#replayed chapter 3 yesterday

[raweggs9-5]

Your Turn to 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴: Death Game by Brainrot

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.7

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink, petnames (good girl, baby), anything else lmk. ch. 7 synopsis: minhee comes to you with the missing pieces of information you need, leading you to find the courage to speak to sunghoon, hoping you can reconcile. wc: 14.9k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! this chapter is filled with plot and answers to questions so i am hoping it all makes sense. again, thank you for the love on the last chapter! next week is the penultimate chapter so everything is starting to tie up so please enjoy <3

Scanning the next customer's shop, your shoulders are heavy with sadness. It’s not ideal to be working the day after you just lost the love of your life but reality doesn’t stop for your problems. If you weren’t in desperate need of the money, you would have just neglected to show up.

You haven’t slept, your eyes are a darker shade than before, and the smile you couldn’t stop plastering over your face the past couple of months is non-existent. 

Last night, you went home just like Coach Lee had instructed but you don’t know if it was the best idea. The journey home with your mum was filled with her yapping about how true love never existed and how she knew his plan was this all along. There was no sympathy from her, not a surprise considering her face yesterday looked like she just won the lottery. 

Minhee, on the other hand, sat silent, fizzing from head to toe. Honestly, you expected him to be fuming since Sunghoon was the factor in your current drift from one another, however, you did expect an undertone similar to your mothers gloating; he should be telling you ‘I told you so’ but instead he seems less boastful and more resentful. 

"Your total comes to £54.35," you murmur in a monotone, extending your hand for the payment from the elderly woman. As she counts out each pound coin, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts once more, replaying the events over and over again.

Sunghoon looked so sincere when he told you it wasn’t him on the recorded phone call. The biggest question that twirled in your mind was how your mum got the audio in the first place. Sunghoon's assertion that he was only friends with Jay and Jake, who wouldn't betray him, seemed plausible, he hadn’t ever mentioned anyone but them in all the times you have spoken. So, who could have provided it to her?

That’s what you should have questioned when you had the chance, instead of letting your mind loop in on itself and confuse you to the point you didn’t even hear Sunghoon out. 

You want to reach out and ask him to meet you but it wasn’t just you that got hurt yesterday.

If there’s one image that’s sticking in the forefront of your brain right now, it’s Sunghoon’s face when he found out you lied to him. Perhaps you should have questioned everything then, considering how shattered he appeared. Someone who set out to betray you wouldn’t look so devastated that you hurt them, would they?

You're also gripped with anxiety that getting in touch with Sunghoon would make things worse and he'll reveal Minhee's actions to the National Board. It scares you to think of your brother losing his chance to skate and being disqualified from competition. 

Space might be just what you all need.

But finding that space is proving to be a challenge when your mind is consumed by these thoughts incessantly. You feel utterly overwhelmed, your mental state crumbling, leaving you feeling helpless.

The old lady hands over the money, and you mechanically carry on with your shift.

Once it's over, you contemplate your options for where to go next. Normally, the rink would be your refuge, but it feels too loaded with memories right now. Rina's occupied with her anniversary date with Allen, leaving you with no one else to turn to. The library, despite being open 24 hours, holds no appeal; the idea of sitting in silence, trying to study, feels like torture.

With a tired yawn, you realise there's only one place left to go: home.

______

Kicking off your shoes at the door, you trudge up the stairs, each step feeling like an effort as exhaustion weighs heavily on your limbs. The lure of your bed grows stronger with each passing moment as if it's calling out to you louder with every step.

You notice that your mum's bedroom light is off, signalling that she's already asleep, while Minhee's room emits the usual blue glow of his computer screen. If it weren't for the ache in your heart, this could easily pass for a typical Wednesday night.

Entering your room, you're greeted by an unexpected sight. It's not as you left it; the bed is neatly made, your stuffed toys lined up by the pillows, your desk reorganised the way you like it, and all your clothes tidily put away. Someone has cleaned for you, a rare occurrence unless you're sick.

The one prominent feature of your newly organised room is the gleaming glass trophy on your windowsill. It stands proudly, displaying your achievement to everyone as they enter the room. 

This had to be Minhee’s doing, your mum would never go to these lengths.

Unfortunately, the award just serves as a memory to Sunghoon rather than yourself. It was the night you became officially his, the night you threw all guilt and caution to the wind so you could claim him as yours. 

Taking the trophy, you toss it in your top drawer and shut it roughly, not caring about the damage you could cause it.

With no energy to shower, you change into pyjamas. It’s a bad idea to slip into one of Sunghoon’s hoodies but as it envelopes you in warmth on the cold night, you don’t think about it twice. The smell of him still lingering as you put up the hood punches you in the chest. You miss him, it’s as simple as that. 

As you sink into the welcoming embrace of your bed, the weight of the day gradually begins to lift from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a hollow ache that settles in the pit of your stomach. Closing your eyes, you attempt to banish the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind and drift into sleep.

You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but your mind refuses to quiet down. Images of Sunghoon's smile and the warmth of his hugs dance behind your eyelids, taunting you. Every time you close your eyes, it's like you're transported back to happier times. 

For what seems like hours, your heart and brain fight with one another, much like the night before. Your heart aches to be with Sunghoon, to trust him completely while your head rationalises the evidence presented to you by your mother. 

Just as you begin to resign yourself to another sleepless night, a soft knock at your door interrupts your thoughts. Minhee's concerned voice cuts through the silence, drawing your attention, "Y/N? Are you still awake?"

With a frustrated huff, you turn your back to Minhee, a silent declaration of your anger and hurt. Acting this way may seem childish, but this is how you’ve always acted towards him when conflicts arise between you, like you regress back to being kids.

Minhee sighs, walking to the edge of your bed before helping himself to a seat beside you, “You don’t have to speak to me but you can listen.” He looks down at his hands, wondering how to broach the situation, the words aren’t coming so easily, “I…I know I did something really shitty, okay? I shouldn’t have fucked with his skate like that, Mum just…” 

When he pauses, your intrigue is piqued and you twist your head to look at him. You can see his internal battle whether to tell you something or keep it to himself. The rooted anger towards your brother grows a little, “This is the only opportunity I’m giving you to explain yourself,” you warn him with a hidden urge for him to continue.

He breathes out slowly, his voice carrying the weight of a burden, "Mum just put so much pressure on me to win, like all she’s spoken about was how I need to place first,” his words quiver slightly, a reflection of the self-doubt flooding his body.

It's astonishing how one woman can make both her children feel so worthless.

As you turn to face Minhee, his expression mirrors the familiar blend of anguish and self-doubt that you've seen on Sunghoon's face countless times. It's a painful reminder of the weight their mothers' expectations have placed upon them.

"Mini, you could easily beat Sunghoon at Nationals. You didn't have to listen to Mum," you offer, your voice laced with both empathy and frustration.

The issue has never been Sunghoon or Minhee; it's always been their mums.

Minhee takes a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal the truth that he's been carrying with him all this time, "Listen to me," he begins, his voice tinged with bitterness, "Mum needs me to win."

Your confusion deepens, leaving lines of bewilderment etched on your face as you struggle to comprehend his words, "What?" you ask, all tiredness suddenly leaving your body.

"The odds of me winning aren’t in my favour, so she put on a bet. She'll get shit tons of money if I win. She put basically all her savings into it, all my money too," his jaw clenches as he recalls the conversation they had.

Your confusion escalates further as Minhee's revelations continue to unfold before you. "Since when was Mum into gambling?" you ask, the disbelief evident in your voice.

Minhee sighs heavily, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words, "There's so much you don't know about her, Bubs," he admits, his tone tinged with regret, "The gambling isn't even above board. It's all underground-type shit with high rates. I swear I didn't know anything about any of it until she guilt-tripped me into going along with her scheme."

There was no denying your Mum was a little secretive, especially after your dad left, but this is not anything like you could have imagined. You had always wondered where your Mum got the money to support Minhee’s skating but his brand deals were good enough to keep you all afloat, so you just presumed it was that.

Minhee sees you calculating in your head and decides to continue, “Once she told me, I started practising like crazy, I trained almost every day just to be in with a chance but she wasn’t confident enough so she told me-”

"To break Hoon’s skate," you finish his sentence for him, the pieces of the puzzle snapping into place with a chilling clarity.

You knew something was off that morning - the way your Mum was extra harsh on him, telling him to make sure he ‘gets it done’. It was such unusual phrasing that you should have clocked on to it sooner.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to tell Sunghoon about it. You wanted to get to the bottom of it all because you were filled with suspicion from the get-go. The thought of your own mother putting Minhee in a position like this fills you with a mixture of anger and disbelief. 

“Why did you go along with it? If she doesn’t get the money, that’s her problem, no?” you query, trying to tie every string of this situation together for your own peace of mind.

Minhee sucks his teeth and looks away from you, “You know how much effort and time she put into my career, she sacrificed everything for it, her old job, money, even the breakdown of her marriage was because of me. I owe her this.” He’s withholding some information, using this as the sole his sole reason for helping, but there is more to it, you can tell that much.

Your chest fills with hurt as you speak, “The divorce wasn’t your fault, Mini. Mrs. Park started that rumour and it drove Dad to leave. That has zero to do with you. Plus, she pushed you to go professional when you were a child, you didn’t exactly beg her to let you compete. You owe her nothing.”

You know for a fact it’s her words that have made him believe he is the route of all her problems. If only you paid closer attention to what was going on, maybe you could have counteracted her venom with something, anything, to help him believe he wasn’t tied to her like this. 

Taking one of his hands, you scoot closer to him, the warmth of his presence a balm to your troubled soul. Resting your head on his shoulder, you feel the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. "You should have told me, Minhee. I could have helped you."

He shakes his head before encircling an arm around your back, pulling you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace, "I wanted to protect you. She would have dragged you into it as well if she could," he confesses, his voice tinged with regret, "I regret it. I wish I just didn’t let her manipulate me into doing that to Sunghoon. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I saw him at the rink that day we were doing the peer reviews."

It shocks you to hear him say that, considering he’s usually cursing the boy's name every time he was forced within 10 feet of him.

There was one thing that didn’t add up though, “Wait, if mum put the bet on, wouldn’t the bet be just to beat him? Why did she try and knock him out altogether with the skate? Surely that would cancel out the bet and she wouldn’t win the money?” you query, hoping your brother has the answers.

He shakes his head, “She never wanted him out of competition, just to injure him enough that he wouldn’t be able to compete to his usual standard, y’know? I would be in with a chance of beating him then,” he tells you, stroking your side, “It was touch and go for a minute, I don’t know what she would have done if he couldn’t compete.”

Underneath your head, you feel his shoulders tense up again, causing you to lift your face to look at him, concern etched into your features. "Is there more?" you ask, dreading the answer but knowing you can't avoid it.  He knows more than he is letting on, you can tell.

“Look, I’m going to say something that sounds so batshit crazy, okay, but you gotta believe me,” he says, his tone urgent, “And you know I’m not Sunghoon’s number one supporter, so you know I wouldn’t lie to make him look good.”

