more.

The soft light of the afternoon sun filters through your room, casting a faint glow over the entire area. Eight males are scattered around your sleeping figure, some sitting on chairs, while a few lay on the couches just off to the side. Two males lay beside you, gently cradling your resting form in their arms as two more shapes lay on top of your body in whatever ways that they can.

To the side, your door rests open just a crack.

A soft groan draws all of their attention to your form beginning to move on the bed. Immediately, Yunho is sitting up from his position on your one couch, while Mingi pops up to peer over the back of the other, eyes locked on your figure. San shifts to the edge of his seat, of which he had pulled right beside your bed in order to rest as close as he could to you. It was no longer his turn to lay beside you for the moment, so this was the next best option. Seonghwa sits right next to him, mirroring the younger male’s position as he leans forward, hands desperately clinging onto the arms of his chair.

All of them watch as your eyes begin to flit around beneath your lids before blinking open.

“Dearest,” Yeosang chokes on a sob as he clings to you, immediately pulling you into his arms and pressing his lips against the side of your temple.

In the blink of an eye, both Mingi and Yunho are there, sitting on the end of your bed and staring at you with tears in their eyes. A sight which you notice both San and Seonghwa mirror in the next moment.

A hand seems to be held in yours, resting carefully over your heart as you feel it squeeze your own. That’s when you notice Hongjoong resting on your opposite side, tears streaming down his face as he holds onto you for dear life.

Sparing a glance downwards, you notice the small lumps you feel resting against you seem to be two unfamiliar animals. A snake curls around your lower stomach while a large, brown rabbit rests over your thighs. You’d bet anything that they’re Jongho and Wooyoung, having shifted into animals to be closer to you for the moment.

You blink, heart pounding in your chest as your memories finally all catch up with you. Shakily, you raise your free hand to cup the side of Yeosang’s face, tears springing to your eyes as your whole body begins to shake.

“Please,” your voice comes out low, brittle and raw as your eyes squeeze shut, “someone tell me this is real.”

Their hearts all break for you once more, seeing you trembling within both Yeosang’s and Hongjoong’s embrace.

“It’s real, Starlight,” Mingi whispers, resting his hand softly over your foot still beneath your covers. “We’re right here.”

“You’re safe now, My Divine,” it’s Seonghwa’s gentle voice that draws your attention to him next. “She cannot hurt you anymore.”

You nod softly, blinking once more as a single tear begins to trail down the side of your one cheek. Slowly, carefully, you begin to sit up with the help of both Yeosang and Hongjoong. 

You don’t feel like they’re lying to you, but you’re not sure if you can trust your own mind right now. Your thoughts are all over the place, and all you can focus on is how it felt for Miyeon to smash through your void, shattering your mind until you almost lost yourself.

Thoughts which echo freely through all of their heads as you don’t bother to put up your void. Not that you’d have the mental strength to for the moment, anyways.

Crossing your legs beneath the blankets, you find yourself half curling into your own body. The rabbit - Jongho - is quick to shift right into your lap, settling against you and rubbing his face softly into the palm of your one hand. It’s as if he’s saying that he’s right here, and that nothing will take you away from him again.

Meanwhile, the snake - Wooyoung - slowly winds himself around your stomach, slithering up your back so that his head is resting right beside your own. Gently, he nuzzles his snout against your jaw, as if assuring you that you’re okay, and that this is real.

Glancing up, you meet Yunho’s gaze.

Throughout it all, there was one memory you desperately fought to protect above all others. A memory that was to be your failsafe incase something like this were to happen. Even if you cannot trust in your surroundings, you can trust in him. In all of them.

“That day,” you begin, keeping your voice low so as not to strain it for the moment. “How many symbols did you draw on my body?”

You ignore the glass of water offered to you by Yeosang for the moment as you continue to stare into Yunho’s eyes, watching as he blinks back at you. His breath hitches slightly in his throat.

“Two,” he breathes, searching your features intently. “One on your front, and one on your back. Both directly over your heart.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. You have to be sure.

“What was the symbol you drew on my back?” You push, noticing how the room remains absolutely still for the moment as the silence settles around you.

Yunho goes to answer, but your hand raising in the air stops him.

There’s only one way you know to be absolutely sure.

“Please,” extending your hand out to him, you keep your palm facing upwards, “Draw it.”

If you truly are still trapped within Miyeon’s mental prison, and the memories of them saving you have been all fabricated, there’s no way in hell she’ll know about the symbol he drew over your back. She only knew of the one on your front, because you would have died before you let her know of the first one he ever painted over your skin.

Carefully, Yunho shifts closer to you. He can feel his brother’s gazes locked on him as he reaches forward to gently grasp your hand within his own. His thumb caresses the side of your palm before he’s raising his other hand, using his index finger to trace a design over your skin. The whole time, his eyes never leave your own.

The moment the final line of the symbol of his name in the ancient tongue is drawn over your palm, you’re breathing a tremendous sigh of relief. Your shoulders sag, whole body relaxing as you nearly collapse into Yeosang’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I had to be sure.”

“Whatever helps to ease your mind, My Love, we are more than happy to provide for you,” Hongjoong assures you, reaching over and tenderly cupping the side of your cheek.

However, you do not fail to miss the way he hesitates slightly. Almost as if he’s nervous to touch you. Though, the moment you lean into his hold, his own shoulders seemingly relax.

A small giggle escapes your lips, feeling the snake begin flicking his tongue against your skin, just below your jawline. You turn your head, noticing a small beauty mark below the snake’s left eye, confirming just who you thought he could be.

“Wooyoung,” you meet his gaze, feeling his tongue flick out against your skin once more. “That tickles.”

I’m just glad to see you’re okay, Angel, his voice resounds throughout your head, and you can hear the worry still clinging to the edges.

A brief pause where you attempt a weak smile as you finally grab the glass of water from Yeosang’s hands. You take a sip, almost instantly downing half the glass.

“Are you-“ San clears his throat. “Are you okay, Baby?”

You meet his gaze, and the broken look he can see shining behind your eyes has his heart faltering in his chest.

“No,” you barely manage to get the word out, the glass in your hand beginning to shake as your whole body trembles. You squeeze your eyes shut, leaning further into Yeosang for support. “I-“ you swallow, “I-“

You can barely get the words out as your emotions begin to choke you.

“Take your time, Dearest,” Yeosang comfortingly rubs a hand along your back, caressing your spine like he so often does whenever he holds you in his arms.

“We’re right here,” Yunho assures you, nothing but concern shining in his eyes for you.

“You are not alone,” Mingi adds, keeping his tone soft as he looks at you.

You feel Jongho nuzzling the crook of your knee, nosing at your one hand resting just beside his face. You’re safe now, Darling. We won’t let anything else hurt you.

You nod along softly to his words, tightening your grip the slightest bit on that glass of water in your hand. Bringing it up to your lips, you down the rest of the liquid.

“Can we get you anything, Baby?” San’s voice is soft, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort you in his arms, but he knows his brother’s have got it covered for the moment.

At your soft nod, each male shifts the slightest bit closer to you.

“A few things,” you begin, clearing your throat lightly of your emotions in the next second. “Can I get more water-“

The words are barely out of your mouth when Mingi has another full glass in his one hand. Reaching over, he hands it to you, taking your empty one without a second thought.

“Thank you,” you send him a small smile.

“Of course, Starlight,” he sends a soft one back. “Anything for you.”

Taking a few sips from the fresh glass in your hand, you let out a low breath.

“Mars?” You turn to one of the males sitting on your left.

“Yes, My Divine?” Immediately, he leans forward, body eager to spring into action for whatever you need him to do.

“Can you open the doors to the balcony?” The moment the words leave your lips, he’s moved. “I could use some fresh air.”

Seonghwa has to physically restrain himself from tearing your balcony doors off of their hinges as he nearly flings them open. Luckily, he’s able to take a deep breath, slowly opening each side one by one. A gentle breeze curtesy of both Yunho and Hongjoong flits through your room in the next second.

The gentle smile you send him as he sits back in his seat has his heart pounding inside his chest, happy he could do something that eased your discomfort. Even if it’s only slightly.

Taking another sip from your glass of water, your let out a long exhale through your nose. Your eyes fall shut, allowing the way you feel your lungs to fill with air to ground you for the moment.

Keeping your eyes shut, you begin to speak once more.

“Inside-“ you swallow the dryness of your throat, “inside my closet, top drawer on the left, there’s a small stone buried beneath a few of my shirts. I-“ you take a deep breath, “can someone grab it for me? I need it.”

Yunho is already halfway across the room before you finish speaking. Stepping into your closet, he’s quick to pull open the aforementioned drawer and grab that stone.

It’s not a very large stone by any means. In fact, it’s about the size and shape of those small rocks you can find at any of those children’s stores where they allow you to fill a bag full of gems to buy. It’s light blue in colour, smooth on one side while the opposite is slightly coarse.

The moment the rock is placed into your open palm, you let out another sigh of relief. Instantly, you’re shifting it slightly in your hand, thumb beginning to trace over the smooth side of the stone.

You can feel their curious gazes on you, even as you close your eyes for the moment to let the feeling of the stone in your fingers ground you. You’ve sat up fully by now, too, no longer leaning into Yeosang’s side. The one hand holding the rock rests on your one knee while the glass of water you still hold rests on the other.

You take another sip of water.

Movement from your lap catches your attention, and you crack an eye open to see Jongho shifting to face your one hand now toying with that small stone between your fingers. At the way you can see his nose sniffing at it, you can tell he’s more than curious as to what it could be.

“It’s my therapy pebble,” you explain, noticing how you have all of their attention on you for the moment. “My therapist gave it to me our very first meeting for me to use when my anxiety acts up. It grounds me. Though, I haven’t used it in quite a while. Not since-“ you cut yourself off, exhaling a long breath, “not since the worst night of my life.”

Each male does not fail to notice the way you avoid their gazes for the time being. The way they can all feel their chests squeezing as their hearts suffocate for you has their breaths hitching in their throats.

“What can we do?” Hongjoong makes sure to keep his voice low, hand carefully caressing the skin of your upper back as he swallows thickly. “What can we do to make it better?”

“Just sit with me? Please?” You lean back onto your pillows which Yeosang has conveniently fluffed up behind you. Of course, you’re careful not to squish Wooyoung’s body, of which is still wrapped around your waist in snake form. “That’s all I ask. For now.”

“Of course, My Love,” Hongjoong smiles softly at you, both him and Yeosang leaning the slightest bit into your either side.

You smile back faintly, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as you relax yourself into this moment. Still, your thumb traces over the contours of the stone in your hand.

“How long-“ you swallow, “how long was I out?”

A brief pause.

“Three days.” The airy rasp of San’s voice reaches your ears.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I see.”

Then, a thought crosses your mind that immediately has your eyes flinging open. Your form shoots up from your resting position as panic washes over your features.

“Kuroo, he-“ your breathing begins to come in jagged pants, fresh tears springing to your eyes, “is he-“

No. He can’t be dead. He couldn’t have died. All he ever wanted was to protect you, and you barely even remembered that he had been injured until just now. How could you ever forget?

“Shh, it’s okay, Dearest,” Yeosang immediately wraps you in his arms, one hand stroking tenderly over the top of your head.

“Kuroo is fine, Starlight, don’t worry,” Mingi assures you, a weak pull of his lips upwards as his heart pangs inside of his chest at seeing you so distraught.

“But he-“ you choke on your breath, hands beginning to shake.

The last time you saw him, he was barely breathing. His whole body had been crushed by whatever invisible force Miyeon had control of. You can still hear his whimpering mewls echoing in your ears. A sound which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to clear it from your mind.

Vaguely, you feel Jongho hop out of your lap, only to return almost immediately afterwards. His head brushes against your stomach, and you swear you feel the faintest swish of a tail over your legs as well.

The soft mewl you hear from below has your eyes flinging open to see little golden orbs staring up at you in worry.

A single tear traces a line down your cheek as you choke on a sob, “Kuroo?”

A warmth is suddenly at your back, and you feel arms wrapping themselves around your waist. 

“He’s a lot stronger than he looks, Darling.” Jongho’s low voice rumbles out right beside your ear.

Slowly, Kuroo begins to attempt to crawl up your body, his little face sniffing at the tear that clings to your jaw before dripping lightly onto his nose. He pulls back the slightest, only to return to sniffing gently at your face in the next moment.

Slowly, you hand the glass of water to Yeosang who takes it from your trembling grasp without hesitation.

As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you’re wrapping your arms around that little black cat and clinging onto his form for dear life. A sob tears from your throat, more tears escaping your eyes, and you feel Kuroo beginning to lick at your cheek. The purrs he lets out are the loudest you’ve ever experienced from him, and you cannot help the way you hold him the slightest bit tighter in your grasp in response.

“I thought she killed you,” you sob, pressing your face into his fur and leaving a few kisses against his side. “You wanted to protect me, and I thought she killed you for it.”

Just as tightly as you cling onto Kuroo, your left hand still holds onto that small rock for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as your whole body shakes from the intensity of your sobs. “I couldn’t protect you.”

“Baby-“ San shifts forward, nothing but concern reflected in his eyes, only for him to get ignored for the moment.

Guilt so fierce begins to consume you, washing over all of them as they are still privy to every single thought you are having for the moment. A fact which has all of their hearts breaking for you that very instant once more.

“I’m so sorry,” it’s then that they realize that you’re no longer just speaking to the cat. “I couldn’t stop her. I tried, but I couldn’t protect anything. She-“ you hiccup, “she-“ your breath hitches, “I’m so sorry.”

Your throat burns, tears continuously falling freely down your face as your entire body trembles uncontrollably. You don’t even register that you’ve released Kuroo until you feel yourself being pulled into someone’s chest. Two more bodies surround you on either side, heads pressing against yours as they attempt to calm you down.

More frantic apologies escape you in pain filled cries, chest feeling as if it’s caving in with each breath you take. If three days truly have passed since everything went down, then obviously they’ve had time to see the ruined remains of the house. The house they so carefully and meticulous crafted for the nine of you to live in together. The house you failed to protect from Miyeon’s destruction.

You sob harder.

“I can’t-“ you begin to wheeze, chest heaving with every breath, “I can’t breathe.”

Your emotions are overwhelming you, and the intensity of your wails are taking up the majority of your energy. With each expansion of your lungs, you find less and less air filling them, choking you from the inside out.

Frantically, you push the males surrounding you off of your body as you attempt to heave air into your lungs. You don’t know how, but you manage to pull yourself onto your feet, jumping over all of them and landing on the floor. You rush passed both San and Seonghwa and onto the balcony, hands clinging desperately to the railing as you lean against it for support. Lowering your head, you attempt to catch your breath.

Faintly, you register worried footsteps following behind you, seven figures standing around you in a semi-circle as Wooyoung shifts slightly against your body. Still, he remains wrapped around you in snake form, his snout pressing against your cheek lightly.

We’re right here, Angel. His worried voice echoes throughout your head. Just breathe.

A hand on your back has your whole body jumping. Turning your tear filled gaze, you see Yunho standing there with tears lining his own vision. Only, you misinterpret the real reason that he’s crying.

You fall to your knees, hands desperately clinging to his form as you rest your head on his thighs.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob harder, clinging onto Yunho for dear life. “I tried-“ your breath stutters, “I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t. She tore apart everything without a second thought. I couldn’t stop her.”

Out of the corner of your blurry vision, you see Seonghwa step beside you.

Your whole body shudders, chest heaving with every failed breath you attempt to take.

“She tore your passions apart, and I couldn’t stop her,” you shift the slightest bit, grasping one of both of Seonghwa’s and Yunho’s hands in each of your own. “I’m so sorry,” you just hope that they can forgive you for your failed misdoings, “I was too weak.”

Collectively, they all inhale sharply.

“No, Petal,” Yunho kneels in front of you, cupping your face gently in his hands as he notices that you’re still having difficulty breathing. The worst part is, you avoid his gaze in shame. “Hey, look at me.”

Cautiously, your eyes flick over to meet his own as Seonghwa kneels beside his brother.

“Breathe, Petal,” Yunho keeps your gaze locked on him, helping you through some exercises to calm your breathing for the moment, and catch your breath.

“We’re right here,” Seonghwa repeats, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, rubbing it up and down your arm shortly afterwards as you begin to calm down, even if only slightly.

“But-“

“Shh,” Yunho coos, thumbs stroking tenderly over your cheeks. “Our stuff is replaceable. You are not.”

“So, not another word of apology from you,” Seonghwa’s hand returns to your shoulder, drawing your attention to him for the moment. “You have nothing to be sorry for, My Divine.”

“It is us who have failed you,” Hongjoong’s voice has your gaze shifting to him now, seeing as he walks over to your side and kneels beside Seonghwa.

You blink, another tear escaping your one eye as his words completely catch you off guard. You fully turn to him now, an image of the destroyed garden flashing through your mind as pain clutches at your heart.

“If we had only made our wards stronger,” he begins, and you notice all of them now avoiding your gaze in shame. Even Wooyoung loosens his hold slightly around your waist as Hongjoong says this. “If only we had been smarter, then none of this would have happened to you.”

You manage to wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, shaking your head all the while.

“Please tell me you seriously don’t believe that,” your voice is strained from the heaviness of your emotions.

One look into Hongjoong’s eyes says it all.

“No, My Kings,” you’ve finally managed to calm down enough to begin thinking clearly again for the moment. “Because of your wards, she couldn’t leave, and I’d hate to think of what would have happened to me if that were the case. I don’t think-“ your breath catches slightly in your throat, another tear escaping your eye, “I don’t think I would have survived if that were the case.”

Tears begin to fall from his own eyes, and you are quick to cup his face in your hands.

“You saved me.” You spare a glance at all of them. “You all did. I am still alive because of you.”

“You had to endure her for two hours, Dearest,” never have you seen Yeosang with such a broken look on his face before. “Two hours.”

“I won’t lie and say that they weren’t the worst two hours of my life,” you reply lowly, noticing how he, San, and Mingi all flinch in response to your words. “But, I am still alive. My heart still beats, and I am still breathing. All thanks to the eight of you, I am alive.”

You feel Wooyoung slither off of you for the moment, only for arms to wrap themselves over your shoulders as a body collapses into your back in the next. You can feel his muffled sobs against your spine as his chest shakes with every breath. His head buries itself into the side of your neck as he clings onto you for dear life, holding you tightly as if you might disappear at any moment.

“Does the fact that I-“ you take a deep breath, “that I almost died terrify me?” You blink, your tears briefly stopping for the moment as your whole body continues to tremble. “Yes. It did. It still does. For the first time in my life, I was terrified to die. Would you like to know why?”

“Please, My Divine,” Seonghwa breathes, silent tears creating trails down his cheeks as he continues to kneel before you.

“Because I finally felt like I had a reason to live for myself.” You reply. “Eight reasons to live.”

The way their breaths all hitch simultaneously has a weak smile tugging onto your features.

“Instead of choosing to die, like I have so often been known to do, I chose to live.” You tell them, watching as silent tears begin to streak down all of their faces. “I never thought much of my own life before. Until recently.” You share a brief look with Seonghwa, the faintest of smiles pulling at your lips. “So, for the first time, faced with the option of death, I wanted to live.”

“That’s what made this situation so terrifying to me,” you explain, voice becoming no more than a whisper. “For the first time, it felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Yet, I knew what I wanted. I knew what I had to do. I had to survive. I would survive. Not just for you, but for me.”

“Petal,” the soft call of your name from Yunho’s lips has you turning to look at him in an instant.

“I care about all of you. Deeply.” You take the time to meet each one of their gazes, raising a hand to squeeze one of Wooyoung’s own, which are still wrapped around your shoulders. “I wouldn’t have fought so hard to live if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have tried to protect our home so viciously if I didn’t.” Your eyes flash slightly as you continue to look at all of them. “I wouldn’t let you touch me if I didn’t. I wouldn’t let you experience me in certain ways if I didn’t. I wouldn’t do a lot of things that I do now, and I sure as hell know I would not have survived that day if I didn’t.” 

“So, please, do not blame yourselves for what happened. For what she did.” They’re all crying at this point, and the four that had been standing have all fallen to their knees. “Because I never did. Not even for one second.”

You see them all nod faintly in your vision, feeling Wooyoung nod against your shoulder as he buries his face deeper into the side of your neck.

Softly, Hongjoong brings his one hand up to cover your own, of which is still cupping his face so tenderly in your grasp. Right now, he leans into that touch more than you’ll ever know.

“My Love, please know that we feel the same,” Hongjoong stares deeply into your eyes. “Know we would never blame you for what she did to our home.”

Despite the way your heart still squeezes in your chest, you find yourself nodding along to his words. You expression falls the slightest, and each male swears to do whatever he can to comfort you in any and every way they can.

“Okay,” this time, it’s your turn to nod softly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’d like to take a bath, and perhaps meditate for a little while. Then, I’m going to drink a gallon of water, eat something, and then we can talk more about what happened. I have some things I want to share with you all, anyways.”

Slowly, Wooyoung detaches himself from your back, helping you stand to your feet in the next second. You notice San perk up the slightest bit out of the corner of your eyes.

“What can I make you, Baby?” He asks, a little eagerly.

You begin to make your way back inside your room, stopping only briefly beside San as you shoot him a faint smile.

“Surprise me,” you reply, placing a tender kiss onto his cheek. “Nothing too heavy, though, okay?”

“Of course,” the tender look he sends your way warms your heart.

Walking back over to your bed, you briefly search over the blankets until you find what you’re looking for. Once you spot that little stone, you’re quick to snatch it into your one hand, standing back to your full height instantly.

“Would you like some company?” Yeosang asks gently as you begin to walk towards your bathroom.

Just as you reach the doorway, you turn to glance at them from over your shoulder. A soft smile graces your features at the care they continue to show you.

“Not this time,” the fond look you send their way eases some of the tension in their shoulders. However, a loud mewl draws your attention to a little black blur that darts inside of the bathroom in the next second. Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Well, I guess Kuroo can join me.”

A few chuckles sound around the room, watching as you shut the door softly behind you as you enter the bathroom.

The whole time you relax in the tub, Kuroo rests on the edge beside you. Dutifully, he watches over you, making sure that you’re well protected and safe. The way you place a soft kiss onto the top of his head has him looking at you with those big, golden eyes of his, nothing but affection dripping from his gaze.

True to your word, you spend about half an hour meditating in the bath. That pebble never leaves your hand, thumb running over the contours as you clear your mind. Of course, you leave your void down for the moment. Just in case. The way you can feel them all occasionally brushing up against your mind as if to say that ‘you’re okay; we’re right here’ lifts a weight from your shoulders you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying. Though, you know for a fact that none of them are overstepping any boundaries for the moment, leaving you to your thoughts as much as they can.

Once you’ve finished washing up, you’re quick to dry yourself off. Wrapping your fluffy robe around yourself, you begin to do your usual routine after you finish bathing. Only, the moment you lift your head to look at your reflection in the mirror, you notice a faint glowing figure out of the corner of your eyes.

Your breath hitches, a scream nearly tearing from your throat. Immediately, you turn around to look in the exact spot you saw the figure. 

Except, nothing is there.

