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azukiel · 10 months

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Nightfall Heir Chapter 1

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Kidnapping, Pregnancy and Childbirth

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

Summary: Two years have passed since the events surrounding the destruction of the Absolute. Baldur's Gate is slowly rebuilding itself from the rubble, and you and your companions have established yourselves within the city to help in its restoration.

You and your vampiric lover, Astarion, had been nigh inseparable since coming back together. Yet a certain turn of events saw to your kidnapping and then... to your unexpected pregnancy.

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

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As you lay in Astarion’s arms, you relished in the bliss that coddled your heart.

Alas, your mind wandered. It had not always been like this.

Blissful.

Your memories vividly recalled the time you had first laid with him, the time where the soft glow of fireflies had danced in the air, casting shadows that whispered secrets into the grass beneath you. The subsequent times thereafter had also been a symphony of sensations - feverish rustling of bedsheets, and the intoxicating scents of his cologne mingled with the musky aromas of passion. Back then, Astarion had always assured you that your very essence would be enveloped in a euphoric blend of pleasure and ecstasy. However, beneath the surface of those passionate encounters lay a web of deception. Your trysts had been nothing more than a meticulously crafted facade, a mask to conceal the collective traumas that haunted you both. Astarion had sought protection and trust from you, while you had yearned for a semblance of true companionship and belonging from him.

Still, the scars you both carried were etched into your souls, impossible to conceal. They were etched into the very fabric of your beings, leaving invisible wounds that refused to heal.

You flinched at the painful recollections as you looked up again at his peaceful, sleeping face. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took in a deep breath. His scents of bergamot, rosemary and aged brandy eloped you with a warmth like a midsummer’s kiss. His enchanting perfume restored a sense of peace. Yet, the darkness that still lingered in the back of your mind clawed its way into your consciousness once more.

Shuddering, you pressed yourself harder against his body to shield yourself, and though, in his sleep, he tightened his arms around you, you felt your walls again crumble. As the salt of your tears stung at the corners of your eyes, your unscrupulous mind continued to ravish your heart…

You were flung back to your childhood, vividly recalling the relentless barrage of blows, the sound of bones cracking, the scathing verbal assaults, and the relentless condemnations. The overpowering stench of sweat and blood used to fill your nostrils as you were forced to confront opponents far stronger than yourself, all for the perverse amusement of the masses... enduring unspeakable torment that had assaulted your body and mind alike. Such was the brutal reality of the Drow society that had shaped your upbringing. And yet, your tortures were not so different to that of which your lover had suffered at the hands of his old tormentor, Cazador.

The torment you had both endured had left deep scars, which had resulted in your eventual separation. The memory of it lingered, triggering a silent sob from you. In the past, you and Astarion had made the mutual decision to remain ‘just companions,’ driven by guilt over having used each other as shields for your sufferings. It had seemed like the ideal solution, a way to aid in healing. But unbeknownst to either of you, it had only exacerbated the anguish, a truth you both refused to acknowledge, even to yourselves.

At least, not until the events in Cazador's gloomy prison had unfolded.

Your mind, shrouded in darkness, conjured up a vivid and haunting replay of the events...

Your heart had been torn asunder as you had watched Astarion confront his old, wicked master. The anguish inflicted upon Astarion had been unbearable, a raw wound visible in your eyes. Alas, the hunger for power had consumed him, a voracious appetite for ascension that had wrapped around him like a suffocating web. In a mere breath, the Astarion you had known and loved had vanished. The vibrant essence of the witty, sassy, and flamboyant Elven vampire you cherished had been replaced by a feral beast. The sight of his former slaver, now succumbed, bloodied and kneeling, blurred the line between captor and captive.

You recall having exerted every ounce of your strength, having plead with Astarion to resist the seductive pull of power, to spare the lives of the countless thralls and spawn. The weight of this decision had threatened to consume his true self, which would have rendered him unrecognizable. Unimaginable sorrow had consumed you as you had contemplated the magnitude of such a loss.

The anguished cries that had escaped him as he struck down Cazador had reverberated through your being, threatening to shatter your very core. Even though Astarion had eventually yielded to your pleas, a deep resentment had grown within him towards you.

Your mind then shifted to when you and your companions had returned to the Elvensong Tavern nigh your vampiric companion. Your body had trembled uncontrollably, with tears streaming down your face, your sobs wracking your entire being. The weight of your despair had felt like an unbearable burden, threatening to consume you entirely. You remember the painful pounding of your heart in your chest, the rhythm deafening in your ears, and your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain control. Halsin’s sudden powerful embrace had provided a sense of stability, and his firm hold had offered a sense of security that you had desperately needed in that moment. He was, in fact, the only companion strong enough to hold your arms to prevent you from burning down the place in your despair. You recalled the surrounding room blurring as your vision had become clouded by tears; the world reduced to a haze of pain and anguish.

The others, your companions, had surrounded you, and eventually their presence had become a comfort amidst the chaos. Their words of reassurance and support had washed over you, their soothing voices attempting to ease the torment that had consumed your mind. Though their words had been barely audible through the fog of your despair, their presence alone provided a sense of unity and shared strength.

Sighing inwardly as you nestled yourself in the crook of Astarion’s shoulder, you remembered that back in that tavern on that night, time had seemed to lose all meaning to you. You had continued to tightly cling to Halsin as he cradled you, and your body had gradually succumbed to exhaustion.

After what had felt like an endless stretch of time, Astarion had finally returned. You recall that the room had been dimly lit by then, and the dancing candle light had cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor. You had heard the faint echoes of his fervent apologies, his voice trembling with remorse. The weight of his rage, which had been directed solely at you, had torn through your heart like a sharp knife. Truly, you hadn’t blamed him. It had been a battle within himself, a struggle to maintain control. Nevertheless, it had still shattered your already delicate heart and mind.

And then you recollected, amidst the heaviness of the situation, he having expressed his gratitude. The words had hung in the air as he had thanked you for rescuing him from the brink of losing his very self. You had saved him from becoming a reflection of the one he despised most in the world. Cazador Szarr.

Late that same night, under the glowing moonlight, he had guided you through the calm silence of the local cemetery. After having reached a secluded plot, he had unveiled a tombstone that had been crafted for him upon his ‘death’ as a mortal elf. The tombstone had stood there, adorned with weathered vines, a testament to the passaging of two long centuries. The air surrounding you both had carried a hint of mustiness and an earthy scent, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. A chilling breeze had whispered through the graveyard, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Astarion’s voice had broken the silence then, and he described how this tombstone represented not only the end of his previous life in Cazador’s clutches, but also the death of the creature he could have become had he ascended. In that moment, he had realised he was no longer a mere spawn, but finally, truly free.

And as he often reminded you, even now, it had all been because of your unwavering perseverance, infinite patience, and resolute devotion. Your enduring devotion to him. For that, he had fallen profoundly for you and had not hesitated to confess his adoration right in front of his grave. He had not hesitated to guide you down onto the mound of earth, where your bodies soon intertwined with an intense fervour, either.

You remembered the fierce emotions that had flooded your body. Every touch and every caress from Astarion had sent shivers down your spine, electrifying your skin and loins with an unbearable ecstasy. The air around you had seemed to crackle with an intoxicating energy, as if the gods themselves had acknowledged the depth of your connection.

Your breath had hitched with each movement, the anticipation coursing through your veins. The taste of passion had lingered on your lips as a mix of desire and a hint of rebellion. The gritty texture of the earth beneath you had only heightened the rawness of the moment, grounding you in the physicality of your love.

You bit your bottom lip with the memories which now overwhelmed your senses. You felt it all again. With each feverish thrust, the passion had intensified. The heat between your bodies had grown to burning new heights and had wrapped you both in a cocoon of shared desire. Astarion’s touch had ignited a fire within you as his hands had explored every inch of your body with a frenzied hunger. The world around you then had faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of unbridled passion.

In that moment, the boundaries of time and place had ceased to exist. Moans and gasps had mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure and longing as you had moved together with an unspoken understanding.

It had been just you and him in that graveyard, your souls entwined as one. The world could have crumbled around you once again, yet you would have remained oblivious, lost in the sheer intensity of your love.

You trembled at the memory of the last echoes of ecstasy fading away, and the intense heat between your thighs after he had filled you. You had found solace in the knowledge that your devotion had been reciprocated with equal fervor.

As your mind floated back to your present time, you shivered again at the sudden delicious tingle at your junction, a soft moan escaping your lips. You froze, glancing up at your sleeping lover, hoping you had not been loud enough to stir him, but he was as still as the tombstone that adorned his grave. Which brought your salacious thoughts back to that night. That night had cemented your relationship once and for all. He was now yours and you were now his and the both of you had been inseparable since that night two years ago.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion daddy #Astarion as a daddy #Astarion and Tav have a child #Nightfall heir #bg3 #dadstarion #astarion x halsin x tav #astarion x dark urge #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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imfoive · 15 days

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The Youngest Son - Chapter 8

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of cursing, death, somewhat proofread WC: 9.6k A/N: Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

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CHAPTER 8 ────────────────────

There was a stark silence in the Chairman’s dark study. Glowing slightly by the dimness of the cellphone’s flashlight.

