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cherry-pop-elf · 1 year ago

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Honey, I’m Home-!

Sirius Black x Mom! Reader

Ever since Sirius was sent to Azkaban, you were the one in charge of raising Harry. Doing your best, and lucky to have Remus to help. Because of that, a certain Rat wasn’t able to avoid any of your gazes. When Harry’s third year came to a end, you were given quite a surprise at the train station

Warnings 18+, P in V, Female Reader, high emotions, hurt comfort, fluffy and heated sex, getting back together, implied breeding kink, taking care of your man with baths food and you, sir this bed is about to be destroyed with how hard he’s going to rail you. Also, implied Wolfstar/ Remus x You/Poly situation deal up in here hehehehe

“Harry-!” You called, with a smile. Always there to pick him up from the station, every single time. As a good parent would. Ever since you found out he had such a risk to end up at the Dursleys, like hell you would let that happen. Made you pamper him a bit, given your good friends lost their lives for him. But like hell he didn’t deserve it.

“Shhh shh-!” Harry was soon hushing his friends, leaving you confused. Hermione and Ron quick to hush up, while Remus would set the last of the bags off the train. Wanting to help out, since there were so many Weasleys to worry about. The way he smiled, you were even more curious. You couldn’t recall the last time he looked so relieved. Was there a change in laws that permitted him to work at Hogwarts?

“Children, settle down. Settle down. Go on and show her the surprise.” He teases them, as he would help Molly with the rest of the Weasleys. He threw you a wink, which had you very confused. Not what did that Marauder have in mind this time?

“Mum…..Can we get a dog?” Harry asked you, as the trio stood next to each other. With cuts and bruises all over, but smiling. Even Ron seemed chipper, despite the fact he was in crutch. The hell did those three get into this time?

“A dog-? Harry….You know why we can’t get a dog.” You sighed, not wanting to have this discussion again. With out Sirius, you just couldn’t. Any dog was to painful of a reminder. Oh how you miss your padfoot. What you would give to see him again.

“Mum, please? He’s got no where else to go. Just look at him-“ Harry pleaded, as the trio stepped aside. The dog now exposed to you. Was so painfully skinny, yet also so furry at the same time. Matted fur, and just looking like a grim. He looked so much like Sirius, but so dead as well. Your heart just couldn’t say no this time.

The defeated sigh had them cheer, as Remus returned. Still giving you this coy smile, that had you furrow your brows. You felt like you were missing something, but you didn’t know what. You just knew that it was time to take everyone home.

With Harry hugging his friends goodbye, while this new dog stuck close to your legs, Remus would catch up quickly with Molly. Explaining something. You swore it was about Scabbers, but the new playmate was keeping your attention. Suddenly jumping on you, and licking your face.

“ACK-! HEEL HEEL-!” You called, as the dog was just to strong. How was something so fragile so durable? Reminded you of Sirius. How even in his dog form he was able to tackle people down. Was just making your heart hurt more, which in a morbid sense made you unable to refuse the dog either.

“Mum, Uncle Remus said you should head home with our new dog. He needs me to stay here and catch Mrs. Weasley up on stuff.” The way he fidgeted with his glasses told you it was a mixture of a lie and some truths. What the hell were these people planning? Was this some scheme to help you move on? Accept Sirius was never coming back? That hurt, but also a point was made. Who can escape Azkaban?

“Alright. But be home before dark.” You warned, as you kissed his forehead. Right on his scar, which made him smile. He made sure to give you a hug, before quickly returning to the red heads. Poor Molly looked ready to faint. Make that she did, and the twins had to catch her. Yeah, like hell you wanted to be involved with that.

“Alright, let’s-“ But the dog was running. Right through the wall, with no hesitation. You were flabbergasted, but had no time to think. Harry’s new dog was running off. No way you wanted his poor heart broken over that. So, you ran after it. Trying to catch up, but it seemed high on life.

“GET BACK HERE-!” You hollered, as the dog was running like it was the last thing it could ever do. You were so focused on trying to catch up to it, you barely noticed where you were running towards. By the time you finally caught up, you were wheezing. Hands on your knees, as the door the dog stopped at opened.

“About time Master and Mistress Black returned.” Kreacher sneered, as the dog hurried inside. Did he say what you think he said? No way. That can’t be Sirius. No way in hell. Looks like him, but he’s in Azkaban. You don’t just escape Azkaban. Sure, the daily prophet said he did. But it was more than likely gossip gone wild. You swore every week they said someone did, only for them to be returned the next day.

“Kreacher, phew, give me a minute here.” You coughed, as you stumbled inside. Left for the building to vanish, in the early morning fog. As if it was never there. Leaving you to be alone, with the elf and dog, as you hung up your coat.

You did your best with making the home more live able. The spare rooms built for whenever Harry wanted friends over for the summers. Along with just a safe haven for friends in need of a stay. You turned what was once a cage, into a proper home. Seemed the dog loved it, as it was quick to run up the stairs. Bolting past the curtained painting, and straight to your bedroom.