You blink. Funny, you could have swore you saw someone standing right beside the edge of the tub.

Perhaps you’re just seeing things. You have been through a lot lately, so you wouldn’t be surprised. It’s probably just a lingering effect from everything you’ve gone through in the past few days alone.

It’s that thought that helps you to manage to get your breathing under control for the time being. Again, that stone is held in your one hand as you finally exit the bathroom. Kuroo happily trots beside you as you make your way over to your closet, shutting the door behind you as you pick out some clothes to wear.

Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, you’re quick to change. Before you exit, you grab a hoodie, throwing it over your body before turning to grab your robe once more. Swinging the door open, you’re quick to return to the bathroom to hang your robe back in its place before returning to your room.

This time, you begin to roll the stone between the tips of your fingers as you exit your bathroom. You notice all eight of them scattered throughout your room waiting for your return. A jug of water and a bowl of food rests on the little table in your sitting area. So, you begin to make your way over to the couches, seeing Mingi, San, Yunho, and Jongho already sitting there.

The other four are quick to join you, and as you pass by your bed, you notice that it’s been made. Someone’s probably changed the sheets for you, too.

Sitting on the floor, you stretch your legs out beneath the table. Of course, you make sure to grab a pillow to rest upon before you do, leaning your back against the couch in the next moment. Only, instead of feeling the cushions like you expected, you feel somebody’s legs behind your back. In the next moment, you feel them shift beside your body on either side, letting you lean further into the couch behind you.

Turning your head, you see Mingi smiling softly down at you. His hands reach out for you in the next second, gently placing them onto your shoulders. Slowly, his thumbs begin to rub tenderly against the back of your neck, massaging you gently.

A tension you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto slips from your body. A soft hum escapes you in contentment, eyes fluttering shut as Mingi continues to rub your neck. With each passing second, you find yourself relaxing more and more.

Blinking your eyes open, you notice that none of them sit on the couches around you. No, they all opt to sit on the floor with you, save for Mingi who rests behind you in order to continue massaging your neck and shoulders gently.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit directly across from you, leaning against the opposite couch. Yunho rests beside Hongjoong on his right, San to the right of Yunho at the one end of the table. Beside Seonghwa on his left sits Jongho. Wooyoung rests to your left, while Yeosang is to your right.

“I don’t expect you all to sit on the floor with me, you know,” you chuckle, reaching out your hand to grab the full glass of water in front of you.

“We know, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles at you, placing a tender hand onto your one thigh. “We want to.”

“Besides,” Jongho adds, “we don’t want you to think we’re looking down at you in any way. Especially if you’re the only one on the floor.”

Their answers warm your heart.

“You know I would never think that,” you reply, drinking the rest of the water in your glass until there’s none left.

Wordlessly, Seonghwa begins to pour more water into your glass as soon as you place it back onto the table.

“We know,” this time, it’s Hongjoong who answers you with a soft smile pulling at his own features. “It is simply one power dynamic that we do not like. Not when it’s you.”

Again, your heart warms at his words, only further serving to solidify the fact that you know that they’ve always seen you as their equal. A fact which you continue to remind yourself of every time those nasty words Miyeon had spat at you make a reappearance in your mind.

You tilt your head back, quirking a teasing brow at Mingi above you. “I suppose there are certain exceptions to that?”

“It’s easier to rub your shoulders this way, Starlight,” he grins cheekily, thumbs pressing the slightest bit firmer into your skin as if to emphasize his point. “Though, you know I would be on the floor with you in an instant if you asked.”

“I know, Moonlight,” you hum, placing a hand on top of one of his own for a moment. “I’m just teasing you.”

You can feel him squeeze your left shoulder gently beneath his fingers, that all too familiar smile of his pulling at his features. Though, before he can continue massaging you, you’re telling him to wait a moment.

“I need to crack my neck,” you warn them all.

In the next second, you’re tilting your head side to side. Quite a few satisfying pops can be heard from either side as you stretch your neck out. A pleased sigh leaves your lips, as you arch upwards, stretching your back out for good measure.

Settling back down into your spot, you place your stone upon the top of the table. Your hands reach for the bowl of food next, pulling it towards you. Once you see the fruit piled high within, a tender smile is pulling at your lips, the fork now grasped in your hand.

You shift your gaze to meet San’s. “Thank you, Baby.”

“Of course, Baby,” San smiles, tugging your hoodie that he still wears closer around his body. He’s just content to know that he could make you happy, especially right now. “Anything for you.”

Slowly, you begin to eat the fruit from the bowl in your hand. You can still feel Mingi softly massaging over your neck and shoulders, a fact which allows your body to relax the more tension is alleviated from your body. You can feel Yeosang gently brushing his thumb over your thigh where his hand still rests, furthering your sense of relaxation as you settle into this moment with all of them.

Honestly, you’re not quite sure where to begin, but the more you think about it, the heavier your mind becomes.

The soft caress of Yunho brushing against your mind with his own has your gaze shifting to his in an instant.

A tender, reassuring smile is sent your way. One which has the corners of your own lips quirking upwards slightly.

“So, I was really out for three days?” You ask, biting into another piece of fruit.

“It was the worst three days of our lives,” Seonghwa breathes, nodding in confirmation all the while.

“We hardly left your side,” Wooyoung adds, and you shift your attention to see him looking down at his hands in his lap. “We couldn’t.”

“Never before have any of us felt fear like we did on that day,” Hongjoong admits lowly, gaze locked on the top of the wooden table separating the two of you.

“What-“ Jongho’s voice catches in his throat as he looks towards you, that same fear shining within his eyes. “What happened?”

A slight silence lingers over all nine of you as you stare down at the now empty bowl of fruit in your hands.

“You don’t-“ Yeosang’s tone is soft as you turn to look at him, his one hand coming up to caress the side of your face tenderly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.”

You shake your head, exhaling a sigh through your nose as you place your empty bowl back onto the table before you. Again, you grab that small stone into your one hand, beginning to feel it with the tips of your fingers.

“No,” you reply. “If I don’t talk about what happened, it will just consume me. I’m not about to let that happen. She doesn’t get to throw me back there. I won’t let her.”

You notice Wooyoung reach out for your left hand, and you’re quick to switch your pebble to your right so that he can loop your fingers through his own. He shifts closer, squeezing your hand firmly in his and reassuring you that he’s right here. That they’re all right here.

You take a deep breath, and then you begin.

“She appeared practically a minute after you had all left.” 

As soon as the words leave your lips, they’re all thrown into your memories. They see you turn around to face her, you attempting to reach out to them, only for that damn mental block to be slammed over your mind, and Kuroo lunging at her instantly. They watch as you try to save Kuroo, only to be shoved against the wall by your neck in the next second.

Growls threaten to escape their lips as they watch Miyeon sink her nails into your throat, only to pull a dagger on you soon afterwards. Though, each male cannot deny the sense of pride that builds in their chests at the way you stood your ground, taunting her all the while.

“Just as I said before, your wards saved me from whatever sick manhunt she had planned,” you say, feeling the way Yeosang’s fingers tighten ever so slightly over your thigh.

Each of your thoughts during the moment washes over them now, and each man cannot help they way they stiffen. You were right. If Miyeon had managed to kill you right in front of their very eyes that day, they don’t think any of them would have survived.

Yeosang, San, Mingi, and Yunho all flinch when they see her step on your ankle, shattering the bones beneath her foot with a twisted sense of glee on her lips.

“The way she was convinced she was going to be living with you all after everything drove me insane.” Your brow furrows, your body beginning to tremble as that same anger you felt before begins to bubble beneath the surface of your skin. “She thought she could own you, and that’d you’d all just be okay with it.”

“She made you give her a tour of the house?” San can barely control his own anger as your memory continues to play through their minds.

You meet his gaze, the tight smile on your lips saying it all.

Snarls escape their throats as they hear what Miyeon spoke to you while in this very room.

“Every word she said to you was a filthy, fucking lie,” Seonghwa hisses out, his eyes shifting black for the briefest of moments.

Your breath catches slightly, and you find yourself blinking in response, not realizing how badly you needed to hear those words for the moment. You nod, slowly, allowing your memories of that day to continue.

Again, Yeosang’s hand over your thigh tightens its grip slightly as he sees you reach the music room. Of course, he saw the debris of the smashed piano when he went to briefly explore the house after everything. He can still remember the way tears leaked from his eyes as he cleaned the drops of your dried blood scattered along the floor before replacing the piano with a brand new one.

His breath hitches in his throat the moment he sees you prevent Miyeon from touching his violin. Even his brothers cannot help the way they shift their gaze between the two of you for a brief moment, and he knows that they all feel the exact same way as he does at seeing you protect his prized possession. Well, other than you, of course.

Only, the moment he sees Miyeon fling you into the piano in retribution, Yeosang cannot prevent the way tears are quick to gather and fall from his eyes.

So, that’s how the piano got destroyed.

You got hurt because of him. This is all his fault. Miyeon. Your injuries. How you almost died.

The moment you turn your head to see Yeosang’s blank stare, his eyes not even being able to look at you, you gently shake your thigh to grab his attention. As soon as he shifts his gaze to meet your own, you shoot him a small smile. It’s as much as you can muster for the moment, but from the way he blinks, you can tell that you at least have his attention.

“I don’t regret what I did,” you tell him, nothing but sincerity reflected in your tone. “I would do it all again, too. Without hesitation.”

The way you turn to meet Yunho’s, Hongjoong’s, and Seonghwa’s eyes says it all. Yet still, those three have yet to discover what exactly happened between you and Miyeon in regards to them. That does not mean that they believe you any less.

The scene shifts, and more growls are escaping their lips as they hear her disgusting words spat at you while observing the dining room. Then, you’re quickly making your way across the house before stepping into the tailor shop.

The way your entire body tenses as you relive this one part of your memories does not go unnoticed by them. Mingi even stops his movements over your shoulders for the moment in order to begin stroking a tender hand over the top of you head in comfort.

“The dress was beautiful,” you can barely manage to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, but you do.

The moment the first slash is made into the material, you avert your eyes. That same shame washes over you, guilt beginning to consume you as you observe Miyeon destroying Seonghwa’s own space for the second time.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

The whole while, Seonghwa sits there across from you, tense and heart aching. What hurts him the most is seeing the way Miyeon gleefully tore apart his things in order to hurt you. That is the worst part of all of this, because Seonghwa just knows you are still blaming yourself for the destruction that she caused.

A gentle hand placing itself onto your ankle beneath the table draws your attention to the male sitting across from you.

“My Divine, the fact that you cared enough to even attempt to stop her means more to me, to us, than you’ll ever know. I need you to know,” his intense gaze keeps yours locked on his own, “I don’t care that she destroyed my workshop. I care that she hurt you, and I care that she’s still hurting you.”

Tears begin to line your eyes, and you find you can only nod along to his words. You fear that if you open your mouth, the only thing that will escape you are sobs. Especially since you know what has still yet to come.

They all watch as she leads you into the library, and after the small exchange of words between the both of you, your entire form begins shaking in rage. Wooyoung can feel it as your hand trembles within his hold. Mingi can feel it against his legs, and Yeosang can feel it beneath his hand that he has resting on your thigh.

“I wanted to tear her apart,” you voice lowly, glaring at the top of the table before you. “Especially after what she told me. After what I learned.”

Before any of them has a chance to ask you what you mean, they watch her walk over to the garden. Again, a sense of pride builds in their chests as they hear you snap back at her with some smart remarks of your own. A pride that quickly dulls into nothing, though, as they hear her threaten to burn you alive.

“Don’t worry, Starlight,” Mingi continues to caress your upper body, hands trailing comfortingly along your shoulders for the moment. “We made sure to burn her corpse to a crisp. There’s nothing left but ashes, now.”

You can only nod your head in response before your memory is cutting out for the moment. You blink, seeing them all staring at you in worry.

“I can’t-“ your breathing deepens, bringing your one arm to rest against the top of the table for support as you lean forward. “I can’t-“

You can barely get the words out, your hand desperately clinging onto that small rock held within your right palm.

“Hey, hey,” it’s Wooyoung who draws your attention to him this time, releasing his hold on your hand in order to cup your face and turn your head to face him. “It’s okay. You’re safe. She cannot hurt you anymore.”

He holds your gaze, eyes staring deeply into your own as his thumbs tenderly caress the sides of your cheeks. Slowly, Wooyoung gets you to sync your breathing with his, managing to calm you down all the while. Against the skin of your back, you register a soft touch caressing your spine, and you just know that it’s Yeosang.

“We’re right here, Starlight,” Mingi’s voice rumbles out from above you, nothing but concern reflected in his eyes. A look he knows is mirrored on all of his brother’s faces for the moment.

Slowly, your left hand comes up to place itself over Wooyoung’s own that rests on the one side of your face. You find yourself leaning into his touch more than you realize as you manage to get your breathing back under control.

“Take your time, Darling,” nothing but worry is on Jongho’s face as his heart aches for you. 

Oh, how he longs to be able to pull you into his arms for the moment, comforting you in any and every way that he knows how. All he wants to do is assure you that nothing will ever harm you again as he whispers sweet words of love and assurance into your ears. A sentiment he knows is shared by all of his brothers right now.

Taking a deep, albeit shaky breath in, you close your eyes.

“I can’t-“ your voice catches in your throat and you find yourself swallowing thickly. “I can’t relive what she did to me in there.”

“We understand,” it’s Hongjoong who answers, almost immediately, his own hand being placed onto the ankle of your other leg beneath the table.

“That doesn’t mean I still cannot tell you,” you breathe, keeping your eyes closed for the moment.

“You don’t have to, Petal,” Yunho assures you. “If the memory is too traumatic for you to remember-“

“No,” you cut him off softly. “I need to-“ you take another shaky breath in, “I need to talk about it to begin processing it. It’s the way I’ve always been.”

“Alright, Darling,” Jongho’s tone is gentle as he shifts slightly in his spot, as if to move closer to you for the moment. “Whenever you’re ready. We’re right here.”

A slow nod of your head is all that they receive in response as you turn your gaze to your hand resting on top of the table.

A brief silence.

“She-“ you hesitate. “She-“ you swallow, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. “She tried to drown me.”

A stillness so deadly settles over all of them as they let your words sink in.

“In the fountain.” You continue. “After killing all of the plants, and threatening to burn me alive,” you pause only briefly, “she tried to drown me.”

“Baby,” San’s worried gaze immediately fills with tears as he looks towards you.

A look which is mirrored on Mingi’s, Yunho’s, Jongho’s, and Yeosang’s faces. However, none of them are as bad as both Hongjoong and Wooyoung are.

Wooyoung’s whole body begins to tremble and he pulls himself up from his spot in order to begin pacing in the open area right beside the couch. His hands are clenched into fists, shaking all the while as he holds them at his sides. His chest rises and falls dramatically with each inhale, eyes flashing black for the briefest of moments.

Hongjoong, on the other hand, goes unnaturally still. His gaze loses focus as he stares directly in front of him for the time being. That is, until his entire body begins to shake.

Slowly, he pushes himself up onto his feet, and he can feel your dull eyes watching him the whole time. A fact which shatters his already fragile heart even more than it already is. Desperately, he tries to keep his tears at bay, but Hongjoong finds that he can no longer prevent the first from slipping down his face as he sees you gazing at him with your own sense of worry in your eyes.

A small sense of regret begins to linger throughout your mind at telling them this piece of information, given the way that they all seem to be reacting now.

“We should have done more to her,” Wooyoung is seething as he continues to pace back and forth. “We should have fucking torn her flesh right from her bones.”

“Wooyoung,” Jongho warns.

“It wasn’t enough,” Wooyoung continues. “It will never be enough.”

“Wooyoung.” Seonghwa’s firm voice manages to draw the younger’s furious gaze to him for the moment. “Calm yourself.”

“You can’t seriously be telling me that-“

“We all feel the exact same way,” Yeosang meets his brother’s gaze from over your shoulder, and the darkness he can see swirling within the elder’s own has him halting in his tracks.

“However, right now, your anger is not helping,” Yunho frowns at the man standing almost directly across from him. 

At the way the elder flicks his gaze to your slightly trembling form held in Yeosang’s arms, Wooyoung is immediately back at your side.

“I’m so sorry, Angel,” Wooyoung’s gaze holds nothing but concern for you as he grabs your hand in his once more. “I’m not angry at you. Please, don’t think I’m angry at you.”

You shake your head slightly. “You’re allowed to be angry, Woo. You all are.”

He squeezes your hand in response.

“It’s just-“ you sigh, shifting your position slightly. “I’ve never been good with other people’s anger. Or shouting. Especially not when I’m in this sort of mental state.”

“We appreciate you telling us, Petal,” Yunho smiles softly at you from across the table.

“We promise to keep that in mind going forward,” San assures you gently, watching you nod in response.

Briefly, your eyes dart around the area, a frown pulling at your features. “Where’s Joong?”

Wordlessly, both Yunho and Seonghwa share a look between each other before the eldest is motioning with his head over his shoulder. At the way your brow furrows even deeper, eyes darting passed the couch and still not seeing Hongjoong anywhere, you begin to stand.

Once you’re on your feet, with a little help from Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung, you’re carefully weaving your way through the sitting area to find your missing King. When you step passed the couch, you turn your head slightly from side to side, scanning the room. However, what you don’t expect is to see Hongjoong crouched behind the sofa, tears streaming down his face as he covers his mouth with his one hand in order to muffle his sobs.

“Oh, Hongjoong,” your expressions falls, synonymous with the way you drop to your knees before him. “My King, why are you crying?”

Your question, in that soft tone of yours filled with nothing but concern for him, only makes him sob harder. The way you pull him into your embrace in the next second has him clinging onto you for dear life, entire body shuddering as he buried his face into the side of your neck.

“How can you even stand to look at me right now?” He chokes on his breath, hands clinging desperately to your back despite his words. "I’ve failed you.”

“Why?” To say you’re completely caught off guard by his question would be an understatement. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s all my fault,” Hongjoong’s voice trembles as he inhales a shuddering breath. “The fountain-“ he chokes on a sob, “in the garden,” his grip tightens around you, “it was my idea.”

You stiffen the slightest bit beneath his touch, and it’s enough to have him clinging onto you harder, afraid that you may slip between his very fingers at any moment.

“She tried to kill you using everything of my own,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper, and it’s like he confesses to the darkest of sins right then and there. “It was my blade she used to torture you with. It was my fountain she tried to drown you in. It was my wards that she broke through.” His voice is but a mere rasp, overcome by his emotions for the time being. “It’s all my fault.”

You take a moment to collect your own thoughts, tightening your grip around him as you begin to thread your fingers gently through his hair with your free hand.

“You know I don’t believe that for one second, right?” You keep your voice calm, much steadier than you thought you’d be able to for the moment. “I thought I told you that I don’t blame you, any of you, for what she did.”

“I still gave her the means to hurt you.” He replies, somewhat bluntly.

“Was that ever your intent?” You turn his own words back on him.

A brief pause in which he pulls away only the slightest in order to meet your gaze. His eyes shine with a fear unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him before at the mere suggestion.

“No,” he shakes his head slightly. “Never.”

“Exactly.” You brush your hand over his cheek tenderly. “You swore yourself that you would never hurt me, and My Love, you never have. None of you have ever hurt me, nor could you ever hurt me in the ways that she did. I know for a fact that none of you would ever forgive yourselves if you did.”

You fail to see how all males stiffen behind the couch both you and Hongjoong are hidden behind. Though, you most certainly hear the way all of their breaths hitch in their throats, including the King before you.

“You did not hold my head beneath the water. You have never raised a blade to my skin,” the way the thumb of your right hand caresses over where that all too familiar scar rests over his own chest has a shiver running down his spine. You meet his gaze. “I know you never will. At least, not with the intent to hurt me. Not like she did.”

“The reason I lasted so long,” you continue. “The reason I was able to hold out against her for as long as I did, was because I knew. I knew that the second you got back that you would come to save me. You would protect me with everything that you are like you always have. All of you. It’s the reason I am able to talk about what happened right now, so quickly after everything. Sure, I’m fucking traumatized, but at least I’m speaking about it. I can begin to process these emotions because I know you’ll all be with me every step of the way. A thing that I’ve never done before so soon after such an incident.”

“My Love,” he breathes, and you notice how he’s beginning to calm down more and more with each word you speak.

“I know it’s hard not to blame yourself for every little thing that goes wrong,” you place your chin atop his head as you pull him to rest against your chest so that he can hear the sound of your beating heart. “Believe me, I’ve been there. I’m still there. What we all have to realize is that we can never control the actions of others. We can only choose how to react to what they do around us. We can either let their past wrongdoings consume us, letting those memories control our every thought and feeling, or we can grow from it.”

“I am tired of letting her make me feel powerless, even in death,” you exhale a long breath. “It’s even worse knowing the hold she still has over all of you. There is nothing I hate more than seeing the people I care about in pain, or blaming themselves for something that is completely out of their control.”

“So, please, My King, do not waste any more time crying over a matter that does not deserve any of your tears.” Slowly, you wipe the remaining droplets away with your thumb as he pulls back to meet your gaze. “Do not allow her the satisfaction of seeing you break, even after death. It’s exactly what she wants, and I’ll be damned before I let her get her way ever again.”

A small silence settles over the room as Hongjoong stares deeply into your eyes. His hands still desperately hold you close, gaze shining with nothing but the deepest form of love you’ve ever seen from him. Not only that, but gratitude.

Slowly, you tilt your head forward, pressing your lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss.

Hongjoong absolutely melts into your embrace, sniffling softly as he blinks away his remaining tears.

“Here you are comforting me when I’m the one supposed to be comforting you,” he jokes lightheartedly, hearing a soft chuckle fall from your lips.

“Grief is a two way street, My Love,” you reply, and you do not fail to hear the way his breath hitches this time as you say those two little words.

Once more, Hongjoong’s gaze absolutely shines with adoration as he looks at you, revelling in this moment for as long as he can. Your words have reassured him more than you’ll ever know, and he knows, along with all of his brothers, that he has only just fallen even deeper in love with you.

“Now, let’s go back and sit on the couch,” you begin to stand, stretching out your legs all the while. “My butt is getting numb.”

The way you see a few of their brows raised in slight amusement as you turn back towards them all has your eyes flashing in amusement.

“No suggestive ass jokes from any of you right now,” your glare is playful as you walk hand in hand with Hongjoong back over to the one couch. 

Sitting beside Mingi, you notice that he oh, so innocently averts his gaze from you for the time being as you hear Wooyoung’s laughter coming from the ground at your feet. In the next moment, they’ve all pushed themselves up, sitting in spots around the various couches and chairs lining the area. All except for the two males that still sit on the ground near your feet.

You hold onto Hongjoong’s hand, pulling it into your lap as you lean into Mingi’s side. Your legs come up to rest across the elder’s own, smiling faintly as you feel him wrap an arm around them soon after. Even Mingi’s arm wraps itself around you, pulling you that much closer into his side for the moment as you find yourself relaxing beneath their touch.

Still, that pebble of yours rests in your free hand.