Lee Minho had gotten himself entangled in a web of secrets he didn’t know existed.

Was he important enough for his birth origins to be shrouded in mystery?

He stared at the creased paper, his name and real birthdate glaring back at him.

Yet, the youngest son didn’t get to ponder his thoughts for long. Already finding himself snatched back to a reality where he suddenly found himself to be an enigma.

The vibrations of his cell phone broke the stillness, an incoming call from Chairman Lee causing him to clench his teeth and tighten his jaw. He let the call end, watching as the screen dimmed, leaving the room illuminated only by the flash of the phone once again.

This old man, the keeper of all these twists in his life.

Minho hastily closed the files, returning them to their original order. Yet, still hesitant fingers hovered over the small boxed compartment in the back, filled with countless flash drives, each labeled differently.

He recalled how Secretary Cha just added another one to the pile, though was unsure exactly which one.

His brain wracked in the intensity of his snooping. It was clear that the drive labeled “Joohyun—Jae” was the one from the night Lee Jae overdosed. He was sure the chairman had already figured out the truth behind Jae’s demise.

The contents might be a copy of the yacht CCTV footage, but that was highly doubtful since Minho himself had the original footage, and had never shown it to anyone, not even his grandfather.

Then it struck him.

The dash cam footage from the car.

The one the Chairman had pretended not to know about. The evidence Minho failed to get a hold of. Minho had fallen for his feigned deception, like a fool.

“That sneaky old man.” Minho muttered to himself, dropping everything back into place and closing the locker.

The cabinet shut slowly with a soft click and locked with a low beep.

Sneaking out was easier than sneaking in, but Minho left with even more questions than he had when he arrived.

He ignored the Chairman’s calls, but as he settled into his car, his phone rang again.

“We’re on our way to the restaurant from the wineries. Pick up Haneul from the hotel on your way here.” Chairman Lee instructed through the car speaker.

Minho glanced at the dashboard, noting his route to the restaurant.

“Is Miss Son joining us as well?” He asked, well aware of his grandfather’s intentions.

“Yes, she’s staying at The Rose Hotel.”

The grandson covered his mouth with his hand in frustration.

Great. The Rose Hotel.

“Yes, I got it.” He muttered instead, turning his car towards the hotel.

Sky Son was as awkward as ever.

The young woman stuttered through her greeting yet smiled shyly at Minho, who returned the smile as she buckled into the passenger seat.

“How are you liking your stay here so far?” Minho asked, glancing at her while pulling out of the hotel driveway.

She stole a glance, taking in his profile, but quickly looked away when he met her gaze, blushing slightly.

“It’s good. The people here are nice…” She responded, trailing off as she looked up at him again.

He nodded, smiling once more but kept his focus on the road.

“And The Rose Hotel?” He inquired.

“Ah! It’s great. I actually met Miss Y/N Park the night after the party at your residence. She’s a wonderful person.”

Minho’s smile faltered briefly before he recovered, his lips stretching into a different kind of smile. “Is that so?”

“She told me you two went to school together.”

He nodded, confirming her statement.

“You guys must be close then.” She said, her eyes hopeful.

He glanced at her briefly before pulling his car into the venue they were to dine in.

“You could say that.” He replied, noticing her expression fall, clearly disappointed.

But he didn’t care. He was just babysitting at this point.

Minho walked to her side of the car, opening the door with practiced courtesy. Her expression brightened at his gesture, reminding him of Y/N and how her eyes would light up at simple gestures from him. But he didn’t like that look in Miss Son’s eyes.

It made him feel gross.

Handing his keys to the valet, Minho masked his unreadable expression with a forced smile as he led Sky into the private area where their grandfathers awaited.

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Y/N sat at the breakfast table, between her parents. Park Hyunmin, adjusted his glasses and took a sip of his coffee.

“I didn’t know you came home.” The older man said, surprised by her presence so early in the morning.

He grinned widely, and her mother’s face lit up with a smile.

“I can’t miss you guys?” Y/N raised a brow, reaching for her food.

“The house just brightens up whenever she’s here, doesn’t it, honey?” Her mother asked her husband.

Park Hyunmin nodded and passed Y/N a bowl of fruit. The daughter who’s presence apparently lit up the room, couldn’t help but notice how their affection had seemed to increase since her return from New York, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Ah, did you hear the news about Lee Minho getting engaged to Son Hyungdon’s granddaughter?” The mother asked suddenly, recalling the fresh gossip she had heard that morning.

Y/N froze, her throat going dry, and she found herself unable to continue eating.

“You and your gossip.” Park Hyunmin sighed, glancing briefly at Y/N.

“We have nothing to do with Lee Minho or Son Hyungdon outside of our business. Who cares what they do?” He muttered, bringing his coffee back to his lips.

“No, no, I was just saying. It’s not official news yet. Possibly just rumors.” Her mother said, brushing it off.

Unbeknownst that their daughter sat with her hands clenched around her fork and knife, her eyes fixed on her mother’s cooling mug of coffee set infront.

“Minho’s office door burst open, and Y/N stormed in, her anger evident in her expression.

An anxious team member trailed behind her.

“Miss Park, please, you can’t—”

Minho raised a hand to signal the man to step back. Who nodded and bowed before retreating and closing the door behind him.

Y/N glared at Minho, her anger unmistakable.

“Are you fucking around with me?” She demanded.

Minho was initially startled, slowly morphing into confusion before he ultimately came to a conclusion. He realized that Y/N had likely heard some unsettling news, perhaps the whispers had reached her ears already. He approached her, trying to calm her down.

“Listen, Y/N, whatever you heard is not true—”

“Did you or did you not have a marriage meeting with Son Haneul?” She interrupted, eyes locking onto his with a fierce glare.

Minho hesitated, falling silent. His lack of response was enough for her. Yet, he attempted to grasp her arms, but of course the stubborn woman would not allow him to do so. She scoffed, turning away in frustration before glaring back at him.

“It was your idea to date secretly.” She said, jabbing a finger into his chest and pushing him backward.

He allowed her push, closing his eyes momentarily as he tried to collect his thoughts, his arms falling to his sides in defeat.

“You’re the one who said we’ll announce our relationship when the time is right. But now this is what I’m hearing?” Disbelief dripped from her words, her face flushed with anger.

His back pressed against the wall, while her figure loomed close, voice dropping to a whisper as tears brimmed in her eyes. Y/N pressed against him, one arm across his chest, pinning him in place.

“I won’t give you a third chance. You can’t fuck me over and expect me to sit back and do nothing.” Y/N spat, her eyes darting between his, her composure almost faltering as she searched his apologetic gaze.

“It’s not what you think.” Minho said, hoping she’d hear him out.

But her mind was clouded with the fear of being betrayed. Despite knowing deep down that Minho would never do that, the whispers of a sudden marriage between him and Son Haneul were overwhelming her.

He had made promises. In the quiet of his bedroom. As he littered kisses down her body.

While he pushed her up against the glass of her penthouse suite back in New York. Whispering into her ears.

He swore he was hers.

Murmurs about a sudden marriage between Lee Minho and Son Haneul already began spreading throughout high society. It was only a matter of days before it would make headlines, cementing their names together. And perhaps the two would suddenly find themselves standing at the altar saying their “I do’s”, something that happened quite often in their circle.

Something that had almost been her own reality if Minho hadn’t intervened. If Jae hadn’t died.

Haneul seemed like a sweet girl. From their brief, coincidental encounter, Y/N had sensed that. Sure, she was a bit naive, but that might be due to her younger age and introverted nature. Haneul was kind, calm, and thoughtful. She was the kind of girl who would listen before jumping to conclusions.

Things that Y/N clearly was not.

Perhaps those were the qualities Minho truly desired in his partner.

“Please don’t tell me you were just using my love.” Y/N said, her voice breaking as tears finally trickled freely.

Minho was at a loss for words, unable to think beyond her tearful eyes. He reached out to console her, but she stepped back abruptly, releasing him from her grip and composing herself.

Without giving him another moment to respond, she nudged him back against the wall and turned to leave.

“Y/N, please…” He murmured, reaching out to grab her wrist, his voice tinged with a sudden desperation.

“I can’t face you before you fix this.” She replied coldly, not looking back.

Her wrist slipped from his grasp, and she exited the room. Minho stood there, feeling almost defeated, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened just now.

Everything that had happened in the past two days.

He had just disappointed the one person he never wanted to hurt.

A friendly dinner.

Hah.

The dinner the other night with those old men had been nothing but an ambush. An unofficial announcement of his engagement to Son Haneul, staged in front of just the two of them and their grandfathers.

The old men laughed, clearly delighted. Miss Son had either covered her face in shock or shyness, Minho didn’t care which. His gaze had been fixed on his grandfather, whose laughter had seemed mocking almost.