"Oh my god, Mini, just tell me, please," you plead, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

"The phone call was fake," he confesses, gingerly meeting your eyes as you give him a look of astonishment

Your mind reels at his revelation, struggling to comprehend the implications of what he's just said, "Fake? How? Don’t tell me you were a part of this too?"

“Fuck no, I was as shocked as you were,” Minhee protests, taking a deep breath before divulging what he knows, “I went searching after it all didn’t add up. Like, who the fuck records conversations like that in the first place, never mind sending them to Mum?”

You have to agree with him, the question also did come to your mind once you calmed down.

As he takes out his phone, Minhee's expression darkens with seriousness, his fingers tapping across the screen to reveal a series of emails. He shows you the correspondence between your mum and someone named Soohyun, highlighting the transactions and agreements outlined within.

"She paid him money to use some sort of AI to make it sound like Sunghoon was saying all that stuff about you and your relationship," Minhee explains, his voice laced with disbelief and anger, "It was one last attempt to fuck with him before the competition. She really needs that money, Bubs."

Shock courses through you, a tidal wave of disbelief crashing against the shores of your consciousness. The realisation sinks in slowly, each email adding another layer to the intricate web of deceit woven by your mother, "I-I can't believe this," you stutter, struggling to process the enormity of what he's just revealed.

Minhee gently takes the phone from your hand, returning it to his hoodie pocket with a sigh, "I know. It's like something out of a bad TV show, but it's true," he admits, his tone heavy with resignation. As his hand finds yours, a sense of solidarity washes over you, his touch offering a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos.

"To be honest, I had kinda knew it was fake," Minhee continues, his words slow and measured, "Don't get me wrong, I was livid at the idea of anyone using you that way. But on the drive home, I realized, this is Park Sunghoon we're talking about. He wouldn't dare to do that to you."

Confusion clouds your features as you furrow your brow, struggling to make sense of his words. "Huh? What are you talking about?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Minhee's expression softens as he meets your gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He liked you for so long, like for years. You were just so oblivious to it," he explains, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "If he has the chance to date you, he's not going to take it for granted, and certainly not use you just to mess with my head."

As Minhee's words sink in, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you. Memories of Sunghoon's lingering glances and subtle gestures flood your mind, painting a picture of unspoken feelings that had gone unnoticed for far too long, "Do you know he asked me for permission to date you when we were like 15 maybe? I can't really remember exactly…but anyway, I told him to get lost," Minhee adds with a wry grin, his words punctuated by a hint of nostalgia.

Now this was new information. All you knew was that Sunghoon had knocked you back when you asked him out about that age.

“I had my reasons.”

His voice echoes in your brain as you recall what he said at the ice rink on your first date as an official couple. All this time, you had believed Sunghoon's rejection was solely his decision, unaware of Minhee's influence behind the scenes, “You told him to say no to me? Did you know I was going to confess?” Anger rises within you, not real anger but the one that siblings have for each other when one steals the remote control or eats the leftover food they were saving.

"Whoa, yeah, okay, but you have to understand I was protecting you. I don’t even know what Mum would have done back then if you started dating him, especially because it was so close after Dad left," Minhee's voice is laced with remorse as he hangs his head. "I know I had no right to tell him to leave you alone, but…"

The anger in you subsides as you see him slump a little.

"You're the most important person in my life, Y/N. You're my little sister, my best friend," he continues, his voice trembling with emotion, "He took championships and brand deals from me, fine, but if he took you away from me, particularly back then, I think I would have died." He avoids your gaze, his admission laden with shame at his insecurities.

His words weigh heavily on your heart, the depth of his love and fear for you leaving you speechless, “I’m your sister, Mini. He could never tak-”

“Hasn’t he?” His interjection silences you, “You stopped coming to my practices, we don’t hang out anymore, it’s like I barely see you,”

His words strike a chord, piercing through the haze of your own emotions. Suddenly, the gravity of his words sinks in, and you realise the toll that recent events have taken on your relationship with Minhee. You were so caught up in yourself that you hadn’t factored in how the distance would affect him. 

Being caught up in your newfound relationship, you inadvertently left behind the one person who had always been there for you, the one who needed you the most. Guilt washes over you as you realize the depth of Minhee's loneliness and isolation in your absence. You and Minhee had been each other's rock for so long, but now, it feels like you're drifting apart, and you can't help but feel responsible.

A heavy silence envelops the room, thick with unspoken regrets and untold truths. You feel the weight of Minhee's gaze upon you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I... I didn't realise," you murmur, the words catching in your throat, "I didn't mean to drift away from you, Mini. I just... I got caught up in my own guilt, and it was easier to avoid you altogether."

Minhee listens quietly, his understanding washing over you like a soothing tide. His empathy is palpable in the gentleness of his gaze. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position. I guess I hadn't realised that trying to keep you from him was actually doing the opposite of what I thought it would," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. Bringing you closer to his side, he rubs your waist in a gesture of comfort. "I pushed you away and blamed it all on Sunghoon."

"You'll always be my number one, Mini. You don't have to worry about that," you assure him, offering a heartfelt smile in return.

If there were such a thing as twin flames, you and Minhee would surely be just that. In every universe, you both burn together, facing every trial and tribulation that comes your way. You're deeply thankful to have him as your brother.

“Did he actually like me this whole time?" You can't help but beam at the thought of the Ice Prince harbouring feelings for you all these years.

With a groan, Minhee pushes you away playfully, "Ugh, yes. He would NOT let it go either. Even asked me if he could take you to prom," he recalls with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“PROM? He wanted to take me to my prom?” You squeal at the thought, imagining Sunghoon awkwardly mustering up the courage to ask Minhee for permission to take you to prom. It's a surreal image, but one that fills you with a strange sense of warmth, “I had no idea he was that into me back then,” you idly play with your hair, trying to stop yourself from reverting back to your 14-year-old self as you imagine Sunghoon crushing on you too.

Minhee shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Probably just desperate, to be honest," he teases, earning an annoyed gasp and a few playful slaps to his shoulder. "Ow! Look, just because I’m not against you dating him anymore doesn’t mean I want to hear you gushing over him, okay?"

Your eyes widen in surprise at his revelation. "You... you aren’t against it?" The words feel fake as if you've stepped into an alternate reality where Minhee's acceptance of your relationship with Sunghoon is not only possible but welcomed.

Minhee sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “I’m still not happy that you lied to me about it, and I am not his biggest fan,” he starts, eyes pointed at you with annoyance, “But he makes you happy and that picture you accidentally sent me was…well he clearly loves you,” It burns him to say it, you can see it in how his mouth cringes, “And after everything that’s happened, maybe I should let go of some of the grudges.”

You might have to clean out your ears to make sure you’ve heard correctly. 

In one swoop, you hug him tightly, “Thank you, Mini,” You hadn’t realised the weight that you had been carrying all over your body regarding this whole secret boyfriend situation, but it’s finally gone.

“Don’t thank me just yet, you need to make up with him first,” Minhee says, “That should be easy though.”

Ah, there was that little hiccup, “It’s a little more complicated than that,” you say sheepishly as you scratch the back of your hand. Your brother stares with questioning eyes, “When we argued at Belmore I might have accidentally told him you broke his skate and that I knew,” your shoulders rise as you speak, face spreading with awkwardness and guilt. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Y/N. Why would you tell him that?!” He is exasperated by you, his hands rubbing up and down his face to exhibit his frustration with you.

“It slipped out! Come on, I could have told him well before yesterday. Give me some credit,” you argue back.

Both of you stare at each other, and the room’s silence quickly fills with your outburst of laughter. The tension dissipates as laughter bubbles between you, the weight of the conversation lifting momentarily. Despite the gravity of the situation, there's something strangely comforting about being able to find humour in the midst of it all.

"Okay, okay, fair point," Minhee concedes, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "But seriously, you need to sort things out with him, if he tells the board I’ll never be able to skate again,” you look at him incredulously to which he just laughs, “Yeah, I am aware of the irony, okay? Just please sort it out. If not for me, for yourself.”

Nodding, you cross your fingers, “I will.”

“I love you, Bubs,” Minhee stands and kisses the crown of your head, smiling in relief that he has his best friend back, “Tell him if he hurts you for real, I’ll break his legs next time.” Your mouth hangs open as he walks away shrugging.

The weight of the situation settles over you once more, but this time, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. You just hope you can fix this. 

______

You find yourself standing at Sunghoon's doorstep, your hand poised to knock, yet inexplicably frozen in place. Why has the simple act of chapping on his door suddenly become so daunting?

A nagging voice echoes in your mind, whispering doubts about whether he'll even care, convinced that the damage has already been done. The weight of the colossal secret you've kept from him bears down heavily, compounded by the regret of not believing him when he insisted the audio wasn’t him.

Yesterday, confusion clouded your judgment, leaving you unable to think clearly, grasping onto every detail at face value. But amidst the chaos, you failed to afford the same trust and belief in his earnest pleas and declarations of love.

Now, the fear grips you tight: What if he doesn’t want to mend things? What if, because of some senseless scheme concocted by your own mother, you've lost the love of your life?

But you’re a big girl, you have to face this no matter the outcome.

With that mindset, you finally chap the door, breathing out slowly as you do so. The nerves sit in your throat as it dries out, the idea of losing him was just inconceivable.

The door swings open to reveal Jay, clearly just awake. His hair is sticking to one side and he hasn’t bothered to put on clothes, boxers being the only thing keeping his dignity. You suppose turning up to the flat at 6am on a Thursday would grant some disturbance.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jay asks, one eye still closed.

“I need to speak to Sunghoon,” you try to convey the urgency in your voice but it comes out breathlessly. You hadn’t realised you were holding in the air until you spoke.

Jay's sigh echoes in the room, his gaze drifting upwards as he considers your request. "I don’t think it’s a good idea, Y/N, he's kinda pissed," he cautions, his tone tinged with concern.

You understand Jay's apprehension, but you can't let the rift between you and Sunghoon deepen any further. The longer you both remain trapped in this mess, the harder it will be to mend your relationship. Time might heal some wounds but it won’t fix them.

“Can I just talk to him? I need to explain,” you plead, tapping your fingers together, you avoid his judgmental gaze. 

Jay's response is swift, his conviction clear as he defends Sunghoon's character. "You didn’t actually believe your mum, right? Like anyone with a clue can see how much he loves you. He wouldn’t do something like that," he states, offering a comforting gesture by rubbing his shoulder slightly. It's evident that Jay is trying to rebuild Sunghoon's image in your eyes, a testament to the unwavering bond between him and his best friend.

As you stand there, you can’t explain your thoughts during your fight with your boyfriend because you still can’t make sense of them yourself; however he was right, you should have seen his love past the lies of your mother.

Nodding with a hint of shame, you admit, “It was all just too much to process, and I handled it poorly. But I have to fix it.” Despite the weight of your guilt, a steely determination underlines your words.

