#and probably turned her family against me

[goldfades]

TROUBLE ─── RAFE CAMERON

request for blurb night! : "ev, hear me out—reader is sarah’s best friend who used to babysit wheezie. she's always thought rafe was just some spoiled rich kid until one night he helps her out of a dangerous situation, and she see a different side of him"

The sound of cicadas swells in the sticky summer air as you maneuver your car into the Camerons’ circular driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The house stands before you, grand and overbearing, like something pulled straight from a Southern Gothic novel. Even after all these years, it still has a way of making you feel out of place, like you’re trespassing on a life far removed from your own.

You killed the engine and take a deep breath, your hands lingering on the steering wheel. Coming here used to feel second nature—a daily part of your routine back when you were just Sarah’s friend who needed extra cash and Wheezie was a chatty eight-year-old who never seemed to run out of energy.

Now, it feels complicated. It’s not like you’re unwelcome here—Rose is always polite in her distant, Stepford kind of way, and Wheezie practically lights up whenever she sees you. Sarah treats you like family, but there’s always been one Cameron who makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

Rafe.

Spoiled, sharp-tongued, entitled Rafe, whose condescending smirk had been a permanent fixture of your teenage years. The golden boy with a black hole of a temper, a trust fund, and an ego that stretched for miles. You’d never understood him, and frankly, you’d never wanted to. He was a hurricane you learned to avoid at all costs, never lingering too long in his orbit.

But life has a funny way of pulling you into places you swore you’d never go.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and step out into the muggy heat, your sandals crunching against the gravel. Somewhere inside the house, you hear the faint echo of laughter—Wheezie, probably, shouting at Sarah over a card game or some other nonsense. The sound makes you smile despite yourself.

You weren’t always someone the Camerons—or anyone from Figure Eight, for that matter—gave the time of day. Growing up, you were just another Pogue, another kid from the Cut with hand-me-down clothes and a chip on your shoulder. The people from Sarah’s world weren’t interested in you back then. Why would they be? You had nothing they wanted—no yacht, no country club membership, no sprawling waterfront property. You didn’t mind much. You had your own circle, your own rhythm, and you learned to brush off the condescending stares whenever you ventured into their territory.

But everything changed when your dad’s business took off. What started as a small, bare-bones construction company turned into one of the most in-demand firms in the Outer Banks almost overnight. Suddenly, the same people who used to look through you like you were invisible started remembering your name. Invitations to parties you’d never have been considered for started showing up in your mailbox. They weren’t just tolerating you—they wanted you there.

Sarah was one of the first to genuinely befriend you during that whirlwind of change. She wasn’t like the others, who only smiled at you because their parents said it was polite or because they wanted a favor from your dad. She liked you for you—your sarcasm, your groundedness, your tendency to keep it real in a place where everyone else seemed to be faking something. And through Sarah, you met Wheezie.

Wheezie was eight at the time, still caught between childhood and whatever it is that happens when you grow up as a Cameron. She adored you from the start, trailing behind you whenever you came over like a little shadow. You didn’t mind. She was funny, curious, and refreshingly unfiltered—a lot more like the kids from the Cut than anyone wanted to admit.

When Rose offhandedly mentioned they needed someone to look after Wheezie while she was busy managing the house (or hosting one of her endless charity luncheons), Sarah volunteered you without hesitation. “She’s perfect,” Sarah had said with that trademark confidence of hers, as though your schedule had already been cleared.

To your surprise, it worked out. Wheezie loved you, probably because you didn’t treat her like a chore or talk down to her like so many others did. You indulged her weird little interests, let her ramble on about books and whatever new drama she overheard in the house. You made her laugh.

And if the Camerons noticed you weren’t exactly one of their own, they didn’t seem to mind much anymore. After all, in their world, proximity to success was enough to erase just about anything.

Even after a couple years had passed, it’s a little funny how much has stayed the same. Every time you pull into the Camerons’ driveway, you still get the same sinking feeling, like you’re stepping onto foreign soil without a passport. Except now, it’s become a routine. Cameron game nights.

It started as an extension of the babysitting gig—a casual invite from Sarah, insisting you stay for dinner one night after watching Wheezie. Dinner turned into a board game that Sarah claimed was “super quick,” which turned into three hours of family chaos. It was ridiculous, overly competitive, and a little awkward with Rose monitoring everything like a referee, but Wheezie loved having you there, and Sarah was relentless in making sure you felt included.

At some point, it just became normal. Even after Wheezie grew out of needing a babysitter, the tradition stuck. Every week or two, Sarah would text you about game night, and somehow, you always said yes.

“You’re like an honorary Cameron,” Sarah had joked once, and you’d laughed because the idea of that felt ridiculous. But there were moments, like now, when you almost believed her.

Wheezie’s voice echoes from the living room the second you step through the door. “You’re late!”

“I’m literally on time,” you call back, closing the door behind you. The smell of freshly baked something wafts through the air, probably cookies Wheezie convinced Rose to make under the guise of a family bonding activity.

“Technically, Rafe’s late,” Sarah says, popping her head around the corner, already grinning. “You’re just cutting it close. Come on, Wheezie’s already plotting your downfall.”

You laugh and follow her into the living room, where the familiar chaos is already brewing. Wheezie’s sprawled across the couch, a pile of board game pieces spread out in front of her, while Ward sits in his chair, sipping a scotch like it’s all beneath him but still keeping a hawk’s eye on the rules. Rose flits between the kitchen and the table, not-so-casually reminding everyone to keep the snacks on coasters.

And then there’s Rafe.

He’s leaning back in one of the armchairs, his legs stretched out like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. A half-smirk tugs at his lips as he spins a stray game token between his fingers. He barely glances at you when you walk in, but you catch the faintest flicker of recognition.

It’s been years, but Rafe is still Rafe: cocky, restless, and way too pretty for his own good. He’s toned down some of the more obvious brattiness since the early days, but the edge is still there, sharp enough to cut if you’re not careful.

And, as always, you do your best to steer clear.

The quiet hum of the boutique fades behind you as you pull the glass door shut, twisting the key to lock it. The click echoes in the empty street, a sharp sound against the stillness of downtown this late at night. The once-bustling sidewalks are deserted now, the streetlights casting uneven pools of orange on the pavement. Most of the shops had closed hours ago, their dark windows reflecting the faint shimmer of the moon.

You adjust the strap of your bag over your shoulder and glance at your phone. 11:43 p.m. Later than you’d intended. It wasn’t your shift to close, but your coworker had begged you to cover for her last minute, and you couldn’t say no. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ve done this before. Downtown isn’t that bad, and your car is parked just a block away. Still, there’s something unnerving about the silence, the way the shadows stretch a little too far when you’re alone.

Reaching your car—a trusty but aging sedan that you inherited from your dad—you fumble with the keys before sliding into the driver’s seat. The interior smells faintly of the vanilla air freshener you keep on the rearview mirror, a comforting contrast to the chilly night air outside. You toss your bag onto the passenger seat, then grip the steering wheel as you turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

You pause, frowning. That’s… odd. Your car’s old, sure, but it’s never been completely unresponsive. You twist the key again, harder this time, willing it to come to life.

Still nothing.

A low groan escapes your throat as you lean back against the seat. This can’t be happening. Not tonight. Not here.

You pull out your phone, half-tempted to call Sarah or even your dad, but you hesitate. Sarah’s probably asleep by now, and your dad’s a good thirty minutes away—not to mention, he’d definitely give you a lecture about not keeping up with the car’s maintenance. Sighing, you pop the hood and step out into the cool night air, shivering slightly as a gust of wind cuts through your jacket.

The street around you is unnervingly quiet. A stray cat darts across the road, its shadow flickering under the streetlights. You glance around, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It’s just your imagination, you tell yourself. No one’s here.

With a deep breath, you lift the hood and stare down at the engine like it might magically fix itself. You know a grand total of nothing about cars, but you wiggle a few cables anyway, hoping for a miracle. When you try the ignition again, the result is the same—silence, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp overhead.

Panic starts to creep in now, slow and steady. Your phone’s battery is hovering at 10%, and downtown—normally picturesque and charming by day—feels like a completely different place at night. The empty windows of the closed shops look less quaint and more sinister, their dark interiors like gaping mouths.

You lean back against the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as you weigh your options. Call someone? Walk to the gas station a few blocks down? Stay here and wait it out? None of them sound appealing, especially with the growing sensation that you’re being watched. You tell yourself it’s just nerves, but your skin prickles anyway, and you can’t help but glance over your shoulder every few seconds.

“Great,” you mutter under your breath. “This is how horror movies start.”

You huff out a shaky breath and decide to at least look under the hood. Not that you know what you’re doing, but it’s better than standing here like a sitting duck. Popping the latch, you step out into the cool night air again, every sound amplified in the unsettling quiet. Your shoes scrape against the pavement as you walk to the front of the car, lifting the hood and leaning over the engine.

The faint metallic scent of oil hits your nose as you peer into the mess of cables and parts. It all looks like a foreign language to you, but you fiddle with a few wires anyway, hoping for some kind of miracle.

That’s when you hear it—footsteps.

At first, you think maybe it’s nothing, just your imagination running wild, but then you hear them again, deliberate and getting closer. Your stomach clenches, and you straighten up, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

Two figures are walking toward you from the opposite side of the street, their strides slow and unhurried. The dim streetlights reveal faces you vaguely recognize—Kooks, no doubt, probably from the same parties Sarah used to drag you to back in high school. Their names escape you, but the looks on their faces don’t—grins too wide, eyes too sharp, the kind of predatory energy that sets every nerve in your body on edge.

“Car trouble?” the taller one calls out, his voice carrying an edge of amusement as they stop a few feet away.

You force a tight smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I’ve got it handled. Thanks.”

The shorter one, stockier and wearing a backward baseball cap, steps closer, tilting his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Doesn’t look like it,” he says. His tone is casual, but the way his eyes flick over you makes your skin crawl.

“I’m fine,” you insist, taking a small step back toward the car. Your heart is pounding now, a sick thrum in your chest, but you keep your expression as neutral as possible.

“Hey, we’re just trying to help,” the taller one says, holding up his hands like he’s harmless, but there’s something almost mocking in his tone. “No need to be rude.”

The stocky one smirks, moving to your other side, effectively boxing you in against the car. “Yeah, we’re just being friendly.”

The air feels heavy, oppressive, and the space between you and them feels like it’s shrinking by the second. You can feel the tension in their postures, the way they’re both leaning in slightly, testing how far they can push.

Your throat tightens as you glance around, desperate for someone, anyone to come walking down the street. But there’s no one—just you and these two strangers who clearly don’t care that you’re uncomfortable.

“Look,” you say, trying to sound firm but calm, “I appreciate it, but I’m good. You don’t need to stick around.”

The taller one laughs, a low, unpleasant sound that makes your stomach churn. “Aw, come on. You’re out here all alone. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we just left you like this?”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the hood, your mind racing for a way out. You consider making a run for it, but they’re too close now, their presence suffocating.

Just as the stockier one steps even closer, his grin widening, a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

“What’s going on here?”

The relief is instant and overwhelming, like a lifeline being thrown to you in a raging sea. You turn toward the sound, and there he is—Rafe Cameron, standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into his pockets but his posture rigid, his eyes hard as they lock onto the two guys.

The taller one straightens up immediately, his smirk faltering. “Rafe,” he says, a weak attempt at sounding friendly.

Rafe doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you for the briefest moment before snapping back to them. “Didn’t realize we were having a party,” he says, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous. “You two invited?”

The stockier guy takes a step back, muttering something under his breath. “We were just leaving,” he says quickly, his bravado crumbling under Rafe’s glare.

“Yeah, you are,” Rafe says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The two exchange uneasy glances before slinking away, their footsteps echoing down the street until they disappear around the corner.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat and the faint hum of Rafe’s truck idling in the distance.

“You good?” Rafe asks, his voice softer now but still steady, grounding.

You nod, your throat dry as you manage to croak out, “Yeah… I am now.”

Rafe watches the shadows where the two guys disappeared, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. You half expect him to say something cutting, maybe some sarcastic remark about how you can’t take care of yourself, but when he finally looks at you, there’s no smugness. Only something... softer, almost hesitant.

“You’re lucky I saw you,” he says, his voice low. “That could’ve gone bad. Fast.”

You nod, your throat still tight from the tension of the moment. He’s right. You don’t even want to think about how that could’ve ended if he hadn’t shown up. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s brow furrows like he’s surprised you said it. He leans back slightly, glancing at the car hood still propped open. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Won’t start,” you reply, gesturing vaguely at the engine. “Not that I’d know what to look for.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to.” His tone lacks the usual edge, though—it’s not a dig, just a statement.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there in the quiet. The night air feels less suffocating now, the earlier tension replaced by a strange calm. Despite everything you know—or think you know—about Rafe Cameron, there’s something about his presence right now that makes you feel… safe. It’s unsettling, in its own way.

“You should be more careful,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. His gaze is steady, not mocking or judgmental, just serious. “Downtown this late? Alone? That’s asking for trouble.”

You bristle slightly, your instinct to defend yourself flaring up. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down.”

He raises an eyebrow, but instead of snapping back, he just nods. “Fair.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. Rafe steps closer, peering under the hood with a practiced air, and you’re struck by how uncharacteristically gentle he seems. No biting remarks, no smug superiority—just calm focus.

He taps a cable lightly, muttering something under his breath, then steps back, closing the hood with a decisive thud. “Battery’s probably dead,” he says, glancing at you. “You need a jump.”

You nod, your nerves finally starting to settle. “I guess I’ll call someone.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, already walking toward his truck. “I’ve got cables.”

You blink, caught off guard by his matter-of-fact tone. He’s not offering—he’s telling you he’s going to help. And for some reason, you don’t argue.

A few minutes later, Rafe has his truck pulled up nose-to-nose with your car, the cables stretched taut between them. He works in silence, his movements efficient, and you watch from the sidelines, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“You should get in,” he says, nodding toward the driver’s seat.

You do as he says, sliding back into the familiar confines of your car. The moment feels oddly intimate—just the two of you on this empty street, the hum of his truck filling the air.

“Try it now,” he calls out, stepping back.

You turn the key, but instead of the engine sputtering to life, it lets out a defeated whine and falls silent again. You try one more time, your chest tightening with frustration and dread, but it’s no use. The car isn’t going anywhere tonight.

You let your forehead drop against the steering wheel with a groan. Of course. Just your luck.

Rafe’s voice cuts through the night air, low and steady. “It’s not gonna work. Battery’s dead for real.”

You sit up, pressing your lips together as he leans against the open driver’s side door, his arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between amusement and mild concern.

“Great,” you mutter. “So, what now? I call a tow truck and wait here till dawn?”

Rafe tilts his head, his gaze flicking over you briefly before landing on your car again. “Or,” he says, “I could just drive you home.”

The offer catches you off guard, and you hesitate, your immediate instinct to say no. Riding home with Rafe Cameron? That’s about as far outside your comfort zone as you can imagine.

But then you glance down at your nearly dead phone, the empty street around you, and the sheer impossibility of getting a tow out here tonight. What other choice do you have?

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Rafe shrugs, the motion easy, like it’s no big deal. “You got a better plan?”

You don’t.

“Fine,” you say finally, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat and climbing out of the car. The night air feels colder now, pressing against your skin as you walk toward his truck.

Rafe opens the passenger door for you without a word, and you slide in, the faint scent of leather and cologne filling the cab. It’s clean but lived-in—practical, not flashy, which surprises you.

He climbs in on the driver’s side, pulling the door shut and starting the engine with a smooth turn of the key. The sound is steady, reliable, and for a moment, you envy how effortlessly everything in his life seems to work.

The first few minutes of the drive are quiet, the only sound the low hum of the truck and the occasional creak of the suspension as it rolls over uneven pavement. You glance out the window, watching the darkened storefronts blur past, trying to ignore the strange tension sitting between you.

“You gonna sit there and sulk the whole way?” Rafe asks, his voice breaking the silence.

“I’m not sulking,” you shoot back, turning to glare at him.

He smirks, his eyes still on the road. “Sure you’re not.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m just… processing the fact that my car officially hates me. And that I had to be rescued by you of all people.”

His smirk softens into something closer to a smile, and for once, it doesn’t look mocking. “Yeah, well, it’s your lucky night, I guess.”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond, and the quiet settles over the truck again. It’s not entirely uncomfortable this time—just strange, like you’re both trying to figure out how to navigate this unexpected moment.

After a while, Rafe glances over at you, his expression more serious now. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone like that,” he says quietly.

You shift in your seat, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “I didn’t exactly plan for my car to break down,” you mumble.

“Still,” he says, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “Things could’ve gone bad. You know that, right?”

You do. The memory of those guys, their leering smiles and the way they cornered you, is still fresh in your mind. A shiver runs through you, and you glance at Rafe, his profile sharp in the dim light from the dashboard.

“Thanks,” you say, softer this time. “For stepping in.”

His jaw tenses for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.”

The rest of the drive passes in a blur of streetlights and quiet conversation. When he finally pulls up outside your house, you feel an odd sense of disappointment, like the night is ending too soon.

Rafe cuts the engine and looks over at you, his expression unreadable again. “You good?”

You nod, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag. “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

He hesitates, his eyes searching yours for a moment, and you swear you see something uncharacteristically soft in his gaze. “Anytime,” he says, his voice low.

You climb out of the truck, turning back as you reach your front door. Rafe is still there, leaning slightly out of the window, watching you with an intensity that sends a strange flutter through your chest.

“Night, Rafe,” you call out, your voice steadier than you feel.

He nods once, his smirk returning, but there’s a warmth to it now that wasn’t there before. “Night.”

You watch as he drives off, the tail lights disappearing down the street, and you can’t shake the feeling that tonight, something shifted. Something you didn’t see coming.

The living room is alive with laughter and the sugary smell of freshly microwaved popcorn. Wheezie is sprawled across the couch, her legs tangled in a blanket as she debates the finer points of the movie you’ve just paused, while Sarah snorts beside her, throwing a handful of popcorn in her sister’s direction.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, sipping from your drink and soaking in the warmth of the moment. It feels good to let your guard down like this—to laugh and tease and forget for a little while.

“Okay, but how does she not realize he’s the bad guy?” Wheezie demands, gesturing dramatically at the screen.

“Because she’s blinded by love,” Sarah says, grinning. “Or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

“Excuse me?” Wheezie gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I feel like if someone was being that obvious about being evil, I’d notice.”

“Would you, though?” Sarah teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” you protest, chucking a stray pillow at her.

The playful banter continues, the night stretching on in a haze of easy conversation and snack-fueled chaos. You’re halfway through arguing over which movie to watch next when the sound of the front door opening pulls your attention.

You glance toward the entryway just as Rafe steps inside, his hair slightly mussed, his keys jingling in his hand. He pauses when he sees you all, his expression flickering from mild surprise to something unreadable.

“What’s this?” he asks, his voice carrying that familiar mix of curiosity and amusement. “A girls’ night?”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, throwing a popcorn kernel at him. “And you’re not invited.”

“Tragic,” Rafe deadpans, stepping fully into the room. His eyes flick to you for a split second, and your stomach does an unexpected flip.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just residual nerves from the other night. Nothing to do with the way his presence seems to fill the space or the way his gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks heat.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t worry, I’m not staying.”

“Good,” Sarah says. “Bye.”

He ignores her, pushing off the frame and heading toward the kitchen instead.

“I’m getting more popcorn,” you announce quickly, needing a reason to escape the sudden heat prickling at your skin. You grab the empty bowl and dart toward the kitchen before anyone can respond.

The kitchen is cooler, quieter, and you exhale a sigh of relief as you cross to the counter. You’re halfway through scooping kernels into a bowl when you hear the low hum of Rafe’s voice behind you.

“Didn’t know you were here tonight.”

You jump slightly, glancing over your shoulder to find him leaning casually against the counter, his arms crossed and that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you say, turning back to the task at hand, “I’m kind of a regular around here.”

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his tone light but edged with something that makes your stomach flutter.

You keep your focus on the popcorn, refusing to let him get to you. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re interesting,” he shoots back smoothly.

You roll your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “Interesting? That’s a stretch.”

Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I don’t think so.”

His voice is closer now, and you glance up to find him standing beside you, his gaze fixed on your face. You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the bowl as you try to think of something—anything—to say.

“Relax,” he says, his lips quirking up into a grin. “You look like you’re about to run out of here.”

“I’m not,” you insist, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

He leans in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I was starting to think I might scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” you say quickly, your voice a touch too defensive.

“Hmm.” His smirk deepens, and he leans back, giving you just enough space to breathe again. “If you say so.”

With that, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and steps away, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he heads toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, trouble,” he calls out, his tone teasing but soft enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You stand there for a moment, staring after him, your heart racing and your face burning.

By the time you return to the living room with the popcorn, Wheezie and Sarah are too busy laughing at some inside joke to notice how flustered you are. You settle back into your spot on the floor, your mind still replaying the way Rafe’s voice sounded when he called you trouble.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part three - you help steve and penelope look for cinderella 11k

a/n - this actually took me ages oh my god. but to those asking about cinderella here you go! CW lost pet (happy ending i promise)

── .✦

The clock hanging in the hall clicks annoyingly loud. Tick, tick, tick, like a bad song stuck in your head. You watch the minute hand cross another line. It hasn’t been adjusted since the time changed last week. Similarly, the calendar below it has yet to be flipped. 

It’s November now, but more importantly, it’s Friday. It’s quickly cementing itself as your favorite day of the week. Friday’s mean lunch in Steve’s office and trading weekend plans and hearing about the kind of mischief Penelope’s been up to at home. 

But it’s a quarter past eight and Steve hasn’t arrived yet. He’s never been late, or even absent since you started volunteering. It’s odd, but everyone has their days you suppose. Still, a dull twinge blooms in your chest. Working without him might as well be a form of punishment. 

Someone had shoved a vacuum in your hands while they try and figure out if he’s coming. It’s boring work, not the kind Steve would give you. And when he has to give you boring work, he at least makes it fun. Turns most things into games or competitions. Like last week, he bet you any candy from the vending machine that he could sort donations faster than you. You bought him a Reeses, of course, but if anyone asks, you let him win on purpose. 

You hear Steve before you see him. He’s not loud, but his voice is distinct against any others. By now, you could pick him from a crowd by voice alone. You find him in the threshold between his supervisor's office and the hall. He lingers halfway out, toying with the door handle like he can’t decide if he should go inside. 

“Ah, look who finally decided to show up,” you overhear. “Was about to send a search party for you, Harrington.” The man cackles at his own joke, tone devoid of any edge. 

Steve laughs strangely. A laugh you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard from him before. He spills a string of apologies for his tardiness, but his boss waves him off and sends him to work. 

When he backpedals out of the doorway, you chide, “Tsk. Tsk. You’re late, Harrington.” 

Steve spooks easily. He hates to admit it but it makes him an easy target for office pranks which you do take full advantage of now that you’re friends. But you aren’t even trying to scare him this time. 

He visibly tenses at your voice, eyes snapping to yours. They’re as intense as you’ve ever seen the lovely shade of brown, yet dulled with the toll of exhaustion. The next thing you notice is his hair. It’s combed back behind his ears and by the looks of it has no product. 

“Hey,” he tries, stopping halfway to clear his throat. 

As if his appearance isn’t alarming enough, the lack of a comeback is triple worrisome. You try– and fail– to contain your concern. “What happened?” 

He deflates in one big sigh. Any attempt at a facade vanished. It’s impossible to lie to you when you look so concerned. 

“I’m the worst dad ever,” he declares, skimming your arm as he sidesteps past you. 

You catch up to his long stride with practiced eloquence. “Uh-oh. What’d you do?” 

“Cinderella’s gone missing.” 

“Missing?” 

He nods.

“But she’s an outside cat, right? She’s probably, I dunno, chasing birds or slumped over a can of tuna at a neighbor's house.” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s been four days. Four. She’s usually around at least once a day, if not, every other. I can’t even remember the last time–”

“Wait, wait. This makes you the worst dad, how exactly?” 

He forces his key into the lock of his office door, jostling the handle in frustration. “Because Penelope’s begged me since forever to let her be an inside cat and I always say no. She wouldn’t have got lost if she was inside.” 

You flick on the light and hum, understanding more than agreeing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Steve, but I think you’re exaggerating.” 

He plants his bag on the desk and unzips it. “This is serious. She loves that cat more than me, I swear.” 

“Okay, first of all, not true. Second of all, this is serious and it sucks but it doesn’t make you a bad dad. You know that right?” 

“Besides the point,” he passes you a heavy pile of paper. “Will you help me hang these up?”

You don’t answer because you don’t need to. He already knows you’ll say yes. 

Black ink across the top page reads, “MISSING CAT”. There are two patchy images of Cinderella, one of which you’ve never seen and the other underexposed beyond recognition. Steve’s name, phone number, and address are listed at the bottom too. You flick through the stack, finding each version of Cinderella has been coated in a thick layer of brown crayon. 

“Penelope insisted on coloring all of them so people know what color she is.” 

Steve doesn’t have time for the pity party of a look you show him. If you cry, he’ll cry. And he’s cried enough in the last few days. 

You accompany Steve to the bulletin board outside his office. Unspokenly, you accept the very important job of paper-passer while he’s in charge of the stapler. 

“Thanks,” he says flatly, thumb catching on yours as he takes the page you’re holding out. 

“Don’t worry, Steve. She’ll come home. Cats just like their space sometimes.” You aren’t totally sure if that’s true about cats, but it sounds like the right thing to say. 

He mutters something under his breath. Not mean, just doubtful. 

It’s unusual to be the one filling the conversation. Steve’s good at talking, a Chatty Cathy as he often calls Penelope. But you try your best to fill his shoes. 

“How’s Penelope dealing with it?” 

“Awfully.” He chuckles dryly. “She’s on strike for just about everything right now. Refused to go to sleep, refused to eat breakfast, refused to get in the car this morning.” 

You nod and hand him another sheet. 