After Son Hyungdon and his granddaughter had left, Minho had confronted Chairman Lee. A glare in his gaze.

“I see you’ve decided everything among yourselves.” Minho said, leaning into the table.

The Chairman smiled. “Son Hyung-Don is ready to invest billions in us. We should repay him well, don’t you think?”

“By selling me off?” Minho retorted.

It felt like the same cycle all over again, but this time Minho was the one up for sale.

Chairman Lee studied the challenging look in Minho’s eyes, his lips twitching into a grin that he quickly suppressed. His demeanor turned serious as he spoke.

“I’ve given you enough time to look through those profiles of young women. You seemed too busy, so I chose one for you.”

Minho let out a silent laugh, his lips curling as he looked down at the tablecloth. But before he could respond, the old man beat him to it.

“Are you going to act out because of Y/N Park?” The Chairman finally asked, his tone suddenly stern.

Minho’s smile vanished at the mention of the woman he loved, his eyes shot a protective glare at the old man.

He had never underestimated Chairman Lee, knowing the old man would eventually catch onto his relationship with Y/N. He was more curious about why the Chairman had waited so long to address it. But now this sudden engagement has become an unexpected obstacle.

He should’ve considered it the moment he met Sky.

“If you already know, why are you pushing me to choose another side?” Minho demanded, unable to understand the old man’s motives.

The Chairman laughed. “I can’t let you jeopardize the relationship I spent years cultivating with Son Hyungdon. He has connections all over Europe—”

“And Rose Enterprises is a global name, even bigger than Son Hyungdon probably.” Minho argued.

The old man fell silent for a few seconds, studying the young man’s determined face.

“I can’t base decisions on arguments that end with ‘probably.’ Besides, what makes you think Park Hyunmin will accept you? Have you forgotten your background?”

A cold silence fell over the room as Minho stared at his grandfather. A little stunned.

He had never heard such a direct insult from Chairman Lee before. A clear jab at his illegitimacy.

Except now all Minho could only think about was the altered birth certificate hidden in the old man’s safe.

He didn’t even know his true background himself.

No.

Who was he?

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The new mother didn’t know how to feel. Her baby was born prematurely, frail, and possibly not strong enough to make it through the next few days. He had been born in a monastery but was rushed to the nearest hospital, where he was kept under intensive care. The doctors claimed it didn’t look to good.

She had named him and clung to the hope that he would survive.

He was her only link to the Chairman, her connection to the Lee family. She had fled after Chairman Lee had threatened her, planning to stay out of the public eye until the child was born and the old man could no longer deny his existence.

The Chairman had been right about her.

She was a sneaky thing that wanted to trap him.

Why else would a young woman like her allow an old man to take her to bed if not to secure her future?

The young assistant had understood from an early age that navigating the world required powerful connections and financial backing.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t care for her newborn. She was overwhelmed with grief, unable to stop sobbing as she watched the doctors work on her child, inserting tubes and keeping him in the NICU. The sisters from the chapel had tried to comfort her, urging her to rest and conserve her energy. She had held him for a few precious hours before the doctors had taken him away.

The Chairman wasn’t prepared for this.

He was even more shaken to learn that the child had been born a month prematurely, underweight and at risk.

He had been devising a plan to shift the blame for the child’s arrival onto his younger son, believing it would be more plausible if everyone thought the child was the result of his second son’s mistake. This way, he could contain the scandal within the family and avoid major fallout. But now, his concern had shifted to the possibility that the child might not even survive. He couldn’t afford to lose this last chance.

The young assistant was right about one thing.

Success required money, and Chairman Lee had plenty of it.

The hospital was filled with his people, top doctors and the best nurses.

He needed his son to survive.

“Of course a young thing like you would give birth to an unhealthy child.” He spat, looking down at the disheveled former assistant.

“But I’m here now. Nothing can harm my blood. Not even God himself.”

Lee Minho was born prematurely, but he had to live.

And he did.

───────────────────────

After Y/N had stormed out of his office, Minho felt frantic. He had promised himself he would never let her leave like that again, yet he had failed. Blinded by the secrets of the past, he had jeopardized his present and his future.

So he made a decision, one he should have made the moment his grandfather handed him those marriage candidate profiles.

Park Hyunmin studied the young man across from him. Minho smiled politely, leaning back in his seat.

The Vice President of L Corp. had made an unannounced visit to the head of The Rose Enterprises on a normal Thursday morning. There had been no prior appointment, no apparent reason for them to be sharing morning coffee really.

Hyunmin adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to the table between them.

“If you want to discuss The Resort Project, my daughter is planning a meeting with our partners sometime this week.” Hyunmin began, crossing one leg over the other.

The older man was aware that Minho wouldn’t have come for such a trivial reason, but it was a start to a conversation Park Hyunmin couldn’t guess

“Actually, I’m here for something else. Though it does concern your daughter” Minho replied

The mention of Y/N had made the father raise a protective brow.

“You asked me a few years ago if I saw myself marrying your daughter.” Minho continued.

“Yes. And I recall you denied on the spot.”

God, was he a fool. Minho berated his past self.

But still smiled thinly and nodded.

“I’d like to tell you that I’m going to marry Y/N.” He stated, sitting up straight with a sincere expression.

Park Hyunmin fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“You Lee’s really take marriage for a joke don’t you? Last I heard, you’re to be wed to Son Hyungdon’s girl.” Hyunmin had tried to remain composed, though he found it difficult to suppress his irritation.

“That was a plan that didn’t involve me.” The young man across responded honestly.

“And you think Y/N would just jump at your proposal? You two haven’t been in contact for the past two years.”

Minho blinked, looking down momentarily before meeting Hyunmin’s gaze, who immediately got the message from his silence and sheepishly stupid gaze.

“Of course you’ve kept in touch.” Park Hyunmin muttered, sighing as he reached for his coffee, finally understanding why his daughter’s mood suddenly shifted that morning at breakfast.

“So why this sudden decision? Were you planning to defy your family’s plans? Or did you suddenly realize you might be cut off from the inheritance?”

The younger man leaned in, intertwining his fingers in front of him, and gazed seriously at the older man.

“The shareholders meeting to appoint the next president of L Corp. is coming up. I know for sure that I’m one of the candidates.” Minho began, his words perking the older man’s ears.

“With the announcement of my engagement to Y/N, I’d look better in front of the shareholders. Besides, Son Hyungdon’s investment is insignificant compared to The Rose Enterprises. This will also be good media play for your side as well.”

Park Hyunmin processed the schemes Minho had cooked up, before he laughed softly, leaning back and observing the almost sinister look on Minho’s face.

He was a Lee after all.

“A battle amongst the successors, huh? I didn’t think I’d see this day so soon. So up close as well.” He chuckled again, sipping his coffee.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“If Y/N is willing to accept this challenge, I won’t stop her. It’s time she considered the future of The Rose Enterprises without my influence. But if anything goes awry, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.” He warned, the amusement from earlier long gone.

Lee Minho had lots of things to take care of, lots of things to think about. From his false birth certificate to his engagement.

But the most important, Y/N.

He could still picture her teary expression as she left his office a few days ago.

Minho sighed deeply, sinking into the leather of his car seat. Despite numerous unanswered calls and messages, there was only silence from her end. The few days of not hearing from her felt far longer than the years she had been away. Determined yet anxious, he dialed her number again, the phone ringing persistently in the quiet car.

As expected, she didn’t answer.

Once Y/N made a decision, she rarely wavered.

But Minho was worried she’d throw him away and stick with that decision.

No, he couldn’t let that happen. Without her, he’d have no purpose to keep going.

It was ironic. Only some years ago, it was Y/N who chased after him no matter his avoidance.

Or maybe, deep down, it was he who had been obsessed with her, allowing her to break down his walls because his desire to have her was so painful. Or maybe he was afraid to be alone, and knew Y/N would never allow him to feel so.

It was ironic, but he couldn’t even laugh.

He hoped that his conversation with her father reached her ears as quickly as his engagement news had.

And it did.

The incoming call from her flashed brightly on the dashboard, one he swiftly accepted.

“Hello—”

“Where are you?” Her voice was urgent, almost demanding.

“The parking lot of Rose Enterprises.” He replied.

“Stay there.” Y/N commanded abruptly before ending the call.

Minho listened to her, like a good boyfriend.

Not even five minutes later, he saw her figure emerge through the automatic doors leading to the indoor parking lot. Instinctively, he got out of the car, closing the door with a thud that caught her attention. Y/N strode toward him with an expression Minho couldn’t decipher.

Her steps quickened until she was practically running. Her arms reached out, and she almost leapt into his embrace. Startled, Minho instinctively caught her, stumbling back against the car door. She clung to him, exhaling sharply.

“I didn’t think you’d ask for my hand in marriage.” She mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, gripping him tightly.

His tension melted away as he held her close, a smile spreading across his face as he hugged her back, inhaling her scent.

“You said to fix it. So I did.” He murmured against her.

Y/N pulled back to look at him, her eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry for not letting you clear up misunderstandings. For bombarding you with questions that day.” She whispered, her face contorting into a guilt-ridden expression.