Jay sees it, he understands you didn’t want to hurt Sunghoon the way you did. Maybe he’s a bit more understanding of your own grief because his best friend neglected to mention that you lied to him about Minhee and his skate. 

When Sunghoon arrived home, Jake and Jay greeted him eagerly, anticipating news from his check-up. However, their excitement quickly turned to concern as Sunghoon stormed in, slamming the door behind him with such force that it caused shelves to rattle.

Concern etched across their faces, his friends inquired about the situation with genuine worry as Sunghoon recounted the events involving your mother and the recording. However, he purposefully omitted any mention of the skate. He didn't want to tarnish your image in the eyes of his friends with his own anger-induced bias. He understood all too well that they might harbour animosity toward you for your deception, and the mere thought of it was unbearable to him.

So he didn’t bother to spill it, still protecting you even amidst his fury.

"I heard him leave this morning. I think he went to the rink, like he usually does to clear his head," Jay offered, unsure if he should disclose this information but feeling a strong intuition that both you and Sunghoon needed it.

Your expression softens with gratitude as you look up, "Thanks, Jay," you say, appreciation evident in your voice.

As you begin to turn, preparing to make your journey back to your side of town and into Belmore, Jay's voice suddenly pierces the quiet morning air, halting your movements, "Wait there, I'll give you a lift," he calls out, his offer catching you off guard.

Before you can even muster a response to decline his kind gesture, Jay is already striding purposefully back to his room to get dressed.

Left standing alone in the tranquillity of the early morning, the absence of Jay's presence allows your mind to wander freely. You had prepared yourself to talk to Sunghoon at this very moment but now you have a whole 40-minute drive to contemplate his reaction all over again. It’s scary, the idea of this being the end of you both.

When Jay finally emerges, dressed and ready to go, he motions for you to follow him as you both make your way to his car. You don’t know why he’s doing this but you’re thankful for the saved time, the time to get here was already long enough, never mind making the same painstaking journey back.

The drive begins in silence, the gentle hum of the engine merging with the rhythm of your own racing heart. Jay's quietness feels unfamiliar, a subtle shift in the energy between you since your last encounter, though not entirely unexpected.

With some courage, you figure talking to Jay might help you later on when speaking to Sunghoon, “I think deep down I knew he didn’t say it.” 

It’s a simple confession but one you had to say out loud.

Jay spares you a quick glance before keeping his attention on the road, “He’s doted on you, like literally obsessed with you. Do you not see that, or?” There's a hint of irritation as he speaks. He can’t fathom why you would ever believe one shitty phone call rather than your boyfriend who would drop the world at your feet if you asked. 

He hasn't witnessed every facet of your relationship, but from what he has seen, he can't help but envy it. He longs to experience the kind of connection Sunghoon has found with you, hoping to find someone who reciprocates his feelings in the same way. What frustrates him about the situation is the apparent disregard you show for his best friend's love. It's as if you fail to grasp the profound depth of Sunghoon's affection, while there are others out there yearning for even a fraction of such devotion.

You angle your body to face him before speaking, “I know. There was just a lot going on and…you should have heard it, Jay. It sounded so fucking real,” you almost plead with him to see your side.

Even Sunghoon had mentioned how authentic the audio sounded, so Jay knew what you were talking about. He simply nods to acknowledge you, his expression showing understanding, “What was it then? How did she do it?”

"Some AI guy. She hired him to grab snippets from Hoon's interviews and make the audio," you tell Jay, omitting any mention of the gambling or other family drama

Jay's eyes widen in surprise. "Damn, seriously? She stooped that low?" he says, his astonishment visible in his tone. All you can do is nod, aware of how absurd and unsettling the situation is, "AI is so fucking scary, man," Jay says, shaking his head in dismay.

You agree wholeheartedly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the lengths people would go to manipulate technology for their own agendas, "It’s so bizarre," you murmur, still trying to wrap your head around the whole ordeal.

The silence that settles between you both now feels different, no longer heavy with tension but rather mutually comforting. Each of you understands the gravity of the situation and the complexities it entails. 

In this shared moment of understanding, surrounded by the quiet of the morning and Jay's silent support, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, in stark contrast to the turbulence that has plagued you since Tuesday. If Jay understands your side of the story, perhaps Sunghoon would as well.

Pulling up to Belmore, Jay stops the car at the entrance, “Y/N,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “You’re good for one another, and Jake and I like having you around, so fix this, yeah?” 

You nod, determined and empowered by his words, “I will.”

_____

As you step onto the rink, your eyes lock onto Sunghoon, gliding with so much velocity that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a pang of worry, knowing he's pushing himself to the limit, risking injury once more. As you approach, beads of sweat glisten on his face, his hair clinging to his skin, a visual confirmation of your concerns.

He propels himself into a jump, the sharp sound of his skate slicing through the air, reverberating across the arena. However, his landing isn't smooth; his ankle bends awkwardly, causing him to fall onto the ice.

"Sunghoon, be careful!" you call out, running to be by his side. Ignoring the impracticality of your footwear, you shuffle onto the ice and kneel beside him, "Are you out of your mind?"

Much to your dismay, Sunghoon’s ankle is thumping, a superficial heartbeat pulsing through it. He might be able to go back on the ice but he’s over-exerting himself. He doesn’t look at you, focusing on his ankle, but he also doesn’t push you away, letting you undo the bandage to assess the damage. 

Seemingly, his ankle is okay, nothing torn or hurt beyond what was already there, the bruise from a few weeks ago dying into a faded yellow, a promising sign but it still pains you to see.

Standing up, you offer him your hands for support but he shrugs you off, opting to stand on his own and skate over to the exit of the rink, “What are you doing here? Come to mess up my other skate?” His tone is sharp and accusatory, indicating that he’s still angry.

“It wasn’t me and you know that,” you defend yourself, slowly walking behind him trying not to slip.

You both successfully make it off the ice, Sunghoon plonking himself onto the bench outside. Going back to his ankle, you kneel and start the process of re-wrapping the bandage tightly, again with no protest from him. Hopefully, that’s a better sign of forgiveness compared to what his voice is suggesting.

Carefully, you discard his skate to the side and gather the bandage, your cold hand sparks a jolt in Sunghoon as you hold the start of the wrap to the back of his ankle. You take your time to eliminate any cause of discomfort which for the most part you succeed in. 

“You kept it a secret, Y/N. Lied to my face,” he says through gritted teeth which you don’t know if it’s from anger or pain, possibly a mixture of both, “Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.” The words sting because you know it’s true. As much as you would love to be excluded from the accusation, you know he’s right.

“I know,” You say lowly, putting all your attention on his ankle. 

Looking at you, Sunghoon sighs, his body heavy with mixed feelings. Just looking at you now he wants to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is okay, that he forgives you, but he can’t do that without some sort of explanation. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks softly, staring at you as if trying to reach into your brain and pull the answers out himself.

Adjusting the bandage with a gentle twist, you offer your explanation, “Honestly, I thought I was protecting you. You had so much going on; not knowing if you would make nationals, the argument with your mum, there was just never a right time.”

Sucking his teeth, he nods, “Feels like you were protecting your brother.”

“I was, in some ways. There was something so strange going on I wanted to try and figure it out before I told you. I wanted an excuse so you wouldn’t blame him for it,” you explain your thought process to him but he won’t get it, not unless he was you in that situation.

Yet, to your surprise, Sunghoon grasps the sentiment perfectly. Protecting your brother is second nature, ingrained within you, even on the first day when everyone discovered they would be combining the rinks, you tried to protect him from doing something stupid. 

The only thing he doesn’t understand is why Minhee did it.

“Did you ever find an excuse for him? Or can I blame him for this?” he points to his ankle with his other foot so you see it. You haven’t looked at him once since you started to tend to his injury.

“You can blame him for it,” you start, pausing your actions as you wonder whether you should tell him what transpired, why Minhee did it, “Minhee…My mum put him up to it, to get you injured for Nationals so Minhee had a better chance of winning.”

“Shit, okay.”

Knowing Sunghoon, he’s trying to piece it all together to save you the explanation, but this is far too complicated for him to work out on his own, “This is going to sound so crazy, but I need you to listen. My mum is struggling to make ends meet and she got into some gambling scene. She put loads of money for Minhee to win, specifically to beat you and if she wins, it’s like thousands of pounds, enough to get her out of the debt she’s in. I don’t know how it works but it’s shady. She didn’t trust Minhee to get the job done on his own so…” You trail off, hoping he’ll put the puzzle together now.

Taking the safety pin, you secure the wrap and pull down his trouser leg, yet, you still don’t look at him, scared of his reaction. If you were in his shoes, you would not believe anything about what was just said.

But unlike you, Sunghoon knows what crazy sports mums are willing to do for their kids to succeed, his mum being a prime example, “Y/N, seriously, you should have told me.”

“I didn’t find out about the whole gambling thing until last night when Mini told me. Sunghoon, please believe me when I say he didn’t want to do it, he just…he thinks he owes our mum like he’s the one that put us in debt for chasing this dream, that he’s the reason for a lot of things outwith his control.”

“Sweets,” Sunghoon breathes out, grabbing your chin, forcing you to finally look at him, “I get it, I mean, I’m not particularly chill with it since my career could have ended but the way Minhee is feeling, I do understand.” 

His eyes hold yours like they’re hugging you, trying to pull you from your worries and somehow it works. You feel a little lighter, his hand now etching its way to your cheek to cradle it. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, seeking his comfort.

“I’m sorry, Hoonie,” you state solemnly, angry and hurt that he was just a pawn in your mother's game, the relationship between you both strained because of her and yet you were the one apologising on her behalf. 

You’re sorry for your own mistakes, but nothing was as bad as her tricks.

Sunghoon offers you a small smile, ushering you to sit next to him on the bench so he isn’t looking down on you. The symbolism of you feeling lesser is evident to him and he can’t stand it.

He turns to face you as you take a seat next to him, his hand resting comfortingly on your leg. “That phone call, I didn't say all that. That wasn't me, you have to believe me" he begs you to trust him.

"Yeah, I know," you respond with a bitter scoff, recalling the manipulative tactics of your mother. The skater's expression shifts to confusion as you continue, "My mum did that too, another thing that’s going to sound even crazier than breaking your skate."

You recount the incident with the AI recording, detailing your mother's desperate attempts to win her bet and her willingness to destroy your relationship in the process. With each sentence, his bewilderment deepens, his eyes widening and narrowing, and his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

"Wait, seriously? It was AI?" he interjects once you've recounted every bizarre detail.

As he grapples with the revelation, you seize the opportunity to provide some comfort, gently wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing his dishevelled hair back from his face. The tension seems to ease from his features.

You pout at him, the weight of guilt settling heavily in your chest. "I'm really sorry for not believing you when all of this came out," you admit, your voice tinged with remorse.

He reaches out to take your hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, "No, no, Sweets, it's okay," he reassures you, his tone soft and understanding, "She even gaslighted me for a second,” he suddenly starts to chuckle, “I thought my biggest worry was people making those ‘If Sunghoon sang Chase Atlantic’ AI TikToks.”