“I’d bet by lunch I’ll have to go pick her up. She was hysterical at drop-off.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You have a funny urge to tack on something other than his name. Dummy or boss are typical but ill-fitting. And honey or sweetheart would probably cross a line, though, they’re nice to consider. 

He sighs, kneading his eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I’m being… I know you’re trying to help.” 

“You’re allowed to feel frustrated you know.” 

“I know. You’re just– thanks.”

“I’m banning that word from our conversations. You say it too much,” you tease. 

He gives you a look, neither happy nor sad. “Cause you’re always helping me, dummy.” 

You grin, largely at the nickname. 

Every board in the building is covered with posters and every person is notified of Cinderella’s disappearance in half the time it would normally take you and Steve. He’s not in any rush, just in his head. And after that, you dissolve into separate work, never far but still apart. 

By noon Steve’s on his third cup of coffee. But no amount of caffeine or sugar will erase the heavy bags under his eyes. Finding Cinderella might be the only cure. 

So there’s no debate in your mind when you offer, “I can come over and help look tonight?” 

Steve holds a finger up, gaze trained on an address book with his phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. “Hi, Miss Crawford?” He pushes the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. It’s rare that he wears them in front of you. Cute, nonetheless. “Yes, it’s Steve,” he says. 

There’s high-pitched rambling on the other end, not clear enough to discern anything other than an old-timey affection for Steve. You aren’t sure of the nature of Steve’s relationship with the woman, but he appears equally fond, even through the somber hues of his story. 

She offers no valuable insight as to Cinderella’s whereabouts but promises to keep an eye out, making her… strike seven. Steve’s determined to phone every person he knows and then every local in the phone book in the span of his thirty-minute lunch break. You joked about stealing his office neighbor’s phone to help, but Steve insisted you didn’t. 

When he docks the receiver you repeat yourself. 

“Sorry. You really don’t have to.”

“I know, but I can… If you want. It’s up to you.” 

“I– okay,” he sighs. “Only if you really don’t mind. It would be really helpful honestly.” 

“After work then?”

“Uhh, sure. I just have to pick up Penelope when I get off.” 

“Sounds good.” You grin and stir your food idly with a fork. It eventually goes cold in your lap. You’re more preoccupied with what you’ll wear tonight and what to bring Penelope to cheer her up. Candy’s probably your best bet. You know she’s already run out of Skittles from Halloween. 

Steve’s lips twitch happily as he dials another number. 

That’s about the happiest you see him. The rest of the day is a blur, mostly busywork as Steve is consistently ushered away by someone for something not even in his job description. For the first time possibly ever, he leaves on time. And he doesn’t say goodbye. He’s clearly having an awful day so you pretend it doesn’t sting, but the walk to your car is painfully silent. 

At home, you change quickly, pop something frozen in the microwave, and retrace your steps back to the car in record time. The drive to Steve’s is unfortunately not very long. It doesn’t give you much time to mull over every possible scenario like your brain desires. But you’ll survive. 

It still feels unfamiliar, pulling into his driveway. Less so than the first time, but still. You notice things you hadn’t before. The long crack like lightning in the pavement, the tinkle of a wind chime against the breeze, and the stepping stone with a ‘P’ carved in it. Halloween was the last time you were here. A couple of weeks has never felt like such a lifetime. Steve’s been busy parenting and working late and all. You don’t blame him. Sometimes you wonder how he ever made time for you in the first place with his schedule. 

On the front steps, Penelope plucks a weed and adds it to her bouquet. Her cheek is squished against the top of her knee and she’s curled over herself like a pillbug. Brown eyes flick up as you near. One blink, then two. The epitome of indifference. 

“Hi, Penelope.” 

“Hi,” she says. She sounds uncharacteristically small. And she is small, but her voice is anything but. You know her to be bold, unapologetic. But not today. 

You squat, toe to toe with her little Mary Janes, and wave a pack of Skittles. “Look what I brought,” you sing. 

The slightest lift of her frown before she restores the pout for good. “For me?”

“All for you.” 

She takes the candy and tucks it under her arm. 

“Wanna help me look for your dad?” 

It’s not a bribe, though her presence does tend to balm your Steve-induced nerves. So you are a little disappointed when she shakes her head. But disappointment wanes into sympathy and sympathy to determination. Determination to help her find Cinderella as soon as possible. 

You palm her shoulder as you stand. The front door is ajar, the breeze eating any warmth in the foyer. It’s eerily quiet inside. 

“Steve?” 

“One second!” he calls back, muffled from upstairs. 

The entryway is messier than you remember it. Shoes in a jumbled heap behind the door, Steve’s unzipped backpack slumped against the baseboards, and winter gloves and hats knocked haphazardly onto the tile. You bend to pick up a knit beanie as Steve hurdles down the stairs. 

He struggles to squeeze into a raincoat over the thick sweater he wore to work. “Hey,” he smiles softly, gaze sweeping across your clothes. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Do you want a heavier coat? Radio said it’s supposed to storm tonight.” 

“Oh,” you peer down at your denim jacket. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Steve tilts his head, passing you a bundle of crumpled pink cloth. “Give this to Penelope? I’ll grab you one.” He doesn’t allow you to argue before turning around, but he stops halfway up the stairs, leaning over the railing to say, “Tell her to grab her boots too.”

You find the boots in the pile by the door and bring them to Penelope outside. She stares at you helplessly with one shoe halfway on the wrong foot. 

“Need help?”

“Yes please.” 

You take her ankle and prop her foot against yours. It takes a few tries and lots of wiggling but you slide the boot on and lace the purple strings all the way up. The second round is easier but you still wonder whether kids shoes are supposed to be this difficult. 

The door groans behind you and a warm hand cups your shoulder. “Did you eat?” Steve asks. “I can make you something before we go.”  

You rise to face him. The sky’s overcast, muting his tan complexion, making him look even more spent than he had earlier. “I ate. But thank you,” you smile, hoping to encourage one back. 

He doesn’t but he unfolds the coat he’s carrying, shaking the arms free so it’s easier for you to slip on. “See if this fits.”

It’s not your typical size, but the extra weight is nice. Traces of pine and juniper linger, like it’s been taken on a hike recently. And you’re instantly warmer, a comfort that extends beyond the garment alone. 

“Nice,” he nods, taking it upon himself to even out the hood strings for you. His fingernail skips across the zipper teeth and for a second, you think he’ll zip it up too. 

“Daddy, are we going now?” 

Steve spins on his heel, shuffling for his keys at the door. “Yes, baby. What did we talk about?” 

Penelope kicks a load of gravel into the grass. “Ummm, I dunno.” 

“No running off. If I can’t see you, we go home. Capeesh?” 

When he jogs down the steps to her side, she sighs. “Capeesh.” 

“Ready?” He pats her head, “Got your detective hat on?” 

She peers up then, a flush of fresh purpose, and nods. 

“Alright, Detective. Let’s roll.” 

Steve’s yard is embraced by dense woods on every side but the road. He leads you to the tree line where a trail has been carved smooth with frequent use. Bark stretches tall and needle branches weave a canopy of orange above. 

“Katie said I need to think more like a cat.” Penelope cranes her head up, “Do you think Cinderella went in the trees?”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbles, focused on jamming his nail under the metal tab of a can of cat food. 

“So maybe I should climb up to check?”

“Not these ones, babe. Too tall.”

“But what if she’s in one? Like, a really, really tall one.” 

“I think she’d pick a shorter one so she could get down,” you supply. “It would probably hurt her nails going all the way up there too.” 

She hums. You drift into a steady rhythm of whistling and calling Cinderella’s name. Penelope waves a toy ball with a little bell inside while you rattle the jar of treats. 

Penelope orbits off course slowly and when she hops out of sight Steve calls, “What did I say Nell?” 

“No running away!” 

He shakes his head at you, “This kid’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

You grin, turning back to him when you spot Penelope. Steve has a lovely side profile. You try to memorize the shape without tripping over any twigs as you walk. “How was she at school?” 

“Sad, they said. She cried at nap. Refused to sleep at all.” 

You coo. 

“But she ate all her lunch, so that’s good.”

You hum in agreement. 

Penelope crouches to examine the inside of a log. Her pigtails flip as she tips her head upside down. 

“Did you find something?” you ask. 

Penelope pulls something dark out, a dopey smile rounding her cheeks. “A slug.” 

Steve scrunches his nose but quickly slackens it in a poor attempt to conceal his disgust. Thankfully, you don’t have to be a good actor to fool a four-year-old. “Nice, honey.” 

“I think he’s dead.”

“Why don’t you put him back? He’s probably hibernating.” 

“Hiding? Why?”

“No, hi-ber-nat-ing. It’s when the animals go to sleep during the winter.” 

She squints, “For the whole winter?” 

“Yeah, think so.”

“How do they do that?” 

“Umm, I don’t know.” Steve glances at you for help but you only shrug. “They just do.” 

One of the joys of parenthood you’ve discovered through Penelope is the plethora of questions that you have absolutely no idea how to answer. 

Penelope replants the slug in its home, making a point to clarify, “Cinderella wasn’t in there.” 

The trail dips steadily downward, covered with a mess of broken branches, scattered pinecones, and crunchy leaves that crackle beneath your feet. Steve’s leading the way, rambling about something or other and you’d swear you’re listening if he asked. But truthfully, your eyes trace the fit of his jeans shamelessly. He has a nice ass, it’s hard not to notice! 

Your foot snags on something hard– a root, a branch, you aren’t totally sure– and it all happens so fast. You yelp and pitch forward, knees and hands slamming into the dirt with the full force of your weight. 

Steve whirls around and assesses the damage, quickly determines there are no injuries severe enough to warrant a hospital visit, and then he fucking cackles. 

You scoff, burying your own amusement as Penelope mimics him. Some example Dad is setting. At least he offers to help you up, Penelope just watches your embarrassment unfold.  

“Don’t laugh!” You yank his hand, harsh enough that he stumbles forward onto your toe. “Ow– Steve!”

“That’s what you get!” He hauls you up, grip faltering with each peel of laughter. 

You twist around yourself, sweeping your backside. “Do I have leaves on my butt?” 

He looks for as long as he deems appropriate which is not very long at all. “Just dirt and a ton of bugs.” 

“Shut up,” you smack his bicep. 

Penelope points, “That is not nice!”

“Yeah, keep your hands to yourself,” Steve teases. 

You trap a retort behind clenched teeth and look to Penelope. “Sorry.” 

“Uhh. You’re supposed to apologize to me.” 

You skip past him to Penelope’s side. “I’m helping Penelope look right now. Maybe later.” 

Steve knows you won’t see it but he hopes you feel him sticking up his middle finger. 

Penelope trudges along, the corners of her mouth drawn tight in quiet sadness. She fills the silence before you find the words.

“Do you think she’ll come home?” she asks earnestly. 

“I do, Pen. I think she’s probably just hiding.” 

“Like hide and seek?”

“Yeah.” 

She considers your words carefully. “But why?”

“I dunno. Cats are just silly like that.” 

She smiles. “Like dinosaurs?” 

You smile back. “Exactly.” 

The trees taper off, merging with the cracked sidewalk lining a cul de sac. Penelope’s ponytails are swept off her shoulders as a car whizzes by.  

You cuff her smaller fingers in your own just as Steve tells her to hold someone’s hand. 

He stops at her other side, surveying the neighborhood. It’s the type you’d imagine families live in. Basketball hoops, sidewalk chalk, bikes thrown against the lawns. 

“I’m gonna go talk to some neighbors. Will you hang some posters?” Steve asks you. “We should hurry. I think it’s going to rain soon.” 

“Can I go?” 

Steve’s eyes trail from Penelope back up to you curiously. 

“Yeah, I’ve got her.” You squeeze her hand, reassuring yourself more than anyone. 

“Okay. Penelope, be a good listener. Don’t go on the road by yourself. I’ll be just over there.” He points to a house with yellow siding and starts across the road. 

You turn Penelope by the shoulders and unzip her bag, taking the stapler in one hand and the stack of paper in the other. 

“Can you carry these?” you ask, thrusting the posters toward her. 

You straighten out the stapler and pick a sheet off the top before she braces them against her chest. “You know, this reminds me of when we first met.” 

“Because I helped you hang up stuff?”

“Mhmm.” You line the page up against a tree, nailing each corner to be sure it sticks. 

Eventually, you're passed a different poster, a painting. It’s a charming tangle of shapes and a riot of brown and orange. At the top, "MISSING" is written with two backward S’s in a crooked slope.

“Did you paint this?”

“Yes, at school.” 

“Wow. Did you write this too?” 

“Yep. My teacher helped me.” 

“Very good!” You tack it to a telephone pole and pivot to face her, brimming with pride. 

She’s not nearly as happy as you are about it. Her lips thin as she stares at her work and she hesitates before asking,“Do you think we’re bad detectives?” 

Your chest aches so sudden and fierce like you’ve been punched. You crouch, rubbing the soft fleece at her elbow. “No. No, honey. We aren’t bad detectives. Detective work just takes time. We have a lot of ground to cover.” 

Her frown wobbles, lashes shining. “It’s taking so long,” she whines. 

“I know, Pen. Cinderella didn’t leave us many clues, huh?” You swipe a tear before it reaches her mouth. You want to promise her that Cinderella will come home but your gut won’t let you. You don’t know if she really will. “Let’s go check on your Dad. See if the neighbors have seen her. Hmm?” 

She nods and you give her your best loving squeeze. 

Steve’s halfway up the steps of someone’s porch, mid-conversation with a young woman. Her frown deepens as you and Penelope approach, unlike the baby on her hip who smiles at you. 

Steve glances over before continuing. “Well, please call, if you do happen to see her.” 

“Absolutely. I hope you find her.” 

“Thanks,” he waves, descending the stairs to stand beside you.  

“No luck?” you ask, peering up at the clouds. They’re getting moodier by the minute and it’s started to sprinkle. 

His hand settles around Penelope’s skull like a claw, he shakes her frown away but not easily. “Not yet. We’ll keep looking.” 

Penelope walks a few feet ahead of you and Steve. Every few mailboxes you and Steve stick another poster up. Penelope doesn’t stop to wait, but she’s thorough in her searching, checking under cars and in drain pipes. Enough to even out the distance that grows each turn. 

You’re faced away, unclogging the jam in the stapler when Penelope gasps. 

“Nell! Wait!” Steve shouts as you turn. By then she’s already halfway up someone’s lawn.  

Steve jogs after her and you jog after Steve. Penelope’s made it to the sideyard when you catch up, stretching onto tiptoes and squinting through a rotted hole in the fence. 

“Penelope,” Steve sighs.

“I saw her Daddy! She jumped over the fence!”

“Are you sure?” His hand curls over the top of the fence but his eyes can’t reach. 

“Yes, I promise! We have to go over!” 

He scrapes through his hair, judging the wood planks. They’re at least a head taller than Steve, but there’s a thin lip dividing each in half. If he angles his foot right, he could use it to boost himself over. 

He shakes his head. He might've hopped a fence or two as a teenager, but he's grown now. “We have to ask. It’s someone’s yard.” 

Penelope wails, yanking his arm repeatedly. “No! Daddy! What if she’s gone? We have to hurry!” 

“Just go,” you wave, already backing up toward the house. “I’ll go knock. See if they’re home.” 

Steve winces at himself for what he’s about to do. But one glance at Penelope’s worried little face is all the courage he needs. He tests his grip, the sole of a shoe scraping wood for a scary second before catching on the trim. With one leg on either side, he pauses to look at Penelope. “Stay there,” he says, before leaping into the grass. 

He scans the backyard. There’s a swing set, a raised garden bed, a kiddie pool, and lots and lots of toys. It reminds him of his own yard. Steve takes a handful of hesitant steps, gaze flicking across each window for any horrified faces. He’s thankful not to see any. 

Then, a meow—faint, but unmistakable. His heart lurches, his head whipping up to the nearest tree even faster. His eyes comb through branch after branch, then again when he comes up empty. But a second meow and he’s never been more sure. He wedges his heel into a groove, hugging the trunk for balance. His nails dig uncomfortably into the bark as he pulls himself up. 

And there! Right where he swears he looked, a strip of golden-orange fur, blending seamlessly with the leaves… Except, Cinderella isn’t orange, she’s brown. Steve’s shoe slips, sending his chin hard into a thick branch on his way to the ground. The cat hisses equally if not more upset than Steve about the situation. He groans, glaring at the tree as he picks himself up. 

“Did you find her? Was it her?” Penelope yells, still peeping through the hole in the fence. 

Steve waits until he vaults back over to answer. “No, princess. Not her.” 

“Your chin,” you point out, but your words are eaten by Penelope’s shouting. 

“It was her! I know it was! I saw!” 

“It wasn’t, Nell. Promise. That cat was orange.”

“But it was! I saw her!” Penelope crumbles into hysterics, batting her fists against Steve’s thighs like they’re punching bags.  

Steve scoops her up, clamping her arms between their chests. 

“Daddy, we have to go back! I saw her!” Several gasps slice through her sentence and tears pour down her face in even streams. 

Steve shushes her gently, fanning her hood across her head as it starts to rain. You follow him up to the road and then down the street. Penelope’s relentless, squirming and screaming in his ear. It’s the first of her temper tantrums you’ve seen in person, though you’ve heard plenty about them, and you caught the beginning of one once through the phone. Steve’s more composed than you thought possible, waiting patiently until her sobs have dwindled into teary hiccups to set her down. 

“It’s not nice to hit. Even when we’re mad, you know that.”

She glares at him, more serious than you’ve ever seen. 

“Are you ready to go home?” 

Penelope’s face starts to wilt. She nearly cries again. 

“It’s too rainy. We have to go home soon or we’ll get sick.”

“Five more minutes,” she begs. 

“Okay.” He buttons her coat up to her chin. “Are you tired?” 

She shakes her head, though her eyes say otherwise. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” 

Penelope thinks long and hard. It’s a trick question. Of course she wants to be carried but God forbid Steve finds out she’s tired. 

He picks her up anyway. “You can still look from up here.” 

Penelope hooks her chin over his shoulder, cheek tipping to kiss the pad of his jacket. So much worry and too many days of poor sleep etched into each flap of her lashes. She looks utterly exhausted. And she really tries to stay awake– she needs to find Cinderella– but she lost that battle before it even started. The hiss of rain and the warm swing of Steve’s embrace send her straight to dreamland. 

Steve feels her arms slacken and slide down his back. He chances a glimpse at you to ask what he already knows but can’t. Not when you’re already watching Penelope with a type of love he believed was his alone to give. 

Alarm pulses when he registers the weight of your stare has shifted to him. The same velvet endearment skips across every feature on your face. It’s lovely and adorable but it terrifies the hell out of Steve. 

His cheeks burn and he smiles like a madman. He can’t help it. It sticks long after his eyes dart away. 

You drift into a comfortable quiet. The spray of rain is like white noise, making even you drowsy. Maybe Steve could carry you back too. It’s an amusing idea, enough to make you grin to yourself. You’re glad he doesn’t notice. He couldn't torture that information out of you. 

Halfway home, you hit a particularly steep incline in the forest, slick with the beginning sludge of mud. 

“Here,” Steve calls, boosting Penelope higher up his chest before casting his arm at you. 

You accept his hand, grateful for more reasons than one, and trace the wet shoeprints he leaves behind with your own. It’s a slow journey. Steve strains with the added weight on his front, but he doesn’t let go of you until you reach the top of the hill. 

You cross the threshold back into Steve’s yard as a bout of thunder splits the sky above. Penelope shakes awake and peels herself off Steve. She blinks unhappily, cheeks stamped with red lines mirroring his coat folds. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, fixing her hood after it falls. 

“Cinderella,” she whimpers. 

“We’ll look again tomorrow.” 

She sniffles, voice so frail, hollow with sleep. “No. I–” 

Another wave of thunder startles her to panicked tears. Steve picks up the pace to the front door, shuffling through his pocket for the keys. He’s well-versed in unlocking the door one-handed– between groceries, backpacks, Penelope– he always has something to carry. But he’s thankful when you take the keys and do it for him. 

You scoot inside last, joining the choir of shoe squealing on the tile. 

Steve sets Penelope on the floor and kneels to unlace her boots. She wrestles with her coat zipper until Steve intervenes with much gentler hands. 

“We looked really good while you were asleep,” you promise while shedding your own coat. 

Her miserable expression doesn’t falter. 

Steve smears her tear tracks one cheek at a time. “Stay for a bit? Until the storm passes.”

You bend to collect Penelope’s coat off the floor and hang it next to yours. “Okay,” you say when you realize his words were directed at you. 

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath. Do you need anything? Water? Towel?” 

“Oh, no. I’m good. Thanks.” 

“Okay. We’ll be upstairs. Please, help yourself to whatever. Seriously.” 

When Steve disappears from view, you mosey into the living room, searching for something to keep your hands busy. And it’s not hard to find. There’s a pile of laundry that looks like it’s been trampled through more than a few times. Clothes stretch from one end of the couch to the other. You push them into a pile and get comfortable, folding each item with more care than you would your own. 

Four neat stacks later and Steve spots you from the stairs. “Please don’t do that,” he says. 

You clear your smirk as he nears. “Do what?” 

“You know what,” he snatches a sock from your grasp. It’s one of his, longer and duller than the others. “Sorry, I know it’s a mess.” 

“You know I don’t care, Steve.” 

He gazes down at you in pretend petulance. “Well, I do.” With a dramatic flick of his finger, he sends the sock sailing back into the hamper on the floor.  

“If it makes you feel better, I have a pile of clothes covering half my bed right now.”

 “Mmm. It doesn’t,” he decides. “But I came down because Penelope’s very kindly requested that you come read to her before she goes to bed. If you want to.” 

“Of course I want to.” Your lips bend into a funny little line, happy and curious and doubtful all dressed in one. “She really asked for me?” 

“Yeah,” he says in the same cadence he would duh. He offers his palm, drags you up easily. “Why’s that so hard to believe?” 

“I dunno.” A toothy smile slips onto your face before you can stop it. But your lips close as soon as you stand, pressed closer to him than you expected to be. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles, breaking away. “Come on.” 

He seemed nervous– the way he laughed, how his hands retracted like he was burned– but maybe you’re overthinking it. You forget about the interaction by the time you reach Penelope’s room. 

Several books are fanned around Penelope where she stands, like fallen petals from the stem of a flower. Her shelf has been mostly stripped. What isn’t on the floor has been scooped into a flimsy stack in her arms. 

Steve knocks on the door frame, “Ready?” 

Penelope turns and two books slide off the top of her tower. You can’t see her mouth but you can tell by her eyes that there’s a smile behind that copy of Goodnight Moon. 

“You can pick three, missy,” he says. 

“Five?” 

“Four.” 

“Four and a half?”

“Three.”

“No,” she giggles, definitely delirious. “Four.”

“Okay.” He kneels at her feet, reshelving unchosen books two or three at a time. 

It’s not an easy decision, but Penelope decides on her four and promptly thrusts them into your hands. You follow her to bed where she packs herself against the wall, politely leaving the rest of the twin mattress for you. 

“Wait!” she shouts when you open the first book, “The lights!” 

“I’m working on it,” Steve grumbles, standing to flip the light switch by the door. The room is swallowed in black apart from the nightlight glowing to life across the room. 

Penelope stretches across you to snatch something off her nightstand. A flashlight, you realize, as she clicks the switch. She trains the light on the page and beams at you with equal vibrance. 

The first story is the shortest and the second not much longer, but the third takes time. Time you get to notice the heat of her breath as she yawns into your arm and time to appreciate the weight of her head limp against your shoulder. 

You don’t have to look up to know Steve is still tidying. Every second counts when you’re a single parent. But you steal a glance in between each page anyway. Find him chucking clothes in the hamper and dumping an armload of stuffed animals onto the foot of the bed. They’ll be kicked to the floor by morning and yet he straightens them up anyhow. 

He concludes his rounds by the final pages of the fourth book, taking a seat on the floor just in time to hear you whisper, “The end.” 

Penelope bats her dark eyes up at you. She knows you’ll say yes before she even asks. “One more?” 

“No,” Steve interjects. “No more tonight, babe.”

“Pleaseee!” 

“No, you already hustled me into four. We usually only read two.” 

“Pretty please!” she adds, puppy dog eyes bouncing from Steve to you. 

Oh the cruelty. To defy Steve or disappoint Penelope. Both are terrible choices but only one of the pair currently has a heartbreaking little pout. 

“I’ll read one more really really short book if you promise to go to sleep after?” 

Her head bobs eagerly as she kicks the blankets off, springing to her feet.

Steve’s head flops against the sheets, hair like satin ribbons shining from root to end. You consider if it’s as soft as you assume and if you’ll ever have the chance to find out. 

“Supposed to be on my side,” he whispers through a gooey grin. 

“Am I?” 

He tuts, craning up to find Penelope. “Don’t take all of those back out. I just cleaned them up.”

She exchanges the two in her hand for a thick chapter book. 

“No ma’am,” Steve says as she turns. “Short one, ‘member?”

Penelope huffs and lugs herself back to the bookcase. She plucks a thinner paperback and uses Steve’s calf as a stool to launch herself back in bed. He doesn’t complain but he pinches her side in revenge. 

The book mirrors the length of tonight’s first, yet it takes double the time for your own selfish reasons. You linger on each word, emphasize each sound, and savor every second. Penelope is nestled against your hip as you read the final sentence, sleepy and oblivious that you’ve turned the last page. 

Steve pulls himself up to perch on the edge of the bed, mindful not to sit on anyone’s legs. He runs the back of his hand across her face, giving her nose an extra tap. Enough times and it’ll put her to sleep. 

“Can you say thanks, Nell? And goodnight.” 

She squirms away from his touch, pushing into your thigh. “I don’t wanna go to sleep.”

“Pen, remember our deal.” You squeeze her shoulder gently. “You promised, hmm?”

You swallow the urge to smile when she juts her lip out and frowns. The drama never ends with this one but you love it. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Your hand glides over the shape of her arm beneath the blanket. “I had fun reading to you.” 

