#i still need to come up with a series name for this! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heliosunny · 23 hours ago

Note

What if lucky egg with Cealus + Stelle as twins / 2-in-1 combo (although I just found out you gave the girls their own series of sorts so idk if this works) or maybe there are others that can be a wambo combo of 2-in-1 disaster

I thought about this, and even considered making one for Robin and Sunday since I think someone will ask eventually. Maybe I'll have a seperate fic for them x reader. But here is:

Yan!CAELUS x Reader x Yan!STELLE

The garbage dump wasn’t the most glamorous place to scavenge, but you had always believed in second chances. What others discarded, you saw as potential. A chair missing a leg could be fixed. A rusted lamp might just need rewiring.

And today, you found something, or rather-someone, far more unexpected.

Two figures lay slumped amidst the wreckage, their bodies still, almost lifeless. At first, you mistook them for broken mannequins. Their skin was too flawless beneath the layers of dirt and bruises, their limbs unnaturally still. But as you stepped closer, you saw it—the slow rise and fall of their chests.

Your heart lurched as you knelt beside them, brushing away debris. They were young, their silver hair matted with grime. A boy and a girl—twins? Their identical golden eyes flickered open at your touch, unfocused and glassy.

“…Hey” you murmured. “Can you hear me?”

The girl blinked sluggishly while the boy stared at you in eerie silence.

What were they doing here? Why had no one come for them? The sight of them abandoned like this sent a pang of anger through you. No one deserved to be thrown away.

You chewed your lip, debating what to do. The smart thing would be to call someone, maybe the authorities. But something about the way they looked at you, so empty yet searching, made you hesitate.

With a sigh, you made your choice.

"Alright, let's get you out of here" you said, offering your hands.

The moment you did, they moved. Their fingers curled around yours, too tightly for mere exhaustion. Their gazes locked onto you, too intense for simple gratitude. And as you led them away from the ruins of their past, you failed to notice the way their grip refused to loosen.

The walk home was unsettling.

You had taken in strays before—wounded animals, abandoned junk, things most people wouldn’t bother with. But never people. Never like this.

Caelus and Stelle walked in eerie silence, the only thing they told you was their name, their golden eyes fixated on you the entire way. They barely reacted to anything around them. No questions, no complaints, not even a sign of discomfort despite their tattered clothes and dirt-streaked skin.

Most people would have stumbled, wavered, maybe even clung to you for support. But they followed your every step without hesitation, as if they had known you for years instead of mere minutes.

Still, they needed help. That was all that mattered.

When you reached your small, cluttered home, you pushed the door open and stepped aside. “Come in. I’ll get you both cleaned up.”

They entered without a word.

Inside, the place was far from pristine, but it was yours. A mix of salvaged furniture and makeshift repairs, old things given new life. You had always loved fixing things—maybe, in some foolish way, you thought you could fix them too.

“Bathroom’s that way.” You pointed down the hall. “There’s a shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Caelus and Stelle exchanged glances. Then, without warning, Stelle reached forward and hugged you.

“…Thank you” she murmured, voice hoarse as if unused for a long time.

Caelus followed. “You saved us.”

“It’s nothing. Just get cleaned up, alright?”

They obeyed, disappearing into the bathroom. As you searched for old clothes that might fit them, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had invited something into your home that could never be thrown away again.

And somewhere behind the bathroom door, two golden-eyed figures whispered to each other.

“They’re ours now.”

Years passed.

Mornings in your home always started the same way.

You woke up sandwiched between two warm bodies—Caelus on one side, Stelle on the other. It didn’t matter that you had a bed big enough for space, they always managed to close the gap, pressing in until you were trapped between them.

Stelle stirred first, arms tightening around your waist before she nuzzled against your shoulder. “Morning...” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.

You groaned softly, trying to shift, but Caelus’ grip on your arm kept you from moving far.

“Stay a little longer” he murmured. His voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the plea beneath it.

You sighed. “I have to get up.”

Neither of them moved. Stelle only curled around you tighter, while Caelus, still half-asleep, buried his face against your sleeve.

Moments like this were common. You had once thought their closeness was because of what they had been through—that it was a lingering trauma response. But over time, you started noticing that it wasn’t just that. It was them.

They refused to let you slip away, even for something as simple as getting out of bed.

“Breakfast” you tried again, pressing against them lightly. “Come on, I’ll make your favorites.”

That worked—partially. Stelle was the first to relent, stretching lazily before finally rolling off of you. Caelus was slower, but he eventually let go, though not before stealing a lingering touch against your wrist.

You quickly got out of bed before they could pull you back in.

Breakfast was another ritual.

You stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while they sat on either side of you, never leaving your space for long. Caelus hovered by the counter, offering to help—though ‘helping’ mostly meant standing too close and watching your every move. Stelle sat on a stool, chin resting on her palm as she studied you.

“What are we doing today?” Stelle asked, eyes locked onto you.

You glanced over. “The usual, I guess? Cleaning, fixing up that old chair. Nothing special.”

Caelus hummed. “We could go out.”

Your hand froze mid-flip. “Out?”

Stelle smiled, but it wasn’t entirely innocent. “Yeah. You never go out without us anyway.”

You knew what she was doing. The reminder was subtle but deliberate—you never go anywhere alone. It wasn’t a rule you had made, but it had become an unspoken law in your home.

“…I just feel like staying in.” you replied carefully.

Caelus leaned against the counter, watching you with those sharp golden eyes. “Are you sure?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just one of those days.”

They didn’t look convinced, but they didn’t push.

The day started out normal.

Breakfast, cleaning, fixing up the old chair—just like you said. Caelus and Stelle hovered around you as always, their presence never far, their gazes always lingering. But you had long since grown used to it.

What you weren’t used to was the sudden knock at your door.

You rarely had visitors. You weren’t sure if it was because you lived on the quieter side of town or because Caelus and Stelle had a way of making people… uneasy.

So when the knock came, you froze. Caelus’ head snapped toward the door. Stelle immediately straightened, her expression sharpening.

“Stay here” she murmured, already moving before you could say anything.

“Wait—”

Too late. She was already at the door, opening it just enough to peek outside. You stepped closer, but Caelus blocked you with a firm grip on your wrist. He wasn’t rough, but he didn’t let go either. His golden eyes flickered toward the entrance, but his body stayed positioned between you and whatever was outside.

“…What do you want?” Stelle’s voice was flat.

Whoever was at the door hesitated. Then, a voice you didn’t recognize spoke.

“I’m looking for Y/N.”

You tried to step forward, but Caelus held you firm.

“They’re not available.” Stelle said, tone cold.

A beat of silence. Then, the person outside sighed. “Look, I just need to talk to them. It’s important.”

Something in their tone made your unease worsen.

Who was this? What did they want from you?

You finally pushed past Caelus, ignoring the way his grip tightened before reluctantly letting you go.

Stelle’s expression darkened the moment you appeared beside her. A man stood outside. Dressed in dark clothes, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Who…?”

His gaze flickered over you before he smiled.

“There you are” he said.

Before you could respond, the door slammed shut.

You flinched. Stelle had shoved it closed in an instant, her hand pressing against the wood like she was restraining herself. Caelus was already moving, locking every latch with precision.

“Who was that?” you whispered, heart pounding.

Stelle didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned to you.

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

Caelus stepped closer, his fingers brushing against yours. “We’ll handle it.”

You had the sinking feeling that whoever that man was… he wasn’t going to get a chance to knock again.

You didn’t sleep well that night.

The stranger’s voice echoed in your head, his sharp gaze burning into your thoughts. He hadn’t looked random. He had recognized you. But from where? And why?

Caelus and Stelle had refused to speak about it after locking the door. Every time you asked, they brushed it off. You don’t need to worry. We’ll handle it. That was all they said.

And that terrified you more than the man himself.

Because you knew them. You knew what they were capable of.

You had seen it in small ways over the years—the way they seemed to know things they shouldn’t, the way people who got too close to you disappeared.

You had never questioned it. Maybe because a part of you had been too afraid to.

But now? Now you were in the dark, and you hated it.

So you waited until the house fell into silence, until you were sure they were asleep. Then, carefully, you slipped out of bed.

Your heart pounded as you moved toward the front door, every step light, careful.

You just wanted answers. That was all.

But as your fingers brushed the doorknob, a hand caught your wrist.

Caelus stood behind you, his grip firm, his golden eyes half-lidded with sleep—but even in the dim light, they gleamed with something sharper.

“…Where are you going?” His voice was soft.

“I just… I needed air.”

A second later, arms wrapped around you from behind. Stelle pressed against your back, her chin resting against your shoulder.

“Liar” she whispered.

Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t even heard her wake up.

Caelus’ fingers brushed against your palm, slowly prying your hand away from the door.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore” he murmured.

“What… what do you mean?”

Stelle’s grip tightened, her lips barely ghosting against your ear.

“He’s gone.”

Gone.

But the question lingered, gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Who was that man? What did he want from you? And more importantly—what had Caelus and Stelle done to him?

You kept your routine normal, or at least, you tried to. Breakfast. Cleaning. Small talk. But things had changed.

They were watching you. Not in the casual way they always did—this was different. Tighter. Sharper. Like they knew you were thinking about him. Like they were waiting for you to break the silence.

And you almost didn’t. You almost let it go.

But the moment you stepped outside to take out the trash, you saw it.

The street was empty, quiet. But something was missing.

That man.

The stranger who had knocked on your door the day before—there was no trace of him. Not even footprints. Like he had never existed.

You turned back toward the house, only to find Caelus standing at the doorway, watching.

You jumped slightly, pressing a hand to your chest. "God, don’t do that."

"You don’t have to think about him anymore."

"Caelus—"

Caelus stepped closer. "He was looking for you."

"Why?"

Stelle’s voice came from behind you, and you nearly flinched when she wrapped her arms loosely around your waist.

"Does it matter?" she murmured.

"Yes."

Silence. Then, reluctantly, Caelus spoke.

"He said he was… an investigator. Looking into missing persons."

Missing persons?

Your mind whirled. That couldn’t be right. You weren’t missing. You had no family looking for you. No ties. No reason for someone to be searching.

Unless—

He wasn’t looking for you.

He was looking for them.

"What did you do to him?"

"He’s gone" Stelle said simply.

"He wasn’t going to take you away" Caelus added."We made sure of that."

You never brought it up again.

Days passed. Then weeks. You pretended everything was normal, smiling when they smiled, laughing when they laughed. You played the role of the devoted one—their precious savior, their home.

And for a while, it worked.

They eased up. They didn’t watch you as closely. They let you wander the house without standing behind you every second. And one day, when they said they had something to take care of, they left you alone.

It was your first chance in a long time.

You had to take it.

The moment they left, you went straight to their room.

It was strange being in here alone. Their space was eerily neat—too perfect. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. You needed to know.

Who they really were.

What they were hiding.

And most importantly—what they had done to that man.

You searched through drawers, shelves, anything that could hold information. At first, it was just the usual—spare clothes, little trinkets they had taken an interest in. But then, tucked away in a locked box under the bed, you found it.

A stack of old ID cards.

You picked one up, your hands trembling slightly.

Caelus. Except… the name on the card wasn’t Caelus. It was something else. A name you didn’t recognize.

Your stomach twisted as you checked another.

Stelle. But again—wrong name.

These weren’t their real identities.

And there were more.

More names. More IDs. Some with different faces. Some that looked eerily like them, but off, like versions that weren’t supposed to exist.

Then, at the very bottom of the stack, you found a file.

You flipped it open, your heart pounding.

And there he was.

The investigator.

The man who had knocked on your door. His face staring up at you from a report—marked MISSING.

Your hands started shaking.

Missing. As if he had never been there. As if he had been erased completely.

Who were they?

What had they done?

And more importantly, if they found out you knew…

What would they do to you?

The front door creaked.

They were back.

You shoved everything back into place as fast as you could, heart hammering. You barely managed to step away when the bedroom door opened.

Caelus stood there, golden eyes scanning the room.

Then, he smiled.

“We’re home.”

And just like that, you were trapped again. You couldn’t look at them the same way after that.

Every time they touched you—every time they smiled, whispered soft words, curled around you like you were the most precious thing in the world—you could only think about the IDs. The missing investigator. The way they had erased everything, rewritten themselves into something else.

Caelus and Stelle weren’t just lost souls you had saved from the junkyard.

They were something bigger. Something worse.

And the worst part?

They knew you were starting to figure it out.

Stelle would brush your hair behind your ear and murmur, “You seem different lately.”

Caelus would linger a second longer when he hugged you, fingers pressing into your back as if testing your heartbeat. “You’re thinking a lot.”

They didn’t ask what you were thinking about. They didn’t need to.

But the real moment came one night.

You were sitting on the couch, pretending to read, when Caelus suddenly dropped a stack of books in front of you.

Your stomach twisted as you saw the titles.

Psychology of Fear. How to Spot a Liar.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you looked up.

Caelus smiled. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

“You’re so smart, you know?” Stelle murmured. “You always pick up on things.”

They were testing you.

And one day, the opportunity came.

Caelus and Stelle had stepped out for something. They didn’t say what, and you didn’t ask. But the moment they were gone, you were back in their room, digging.

This time, you looked deeper. Past the ID cards. Past the stolen names.

And then��at the bottom of the box, tucked beneath everything else—you found it.

A document.

One that wasn’t fake.

One that wasn’t changed.

One that detailed who they really were.

Your eyes scanned the paper, your heart pounding.

It was about a program.

You read faster, hands shaking. They weren’t just runaways. They weren’t just nobodies. They were experiments.

Altered. Engineered. Created.

And the program that made them? It had been shut down. Destroyed. Every trace erased—except them.

They weren’t supposed to exist.

But they did.

And now, they had you.

They weren’t lost souls who needed saving.

They were ghosts of something much bigger and they had made sure that you were theirs. No wonder people had been looking for them. No wonder the investigator had come. And no wonder he had never come back.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing.

They had killed for you.

You were tangled in something so much bigger than you ever realized.

And as you slowly, carefully placed everything back where it was—one thought kept pounding in your head.

They already suspected you knew.

And when they confirmed it—

You wouldn’t be able to run.

The front door creaked open.

You barely managed to slip out of their room before they saw you.

But as you stood in the hallway, trying to act normal, you heard a soft voice behind you.

“You’ve been busy.”

You turned to see Stelle- stood there, eyes half-lidded, her usual lazy smile in place. And beside her, Caelus tilted his head, watching you in a way that sent chills down your spine.

“You’re thinking again” he murmured. “A lot.”

They knew.

You were out of time.

A sickening tension filled the room, thick enough to choke you. Caelus and Stelle stood just a few steps away, but it felt like you were cornered. Like a rabbit caught between two wolves.

“You’ve been snooping” Stelle mused.

"I don’t know what you mean."

A soft hum. Then—before you could react, her fingers brushed your cheek. "Liar."

Caelus sighed, stepping in behind you. “We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You forced yourself to stay still. If you ran now, if you panicked—it would be over.

"Then tell me the truth."

“You already know the truth, don’t you?” Stelle said,

"You're not who I thought you were."

"You saved us" Caelus corrected. "That part was real."

"Everything else was a lie" you shot back.

Stelle let out a soft laugh, her fingers trailing down your arm. “Is that so bad?”

You flinched. "You—you killed that man."

Caelus sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. "He was going to take you away."

"He wasn’t after me."

Stelle’s fingers suddenly curled around your wrist, grip tightening. "It doesn’t matter" she said. "You belong with us. We couldn’t let him ruin that."

"What now?" you asked, voice barely steady.

Caelus exhaled softly "Now? Now, we make sure you don’t get any more bad ideas."

Stelle pressed closer, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Don’t worry" she murmured. "We’ll take care of you. Just like you took care of us."

You felt it before you saw it. The dizziness. The way your thoughts started to blur.

"What… what did you do?"

Stelle tilted her head. "Oh?" she hummed. "Something wrong?"

The world swayed around you. You tried to piece your thoughts together, but they were slipping—memories flickering like a dying light.

The file. The IDs. The investigator.

You knew something important. Something terrifying.

But—

Why couldn’t you remember?

You stumbled back, gripping your temples. "What did you do to me?!"

Caelus stepped forward, "Shh, it's okay."

Your vision blurred. Your knees buckled, and before you could hit the floor, Stelle caught you, lowering you into her arms. She pressed her forehead against yours, her warmth suffocating.

"We didn’t want to do this" she murmured.

You struggled to hold onto something. Anything. But the more you tried, the more your mind felt like it was slipping into water, sinking into something deep and dark.

When you woke up, the world was… quiet.

Warm sunlight filtered through the window, and the scent of breakfast filled the air. You blinked slowly, your body feeling oddly heavy.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

You turned.

Stelle sat at the edge of the bed, smiling.

Something felt… off.

You frowned slightly. "I…"

What had you been doing?

Your head was foggy, like a dream you couldn’t quite recall. There was something important. Something you had been searching for.

But the harder you tried to remember, the more it slipped away.

Caelus peeked his head in from the kitchen, beaming. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Warmth filled your chest.

…Right. That was normal.

You lived with them. They were always here.

Everything was fine.

Stelle leaned in, brushing her fingers along your forehead. "You’re thinking too hard again" she teased. "Relax."

Caelus chuckled softly, watching as you settled back into the sheets, the last bits of resistance fading from your gaze.

"It’s okay" he whispered. "You’re safe with us."

And somewhere, buried deep in the part of your mind they had locked away, a voice screamed.

But you would never hear it again.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #stelle #caelus #stelle x reader #caelus x reader

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stayevildarling · 3 days ago

Text

Agatha Harkness x Reader- She‘s got away Part 2

A/N: Part two to this series. Enjoy🤍

tw/tags: mild mention of abuse, flirty/playful Agatha

word count: 3.1k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay, @laavaagirl, @wtfffisgoingon , @milflovers4, @ahintofchaos, @brekker157

By the time your eyes open again, the morning sun filters through the curtains and greets your cheeks eloping you in warmth. For a few seconds you are confused, unfamiliar covers, unfamiliar room until you remember the night and few days you have had before. The bed underneath you is soft and the house you are staying in is quiet.

You blink up at the ceiling, still feeling a little groggy from sleep and processing the fact that you are safe, having been on the run for a while now. There is no shouting outside your door, no pounding footsteps or knocks, no nasty comments, just silence other for the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen. The scent of coffee lingers in the air, almost inviting but you hesitate, deciding whether you want to stay hidden and safe or face the woman who had so kindly let you into her house the night before.

But eventually hunger and a hint of curiosity wins and so you make your way to your bag first. The floor is cold underneath you and you quickly grab some of your spare clothes, warm socks before heading to the bathroom. It‘s much more modern than the rest of the house and you assume she must have gotten it renovated. A large bathtub beside a shower and you quickly opt for a shower, letting the warm water elope you and warm you up before brushing your teeth and getting changed.

As you make your way through the hallway and into the kitchen, the woman who had offered to let you stay with her, is already there, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug in her hand. „You sleep okay sweetheart?“ she asks without looking up from the book she is reading. The name and familiarity in her voice catches you off guard for a moment. The pet name should be weird coming from a total stranger you just met but somehow it doesn‘t.

„Yes, think I was out like a rock“ you reply before rubbing your face. A small smile spreads across her lips „Mmm, I could tell“. There is something about the way she talks that makes your stomach flip and you aren‘t sure whether maybe that‘s just her, whether this was simply how she was. She looks up at last, eyes sharp and knowing almost as if she had been studying you from the moment you stepped into the kitchen.

„You‘re a bit of a tosser“ she continues, sipping on her coffee „Lots of tossing and turning, thought you were wrestling ghosts in there“ she carries on, her voice so serious that you can‘t quite tell whether she is joking or not. You shift a little uncomfortably unsure how to respond but she doesn‘t push, just gestures towards the counter. „Help yourself, thought you may need something warm to start the day“. As your eyes dart over there you see a fresh cup of coffee next to a plate with some toast, little jars of jam placed neatly beside it.

It was meant for you. She had made you breakfast and for a moment the realization sends a pang of heartache through your chest as you couldn‘t remember the last time someone had done something like that for you. You hesitate before taking some slow sips, savouring the warmth. „Thank you“ you whisper and the woman simply hums, watching you slowly before speaking again. „Figured you‘d be heading out today“. You nod at first, setting the piece of toast down you had been munching on.

„Yeah.. I need to figure out my next move“ you admit and she tilts her head at your words „Westview isn‘t a bad place to catch your breath, might even grow on you“ she smirks but you scoff a little before mumbling „Doubtful“ which has the other woman chuckling lowly. „We‘ll see“ she remarks before you carry on eating the food she had made for you.

When you finally step outside and into the streets of Westview, you can‘t deny how different it looks now that it‘s bright outside. It looks less creepy, almost inviting and you take your time to explore a little, letting the sun warm your face as you take in the small shops and neatly lined houses. Near the town square you find a little community bord and curiosity gets the better of you as you see all the flyers. Some missing cat, a yard sale the upcoming weekend and Westview Fall Festival this saturday.

You initially hoped you could maybe find a job advert, wanting to find some place to work in order to make a little money to at least pay the woman who is letting you stay with her. You try the libary only to realize that it‘s closed this afternoon but as you turn around the Diner from last night comes into view, the neon OPEN sign stopping you in your tracks once more.

The moment you step inside and the bell from the door jingles, a familiar voice calls out. „Well well if it isn‘t the town‘s newest mystery guest“ the waiter from last night grins as he leans against the counter. You nod and smile, always having been open and friendly in your past but having learnt to keep your walls up as you are apparently terrible at reading people. „You find a place to crash?“ he asks out of interest and you hesitate before nodding.

„Let me guess, Agatha?“ he raises an eyebrow and your silence must be answer enough before he laughs and shakes his head. „Figured. She‘s got a thing for strays“ he jokes but you don‘t find his words funny, instead sighing „I‘m not a stray“ you remark and he quickly leans in a little when he realizes he offended you. „Didn‘t mean it like that. But hey you‘re lucky. She doesn‘t usually let people in like that“ he remarks and your eyes dart away. If what he is saying is true it made the whole thing even weirder to begin with.

„So“ he continiues as he slides over a warm cup of coffee for you „You sticking around then? or just passing through?“ he asks curiously and you get distracted for a moment when you see his nails painted in pink, the little rainbow badge on his work uniform and how you must have missed that last night due to your tiredness. Somehow that realization makes it a little easier for you, a little less scary as your experiences in the past undeniably had been awful. But he seems kind you remind yourself, just wanting to make conversation.

„I‘m not sure“ you shrug before his expression shifts „Well if you are looking for something to keep you busy, we could use an extra set of hands here“ he offers and your eyes widen for a moment as you set the coffee cup down. „Wait really?“ you ask almost sounding too excited before he nods „The owner has been short staffed for a while and you look like you could use the cash girl“ he whispers the last bit and you can‘t help but chuckle a little.

„Think about it“ he offers, sliding a napkin across the counter with the owners name and phone number. „My name is Ben by the way“ he smiles and you giggle a little as you look at the name tag „Figured, I‘m Y/N“ you introduce yourself and the two of you are interrupted when the familiar bell jingles and he turns his attention to new customers. „I‘ll let you know, thank you“ you smile before he leave and nods.

As you step out of the diner a little while later there is almost a smile on your lips, the slightly chilly air making you shiver a little but a warmth spreading through you. This place may be boring, may be a little creepy at night and seem like some place out of a book or movie but it was calm, inviting and the people utterly friendly. In less than two days people had offered you a place to stay and now even a job and while bartending certainly wasn‘t what you trained for you could use the extra money and the calm of it all.

By the time you make it back to Agatha‘s, the sun has began setting and you pause outside the door as you take in the house once more. This place wasn‘t home, maybe Westview never could be but for now it‘s safe, a place where you could finally catch your breath and stop running for a while. When you push the door open, you find Agatha sitting on the sofa in the livingroom, an old looking book on her lap as she glances at you through her glasses.

„Well?“ she asks curiously and you freeze for a moment before she carries on „How was your day?“ she asks curiously and again she sends heartache through you as the last time someone had genuinely asked and wanted an answer to that was almost too long ago. „I may have found a job“ you exclaim and she smiles either excitedly or approvingly but you couldn‘t tell.

„The diner“ she guesses and you nod before standing there a little awkwardly, unsure what to do with yourself. „Good place to start“ she smiles before flipping through a page in her book. „I um.. I think I may stick around for a bit“ you admit and her lips curl and this time you can see the satisfaction in her eyes. „Smart girl“ she murmurs, voice low „Knew you‘d come around“.