Sparing a glance downwards, that’s when you notice that Yeosang still sits on the floor in front of you. He faces towards you, resting his arm against the side of the couch as it supports his chin. The way he tenderly looks up at you has you placing your stone onto your one thigh for a brief second in order to reach out and caress the side of his face. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he feels your thumb stroking gently over his cheek.

“I could tell all she ever wanted was you,” your voice is a bit smaller than before as you continue to recount the events that transpired while they were gone. “No one else mattered more to her than you.”

A pointed line from Miyeon echoing throughout all of their minds has them inhaling sharply.

“Sure, she would take all of you in the end,” you say, keeping your tone low as you dive back into those emotions once more. “If only to prove that she could. Yet, it was always you she desired above all else. Until the very end.”

“I would never have let her have me,” he replies, staring deeply into your eyes. “Not in a billion years.”

You smile sadly, “she wasn’t going to give you a choice.”

Before they can even ask you to elaborate further, they are dropped back into your memories. The pain alone that they can feel echoing through your past thoughts has all of their chests squeezing tightly in response. Already, you were hurt so badly, and you still had to endure everything else that Miyeon had in store for you.

The moment you fling yourself in front of Yunho’s art room, their breaths are hitching in their throats. Though, none are as loud as the artist himself.

“Petal,” his voice trembles as he stares at you from across the table. You sit nearly diagonally apart from him, gaze fixated on that stone now back in your one hand as your thumb traces over every little bump and crevasse.

Nothing could have prepared him for the ferocity in which you had tried to protect his space with. The sheer desperation he can hear in your voice, even after you continuously got the wind knocked out of you by being smashed through the door has a feeling unlike ever before swirling in his chest.

“She tore everything apart without a second thought,” your eyes squeeze shut, fresh tears lining your lashes as you attempt to keep them at bay for now. “I tried to stop her, Universe. I really did.”

“I know, Petal,” instantly, he’s right beside you, kneeling on the ground as Yeosang moves the slightest bit over to give him some space. “I know.”

“She desecrated everything you worked so hard on,” a heart wrenching sob tears from your chest, and you cannot bring yourself to open your eyes to even look at him for the moment.

Yunho can still remember the moment he walked into his art room to see the shattered remains of the door, your blood soaking into the torn pages of his sketchbook littering the floor. The worst of it was the dried smear right in front of the canvass on display in the corner of the room, and he just knew something terrible had happened to you for that painting to remain perfectly intact.

The flower crown can be remade. His sketches can be redrawn. Hell, even that canvass he could paint again. But you? You?

Irreplaceable.

The moment they see Miyeon turn the sketchbook around in your memories, a blank page greets them. Immediately, they all understand that this is you respecting Yunho’s art in your own way by not showing them a picture he potentially hadn’t yet. Yunho knows that though this fact is unquestionably true, it is also you keeping your shared intimacy of that day the two of you claimed one another private.

A fact which warms his heart more than you’ll ever know.

Tears spring to his own eyes the instant he sees you lunge for Miyeon in order to protect that painting in the corner of the room. Even some of his brothers cannot help the tears that line the corners of their vision as they watch you do whatever you can to protect Yunho’s art. The second they see Miyeon slash your body as you jump in front of her blade to prevent it from ever striking the canvass, the tears are flowing freely from San’s, Mingi’s, Seonghwa’s, Yeosang’s, and Wooyoung’s eyes.

“You got hurt protecting the painting.” Yunho nearly chokes on his own voice. “For me.”

Finally, you open your eyes, turning your head to look at him as tears slide down your face shamelessly. Slowly, you nod your head.

“I wouldn’t let her touch it.” You swallow thickly. “I couldn’t.”

“You got hurt because of me,” Yunho practically collapses on top of your stomach, arms desperately wrapping themselves around your torso as he sobs into you.

“No, Universe,” immediately, you drop Hongjoong’s hand in favour of running your fingers gently through Yunho’s hair. “I chose to try and protect your art, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I’m only sorry that I failed you.” You avert your gaze. “I was too weak.”

You feel both Mingi and Hongjoong shuffle the slightest bit closer to you, a hand that you’d bet anything belongs to Yeosang coming to rest on your lower thigh. Even Yunho raises his head to look at you, shaking his head in your direction as his arms tighten around your waist.

“No, Petal,” he meets your gaze. “You were so brave. So, unbelievably, brave. The fact that you so desperately wanted to save my art, that you wanted to protect all of our things, means more to me, to us, than you’ll ever know. We don’t care about the things Miyeon destroyed. They can be replaced. You cannot.”

You hand shifts to cup the side of his cheek, thumb stroking tenderly over his skin. You can feel your emotions catching in your throat, and you swallow thickly, especially when you feel Hongjoong squeeze your legs tenderly in his lap.

Slowly, you begin to nod.

Yunho sends you a small, relieved smile. One which you weakly mirror as you raise a hand to dry your eyes.

“Do not feel guilty for the things you cannot control, Petal,” Yunho softly reminds you. “Know that we do not blame you at all.”

Again, all you can do is nod, smiling faintly as you wipe the lingering tears from your eyes. Your emotions begin to settle, even if only the slightest bit, and you find a weight lifted from your chest that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding on to. The way you can see all of them still staring at you so tenderly, eyes full of nothing but love and worry for you makes your heart warm. You feel comforted, protected, and safe, especially as you continue to rest in their arms.

Carefully, you begin to sit up once more, resting your feet on the ground as the four males surrounding you give you the space to move. Blinking, you turn your head to the other male who still sits on the floor, arms crossed against the cushion of the couch as he stares up at you with nothing but worry shining in his eyes. 

Slowly, you stand, stepping over Mingi as you reach your hand out to Wooyoung. Immediately, he takes it, and you’re helping him to stand, only to pull him down to sit on the couch with you on Mingi’s opposite side. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him in your lap as you feel him bury his face into the side of your neck.

“I’m sorry that she chose the room of your passion to hurt all of us in,” you whisper, feeling the way he tightens his hold around you almost instantly.

A tear lands on your skin, followed by another, and then another. Even though Wooyoung does his best to muffle the sounds of his sobs, you can tell how badly this fact affects him, given the way his entire form begins to tremble in your arms.

You spare a look around at all of them as you begin to thread your fingers through Wooyoung’s hair, offering him any sort of comfort that you can for the moment.

“I don’t think I need to go into explicit detail as to what she did to me in that room,” you begin, swallowing thickly. “You all saw the state of my body.”

“It is a sight we wish we’d never have had to behold,” Seonghwa breathes, as if recalling that very image now. “Nor do we ever want to see you in again.”

“I never knew fear before until I heard you scream that day,” Jongho admits, hands trembling as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t think any of us did,” Hongjoong blinks, staring down at his hands in his lap with wide eyes.

“If it’s any comfort to you,” you briefly spare a glance around at all of them, “that was the only time she made me scream. She only succeeded once.”

“She did?” San sits slightly forward in his seat to your left.

“I swore to myself as soon as she appeared that I would not let her see me cry, or hear me scream.” You tell them. “It worked, for the most part. Until she got inside my head. I don’t physically remember much after that. Not until Yunho found me again.”

The way you shift your gaze to send the male to your right a small smile has a faint one of his own tugging at his lips.

“But, while she was-“ you take a deep breath, “while she was torturing me, I managed to get quite a bit of information out of her. She was more than happy to boast of her achievements to me.”

“Did she, now?” Seonghwa quirks a brow in your direction.

You nod, immediately launching into an explanation of everything you were able to find out from Miyeon over the course of your little conversation with her. You can see the way each male takes in the information, some of the facts physically repulsing them.

“She was going to brainwash you all into loving her after she had killed me in front of you,” you tell them. “She used Dimitri as a test run, proving that such a monumental loss of love could break someone enough to allow her control over their minds. Even now, that fact alone makes me sick. She wasn’t going to let any of you have a choice. She-“

Your breath catches in your throat as you instantly shut your mouth. A thought so terrifying flits through your mind as your fingers dig into the skin on Wooyoung’s back.

Of course, each male instantly notices your shift in demeanour. Worry tugs onto all of their features as you go unnaturally quiet, entire body still as you stare into the open air beside Seonghwa’s head.

You blink, keeping your voice low. “She is what all of you could have become.”

The briefest of flashes of that one conversation at the mall flits through all of their minds, and they all inhale sharply.

“I don’t mean to ever be insinuating that I’m comparing any of you to her,” you are quick to add. “You all are nothing like her, and please know that I realize that. You let me keep my autonomy. You chose to let me keep my own mind. She was the one willing to take that all away due to her own twisted sense of obsession. That, and she wasn’t afraid of hurting you to get what she wanted. A fact which I know none of you would ever do to me.”

You’re beginning to ramble at this point, anxiety clawing at your chest as you’re worried you’ve offended them for the moment.

“I-“ you blink, attempting to find the words to say, “I-“

“Shh, Starlight,” Mingi’s reassuring voice sounds right by your ear, his hand stroking along the back of your head. “We know you meant no offence.”

The sigh of relief you breathe is bigger than you anticipate, feeling Wooyoung chuckle against you in the next second. At least he’s stopped crying for now.

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he whispers lowly, his breath tickling the shell of your opposite ear. “You were just stating an observation you had made. A brilliant one at that.”

“I can’t believe she killed his family to try and get what she wanted,” San breathes, leaning further back into his seat.

“Shouldn’t that mean her hold over him is gone?” You inquire, eyes briefly flitting over all of them before locking with Yunho’s.

“Not necessarily,” Yunho frowns. “It depends on how strong the manipulation runs, and from the sounds of it, she altered his entire conscience. Mina did incur that whatever Miyeon had planned would still guarantee her victory, even in death.”

“Then, is there any way to free his mind? Or Mina’s?” You briefly recall what they told you about that locked knot of memories inside Mina’s head when they got back from their council the other day.

“If we managed to free Dimitri, he could free Mina instantly,” Yunho explains. “However, freeing Dimitri could require a lot of time and effort. Not to mention wards to keep him from lashing out, that we just don’t have right now.”

“Malik, though, is a completely different story.” Seonghwa sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s dangerous, even without being a man in love,” Hongjoong adds, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, perfectly mirroring the exact position of the youngest who sits across from him.

“I bet neither will take too kindly to us after finding out Miyeon is dead,” Mingi crosses his arms over his chest as he sits back on the couch.

“Considering she managed to convince him to stage a coup twenty years ago despite being one of the most loyal generals we ever had,” San huffs. “Yeah, I think we’ve got some bigger issues than we think.”

“I’m surprised he ever fell for her.” Jongho adds. “Do you think she even cared for him?”

“I don’t think she was capable of loving anyone other than herself,” Wooyoung spits, quite harshly.

Soothingly, you rub a hand down his spine, feeling the way his whole body relaxes beneath your touch.

“She is the most vile, disgusting, loathsome creature I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,” you hiss, tightening your hold the slightest bit around Wooyoung’s waist.

Eight low growls of agreement echo around your room.

You go to speak once more, only for your voice to catch in your throat. That same glow that you saw in your bathroom earlier that day now rests right behind the couch Seonghwa and Jongho sit on. Vaguely, you can make out a shape, and it really does look like a person.

“Who-“ your panicked voice reaches all of their ears, “who is that?”

Immediately, all eight of them are turning to look in the direction your frantic gaze is in. Wooyoung even goes so far as to hop off of your lap, crouching in front of you protectively as all eight of them snarl threateningly at whatever presence seems to have caught your eye.

Only, a moment later, their shoulders are relaxing, eight heads turning back to look at you.

“You can see them?” Jongho inquires, head tilted slightly in curiosity.

“See what?” Your gaze never leaves that shining figure as it takes a step towards Seonghwa’s right, standing directly behind his one shoulder.

“Spirit souls, My Love,” Hongjoong answers you.

“Who-“

Turning his head once more, Seonghwa smiles softly, recognizing the figure instantly.

“It’s your grandmother, My Divine,” he turns his gentle gaze back towards you.

Sure enough, focusing a little more intently, the figure of your grandmother becomes clearer and clearer.

“How?” You breathe, sitting forward slightly on the couch as you see her smiling so fondly at you.

“We can all see them, but only Hwa can usually make out who it is,” Mingi explains.

“It’s most likely a side effect from ingesting his blood, My Dear,” Yeosang’s voice is gentle, and you glance briefly at him out of the corner of your eyes before your gaze is being drawn back to your grandmother.

“She’s been around this whole time, though she doesn’t appear as often as you’d think.” Seonghwa adds, noticing how you blink in awe. “Gave me a massive scolding after we came back from visiting the dragon’s nest, though.”

“You can talk with her?” The wonder they can all hear lingering throughout your tone has all of their hearts warming in their chests.

Seonghwa nods. “Only sometimes, though. Mainly when her emotions are extremely heightened. Otherwise, it’s mainly feelings that I pick up on.”

“Oh, goodness,” your eyes keep flitting between both him and your grandmother who stands resting with her hand on his shoulder. “I hope she hasn’t told you anything embarrassing about me.”

At the way he smiles, your eyes widen.

“Mars!” You nearly throw a pillow at him as you watch him chuckle across from you.

Then, as if deciding that she’s done checking on you, and making sure that you’re okay for the moment, your grandmother shoots you a cheeky thumbs up before vanishing into thin air.

“I think you just got my grandmother’s approval,” you blink, slightly stunned for the moment.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he grins, loving the way your eyes widen significantly at this fact.

“I don’t want to know,” you shake your head playfully. Then, as if realizing something, “wait, if Hwa is the only one that can make out the figures, what do they all look like to you?”

The question you pose is for all of them, and you watch them smile at you from around the sitting area. That all too familiar curiosity tugs at your mind once more. A feeling that they haven’t experienced for quite some time, but are each more than happy to revel in it now.

“Usually just a faint glowing orb of some sort,” Mingi answers for you, noting the look of wonder still shining within your eyes.

“Huh,” you nod, clearly impressed. “Neat.”

You blink, subconsciously beginning to run a thumb over that stone still held in your one hand.

“Do you know if I’ll get any other side effects specific to the eight of you when I ingest your blood?” You ask, nothing but curiosity reflected in your gaze.

They all share a look between each other, your choice of words sending pleasant tingles down their spines.

“Honestly, Darling, we have no idea,” Jongho says. “We didn’t even know it was possible to have any personalized side effects from any of our blood. If at all.”

You nod once more. “A bit of a weird question, but what does blood taste like to you?”

“It can taste like a variety of things, depending on the type and rarity,” Wooyoung explains. “Though, the majority of it will just taste like iron to many.”

“Type?” You quirk a brow, noticing how he didn’t really answer your question.

“It mainly just tastes sweet to us, but it can still be addicting,” San adds, sharing a knowing look with Mingi who still rests beside you on the couch.

“Do you know what your own blood tastes like?” You ask, eyes glancing around at all of them.

“Just tastes like blood to us,” Wooyoung shrugs, back to sitting on the floor by your feet. “Why? Did Hwa’s blood taste like something to you?”

Eight pairs of eager eyes watch you closely as you shift slightly on the couch.

Curling yourself into the corner of the cushions, you cross your legs, pulling a pillow into your lap in the next second to hug it to your chest.

“Tasted like dark chocolate.” You shrug. “And a faint bit of iron.”

Slowly, you watch a smug smirk pull at Seonghwa’s features as his brother’s heads all whip around to look at him. He can feel the content rumble building within his chest that wants to escape him at learning of this revelation. He only wishes that the context were better.

“So, I’m also assuming yours,” you motion to Wooyoung with your head, drawing all of their attention back onto you for the moment, “tastes like cranberry juice, and a little bit of iron. Based on that tonic you gave me.”

“It’s possible,” Wooyoung nods. “Though, my blood was quite diluted in that.”

You nod, blinking a few times in wonder. “Did my blood taste like anything?”

Immediately, all eyes are on Wooyoung, his brothers waiting for his response with bated breath.

“To be quite honest, Gorgeous, I wish I could tell you.” Wooyoung notices the way his brother’s shoulders all deflate in disappointment at his words. “I didn’t take enough to fully taste anything other than to check for poison. I also had a few, more important things on my mind.”

“Fair enough,” this time when you nod, your eyes seem to zone out, the reminder of the state that they found you in enough to have your mood plummeting once more.

Beside you, Mingi tenses, feeling Yunho digging his fingers into the skin of his knee. Sparing a glance at the elder male shows Yunho subtly shaking his head in Mingi’s direction, the faintest of warnings lingering in his brother’s gaze.

Subtly, Mingi nods back, body relaxing once he feels Yunho remove his hand from his knee.

Of course Yunho would warn Mingi to keep his mouth shut for the moment. The younger only wanted to joke about tasting your blood for you to know whether it had any particular flavour to it. A curiosity which is mirrored in each male, but now is not the time for such inquiries given the way your whole demeanour has just dropped.

Pulling the pillow closer to your chest, you rest your head against the edge. Desperately, you cling onto the material, thumb back to tracing along the side of your pebble. Your eyes stare, unfocused, at the table before you, seemingly lost inside your own head.

“I thought she was going to split my skull right open,” you admit, keeping your voice low. “I don’t know how I managed to fend her off mentally for so long, but I did. She jumped at every opportunity to smash through, and once I started slipping, she-“ you squeeze your eyes shut. “She used my own darkest fears against me. That’s how she was able to break through.”

“Baby,” San sits forward once more in his seat, reaching out for you worriedly. “You don’t have to tell us if you’re not comfortable. We don’t want to push you.”

“You’ve already shared so much with us today,” Seonghwa does whatever he can to get you to meet his gaze for the moment, but you keep your eyes shut, trembling breaths escaping your figure with each passing second. “Please, don’t push yourself.”

“I-“ you stop yourself, taking a long and slow breath inwards to steady your nerves. Finally, you open your eyes, and the faint determination they can all see shining behind your broken gaze says it all. “I think it’s time for you all to know some things about me that I have kept hidden for so long. I want to share them with you. I need you all to understand just how she broke me, and why I always say that I cannot go back there again.”

A collective stillness settles around the room as they all inhale sharply. Each male’s gaze is filled with nothing but worry for you, hearts pounding inside their chests as they observe you carefully.

“Before I begin, I need to know that you’re all okay with hearing this,” at the way you see Jongho shift forward, lips parting as if to answer you, you’re raising your one hand slightly to halt his response. “There already has been a lot of heavy topics discussed today, and what I’m about to tell you is no exception. I don’t want to just dump this on you all given everything that has happened recently. That’s not fair to you in the slightest if you don’t have the mental capacity to be able to process the information I am about to share with you. I do not want to overwhelm you.”

“Your consideration means more to us than you’ll ever know, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles softly. A pain filled smile that reflects the way his heart aches for you inside of his chest for the moment. Even still, after everything that has occurred, you’re looking out for them before considering yourself and your own needs.

“You will find, My Love, that we always have the ability to listen to whatever it is you would like to tell us,” Hongjoong’s soft voice draws your attention to him at the opposite end of the couch. “No matter the topic.”

“Whenever,” Jongho adds lightly.

“Wherever,” Mingi breathes.

“We are right here for you,” Seonghwa finally manages to get you to meet his gaze, smiling tenderly in your direction all the while. “Always.”

The way fresh tears begin to line your eyes has each male shifting closer to you instantly. Both Mingi and Wooyoung place a comforting hand onto each one of your knees, letting you know that they’re all here for you in whatever ways they can be for the moment. Never do you have to suffer alone. Never do they want you to suffer alone anymore.

With all that they are, and with everything they can, they will comfort you, protect you, and love you unquestionably until the end of time.

“You really all don’t know how much that means to me,” you smile weakly. “I mean this from the bottom of my heart: the eight of you are everything I could have ever asked for.”

Gentle smiles greet you from around the room, tears springing to each male’s eyes as your words wash over them.

A moment of silence settles over all of you as they let your confession sink in.

Then, Yunho clears his throat, voice still rough as he speaks, “whenever you’re ready, Petal.”

Softly, you nod in response, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves once more.

“I’m sure you can all remember how I broke down that one day,” you begin, noticing how they all seem to stiffen around you in response. “That voice had been with me for over a year before I almost let it win.”

The way you squeeze the pillow tighter is synonymous with they way that they all inhale sharply once more. You can feel the way Seonghwa looks at you from across the table. A concerned look shared by all of his brothers, but you can tell that his is slightly different. Different, because he understands.

“I never thought that I was capable of being loved.”

Your confession knocks the wind right out of them.

“I hated myself so deeply. I thought that there was always something wrong with me.” You go on to say, keeping your voice low for the moment as you avoid all of their gazes. “While my friends would be going on dates, or texting me about their relationships, I was always alone. Nobody wanted me. How could they? I wasn’t beautiful like everyone else. I could barely hold someone’s attention long enough for them to be interested in me, and when I finally found someone who bothered to spend time with me, it never worked out.”

“Perhaps it was because I’ve always been a hopeless romantic at heart, or maybe it was all the stupid ideals surrounding love that I had. Yet, despite everything, I had such high standards. For myself. For this supposed mystery lover I always dreamed about having. For everything.” You explain, eyes now fixed on the way your thumb rubs over the smooth side of that rock in your hand.

“Yet, whenever someone did genuinely express interest in me, I couldn’t help but always doubt.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “I was never the most popular girl, and everyone thought I was just this ugly weirdo who tried to get any sort of attention that I could. So, of course, no one thought anything of it to pretend to like me. I laughed it off at the time, sure, but hearing that someone you thought cared about you only asked you out as a dare, or for a joke, or to prove how nobody actually likes you, or will ever like you, is so mind-numbingly heartbreaking that it completely destroys you inside.”

Eight low growls build in their throats, anger bubbling beneath the surface at whoever so much as dared to play with your heart like this. Once they find out who it was, they’re dead. Though, for now, they’ll stay with you. They’ll listen, even if their hearts are suffocating from your every word.

Knowing you have felt like this, that you have continued to feel like this for quite some time, pains them beyond belief.

If only they had met you sooner. If only they had known.

“I never believed that anyone could love me, let alone be in love with me.” You breathe, silent tears beginning to make their ways down your cheeks. “My depression just made everything worse. I had so much self-loathing for myself, I could hardly look in the mirror without being disgusted by everything that I saw.”

“I have always sought approval from those around me. So, if no one could love me, why should I bother to love myself?” You smile faintly, a broken tug of your lips upwards. “Which is when I realized something about myself that must have been unquestionably true. Something that became my biggest fear the more I realized it to be real.”

You take a shaky breath inwards, eyes squeezing shut as you refuse to meet any of their gazes.

“I was unlovable,” shame washes over your entire figure as you curl in on yourself, voice no more than a whisper on your lips. “I always had been, and I believed I always would be.”

Carefully, you feel yourself being pulled onto somebody’s lap and a choked sob escapes you. Still, you are unable to open your eyes to look at them, clutching that stone desperately in your one hand as you cling to the pillow in your arms for dear life. However, what you fail to see is how all eight of them surround you.

Mingi gently cradles you in his arms once more, keeping your head tucked just below his chin. Tears stream freely down his face, a few falling against the crown of your head as you lean into him.

Wooyoung rests beside you to your left, his hand placed comfortingly onto the skin of your back, along with San’s, who rests as close as he can to you on the floor by Wooyoung’s feet. Yunho sits right beside him, his hand placed gently onto your waist for the moment as he silently chokes on a sob. Seonghwa kneels to his left, hand trembling along with his whole body as he keeps his fingers pressed against your hip for the time being.