She avoids your gaze, picking a loose string from her blanket. If she sees you grinning, she’ll end up grinning too. She can’t have that, she’s protesting. “Night.” 

Steve shakes his head dismissively at you, grinning fondly himself. “I’ll be down in a second,” he explains. 

You stand, slotting the book back in its home on the shelf and steal one last glimpse of them on your way out. A trail of nightlights guides you to the stairs like beacons. You end up in the kitchen, hands braced on the sink, eyes drifting around the backyard through the window.

There’s a patio with chairs and string lights. In the grass, a trampoline, a sandbox, and a toddler-sized picnic bench, all draped in purple moonlight and sparkling with rain. It’s easy to imagine life here. Birthday parties and cookouts and lazy Sunday afternoons. 

The swish of sock against tile knocks you from the fantasy. You locate Steve’s reflection in the glass.

“You better not be doing my dishes.” 

Your lips flex instinctually at his voice. “I thought about it.” 

He leans back against the counter, hip a hand’s width from yours. Strips of hair sag across his forehead like a botched set of bangs. Your height difference and the angle only accentuate how silly he looks. 

“What?” Steve smiles. 

You huff through your own. “Nothin’.” 

“Why are you laughing then?” 

“I’m not. Just…” you reach for his face but the courage fades halfway. You wave obtusely instead. “This hair,” you finish. 

He flattens the piece down, then another, combing more and more over his face like a real pair of bangs until the ends graze the ball of his nose. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Oh, it’s awful, Steve. Put it back.” 

“I dunno. Thinking of changing it up anyway.”

You shake your head, peeling your eyes away from him. “Stupid.” 

Stupidly gorgeous, you decide. He’s a mess, no doubt; rumpled and sweaty, and still, stupidly, impossibly gorgeous. 

He rakes his hair back where it belongs, “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Your gaze remains on the window but you watch Steve in your peripherals. “I’m the perfect amount of good to you.” 

“Well, agree to disagree. But, thank you for coming over to help look. Really I–”

You face him fully then. “Steve, you don’t have to thank me.” 

“No, I do. Really, you’re… you’re great and it’s been nice, you know, having help. Even just having company. It hasn't been easy making friends the last few years.”

Your brain stalls at his choice of words. You spout the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s what friends are for, right?” The words sting like acid on your tongue but you smile anyway. You’re pretty sure your heart just split itself in half on the way to the friend zone. 

He hums, pushing off the counter toward the fridge. “Let me return the favor, please. I’ll make you whatever you want. Spaghetti, PB ‘n J, uhh, pre-packaged salad?”

“I’m good, Steve. I ate earlier. And you don’t need to return the favor.” 

He sets a jar of jelly on the counter. “Your loss. Penelope says I make the best PB ‘n J’s.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

You settle at the kitchen table and watch him work unapologetically. His focus is entirely on a one-sided debate about the perfect peanut butter-to-jelly ratio, leaving him oblivious to your ogling.

He plops down in the chair across from yours when he’s finished. “Sure you don’t want some? You can have half of mine.” 

“Steve.” 

“Okay,” he sings and takes a bite. 

You watch the slow drip of water from the eaves. The rain has subsided enough that you could go, but neither of you suggest it. Your mind is elsewhere. Stuck on friends. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” Steve chuckles when you blink back to reality. “Did you hear me? I was–”

The trill of the phone interrupts. 

“I’m holding my thought. Don’t go anywhere.” Steve abandons his sandwich and crosses the room, pulling the phone from the counter. “Hello?... Uh-huh… Yes, yes.”

The sudden shift in his tone catches your attention. He sounds borderline ecstatic. 

“Okay. I’ll be right over. Thank you!” 

“Who was it?” you ask.

He snaps the receiver back into place. “A neighbor saw her just now.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes! Well, they’re pretty sure it’s her. It sounded like her, how they described. Are you able to stay here while I go check? I don’t wanna wake Penelope up.” 

You don’t even think about it when you insist, “Of course. Go!” 

“I’ll be right back. Thank you!” He squeezes your shoulder and jogs out of the kitchen. The sound of jangling keys fades with the closing of the front door and before you’ve processed it, you’re alone in Steve’s house. 

It’s a strange thing, being in Steve’s house without Steve. You’re not technically alone, Penelope is still tucked in bed upstairs, of course. But the silence is thick, suffocating even. So you’re admittedly glad when you hear tiny footsteps from upstairs. 

On the bottom step, Penelope freezes and her hand tightens around the railing, not expecting you to be there. “Where’s Daddy?” she mewls at you, bottom lip quivering against her words. 

“It’s okay. He went out to look some more, that’s all.” 

“I want Daddy,” she whines, breath hitching in between words. 

“He’ll be right back, sweetheart. I promise.” 

A sob wracks her chest, tears escaping as she scrunches her eyes. Sniffles cut through a mush of sounds, woven between them, she pleads, “When?”

“Oh, honey. Come here.” You hoist her up against your chest instinctually. It feels like the right thing to do, and it must be– her arms wind underneath yours like puzzle pieces. “Real soon,” you reassure. 

You hope so anyway. Half for Penelope’s sake and half for yours. You’re afraid to overstep, to parent her in a way Steve wouldn’t approve of. You feel the echoes of his constant self-doubt in your own mind. But you’ll try your best until he returns. 

Penelope’s not heavy, but it is the first time you’ve carried another human down a set of stairs. It’s a slow descent with lots of maneuvering and readjusting limbs so you can see the steps ahead but she doesn’t seem to mind. By the time you make it to the sectional, your arms burn. Still, you’d do it ten times over just so she doesn’t have to walk herself.  

She sweeps her runny nose across your sleeve and her knee digs uncomfortably into your ribcage but you can’t find it in yourself to mind. She feels safe enough with you to do so. It’s a compliment more than anything. And the weight of her head against you is a type of soothing you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. 

Your fingertips trace the shape of her shoulder blades through her nightgown. “Did you have a bad dream?” you whisper. 

She draws similar lazy patterns on your arm, pausing to hum yes. 

You hum back. “‘M sorry, Pen. Wanna talk about it? Might help.”

She shakes her head, the slightest movement against your collar. 

“Okay, I got you. Don’t have to worry,” you whisper and pat her head. “I won’t let any more bad dreams get in here.” 

Steve’s gone long enough to fuel your nerves and keep your mind buzzing, though your eyes beg for the sweet release of sleep. Penelope’s not helping, like a warm, weighted blanket on your chest. She’s barely awake herself when he arrives, but you’re surprised she’s awake at all. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s definitely late. 

Two clicks from the front door’s lock and a Steve-shaped shadow slides inside. He’s being particularly quiet, like when tries to sneak up on you at the rec center. Like a ninja, he always says. 

Penelope’s head shoots up to peer over the couch. “Daddy?”

Steve stops in his tracks, but his head snaps in your direction. When his eyes confirm his ears he starts toward the couch, waiting until he can sit to coo, “Hey, baby. Hey.” A hand scoops a piece of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing up sleepyhead?” 

Penelope splinters off of your chest but remains situated on your thighs. She offers several half-lidded blinks to Steve. “You didn’t find her?” 

He melts like her eyes are made of sunbeams, reaching up to thumb sleep from under her lashes. “No, baby. Someone thought they did but it wasn’t her. I went to make sure.” 

“Oh,” she says, not sad, just tired. Penelope slowly leans over to him like a bridge, wrapping her arms around his neck as he tows her into his lap. 

He looks at you then. A long look. An expression you're having a hard time untangling. His eyes flutter back down when Penelope yawns. “Have to go to bed, okay?” he whispers into her crown, planting a kiss while he’s there. 

“I wanna sleep in your room.”

“That’s fine but I’m not laying down yet. You still have to go to sleep.” 

She nods against his chin. 

“I’ll carry you up. Can you say goodnight?” 

Penelope turns so you can see one side of her face, the other glued to Steve’s sweater. 

“Goodnight,” you wave and smile softly. 

She only shudders out a sigh but manners aren’t on Steve’s mind, especially when he knows you wouldn’t care about that. His knees crack as he stands, hiking her up higher before he heads upstairs. 

You yank a blanket from the arm of the couch, missing the warmth Penelope lent you. It’s a risky move when you’re already fighting to keep your eyes open. 

But Steve’s back before you have time to fall asleep. He’s trampling down the steps with a confidence that Penelope’s out for good this time. And he flops onto the couch with the same heaviness, sighing like you’ve never heard. Pure frustration. It’s understandable. But odd off his lips. 

“You okay?” you ask, the same syrupy sweetness you’d used with Penelope.  

He turns to face you and he looks awfully sad. The rainwater clinging to the ends of his hair doesn’t help. But he nods anyway because he’s Steve. “It was a stupid raccoon.” 

“You’re kidding? They thought it was a cat?” 

“I should’ve known,” he scrubs his face. “Practically senile that lady.” 

“You’ll find her, Steve.” 

He takes a deep breath and swallows. “I don’t know anymore. I’m really starting to think worst-case scenarios.” 

You press your lips into a firm line. It’s a possibility you don’t want to consider. “Why don’t I go look a little longer? I’m off–”

“No, please,” he leans over to cradle the shell of your knee. “You’ve helped all night. I mean this in the nicest way possible, you look exhausted.”

“Way to treat a guest, Harrington,” you smirk, peeling his pointer finger off your leg to hook it under your own. 

He squeezes your finger like a trigger, shifting focus between your hands and face. “Go home, rest, please.” 

“You sure?”

“Hundred percent. Rain’s let up so the drive shouldn’t be too bad.” 

“Promise you’ll get some rest too?” 

He smiles despite the pang in his chest and the ache behind his eyes. You're the first to show him this kind of care in years. “I will. I promise.” He releases your finger, binding your pinky with his instead. 

There’s something unreal about the way you smile back at him. Like you’ve entranced him with a spell. Steve believes in a lot of things– superpowers, demogorgans, parallel dimensions– but this is the first time he’s ever believed in pinky promise magic. 

He shakes his head, “Come on.” 

You take his hand, groaning in sync as he helps you up. 

In the foyer, Steve unhooks the coat he’d lent you earlier. “Here.” And before you can contend, he adds, “Keep it. It’s an extra. I don’t need it.” 

You let him guide your arms into the sleeves. And the same deliriousness possesses you to spring in for a hug after. “It’ll be okay, Steve,” you murmur, lips skimming the embroidered design across his chest. 

He deflates for half a second before reciprocating. “I know,” he says. “Thank you.” 

You wait until he softens to pull away and open the door. 

The wind whips and howls blowing a wave of mist onto the other end of the porch. Steve scans the yard, then the road, both slick with rain. He asks himself if it’s a good enough reason to ask you to stay. But he decides it isn’t, not yet, at least. 

“Call me when you get home?” 

A wild smile splits your lips. “Okay,” you blink stupidly, too tired to care. 

“Careful!” he shouts as you run to your car. Steve leans against the doorframe, loitering until your headlights flash his house and your car rolls out of the driveway. 

It’s only sprinkling but streetlights are scarce near Steve’s place so you turn your high beams on, highlighting lawns on either side of the road. You drive slowly, inspecting one yard, then the one opposite, hopeful that Cinderella’s still out there. 

There’s a stop sign at the end of Steve’s street. A landmark you know to make a left at. But you decide to go right. I wanted to take the scenic route, you’ll say if Steve asks. You drive that road and the one beside it and another beside that. 

And it’s only a few turns away when you spot something sort of cat-shaped laid at the end of a driveway. 

“Please do not be a raccoon,” you mumble, squinting as you inch the car closer. The longer you look the more it makes sense– two ears, a wavy tail, it’s definitely a cat. “No way.” 

You put the car in park across from the house and study it. It bats its tail against the concrete, staring lazily back at your car. There’s just no way, not after all that looking. You find her after what, ten minutes of driving? It just can’t be her. 

You push your door open gingerly, slipping onto the asphalt one foot at a time. The cat perks up, ears twitching with each crunch under your shoes. You slink over slowly, crouching into an uncomfortable crab walk when she stands. Brown coat, no collar, just as she’s been described to you. But it’s hard to say. You’ve only seen one picture of her and it was out of focus. There’s no way to really know it’s her. 

Honking a few streets away slices the silence and your focus in one go. You flinch back a step which spooks the cat. She scampers up the driveway, weaving underneath a car to the other end of the yard. 

You stick as low to the ground as you can while skipping after her. You’d guess you look ridiculous, but at least Steve isn’t here to see. The car blocks the view and you lose her by the time you reach the other side. But there’s a swirl of shrubbery, good for hiding probably. You blindly grapple for branches, blinking rapidly, slowly adjusting to the growing darkness the farther you move from your car’s headlights.

And then the porch light flickers on, spotlighting you digging through a random person’s bushes.  

“Shit.” You freeze, hand choking a wreath of leaves, embarrassment flaring hot and red through your entire body. A minute passes, then two. Everything’s still. No cat, no angry homeowners, no police cars. You decide it’s safe. Must’ve been an automatic light. You hope, anyway. 

Upon further inspection, the bushes are empty, and from what you can see the porch is too. There are a few trees but it’s difficult to make out any cats through the dark web of branches. A sudden gust of wind shakes a handful of leaves loose. Your eyes track them across the yard as they tumble back toward the driveway. And there’s the damn cat, sitting on the roof of the car like it was there the whole time. 

“You better not set that alarm off, dude,” you grumble. 

She narrows her eyes and growls as you draw closer. Cinderella is irritable– this makes sense. Or it’s a totally random feral cat who is about to claw your eyes out. 

You’re within touching distance when you realize you have no plan. She very likely could claw your eyes out or give you rabies or something else awful. But you're in it now. You’re gonna get Penelope her cat back. So you shrug Steve’s coat off cautiously, eyes never leaving the cats. It’s raining again, you realize as it starts pelting your neck, trickling like ice down your shirt. But that’s the least of your worries right now. 

“Nice kitty,” you whisper, unfolding the jacket. 

She hisses as you lean in but before she can pounce or swipe you throw the jacket over her and scoop her off her feet. She goes stiff and growls low and throaty. 

You speed walk to your car, toeing the cracked door open and maneuvering carefully into your seat. The jacket peels open as you shut the door. She sees an opportunity and takes it, nosing her way through the hole and under your elbow. There’s a shine of teeth as she bats your face, dragging a sharp set of claws against your cheek. 

“No, no– shit! I swear if you don’t,” you argue, cramming her arms back in the fabric one at a time, tucking and tightening until she’s secure. 

She huffs through her nose, glaring menacingly at you from her swaddle. 

“Cinderella– if you’re even Cinderella– which you better be! You’re being a real jerk right now.”

She growls in response. Steve wasn’t lying about her attitude. 

You shift the car into gear one-handed and forgo a seatbelt. It’s a short ride and you’ve maxed out your risk-taking meter for the night. While it really is a short drive, it goes dreadfully slow. You’re cold and wet and you feel like you are driving with a bomb strapped to your chest. 

Getting out of the car is just as easy, as in not easy at all, as getting in. But you make it to Steve’s porch, surging the cat further up your chest so there are no last-minute getaways. You tap gently on the door with your toe, hoping not to disturb Penelope. 

The instant the door opens, you squeeze by Steve and release the cat onto the floor. She scampers ahead a few feet before stopping to turn around. “Tell me this is the right cat and I didn’t just kidnap some other kid’s pet.” 

He shoves the door closed. “Oh my God! Where the hell did you find her?” 

You exhale with one big slump of your shoulders, all the worry bleeding away. “Like, five minutes down the road. Just hanging out in someone’s driveway.” 

Steve gawks, crouching and coaxing her closer with an open palm. 

She considers his invitation before striding into his touch. 

He strokes her from head to tail and back. “I can’t believe you. I was about to make funeral arrangements.” 

Cinderella chirps happily. 

Steve twists to look up at you. For a second you think he might cry. Or kiss you. 

He promptly stands and cups your jaw and your stomach tumbles because he might actually kiss you. But he aims your cheek against the light instead and whispers, “You’re bleeding.” 

“Oh,” you tap around your cheek blindly, “It’s just a scratch.” 

“Here. Come here.”

You follow him to the bathroom where he pulls a towel from the closet and drapes it around your shoulders like a shawl. 

“You’re wet,” he says like you don’t already know. 

You tug the fraying ends taut across your chest and watch him dig through the medicine cabinet. “If only someone let me borrow their coat.” 

“If only,” he snickers, dumping the contents of the first aid kit in the sink. “I’m sorry Cinderella beat you up. She really has no manners.” He strips the plastic cover off a Barbie-themed bandaid and lines it up with your scratch, pressing, and smoothing it over your skin gingerly. 

“How hideous do I look? Scale of one to ten.” 

He shakes his head, smiling at you like an idiot. You make him smile like it’s your only job. And it sends his heart flying every time. He feels out of control around you. He hates feeling that way but somehow you make it easy. 

“You could never be hideous.” Steve chuckles, still in disbelief. “You're amazing.”

Any cold lingering on your face evaporates. “Don’t go soft on me, Harrington,” you tease. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline buzz of chasing Cinderella or the high of successfully catching her, but you feel like you could do anything. Like you could say anything to him. Your eyes trickle down to his lips. He’s close enough to kiss. Every nerve in your body dares you to do it. You don’t think he’d reject you. Maybe he’d even meet you halfway. 

A high-pitched scream severs the moment. 

Steve jerks away, alarmed and then quickly amused. “Penelope,” he grins. 

And right on cue, Penelope whizzes by the open door, squeals ricocheting down the hall. She chases Cinderella, who does not look happy to be chased, but Steve allows it. 

“Daddy! Cinderella’s back! Look!” She clips her shoulder on the stair post before disappearing into the kitchen 

He turns to you, beaming. He hopes you understand how amazing you are. He’d happily tell you again and again. 

Penelope races out, heaving through a smile with the jar of treats. She sprays the entire contents of it across the floor. Steve can’t even be mad. In fact, it’s the happiest he’s been all week. 

She lies down on her back, eyes skipping between you and Steve. “How did she get here?” 

“I saw her on my way home. She was just a few streets away.” 

“Wow. She’s really good at hide and seek,” Penelope decides. 

Cinderella prances over, using Penelope’s belly as a personal vault. Penelope splays her hand out, patting and petting to her heart's content as Cinderella munches on the treats. 

Steve squats, cupping a handful of them back into the jar. 

“No, Daddy! It’s her prize.”

“Her prize will make her sick if she eats it all.”

“Okay. I guess.” She giggles as Cinderella pushes a treat with her paw. 

Steve squeezes her knee where it wiggles, raising his eyebrows, “What do you say?”

Penelope turns to you with a wicked grin. She practically screams, “Thank you!”

“You're very welcome.”

Penelope pushes herself up and cocks her head. “Will you stay and play with us?” 

It’s entirely innocent and equally adorable. You appreciate Steve for being the bad guy. 

“Nuh-uh. You’re supposed to be in bed,” he reminds her. 

She whines and shoots him a mean look. But it doesn’t last. Cinderella is back. That’s all she really cares about right now. 

“You can play with Cinderella in the morning.” His eyes flicker between the two like they’re made of gold. “Maybe she’ll even sleep in your room.” 

Penelope’s eyes and mouth widen into three little O’s. “Really!” 

“Yes. She can stay inside from now on. But! You have to train her, be a good cat mom to her.” 

“I will, I will,” she nods so relentlessly her head might pop off. “I promise I’ll be the bestest cat mom ever in the whole entire world!” 

Steve chuckles, gaze dancing over to you. He looks at you like you’re made of gold too. That’s an intense realization. 

“I should head home,” you say. 

Steve nods, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. 

“Bye, Penelope! Bye, Cinderella!” 

Penelope shackles Cinderella’s arm and forces her into a rigid wave. “Bye-bye!” 

Steve follows you out to the front porch, snapping the door shut when Cinderella trots after him. 

“Good luck keeping her inside.”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head, hand dropping from the door handle. “I’m sure she’ll escape by morning.” 

Your gaze sweeps across the lawn. It’s only drizzling now, almost unnoticeably through the overcast veil of moonlight. 

“Oh, here,” you tug one end of the towel until it slides off your neck. 

Steve accepts it tentatively, “Maybe you should keep it. Case she gets out again.” 

“Yeah, guess I’d need something to catch her with, huh?”

His teeth seem to glow in the moonlight when he smiles. He slings the towel back over your head and smooths it across your shoulders. “I know I’ve said this like a million times today,” he trails off, rubbing the fabric up and down your arms. “But I’m gonna say it again.” He looks up, dreadfully serious. Your eyes lock like magnets, like he’s specially polarized yours to stay tethered to his. “First of all, thank you for everything, seriously.”

“It’s no problem, Steve, really.” 

“I know, I just,” his attention drifts away, tension seeping in through the silence. “I think you’re like the coolest person ever.” 

You shake your head and shift your weight from one foot to the other, desperately trying to shake out the scary feeling in your gut.

A warm hand clasps yours. “I mean it. You’re so amazing and are just a super genuine person and– and I care a lot about you.” 

Your pulse hammers so hard you wonder if he can hear it. The icy bite of rain clinging to your clothes turns hot. Hot enough to boil every drop of it off your skin. 

“I dunno, it’s just really hard to make friends as a single parent. You’ve been so kind. And I really appreciate that.” 

Your heart aches. Your eyes sting. That awful feeling triples. Friends, how could you forget? 

He drops your hand, knotting his own fingers together instead. Watching you, waiting for a response. 

You smile, brittle but convincing enough that he smiles back. “Well, that’s really sweet. I’m happy to help. And, for the record, I think you’re super cool too.” You punch his shoulder playfully. Because that’s what friends do. 

“Phew, that’s a relief. Was starting to think you were getting sick of us.”

You smile genuinely then. You don’t think it’s possible to ever get sick of them. “Ehh, I’m still warming up to Cinderella but Penelope’s my favorite, no offense.” 

“No, she’s pretty cool.” He nods, pausing to think. “You can come over tomorrow– if you aren’t busy. If you want to. We’ll probably go buy some cat stuff. I dunno, it’s cool if you can’t.”

“I’d love to, Steve.” 

He laughs in soft little layers. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“See you then.”

“See ya.”

You spin on your heel, scurrying down the porch steps faster than you probably should. Forget the rain, Steve’s what you're running from. His laugh and his dopey smile and his overly kind words. You’re too young to die of a heart attack, but surely your heart won’t last much more of this. 

When you tug the handle of your car door, he yells, “Don’t forget to call me!” 

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling and flash him a thumbs-up before getting in. He’s such an idiot. Probably waking his neighbors up yelling like that. It’s probably unhealthy, the amount of emotions you’ve just experienced in the span of a few minutes. 

But already all you can think about is tomorrow. It seems like lightyears away, but you’d wait lightyears for Steve– even for just friends Steve– silly as it sounds.

[leclarifies]

THE NUMBER YOU HAVE DIALED IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE (LN4)

꒰ lando norris x ex!reader ꒱

synopsis┊in which lando keeps dialing your number even after you've changed it.

genre┊angst (im not sorry)

word count┊ 2.1k

aria yaps┊remember how i broke ur hearts with carlos sainz angst for my first fic about him? YEAH HERE'S THE LANDO VERSION!!!!!!!! i know yall love it either way so, enjoy reading! very short btw, i just wanted to put something out for today

"where did we go wrong? i know we started out all right. where did we go wrong? i swear i knew we'd last this time." - lany, "13"

it takes three rings.

then he hears that stupid automated voice again, "the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try—"

"for fuck's sake."

after he ends the attempted call, the furious typing is apparent in the empty, dark room. the artificial keyboard clicking fills the room as he tries his best to reach her. it's futile really, with every text he sends, the more agitated he becomes.

he knew that he shouldn't do this, that she was probably trying her best to move on, but he couldn't. he couldn't let her slip away from his grasp so easily.

"i just want you here for my races, is that so hard to ask for?" lando sounded desperate, he was desperate. he was a guy who needed his girlfriend and it didn't help that his girlfriend couldn't be there with him when he needed it the most, especially at times like these.

she was tired, he could tell, he didn't want to turn this into an argument but he was going to base it off of how she was going to respond, "lando, i can't. you know this. i have family here that i need to support, i can't just quit—"

"i'm not asking you to quit, i'm asking you to come just when you can," lando ruffled his hair so hard that it hurt, "the races are on weekends— for fuck's sake! why can't you just listen to me and actually hear what i'm saying?"

"i am listening! you're not listening to me!" she had tears in her eyes now, he hated it. he hated when he got riled up like this. it wasn't her fault, he knew it but he wanted her around him at least every few races, he hadn't been able to see her on the paddock at all this year and it pained him.

an exasperated sigh leaves his lips and he tries calling again, he knows she's not gonna pick up. he knows that he's probably blocked everywhere, but he wants to try. he wants to talk. he just wanted to fix things.

"the number you have dialed is—"

the next thing he heard was his phone shattering against the wall after he threw it across the room.

it was only two days later when he got a new phone and tried again, it wasn't going to go through. he knew it, but he just wanted to try. he wanted to show her that he was willing to make a compromise with her, just to make sure that she was there for him.

he didn't understand why he raised his voice so easily when it came to her, maybe because emotions ran high and he didn't know what else to do to express himself. he didn't know. all he knew was that he was a selfish prick and he deserved all of this.

he tried again.

"the number you have dialed is cu—"

he wanted to smash that brand new phone into the wall like its predecessor but he held himself back, he knew that the money that was needed to buy him a new phone was priceless to him, he was a formula one driver. it was pennies to him. all that money and he couldn't keep the most priceless thing to him, her.

he didn't care how selfish it sounded, or how convoluted their issues were. he just wanted her here, to hug, to kiss, to just comfort him. he had so many things on his mind right now and it could've been solved just by a simple touch and kiss to the forehead.

he was losing his mind and he knew it.

something akin to a sob bubbles from his throat when he hears the automated voice again.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try again later."

he fucked up, he knows now. she didn't have to rub it in his face like this, by changing her number and disappearing off of the face of the earth.

he just wanted to be home.

gentle knocking wakes her up from her slumber, it's unusual to get guests at this hour and on top of that, she wasn't expecting anyone. a huff escapes her lips as she gently takes the covers off of her and sits up on the bed. the knocks become more persistent as she begrudgingly gets up from her comfortable bed.

at first, she contemplates whether she should open the door or not but she opens it against her better judgement, her eyes widening when she realizes who it was.