You don‘t know why but again the way she talks makes your stomach flip, the warmth of her gaze almost settling over you like a warm blanket. „I was wondering about the rent, if you are still sure about this“ you mumble a little shy and she glances up from her book before raising an eyebrow. „Let‘s not worry about that right now sweetheart, take your time to get settled and to start working and then we will figure it out“ she chuckles casually and you nod weakly, feeling bad either way and hoping you could repay her in other ways.

„Okay thank you, I um.. I will leave you to it then“ you announce as you nervously fiddle with your flannel but the woman stops you as she calls out your name and you turn to face her „Hold on, aren‘t you hungry?“ she asks and you look at her a little dumbfounded before she points towards the kitchen „Dinner is on the stove if you want some“ she announces before glancing back at her book and you realize then how you hadn‘t eaten other than breakfast, how the woman made you so nervous that you couldn‘t even smell all the ingredients and spices until this moment.

„Um sure if you don‘t mind“ you announce nervously and she simply rolls her eyes playfully before setting her book down. „I don‘t, now stop being all polite and shy and come on“ she orders and you nod, a shimmer of red spreading across your cheeks before following the woman into her kitchen.

Maybe she was right, Westview really did have a way of keeping people around. And something tells you that Agatha has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x y/n #agatha harkness x reader #agatha coven of chaos #aaa #agathario #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #marvel #mcu

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joelalorian · 2 days ago

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Under False Pretenses - Chapter Eight

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 3976 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Cursing. More fun in the hot tub. Finally, getting answers to some of your questions. The plot thickens.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eight

The cryptic message from New Year’s Eve haunted Dave’s thoughts. He set the tech guys at the DIA on it at once, not caring about the federal holiday, trying to track down the sender to no avail. It took them all damn day, and all they figured out was that the line went to a burner phone, probably long since destroyed and tossed aside.

Knowing the kinds of people he investigated as part of his job, as well as the ones he and the boys used to accept contracts from, it could be anyone. Still, Dave had an idea who was behind it and wondered how much they knew. If it was who he thought and they knew everything… well, there was a high probability he would already be dead. That gave him hope that they only thought they had something on him.

Two more cryptic messages assaulted Dave in the first few days of January, escalating his stress level. You could tell something was wrong, but you never pushed, only offering stress relief and support. Things had been a little… off… since that New Year’s Eve party and this situation wasn’t making it any better. He appreciated your efforts to be there for him, but he still felt awful for, well, everything. All this hiding and lying to you of all people didn’t sit right with him. He longed to tell you everything, he just… couldn’t. Not if it would put you in danger.

His frustrations only mounted when the tech team deemed themselves useless and he reached out to the boys.

“Resnik,” Dave greeted as the other man picked up his call. “I need your help. Can we meet?”

“Name the time, boss. I’ll come to you,” Resnik replied. “Should I bring the guys?”

After some consideration, Dave hummed an affirmative followed by a time he knew Lisa would still be at work and the girls at school. You��d be home, but he wasn’t worried about you seeing the boys around. He trusted you, which surprised him. Dave York trusted few people.

The house was quiet when the knock came. Dave glanced first at the clock, then through a gap in the curtains to confirm it was them. Pulling the door open, he greeted the three familiar faces, their expressions a mix of curious and mildly amused.

Ari stepped through the door first, tall and wiry. His sharp eyes scanned the entryway before meeting Dave’s. “Nice place, York,” he said, clapping Dave on the shoulder.

“Not bad for a suburban family man,” Kovac added, his stocky frame filling the doorway as he followed Ari into the house.

Resnik, the one to always give him the most shit, entered last, an easy-going grin on his face. “Didn’t peg you for the white picket fence type, boss. Always thought that was Carol’s doin’.”

Shaking his head, Dave ushered him in and closed the door, sliding the deadbolt into place with a defined click. “Enough with the commentary. This isn’t a social call, gentlemen,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, we got it, Mr. Personality,” Resnik replied, waving him off. “If you’re calling us in, it’s gotta be serious. What’s going on?”

Before Dave could answer, a soft laugh drifted in from the kitchen. The men turned as one, their gazes locking onto you as you appeared in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee in one hand and your phone in the other, looking slightly startled at the sight of three strange men in your home. Ranger stood guard beside you; his hackles raised at the sight of unknown intruders.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, glancing between them and Dave.

Ari arched a brow, his sharp gaze flicking back to Dave. “And who is this?”

“No one you need to worry about,” Dave barked quickly, his tone clipped as he stepped between you and the guys, patting Ranger’s head to calm him. A flash of hurt crossed your face, but he couldn’t deal with that right now, not when the boys looked at you like dessert.

Resnik let slip a low whistle, comically leaning around Dave to get a better look at you. “No one? Come on, York. Are you not gonna introduce us, your oldest friends, to the hottie in your house?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dave muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He stepped aside with a heavy sigh, allowing them a full view of you again. “Gentlemen, this is—”

You cut him off with a small smile, extending your hand as you offered them your name. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ari took your hand first, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Ari,” he replied, his expression appreciative yet still assessing you for threats or weaknesses.

“Kovac,” the stockier man said in a deep, rumbling voice, shaking your hand with a grin half hidden by his thick beard.

“And I’m Resnik,” the final man greeted with a roguish wink. Ranger rumbled a low growl at the action. “The only single one here, I might add. So, are you the reason this guy dragged us here or…?”

You blinked, charmed yet clearly caught off guard. You glanced at Dave, who scowled at the other men, before stumbling through a response. “I – uh – no, I don’t think so.”

“She’s not,” Dave growled, shooting Resnik a warning look. “And she’s got better things to do than hang around here while we work.”

Hurt flashed across your face again at his clear dismissal, but you forced your expression into a polite smile to the group. “I’ll be in the basement,” you said before shouldering past Dave to disappear down the stairs with your coffee, Ranger trotting after you. Dave regretted being so curt and dismissive, but hopefully, you’d understand. He’d speak to you later to make sure of it.

Once you were out of earshot, Ari turned to Dave, crossing his arms. “Care to explain?”

“There’s nothing to explain,” Dave said flatly. “She’s… a family friend.”

Kovac snorted. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

“I knew you looked familiar,” Resnik snarked before turning to Dave, enamored grin widening. “Seriously, York. Who’s the eye candy? She sure as hell ain’t just a family friend.”

Dave’s glare did nothing to silence them, his expression darkening as they continued to badger him with questions.

“Since when do you have a dog?”

“And what’s with this huge house? What was wrong with the old one?”

“Is that a wedding ring on your finger?”

“When the hell did you get remarried?”

“And why weren’t we invited?”

“What are you hiding, boss?”

The questions came at him like quick punches, jab, jab, jabbing at him until his already frayed nerves burst at the seams. Pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, Dave finally snapped. “Enough! We’ve got a job to do. If you busybodies could focus for five fucking minutes, I will answer some of your questions when we’re done.”

The boys reigned it in, much to Dave’s relief, and the group moved to the dining room where Dave spread out the few details he had about the text, along with very few details about the operation he was working on. The tone in the room shifted as the men fell into their professional roles, their banter replaced by quiet intensity.

The four men stared at the printouts, listening to Dave give some background on the op and the circumstances under which the texts came through.

Ari frowned as he examined the data. “The message is too clean. No traceable metadata, no IP trails. Whoever sent this knows what they’re doing – or they’re working with a team who does.”

“This ‘mutual friend’ military asset of theirs? You don’t suppose…” Kovac started, sharing a glance with Resnik.

“I was thinking the same thing,” the other man added while Ari and Dave stared at them.

“I hate when you guys do this shit,” Ari muttered.

“It’s good to see that nothing changes with you three,” Dave added with a trace of fondness. “If you wouldn’t mind knocking off the shared thought shit and just filling the rest of us in.”

With a nod from Kovac, Resnik took point. “You said there’s a military asset involved in your op and this Roger and Anna keep referring to them as your ‘mutual friend’ – do we know if they are active or retired?”

Dave shook his head, starting to see where this was headed.

“You don’t suppose…” Ari wondered aloud, repeating Kovac’s earlier statement as he caught on to the other men’s thought process. “Would make sense, if the asset was retired. I mean, the guy has the connections.”

“And he has an axe to grind,” Dave added, mind racing.

“Then we all agree. Robert McCall could be the asset and is equally likely to be behind these messages,” Resnik said, one finger tapping against the printouts on the table.

“He certainly has the skill set,” Kovac concurred.

Despite being their team leader for seven years, the men still harbored resentment for their once friend faking his death on their last sanctioned operation together. The men mourned the man and turned to extracurricular work to make up for the disbanding of their team thanks to McCall’s death. When the once respected leader returned from the dead to confront them about their supposed crimes committed during their extracurricular activities, Dave was already considering leaving that life behind as Carol was diagnosed with cancer. It was a no-brainer, to take the opportunity McCall presented and walk away from that life, and for everyone to agree to go their separate ways without further injury.

They all thought that was the end of it, but he should have known better. He heard from Susan Plummer a few times how the old man changed over the past couple of years, becoming more frustrated with the state of the country, the greed, and the corruption. She was worried about him but didn’t know what to do.

It was all starting to make sense to Dave. The loss of his wife, Vivienne, hit McCall particularly hard, and the vigilante work had given him an outlet. But was it enough? Apparently not.

“Shit,” Dave muttered, running a hand through his hair as he fell back into a seat at the table.

Resnik leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “If it is McCall, he’s playing with you. Trying to rattle your cage.”

“Yeah, well, it’s working,” Dave snapped.

Ari looked up from another scan of the data, his gaze sharp. “You sure there’s no one else who could’ve sent this? Someone closer to home?”

Dave hesitated, mind flashing to Anna, how her eyes and hands lingered on him during their last meeting, her comments about you at the party. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “Anna’s people are thorough. The team created a whole data and paper trail to fit my cover, but if they’re onto me—”

“Whoever it is, they’re not just onto you,” Resnik interrupted. “They’re watching. The question is, what do they want?”

The conversation continued as the men worked to dissect the threat and formulate plans. Despite talking in circles, Dave’s gut insisted McCall was behind it all. In the back of his mind, another worry lingered – one he couldn’t share, not even with the boys.

If McCall or Anna’s people were watching him, how long before they noticed you? Or is that what the original text implied?

No, it couldn’t be. Unless they bugged the house, there was no way for anyone to know what was going on between the two of you.

“Tell us more about this op, boss,” Kovac requested. “What’s the cover? Maybe there’s a detail that would help us figure out who is behind this.”

Dave hesitated, shoulders slumping as he thought about how much to give away or keep close to his chest. He trusted them. These guys knew him better than any other living beings on the planet – they knew him better than Carol ever did, having been in the thick with them too many times to count. He could only hide so much from them.

“I’m married.”

The three men stared at him blankly, waiting for context. When he gave them nothing else, Resnik snapped. “Thanks, Captain fucking Obvious. We figured that out for ourselves. What we want to know is the how, the why, the when.”

“Most importantly,” Kovac interjected, “the who and why weren’t we invited?”

Rubbing both hands over his face and through his hair, Dave sighed. He had unrelenting trust in these men, but it still scared him to speak the words aloud, but not for the reason he would have thought. He found that he wasn’t so afraid of blowing his cover, as much as he was of hurting you by telling them first.

“Because… it’s not real. It’s a cover for the op.”

It had been months, and he never said a word about it to you, never even hinted at it. He still wasn’t planning to tell you, unfortunately. He couldn’t risk it changing the dynamic he had to uphold for the sake of this operation. He worried that was the wrong decision, that it would bite him in the ass later, but he was steadfast. He was so close to closing this case. He had to put that first and part of him hated himself for that. Otherwise, one false move could ruin… everything.

The room fell silent for a beat before the boys erupted into laughter.

“Why the fuck are you three laughing?” Dave grumbled, unamused.

All three men raised their hands in surrender, laughter fading until the room fell silent again.

“So, what’s the angle? Why the sham?” Ari asked with a calculating gleam in his eye. Dave could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he worked the angles of what Dave shared.

“Better yet, who’s the wife?” Resnik questioned with a smirk. “Tell me it’s not that stunner with the luscious ass waiting for you downstairs.”

Dave ignored Resnik’s comments, avoiding the man’s gaze as he provided more details. “My neighbors, Roger, and his wife are the targets,” he explained. “The DIA needed me close so they paired me with an analyst – Lisa, you might have met her before, she’s been with the agency a long time – to make us look like just another domestic couple in the neighborhood. She’s my ‘wife’ on paper.”

Resnik leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he angled his head to catch Dave’s gaze. “If Lisa’s the ‘wife’, then who is the—” He stopped, his eyes widening as realization dawned.

Kovac caught on next, a slow grin spreading across his face. “The ‘family friend’, huh? She your stepdaughter or something?”

Ari’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze flicked to the basement door. “She’s part of what you’re hiding, too, isn’t she?”

Dave’s silence was all the answer they needed, and he fucking hated it. Why the hell were they so stuck on you anyway?

“Holy shit,” Resnik said, tipping back in his chair with an admiring gaze. “York, you sly bastard. Living a fucking porn plot over here, huh? Does she even know?”

Those comments pushed Dave over the edge. “She doesn’t need to,” he snapped, his tone icy enough to cover the table in a layer of frost. “Her involvement is incidental. She’s not part of this.”

They all looked at him incredulously, but Kovac was the only one brave enough to challenge him this time. “Not part of this? I could tell with one glance, that this chick means something to you, boss. You practically look at her with hearts in your goddamned eyes. If these people are watching, she’s already in it, whether you like it or not.”

The words hit harder than Dave cared to admit. Scrubbing a hand over his face once more, the weight of the situation pressed down on him. Fuck. He planned this op meticulously, accounted for the girls' safety, and was comfortable enough with his cover marriage to Lisa to make it look good to the outside world. What he did not plan for was you and the impact you had on his life – and as a result, the impact you had on this op.

“That’s why I need you three,” he finally admitted. “If they’re onto me, I need to know how much they know – and how close they are to her.”

Ari nodded, his sharp eyes narrowing. “I’ll dig into the messages and see if there’s anything the DIA nerds missed. But you’re walking a fine line here, boss.”

“I know,” Dave admitted, his voice an octave above a whisper.

“Do you?” Ari pressed. “Because if this goes south, that pretty thing is not just collateral damage. She’s your weak spot, and whoever is behind this will exploit it however they can.”

“Is it really that obvious?” Dave questioned without realizing the words left his mouth.

“We read you like a fucking book the moment she walked into the room, man,” Resnik chimed in.

“Heart eyes,” Kovac reiterated. “To anyone who knows you, it’s fucking obvious.”

“And McCall knows you almost as well as we do,” Ari finished. “So, if he really is behind this…”

Fuck. Dave’s jaw clenched, his chest tightening with the weight of their words. “Just get confirmation on who sent these messages. Then we can plan accordingly. I need this fucking thing over with asap.” His tone brooked no argument from the men as they gathered their things.

“We’ll check back in 48 hours. Sooner if I find something,” Ari said as they made their way through the house to the front door.

As Dave watched them walk to the SUV parked in his driveway, his thoughts drifted back to you. They were right – if these people were watching him, you were already in danger. And it was up to him to ensure they never got close enough to hurt you.

After what felt like hours of pacing the basement, mind racing over Dave’s behavior and the men he clearly didn’t want you to meet, you had enough. You dug out a one-piece bathing suit from the closet and changed. You needed a soak in the hot tub to ease your tattered nerves. You had two hours to kill before you needed to pick up the girls from school and the hot water would do you good.

You heard the men leave as you pulled a thick bathrobe over the swimwear and darted up the stairs. Dave stood at the front door watching the men pile into their SUV, but you ignored him, slipping silently down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the sliding glass door. He must have gone looking for you because he stuck his head out the back door five minutes later looking relieved to see you.

“Hey,” he greeted, appearing uncertain.

“Hey yourself,” you replied. The hot, bubbling water was already relaxing you, but the hurt from his earlier dismissal still lingered.

Dave gazed at you with those sad, puppy dog eyes, willing you to smile at him. “Can I join you?”

You shrugged. “It’s your hot tub.”

His hopeful expression dropped. “Don’t be like that. Please.” You softened slightly, beckoning him in and his pouty lips curved into a grateful smile as he undid the buttons of his shirt. You watched with thirsty eyes as he undid his belt next and slipped his pants down over his slim hips revealing the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs beneath.

You couldn’t stop your tongue from darting out to lick at your lips. Even when you wanted to be mad at him, Dave York was still a snack.

No, scratch that.

He was a whole fucking meal, and you wanted to devour him.

The water sloshed as he climbed in, taut muscles flexing with his movements. You were practically salivating by the time Dave slid next to you. Soon, you were overheating between the water temperature and his body heat. Each cell within your body nearly became apoplectic when his arm curled around your shoulders, pulling your body closer and twisting you around to straddle his lap.

Those dark chocolate eyes gazed at you with a mix of wonder and worry, his lips pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’m sorry about before,” Dave murmured.

Your eyes tracked a droplet of water as it meandered down the dewy skin of his neck, head dipping to halt its movement with your tongue. Dave gasped at the touch of your mouth on him, hands flexing on your hips beneath the water’s surface.

“Firecracker…” he groaned, head dipping back to meet your gaze.

“Who were those men? The ones you clearly didn’t want me to meet?”

His expression shifted from dazed to regretful. “They are old military buddies of mine. We worked together for a long time. It’s not that I didn’t want you to meet them…”

You quirked an eyebrow doubtfully and he sighed.

“I mean it. I just didn’t want you to meet them like this when I’m in the middle of a case and things are up in the air.”

“More like when we’re hiding the fact that you’re having an affair with your stepdaughter,” you groused. You didn’t know why you were giving him a hard time about this. You went into this thing with Dave knowing full well what it was. You never questioned it before.

Dave’s head tilted to the side as he considered your pout. “Well, yeah. That too. Aside from you and me, they are the only people who know anything about us. Even then, I didn’t give them much.”

A small weight lifted from your chest at the thought of his friends knowing about you and a smile slipped into place. “Is this case you’re on dangerous?”

He nodded.

“Is that why your friends came by? To assist with your case?”

Again, he nodded. You were about to ask if the neighbor had anything to do with the case, but Dave silenced you with a kiss.

“No more questions, my little Firecracker. I don’t want to lie to you so I can’t tell you any more than this – we need to be careful. This operation is turning more dangerous than anticipated, and I don’t want the wrong people finding out about us… about what you mean to me.”

Dark eyes searched yours until you nodded, hands coming up to caress his face. “Understood. Just… don’t push me away, okay?”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Dave replied earnestly before dipping his head to capture your lips in a kiss that quickly turned heated. You felt his girth growing against you and he shifted a hand to pull himself through the hidden pocket of his boxer briefs before sliding the crotch of your swimsuit to one side.

“Come on, now, my fiery girl,” Dave purred against your lips. “Sit on this cock and make yourself feel good.”

Always good at following directions, you did just that. Impaling yourself on his length with a guttural moan, you bounced on Dave’s cock, making the frothing water slosh over the sides of the hot tub.

“That’s it, princess. Take what you want,” Dave encouraged as you ground against him. His hands roamed your body, stopping occasionally to flex his fingers against your soft skin. At one point, he slipped a hand between your bodies to press his thumb against your clit and you arched back.

“Fuck, that’s it. Just like that, my sweet vixen.” He thrust upward when you keened, hitting that secret spot inside you no one else ever touched.

“There you go,” he sang in your ear, his breathy rumble sending a shockwave through your trembling body. “Come on this cock that was made for you.”

And once again, you did what you were told.

tbc

Chapter Nine

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk

#stepdad!dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #soft yet intense dave #dave york fluff #dave york angst #pedrostories #stepdad!dave #dave york smut

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thyras · 2 days ago

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→ of dark deeds

PAIRING → annatar | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 9k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → complicated birth (no graphic stuff just wanted to warn y'all of that)

SUMMARY → his plan is in motion and there will be no stopping what he wills

AUTHORS NOTE → so i have maybe two chapters left for this story, so we are coming to the end. next chapter is going to be a long one because we have to cover so much, and it is going to be DARK so buckle up for that. i have a lot in store, but i had to get aerilaya's birth out of the way before we could steam roll to the end.

masterlist // series playlist // mood board

Weeks turned into months.

You remained a steady presence by Celebrimbor’s side, shielding him from whatever your husband sought to achieve. He still refused to help, unwavering in his stance, and you had made it your silent duty to ensure he stayed that way.

The two of you found solace in the study, away from the constant clang of the forge, in the quiet sanctuary where you had spent many days together over the centuries. It had become a refuge, a space of unspoken understanding, where words were not always needed. A small comfort in the face of the storm that loomed ever closer.

You had made your choice.

It had broken your heart, shattered you in ways you had never thought possible—but you had no regrets. You had to protect what was most precious to you.

Your child.

And the man sitting across from you.

A burden had been placed upon you the moment you had accepted this ring, a duty you could not abandon, no matter the cost. Even if it destroyed you from the inside out.

Celebrimbor, ever perceptive, did not pry. He never pressed into your personal matters, but you knew he saw the sorrow that clung to you, the tension that coiled in your muscles whenever his name was mentioned. The absence of Annatar in your life had become an unspoken truth, a wound left untreated, one you refused to acknowledge aloud.

Instead, Celebrimbor had simply congratulated you on your pregnancy and remained ever watchful, his keen eyes ensuring you did not strain yourself beyond what was safe.

It had been months since you had last spoken to Annatar.

Months since he had even tried to see you.

He had become a ghost, a shadow of a presence that lingered only in memory. But his words, his voids, still haunted you.

I want to heal you and create the world I promised you.

Lies. Beautiful, twisted lies.

If not for Nenya on your finger, you were impossibly sure that the sheer weight of grief would have unraveled you completely. Many nights had been spent tracing circles over the growing swell of your stomach, whispering soft reassurances to the life within you—seeking solace not only for your child but for the ache that still tore through your very fëa.

You wanted to give her everything. You wanted to shield her from the disappointment of never knowing her father as you once had. Of never seeing the light that once burned so brilliantly within him, the warmth that had made him yours.

"Thilwen?"

Celebrimbor’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his tone gentle, laced with concern. You blinked, realizing too late that tears had begun to spill down your cheeks. Quickly, you wiped them away, offering him a soft, pleasant smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, leaning back in your chair, rubbing slow circles over your now-prominent belly. You were close to term now—your very fëa stretched thin with the final stages of pregnancy. It was a wonder you had not succumbed to exhaustion already.

A sudden, strong thud against your fingers startled you, and you giggled, running your hand over the spot where the little one had kicked.

Celebrimbor’s expression softened with quiet amusement. “Have they deduced what you are having yet?”

You shrugged. “The midwives tell me it is most likely a girl. And I believe so as well.”

Your gaze dropped to your stomach, watching as a tiny hand pressed outward, stretching your skin in protest.

“Well,” Celebrimbor mused, a warm smile curving his lips, “I am sure she will be as beautiful as her mother.”

A heat crept to your cheeks, the warmth of the moment settling over you like a fragile balm against the pain of everything else.

For a fleeting second, you allowed yourself to believe in the quiet. In the possibility that this life you had carved for yourself, for your daughter, might be enough.

But deep down, you knew the storm had not yet passed.

And Annatar’s silence would not last forever.

As that last thought settled in your mind, a sudden, thunderous crash echoed through the corridor, shattering the fragile moment of peace. The impact rattled through the walls, sending a tremor through the floor beneath your feet. Both you and Celebrimbor snapped your heads toward the open door, the once-quiet study now filled with the distant, panicked murmurs of voices beyond.

Celebrimbor moved to rise, but you were faster, pushing up from your seat before he could. A sharp flicker of concern crossed his face as you turned to him, pressing a steady hand against his shoulder.

“Stay,” you murmured, firm but gentle, ushering him back into his chair. He hesitated, eyes searching yours, but ultimately relented, exhaling slowly as he sat back down.

“I’ll go see what has happened.”

You gathered the folds of your gown, bracing yourself before striding toward the door.

“Thilwen.”

The way he spoke your name made you pause. There was something in his voice—something quiet, almost pleading. You turned, meeting his gaze. His knuckles were white where they gripped the arms of his chair, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Please be careful.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips despite the unease curling in your stomach. You smoothed your hand over your belly, the warmth of the life growing within you grounding you for just a moment before you spoke.

“I’ll be just fine.”

It wasn’t quite a lie.

But as you stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, the air thick with tension, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

Your ring chimed—a soft, resonant pulse against your skin—as you made your way down the hall toward the forge. The sound was not alarming, but it carried a whisper of warning, a subtle shift in the air that set your nerves on edge.