“How does it….No. no this can’t be. No way…” It was starting to become harder to deny, as you walked up the stairs. By the time you reached the door, you heard it. That familiar eerie bone cracking, when a animagus was changing forms. No way. It couldn’t be. It can’t-

“Home sweet home-“ That gruff voice sung to you, as you opened the door. There he was. Your husband. Your world. Your everything. Standing there, bending his back, as he sported a tattered Azkaban uniform. Bloody, dirty, hardly clothing at all. Hair a mangled mess, and in desempate need of a bath and shave. He was so sickly thin, the very thin fabric was just a sheet on him. Hardly could process it, when those dark eyes locked on yours. Hair so long now, and body tattered. No matter the design, it was still him. Your Sirius.

“Hardly changed a day…” He dreamily said, with that exhausted smile. He was so drained, but you could still see the pure joy in his eyes. He was home. He was with you, and could be there for Harry now. His best friend Remus was in his life again. He’s not in that damn prison, and he’s in your sight once more.

You didn’t care about the grime, as you practically fell into his arms. Sobbing in joy, as he held you close. Despite his thinner structure, he was able to hold you tightly. As tightly as he could, and sway with you. No need for words. Just gentle tears.

That was why Remus was so coy, and why Harry had you two run off. You two needed time to reconnect. Even so young, Harry could grasp how important this was. Guess you were rasing him right. Seemed also that Kreacher might have missed Sirius as well, because you could hear a bath being run. No one asked for it, but he did it. His own free choice. He missed him, in his own way.

“Darling, I love you so much. I really do, but I am so fucking gross right now. You know I’m being honest when even I’m unable to handle my own stink. I’ve had sex with Moony under a full moon. I’m GROSS gross right now. I will kill for a bath-“ He went on, making you just laugh with your tears. Despite the years in such a horrific prison, he was still himself. Guess he was always a little insane.

You didn’t let him go an inch, as you trailed after him to the bathroom. More than happy to help him wash. Just enjoying the needed intimate moment. Just a wife, washing her husband. By god was he filthy. By the time Harry and Remus returned, he was finally drying off. You had no idea if the bathtub will ever recover. Least he was now in his favorite black robe.

“I’ve got dinner handled, don’t worry-!” Remus called, as Sirius would come down the stairs with you. Unable to let go of his arm, and he hardly complained. He missed your touch all the same, as you two would enter the dinning room. Where Harry sat.

“Guess we better start from the beginning.” Harry murmured. You had already gotten used to your son’s insane adventures, but this one took the cake. He got his god father out of Azkaban, somehow-? Yeah, you were sitting down for this. Mindlessly playing with the exposed chest hair you could grab, as the trio of misfits began to explain.

Even while eating, more like Sirius devouring anything in sight, there was so much to discuss. Was mostly Remus, and Harry, speaking. Given Sirius was more so busy hiding during that time frame. Oh how your heart had broken, and repaired, over and over from it all. Your poor husband. But, he’s back now. He’s back, and he’s never leaving you again.

“I know you are my god father and all, but….Do I call you dad now-?” Harry asked. He’s thirteen, still a child after all. It’s going to be a lot to process, even by Wizard standards. With his meal finished, Sirius did have to think a moment. Dispite the fact Harry knew Sirius from stories, because of you and Remus, he was still a stranger after all.

“Uncle Padfoot will work just fine.” He smiled, as he ruffled Harry’s hair. That made the young teen give an awkward grin, as there was something to work with now. Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. It’s a start, and you couldn’t be happier. Just staring with such love to him, with your head on his shoulder. Taking in that scent, as Remus was unable to stop his smile to.

“Harry, dear, why don’t we go out for a walk. Hm?” Remus asked him, making the boy raise a brow. Why would he want to….Oh. Right. Remus would give a gentle head nudge towards the door, and Harry was quick to get the message. Grabbing his jacket, wand, and chasing after his uncle. Not wanting to say another word, as he really rather not think about his mother’s sex life. Even if it’s with his god father.

The second the door closed, you were yanked from your chair. You gave a squeak, as you were tossed over his shoulder. Just like the old days at school. Whenever he wanted your attention, he simply tossed you over his shoulder. Forcing you to pay attention to him, as he would steal you to a private room for a discussion.

“I’m not letting you out of that bed until the head board breaks-“ He warned, as that had your heart racing. Twelve years is a long time, and there was most certainly some catching up to do. You couldn’t deny that, as you watch the stairs trail behind him. Escorting you to your once shared bedroom. Now together again.

You were plopped right on the bed, and he was on you like the hungry dog he was. Stealing you into his lips, and you couldn’t stop your moaning. It had been so long. You needed him as badly as he needed you. How you were enjoying the new long hair, and tangling your fingers into it. Needing as much skin as you could get from him.

He was more than happy to give it to you. The robe thrown aside, as he was pulling at your clothes. Not giving damn if they tore. Nothing else mattered in this moment. He wanted to fuck his wife, and by god was he going to. Twelve years, in Azkaban. He’s going to get all twelve years of pent up desire out in one night. Will your body recover? Do you even care?