Against your thigh, you can feel someone resting their forehead. Their hands desperately cling onto you as they sob against your skin.

Never has Yeosang felt his heart break more for you in this moment. He feels as if he has failed you, especially now that he knows that you went through this. The fact that you had ever felt like this, that you had continued to feel like this for a large portion of your life devastates him. He only wishes he could have done something sooner, to both ease your insecurities and tell you, show you, how those thoughts have never been true, nor will they ever be.

Kneeling on the floor right by your shins rests Jongho. His one arm is wrapped around your lower leg, hugging you to him as much as he can as the lower half of your body is held within Hongjoong’s own grip. Your legs drape themselves over his lap once more as silent tears escape his eyes.

“My mental health was at an all time low. I felt worthless, and completely and utterly useless.” You continue quietly, resting your head against Mingi’s chest. “Continuously finding my sister so close to death at her own hands took it’s toll as well. After all, if she could do it, why couldn’t I?”

Eight choked sobs reach your ears, and you can feel the hand placed over your hip tighten its grip even more so than the others.

“I felt as if I had no reason to live anymore. I didn’t want to,” your entire body begins to shake in their hold. “If no one desired me, then obviously I had no value in being alive.”

“Not to mention, that voice just made everything worse,” you go on to say. “I blamed myself for everything. My sister, my depression, the fact that I was unlovable. I was weak, and I let those voices win.”

Suddenly, the eight of them are thrown into a memory. Not just any memory, though. The memory of the worst night of your life.

Tears stream down your face as you look into the reflection of your mirror across from your bed. Your entire body trembles as you clutch a pillow to your chest, hand fumbling with that little stone desperately as you attempt to ground yourself to no avail. Briefly, your eyes keep darting to a folded piece of paper resting beside you on the bed before glancing back up at the vanity with the mirror across from you.

That’s when they notice where your gaze truly lies. For on the vanity rests a bottle of pills, a glass of water practically glaring at them from beside it.

Your emotions begin to flood their every sense. Shame, disgust, despair, and hatred wash over them unfiltered. A pain so great echoes in their hearts, feeling as if they are being suffocated with every breath they take, and they just know that this is exactly how you felt in this moment as they watch you begin to shift off of the bed.

With every step you take towards the vanity, they can hear those vicious voices spewing the harshest insults at you, taunting you with every breath. The most vile lies they have ever heard about you are thrown at yourself without a second thought, though the one they hear resound through their minds as you reach your vanity has sobs tearing from their chests.

It would be easier this way.

They can do nothing but watch as you slowly begin to take the pills before walking back to your bed. Crawling on top of the covers, you lay yourself down on your back, gently clutching that letting in your hands and resting them on top of your stomach.

You close your eyes.

You don’t know how much time had passed, and neither do they, for the next thing they know, your blurry vision is back and you’re throwing up into a bucket. Your sister sits worriedly beside you, tears streaming down her face as she sobs into her phone, a trembling hand rubbing over your back. Your letter rests open on the floor at your feet, stains lining the page in splatters as the ink smudges from your sister’s tears.

“My parents had gone away for a weekend trip. They would have been back the following morning,” your voice manages to pull them back to the reality in front of them, chest heaving with every breath. “I planned it so they would find me as soon as they got home, but my sister decided to come over that night instead.”

“How wonderful a sight that would have been.” You laugh humourlessly, dull eyes finally open as your broken gaze stares forward, refusing to look at any of them for the moment. “My parents go away for a weekend to celebrate their anniversary, and they come back to the gift of a dead daughter.”

“My sister rode with me in the ambulance, and she stayed with me the whole time I was in the hospital. My parents still think I simply got alcohol poisoning from drinking too much that night, because that’s what we told them. Before they got home, she went back and burned my letter so they wouldn’t find it, and that’s when we vowed to each other that we would get through this together.” You breathe out, sniffling lightly. “And we did.”

“It took a while, and a lot of therapy, but I got better.” There’s a slight shift in your tone. A sort of lightness that wasn’t there before. A lightness that reflects hope. “Slowly, I learned to quiet those voices, and manage them until I could learn to reason with myself. I may not have been fully able to love myself, but at least my depression was under control. The world finally started to have some vibrance to it again.”

“Now you see why I never want to go back there again,” you bring your hands up to rub at your tired eyes. “I couldn’t. I promised my sister I never would. I promised myself that I would never let my depression get that bad again. I would never let those fears, those voices control me again.”

For the first time in over twenty minutes, you finally begin to meet their gazes.

“I never believed someone could be in love with me.” You repeat, shoulders relaxing the slightest bit as you settle your hands lightly back onto the pillow in your lap. “Until all of you.”

The way they all softly gasp your name has your heart warming in your chest.

“You all made me believe in love again. You made me believe I could be loved.” Still, you keep your voice low, nothing more than a gentle whisper on your lips. “You have made me believe I am beautiful. You have made me feel desired. You have all made me feel so incredibly special in every way imaginable, but more than all of that, you have made me feel loved.”

Soft, affectionate rumbles build in their chests, each male shifting closer to you as much as he can.

“There was always a reason that I replied to you with ‘I believe you,’” you continue, feeling your heartbeat thumping from within your chest, “and this was it.”

You can feel the love pouring out of all of their gazes as they continue to stare at you with nothing but fondness in their eyes. Yes, there is still undoubtedly that concern mixed within, but each male cannot prevent the way their hearts absolutely soar at your confession in this very moment here in time. The way you seem to absolutely revel not only in their touch, but their love is simply icing on the cake.

“Which is exactly why when she broke through to my mind, and started implementing those false memories within me, I didn’t believe them at first.” You say, swallowing thickly as your whole body tenses within their hold once more. “So, when she threw me back into feeling exactly as I did during the darkest part of my life, only to-“ your voice catches as you squeeze your eyes shut, “to continue adding more fuel to the fire, I broke.”

“Is that-“ San is the first to speak after all of them being silent for so long. “Is that when she made you scream?”

You shift your head to look at him, nodding slightly once you meet his gaze. “I think so.”

You blink, turning your head back around to stare passed all of them again.

“I think she put her own memories of you into my mind, but instead of her being on the receiving end, it was me.” You breathe, staring blankly ahead. “After all, it’s the people that we care about the most that can shatter us the quickest.”

The way they all collectively inhale sharply at your words has you taking a deep breath. Again, you feel Seonghwa tighten his grip slightly over your hip.

“They were.” Yunho clears his throat. “They were all hers. We would never look at you like that. We couldn’t. I would rather gouge my own eyes out than make you believe I would ever look at you with anything other than love in my gaze.”

“We all would,” Jongho confirms, nothing but sincerity reflected in both his tone and eyes.

You smile faintly. “I believe you.”

Eight gentle caresses of your mind serve as their response, helping to ease a bit more of the tension that consumes your figure for the time being.

“I do not want to allow her to continue to have a hold over me, even after death,” you swallow. “However, it is a lot easier said than done.”

“What can we do?” Mingi’s voice rumbles out above you, chin shifting from resting on the top of your head in order to place his lips upon the crown. “What can we do to make it better, Starlight?”

“You’ve already done more than I could ever ask for,” your honest reply warms their hearts more than you’ll ever know. “I don’t think I would have been able to talk about things so soon were it not for all of you. Were it not for what you all have done, and continue to do for me. What you all mean to me.”

Soft rumbles of affection greet your ears, and your heart flutters in your chest knowing that they’re all here to comfort you for the moment.

“For now, all I ask is that you stay with me.” You feel yourself fully relax against Mingi’s chest, allowing yourself to feel all of them surrounding you with their touch, their comfort, and their protection.

“Always, My Love,” Hongjoong breathes, thumb gently stroking along the skin of your knee as he continues to hold your legs over his lap.

“We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Yunho smiles softly at you.

“Thank you, My Divine, for sharing this with us,” Seonghwa reaches up to grab your hand gently in his own, bringing the back of it to his lips and placing a lingering kiss upon your skin.

“Thank you for trusting us.” Yeosang turns his head towards you, keeping it resting against the skin of your thigh as he meets your gaze.

“We will always be here for you, in whatever ways you need us,” Jongho adds, squeezing your shin lightly for emphasis.

“If you ever need anything from us, anything at all,” San soothingly rubs his hand in circles over your lower back, feeling you physically relax beneath his touch. “Please, Baby, never be afraid to ask.”

“We would do anything for you,” Wooyoung places his hand upon your shoulder, thumb caressing your skin lightly.

“All we want is to make you happy,” Jongho smiles softly.

“We love you, Starlight,” Mingi leans his head forward to rest his forehead against your own. “Please, never forget that.”

This time when tears spring to your eyes, it’s for a completely different reason. Now, you cannot help the way your chest floods with warmth, an undeniable happiness flooding your veins as your heart positively sings inside your chest.

“My Kings,” you melt into their embrace, a tender pull to your lips upwards as nothing but affection drips within your gaze. “I love you, too.”

[sukirichi]

Since I’m getting a lot of anons about it, I’ll just address it here. I wasn’t invalidating the ask about that anon asking me to not use such terms of “red cheeks.” I sincerely apologize if it sounded like I did, I was upset over the fact it felt like my neutral content had been overlooked, however that does not give me the right to be snappy or even emo with my anon. I’m mostly a request blog. 90% of my works are requested and I do my best to make it as neutral as possible, and in the times that I know it’s not completely inclusive/neutral, like I said, there’s a disclaimer.

I just wish I didn’t get anons telling me I am inconsiderate, oppressive, heartless, calling me a racist, disrespectful and invalidating others because it just says some of you don’t even read my stuff because most are neutral, except for the ones I wrote for myself. Maybe I had that coming after my tone, but…that’s a little too far. 

I have to admit, that wasn’t my best attitude. From my tone, it sounded like I was invalidating my anon even if that was not my intention. I focused more on my feelings over the temporary sadness that it seemed like the majority of my neutral content had been overlooked by the self-indulgent ones that I ended up overlooking what my anon must’ve felt in being excluded. Again, I’m extremely sorry if I’ve offended anyone, but I would still like to say that my self indulgent fics will continue to have disclaimers. I will continue to write a few fics here and there catered mostly to me. If I can write requests for others, I can leave little gifts to myself.

And if the x reader tag still bothers some of you because it’s not for everyone, I assure you, you really do not have to read my content. There will still be disclaimers on the notes that I highly suggest you guys read first before diving deep into the story and finding out later on I had added features.

I use “heat spread to their skin” like 90% of the time or other alternatives to “red cheeks” so please don’t berate me for the few times I don’t because I have fics that mostly accommodate to myself. I don’t mind people asking me to be a little more inclusive, I’m just saying that on the very few fics that I do end up writing for my own pleasure, then yes ofc I will write about it with my own image in mind and I won’t always be inclusive with those. That’s what disclaimers and AN’s are for – you cannot expect me to make it 100% for everyone even when I’ve stated that it may not be what’s liked by all audiences.  

On most of my stuff though, I make it neutral. I work hard on the requests I get, I make it neutral and think of everyone as much as possible since my blog is mostly made up of requested content.

I wanted to write for myself, that’s all there is to it. I just wanted to enjoy an idea that was mine, in a story where I felt like I could be that reader enjoying that situation. I shared it because maybe others would like it too, and that’s what disclaimers are for: to say that it was self-indulgent and that no, I didn’t write it for others, I wrote it for myself, but shared it with others in the chance maybe others would like to see it too. The x reader tag is there because it’s a “you” pov, and also because I don’t see myself as an OC. If this bothers you, I’m telling you again, you don’t have to read my works.

If you’re also a writer who is doing very great at being inclusive all the time, then that’s very good! I’m sure a lot of people appreciate you and your work. But that is you. That’s not me all the time. My blog is made for myself and I can be indulgent however I want with it. Most of the time, I write requests for everyone else, but not always. Of course I want to write with certain features of myself too. If you find the fact that I want to write for myself very upsetting, you are free to block me. Again, I’m sincerely sorry if I ended up hurting my others. My behavior today should not be excused and I’ll take further note about the whole inclusivity topic. In return, I kindly ask that my personal/original content be left the way it is, and for people to realize (especially the anons who have obviously not read my work before but are just calling me names) to understand that I do make my content neutral. There are so much more of my neutral content everyone could enjoy. So far, I only have like…five, or seven personal/original content? And in turn of that, I have twenty more content that are requested, neutrally catered, and all works that I’ve equally worked hard on.

With this in mind, I’ll practice and work harder on my future content to make it really neutral. Here are some of my suggestions as to not make the “heat spread to their skin” too repetitive: slight rosiness to the cheeks, darkening of the skin, a sheer shininess, warmed skin/face, and overall the “blush” could refer to the blood rush, but not necessarily imply to the “reddening of the cheeks.” I’ll have to amp up my writing skills and switch my frequent use of blushing to other conveyors of embarrassment. 

Please don’t hesitate to educate me if ever I do something wrong again. Calling me out and educating me is different from what some anons did, which is outright being aggressive with me, and I won’t respond to those. There’s a lot of things I don’t know about and even though I keep myself in check most of the time, there will be times I may step out of line, even if it’s just as simple as me speaking in an upset tone. Just make sure you tell me nicely instead of sending me hate. I know this is my blog and all, but like…I don’t know, I honestly don’t like the “this my blog, I do what I want and fuck yall” vibe. Naoya wouldn’t like that for me either, he didn’t train me to be an evil bitch :( Again, I am extremely and genuinely sorry. I honestly did not have any intentions to invalidate the anon’s wishes. Yes, I was upset because it was very rarely that I wrote something that was my idea and my own fantasy that I just wanted to be write it freely as I pleased, but I really could’ve responded a lot more politely and I could’ve been more understanding. I’m really sorry for today.

I had no ill will in mind, especially in writing my original content. I just want to take a break sometimes from writing requests and I’ll write something where I end up projecting myself and my fantasies. I’ll be more mindful – especially in original content – to keep it more neutral/inclusive in my future works. 

[stxrrywildflower]

for better or for worse (3)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, injury details, angst

series masterlist

bloody jewelry and seven smashed phones.

that’s all the bau team had to go off of in the investigation.

just like hotch had offered, he stepped up to take charge of the situation. emily was thankful to be able to step down for the case, the stress was bulding up and she was ready to crack.

hotch fell back into his leadership role naturally, already pulling someone up from the tech department to do their research and computer work. morgan focused on getting everyone back in the mindset they needed.

luke and spencer were most difficult.

for luke, he felt extremely guilty. morgan did the best he could in helping the agent, though penelope missing did affect him as well.

spencer was a whole different story. he couldn’t think straight, they caught him shaking more than once. sure a walk emily had sent him on did help, though coming back started the cycle all over again.

“hey pretty boy,” morgan started. that nickname alone made spencer flinch. “mind if we go and talk?”

the two men stood up, nodding towards emily and hotch who waved them off.

“i feel like a lot of conversations are happening in here,” spencer commented upon entering morgan’s old office.

“what can i say, it’s a good space,” morgan smiled.

morgan sat on the edge of the desk while spencer took the couch, immediately grabbing a pillow to hold against him. “i’ve already talked to alvez but i figured we need to sit down one on one.”

“it’s not your job to be the team therapist.”

both laughed at that. “yeah well as your friend and honorary older brother, it’s my job to check up on you. and i know how hard this case is for you. i may not be a profiler anymore but your body language is all over the place. and i’m sure that-”

“you know what the last thing i said to y/n was?” spencer interrupted.

morgan stayed quiet, not wanting to say the wrong thing to potentially set him off. “i told her i loved her too,” spencer revealed quietly. “i was dropped her off at her apartment and she kissed me goodnight before telling me she loved me.”

the older agent hugged spencer, not exactly knowing how else to console him other than that. it broke his heart at both the confession and the tears that had started to flow down his cheeks. morgan’s hugs were comforting, they always were. “we’ll get her back kid. that way you can tell her you love her again.”

they stayed in there for a little while longer, talking to refresh their minds of the situation. “we should head back. who knows what the team has discovered by now,” morgan offered. spencer accepted the extended hand to help him up and the two headed back towards the bullpen.

all bets must have been placed on the unsubs making contact sometime soon and through a phone call. a phone incase of ransom or demands was set up on luke’s desk, another machine set up to help trace a call.

hotch and emily remained by the desk while the others work, though main focus was on the device.

the second the phone rang, all members of the team’s attention immediately went to the device. hotch held his hand out, letting them know to keep quiet before signaling emily to pick up the phone.

“hello?” the unit chief answered.

a staticky voice, obviously altered in some form, played over the speaker of the phone.

“you will be receiving a note in exactly fifteen minutes. i expect you to choose wisely.”

sixteen words. sixteen words was all the communication they had from your captors. and it still didn’t feel like enough. “good and bad news,” the new tech analyst announced. “i didn’t pinpoint an exact location but i did narrow it down to areas. they’re no where in the city, somewhere west.”

“choose, what do they mean choose?” j.j. rushed out, panic evident in her tone.

“i need everyone up in the conference room.”

just like the unsub has said, anderson entered the office holding a long office envelope. he handed it over to hotch, who placed it on the round table for examination.

a piece of paper was the first thing pulled out, folded neatly and sealed with wax. with gloved hands, hotch pulled at the folds, breaking the seal. inside, in perfect red ink, was the promised note.

seventy million in twenty dollar bills for their safe return. ten million for each person

or,

ten million for one. your choice. you have 24 hours.

“they want us to choose?”

hotch frowned, reaching back into the envelope

spencer held his hand over his mouth, not even close to being prepared for what he, and the rest of the team, saw.

seven polaroids, all glossy and crisp, were layed out on the table. each was a different picture, all from the neck up. you, along with the others, occupied a square. your injuries were shown, displaying the level of injuries everyone had suffered.

you, andrew, and will were easily the worst. your face was bruised and bloody, dried blood on your nose and dripping from a cut on your forehead. andrew had a similar cut, this time on both of his cheeks. will had a split lip and swollen eyes.

the others, had just a few knicks and bruises. they looked relatively fine, just in shock from the situation.

“oh my god,” j.j. was the first to speak, reaching out to pick up the photo of her husband. the rest did the same, no one knowing how to react to the pictures.

spencer was seconds away from running out of the room, his stomach was flipping and he just overall felt sick. he wanted to rip the photo up, never wanting to see it again.

“we need to start from the begining,” hotch announced. “they’re obviously a team. there’s no way they could have taken seven people without assistance. but that does raise another risk, they could potentially split if something does go wrong.”

that sentence didn’t ease the team at all.

“let’s focus on what they left. broken phones is to let us know they’re missing. but i think we should be focusing on the word love,” morgan added.

“that’s obvious,” matt spoke up. “they’re the people we love the most. by taking them away from us, they want us to experience a certain type of pain.

“we could be looking at siblings!” emily exclaimed.

j.j. nodded at that. “that does make sense. usually partnerships like this wouldn’t have the same level of hatred unless they shared the exact same experience. abandonment or losing someone could be a trigger.”

“we need to look at triplets and siblings who experienced some from of loss in the family. it’s going to be a long list but we can reduce it by the property owned,” hotch ordered.

while the tech analyst did their own digging, the rest of the team went through a box of every case involving families in the state.

it was a painful process, taking seven hours before anyone actually found anything. by then, the conference room was a mess of papers scattered around and empty coffee mugs.

the team narrowed it town to triplets, one girl and two boys. their parents had passed when they were teenagers, the oldest boy gaining custody of them. they were forced to live on their own, fending for each other. they had it out for the bau ever since they denied looking into their case.

besides motive, they owned a ranch a bit further outside of the city. a perfect place to conceal their plans. adding on to the lack of paper trail and trigger, it was more than likely that they were the unsubs.

no one from the bau team was allowed to go on the raid, their emotions could greatly alter the arrest. hotch and morgan led it, accompanied by swat.

instead, they were sent to the hospital. it was inevitable that all of you would need medical attention, it was the best option for them to go and wait, hoping for your safe return.

almost an hour went by without any news.

the team sat in one of the designated waiting rooms, all having some nervous quirk to help calm them down.

with little warning, a flood of doctors and nurses passed the room, a few police officers and swat agents as well. at the end of it all were hotch and morgan, both taking off their kevlar vests as they entered the room.

in an instant, everyone was standing up. emily was the first one to attempt to leave the room. hotch blocked the doorway, using his hand to prevent her from going anywhere.

“hotch what the hell. let me through,” emily demanded.

one flick of the eyes back and forth between the two former agents was all the team needed to raise further questions. it was and has always been a telltale sign that they were either lying or hiding information.

“what aren’t you telling us?”

hotch let out a sigh. the tense silence in the room did nothing for anyone’s nerves.

“we only got four of them.”

☆ ☆ ☆

teaser

tags - @zozoleesi @emxlyprentxss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338 @mggstyles @emilouu @loki-an-idiot @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pianofirepirate @ssa-morgan @afuckingshituniverse @spencerslatte @reminiscing-writer @kianagilder-blog @ssaic-jareau @theatrenerd101601 @drprettyboyreid @emilyxprentiss

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais, Chapter Three

three chapters in three days i'm insane-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: overall creepy vibe, i was almost too scared to finish, that's why it stops so abruptly, i don't recommend reading late at night or in the dark, ask to tag

word count: 1715

tagging: @fire-sapphics @zoyyanazyalensky @dirty-racoon @della-vacker-supremacy @raiinyrxse @lucat13 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @genyyasafin @cadence-talle @thewhiteblades @gay-otlc @brilliantblindinglights @enbies-and-felonies @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @littlemisscupcake lmk if you want to be added/removed!!

SLAM!

Nathalie awoke to the sound of what she assumed was a door slamming shut. The wind howled outside her window, making the panes rattle. She looked at the clock, but the room was too dark for her to see. She lit the candle that had been sitting on her bedside table and padded across the floor to look. Two-fifty-four.

Given the strong winds outside, a draft blowing a door shut was nothing too out of the ordinary, so Nathalie decided to return to bed. She started crossing back to her four-poster when she heard another SLAM! It sounded closer, as though the first one had been one of the vacant bedrooms at the far end of the hallway, and this one was only a few doors down. While it did seem odd, she didn’t think much of it. An old, empty manor could only withstand so much on a night as windy as this one.

SLAM! A third door slamming shut, this one stopping Nathalie in her tracks. It sounded as though this door was across the hall, the door to the only accessible room that was currently vacant. She turned around slowly and crept towards her door, so she could check the hallway and put her mind at ease before returning to bed. She reached out to grab the doorknob before she realised she was shaking. Maybe checking the hall wasn’t the best idea. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she kneeled down on the floor and laid down on her stomach, peering under the door. She couldn’t see anything, and after a few minutes she was ready to go back to bed, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

She could just make out a heavy pair of boots, walking swiftly yet somehow silently across the floor. She held her breath as the boots stopped right in front of her door. Her heart was pounding, louder than it ever had before. The boots moved closer to her door, taking one step, then another, before stopping once more. They turned and ran down the hallway, towards the vacant bedrooms.