Voices echoed ahead, low and concerned, spilling from the open archway. As you stepped inside, the flickering light of the forge bathed the room in a dim, golden glow. The smiths were gathered in a tight circle around Mirdania, murmuring words of comfort, their postures tense with barely concealed unease. Tools were scattered across the forge and the anvil had fallen into the center of the floor.

But your gaze did not linger on the scene before you.

It found him.

Annatar stood apart from the others, his presence a stark contrast to the huddled group. He had not moved to comfort Mirdania, nor had he spoken. His piercing gaze was locked onto her, unwavering, unreadable. And yet, in the rigid set of his jaw, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, you sensed something coiled beneath the surface.

He had yet to notice you.

But the moment you stepped forward, descending the short set of stairs, every eye in the room turned to you—including his.

The weight of his gaze settled over you like a crushing force, suffocating, heavy with something unspoken. Your breath caught, but you refused to let it show. You forced yourself to keep walking, closing the distance between yourself and the gathered smiths.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice steady despite the tension curling in your stomach.

Mirdania flinched at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up.

Your heart clenched at what you saw in her eyes—fear. A familiar fear. One that had once darkened your own face, months ago.

You tore your gaze away, scanning the other smiths, but none of them met your eyes. Their silence was deliberate, their reluctance thick in the air. Even Mirdania hesitated, her lips parting as if to speak before she cast a quick, nervous glance toward Annatar.

Then back to you.

She swallowed hard.

And you knew, without her saying a word, that whatever had happened—whatever had frightened her—had everything to do with him.

“Mirdania?” you pressed, your brow arching as you met her hesitant gaze.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly at her sides, but before she could gather the courage to speak, Annatar’s voice cut through the silence.

“We were—”

Your hand shot up, a sharp gesture that halted his words in an instant.

His expression flickered—first with surprise, then something darker. His blue eyes narrowed, a shadow passing through them at the boldness of your interruption.

“I asked Mirdania, not you, my lord.”

You punctuated the word you, letting it land with deliberate weight before shifting your focus back to Mirdania. The smiths instinctively stepped aside as you strode forward, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She exhaled, tension easing just slightly beneath your touch, the warmth of your presence melting some of the fear that had gripped her moments ago.

“Tell me,” you said gently. “What happened?”

Mirdania hesitated, her lower lip trembling as unshed tears welled in her eyes. “We… we were trying a new design. I—I tried the ring on, and—”

Her breath hitched, and a few tears slipped free, trailing down her cheeks.

Without thinking, you cupped her face, thumb brushing away the streaks of moisture.

“You can tell me,” you whispered, voice a soothing balm against the weight of the moment. “Here, or we can go somewhere else. Whatever makes you feel safe.”

Her gaze flicked nervously toward Annatar, uncertainty warring within her.

“Mirdania,” you murmured, your tone soft yet unwavering, “you do not need anyone’s approval to speak.”

Something in her resolve hardened. Slowly, she nodded and reached for your hand, gripping it tightly.

“I would like to go somewhere else,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

You gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand lightly before turning to lead her from the forge. But before you could take more than a few steps, Annatar spoke again.

“I really must protest,” he said, voice calm, almost measured—but you knew that tone, knew it was meant to mask the brewing storm beneath. “We are hardly—”

You whirled on him, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally bubbling to the surface.

“She is frightened.” The words left your lips with an edge, sharp and cutting. “You have an entire slew of talented smiths at your disposal—you can do without one.”

Your eyes burned into his, daring him to challenge you.

For a moment, silence stretched between you.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You could see it—the calculation behind his gaze, the way his mind worked through what to say next, how to twist this, how to turn it in his favor.

But this was part of his game, and you knew it.

And you would not let him drag Mirdania into it.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and led her away, leaving Annatar standing in the forge, the embers behind him flickering like a dying star.

You guided Mirdania gently into the chair you had been resting in, keeping a steady hand on her shoulder as she sat. Her breath was uneven, her body still trembling slightly from whatever horror she had witnessed.

Celebrimbor approached, silent and composed, a steaming glass mug of tea in his hands. He set it down before her with a quiet nod, his gaze filled with unspoken concern.

Without hesitation, you took the seat he offered you and reached for Mirdania’s hands, clasping them between your own. They were cold, shaking, the fear still clinging to her like a specter.

You waited, giving her the time she needed.

When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“I saw something,” she choked out. “Something terrible… Something in the forge with us.”

Your grip on her hands tightened instinctively, but you said nothing, only watching her with patient, steady eyes.

“It was there the whole time,” she continued, shuddering. “Watching. Waiting for something.”

Her fingers twitched in your grasp, her breaths turning shallow again, her pulse rapid beneath your touch.

You knew.

You knew what she had seen.

You knew what these rings could do—what they could show a person. And those that had his hand in their making… they were worse. Far worse.

Mirdania’s voice wavered, her expression twisting as though the memory alone was enough to break her.

“Its eyes… they were voidless black.” Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard, her entire body trembling. “And it reeked of death. I—”

She broke, sobs wracking her frame as she collapsed forward.

Without thinking, you gathered her into your arms, holding her tightly as she cried, stroking her back in slow, soothing circles.

Your gaze lifted to Celebrimbor, and in his eyes, you found the same concern that was mirrored in your own.

But there was nothing you could say.

Because you knew who she had seen.

And you were powerless against it.

If you told them the truth, if you dared to speak his name aloud, then you would have to reveal your own secret as well.

And that was a risk you could not afford to take.

“I will go see what—”

Celebrimbor’s voice barely registered through the storm of your thoughts, but the moment he moved to step away from Mirdania, you reacted.

Your hand shot out, grasping his wrist in a vice-like grip, yanking him back before he could take another step.

“No!”

The word ripped from your throat, sharp and frantic—too frantic.

Both Mirdania and Celebrimbor froze, their eyes widening as they turned to you, confusion flickering across their faces. Rightly so. They did not know him. They did not understand what he was truly capable of—what he had already done.

But you did.

You could still feel the weight of his fingers around your throat. Could still hear the way his voice had snapped with finality when he told you the man you loved was dead.

You swallowed hard, forcing the panic down, scrambling for an excuse before they could question you further.

“I just…” you started, breathing unevenly. “I just think we should not escalate this.”

Celebrimbor’s gaze searched yours, the concern in his eyes shifting into something more wary.

“Escalate?” he echoed, his voice steady but careful. “Someone—or something—terrified Mirdania tonight, and you don’t want to investigate?”

“I just—” you hesitated, your grip still tight on his wrist. Think. Think.

“I just… don’t want you to act rashly,” you murmured, finally releasing him. “Not yet.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t press the issue. Not yet.

Mirdania, however, was still shaking in her chair, her hands gripping the cup of tea as if it was the only thing grounding her.

You turned your attention back to her, softening your voice. “We will figure this out, I promise.”

You did not know if it was a lie.

You only knew that you had to buy time—before Celebrimbor did go looking for answers.

Before he decided to intervene.

You had to protect him.

The moment Celebrimbor stepped back into that forge without you, he would be waiting. Watching. And you knew, without a shred of doubt, that Annatar would seize the opportunity to slither his way back into his mind, to twist his thoughts, to push him ever closer to the edge of a precipice he could not return from.

And you could not bear that.

You could not lose him, too.

Your fingers tightened around his wrist once more, a silent plea grounding him before you spoke, voice softer now—gentle, but unwavering.

“I promise, mellon,” you murmured, holding his gaze, willing him to believe you. “I promise we will find the answer. But first, let us take care of Mirdania. Then we shall see what has happened.”

For a moment, he hesitated, the conflict warring in his eyes. You could see it—the logic, the need to act, to uncover the truth. But there was also trust, the deep-seated understanding that had always bound you together.

Slowly, his shoulders eased, the tension in his stance relenting.

“…Alright,” he conceded at last, exhaling through his nose. “We tend to Mirdania first.”

Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting. Because while you had bought him a little more time—

You knew the storm had not passed.

Once Mirdania was safely home and settled, you knew there was no more delaying the inevitable.

You made your way back toward the forge, each step heavier than the last, weighed down by the looming confrontation ahead.

This was the moment.

The moment you and Celebrimbor would have to face him.

The moment you would have to stand against your husband.

Your breath was shallow, your fingers curling against the fabric of your gown as another sharp pang of exhaustion ran through your body. The weight of your pregnancy was taking its toll—your strength stretched thinner with each passing day.

And yet, despite the weariness in your limbs, despite the way your fëa trembled under the strain, you knew you had no choice.

You did not know if you had the strength to protect Celebrimbor from him.

But you knew, with unwavering certainty, that you had to try.

You fisted the skirts of your gown and ascended the stone steps, each step slower, heavier, as the weight of what was to come settled deep in your bones. At the top, Celebrimbor stood waiting, his sharp eyes scanning your face the moment you neared.

When you had left him, the tension in his shoulders had eased, if only slightly. Now, it had returned—wound tight as a bowstring.

He had seen your apprehension before, had known you long enough to understand that if you were concerned, then something was very, very wrong.

“I believe he has sent the rest of the smiths home,” Celebrimbor murmured, his voice quiet, yet edged with something unreadable.

You swallowed, glancing toward the forge’s doors. It made sense. Annatar would not want witnesses. Not for this.

Before you could respond, Celebrimbor’s hand came to rest gently beneath your arm, steadying you, supporting some of your weight as he tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow.

It was a quiet reassurance, a silent acknowledgment that you did not have to carry this burden alone.

You exhaled softly, nodding in thanks, and together, you turned toward the forge.

Toward him.

Toward whatever awaited you in the firelit depths beyond.

When you both finally entered the forge, Annatar stood off to the side, studying something with an air of quiet deliberation, as if he had been expecting you. His head turned the moment you and Celebrimbor stepped into the main chamber, his sharp gaze locking onto you both with unsettling precision.

Annatar’s presence was as commanding as ever—his tall frame exuding an effortless dominance, his face impassive save for the faintest flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. A silent confirmation that this confrontation was long overdue.

"Lord Celebrimbor. Lady Thilwen," he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and polished, like silk sliding over steel. "To what do I owe the pleasure at this late hour?"

Celebrimbor’s grip on your arm tightened, just slightly, a subtle gesture that betrayed the tension simmering beneath his composed exterior. "We need to discuss what happened with Mirdania," he said, his words measured but firm, his voice carrying an undeniable edge of steel.

Annatar arched a brow, the very picture of polite intrigue. "Ah, yes. An unfortunate incident. The poor girl seemed quite shaken." His tone was laced with feigned concern, but you knew better. Every measured word, every carefully chosen inflection was part of the mask he so expertly wielded. He was already shaping the narrative, painting Mirdania as some fragile, hysterical thing rather than someone who had seen something truly terrifying.

Celebrimbor’s jaw clenched, his entire posture stiffening in response to Annatar’s dismissive tone. "This is more than an unfortunate incident. Mirdania saw something in that ring—something that shook her to her core. We cannot simply brush it aside."

For the briefest moment, Annatar’s gaze flicked to you, his eyes darkening—a shadow passing through them before his composed mask settled once more. "My dear Celebrimbor," he said smoothly, "you, of all people, understand that the forging of such powerful artifacts can have... unexpected effects on the untrained mind. Mirdania is a talented smith, certainly, but perhaps not yet prepared for this level of craft."

You bristled at his words, at the quiet condescension woven into them, as though he were speaking of an apprentice, not a skilled artisan. Your fingers tightened on Celebrimbor’s arm as you stepped forward, voice even but firm. "With all due respect, my lord, I do not believe Mirdania's experience can be so easily dismissed. She has worked on countless complex projects before. What she saw in that ring was beyond ordinary—something unnatural, something truly unsettling."

Annatar’s pleasant façade cracked, just slightly. His eyes sharpened, his expression unreadable, before he composed himself with a practiced ease. "My lady," he said, voice still polite but now tinged with the subtlest hint of patronization, "while I appreciate your concern, I must remind you that the intricacies of ring-lore are not your domain of expertise. Perhaps it is best to leave such matters to those of us who understand the potential... side effects."

The words were a veiled dismissal, a gentle push to the periphery, as though your insight was irrelevant. Anger flared in your chest, but before you could reply, Celebrimbor took a step forward, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Annatar." His tone was sharp, commanding—unyielding. "Enough. Thilwen’s insights are always valued, as you well know. And Mirdania's well-being is not a trivial matter to be brushed aside."

He moved, ever so subtly, positioning himself between you and Annatar. A shield. A statement of allegiance.

Annatar’s gaze flicked between you and Celebrimbor, his keen mind reading the unspoken alliance between you. For a heartbeat, something dangerous glinted in his eyes—there and gone too quickly to be certain.

"Of course," he said smoothly, inclining his head in a mockery of deference. "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. Though, with your insight, perhaps we could remedy these... unfortunate side effects. Your opinions on the matter could prove most helpful."

You moved past Celebrimbor’s shielding form, stepping closer, meeting Annatar’s gaze with an unflinching glare.

"No," you said, your voice cutting through the air like tempered steel. "He has told you, time and again, that he wants nothing to do with this craft. Why won’t you respect that?"

Your blood burned, a slow, rising fire, your fists clenching at your sides as you tried to steady your breath.

Annatar’s mask slipped further, a crack in the carefully controlled veneer. His irritation flared, brief but unmistakable, before he forced it back into place. His eyes bored into yours—a silent challenge, a reminder of who truly held power here.

"I am merely seeking a solution," he said, voice tight with the effort of restraint. "To ensure that such incidents do not happen again. Surely you can see the wisdom in that, my lady?"

"The only wisdom I see," you shot back, "is in heeding Lord Celebrimbor’s wishes and putting an end to this madness. These rings—whatever their intended purpose—bring nothing but suffering. Mirdania’s terror is proof enough of that."

Annatar’s jaw flexed, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. "You forget yourself, Thilwen," he said, his voice stripped of its usual silk, revealing the iron beneath. "And you forget to whom you speak."

The use of your name, absent of title or courtesy, struck like a blow. A cold, deliberate reminder of the widening rift between you.

Beside you, Celebrimbor tensed, his grip tightening on your arm in silent reassurance. "And you forget your place, Annatar," he said, his voice like carved stone. "You are a guest here, not a lord. I will not tolerate disrespect toward Lady Thilwen, nor will I allow the concerns of my people to be dismissed."

For the first time, Annatar faltered—only slightly, but enough for you to notice. His eyes flicked toward Celebrimbor, something sharp and calculating twisting behind them. For a fleeting moment, his composure slipped, revealing the frustration simmering beneath. He was losing his grip.

When he spoke again, his words were measured, deceptively calm. "Forgive me, Lord Celebrimbor. It was not my intent to overstep." He inclined his head, but the gesture felt hollow. "I only wish to continue our work unimpeded. Surely you understand that."

Celebrimbor’s gaze remained unmoved, his eyes storm-dark. "And I wish for the well-being of my people to be my highest priority. Anything that threatens that will not be tolerated, no matter how grand the ambition."

Annatar’s expression tightened at the clear dismissal. He was losing his hold on Celebrimbor, and he knew it. And you could see it—the frustration, the barely restrained anger, the way his fingers flexed slightly, as though resisting the urge to lash out.

For the first time, Annatar understood. His influence was slipping. And he did not like it.

The tension in the forge was palpable, like a bowstring drawn taut, ready to snap at any moment. Annatar's eyes flashed with barely restrained anger as he faced off against you and Celebrimbor. His carefully crafted facade was slipping, revealing the frustration and rage simmering beneath his calm facade.

"Very well," Annatar said at last, his voice tight with forced civility. "If that is your wish, Lord Celebrimbor, then I shall respect it."

But even as he spoke the words, you could see the lie in his eyes. This was not over. Not by a long shot. Annatar was not one to yield so easily, especially when his ambitions were threatened.

Celebrimbor gave a curt nod, his stance still guarded, his grip on your arm firm but gentle. "See that you do. The well-being of my people is not negotiable."

With that, he turned, guiding you away from Annatar and toward the forge’s entrance. You could feel the weight of Annatar’s gaze boring into your back as you walked—a silent promise that this confrontation had only been the first battle in a much longer war.

The moment you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the forge. The stars above flickered against the velvety black sky, indifferent to the turmoil unraveling beneath them. You exhaled slowly, unsteadily, as Celebrimbor led you a few paces away from the entrance before turning to face you.

His eyes searched yours, concern etched into every line of his face. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

A sharp, twisting pain suddenly lanced through your belly, stealing your breath. Your fingers reflexively went to your stomach, pressing against the taut skin as another wave of discomfort followed, stronger this time.

You winced, your body tensing. "I... I don't know," you managed, your voice strained. "Something doesn't feel right."

Celebrimbor’s brow furrowed with alarm, his gaze dropping to the way you clutched at your middle. The moment stretched between you, heavy with unspoken dread. His hands came to rest on your shoulders, steadying you as he studied your face.

"Thilwen, what is it? Is it the baby?"

You swallowed against the rising panic, nodding jerkily as another contraction gripped you, radiating across your abdomen in relentless waves. It was too soon—a few weeks at most. The child was not ready, and neither were you. Fear coiled in your gut, cold and sickening.

"Celebrimbor," you whispered, voice raw with uncertainty, "I think... I think something's wrong. She’s too early. I’m not—"

His eyes widened, but to his credit, he remained composed. Even as the flicker of fear in his gaze mirrored your own, he forced steadiness into his voice. He reached for your hands, his grip warm and reassuring.

"Alright," he murmured, firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. "It's alright. We’ll get you inside, to your chambers. I'll send for the midwife immediately."

You nodded, but another sharp pain stole your breath, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Celebrimbor wasted no time—without hesitation, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist, supporting your weight as he guided you back toward where your rooms were.

Each step sent a fresh jolt of discomfort through you, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. The pain was growing worse, your body preparing for something it was not yet meant to endure. Fear gnawed at the edges of your mind, but you clung to Celebrimbor’s presence, to his unwavering resolve.

Somewhere, distantly, you thought of Annatar—of the look in his eyes as you had turned away. You could still feel his gaze lingering, like a shadow crawling up your spine.

And in the back of your mind, a chilling thought took root.

This was not a coincidence.

Once Celebrimbor had helped you to your chambers, another sharp contraction seized you, nearly doubling you over. You gripped the edge of your bed, knuckles white, as you tried to breathe through the pain.

"Easy now," Celebrimbor murmured, his voice low and soothing as he eased you onto the mattress. His strong hands rubbed slow, steady circles on your back, grounding you as you fought against the rising tide of agony. "I'll go get the midwife. Just try to relax."

You gave a weak nod, your breath shallow, sweat beading on your brow as the contraction finally eased. Celebrimbor hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave you, his hand lingering at your back, as if he could somehow will away your pain.

"Go, please," you urged, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. "I'll be alright for a few minutes."

He searched your face, reluctant, but at last, he nodded and hurried from the room.

The door had barely shut behind him before another contraction ripped through you. A strangled cry tore from your lips as you doubled over, clutching at the bedsheets with trembling fingers. The pain was blinding, an unnatural force clawing its way through your body, relentless and cruel.

This was wrong. It was all wrong.

Your child was coming too soon—weeks before she was ready. And the pain... it was different. Not the familiar, inevitable pain of birth, but something sharper, deeper—twisting through you like a blade. It was as if something inside you was being forced, reshaped, against nature itself.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to steady your breath, but every inhale was like dragging shards of glass through your lungs. Sweat slicked your skin, dampening your shift, plastering loose strands of hair to your temples. Your body trembled with the effort of resisting, but it was useless.

A cold wave of realization crashed over you, sending a tremor through your aching limbs.

This was his doing.

The thought hit you with the force of a blow, stealing what little breath you had left. A shudder wracked through you, part pain, part horror.

Annatar.

Somehow—some twisted way—he had done this.

Another contraction seized you, white-hot and merciless, sending fresh tears streaking down your cheeks. Your fingers clenched into the sheets, gripping them as if they could anchor you against the storm raging inside you. A sob caught in your throat, raw and broken.

How could he?

How could he endanger the life you had created together? The child he had once sworn to cherish above all else?

But the answer was already there, lurking in the depths of your mind.

Because this child, this innocent life, was just another piece on the board to him. Another pawn to be sacrificed in his endless pursuit of power.

Your vision was coming to fruition.

And he was ensuring you would never see it through.

He wanted you away from Celebrimbor.

He wanted your mind, your heart, your purpose bound to him once more.

And so he did this.

A fresh wave of pain shattered your thoughts, your body convulsing under its sheer force. You gasped, curling inward, as a silent scream tore through you. But even through the haze of agony, one thing remained clear.

This was not just an accident of fate.

It was a warning.

A reminder that no matter how far you tried to run, how desperately you tried to escape his grasp—Sauron was always there. Watching. Waiting.

And now, he had struck.

With brutal, merciless precision.

And he would not stop until he had won.

The hours that followed were a blur of agony and terror, each wave of pain crashing over you with relentless force. Time lost all meaning, the moments stretching and twisting under the weight of suffering. The midwives moved around you in hushed urgency, their touch gentle yet unable to soothe the wrongness that had taken root inside you. Their whispers did not reach your ears, but their faces—etched with worry, with the weight of things left unsaid—told you all you needed to know.

Something was deeply, terribly wrong.

You clung to consciousness, but it was slipping, unraveling like frayed thread as exhaustion pulled at you, threatening to drag you under. Your body was failing, pushed beyond its limits by Annatar’s cruel machinations. Every contraction stole more of your strength, hollowing you out, leaving you raw and trembling.

The child within you struggled, caught in the merciless grip of something beyond nature’s design. You could feel it—her tiny fëa flickering like a candle in a raging storm, trapped between the light that had conceived her and the darkness that sought to claim her.

Celebrimbor never left your side. His presence was an anchor amidst the chaos, his hand wrapped tightly around yours, his voice a steady murmur of reassurance, even as fear flickered behind his eyes. He knew what it took to bring elven life into the world—that it demanded a toll on one’s fëa, a gift of spirit and strength. But he did not know the other truth, the one you had kept buried in your heart.

What he did not know was what it took to bring a piece of shadow into the world as well.

Each contraction was a dagger, stabbing deep, twisting, rending—not only flesh, but something far greater, something unseen. Your body writhed under its grip, but it was your spirit that bore the brunt of it. Your fëa stretched and frayed, unraveling with each wave of agony, like a rope straining under too great a weight.

This was no natural birth. This was not the sacred pain of creation, of life brought forth through light and love. This was something else entirely.

This was a violation.

A perversion of the natural order.

The shadow within Annatar—the darkness he had woven into himself—had passed into the child. And now it fought to break free, to claw its way into existence before its time. The pain was not simply that of labor—it was a battle, a war being waged within you. A struggle between the light and dark, between all that you were and all that he had sought to make you.

You cried out as another wave seized you, arching your back against the mattress, your fingers tightening around Celebrimbor’s hand until you felt the bones shift beneath your grasp. He did not flinch, did not pull away, though you knew he felt your pain as if it were his own.

"Hold on," he whispered, voice thick with barely restrained emotion. "Just a little longer."

“Keep her steady, my lord,” one of the midwives urged, her voice tense but steady as they worked tirelessly to bring your daughter into the world.

Celebrimbor obeyed without hesitation, his grip unwavering as he held you upright. His warmth was an anchor, grounding you amidst the waves of agony that threatened to pull you under. But even as he steadied you, the room seemed to tilt, the air growing thick with something unseen—something dark.

A shudder rippled through you as the shadows at the edges of the chamber deepened, stretching toward you like grasping fingers. It was subtle, almost imperceptible to those who did not know the nature of such things. But you knew.

And then, against the suffocating darkness, a familiar warmth pulsed at your finger.

Your ring.

The delicate jewel, imbued with light, with the very essence of all you had fought to protect, pulsed with a gentle glow against your skin. It was subtle, like the whisper of a breeze, but it was there. A reminder.

It had healed your curse.

It had been your sanctuary, a beacon against the creeping tendrils of Annatar’s influence.

It had kept you strong, even when his words had slithered into your mind like honeyed venom. Even when, for a moment—just a moment—you had believed him.

The pain sharpened again, stealing your breath, wrenching a strangled cry from your lips. The midwives moved swiftly, their hands working with quiet urgency, but you barely registered them. You clung to the ring’s warmth, its presence a tether against the abyss that threatened to consume you.

It would see you through this.

It was meant to.

Because this child—this life within you—was never meant to be claimed by the darkness.