"lando, what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be in aus—"

she gets engulfed in a hug before she could even utter another word.

inhaling her scent after so long had been a breath of a fresh air for lando, he missed her. she's confused on how lando even knows where she lived. she had moved out of her last flat to avoid him on purpose, and now he's here, when he's supposed to be all the way in australia getting ready for a race.

his hug wasn't reciprocated, unfortunately for him.

"lando—" she was cut off by her ex standing in front of her, his eyes were glassy, puffy, like he had been crying all the way from australia to here.

"i just wanted to see you, that's all."

"we broke up two months ago, you can't just show up in front of my flat like this."

"i know but—"

"there aren't any buts lando, didn't me changing my number make it clear to you?" she folded her arms in front of her chest, her hair was still a mess from sleep and she was in pajamas, but her eyes were nowhere near his, not wanting to have any type of eye contact.

lando could only look down on the ground in embarrassment, he knew it was wrong. he knew he shouldn't have asked her friends where she lived, all of them had turned down his questions, telling him that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore but it wasn't anything a little persistence couldn't solve.

"is that all? you have a race to catch," she didn't even give him the chance to speak before trying to close the door on his face, but he blocked it with his foot, he wanted to talk. to fix things. he knew that things were irreparable but he wanted to try.

lando pushes the door open, despite her insistence of not letting him in, "i want to fix things, love—"

"there's nothing to fix lando, we're done. we've been done. what part of done do you not understand?" she was on the verge of tears, she didn't want to end it with lando, no, not at all but she felt that it was best for the both of them, she couldn't provide him with what he needed and he couldn't with her either, so it was best to just separate because why be in a relationship when you don't feel the love?

her eyes were still on the floor, not even daring to look up at lando's. it hurt for her too of course, just throwing away their year-long relationship out the window when the beginning of their relationship was so lovely, but now all there was is resentment and she didn't want that in her relationship.

lando couldn't utter anything out his mouth, he was stuck in place by her words. he let himself in earlier after he pushed the door open, he gently closed the door behind him before sighing, "we didn't even talk about it, you just decided for yourself that you didn't want to be apart of this anymore, you didn't even wait until my race ended before i could respond. how can i let it go?"

she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked out the window, still refusing to look at lando, because she knew that if she did, she would start crying, "you just do lando. sometimes break-ups aren't always mutual, sometimes it's one person who doesn't want to be in a relationship anymore. it takes two to tango."

lando tousled with his hair, what could he say to that? she wasn't wrong. she couldn't deny the hurt and sadness that was in his green eyes, she hated that she made him feel that way but they were nothing. they've been broken up. by definition, they didn't have anything to do with eachother anymore, but she still had that care inside of her heart for him. after all, it had only been two months.

"just hear me out, and by the end of tonight, if you don't want to see me anymore, i'm gone. i won't try to contact you anymore," lando gave an ultimatum and she was fine with that, because she knew well that whatever he said, she would still say no.

she sat down on her couch, patting the space next to her to at least give him some sort of hospitality, wanting to hear him out even though she was steadfast in her decision.

"i won't bug you to come to my races anymore, i'll even help you with helping your family—"

"you can't throw money at this problem, lando."

"i'm not throwing money at it, i'm just saying that it's an option and you can take it if you feel like you need it," lando's voice was always pleading— begging for her to hear him out. he wasn't that type of guy, never. all of his exes got the same type of treatment, if they said that they were done, then lando wouldn't even bother.

he was a formula one driver, he didn't have the time.

but for her, he did.

she looks up, her arms still folded in front of her chest, legs curled up beneath her as she tries to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable situation. glancing at the clock on the coffee table, it read in bright red neon numbers that it at 4:27 am, far too early or late for him to be here.

"we've had a similar conversation before, and i refused. so i'm refusing again," she sighs before meeting lando's eyes for the second time tonight, "i don't understand why you would want to keep this relationship. it doesn't benefit you for dating a poor girl."

"do you really think i care about your financial status?" lando asked, almost if it the thought of him caring about his (ex)girlfriend's financial status was ridiculous. he didn't care, it's the way she made him feel for the entirety of last year. she made him feel whole, like even if the world was against him, she would still be there.

she was used to men coming into her life who could think that they could "save" her and lando was no different to all of those other men. sure, she was definitely struggling trying to pay for her younger siblings education while working and pursuing her degree at the same time but that doesn't mean she was a damsel in distress and she expressed that to lando.

lando closed his eyes in frustration, "no, i didn't mean it like that—"

"well you sure as hell worded it like that," she looks away from him yet again, refusing to meet his eyes again until he had to leave. her eyes were glued to the window that overlooked the city, it was beautiful, calming— peaceful even, "i'm not changing my mind lando, we're worlds apart. i don't need you helping me, i can take care of myself."

with that, lando bit his lip and she ushers him out of her flat.

it had been months since lando's seen her, but he never forgot. he couldn't. the way she smelt, the way she laughed, everything still stuck in his brain as he continued his career.

the world didn't revolve around him, so the show must go on.

calling her old number had also become routine, almost an obsession. every finish, every weekend, anything that had to do with his career, lando would try and call her and tell her how his races were going, as if he wasn't talking to an automated robot on the other end of the line. the automated voice was practically his best friend because he's heard the damn voice so many times.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected. please try again later."

and try again later he would.

he didn't understand himself, was it an obsession or was it the comfort that it gave him when he dialed her number? he didn't know. but sometimes he would hold up that phone to his ear and talk as if she was on the other end of the line, even though lando knew that there was no one waiting on the other line for him, not anymore.

but, the show must go on, right?

[unoislazy]

For Me?

Vi x Piltover! Reader

Vi deserves the world and a partner that cares about her. Being from Zaun comes with its insecurities when being with someone from Piltover. Luckily, you know exactly how to counter them.

A/N: You guys wont have to worry about that much angst from me for a while, I need to cope from act 3 by giving Vi the best life possible and all the fluff imaginable because oh my god??

There were times when you’d think back to when and how you and your girlfriend met for the first time. Such a chance of it happening was very slim given you two belonged to two different cities, you Piltover, her Zaun. You never thought the girl who rammed into you after fleeing from an explosion from an unauthorized lab would one day come back into your life. 

The story of your reunion however was quite the convoluted one. Once again, a meeting set by nothing but pure fate and chance. 

You weren’t supposed to be at Zaun at the time. In fact, you weren’t supposed to be in Zaun at all. You went on your own, against your family's wishes, for the sake of immersing yourself in a culture that is not your own. You were raised to believe that the people of the undercity were monsters, the filth under Piltover's feet, nothing more than animals. It never felt right to you, there had to be more to it. After all, they were people too.

So, you went to see for yourself how awful these “animals” really were. 

You knew better than to walk in expecting everything to be rainbows and unicorns, but you refused to let go of your optimism as you traveled around the labyrinth like maze of streets and alleyways. 

It wasn’t until the smell of a peculiar type of food filled your senses. 

You didn’t know what it was, it was very different from anything you had ever tried before, so you decided to check it out.  

Once there, you were greeted by a fairly jolly fish-like man with a large smile. He laughed heartily, gesturing for you to take a seat and gave you a list of things to choose from. There were so many options, you had no idea where to start, and it wasn’t until you heard someone else set directly beside you did you finally have an idea. 

You looked to your left and were quickly met with a head of bright pink hair. Quite a unique shade which you could’ve sworn you’d seen before, but you brushed the thought off. There were probably plenty of people with the same hair color, besides if there’s one thing you knew not to do in Zaun, it was to stare. 

You heard one of them, a woman, order something specific off of the fish man’s list, whom she referred to as Jericho. He happily took her order before turning to her friend who denied wanting anything, and then turning back to you. 

“I’ll have the same.” You said with a polite smile. Jericho nodded before turning around and getting right to work. As you waited, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the girl next to you once again, there was something familiar about her despite her back being turned to you for the most part. 

That was until her friend noticed you staring and began to pull her hood over her eyes which grabbed the pink haired girl's attention. She quickly turned around to face you with an angered look on her face, clearly ready to fight if need be.

“Can I help y-“ She began, but before she could finish it finally clicked with you. 

“You’re the girl.” You whispered, having not realized that maybe saying that to a girl who looked, for lack of a better phrase, like she could rock your shit, probably was not a good idea.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, clearly confused, but still clearly not happy about your interruption.

“That girl, from the explosion, that was you.” 

Her reaction to your realization was less than friendly, and you couldn’t blame her. You hadn’t known at the time but she had just gotten out of jail for that same crime. She didn’t know who you were, she didn’t know what you wanted, and she didn’t want to involve herself with more pilties than she needed. 

And yet despite everything, here she was, now living with you on her days when she wasn’t in Zaun. You had quite the rocky start in the beginning but you became useful to her quest for her sister, and the more time you spent with her, the closer you two got. At first she was a bit standoffish, not believing someone from topside was capable of showing so much empathy, if any. Yet somehow you proved her wrong. You chipped away at that stone wall she built around her heart all those years away in prison and became one of the few things she coveted most. 

You two didn’t live together all the time, but your house was always open to her as you had now managed to move away from your parents. You knew Vi could never stay topside for too long, and you’d never ask her to do such. So there were a few days here and there where she would stay with you, then go back to the undercity to continue to help out, then come back up with you.

Now today was the day for Vi to come back, so you decided to surprise her to the best of your ability with the dish she got from Jericho the day you two met once again. It was quite a feat that required you to go to the undercity a fair amount of times to visit Jericho and ask for help. Luckily the sweet man was more than happy to let you in on a few of his trade secrets for the sake of a thoughtful gift. 

You weren’t the biggest fan of this type of food, you’ve tried it on more than one occasion, but it very clearly wasn’t for you. 

But it was what Vi liked so that was enough. 

As you continued to cook, you heard your door open, without even needing to look you knew it was your partner walking through the door.

“Welcome back.” You greeted warmly. 

Just then, You felt two hands wriggle around your waist before the weight of her head rested on your shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, her face now moving towards your neck, enough for you to feel the light feeling of her breath wafting over your neck. 

You ignored the feeling to the best of your ability but you couldn’t ignore the small smile that made its way to your face, this of course didn’t go unnoticed by Vi as she mumbled against your neck, 

“What are you making?” She asked, pressing her body a bit more into yours. She had a tendency to be clingy after being away for long periods of time, which you didn’t mind. 

“Something new. Just got the recipe, I think you’ll like it.” You said with a smile, which earned a short chuckle from your girlfriend who turned to begin peppering light kisses against your neck.

“If it’s made by you Sunshine, of course I will.” She said sweetly, despite the fact she was trying to ‘discreetly’ distract you. It wasn’t actually very discreet but she thought it was and you weren’t going to correct her.

“It smells familiar.” She said quietly after pausing for a moment to look back over your shoulder.

“Means I’m doing something right then.” You said happily, glad that it was going well. Her confirmation that she at the very least was beginning to recognize it was enough to motivate you to continue. However despite your motivation it was clear your girlfriend still had other plans in mind. 

Her hands slowly began to move their way up from your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as her face remained by your neck. 

“Can I at least finish the food first?” You asked with a laugh as your left hand went up to lightly brush against Vi’s face, acknowledging what she was trying to do. 

She once again mumbled quietly against you before finally pulling away. 

“Fine.” She said with an overly dramatic sigh before continuing, 

“You’re no fun.” She teased as her hands slowly, reluctantly, left your sides as she moved to the counter next to the stove you were using to cook. She leaned the back of her waist against it, her arms crossed in front of her chest, as she looked at you with a look you could only describe as a lighthearted pout.

“Save that for later you just got back. You have to eat first.” You said in a somewhat stern manner, not looking away from the food cooking in front of you. 

“Who says I can’t have a bit of dessert first?” 

“Vi!” You exclaimed as you walked her softly with a cloth that you had placed by the stove. She laughed, a full genuine laugh, which she felt like she could only do near you. You were the only one to really bring it out of her at this point. 

“Just… go sit down, the food is almost done.” You instructed, turning back to the food as she chuckled once again before walking back towards you. Her hand made its way back to your waist once again as she leaned towards your ear,

“Can’t wait.” She whispered cheekily before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and walking towards the dining room. 

You, being from a family who had lived in Piltover for quite some time, were able to afford a house with multiple furnished rooms with ease. It always threw Vi off just the slightest bit, the difference in what the two of you grew up with. It got to her more than she’d like to admit. A few times she believed herself to be holding you back, you came from a life of glittering buildings, and she came from nothing but metal scraps. 

You were so different and yet you always managed to remind her that it didn’t matter. She loved you for you and you loved her for her, wherever you came from had no effect on that.

Vi sat down in one of the few chairs in your dining room, looking around at the paintings that littered the walls, her previous thoughts remaining on her mind before she was interrupted by a plate of food entering her view and landing in front of her.

“Tada!” You exclaimed into the silent room, the only other sound being that of the plate lightly hitting the table. Vi sat in silence for a moment as she looked down at the food before her, it took her a moment before she recognized it.

“Wait. Did you-“ She began to ask.

“Find the recipe to your favorite dish from your favorite food stand? Maybe.” You responded with a proud smile as you sat down in the chair next to her, eager to have her try it. 

“How did you get the stuff for it?”

“Well, I visited a friend.” You said with a shrug. Vi looked towards you, her eyes wide with shock. As each moment passed she realized just how much effort went into this one dish.

“You hate this kind of stuff, why would you-“

“Cause I know you like it and I wanted to make it for you.” You said simply as you placed your hand atop hers.

Suddenly Vi couldn’t think of a response. Her sudden silence worried you almost, was she mad? Was she upset at you? 

You then looked at her eyes and watched as they softened, the powder blue irises glistened as water lightly began to form in them.

“Holy shit.” She said quietly, entirely taken aback as she sat back in her chair. For someone with such a tough exterior you could see the walls slightly begin to crack as she looked down at the food before her. It meant more than the world to her that you had put so much effort into something she liked, for her, and for no other reason. 

Just because you cared.

It had been a long time since Vi had been truly reminded she was loved. Just having such a simple yet, such a powerful reminder in the middle of nowhere by the one person she truly loved was almost disorienting. You went out of your way to get ingredients you couldn't get easily in Piltover, a recipe you had to go to a specific stand for, her favorite stand no less, and then put it all together?

“Vi?” You asked quietly, your other hand going up the cup to her face so she would look at you a bit more as you looked at her with a bit of concern. You didn’t expect such an emotional reaction from your gesture that you were worried you had done something wrong.

“Are you o-”

Before you could finish your question, Vi had turned to you quickly and engulfed you in a hug. This took you completely by surprise. In the time that you and Vi had been together, more often than not when it came to specifically hugging, you were the one to initiate. She just never seemed like the hugging type unless it was an occasion where she truly meant it.

And in this case, she did. 

“Thank you, Sunshine.” She said quietly as she squeezed just a bit tighter. Your hands rested against her back as you smiled, feeling as if you had done a job well done even without her trying her dish. You knew Vi had been through a lot over the years and while you didn’t know the full extent of everything just yet, you knew you could at least try to offer her some sort of comfort. So that’s what you strived for and it seems like that's what you succeeded to do. 

Once she pulled back from the hug, you reached up to wipe her tears, the smile still present on your face as you spoke. 

“Well, are you gonna try it?” You asked, to which she smiled and let out a slight chuckle. She then eagerly turned back around towards her plate and dug in as she usually did in the undercity. She knew you didn’t care about the messy nature that often came with Zaun cuisine, even if it wasn’t what you were raised on, it meant a lot to her that you at least tried it out. With one taste she immediately released a sound of pure bliss and dove back in for more.

You laughed, knowing that was Vi’s way of saying you had done a perfect job, even if she didn’t pause from her eating to just tell you so herself. 

[cielie-voss]

The guinea pig whisperer

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (and her guinea pigs)

Summary: When your family needs your help, you turn to your best friend Eddie Munson to take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Couldn't be that difficult, right?

Warnings: use of y/n, but other than that none I think

Wordcount: 4.4k

Taglist: @violettsoul @evileyeandthecattywhumps

Masterlist

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

“Okay, guys, we’ve got this,” Eddie said softly as he knelt down, trying to convince himself as much as the little creatures in front of him.

“We totally got this.”

Who was he kidding? He totally didn’t have this. What had possessed him to agree to this quest?

As the little furballs scurried back into their houses, teeth chattering in disapproval of the strange guy invading their space, Eddie leaned back against the rustling beanbag and sighed.

Eddie loved animals—really, he did. Sometimes, he even loved them more than people. But most animals didn’t seem to love him back. He was usually too loud, too hectic, too fidgety, and he ended up scaring them away.

“Come on, I’m not a bad guy,” he tried to convince the crested guinea pig that was cautiously sticking its nose out of the door, sniffling and clearly unimpressed with Eddie's presence.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, okay? You’re the one who needs special care. I’m just doing what I’ve been told,” Eddie said, as if reasoning with the little ball of fur would somehow help. Did the guinea pig even understand him? Probably not—it’s just a guinea pig. Guinea pigs couldn’t understand humans, right?

When you had asked him to take care of your guinea pigs for a few days while you were out of town, he figured it wouldn’t be that hard. Feed them a couple of times a day, refill their water bottle—how complicated could it be?

But, oh boy, was he wrong.

You were the most generous person he’d ever met, always caring for every creature that crossed your path. For as long as he’d known you, you’d always had special needs animals in your care. Abandoned rabbits, blind cats, deaf dogs, birds with deformed wings, abused animals—you always tried to give these innocent souls a place of refuge.

The other day, you got a call from your family, needing your help with your grandma’s funeral. In a panic, you reached out to Eddie, asking if he could take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Knowing Eddie’s kind nature and willingness to help, you entrusted him with the responsibility of looking after Elvis and the other guinea pigs in your absence.

Who could possibly refuse such a request?

Certainly not Eddie.

Before you left, you handed him a list of instructions on how to take care of the guinea pigs, especially Elvis, your oldest guinea pig who needed special attention due to his dental issues.

Veggies cut in thin slices.

He eats pretty slowly, so make sure the others don’t steal his food.

Make sure nothing gets stuck where his teeth are growing back.

Nothing complicated, right? But he hadn’t expected Elvis to be such a diva. When you led him into the living room, where the huge guinea pig cage took up half the space, the other guinea pigs had excitedly approached the glass pane enclosing the cage. But Elvis stayed at the back, laying majestically in his snuggle sack, eyeing Eddie warily, clearly unimpressed by his presence.

As soon as you left and Eddie tried to introduce himself, Elvis sprinted into one of the wooden houses, out of Eddie’s reach. Realizing this task might be more complicated than he’d thought, Eddie sat down and observed the guinea pigs for a while. Maybe they just needed to get used to his presence? Maybe they were just shy and needed to see that he wasn’t a threat?

He glanced at the list you gave him: Treats are in the drawer next to the cage.

Treats sounded like a good idea. He grabbed a handful of pea flakes and tried to lure the guinea pigs out, carefully whispering reassuring words to them as if they could understand him.

Bit by bit, the first noses peeked out of the houses, sniffing the delicious treats in his hand. But it took some more time before the first guinea pig dared to approach Eddie, sneaking up to him cautiously. Excited, Eddie held his breath, freezing like a statue so as not to scare the fragile, timid creature. Just as he was struggling to hold his breath any longer, the guinea pig grabbed one of the flakes and, with its head held high, ran back into one of the houses.

He knew he had to be patient to gain their trust, but no matter what he tried, Elvis wouldn’t come out, making the task nearly impossible.

The rest of the day, Eddie spent in the living room, switching between the couch and the bean bag next to the cage. Whenever he moved around, he made sure to be as quiet as possible. Sitting still was something Eddie wasn’t really good at—he was always fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on.

After a while, he decided to read something to them. Maybe the sound of his voice would help the piggies get used to him? At least it would help him stay still. He figured it didn’t matter what he read aloud, so he inspected the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“Romeo and Juliet?” He glanced over his shoulder, searching for approval.

“No, maybe… What about Dracula? No, that’s probably too scary for you guys.” His eyes scanned the other titles. “Red Dragon? No, not appropriate. The Shining? Or maybe Carrie?” He furrowed his brows as he picked up one of the books and turned it around to read the blurb.

“Goddamn, these are some pretty bloody and violent books for such a gentle girl,” he muttered, surprised by your choice in literature. He put Cujo back on the shelf before finding Howl’s Moving Castle.

That might do the trick.

To lure the piggies out of their houses, he placed a bowl of thinly sliced vegetables in the middle of the cage and sat down on the bean bag, reading to them in a soft voice. But still, Elvis remained stubborn, refusing to come out of his house.

“Damn, you really are one headstrong little guy, huh?” Eddie peeked through the entrance of Elvis’s hiding place. “I won’t hurt you. I just wanna make sure you get enough food.”

They locked eyes in a silent standoff—two stubborn souls, neither willing to give in. Eddie cocked his head, looking at Elvis with pleading puppy eyes.

“Come on, dude. Do it for Y/N,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice, as he held out his hand, offering some pea flakes. But Elvis simply turned his back on Eddie. Groaning, Eddie leaned back into the bean bag. How was he supposed to take care of this little guy?

The next couple of hours were a trial of patience for Eddie. Bit by bit the other guinea pigs started to become comfortable around Eddie - accepting the neatly cut veggie strips he offered them in an attempt to gain their trust. They even let him touch them and ate right out of his hand after some time. But Elvis? Hell no. There was no sign he started to trust Eddie. No matter what Eddie tried - pea flakes, grapes, cucumber or even blueberries - Elvis wouldn’t even look at him.

Slowly Eddie became frustrated, even anxiously because Elvis simply wouldn’t eat anything other than hay. After countless rejections Eddie searched through your kitchen, not actually knowing what he was looking for. He let out a sigh, his fingers running through his hair, about to give up, when finally he found a big bush of parsley taking up the space of the kitchen's windowsill. “Okay, one last try” he declared and gently picked a few twigs.

With the parsley in hand Eddie sat down on the bean bag again. “Hopefully this’ll work” he said before he tried to lure Elvis out of his hiding place. And miraculously it was working. Slowly Elvis’ nose peeked out of the little plushy tunnel he was hiding in. And it didn’t take long before, paw after paw, he followed the smell of the parsley in Eddie's hand.

“So you’re just like everyone else,” Eddie stated, grinning like an idiot, “Everyone is corruptible, even a guinea pig like you.” Relieved Eddie watched the little guy munch on that parsley. The little triumph filled Eddie with so much pride, he was convinced that there was nothing stopping him from successfully completing this quest. Even though Elvis was still on high alert, inspecting Eddie attentively and freezing every now and then when Eddie dared to move ever so slightly, it was another small step in the right direction, another piece of the puzzle that was earning the trust of these tiny creatures—Elvis, most of all.

Every morning, he would sit by the cage, reading softly from Howl’s Moving Castle, carefully offering treats, and speaking in his gentlest tone. The other guinea pigs had started to warm up to him, now eagerly gathering around whenever they saw or heard him coming. But Elvis remained stubborn, only occasionally poking his nose out to observe the others before retreating back into his hideaway.

Eddie found himself growing more and more determined. There was something about the challenge that made him even more committed to winning Elvis’s trust. Maybe it was because you had entrusted him with such an important task, or maybe it was because he recognized a kindred spirit in the little guy—a fellow outcast, wary of letting others in.

On the third day, a breakthrough happened. Eddie was lying on the floor next to the cage, chin resting on his hands, his voice low and soothing as he read another chapter. He hadn’t noticed at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, Elvis began to inch closer to the entrance of his wooden house. Eddie kept reading, trying not to make any sudden movements. After what felt like an eternity, Elvis crept out just enough to sniff the air, his tiny whiskers twitching.

Eddie’s heart raced. He didn’t move, barely even breathed, as Elvis cautiously approached the bowl of veggies. The little guy sniffed around, eyes constantly flicking up to keep Eddie in sight. But eventually, he started to nibble on a piece of lettuce, his guard seemingly lowered. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a surge of triumph. Maybe, just maybe, they were slowly starting to understand each other.

But getting Elvis to eat in his presence was one thing; getting him to trust Eddie enough to be touched was another. Every time Eddie tried to reach out, Elvis would dart back into his house, and they would be back to square one. Frustration gnawed at Eddie, but he refused to give up. He tried everything he could think of—different treats, talking to Elvis in even softer tones, staying as still as a statue whenever the guinea pig ventured out. But nothing seemed to work.

One afternoon, after another failed attempt to coax Elvis out, Eddie slumped onto the couch, feeling defeated. He had a sprig of parsley in his hand, the latest in his arsenal of treats, but Elvis wasn’t biting—literally or figuratively. Eddie absentmindedly twirled the parsley between his fingers, thinking about what he might be doing wrong. Then, a thought struck him. He remembered how you had once mentioned that animals, especially small ones like guinea pigs, relied heavily on scent. Maybe Elvis was so attached to you because he associated your scent with safety.

Eddie searched through your apartment until he found a little cupboard in the bathroom, filled with makeup, different sorts of hairspray and a few little flacons of perfume. He stared at it for a moment, the idea forming in his mind. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? But then again, everything else had failed. What did he have to lose?

With a determined sigh, Eddie grabbed the bottle and spritzed a small amount on his hoodie. The familiar scent filled the air, a mix of something floral and earthy, like freshly cut grass. He couldn’t help but smile a little—this was so absurd it just might work.

Feeling a bit silly, but hopeful, Eddie returned to the cage. He gently placed the parsley in front of Elvis’s hideaway and then sat back, waiting. Eventually, Elvis emerged, sniffing the air as usual. But this time, something was different. His tiny nose twitched more rapidly, almost excited, and he stepped out a little farther than usual, his gaze fixed on Eddie. The guinea pig’s hesitation seemed to lessen, and to Eddie’s astonishment, Elvis slowly made his way over to him, stopping just short of where Eddie’s hand rested on the floor.