Nathalie wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, on the floor next to her door, the only light the candle on her nightstand slowly dimming as the wax melted. Not another door slammed, though the wind blew ever stronger. Who was that, with the black boots, and why were they here? How had they gotten here? Her brain rattled with questions, like the panes clattering in the window frames. But there was nothing she could do about it tonight. She’d ask Lady Lucie in the morning.

Slowly, she got up off the floor and climbed back into bed, snuffing out the candle as she did so. Her heart was still racing and her head was still pounding, but as darkness enveloped the room once more, she couldn’t fight the exhaustion, and she slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-:-

Nathalie was awoken by the sun streaming through her windows, so bright it felt blinding. The house was quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound. Nine-twenty-seven. Lady Lucie had said breakfast was typically at nine, but she’d make it fresh for Nathalie. She could afford a few more moments in bed before getting ready for the day.

Thoughts of breakfast and sunlight and the other ladies in the house distracted her for a moment, but it wasn’t long before her questions about last night’s events took front and center in her brain. Even now, she shuddered at the memory of the boots standing outside her door, silent on such a creaky floor.

She couldn’t bear to sit and wallow in memory any longer, so she instead climbed out of bed and changed out of her nightdress to an outfit nearly identical to that of last night, only the skirt was green and the blouse was white. She quickly untied the ribbon wrapped around the end of her braid and tied her hair into a bun, the same way she had everyday since she was a child. Slipping her grey shoes back on, she headed downstairs to the dining room they’d eaten in the night before.

There was no evidence anyone had used the dining room thus far that morning, but the door to the kitchen was propped open. Nathalie cautiously walked towards the kitchen, spotting Lady Lucie elbows deep in the sink. The clatter of dishes being plunged into the soapy water was loud, but it still seemed strange to Nathalie that her footsteps hadn’t been loud enough to alert Lady Lucie to her presence.

“Good morning,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard above the dishes.

Lady Lucie whipped around, as though she hadn’t been expecting Nathalie. “Lady Nathalie!” she cried. “Good morning! Don’t mind me, just tidying up after breakfast! I left a bowl next to the stove for you, and there’s a plate of fruit and a bowl of sugar on the counter.”

She pointed as she spoke, guiding Nathalie to a pot of porridge on the stove. She groaned. After eating it nearly every day of her childhood, she despised porridge. The bland, tasteless mush was one of the worst things about Hazelford Children’s Manor. However, she couldn’t deny that her stomach was rumbling, so she took a small scoop and added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar before taking her bowl and the whole plate of fruit to the dining room. There wasn’t much on the plate, as the native berries were mostly out of season, but there were apple slices, which in Nathalie’s opinion, were the best of all the fruits. She reluctantly put a bit of porridge on the apple slice and ate it, delightfully surprised at her creation. No longer despising the food in front of her, she ate it as quickly as she could.

Partway through her bowl of porridge, Lady Lucie emerged from the kitchen and joined Nathalie. “I trust you sleep well?”

For a moment, Nathalie debated lying, saying that her sleep had been uninterrupted. Would Lady Lucie know if she lied? But she decided to ask about the heavy yet silent black boots last night.

“There were some doors that slammed last night. I don’t know if you heard them. They woke me up, and I saw something...strange.”

“Oh? Strange how?” Lady Lucie seemed surprised, though Nathalie couldn’t fathom how. The doors had been quite loud, and she wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep through them.

“There was...a person, in the hallway upstairs, I think. I saw, under my door, a pair of black boots, but they were silent.” She decided to leave out the part where they had walked towards her door, and had seemingly been called away.

Lady Lucie paled. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

“The what?”

“Cavalier de l'ombre. A legend,” she said, jumping up. “Come, to the library, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Nathalie had no time to argue, because Lady Lucie had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her away from the table. She had no choice but to run to keep up as they wound through hallways, past closed off sitting rooms and boarded up doors, too many to count. Finally, they reached a pair of the largest doors Nathalie had ever seen, even larger than the front doors. Lady Lucie let go of her wrist to push the door open, not straining despite their size.

Had she not been terrified of what seemed to be imminent doom, Nathalie would have stopped and marveled at the library. The ceiling was three stories tall, and at least half of Hazelford Children’s Manor alone could fit in here. Bookshelves spanned from floor to ceiling, with two balconies wrapping around the entire room so books higher up could be accessed. There were at least a dozen ladders hung onto rods above the bookcases with small wheels at the bottom so one could reach any book they pleased. The highest balconies had small baskets on pulleys to lower books down while climbing down the narrow spiral staircases hidden in the corners. Grand chandeliers illuminated the room, along with the light streaming in the great stained glass windows directly opposite the doors, the only bit of wall space that wasn’t covered in books. Sofas, tables, armchairs, and desks were scattered about so that everyone had a spot to read and study, although there was a fair number of floor pillows as well.

But Nathalie had no time to marvel at these wonders as she was dragged up a spiral staircase and around a balcony until Lady Lucie stopped so abruptly, she almost fell over.

“Here it is,” Lady Lucie said breathlessly, pulling a book off a shelf at eye-level and flipping through it frantically. “Legends of the Ladies, by Lady Auriane. It’s old, maybe 12 cycles, but it’s one of the best when it comes to our lore. Here,” she said, settling on a page and pointing to the header. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

She offered it to Nathalie, and she took it and started reading. “Le Cavalier de l’ombre is a figure who has no face, makes no sound, and leaves no memory of their visit. They travel in shadow, typically appearing at night to unsuspecting souls. Only appearing to the ladies of the order thus far, they seem to steal immortality, weakening the lady until she has no life left within her, so she meets her demise shortly thereafter. The ladies who fall victim pass with no knowledge as to how or why. No lady has been able to speak of how their immortality is stolen, but all can recall a sense of dread and a drop in temperature before their memory is blank. There seems to be no pattern as to who falls victim to this being, but they will choose one lady and pursue them until they have achieved their goals. Thus far there has been no way found to harm this creature.”

Nathalie finished reading and looked at Lady Lucie, who was paler than any person Nathalie had ever seen. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Lady Lucie choked, “you’re the next victim of le cavalier de l’ombre, and we don’t know how to stop it.”

[magebastard]

think of everything you’ve got

characters: detective lane wheatley, rebecca wheatley

rating: T

word count: 1.9k

warnings: allusions and references to panic attacks, and description of a panic attack, negative mother daughter relationship

notes: this isn’t what i wanted to write! but the more i rewrote it the more i wanted to write about a confrontation! am I projecting? do I need catharsis? we’ll never know! this is lightly edited so I’ll probably reread and continuously edit it because I’m a nightmare alive

She should have known.

Lane decides on a day of romance. After a kind, if uneasy, conversation over the phone with Adam-

“I don’t want you to think I’m not taking my position seriously. I am, you know? Always.”

“That’s not in doubt, Detective. There are no pressing matters to attend to. We’re seeing a lull in cases that need our full attention urgently.”

“Though you and I both know I should be training, or in the lab, or the library or-“

“And I won’t argue that. My job is to care for the needs of the team, even if I’d recommend otherwise. Take the Saturday, Detective.”

A tense pause.

“Thank you, Commanding Agent.”

Lane would swear she’d heard a huff of laughter.

“Notify us if something comes up.”

Lane decides to treat herself to a day of being loved and cared for. A day to woo the good detective.

It starts with a long walk to the lighthouse, then a trip to see Haley for a cup of coffee, a bath with a second mug of coffee, a movie marathon that will play in the background as she restores a busted casiotone found unloved and abandoned on the side of the road with an additional two cups of coffee.

She’s halfway through coffee number three when she hears the knock.

Lane isn’t paranoid by nature. In fact, some would say she’s overly trusting. The way she cannot help but squash her face against the peephole with abject discomfort at the sound of a rapping at her door is new, and stands out in the way that it feels unnatural. She’d never had a reason to fear before.

In this moment, the new habit is one that she’s grateful for. Standing so tall with her shoulders squared so straight, stoicism and edge in equal, unsettling measure right outside of her apartment door is Rebecca. Fuck, actually.

Lane is wearing a ripped t-shirt from a pizza place in the city and paint stained utility overalls. She is winded from brushing the dust from individual keyboard keys. She is hyperaware of how sweaty she probably is, and that her apartment may look like a mess because it absolutely is one.

A showdown with Agent Wheatley was not on her agenda.

To not answer the door would be the obvious maneuver. Crouch down, not unlike a gargoyle and wait out the danger until it’s safe to move again.

The wonder of why Rebecca is here in the first place is a jarring thing.

It hasn’t been the most comfortable situation; constantly rebuffing her attempts at motherly affection. In all honesty, it’s been harrowing in just how awkward it’s made Lane feel.

She doesn’t know what was expected of her. Rebecca has made it painfully obvious over the years. All twenty seven of them. No calls, rare visits, stunted conversation, general lack of interest. Lane can read a room.

Rebecca is not her mom. She wasn’t when Lane needed her to be, she’s certainly not going to reap any of the benefits of Lane’s company now. That ship sailed.

Yet here she is, again, waiting dockside.

If there’s an emergency, surely she would have called. Surely someone else would have been instructed to call. It’s got to be something benign. Something uncomfortable. Lane could ignore this. She could ignore this and get away with it. She could and should ignore this.

Weighted moments pass. There’s a decision made and a plan already enacted to wait this out.

Lane unlocks and opens the door.

There’s a disconnect between the woman, posturing and severe in the peephole and the slight woman wearing mom jeans and the lines of a worried frown etched so deeply in her face who stands nearly hunched before her. Chalk it up to perspective. There’s a realization that no one has said a word and seconds are passing between them.

“May I come in?”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“I am wearing jeans.”

“I didn’t know you owned jeans.”

Barely the quirk of a brow. “Some of the more delicate aspects of my private life should remain as such.”

It’s horrid and hilarious that Lane almost remembers her this way. Dry wit. Photographs of a woman who looks like her, wearing jeans. A man she cannot recognize in the countless stories she’s heard from neighbors and friends. These images and ideas of people who were her family. Ghosts.

Lane steps aside, allowing Rebecca to pass.

It doesn’t escape her, the way she assesses the space. It’s not the first time she’s been around, but the mess is new. A shuffle of furniture. Decisions to change everything made in the clawing heat of panic.

“Is something wrong?” The effort to keep impatience out of her words seems too pointed to be professional.

“I thought I’d say hello while I was close by.”

“Interesting.” There’s ease in familiarity. The breaths they take are short and punched, the taciturn ebb and flow of their understanding each other. There’s nothing polite about it and it hangs over them like a storm ready to crack open. Somehow it’s easier.

Lane wishes Rebecca had worn a suit. There is something clinical and apart about her when she wears a suit. A silhouette and an authority. Now, she’s a mother wearing jeans, with shaking hands. It’s real, that she’s here—that she’s around. It’s not supposed to be real. A drop-in from Mom isn’t supposed to level her this way. Was finding out that vampires existed this much of a revelation? She cannot remember now.

“Well, hello to you, too. As you can see I’ve got a lot going on.” Lane gestures, vaguely. “I should get back to it, so-“

“Do you need help?”

“Absolutely not,” she says it before realizing it might be cruel. Rebecca winces in a way that suggests that the suits may be the secret to her armor, after all. It’s a separate jarring thing that Lane is nearly desperate to get her out of the apartment after barely minutes.

“Look, it’s just-“ she breaks off with a heavy sigh bringing her hands to the back of her neck, gripping. “It’s my day off. I don’t want to think about work-“

“We don’t need to talk about work-“

“No.” It’s a hard line. It’s heavy in her mouth. Lane does not hold grudges. They’re exhausting and you’d give yourself less ache clinging to a barbed wire with both hands.

“I’m tired,” Lane says because it’s true in so many ways.

“Me too,” Rebecca replies and, yes, she can believe that.

This is exhausting.

“You came to say hello and then, what?” She drops her hands. “What did you want?” What do you want from me goes unsaid, again and again.

Shifting from foot to foot in the most unprecedented display of visceral uncertainty, Rebecca looks unfathomably human.

“I just want to be your Mom,” she says quietly, pleadingly, and it’s frightening—the way that Lane’s vision goes near completely white for a moment. It’s a blistering anger and her blood rushes like a rapid tide. It’s a thin sheet of ice cracking over a rolling current. She thinks she kicks a wall. She doesn’t remember.

“You can’t be!” And Lane doesn’t mean to shout. She hates feeling this way. There’s a helplessness that accompanies rage—surrendering to it doesn’t feel like a choice. Only a realization, after the fact. It’ll be disappointing to Lane, later, that her years of carefully cultivated numbness were completely dismantled by a quick check-in from Rebecca.

“Why not?” Is shouted back, like guiding breath to a lone ember. Lane begins to pace, taking short strides.

“You don’t get to choose between the child and the twenty-seven year old, you know? You didn’t choose me, then. The time, and time again of then, you didn’t call, you let me think that I—a child—meant nothing. I had to work on healing from that. I think I did an alright job.” She’s rambling. Rebecca looks about two feet tall. It hurts. It feels like she’s going to be sick but she cannot stop.

“I ended up just like you. Sometimes I think I recognize you because of that. Sometimes, I missed you so much, I couldn’t breathe.” She blinks against the burn in her eyes. Rebecca has stepped toward the door. She looks afraid. Wounded. Ready to bolt.

“I still feel like the kid standing in the middle of the street, screaming for my Mom—I still have to feel that way!” Stop shouting. Someone’s going to come check on you. You’ll have nothing to say, no way to explain yourself. Lane swallows around the pit in her throat.

“But I don’t-” she tries. “I don’t miss you. I don’t know you. I let myself be happy. You—who chose—you have to live with that.”

The paleness and thinness of Rebecca’s skin is suddenly alarming. Lane feels like a monster. Guilt coils around her in thick tendrils. Holding her.

“You have to understand-“

“You have to understand!” A heaving breath. “I didn’t choose. I never got that chance. I’m choosing now. You don’t want me. You don’t care about me. You want a second chance,” Lane throws her arms out. “I’m just a person.” Rebecca looks briefly like she wants to argue, but she sees it. Lane sees, with a painful, unmistakable clarity what she’d been equal parts terrified of and anticipating; uncertainty. Debate. Conflict. It’s reassuring and gutting all at once. The risk of being right has never had such high stakes.

“There’s no second chance. I’m an adult, with my own life. Seized and uprooted by vampires, literally, but a life that’s mine. That I found,” she lays a hand, gently over her chest. Her heart slams against her sweating palm. “I made this. It’s my choice, now.”

Her mother swallows hard. The visage of Agent Wheatley festers in terrible silence. It’s a croak when she speaks again. “Can I be here—in your life, at all?” It’s a plea. She’s begging. “Somehow?”

An open door is a delicate thing. Vulnerable, breachable, terrifying. Lane clenches her hands tightly into fists. She can be brave. Whatever she chooses, she can be brave.

“I need time. More of it.”

Rebecca squeezes her eyes shut. It’s wrenching. She looks so unbelievably small. This is the most like her Lane has ever felt.

“Okay.” Rebecca’s voice is quiet. It feels like a step has been taken somewhere in some direction. Just vague enough to be uncomfortable.

She goes after that, brittle, giving short nods as if she’s speaking a usual polished ‘goodbye’. The effect is lost in the sickly expression on her face.

Lane feels like she could be carried off by the wind. Her heart feels less like it’s beating than it’s throbbing in her chest, ready to burst. Water. She needs water.

Moving to the cupboards and the sink, her phone is a rattle in her shaking hands. She dials.

“Not that we don’t miss you terribly, but some of us are working, Detective.” Tina’s voice is bright, and warm and Lane realizes with new levity that her feet are still planted on the ground.

“I think I’m going to come in. You can head out for patrol once I’m there, alright?” There’s an understandable pause. A hint of palpable disappointment.

“You’re supposed to be taking a day for yourself, Lane.”

“I know. I was. I need to work.” She hopes beyond hope that Tina does not press for an explanation.

“Sure.” Hesitant, but final. Asked and answered.

“Thanks, T.” For so much more than I can say.

“Always. Haley’s date soon?”

Lane takes a gulp of water, lets the residual anger sit like a stone in her stomach.

“Pick a day. I’ll be there.”

The call ends with pleasantries exchanged. A new knot between her shoulders, and a faint queasiness accompany Lane as she gets ready for work.

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Star Trek Episode 1.24: This Side of Paradise

AKA Yet Another Creepy Utopia Planet

Our episode begins with the Enterprise heading in to orbit around an Earthy-looking planet named Omicron Ceti 3. Omicon Ceti is a real star, by the way—also known as Mira or Mira A, it’s a red giant and part of a binary star system with its sister Mira B. It’s not a real likely place to go looking for such a nice homey sort of planet, though, because Mira is a pulsating variable star, which means its size and brightness is constantly fluctuating, and it’s hard to evolve life when your sun keeps flickering like a neon sign in a noir movie all the time.

Uhura reports to Kirk that she’s been transmitting a contact signal every five minutes just as he ordered, but she’s only getting dead air in response.  Kirk tells her to keep it up until they get into orbit, then moves on to talk to Spock. “There were one hundred fifty men, women and children in that colony,” he says. “What are the chances of survivors?”

Looks like the chances are, uh...not great. And by ‘not great’ I mean ‘nonexistent’. Spock explains that ‘Bertold rays’ are a recent enough discovery that there’s still a lot not known about them, but one thing that is for sure known is that exposure to these rays causes living animal tissue to disintegrate. Nasty. Evidently this planet is heavily exposed to these rays, because a group of colonists-- “Sandoval’s group”-- came here only three years ago and Spock says there’s no possibility they could have survived. Well why the heck would anyone build a colony in such a place? All Spock can say is “They knew there was a risk.”

Kirk questions whether they can risk sending a landing party down under such conditions, but Spock says the disintegration doesn’t start immediately, so they’ll be alright if they don’t stick around too long. The helmsman reports that they’ve successfully established orbit, and he’s found a settlement—or at least, something that was a settlement at one point. Kirk tells Spock to equip a landing party of five to accompany him down there, including a biologist and McCoy. That’s gonna be a fun mission briefing. “Yes, we're beaming down to a planet bombarded with deadly radiation, but no need to worry, crew, your tissues will probably only disintegrate a little bit."

Sometime later, the landing party—Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Sulu, a blueshirt and a goldshirt—materialize into a meadow near a dirt path and a picket fence. They’ve thoughtfully arranged themselves into a nice alternating pattern.

[ID: A shot of a sunny meadow with a dirt road, a few trees and a white picket fence in the background. Newly beamed down are six Enterprise crewmembers standing in two rows: in the front are Kirk and Spock, in the back are McCoy, a goldshirt, a blueshirt, and Sulu.]

The goldshirt, incidentally, is DeSalle, who we last saw back in The Squire of Gothos. The character was originally written for this story as Lt. Timothy Fletcher, but was changed to DeSalle after the production crew realized they’d cast an actor who had already appeared in the series. Yes, really. AGAIN. The blueshirt is Kelowitz, who showed up briefly in The Galileo Seven and Arena, and likewise started out as another character but was renamed after being cast. I don’t know how this situation managed to happen so often on TOS, but apparently it did. At least they both seem to have managed to hold onto more or less the same positions that they had the last time we saw them, a rare feat for any minor TOS crewmember.

The group walks forward towards some nearby farm buildings arranged around a dirt yard, with a horse-drawn cart sitting out in front of one of them. But there’s no horse to be seen, and no people either. They wander through the yard and over toward what looks like a paddock, but without any animals in it. Everything seems quite thoroughly deserted.

Kirk leans on the paddock fence and glumly muses, “Another dream that failed. There’s nothing sadder. It took these people a year to make the trip from Earth. They came all that way...and died.” Hold on, it took them a year? What, do they not give colony ships warp drives? Did they have to hitchhike here?

“Hardly that, sir,” someone says, and suddenly we see three men in green jumpsuits standing at the edge of the yard, looking very relaxed and also very not dead.

As the landing party all turn around to stare in shock the man in front strides forward and says, “Welcome to Omicron Ceti 3. I’m Elias Sandoval.” McCoy looks like he’s getting ready to spray the dude with holy water.

After the titles, we get a brief captain’s log to sum things up, just in case everyone forgot what happened during the commercial break:

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 3417.3. We thought our mission to Omicron Ceti 3 would be an unhappy one. We had expected to find no survivors of the agricultural colony there. Apparently, our information was incorrect.”

The colonists start happily shaking hands with the landing party—but happily as in “oh, it’s so nice to meet you” not “oh thank god you came to rescue us we’re all on the brink of death”. Sandoval says they haven’t seen anyone outside the colony since they left Earth four years ago, although they’ve been expecting someone to come by for a while. Apparently their subspace radio didn’t work right and they don’t have anyone who could “master its intricacies”. Now, I’m no expert on establishing colonies on alien planets, but ‘person who can work our only communication device’ does rather seem like a position you would want to make sure was filled before you left.

Kirk has to explain that they haven’t come to visit because of the dead radio. He does not explain why they did decide to come when they did. Spock’s comment about the colonists knowing there was a risk indicates that whether or not Bertold rays specifically were known about before the colonists left, they at least had reason to believe there was something dangerous about the planet. So why’d the Federation let them go and then wait another three years before sending anyone to check up on them? Eh, probably just another failing of twenty-third century space bureaucracy.

Sandoval’s not bothered about it, though. He tells Kirk that it doesn’t make much difference—the important thing is the party is here now and the colonists are happy to see them. Then he invites them on a tour of the settlement and casually strolls off, leaving the landing party to stand there and try to process what the hell they just witnessed.

“Pure speculation, just an educated guess...I’d say that man is alive,” McCoy says. Thanks Bones.

Spock says that his scans show that the planet is getting ray’d just as their reports indicated, so that’s not the issue. Under this intensity, the landing party could safely hang out here for a week if necessary, as per the usual Star Trek rule that you can be exposed to a deadly thing and be just fine up until the exact moment it kills you, but there’s a mighty big difference between a week and three years. Or as Kirk succinctly puts it, “These people shouldn’t be alive.”

“Is it possible they’re not?” Sulu asks. Great out of the box thinking there Sulu, love it.

Kirk takes a moment to consider that, which is fair—compared to the kind of weird shit they’ve encountered so far, the walking dead wouldn’t even stand out that much. But McCoy points out that when they shook hands with Sandoval, “His flesh was warm. He’s alive. There’s no doubt about that.” Spock fires back with a reminder that, “There’s no miracle connected with [Bertold rays], doctor, you know that. No cures, no serums, no antidotes. If a man is exposed long enough, he dies.” Okay dude, calm down, all McCoy said was “he’s alive” not “my god! Bertold rays have been fake all along! wake up sheeple!"

As Kirk points out, this whole debate is pretty pointless anyway for the moment—they’re arguing in a vacuum, and they’ll need more answers if they want to get anywhere. So they go to follow Sandoval, who leads them towards a nearby farm house, while a few colonists do various farm chores nearby. Sandoval explains that the colonists split into three groups, with forty-five people at this settlement and two more settlements elsewhere on the planet. Apparently they thought that arrangement would give each group a better chance for growth, since if some disaster struck one group the other two would probably still be alright.