You focused all your remaining strength and will on the warmth of the ring against your skin, drawing from its light as another contraction seized you in its merciless grip. The shadows that had coiled around the edges of the room seemed to recoil from its glow, pushed back by the power woven into its silver band.

Celebrimbor held you steady, his presence an unwavering pillar amidst the storm raging through your body and spirit. His voice was a low murmur of reassurance, though the words barely reached you past the all-consuming pain.

"Almost there," the midwife urged, her voice taut with both strain and determination. "Just a little more…"

Your entire body trembled, your fëa stretched to the breaking point, fraying like the last threads of a tapestry unraveling beneath unseen hands. You bore down with a final, desperate push, a scream ripping from your throat as the world seemed to fracture around you.

The ring chimed softly, its light piercing through the encroaching shadows, scattering them like wisps of smoke in the wind. The darkness recoiled, driven back by something purer, something stronger—something Annatar had never been able to touch.

And then—release.

A shuddering gasp wrenched from your lips as the pressure that had gripped you for endless, agonizing hours finally gave way. Your body sagged, boneless with exhaustion, as warmth flooded your senses. A new presence filled the space where once there had been only pain and struggle.

Then, a cry.

High and reedy, but strong.

"A beautiful little girl, my lady," the midwife announced softly, reverence lacing her voice as she lifted the tiny, wriggling bundle.

Tears welled in your eyes as she brought your daughter to you, placing her carefully against your chest. The moment your trembling arms encircled her, your body—ravaged and drained—became weightless. As if every pain, every fear, every whispered shadow had been silenced by the fragile warmth curled against you.

A choked sob escaped your lips, raw with relief, with joy, with something indescribable.

Celebrimbor’s hand found your shoulder, squeezing it softly, steadying you as you gazed down at the miracle in your arms. His own breath was uneven, his fingers shaking just slightly as they brushed against the blanket swaddling the tiny form.

"You called it," he said gently, a tired but kind smile pulling at his lips.

A watery laugh escaped you, weak but filled with profound gratitude. You turned your head toward him, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it. "I did." Your voice was little more than a whisper, but in it lay a thousand emotions, a thousand unspoken truths. "Thank you, mellon, for everything."

“Of course.” His fingers tightened around yours, offering you all the strength he could, all the love and devotion of a friend who had stood steadfastly by your side through it all.

Your gaze returned to your daughter, your heart swelling at the sight of her.

She was so small, her delicate features still soft with the haze of birth. Yet already, traces of him were there—the soft tufts of red-gold hair that curled faintly at the edges, the sweet dusting of freckles across her tiny nose and cheeks. Pieces of Mairon woven into her, undeniable reminders of the man you had once loved beyond all reason. The man your fëa still sang for in the quiet, aching corners of your soul.

For a moment, grief lingered at the edges of your happiness, the inescapable weight of what had been, of what was lost.

But then, her tiny eyes fluttered open.

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening, as you gazed into them.

Not tainted by darkness. Not the searing, molten intensity that had once looked upon you with promise and deception alike.

No.

Her eyes were bright and clear as starlight, filled only with the light you had imagined the Great Trees had.

Pure.

Untouched by shadow.

A sob of relief trembled through you, your heart breaking open with a love so fierce it threatened to consume you whole.

No darkness lurked within her. No corruption tainted the soul that had been formed in the balance between you and him.

She was yours.

Truly, wholly yours.

A child of both fire and light—yet free of the chains that bound him.

And as she nestled closer against you, her tiny fingers curling against your skin, you knew.

You had won.

After the midwives had completed their examination of both you and the baby, they helped you sit up and assisted you in feeding her—before one of them finally asked the question you had already prepared an answer for.

"Have you picked out a name for her?" she asked with a warm smile.

You looked down at your daughter, your fingers running gently through the tufts of red hair as she nursed.

"Aerilaya," you breathed, a soft smile grazing your lips. "That is what I shall call her. My maiden of the forest. A blessing from Yavanna herself."

You glanced up at the midwife, who nodded in understanding before offering a small curtsey to you and Celebrimbor. Then, with quiet efficiency, she and the others left the room, granting you privacy.

"Go get some sleep, my lord. I’ll be just fine," you said, squeezing Celebrimbor’s wrist reassuringly.

He hesitated slightly, before rising from the chair and moving to linger near the door, his hand resting on the frame. The concern in his gaze had not faded. "Are you certain? I can stay if you need me."

You smiled softly, shaking your head. "No, mellon. You have done more than enough. Please, rest. I promise I will call for you if I need anything."

His eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he exhaled and nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Very well. But do not hesitate, Thilwen. I am here for you, always."

"I know," you murmured, your voice heavy with gratitude. "Thank you."

With a final, reassuring smile, Celebrimbor slipped out of the room, the door closing quietly behind him. In the stillness that followed, you turned your gaze back to Aerilaya, her tiny form nestled against your chest, her breaths soft and even as she nursed. The love that swelled within you was almost painful in its intensity—a fierce, unwavering protectiveness that would never wane.

You had brought her into this world against all odds, against the very machinations of the one who had helped create her. You had shielded her from the darkness that had sought to claim her, pouring every ounce of your strength, your light, into ensuring she emerged untainted.

And she had.

She was perfect. Pure. A tiny beacon of hope amidst the shadows that had threatened to swallow you both.

Tears slipped down your cheeks unchecked as you gazed at Aerilaya, marveling at the delicate slope of her nose, the soft curve of her cheek. She was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had fought so fiercely to protect. In this moment, all the pain and heartache seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of love and purpose.

As you held your daughter close, exhaustion began to creep in, weighing down your limbs and clouding your thoughts. Carefully, you settled back against the pillows, cradling Aerilaya securely against your chest. Your eyelids grew heavy, lulled by the warmth of her tiny form and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath as she too settled into slumber.

Just as sleep threatened to claim you, a soft chime resonated through the room—the gentle hum of Nenya stirring at your finger, alerting you to something.

Your eyes shot open.

He was there.

Sitting where Celebrimbor had been moments before.

Your pulse lurched violently as you clutched Aerilaya’s sleeping form tighter to you, as if trying to shield her from the presence that now filled the room.

Annatar sat in silence, his gaze fixed on you and the child in your arms, his expression unreadable. The dim candlelight cast sharp shadows across his features, accentuating the tension in his jaw, the hollowness behind his eyes. He made no move to approach, yet his presence alone was suffocating.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you met his stare, defiance and fear warring within you. "What are you doing here?" you whispered, your voice hoarse from exhaustion but edged with steel.

His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile devoid of warmth. "Can a father not come to see his newborn child?"

The words were soft, almost casual, but the undercurrent of danger in his tone sent an icy shiver through you.

Your arms tightened instinctively around Aerilaya at the word father.

"You lost that right," you said, voice steady despite the storm of emotions within you. "You turned your back on me—on us—when you chose your ambition over love."

Annatar's eyes darkened, a flicker of something sharp and unreadable crossing his face. "I have turned my back on nothing. Everything I have done has been for you, for us. To build the world I promised you so long ago."

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "No. What you have done is for yourself. For your own twisted ambitions. You nearly killed our daughter with whatever stunt you pulled tonight. That is not love, Annatar. That is possession."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, silken purr. "You still do not understand, do you? The power I wield, the rings I forge—it is all to protect what is mine. And you, Moríel, have always been mine. You and Aerilaya both."

The name—his name for you, spoken with such venom—sent a wave of nausea through you. Once, it had been a symbol of love, whispered in reverence and devotion. Now, it was a shackle, a claim you refused to accept.

"I am not a possession to be owned," you hissed, fury flaring through your exhausted form.

Annatar exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Your thoughts betray you, my love," he murmured, voice like silk. "Even now, after everything, a part of you still yearns for me. For us."

You flinched, hating the way his words cut straight to the heart of you, exposing the painful truth you tried so desperately to bury. Because he was right. Despite everything he had done, despite the darkness that had consumed him, a traitorous part of your fëa still sang for him. Still remembered the man he once was—the brilliance, the passion, the love that had once bound you together so completely.

But that man was gone. Twisted into something cruel and unrecognizable.

And you could not—would not—let that shadow claim you or Aerilaya.

"You’re wrong," you whispered, voice trembling but resolute. "Whatever part of me once yearned for you died the moment you threatened our child. The man I loved would never have done such a thing. You are nothing but a twisted shadow of who you once were."

Annatar’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing through them. For the briefest of moments, his carefully maintained composure cracked, revealing the simmering malevolence beneath. "Careful, Moríel," he warned, his voice low and laced with menace. "Do not test me. You have no idea the lengths I will go to keep what is mine."

"And you have no idea the lengths I will go to protect those I care about, shadow." Your grip tightened around Aerilaya, pressing your ringed hand gently against her as if to shield her from his presence.

His gaze flickered to Nenya, his lips curling in a knowing smirk. "You think that trinket can protect you from me?" he scoffed.

You met his stare without flinching, despite the ice creeping through your veins. "This ring was made to protect, not to control. Free of you. Something you have clearly forgotten."

His expression hardened, the cruel amusement fading into something sharper, more calculating. "And who do you think will protect you when Celebrimbor is no longer around to play the valiant hero?"

The threat was thinly veiled, and yet it struck like a dagger to your chest.

"You wouldn’t dare," you whispered, horror creeping into your voice.

"Wouldn’t I?" Annatar leaned back in the chair, his smirk widening into something wholly malevolent. "Do not underestimate what I am willing to do, Moríel. Celebrimbor’s fate rests entirely in my hands. As does yours. If he does not craft those rings, I will start chipping away at this place, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of your precious life here."

A tremor ran through you, your mind racing as you struggled to suppress the surge of panic clawing its way up your throat. You tightened your hold on Aerilaya, her small, warm body grounding you, anchoring you in this moment.

"Why are you doing this?" The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, hoarse with exhaustion and something dangerously close to despair. "Why can’t you just let us be?"

For a heartbeat, something flickered in Annatar’s eyes—something raw, almost pained. But it was gone before you could grasp it, swallowed by the endless void of his ambition.

His voice, when it came, was soft—too soft. "Because you are mine, Moríel," he murmured. "You have always been mine. And I will not let anyone, not even Celebrimbor, take you from me."

His words hung heavy between you, a declaration not of love, but of possession.

Your stomach churned with revulsion, your very fëa recoiling at the cruel perversion of the bond you had once shared. The man you had loved had been brilliant, ambitious, yes—but he had not been this. Not this creature of shadow, of obsession and control.

"I am not yours," you whispered, your voice trembling but unyielding. "I haven’t been for a long time. The moment you chose darkness over us, you lost me."

Annatar’s eyes burned with a tempest of emotion—anger, longing, an unrelenting hunger that sent a fresh wave of dread through you. He leaned forward, his presence oppressive, suffocating.

"You cannot escape me," he hissed, voice like silk and steel. "No matter how far you run, no matter who you turn to, I will always find you. And I will take back what is mine."

A chill swept through you, your very spirit recoiling at the venom laced in his words. You cradled Aerilaya closer, her tiny form a beacon of warmth against the oppressive weight of his presence. Nenya pulsed against your finger, a steady, calming force amidst the turmoil.

"Leave," you whispered, your voice shaking but firm. "You are not welcome here. Not anymore."

Annatar’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he stared you down. The air crackled with tension, an invisible battle waging between your defiance and his unwavering belief in his own dominion over you.

For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you moved. His gaze bore into yours, dark with something unreadable—a storm of emotions barely contained.

And then, for the briefest instant, you saw it.

A flicker of something deep and aching, something hollow and wounded beneath all the malice. A wound that had never fully healed, an emptiness he had spent centuries trying to fill.

Your heart clenched painfully, grief mingling with your fury. But you refused to let it weaken you. Not now. Not when Aerilaya’s safety was at stake.

"I said leave," you repeated, the quiver in your voice barely noticeable now.

Annatar watched you for a moment longer, something unreadable shifting in his gaze. Then, slowly, he rose from the chair, every movement graceful and deliberate. He loomed over you, his shadow stretching long and ominous in the dim light.

"This isn’t over, Mori," he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. "You cannot hide from me forever. Sooner or later, you will see the truth. And when you do—" his smirk returned, sharp and knowing "—I will be waiting."

The room grew cold as his presence faded, an unnatural stillness settling over you in his absence. You barely registered the door shutting behind him, too consumed by the violent shudder that wracked your body.

And then, the dam broke.

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, your entire form trembling with a volatile mix of fear, rage, and exhausted relief. You clutched Aerilaya close, pressing a kiss to the top of her tiny head, breathing in her innocent warmth.

And yet, despite the warmth in your arms, despite the constant reassurance of the ring’s presence, an icy dread had taken root deep in your chest.

He would not stop.

Not until he had what he believed was his.

You.

Aerilaya.

The rings.

And the power to reshape the world as he saw fit.

#sauron x reader #sauron #annatar x reader #annatar #rings of power fic #trop fic #the rings of power

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melodyalanaroster · 3 days ago

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@candysweetposts Has done it again!

I've been on a HUGE Devil May Cry kick since last September... With Nero being my current videogame crush...

If you read my last update, this game series is one of the biggest reasons why I haven't been writing on Alana's and Nathaniel's story. I can't write about their love story whenever I can't get my mind off of Nero. So, I took a self-insert that I had made for the Black Clover universe and repurposed her for the DMC universe. In know. I know. I'm thirsty... Finral is still my current anime crush, and I still love Nathaniel, but Nero has taken priority...

So, I had the bright idea to have Alice edit an illustration for me. Nathaniel is the perfect love interest to turn into Nero, so I went with one of his illustrations that doesn't have his right arm in it. Nero gets his human arm back at the end of DMC5, but he spends most of the game with various prosthetics (his Devil Breakers are a key game mechanic). The background is from Season 2 of Eldarya. This image is supposed to be that Nero got a call for a mission while he and Melanie were on a date, so the date had to get cut short. She doesn't want him to go, but knows he needs to. So, she ends up telling him to be safe and to come back to her as soon as possible. If you don't actually wanna read me rant about why I don't ship Nero with Kyrie, then don't read after the cut. If you do, then you're in for a wild ride.

Even though I am well aware that Nero is in a canon coupling with Kyrie, I am not fond of that coupling. In DMC4, Kyrie basically spends the entire game either being a "Sweet little singer", "Devout cult member" or "Damsel in distress"... All while hiding behind Nero and Credo and being used against them by the cult. On top of the fact that she is, technically, his adoptive sister. In DMC5, she's not even present in person... Either only being a voice of reason to Nero at the end of the game, screaming out Nero's name at the beginning of the game, being casually mentioned whenever Nero "messes up", or having a section in Nico's files. Seriously, the most important thing she does in DMC4 is basically the same thing that she does for Nero at the end of DMC5. Apparently, she has more of a presence in Before The Nightmare, but as it doesn't have an English translation (even though I do have a copy of the book), I can't quite count that... I also can't stand the fact that, during an interview for the 4th game, one that's published at the end of the Graphic Arts book that covers 1-4, the creators of the game state that, without her, Nero would have gone on a similar path as his father, Vergil. I cannot accept that. I don't ship him with Nico, but I hate the fact that Nico is clearly nowhere near as "important" as Kyrie, yet she has one hell of a personality that is established throughout DMC5... In fact, Nico has more of a personality in the first 10 minutes of 5, than Kyrie has throughout both 4 and 5. As much as I want to like Kyrie, I cannot stand characters like her. If they're so damn important to one of the main characters, they need to be properly established with more personality traits than "Damsel", "Kind", "Generous", "Beautiful" and "Good singer". Characters without flaws, especially love interests, piss me the fuck off.

I don't ship Nero with Nico because it's established very early on that they have more of a sibling relationship. Nico doesn't see Nero that way... In fact, bare minimum, I think she's at least bisexual. Especially whenever she comments on Lady having a "pretty smoking body" and the way she reacts whenever Nero gives her a look and shakes his head. As a bisexual woman myself, I know gay panic when I see it.

I don't ship Nero with Lady for multiple reasons. On top of the fact that she is way too old for him, and he knows it... I ship her with Dante. Lady is basically his aunt.

#nero dmc #dmc nero #nero sparda #dmc5 nero #nero dmc5 #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry nero #my candy love #amour sucre #sweet amoris #sweet love #corazon de melon #corazon de bombon #sweet crush #dmc fanart #nero x oc

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starlost-maniac · 1 day ago

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I Slept with My Boss - Ch 11

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, pia, protected sex, one night stand, mxf, mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, club/drinks, voyeurism, pet names, daddy kink, double pen, oral, color system, squirting, public sex (no witnesses)

Pairing: ot8 SKZ x fem!reader

dividers made by @cafekitsune

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You decided to go to the gym early Sunday morning, wanting to try and get into a rhythm of going at least once a week. You see Changbin at the receptionist desk, clicking away on the computer. He sees you walk in and smiles wide.

"Hi, bunny. How are you feeling?" He stands up and walks around the table to envelope you in a hug. "Seungmin and I.N didn't tire you out too much?" You hug him back and laugh.

"I'm ok. Little sore, but I'll manage." You smile. "I'm trying to get to the gym more. Need to get that rhythm going." Changbin nods.

"I'd say start off light. Working out with a sore body is already tough, but overdoing it isn't good for you." He gently cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead. "The gym is usually empty around this time, so don't worry about anyone but me being here, ok?" You nod and thank him. You kiss his cheek before going towards the locker room.

You come back out after changing and putting your things away. You see Changbin talking to Hyunjin and you smile. You wave to Hyunjin and he waves back with a smile. You start on the treadmill and walk for about 30 minutes before going to lift small weights. Changbin and Hyunjin come over and sit with you. They talk with you while you do your workout, Changbin giving you small pointers.

When you ask him to help with a certain exercise, he gets up to help you get in the best position for it. His fingers trailing down the bare skin on your arm, making you shiver. Hyunjin watches, eyes wide.

"I missed you so much, bunny. You were coming down while I was either asleep or out of the gym." He pouts as little, looking at you through the mirror that you both stand in front of.

"I'm sorry, Binnie. Things have been a bit hectic." You give him a small smile. He steps toward you, placing his hands on your hips and kisses your shoulder.

"You don't need to apologize. I get it. Especially what happened Friday." He kisses your shoulder again. "If he ever touches you again, you tell us, ok?" His hands snake around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"I will, Binnie. Thank you." You smile a little wider. Hyunjin walks up behind you both.

"You're doing a cuddle pile without me?" He laughs and steps around your front. He wraps his arms around you and Changbin and hugs you both tight. You feel Changbin's cock twitch against your ass through his shorts.

"Sorry, bunny. I missed you a lot." He chuckles a little. "I'll take care of it later with Hyunjin since he's here." Hyunjin playfully scoffs and pulls back to look at Changbin. You laugh.

"It's ok, I'm getting used to it now." You gently lean your head onto Changbin's. He turns his head slightly and kisses your cheek.

"If anything, honey, we can play here." Hyunjin winks at you. That makes your cheeks flush. You aren't used to the public antics they like to pull. With Chan and Minho, their offices are alone on that floor and being the CEOs, no one really comes up to bother them.

"Obviously we don't have to if you aren't comfortable. We can always go upstairs to my place." Changbin quickly says. You nod, smiling at him again. Changbin gently squeezes your waist, his muscled arms feel nice around you.

"Whatever you want to do, I'll be ok with." You play with the hem of Hyunjin's shirt as he is still in front of you still. The taller one grins playfully and leans down to quickly capture your lips with his, Changbin groaning softly behind you as he presses his bulge into your ass.

"Ever since you first came here, bunny, I've wanted to fuck you in front of and against these mirrors." Changbin whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin. Hyunjin pulls back to look at the shorter male.

"Can I watch? It might give me inspiration for a new piece." Hyunjin grins at the thought.

"Go close the blinds, Jinnie. Put the closed sign up too, please. The gym can be closed for a few hours." Changbin wiggles his eyebrows at you in the mirror. Hyunjin practically sprints across the gym to flip the switch for the closed sign as he closes the blinds. He locks the door and comes back over, seeing Changbin turned you around, kissing you deeply, one hand on your ass, the other holding your neck. Hyunjin sits on a workout bench to watch you both, his own tent growing in his pants.

Changbin gently squeezes your ass a few times before he grabs the bottom of your workout shirt. He lifts it off you, breaking the kiss to get it over your head. He groans softly as he looks at you in your sports bra. He grabs that next and takes it off you, immediately latching onto your nipple, not caring that you're a little sweaty. Your hands grab at his curls, moaning softly. He moans softly himself, enjoying the taste and feel of you.

Hyunjin palms himself through his pants as he watches. Changbin's hands slowly move across your body as he moves his head to your other nipple. When his hands reach the waistband of your leggings, he hooks his thumbs into them and pulls them down. Letting go of your nipple, he pulls them off, kicking your shoes off when he gets to your calves.

You hear them both mutter out something along the lines of 'so beautiful'. The older one stands up straight and grins at you, walking you backwards till you're against the mirror. He kneels in front of you and grabs one of your legs, putting it on his shoulder. Leaning closer, he kisses along your folds, earning soft gasps from you. Hyunjin gets up from his seat and comes closer, clearly enjoying the view. Changbin chuckles against your skin before licking slowly between your folds. You grab his hair again, moaning his name softly.

"Taste so good, bunny.." Changbin mumbles against you, licking through you again before Hyunjin reaches over to hold you open with two fingers. Changbin thanks him and grins, slowly licking your clit as he slips two thick fingers into your wet cunt. You moan a little loud. Both men groan at the sounds of your cunt and your moans.

Hyunjin sneaks a hand around your leg and slips one of his long fingers inside you with Changbin's, making you squirm a little. Soft whimpers leave your lips as Changbin gently sucks on your clit. He and Hyunjin continue to finger you as deep as they can.

"Such beautiful sounds, honey. Feel so nice." Hyunjin whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your hip. Your legs start to shake as you feel your orgasm coming on. You grip Changbin's hair, moaning both their names loudly as you cum, coating their hands in your release. Changbin chuckles and licks you clean, keeping his fingers inside you. Hyunjin takes his out and licks it clean, groaning softly. Changbin takes his hand from you and gently lowers your leg from his shoulder.

"You ok, bunny?" He stands up, holding you in place against the mirror. You nod, breathing hard.

"Yeah..I'm ok." You smile at him. Your free hand finds Hyunjin's fuzzy hair as he places soft kisses and gentle bites to your hip.

"Ok, good." He presses himself against you as he kisses you softly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and lips. You moan softly into his mouth as you hold onto him. Hyunjin leaves a few small hickies on your lip and leg before he sits down and leans back, pants sporting a very obvious bulge.

"Hyung, it's not fair that Y/n is the only one naked." Hyunjin teases. You chuckle against Changbin's lips and feel him smile before he pulls back. He quickly undresses himself before immediately grabbing you and holds you off the floor, your legs wrapped around his waist, back against the mirror again.

"You ready, bunny?" He watches your face for any sign that you want to stop. You nod, pressing your lips to his as your fingers find his hair again. He groans into your mouth, reaching between you to line himself up to your entrance. He pushes himself in slowly and groans deeply in your mouth. You gasp softly at the stretch but moan right after as you feel him fill you.

"So big.." You moan out when he breaks the kiss for air. He chuckles as he bottoms out in you. He gently squeezes the back of your thighs where he holds you.

"Feeling good?" He teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"So good.." You smile softly. Off to the side, Hyunjin still laid on the floor, having pulled himself from the constraints of his pants, slowly stroking himself. Changbin asks if you're ready, thrusting slowly into you once he gets confirmation from you. You moan a little, head going back with a soft thud on the glass. Changbin brings his lips to your neck, leaving wet, open mouth kisses across your skin.

Changbin slowly starts to pick up his pace, fucking into you deeply as he gets faster. You pull on Changbin's hair a bit, making him groan as he captures your lips in a deep kiss. You clench around him as you feel yourself getting close. When you tell him, Changbin grunts a bit, gently biting your lower lip, he fucks you as deep and fast as he can, his cock occasionally rubbing against your clit with his thrusts. As he does that, it pushes you over the edge and you cum hard, your walls clenching around him, pulling him in as he thrusts. He groans your name as he thrusts as deep as he can, stilling his hips as he spills into you.

"Fuck, bunny.." He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hard. His breath felt cool against your warm skin. Your fingers gently card through his curls, your own breath fanning against his ear a bit.

"You two were so hot." Hyunjin says after a moment of silence. You laugh as Changbin chuckles.

"You're hot too, Hyune." Changbin smiles against your skin. He looks up at you. You want Jinnie to help you go get cleaned up? I gotta clean up out here." He pecks your lips. You smile and nod.