“Sirius-“ You sighed, as he finally got your top off. His face buried into your chest, as he snapped your bra strap off. Tossing it aside, as he drank you up. Just feeling your skin on his, and savoring the long missed flesh against his bearded face. Feeling that freshly softened hair on your chest felt so good. Every single fiber of your existence was on fire. Felt like you might implode.

“Not a day passed by, that I wasn’t thinking of you. You, Remus, Harry, you three were what kept me sane. I knew you three were safe with each other. Waiting for me. I came back. I came back, like I promised.” He sighed, as you felt the tears on your chest. Gentle fingers played with his hair, as to try and calm him down. Comforting him.

“I always knew you would.” You felt so silly thinking Remus would ever try and help you move on. Hypocrite he would have been. Human emotions be human emotions, and they were being carnal right now. Needing to burn and burn and burn.

“Have me again, like you’ve had me before.” You asked him, as you cupped his face. Having that thick beard nuzzle into your palm, as those dark eyes stared up to yours. So much pain in his face, but comfort in his eyes. It’s a long journey to recover, but his soul was still there. His body is damaged, but a body can repair. A mind is harder, and that was the battle. A battle he won.

With a kiss to your palm, he would soon attack your lips. Growling into you, as he pulled away the rest of your clothes. Needing to devour your body. Soon marking away at your neck, your chest, your arms. If there was anything his lips could grasp, and making sure you were marked. As if to remind the world you belonged to him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not anymore.

“Sirius, how can you still be such a tease?” You whined, as he was grazing his teeth over your thigh. Leaving a bite on your flesh. Letting himself enjoy the flavor of the tingling flesh under his tongue.

“What? I’m an old dog. Old dogs have bad habits.” He teased, before he finally allowed you to get some attention. He really didn’t change, and you were shocked. Never thought being abused could be useful. Only a Black would have such a morbid survival skill.

Before any more depressing thoughts could fill your head, you were able to enjoy the familiar sight. Your husband between your legs, with his cock rubbing against you. The tip of his cock coming into view, whenever he rolled his hips up and down. Rubbing right on your clit, and making you whimper. Sure you’ve played with yourself, but nothing beats his touch.

You both were gripping tightly. Him on your thighs, while you grabbed his shoulders. Needing to feel him in your hands. You both needed it so badly, but both held a near fear. As if afraid that it was all a dream. Luckily, he had the nerve to test that fear. Test it, as he finally pushed in.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this-“ He moaned, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The way he growled, and his body just shivered. Aching, and moaning. Might spill just then, if he didn’t stop. Just savoring the feeling of being back inside of you, and how your eyes watered from pure comfort. To have your husband back.

He would lean down, and kiss away your tears, before he allowed himself to move. Just moaning for you, as his nails dug into your flesh. Marking you more, as you moaned into each others mouths. Needing to drink in every last thing you both could offer. So much to catch up on, and to make up for.

With the tender moment passing, you were soon reminded of the wild man you married. The feeling of your legs being pushed towards your shoulders, as he tried to get into you deeper. With his hands now on your ankles, as he was snapping his hips into yours. Needing to make sure you felt ever inch of him.

You loved it, and missed it, all. The feeling of your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his hair. How he growled into you, and the snarls. Oh how you loved how animalistic he was for you. How he would bark and howl at the beg and call to you. Your big bad wolf.

It was all you missed. Had you in a mixture of tears, and pure desire. How he wanted to fight your tears, and kissed you. As heated as he could, to make up for the years parted. To taste you, and savor you all over again. Just the sounds of your moans, the creaking bed, and the flesh on flesh.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but you felt him pull your lip. Sinking his teeth into it. A typical sign that he was close. A need to ground himself, to last a little longer. Oh how you missed his little habits. That thrill of pain again sent you over, as you came with him. To be as connected as possible.

You expected to get a moment to savor the after glow, but he kept true to his word. You were soon tossed onto your stomach, with the ass in the air. Of course he wanted doggy. It’s cheesey, but a favorite. Suppose one more round could be mustered.

One more became two, and three, and soon you had to chug a Pepper Up potion to keep up. You lost track of the rounds, before you were laid on your back. Soaked in sweat, and sticky from it all. Sheets hardly on the bed, and you were certain there were cracks in the wood. Hardly could breathe, but it seemed he was satisfied.

“Pretty sure you fucked a dozen kids into me.” You wheezed, as he chuckled. Enjoying a much needed cigarette, but still making sure you were comforted. Having your head in his lap, as he played with your face. Admiring all your features.

“Good.” He snickered, as you swatted at his hand. The both of you able to share a laugh, as there was a soft knock at the door. All Sirius had to do was give a sniff in the air, and he knew who it was. A whistle was given, before he grabbed a pillow for you. So you could cover up, despite the fact Remus has certainly saw you naked many times.

“Feeling better now-? Could have used a silencing charm. Had to tell Harry Kreacher was fixing a wardrobe.” Remus scoffed, with a tray of needed drinks and snacks. He would set it down on the bed side table, before joining on the bed. He deserved to catch up with Sirius to. Fine by you.