“Omicron is an ideal agricultural planet,” he says. “We determined not to suffer the fate of the expeditions that went before us.” It’s rather vague what expeditions he’s referring to here, since at no other point in the episode are any previous attempts at settling Omicron Ceti 3 mentioned. But given that Sandoval specifically mentions the possibility of disease afflicting one group as a reason to split up, and Spock earlier said that Bertold rays were a recent discovery—and that the colonists knew coming to Omicron Ceti 3 was risky-- it seems possible that previous groups tried to settle the planet and, without knowing about the Bertold rays, mistook their effects for some kind of disease native to the planet. Of course that doesn’t explain why this group of colonists decided it would be a good idea to try to settle here again anyway, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few months, it’s that not everyone sees the possibility of dying to a terrible disease as a compelling reason to change their plans in any way.

As they stand in the farmhouse talking about this, a woman steps forward from another room in the house. She’s in soft focus, just in case we might forget she’s a woman, and instead of the green jumpsuit all the male colonists are wearing, she’s wearing green overalls over a lavender shirt, a combination that somehow manages to be an even worse fashion disaster than the jumpsuits themselves. She starts to say something to Sandoval, then stops in surprise as she sees the landing party. But for once the romance-o-vision isn’t for Kirk—it’s Spock that the camera zooms in on as the woman stares at him.

“Layla, come meet our guests,” Sandoval says cheerfully, oblivious to the wistfully romantic background music. He introduces her as Layla Colomi, their botanist. Layla says that she and Spock have met before, but “It’s been a long time.” Kirk gives Spock a bit of a side-eye for that, but Spock offers no details.

Well, all romantic tension aside, they do still have a mission to attend to here, as Kirk reminds Sandoval. Sandoval tells them to go ahead with any examinations or tests they want. “I think you’ll find our settlement an interesting one. Our philosophy is a simple one: that men should return to a less complicated life. We have few mechanical things here, no vehicles, no weapons. We have harmony here. Complete peace.” Oh yeah, that bodes well. Remember the last place we saw complete harmony and peace? At least that explains why everyone on this farm is using equipment straight out of Stardew Valley, which is presumably not the most advanced agricultural technology available by the twenty-third century. I’m not sure why Sandoval’s idea of a simpler lifestyle excludes vehicles, though. They’re not exactly the most recent thing on the timeline of human technological advancements.

Sandoval tells the landing party to make themselves at home, and they all head off. All except for Spock, who lingers just a few seconds more to give Layla a completely neutral look before walking away as well.

Everyone goes off to conduct their respective investigations. Sulu and Kelowitz wander through a yard over towards another farm building. Kelowitz isn’t sure what exactly they should be looking for, though. “Whatever doesn’t look right—whatever that is,” Sulu replies, climbing up to sit on a railing on the building’s porch. “When it comes to farms, I wouldn’t know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me.” I hope you enjoyed that line, because “didn’t grow up on a farm” is about all the backstory TOS is going to give us for Sulu until the movies.

[ID: Three screenshots showing Sulu pulling himself up to sit on the railing of an old-fashioned farmhouse as he says, "When it comes to farms, I wouldn't know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me." Growing up from the ground nearby are two large plants with thick brownish-purple stems and large pink flowers on top.]

Hey Sulu, what's that about two feet from you? Oh well, I'm sure it's not important.

Kelowitz opens up a nearby barn and notes that there’s no cows there—in fact, the barn isn’t even built for cows, just for storage, and indeed it only looks big enough to be useful for holding cow, singular. Having a storage barn isn’t itself that weird, although the fact that there is nothing currently stored in the storage barn is a bit strange. But also, as Sulu points out, come to think of it, they haven’t seen any animals here, native or imported. No cows, no horses, no pigs, not even a dog. Which is a bit odd for an agricultural colony. They must have had or expected to have animals at some point—otherwise what was pulling that cart?

Back in the house, Sandoval is asking Layla about Spock (once again referred to as a ‘Vulcanian’). She says that she knew Spock on Earth, six years ago. Sandoval, apparently having noticed the dreamy background music by now, asks if Layla loved Spock. She says that if she did, “it was important only to myself...Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me. It is said he has none to give.”

“Would you like him to stay with us now? To be one of us?” Sandoval asks. Layla smiles at him. “There is no choice, Elias,” she says. “He will stay.”

Elsewhere in the house, McCoy is scanning a colonist. He doesn’t look exactly happy with the tricorder result he gets, but all he says is, “That’ll be all, thank you very much,” and the colonist leaves, passing Kirk coming in. Incidentally, I can’t help but note that this room contains two paintings on the wall and what appears to be a cabinet full of china. I suppose the paintings could have been done by a colonist, but the china could surely only have been brought there. Who decided to pack fancy china on a year-long space voyage to an agricultural colony?

[ID: A shot of the interior of a farmhouse with blue walls, with a large wooden table in the middle of the room, a cabinet with china and glassware in the corner, a wooden desk with a copper tea kettle and some other kitchen items on it against the back wall, and a painting hanging on the wall showing some blurry trees. Sandoval, a middle-aged white man with short brown hair wearing a green jumpsuit, walks past the camera as he says, "Oh, captain, I've been looking for you."]

Kirk asks if McCoy’s found anything yet. McCoy replies that he’s surveyed nine men so far, ranging in age from twenty-three to fifty-nine. And they’re all in perfect condition. Not just healthy—perfect. Textbook responses across the board, from all of them. “If there are many more of them,” McCoy muses, “I can throw away my shingle.”

At that point Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s Spock, calling in from one of the crop fields. He’s made the same observation as Sulu—there’s no life on the planet aside from the colonists and the plants. No animals, no insects. Spock doesn’t have any explanation yet, so Kirk tells him to carry on with his investigation and hangs up.

McCoy notes the absence of animals as peculiar, and Kirk says it’s especially so because the expedition records show that they did bring animals with them to raise for food. And pull their carts, presumably. But it seems none of them are still around. McCoy says he’d like to see the expedition’s medical records, a request Kirk has apparently anticipated because he’s got the floppy disc on hand with him.

Sandoval comes in and says that he’d like to take the two of them on a tour of the fields, to show off what the colony’s accomplished. McCoy says he’ll have to bow out, since he’s still working on the medical examinations. “However, if I find everyone else’s health to be as perfect as yours...”

“You’ll find no weaklings here,” Sandoval says, which uh, sure is a hell of a way to phrase that. “No weaklings! None of those miserable, pathetic sods with imperfect health! Only the strong survive! THE SLIGHTEST BLEMISH SHALL BE CAUSE FOR EXILE!”

Leaving McCoy behind, Kirk and Sandoval head out to the fields, where Sandoval gushes to Kirk about how great this place is: they’ve got moderate climate, moderate rains all year round, and the soil will grow anything they stick in it. Which is pretty miraculous, considering there’s no such thing as growing conditions that are perfect for every plant. But as we’re about to see, that’s not the only weird thing going on with their farming practices.

The conversation is interrupted by DeSalle arriving to give Kirk the biology report. Sandoval excuses himself to attend to work elsewhere, leaving Kirk and DeSalle alone to discuss the report. At first, it seems to be just as Sandoval said: they’ve got a variety of crops growing here successfully. The weird thing is that they don’t actually have very many of those crops. There’s enough to keep the colony going at the size it currently is, but barely more than that. Which tracks with what we’ve seen of the place so far: a couple of tiny fields that look more about the size for someone’s backyard garden than for a prosperous farm, tended by the occasional person idly scratching at the ground with a hoe. For a supposedly bounteous agricultural colony, that’s pretty weird. What have they been doing all this time?

“It’s like a jigsaw puzzle all one color,” Kirk muses, taking a moment to stroll a few steps away so he can say this dramatically in the distance instead of actually talking to DeSalle. “No key to where the pieces fit in. Why?”

Kirk’s communicator goes off. It’s McCoy, saying Kirk had better get back over there. “Trouble?” “No, but I’d like you to see this for yourself.” Of course. No one can ever just explain something over the phone, can they.

So Kirk heads back to the house, where the thing that Kirk just absolutely has to see for himself turns out to be McCoy just telling him what he’s found out, but he definitely couldn't do that over the communicator for, uh, reasons. What he’s found out is pretty interesting, though: McCoy checked up on Sandoval’s medical records from right before the colonists had left, which said that Sandoval had had an appendectomy, and had scar tissue on his lungs from childhood pneumonia (the weakling!). Yet when McCoy scanned Sandoval himself today, the results came back just as perfect as all the other colonists’. Kirk’s first thought is instrument failure, but McCoy says no, he thought of that and tested it by scanning himself, and it recorded him just fine, down to “those two broken ribs I had once.” Which sounds like an interesting story. But Sandoval’s scan? No scar tissue, and one healthy appendix. That’s right, Sandoval’s apparently managed to regrow an entire organ. Do you think you would notice that happening? Like, would it itch?

While Kirk and McCoy try to figure that out, Spock is hanging out in a field scanning with his own tricorder, while Layla stands nearby smiling ominously at him. Spock muses that there’s “Nothing. Not even insects. Yet your plants grow, and you’ve survived exposure to Bertold rays.” Yeah, how are those plants growing without insects? Presumably the native plants have evolved some way around that, but the ones the colonists have brought from Earth would need some help. Are the colonists just manually pollinating everything? Maybe that’s why they haven’t grown very much.

Layla says this can be explained, but when asked to do so, she just says, “Later.” Spock looks annoyed and remarks, “I have never understood the female capacity to avoid a direct answer to any question.” Hey! Cut that bullshit out. No one on this colony has directly answered a question since you got here, there’s no call to go ragging on a whole gender for it. Besides, just saying “Later,” is hardly a stunningly deft diversion, it’s not like she threw a smoke bomb down and disappeared.

“And I never understood you,” Layla says, walking over and placing a hand on his chest. “Until now. There was always a place in here where no one could come. There was only the face you allow people to see. Only one side you’d allow them to know.”

[ID: Three screenshots of Spock and Layla, a white woman with a lot of long blonde hair wearing a lilac shirt and green overalls, standing outside in a field with a large tree in the background. Layla, seen from behind, is pressing her hand to Spock's upper chest and saying, "There was always a place in here where no one could come." Spock replies "you know that's not where my heart is right".]

If Layla was hoping this little speech would prompt Spock to cry out that yes, she’s figured him out, he does love her but has never been able to show it! she’s disappointed, because he just looks uncomfortable and steps away. He tries to steer the conversation back onto the mystery of the colonists. “If I tell you how we survive,” she asks, “will you try to understand how we feel about our life here? About each other?”

That’s a pretty vague thing to make a promise about, so Spock deflects by saying that emotions are alien to him; he’s a SCIENTIST. “Someone else might believe that—your shipmates, your captain—but not me,” Layla says. Oh sure! Obviously none of the people who have lived, worked, and risked death alongside Spock can be expected to know anything about Spock. Only you are the Spock Expert, gifted with incredible insight by virtue of having a crush on him.

“Come,” she says, sauntering off through the field with her hand outstretched to him. Spock rather pointedly folds his hands behind his back instead and follows her.

Back in the house, Kirk and McCoy are struggling to have a conversation with Sandoval. Kirk tells Sandoval that he’s received orders from Starfleet Command to evacuate everyone on the colony, since, y’know, deadly rays and all that. He expects Sandoval to start making preparations. But Sandoval, calmly, casually, says, “No.” It’s not necessary, he insists—they’re in no danger.

But...but the Bertold rays. Sandoval is unmoved,  pointing out that as McCoy’s own instruments show, the colonists are in perfect health and there have been no deaths. Okay, what about all those animals? What happened to them? “We’re vegetarians,” Sandoval says blithely. Which, as Kirk points out, does absolutely nothing to answer the question. Actually it raises further questions.

Sandoval remains thoroughly unbothered and thoroughly unhelpful. “Captain, you stress very unimportant matters. We will not leave,” he says, and goes back to gazing out the window, evidently considering the conversation over.

Elsewhere, Spock and Layla are still walking, and Spock is getting annoyed that Layla still hasn’t explained just what it is they’re going to see. “Its basic properties and elements are not important,” Layla says helpfully. “What is important is that it gives life, peace, love.” Oh boy.

Spock is dubious, but Layla pulls him forward, over towards another one of those large pink flowers. “I was one of the first to find them,” Layla says. “The spores.”

[ID: A gif of Spock approaching a large pinkish-purple flower and saying, "Spores?" The flower then sprays a cloud of white spores all over his face and torso while Spock recoils.]

For a moment Spock just looks startled, but then he starts clutching his head and falling onto his knees in the grass, dropping his tricorder and gasping, “No--” For the first time all episode, Layla’s absolute serenity starts to fracture slightly. Over Spock’s agonized protests, she insists that it shouldn’t hurt—it didn’t hurt any of them. But, as Spock gasps out, he’s not like them. Whoops, did the biologist forget to account for biological differences before handing out a facefull of spores? I bet you didn’t even check if he had any allergies first, did you?

Just as it’s looking like this might put actually put a crack in Layla’s blissed-out impassivity, Spock stops thrashing about and starts seeming less anguished and more confused. Layla’s concern vanishes once again, and she goes back to smiling happily while stroking his face. “Now...now you belong to all of us...and we to you. There’s no need to hide your inner face any longer. We understand.”

Spock still seems unsure, but then he takes Layla’s hand in his and smiles. Not the slight hint of a smile or sardonic quirk of the lips you’d expect to see from Spock, but a huge, broad grin from ear to ear. “I love you...I can love you,” he says, and then he kisses her.

Hoo boy.

After the break, we get a quick Captain’s Log to recap:

“Captain’s Log, supplemental. We have been ordered by Starfleet Command to evacuate the colony on Omicron 3. However, the colony leader, Elias Sandoval, has refused all cooperation and will not listen to any arguments.”

Sure enough, we see Sandoval exiting the farmhouse, followed by McCoy and an extremely frustrated Kirk. “Captain, your arguments are very valid, but do they not apply to us,” Sandoval says, as calm as ever. He tries to walk off, but Kirk grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“My orders are to remove all the colonists,” he says, “and that’s exactly what I intend to do with or without your help.”

“Without, I should think,” Sandoval says, and strolls off, leaving Kirk standing there fuming.

Sulu and Kelowitz come walking up to report that they’ve checked out everything and it all seems normal, except for the missing animals. Of course, they also both said they had no idea what to look for in the first place, so maybe take that with a grain of salt. Kirk tells them about the evacuation orders, and says he wants landing parties to start gathering the colonists and preparing them to leave. And by the way, where did Spock and DeSalle go? Sulu says they haven’t seen either one in some time, but McCoy says DeSalle was going to examine some native plants he found. Native plants, huh? I think we can guess what happened to DeSalle.

Since Spock still hasn’t reported in, Kirk gives him a call. Or tries to, at least—Spock doesn’t pick up. On the other end of the line, we see why that is: Spock's communicator is laying abandoned on the ground, while Spock himself, now dressed in the same horrible green jumpsuit as the colonists, is stretched out on the grass with Layla, watching clouds. The communicator beeps away while Spock happily describes how one of the clouds looks like a dragon. "I've never seen a dragon," Layla says. BEEP BEEP. "I have." BEEP BEEP. "On Barengarius 7." BEEP BEEP. "But I've never stopped to look at clouds before." BEEP BEEP. "Or rainbows." BEEP BEEP. "You know, I can tell you exactly why one appears in the sky, but considering its beauty has always been out of the question." BEEP BEEP.

"Not here," Layla says (beep beep), and they smile dreamily at each other before going into another makeout session. Meanwhile, Kirk is still on the line, and not getting any happier about it. Layla finally picks up the communicator and holds it up for Spock, who takes a break from kissin' to say, "Yes, what did you want?"

Naturally, this throws both Kirk and McCoy for a loop. While McCoy stands there with a "what the fuck" look on his face, Kirk takes a moment to recover and then demands, "Spock, is that you?"

"Yes, captain, what did you want?"

"Where are you?"

"...I don't believe I want to tell you."

[ID: Three shots of Kirk and McCoy standing in front of the farmhouse, Kirk holding his communicator while McCoy looks on. Kirk has a stunned expression on his face and looks around with his mouth open, trying to figure out what to say.]

Kirk plows on ahead, telling Spock that, whatever the hell he thinks he's doing, he's got orders: they're getting the colonists out, and Spock is to meet back at the settlement in ten minutes.

"No, I don't think so," Spock says casually. "You don't think so, what?" "I don't think so, sir."

Kirk has to take a moment after that one. It's rather amazing that McCoy's made it this far into the conversation without saying anything himself. Presumably he's just in shock. Eventually Kirk tells Spock to report in immediately, but by now Spock and Layla have gone back to kissing, leaving the communicator open but abandoned in the grass once more.

"That didn't sound at all like Spock, Jim," McCoy says, putting in his bid for the Enterprise’s bi-weekly Massive Understatement contest.

"No, it--I thought you said you might like him if he mellowed a little."

"I didn't say that!"

"You said that."

"Not exactly,” McCoy protests, and then somewhat grudgingly adds, “He might be in trouble.”

I'm sure McCoy did say that, or something like it, but "I hope Spock has his brain taken over by alien spores" was presumably not where he was going with it. He obviously sees this sudden change of behavior as something to be concerned about--even moreso than Kirk, who seems more irritated than anything. But then, it's only been a couple episodes since McCoy had his own run-in with an alien influence making people act a lot more mellow than usual, and he didn't enjoy that experience at all, so it's not surprising that "trouble" is his first thought here.

Kirk tells McCoy to take over the landing party detail and start getting the colonists up to the ship, and to make sure the party works in teams of two, with nobody being left alone. Meanwhile, Kirk himself takes Sulu and Kelowitz and heads off to find Spock, using the open frequency from Spock's communicator as a homing signal. They follow a dirt path out of the main settlement and soon find said communicator, laying open and abandoned in the grass just off the path. As Kirk picks it up, they hear laughter nearby, and Sulu points in astonishment further down the path, where Layla is watching Spock dangle upside-down from a tree branch like a kid on a jungle gym.

[ID: A shot of Spock and Layla among some trees at the end of a dirt path. Layla is standing on the ground and holding hands with Spock, who is hanging upside-down by his knees from a large tree branch, laughing.]

For a moment all Kirk can do is stare weakly at this weird spectacle. Then he collects himself with a stern AHEM and marches over like a principal about to deliver some very serious detention.

Meanwhile, back at the main hub of the colony, the landing party seems to have gotten well underway with preparations for departure, with several colonists and crewmen piling up luggage and equipment in the middle of a field while McCoy stands nearby overseeing everything, a job I’m sure he’s enjoying since we all know administrative work is McCoy’s favorite thing. Then DeSalle arrives, carrying a couple of the spore flowers and tells McCoy to take “a good, close look” at them, because they’re very interesting. McCoy steps forward to check them out right before the scene cuts away again, leaving us with little doubt as to what’s about to happen next.

During that little interim, Kirk and his crew have made it over to where Spock and Layla are cavorting. Spock just grins happily at Kirk, clearly not bothered one bit, even as Kirk asks if Spock’s out of his mind. He didn’t report to Kirk, he says, because...he didn’t want to.

Kirk glances back and forth between Spock and Layla, who’s standing there smiling rather smugly, and tells Layla that she’ll need to come get ready to evacuate with the rest of the colonists. Spock cheerfully says that there’s not going to be any evacuation. “But perhaps,” he adds, “we should go and get you straightened out.”

That really doesn’t bode well, but rather than ask just what Spock means by that, Kirk tells Sulu that Spock is under arrest in Sulu’s custody until they get back to the ship. Which will certainly work out well because it’s not like Spock is strong enough to chuck Sulu all the way across the field barehanded or anything. Not that Spock seems especially perturbed about being under arrest; instead he just shrugs, drops down from the tree, and says, “Very well. Come with me,” before heading off across the field, leaving else to follow in confusion. That’s how you arrest someone, right?

Of course, Spock leads them right to another group of spore flowers, which the group stops and stares at obligingly for a moment. Then the flowers explode a bunch of spores at them. Somehow, even though he’s standing right next to Sulu and Kelowitz, Kirk manages to totally avoid getting any spores up his sinuses, while the other two are immediately affected. “Yes...I see now,” Sulu says blissfully, with that trademark Very High grin that George Takei does so well. “Of course we can’t remove the colony. It’d be wrong.”

Kirk grabs him by the shoulders—Kirk’s go-to method for snapping people out of it--but when this somehow fails to bring Sulu back to his right mind, all Kirk can do is say that he doesn’t know what these plants are or how they work, but “you’re all going back to the settlement with me, and those colonists are going aboard the ship.” This stern proclamation has absolutely no effect on anyone. The whole group just stands there happily watching Kirk stomp back toward the colony. “I can see the captain is going to be difficult,” Spock remarks.

Kirk’s day isn’t about to get any better, because upon making it back to the colony he’s greeted by McCoy, who we can immediately tell is under the influence as well because his accent is absolutely out of control. It’s so thick even the subtitles pick up on it.

[ID: A screenshot of McCoy walking through a meadow with his communicator out, saying, "Sho’nuf."]

“Hiya, Jimmy boy!” McCoy very happily says to a very unhappy Kirk. “Hey, I’ve taken care of everything. Now all y’all gotta do is just relax. Doctor’s orders!” With a very resigned look, Kirk asks how many plants McCoy’s beamed up to the ship, and McCoy says it must be going on a hundred by now.

So Kirk beams up to the ship and heads right to the bridge, where he tells Uhura to put him through to Admiral Komak at Starfleet, though what he expects Komak to do about all this I don't know. But it’s too late. Uhura turns around to show that she’s smiling as happily as everyone else, and says, “Oh, I’m sorry Dave, I mean, captain. I can’t do that.” She’s short-circuited all the ship’s communications, except for ship-to-surface, since they’ll need that for a little while yet. Then she leaves, pausing in the door of the lift to tell Kirk that it’s really all for the best.

Kirk stands there seething for a moment, then stomps over to grab a plant that’s been left in Spock’s chair. He throws it across the bridge, and the camera lingers ominously on it as Kirk heads back into the lift.

Things aren’t any better on the rest of the ship. Kirk soon finds a long line of crewmembers of all different shirt colors, patiently waiting to transport down to join the colony. Out of what I can only assume is some desperate futile hope that someone will follow his orders if he just keeps trying, Kirk orders them all to go back to their stations at once. Unsurprisingly, they all ignore him. Kirk points out to one of the redshirts that this is MUTINY! but it doesn't get him very far.

[ID: A gif showing a young white man with brown hair wearing a redshirt as he says, "Yes, sir, it is." The camera then zooms in very dramatically on Kirk's stunned face.]

So...they’re all going down to join the colony? All four hundred thirty of them? Or four hundred twenty-nine, I guess, if Kirk refuses to join the fun. That’s almost ten times the amount of people the colony currently has in it. That seems like it could present a bit of a problem, because if you’ll recall DeSalle told Kirk earlier that right now the colony’s growing enough food to feed their current population, with little left over. How are they going to handle such a large and sudden influx into their population? Do they have housing for all these people? Or are they just all going to eat dirt and sleep on the ground because they’re all too high to notice anyway?