"Thank you, Binnie." You peck his lips just as Hyunjin steps over. You didn't even see him stand up. Changbin lets Hyunjin pull you off him, cock sliding out of you. Hyunjin tosses you over his shoulder playfully and pats your ass.

"I've got wash and stuff in the office, Hyune. Use that for her, please." He says, Hyunjin leaning down to kiss his boyfriend. He takes you to the office to grab what he needs before taking you to the showers. He continues to hold you on his shoulder as he gets the water temperature right. While he lets it warm up, he playfully lets his fingers run through your wet folds, feeling yourself and Changbin's release as the mix coats his fingers.

You let out a soft moan as he grazes your clit. He chuckles a little and teases your entrance with his fingers before he sees you down on your feet. He quickly strips and brings you into the water stream. He watches you as the water cascades down your body. He reaches forward and gently places his hands on your hips. Your eyes crack open to look at him, smiling up at him when you see him looking at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

"Hi, Jinnie." You giggle, stepping out from under the water, closer to him.

"Hi, beautiful." He whispers, smiling softly. He leans down, his lips just ghosting over yours. You reach around his neck, arms loosely holding him. Standing up on your toes, you gently kiss him. He lets out a soft sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist, lowering himself some so you don't have to strain to reach him. He kisses you softly and sensually. He carefully maneuvers you both so you're out of the water now.

"Can I take you, honey? I need to feel you again.." He whispers against your lips. You whisper back a 'please' and he pulls you right against him as he deepens the kiss. You pull back after a moment and turn around, pressing back into him. He places his hands on your hips and grinds against your ass. He gently pushes you forward with one hand, making you bend down as he grabs his cock with his other hand to line up with you.

In one fluid movement, he pushes deep into you and you immediately moan his name out. Your cunt, still a bit sensitive, clenches around him. He places one hand on your lower back as he lets you adjust, watching you place your hands on the tile wall of the gym shower.

"You ok, love?" Hyunjin rubs your wet back softly before moving his hands onto your hips. You nod, letting out a breathy 'yeah'. He smiles softly as he slowly starts to fuck into you. You moan quietly, feeling every inch of him inside you. The sensation of the stream of water against your skin, coupled with his touch made you feel so good. You moan louder, the tile making the sound echo a bit. He grips your hips, fucking into you faster, watching his cock disappear into to your tight cunt. The sound of skin slapping skin mixing with the running water and your moans.

"Watching you take Changbin-hyung against the mirror gave me some ideas for a new piece..it also made me incredibly horny, Y/n.." Hyunjin moans out. "You feel so amazing, honey..god I could fuck your pussy forever.." he groans as he grinds into you. You moan his name loudly, your walls clenching around him as you cum.

"Aish..just a little longer, baby..little longer.." he grunts out, fucking you hard and fast through your high before he thrusts all the way inside you and cums. He gently wraps his arms around you and stands you up straight, flush against him. He lightly thrusts into you in this position, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He slips a hand down to your folds, lightly playing with your clit. One of your hands snakes behind you to his head, your other to his arm. You arch your back in his arm, squirming a little.

"I'm sorry, honey..I need to feel you cum around me one more time. It's so addictive.." he mumbles into your neck, quickly rubbing your clit as he lightly thrusts into you from behind.

"Ahh..Jin-Jinnie…" You continue to moan.

"Hyune, are you still in here with bunny?" Cbangbin calls from the locker room entrance.

Hyunjin lifts his head some and calls back, "I am, hyung.." he lowers his face back to your neck, softly sucking on the skin. Changbin walks in and down to the showers, sitting in the bench by the lockers, he watches.

"Sorry hyung..I need to feel her cum once more..she feels so nice." Hyunjin grunts softly when you clench around him. He fucks up into you hard, pulling a loud gasp from you. Changbin chuckles as he watches.

"You're ok, Hyune. You doing ok, bun?" Changbin watches you. You nod a little.

"Wanna cum for Jinnie.." you moan, arching some as Hyunjin slowly circles your clit, playing with the bundle of nerves. Your cunt clenches around him a few times, you feeling your orgasm building. "Ahh..close.." Hyunjin cups one of your breasts when you arch again, cumming around his cock again as he thrusts into you hard again, cumming with you. Hyunjin groans, feeling your cunt milking him as he cums.

He slowly slips out of you, your mixed releases drippin out of you. You lean back against Hyunjin's chest, breathing hard. The male gently peppering you with kisses.

"Let's get you cleaned up, and maybe you can take a nap upstairs, hmm?" He says. You nod, sleepy now. Hyunjin carefully washes you as Changbin grabs your stuff out of the locker, getting your clean clothes and towel ready. When Hyunjin gets you clean, Changbin gently dries you and dresses you before both men take you upstairs for a nap.

When you wake, it's time for a late lunch, which Changbin doesn't mind making for you. You thank him and Changbin for today, and tell them you unfortunately have to go home, as you have work in the morning. You give them both a hug and kiss before going home.

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Taglist:

@honeyybbuubblleess @gnabnahcbby @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 @kenia4 @sweetprincessleah @tenshimara @annafeebou

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 2 days ago

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Daddy Issues - Johnny Seo x Reader

Now Playing: » Daddy Issues « The Neighbourhood 3:27 ─────〇─ 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Johnny x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 17,656 Total Word Count: 49,636 Part 1 of 3 - (Part 2) (Part 3)

Playlist Masterlist NCT Masterlist

Warnings: Eventual SMUT, Age Gap, minor angst, not bad but not great relationship with dad

Summary: 🎵 Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues 🎵 or No one makes Y/n feel more rejected that her father. That's what leads her to seek friendship with a bartender

A/N: Waa Waa Wee Waa! Part two of the NCT playlist series out! Yay! We got this daddy of a man, Johnny! Let's be real, we all got daddy fantasies about this man.

Imma hit it off the bat, a lot of this fic ended up being mAD personal and stuff (with situations with dad and older friends), so it might not seem like that big of a deal, the situations, but...it's my experience, so yeah!

(I have a very good relationship with my dad, do not worry)

sorry it took so long to get this fic out, I've been mAD busy for no bloody reason, lol

Anyways! I hope you enjoy this fic :) 💚

The rain clung to Y/n’s skin, cold and relentless, as if the sky reflected her despair. Her breath came in shaky bursts, mingling with the misty air as she hurried down the dimly lit street.

By the time she reached the bar, her heart was heavy, and her tears, though mostly wiped away, still lingered on her cheeks, though the rain washed away whatever evidence was left.

Pushing open the door, she was met with the warm glow of dim lights and the soft hum of music playing from various speakers around the bar.

The space was nearly empty, save for a couple of patrons nursing their drinks at the far end. Perfect. She didn’t need an audience tonight.

Y/n slipped onto a stool at the bar, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of the counter. She tried to compose herself, brushing stray hairs out of her face and pressing her lips together to stop them from quivering.

“What can I get you?” a deep voice asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She glanced up, meeting the kind eyes of the bartender. His name tag read “Johnny”, and he looked effortlessly composed, a stark contrast to her disheveled state. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, a flicker of concern passing over his features as if he could sense the storm brewing within her.

Y/n’s eyes flickered over the drink menu in front of her, the weird, random names of shots and jugs blurring together in her mind.

Normally, she might’ve smirked at the creativity, or rolled her eyes, but tonight, she didn’t have the energy to care. It wasn’t about the taste or the experience. She just needed something to dull the ache clawing at her chest.

“I’ll have, uh…” She hesitated, scanning the list without really reading it. “Cowboy shot, green apple shot, red light shot, and…I don’t know. Just pick another one for me.” Her voice was flat, tinged with exhaustion, as she rested her elbows on the bar.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at her order but didn’t comment. Instead, he gave a small nod and turned to grab the required bottles.

“Coming right up,” he said, his tone calm but edged with quiet curiosity. “Rough night?” he asked casually, his tone warm but not prying.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to people asking, and the kindness in his voice felt foreign.

“Something like that,” she finally murmured, her fingers tracing the rim of the first glass he placed in front of her.

Johnny moved onto making the second shot, his movements smooth and deliberate. “Well, take it slow,” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of concern. “No rush on a quiet night like this.”

Y/n gave a faint nod, her gaze fixed on the first shot placed in front of her. It was a creamy looking shot that smelled of some kind of coffee liqueur. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attention. It wasn’t overbearing or judgmental, just…there. A steady presence that felt oddly comforting.

She downed the first shot quickly, wincing at the burn as it slid down her throat. The heat spread through her chest, momentarily distracting her from the cold knot of emotions she had carried in with her.

Johnny placed the next glass in front of her, leaning slightly on the counter. “So, what brings you out here tonight? Or is that too much to ask?”

Y/n glanced up at him, her lips tugging into a faint, humorless smile. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, her voice low. “I’m here to dull the emotions.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than she was willing to share. “Fair enough,” he replied, sliding the next drink toward her. “Just promise me you won’t try to forget too much at once.”

Her fingers hovered over the glass for a moment, his words lingering longer than she expected. There was something about him, his calm, steady presence, that felt safe, even in her vulnerable state.

She shook her head lightly, breaking the moment. “No promises,” she muttered before taking the next shot.

Johnny didn’t press further. He simply stood nearby, his quiet watchfulness making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Y/n blinked slowly as the warmth of the alcohol settled into her limbs, her mind still sharp but her body beginning to feel weightless, almost disconnected. When Johnny set the third drink in front of her, she didn’t hesitate. Gripping the glass, she downed the shot quickly, her lips pulling into a slight grimace at its syrupy, thick texture.

Johnny watched her closely, his brow furrowing as she set the empty glass down with a dull clink. He leaned forward on the counter, resting his arms there as his gaze lingered on her.

“You sure about that fourth one?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Y/n’s hand reached for the final shot almost instinctively, her fingers brushing the cool glass. “Yes,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Johnny didn’t move the glass away, but he hesitated, studying her for a moment. “It’s gonna hit you all at once if you’re not careful,” he warned gently.

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression stubborn. “That’s the idea,” she replied quietly, her voice tinged with an edge of pain.

Johnny exhaled through his nose, clearly uneasy, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he kept an eye on her.

“Alright,” he said, a note of resignation in his tone. “But maybe slow down after this one, yeah?”

Y/n didn’t respond, her eyes fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Johnny sighed softly, shaking his head as he turned to prepare the fourth shot.

He moved quickly, grabbing a clean glass and the ingredients with practiced precision, but his eyes flicked back to her every few seconds. The way she sat there, silent and withdrawn, made his concern deepen.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual but laced with a subtle seriousness as he measured out the liquor, “most people who drink like this have a real problem…and need to talk.”

She still didn’t answer, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the bar. Her silence felt heavier now, like a shield she was using to keep him at arm’s length.

Johnny finished mixing the drink and set it down in front of her with a quiet thud. He didn’t say anything this time, just leaned on the counter, his steady gaze meeting hers as if waiting for her to break the silence.

Not even six minutes later, the weight of the alcohol hit Y/n like a tidal wave. Her light, weightless feeling gave way to a suffocating heaviness as her emotions surged to the surface.

Silent tears rolled down her face, her shoulders trembling as she rested her head in her hands, trying to muffle the quiet sobs that escaped her.

Johnny remained where he was, leaning against the bar across from her. He’d been watching her closely, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. The way her breathing had deepened, the tremor in her hands. Now, as her tears fell, his expression softened further, concern etched into his features.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low and steady, careful not to startle her. “You wanna talk about it, now?”

Y/n didn’t look up, her fingers tangling in her hair as she shook her head slightly. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

Johnny stayed silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the air before responding. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “Sometimes it helps, getting it out. Even to a stranger.”

She sniffled, her hands slowly sliding down to the bar as she wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, finally lifted to meet his. “What do you even care?” she asked, her voice cracking with frustration, though it lacked any real malice.

Johnny tilted his head, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Because I’ve been where you are,” he said simply. “And trust me, it’s a lot harder when you’re keeping it all bottled up.”

His sincerity seemed to disarm her. She looked away, biting her lip as fresh tears welled up, spilling over once again.

Y/n lifted her gaze back to him, her teary eyes shimmering under the dim bar lights. For a moment, her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but the weight of her emotions held her back. Finally, the dam broke.

“Why doesn’t my dad care about me?” she blurted, her voice shaky and raw. “He’s always ignoring me, like I don’t even exist. And when I try to talk to him, just to have a normal conversation with your dad, he gets all pissy, like I’m bothering him or something.”

Her hands curled into fists on the bar, her frustration spilling out in waves. “It’s like…I’m his daughter, but I feel like a stranger when I’m with him. I’ve done everything to make him proud, school, awards, everything! And it’s never enough. He just…” Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face again. “He doesn’t care.”

Johnny stayed silent, leaning on the bar with his arms folded, his expression calm but deeply empathetic. He didn’t interrupt or offer hollow reassurances. He simply listened, his steady presence grounding her as she poured her heart out.

“I don’t get it,” Y/n continued, her voice trembling with anger and sadness. “What did I do to make him hate me? Why is it so hard for him to just…see me?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with years of pain and neglect. Johnny let the moment breathe before speaking, his tone low and deliberate. “It’s not you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “It’s never been you.”

She looked at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The sincerity in his voice and the steadiness in his gaze caught her off guard.

“I don’t know what’s going on with your dad,” Johnny continued, “but you don’t deserve to feel like this. No one does. And for what it’s worth, it says more about him than it ever will about you.”

His words hung in the air, a strange comfort in the midst of her pain. For the first time, Y/n felt like someone was truly hearing her, understanding her, without judgment or dismissal.

“You’re better than this,” Johnny added gently, his tone firm yet kind. “And you deserve better than what he’s giving you.”

Y/n sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but grateful.

Johnny leaned against the bar, his expression soft and reassuring as he grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water.

Setting it down in front of Y/n, he said, “Here. Drink this. It’ll help take the edge off.”

Y/n hesitated before taking the glass, her fingers brushing against his briefly. That small, unintentional touch felt warmer than she expected, grounding her amidst the chaos in her head.

Johnny opened his mouth to say more, but the faint sound of footsteps interrupted him. His coworker emerged from the back, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Hey, Johnny, take your ten. I’ll handle the bar,” he said with an easygoing nod toward the clock.

Johnny frowned, glancing from Y/n to his coworker. “I can take it later. It’s fine–”

“Nah, man, I got this,” his coworker insisted, stepping closer. “You look like you need the break more than I do.” His voice was light, but there was no mistaking the underlying encouragement.

Reluctantly, Johnny straightened, his gaze lingering on Y/n. “I’ll be back in a few,” he said softly, his tone laced with hesitation.

He didn’t want to leave her like this, not when she was so vulnerable, but there wasn’t much of a choice. Y/n gave him a faint nod, her fingers still wrapped around the glass of water. She watched as he moved to the back, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were reluctant to put any distance between them.

As the door swung shut behind him, the bar felt emptier despite the presence of a few other patrons. Y/n stared at the water in front of her, Johnny’s kindness still lingering like an echo in her mind.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel entirely invisible. And though he was gone for now, she had a feeling he’d come back. Something about the way he looked at her, listened to her, it felt different. Genuine.

She took a sip of the water, the cold refreshing her throat and steadying her breaths.

Even though Johnny had made her feel seen, appreciated, even, she still felt the heavy weight of years of emotional neglect pressing down on her chest. One conversation wasn’t going to fix that.

She looked up at the new bartender, her voice quiet but resolute. “Just…give me some random shots. I don’t care what they are.”

Johnny stepped back into the bar after his ten-minute break, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room. His eyes landed on the girl, slumped over the counter with tear-streaked cheeks, her head cradled in her hands. Surrounding her were a cluster of empty shot glasses, ones he didn’t serve her.

His jaw tightened, and a wave of frustration surged through him. Striding over to his coworker, who was wiping down glasses behind the bar, Johnny’s voice was low but laced with anger.

“What the fuck, man?” Johnny hissed, gesturing toward Y/n. “What are you doing serving her more drinks, she’s wasted!”

The coworker shrugged, looking unbothered. “She asked for them. Didn’t seem like that big of a deal. She’s sitting down, not causing any trouble.”

Johnny’s glare sharpened. “It’s not about trouble. It’s about responsibility. You don’t just keep pouring for someone clearly out of it.”

Without waiting for a response, Johnny stepped away, grabbing a glass of water and heading straight for Y/n, his frustration giving way to concern as he bent slightly to meet her gaze.

"Hey, uh…girl," Johnny said softly, placing his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. "Look at me for a second."

Y/n slowly lifted her head, her eyes red and glassy, streaked with tears that refused to stop. Seeing the pain etched across her face, Johnny's heart sank. He wasn’t sure entirely what she had been through, but it was written all over her.

"Here, drink some water," Johnny urged, placing a glass in her trembling hand. She tried to grip it, but her fingers were unsteady, barely able to hold it without spilling.

Johnny sighed, his frustration fading into pure concern. He reached behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of water and a box of tissues, setting them down beside her.

"Alright," he said gently but firmly, standing up straight. "We’re getting you out of here. I’m ordering you an Uber."

As he helped her to her feet, she stumbled, her legs shaky beneath her. Tears continued to spill down her face, her sobs audible now.

"Here, hold these," Johnny said, handing her the water bottle and tissues.

He steadied her with a firm grip on her hips, guiding her toward the door. She leaned heavily against him, her body uncooperative as he carefully walked her outside.

Johnny settled her onto the edge of a low brick wall, ensuring she wouldn’t fall over anytime soon. Pulling out his phone, he opened the uber app and glanced back at her. "Okay, where do you live?"

"61…Thomson Cres…" Y/n slurred, her words barely coherent.

Johnny quickly entered the address and confirmed the ride. "Alright, it’ll be here in ten minutes," he said, turning back to her.

But before he could say more, Y/n suddenly pushed herself up from the wall, the water bottle and tissues slipping from her grasp. She stumbled toward the gutter and vomited.

"Shit," Johnny muttered, rushing to her side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely to prevent her from falling forward.

"It’s okay," he said softly, keeping her upright while she continued. "Just get it out. I’ve got you."

When she finally stopped, Johnny grabbed the tissues from the ground, offering them to her with a steady hand. "Here. Clean yourself up a bit," he said, his voice calm despite the situation.

Y/n took the tissues weakly, her gaze unfocused but grateful. Her throat burned from the stomach acid and alcohol that made it’s way back up. Johnny stayed close, his presence a quiet reassurance as he looked over her.

Johnny sighed deeply, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at the girl leaning heavily against him. Her face was etched with exhaustion and sadness, and her trembling body felt so fragile in his arms. He couldn't shake the thought of her alone in an Uber, her head slumped against the window, or worse, passing out as she tried to stumble out of the car. The idea made his chest tighten.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching.

Pulling out his phone, Johnny canceled the Uber with a few quick taps. He glanced down at her, her glazed-over eyes barely registering her surroundings. "I’m driving you home, okay?" he said firmly.

She gave the faintest nod, but he wasn’t sure she even understood. Still, it was enough for him.

"Alright, come on," he said softly, steadying her as he guided her toward the employee parking lot. She leaned against him, her steps uneven and sluggish.

Johnny unlocked his car, the soft beep echoing in the quiet night. He opened the passenger door and carefully helped her inside, easing her into the seat and buckling the seatbelt securely over her.

"Stay still," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face before shutting the door.

Rushing around to the driver’s side, he slid into the seat and pulled up his phone’s GPS, quickly entering her address. With a deep breath, he started the engine and eased out of the parking lot.

The road stretched out in front of them, the steady rhythm of the rain tapping against the windshield. Johnny stole a glance at the girl slumped in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, her tears streaked down her face.

What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to call an Uber, let someone else take responsibility, and get back to work. But here he was, driving a stranger home in the middle of his shift.

He sighed again, his grip tightening on the wheel. She looked so young, so vulnerable, and so damn broken. He couldn’t just leave her like that. Not when she needed someone to look out for her.

“I’ll get you home safe,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than her, as the dim glow of streetlights passed by.

He didn’t know this girl, didn’t even know her name, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. She was in his care now, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

About ten minutes into the drive, Y/n started to stir, her body shifting slightly as she sat up straighter in the passenger seat. Her eyes blinked a few times, as if trying to adjust to her surroundings. She glanced out the window, taking in the passing streetlights and the quiet night air.

Johnny noticed the change immediately. He slowed the car slightly and reached into the cup holder, grabbing the bottle of water he had set there earlier.

“Here,” he said gently, offering it to her. “Drink some water.”

Y/n’s hands were still a little shaky, but she took the bottle, unscrewing the cap and drinking slowly, as though it was the first time in years that she’d had anything to hydrate her.

As she lowered the bottle, Johnny glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “We’re about eight minutes out from your place. How you feeling?”

She paused for a moment, the words seeming to process slowly. “Uh…a bit better,” she replied, her voice hoarse but softer now. “Letting it out helped.”

A small, quiet smile tugged at the corner of Johnny’s mouth, though it was fleeting. "That’s good to hear," he said, his tone warm but steady.

He kept his eyes on the road, but the sound of her voice, less distant than before, felt like a small victory. There was something in the way she spoke now, a slight shift from the wall of emotion she’d been wrapped in earlier.

Johnny didn’t know how much of it was the alcohol wearing off or just her finally starting to feel a little less like she was drowning in her own thoughts. But whatever it was, it was a good sign. He would get her home, get her somewhere safe, and maybe, just maybe, help her piece a little of this night back together.

The drive continued in a silence that wasn’t as heavy as before. Y/n still seemed distant, her eyes lost in thought, but there was a slight relaxation in her posture now.

Johnny’s eyes kept flickering to her, though he tried to keep his focus on the road. So broken yet somehow still here, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for getting her through this night.

The streetlights flickered as they drove through quieter parts of town, and Johnny’s fingers tapped absently on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, whether she even wanted to talk more, or if she just needed the space.

He tried to gauge her mood, but her silence wasn’t closed off like before. It felt more like a pause, as though she was gathering her thoughts.

After a few moments, Y/n finally spoke again, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what to say to him anymore.” Her words were almost a whisper, but Johnny could hear the weight of them in the quiet of the car.

“Your dad?” Johnny asked, glancing over at her quickly.

She nodded, her hand resting limply on her lap. “Yeah. He…he just doesn’t care. Every time I try to talk to him, it’s like I’m invisible to him. Or worse, I’m a nuisance.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her eyes drifting down to the seatbelt over her lap. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know if I want to anymore.”

Johnny’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his thoughts swirling. The frustration was clear in her voice, the hurt that had built up over years of being ignored. It hit him harder than he expected. Too close to home.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, more to himself than her. “That’s…that’s really tough.”

Y/n’s head drooped slightly, but she let out a small laugh, more of a bitter chuckle. “Tough? Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Johnny didn’t know what else to say, but he didn’t need to say anything else. The moment was heavy with her pain, and she didn’t need empty reassurances.

She needed someone who was there, who would listen, who wouldn’t leave when it got too much.

As the car pulled closer to her place, the street signs growing familiar to her, Johnny glanced at her once more, catching her tired eyes.

“I’m still here, kinda..” He chuckled. “You don’t have to be alone right now.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away, but her lips trembled as though she was fighting another wave of emotion. Her eyes stayed on him for a moment before she glanced out the window again.

The car came to a stop as they neared her apartment complex, and Johnny turned off the engine, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“Alright,” he said, turning to face her. “We’re here. I’ll walk you up.”

She didn’t protest, just nodded faintly, and Johnny got out, coming around to open her door. He helped her out gently, careful not to jar her.

With the night still heavy around them, they made their way to her front door in silence. When they reached the door, Johnny stood back a little, giving her space.

Johnny watched as Y/n stepped up to her door, her movements slow but steady, a quiet strength in her despite the rawness of everything she’d just shared.

He stood there, waiting for her to turn back or say something more, but she simply gave him a faint nod. The weight of the night was still heavy on both of them, but there was an unspoken understanding between them now.

“Well, this is it,” Johnny said, his voice soft but clear.

Y/n turned to face him, her eyes still a little red, but there was something different there, a quiet gratitude, perhaps.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “For everything. Really.”

Johnny gave a small nod, unsure of what else to say. “You’re welcome. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

“I will,” she promised, the words hanging in the air between them for a moment.

Without another word, Y/n stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Johnny stood there for a moment longer, his eyes on the door, his thoughts a swirl of uncertainty.

He’d done what he could, even though he hadn’t known her, even though she probably wouldn’t remember him tomorrow. But for tonight, he had been there when she needed someone, and that was enough.

With a sigh, Johnny turned and made his way back to his car, the night settling in around him as he drove off into the quiet of the city, the weight of the evening slowly fading.