Eddie’s heart pounded as Elvis sniffed at his hand, clearly intrigued by the scent. He stayed perfectly still, allowing the little creature to take his time. Finally, with what seemed like a deep breath of resolve, Elvis nudged the parsley with his nose and then—almost miraculously—climbed into Eddie’s lap. Eddie was so shocked he barely dared to move. But Elvis, after a moment of careful observation, seemed to decide that this strange new version of Eddie was okay, settling down on his lap.

Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Gently, he raised a hand and started to stroke Elvis’s soft fur. This time, the guinea pig didn’t flinch or run. Instead, he let out a tiny, contented squeak, closing his eyes and stretching out his legs as Eddie continued to pet him. Eddie grinned like a fool, feeling like he’d just won the lottery.

Eddie had settled into a routine with the guinea pigs over the next couple of days. He'd spend his mornings preparing their veggies, carefully slicing them just the way you had shown him, then patiently coaxing Elvis out of his hideaway with a mix of treats, soft words and the scent of your perfume. Though Elvis had finally started to warm up to him, Eddie still found himself with plenty of downtime as the guinea pigs quietly went about their business.

That afternoon, as the guinea pigs dozed off after their midday snack, Eddie found himself drawn to his guitar, which he had brought along just in case he needed something to pass the time. He hadn’t played much since he’d been focused on the guinea pigs, but the itch to strum a few chords was starting to get to him. So, he grabbed his guitar and lay down on the floor, fingers absentmindedly picking at the strings.

He started with something soft, just a few random chords, not really thinking about what he was playing. The sound of the guitar strings filled the room, blending with the soft rustle of hay from the guinea pig cage. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling the familiar comfort of the guitar beneath his fingers.

But as he relaxed into the music, his fingers instinctively drifted into a familiar riff—Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls." The heavy, thrumming notes reverberated through the room, and Eddie couldn’t help but get into it, his fingers moving more confidently across the strings as he lost himself in the music.

He was just starting to really enjoy himself when he noticed something strange. The peaceful quiet of the room had been interrupted by a series of sharp, disapproving clicks. Eddie paused mid-riff and looked over at the cage, where all five guinea pigs were wide awake, teeth chattering in what could only be described as intense disapproval.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his fingers hovering above the strings. "Seriously, guys?" he muttered, half-amused, half-offended. He plucked another string experimentally, and the chattering grew louder, the guinea pigs shifting restlessly in their cage.

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "What, you don’t like Metallica? I thought you guys had better taste than that." But the guinea pigs weren’t having it—every time he strummed a chord, their chatter became more insistent, as if they were staging a tiny, furry protest.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright, I get it. No Metallica,” he conceded, setting his guitar aside with a grin. “Guess you’re more into the easy-listening stuff, huh?” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m getting critiqued by a bunch of guinea pigs,” he muttered to himself, a smile still tugging at his lips.

The room fell back into a peaceful silence, the guinea pigs settling down once more as Eddie let the moment wash over him. He was still smiling, even as he turned his thoughts back to the challenge of getting Elvis to trust him completely.

A few minutes later, he picked up his guitar again, but this time, instead of metal, he gently strummed a softer melody—something calm and soothing, more to the guinea pigs' taste. The chatter subsided, and Eddie felt a small sense of victory as he noticed them relaxing again.

As the days passed, Elvis began to venture closer and closer to Eddie. The once hesitant little guinea pig now seemed less afraid of the strange man who had taken over his home. Eddie noticed the subtle changes—how Elvis would come out of his hiding spot more often, how he’d eat his veggies with less hesitation, and how he’d sometimes watch Eddie with what looked like growing curiosity.

One afternoon, after hours of reading aloud and playing soft melodies on his guitar, Eddie felt the weight of the day catching up to him. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The rhythmic sounds of the guinea pigs munching on their food, coupled with the cozy warmth of the bean bag, lulled Eddie into a sleepy daze.

Before he knew it, he had dozed off, his head resting against the back of the bean bag, his breathing slow and steady.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Elvis had also grown sleepy. The little guinea pig had gradually moved closer to the side of the cage nearest Eddie, his tiny body finally relaxing as he curled up in a pile of hay. For the first time since you had left, Elvis drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, feeling safe with Eddie nearby.

About an hour later, Eddie stirred awake. His neck ached slightly from the angle he’d been sleeping in, but as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the nap had been surprisingly refreshing. He turned to check on the guinea pigs, expecting to see them scurrying around or nibbling on some hay.

But then he noticed Elvis, who was still lying in the same spot, completely still. Eddie’s smile faded as a pang of worry shot through him. He leaned closer to the cage, his heart starting to race. Elvis wasn’t moving at all.

“Elvis?” Eddie called softly, tapping the side of the cage. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

There was no response. No twitch of the nose, no flutter of the ears—nothing. Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. Was Elvis…? No, he couldn’t be. But the stillness, the lack of movement, made Eddie’s stomach twist in fear.

Panic set in as Eddie quickly reached out to gently pet Elvis’ white crest, his hands trembling. “Elvis, come on, don’t do this to me,” he murmured, trying to nudge the guinea pig gently. But Elvis remained motionless, his tiny body limp and unresponsive.

“Oh god,” Eddie breathed, his voice tinged with desperation. “Y/N’s gonna kill me. I’m so sorry, Elvis, I didn’t—”

He froze mid-sentence, his brain scrambling for a solution. Maybe Elvis was just in a deep sleep, right? Maybe he just needed a little incentive to wake up. Eddie’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that might help.

Then he remembered the parsley. Seemingly Elvis’ favorite thing to snack.

Practically diving for the drawer, Eddie grabbed a sprig of parsley, his hands shaking as he brought it up to Elvis’s nose. “Come on, little guy,” Eddie begged, holding his breath and praying to whatever god might hear him right now. “I know you love this stuff. Just wake up, please.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and he was on the verge of full-blown panic. But then, just as he was about to lose hope, Elvis’s nose twitched. It was barely noticeable at first, but Eddie’s sharp eyes caught it. Then, slowly, Elvis’s whiskers twitched, and he took a long, deep sniff of the parsley.

Eddie nearly sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered, watching as Elvis’s eyes fluttered open, the guinea pig groggily lifting his head to nibble on the parsley. The sight of Elvis happily munching away, casually as if nothing happened, made Eddie laugh out loud, though his laughter was shaky with the remnants of his panic.

"You scared the hell out of me, you little rascal,” Eddie said, his voice filled with both amusement and lingering relief. He gently stroked Elvis’s fur as the guinea pig chewed contentedly, seemingly unaware of the scare he’d just given Eddie.

Eddie sat back on the bean bag, his heart rate gradually returning to normal as he watched Elvis eat. The little guy had just been in a deep sleep, completely comfortable in Eddie’s presence. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—Elvis finally trusted him enough to sleep so soundly, something that seemed impossible just days ago.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he teased, though his tone was affectionate. “But hey, at least I know how to wake you up now.”

For the rest of the day, Elvis stayed close to Eddie, either nestled in his hoodie or perched on his chest as Eddie lay on the couch. They watched TV together, with Eddie flipping through channels until he found an old movie that wouldn’t be too loud or scary.

When you returned that evening, the first thing you noticed was the unusual stillness in your living room. Expecting the usual rustling of hay and the soft chattering of your guinea pigs, you tiptoed in, not wanting to disturb whatever was happening. As you rounded the corner, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks, your heart melting instantly.

Eddie Munson, the chaotic, metal-as-fuck guy you knew, was stretched out on your couch, his wild curls splayed out on the cushion, with Elvis nestled snugly inside his hoodie, just below his chin. The two of them were watching some cheesy sitcom, but it was clear they were both on the verge of dozing off. Elvis looked completely at ease, his tiny nose twitching as he snuggled deeper into Eddie’s hoodie.

You had to stifle a giggle, half from the absurdity of the scene and half from the warmth it brought to your chest. You almost didn’t want to disturb them, but curiosity got the better of you. “How the hell did you do that?” you whispered, eyes wide with amazement. Elvis had always been so fixated on you, never letting anyone else get near him, let alone cuddle up like that. Not even your closest friends or family had managed to gain his trust like this.

Eddie stirred at the sound of your voice, blinking groggily as he turned his head to look at you. A slow, sleepy grin spread across his face when he saw the look of disbelief on yours. He glanced down at Elvis, who remained contentedly curled up, his little body rising and falling with Eddie’s steady breaths. “Oh, this?” Eddie said with a playful smirk, his voice still heavy with sleep. “I found out he’s a sucker for parsley. And, well… your perfume.”

Your eyes widened as you stepped closer, leaning in to catch the familiar scent lingering on Eddie’s hoodie. Sure enough, there it was - your perfume, the one you always wore. The realization hit you like a warm wave, making your heart flutter. “You’re wearing my perfume?” you asked, half amused, half touched by the gesture.

Eddie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? Figured if I couldn’t be you, I could at least smell like you. Gotta say, I think it’s working. Might have to start wearing this stuff all the time, I think it suits me, don’t you?” He winked, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously charming,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to disagree. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it? This little guy’s all about the Munson charm now.” He gently stroked Elvis’s fur with the back of his finger, the guinea pig letting out a contented little purr in response.

“Looks like he’s not the only one,” you muttered under your breath, though a smile tugged at your lips as you said it.

Eddie’s grin widened as he caught your words, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Is that so?” he drawled, his tone light but his gaze warm.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Maybe,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper.

For a moment, the room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of the sitcom. You gently draped a blanket over Eddie and Elvis, who both looked completely content in their shared little cocoon. The sight of Eddie, usually so loud and full of energy, lying there with your favorite guinea pig snuggled up against him, melted away any lingering doubts you had about him.

“Thanks for taking care of them,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Anytime,” Eddie replied. “I kinda get it now. Why you’re so into these little guys. Elvis is pretty cool once you get past the whole ‘tiny ball of anxiety’ thing.” His voice was sincere, though the playful glint in his eye remained. “But just so you know, I’m expecting a bonus for going above and beyond the call of duty here.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what kind of bonus are we talking about?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly as he looked up at you. “How about dinner? You know, as a thank you. And maybe you could tell me more about this perfume - I’m thinking of making it my signature scent.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Dinner, huh? I suppose I owe you that much.”

Eddie’s smile softened, his teasing fading into something more genuine. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly, “but I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. And Elvis, of course. We make a pretty good team.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and as you looked down at the two of them, the warmth in your chest spread until it felt like you might burst. Maybe there was something special here - something you hadn’t expected to find.

“Well,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess dinner it is.”

xxx

I wrote this just for myself because I miss my little diva so so much. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. The picture above is one of my favorites, Elvis in his favorite blanket, sleeping on my hand.

[madhatterbri]

Tag Team | D.P.

Summary: Fem!reader is part of the TJD 2.0 & has been giving attitude towards her family since Raquel joined in. After a disagreement Liv suggests reader to take a walk, Reader then bumps into Tiffany Stratton who doesn’t have time with a reject. When reader demands a match with Tiffany from Pearce, Damian comes in asking for a match with Ludwig. Adam Pearce decides to do a mixed tag instead. Reader & Damian refuse to team up but realize they have no choice. After reader & Damian win, reader looks at Priest with dark eyes & kisses him. Backstage; TJD 2.0 watch with their mouths hanging open.

Requested by: Anonymous

Happy Friday Night Smackdown, babes. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @keytothewardy @missbmc94

Anyone who had the misfortune of walking past Y/N knew to move out of the way as fast as they could. Nostrils flared, face hotter than the sun, and her chest heaving, she needed to avoid anyone and everyone at all costs. Apparently, Tiffany Stratton didn't get the memo.

"Awww, did your new family kick you out already?" Tiffany Stratton pouted. Y/N tried to push past her. The blonde wrestler stood in her way.

"I don't have time for this. Move," Y/N growled.

Tiffany didn't move a muscle. "It's Tiffy Time. Everyone has time, but it's me who doesn't have time for a little reject,"

Y/N balled her fist but stopped. Nia Jax was probably lingering somewhere in the shadows. The disgruntled wrestler currently had no allies with her since Liv and Raquel were now best buddies. She shook her head and walked away. There was only one person who could resolve this.

"I want a match with Tiffany. Tonight, next week, I don't care. The clock has struck midnight on that little bi-"

"I want a match against Ludwig, Pearce," Damian interrupted.

"Excuse me. I was here first," Y/N pointed out. Damian rolled his eyes and put his hand in her face.

"As I was saying. I need a match against Ludwig,"

Adam Pearce looked between the two wrestlers. An idea popped into his head.

When he saw Y/N slap Damian's hand out of her face, he knew this was the perfect plan.

"You want a match with Tiffany," Adam started and looked at Y/N. He turned to Damian. "And you want a match with Ludwig. Looks like we got an intergender match next week on RAW,"

"No, no, no, no, hold on. I'm a former champion. I don't need someone that'll slow me down," Damian insisted.

"I'm a former champion," Y/N mocked. "Congratulations, you lost it when you acted like a bully to your friends,"

"You two play nice and get your matches or not. What is it going to be?"

Damian and Y/N stared at each other. With hate filled eyes, they knew they had no choice but to accept the conditions.

"You will be hearing from my lawyers," she spoke. With a stomp of her foot, Y/N stormed away.

Damian sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. "Women,"

"ADAM!" Chelsea Green's shrill voice screeched.

The RAW general manager pinched his nose. "Tell me about it,"

Y/N stared in shock when the referee raised her hand along with Damian. They beat Ludwig and Tiffany clean. No outside interference or drama. She had been on a losing spree, and she couldn't believe it. Her tag team partner hadn't been as annoying to work with as she thought. Damian was an excellent partner and sometimes even sweet.

Her eyes worked their way up the Archer of Infamy. His bare chest heaved while trying to catch his breath. He just performed South of Heaven on Ludwig to seal the win. Y/N shook her hand out of the referee's grasp. She walked over to Damian.

With dark eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to hug her. She kissed him. A sweet peck with her eyes closed. She pulled away before Damian could process what happened to him.

As the audience roared, Y/N rolled under the bottom rope. She sat on the apron of the ring. Her head was in her hands as she thought about what she had just done. Damian was public enemy number one to her group.

Y/N slipped off the ring. She started to walk up the ramp. Her eyes avoided looking into the camera and the towdy crowd.

Meanwhile, in the back, the new Judgment Day stared. Their mouths hung open in shock.

[bratzkoo]

scheming heart | jeonghan

Author: bratzkoo Pairing:  CFO! Jeonghan x Cardiologist! reader Genre: fluff, chaos Rating: PG-13 Word count: 7.4k~ Warnings/note: second fic for the new series i'm working on, first fic is offside (seungcheol's chaos) and now, we have jeonghan's part of the chaotic world.

summary: Jeonghan has finally found his match in that stubborn cardiologist not knowing that everything was orchestrated by his scheming grandmother in Suite 520.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The VIP suite of Seoul National University Hospital looked like a five-star hotel room had aggressively swallowed a medical facility. Amidst the designer furniture and medical equipment that probably cost more than most people's houses, Granny Han was doing what any respectable 75-year-old chaebol matriarch would do at 7 AM – scheming on her secret iPhone while pretending to be asleep.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥 [Members: Rich_Granny_Han, Nurse_Anna, Boo_CEO, Won_NOT_involved]

Rich_Granny_Han: Operation starts today! New cardiologist incoming! Boo_CEO: OMG YES! Is she pretty? Smart? Ready to handle our dramatic boy? Rich_Granny_Han: Harvard graduate. Young. Scary. Boo_CEO: PERFECT FOR JEONGHAN 😍 Won_NOT_involved: I'm a senior nurse. I don't do matchmaking. Rich_Granny_Han: Sure, dear. BTW I saw you setting up that hidden camera 😘 Won_NOT_involved: ...that's for medical documentation. Nurse_Anna: Babe, we all know you're lying 😂 Won_NOT_involved: I'm turning off my phone. Rich_Granny_Han: No you're not 💅

The door opened, and Granny quickly shoved her phone under her designer hospital blanket (yes, she brought her own, the hospital ones were "peasant fabric").

"Good morning, Halmoni!" Anna breezed in, looking suspiciously cheerful for someone working hospital hours. "Ready for vitals?"

"Anna dear," Granny coughed delicately, a performance worthy of a Best Actress nomination. "Tell me about this new doctor."

"Dr. Y/N," Anna checked the blood pressure monitor while simultaneously texting the group chat behind her back – a skill developed specifically for this job. "Brilliant, scary when caffeine-deprived, and apparently made a chaebol's son cry during her fellowship."

"Perfect!" Granny's eyes gleamed. "Jeonghan needs someone who can handle him. That boy thinks being CFO means Chief Fashion Officer."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: ALERT! Target sighted in parking lot. Three cups of coffee. Dark circles. Optimal chaos conditions! Boo_CEO: On my way with premium bubble tea and emotional support! Won_NOT_involved: Don't you have a company to run? Boo_CEO: Bold of you to assume I do actual work Rich_Granny_Han: Everyone in position! Anna, increase heart monitor sensitivity! Won_NOT_involved: That's against protocol... Rich_Granny_Han: I'll add another zero to your Christmas bonus Won_NOT_involved: ...sensitivity increased.

Dr. Y/N strode down the hallway, white coat pristine despite the early hour. As the attending cardiologist, she'd already reviewed several cases since 6 AM. Her coffee consumption was legendary among the cardiology department – not because she was a fresh graduate (she wasn't), but because dealing with entitled family members required chemical assistance.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: Target acquired! Our cardiologist looks ready to destroy rich people today Boo_CEO: Jeonghan needs that energy in his life tbh Won_NOT_involved: Shouldn't you be checking on your other patients? Nurse_Anna: Babe, this IS patient care. Emotional patient care. Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, go check my IV drip Won_NOT_involved: It's perfectly fine... Rich_Granny_Han: That wasn't a suggestion 😊 Won_NOT_involved: ...checking IV drip now.

Y/N entered Suite 520 to find what looked like a carefully orchestrated scene: Granny Han propped up regally against designer pillows, Anna adjusting monitors with suspicious enthusiasm, and Wonwoo dutifully checking IV lines while pretending not to notice Anna's not-so-subtle winks.

"Good morning, Mrs. Han. I'm Dr. Y/N, your attending cardiologist."

"Please, call me Halmoni," Granny's voice was perfectly pitched between frail and commanding. "Everyone does. Even Wonwoo here, and he tries so hard to be professional."

Wonwoo, caught in the crossfire, focused intently on the IV drip.

The morning assessment went smoothly – suspiciously so. Y/N reviewed Granny's cardiac status while fielding questions that seemed oddly personal for a medical consultation: "Are you married, doctor?" "Do you like coffee? My grandson LOVES coffee." "What's your opinion on dramatic men in expensive suits?"

By 2 PM, all hell broke loose.

The suite's door flew open with theatrical force. Wonwoo, who had been checking Granny's vitals, nearly jumped out of his skin – though whether from the noise or Anna's excited squeal was unclear.

Enter Han Jeonghan, looking like he'd walked off a magazine cover. His Armani suit probably cost more than most nurses' monthly salary – a fact Wonwoo noted with an eye-roll so powerful it could have registered on the cardiac monitor.

"Who," Jeonghan demanded, brandishing his phone, "changed my grandmother's medication without consulting the family?"

Y/N, who had spent years dealing with entitled relatives, simply raised an eyebrow. "I did. Because I'm her doctor, and unlike WebMD, I actually went to medical school."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: OMGOMGOMG IT'S HAPPENING Boo_CEO: The TENSION! The DRAMA! Won_NOT_involved: I'm literally just trying to do my job here Rich_Granny_Han: Time for my award-winning performance! Won_NOT_involved: Please don't mess with the monitors again... Rich_Granny_Han: Too late! Nurse_Anna: Babe just enjoy the show Won_NOT_involved: I still have other patients Rich_Granny_Han: Shush, love is happening Won_NOT_involved: That's not how nursing works... Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520 😘

The cardiac monitor suddenly started beeping. Wonwoo shot Granny a look that clearly said "I know what you did," but professionally checked the readings anyway.

"Oh dear," Granny fluttered a hand over her heart. "All this tension... it's affecting my poor heart..."

Y/N and Jeonghan immediately stopped arguing, their professional and filial instincts kicking in respectively.

"Blood pressure's a bit elevated," Wonwoo reported dutifully, while Anna practically vibrated with excitement beside him.

"Maybe," Y/N suggested dryly, "certain people could be less dramatic during your recovery period."

"Maybe," Jeonghan countered, "certain doctors could be more communicative about medical decisions."

The monitor beeped again.

"Children, please," Granny's voice was weak but somehow carried perfect emotional manipulation. "Wonwoo, be a dear and get me some water? And Anna, I need my pills... the ones in the far cabinet..."

Both nurses recognized a dismissal when they heard one. As they left (Anna practically dragging Wonwoo), their phones buzzed:

Rich_Granny_Han: Mission proceeding perfectly! Phase 1 complete! Nurse_Anna: They're so cute when they're angry! Boo_CEO: OMW with premium drama fuel (coffee)! Won_NOT_involved: Can we please just have one normal patient? Rich_Granny_Han: No ❤️

Left alone with the feuding doctor and CFO, Granny settled in to watch the show. Her "concerned grandmother" facade barely concealing her glee.

"Since you're so invested in your grandmother's care," Y/N's voice dripped with professional sarcasm, "let me explain the medication changes in terms even a CFO can understand."

Jeonghan's perfectly maintained eyebrow twitched. "Please do. Use small words for us non-Harvard graduates."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The sexual tension! I can't breathe! Nurse_Anna: Should I come back with the oxygen? Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, that was metaphorical Won_NOT_involved: Thank god, the paperwork for unnecessary oxygen... Boo_CEO: INCOMING with reinforcements! And bubble tea! Rich_Granny_Han: Perfect timing!

The suite's door burst open again, revealing Seungkwan balancing a tray of expensive bubble tea and wearing a suit that rivaled Jeonghan's.

"Halmoni!" he sang out, then dramatically gasped at the scene before him. "Oh my, am I interrupting something?"

"Perfect timing, Seungkwan-ah," Granny's voice somehow conveyed both frailty and mischief. "Stay and help me understand the doctor's explanation. My old heart would feel better with more family present."

Y/N watched as her simple medical consultation turned into what felt like a business presentation, complete with:

One overdressed CFO pretending to take notes while actually googling medical terms

His equally overdressed best friend providing dramatic gasps as punctuation

Two nurses who kept finding excuses to check the monitors

And a grandmother whose "heart symptoms" seemed suspiciously tied to whenever her grandson and doctor moved closer together

"So," Y/N concluded her explanation, "any questions about the medication changes?"

"Just one," Jeonghan smiled his business smile. "Where did you get your coffee? You seem to run on it as much as I do."

Before Y/N could respond, three things happened simultaneously:

The cardiac monitor beeped enthusiastically

Seungkwan choked on his bubble tea

Anna materialized with a coffee menu from the hospital's premium cafe

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: CODE COFFEE! I repeat, CODE COFFEE! Boo_CEO: Their first potential coffee date! I'm crying 😭 Won_NOT_involved: This isn't what medical codes are for... Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo, go get me a cardiac reading Won_NOT_involved: Your heart is fine Rich_Granny_Han: Not for my heart, for the drama Won_NOT_involved: sigh

"Oh, speaking of coffee," Granny perked up with suspicious energy for someone supposedly weak, "Jeonghan-ah, that fancy machine you brought me is too complicated. Maybe Dr. Y/N could help you figure it out?"

Y/N looked at the state-of-the-art espresso machine in the corner – probably worth more than her monthly salary. Jeonghan was already moving toward it with the confidence of a man who thought knowing how to make coffee was a personality trait.

"I only drink americanos," Y/N stated firmly.

"What a coincidence," Seungkwan stage-whispered, "that's Jeonghan's favorite too!"

The monitor beeped again.

"That's it," Y/N turned to Wonwoo, "please check the monitor's sensitivity."

"Oh, it's very sensitive," Wonwoo muttered, then quickly added at Granny's sharp look, "I'll... run some tests."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Progress report!

Coffee connection established ✓

Mutual annoyance at peak levels ✓

Jeonghan fixed his hair 3 times ✓

Doctor checked her reflection in the monitor ✓ 

Boo_CEO: THE EXCELLENCE OF THIS PLOT Nurse_Anna: Should I accidentally spill something so they have to move closer? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save that for tomorrow dear Won_NOT_involved: Why am I even reading this chat... Nurse_Anna: Because you love me 😘 Won_NOT_involved: Accurate. Always will be accurate. Rich_Granny_Han: Simp

"Dr. Y/N," Granny called out sweetly, "your afternoon must be busy. Why don't you take some coffee with you? Jeonghan makes excellent americanos."

"I'm quite capable of getting my own coffee, thank you," Y/N replied professionally.

"Are you?" Jeonghan smirked, already starting the machine. "Because that hospital cafe americano you're holding looks tragic."

Y/N looked at her cup, then at his perfectly pressed suit, then at her patient charts. Pride warred with caffeine addiction.

Caffeine won.

"Fine. One coffee. Purely for professional courtesy."

"Of course," Jeonghan's smile was far too satisfied. "Professional courtesy."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: DAY ONE SUCCESS! Nurse_Anna: They're so cute I'm gonna cry Boo_CEO: Already planning the wedding Won_NOT_involved: It's literally just coffee Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe, you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I hate this family Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't Won_NOT_involved: No, I don't, but I want it noted that I complained and I love Anna, I want it highlighted in the note that I love Anna. Nurse_Anna: I love you! Rich_Granny_Han: This is a Jeonghan fic.

As Y/N left with her admittedly perfect americano, Granny Han settled back against her pillows with a satisfied smile. Phase one was complete. Tomorrow, they'd begin Code: "Accidental Touch."

Poor Y/N and Jeonghan had no idea what they were in for.