After we’ve had a commercial break to contemplate this shocking turn of events, Kirk takes some time out to give vent to his feelings in a captain’s log:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.5. The pod plants have spread spores throughout the ship, carried by the ventilation system. Under their influence, my crew is deserting to join the Omicron colony, and I can't stop them. I don't know why I have not been infected, nor can I get Doctor McCoy to explain the physical, psychological aspects of the infection."

And indeed, just in case we had any doubt, we then see McCoy strolling through the field and happily telling Kirk, “I’m not interested in any physical, psychological aspects, Jim-boy. We all perfectly healthy down here.” Kirk grumbles about how much he’s been hearing about things being perfect lately. “I bet you’ve even grown your tonsils back.” “Sho’nuf!”

Kirk tries desperately to get McCoy to do something to figure these spores out—run a blood test, take a scan, type the symptoms into WebMD, something, anything—but McCoy is more interested in rambling on about mint juleps.  Meanwhile, back in the farmhouse, Sandoval’s having tea with Spock while they talk about how nearly everyone’s beamed down from the ship and things are “proceeding quite well.” Kirk storms in and demands to know where McCoy’s gotten to, and Spock says he went off to make that mint julep. Which could prove quite difficult unless this tiny half-assed farm colony has somehow managed to set up a working distillery around here somewhere, but Kirk’s got bigger concerns right now than where McCoy’s going to get his bourbon.

Sandoval wants to know why Kirk won’t join them in their private, spore-sponsored paradise. Kirk asks where these spores came from, anyway, and Spock exposits that there’s no way to know—they just drifted through space until they arrived at this planet, which is perfect for them because it turns out they actually thrive on Bertold rays. The plants act as a repository for the spores until they can find a human—or half-Vulcan—body to inhabit. No explanation is forthcoming as to how Spock knows any of this.

Spock and Sandoval insist that the planet is “a true Eden” with belonging and love and no needs or wants for anyone, but Kirk is skeptical. “No wants, no needs. We weren’t meant for that. None of us. Man stagnates if he has no ambition, no desire to be more than he is.” Of all the things wrong with this situation I’m not sure “BEING TOO HAPPY IS BAD FOR YOU” is the take I would go with, but okay. Spock says that Kirk doesn’t understand, but he’ll come around...sooner or later.

Kirk, disgusted with this whole conversation, goes back to the ship. The bridge is dark, silent, and utterly empty. We get a slow pan of the blinking lights and displays of the consoles, with no one left to man them. Kirk walks over to his chair, hits the intercom, and starts calling one part of the ship after another, with no response from any of them. With nothing else left to do, he sits down in his chair and starts glumly recording a captain’s log so angsty it could be a LiveJournal entry:

"Captain's Log, Stardate 3417.7. Except for myself, all crew personnel have transported to the surface of the planet. Mutinied. Lieutenant Uhura has effectively sabotaged the communications station. I can only contact the surface of the planet. The ship...can be maintained in orbit for several months, but even with automatic controls, I cannot pilot her alone. In effect, I am marooned here. I'm beginning to realize...just how big this ship really is, how quiet. I don't know how to get my crew back, how to counteract the effect of the spores. I don't know what I can offer against...paradise."

Hold on hold on HOLD ON what do you MEAN the ship can be maintained in orbit for several months? Every time someone takes their hands off the controls for five seconds we get told that the orbit is decaying and they’re gonna plummet into some hapless planet within a few hours at most but now all of a sudden it’s fine to hang out up there for several months? MAKE UP YOUR MIND.

Kirk gets up to go sit at the helm, just to get a change of scenery mid-mope, and as he finishes his log/rant the camera slowly pans down to reveal the spore flower that he chucked across the bridge earlier. Which is weird because we just got a wide shot of the bridge and that flower definitely wasn’t there then.

[ID: Two shots. The first is a wide shot showing Kirk alone on the empty, darkened bridge, preparing to sit down at the helm. There is nothing in on the floor in front of the helm. The second shot is a closer shot of Kirk sitting at the helm with his chin in one hand, now with a large spore flower poking up in the front of shot.]

The flower promptly shoots Kirk in the face, and for a moment he just continues to sit there with spores in his hair and a “yeah, this might as well happen” expression. But then he slowly starts to smile, suddenly as happy as everyone else. Exactly why Kirk’s been unaffected by the spores up until now, even after hanging out for quite a while on a ship that’s supposedly been thoroughly contaminated by them, is never really explained. Maybe he's just on a lot of Zyrtec. But it seems even Kirk’s determination to not be happy can’t hold out against a point-blank spray in the face. He calls Spock to say that he finally understands now, which Spock is happy to hear. Kirk says he’ll be down just as soon as he packs up a few things, so Spock says he and Layla will wait for him at the beamdown point.

So Kirk goes off to his quarters to pack up a suitcase, the contents of which seem to mostly consist of uniform shirts. Apparently paradise for Kirk does not include one of those green jumpsuits, which, really, who can blame him. He opens a small vault by his bed and pulls out a couple of black cases, one of which he opens to reveal a medal. This seems to stir some sense of conflict because he sits down and stares at it for a long moment, but then puts it aside and heads to the transporter room, where he puts the suitcase on the platform and then prepares to set the controls.

But then Kirk hesitates, and stands there for a moment looking conflicted. Possibly he’s still having feelings about those medals, or maybe he’s having second thoughts about whether he packed enough shirts. In any case, he eventually exclaims, “No...No! I...can’t...LEAVE!” Then he punches the console for good measure.

Apparently this little emotional outburst is all it takes to cure the spores, because Kirk gasps a little, looks momentarily confused, and then seems to be back to his old self. “Emotions...violent emotions. Needs...anger,” he tells the empty room. “Captain’s log, supplemental. I think I’ve discovered the answer...but to carry out my plan entails considerable risk. Mr. Spock is much stronger than the ordinary human being.” Then he treats us to this remarkable line:

[ID: A shot of Kirk in profile at the transporter controls as he says, "Aroused, his great physical strength could kill."]

um

Down on the planet, Spock and Layla are still waiting at the beamdown point when Kirk calls Spock up and says he’s realized there’s some equipment on the ship that they’ll need for the colony, and he needs Spock’s help to get it all beamed down. Really, you’d think there’d be quite a lot of equipment on the Enterprise that a farming colony could make good use of, but I guess they’re really determined to stick to the whole no-technology approach. Despite this, Spock cheerfully accepts the explanation, gives Layla a quick smooch, and beams up.

But upon materializing, Spock is greeted not with a smiling Kirk ready to go move some equipment with his bro, but Kirk standing there holding some nonspecific heavy metal rod thing that he’s smacking threatening against his hand. “All right, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized half-breed,” he says, “we’ll see about you deserting my ship.”

Spock reacts to this bar-brawl-starter with nothing more than a nonplussed expression and polite correcting Kirk on his syntax. Kirk, determination unshaken, continues laying into him with a stream of insults that would have made that fucker from Balance of Terror go, “Whoa, hold on there a minute.” Undeterred by not being able to use any actual expletives, he compares Spock both to a machine and to various fairy-tale creatures, makes fun of his ears, and rounds it all off by having a go at the entire Vulcan race. He even insults Spock’s parents.

[ID: 1. A shot of Spock standing in the transporter room looking perplexed as Kirk, off-camera, says, "Whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?" 2. A gif from Monty Python and the Holy Grail of John Cleese as the French knight on the battlements yelling, "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"]

Spock stands there taking it all stoically for quite a while, even as the background music gets increasingly tense. He finally starts to crack when Kirk goes after Spock’s relationship with Layla, and when Kirk keeps going despite Spock angrily telling him, “That’s enough,” Spock finally flips out big time. You know what that means, it’s time for a STAR TREK FIGHT SCENE! This one’s got it all: close-up shots of the actors intercut with long shots of very obvious stunt doubles; cardboard props getting punched; even people picking up random unidentifiable bits of starship equipment that may or may not have ever been there before to use as weapons. The only thing we’re missing is Kirk doing some kind of weird wrestling move.

[ID: Three gifs showing a fight scene between Kirk and Spock. First we see a long shot where Kirk and Spock are clearly being played by stunt doubles, as Spock punches a metal rod Kirk is holding, bending it in half. He then punches Kirk in the jaw, sending him careening into the wall. Then a close-up of Nimoy and Shatner as Spock advances on Kirk and throws a punch but misses, denting the control panel in the wall behind Kirk. Kirk dodges out of the way towards the console, and Spock throws another punch that hits the side of the console. Then back to a long view with the stunt doubles as Spock throws Kirk into the opposite wall, which Kirk careens off of, falling on his back on the floor, while Spock picks up something resembling a square metal stool or stepladder and raises it over his head. Finally, we see Nimoy and Shatner again as Kirk lays on the floor looking up at Spock, raising the thing he's carrying over his head.]

We dramatically cut to black as Spock stands poised above Kirk, raising whatever-the-hell-that-thing-is over his head threateningly. Apparently the ad break gives him enough time to cool down, though, because instead of bringing the thing down on Kirk’s skull, he hesitates.

“Had enough?” Kirk asks. “I didn’t realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours.”

Spock slowly lowers the thing, looking a bit regretful about having to do so. Kirk says he doesn’t know what Spock’s so mad about, anyway. “It isn’t every first officer who gets to belt his captain...several times.” Dude, you just stood there and unleashed a screed of personal and racial insults at your best friend here. A “sorry” probably wouldn’t go amiss here.

“You did that to me deliberately,” Spock realizes, and then realizes that the spores are gone. “I don’t belong anymore.” Kirk explains that since the spores are “benevolent and peaceful,” violent emotions overwhelm and destroy them—that’s the answer. Which...definitely makes sense, chemically speaking. Sure.

Spock, still looking pretty glum about all this, points out that Kirk’s method might have worked out alright for curing one person, but they’ve got over five hundred infected people down there, and trying to pick a fight with all of them probably isn’t going to go so well. But no worries, Kirk’s got another plan. He wants Spock to rig up a subsonic transmitter that they can hook up to the ship’s communications system and then broadcast to all the communicators. Spock says he can do that, but hesitates as Kirk turns to leave. “Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense,” he points out.

Kirk mulls over that one for a moment. “We-ll...if we’re both in the brig, who’s gonna build the subsonic transmitter?” he says, and Spock concedes the point. Besides, it’s a bit late to be worrying about striking fellow officers now.

[ID: A gif from The Naked Time of Kirk and Spock standing in an Enterprise conference room. Kirk slaps Spock across the face, and Spock retaliates by backhanding Kirk so hard he is thrown across the table in the center of the room and falls onto the floor on the other side.]

But what with the insults and the punching and de-sporing and everything, it seems that something has clean slipped Spock’s mind: Layla’s still down there waiting for him to come back. As she stands around the field, McCoy wanders over and asks what’s up. When she tells him that she’s been out here for some time now waiting for Spock and Kirk to come back, he gentlemanly offers to fix that for her and calls the ship. Spock picks up, and Layla asks if everything’s okay up there.

With obvious discomfort, Spock tells her that yes, he’s...quite well. Layla, oblivious to anything being wrong, asks if she can come up there, because she wants to talk to him, and besides, “I’ve never seen a starship before.” Wait a minute, never seen a starship before? You’re on a planetary colony! What, did you drive here?

Spock asks if she’s still at the beamdown point, and if McCoy’s there. Layla says yes to both, so Spock tells her to give the communicator back to McCoy, since she won’t need it to transport, and he’ll have her beamed up in a few minutes. One might think that at this point they might take this easy opportunity to also beam up McCoy and get him cured (it shouldn’t be hard, McCoy is already 85% comprised of negative emotions to begin with), so he can start investigating these spores, just in case Operation Go For the Eardrums doesn’t work. But they don’t. Kirk awkwardly asks Spock if he’s sure about talking to Layla while she’s still spore’d, but Spock just nods and heads to the transporter room.

He beams Layla up, and she happily runs over to give him a hug—they’ve been parted ever so long, after all—but when he just stands there stiffly, not reacting at all, she slowly pulls back and says, “You’re no longer with us, are you?”

Spock says it was necessary. Layla begs him to come back to the planet and belong again, but he says he can’t. She starts crying and saying she loves him. "I said that six years ago, and I can't seem to stop repeating myself. On Earth, you couldn't give anything of yourself. You couldn't even put your arms around me. We couldn't have anything together there. We couldn't have anything together anyplace else. But we're happy here. I can't lose you now, Mr. Spock, I can't." Look, if the only time the relationship you want can possibly work out is when the other person is being mind-controlled by alien spores, I think it may be time to consider whether this is really a relationship you should be pursuing in the first place.

“I have a responsibility to this ship...to that man on the bridge,” Spock gently tells her. “I am what I am, Layla. And if there are self-made purgatories, then we all have to live in them. Mine can be no worse than someone else’s.”

Layla soon realizes that all this anguish has resulted in her getting de-spore’d as well, and she’s not happy about it. “And this is for my own good?” she demands angrily. Well...yes, I mean, it is, but Spock doesn’t say that. Nor does he respond when she asks, “Do you mind if I say I still love you?” but she hugs him again anyway.

[ID: Layla tearfully embraces Spock and says, "You never told me if you had another name, Mr. Spock." Spock replies, "You couldn't pronounce it."]

ROMANCE

We’re obviously supposed to read this little story arc as the tragic tale of true love destined never to be, because Spock is only able to express his feelings for Layla under the influence of the spores. He has experienced paradise, but alas, he cannot linger there, and so on. It’s never set all that well with me, though. The problem is we never really get Spock’s side of the story and so it leaves open the question of how much he actually did want this relationship in the first place. Layla said earlier that “Mr. Spock’s feelings were never expressed to me” so evidently he never outright said “I love you but I can’t be with you” or anything of that sort to her. When they’re alone in the field before Spock gets spore’d he seems stiff, standoffish, awkward, and deflects all of her overtures with what appears to be discomfort, even annoyance. He clearly has no interest in talking about whatever history they had together, even when they’re all alone. For all that Layla goes on about how she can see a side of Spock that his crewmates don’t, we see interactions with those crewmates multiple times throughout the show that prove that Spock is perfectly capable of showing people that he cares about them, even if the ways he does it are usually a bit atypical. We don’t see any of that in his initial interactions with Layla.

If we accept the premise that the spores only make people act as they would if they had no inhibitions or fears holding them back, then yes, Spock saying he loves Layla after he’s been spore’d would indicate that he did secretly love her all along. The problem is that we know the spores make people do things that they would not ordinarily want to do. You think all of those four hundred thirty people on the Enterprise secretly longed for a quiet life among the soil but all chose to instead join the space navy for some reason? Should we believe Scotty is actually deep down perfectly okay with abandoning his beloved ship to a slowly decaying orbit? I doubt that Kirk has always harbored a subconscious desire to give up exploring the final frontier to pursue a peaceful agrarian lifestyle, but he very nearly does do just that. So the question of how much a relationship with Layla is what Spock “really” wanted seems to be a bit hazy.

Mind, I’m not saying this makes Layla an evil person who deliberately drugged Spock so she could have a relationship with him or anything like that. It’s clear throughout the episode that the spores induce those who are infected by them to spread them around to anyone nearby who’s not in the spore fandom yet, so there’s no reason to believe Layla would act as she did if she wasn’t under the influence herself. I just personally find it hard to buy into the tragic romance of a star-crossed relationship when the thing crossing the stars is that one of the participants is only enthusiastic about the whole thing when they’re not fully sober. It makes me question how much of their previous relationship really was Spock having feelings for Layla but being unable to express them, versus Layla projecting a lot of feelings onto him and writing off his disinterest or discomfort as denial.

Kirk and Spock go back to working on the signal, while Layla deals with her heartbreak by disappearing into thin air for the rest of the episode. Spock says that the sound they’re going to send out is on a frequency that won’t be heard so much as felt, but apparently it will be felt quite emphatically. Kirk compares it to putting itching powder on someone. Which may seem like another silly technobabble deus ex machina, but speaking from personal experience, driving someone into a frantic frustrated fit by playing an obnoxious noise just on the edge of hearing sounds totally legit. All they need to complete the sensory overload meltdown experience is find a way to simulate some flickering florescent lights and put tags on the backs of the uniform shirts.

And indeed, as the device starts to work, we see Sulu and DeSalle working in one of the fields—for a certain value of ‘working,’ anyway, they’re kind of just digging around aimlessly—when Sulu accidentally elbows DeSalle in the back. He apologizes, but DeSalle shoves him back, and before long they’re having a full-on brawl right there in the field, which can't be good for the crops. As the device on the ship hums away, two more crewmembers start their own fight over by the farmhouse, and when a third tries to break them up he promptly gets dragged into it as well.

The effects haven’t quite reached everyone just yet, though, as we see McCoy chillaxing under a tree with some unspecified concoction. Sandoval strolls up and says that he’s been thinking about what sort of work he could assign McCoy to. When McCoy protests that he does one kind of work and that’s doctorin’, Sandoval says that he’s not a doctor anymore—they don’t need any doctors here.

This does not go over well.

[ID: A gif showing McCoy reclining against a tree in a grassy meadow, a stalk of grass in one hand and a grass of something brown with several leafy stalks in it. Sandoval is standing over him. McCoy says, "Oh, no?" and then slowly stands up, tosses his grass stalk aside, looks Sandoval in the eye and says, "Would you like to see just how fast I can put you in a hospital?"]

Undeterred, Sandoval says that he’s the leader and he’ll be assigning McCoy whatever work he wants to, but when he tries to walk away McCoy pulls him back and snarls, “You’d better make me a mechanic. Then I can treat little tin gods like you.” Sandoval throws a punch at him, but McCoy dodges and whacks Sandoval in the stomach, putting him out flat on the ground. See, I told you it wouldn’t be hard to cure McCoy. Everyone else on the Enterprise was perfectly happy to give up their careers to go do a bit of light farming, but tell McCoy he can’t be a doctor anymore and no amount of spores are going to save you.

While Sandoval is busy rolling around on the ground, McCoy stands there looking confused for a moment, then—presumably having only just now noticed that instead of a mint julep he’s actually been drinking a coke with a bunch of cilantro in it—throws his drink aside and admits that he’s not sure why he just clobbered Sandoval. But Sandoval has other concerns for the moment. With a look of dawning horror familiar to all us chronic procrastinators, he abruptly realizes that they haven’t actually been doing anything all this time. “No accomplishments, no progress. Three years wasted. We wanted to make this planet a garden...”

McCoy points out that the colonists really will have to leave—they can’t survive here without the spores handling all that radiation for them. But the dream’s not over; the colonists could be relocated to start again somewhere a bit less deadly, if that’s what they want.

“I think I’d...I think we’d like to get some work done,” Sandoval muses. “The work we set out to do.”

McCoy calls Spock and says that Sandoval wants to talk to Kirk. Spock notes to Kirk that the crew are all starting to rather sheepishly call in by now. Sandoval tells Kirk that the colonists will fully cooperate with the evacuation now, and Kirk tells him to start making the preparations. Real ones, this time.

Sometime later, everyone’s back on the bridge getting ready to head out. McCoy reports that he’s examined all the colonists and they all remain in perfect health. “A fringe benefit left over by the spores.”

One would think that this would have been quite the eventful afternoon for the medical sciences, given that they just discovered spores with such incredible healing powers that they can make people regrow organs, and McCoy just confirmed that anything healed by the spores stays healed after the spores are gone. Sure, they’ve got some side effects, but Kirk’s already discovered a simple way to get rid of the things once they’re no longer needed. Strap someone to a bed, give em a facemask full of spores, let them lay there for a while having a nice buzz while they heal their cancer or whatever, then play an irritating noise at them until they sneeze the spores back out again. Boom. Done. You’ve solved medicine. Or, y’know, we could vacate the planet and never speak of it ever again, that works too.

Notably unmentioned by anybody during this little denouement is the fate of the other two settlements on the planet that Sandoval mentioned back near the beginning of the episode. The length of the timeskip isn’t specified, so it’s possible that the crew went and collected them as well in the interim, but we never get any details as to how that little adventure went, assuming that it did happen and that the Enterprise isn’t about to get halfway to the next starbase before Kirk realizes he forgot something.

As they watch the planet diminish behind them on the viewscreen, McCoy muses that this was “the second time man’s been thrown out of paradise.” Kirk disagrees. "No, no, Bones, this time we walked out on our own. Maybe we weren't meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to fight our way through--struggle, claw our way up, scratch for every inch of the way. Maybe we can't stroll to the music of the lute. We must march to the sound of drums."

Spock remains unimpressed by this bit of philosophizing. “Poetry, Captain. Nonregulation.” Kirk notes that they haven’t heard anything from Spock about this whole ordeal, since, y’know, that definitely seems like something Spock would want to talk about. He says he’s got little to say about Omicron Ceti 3.

[ID: A close-up of Spock on the bridge as he says, "Except that for the first time in my life...I was happy."]

oh my god someone needs therapy

On that INCREDIBLY CHEERFUL note, the Enterprise flies away and the episode ends.

It’s somewhat baffling to me that of all the quite reasonable objections available to the whole situation with the spores, the main problem that Kirk—and by extension, the episode—seems to have is that “the spores make things too EASY and mankind was meant to STRUGGLE!!!” I mean, effectively what we had going on here was people being drugged without their consent into a state that overwrote their own desires, ambitions, emotions and much of their individual personalities and replaced them with bland, happy conformity to a goal and lifestyle none of them actually chose. That seems a bit worse to me than “people weren’t working hard enough.” Kirk goes on and on about how the spores made things too easy, but what they really did was make people apathetic to whether they succeeded at anything or not. Sandoval’s horrified when he’s cured of the spores because the colonists had much different plans for their colony; far from making those plans easier, the spores made them impossible. The dreams and desires of the Enterprise crew for a life of exploration among the stars would have been forever unmet if they had permanently joined the colony, they just wouldn’t have been able to care. Kirk seems to believe that the ultimate evil of the spores is that they deprive people of ambition; to me it seems that the worse evil is that they deprive people of their individuality and their autonomy.

Then there’s the fact that while the spores make people happy and friendly, they also make them remarkably blasé about the well-being of anyone who isn’t part of their collective. They have to be—caring about whether someone else is upset or hurt would make them unhappy, after all. Spock and McCoy are completely unconcerned with the mounting distress of their best friend, and beyond peer pressuring him to get with the program and take the spores like everyone else, they don’t seem to much care if he remains the only unhappy person on the planet. The colonists seem completely unbothered by the fact that all the animals they brought with them died a rather grueling death by radiation poisoning. Everyone on the Enterprise is happy to abandon the ship and join the colony with no message left behind for Starfleet, with apparently not a thought to spare for any friends and family back home, who would only ever know that their loved ones disappeared into space never to be seen again.