You laugh with him, knowing what he’s talking about. One day he came to you and showed you a video of him singing Slow Down which creeped you out and impressed you all at once. 

The moment of laughter dies down, the break in tension creating much-needed relief for both of you. This whole scenario is so fucked up it’s hard to believe, you’re just thankful Sunghoon is so understanding.

“What about Minhee?” he asks suddenly, passing the confusion to you, “Like, how is he in all of this?” 

Sunghoon’s concern for your brother, whether big or small, makes your love for him pound in your chest. Even after everything, he was still asking about Minhee which meant he might not hold a grudge, and more importantly, not go to the board.

Is it selfish to think that right now? To still be concerned about Minhee’s career?

Your boyfriend sees your eyes twitch, his telltale sign that your mind is racing, “Sweets?”

He breaks your thoughts, “Oh, he’s uh, he’s just stressed I think. I need to properly speak to him at some point and figure out what he wants to do,” you shake off the idea that Minhee won’t get to achieve his dream, scared that you might manifest it by accident.

Sunghoon nods, sighing deeply as he sheds any of the weight that was held over him. He wishes you would have trusted him when you heard the audio, but he does understand. Sometimes, he can be too understanding and he knows this, but it’s so easy to forgive or find reasoning for your actions.

Which will help you with your next request.

"Please don't go to the board," you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. It takes every ounce of courage you possess to voice the plea, but you know you have to ensure your mother hasn't irreparably damaged Minhee's chance at the Olympics. You need to see him succeed - he deserves it more than anyone.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiles, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, "I won't, I promise. For you though, only for you."

The weight that's been pressing down on your shoulders suddenly lifts, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. You almost cry at how patient and understanding Sunghoon is, you wonder if you’ve ever met anyone like him before.

There’s a comfortable calmness in the air, his nose nuzzles against yours as he smiles contently, happy to have you back beside him. The past two days felt like weeks. It made him realise just how important you are to his life. He can’t live without you and never wants to be apart.

“So is Minhee…cool with us?” he asks gingerly.

Your face lights up as you lean back, “Actually, he’s completely fine with it, well, he said he still doesn’t like you but you make me happy. That’s all he wants.” 

Minhee and you will forever prioritise each other's happiness above all else. These recent events have underscored that sentiment, even if it took some time to fully grasp. Ultimately, you both want nothing but the best for each other.

Sunghoon appears genuinely surprised by your declaration, his eyebrows shooting up, "Really? No resentment or anything?"

"Really," you confirm, observing his reaction closely. "He... he actually told me about forbidding you from seeing me all those years ago," you add, realising his astonishment at the news about your brother being on board with your relationship likely stems from the years of Minhee pushing him away from you.

Flushed, Sunghoon shuts his eyes, “No, he didn’t,” he winces at the idea of you finding out about his long-term crush on you.

“He did. Told me how you begged him to let you take me to prom too,” you gloat, a massive triumphant smile on your face, “You loooved me all those years ago, you have to admit it now,” you joke and his face turns even redder. 

Typically, Sunghoon is being chased, so to have this hanging over his head in your relationship, he knows you’ll never shut up about it. He will admit though, that the look of delight on your face is almost worth the embarrassment.

“Okay, yeah. But blame Minhee for making us miss so many years together, okay? He was shit scary back then. I thought he was going to skin me alive,” Sunghoon recollects asking him if he could ask you out to the cinema, an innocent tiny date and Minhee, the scariest 14-year-old there was to ever live at that point, well to Sunghoon anyway, practically ripped his head off.

Prom was a mistake, he was simply asking if you had a date to prom. Yes, he was going to ask you if Minhee said no, regardless of what your brother would say, but the fire in Minhee’s eyes wasn’t one to be messed with and by this point, he was a gym-attending 19-year-old with an extra protective layer over you. Enough said.

You giggle and take his hand, offering him a sympathetic smile, “He was scared to lose me.”

"Who wouldn't be," he responds without hesitation, his tone serious and sincere.

His immediate reply catches you off guard and you do a double take, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice.

Sunghoon wasn’t just saying it; he was petrified at the thought of losing you, especially after your mother's deceitful phone call. The look of betrayal on your face had cut him to the core, a pain he never wanted to inflict upon you. He loved you too much for that.

As you process his words, you realise there's a deep emotion behind them that you hadn't fully grasped before. Sunghoon's admission hangs heavy in the air, revealing a vulnerability. Your heart clenches with empathy, knowing that his dread of losing you is deep. You softly squeeze his hand, silently expressing your empathy.

You felt the exact same way about him - terrified of losing one of the people who means everything to you.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, your voice full of regret, "I never want you to feel like you're going to lose me."

Sunghoon's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, a flicker of emotion dancing in the depths of his own. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, "I know, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with reassurance, “I’m not letting you go anyway, you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, shaking your head. There's a silent vow between you both to cherish and reassure each other whenever you have to, “Can we start again?” 

“Yeah, of course, Sweets.” He plasters a genuine grin on his face, elated with the idea of putting all the negativity and lies behind the relationship and starting fresh.

You stretch out your hand, teeth showing as you smile, “Hi, I’m Y/N Kang. I’m your biggest fan.”

Sunghoon’s heart pounds loudly, you are his fan but to him, you’re more like an extractor fan. If you don’t have one of those, things go rotten and that’s exactly what it felt like without you. He needed you to such the poison and pain from his bones, he selfishly needed your love to make him feel alive. 

He wants to provide you with that same feeling.

Taking your hand he smiles widely, mirroring your enthusiasm, “I’m Park Sunghoon. I am your biggest fan.”

________

The bleacher seats are your makeshift study space, textbooks and notes scattered haphazardly around you as you bury yourself in preparation for the looming winter exams. The chill of the air contrasts with the warmth of your determination; you had an award to uphold after all.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend is focused on a different kind of preparation. With just four days until nationals, he's dedicated himself to ensuring his ankle is in peak condition. Despite having twisted it just a few weeks ago, he's pushing himself hard, determined to perform at his best on the ice. When he pushes himself a little too much, you’re there to pull him back, or rather nag him to be careful

You steal glances at him whenever you can. Despite the injury, he moves with a fluid grace, his dedication evident in every precise movement. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't even guess that his ankle had been injured at all.

As you bury your nose in your books, a sense of admiration washes over you. His resilience and commitment inspire you to push through your own challenges. Granted, yours is a little less intimidating, the exams you’ll take will be confined to a week inside a study hall whereas Sunghoon is skating in front of thousands and being broadcast on TV. 

Lost in your studies, you're suddenly jolted back to reality by a soft tap on your paper. Glancing up, you're met with a warm smile from your boyfriend, his eyes twinkling with affection, “You’re so serious when you’re focused,” He laughs, leaning over the barrier of the ice rink. 

“Are you done?” You ask enthusiastically, hoping to get out of here and get the dinner he promised you 3 hours ago; your stomach wasn’t prepared to be denied food for so long that it started to speak to you about an hour ago.

"Just about, baby. You wanna go for Italian?" Sunghoon suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His suggestion makes you smile; you've been raving about gnocchi for the past two days, and he's clearly been paying attention.

As you agree, his grin widens, and he leans in close, "Great, I'll go get changed and be right out," he declares, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Leaning over the barrier, Sunghoon puckers his lips in anticipation of a kiss to which you gladly oblige, pressing your lips to his in a sweet, lingering kiss. The brief moment of affection leaves you both with a warm, fluttering feeling in your chests. With a final smile and a promise to meet you outside, he disappears to change, leaving you to gather your books and laptop.

Packing the last of your highlighters into your bag, you hear the entrance door open. Peeking over the seats, you see a familiar face walking down with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and earphones in.

"Minhee?" you question, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder before walking over to him. "Mini?" you call out louder, ensuring he hears you.

Your brother jumps a little, clearly not expecting to see you at the rink. "What are you doing here?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Sunghoon's taking me for dinner. I was just studying while he trained," you explain, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have.

Your reasoning earns a thoughtful hum from Minhee. It's still strange to talk about Sunghoon so casually with him, especially after keeping your relationship a secret for all those months.

"Is he here?" Minhee glances around, searching for any sign of Sunghoon.

"He's getting changed," you reply, nervously biting your lip. Despite Minhee giving you the green light for dating, there's still a lingering apprehension about them being in the same room together, especially after "skate gate," as Sunghoon dubbed it in an attempt to lighten the situation.

There is still some part of you that dreads them in the same room together, apprehensive to what they’ll do. Minhee is overprotective of you and Sunghoon is, well, he’s got a wrap on his ankle thanks to your brother. 

Suddenly, the door to the dressing room swings open, and Sunghoon emerges, looking refreshed and ready for your dinner date. His expression is bright, his tunnel vision for you renders Minhee nonexistent to him. It’s not until he gets closer that he notices your older brother.

Once his eyes shift to Minhee, Sunghoon’s smile falters ever so slightly. He also doesn’t know how things will pan out but he knows he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“Minhee,” Sunghoon nods towards him which Minhee returns, “Are you training tonight?” You appreciate the civilness your boyfriend is trying to engage in, you know he’s doing it for you but hopefully, later on, he’ll do it because he and Minhee are actually getting along.

You can only dream of the day.

“Yeah,” he says sharply but there’s a wave of something in his eyes, something that happens when he’s thinking, “Actually, since you’re here can I talk to you? Privately,” Minhee glances at you as he says privately, indicating that he no longer wants you in the conversation.

Sunghoon looks to you for approval which you grant him obviously, hoping he’ll tell you what Minhee wants during dinner, “Sure. Coaches office is free,” he suggests, pointing with his head.

Your two boys stride over to the office and lock the door behind them.

Now, you could eavesdrop, and make sure no one throws a punch, but you’re trying to be optimistic about their relationship, so you leave them be.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself to trust in their ability to handle the situation maturely. After all, both Sunghoon and Minhee care deeply for you, they wouldn’t want to make this any more uncomfortable for you. 

Fighting the urge to pace, you take a deep breath and try to distract yourself with thoughts of the upcoming dinner. Maybe you’ll have a glass of wine with dinner tonight, and try something new. You could get dessert if you convince Sunghoon to cheat on his meal plan for a night. 

Who are you kidding? All you can think about is what is going on in that office, no attempt at distraction will help you now.

It’s increasingly difficult for you to resist chapping the door and pestering them to let you in on the gossip. What could be so important they couldn’t talk about it in front of you?

15 minutes pass but it feels like an eternity as you anxiously await their return. If one of them comes out with a black eye, you’re ditching them both, leaving them high and dry. You really hope it doesn’t come to that.

Finally, the door to the coach’s office swings open, all limbs and eye sockets intact, which is a good sign at least; however, their expressions are unreadable as they walk towards you. There's a subtle shift in the air, something lingering between them, though they try to maintain a facade of normalcy.

"Ready to go?" Sunghoon asks, his tone gentle as he kisses the top of your head lightly.