- Y/N arrived at the hospital the next morning to find a paper cup from an expensive coffee shop sitting on her office desk. Next to it was a note in pretentiously perfect handwriting:

"Since your taste in coffee is as questionable as your medication choices. - JH"

She crumpled the note, then uncrumpled it, then took a sip of the coffee.

Damn. It was perfect.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: COFFEE SPOTTED! Code: Caffeine Love is go! Rich_Granny_Han: Did she drink it?? Nurse_Anna: She tried to look angry but I saw her save the note Boo_CEO: THE ROMANCE Won_NOT_involved: He's basically saying her medical decisions suck Rich_Granny_Han: That's flirting for rich boys, dear Won_NOT_involved: That's terrible Rich_Granny_Han: That's why he’s single

Suite 520 was suspiciously quiet when Y/N entered for morning rounds. Granny was reading what appeared to be a medical textbook – upside down. Anna was "organizing supplies" while obviously watching the door.

"Good morning, Dr. Y/N!" Granny brightened. "Oh my, is that coffee from Angel-in-us? Jeonghan loves that cafe—"

"Your ECG results, Mrs. Han," Y/N interrupted professionally.

The suite's door opened, and Jeonghan walked in wearing a different devastatingly expensive suit. He paused at seeing Y/N with his coffee cup.

"I see you've upgraded your taste," he smirked.

"The coffee's acceptable. Your medical opinions still aren't."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THEY'RE FLIRTING THROUGH COFFEE Nurse_Anna: The tension is ART Rich_Granny_Han: Time for some chest pain I think Won_NOT_involved: Please don't Rich_Granny_Han: Too late, clutching chest dramatically now Won_NOT_involved: That's not how heart problems work... Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn, child

"Oh!" Granny pressed a hand to her chest. "Such tension... my heart..."

Y/N and Jeonghan both stepped forward, accidentally bumping into each other. Anna dropped a tray with perfect timing.

"Mrs. Han," Y/N began.

"Halmoni," Granny corrected weakly. "You're practically family now that you're sharing coffee with Jeonghan."

Jeonghan choked. Y/N's professional mask cracked slightly.

Later that afternoon, Y/N was reviewing charts when her office door burst open. Jeonghan stood there, waving his phone.

"Your afternoon consult notes say Halmoni's tired," he accused.

"That's generally what 'fatigue' means in medical terms, yes."

"She's never tired. She once conducted a 12-hour board meeting from a yoga headstand."

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mr. Han—"

"Jeonghan."

"Mr. Han," she emphasized, "normal people get tired. Even chaebol grandmothers."

"She's not normal people. She's—" He paused, noticing her empty coffee cup. "You finished the coffee."

"That's not medically relevant."

"I'll bring you another tomorrow."

"Are you trying to bribe your grandmother's doctor?"

"Is it working?"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: EMERGENCY! They're alone in her office!! Boo_CEO: WHERE ARE THE CAMERAS Rich_Granny_Han: Anna dear, perhaps Dr. Y/N needs some test results? Won_NOT_involved: We don't have any test results Rich_Granny_Han: Then make some Won_NOT_involved: That's literally fraud Rich_Granny_Han: That's literally romance Nurse_Anna: OMW with fake papers! Won_NOT_involved: That's fine, go do your thing babe!

The door flew open again, revealing Anna with a stack of papers. "Dr. Y/N! The results you needed!"

"I didn't order any—"

"Oh look," Anna squinted at the papers, "Mrs. Han's... everything... needs discussing. Right now. With family present."

Y/N looked at the "results". They were coffee-stained printouts of WebMD articles.

Evening rounds found Y/N entering Suite 520 to an unusual scene:

Granny "sleeping" while obviously filming on her phone

Seungkwan pretending to read a magazine (upside down)

Anna adjusting already-perfect monitors

Wonwoo looking like he wanted to transfer departments

And Jeonghan, attempting to understand her morning notes

"That's not how you read an ECG," she said from the doorway.

Jeonghan didn't look up. "I downloaded a medical app."

"WebMD doesn't count."

"This is a different medical app."

"Is it also WebMD in a trench coat?"

A laugh escaped before he could stop it. Y/N pretended not to notice how it transformed his face.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: HE LAUGHED! REAL LAUGH! NOT BUSINESS LAUGH! Boo_CEO: FIRST GENUINE LAUGH IN 84 YEARS Nurse_Anna: They're so cuuuuute Won_NOT_involved: He's still questioning her medical expertise Rich_Granny_Han: Yes but fondly now Nurse_Anna: Babe that's progress Won_NOT_involved: Your standards are concerning Rich_Granny_Han: Shush and help me plan tomorrow's heart episode

Granny "woke up" with perfect timing. "Doctor, since you're teaching Jeonghan medical terms, perhaps over coffee—"

"No," they said simultaneously.

"The heart wants what it wants," Granny sighed dramatically.

The monitor beeped.

"That's it," Y/N turned to Wonwoo, "please check the monitor's sensitivity again."

"It's working exactly as intended," he muttered, then added louder at Granny's look, "I mean, yes, doctor, right away."

As Y/N left for the night, she found another coffee cup on the nurses' station.

The note read: "For your overnight studies on how to be less scary to your patients. - JH"

She definitely didn't smile. And if she did, no one could prove it.

Except maybe the CCTV footage Wonwoo was pretending not to save for Anna’s enjoyment.

- Late that night, Y/N was finishing her paperwork when she decided to check on Granny one last time. It definitely had nothing to do with the possibility of running into a certain annoying CFO.

She found Suite 520's lights dimmed, but not dark. Jeonghan was there, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, squinting at a medical textbook like it had personally offended him.

"That's upside down," she said from the doorway.

He didn't even flinch. "I'm teaching myself to read medical terms in all directions. Very professional."

"Is that what CFOs do in their spare time?"

"Only the dashingly handsome ones."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: NIGHT SHIFT ALERT! They're alone! Boo_CEO: At this hour??? SCANDALOUS Rich_Granny_Han: pretending to sleep but recording everything Won_NOT_involved: Isn't anyone concerned about patient privacy? Rich_Granny_Han: Privacy is for people who aren't trying to get grandchildren Nurse_Anna: LMAO GRANNY Won_NOT_involved: I'm reporting this chat to HR Rich_Granny_Han: I own HR, dear. Keep up!

"Your grandmother's readings are stable," Y/N said professionally, checking the monitors. "Though someone keeps adjusting the sensitivity."

"Shocking," Jeonghan deadpanned, watching her work. "Almost as shocking as you being here at," he checked his Cartier watch, "11 PM?"

"I'm dedicated to my patients."

"Just my grandmother, or do you check on everyone this late?"

"Are you implying something, Mr. Han?"

"Jeonghan," he corrected. "And I'm implying you might be as obsessed with my grandmother as I am. It's okay, she has that effect on people."

From the bed, Granny let out a very fake snore.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The snore was too much wasn't it Boo_CEO: Oscar worthy, Halmoni! Nurse_Anna: Should I create an emergency? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save the emergencies for tomorrow Won_NOT_involved: Why are all of you like this? Nurse_Anna: Because we're invested in love Won_NOT_involved: We're invested in medical care Rich_Granny_Han: Why not both?

Y/N was about to leave when Jeonghan spoke again. "I ordered every cardiology textbook available."

"I noticed. The coffee table looks like a medical library exploded."

"I'm trying to understand." He sounded almost sincere. "She's all I have left."

Y/N paused at the door. "Your grandmother is in good hands, Mr. Han."

"Jeonghan."

"Mr. Han."

He smiled. A real one, not his business smile. "You're going to slip up and call me Jeonghan eventually."

"Unlikely."

"Want to bet? Loser buys coffee."

"That would be unprofessional."

"Is that a no?"

Y/N left without answering, but they both knew she was smiling.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're FLIRTING Boo_CEO: Through MEDICAL TERMS Nurse_Anna: I'M SCREAMING Won_NOT_involved: This is a hospital, please don't scream Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, did you get all that on camera? Won_NOT_involved: ...maybe Nurse_Anna: BABE YOU'RE FINALLY HELPING Won_NOT_involved: It's for medical documention. Rich_Granny_Han: Sure it is, dear. Sure it is. Won_NOT_involved: fine, it’s for Anna. Rich_Granny_Han: BLESSED

The next morning, Y/N found not one but two coffee cups on her desk.

First note: "For accepting that 'Mr. Han' will eventually become 'Jeonghan' - JH"

Second note: "For when you inevitably throw the first one at my head - JH"

She was not charmed. She absolutely was not.

But she kept both notes.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: SHE KEPT THE NOTES Boo_CEO: Not just kept - she SMILED Rich_Granny_Han: Time to escalate. Anna dear, remember that 'emergency' we planned? Won_NOT_involved: Oh no Rich_Granny_Han: Oh YES Boo_CEO: WHAT EMERGENCY?? Won_NOT_involved: I don't want to know Rich_Granny_Han: Trust me, this will be fun Won_NOT_involved: Your definition of fun concerns me Nurse_Anna: Babe just embrace the chaos Won_NOT_involved: I miss my old department Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now, about tomorrow's plan… -

3 AM at Seoul National University Hospital was typically quiet. Tonight, however...

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Places everyone! Code: Emergency Romance begins! Boo_CEO: At 3AM?? You're evil, Halmoni Rich_Granny_Han: Evil? No. Strategic? Yes. Nurse_Anna: Night shift ready! Won_NOT_involved: This is highly unethical Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, just make sure the lights are dimmed romantically Won_NOT_involved: That's not a medical setting Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520

The cardiac monitor in Suite 520 suddenly went off – louder than strictly necessary. Wonwoo, who was genuinely checking vitals, jumped.

"Halmoni, what did you—"

"Call Dr. Y/N," Granny commanded, looking far too alert for 3 AM. "And someone call my grandson."

"Your readings are actually fine—"

"Wonwoo." Granny's sweet smile held steel. "Make. The. Calls."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: Y/N's on her way! Night shift said she was doing paperwork anyway Boo_CEO: At 3AM?? She needs a life Rich_Granny_Han: She needs my grandson Won_NOT_involved: She needs sleep, actually Rich_Granny_Han: Details, details

Y/N arrived first, looking surprisingly put-together for the ungodly hour. Her white coat was pristine, but the six empty coffee cups on her desk told their own story.

"Mrs. Han, what's—"

"HALMONI!"

Jeonghan burst in, designer pajamas under a hastily thrown-on coat, hair actually messy for once.

"You called him too?" Y/N raised an eyebrow at the nurses.

"Hospital protocol," Anna said solemnly. Wonwoo suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: HIS HAIR IS MESSY THIS IS NOT A DRILL Nurse_Anna: Y/N definitely noticed 👀 Rich_Granny_Han: Time for my performance~ Won_NOT_involved: Please don't Rich_Granny_Han: Too late!

"Oh, my heart," Granny clutched her chest dramatically. "Such worry in young faces..."

"Your readings are actually—" Wonwoo started.

"SUCH WORRY," Granny repeated louder. "Perhaps if you both stayed..."

Y/N was already checking the monitors. Jeonghan hovered nearby, close enough that she could smell his ridiculously expensive cologne.

"Your grandmother is fine, Mr. Han."

"Jeonghan."

"Your grandmother is fine, Mr. Han."

"You're doing this on purpose now."

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Han."

His laugh was soft, unguarded. Different from his business laugh.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: THE SOFT LAUGH!! AT 3AM!! Boo_CEO: THEY'RE STANDING SO CLOSE Rich_Granny_Han: Anna dear, dim the lights more Won_NOT_involved: That's not safe Rich_Granny_Han: Love isn't safe Won_NOT_involved: That's not medical protocol Rich_Granny_Han: Suite 520 has its own protocols

"Doctor," Granny's voice was weak but her eyes sparkled. "Since you're both here, perhaps some coffee?"

"At 3 AM?" Y/N asked.

"I brought my own beans," Jeonghan offered, then caught himself. "I mean, I happen to have some in my car."

"You just happen to have premium coffee beans in your car at 3 AM?"

"A good CFO is always prepared."

"For middle-of-the-night coffee emergencies?"

"Especially those."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: HE KEEPS COFFEE FOR HER IN HIS CAR Nurse_Anna: I'M CRYING THIS IS SO CUTE Rich_Granny_Han: Phase 1 success. Anna, initiate phase 2 Won_NOT_involved: There are phases?? Rich_Granny_Han: Of course dear, this is a military operation Nurse_Anna: On it! accidentally spilling water now Won_NOT_involved: Why did I fall in love with a conspirator

"Oh!" Anna's theatrical gasp preceded the sound of water splashing.

Y/N and Jeonghan jumped apart – when had they gotten so close? – only to bump into each other again.

"Sorry, let me—" Jeonghan reached for napkins.

"No, I can—" Y/N moved at the same time.

Their hands touched. Both froze.

Granny's monitor beeped suspiciously fast.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: THE HAND TOUCH!!! Boo_CEO: THIS IS BETTER THAN DRAMAS Nurse_Anna: Should I spill more water?? Won_NOT_involved: NO Rich_Granny_Han: Save it for next time Won_NOT_involved: There's a next time?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, we're just getting started

"Well," Y/N cleared her throat professionally. "Since your grandmother is stable, I should—"

"Stay for coffee," Jeonghan said quickly. "I mean, since we're both awake anyway."

"That would be unprofessional."

"Everything about this situation is unprofessional."

Y/N glanced at Granny (pretending to sleep), Anna (badly hiding her phone), and Wonwoo (looking like he wanted witness protection).

"One coffee," she conceded. "For medical alertness purposes."

"Of course," Jeonghan's smile was too knowing. "Purely medical."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: COFFEE DATE AT 3AM Nurse_Anna: Romance is ALIVE Rich_Granny_Han: Mission accomplished! Won_NOT_involved: It's just coffee Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I want a department transfer Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now help me plan tomorrow Won_NOT_involved: ...what's tomorrow? Rich_Granny_Han: You'll see 😈

As Y/N and Jeonghan sat in the suite's sitting area, sharing premium coffee at 3 AM while pretending this was normal, Granny Han smiled in her "sleep."

Phase one of Operation Emergency Romance was complete.

Poor kids had no idea what she had planned for breakfast.

- Several hours and many coffees later, sunrise found the suite in a different state:

Y/N curled up in an armchair, white coat slightly rumpled

Jeonghan asleep on the couch, designer pajamas and all

Files spread between them from their "purely professional discussion"

Two empty coffee cups with a concerning number of espresso shots

Granny, definitely not sleeping, taking photos for her secret Instagram

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: THEY FELL ASLEEP IN MY SUITE Boo_CEO: TOGETHER????? Nurse_Anna: Not together together but STILL Won_NOT_involved: This violates at least 5 hospital policies Rich_Granny_Han: Love violates all policies Nurse_Anna: Time for noisy morning check-up? 😈 Rich_Granny_Han: Make it EXTRA noisy

Anna burst into the suite with maximum chaos energy, deliberately dropping a metal tray.

The effect was immediate:

Y/N jolted awake, doctor mode activating

Jeonghan fell off the couch, rich person grace temporarily absent

Granny quickly pretended to just wake up

Wonwoo, entering behind Anna, looked like he wanted to quit

"Good morning!" Anna sang, far too cheerfully. "Time for morning vitals!"

Y/N and Jeonghan stared at each other, then at their wrinkled clothes, then at the evidence of their all-night coffee session.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE MORNING AFTER CHAOS Nurse_Anna: Y/N's hair is messy I repeat MESSY Rich_Granny_Han: Quick! Someone get a breakfast cart! Won_NOT_involved: The hospital doesn't do breakfast carts Rich_Granny_Han: The VIP floor does now Won_NOT_involved: Since when?? Rich_Granny_Han: Since I ordered it 5 minutes ago Boo_CEO: ALREADY ON IT WITH PREMIUM BREAKFAST

"I should..." Y/N stood, attempting to smooth her coat.

"Yeah, I need to..." Jeonghan ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Oh, but breakfast is coming!" Granny perked up. "You both must be hungry after staying up all night... discussing medical things."

The way she said "medical things" made both of them blush.

Right on cue, Seungkwan waltzed in pushing a cart laden with what looked like a five-star hotel breakfast spread.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: Breakfast service has arrived~ Nurse_Anna: They're both so awkward I'M LIVING Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, check my heart. Make it take a while Won_NOT_involved: That's not how check-ups work Rich_Granny_Han: It is if you want that Christmas bonus Won_NOT_involved: ...this might take a while, doctor

"Since Wonwoo needs to do a thorough check-up," Granny smiled innocently, "why don't you both have breakfast? No need to waste good food."

Y/N looked at her wrinkled coat, her empty coffee cups, and her clearly compromised professional boundaries.

Jeonghan looked at his messy hair, his designer pajamas, and his equally compromised chaebol dignity.

"One coffee," they said simultaneously.

"And maybe some toast," Y/N added.

"And those croissants," Jeonghan pointed.

"Purely for energy."

"Completely professional."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're having breakfast together! Boo_CEO: In their sleepwear basically!! Nurse_Anna: ROMANCE LEVEL 1000 Won_NOT_involved: This is still a hospital Rich_Granny_Han: No, this is Suite 520, different rules apply Won_NOT_involved: That's not how hospitals work Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn, child

As they awkwardly settled with their breakfast, maintaining a careful distance that fooled absolutely no one, Granny spoke up.

"You know, Jeonghan-ah, Dr. Y/N's americano is getting cold."

Jeonghan immediately reached for the coffee machine.

"And doctor, Jeonghan skipped dinner last night. He should eat more than croissants."

Y/N found herself pushing the egg dishes closer to him.

They caught each other's eyes, realized they were being played, and quickly looked away.

But not before small smiles appeared.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: THE SOFT SMILES Boo_CEO: While sharing breakfast!! Rich_Granny_Han: Young love is so beautiful Won_NOT_involved: It's been like 3 days Rich_Granny_Han: Time moves faster in Suite 520 Nurse_Anna: It's the power of love Won_NOT_involved: It's the power of sleep deprivation Rich_Granny_Han: Same thing dear, same thing

The peaceful breakfast was interrupted by Y/N's pager.

"I need to..." she stood quickly.

"Right, I should..." Jeonghan also rose.

They did an awkward dance trying to avoid bumping into each other, failed miserably, and ended up closer than ever.

"Thanks for the medical discussion," Y/N said professionally.

"Thanks for the coffee company," Jeonghan replied, equally formal.

Neither moved.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Anna! Emergency cart in the hallway! Nurse_Anna: On it! Won_NOT_involved: Please don't crash any carts Rich_Granny_Han: Just a small crash Won_NOT_involved: That's still property damage Rich_Granny_Han: That's still romance

The sudden crash from the hallway made them jump apart. Y/N hurried out, professionalism back in place.

Jeonghan watched her go, then turned to find everyone staring at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Granny smiled innocently. "You just look happy this morning."

"It was the coffee."

"Sure it was, dear. Sure it was."

As Jeonghan left to change, Granny turned to her squad:

"Phase 2 complete. Now, about that charity gala next week..."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Meeting in 10 minutes. We have a gala to plan Boo_CEO: Will there be drama?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, there will be CHAOS Won_NOT_involved: Why do I feel scared Nurse_Anna: Because you should be 😘 Rich_Granny_Han: Wonwoo dear, you haven't seen anything yet Won_NOT_involved: ...can I transfer departments now? Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now, about those formal invitations...

- Y/N stared at her desk in growing concern. Over the past week, a pattern had emerged:

Monday's coffee: "For admitting medical school doesn't teach everything - JH" Tuesday's coffee: "For finally calling me Jeonghan (in your sleep) - JH" Wednesday's coffee: "For pretending you don't smile at my notes - JH" Thursday's coffee: "Because your coffee machine is beneath you - JH" Today's coffee: "Because it's becoming a habit - JH"

She definitely didn't keep all the notes. And she absolutely wasn't smiling.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: WEEK RECAP:

Daily coffee delivery ✓

She keeps all notes ✓

Stopped throwing them away ✓

Actually smiles now ✓ 

Boo_CEO: CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Rich_Granny_Han: Time to escalate Won_NOT_involved: What's left to escalate?? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, we're just getting started Won_NOT_involved: That's what I'm afraid of

Suite 520 had evolved over the week. Somehow, it now contained:

A premium coffee station (restocked daily)

Medical textbooks (some actually right-side up)

Two comfortable chairs (suspiciously close together)

Granny's "essential" medical monitoring equipment (mostly for show)

Anna's "work station" (definitely for spying)

Y/N entered for morning rounds to find Jeonghan already there, suit perfect despite the early hour.

"You're here early, Mr. Han."

"We're back to Mr. Han? After I brought you coffee all week?"

"Medical ethics don't run on caffeine, Mr. Han."

"Are you sure? Because your smile says otherwise, Doctor."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: The TENSION Boo_CEO: He emphasized 'Doctor' I'M SCREAMING Nurse_Anna: Should I interrupt with vitals?? Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, let them flirt Won_NOT_involved: This is a hospital Rich_Granny_Han: This is Suite 520 Won_NOT_involved: That's not a real distinction Rich_Granny_Han: Tell that to my platinum card

"Children," Granny called out, "if you're done with your coffee courtship—"

"Medical discussion," Y/N corrected quickly.

"Professional interaction," Jeonghan said simultaneously.

"—perhaps we could discuss my discharge?"

Both turned to her so fast they got whiplash.

"Discharge?" Y/N frowned.

"Halmoni, no," Jeonghan started.

"Well," Granny smiled innocently, "unless you think I need more... observation?"

The way she said 'observation' made it clear she wasn't talking about medical monitoring.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE POWER MOVE Nurse_Anna: Halmoni playing 4D chess!! Rich_Granny_Han: Watch and learn children Won_NOT_involved: This is manipulation Rich_Granny_Han: This is ROMANCE Won_NOT_involved: Same thing in this family Rich_Granny_Han: Now you're getting it!

"Your latest tests..." Y/N began professionally.

"Show you need more monitoring," Jeonghan finished.

They stared at each other, surprised by the agreement.

"Oh?" Granny's eyes twinkled. "Both of you think so?"

"Medically speaking," Y/N clarified.

"From a family perspective," Jeonghan added.

"And it has nothing to do with morning coffee?"

"Halmoni!" they protested simultaneously.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: They're in sync!! Boo_CEO: SOULMATES BEHAVIOR Nurse_Anna: Even their denial is synchronized! Won_NOT_involved: This is getting out of hand Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, this is getting interesting Won_NOT_involved: Those aren't mutually exclusive Rich_Granny_Han: Shush and help me plan the gala seating

The tension was broken by Seungkwan bursting in, designer suit somehow even more expensive than Jeonghan's.

"Emergency!" he announced dramatically.

"Medical?" Y/N reached for her pager.

"Fashion!" Seungkwan held up a tablet. "Halmoni, the hospital charity gala needs your approval on—oh, am I interrupting something?"

His innocent tone fooled exactly no one.

"The charity gala?" Y/N blinked.

"Oh yes," Granny perked up. "Doctor, you'll be attending of course? As my physician?"

"I don't usually—"

"And Jeonghan needs a plus-one—"

"Halmoni!"

"—for medical supervision, of course."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: PHASE GALA: INITIATED Boo_CEO: I already called the designers! Nurse_Anna: Need volunteers for the medical team?? Won_NOT_involved: We're not all going Rich_Granny_Han: Check your email dear Won_NOT_involved: ...we're all going Nurse_Anna: YAY BABE! We can coordinate! Won_NOT_involved: I want a new job Rich_Granny_Han: Denied. Now about those table arrangements...

"I couldn't possibly—" Y/N started.

"It would be unprofessional—" Jeonghan began.

"Perfect!" Granny clapped. "Seungkwan, mark them down as attending."

"Already done, Halmoni!"

"I didn't agree—" Y/N protested.

"My heart would feel so much better knowing my doctor is there," Granny clutched her chest dramatically.

The monitor, naturally, beeped.

"This is manipulation," Jeonghan noted.

"Learned from the best, dear."

Y/N looked at her patient (scheming), her monitor (suspicious), and her growing headache (definitely real).

"One hour," she conceded. "For medical supervision only."

"Of course," Granny smiled sweetly. "Seungkwan, call the designers. The doctor needs a gown."

"Already on it!"

"Wait, what—"

But Seungkwan was already speed-dialing, Granny was looking triumphant, and Jeonghan...

Jeonghan was looking at her like he wouldn't mind being supervised. Medically speaking, of course.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Operation Gala: Phase 1 complete Boo_CEO: Designers on standby! Nurse_Anna: Medical team assembled! Won_NOT_involved: This is excessive Rich_Granny_Han: No dear, this is just the beginning Won_NOT_involved: That's what I'm afraid of Rich_Granny_Han: Don't worry, it gets worse Won_NOT_involved: How is that reassuring?? Rich_Granny_Han: It's not. Now, about those dance lessons...

Suite 520 had transformed into Gala Planning Headquarters. Somehow, between cardiac monitoring equipment and medical charts, there were now:

Three tablets showing designer collections

Fabric swatches spread across medical equipment

Seating charts mixed with ECG readings

Event planners trying to look like medical consultants

And Granny, orchestrating chaos from her hospital bed

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Status report!

Venue: Hospital Grand Hall

Theme: "Hearts of Gold" (get it? 😉)

Seating: Y/N next to Jeonghan (medical purposes)

Dance floor: Strategically lit 

Boo_CEO: The THEME I'M DYING Nurse_Anna: Should we coordinate the medical team's outfits?? Won_NOT_involved: We're supposed to be working Rich_Granny_Han: This IS work. Love work.

Y/N entered for afternoon rounds to find what looked like a fashion magazine explosion.

"Mrs. Han, this isn't good for your recovery—"

"Nonsense," Granny waved a fabric swatch. "Doctor, which shade of blue brings out Jeonghan's eyes?"

"I... what?"

"For medical coordination purposes, of course."

From behind his laptop, Jeonghan choked on his coffee.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: SHE'S BLUSHING Nurse_Anna: AND HE'S CHOKING Rich_Granny_Han: Young love is so clumsy Won_NOT_involved: This is a medical facility Rich_Granny_Han: This is a love facility Won_NOT_involved: That's not a thing Rich_Granny_Han: It is in Suite 520

"Halmoni," Jeonghan tried, "perhaps the doctor doesn't want to—"

"Navy," Y/N said suddenly, then looked mortified.