With some shifting, you were soon snuggled between the two men. Sirius still playing with your hair, as the two men remained sitting up. Keeping their voices low, so you could drift. Just able to be safe, and warm, again. Snuggling your husband, and comforted by the sound of old memories.

What a wonderful lullaby.

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paintedonmyteeth · 4 months ago

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Hello!! I've been absolutely obsessed with homicipher lately, and I really love the fanfics and hcs you wrote for the characters so far!! You're a really great writer, your style and aesthetic is honestly so good!

I was curious if you had any headcanons for how Mr. Crawling, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Silvair would be with a cane-user reader that has severe leg pain? Like they typically use a cane to help them walk easier, but sometimes they can feel so much pain in their leg that it becomes too much to walk and they sometimes need to sit down or take a break?

Homicipher characters taking care of reader is one of my favorite types of things to read <3 I hope you have an amazing day!

Homicipher Boys w/ Cane!reader

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHh YES I love the concept gbejbfj and I could def see this as a huge cute thing w/ Mr. Hood especially. 10/10, Homicipher boys taking care of the reader are the best HCs hands down gbejfjwj and tysm it makes me happy to hear that others rlly enjoy my work!!!! :D

Mr. Crawling 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling as the absolute fucking sweetheart he is would want to be the biggest help for you when getting around certain areas of the Ghost Apartments.

⭑.ᐟ — At the same time, Mr. Crawling is also disappointed in himself he can’t be much of a help, it’s difficult for him to stand on his own feet for any longer than a few minutes considering he’s used to crawling around.

⭑.ᐟ — Which also means he can’t carry you :((

⭑.ᐟ — The best he can do however is help avoid any places like the boardwalk room with all the water or anything with a ladder so you’re putting less stress on your muscles and your bad leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling does his best to try in protect you from any hostile residents (eg. the time you got kidnapped by Mr. Stitch), he’s not trusting anybody that’s not Mr. Silvair, or any other residents you’re not familiar with.

⭑.ᐟ — Ofc break times are also a must have so whenever there’s a room that’s safe to take a breather, he’ll basically lead you by the hand to take a seat and give your bad leg a rest. Cuddles are also given for a bonus <3

Mr. Silvair 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair being kind of like the scientist/doctor, he’s pretty much the best source in getting any help you need for your leg.

⭑.ᐟ — Considering meds or painkillers aren’t things that exist in this ghostly dimension, Mr. Silvair tries finding other alternatives in order to alleviate your severe pain in your leg. Maybe try to work and figure out some sort of 'cure' with what resources and tools he has.

⭑.ᐟ — So with getting a few checkups/experiments done on your body (aka the weird thing going on with your body slowly changing due to staying in the Ghost Apartments), Mr. Silvair also checks in once in a while to see how your leg pain is going and suggests in resting whenever needed. You’re basically more than welcome to use his spare beds when you need them most.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Silvair might’ve found something better from the room with all the trashed items like a crutch for example so you can lean your weight on it a little and it’s somewhat easier to walk around.

⭑.ᐟ — Eventually Mr. Silvair found someway to help out with your leg pains, ofc having injections doesn’t look like to be the safest in normal people standards but yk, you’ll take anything you can get to be free from the pain even if it’s for a small while.

⭑.ᐟ — You might not get around much at this point, but whenever you’re in Mr. Silvair’s place you stay around for a little while during your breaks and Mr. Chopped’s just there keeping you company. :)

Mr. Hood 𖦹₊⊹

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Hood sees this as no problem at all tbh (It’s practically a W in Mr. Hood’s books).

⭑.ᐟ — Also fuck your cane honestly, he’s not thinking that ofc, but there’s no reason in needing one if Mr. Hood’s going to carry you all the time??? You can always rely on him to bring you to places you want to go.

⭑.ᐟ — You feel bad and selfish for taking advantage of Mr. Hood this way, but he’s honestly not complaining at all if he gets to hold you close like this whenever he wants. He’s not sure what the fuzzy feeling is but he just likes having you in his arms.

⭑.ᐟ — Sometimes you’d insist you’re able to walk on your own with the cane and you don’t need to be carried, Mr. Hood doesn’t think so, and he’ll still carry you anyways even if you don’t want him to.

⭑.ᐟ — It’s just looks so difficult seeing you struggle to get around certain places in the Ghost Apartments, there’s like a handful of dangerous things and you can’t run at all with that bad leg of yours.

⭑.ᐟ — There’s no need to feel guilty, even if Mr. Hood’s not put together or understand what he’s feeling most of the time, he’ll do anything to help out, keep you safe and protected. :))

#dead’s hcs #dead’s asks #homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #mr hood #mr hood x reader #mr silvair #mr silvair x reader #fluffies #gn reader #divider creds: bloodibambiidoll

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seongwars · 2 months ago

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strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged.

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help?

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative.

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before.

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered.

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something.

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there.

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out.

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite.

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod.

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly.

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud.

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough.

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all.

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup.

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected.

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip.

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits.

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to.