You nod and look between both of them, “What did you guys talk about?” There’s no grace of subtlety when it comes to you and your curiosity; you know it has something to do with you, you just wanted to know what.

Minhee and Sunghoon exchange a knowing glance before your brother answers, “Just giving him some brotherly warnings…right?” he says it so casually but his tone is cryptic. You know there is more to it than that.

Linking your fingers with his, Sunghoon grips your hand tighter, offering you some reassurance amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He knows you're probably considering every possible conversation they could have had.

"Nothing to worry about, Sweets. Minhee was just swinging his big brother ego around," Sunghoon says, his voice gentle but firm. There's a playful twinkle in his eyes that eases your nerves, if only slightly.

Rolling his eyes, Minhee sighs, "Whatever, Park. Remember what I said, yeah?" he tries to pass it off as banter, but there's a serious current weaving through his voice, catching you off guard.

Sunghoon nods in acknowledgement, a silent knowing between them, "I got it," he replies, his gaze locked on Minhee with a sense of respect and understanding. This newfound dynamic between Sunghoon and Minhee is unfamiliar, and you can't quite decipher whether it's a positive or negative development. 

"Enjoy your dinner, Bubs. Make sure he pays," Minhee points to Sunghoon before waving you both off and heading to the changing room.

As Sunghoon pulls at your hand, leading you out of the arena, the silence hangs heavy between you. He doesn't offer an explanation so easily, much to your dismay. 

"Your brother is a shark, can I say that in the most respectful way?" Sunghoon finally speaks up, breaking the silence with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You chuckle softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, he's super protective," you acknowledge with a touch of pride in your voice.

"He really is. He’d do anything for you…" Sunghoon trails off, his expression thoughtful. You want to ask what he means but you resist the urge to pry further.

"Are you guys okay? You didn’t fight or anything?" you venture tentatively. 

Sunghoon offers you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm with sincerity, "I think we're besties now," he quips, trying to lighten the mood. You can't help but smile at his attempt to ease your worries, "C'mon, let's go eat, I'm starving," he suggests, kissing you quickly as you reach his car.

You are grateful they managed to have one discussion without throttling one another, even going as far as to make lighthearted jokes and playful jabs.

Baby steps, you suppose.

_____

Emerging from the restaurant and making your way to Sunghoon's car, your face radiates with laughter, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Did you genuinely believe she was asking for your autograph?" you tease, barely able to contain your amusement.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Baby, it isn’t that funny. She literally ASKED me to sign it.”

“Yeah, the bill because you used your card,” as you say the words, another heaved laugh comes out, “You were so confident to think she was your fan.”

Crossing his arms, Sunghoon huffs playfully, feigning annoyance, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping on his face as he looks at you. With your face so bright and that beautiful song of your giggles, Sunghoon can’t stop looking at you, admiring you in this moment.

As your laughter subsides, you catch him staring at you intently. "What is it?" you inquire, noting the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, devoid of its usual sarcastic pout in situations like these.

"I just love you so much..." he trails off, halting by the passenger door of his car, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "The thought of losing you was terrifying."

Sunghoon understands that you've both overcome the misunderstandings and manipulations caused by your mother, and you're in a better place now. Yet, the prospect of almost losing you because of it still haunts him.

You pout at his words, bringing your hands up to stroke the apple of his cheeks gently, “I hated it too. You’re so important to me, Hoonie,” you whisper, eyes softening at his words.

The months you’ve spent with him have been the best of your life, you could never deny that. Your relationship with him hasn’t been easy, interference from too many outside parties threatened to ruin it all, to rip you from your soulmate, but you will never let it happen again.

You place a timis kiss on his nose, “I promise that nothing will ever take me away from you again, okay?” you look at him with sincere eyes, hoping he truly listens to your promise.

He nods, closing his eyes with a serene smile, his graceful hands enveloping yours, imparting a comforting warmth. Foreheads touching, he savours the moment, soaking in the palpable connection between you both. He just wants to feel your love.

Never in Sunghoon’s life did he ever imagine finding love like this. Although he always knew he loved you, he didn’t know how intense his feelings were until suddenly you weren’t there anymore.

He smiles, eventually opening his eyes to look at you, your gaze holding nothing but love, “Will you come back to mine?” he asks as though this is the first date and he’s testing the waters to see if you’re interested.

“Actually,” you smile, pulling away from him slightly, your hands trailing down to fix the collar of his coat, “Minhee went out with Jungmo and my mum’s recently been going out at night so…”

Sunghoon's heart skips a beat at your implication, "Are you inviting me over?" he asks, his ears buzzing with anticipation.

You nod, a hint of nerves sneaking through as you bite your lip. "Yes, if you want to."

Considering the offer, he weighs the options carefully.

On the downside: it's a risk with your mum potentially returning home soon, the early morning departure could be awkward if he encounters your brother, and there's the potential for discomfort in the morning.

On the upside: it's a shorter drive to your place, he's curious about seeing your room, and it's the only location where he hasn't fucked you yet.

"Alright, let's go for it," he grins, the allure of the last pro eclipsing the rest.

Sunghoon opens the door for you and you settle into your seat and fasten your seatbelt while he slides into the driver's seat, starting the car.

As the car glides down the dimly lit streets, Sunghoon steals glances at you, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flickering in his eyes. The anticipation within him builds with every passing moment, the silence between you thick with unspoken desire.

With a playful smile, you break the tension, "Why do you look nervous?"

Sunghoon chuckles, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, "Not nervous, excited,” he corrects you.

You eye him up and down, “Okay then, why are you excited?” 

Sunghoon lounges back as you hit a red light, taking the chance to look at you, “It’s like I’m entering enemy territory, like on those video games Jake plays all the time. I’m entering the red area, risking my life while I got on stealth mode,” he explains, getting even more giddy as he speaks about it.

“Hoonie, no one else will be home, I’m hardly sneaking you in.”

“Shhh, it’s no fun if you put it that way,” he chuckles, placing a hand on your thigh, “When I forward roll into your entrance, leave me be,” he plays.

Luckily for you, when you both arrive, Sunghoon refrains from spy rolling into your house like he’s an elite operative. Instead, he is waiting to be invited in like Stefan Salvatore.

“Baby, come on in, nothing gonna bite you,” you giggle as you take off your shoes.

Following your orders, he walks in and takes a look around the familiar entranceway. Nothing has changed since he was last here, just before your ceremony; aka, he’s noticed not one of your award pictures has taken pride of place next to your brothers. 

You hadn't shown your mother the pictures, nor did she inquire about how it went. Her indifference was something you had learned to accept, albeit reluctantly. It wasn't the ideal situation, but like Sunghoon, you had found solace and love in other places where your mother left a void

Coming to that acceptance was cathartic.

You lead him up to your room, a bright smile on your face. It was surreal to have this opportunity to have him amongst your creature comforts, like finally all the pieces of your life have come together.

Sunghoon stops you as you go to reach for the handle, “Wait!” he rushes out. Inhaling deeply as he jitters around like a boxer about to walk into the ring, each little jump and hand tremor making you laugh. You would mistake it for nervousness again if he wasn’t beaming at the door like an idiot 

“Will you calm down, this isn’t anything spectacular, It’s just my room,” you shake your head, looking at him as he continues his jumps of glee. Nothing you could say to him would stop him from acting like a child on Christmas morning, “You’re such a dork,” you snort, placing your hand on the handle.

Before opening the door, you mentally hope you tidied up before meeting him today. To your relief, the room is cleaner than you recall, albeit with a stray sock and some shoes strewn where your wardrobe is. You signal for Sunghoon to come, and he enthusiastically skips inside, looking about with inquiring eyes.

His attention moves across the shelves filled with books and trinkets, the cosy bed with its assortment of plushies, and the desk cluttered with papers and pens. Sharing this space with him creates a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, as well as elation among you both. Having him here feels like you can finally call this your home.

Sunghoon's smile widens as he takes it all in, his eyes sparkling with delight, "This is nice," he remarks, his voice soft with appreciation. 

You nod, feeling a surge of happiness at his reaction, "I'm glad you think so," you reply, watching as he moves further into the room, exploring every nook and cranny as if it holds some secret treasure. 

Just looking around your room is giving him further insight into your life. As your boyfriend, he knows a lot more than most, yet, seeing your soul laid bare in these four walls is opening him up to understand you deeper. 

From the 2 minutes he has spent in your room, he has just found out that you collect far too many earrings, your favourite highlighter to use is pastel pink, you had an emo phase that you neglected to tell him, and you’ve been to 4 fan signs for TO1. It’s tiny, insignificant details, but Sunghoon wants to know it all.

His eyes happen to fall on a picture of you and Minhee when you were kids, “I remember this!” he exclaims, fangs showing as he twists the picture to show you as if you don’t see it literally every morning, “This was the Youth of Skating competition when we were 13,” he reminisces.

"Wasn't I just adorable?" you remark, playfully cupping your cheeks and flashing a wide grin as you try to mimic your younger self captured in the photo.

With a laugh, Sunghoon gently sets the frame back on your desk, nodding in agreement, “The prettiest one in the crowd by far,” he murmurs in a soft tone, mirroring your joy. It's as if your face radiates sunlight, and he basks in your vibrant glow.

Closing the distance between you, he replaces your hands with his own, leaning in to kiss you. His lips are tender as they meld with yours, his touch gentle as he affectionately squishes your cheeks, “You’re still the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Your heart quickens as he whispers sweet nothings into your mouth, his words mingling with the gentle exploration of his tongue, "I don't buy it," you tease, playfully pushing his hands away from your red cheeks, "You'll have to prove it to me," you challenge with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A playful smirk dances across Sunghoon's lips as he accepts your challenge, his eyes sparkling with determination. With a soft chuckle, he gently captures your hands in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulls you closer.

"Oh, I intend to," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. Leaning in, he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, he trails his lips along your jawline, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in his wake. 

He takes off his jacket, tossing it on your desk chair all the while he’s nipping at your neck. As his hands swiftly remove his t-shirt, revealing his sculpted bare chest, your eyes are drawn to the faded hickeys scattered across his skin. You had really done a number on him a couple of weeks ago, the purple still tinting his pecks. 

Before you can fully appreciate the sight, he bends down, effortlessly scooping you up, his lips showering kisses all over your face. Your breath catches at the warmth of his touch sending a flush to your cheeks, "Sunghoon," you gasp, feeling his urgency mirrored in your own desire.

Laying you gently on the bed, his chest pressed against yours, he trails his hands up and down your body, igniting flames of longing with each touch, "I know, Sweets," he murmurs, his voice laced with possessiveness, "You want me to fuck you, yeah? Prove to you that you’re the most gorgeous girl?"

“Yes,” you huff out desperately.

“Then be a good girl. You can do that for me, baby, can’t you?” he whispers into your neck, licking a stripe up your vein.

His words dance down to your pussy, arousal pooling between your legs as you eagerly nod in agreement. His confidence mixed with his praises only fuels your desire, the promise of being his good girl setting your pulse racing.