He smiled instead, shaking his head before leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Relaxing into her arms, he pulled back with a contented sigh. His eyes suddenly lit up, the wide grin she loved seeing, spread across his face.

“Look in my left pocket.” He whispered, watching as her eyes momentarily reflected confusion, hands slowly rummaging through his coat, while his fingers still gripped at her arms lightly.

Her fingers fished out the velvet box, eyes automatically shooting up to meet him, widening in surprise.

“How could I propose without a ring?” Minho chuckled softly, the kind of sound that always made Y/N’s stomach tingle.

She slowly opened the box, and the sight of the diamond sparkling in the light made her cheeks flush, unable to contain her smile. Truly rendered speechless.

“Please Marry me, Y/N.” He said softly, his eyes full of love as he waited.

Her lips quivered with joy and excitement, truly touched by the warm gaze he held. She nodded, pulling his face toward her for a deep, passionate kiss.

A proper heated kiss that lifted her off her feet.

Chairman Lee stared at the photographs taken by undercover reporters, showing Y/N and Minho kissing openly. The images had already made headlines, catching high society by surprise.

The old man was angry and upset that Minho, who had always heeded his advice, was now acting on his own.

Yet, at the same time, it was fascinating, too.

The father in him felt a strange pride that his son had made such a bold decision.

His brows narrowed at the images again.

The businessman in him, however, was less impressed. The schemes Minho had orchestrated were not just disobedient, they were disruptive to his own meticulously planned strategy.

“Sir, Mr. Son is calling again. He seems to have heard the news.” Secretary Cha announced, breaking the Chairman’s daze.

Chairman Lee’s eyes flicked to the television screen, which displayed more news about his youngest son and the Park heiress.

“That bastard.” He muttered.

The emotions Minho stirred in him, even in this brief moment, were… exhilarating.

For the first time, Chairman Lee felt genuinely challenged. He had gotten a taste of it the night Minho had glared at him after finding out about his arranged engagement.

But this was something entirely new and thrilling. For the first time, he felt like a father whose son had truly lived up to his expectations. A new sensation of seeing his son assert himself so dramatically.

Despite the underlying pride, Chairman Lee had no intention of letting Minho get away with this newfound boldness. He had to remind his son who held the reins.

“Get Lee Minho here, now.” He coldly instructed.

Y/N stared at the glistening ring on her finger, her eyes twinkling and her lips stretched into an uncontrollable grin.

“We had everyone fooled, right? Our relationship hit the news with a bang, and the stocks are doubling as we speak!” Y/N gushed, crossing one leg over the other, turning to Lee Jihoon who stared at her unfazed.

They were sitting at the same bar where they had last fought. Minho had to leave abruptly for a meeting with Chairman Lee, and Y/N needed someone to share her excitement with.

“Mmmm, I don’t think anyone really cared to notice.” Jihoon said, glancing around the place.

Y/N made a face, rolling her eyes at his response, then began surveying the room herself.

“I was surprised when you called me here. We’re not even friends.”

Y/N looked back at him before taking a sip of her drink.

“I’d like to think we’re business friends.” She smirked to which Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m not even interested in business.”

“Then I guess we can be just friends.” She said, raising her glass to his new drink.

The older man considered it for a moment before clinking his glass against hers.

“I’ll think about it.” Jihoon laughed, downing his drink as Y/N rolled her eyes once more.

While his new fianc��e celebrated, Minho found himself under the intense scrutiny of his grandfather’s gaze.

Chairman Lee observed his youngest son with a mix of emotions. There was a new, almost defiant aura around Minho, as if he had finally become his own person of some sort.

A bittersweet realization for the patriarch who had always had control of every aspect of the family’s affairs.

But deep down inside, he always hoped for a day like this to come, where he had to stand against a son that he raised to be just like him.

He was tired of cleaning after the messes his useless children made. For once, he wanted to worry about something other than a mess.

Though this wasn’t less of a mess, it was something that could be twisted into a good thing as well.

The Chairman was upset for various other reasons.

He had to risk his ties with Son Hyungdon, though he didn’t really care much for the headache.

He had to control the rest of the family, who were always slow when it came to doing a good job, but first to bark when they felt threatened.

No, he was truly frustrated that Minho had chosen to act independently, without consulting him. His father.

It was a challenge to his authority that he hadn’t anticipated.

“You’ve grown a lot. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about you this soon.” Chairman Lee said, pouring tea into the empty cups in front of them.

Minho watched the steam rise from his cup, his gaze steady as he met his grandfather’s eyes.

“I remembered your words again. The ones about not trusting any businessman, no matter how appealing their promises are. I realized the moment you brought up my background, grandfather. I’ve forgotten for a moment that you are also a businessman.” Minho said, reaching for his tea.

The atmosphere between them was charged with passive-aggressive tension. Chairman Lee studied Minho, who now seemed markedly more mature. He chuckled softly before he leaned back, crossing his legs.

“What are your plans now? I recall telling you that a good businessman doesn’t put all his eggs in one basket.” Chairman Lee asked.

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the older man’s tone, wondering what else was this old man planning in that mind of his.

“You’ve burned the Son bridge. How far do you think the Park bridge will get you?” Chairman Lee continued, picking up a cookie and savoring its sweetness.

“I plan on becoming president of L Corp,.” Minho stated confidently.

The old man’s delight was evident, though he masked it behind a facade of composure. He cleared his throat, maintaining a serious demeanor.

“What makes you think it will be that simple? You’ve forgotten about your brothers. Jungshin has the elder shareholders in his pocket, and Joohyeon has been building those overseas connections.”

“A good businessman doesn’t reveal his plans too readily, grandfather.” Minho replied with a smile.

Chairman Lee’s expression momentarily faltered before he burst into laughter, absolutely amused by Minho’s bravado.

“I have a slight inclination that I might expect you to side with me during the selection, won’t you?...Unless my background bothers you.” Minho said, his sly smirk, both irking and amusing the old man at the same time.

“I’m not like you son, I don’t put all my eggs in one basket. You’ll just have to see at the next meeting.” The old man chuckled, sipping his tea again.

Placing the cup back down, he sighed. A pointed sound that stated he’s moving on from this conversation.

“What’s done is done. Son Hyungdon will have to suck it up. The news of the engagement is actually benefiting us, especially with The Resort Project. Let’s not dwell on future problems just yet.” Chairman Lee said, clapping and offering Minho a plate of cookies.

Minho smiled but politely declined.

“How about a round of golf?” Chairman Lee suggested with a doting smile.

“I need to get back to my fiancée.” Minho declined again, rising from his seat.

“Ah, very well. Don’t disappoint her now, otherwise, you might have to burn that Park bridge after all.” The old man laughed.

Minho bowed and began to leave, casting a final glance at the safe cabinet before turning. He nodded to Secretary Cha at the door as he exited.

Chairman Lee called his secretary over and leaned back, taking another sip of his tea. A low snicker escaped his lips before he erupted into another loud laugh.

“This is much more entertaining than I anticipated. I haven’t felt this alive in ages.” He said with a grin.

Looking at his secretary, he asked. “Who am I meeting next?”

The secretary checked his watch. “Your elder son wants to discuss the sudden engagement news. Your second son, will likely want to do the same—”

“Turn them away,” Chairman Lee cut him off coldly.

“They just want to complain. That’s all they ever do.” There was a bitterness in his tone.

He dusted his hands on his napkin, thinking for a moment.

“Get my lawyer on the phone. I believe it’s time for me to do some charity work.” He said with a chuckle.

───────────────────────

The second grandson of the Lee family was puzzled. No, he was in denial. He stared at the names of the contenders in line for the title of L Corporation’s next leading President. Many different emotions flowing through him.

His name was not amongst them.

Lee Joohyeon was the oldest son from the second branch within the Lee family. How could he not even be considered?

How was it that the person standing against Lee Jungshin wasn’t him, but the youngest son of the family?

Joohyeon has spent all his life fighting for second place, and now he was painfully made aware that even that spot did not belong to him.

It would have been the ideal scenario.

The eldest of Lee Mooyoung stood against the eldest of Lee Doyoung. It seemed like a fair battle.

But Lee Minho swooped in like a shadow, his name in bold next to Jungshin’s. Minho was making his way up the ladder, getting tied to The Rose Enterprises, something he pretended to never be interested in, now made sure his name was in everyone’s mouth. While Joohyeon sat here in Japan, exiled under the pretense of managing L Corp. subsidiaries.

He was guilty. Once upon a time. The face of Jae lying still on the cold yacht floor still haunted him in his dreams from time to time.

But he wasn’t guilty enough.

He wanted to go back to where he was. Even the spot of second best was more than enough for the older brother who now seemed to equal to nothing in the ranks within the Lee family.

Minho’s name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t just let that young boy reach any higher than he was. But his grandfather was always particularly drawn to the youngest, shielding him. And his father was delusional, under the spell that Minho had cast, like his maid mother.