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him.

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white.

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm.

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly.

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh.

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him.

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger.

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head.

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged.

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all.

And that set her off.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged.

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild.

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter.

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier.

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always.

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you.

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you.

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement.

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out.

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you.

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest.

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car.

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week.

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it.

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone.

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender.

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.”

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly.

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming.

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

#song mingi #cromernet #ateez mingi #mingi x reader #arranged marriage au #ateez #mingi x you #ateez fic #mingi angst #ateez angst #enemies to lovers #strangers to lovers

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fuctacles · 8 months ago

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<< 😺 | 😺😺😺 >>

Eddie doesn't think more about Steph until there's a knock on the door on Saturday morning. He sighs, knowing it's his duty to open since his uncle would take forever on his crutch. And because he's a good nephew and wouldn't make him do that, of course.

He doesn't bother with the peephole, his sleepy brain basically forgetting of its existence. It's only when he opens the door and finds Steph with a duffel bag on the other side, that he realizes he went to open the door in nothing but his old Iron Man pajama bottoms.

"Good morning!" Steph greets him with a bright smile that falters a bit when her gaze drops to his tattooed chest. Eddie couldn't imagine a sight of zombie and spider tattoos giving him any credit in her pretty, middle-aged eyes. She quickly looks back up to meet his gaze. "Did I wake you up?" she asks, looking apologetic.

Eddie shakes his head, hoping it would send his hair over his shoulders, and cover him up a bit.

"I did!" Wayne pipes up from the kitchen. He sounds way too happy about running into a cupboard on his way out of the bathroom.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne!" she calls out, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"You can just come in, no need to yell through the whole place."

"Right, sorry," she steps inside tentatively, her hand clutching the strap of her bag. She's wearing a colorful windbreaker and her hair is tied up, showing off the soft line of her jaw and the beauty marks on her neck. She heads to the kitchen, seemingly already knowing her way around, and Eddie closes the door behind her. He quickly runs off to his bedroom (/guest room, now that he's on campus most of the time) and grabs a t-shirt to cover his nipples, tattoos, and overall unattractiveness.

"Visiting Robin for the weekend?" He catches his uncle's question when he steps back in.

It rubs him the wrong way, not knowing who Robin is. Is he Steph's boyfriend? Maybe they're doing long-distance? He returns to the ancient coffee maker he had abandoned to open the door.

"Yeah. I haven't seen Rob since last month. Our days off finally aligned."

"Can't you stay there longer? I'm sure Eddie wouldn't mind taking care of your cats for a day or two more."

"Hey!" Eddie whips around to glare at his uncle. The coffee maker splutters behind him. "Don't just offer my services like that," he scoffs. Then, he turns to Steph. "I wouldn't, though."

She chuckles and he grins, simply happy to make her smile.

"Try dealing with them alone first, and then we'll talk. But, you really wouldn't mind? If I stayed a day longer?"

He shakes his head.

"Not at all." He still has Wayne's words fresh in his mind. That people weren't kind to her, that she doesn't have many friends to rely on. "I'm assuming Robin is someone important to you?" he half-asks, leaning against the counter all casually.

Just the thought of Robin makes Steph glow.

"She's my best friend. We met at our first job serving ice cream."

Eddie's a bit embarrassed at the relief of knowing Robin is a girl. Still, a best friend is higher in ranks than your friendly neighbour's nephew.

"What's it been? Twenty years?" Wayne asks. Steph nods, making him whistle. "I couldn't stand any of my coworkers for longer than a shift."

"Maybe you're bad at making friends," Eddie butts in. "I've known Gareth since high school and we're still going strong."

"You guys are band buddies, that's different," Wayne scoffs.

"You play in a band?" Steph picks up, her eyes shining with interest that Eddie squirms under.

"Yeah, we play metal though. Probably not your stuff."

She shakes her head.

"Any music can be good when you put your heart into it. My friends listen to all kinds of weird stuff, I've heard everything from classical to experimental techno." She rolls her eyes. "I'd love to hear your music if you have anything recorded. Or you could give me a heads up if you're playing somewhere."

All Eddie can do is stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Uh-huh."

Wayne, bless his sometimes useful soul, saves his ass by changing the subject.

"Coffee?" he asks the stunning woman at their table. She's just sitting there, in the Munson abode at their kitchen table while they're still in pajamas like it's normal. Eddie wants it to be normal. Wants to sit in her lap and listen to her laugh.

She looks at her watch. It's white, she must be cleaning it often.

"I only have fifteen more minutes before I really have to go."

"Half a coffee then," Eddie decides for her, grabbing the mugs. She chuckles.

"Fine." She rolls her eyes.

Each of them gets their coffee, and Eddie notes Steph takes her with just a splash of milk. Before he can ask anything, to push their small morning gathering further into a friendly small talk, she reaches into her pocket to fish out her house key.

"I came over to drop the keys," she says, pushing them towards Eddie. "And if you have something to write on, I'll give you Robin's house number in case of emergencies."