In a flurry of movement, his trousers and boxers are discarded, and he wastes no time in removing your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze. As he kisses up the tender skin of your inner thigh, his proximity to your centre sends waves of anticipation coursing through you.

“My beautiful girl, you’re all mine,” Sunghoon’s voice is low and smooth like butter.

The vibrations from his words send a jolt of need straight to your core, the ache for his touch almost unbearable. As he teasingly presses a delicate kiss to your clit, you whimper in longing, your body yearning for the fulfilment only he can provide.

His hands slide up to the top of your thighs, holding them down and apart as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. A shiver of anticipation courses through you as your hips instinctively push up, yearning for the touch of his mouth where you need it most.

Sunghoon responds with soft, warm kisses across your core, each one sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Then, with deliberate slowness, he traces his tongue upwards, sending a shudder of delight through you as he explores every inch of your pussy.

Kneading your hands through his hair, you grip tight as you beg for more and Sunghoon has no problem granting your wishes, kitten-licking your slit as he laps up your wetness. 

When he is going down on you, he is like a man possessed but now it’s much worse. He hasn’t tasted your essence properly since the breakup/makeup. Your boyfriend doesn’t like to go too long without your taste on his tongue, so here he is making up for lost time as he lays his tastebuds flat against your cunt, savouring every drop of you.

You pull his head back by his hair, eliciting a moan from him as you do so, the sensation of each strand being in your command causes his dick to jump in, “Fuck, Sweets,” he hisses, licking his lips clean as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “Tell me what you want.”

But he already knows what you want, because, without your answer, he’s gathering saliva in his mouth before spitting it on your throbbing pussy, his fingers lathering you in it, “Go on, tell me,” he mutters onto your clit, digging his teeth onto it just enough for you to buck your hips onto his face.

“Fingers, Hoonie, I want your fingers. Please,” you plead, holding your hips up to his mouth in a desperate attempt to get some release of your friction.

“Not only are you gorgeous,” Sunghoon’s fingers find their way to your entrance, circling it teasingly, “You’re my obedient, perfect girl.”

Sunghoon smoothly slides his fingers inside you, opening you up and filling you with a sweet sensation. His attention never leaves your face as he looks for your reactions, making every movement pleasurable for you.

He sees your lips falling wide and your head cocking back in ecstasy as an indication to continue. His fingers hook into you, gliding back and forth in a smooth and luring pace that matches the rhythm of your desire, and caressing you just the way you like it. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, creating a fire of passion that becomes hotter with each enticing movement.

You're a moaning mess as Sunghoon expertly finds your sweet spot, thrusting his fingers harshly as he works it with precision, "Let it all out, baby," he encourages, his voice sending your head into a tizzy, "Show me how I'm making you feel."

His words alone could send you tipping over the edge, but it's the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit and the gentle suction that has you screaming his name loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. Sunghoon doesn't stop you, revelling in the melodic sound of his name falling from your lips like a symphony of desire.

"That's it, angel, you're doing so good for me," he praises, his words only spurring you on further. The two fingers inside you continue their relentless rhythm, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each delicious stroke.

Your hands instinctively push him further into your cunt as you ride his face, Sunghoon's skilled ministrations bring you closer and closer to your climax, and his tongue and fingers dance in perfect rhythm, driving you to contentment with each delicious motion. The overwhelming sensation clouds your thoughts, leaving you lost in a haze of pleasure that makes your mouth water with anticipation.

With a final, electrifying thrust of his fingers and a gentle nibble at your clit, you hit the edge of release, your chest and tummy tightening. And then, with a guttural moan that bounces throughout the room, you finally succumb to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in its wake.

Sunghoon continues to worship you with his mouth and fingers, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm with tender care and devotion. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word of praise only serves to deepen the connection between you.

He sucks and swallows your juices, smiling as he does so. Your walls have trapped his two digits inside you as you squeeze him tight, “Baby, relax for me,” he kisses up your stomach in an attempt to get your body to yield but your orgasm is too intense, “Shh, Y/N, breathe out for me beautiful,” he whispers as his face meets yours.

Opening your eyes, you see his gentle smile and etch a blissful one onto yours, his adoring gaze instantly rippling through your bones, helping your muscles to unknot themselves. The power he has over you is crazy.

"Told you I would prove it," Sunghoon chuckles softly, pressing a peck on the tip of your nose as he finally frees his hand from you. Shaking your head with a satisfied smile, you exhale deeply, prompting him to tilt his head inquisitively.

"Oh? Have I not done enough?" he questions, his expression filled with amusement.

"Nope," you reply smugly, popping the 'p' for emphasis, "You could do more to prove it."

Sunghoon feigns contemplation, his lips quirking to the side in mock thought, "I see, hmm…" he muses, his gaze scanning you from head to toe before he suddenly sits you up and onto his lap, taking your useless top off.

His favourite playthings are now sitting directly at eye level and Sunghoon feels spoilt for choice of what one to show attention to first. Left has always been his favourite, there wasn’t a particular reason as to why, he just instinctively went for it every time.

Before he can delve his mouth to attach to your perky nipple, you surprise him by gripping his shoulders with one hand while the other strokes his cock between your bodies. In reaction, his shoulders and back hunch over, his head now buried between your mounds. 

Your slicked hand pumps him at a vicious pace, yet the gentleness of your hand causes no discomfort. After all these months together, you know how he likes it, fast and rough with extra attention to his tip; so that’s what you do, after every fourth stroke you swipe your palm over his head, the soft skin now tinted red with need.

“Sweets,” he murmurs between your breasts, his tongue licking the valley like a helpless dog, “Let me be inside you, fuck I need it so bad,” he almost whimpers as you squeeze him.

Part of you wants to keep going and tease him but your heat is leaking for him, crying out to be stuffed by his cock. 

You lift your hips and guide him to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him, “Jesus,” you hiss out, his cock stretching you much wider than his previous fingers.

The pace you set is deliberate and unhurried as you savour the feeling of his thick shaft piercing into you, battering your cervix each time you slam down onto him. Sunghoon groans at the way your channel is enveloping him, moulding around him like a perfect fit. 

With each withdrawal, the tip of his cock catches on your entrance, teasingly, before he plunges back in, eliciting desperate pleas for more from your lips, "Hoonie, please, faster," you beg, your desire driving you wild.

It’s time for Sunghoon to take charge, his hands clasp around your back as he pulls you further into his chest, gripping onto your skin as he goes at you relentlessly. He delves so deeply inside you that the sensation becomes overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and need. Sunghoon's hand moves from your back to brush against your overstimulated clit, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to writhe on his lap, "Sunghoon, please," you whimper, your voice laced with desperation.

"What is it, baby?" Sunghoon's voice, soft-spoken and tender, stands in stark contrast to the force of his thrusts, each one pounding relentlessly against your core.

"Close," you gasp out, the intensity of your impending climax threatening to overwhelm you once again. If it were any other time, you might feel embarrassed by how quickly you're reaching the peak of ecstasy, but you know Sunghoon would understand. And he does because he feels the same way. 

Both of you have tangled in sheets for long enough that you both know one another’s body like the back of your hands. That, added in with the withdrawals, of course you were both cumming quickly. Neither of you particularly minded since it wasn’t exactly a hindrance but rather served as just another notch to add to the endless list of climaxes you could potentially have. 

The day that one orgasm halts your sexcapades for the night, is the day Ghostface will stop being hot. Never.

Sunghoon spits on your folds, his movements primitive but intentional. His fingers rubbed saliva into your delicate skin, focusing their attention on your swollen clit, pushing you to the verge of your high. These sensations are almost too intense to take, with his rough touch on your bud and the power of his cock ramming into your walls battering you in the most delicious way possible.

The other hand on your back trails its way to your left hand, clasping it in his as he intertwines your fingers, kissing your knuckles as he stares at you, love shining through, “I love you so fucking much,” he whispers out, his hips faltering slightly as he declares his adoration for you.

Nodding, you bite your lip, prying your eyes open to look into his, “I love you too, Hoonie,” you confess back to him, hips also losing their rhythm as you struggle to focus on anything other than the coil in your stomach.

You bring your lips to his hand, mimicking his earlier actions, “Cum with me, Sunghoon,” you whisper into the back of his hand, your lips parted as you suck in a deep breath, ready for release.

Your body convulses with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in their wake. Sunghoon holds you close, his touch gentle yet possessive as he guides you through the aftershocks of your climax with tender care.

Sunghoon kisses you hungrily, his lips engulfing yours in a passionate embrace as your words push him over the edge. With feral zeal, he releases his seed in you, the white strands of his desire flying straight into your depths and blending with your own release.

Your bodies melt together in the heat of passion and you both cry one other's names along with a stream of curses, lost in the throes of pleasure and need. Sunghoon punctuates each passionate proclamation with two simple utterings of "I love you," ensuring that his words are conveyed sincerely

As you come down from the euphoric high, you find yourself enveloped in Sunghoon's embrace, his love and adoration surrounding you like a warm blanket on a cold night. In this moment, with him by your side, you feel truly complete, knowing that you are loved and cherished beyond measure.

Laying you down, Sunghoon, slides out of you gently, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, “Sweets, where is your bathroom?” he asks but you’re still too fucked out to comprehend his question, leaving him to figure it out on his own, “Stay here, baby, I’ll be back,” he instructs, putting on his boxers and tucking his semi-hard cock into them. 

Leaning an ear to the door, Sunghoon assesses if anyone magically came home while you two were going at it like animals. The silence he hears elicits relief into his body as he opens the door, confident no other member of the Kang family will see his practically naked figure.

Opening a few doors through trial and error, he stumbles into Minhee’s room. The curiosity within him leads him to look around, hand searching for the light. Once he switches it on, he sees exactly what he was expecting, a clutter of mess placed in every corner. It’s similar to his room, decor-wise, but there’s one thing that he notices, standing prominent on Minhee’s nightstand. 

Sunghoon reaches for the picture of you at 3 years old, sleeping next to your older brother, hugging one another tightly. You’re wearing matching pyjamas and smiles with no cares in the world. He knows your bond with Minhee is strong, stronger than most siblings; he thinks perhaps that’s why it was so easy to forgive you for lying to him. Seeing this picture now only punctuates his thoughts.

And after his conversation with Minhee today, he knows you would both do anything to protect one another.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, hugging him from behind. Your eyes stare at the picture in the frame and you laugh, “Oh my days, Minhee and I were so young back then,” you fondly pout.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulder, “I was looking for the bathroom to get you cleaned up but I came across his room,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing your shoulder.

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, taking the frame and placing it back on the desk. You pause your motions as you look around his desk. It had been a long time since you had been in your brother's room, possibly 2 years, but you don’t remember all of the clutter on his worktop.

Picking up the paper fortune teller, you can't help but laugh at the whimsical relic of your childhood, "I didn't know he kept all this stuff," you say wistfully, your fingers tracing the faded creases of the paper. Memories flood your mind as you recall the countless hours spent crafting these simple yet cherished treasures with your brother.