"What?"

"Navy blue. For medical... contrast purposes."

Jeonghan's slow smile should be illegal in a hospital setting.

"Noted," Granny's eyes sparkled. "Seungkwan! Call the designer!"

"Already texting!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: SHE PICKED HIS COLOR Boo_CEO: VOLUNTARILY Nurse_Anna: THE DEVELOPMENT Won_NOT_involved: It's just a color Rich_Granny_Han: Oh sweet summer child Nurse_Anna: Babe you're so innocent Won_NOT_involved: I miss regular patients Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now about the dance playlist...

Later that day, Y/N returned to find Jeonghan arguing with event planners while wearing... navy blue.

"It's for a medical opinion," he said quickly.

"I didn't ask."

"You're wondering."

"I'm wondering about your grandmother's blood pressure with all this excitement."

"Liar. You're wondering how accurate your color assessment was."

She checked Granny's monitors instead of answering. Or looking at how right she'd been about the navy blue.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: HE CHANGED SUITS FOR HER Boo_CEO: THE DEDICATION Nurse_Anna: She kept stealing glances!! Won_NOT_involved: I saw nothing Rich_Granny_Han: The security cameras saw everything Won_NOT_involved: ...I may have footage Nurse_Anna: BABE YOU'RE ONE OF US NOW Won_NOT_involved: I hate everything except you Rich_Granny_Han: No you don't. Now help me plan the "medical emergency" during the slow dance

"Doctor," Granny called out sweetly, "about the gala's medical supervision..."

"One hour," Y/N reminded firmly.

"Of course. Jeonghan will pick you up at 7."

"That's not necessary—"

"For medical transport," Granny added innocently.

"I can drive—"

"My heart would feel better knowing you arrive safely."

The monitor beeped right on cue.

"Halmoni," Jeonghan sighed, but he was smiling.

"Fine," Y/N conceded. "For medical purposes."

"Of course," Granny beamed. "Seungkwan! Call the car service!"

"Already done!"

"How are you already—never mind."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Car arrangements: Complete ✓

Premium vehicle

Mood lighting

"Accidental" traffic delays 

Boo_CEO: EVIL GENIUS HALMONI Nurse_Anna: The POWER Won_NOT_involved: This is getting elaborate Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey, wait for the gala Won_NOT_involved: I'm scared Rich_Granny_Han: You should be. Anna dear, about those dance floor spotlights...

As Y/N left for her rounds, she found a new coffee on the nurses' station.

The note read: "Navy blue does bring out my eyes. Good medical observation. - JH"

She didn't smile.

(The security footage Wonwoo definitely wasn't collecting said otherwise.)

- Two months after Code: Heart Doctor began, Suite 520 was in organized chaos:

Discharge papers waiting for signatures

Gift baskets from the entire hospital staff

Granny's designer luggage (more than a small hotel's worth)

The infamous coffee machine

And a certain cardiologist avoiding a certain CFO

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: FINAL MISSION STATUS:

Two months of schemes ✓

One charity gala success ✓

Multiple "emergencies" ✓

Countless coffee dates ✓

One almost kiss ✓

BUT STILL NO CONFESSION 

Boo_CEO: HOW ARE THEY SO STUBBORN Nurse_Anna: Even the cafeteria's betting pool is frustrated Won_NOT_involved: Maybe let them figure it out naturally? Rich_Granny_Han: Absolutely not Won_NOT_involved: Why did I even suggest that Rich_Granny_Han: Time for the final play

Y/N stood at the nurses' station, pretending to review charts while actually hiding. The past two months had been... complicated.

After the gala (which definitely didn't end with an almost-kiss during Granny's conveniently timed "emergency"), things had gotten awkward.

Sweet, terrible, coffee-filled awkward.

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Nurse_Anna: She's HIDING Boo_CEO: Our confident doctor? HIDING? Rich_Granny_Han: Love makes fools of us all Won_NOT_involved: Or maybe this whole scheme was too much Rich_Granny_Han: No such thing Won_NOT_involved: Why did I marry into this chaos Nurse_Anna: Because you love me 😘 Won_NOT_involved: TRUE. TRUEST FORM. Rich_Granny_Han: We get it, you love Anna

The suite's door opened, revealing Jeonghan in what had to be his most expensive suit yet. Navy blue, because of course it was.

"Doctor."

"Mr. Han."

"We're back to that?"

"We never left it."

(They both knew that was a lie. Somewhere between late-night coffee and fake emergencies, "Jeonghan" had slipped out more than once.)

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: IMPLEMENT FINAL PHASE Boo_CEO: But what about the backup plan?? Rich_Granny_Han: This IS the backup plan Nurse_Anna: What about backup backup?? Rich_Granny_Han: Trust your commander Won_NOT_involved: Should I be concerned? Rich_Granny_Han: Always, dear. Always.

"Children," Granny called from her bed, "come here please."

They approached cautiously. Two months had taught them to fear that innocent tone.

"Since I'm being discharged—"

"About that," Y/N started.

"Your readings—" Jeonghan began.

"Oh hush," Granny waved them off. "We all know I'm fine. Have been for weeks."

They stared at her.

"You..." Y/N processed this. "You've been faking?"

"Not faking, dear. Strategizing."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THE CONFESSION Nurse_Anna: Finally exposing the plot!! Won_NOT_involved: This feels illegal somehow Rich_Granny_Han: Love knows no laws Won_NOT_involved: That's not how legality works Rich_Granny_Han: That's how Suite 520 works

"All those emergencies..." Jeonghan realized.

"The 3 AM calls..." Y/N added.

"The coffee accidents..."

"The gala emergency..."

"The almost—" they both stopped, blushing.

"Yes, yes," Granny smiled. "All part of the plan. Operation Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024."

"The WHAT."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Dropping the bomb! Boo_CEO: THE CHAOS Nurse_Anna: Should we run?? Won_NOT_involved: I'm already in the cafeteria Rich_Granny_Han: Cowards. Watch the master work

"Halmoni," Jeonghan looked pained. "You've been scheming this whole time?"

"Of course, dear. You think cardiac monitors just happen to beep during romantic moments?"

"The coffee spills..." Y/N remembered.

"Anna has excellent timing."

"The gala emergency..."

"Seungkwan's dramatic skills are underappreciated."

"The security footage..."

"Wonwoo pretends to resist, but he's got quite the collection."

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Boo_CEO: THEY'RE BOTH SO RED Nurse_Anna: The realization!! Won_NOT_involved: Should we call security? Rich_Granny_Han: For what? True love? Won_NOT_involved: For imminent chaos Rich_Granny_Han: That's just how romance works dear

"So everything was fake?" Y/N asked quietly.

"Not everything," Jeonghan said quickly.

They looked at each other.

"The coffee wasn't fake," he continued.

"The medical discussions weren't fake."

"The almost-kiss wasn't fake."

"The feelings weren't fake."

Granny beamed. "Finally!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: MISSION SUCCESS Boo_CEO: I'M CRYING Nurse_Anna: WE DID IT Won_NOT_involved: Can we work normally now? Rich_Granny_Han: Oh honey no Rich_Granny_Han: Now we plan the wedding Won_NOT_involved: ...I want a transfer Rich_Granny_Han: Denied.

"You're ridiculous," Y/N told Jeonghan, but she was smiling.

"You love it," he replied, then froze. "I mean—"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I do."

"Oh thank god," Granny exclaimed. "Seungkwan! The champagne!"

"Already chilled!"

"Anna! The celebration decorations!"

"Ready to deploy!"

"Wonwoo! The documentation!"

"...fine."

As Suite 520 erupted into celebration, Y/N looked at Jeonghan.

"Your grandmother is terrifying."

"Wait till you see her wedding planning mode."

"Let's survive the first date first."

"Coffee tomorrow?"

"You've been bringing me coffee for two months."

"Yes, but now I can kiss you after."

From her bed, Granny smiled at her success. As Y/N and Jeonghan shared their first real kiss (finally!), the cardiac monitor beeped one last time.

This time, it was real.

Real love tends to do that to a heart. As Y/N and Jeonghan finally broke apart, the cardiac monitor beeped one last time.

"Your grandmother's monitor is still sensitive," Y/N murmured.

"Actually," Jeonghan smiled, "I think that one was real."

They turned to find Granny beaming at them, not even pretending to sleep anymore.

"Finally!" she exclaimed. "Do you know how exhausting it was to orchestrate all this?"

"Halmoni..."

"The timing of the beeps! The strategic coffee spills! Keeping Wonwoo from reporting us to hospital administration!"

🏥 Get Jeonghan a Girlfriend 2024 !!! 🏥

Rich_Granny_Han: Mission accomplished, everyone! Boo_CEO: The greatest success story of 2024!! Nurse_Anna: I'm crying happy tears in the supply closet Won_NOT_involved: Can we work normally now? Rich_Granny_Han: Of course dear Won_NOT_involved: Really? Rich_Granny_Han: No 😘 Nurse_Anna: Babe you should know better Won_NOT_involved: I really should

"Well," Y/N picked up the discharge papers, trying to look professional despite her smile. "Since your condition has... miraculously improved, Mrs. Han—"

"Still Halmoni," Granny corrected.

"Halmoni," Y/N conceded, her smile growing. "You're free to go home."

"Wonderful! Jeonghan-ah, help me pack. Doctor, you'll join us for dinner to discuss my home care, won't you?"

"That would be—"

"If you say unprofessional, I'm canceling the discharge," Granny threatened sweetly.

Y/N looked at Jeonghan, who shrugged helplessly but couldn't stop smiling.

"Dinner would be lovely," she agreed.

As the suite erupted into celebration, with Seungkwan popping in with champagne and Anna wiping tears while pretending to check vitals one last time, Y/N felt Jeonghan's hand slip into hers.

"Coffee tomorrow?" he asked softly.

"You've been bringing me coffee for two months."

"Yes, but now I can kiss you after."

She squeezed his hand. "Looking forward to it."

From her bed, Granny Han watched her grandson and his cardiologist, her heart monitor beeping steadily with genuine joy. Sometimes, she thought, love just needs a little push.

Or in her case, two months of elaborate schemes, a charity gala, multiple fake emergencies, one almost-kiss, and an army of co-conspirators.

But who's counting?

[oddsandends-dirt-to-dust]

ppl saying the caitvi sex scene was rushed, came out of nowhere, and can’t understand why Vi went straight to fucking cait after what just happened with jinx is odd to me.

Vi blames herself for the problems in her life consistently, and violently. she hates herself for how things have turned out.

when cait walks into the cell, Vi is blaming herself out loud for “making mistakes and loosing everyone”. when cait tells Vi that she let her steal the keys to jinx’s cell on purpose, it’s straight up confirmation that what Vi thinks to be true, is wrong.

she hasn’t lost everyone, cait hasn’t changed beyond repair. It started in ep 6, when cait betrayed ambessa to help Vi and her family. then this moment in ep 8 showed Vi that cait loves and trusts her enough to finally put aside her hatred for jinx, and support Vi in whatever choices she makes.

idk how long the time skip was but judging by Vi’s hair it was probably somewhere between 6 months and a year. imagine thinking of the girl you love everyday, thinking she was lost to anger and hatred, and then seeing her again and slowly realising she isn’t gone.

Vi is a physical person, we see that all throughout the show. Whether she’s punching people or walls, throwing things, screaming, she lets her emotions out through physical motion. in emotional moments with cait, she’s always touching her. when she pushes her up against the wall in the brothel, when she’s stroking her face or her hands during intimate conversations.

so Vi responded to the confirmation and the surge of emotions it caused with kissing cait, and then doing the most physically intimate thing possible with her. cait showed Vi she was willing to fight for her, and Vi dropped straight to her knees for cait. because that’s the kind of person Vi is.

they weren’t fucking they were making LOVE 💔

sure it’s not exactly healthy behaviour, but it’s not out of character for Vi to act that way. look at how she acted with jinx in that very cell 5 minutes earlier. when she realised her sister wasn’t gone, she stopped “hating” her, instantly jumping right back into the older sister role.

and i don’t think Vi forgave it all right there, the last scene shows her and cait clearly still have some issues - Vi calling herself the dirt under caits nails is a clear indicator of how cait made Vi feel with her actions.

but the sex scene is totally in character for Vi, i don’t think it was bad writing, it’s just tragic.

i do agree, in the cell is crazy, Vi deserves better, she always has. but they’re in the middle of a war, and it was an emotionally charged scene. they’re not gonna pause and go all the way up to a bedroom to fuck when troops are on their way to kill everyone.

so i don’t think it was rushed, or out of nowhere. Vi deserves better, i’m not defending cait, but i feel like some ppl don’t get it 💔

[jessilynallendilla]

DPXDC KID DANNY FIC REC

TITLE/LI NK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

KID DANNY 

Eldritch Toddler  T 7,466 SERIES 

Bruce is not prepared for when John Constantine hands over a young boy who has been de-aged. While Constantine goes off in search of the one responsible, Bruce and his family are left to care for the child. Danny is a sweet kid, he isn't fussy either! This should be fine. They quickly learn to take Constantine's warnings seriously. 

I Found Him, He's Mine Now  G 1,810 SERIES 

Damian finds Danny alone in the park waiting for his (imaginary) dog with no parents in sight. That level of negligence is unacceptable and if he has to be this boy's guardian then so be it. 

Mother Of The Storms And Her Star Child  T 

After an accident leaves everyone Danny has ever known dead, and clockwork injured. He brings a now younger Danny to an old friend. His old pal has the perfect place for him amongst her other wards. But Danny is scared and scarred, can the bat fam trace down the young boys origins? Leave it to the family of detectives. 

Danny Finding A Family In The Shape Of A Bat  NR 

Clockwork sends Danny to alt dimension de-aged and injured after the reveal goes bad. Clockwork had a plan and lets Danny know so he can get set in this new world where being a hero is an actual job, and sliding Danny where he needs to be to gain an actual childhood and training. Bruce finds another blood child he didn't know about. 

So You Suddenly Found Yourself The Father Of A Ghost Child....  G SERIES 

Timothy Drake-Wayne would have it known that he did not get infected by Bruce's adoption problem. The kid hanging off of his coat just followed him home. 

Cut Out The Middleman  G 973 SERIES 

Alfred adopts himself a grandchild. 

(Un)Dead Beat Dad  NR 

Danny finally escaped his parents, and in his muddled thought process, went to see his mentor, clockwork. Clockwork, however, had no clue what to do and took Danny to his dear old friend, Gotham. Going along with this game of halfa telephone, Gotham took the now six-year-old boy to her most trustworthy knight. 

It Takes A Mob  NR 8,402 SERIES 

Bill didn't ask for a lot from life. A roof over his head and a job to the pay the rent.  He spent a lot of his adult life being the punching bag of a bunch of furries and has had every single bone in his leg removed on more than one occasion. That being said he wasn't a dumbass. He knew how to read a room and was smart enough to Know when the odds had changed. It's this reason that Bill has found himself in the possession of one tiny Meta in the city known for a strict rule against them. God, Bill should've never left the Goonion. 

Gotham's Youngest Ghost  NR 

Somewhere in Gotham, a small child finds themself alone and lost on the streets of Crime Alley. Nearby, a liminally-challenged vigilante has no idea his life is about to be turned upside down. Again. This is all Clockwork's fault, Danny is sure of it. 

My Boy, My Son  G 18,210 SERIES 

In desperate need of a vacation, Danny has Clockwork turn him into a five year old so that he can have the childhood he never got. Soon, five year old Danny finds himself running wild in Gotham only to be kidnapped by some weird teenager in a costume who decides that Danny is going to be his son. What's Danny to do but accept this new weird guy as his new dad and become a super cool crime fighting vigilante with his new adopted family who have no clue he's a two thousand year old ghost king? 

Uncanny  G 

Jim Gordon sees a boy walk down Park Row. A boy that looks exactly identical to a tiny and terrified kid that he pulled into his arms and comforted after his parents died so many years ago. 

Don't Leave Me In The Dark  NR SERIES 

What's Jason supposed to do when he comes home one night to find a crying child with only one arm, and Lazarus Pit green eyes, wiping their own blood up from his apartment floor? The answer is probably not, "Adopt them.", but, hey, he's never had the best plans and the kid looks like he weighs five pounds soaking wet. (Danny can't remember how old he is - he remembers being sixteen, but he remembers being six even clearer - just that the last thing in his head is someone rooting around his intestines and telling him he's a fascinating specimen.) 

Sunshine  T 2,826 SERIES 

Dick finds a pair of young children outside in the cold. He takes them in as his own. Soon Jazz starts showing worrying signs. 

The Son Of The Red Hood  T 

Clockwork intervenes in Danny's life so that he can learn all he needs to be king of the Infinite Realms, and hopefully this time he can actually be loved and cared for the way he deserves. 

It's Strong, And It's Sudden, And It's Cruel Sometimes (But It Might Just Save Your Life)  T 1,404 SERIES 

[Attempt number-one-hundred had been successful.] When Dan woke up, his very first thought was his usual: ‘Goddamn son of a fucking bitch.’ That was when he realized that he didn’t say it out loud. 

A Ghostling's Second Chance  T 

Due to a problem concerning ghosts, undead, and the reliving happening in lady Gotham's city, she asked for help from her dear friend Clockwork. one thing leads to the other and now team phantom must help the bats with cults, owls, talons, LoA, and... apparently being known as teen dads??? Team phantom also has to deal with being de-aged, good thing that half of them can pass as old beings who can be tracked back to the roman empire, or is the Egyptian empire older?? 

Alfred And The Tiny Attic Squatters  G   

Alfred discovers four tiny squatters hiding in the attic and spends a number of days coaxing them out while keeping Bruce and the rest of the family from imploding after they discover that Damian is not his only child.  It only gets more chaotic when they discover other relations and that the children may be involved in many of the unexplained events going on around Gotham. Jazz just wants to punch Clockwork in the throat for de-aging them and dropping them in a alternate dimension where she is getting targeted by a combat furry crime boss and his bird-themed minions, several of who seemed to have developed a obsession with her that is giving her strong Vlad vibes. 

The Joys Of Fatherhood  T SERIES 

He'd never expected this. It was a complete shock. But he was going to do this right, he was going to be the best dad ever to this precious little boy. His adorable little bird. 

A Second Life  G 159,219 SERIES 

He wakes up with no memories. He knows things, but he doesn’t know why. Who is he? And how did he get here? 

Baby Catastrophe (Literally)  T 

Everyone knows babies exist. Only a few know that Jason has a baby. And none of them know that said baby is a de-aged Ghost King with no survival instincts. 

Imprint  T 

He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly. What the fuck. What the hell was Jason supposed to do now? 

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away   T SERIES 

After escaping from the GIW, Danny crash lands in Gotham. He's six years old, his entire life has burned behind him, and one of the Gotham vigilantes is running around with a stifled Core. What's a kid to do? A Jason Adopts Danny fic featuring De-aged!Danny, family feels, and Jason's Grand Master Plan going completely off the rails. 

Dick Grayson V Gotham  T 

It's taken months, but Dick Grayson was finally able to foster Danny Smith, the kid who kept showing up to crime scenes and solving murders. But after reporters learn about Danny's existence, Dick returns to Gotham to wait out the media storm. Fortunately, Bruce is allowing him to help on this new Red Hood case. Danny's not supposed to be here. Not in this dimension, not in this kid body, not without his powers. For the last year, he's made the most of it and even developed a reputation of being a medium detective. But now, his foster dad is taking him to Gotham, where threats new and old challenge the stability he's found. 

Raising Phantom  T SERIES 

Jasmine started working at Gotham's Public Library, while having to take care of her baby brother and going to college. Danny is frustrated at having to be in hiding as well as everything else poor in his life. Also there is something off about the man that comes in to check books out. His family included. Batfamily playing a game to figure out these two's life only for things to get serious quickly. 

The Boy King And The Dark Knights  T SERIES 

Daniel Fenton may be dead, but he wasn’t suicidal. Unfortunately, avoiding Batman and his vigilantes get a lot harder when he’s stuck in a seven year olds body in Gotham. Clockwork so owes him for this. In which Danny Fenton fixes a broken family, grows a bit as a person, and makes another technically-dead friend. Not exactly in that order. 

To Become Blue-Blooded T

Bruce Wayne was named Prince of Gotham for decades. He didn’t though about it much. The Wayne family being called the royal family of America, or the Bat family having great influence and prestige in the superheroes community was just another type of fame, of prestige, sometimes a tool but more of an annoyance. Danny Fenton knew the weight of the Infinite Realms’ Throne. It was the type of power that reached everything around you and changed all your ties in life and death. He took the smart decision when he refused. But the Realms needed a Monarch. And so Daniel existed.

[thehereticdiaries]

A (Not So) Meet Cute: Chapter Four

Summary: You settle into the dorm. You drop a bunch of your lore during dinner. Minho takes you to meet a lawyer. Seungmin is pissing off his managers. He comes up with a solution.

Warnings: Nothing too bad this chapter, mentions of the US foster care system, lawyers, talking about the stalker

Series Masterlist

Your dreamless nap was interrupted by someone shaking your shoulder. You groaned and swatted at whoever woke you up.

“Ow! Y/N, dinner is ready. You need to eat.” You blinked up at Jeongin. At some point during your nap, Jisung was replaced by Changbin as your pillow. You huffed and dropped your forehead to his thigh. 

“Come on, you’ll feel better after you eat,” Changbin laughed and patted your shoulder. Reluctantly, you stood and let Jeongin drag you to the kitchen. You sat at the table between Felix and Hyunjin, much to Seungmin’s annoyance. Minho and Chan were the last to sit after bringing in some side dishes and bottles of tea. The boys added more and more food to your plate, to the point where you had to smack their chopsticks away with your own.

“So where is Y/N going to sleep?” Jisung asked around a mouthful of broccoli. 

“Stop talking with food in your mouth,” Minho pinched the younger boy’s arm. Jisung hissed and rubbed the reddened skin.

“She could probably take one of our b–”

“No,” you interrupted Seungmin. “You’re already helping me enough, I refuse to kick one of you out of your own bed.” 

“You don’t have to, we have an air mattress. It fits in my room or we can put it in the living room,” Chan offered as a compromise. You took a moment to consider the options.

“I would prefer being in a room. I don’t like being out in the open like that,” you admitted. “As long as I won’t be in the way.” Chan shook his head.

“Nah, we’ve done it before when my sister visited. Jeongin and I share the room. Is that alright with you?”

“I don’t mind,” you confirmed and dug back into your dinner. For a few minutes, you ate in silence. It felt rather peaceful, until Hyunjin spoke up.

“Are you pressing charges against that guy?” You sighed at his question, pushing a piece of chicken around your plate.

“I want to, but I don’t think I can afford it.” You refused to look up from your plate. You were embarrassed to tell an idol group about your financial troubles.

“I know you said your family was kinda far, but would they be willing to help cover the expense?” Seungmin further questioned. Your forehead dropped to your hands.

“This is a little difficult for me to talk about,” you started. After a few deep breaths, you continued. “I grew up in the US foster system. Once I turned 18, I aged out and was sent out on my own. I got a job and managed to get through college. The social worker in charge of my files gave me all of my paperwork, and I found out that I have family in Korea. So I spent the next couple of years saving up money and learning Korean so I could move here. I only met my family a year ago. My grandmother is hesitant to accept me, but I’ve built a decent relationship with my uncle and cousins. I don’t feel comfortable asking them for that kind of money.”

“Damn, you’re incredibly resilient. I don’t think I could’ve done it,” Felix squeezed your shoulder. You glanced up at him with a small smile.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t immediately apologized. I hate when people pity me, so thank you.” The blonde moved his hand to your other shoulder and pulled you into a side hug.

“I think I can help,” Minho stated and looked up from his phone.

“I am not letting you pay for a lawyer.” Your eyes narrowed at him. He rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I meant. My cousin is a lawyer. I texted her and she confirmed that if you went to her agency, you would get a lower rate and have the option to set up a payment plan.” You sat up straight, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“You’re serious? She’s willing to take my case?” You couldn’t believe just how lucky you were to have met these boys.

“My cousin is a personal injury lawyer. She doesn’t take on these kinds of cases, but she has a coworker that’s a general practice lawyer that can help,” he explained. “She said we can go in on Monday, if you’re available.” You aggressively patted your pockets in search of your phone. The stars have aligned for once; you had Monday off. 

“I can do that,” you grinned. Minho nodded and turned back to his phone.

“I’ll go with you. We can go anytime between 9am and 11am.” You thanked him profusely and finished dinner with hope swelling in your chest.

Turns out, the air mattress was actually pretty comfortable. It was a little awkward living with eight men at first, but you relaxed over the weekend. You didn’t bring any nicer clothes with you to the dorms, so you insisted on stopping at your apartment for a button up, knee length a-line skirt, and Chelsea boots to wear at your meeting. You and Minho were dressed for completely different events. He wore joggers and a t-shirt since he had rehearsal later that afternoon.

“Minho! It’s so nice to see you,” a taller woman with short, dark hair greeted the idol with an excited hug. “I haven’t seen you since last Christmas, you recluse.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about family reunions later,” Minho huffed but returned the hug. 

“You must be Y/N. Minho’s told me a lot about you,” the woman turned to you after releasing her cousin. She held her hand out to you. “I’m Chae-young.”

“All good things, I hope,” you teased and shook her hand. Chae-young’s nose scrunched up with suppressed giggles.

“Oh, trust me, he’s been singing your praises. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my baby cousin has a crush–”

“Yah! Enough!” Minho exclaimed. You hid your smile behind your hand. “Who’s taking her case, Chae-young?”

“That would be me,” a male voice piped up from behind you. A man with cropped brown hair bowed quickly and shook your hand. “My name is Seojoon. I’ve already looked over the information you sent in. I’m confident that we have enough evidence to get Mr. Cho the maximum sentencing.”