"Sure, yeah." He nods, standing up immediately to look for the notepad they plan the grocery list in. In his haste, he catches Wayne's amused stare. He sends him a frown, but the man is already looking away, which only further agitates him.

#The crazy cat lady au #steddie #stevie harrington #mine #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #transfem steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #Stevierything #crazy cat lady stevie

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silverb0wties · 6 months ago

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Lemonade - Part 1

Lemonade || leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah. But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Warnings: death, pregnancy, mentions of stillbirth, house fire, hospitals & doctors

a/n: In this universe Alessia has a fictional older sister

~ I originally posted this a while ago but took it down because I received a bunch of hate for it. A few very nice people have encouraged me to put it back up, so I will see how I go. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but if you don't like this, please just scroll by. 💜 ~

PART 1

You didn’t fully remember what had happened that night.

It had all started off very typical. You’d had tea and a bath and watched a bit of telly before heading upstairs to your room for bed. You were 7 now and a big girl, and certain you didn’t need tucking in anymore, so you gave your Mummy and Daddy kisses and cuddles before you went to brush your teeth and then snuggled under your bed covers to keep reading your current library book, Matilda.

At some point you must have dozed off, because you woke up as your Daddy popped his head in through your door to check on you.

“You alright, Bunny?” he asked. Your nickname had been Bunny for as long as you could remember. You had been given a bunny stuffie named Arthur by your Nana on the day you were born, and he had been your trusty companion ever since. Bunnies were also your favourite animal, however you weren’t allowed one as a pet because your Daddy was allergic. Apparently that meant he came up in big bright red spots whenever he got near one. Surely there was some kind of cream that though.

“Can I come sleep in your bed with you and Mummy?” You had made sure to use your biggest, pleading eyes to try and convince him.

“Ohh alright. But you have to remember to be careful of Mummy’s leg, okay?”

Mummy had hurt her leg a couple of weeks before. She had been playing netball when someone on the other team had crashed into her and she landed poorly. You weren’t totally sure what was wrong, but you knew that it was apparently worse than whatever Aunty Leah had done to her leg. But it was also not as bad because your Mummy wasn’t a professional at netball, she just played for fun, and you think maybe they also won some wine sometimes but you’re not 100% sure. Anyways, she had to go to hospital and have an operation and now she was on crutches (which you weren’t allowed to play on) and you had to help around the house a bit more because it was tricky for Mummy to get around. You didn’t mind though, you were happy to be her little helper.

As you reached your parents room (Arthur clutched tightly under your arm), you found your Mummy already in the bed, her leg propped up on a pillow under the blanket. Before she had a chance to ask what you were doing there, you quickly rattled out “Daddy said I could come sleep with you, please please please!”

Your Mummy just laughed and patted the spot beside her on the bed. A few moments later you and Arthur were snuggled under the covers between your Mummy and Daddy and drifting soundly back to sleep.

The next time you awoke it was to a screeching alarm, one you recognised from when Daddy had tried to bake Mummy a birthday cake but had burned it really, really badly.

“Bunny! Sweetie, wake up!”

As you opened your eyes you realised you were surrounded by thick black smoke. Your chest felt tight, and the smoke stung your eyes so badly you couldn’t keep them open. Everything felt foggy and faint and you could feel yourself quickly falling back asleep.

“Just take her! Save her! Get her out!”

You heard your Mummy’s screams over the blaring of the alarm. You would hear those screams in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

The next thing you remember was being outside your house and your neighbour Mrs Green was passing you to an ambulance man. You had Arthur clutched in your hand by his ear as the man lay you down on a wheely bed and put a funny smelling mask over your nose and mouth.

Then you were at the hospital and there was lots of nurses and doctors scrambling around, poking and prodding you. You had still had the mask on your face that was filling your mouth and nose with funny smelling air. There was a big needle sticking into your arm connected to a bag on a pole that kind of hurt a bit. But worst of all, at some point you had lost hold of Arthur, and you could see him lying sadly on a bench across the room.

“She’s awake.”

“Y/N. Hi, my name is Doctor Smith. We’re just looking over you to make sure you’re doing okay. We’ll get you back to a room really soon and then you can see your family, okay?”

Your family was here! Thank goodness. Whatever had happened, your Mummy and Daddy were fine and you would see them real soon.

You breathed a small sigh of relief but still reached out instinctively for Arthur. A nice nurse with dark hair and big, round glasses noticed and looked over at the bunny.

“Is he your special friend?”

You nodded frantically.

“He’s very dirty at the moment, so he’s going to need a bath before you get him back for cuddles, I think.”

You realised that his normally light purple fur was closer to a dark grey colour, but you couldn’t understand how he got so dirty. Surely a bit of smoke doesn’t get a bunny that dirty.

And then it hit you.

Smoke.

You’d only seen smoke come from a few things in real life before:

When your Daddy had burned that birthday cake

From the cigarettes the old ladies who sat outside the newsagents smoked

When there was lots of pretty fireworks and sparklers after Aunty Lessi and Leah won a big trophy

After you blew your birthday candles out

Smoke came from burning things. Had Arthur been burned?