He knew his uncle, and the first branch within the Lee family wouldn’t sit still either. Especially with Jungshin being one of the candidates for President. This was their only chance to control the reign of L Corp. in the coming generations.

The only person who would be on Joohyeon’s side, the only sane person the oldest of the second branch could think of was his mother. His mother didn’t have favorites amongst her children. But with Jihoon being a self-appointed outcast, and Minho’s existence itself disgusting her, she had no choice but to hold Joohyeon high on a pedestal.

Even then he was just the default. But it was better than sitting thousands of miles away from his goals. He needed to find his way back.

No. He had to go back.

───────────────────────

The sudden attention from everyone around Y/N filled her with an unexpected delight. It was as if she was finally basking in the glow of something she had always wanted. Although she wasn’t exactly an attention-seeker, the fact that everyone now knew Lee Minho was hers made her squeal with excitement. Her teenage self would have never believed that the cold and indifferent Lee Minho, who would practically leap out of a window whenever she entered a room, was now completely captivated by her.

Gone were the days of secret meetings and indoor dates. They were now free to publicly display their relationship. While her fiancé wasn’t particularly fond of pda, maintaining their status as a hot topic among elite families was crucial. He needed the attention to boost his public image. Perhaps even impress shareholders who would heavily influence the decision on who to elect as the next President of L Corp.

Minho had made a promise to Y/N. If he was going to rise, he’d rise with her.

Lee Minho had always managed to stay under the radar, keeping a low profile and avoiding any specific attention. His sudden emergence into the public eye only added to his mysterious persona. To the news outlets, he was like a present waiting to be unwrapped, a promising businessman and the youngest of the Lee family. His growing positive image only fueled his desire to reach for the stars, forget the sky.

But he also knew he was putting everything at stake. If he fails, he would only fall, fall hard.

So he told himself. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let anything hinder him, no matter how difficult the obstacle in his path was. Whether that was his father, Lee Jungshin, or his grandfather himself. Minho was going to run them all over.

He toyed with the glass paperweight on his desk, spinning it absentmindedly as he pondered his next moves. He had already handled his engagement and established his position in the so-called “battle amongst the successors,” as Park Hyunmin called it. Joohyeon was no longer a threat, leaving Jungshin as his remaining challenge.

He knew the eldest grandson had something brewing, a big scheme to make Minho fall in the eyes of the shareholders and the public, Minho would have if he was him. The youngest was just waiting for the right time to play dirty. He had to thank his grandfather when it came to things like this. The unwritten handbook to the perfect businessman was all in Chairman Lee’s mind, and he made sure he embedded it into Minho as well.

However, a lingering concern gnawed at Minho. The thin file tucked away in Chairman Lee’s safe, containing information about his mother.

No, about Yoon Sooyeon, who might or might not be his mother.

He was torn, a part of him impatient to uncover whatever the hell the old man was trying to conceal. While another part whispered to him not to pry further, he wouldn’t be able to handle the aftermath.

Minho had dug up on the former maid that was dismissed from his family a year before he was born. The moment the doubts of her being nothing more than just a stranger to him, formed in his heart, he began looking into it. But of course with his sudden engagement to Haneul, to proposing to Y/N, and now being thrust into the public eye, the young man could only do so much to keep up with everything that was happening.

Or everything that already had happened.

His grandfather acted as though their last tense meeting had never occurred, treating the engagement between the Lees and the Parks as if he had always been in favor of it. He didn’t even mention Son Hyungdon anymore.

But that didn’t mean Son Haneul got the message. She should have. It was all over the news. The photos of Y/N and Minho kissing in a parking lot were easily accessible, and Y/N’s public social media was filled with their relationship.

Yet, the young girl chose to ignore it, mistaking Minho’s kindness for genuine interest.

Minho sat across from her in the lobby of L Corp., observing as she fiddled with the buttons of her fur coat. Her troubled expression was evident, and he studied her with a detached calm.

“W-why did you break our engagement?” She asked, her eyes betraying her hurt.

Minho wanted to laugh. She was young, but he hadn’t realized she was this naive.

“Our few days of encounters don’t really count as an engagement, do they? It’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think, Miss Son?” He said with the polite smile that had charmed her when they first met.

She blinked, unable to smile back, hurt by his use of her formal name instead of just Sky.

“Yes, but our grandfathers—”

“Our grandfathers aren’t here. And frankly, don’t you think we’re past the age where we let them dictate who we marry?” He leaned in slightly.

“You should find someone who genuinely likes you, not just someone your grandfather approves of.” He flashed her a pleasant smile, ignoring her tears, before standing up and walking away.

God did he hate pathetic people like her.

“Bring the new secretary to my room.” Minho instructed one of his team members as he walked to his office.

A young man in a crisp suit-and-tie stepped into the vice president’s office, his demeanor calm but his lack of experience evident compared to the seasoned members of the Secretary Department. But then again, maybe Minho had judged too quickly. Maybe this was how the older executives looked at him when he entered a room.

The young secretary bowed respectfully before standing straight in front of Minho’s desk.

“Good afternoon sir, I’m Kim Yongguk, your new personal secretary.”

Minho studied him carefully. Every influential person had a good secretary. Take Secretary Cha, for instance, who had faithfully served his grandfather for decades.

“Secretary Kim…how old are you?” The superior inquired.

The young man adjusted his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m twenty-five, sir.”

Minho nodded, picking up the glass paper stopper he had been playing with all day.

“Do you plan on sticking around for a long time?”

Yongguk straightened, his earlier confidence wavering slightly. “Yes, sir. I plan on being loyal to L Corp. for as long as I’m allowed to work here.”

“See, that’s where you’re mistaken. I don’t need you to be loyal to L Corp.” Minho shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“I need you to be loyal to me. Not L Corp. You’re going to do anything I tell you to do…no matter how sketchy you find it.”

Yongguk’s eyes narrowed sharply with a slight confusion.

“If you think you can’t do that, you can back out now.” Minho added, his tone neither harsh nor reassuring, rather even.

“N-no sir, I will be able to follow your orders.” The young secretary responded rigidly.

Minho’s fingers stilled, setting aside the paperwork he had been holding.

“Even if there’s a risk of you getting into trouble… or worse?”

Yongguk paused, feeling the weight of Minho’s scrutiny.

“I’m not pressuring you. You can choose to walk away if you prefer.”

Minho’s intention wasn’t to intimidate the young man but to ensure that anyone who worked closely with him was prepared for the risks involved. He wanted someone loyal, someone who could handle the weight of secrets and tough decisions.

“I’m willing to be loyal to only you sir.” Yongguk responded after a moment of silence, his tone firm.

Minho fell silent for a moment. Thinking, observing.

He then let out a chuckle, startling his young secretary.

“You can relax. I’m not asking you to sacrifice your life for me. You won’t have to, and I won’t let that happen to one of my people.” He stated.

Yongguk’s tension eased at the sudden reassurance.

“I’ll give you your first task right away then.”

The Vice President reached into the side drawer of his desk. There was a pile of papers tucked into a thin file, whatever information Minho could collect over the past two weeks.

“I need you to look into Yoon Sooyeon.”

Secretary Kim reached forward and took the file off of the desk, eyes looking intently at it.

“She’s apparently my ‘dirty-birth mother.’” Minho smiled up at his secretary who stared at him in shock for a brief second.

“Sir…” He whispered, overwhelmed by the gravity of the secret he figured out.

“If you’re going to be at my side, you should know some of my secrets don’t you think?”

Minho didn’t know he was going to disclose this to a man he just met. It was something he never said out loud to anyone, not even to Y/N. But the look of doubt in this young secretary’s eyes irked him, and he needed to show him that he was willing to let Yongguk into the deepest secrets in return for his loyalty.

“Now that I’ve shared one of my secrets, let’s hear one of yours.” He tried to ease the tension, eyes awaiting for the dumbfounded young secretary to compose himself.

“I…I cheated my way through school.” Yongguk admitted, attempting to match the severity of his secret to Minho’s, though nothing could compare.

“So you might not even be qualified to be my secretary?” Minho laughed, absolutely amused.

He was laughing at such a situation. Like a maniac.

Like his father.

Though Kim Yongguk had expressed doubts about his own competence, he completed the task faster than Minho had anticipated, impressing the vice president. Yongguk’s eyes twinkled with pride at the compliment, and Minho knew immediately that the young man would be just fine next to him.

However, Minho’s amusement was short-lived. The information Secretary Kim uncovered was far from pleasant. The doubts in Minho’s mind were put to rest. The youngest son of the Lee family always had great instincts.

Yoon Sooyeon was nothing but a former maid at the Lee Residence.

A former, dead maid.

She had no connections to Minho. As he thought.

It felt like a maze of lies. The deeper he went, the more puzzled he became. Minho didn’t think that there were so many secrets behind his birth. Minho didn’t even know what to believe anymore.

Was he not really a son of the Lee family?

Was he just some kid that was picked up from an orphanage and put into cruel ties?