“Seojoon is one of the best general practice lawyer in our office. He’ll take good care of you,” Chae-young folded her hands behind her back. Her bright smile was very reassuring. Seojoon led you and Minho to his private office to review the terms of the contract and payment plan. You were beyond relieved that you were able to set up a monthly payment that was well within your budget. Your head pounded after nearly an hour of legal jargon, but Seonjoon’s confidence eased your nerves significantly. You collapsed face-first on the couch once you returned to the dorms.

“How did it go?” Chan popped his head into the living room when he heard the front door open. You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“It was incredibly boring, but the lawyer said we should be able to pin him with a few years in prison and a hefty fine, plus a restraining order,” you summarized everything Seojoon explained to you. 

“That’s great news! Do you know when you’ll be in court?” Chan glared at Minho, who was staring at your legs where your skirt slightly rode up. You turned with furrowed brows, but the second eldest was already heading for the kitchen. 

“Uhh,” you hesitated, eyes trailing after Minho in his hasty retreat. “No, I don’t have a date yet. Seonjoon has to coordinate with the detective.”

“Is Seonjoon the lawyer?” Seungmin appeared behind his leader. 

“Yes, and he’s certain he can win my case.” You tilted your head at Seungmin’s annoyed hum. 

“Good, that’s good,” he quickly fixed his attitude when Chan’s elbow dug into his ribs. 

“Uuuuh huh.” First Minho and now Seungmin. They were acting weird today, but you let it go for the time being. You had other issues to worry about.

Over the next couple days, the boys, and especially Seungmin, grew more and more protective. It reached the point where one of them stayed by your side for your entire shift at the bookstore. They never let you argue with them, but you were growing concerned. You knew for a fact they were missing schedules. Today, Seungmin sat on a stool behind the register counter while you restocked shelves. He’d been glaring at his phone for the better part of twenty minutes. You could only assume he was arguing with someone based on his speed and aggression when he typed.

“Y/N, you said you went to college, right?” You peeked around the shelf that stood between the two of you.

“I did, why?”

“What’s your degree?” You placed your stack of books on a cart so you could stand in front of the idol.

“I have a Bachelor of Arts in recording arts and production. My original plan was to work in music production before life got in the way.” Seungmin raised his eyebrows, but stayed silent. You watched him for a minute before returning to your cart.

When it was time to go to bed later that night, you were met with a mostly closed door. You raised a hand to knock, not wanting to walk in on Chan or Jeongin if they were indecent. 

“You can’t keep this up, Seungmin.” You paused at Chan’s scolding tone. “I know you want to help Y/N, but you’re going to get in major trouble if you keep ditching rehearsals.” You couldn’t see them from where you stood, and you knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t walk away after hearing your name.

“What, I’m just supposed to leave her by herself?” Seungmin scoffed. “Dude, she was being stalked and her stalker might have people following her still.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Chan retorted. You leaned against the wall next to the doorframe, gripping an elbow in your hand. “You’re worried. The rest of us are, too. But you’re being paranoid. We can’t be with her 24/7, it’s not fair to her or to us.”

“No, I know that–”

“Do you? Cus to me, it seems like if it were up to you, you’d keep her hidden away in the dorms. You can’t expect her to go along with that. She has a job, Seungmin. She has a life outside of us.” A heavy silence hung in the air after the leader’s speech. You squeezed your eyes shut and let your head drop to the wall. This is exactly what you were trying to avoid. 

“What if she works at JYP?” You straightened up at Seungmin’s suggestion. 

“What are you talking about, Seungmin,” Chan voiced your own confused thoughts.

“I kind of already talked to our manager. Y/N has a degree for audio production. They’re willing to hire her for an entry level position,” the younger boy admitted. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Chan sighed for a concerningly long time.

“I can’t lie, that is a good idea. But you should have talked to me and her about this before asking our manager,” Chan begrudgingly agreed. “Do you have any other details?”

“She’d be an entry level recording engineer. She’d be able to either ride with us or have her own driver to get to and from the company. We’d be allowed to check in with her throughout the day, but she won’t be allowed to work on our music. Chances are she’d be working with Itzy, Nmixx, or Xrdinary Heroes,” Seungmin explained everything he knew in one breath. 

“Alright. We can talk to Y/N about it tomorrow.” Absolutely not, you were talking about this right now.

“You don’t have to, I heard everything,” you stepped into the room, hiding halfway behind the door. Their heads snapped over to you. The intensity in their eyes had you shrinking further behind the door.

“Y/N, let me –”

“Is the offer real?” You interrupted Seungmin, looking between the two. “You’re saying I can really work at JYP?”

“Yes, it’s a real offer. Our manager is going to talk to the production staff about getting your contract set up, he was just waiting for you to accept the position,” Seungmin confirmed. You stood in a stunned silence until a sob bubbled up from your throat.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Please don’t feel pressured, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Chan,” you stopped the leader’s frantic rambling. The two watched you attempt to collect your thoughts. You couldn't find the words to express your feelings, so you rushed forward to engulf Seungmin in a crushing hug. He made a noise in the back of his throat that you didn’t even try to decipher. Your arms tightened around his waist, knocking him out of his stupor. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked you first. I totally understand if you’re angry,” Seungmin apologized and tentatively wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“God, you seriously don’t know how to read the room,” you laughed against his collarbone. “I am the furthest thing from angry right now, I can’t believe you actually got me a job!” 

“You’ve been working so hard your whole life. You deserve it,” Seungmin mumbled into your hair and pressed you further into his chest. Chan cleared his throat, reminding you that he was also in the room. You untangled from Seungmin, who grunted in protest, to give Chan a hug too.

“I’ll let our manager and the other boys know. It’s late, you should get some sleep. I’m sure there will be a lot for you to do tomorrow.” Chan pulled back and squeezed your shoulders.

“Okay. Goodnight, guys, and thank you for everything.” They called back with their own ‘goodnight’ as Chan pulled the door shut. Even though you had excitement buzzing throughout your body, you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Series Taglist: @popcatx0 @estella-novella @ihrtlix @bookishcaptain @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @xxeiraxx @dreamerwasfound @galaxy4489 @riri53 @ddaycoming

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 2/?)

(sorry if this chapter is on the shorter side, I got back on a med I hadn't had in a while because my doctors weren't refilling it, and one of the side effects of this med is making me tired and fatigued. I honestly didn't even know if I would get chapter 8 of The Red Queen so I'm really sorry if this is short, or not written well or anywhere near as well as I try usually, I'm just trying to stay awake to get this out. sorry for the rant I'm gonna let you read now lol)

28 ac

Rhaellas Pov

I try not to fidget as Papa makes a speech, it's my sixth nameday which means I'm officially a big girl. 

“I warn you all, our little girl is a curious one. She will ask about the gift you have given her and want all the details. There is a reason we call her our curious dragon.” Papa says making all the lords laugh and making me blush and hide my face in my hands.

“So let us feast on this great day as we celebrate my sweet little girl, my firstborn, for her sixth nameday!” Papa finishes making everyone cheer as they take sips of their wine.

He bends down and kisses my forehead and whispers. “Happy nameday my curious dragon.” 

“Thank you, Papa.” I say making him smile before he and Mama walk down the steps of the high table to talk to some of the lords.

“When will you get to open your presents?” Rhaena asks picking at the food on her plate.

“Yeah, we're bored!” Aegon my little brother exclaims. He's only two but he's very smart, Mama calls him her little genius.

“I'm sure Papa or Grandsire will announce when I can open them.” I say grabbing Aegon's arm before he runs off. Have I mentioned he also never stops running! How he can run into a tree head first and laugh before running again is beyond me. I hope the baby in Mama's belly is a girl, I can't handle another brother.

“I want to see the dragons!” Aegon demands stomping his feet.

He always throws tantrums if he doesn't get his way so I try and find Mama or Papa in the crowd of lords and ladies.

“Don't speak to your sister that way boy.” I hear the deep and cold voice of Kepus. 

Aegon stops and turns to look up at him just when I do too. I know Kepus must be mad from the scowl on his face.

“I just wanted to say hi to Quicksilver.” Aegon says sheepishly already turning to hide in the shirts of my dress.

Kepus only hums before taking a sip of wine from his chalice. Thankfully for Aegon and Rhaena Papa and Mama seem to have had their nursemaids come to get them as it's time for them to go to sleep.

Once my siblings are taken away Kepus sits in the chair next to me that was previously taken by Rhaena.

“Happy nameday, ñuha prūmia. I got you something.” He says as he reaches into his jerkin pocket. He holds something in his fist holding it out to me. “Hold your hands out, ñuha prūmia.”

I do as he told me, holding my hands out under his. When he opens it I'm ready to catch something but nothing falls into my hands, but when I look at his hand I see he's dangling a beautiful necklace from his pointer finger. It has purple stones that appear almost like tear drops, and the metal looks like a darker silver. 

“Happy nameday, ñuha prūmia.”

“It's wonderful, where did you get it?” I ask, reaching out to feel the cool metal against the skin of my palms.

“It was in our family archives, supposedly it was Daenys the Dreamers. It's made of Valyrian steel and is encrusted with amethysts. Daenys was always said to love amethysts.” He says with a soft smile.

“Daenys? she wore this?” I ask excitedly, he knows how much I adore Daenys the Dreamer. I've probably made him read me the story of her more than a hundred times by now.

“That's what the Maester said, now turn around let me help put it on you.” He says in that tone that I know means he's not asking, he's telling. 

So I do as he says turning in my seat so my back is to him and grab my curly hair hoping I got it all. I feel the chill of the metal against my throat as I feel Kepus clip it. 

“There, now let me see.” I hear him say as he gently takes my hair out of my hands so it can fall down my back once more

I turn and look up at him watching as he smiles fondly. “Lovely, it matches your dress wonderfully, but it matches those eyes much better.” 

I smile touching the pink velvet dress Mama gave me for my Nameday. It has gold dragon embroidered along the skirt and at the neckline. But for some reason his words about my eyes is what makes me blush. But my joy is soon cut off my none other than Ceryse Hightower.

“I see you've given her the present you chose.” She says resting her hand on Kepus's shoulder. 

I watch as he tense something dark, something cruel flashes in his eyes before they become the stoney ones he lets the world see. 

I like the ones he has with me much better. I think before turning to his wife.

“Yes, it's a wonderful gift.” I say trying to stay kind even though I don't like her.

I never knew why I didn't like her, she's kind, gentle, sweet, but she's so boring. Her idea of fun is sitting and sewing, my idea of fun is running in the fields or flying with Papa or Grandsire. 

“That's wonderful, I'm glad you like it. Maegor worked very hard to find it. Had to be the perfect one, he said.” She says smiling at Kepus but he only seems to be getting more and more upset.

Cersye seems to catch the tense atmosphere and hands me a black leather journal with red ribbon to tie it. It seems to be imprinted with the Targaryen symbol on the front and back.

“As you are six namedays you'll start your studies with a Septa. I found having a journal helped me to remember my lessons and to take notes. I hope it helps you as much as having one helped me.” 

I can't deny that it's a thoughtful gift, and one she seems to have commissioned just for me. She obviously didn't just pick this up at some random book store in a rush. I think, feeling the soft leather against my palms.

“Thank you, it's a lovely gift. I'm sure it will get much use.” I say setting it back on the table. 

I'm about to ask if Kepus will dance with me when I hear the music start but his wife beats me to it.

“Dance with me, darling? You know this is my favorite.” She asks, already pulling him out of his chair.

I watch as he walks away with her to dance, I don't know why it hurts my heart seeing him with her, but it does. I hear a dragon roar from outside, it gives a pull at my soul like always.

“Come to me! I'm waiting!” it's starting to sound desperate, if only I could find out where it is. No, where she is.

This is the necklace Maegor gies Rhaella, or at least what I see lol

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl

[descendantofthesparrow]

AA Ok, so, you had written before a Walter fic with a reader who’s a vampire empress and how she was the one to turn him into a vampire

I was wondering if you could write more about that 👀? Maybe how they fell in love and the reader transforming him?

here you gooo! it was so fun to write for Walter again!!!! its short but I think it serves well enough :D

=

Many years ago, more than 1500, there once was a peasant boy, and a seemingly untouchable noble that seemed to command anyone with a single look in her eyes.

The boy, had a different name back then, but we’ll call him by the name we know him now; Walter Deville, and the noble was who we know as Lady (y/n) Deville, though she had a different name back then as well.

Rumors swirled around lady (y/n), some that she bathed in the blood of virgins to keep her beauty, others that she was a witch, Walter-just thought the gods favored her, favored her beauty, her mind, her power; all of her.

He favored her too.

He caught her eye once, when she had been wandering the village, going to the market with one of her handmaidens, she was a hands-on noble, she wasn’t one to shy away from the people that lived in the same town as her. He’d been working at his father’s shop, working on the stupid overhang that had been breaking over and over again over the last week-the carpenter they had paid had only done half the work.

As Walter worked on lifting the two pieces of wood together, his arms straining in the misty sun, his eyes caught onto a shine of gold, glancing to the side to see Lady (y/n), looking right back at him, her gaze intrigued.

Walter swallowed, suddenly feeling shy, and he turned away-nailing the wood together and dropping back to the floor, wiping his hands as he looked up at his handy work. He still felt Lady (y/n)’s eyes on him as she continued through the market, and he felt like he was a fresh apple in a row of bruised plums under her eyes.

He liked the feeling.

-

“Im what?” Walter asked his father as he finished up gathering some well water from the town well, setting the buckets on the floor of the small house they lived in.

“you’ve been summoned by lady (y/n),” his father said gruffly, looking a bit perturbed. “One of ‘er servants came down, asked for you by name. I suggest you get going, maybe gain the family favor-don’t deny her boy.” His father said and Walter swallowed down his nerves.

He got dressed in his best clothes, which were probably the only non-ripped or sewn back together clothes he had, and made the trek up the hill to the manor of lady (y/n). He arrived at the doors and was allowed in by a servant, and then was led through the dark candlelit home. He felt out of place in the immaculate place, everything was so clean and so…pretty.

Why had lady (y/n) called upon him?

He was led to one of the sitting rooms and the doors closed behind him, the room only illuminated by the fireplace, where he could see lady (y/n) sitting by it, her figure shadowed by the flames, a glass in her hands.

Walter swallowed harshly, standing straight. “You asked for me, my lady?” Walter asked and lady (y/n) hummed, setting her glass down, standing up, Walter swallowing again as she began to walk over to him.

Lady (y/n) was quiet for a moment, her eyes gleaming in the flickering light of the fireplace-almost unnaturally, but Walter was hypnotized by her ethereal beauty, eyes locked  onto her as her hand reached out, her long black painted nails grazing against his chin-making him shiver.

“would’st thou like to live deliciously?” lady (y/n) asked in a quiet, whispering tone that made Walter’s breathing pick up, his eyes going wide. “Wouldst thou like the taste of…butter, and silver rings?” she asked, in the same tone, stepping closer to him-her eyes gleaming red under the firelight, and Walter’s eyes dropped to her lips, seeing fangs peeking from her mouth.

He swallowed hard. A witch? No, demon? Possibly.

Vampire.

He shuddered, gasping a bit as her hand gently curled around his neck. “All I ask, is your loyalty….and blood, dragostea mea.” Walter shuddered again, his eyes fluttering-his mind a fog of could be’s and desires.

Just blood and loyalty, that’s all he had to give, and she’d give him all the pleasures in the world.

“Yes.” Walter breathed, nearly without hesitation, moaning as her blood red lips descended on his.

-

Walter smiled as he looked upon his baby sisters feasting upon the meal that lady (y/n)’s personal hunters had brought for them, deer and boar, butter and potatoes, yams and fish. It had only been a week and yet his family was already thriving under the gifts of the lady-his father no longer felt any sort of way against his son being the ‘personal whore’ of lady (y/n), not when it allowed them to ‘live like the king.’

Walter rubbed his wrist gently, feeling the scarring marks of where lady (y/n) had fed from him just a few days before, she never took too much-just enough to satisfy during the throes of passion between them.

He looked around his home again, his sisters had new beds, his father new shoes, Walter himself had a new wardrobe, gone the threadbare shirts and pants-and in were the new cotton shirts and breathable trousers that never chafed his skin.

Walter nodded to himself, giving himself to lady (y/n) was well worth it, if not for his family, then for himself-because he knew very well he was enjoying being hers.

It was just too much fun.

-

Walter could barely hear, barely see, coughing up his left lung as the rotting bodies of his family were left in their beds. The plague doctors had already come through the village once, bodies being burned near the cliffs every day.

A sickness had come for the village, wiping out nearly everyone-the Deville’s being one of the last to go, Walter being the only one left of the family of 4. He was the last to fall ill, since he’d been at the manor more often than not-spending a whole week there only to return to find his youngest sister dead, and his father and 2nd youngest sister dying, blood and other bodily fluids staining their skin and beds.

It wasn’t long before he got sick to, and now a week later-he was on deaths door, the house smelled like sick and death, the food that had been delivered by lady (y/n)’s hunters all rotting on the kitchen table.

Walter took a wheezing breath that led into a bloody cough, closing his eyes feebly as he thought he heard the front door open.

There was a cold hand on his face, a familiar one and he opened his eyes to see the blurry form of lady (y/n) above him, her brows furrowed. “My lady,” Walter wheezed, shaking his head. “No-go-I don’t- I don’t,” he coughed, more blood staining his lips and splattering on her hand. “Please.”

Lady (y/n) shook her head, looking around for something and she stood, her dress catching on the rotting chair of the table as she grabbed a iron goblet from the cabinet, hurrying back over to Walter and using her sharp nail to draw nearly black blood from her arm, letting It drip down till there was enough to drink once.

“Drink, you’ll be healthy once more-you’ll never be sick again, never be weak again, you’ll be by my side forever. Please mihi pretiosum.” Lady (y/n) begged, he’d never heard her beg before, usually he was the one doing that. He looked up at her with bleary bloodshot eyes, his skin pale and sunken, he was at death’s door, and she was offering him a way out-a way to be with her forever.

As a vampire.

He didn’t even give it a second thought, he used all his strength to sit up and take the cup, swallowing down her blood.

He felt it instantaneously- his very bones got stronger, he no longer felt the deafening hunger pangs in his stomach, his teeth strengthened, his canines became sharp, his vision cleared and his breathing strengthened.

Walter took his first breath as an immortal being, his gleaming eyes locking onto lady (y/n), who looked utterly relieved, and she took his hand, helping him from his death bed. “amica mea,” lady (y/n) murmured in Latin, and Walter smiled, teeth and all. “Come, let us leave all this death behind.” Lady (y/n) whispered, and he took her hand, leaving the rotting Deville ‘home’ behind.

The village burned two days later, wiping the plague from the map, along with all existence of the village.

Only Lady (y/n) Deville and her husband remained to remember it.

-end :3-

uhhhh no taglist cuz its been forever since I posted...well any fic.

[overnightheartbeats]

"Is that a complaint I hear?" The playful gleam in her eyes in plain view as she looked at him. "And, here I thought you liked it when I don't behave." Her laugh rung out from her chest, no disagreeing there. Babygirl was indeed their proof. “She’s going to have so much family, she won’t even know where to start. Plus, her first cousin too. Imagine if they're also best friends." Like her and Juju. Hopeful, maybe. "Well, considering the badge is collecting dust somewhere on my desk, we'd be out of luck. So, no sexy rebel for you."

His question made her head turn quickly to look at him. Had she not mentioned that earlier? And, just like that, she was caressing the side of his face, her fingertips brushing against the scruff. "One hundred percent, two hundred percent even. Way too sexy, honestly it's a shock that you leave the house looking like this." Because, truly, Laurel surprised herself for letting him go each day. "With those bright eyes," her fingertips brushing his brow ridge. "Hm, and this scruff you have going. Your soft smile too. That's been sexy from day one." Laurel knew how much he liked details, and eagerly, she provided. She only nodded in response, feeling more confident in this situation's eventual resolution. It was a given that Isaac had a lot on his plate with his ex looming and Nettie's safety being compromised. That's also why she knew that pushing him now about something that happened some time ago probably wouldn't garner the best reaction. But, Eli and Isaac had been through a lot together, that much she knew. Laurel listened to the full name, how easily it flowed from his lips. Rosaline Phillips Thorn. It sounded beautiful, it fit perfectly. "It does...yes, I agree. I love it." If she wasn't so comfortable here, she could've jumped in the air with excitement. "And, she keeps her Rosebud nickname? Double bonus. Only took us this many months," she teased, knowing they had exhausted every other name book. Laurel laughed completely amused as the sight was drawn in her mind. Eli arm wrestling Juju for it, because no way she was giving up that name. "Right? It would go with our names too. Hm, you arm wrestle Juju, and I'll take Aaron," words said in between laughs, how silly it sounded.

"True, it's okay. I'm not in a rush to tell them. I like that it's just between us." Much like their promise to be life partners, before marriage even came to mind. "I'm sure the time will come up. You're giving me the convincing job? Oh, tough one." Though, perhaps less impossible. Emma had asked a few questions about how they like living here, though she hadn't mentioned to him yet. "Rosebud might be the extra push they need to move, especially now that Isaac is also settling into Texas more permanently. I think you guys would love to have them closer to home. Yes, let's bring it up casually and see what they think."

Her eyes might've been sparkling thinking of the soft tiramisu from that restaurant. But, she was definitely getting sidetracked, so Laurel shook her head and brought her attention back to him. Though, another opportunity for distraction presented itself. Words failed her as he licked the cinnamon sugar from his lips, that wasn't fair. "Huh? Oh, yes the phone number." She took his phone, and her smile instantly widened. His background, their picture from the pier. Seemed like forever ago. Quickly unlocking his phone, she smiled triumphantly. "Yup, you have the number right here. Okay, I'll give them a call. Do you think eight o'clock is okay?"

Laurel glanced down to the small piece of churro, "yeah I think I'm done." His yawn did not go unnoticed, leaning against his head slightly. "It's been a long day babe, makes sense. I'm glad too, because you need to rest. Maybe an early night for us, after dinner? I'm sure Emma has tons of plans already for tomorrow, so we'll need the extra sleep."

With that, she pressed the dial button and brought his phone to her ear to make the dinner reservation for five. Requesting a table outdoors, enjoying the Texas warmth while they still had it. "Okay, we're all confirmed. Should we go see what your siblings are up to?"

"When?" Eli asked on the verge of a laughing fit. "Have you ever behaved? Pretty sure baby girl there is proof neither of us can behave." True in their nature there were more moments where they misbehaved than actually behaved and that made him laugh. "One thing is for sure she won't be alone." Whether that was because of found cousins or not their daughter was not going to know what it was like not to feel loved. "The badge? Oh you're a sexy rebel. Let's keep your record untouched. Don't want our kid to judge you."

And I love you would never get old. He would always love hearing it come from her. The way she loved him even down to the fragments made him feel lucky that she had stuck around for the ups and downs. "Has it made me sexier though," he asked, a playful smile gracing his lips. "Thanks for the vote of confidence baby." He'd forgive Issac he knew it. Laurel knew it and deep down even Issac knew it. Their bond was just too strong to be broken by a deep misunderstanding. The guy saw past the nerdy comic book era and still welcomed him into his space. That would never not count for something. Rosaline made his head turn to her and a soft smile flashed across his features. "Rosaline Phillips Thorn." He liked the name and how well it flowed. A wide grin overtook him as he laughed. "I think that's it. That's her name. Nickname we can keep as Rosebud. But oh my god we did it. She's not nameless anymore." He made a zipped lip gesture and nodded as he waited for her to drop the name and once he heard it he smiled. "Aurora. Well hot damn I like that one too. Do you think we can arm wrestle her for it?" Eli teased knowing full well he was wise not to fuck with juju.

"Things keep getting in the way , but it also wouldn't be us if our good news didn't keep being sidelined one way or another. We'll tell them before they leave. Maybe you can convince them to stay and move." Wishful thinking on his part but also not impossible. With a niece on the way, Inez and Emma would have an excuse to not be so far away. "I do think so. Isa would have his entire family in one place and he wouldn't have to travel back and forth. I'd love them to be closer. Maybe we can float the idea at dinner with them?"

He tried to hide his smile as she got sidetracked with the tiramisu, a regular occurrence the last few months. His sleeve covered his knowing smile as he took a bite of his churro and licked the cinnamon off his lips. "I may have the number on my phone," he made his voice level as he passed her his phone for her to look at. The screen lighting up and showing off a silly picture of themselves at the pier. He had promised he'd change it but he still hadn't gotten around to it. The pass code he knew she knew as it combined all their favorite numbers.

"Are you done with this piece?" he asked as he chewed his own and covered a yawn. "Who would have thought this outing would make me sleepy. Glad I have the day off tomorrow. I don't think I have the energy to be work me walking around at the station."

[jinxviolets]

lol remember when i sent that breakup letter to my friend?

i sent it to tell her how hurt i’ve been by some of the ways she’s treated me, how i haven’t felt important to her for a year, how i wanted to push through it bc we have fun together, and how much it hurt that a) i haven’t met the man who’s her forever and b) she got married and i found out via instagram username change when we’ve been good friends for 18 years. i ended it saying i will never ghost you, i love you, i just don’t think there space for me in your life anymore. all the nutrients for my friendship plant went elsewhere and it can’t survive like that anymore.

her response was to remove me from her socials and have her sister do the same. so i guess i now understand where ive fucking stood with her.

[raksh-writes]

Maybe this doesn’t need to be said, but Im feeling awful about it, so -- to any mutuals that might notice Im not following them anymore, I'm sorry about that. I've just seen too many posts on my dash that I have no way of blocking because they're not tagged in any way and they're distressing enough it's turning one of the only places I considered a safe space not safe for me anymore. So for my own mental health, I had to unfollow. I Will refollow in the future and I still love y'all, but I just-- I can’t. Ive been noticing some very worrying stuff about my mental and emotional state and it's just too much currently. I hope it's at least an understandable decision, and I wish y'all are having a good day out there 💗

[gatheryepens]

okay some thoughts about Sunrise on the Reaping, because if I don’t say anything I might go insane….