Before you could ask any questions, you were being wheeled into a room where your Nana and Aunty Lessi were. You loved your Nana and your Aunty Lessi, you really did, but you wanted your Mummy and Daddy. Where were your Mummy and Daddy?

“Oh Y/N, oh sweetie. Oh, thank God you’re okay.” Your Nana was crying as she reached for your hand and kissed your forehead.

You tuned out your Nana and the doctor’s conversation as out of the corner of your eye you spotted the nice nurse with the big, round glasses hand over Arthur, who had now been put in a plastic zippy bag, to your Aunty Lessi. She whispered something to her you didn’t hear and Aunty Lessi nodded and put him carefully in a big sleepover bag she had with her. You wondered why she had a sleepover bag with her here at the hospital.

“Does she know about…?” your Nana asked.

“No. We thought it best that she heard it from family.”

You snapped back to the conversation going on over your head at these words, catching your Nana nodding as she wiped some more tears away from the corner of her eye.

“We’ll leave you be to have some privacy. One of the nurses will be back in a while to check on her, but of course, don’t hesitate to press the buzzer if you need anything.”

As all the hospital staff left, your Aunty Lessi came around to the other side of the bed and gave you a hug as best as she could, trying not to bump your mask or the big needle in your arm.

“Nan-” you attempted to talk, but the smelly mask on your face was making your words sound all mumbly jumbly. You also noticed that it hurt a bit in your chest and throat when you tried to speak, your hand automatically coming up to rest on your neck.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t need to speak. You just rest, okay?” your Nana told you.

You nodded, aware that there was something going on. Something definitely wasn’t right. Your eyes flicked between the two women, noticing that their eyes were red and puffy as though they’d been doing lots of crying.

After a long, awkward silence that seemed to stretch on forever and ever, your Aunty Lessi finally started to speak.

“Bunny, sweetie, there was a fire at your house. We don’t know how or where it started, but there was a very bad fire, and it looks like it has destroyed the whole house.”

Your eyes widened as you began to put it all together – the smoke, the alarm, your Mummy screaming…

“Sweetheart, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t make it out. We don’t know a whole lot yet, but we know that your Daddy ran out of the house with you and gave you to a neighbour. You were very poorly and not breathing very well, and that’s why you’ve got to wear this mask to help you breathe. He went back into the house, we can only assume to try and help your Mummy because she can’t… umm couldn’t move around too well because of her leg. But they never made it out of the house.”

You didn’t really understand. What did she mean they never made it out of the house? Where did they go? Where are they now?

“Bunny, do you understand what I’m saying?” your Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head furiously. You just wanted to see your Mummy and Daddy. Why weren’t they here? Were they hurt? Were they also lying in beds somewhere with masks on their faces and needles in their arms?

Your Nana stood up from her chair and sat down softly on the bed beside you. She stroked her hand over your face a few times before cupping your cheek gently in her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Bun… Your Mummy and Daddy, they… oh Less, I can’t. I can’t say it…”

Your Nana pulled away from you, burying her head in her hands as she stood up and turned away slightly.

“It’s okay, Mum. I’ve… I’ve got it.”

Your Aunty Lessi swopped in and scooped your face gently into her hands, running her thumbs soothingly over your cheeks as you looked at her with confusion.

“Bunny sweetie, your Mummy and Daddy… d-died.”

You think your Aunty Lessi kept talking but her words just faded into background noise as you tuned out everything around you. You were there, but not really. Your body was, but your brain was just running over the words “Mummy and Daddy died” over and over and over and over until they lost all meaning.

Mummy died.

Daddy died.

Mummy and Daddy died.

You felt sad, but mostly you just felt kind of… nothing. It felt almost like the sadness was a balloon that grew too big, too fast and it had popped and now all you were left with was nothing.

In the movies and in your books when people died, their family cried lots and lots. Your Nana was crying, and it seemed like your Aunty had been crying. But you didn’t feel like crying. You did really, really feel like rubbing the soft fur of Arthurs ear across your cheek over and over and over though.

You had stayed in the hospital for a few nights before they let you go home.

Well, not really home.

But your new home.

You were going to live with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah. Your Aunty Lessi was your Mummy’s sister and Aunty Leah was her wife. They both played football for their jobs and travelled a lot. Before… well, before, you would go and visit them, or they would come visit and you would tell them all about the books you’d been reading and what you’d been learning in school and show them all the different breeds of rabbits there were in the big scrap book you’d been putting together. That scrapbook was gone now though. You weren’t sure if you would start making a new one.

Your Aunty Lessi had the most beautiful smile, and she always seemed to be able to make everyone laugh and be happy. And your Aunty Leah was always a really good listener, and she gave the most excellent hugs. Sometimes you would go and watch them play football, but you weren’t really interested in sports. It was always too loud and there was way too many people there. But it was always exciting when your Aunty Lessi would score a goal though, because if she knew you were in the crowd, she would point in your direction and make a heart with her hands.