Your gaze then falls upon the painting, a colourful masterpiece that holds a special place in your heart despite its simplistic charm. "And look at this," you remark, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember making this in nursery. It was supposed to be a house, but I’m clearly no Picasso," you chuckle, the memory bringing warmth to your heart.

Putting it back, you see the picture you sent him from your award ceremony, sitting proudly next to his mouse, “He printed this out?” you ask no one, “I thought this would be the last picture he would want to see every day.”

The picture didn’t just represent your achievement, it represented the lies you sat in for months without Minhee knowing. This picture was amongst the bunch that had you and Sunghoon sitting happily in love, an accidental click that exposed your deceit. 

Sunghoon kisses your temple, “He’s proud of you, baby,” he says, trying to ease your tense shoulders, “That night, sure, the aftermath was a shitshow. But you still achieved something amazing, and he’s proud.”

His words lighten you a little, a smile creeping on your face as you put it back. Shaking your emotions away, you look up at your boyfriend, “Let’s get out of here, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” You push him out of Minhee’s bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“While you’re up,” Sunghoon follows you, hand in yours, “Why don’t we just take a shower?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

You roll your eyes and open up the bathroom door, “Fine, but only quickly, last time I started to shrivel up like a prune with how long you kept me in there,” you joke, turning the light on. 

Sunghoon smirks, “I promise, I’ll be quick,” he leans down to your ear, “I’ll just make sure I go at you rough and hard, hmm?”

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

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[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.3

Chapter Summary: Joel joins Tommy to meet the Fireflies and set up a trade agreement. They come back to Jackson with more than they expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mentions of slavery

WC: 5.4K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: a reminder this story follows a slightly different timeline. Ellie was born pre-outbreak, but she was little when it happened.

Joel couldn't believe the past day and a half really happened. The rollercoaster of emotions you put him through left him stunned and shaken, wondering how he could read everything so fucking wrong. He found himself questioning everything now, replaying conversations, wondering if you had ever alluded to your feelings about marriage and a family that maybe he misread, misconstrued. Twisted and built up in his mind to fit into his stupid fantasy. One, he acknowledged, wasn't even in the forefront of his mind until his brother brought it back up to the surface. And suddenly, he wanted it, too. Like some resentful child who saw another playing with a toy he hadn't paid attention to in months, then demanded it for himself.

But he had thought about it, well before Tommy decided to man up first. He had the ring, but he never did anything with it. Why? Deep down, had he known you wouldn't want that? Was he subconsciously protecting himself by never acting on it? Or was he truly just waiting for the right time?

Even with Tommy's news, he still hadn't come up with a plan to actually ask you to marry him. He just allowed the fantasy to play out between your legs while he continued to make up excuses as to why he was holding off. Maybe it just turned him on to have a secret. Maybe he just wanted to have you, mark you, claim you. He knew he had a bad jealous streak, but would he have let his possessiveness lead him this far off track?

No. There were real reasons why he wanted you to be his wife. You made him want to be a better man. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You brought out sides of him that others, including himself, never knew existed. Good things. You made him believe in happiness again, after his heart had been stomped on, making him treat everyone around him so poorly, even his own family. At a time when he felt so undeserving, you made him feel like the only person in the world. Even back then, he had a hard time believing you could actually care for him, but you saw through his bullshit to the man he was underneath, and you loved him for being him.

You had this way of looking at him like he was capable of anything. And with you by his side, he felt like he really was capable of anything. He did things he never thought possible to keep you both safe, as did you. You killed for each other. Not many people can say that. That meant something. The trauma and pain you both endured for one another had to mean something more. There was no doubt you both had proven what you were willing to do for the other, so it was only natural he wanted to commit himself to you. Say the words, vow to you in front of everyone you knew and loved that he would happily devote himself to you for the rest of his life.

So why didn't you want the same?

Ages ago, when the pair of you stumbled into the hellscape that was Kansas City, his ex, Amy, had mentioned offhandedly that you were only with him for protection. At the time, he shrugged it off, knowing full well it was bullshit just to get under his skin. But now, against his better judgement, he was rethinking those words. Rolling them around in his head, wondering if there was any truth to it.

"You been real quiet," Tommy said, pulling Joel out of his misery, surprised to suddenly find his brother next to him as they made their way on horseback down the mountains. Joel shrugged, averting his gaze ahead to the three other men leading the way.

"You mad at me for puttin' you on patrol yesterday? I'm sorry, Carl got sick and I didn't have anyone else," Tommy continued.

"Nah, it's not that," Joel replied, still staring straight ahead. "Didn't sleep well, is all."

"Ah," Tommy said, a playful smile pulling across his lips. "She send you off with somethin' to remember her by?"

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders, his anger bubbling below the surface as he thought once again about the night before.

"Not exactly," Joel responded, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Tommy hummed in response but remained quiet, trying to read his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Everythin' alright at home?" he asked, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head, causing Joel to clench the muscles in his stomach, like he was bracing for a punch to the gut.

"It's fine. What's the plan for when we get to this place?" Joel asked, quickly sidestepping the subject, something that was certainly not lost on his younger brother, but Tommy allowed for the change in conversation, anyway.

"We're gonna meet up with their leader, woman named Marlene. They're lookin' mostly for weapons, but they need other stuff, too. They got lots of medicine and first aid to swap. Bill's been runnin' real low on antibiotics, considerin' how fast the town is growin'," Tommy said with a sigh, readjusting in his saddle. "Girls sent me with a list of inventory, highlighted all the stuff we have a surplus of and all the stuff we could use more of. Remind me to thank her for helpin' when we get home," he said, keeping a close eye on Joel's reaction when he referred to you.

"Sure," was all Joel said in response, refusing to let him drudge up the topic. The wound was still too fresh, and he needed time. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what was going through your head, and it scared the shit out of him.

Was it marriage and kids in general you didn't want, or was it marriage and kids with him?

He should have asked. He should have stayed instead of storming out that night. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and left you all alone, likely crying until you fell asleep if your swollen eyes the next morning was any indication. When he saw you, saw the distress etched in your perfect features, he wanted to pull you into his arms and never leave for this fucking trip. And he damn near did just that, until you confirmed it was a false alarm, and his heart was torn all over again. It was then he realized he had been hoping you were pregnant with his child, and there would be no choice but to face the next challenge together. Then he would be able to prove to you that it was a good thing, that you could, in fact, do it. And so could he.

Now, instead, he wasn't even sure where you two stood. You had said you still wanted him before he left, and that gave him hope. Hope that maybe not all was lost, that you could repair the damage that was done and come out stronger in the end for it. That maybe he could, in time, prove to you that he would be a good husband, a good father.

But then, Amy's words crept up in the back of his mind since he left. Somehow, years and years later, the woman still managed to torment him, making him believe he wasn't worthy or good enough to possibly have someone like you. The same way she manipulated him into thinking he deserved to be betrayed by her when they were engaged, that he didn't give enough of himself, that she warned him she needed more and he refused.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, we're losin' daylight, let's set up camp and get an early start tomorrow," Tommy announced, much to Joel's relief. He didn't want to admit that, just a mere few weeks away from his fortieth birthday, his back and knees were aching like he was a much older man. He slid down from his saddle with an audible groan, then tied his reins around a tree trunk before giving his mare a few loving pats along the crooked white blaze that split her face.

He unbuckled his sleeping bag from the saddle and shouldered his backpack, dropping his belongings unceremoniously to the ground before he and Jake headed out with a couple hatchets to collect some firewood.

He didn't mind Jake so much anymore. He was quiet, kept to himself and, fortunately, didn't seem to harbor any resentment towards him from the time Joel put him in the infirmary for kissing you. His bad temper mixed with his jealousy nearly killed the man.

Afterwards, he thought he lost you.

You left him, asking for time to process what happened, upset that he didn't take your word for it when you promised him the kiss was a misunderstanding, that you handled it. You viewed it as distrust, he viewed it as protection. It wasn't until later that he realized he was harboring his own trauma from failing to protect you from a past sexual assault.

As he carried an armful of firewood back, he reflected on everything you had been through together. The outbreak, your parents, the time you were stabbed, the assault, the breakup, the accident that nearly killed him. Not to mention all the infected and raiders that threatened you both at every turn. Was your relationship strong enough to endure one more massive hurdle?

They were deep in the woods, the terrain favorable. The trees hid the fire well, and the vast, empty land kept infected away. Still, each man took a quick turn overnight to keep watch. It hardly mattered when Eugene gently shook his shoulder, alerting him it was his turn to watch. He can never sleep well when he's away from you, anyway.

Joel was almost grateful when they reached the hospital late in the afternoon the next day. It was the first time in two days he was able to stop thinking about you, his mind swirling with images of your trembling lip and your tear stained cheeks. He frequently wondered what you were doing, if you told Maria or Carrie about your argument. Were you packing up your things? Would he come home to an empty house? He wasn't sure his heart could handle it again.

You said you still wanted him.

You said you loved him.

But he didn't say those things back, and he left.

Even if you were fighting, even if it was the most significant disagreement you've ever had, he still wanted you near. He could never silence that driving force inside him since the outbreak that screamed keep her safe.

When they approached the hospital, they were all searched, weapons confiscated, as expected, before being ushered inside to meet the leader of the strange group called the Fireflies.

Marlene was a taller woman, with a firm jaw and eyes that could look right through you. He could tell right away she was not to be trifled with, that she took her role seriously in this little revolution she was spearheading. Although the people they had met since arriving seemed very intense, he didn't feel threatened. And he usually had a good instinct for those things. Usually.

They were in the hospital cafeteria, the five men, Marlene, plus a few others seated around a large, circular table as Tommy and Marlene exchanged pleasantries, both parties trying to make the other more comfortable. Joel hadn't really been listening. He was scanning the room, watching the guards pace by the doors regularly, the sentries standing watch with their hands resting on their rifles as they watched the exchange from a distance.

A small group of women entered from the door behind him, heading towards the kitchen to begin food preparations. Joel's eyes glanced over the group of four, three middle aged looking women who kept their eyes pinned to the ground, and a young girl with brown hair, tied back away from her face. She didn't look to be a day over thirteen, and she was the only one who looked around the room, her eyes locking with Joel's. He stared at her, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation. She continued to hold his gaze as she followed the other women, and although her body language gave nothing away, Joel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something seemed off.

"Isn't that right, Joel?" Tommy was saying, snapping his attention away from the girl, who he saw in his peripheral disappear behind a door into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on top of the table, trying to look focused.

"I was just sayin' how we know of a few police stations in some small towns that have barely been touched. Wouldn't be much effort for us to get a group together when we get home and go ransack 'em, take just a few days to hit 'em all," Tommy said, his eyes flicking from Joel to Marlene, then back again.

Another trip. More days away from you.

"Yeah," Joel replied, nodding his head and ignoring the pit in his stomach. "It's not enough for an army, but I reckon any little bit helps."