Waking up was pure agony. Y/n cracked her eyes open, only to groan and squeeze them shut again as the light streaming through her curtains sent a sharp throb through her skull. She felt like her brain was trying to jump out of her head, and her stomach rolled uneasily in protest.

“How much did I even drink?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, as if that might somehow stop the pounding.

The idea of moving seemed impossible, but the gurgling emptiness in her stomach reminded her she needed something to keep from feeling like complete death. She reached blindly for her phone on the bedside table, her fingers fumbling before finally grabbing hold of it.

With a deep sigh, Y/n pressed her best friend's contact. The line barely rang before Yangyang's cheerful voice answered, far too bright for her current state.

“Hi hi!” he chirped, oblivious to her suffering.

“Yangyang,” Y/n groaned, her face half-buried in her pillow. “Can you pick me up some chicken and chips or something?”

“Lazy ass,” he teased, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Hungover, actually,” she muttered, her words muffled by the pillow.

There was a dramatic gasp on the other end of the line. “What!? You went drinking without me? How dare you!”

“Yangyang,” she said, her tone deadpan. “We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

“Who said I’m even coming?” he shot back indignantly. “I didn’t agree to–”

“Thanks, bye,” Y/n cut him off, hanging up before he could finish.

Dropping the phone back onto the table, she let out a heavy sigh. Yangyang would come. He always did, no matter how much he pretended to complain. For now, all she had to do was survive until he showed up with her greasy hangover cure.

It wasn’t long before Y/n’s phone buzzed with a text from Yangyang, "I’m at the door."

She groaned, typing back, "Use the spare key."

A moment later, she heard the familiar click of her door unlocking and footsteps echoing through the apartment.

“Can’t even open a door for me!” Yangyang shouted sarcastically from downstairs, his voice dripping with mock offence.

A faint smirk tugged at Y/n’s lips, but she didn’t bother to respond. Moments later, Yangyang appeared in her doorway, shaking his head when he saw her sprawled face-down on the bed.

“Hell, not taking the hangover well, I see,” he said, dropping his bag onto the floor and walking over.

“Did you bring my food?” Y/n mumbled, her voice muffled against the mattress.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yangyang said with a roll of his eyes. He sat on the other side of her bed, setting the plastic bag beside her.

Summoning whatever energy she had left, Y/n uncomfortably shifted to sit up, her hair a mess and her face still etched with exhaustion. She reached for the bag, pulling out the box of chicken and chips like it was gold.

“God fucking bless you,” she muttered, grabbing a chip and popping it into her mouth.

Yangyang smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “So…what happened?” he asked casually, but his tone was tinged with concern.

Y/n paused, her hand hovering over the box for another chip. “Dad and I went out for dinner last night,” she started, her voice bitter. “But he was being a dick the whole time, saying how I should be grateful and how he didn’t even want to be there.”

Yangyang’s expression darkened. “Your dad’s an asshole. Seriously, fuck him,” he said, reaching over to steal a chip from her box. “Is he at work?”

“Yeah…” Y/n said softly, chewing on another fry. “So, after that disaster of a dinner, I went out.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Out where?”

“A bar. Just…needed to forget about it, I guess,” Y/n admitted, shrugging as if it was no big deal, though the memory made her chest tighten.

“That’s why you shouldn’t be doing that shit without me, anything could happen,” Yangyang said.

“Yeah, like making a complete fool of myself.” Y/n said.

“Oh no, what happened?” Yangyang asked.

“The poor bartender. I had a bunch of shots and started crying. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk about it, and I blurted out my daddy issues to him. And then vomited…” Y/n said.

Yangyang couldn't help but snicker a little.

“Shut up,” Y/n kicked him.

“Man, what a bad bartender though, serving you to the point of vomiting.” Yangyang said.

“No, no,” Y/n said, waving a hand. “It wasn’t him. It was the other bartender. Kept serving me when I clearly shouldn’t have been drinking anymore. He was really cool actually.”

“Cause he listened?” Yangyang Asked.

“Yeah, but…he also said a lot of encouraging things and…fuck, he drove me home,” Y/n just recalled.

“...Are you serious?” Yangyang asked.

“Yeah…oh my god, that poor man,” Y/n couldn't believe herself.

“He wasn't weird, was he?” Yangyang asked.

“No…he was an absolute fucking gentleman.” Y/n was looking into space.

Yangyang leaned back, crossing his arms. “Damn. Well, that’s good then. You’re lucky you had someone.”

“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, looking down at her food. “But I’m never going back to that bar again.”

Yangyang chuckled, the corners of his lips quirking up. “Probably a good idea. But hey, look at the bright side! At least you’ve got me to cure your hangover with food and moral support.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face. “Thanks, Yangyang. You’re alright.”

“Alright? Excuse me, I’m amazing,” he said with mock indignation, reaching over to steal another chip. “And don’t you forget it.”

Y/n shook her head, popping another chip into her mouth.

“Just make sure not to drink without me next time, okay? You won’t always have a super nice bartender like that again,” Yangyang said, pointing at her with a chip.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Y/n replied, waving her hand dismissively. “I still can’t believe how incredibly nice that man was…”

Yangyang tilted his head, urging her to keep talking.

“He…he actually listened to me. Like, all of it. And then he told me I deserved better,” Y/n said, her voice softening as she recalled the memory.

“He even held me so I didn’t fall in my own vomit–Oh my god!” Her eyes widened in horror. “I vomited in front of him! I can never go back there again!” She buried her face in her hands, groaning in embarrassment.

Yangyang burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “He deserves a damn trophy for that, not just tips!”

Y/n peeked out from behind her hands, her cheeks still flushed. “Seriously, though. Who does that? Like, he didn’t have to care that much.”

“He sounds like some kind of bartender superhero,” Yangyang teased, nudging her with his elbow. “Are you sure you didn’t dream the whole thing?”

Y/n ignored him, her gaze drifting as she stared into space. The events of the night before replayed in her mind. The way the bartender, Johnny, was it? had gone out of his way to keep her safe, listening to her as she cried like a broken record. And he wasn’t just nice, he was handsome. So incredibly handsome, even in her drunken haze, she’d noticed.

“Don’t start going loopy on me!” Yangyang said, snapping his fingers in front of her face and giving her a light shake.

“I’m not going loopy!” Y/n snapped back, shoving him playfully. “I just…I guess I didn’t expect someone to be that kind, you know?”

“Well, enjoy the memory,” Yangyang said with a grin. “But remember, the next time you cry to a stranger, I’m the one who’s supposed to be there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n muttered, but a small smile tugged at her lips. Even though she’d sworn never to return to that bar, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see the kind stranger again.

Not even a week later, Y/n found herself back at the same bar she had sworn to avoid. After the humiliation of that night, she never intended to return, but life had other plans. A heated argument with her dad over something stupid, like not remembering the shit-ass instructions he’d given her for a chore, had driven her out of the house. She couldn’t bear to stay under the same roof with him, not while his anger still hung in the air like a storm cloud.

The bar was busier this time, which made sense, it was a Friday night, and the place was alive with chatter and the clinking of glasses. Y/n weaved through the crowd, her emotions raw and unfiltered. Reaching the bar, she didn’t bother to check the menu.

“Two jugs of whatever you’ve got,” she told the bartender, her voice clipped.

The man behind the bar was the other bartender from the previous night, the one who had let her spiral. Y/n recognized him immediately. Despite her mixed feelings, she knew he’d get the job done, and tonight she didn’t care about much else.

She grabbed her drinks and a clean shot glass and headed for a secluded booth in the corner, where she could wallow in peace.

Sliding into the seat, she set the jugs down and poured herself a shot. The amber liquid gleamed under the dim lights as she stared at it for a moment, her thoughts swirling. With a sigh, she downed the shot in one go, wincing as it burned its way down her throat.

Y/n poured another, her hands steady despite the whirlwind in her chest. She didn’t want to think about her dad, about his sharp words and how they always seemed to cut deeper than she’d like to admit. She didn’t want to think about anything at all.

Instead, she focused on the shot glass, the way the liquid filled it perfectly, the way it gleamed, though she knew better than to expect anything good from alcohol. As she tipped back her second shot.

Johnny showed up to work at 7, exactly on the dot. His shift had started, and he wasted no time getting behind the bar, washing his hands and preparing for the night ahead. The sound of glasses and hum of conversation filled the air, but his focus was on the routine, until his coworker spoke up.

“Hey, the girl from the other night’s back…”

Johnny froze for a split second. “What?” His voice was low, and though he shouldn’t have reacted so quickly, he knew exactly who his coworker was talking about.

“In the corner,” his coworker nodded toward the far side of the bar, where the booths sat in shadow. “Looks like she's having another go at it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on a towel and stepped out from behind the bar. He didn’t have a plan as he made his way across the room, weaving through the patrons. All he knew was that he needed to check on her.

The girl was there, just as his coworker had said, slumped forward, her elbows resting on the table, her face barely visible in the dim light. She looked the same, but something in the way she sat, so still and alone, hit Johnny harder than he expected.

He hesitated for a moment, standing in the middle of the bar, but then he exhaled, bracing himself. There was no going back now. Without another glance toward the counter, he walked over to her, his mind torn between wanting to offer help and not overstepping the boundaries of a stranger’s night.

When he finally reached her table, he paused, just for a second, before speaking.

"You back again?" His voice was softer than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that made him feel protective, even though he barely knew her.

The look she gave him nearly shattered Johnny’s heart. Her red, watery eyes and the quiet sorrow etched into her face were too much to ignore.

“Mind if I sit?” Johnny asked gently, keeping his voice low to avoid adding to her obvious discomfort.

She sniffled, her gaze falling back to the table. After a moment, she gave a small nod. “Go for it.”

Sliding into the booth across from her, Johnny rested his arms on the table and leaned in slightly. “Want to talk about it?” he asked, his tone hesitant but genuine.

Y/n shook her head, barely meeting his gaze. “I shouldn’t bother you.”

Johnny sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re not a bother. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

“But I do,” Y/n admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And drinking’s not going to fix it,” Johnny said, his tone firm. “We both know how that turned out the other night.”

Her lips twitched into a fleeting, humorless smile as she glanced at him, but the weight of her emotions quickly pulled her gaze away. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him for long, especially not with her tear-streaked face. It was humiliating enough to be caught in this state, let alone by someone as handsome as him.

Johnny leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her. “Look, I’m not here to lecture you. I just...I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/n swallowed hard, still avoiding his eyes. “Why do you care?”

He hesitated, then answered honestly, “Because someone should. And it seems like not enough people do.”

Those words caught her off guard, and for a moment, the tightness in her chest loosened. She risked another glance at him, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made her cry all over again.

“You clearly need someone,” Johnny said, his voice steady yet compassionate. “I don’t doubt you have friends, but it feels like there’s something missing in your life right now. I’m guessing it has something to do with your dad.”

Y/n blinked, startled by how bluntly he’d addressed the issue. She wasn’t sure if it was his confidence or his calm demeanor, but his directness didn’t feel invasive, it felt...honest.

“I’m not asking for your life story,” Johnny continued, leaning back slightly to give her space. “But if you’re comfortable, I’m here. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

His words hung in the air, offering an openness she wasn’t used to. Y/n hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “Why would you even want to listen to me? I’m just some random drunk girl who ruined your night the other day.”

Johnny chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You didn’t ruin anything. And you’re not just some random girl. You’re a person who’s clearly going through a lot. If I can help, even just by listening, then why wouldn’t I?”

Y/n stared at the napkin for a moment longer before taking a deep breath. “Yeah…It’s my dad,” she admitted quietly. “He’s...impossible to please. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. And he doesn’t even try to hide how much he resents me.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she clenched her jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Johnny’s expression softened, his eyes filled with an empathy that made her chest ache.

“You don’t deserve that,” Johnny said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You deserve a parent that cares about you.”

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” Johnny admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. And it doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

For the first time in a long while, Y/n felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but sitting across from someone who seemed to care, even a little, made her feel less like she was drowning.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his gaze steady. “So...what brought you here tonight?”

Y/n let out a dry, bitter laugh. “It’s so stupid.”

“Doesn’t seem stupid if it’s got you feeling this way,” Johnny replied, his tone gentle but firm.

She sighed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “He asked me to clean the bathroom if I had time, so I did. I was almost finished when he got home…I thought maybe he’d say thank you or something...but instead, he yelled at me for using the wrong disinfectant.”

Her voice wavered as her eyes filled with tears, the memory cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. I used the one I always used…the one I would see my Mum use.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly looked down, embarrassed by the emotion bubbling up.

Johnny shook his head, his expression darkening with quiet disapproval. “That’s not on you. You did what he asked, and he shouldn’t be yelling at you over something so small.”

Y/n already knew that, but hearing it from someone else, a stranger, even, felt oddly validating. “I guess,” she murmured, wiping at her eyes. “But it’s just...always like this. No matter what I do, it’s never right.”

Johnny tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. “That’s not fair to you. You don’t deserve to feel like this. Like nothing you do matters.”

She bit her lip, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “It’s hard to explain. I just…I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells with him. Trying not to mess up. And when I do, it’s like...it’s the end of the world to him.”

Johnny’s voice softened, a warmth in his tone that caught her off guard. “That’s not your burden to carry, Y/n. Parents are supposed to guide you, not tear you down over things that don’t even matter.”

His words struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a small sense of relief. Yeah, she told this kind of thing to Yangyang all the time, but it was just different this time.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m dumping all of this on you.”

“Because you needed to,” Johnny said simply, offering her a small smile. “And honestly? I’m glad you did. You deserve to be heard.”

Y/n met his gaze, and for a moment, the weight of her father’s criticism felt just a little lighter. “You’re a lot nicer than you need to be, you know that?”

Johnny chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Maybe. But sometimes, people just need someone to remind them that they matter.”

Y/n leaned back in her seat, trying to take a deep breath and compose herself. She sniffled lightly and rubbed her hands over her cheeks, as if wiping away the lingering traces of her tears could also erase the heaviness in her chest.

“God, I must look like such a mess right now,” she muttered with a weak laugh.

Johnny leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he chuckled softly. “You’re fine. Trust me, I’ve seen much worse at this bar. You’re nowhere near the top of the ‘messiest customer’ list.”

Y/n gave him a small smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Gee, that makes me feel better.”

“I’m just saying,” Johnny said, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The corners of her mouth lifted just a little more, and she sighed, a faint air of relief settling over her. “I guess I should try to, like...relax or something. Let the night go.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Johnny said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re here now, may as well try to enjoy the moment.”

They fell into an easier rhythm, Johnny steering the conversation to lighter topics, a funny story about a drunken regular, a joke about the bar’s overly long drink names. Y/n found herself laughing despite everything, the tension in her shoulders easing bit by bit.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Y/n glanced at the clock, realising how late it had gotten. She let out a small sigh, the weight of the day finally starting to catch up to her.

“Guess I should head off,” she murmured, standing up and gathering her things.

Johnny noticed and immediately stood up as well. “Need a ride?” he asked, his tone casual.

Y/n shook her head with a smile. “Nah, I’m good tonight. I’m gonna message my friend to pick me up.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright. Well, I’ll wait with you until they get here.”

She looked at him, surprised by his willingness to stay. “You don’t have to, but thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you,” Johnny said with a grin, before he leaned back against the booth and folded his arms casually. “Besides, you’re not alone here anymore. I’m happy to keep you company for a bit longer.”

Y/n smiled, feeling a warm gratitude welling up inside her. “Thanks, Johnny. I really do appreciate everything you did for me the other night. I didn’t get a chance to thank you properly, and I...I just wanted to make sure you know that.”

Johnny chuckled softly. “No need to thank me. It’s just what anyone would do.”

“But still,” Y/n insisted, her voice quieter now. “You went out of your way to make sure I was okay. That’s more than just being a ‘good bartender.’”

She paused, suddenly realising something. “Wait a minute...I never even told you my name.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Shit!” Y/n gave a sheepish laugh. “Guess I got caught up in everything...I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Y/n,” Johnny said with a friendly grin, then gestured to the name tag on his chest. “I’m guessing that makes me Johnny.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Y/n said with a soft laugh, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little more. She paused, then looked up at him. “Hey, I just...I really want to thank you for being there for me, Johnny. For listening. For everything.”

Johnny’s smile softened as he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. But, listen, if you ever need someone to talk to again, I’m here every Monday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Same hours. Same bar. You’ve got someone to listen, anytime.”

Y/n studied him, her brow furrowing slightly. There was something about the way he said it, so easy, so genuine, that made her pause. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a depth in his words that felt like he was offering more than just a listening ear. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed something in his tone, a quiet kind of care he didn’t seem to show to just anyone.

But she chose not to ask. Instead, she gave him a soft, grateful smile. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nodded, his grin returning. “Anytime, Y/n. Seriously. Don’t hesitate, alright?”

As Johnny stood with her, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort. She wasn’t entirely sure why Johnny cared so much, but for tonight, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

And that was enough.

The moment the door to the bar swung open, Y/n looked up and saw Yangyang storming in, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. He was exactly on time.

Yangyang’s eyes scanned the room, locking onto her in the corner. His brows furrowed when he saw her, still standing with Johnny. Without another word, he made a beeline for her, pushing through the crowd of people as if they were obstacles in his way.

“Let’s go,” Yangyang said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he reached the booth.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t even had time to properly say goodbye to Johnny before Yangyang was already tugging at her arm, pulling her to her feet. Johnny looked up at the sudden movement, his smile still soft, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as Y/n scrambled to gather her things.

“Yangyang!” she started, turning back to Johnny with a quick wave. “Thanks again, really...I’ll–”

“Come on, Y/n,” Yangyang interrupted, his grip tightening on her arm as he pulled her toward the door. His tone softened slightly, but his worry was still evident. “Let’s go. I’m not leaving you here with...whoever,” he added, glancing at Johnny.

Y/n barely had time to give Johnny another smile, her mind too scrambled to say much more than, “Sorry, I...I’ll see you later.”

Before Johnny could respond, Yangyang was already dragging her outside, his steps quick and forceful as he moved toward the car parked at the curb. Y/n could barely keep up, still lost in the warm afterglow of the conversation with Johnny. She felt guilty, but Yangyang wasn’t giving her a moment to explain herself.

“Seriously, what were you thinking?” Yangyang huffed as they reached the car. “You said you’d never go back or drink without me, and you’re just sitting there with some random guy?”

Y/n let out a deep sigh as the car hummed steadily down the street. She glanced over at Yangyang, trying to gather her thoughts after the whirlwind of emotions she’d just experienced at the bar.

Y/n winced, “The guy I was talking to at the bar the other night...that was him. The bartender, Johnny.”

Yangyang’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and Y/n noticed the way his jaw clenched.

“You were talking to him again?” His voice was tight, his concern clear but mixed with a hint of frustration.

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, looking out the window. “He’s...he’s actually really nice. I don’t know, I just...I needed someone to listen to me, Yangyang. And he did. It was good.”

Yangyang shook his head, his tone firm. “Y/n, you can’t just be confiding in some random man like that. I don’t care how nice he seems, he’s still a strange man. You can’t trust him so easily, no matter how much he listens.”

Y/n frowned, her thoughts spinning. “But...I don’t think he’s like that. He’s not just some random guy. He’s a very nice man.”

Yangyang glanced at her, his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Very nice man? Y/n, older guys like that don’t just give a shit about you. They have their own reasons for pretending to care. It’s not like he’s gonna take on the role of some personal therapist just for fun. You can’t let that happen.”

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine at his words, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn’t considered it that way, but Yangyang’s perspective was making her second-guess her own. Was she being naive? Was she trusting him too easily?

Before she could voice her doubts, Yangyang spoke again, his voice lower, more intense. “And you weren’t supposed to be drinking without me either. You know that’s dangerous. I told you I’d be there if you needed to talk, if you needed to unwind, but not like this. You could have really hurt yourself, Y/n.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Y/n could feel the sting of guilt creeping in. She hadn’t thought about how reckless she’d been, too caught up in the moment and the comfort Johnny had provided. Yangyang was right, he had warned her, and she had ignored it.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice small. “I didn’t mean to make you worry like that.”

Yangyang softened, glancing at her with a hint of exasperation but also something else, care. “I’m not mad, Y/n. I just want you to be safe. You don’t need to be doing stuff like that, especially not when you’ve got people who care about you, people like me.”

Y/n didn’t respond immediately, her mind still processing everything. She didn’t want to admit it, but Yangyang’s words made sense. She couldn’t just go around opening up to every man who listened. Not all of them had good intentions.

“I know, Yangyang,” she said finally, her voice more resigned now. “I’ll be more careful next time. I just...I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like I’m drowning, and when someone actually listens, it’s...it’s a relief.”

Yangyang exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. I really do. But you don’t have to be drowning, Y/n. Come to me, yeah?”

Y/n nodded, feeling a little lighter but still conflicted. She appreciated Yangyang’s concern, but part of her couldn’t shake the connection she’d felt with Johnny, the way he had listened without judgment.

But for now, all she could do was trust Yangyang.

As the car rolled through the quiet streets, Y/n sat in silence for a few moments, her thoughts swirling around like a storm in her mind. The weight of the night was still pressing down on her, and the thought of returning to the tenseness of her house felt unbearable. She couldn't go back to that place, not tonight, not after everything that had happened.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yangyang...can I come to your place tonight?”

Yangyang glanced at her, surprise flickering in his eyes before it softened. “You don’t want to go home?” he asked gently.

Y/n shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “No. I...I can’t go back there. It feels like everything’s just too much.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he slowed the car down. “Of course, you can stay with me. I’m not going to let you be go there if you’re not ready for that.”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease a little. “Thank you, Yangyang,” she said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. “I just...I don’t want to deal with it right now. I just want to be somewhere I feel safe.”

“You’re always safe with me,” Yangyang replied, his voice steady and reassuring. He reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Y/n nodded, her chest tightening but also loosening at the same time. She was grateful for him, for his care, for being someone she could lean on when everything felt like too much. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The drive felt shorter than it was, and soon enough they were pulling up to his place. Yangyang’s place was a two-story flat he shared with a couple of other people, though Y/n only really hung out with them at parties. Never had time to talk with them properly, usually heading straight to Yangyang’s room, just like now.

As Yangyang parked the car, he turned to her with a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You can rest, and we’ll figure everything out tomorrow, alright?”

Y/n gave him a soft smile back, as they made their way to his room.

As Y/n lay on the bed at Yangyang's place later that night, her mind wandered back to the bar. She knew she shouldn't have gone back. There was something about the bartender, Johnny, that had pulled her in. It was almost magnetic, like an invisible thread tying her to him, and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she couldn’t escape it.

What made it even more complicated was how he made her feel. He didn’t look at her like she was a burden, like she was just another person to deal with. Johnny treated her with a kind of maturity, respect, and care that she hadn’t known in a long time.

It was in the way he listened without judgment, how he noticed the small things that everyone else overlooked, like the subtle tremor in her voice or the way her eyes would wander when the silence stretched too long. He didn’t rush her, didn’t push her to talk, but when she did, he made her feel like her words mattered.

It stood in such sharp contrast to the way her father treated her, the way he always seemed so distant, so preoccupied, never really seeing her, never really hearing her. Y/n had spent so much time trying to please him, trying to earn a sliver of his attention, but nothing ever worked. No matter how hard she tried, there was always something wrong.

Tonight, after the argument, she'd felt it again, the suffocating loneliness of it, the emptiness that came with his neglect. But Johnny...Johnny made her feel seen in a way she hadn't in years. It was as if he could sense the pain beneath her exterior, and instead of turning away, he leaned in, offering her a space to just be. No one had done that for her, not in a long time.

And she knew it was dangerous to let herself get attached to that. She barely knew him. Their interactions were brief, and yet there was something about the way he carried himself, the way his smile reached his eyes, that made her heart do strange things.

He wasn’t just some random guy, but a man who had his own life, his own set of experiences. He wasn’t supposed to be her safe space, not really. But in those moments they shared, when he looked at her with that quiet understanding, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

Y/n closed her eyes, her thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. She shouldn't let herself get too caught up in this. She couldn’t. But the way he listened, the way he cared, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she was worthy of being seen. It was something she didn’t even know she craved until it was given to her.

The feelings she had were complicated, tangled with guilt and hope, but in that moment, with the soft hum of Yangyang’s home around her, Y/n allowed herself to believe for a second that she might deserve this kind of kindness. Just for tonight, she could rest in the warmth of it, before the world outside reminded her of everything else she had to face.