But no one else seemed to question Minho’s presence within the family. Everyone accepted the Chairman’s narrative of him being an illegitimate child between Lee Doyoung and Yoon Sooyeon. Perhaps even a doctored DNA test had been used to solidify his connection to his father.

The only person who held answers was his grandfather, but extracting information from him wouldn’t be easy unless Minho were to offer something in return.

───────────────────────

The oldest grandson of the Lee family was livid. He felt disrespected. His name, his title, was being compared to the illegitimate Lee Minho by the media, shareholders, and clients.

By their family.

Lee Jungshin had always watched Minho with a mix of intrigue and disdain, recognizing early on that the youngest son would eventually surpass others. Unlike Joohyeon, who had underestimated Minho, Jungshin knew better. Yet, the debate over who was the more capable leader, Jungshin or Minho, was infuriating. He had always considered himself the true heir, a crown prince in the family hierarchy. The prospect of being compared to Minho was both bewildering and insulting. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, or if he should get mad.

Jungshin had that confidence in himself that he’d win against Lee Minho. But the recent announcement of Minho and Y/N’s engagement had thrown him into turmoil. Unlike Joohyeon, Lee Jungshin had the core values of a competent businessman.

He knew when he had to step up and take care of the thorns in his path. He knew exactly when to play dirty.

After the night of his nephew’s celebration party, Jungshin realized that the Chairman who had always sung the song about choosing the best businessman to hand over his entire estate and fortune to, might have been biased.

“My favorite grandson.”

The words rang in the eldest grandson’s ears. He had never heard those words from the old man’s mouth.

He had never sat with him for long hours drinking coffee, tea, whiskey.

They had never played golf.

Jungshin wasn’t going to deny that he was envious of the youngest who was able to weasel under the wings of the Chairman. It was a smart move, something Jungshin should have gotten a head start on, but didn’t.

Granted, Minho only took solace under the old man’s authority for protection from his own parents growing up. But Jungshin was still the old man’s grandson.

His eldest grandson.

Of course Jungshin had a plan for Lee Minho, for the title of President of L Corporation to be handed to its rightful owner, himself.

“The presentation for the shareholder’s meeting is complete.” Jungshin looked up to Mooyoung who sat across from him, brow raising.

“Lee Minho won’t realize what hit him.” Jungshin laughed, crossing his fingers into a clasp.

“He’s too busy in his love bubble with that Y/N.” His father added.

The name of Y/N leaves a sour taste in Jungshin’s mouth. Though his courting for the young girl was a brief thing, he hated how she never even looked in his direction. It was the first time he had tried so hard to get someone’s attention. And he hated the fact that she was so unamused.

But then again, who knew she was climbing into Minho’s bed at the end of the night, while pretending to hate his guts to fool everyone.

It was amusing, and perhaps a bit humiliating. Jungshin didn’t usually fall for such things, or maybe he didn’t want to admit that both Y/N and Minho had outwit him.

The eldest grandson didn’t like being outwitted. But Minho was extremely good at doing just that.

───────────────────────

Y/N observed Minho intently, her gaze lingering on him as he worked diligently on his laptop at the kitchen counter. Taking in the sight of his focused expression, lit up by the bright screen in front of him, the sleeves of his button-up pushed back to his elbows. The unkempt sight of Minho was something only she got to see, but then again, there were other forms of Minho that only she got to see. The thought of it makes her cheeks flush, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the laser visioned man across her.

“What kind of dirty thoughts are you thinking?” Minho’s teasing voice broke through whatever she was thinking, his fingers not missing a beat on the keyboard as he glanced up at her with a smug smile.

“Let’s get married tomorrow.” Y/N blurted out instead, her lashes batting in front of his taken aback expression.

Minho’s initial surprise slowly melted into a low chuckle as he processed her words. His gaze softened with affection and amusement.

“You sure?” He asked, seeking confirmation.

Without hesitation, she nodded, her hand shooting up to rest over her heart.

“I can marry you whenever you’re free. Morning, day, or night.” She affirmed, her grin widening.

Minho leaned in closer, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“I don’t think the marriage bureau is open at night.” He teased gently with a chuckle.

She opened her mouth to say something in return, perhaps even convince him that it was something they needed to do first thing in the morning, but he beat her to it and spoke out first.

“I think your father will kill me if we do that though. Are you okay with that?” He asked, still smiling.

Y/N paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Straightening on the high chair, she cleared her throat.

“I heard you met Son Haneul yesterday.” She changed the subject with a curious tilt of her head.

His smile fell as he slowly pushed the laptop aside, signaling that he was fully attentive.

“She was acting as if you had stolen me from her.”

Y/N laughed, finding his words amusing. It was ironic. She was the one who should feel as though Minho was about to be stolen from her.

“I bet you’re loving that you’ve got two women cast under your spell.” She said, rolling her eyes as she leaned on the counter, resting her chin in her palms.

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve got more than two women under my spell. But the only one who has me completely bound is right here in front of me.” He confessed softly, his eyes locking with hers in earnest.

Y/N was momentarily taken aback by his candidness her heart swelling with love for him. Unable to find words to respond to him with, she chose to laugh instead.

“As long as you’re aware.” Her fingers reached over to the laptop, turning it to see what he had been working on.

“Presentation for the shareholder meeting?” She asked, glancing up at him.

Minho nodded and gestured for her to continue reading. She did so with a serious gaze, nodding along as she went through the document.

“You know, someone let it slip to Jungshin that the man who marries me would get ten percent of shares in Rose Enterprise.” Y/N said, looking up at Minho, who furrowed his brows in surprise.

The man in front of her was clearly caught off guard by the revelation. A detail he hadn’t been aware of. But it made sense. In their world, such stakes were significant, even if they seemed trivial at first glance. Though ten percent might not sound like a lot, it was. And of course Lee Jungshin didn’t want to miss out on that.

Made it even more obvious why he had tried so hard to chase Y/N.

Minho was silent, as if he was in deep thought.

“You had a golden ticket the whole time, and you didn’t even know it huh?” She laughed, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Instead of laughing Minho reached over to grasp her hand in his, thumb caressing her skin.

“Jungshin isn’t a good person. Who knows what he could do for that ten percent.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, seeing the look of concern, he didn’t find her joke funny, nor that the situation called for it. But she was aware Minho wouldn’t allow Jungshin to do anything for that ten percent.

“That’s why I have you. My big bad protector.” She laughed again, trying to lighten the mood as her other hand clasped over his grip on her.

And of course he only nodded, smiling slightly in response before bringing the laptop back to him.

But what Park Hyunmin had said last time played in his head.

“But if anything goes astray, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.”

The first branch of the Lee family had something brewing against him. And they were going to give it their all. If Minho failed…

With Minho out of the way and Jungshin as President, he could easily marry into the Park family if Park Hyunmin saw it fit, and Y/N wouldn’t be able to do anything about it besides comply.

Minho couldn’t let that happen. Minho wouldn’t let that happen.

Y/N was his.

Even if he fails. Even if she suddenly decided she no longer loved him.

No one could have her.

His eyes flickered up to take in the sight of Y/N treading around the dining table, busying herself while he worked.

Minho wasn’t a dancer, but he danced effortlessly to her tune. She had him completely tied.

───────────────────────

The chairman reviewed his re-written will for the third time this month. Though the beneficiary remained unchanged, various details had shifted.

“I think this might be the final version. Tell Attorney Goh he can relax now.” The old man said with a chuckle, handing the document to Secretary Cha nonchalantly.

Secretary Cha examined the document once more, as he always did, before sealing it in the confidential envelope designated solely for the lawyer's eyes.

Secretary Cha asked, his tone neutral.

The chairman dipped his biscuit into his coffee, taking a quick bite of the soaked treat.

“Of course. Who else is competent enough to become Vice President at such a young age?” He said, his voice rising with pride.

“Only my son is capable of that.”

Secretary Cha cleared his throat, drawing the chairman’s attention back from his thoughts.

“What about your other sons?”

The mention of his older sons soured the chairman’s mood. His smile fell, replaced with a stern expression.

“They’re lucky if they’re even named in my inheritance distribution.” He grumbled, brushing crumbs from his fingers.

“Doyoung was never able to surpass his brother. And his sons are just like him. Mooyoung was always a conniving one, never achieving anything without sticking his nose into dirty business. And we all know Jungshin is doing exactly that as we speak.” He continued, frustration dripping from his words.

His hatred for his older sons was palpable.

“But my youngest.” Chairman Lee’s tone softened.

“My youngest is just like me. He’s observing. Cautious. He understands their nature and will always come out on top.” The old man’s favoritism was evident and unabashed.

Secretary Cha placed the envelope into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and stood at attention, as if he had more to convey.

The chairman glanced at his loyal secretary, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“Your youngest son is looking into Yoon Sooyeon.” Secretary Cha reported.

Chairman Lee’s expression softened at the mention of the name he hadn’t heard in decades.

“His new secretary has uncovered something. I’m certain Vice President Lee is aware that she is not his birth mother.”