Or at least, they would if things actually went according to plan, which they probably wouldn’t, because the spores also made everyone cheerfully oblivious to the idea that anything could potentially cause a problem or pose a threat to them. After all, if Kirk hadn’t had a recovery at the last minute, the Enterprise would have been left unmanned in orbit around the planet, with no way for anyone in the colony to get back onboard. Uhura also goes out of her way to make sure that they no longer have any off-planet communication. So it’s probably not going to be long before Starfleet notices that one of their prize starships has abruptly gone incommunicado, and I’m willing to bet they’d be a bit quicker on that investigation than they were about checking on a tiny backwater colony (although it is Starfleet, so who knows, really). And since they know exactly where the ship was headed on its last recorded mission, it probably won’t take them long to find it. If Starfleet sends another ship along to investigate quickly enough, they’ll find the abandoned Enterprise hanging out in orbit around the planet, and Kirk’s log clearly lays out what happened, so all the other ship has to do is figure out how to neutralize the spores and everyone’s going to get rescued from Omicron Ceti 3 pretty quickly whether they want to be or not.

If Starfleet doesn’t show up in time...Kirk says the ship can be “maintained in orbit” for several months, but then what? It can’t stay up there forever. Sooner or later, the orbit will decay and the ship’s going to crash into the planet, and if it crashes anywhere near one of the colonies, their magic healing powers are going to be put to the test. Also their magic agriculture powers--rich soil and mild weather is all well and good, but is that going to be enough to carry all those crops through the ensuing environmental effects of an impact that big? Especially since, as already mentioned, the colony has enough to feed them and that’s about it—so they really can’t afford to lose any crops for very long.

Sure, maybe the Enterprise wouldn’t crash close enough to any of the colonies to ruin them, but why take the risk? All they had to do was have a helmsman set it on a course out of orbit, then take a shuttlecraft back to the planet. Doesn’t occur to anyone, evidently. Nor do we see anyone bothering to bring any supplies or equipment from the ship to the colony, even though there’s gotta be lots of stuff up there that would be useful. All in all, it seems quite likely that Paradise would have eventually collapsed in on itself simply because the spores make people unable to pay attention to any potential threats or obstacles long enough to do anything about them.

So what’s the moral here? ‘Society can’t survive if everyone is stoned all of the time’? I mean, okay? Sure? Cool? Glad we sorted all that out.

That said, despite having ranted for the past nine hundred words about the weird moral, I’m not saying this episode is bad. As a serious point about human nature I don’t find it especially compelling—YMMV, but I just personally tend to side-eye stories that center around the idea of “wouldn’t it be awful if we all had it too easy??”--but as fifty minutes of extremely Star Trek-y silliness it’s glorious. We’ve got Spock hanging from a tree and talking about dragons while making out in the grass, McCoy going full Georgia and wandering about with something he thinks is a mint julep, Kirk stomping around in increasing agitation as he tries to get some sense out of somebody and then making emo log entries while he sits on the bridge alone...it’s great.

The original draft of this episode apparently had the romantic subplot be for Sulu, who would have been motivated to stay with Layla after having been diagnosed with a serious medical condition that was cured by the spores, kind of like the eventual plot with McCoy in For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky. D.C. Fontana rewrote the story to focus on Spock, since if you have an episode about something that causes a strong emotional reaction, throwing Spock and his ever-present internal conflict into the mix is kind of the most immediately obvious way to generate some pathos and drama. The spores originally granted those affected with them telepathic abilities, enabling them to link with everyone else who’d been spore’d and form a hivemind. There are some traces of this in the final episode with spore’d people talking about “joining us” and “being one of us” and so on, but without the telepathy part it just kind of makes it sound like they’re in a cult. Also, the cure for the spores would have been consuming alcohol, so presumably in that draft McCoy never got infected.

For the purposes of the Trek Tally I’m going to count the spores as a Space Disease, which might be broadening the umbrella of that term a bit but hey, close enough. Next time we’ll be looking for life, Jim, but not as we know it, in The Devil in the Dark.

[brelione]

Kind Of A Cinderella Story (Sarah Cameron X Reader)

 Request:37 from prompt list 2 with Sarah?+More Sara Cameron dating a Gardener pls

Warnings:This is trash and for some reason took me like three hours to write.Isnt proof read,implications of smut kind of.

Sarah was sick of her life.It was the same thing over and over again.She had to pretend to be this elegant,proper girl when all she wanted ot do was have fun.She felt like a puppet,being told what to wear and who to hang out with.She ahd been set up with countless kook boys that wanted nothing other than a girl to use as a sex object.She hated it.

Everyone thought that she was some perfect kook queen with no problems in her life but they couldnt be more wrong.People called her a whore for cheating on her boyfriends but all she wanted was to be loved.Like,genuinely loved for something other than her appearance.It was a process of trial and error.Ward would introduce her to one preppy kook boy with gelled back hair and toxic masculinity in a never ending cycle,hoping ot find the perfect fit.

Little did he know that she didnt want any kooks there was.She didnt even want any boys,no matter eif they were a pogue or a kook.Her heart was set on one pogue girl that didnt know how to match her pants to her shirt and had pierced her nose with a paperclip.She found her heart speeding up,trying not to smile or let out a nervous laugh whenever she saw said pogue even walk by.

You had always envied the kooks.While you worked at a bakery for 16 hours three days a week,living from pay check to pay check they were living it up in their huge mansions and getting their nails done with diamonds and gold.

You didnt even have a refrigerator or a microwave,you just kept what needed to be cold in a cooler that you had found on the side of the road two years ago.The bakery could only pay you so much so you decided that you might need another job.

It was either that or start stealing things.You chose the first option,unfortunately.Upon hearing that Ward Cameron was looking for someone to plant flowers and cut weeds in his garden you had volunteered for it.That’s what got you to this point,mud on your cheekbones,little scratches on your palms as you secured another bundle of impatiens into the soil.

The grass was still damp from the early morning rain,you were obviously tired and planning on going back to bed once you got back home.That was when the kook princess,Sarah Cameron,came running out of her house with a butter knife in her hand,demanding to know who you were and what you were doing in her backyard.You wiped your slightly bloody hands on your jeans,grinning.

  “Im the gardener,Ward hired me last week.”You explained,smiling when a look of realisation came across the kook’s face,dropping the butter knife into the grass. “Oh-im so sorry!Im Sarah,they didnt tell me they hired you so I got scared.”She looked down at the butter knife,a blush coming across her cheeks.

After that first encounters she was desperate to speak to you again,having to wait a whole week until you came around to pull the weeds from the garden.She had considered stomping on the plants so you’d be forced to stay around longer but that would be pretty rude of her if she wanted to make a good impression.She had checked the weather,seeing that it was gonna be over 100 degrees.

That meant she had a perfect reason to speak to you without being strange.She’d come out after ten minutes of you being there and offer you a cold drink inside and when you were distracted with your drink she’d ask you questions about yourself and then boom.

You two would fall in love.It sounded like a great plan in her head.The night before the day you were due to come over she had set a blue gatorade in the fridge,preparing.But then she saw you out her window and became weak.Her legs were shaking as she took the gatorade out of the fridge,pacing around the kitchen with teh bottle in hand,taking in big breaths as she prepared herself. 

With one last,deep breath she opened the back slider door,putting a smile on her face as she walked up behind you as you put long weeds into a bucket,your sleeves rolled up and sweat on your face. “Weather kind of sucks today,figured you needed a drink.”She licked her lips,wanting to redo.That just didnt sound right at all.You looked up at her,squinting from the sun that shined around her almost like a halo.

 “Thanks,climate change is a real bitch.”You took the gatorade,opening it and taking a sip,some of the blue energy drink dripping down your chin. “Oh my god,I know.Don't even get me started on whats happening with the sharks in New England!The government is full of shit!”She exclaimed,not as nervous as she had been before.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah,just like our oceans!In twenty years there will be more plastic than fish,I hate this world so much.”You sighed,sitting in the grass as you took another sip of the cold drink. “Do you want to come inside and talk about this?We’ll both get sunburned if we stay out here too long.”her hands went to her pockets,something that always happened when she was anxious.

You shrugged,standing up. “Yeah,ok.”You replied,following her.You were hesitant to actually step inside the house,figuring one of the tiles was probably worth your whole paycheck.You sat awkwardly at the counter,drinking the gatorade until there was barely anything left.

She grabbed you a water bottle and offered you a sandwhicih.You said yes of course,thanking her when a ham and cheese sandwich on a blue plate was placed in front of you. “You know what else I hate?”You asked,taking a small bite off the corner of the sandwich.She hummed,looking up. 

“How organizations protecting endangered species are being defunded by the government!It’s trash.”You sighed,becoming increasingly more angry.SHe nodded,agreeing. “Same with deforestation!If the government was taking away tv’s everyone would freak out but of course when they cut down our source of oxygen its fine!”She smacked her palms off the table.

 “I say we poison them all with wolfsbane and give Mother Nature her shit back.”You wiped some mustard from your cheek,making her grin.Once you finished the sandwich you insisted on getting back to work,groaning when the sun hit your skin again.She had sat by the pool,telling you that you could go for a swim when you finished working if you wanted to.

You tugged dandelions from the garden,it was your last task of the day which meant that you got it done as quick as possible,placing them into the bucket when you got a good idea.You took them back out,forming the weeds into a crown of yellow,grinning at your creation before presenting it to Sarah. “Figured the queen needed a crown.”Was al you said,placing it on her head before flashing a peace sign and beginning your walk home.

Sarah waited another seven days to see you.The sun didnt shine so bright,her hair felt lifeless and her smile just couldnt look right.She felt herself falling for you,not even bothering to fight off the feelings.Tuesday night,the night before you would be coming over she prepped herself.She made a ham and cheese sandwich with mustard and lettuce,wrapping it up and putting it in her fridge along with a blue gatorade.

She practiced how to do a cute bun that she had seen on her pinterest feed,picking out an outfit that would make her look nice without being too over the top.She ended up showering at two in the morning,making sure she would smell nice and her hair wouldnt be greasy.She woke up with drool tunning down her chin,her alarm loud.She groaned,wiping her face and checking the time.

She had a text from her dad to let her know that he and Rose had taken Wheezie to the beach and Rafe was off doing whatever it was that Rafe does.She sat in her living room,staring out the window as she waited for you to appear and walk around her house into the backyard.She grinned when she saw you,light overalls and a rainbow striped shirt,deep tan work boots and a tired look on your face as you opened the gate in the fence,walking around to the backyard.

She let out a soft sigh as she wiped her hands on her shirt,making sure there were no wrinkles as she grabbed the sandwich from the fridge,tucking it under her arm and holding the gatorade in her hand,opening the slider door with the other.She closed it,the hot humid air hitting her in a huge contrast from the cold air conditioned house.

 “Hey,Sar.”You grinned,noticing that there wasnt much work that need to be done today.She held out the wrapped up sandwich to you along with the drink,crossing her arms awkwardly. “Do you want to come inside?”She asked,peeling at her white nail polish.You licked your lips,standing up and brushing off your pants before picking up the gatorade and sandwich,sitting at the kitchen table and eating. “So like,can I ask you a question?”She asked,leaning her elbows on the table.

You raised an eyebrow at her,swallowing the sandwich that you had in your mouth with a swig of gatorade. “I hate when people ask that.Are you gonna ask if I murdered someone cause the answer is no.”You said quickly,trying not to let your brain run wild.

You hadnt done anything wrong.Maybe you fucked up the order fo the flowers? “Oh,oh cool.But um….Like,what would you do if I accidentally kissed you?”She asked,making your eyes widen.Her heart beat only got quicker as the monet of silence lasted longer,a tension growing between the two of you.

 “I dont know...thats never happened before.”You answered,avoiding her eyes.She blushed,leaning down quick and pecking your lips,pulling away just as quick. “Love that.”You answered,biting your lip lightly,trying not to laugh. 

“Love you.”She answered,her face beet red.You smiled,looking up at her. “Love you too.”You answered,hearing the door open a few seconds later,Wheezie walking in,her skin slightly more tanned than it had been when she left. “Uhh...hi?”She frowned,looking at you but deciding not to question it before going up the stairs and into her room.

Ward and Rose came in soon after her,the same look on their faces. “Arent you the gardener?”Rose asked,coming into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine. “She’s done with her work for the day.”Sarah answered quickly,looking over to Ward.

He didnt say anything,feeling that there was something going on between the two of you but deciding to stay quiet.You and Sarah had been dating in somewhat secrecy for a month and you no longer came over on just Wednesday’s to pull weeds.You came over pretty much everyday,going swimming or going to the beach with your lovely girlfriend.

You laid on your stomach on her bed,head on one of her many pillows,the show Lucifer playing on her large tv. “We should do something.”She spoke confidently,a mischevious grin on her face.You sighed,sitting up. “Like what?”You asked,knowing that she would probably suggest something ridiculous.

She smirked,grabbing her purse. “We’re gonna go shopping.”It wasnt even a question,just a straight out statement.You shook your head,going back to laying down when she grabbed at your ankles,trying to drag you off the bed. “Please?”She pouted,trying to get you to crack.

You simply rolled your eyes,reminding her that you didnt have the money for that type of thing.She sighed,grabbing your hands and pulling you up but you refused to go down without a fight,purposely pushing her backwards by wrapping your arms around her like a toddler. 

“No.”You muttered,your nose in her blonde hair.You stared ahead of you,passing by trees and large houses,getting to the rich kook side of the island near the shopping boutiques and gold clubs. “I hate you.”You sighed as she pulled into a shop parking lot,a grin on her face. “I love you too.”She answered,opening the car door for you and making you get out. 

“What if I buy you icecream after?”She asked,trying to get you to be less miserable,succeeding when your face lit up. “Like the fancy kind in a dipped waffle cone with the sprinkles?”You asked,willing to try on clothes if it meant getting to the sweet cold treat.

She nodded,complying with your request,holding your hand and bringing you inside.It didnt feel right for you to be here,even the lights looked expensive.There werent even carts,fabric bags instead.Thats how you could tell just how expensive everything here would be.  “Sarah,this is ridiculous.”You mumbled as she dragged you over to some t shirts that had stripes but even they looked expensive,the material thick and durable between your fingers.

You gripped the price tag,eyes widening. “This shit is $130!”You exclaimed,letting go of it.She smiled,shaking her head. “Suck it up,buttercup.”Was all she had to say,finding your size and placing it into the fabric bag when a worker came up to the two of you. “Can I help you ladies?”He asked.You answered a wuick no but was overpowered by Sarah. “Yes,yes please.

Im thinking a whole new vibe for her,maybe like eighties meets surfing.”She tried to explain her ideas,somehow the sentence made sense in the man’s head as he guided the two of you through the store,showing you both sundresses,ripped jeans,pastel collared shirts,headbands and earrings.

He watched from a far as Sarah held up the clothing next to your body,holding others near your hair as she tried to decide on what she wanted you to try on.She decided a light yellow shirt,some light washed jeans,a pair of shorts that were dark blue with gold stars,a purple sweatshirt with the word ‘lovely’ on it,a set of cream colored underwear with a matching bra,a gold headband with flowers on it,a pair of boyfriend jeans,or as she called them,girlfriend jeans.

You didnt even give an opinion on any of the clothes she was putting into the bag,thinking about what kind of icecream you were going to get,snapping out of your thoughts when she told you to start trying things on.

She had requested that you took mirror pictures in everything you tried on and asked that you send them to her as she went to the jewelry counter,supposedly getting a spot on her gold necklace fixed.You took your time trying on clothes,trying not to become to insecure about it.

You took the photos quickly,plowing your way through the outfits,getting to the set of bra and panties.You slid on the underwear over the ones you were already wearing,seeing the sign on the dressing room wall that said not to try on undergarments on your bare body.You simply pulled on the bra over your breasts,not seeing a policy for that.

The fabric was soft and the bra held up your breasts perfectly,the cream colored lace straps tickling your skin.You snapped a few photos in the set,feeling a bit of heat rush to your face when the door opened,Sarah sticking her head in. “Are you checking yourself out?”She asked,a smirk on her face.You placed your hands over your face,laughing.

 “Shut up.”You answered,letting her see what you looked like in the set.She did indeed shut up,biting her lip as she looked you up and down. “Yeah,we’re buying that.”She nodded,asking to see the photos and closing the door behind her.You scrolled through the photos,her head on your shoulder and kissing it lightly as she looked at them,nodding.

 “Ooh that sweater is cute as hell.”She took the phone,zooming in. “So lets go look at some bathing suits and maybe get you some more bras...and then we can leave.”She grinned,gulping as she tried not to let her thoughts get the best of her.

You changed back into your normal paper thin striped shirt,shitty bra and overalls,putting the clothes back into the bag and walking back out,seeing her sitting in the chair with a grin on her face as if she knew something you didnt. “Look at how cute this bikini is!Your boobs would look good-we’re getting it.”She said quickly,putting a white one piece into the bag.

 “Sarah-this is gonna cost like,a million dollars.”You grumbled,not really approving what your girlfriend was doing.She rolled her eyes,not worrying about it as she grabbed an ash colored bralette and underwear set,finally done picking clothes for you,dragging you to the counter to pay.You werent paying attention to anything the cashier was saying,only watching the total go up until it hit the point of $830.

What the actual fuck?Sarah simply swiped her card,taking the white and gold paper bag with a grin,pulling you along as you tried to get over the fact that she had just payed so much so carelessly.You two ended up back in the car,the bag in the backseat as you were still struggling to wrap your head around it. 

“You okay?”She asked,noticing the look on your face. “You just spent an entire month of bills on clothes.”You whispered,making a smile come across her face. “That’s okay.”She answered,backing out of the parking lot and making her way to the icecream shop.

 “Do you want to go to the beach to eat our icecream or do you want to go back to the house and model for me?”She asked,hoping you’d pick the second option.You shrugged,not really caring as long as you got your icecream. “yeah,you’re modeling for me.”She decided for you,turning on the radio. “Yeah?”You asked.

She hummed in response.The drive was quiet,your chin on your palm,the cool air of the air conditioning on your skin and the hot of the sun on your arm. “I feel like Cinderella right now.”You admitted,making the blonde laugh. “What do you mean by that?”She asked,curious.

You shrugged,turning down the radio. “I mean,you’re my beautiful fairy goddess and you just bought me some kook clothes and i’m used to cooking for people and pulling weed from rich people’s gardens...its like im becoming one of you.”You mumbled,her hand squeezing your thigh. 

“You say it like we’re vampires, (Y/N).”She shook her head,pulling up to the icecream parlor,getting out of the car.You both walked up to the metal counter,looking at the menu.She got the same thing everytime.A  medium cotton candy scoop in a chocolate sprinkled cone with whipped cream.

It was colorful and over the top,just like her.You decided on a rainbow milkshake which was layers of cotton candy icecream,strawberry,black raspberry,orange creamsicle and lemon all in one cup topped with whipped cream.

After getting your icecream you two went right back to the car,Sarah playing Lucifer on her phone and placing it between the two of you as she struggled to eat her icrecream quick enough so it wouldnt fall off or melt.She rested her icecream cone in the cupholder,driving back to the house,running up to her room with you close behind her,the white and gold bag tucked under her arm.

She ate the cone,getting to the end of it when she asked you to try on the bathing suit.You rolled your eyes,stripping of your overalls and t shirt,earning a quiet whistle from her.You sent her a quick wink,pulling the bathing suit up your body,pushing your arms through,your cleavage showing. 

“Yeah,I was right.Your boobs look great.”She grinned,opening her drawers and picking out her pink bathing suit,changing into it right in front of you. “Lets go out to the pool.”She suggested,grabbing two towels from her drawer.The two of you sat in the cool water,the sun making it hard to look at. “I’ve got to get back to the house soon.”You mumbled,floating on your back.

She frowned,standing up in the shallow water. “Why?Cant you just sleep over?”She asked,not wanting you to go.You shook your head,figuring that it wouldnt be wise to spend another night. “I cant let the place get messy.”You answered,wringing out your hair.She pouted,understanding. 

“You have to leave now?”She asked.You shrugged,sitting on the steps. “Probably soon,i’ve got to check the mail too.”You replied,stepping onto the hot concrete.She sighed,lifting herself out of the water and offering you a ride home.

You said yes,giving her a quick kiss before leaving the car,your backpack clinging to your shoulders,the store bag in hand. “I love you.”She grinned as you closed the car door. “Love you too,pretty girl.”You replied before going inside your small house.It was hot,dust on the counters and cabinets.

The coolers ice had melted,leaving cans of sprite to float in the water that was left.You sighed,going into your room and letting your backpack fall onto your mattress that stayed on the floor.You took the clothes from the store bag,putting them on hangers and letting them hang in your closet,far away from the one other pair of overalls you owned.You grinned at the splash of color in your dull home,ending up falling asleep on your stomach on top of your mattress,face in the blankets you had collected over the years.

Sarah looked in the mirror at her tube top that was covering a honey colored bralette that you liked so much,a pair of white jeans over matching yellow panties that you liked so much.

She tied her hair into a messy bun,letting out a soft sigh,grabbing her keys and getting ready to surprise you at your house.It had only been a few hours but she already missed you.She jogged down the stairs quick,close to leaving when Rose interferred. 

“Where are you going?”She asked,looking at the outfit.Sarah cursed in her head,turning to look at her step mother. “Out.”She replied,not in the mood for her bullshit.Rose crossed her arms,a knowing smirk on her face. “Out where?”She pushed,acting like an annoying fifth grader.Sarah completely understood where Wheezie got it,Rose equally as annoying as the thirteen year old. 

“Out on a date.”Sarah answered,glaring.Rose’s eyebrows furrowed,surprised. “Yeah?”She asked,raising an eyebrow.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She repeated,hand on the door knob. “With who?”Rose asked,really testing Sarah’s patience.

 “With someone im interested in.”Sarah replied,venom dripping from her voice. “Hes got a job?”Rose asked.Sarah nodded. “Yeah.”She answered,sick of this interrogation. “What does he do?”Rose asked.Sarah rolled her eyes,nearly laughing at how clueless she was.

 “Gardening.”Sarah replied,squeezing the door knob tightly.Rose frowned,a sympathetic smile on her face. “Sarah,he’s probably gay.”She whispered.Sarah chuckled,opening the door. “Yeah,she is.”Sarah answered,slamming the door behind her.

When she showed up to your house she let out an anxious sigh,standing at your door.She had never actually been inside before,knocking gently.Of course you couldnt hear her in your sleep though.She opened the door,frowning at the built up dust and lack of color.

She found your room easily,the one room that had a door.She knocked on it,not hearing anything and growing concerned,opening it quickly.She calmed down when she saw you asleep on your matress,hair messy.She smiled,taking a photo and sitting down on the mattress next to you.Your eyes fluttered open,squinting up at her. “Hi.”She smiled down at you.

You sat up,confused.The sun was nearly completely down,teh sky pink and purple. “Sarah?”You asked.She nodded,a grin on her face. “What are you doing here?”You asked,not really understanding why she was in your house or why she would want to be in your house.

It was messy and small and you hadnt been ready for her to see it yet.She shrugged,laying down with you. “I dont know,I missed you.”She shrugged,arms around your waist and head on your chest.You smiled,kissing her head. “I didnt end up cleaning,got tired I guess.”You replied,enjoying the warmth of her body.

She pouted,sitting up straight. “Its hot in here.”She mumbled,making you frown. “I mean yeah,I dont have air conditioning so-”You stopped talking when she peeled off her shirt and shorts,leaving her in one of your favorite sets that she owned.You nodded,agreeing. “Yeah,it is hot in here.”You agreed.

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