The next day, Y/n found herself standing in front of the bar once again. It was a little after 7, and the familiar sound of activity inside felt different this time. Her heart was racing a little, nerves creeping up in the back of her mind. She had told herself that she shouldn’t come back, that it was probably a bad idea to get involved in something she didn’t fully understand.

But something about it, about him, kept pulling her in.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The bar was just as lively as it had been the night before, but this time, Y/n’s focus was entirely on the bartender. She could see Johnny behind the counter, effortlessly moving between serving customers, his posture relaxed but efficient. She took a moment to watch him as he worked, the way he interacted with people, his warm smile never faltering.

A little self-conscious, Y/n made her way up to the bar, her footsteps steady but uncertain. She took a seat on one of the stools, smoothing down the hem of her jacket as she settled in, trying to calm the fluttering in her chest.

Johnny’s gaze lifted from the drink he was preparing, his eyes locking with hers for just a moment before he gave her a small, surprised smile. His expression softened, and he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder before walking over to her.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted her, his voice warm and genuine.

Y/n gave a slight nod, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, sorry. I figured I’d come by again.”

Johnny chuckled lightly, leaning against the bar with an easy familiarity. “You don’t have to apologize for showing up, you know. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Y/n’s nerves eased a little at his words, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling the weight of her decision settle in. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter this time.

“So,” Johnny began, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. “What can I get you tonight? Hopefully not the usual?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Actually, I think I’ll just have fizzy tonight.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow, amused. “Soda? Wow, a change of pace.” He paused, giving her a knowing smile. “I guess I’ll take that as a sign you’re taking it easy tonight.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly, her tension slowly melting away as she felt more at ease. “Yeah, probably for the best.”

Johnny nodded and grabbed a clean glass, filling it with water before sliding it in front of her. "So, what brings you back this time? Everything okay?"

Y/n looked up at him, the faintest hint of hesitation in her gaze before she spoke. "I just wanted to thank you properly...for last night…and Monday night. I didn’t really get the chance to, and I felt like I should."

Johnny's smile softened, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you had someone to talk to. Sometimes that’s all we really need.”

For a moment, the noise of the bar seemed to fade away, and Y/n felt a brief but genuine connection with him. It was strange, how in just a few brief conversations, he had become someone she could turn to when everything else felt uncertain.

"Well," Y/n said, feeling a little bolder, "I’m glad I came back."

Johnny met her eyes, his gaze steady and warm. “Me too.”

Johnny returned to the bar, grabbing a dry lemonade from the shelf before placing it in front of Y/n with a smile. "Here you go. Something a little sweeter this time, right?" he said, his tone light and friendly.

Y/n took the glass, offering him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Johnny."

He nodded, his eyes briefly meeting hers before turning his attention to another customer at the end of the bar.

"I’ll be right with you," he said before walking off to take their order, leaving Y/n to relax with her drink.

The moment was short-lived, however. As she sipped the lemonade, she felt someone standing beside her at the bar. She looked up to see a man, probably in his late twenties, leaning against the counter, an easy smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice smooth but with an edge that made Y/n feel uneasy. "I saw you take a seat here just now. Mind if I ask your name?"

Y/n's smile faltered, a slight unease creeping up her spine. She didn't feel comfortable with this sudden attention, especially from someone she didn't know.

She quickly tried to deflect, tapping her fingers nervously against her glass. "Uh, I’m just here to relax. I’m not really looking to talk."

The man didn't seem to take the hint, though, stepping closer and continuing, “Oh come on, just a name? You from ‘round here?”

Y/n’s discomfort deepened as he pressed, crossing a line she wasn't ready to let him cross. She opened her mouth to decline again, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Johnny returned, wiping his hands on a rag and noticing the man standing too close to Y/n. Without missing a beat, he placed a hand on the counter, leaning in toward the guy.

“The little lady doesn’t want to talk to you,” Johnny said, his tone calm but firm, eyes cool as he sized up the man.

The stranger seemed to hesitate, taken aback by Johnny's sudden intervention. He gave Y/n a lingering look before backing off, muttering something under his breath as he walked away.

Y/n glanced at Johnny, her relief clear in her expression. "Thanks," she said softly, her voice still a little shaky.

Johnny gave her a small, reassuring smile, his posture relaxed. "No problem. You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that," he said, before turning to handle another customer.

As Johnny walked away, Y/n found her gaze lingering on him, her thoughts a jumble of confusion and warmth. She’d never had a guy, other than Yangyang, stand up for her like that. There was something so effortless about the way Johnny had handled the situation, like it wasn’t even a question that he’d step in to help her.

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Feeling this way over something so simple, a few words, a protective gesture. But it wasn’t just the act itself, it was the way he’d done it. Calm, confident, and with an underlying care that felt genuine.

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to have someone like Johnny in her corner, someone who didn’t just look out for her because they felt obligated, but because they wanted to.

Y/n shook her head slightly, trying to push the thought away, but the faint warmth in her chest remained.

Her heart shouldn’t be reacting like this, not to someone she barely knew. Yet there it was, betraying her with every quickened beat.

Johnny returned a few moments later, leaning casually against the bar. His easy smile was back, directed right at her, making her heart flutter.

“So,” he began, his tone light and conversational, “get up to much today?”

The question caught Y/n off guard. It had been a while since someone had shown genuine interest in her day.

“Nah, not much,” she replied with a small shrug. “Just lectures and stuff.”

“Oh, studying, are you? What courses?” Johnny asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly in interest.

“Biochem and Stats,” Y/n said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Johnny let out a low whistle. “Impressive. And you actually enjoy that?”

Y/n laughed, the sound breaking through the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. “Not always,” she admitted, “but I’m pretty good at it.”

Johnny chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill the space between them. “Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to like it, huh? I get that. But hey, Biochem and Stats? Sounds like you’ve got some serious brains.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush slightly at the compliment, her smile turning shy. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Johnny tilted his head, giving her a playful, skeptical look. “Oh, I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re selling yourself short.”

Their conversation was interrupted briefly as Johnny reached over to grab a glass, ready to serve another customer. But even as he worked, Y/n noticed how his attention never fully left her, as if he was genuinely invested in their small talk. For the first time in a long while, she felt seen, and it was both unsettling and comforting all at once.

The night had quieted, the earlier buzz fading into a mellow hum. The bar was never completely still, but this was as close to peace as it got. Johnny leaned against the counter, his arms crossed casually as he listened to Y/n talk about one of her professors and other people with her lectures. She animated her stories with gestures, her earlier shyness fading as the minutes passed.

Johnny couldn’t help but smile as he watched her. He knew why she’d come back tonight. She hadn’t said it outright, but it was written all over her. She needed someone to talk to.

Someone who wouldn’t dismiss her feelings or turn her vulnerability into a weapon. Johnny was more than okay with being that person.

She was young, still figuring out who she was and how to navigate the parts of life that felt heavier than they should. Her strained relationship with her dad had left a gap in her life, the kind that only someone older, someone steady, could help fill.

She wasn’t looking for pity or solutions, she just needed someone to listen. Someone to treat her like her thoughts mattered.

He glanced at her as she laughed softly at something she’d said, her guard down in a way that felt rare. Johnny’s chest tightened with a protective instinct he hadn’t expected.

He’d seen people like her before, people who carried too much for their age, who needed a safe place to land, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t see her as a problem to solve or a burden to bear. She was just...someone who needed a little light, and he didn’t mind being that for her.

Johnny glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how the hours had slipped by. The bar had quieted even further, and the streetlights outside cast soft halos against the darkened windows. He turned back to Y/n, his expression softer now.

“It’s getting late,” he said gently. “You should think about heading home.”

Y/n blinked, the words pulling her out of their conversation. She glanced down at her phone, realizing how much time had passed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, slipping her bag over her shoulder as she stood up.

As she pushed her stool back, Johnny’s voice stopped her. “You gonna call your friend again to come pick you up?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening slightly on the strap of her bag. “Um, no...not this time,” she admitted, her tone quieter now. “Yangyang didn’t really want me coming back here, so it’s probably best if I just walk home.”

Johnny frowned at that, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the bar. “Walk? At this hour?” He shook his head. “Mhmm, I don’t know, it’s a bit too late, don’t you think?”

Y/n shrugged, offering him a small, half-hearted smile. “It’s not a long walk, I’ll be fine.”

Johnny didn’t budge. “How about this…you hang out here for another hour while I finish up, and I’ll drive you home.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You’d...drive me home?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s late, and I’d rather know you got home safe.”

Y/n stood there, her mind racing. She barely knew him, they’d talked a lot in the hours which she was in the bar, but this was...unexpected. Still, the thought of walking home alone in the dark didn’t seem so appealing now, and something about the sincerity in his voice made her feel like she could trust him, especially considering how he drove her home the other night.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice almost cautious. “I don’t want to be a pain or anything.”

Johnny waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m not letting you walk home this late. So, sit back down and relax for a bit.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay...thank you, Johnny. Really.”

He returned her smile with an easy one of his own, nodding toward the stool she’d just left. “No problem.”

Y/n slid back onto the stool, her heart racing for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. Johnny turned back to the bar, tending to the few remaining customers, but she couldn’t stop glancing at him, still stunned by his offer. It wasn’t every day someone went out of their way for her like this, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. But for now, she was grateful.

As the hour ticked by, the bar emptied out, leaving only a couple of stragglers with their drinks in quiet corners. Johnny moved with practiced ease, wiping down the counter, stacking glasses, and tidying up behind the bar. His movements were efficient, but he didn’t rush, taking the time to nod politely to the last few patrons as they gathered their things and headed out into the night.

Y/n stayed seated, watching him work. The way he moved, so steady and calm, made her feel oddly at ease despite the situation. He caught her looking a couple of times and threw her a casual grin, making her cheeks warm as she glanced away.

Finally, Johnny flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’, locking it behind the last customer. He turned back to Y/n, brushing his hands off on a bar towel as he approached.

“Well, that’s it for tonight,” he said, setting the towel down. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, standing and adjusting her bag. “Yeah, thanks for taking me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the hook behind the counter. “Let me just grab my keys, and we’ll head out.”

Y/n waited by the bar as Johnny disappeared into the back for a moment. When he returned, keys jingling in his hand, he gestured toward the door.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he said, his tone warm but firm.

Y/n followed him out, stepping into the cool night air. The streets were quiet now, and the soft hum of the city lights felt almost serene. Johnny walked beside her to the small parking lot behind the bar, where an old but well-kept honda civic waited.

“Not exactly a luxury ride,” he joked as he unlocked the passenger door, holding it open for her. “But it’ll get you there.”

Y/n slid into the seat, her heart fluttering slightly at his gesture. “It got me home last time, I’m sure it’s perfect this time. Thank you.”

Johnny rounded the car and got in, starting the engine with a low rumble. As they pulled out onto the empty street, a sense of comfort ran through her.

“I’m surprised you remembered anything from last time. You were wasted!” Johnny said with a laugh, his voice light and teasing.

Y/n groaned, immediately covering her face with her hands. “God, don’t remind me! That was so embarrassing! I’m so sorry you had to deal with me while I was drunk.”

Johnny leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with an amused grin. “Ah, don’t feel too bad. At least you had the decency to vomit in a gutter instead of the bar floor.”

“Mortifying,” Y/n muttered, peeking at him through her fingers. “But sure, go ahead, keep laughing at my misery.”

“Oh, I will,” Johnny replied, his laughter bubbling up again.

Y/n couldn’t help but glance at him as he laughed, the sound warm and genuine. The way his cheeks lifted, the faint lines around his eyes deepening as they crinkled with amusement, it was mesmerizing. Johnny was beautiful, in a way she hadn’t fully registered until now.

His laughter softened, and he tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. “You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone’s had a rough night now and then. You handled it better than most.”

“Better than most?” Y/n asked skeptically, lowering her hands.

“Trust me,” Johnny said, his grin widening, “I’ve seen it all. You’re far from the worst.”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Well, that’s...somewhat comforting.”

“Glad to help,” Johnny said with a mock bow of his head, making her laugh this time.

Y/n tilted her head, as she leaned slightly towards Johnny. “Do you often drive patrons home…like you did with me?”

Johnny smirked, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, really? You drove me home.”

Johnny shrugged casually, his hands on the wheel. “Let’s just say you didn’t strike me as someone who’d regularly find themselves in that kind of situation. And you looked...lost. Like you needed someone to step in.”

Y/n blinked, his words catching her off guard. “Oh. Well, I guess you were right,” she admitted quietly, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve.

Johnny looked over to her briefly before looking back on the road. “I’ve been bartending long enough to know the difference between someone who’s just drinking for the fuck of it and someone who’s looking for escape. You seemed like the latter.”

Her throat tightened slightly, and she gave a small nod. “Yeah...I guess I was.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Johnny added, his tone lightening. “Most of the time, my job ends at making drinks and cutting people off when they’ve had enough. But with you? I don’t know. I just felt you needed the help.”

Y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond to that. She glanced at him, searching his expression for any hint of an ulterior motive, but all she saw was sincerity.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said softly, offering him a faint smile.

Johnny chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. It’s not like I’m some saint. I just figured someone should make sure you got home safe.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at his humility, shaking her head. “Well, thanks. I guess I’m lucky you were the one working that night.”

Johnny tilted his head with a smirk. “Yeah, you are. And don’t forget it.”

Johnny's car came to a smooth stop outside Y/n’s house, the soft hum of the engine fading as he shifted into park. She stared out the window at the familiar house, her heart sinking slightly. She didn’t want to leave, not yet.

The warmth of Johnny’s presence beside her in the car, the comfort of his easy conversation, and the strange sense of safety she felt, it was all so different from what was inside the house, waiting for her.

She sighed, her hand hesitating on the door handle. “Well...thanks for the ride,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Anytime,” Johnny replied.

Y/n was just about to push the door open when Johnny’s voice stopped her. “Hold on a second.”

She turned back to him, surprised, as he reached up and pulled a pen from the overhead sunshade. Her heart skipped as he gently took her hand in his, his touch warm.

Johnny didn’t say anything as he leaned over slightly, his focus entirely on her hand as he wrote something carefully on her skin. Y/n’s mind blanked, her senses overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers lightly brushing against her palm.

It wasn’t until he let her go and she glanced down that she realized what he had done. His number was scrawled neatly across her hand, the ink stark against her skin.

Her eyes darted back to him, wide with surprise.

Johnny leaned back, his expression calm but unreadable. “If you ever need to talk…or a ride! Just call. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

Y/n’s lips parted, but no words came out. The gesture was so unexpected, so simple, yet it felt like the most special thing anyone had done for her in a long time.

“Thanks,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny gave her a small smile, his hand resting casually on the steering wheel. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

She nodded, still stunned by the action. “I will. Thanks again, Johnny.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said, his voice low.

With that, Y/n pushed the door open and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She glanced back once as Johnny gave her a small wave before driving off, the tail lights of his car disappearing into the distance.

Y/n had been replaying that interaction with Johnny in her mind for a week now, yet the thought of actually using his number still made her stomach twist in knots.

The very night she got home, she had saved his number to her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed it in. But every time she thought about texting him, her nerves got the better of her.

Would she come across as pushy? Annoying? What if he regretted giving her his number?

But, God, did she want to message him.

Her thoughts distracted her as she walked down the street. She was on her way to a café where her dad had promised to meet her. She adjusted the strap of her bag, trying to push Johnny out of her mind.

Entering the café, she offered a polite smile to the staff behind the counter before finding a small table near the window. Sliding into the chair, she leaned back, checking the time. She was about three minutes early, but that was fine. Her dad would probably walk through the door any second now.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Ten minutes passed. Y/n’s gaze flicked back to her phone. No texts. No calls. Nothing. She sighed, her fingers drumming on the table as frustration and disappointment started to bubble up.

Finally, she decided to call him. She stared at her screen for a moment before hitting the button, holding the phone to her ear as the line rang.

“Hey, Bub,” her dad answered, his tone casual.

“Where are you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Oh, fuck!” her dad cursed on the other end of the line. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry, Bub. I can’t make it today.”

Her heart sank, though she couldn’t say she was surprised. Disappointed? Always. But surprised? Never.

“Oh, okay,” she said softly, gripping her phone a little tighter.

“I can send you some money to get yourself something if you’d like,” he offered, as if that could somehow make up for standing her up.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, her voice quieter now. “See you at home.”

“Alright, see ya. Bye.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Y/n lowered her phone slowly, staring at the screen as if it might somehow offer her the explanation or comfort her dad couldn’t. She sat there for a moment, her appetite gone and her mood sinking further.

Her fingers hovered over her contacts list. For a fleeting moment, she thought about calling Johnny. She hadn’t used his number yet, but maybe now was the time.

What if he was busy? What if he didn’t really mean for her to call?

The anxiety crept in again, but so did the urge to feel even a fraction of the comfort he’d given her that night in the car.

She stared at his name on the screen, her finger hesitating over the call button. Should I?

Fuck it.

With a deep breath, Y/n hit the call button on Johnny's contact and held the phone to her ear. Her heart raced with every passing second, her pulse thudding louder as the ringing began.

“Hello?” Johnny's familiar voice came through, smooth and warm.

“Hey, it’s Y/n,” she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“Y/n!” His tone instantly brightened, cheerful and welcoming. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. What’s up?”

“I was supposed to have lunch with my dad, but...he kinda stood me up,” she admitted softly.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe reassurance, maybe just someone to make her feel like she mattered, but she knew Johnny’s words would be the comfort she needed.

“Shit,” Johnny said, his voice filled with concern. “Where are you right now?”

“Bristo,” Y/n replied, glancing at the bustling street outside the cafe.

“Alright, give me a minute. I’ll come to you,” Johnny said without hesitation.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” she said quickly, guilt creeping in. “I don’t even know why I called you...”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in five,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Before she could protest again, she heard the soft click of the line disconnecting. Y/n stared at her phone, equal parts relieved and surprised. She couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips, Johnny always seemed to know exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

True to his word, Johnny arrived. Y/n spotted him the moment he stepped into the café, his tall frame impossible to miss. He paused just inside the door, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. A smile immediately lit up his face, one that sent a wave of warmth washing over her.

He strode over, pulling out the chair across from her and settling into it. “Hey,” he said, his tone light, as if he’d been meeting her here all along. “You okay?”

Y/n gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

Johnny leaned back, giving her a look. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t show up when someone needed me?” He glanced around the café briefly. “So, what’s good here?”

She smiled softly, relaxing a little. “I didn’t really look...I guess I wasn’t in the mood to eat by myself.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re not alone anymore.” Johnny picked up the menu, scanning it. “What do you think? Should we split something? Or are you more possessive over your food?”

Y/n laughed, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Depends on how good the food,” she teased.

Johnny smirked. “Fair enough. We’ll test that theory. Two coffees and an order of fries to share sound good?”

She nodded, feeling a little lighter already. “Can I have an iced chocolate?”

“Of course, you can,” Johnny said with a warm smile, standing up and heading toward the counter to place their order.

Y/n watched him as he walked away, she couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he managed to brighten her day, how his presence seemed to fill the space around him with a quiet kind of assurance.

It wasn’t just the fact that he showed up, it was the way he made her feel seen, like her bad day truly mattered to him. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like someone was actually in her corner.

Johnny returned to the table with a numbered stand, setting it down in the center before settling back into his chair. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table as his gaze softened.

“So,” he started, his tone gentle, “how’re you feeling? I mean…about your dad and all.”

Y/n let out a small sigh, her fingers tracing patterns on the edge of the table as she avoided his eyes. “I don’t know… It’s not the first time he’s bailed on me. I guess I wasn’t really surprised.”

Johnny nodded, his expression empathetic. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck, though.”

“Yeah,” Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just…I keep hoping, you know? Like maybe one day he’ll actually show up, maybe he’ll prove me wrong. But he never does.”

Johnny’s jaw tightened for a moment, the flicker of frustration on her behalf evident. “You deserve better than that,” he said firmly. “You shouldn’t have to keep waiting for scraps of attention.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She glanced up at him, her throat tightening. “It’s just…hard to give up on him. He’s my dad.”

“I get that,” Johnny replied, his voice steady. “But sometimes, people don’t give you what you need. Not because you’re asking for too much, but because they can’t. And that’s on them, not you.”

Y/n blinked, her chest tightening at the honesty in his tone. “You’re really good at this, you know,” she said softly, managing a small smile.

Johnny chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know about that. I just know what it’s like to need someone to show up when it matters. And if he won’t, then I guess it’s a good thing you called me.”

Her smile grew just a little as warmth spread through her chest.

The server arrived with their food, setting down a plate of crispy fries in the center of the table, followed by Johnny’s coffee and Y/n’s iced chocolate. The clink of the cup meeting the table seemed to break the tension, and for a moment, the two simply dug into the fries, letting the silence settle before continuing their conversation.

Johnny nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment before he spoke again. "When did this all start, then? I mean, the whole thing with your dad."

Y/n sighed, picking up another fry and slowly chewing it, trying to find the right words. "It started when I moved in with him," she said quietly, her voice quieter than usual. "Before that, I used to live with my mom, and I’d just visit my dad on weekends or holidays. I didn’t think much of it. He was always...distant, but I thought it was because of the distance. But even after moving in, it was always off."

Johnny’s eyes softened as he listened, understanding in his gaze. He stayed quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

"But when my mom passed, I didn’t have a choice. I had to move in with him." She paused, running a finger along the edge of her iced chocolate cup. "I thought it would be fine. I figured, hey, he’s my dad. He’ll step up. But...the more time I spent with him, the more I realized how much...it wasn’t fine."

She swallowed hard, her chest tight at the memory. "I didn’t notice how strained our relationship was when I only saw him for a couple of days at a time. But living with him...living with him made me see everything I missed. I thought maybe it would change, you know? But it feels like he doesn’t care enough to try."

Johnny’s gaze was steady, his voice gentle. "I’m sorry, Y/n. That’s a heavy thing to go through, especially at your age. Losing your mom, then having to face a whole new kind of relationship with your dad."

"Yeah," she whispered, her fingers trembling slightly as she wrapped them around her cup. "I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I used to just brush it off, tell myself it was fine because I had my mom, and I only saw him for short periods of time. But now...I don’t know. It’s like everything’s coming down on me all at once. I thought maybe he’d change, but he never does."

Johnny leaned forward slightly, his tone soft but firm. "He should’ve stepped up when you needed him, but that’s on him, not you. You’re not the one at fault here, Y/n. You’re doing your best to deal with everything that’s been thrown at you."

Y/n looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, a quiet reassurance that made her feel a little lighter. She took a deep breath, her chest aching, but somehow not as tightly as before.

"Thanks, Johnny. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. You probably didn’t want to hear about my messed-up family problems when we first met–outside the bar, I mean."

Johnny chuckled softly, the sound like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the heaviness. "Hey, everyone has their stuff, right? We all have our problems. But I’m glad you feel comfortable talking to me about it. And don’t worry, it’s not a burden. If anything, it’s good to get it off your chest."

Y/n felt a little smile tug at the corners of her mouth, the weight in her chest easing just a bit more. "I appreciate it. Really."

Johnny smiled back, his eyes kind but steady. "Anytime, Y/n. Anytime."

After they finished their meal, Y/n and Johnny stood up from the table, ready to leave. Johnny paid for their food, even when Y/n tried to insist she could cover it. He just waved her off with a smile, saying it was his treat and that she could get the next one.

"You're stubborn," Y/n teased as they walked out of the cafe, the door chiming softly behind them.

Johnny just grinned, giving a shrug. "I know, but just means you’ll have to pay next time." He threw her a playful look.

Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. He wanted to hang out with her again. Y/n had to look down to hide the blush creeping up her face.

They walked side by side down the sidewalk for a moment, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Johnny’s voice broke the comfortable silence.

"So, what are you up to now?" he asked, glancing over at her with curiosity.

Y/n sighed, the events of the day weighing on her a little. "I’m just gonna head home. I only planned to have lunch with dad, nothing else."

Johnny nodded in understanding, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, that didn’t go as planned."

Y/n gave a small, wry smile. "That’s one way to put it."

After a beat, Johnny looked over at her with a suggestion. "Well, I don’t have any plans, and if you’re up for it, you could come hang out at my place for a bit. It’s probably better than sitting alone, right?"

There he goes again, making her heart beat like crazy.

Y/n looked at him, surprised by the offer but a little relieved. "You sure?" she asked, hesitant at first.