The information was less dramatic than the chairman had anticipated. Minho had only scratched the surface, yet his determination was evident. The chairman was impressed by how quickly he was pursuing this matter. The rumors about the Lee family hound was right, once he bites, he doesn’t easily let it go.

And Minho was only going to dig deeper.

“He wants to tackle everything at once, doesn’t he?” Chairman Lee mused.

Which he had guessed correctly. The youngest son wanted to get rid of all his problems, his curiosities one after the other. Ticking them off a check-list.

“He’s always been too eager.” The chairman said with a serious tone, glancing at Secretary Cha once more.

“The truth can either make or break a man…Do you think my son will break after discovering the truth?” Chairman Lee asked, though it was more a rhetorical question.

The intensity of his gaze made Secretary Cha shift slightly.

“It’s about time he learns the truth, isn’t it?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

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mikey12games · 2 years

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I'm sick so I drew some ocs and canons for Halloween

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jo-harrington · 2 years

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Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise…shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

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a-court-of-mischief-and-madness · 4 months

Text

Midnight revelations

Part 4------Part 5

Eris vanserra x rhysand sister reader!

Summary: with the mating bond between her and Eris revealed. Rhysand isn't too happy and asks her to use it to get information out of Eris. After being invited to a ball in the Autumn Court she isn't too sure if she wants to do that anymore.

A/n: sorry for the delay guys, this chapter is a bit short coz it was finals week and I did not get any sleep at all. Hopefully you guys enjoy this one!

Warnings: slight romance, mentions of blood! other than that nothing else.

A few weeks later, the tension in the Night Court was palpable. Rhysand received a note from Beron, summoning him to the Autumn Court. Rhysand, ever wary, gathered his inner circle for the meeting. They all knew Beron rarely summoned anyone without ulterior motives, and his intentions were never benign.

When they arrived at the Autumn Court, Beron was waiting for them, his eyes glittering with malicious delight. Eris stood by his father's side, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and resignation.

"Rhysand," Beron greeted, his tone deceptively cordial. "I'm glad you could make it. We have much to discuss."

Rhysand's gaze was cold as he responded, "Get to the point, Beron. Why did you summon us?"

Beron's smile widened, a predator baring its teeth. "It's come to my attention that there is a bond of great significance between our courts." He glanced meaningfully at Eris, then back at you. "Eris, it seems, has found his mate."

Gasps echoed around the room. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

You shook your head vehemently, your heart pounding in your chest. "I haven't felt anything," you insisted, your voice trembling with the effort to remain calm. But just as the words left your mouth, your eyes locked with Eris's, and a powerful surge of energy rippled through you.

In that instant, the mating bond snapped into place, the golden thread tying your fates together. It was like a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, an undeniable connection that sent shivers down your spine. You felt it as a magnetic pull, an unseen force binding you to Eris with an intensity you couldn't ignore.

As the bond solidified, a strange, tingling sensation spread across your scalp. You reached up, instinctively, to touch your hair, your fingers brushing through the dark strands. Before your eyes, the color began to shift, the deep brown transforming into a vibrant, fiery red that matched Eris's own. The change was mesmerizing and terrifying, each strand shimmering as it took on the new hue.

Gasps echoed around the room, and the entire inner circle watched in stunned disbelief. Rhysand's face contorted with fury, and Mor looked utterly betrayed, her eyes flicking between you and Eris with disbelief and hurt.

"What is happening?" Mor whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Your heart raced as the realization settled over you. The bond was real, and it was changing you in ways you couldn't have imagined. Your hair, now the same shade as Eris's, was a visible mark of the connection between you, one that couldn't be hidden or denied.

Rhysand's fury was palpable, his power crackling in the air around him. "No," he growled, stepping protectively in front of you. "I won't allow this. She isn't going anywhere."

Beron's smile was triumphant. "You have no choice, Rhysand. According to the laws of Prythian, she must be given the opportunity to meet with her mate. She must visit the Autumn Court every week."

Rhysand clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. "I don't care about your laws, Beron. I won't let you use her for your schemes."

Beron raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. "This isn't about you, Rhysand. This is about the bond between them. Denying it will only cause them both pain."

You could feel the truth of Beron's words in the depth of your soul, the bond tugging at you, demanding to be acknowledged. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew you couldn't ignore it.

Mor stepped forward, her face pale with a mix of betrayal and concern. "Do you want this?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of your true feelings.

Torn between loyalty to your family and the undeniable pull of the bond, you looked at Eris, his red hair and amber eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and fear. "I don't know," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Beron seized the moment, his tone authoritative. "Then it's settled. According to the ancient laws, she will visit the Autumn Court every week to explore the bond. It's only fair."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with defiance, but he knew the laws were binding. With a heavy heart, he turned to you, his gaze softening with concern. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "I have to," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Beron smirked, victorious. "Very well. We expect her next week."

As you left the Autumn Court, the reality of your situation settled over you. The bond with Eris was undeniable, but the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty. You couldn't help but wonder what the future held and how you would navigate the treacherous waters of both your courts and your heart.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Returning to the Night Court after Beron's revelation felt like walking into a storm. You had barely stepped into the House of Wind when Rhysand summoned the entire inner circle to the grand hall. The tension was palpable as everyone gathered, their expressions a mix of shock, concern, and anger.

Rhysand paced back and forth, his fury barely contained. "I can't believe this. Eris, of all people."

Feyre stood by his side, trying to calm him. "Rhys, please. Getting angry won't change what's happened. We need to think this through."

You sat on the edge of a plush armchair, your heart pounding. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but it was Rhysand's intense gaze that made you feel the most vulnerable.

"He’s dangerous," Rhysand continued, his voice rising. "And now he’s bound to my sister by the mating bond."

Mor, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly stood up. "Rhys, this isn’t her fault. The mating bond isn’t something anyone can control."

You looked up, surprised by her support. Mor had every reason to be furious, but there was a calm determination in her eyes.

"Mor, how can you defend this?" Rhysand's voice was incredulous.

"Because I know what it feels like to be judged for something out of your control," Mor replied firmly. "And because she’s our family. We need to support her."

Nesta, sitting next to Cassian, nodded in agreement. "Mor's right. This isn’t her fault. Blaming her won’t help."

Cassian crossed his arms, his expression serious. "We need to focus on what’s important. Protecting her and figuring out what Beron might do next."

Azriel, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Eris might be her mate, but that doesn’t mean we trust him. We need to stay vigilant."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the supportive faces around you. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I never wanted this."

Feyre came over and knelt beside you, taking your hands in hers. "We know. And we’re here for you, no matter what."

Rhysand let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don’t want what happened to Mor to happen to you."

You nodded, understanding his fear. "I don’t either. But I can’t deny what’s happening. The bond is real."

Rhysand's expression softened slightly, the anger giving way to concern. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

Feyre squeezed your hands. "Yes, we will. And no matter what, you’re not alone in this."

Mor stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We’ll get through this. All of us."

Nesta gave you a small, reassuring smile. "And we’ll make sure you’re safe."

As the tension in the room began to ease, you felt a flicker of hope. Rhysand seemed extremely uncomfortable with the events of tonight and you hoped he would calm down before anything else was to happen with the Autumn Court

Later, in the privacy of your room, you examined your reflection in the mirror, the fiery red of your hair a constant reminder of the bond. You knew from ancient lore that this transformation was not just cosmetic. Your hair would remain this vivid shade until the bond was consummated, until you mated with Eris.

The thought sent a shiver through you. The bond demanded recognition, and until it was fully acknowledged, you were marked by it. The vibrant red was a symbol of the passion and desire that tied you to Eris, an intimate and undeniable connection that changed everything.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

The invitation to the ball at the Autumn Court arrived unexpectedly, a beautifully crafted scroll sealed with Beron's crest. Rhysand gathered the inner circle to discuss it, his expression a mix of caution and curiosity.

“We’ve been invited to a ball,” Rhysand announced, holding up the scroll. “Beron wants to finalize the peace treaty.”

Cassian scoffed. “Sounds like a trap.”

“We have to be careful,” Feyre agreed, her eyes scanning the faces around the table.

You sat quietly, your heart pounding at the thought of returning to the Autumn Court. Since the revelation of the mating bond, your interactions with Eris had been fraught with tension and confusion. Rhysand noticed your silence and gave you a concerned look.

“You’ll be coming with us,” Rhysand said, his tone brooking no argument. “But stay close. I don’t trust Beron or his sons.”

The night of the ball arrived, and you found yourself dressed in a stunning silver gown that shimmered with every movement. The fabric was delicate and flowing, clinging to your curves in a way that made you feel both powerful and vulnerable. The plunging neckline and open back revealed just enough to be tantalizing without being overtly scandalous, and a high slit ran up one leg, adding an edge of daring to the ensemble.