You liked your Aunties. You loved them. But you’d never spent the night at their house or had a sleepover with them. You didn’t know any of the rules, and you didn’t have your Mummy to remind you of them before you went. You wanted to be on your bestest behaviour, having read far too many stories and seen too many television shows about children whose parents died and then their new families treated them poorly. You didn’t think you’d do very well in an orphanage or living on the streets. You weren’t very tough like those kids were.

You’re not quite sure what to think of your new room at your Aunty Lessi and Leah’s house. It’s very… adult. A bit boring to be honest. Just a big adult bed, a dresser and two bedside tables. There is a big window however that overlooks the back garden that you quite like. But you’re just grateful for somewhere to sleep really, thankful that your Aunties are letting you stay here at all. You’d happily sleep on the loungeroom floor.

“We will pretty it up and get you lots of new toys and decorate it however you want, Bun.” Your Aunty Lessi was stroking your hair as you cuddled into her side. “This is just temporary until your new bed and furniture arrives and we get you all settled in, okay?”

You nodded gently, not really knowing how else to respond. You were a bit shocked that they’d ordered you a new bed and were going to get you new toys.

“We did get you a few things to start you off with, just until we can all get down to the shops together to pick out some stuff. I hope they’re okay…” Your Aunty Leah gestured towards the corner where you could see a few boxes and some brightly coloured stuffies peeking out through the handles of some shopping bags. You looked up at her and blinked, unsure as to whether you were meant to thank her or go and inspect the items or what.

“We can go through that stuff later if you like?” Aunty Lessi suggested, squeezing your shoulder. “How about we grab something to eat for lunch?”

Just as you were turning to leave the room, a tuft of light purple fluff caught your eye among the bags.

"Is that Arthur?" you asked.

"Oh, your bunny? Yes, Aunty Leah gave him a really good bath and got him all clean again."

You dashed forward and grabbed him from the pile of other toys and clothing, bringing him up to your face to rub his soft ears over your cheeks.

You wanted to say thank you, but those words didn't seem big enough. Instead, you hoped that someday, somehow you would be able to somewhat show your Aunties how much you appreciated them.

With Arthur now tucked under your arm, the three of you made your way down the hall towards the stairs.

“Oh, and remember that is mine and Aunty Lessi’s room,” Aunty Leah gestured towards a door on the right of the hall, pushing it open with her foot. “If you ever need anything during the night, please don’t hesitate to come and get us. I’m up and down all throughout the night going to the loo anyways because of this one,” she smirked as she rubbed her growing belly.

“Does it hurt? Growing a baby?”

You don’t really know why you asked. You were curious, sure. Your own tummy hurt a bit when you ate too much food, so surely having a baby in there hurt lots. But now definitely wasn’t the time to ask that kind of question.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

However your Aunty Leah just chuckled and nodded at you. “It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it is rather uncomfortable at times, especially if the baby moves into an awkward position or kicks a weird spot.”

“The baby kicks you?” you asked.

“Oh yeah! They’re gonna be a striker just like your Aunty Less, I’m sure of it!”

Aunty Lessi nudged you and pointed at your hand. “You might actually be able to feel the baby move some time, Bunny”

“Really? Could I?”

Your Aunty Leah’s smile was a big and bright as you’d ever seen it. “They’re moving around now. Do you want to try and feel?”

You nodded excitedly. You had always wanted a baby brother or sister. Your Mummy and Daddy had told you once that there was one on the way, but then a while later when they’d gone to the hospital, they came home really sad and said that baby brother was born sleeping.

You had only just turned 4 when that happened, and you didn’t understand why they didn’t just wake him up. But Daddy explained that that is what people sometimes say when the baby isn’t born alive.

Mummy had been sad for what seemed like years after that. She spent a lot of time in bed, and she cried more than you’d ever seen her cry before in your life. You’d tried to cheer her up by drawing her pictures and singing her songs and giving her your biggest, bestest cuddles. But Daddy said the only thing that would make Mummy better was time.

He was right. She had slowly returned to her normal self. You were very grateful, because you had missed the little things like the silly songs she would sing when she would wash your hair, and the smiley faces she would make out of blueberries in your pancakes.

As your Aunty Leah gently cradled your hand and brought it up to her swollen tummy, you felt a small whooshing movement under your little hand.

“Did you feel that?”

You nodded quickly, your gaze meeting your Aunty Leah’s as she smiled tenderly at you. You couldn’t believe you could feel the baby moving in her tummy. It all started to feel very real.

“They’re moving around quite a bit tonight. I think they’re quite excited to have you here with us, Bun.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” you asked.

“No, we decided to wait until the baby is born to find out and let it be a surprise. We really don’t mind what their gender is, we’re just excited for them to be here and to meet them. Oh, there they go again, did you feel that kick?”

You nodded again, pulling your hand away from your Aunty Leah’s tummy as a sinking feeling began settling in your own.

You knew you weren’t a part of your Aunties plan. They were having a baby, and becoming Mums, which you were sure was something new and super exciting for them. But now they also had you to look after as well, which they weren’t expecting and had probably changed so many things for them. Surely, surely they would be much happier without you here ruining their perfect new little family?

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