"Yeah," Johnny said with a reassuring smile. "I mean, I’ve got nothing to do, and if you’re feeling like talking or just...you know, distracting yourself, my place is open. Plus, I can drive you home later, whenever you're ready."

Y/n didn’t even have to think about it for long. She felt surprisingly comfortable with Johnny, and after the weird day she’d had, spending some time with him felt like a good way to unwind.

"Okay," she said, her smile soft but grateful.

They made their way to Johnny’s car, the drive going by smoothly. As Y/n leaned back in the passenger seat, Johnny glanced at her a few times, but didn’t say much, content to let the silence settle between them, only broken by the occasional hum of the car or the soft sound of the radio playing in the background.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Johnny’s apartment building, Y/n glanced up at the modest complex. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple, window-fronted building with a few balconies and potted plants by the entrance. Despite its plain exterior, there was something inviting about it, maybe it was Johnny’s presence, maybe it was his smile.

Getting in the building, they took the elevator up. She was half-expecting Johnny to give her a formal, awkward tour of the place, but instead, he just nodded toward the door, indicating for her to enter.

The inside was just as she imagined, simple, a little cluttered but warm, with a lived-in vibe that made it feel instantly comfortable. A worn leather couch sat against the far wall, by a low coffee table tv remotes and a half-empty cup of coffee.

"Home sweet home," Johnny said with a small grin as he locked the door behind them. "Make yourself comfortable."

Y/n smiled as she slipped off her shoes, glancing around. "It’s nice. I like it."

"Well, my apartment is like any other," Johnny chuckled. "Not much, but it works for me."

He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of glasses. "You want something to drink? Water? Juice?"

"Water please," Y/n said, taking a seat on the couch.

She looked around, taking in the personal touches scattered throughout the apartment, a few framed photos on the shelves, some cds and records in the corner, and a couple of potted plants by the window.

A few moments later, Johnny handed her a glass of water before settling down on the side table beside her, a comfortable silence hanging between them.

"You know," Y/n said, breaking the quiet as she swirled her glass, "I really wasn’t expecting my day to end like this."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Hanging out in some guy’s apartment after your dad ditched lunch?"

Y/n laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah."

"Well, if it helps, you’ve made my day more interesting," Johnny said, leaning back against the cushions. "I was just gonna spend the afternoon binge-watching something stupid."

"I mean, you can still do that, you just have company now," Y/n said, smiling a little as she relaxed into the couch. "I don’t mind watching something stupid with you."

Johnny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright then, but you can pick."

Y/n thought for a moment, then grinned. "SpongeBob?"

Johnny blinked, caught off guard by her choice before a slow smile spread across his face. "Spongebob it is. A real big girl pick."

He grabbed the remote, flicking through streaming options until he found the show. As the theme song blared from the TV, Y/n couldn’t help but smile a little, already feeling lighter. Johnny sat back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as they watched the ridiculous antics of a yellow sponge unfold.

It was halfway through an episode, some scene involving jellyfishing, when Johnny glanced over at her, noticing the way her expression had grown more subdued, as if her mind was elsewhere. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting until the end of the episode before speaking.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice low.

Y/n hesitated, keeping her eyes on the screen for a moment before sighing. "I guess…I don’t know. It just hit me again, how weird things are with my dad."

Johnny didn’t interrupt, letting her find the right words.

"It’s just…frustating," Y/n continued, playing with the hem of her sleeve. "Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. But he’s just so infuriating. Like I barely get to hang out with him, as you can tell, but even when I used to try hang out with him at home, he’s brush me off and get annoyed, so I stopped. I don’t doubt that he loves me, but he makes it so difficult. He’s not at all abusive, but he makes me feel so ignored."

Johnny frowned slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "So he’s just really distant…doesn’t give you the time of day?"

"Exactly," Y/n said quietly. "I’m just a constant bother to him."

Johnny nodded, leaning forward slightly. "You want him to show up for you, but it feels like he won’t."

Y/n swallowed hard, the truth of his words striking her. "Yeah. And I don’t know how to deal with that anymore. I keep trying, but…it’s exhausting."

They sat in silence for a beat, the sound of the next episode playing in the background.

"You ever feel like...things are just never gonna get better with someone?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny was quiet for a moment before answering. "Yeah. I think everyone feels that way at some point. But it doesn’t always mean things are stuck forever. Sometimes, you’ve gotta figure out what you need first, and if you can’t get it from that person, you might need to find it elsewhere."

Y/n looked over at him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know if he’ll ever be the dad I need him to be."

Johnny turned toward her, his expression serious but warm. "Sometimes people can’t be what we want them to be. That’s not on you. But it’s okay to take care of yourself. You don’t have to keep putting yourself through it if it’s just hurting you."

For a moment, Y/n didn’t say anything, letting his words sink in. It was hard to accept, but hearing it from Johnny felt...freeing, like he understood in a way not many people did.

"Thanks, Johnny," she said softly, offering a small, sincere smile. "Really."

He smiled back, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. "Anytime. Back to Spongebob?"

Y/n chuckled and nodded as she turned her attention back to the screen. It wasn’t the day she planned, but sitting there, watching cartoons with Johnny, she realized it was exactly what she needed.

Johnny leaned back into the couch, pretending to focus on the show playing in front of them. But his eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to Y/n. She was sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen, but he could tell her mind was still elsewhere, probably circling back to her dad. He had seen that look before, in the mirror of all places.

It wasn’t the first time he found himself just...watching her. Not in a creepy way, but in those moments where he couldn’t help but notice little things, like how the corners of her lips twitched up slightly when something made her smile, even if it was brief. Or how she played with her fingers at random times. It was those small details that caught his attention, and sometimes, if he wasn’t careful, it caught too much of his attention.

You need to stop looking at her like that, Johnny.

The thought hit him hard, like a warning he had to keep reminding himself of. She was younger than him, too young for him to be having moments like this. But no matter how many times he told himself that, there was something about her that made it difficult to look away.

Her dad clearly didn’t see it. Didn’t see how much she needed someone to be there for her, to just show up. And Johnny…well, he clearly wasn’t her dad, wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a bartender, but damn it, he could be there.

If no one else was going to step up, he was willing to. He couldn’t stand the thought of her sitting alone, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming.

He hated that she felt this way, that someone so vibrant, who could light up a room with her laugh, was carrying this weight around like it was hers alone to bear.

And as much as he knew he shouldn’t get too involved, there was a part of him that didn’t care. If she needed someone, he was more than ready to fill that role, even if it meant risking a little heartache of his own.

Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Y/n turned toward him, catching his eye with a soft smile that made something stir in his chest.

"You okay over there?" she asked, her voice light, but her gaze curious.

Johnny smirked, pushing aside his deeper thoughts for now. "Yeah. Just thinking about your choice of entertainment."

Y/n laughed quietly. "It’s silly and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Always brings me comfort."

He smiled back. Johnny realized he didn’t mind spending the rest of his day like this, just sitting beside her, watching silly cartoons, and being exactly where he wanted to be.

A/N: BAM! Part one out the gate Again, these fics ended up wAY too long for no reason, so I had to seperate them into different parts, but shouldn't be a big deal, lol I hope you enjoyed this part and read the next two :) Thank you for reading 💚

#fanfic #nct #nct 127 #nct johnny #nct fanfic #johnny seo #daddy johnny #johnny seo x reader #johnny suh #johnny suh x reader #johnny nct #nct johnny x reader #nct 127 johnny x reader #nct johnny suh x reader #nct johnny seo x reader #johnny suh imagine #johnny suh fanfic #johnny seo fanfic #johnny seo imagine

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moosesarecute · 13 hours ago

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Chapter 15: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

masterlist

The next part won't come until next week sometime. I'm having my partner over this weekend, so I'll take a break from writing. Hope you all have a nice weekend!

Ashe had eaten and gotten dressed when Azriel got to her room. She wore a loose, but warm dress. It was mostly green, but it had a few light blue details.

Azriel looked like he was drooling when he saw her and Ashe almost laughed at him. But just almost, as she was too anxious to do anything else.

“I was wondering if you-”

“Are you my mate?”

Ashe had never been good about confrontations. She wanted an answer, so she asked him.

His eyes widened to the biggest size Ashe had ever seen them, and then, to Ashe’s immense relief, he nodded.

“Yes Flame, I’m your mate,” he answered.

That’s when Ashe felt it snap. She felt the overwhelming feeling of home and safety taking over all the place she had in her chest. She felt the feeling of needing to be with Azriel. It was a feeling she had felt before, only with him. It was so much, but at the same time it felt extremely right. It felt like her world had been pulled apart and build up again just right.

But at the same time, she had too many questions.

“How long have you known?”

“Please, let’s just sit down and I’ll explain everything.”

“How long have you known?” Ashe didn’t move.

Azriel brushed a hand through his hair and sat down at her desk, facing her.

“I’ve known since the shadows found your letters.”

Ashe felt like her brain was going to explode. He had known even before they met? Ashe didn’t even know that was possible.

“The shadows talked about you as “mate”. I didn’t know your name until you introduced yourself. But when I first saw you in the dungeon, I knew for sure that you were my mate.”

Ashe felt too overwhelmed to stand, so she sat down on her bed, a few meters away from Azriel.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked looking at her hands. She had removed the bandages. Madja had done a good job, but she still had a few scars.

“Please, look at me.”

She wasn’t planning on doing it, but when she realized how shaky his voice was, she didn’t have much of a choice. He was crying, just one tear, but he was crying.

“I was planning on telling you when you felt better. Your entire world just flipped upside down, Ashe. I didn’t want to force a mating bond upon you when you were going through so much else.”

When Ashe had imagined the conversation throughout the night, she had been cool and collected. She had taken breaths and spoken steady.

After 161 years she probably should have known that she would never be the neutral voice in the room.

She got so extremely angry at his words that she didn’t know what she was going to do about herself.

“Force a mating bond upon me?” she asked him with disbelief.

“Yes, Ashe. I realized quickly that you feel a lot and I didn’t want to make you take a difficult decision when you already were having a hard time.”

That made Ashe stand up and Azriel stood up with her.

“Difficult decision? You think me deciding about the mating bond would be a difficult decision?”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped a little. And then he nodded.

“I see,” he said and started to raise up from her chair. “I’ll leave.”

Ashe almost lost her jaw to the floor. She realized Azriel was serious and ran to cover the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked as kindly as she could. Azriel looked heartbroken and confused at the same time. “It’s an easy decision because of course I’ll want you. You don’t dare to think anything else you stupid idiot. You are my mate, and you’ll have to deal with me, that’s something you’ll just have to live with.

“I don’t think you know how much you have done for me the last few weeks. You gave me a purpose. You made me feel important and useful, but safe at the same time. I have lived through what I hope will be the worst few weeks of my life and you were the entire reason I got through it. I don’t think you understand that if you hadn’t been there, I probably would have been dead right now.”

“Please, don’t say tha-”

“Shut up,” she continued. “They would have found out about my letters eventually and then Beron would have tried to killed me. Eris probably would have gotten me out, but I would have died in the Summer forests, because who was I going to live for? Azriel, you saved my soul. My soul is tethered to yours and of course I’d like to keep it that way.

“I don’t think you understand-”

Azriel could listed to Ashe yell at him for the rest of their lives.

Because he knew that now, it would be their lives. She spoke and spoke and spoke. And he loved every second of it.

She spoke mostly about how stupid he was, but sometimes she would use some details about her own life to underline just how stupid he was.

She told him how Eris had taught her to dance and how she had dreamed of dancing with her mate ever since, but she never thought servants could have mates.

She told him how she once accidentally gave food poisoning to Beron because she heated up the wrong dinner. He couldn’t remember exactly why she told him that, but he knew he would be extra observant if his mate was in the kitchen.

Ashe told him about how she craved more and more of him after their first kiss and Azriel wanted to agree, but she just held up a hand and he continued to listen.

“Are you on your way?” Rhys asked him for the fifth time. It was almost thirty minutes since he got to Ashe and he was supposed to bring her to the House of Wind.

“She’s still going,” Azriel told him.

Rhys only laughed in his mind.

While Azriel spent all his attention listening to and understanding every single detail Ashe told him, his shadows did what he really wanted to do: admiring.

“beautiful.”

“ours”

“kind”

“funny”

“love”

“mate, mate, mate”

Azriel had his dream female in front of him, and even though she was currently repeatedly calling him an idiot, he only felt love, love and then some more love through the bond that bloomed in his chest.

“And when you told me my hair looked nice after the Lady did my curls, I thought I was going to pass out and I’ve been think about curling my hair again ever since. I’ll have to grow it out again, of course.”

“Your hair is beautiful now too,” Azriel said and even more butterflies exploded in Ashe’s stomach. “Your mother did your hair? That’s nice”

“Yes, she was in a weird mood,” Ashe continued. “When I got to her room, the heir of Autumn left, and she was quiet and teary eyed the entire time. I’ve heard rumours about the Lady, I mean my mother, having other lovers, but I never expected them to be true.”

“They have a history,” Azriel said, and the neutral voice told Ashe that he definitely knew something.

“What do you know?”

Azriel looked surprised at her but spoke anyway.

“Let’s just say I was spying on the Autumn Court, after orders from Rhys’ father, and very quickly found out that a certain little brother of yours was conceived at a time where Beron was on a two months long trip to the continent, and Helion was on a “study” trip to Autumn.”

Ashe was sure she looked even more shocked than when she found out about the mating bond.

“Oh my cauldron, I should have guessed that!” she said, but then fell deep into her thoughts.

Could she be Helion’s daughter too? Was that why Beron hated her so?

Azriel stood up from the chair he had been sitting on and walked over to Ashe. He took hold of her hips and pulled her towards his body. He leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t as soft as it had been the first time. This time it was rather needy, but Ashe got just as weak in the knees as last time.

It was like time stood still. He held her in his strong and safe arms and all was perfect. Their kiss grew more and more intense, and Ashe never wanted it to stop.

However, the second she thought about that, Azriel stopped. His smile was huge as he spoke.

“Finished yelling?” She let out an embarrassed laugh as she nodded. “I love you, wildflame. I love you, all of you, temper and all. And I’m looking forward to you yelling at me for the rest of our lives, but it was actually a reason to why I came here this morning.”

“I love you too. Extremely much, and I for cauldron’s sake hope you know that now,” she answered. “What was the reason?”

“Rhys wanted to speak to you.”

“The High Lord wanted to speak to me, and you let me spend thirty minutes yelling at you?”

“Hey, hey, I tried stopping you, multiple times, but you were too far into wildflame territory for me to stop you.”

“We have to go,” Ashe said and turned around to grab for the door.

However, Azriel grabbed her hand first and dragged her back into his chest. He kissed her lips so passionately as he held her hair.

“Now we can go,” he said and pulled away.

Ashe could get used to kissing him.

Ashe learned quickly that she did not like flying. Every time Azriel had to dip just slightly or make a turn, she ended up screaming.

She had never been so grateful for standing on her own two feet as when she landed on the balcony of the House of Wind.

“You did better than many others do the first time they fly,” Azriel told her after she had gotten control over her breathing and stopped the need to throw up. He held her hand and showed the way to the High Lord’s office.

“There they are,” the High Lord said as they walked into his office. He, the general and who two females sat there and waited for them. “Nice of you to grant us with your presence.”

“It’s not my fault no one has tried telling this idiot that he is worthy of love, I had to explain it to him and that took a while.”

Azriel looked red as a tomato, but the rest of his family only laughed at him.

Ashe froze immediately when she realized how she had just spoken to a High Lord.

“I’m sorry,” she said with an unsure voice. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh, you absolutely should,” Cassian told her. “It’s nice to hear that someone’s ready to take care of our broody shadowsinger.”

Ashe was still not sure and she almost excpected a punishment for how she had spoken. But at the same time, all the smiles that met her told her that she was safe. Azriel laid a hand on her lower back and her feeling of safety multiplied.

“Sit down please,” the High Lord continued and Ashe and Azriel sat down in a small couch. “We have received a few letters from your family. We thought you might want to read them.”

He handed Ashe a small pile of six letters. Ashe looked through them, but it didn’t say who was the sender on the front page. She knew they were from Eris, but she still wanted to know.

“We have also received a letter from Beron,” the High Lord continued and Ashe’s attention snapped towards him. “It was addressed to me, so I hope you don’t mind that I read it without you.”

Beron had sent another High Lord a letter about her? That can’t be good.

“You can read it yourself if you want or I can summarise the content.”

Ashe didn’t notice when her hand ended up in Azriel’s, but he was now stroking his thumb back and furth on the back of her hand. She appreciated how he knew she needed comfort without having to ask.

“Can you summarise it please?” she asked, not really daring to see Beron’s handwriting.

“Beron acknowledges you as his biological daughter and says that since you were unmarried at the time of your “kidnapping”, he still has the claims to you. He therefore wished to invoke a blood duel-”

“No,” Ashe said. “Absolutely not. He can’t just ignore me for that long and then invoke a blood duel. He wants to get me back just to kill me.”

“I agree with you, but it seems like he can,” The High Lord explained.

“Who does he want to fight?” Azriel asked. Ashe could feel his anger and worry float through the bond. It felt weird and right at the same time.

“We can choose who we send.”

Ashe saw how Azriel opened his mouth and immediately stopped him.

“You’re closing your mouth right now,” she said harshly. “I’m not letting anyone duel because of me.”

“You’re definitely not duelling,” Azriel answered.

“Why not?”

Azriel looked at her as if she was crazy. His look made her realize that she was indeed crazy.

“No one is fighting him,” the High Lord interrupted them with a smug smile, however it fell when he started to speak. “We might have a solution to our problem, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

She looked hesitant, but asking at him.

“We came up with the idea that if you’re dead, then he won’t need to invoke the blood duel.”

Ashe felt so fucking stupid. Of course, their only way to save her was to kill her, it was the Night Court. She should have known it would end like this.

Azriel’s grip around her hand tightened and he became even more angry.

“What are you planning, brother?” he asked and Ashe have never heard his voice more intimidating.

“We want to fake her death. Ashe, we’ll answer Beron that you, after a long fight, unfortunately died from the harm he did to you. You’ll live your life safe her in Velaris. Perhaps as Samli and Thord’s daughter or we can make up another story for you if you need it. That way, Beron will get his will, but at the same time you’ll be able to live a calm life here. Velaris is highly protected, and I’ll imagine Azriel won’t mind having you safe from all his enemies as well.”

The idea seemed…wonderful.

She’d have the chance to live a new and safe life. Ashe could start new.

Velaris was a city with a lot to offer, so she wouldn’t mind staying there. And acting to be Samli and Thord’s daughter wouldn’t be hard. She’d have to be adopted of course, but she didn’t mind that.

From the hopeful feelings she got from Azriel she understood that he felt the same.

But it was something she wished for.

“Would everyone else need to think I died?” she asked the High Lord.

“Who are you thinking about?”

“My mother,” she answered. “My mother and Eris. Mother had gone through so much already; I don’t want to give her more pain. And she shouldn’t be the only one to know. Even though Eris have lied a lot to me, I feel like it will be too much for my mother to carry this secret alone. I trust Eris to keep it with her.”

The room seemed to be thinking. Ashe new that the Night Court didn’t have the best relationship with her brother, but she hoped they would look past it for her.

“That’s okay,” the High Lord answered in the end and Ashe felt so relieved.

She finally had hope of a good life.

“Are you going to read them?” Azriel asked her when they got back to her room.

Ashe almost had a new breakdown on the thought of him leaving, so Azriel was of course staying the night. They decided that the next day would be relaxing for Ashe’s mind so that she might be able to not cling onto Azriel all the time. Azriel said he didn’t mind, but Ashe needed some space.

He was talking about the letters Ashe had been holding in her hands for the last ten minutes. She had just been looking at them.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I know I won’t like what’s in them.”

Ashe was seated at the end of her bed, and Azriel soon moved to sit behind her. He covered her with her wings like a cocoon, only her head was over his wings. Ashe leaned into his touch and let out a little laugh from all the butterflies that danced in her stomach. Cauldron, she loved him.

“You don’t have to read all of them at one time, you know,” he told her as he softly started to play with her hair. “You can start with one and take the next tomorrow.”

Ashe nodded and Azriel moved his wings.

“Can you please hold me?”

“Of course, my Flame.”

She blushed a little at the pet name. She wished she had one for him, but Shadow seemed too basic, and she really liked his name.

Ashe opened the first letter with shaky hands and recognized Eris’ handwriting.

Ashe,

I know I have lied to you and let you down in one hundred different ways. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just want to know that you’re safe.

I never planned on letting you go alone to a foreign court, and least of all the Night Court, so please answer that you are safe. I will hurt them if they have laid…

Ashe didn’t bother reading the rest.

Eris didn’t know the Night Court at all it seemed. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to tell her that either.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked her.

She let out a sigh as she reached for the next letter.

Ashe,

Even Lucian is now answering my letters. He’s mad at me for letting so much harm getting to you. I’m mad at myself too.

Please give me a sign that you’re alive. I know that I let you down, but I’m still your brother and I care a lot about you.

Please, Ashe.

From Eris

Even Lucian knew about her being their sister. It felt totally unfair.

She let out an angry humf and picked up the third letter.

She saw how short it was and Eris’ handwriting and didn’t bother to read it.

“Remember to breathe,” Azriel whispered into her ear and her anger lessened a little.

Ashe picked up the fourth letter and expected the same, but this was longer. A lot longer.

Ashe,

I was over the moon when I got to know that I was getting another little sibling. It was a while since mother had been pregnant, and she was struggling a lot more that time than what I could remember she doing with the rest of your older siblings.

She was throwing up more, sleeping more and definitely eating more.

Even in the womb you were a lot.

Beron wasn’t there the night you were born. I was the first one that held you after mother. You were very little, but you scream was so loud.

I could see mother’s worry when she got to know that you were a baby girl, but I never expected Beron to give so much harm.

You almost didn’t survive, and I don’t know if mother would have lived if he had killed you that night.

I’ve tried to look out for you ever since. I know I haven’t done a good enough job and that you deserved so much better, but I’m a coward that’s scared of his own father.

I did my best, but it wasn’t enough.

Please answer me. Ask me all and every question you have and I’ll answer you to my best ability.

Eris

Beron had tried killing her the night she was born.

Reading the letters left Ashe with even more questions, so she picked up the fifth letter. She opened it and got disappointed by another one of Eris’ pleading letters.

Ashe quickly put it away and picked up the last letter. She tried to not get her hopes up, but it was hard not to.

She opened it and noticed how the handwriting was a lot prettier that Eris’. It looked more thoughtful and professional, but at the same time rushed. The letter was dated two days ago. Ashe’s birthday. Ashe gasped and almost started crying when she realized who the letter was from.

My sweet Ashe,

161 years ago today, I gave birth to the smallest and loudest baby girl. I fell in love immediately.

I knew from the moment I smelled my pregnancy that you were different from the rest of your siblings. You smelled sweeter.

Your father was not delighted to have another babe, but you soon proved to be warmer than all our other sons, so he expected you to be the strongest.

I only realized that you were a girl when I could drink tea as pregnant without throwing up. For all the six other pregnancies, even the smell of tea made me nauseous. But you, my sweet girl, allowed me to drink it.

When I found out you were a girl, I had to make a difficult choice. I knew Beron didn’t want a daughter, but at the time I still had not noticed just how awful he was. I was naive and thought that he would not mind having a daughter after so many sons.

Beron was not there when I gave birth. I was seconds away from giving you to another family when he got home. He took one look at you and immediately got disappointed. He had expected a powerful heir, and he got a daughter.

We made a bargain. He would let you live as long as you never had a good life, and I was not allowed to seek you out. Never. He sat Maria to gain your trust and to make sure that you were treated as a bastard servant.

I thought it was for your best, but I have hated myself for every day since. I could have made a different decision, but I did not realize how much of a monster he was until that night. I knew he was a monster, but I never realized he could harm a newborn.

You have had burn scars on your body since the day you were born and I have carried the guilt ever since.

My sweet Ashe, you have never been a disappointment to me. I’m a mother to the most thoughtful and kind daughter and I have never been prouder. I have watched you grow into a female that does everything she can to make life better for the people around her and that is something I will honour you for as long as I live. I have seen you grow and each time I have seen you, I have gotten more and more honoured to be your mother.

I will always be your mother if you need me, but I know that you are strong enough on your own.

My amazing daughter, I will always be sorry for the way you have been treated, but I hope that I will get to explain some day.

Please go live the life you have deserved.

Love,

Mom

Ashe dropped the now tear-filled letter into her lap and turned into Azriel’s chest, sobbing.

“She didn’t have a choice.”

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