The grand ballroom of Beron’s palace was a spectacle of opulence and decadence, every inch dripping with gold and crystal. The air was thick with the scent of exotic flowers and rich perfumes, the music a haunting melody that echoed through the high, vaulted ceilings. You entered the ballroom, feeling the eyes of the Autumn Court upon you, your silver gown flowing around you like liquid crystals. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the deep neckline and intricate lace detailing drawing more than a few appreciative gazes. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anxiety of being in such a hostile environment and the anticipation of seeing him.

As the Night Court entourage entered the grand ballroom of the Autumn Court, you were struck by the opulence and the flickering warmth of the firelight reflecting off the gilded decorations. Nobles and courtiers filled the room, their eyes turning towards your group with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Eris was there, standing near the center of the room, his golden eyes locking onto you the moment you entered. He wore a tailored suit in rich autumnal colors, looking every bit the princely heir of the Autumn Court. The bond between you hummed with an almost tangible electricity, drawing you towards him despite your better judgment.

Rhysand kept a protective hand on your shoulder, his gaze wary as he scanned the room. But Eris approached with a confidence that belied the tension between the two courts.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

Rhysand hesitated, his protective instincts warring with the necessity of diplomacy. After a moment, he nodded curtly, releasing you. “Be careful,” he whispered.

You placed your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. He led you onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way for you. The music swelled, a dark and haunting waltz, and you found yourself swept up in his embrace, the world around you blurring as you moved together.

Eris’s hand rested possessively on your lower back, his touch scorching through the fabric of your gown. "You look stunning tonight, red is a good look on you" he murmured, referring to your hair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten who you are."

His words were a reminder of the delicate dance you were both engaged in, a game of power and seduction that neither of you could afford to lose. Yet, beneath the barbs and the tension, there was something else—a pull that neither of you could deny.

"Nor I, you," you replied, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Eris twirled you expertly, your gown flaring out around you like a flame, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The twirl brought you back into his arms, your bodies aligning perfectly, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to spin with you, the music and the crowd blurring into a distant echo.

His hand slid lower on your back, his fingers pressing into the curve of your spine with possessive heat. "You think you can manipulate me with this bond?" Eris whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "You think you can use it to get what you want?"

You met his gaze, your eyes burning with defiance. "And what if I am?" you challenged, your voice a seductive whisper.

The air around you crackled with tension, the music and the crowd fading into the background. Eris's grip on you tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of anger and desire. "Tell me you don’t feel this," he growled, his voice a raw, dangerous edge.

Your heart raced, the bond between you thrumming with intensity. "I feel it," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you."

Eris’s eyes blazed with a fierce, possessive light. "Then we are at an impasse," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I won’t let you go."

He spun you again, your skirts flaring out, and when he pulled you back, his hand was firmer, more insistent. Your bodies moved as one, each step a seductive dance of defiance and desire. His fingers brushed the bare skin of your back through the cutout of your gown, sending shivers down your spine. The heat from his touch was both thrilling and maddening, his presence consuming.

As the music slowed, Eris’s hand slid down further, his fingers trailing down your bare legs. Your breath hitched, the intimate touch sending a wave of heat through your body. He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement and something darker. "Look who's excited," he murmured, his voice a teasing caress.

The dance was a battle of wills, each step a carefully calculated move. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of his body overwhelming. Your breaths mingled as you moved, the friction between you a tantalizing promise of what could be. The way he held you, the way his body pressed against yours, it felt as if you were the only two people in the room.

"You’re playing with fire," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending another shiver down your spine.

"Maybe I like the heat," you replied, your voice a soft challenge.

His eyes flared with something dark and dangerous, a predatory gleam that made your pulse quicken. The music reached a crescendo, and with a final, dizzying spin, the dance ended, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

Eris's eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge that left you reeling. "Remember, little bird," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "This game is far from over."

He released you then, stepping back and leaving you standing alone on the dance floor, the heat of his touch lingering on your skin. The crowd around you resumed their revelry, oblivious to the battle that had just played out in their midst. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.

As you made your way off the dance floor, you couldn't help but glance back at Eris. He stood at the edge of the crowd, his fiery gaze still locked onto you, a promise of more to come. The game between you was far from over, and you knew that the next move was yours.

-----------------------♧-----------------------------------

Later after the dance, you looked around the ballroom for eris but didn't seem to find him. You found yourself wandering off into Autumn Court, looking for him.

A few hours earlier

The day had come for you to go the Autumn Court for the ball , a place that had become a maze of emotions and conflicts. The knowledge of your newly discovered mating bond with Eris had created a whirlwind within the inner circle. The tension was palpable, and the uncertainty weighed heavily on everyone. As you prepared to leave, Rhysand summoned you to his office.

You stood before your brother, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. Feyre was by his side, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.

"You know why you need to go tonight," Rhysand said, his voice steady but laced with underlying tension. "But there's more to this visit than just the mating bond."

You frowned, sensing the gravity of his words. "What do you mean?"

Rhysand exchanged a look with Feyre before continuing. "We need Eris to sign the peace treaty. It's crucial for the stability between our courts."

Your heart sank. Convincing Eris of anything, let alone a peace treaty, seemed an insurmountable task given your current situation.

Rhysand seemed to notice and asked with hesitation in his voice "you don't plan on accepting this bond do you sister?"

Your eyes met with his and you firmly said "no, brother I would never betray you or our family that way"

"good, that's what I like to hear" rhysand gave you a warm smile

"And you think I can do this?" you asked, your feet shifting and trying to change the subject, doubt creeping into your voice.

Rhysand's gaze softened. "You are stronger than you think. And you have a unique connection with him now. Use it to our advantage."

Feyre stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "We believe in you. Just remember, you have us backing you every step of the way."

You nodded, drawing strength from their unwavering support. "I'll do my best"

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

The grand ball in the Autumn Court had been a dazzling affair, with the glittering lights and the melodious music setting an enchanting atmosphere. You had danced with Eris, feeling the intensity of the mating bond thrumming between you, even as Rhysand had watched with a guarded expression.

Later that night, after the festivities had wound down, you found yourself wandering through the quiet halls of the Autumn Court palace, seeking out Eris. You knew he was in his study, and despite the tension between you, you needed to speak with him about this, about the treaty, about what was going to happen next.

The heavy oak doors to his study were slightly ajar, and you pushed them open cautiously. Eris was there, sitting behind his desk, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. His face was hard and unreadable as he glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You stepped into the room, feeling the weight of his anger and the pull of the mating bond between you. "Eris, we need to talk," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you.

He scoffed, his gaze darkening. "Talk? About what? The mating bond?" He rose from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "I've made myself clear. This... thing between us changes nothing. You need to stay away from me."

His words stung, but you refused to back down. "Eris you came to me, you started this at the unification ceremony, when i came to visit Lucien, right now at the ball" you gripped your hair strands, frustrated.

He chuckled "Don't you understand? We are all pawns in his game, all that I did was just a game, it didn't mean anything i can promise you that, you didn't seriously think all my gestures meant anything? Did you now?" he responded ruthlessly making your heart swell with sadness and anger

"Eris, I know you're afraid of your father, but I won't let him control us," you said firmly, taking a step closer to him.

He laughed bitterly, a harsh sound that cut through the air. "You have no idea what my father is capable of," he retorted, his voice low and dangerous. ''He wants your wings, and before you ask, no I did not tell him he practically pried his way into my head"

You gasped upon the revelation of the news that you just heard. Your mind raced with thoughts of what Beron wanted to do with your wings and that made you shudder.

The sexual tension between you was palpable, a volatile mix of desire and frustration. You could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing you in even as he pushed you away.

"Eris, I can protect myself," you insisted, your voice softening as you reached out to touch his arm.

He jerked away from your touch, his eyes flashing with a mixture of longing and fear. "Don't," he warned, his voice hoarse. "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

You stood your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "Then help me understand," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion.

For a moment, he looked at you with something akin to despair in his eyes. Then, with a sudden, decisive movement, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your arms firmly. The intensity of his gaze bore into yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You need to leave," he said roughly, his voice low and urgent. "Before it's too late."

But you couldn't tear your gaze away from his, couldn't deny the pull of the bond that bound you together. "I can't," you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

With that he holds your face, you feel the cold rings on his fingers digging into your skin. He towers over you, his height making you feel small and vulnerable pushing you against the harsh surface of the wall. His elbow leans against the wall, trapping you between his strong body and the unyielding surface behind you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the heat of his breath against your face, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating.

For a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his lips. Your heart races, your breath catching in your throat as anticipation builds between the two of you. But just as quickly as he moved in, he pulls back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You have no idea what you're getting into, we can never be anything more, we are just a game" he whispers, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing with a mix of fear and something else you can't quite name. His proximity is maddening, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You know you should push him away, to resist the pull he has over you, but your body betrays you, frozen under his gaze.

"I... I need to go," you stammer, trying to break free from his grip.

Eris's smirk widens, his eyes darkening with amusement. "Run away if you must," he says softly, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you'll be back. They always come back."

With that, he releases you and steps back, leaving you breathless and confused, your heart pounding in her chest. You gather yourself and hurry out of the room, Eris's taunting words echoing in your mind.

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