"In the meantime, lemme show you our inventory list. See if anything jumps out at you, and we can work on gettin' those guns," said Tommy as he pulled the list out of his coat pocket and smoothing it out on the table.

Marlene reviewed the list, her dark eyes flicking over the paper quickly with a few hums here and there as she took notes.

"Looks good, but we mostly need weapons," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I could probably do with some fresh vegetables, I think everyone's getting sick of the canned shit. And shampoo. But that hardly is a match for antibiotics." Her eyes shifted back and forth between Joel and Tommy, and the corner of her mouth turned up as an idea hit her.

"I do have another offer, though," she said, leaning forward. "It's not what we discussed, but if you're willing, I could send you home with half a box of penicillin now, and the other half after."

"After... what?" Tommy asked a little hesitantly.

"I'm lacking manpower at the moment. My guys are stretched thin, we're planning a hit on the soldiers at the Boise QZ. I need you to take someone to the hospital base we have in Salt Lake City. It should only take two days to get there, and I just need you to make sure she gets there alive," Marlene said, pressing her pointer finger into the table on the last word for emphasis.

Tommy glanced at the other four men, clearly not expecting to run errands for these people in exchange for medicine. Joel could see the wheels turning in his brother's head before Tommy spoke.

"Show me the meds first," he said to Marlene, and she quickly lifted two fingers up from the table, blindly addressing someone behind her to exit and do as he asked.

"What's the catch?" Joel asked, his defenses going up.

"No catch. Just need to get her out of here and with my other group, and I don't have the time to do it myself," she said with a shrug, but Joel knew better. She was trying to act casual, but he saw her knee bouncing under the table.

He shouldn't have come on his trip.

Once Tommy laid eyes on the unopened vials of medicine, medicine Jackson could really use since Bill, the town doctor, had been rationing enough as it is, Joel knew his decision was made.

"Done," Tommy said with a nod, extending his arm to shake Marlene's hand, which she eagerly reached out to do.

"Tommy," Joel said quietly, annoyed his brother didn't run the decision by the group first.

"Give me a little bit. I'll go talk to her so you can hit the road right away. John, please give these gentleman half the box of penicillin," Marlene said as she pushed her chair back, the legs making an awful screech against the dirty, linoleum floor. "Dinner is about to be served, please help yourselves as my guests," she added over her shoulder, leaving the dining hall.

"Tommy," Joel tried again, finally pulling his brother's attention. "A word?"

He led Tommy a ways away from the table so their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"What're you thinkin'?" Joel asked him, hands on his hips. "We don't do things like this."

"I know, Joel, but we're already out here, what's the harm? It's just a few more days," he said.

"I can't do a few more days, I need to get home," Joel replied, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"I'll send Jesse and Jake back to let the girls know we'll be a little longer-"

"Goddamnit, Tommy, no!" Joel said, louder than he anticipated, a few heads from the table turning to glance his way.

"Jackson needs this medicine, what the hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked with a frown, shifting his weight as he tried to read his brother's face.

Before he could reply, Marlene reentered the room alone, motioning for the two brothers to join her back at the table.

"Ellie's working in the kitchen, once dinner is over I'll send her to change and gather her things," Marlene said.

"Not a problem," said Tommy as he sat back down.

"Is that true?" Marlene asked, her lips pressed in a thin line as she held Joel's gaze, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath through his nose and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, not a problem," Joel replied bitterly.

Joel ate his meal quickly, desperate to finish this ridiculous task so he could get home. The longer he was away from you, the stronger his paranoia became. With each passing hour, he could almost feel the chasm between you growing, and he was beginning to convince himself there was no repairing the damage that was done. On both sides. Communication had never been his strong suit, but he thought he was getting better at it the past few years. Why did he go on this trip?

His eyes flicked up from his empty plate to see Marlene heading their way with the young girl he saw earlier in tow. His anger flared deep in his belly again, and he elbowed Tommy in the ribs to mutter angrily "she didn't mention it was a fuckin' kid" before Marlene could overhear.

"Ellie, these are the men I told you about. They're going to take you to Salt Lake City like we discussed," Marlene said, her hand resting on the girl's back. Joel eyed her carefully, noticing how tense her shoulders looked as she regarded the five men in front of her. His eyes drifted back to Marlene, wondering why on earth she was willing to leave this young girl with five strange men without a second thought. He decided she either was very desperate, or didn't care much for the girl.

Ellie readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and yanked on the edges of her long sleeved shirt, squaring her jaw as she stared them all down. Marlene crouched down to the girl's level and rested her hands on her shoulders.

"Remember what I told you. Listen to them, and everything will be fine," Marlene said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. Ellie nodded, nostrils flaring before Marlene stood up to address Tommy.

"You need a map?"

"Nah, we got maps," Tommy said with a shake of his head. "This group know when we get there to give us the rest of the payment?"

"I'll radio the leader over there once you leave, let her know the deal," Marlene replied, stretching her arm out again to shake Tommy's hand.

"Alright, then," said Tommy, looking back down at Ellie and shooting her a small smile, trying to make her feel more comfortable. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath and following Tommy out of the cafeteria.

They collected their weapons at the entrance before heading out, Ellie joining Tommy on the back of his horse. They didn't make it very far before the sun began to dip behind the trees and a quiet place was found to make camp for the night.

After getting a fire going, Tommy sat down in the dirt next to Joel, who had been leaning against a small oak tree, sipping from his flask and staring into the flames. The other three men were quietly playing a game of poker across from them, the occasional laugh or taunt floating in the air, while Ellie busied herself with a worn, paperback book further away from the rest.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on yet?" Tommy asked, taking out his own flask.

"Nothin's goin' on," Joel replied gruffly, eyes trained on the fire.

"What's makin' you feel like you need to get home so bad?" he pressed. Joel felt that anger swelling inside him again, up his stomach and through his chest, and for a moment he wondered if Tommy knew. That maybe you told Maria and she let something slip.

"I told you, it's nothin'," he snarled, taking another sip from his flask and letting his eyes drift over to the girl. "Just wish I knew you were signin' me up to be a goddamn babysitter before comin' on this fuckin' trip."

"I can hear you, you know," Ellie said, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

"Good," Joel said, jutting his chin towards her, finally finding something to take his anger out on. "What's your deal, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, sitting upright and letting her book fall to her lap, a flash of stubbornness not unlike his own reflecting in her eyes.

"Try me," Joel argued, his jaw clenching. Ellie glared at him, silence falling over the camp as everyone waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it, clamping it shut and casting her eyes down. Joel scoffed, not ready to let the topic go just yet. Angry that this child was keeping him from home, from you. Angry that his brother agreed to it, like a fool.

"C'mon now, let's hear it. What makes you so fuckin' special?"

"Joel," Tommy said under his breath, a warning, reminding him to watch his language, that she was just a kid.

"Why should I bother? You're all the same, anyway! No one ever listens to me, 'cause I'm just some kid, right? No one-" she cut herself off, stopping herself before she said too much.

"Who's all the same?" Tommy asked gently, trying to coax the information out of her. She shrugged and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"The people Marlene hires. Dragging me all over the country like I'm... whatever," she said, stopping herself yet again.

"So this ain't the first time Marlene sent you off with a bunch of strange men?" Joel asked, the edge still in his tone but he could feel his resolve softening, somehow feeling bad for this little girl despite his own problems.

"No," was all she offered, glaring at Joel again.

"Are you in some sort of trouble, kid?" Eugene's voice asked from across the fire. The silence that followed was deafening, only the crackle from the fire filling the air. Ellie's eyes shot over to Eugene, looking him up and down, trying to keep up her steely resolve before giving up and turning her back on the group, announcing she was going to bed, and burying herself in the sleeping bag that was way too big for her.

Joel stared at the back of her head, trying to connect the dots with the context he had available to him, but he couldn't figure it out. Tommy shifted next to him, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as well. Wondering for the first time if he had gotten them all in over their heads.

The following morning, Tommy sent Jake and Jesse back home to let everyone know they were going to be a few days late. The three remaining men and Ellie packed up their supplies early, hitting the trail as soon as possible, ready to make a dent in the long road ahead. Eugene led the way, followed by Tommy, then Joel brought up the rear, his eyes burning holes in the back of Ellie's head as she clung to Tommy's denim jacket to keep her balance on the back of his horse.

Joel chewed the inside of his cheek, still feeling bitter, about everything. You, Tommy, Ellie. All of it. Since he couldn't get to you, and Tommy already got him in too deep, he chose to direct his energy towards Ellie when they took a break midday.

"Marlene send you with any food, or are you takin' that from us, too?" Joel asked, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk with a groan.

"I have food. And what else could I have possibly taken from you?" Ellie replied curtly, sitting further down the log as she opened her pack to fish out some granola bars.

"Time," Joel snapped. "And we don't even know why we're doin' it."

"Isn't Marlene paying you guys?" she replied with a huff. Tommy's eyes toggled back and forth between Joel and Ellie, becoming exasperated with the constant bickering.

"Can you just drop it, Joel?" Tommy asked. "Who cares? It's an easy gig, and we get meds out of it."

"Oh, she's giving you meds? Wow, she must be really desperate," Ellie chimed in.

"Alright, I've had enough," Joel said, standing up to tower over the girl. "Spit it out. What're we doin' here?"

"Fine, Joel," she said, stretching out each syllable before standing up, fists clenched at her sides. The way she said his name set his teeth on edge. "You wanna know how you're helping slavers move cargo? That the answer you're looking for?"

The three men froze, clearly not expecting that. Tommy stood up now, his head swiveling between Eugene and Joel as he processed the information just dropped on them.

"Wait-" Tommy said, stretching his arm out to Ellie, but she cut him off.

"Yeah, that's right. You still think this is a pain for you?" she snapped, glaring at Joel even though Tommy was the one who spoke.

"Stop!" Joel shouted, holding his hands up in the air as silence fell over the camp. He pointed his finger to Ellie.

"You. Explain. Now."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose as he silently listened to Ellie tell her story. Her parents were dead. She was taken from her aunt and uncle's house at a young age, forced into slavery for the past few years: laundry, cooking, cleaning. Sometimes for twelve hours a day. Said she's been with the Fireflies a long time, that they keep moving her from base to base but she claimed she didn't know why. Joel had to wonder how much of what she was saying was the truth. There was no doubt something was happening at that hospital, but slaves? Something just didn't add up.

When she finished her story, she nervously glanced around at the men, waiting for one of them to say something. Tommy sighed and motioned to the woods.

"We need to talk about this. Privately," Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie. "You stay here."

"Fine. Not like I can make it on my own out there, anyway," she said with a snort. She picked up a stick from the ground and began drawing into the loose dirt at her feet.

"We're takin' her back, givin' back the meds, and goin' home," Joel said the moment they were out of earshot. Tommy shook his head.

"Joel-"

"This is enough, Tommy! This ain't our business. Any other option here puts the whole town at risk, puts Maria at risk, puts-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue before saying your name. He hadn't thought about you for the past half hour. A new record.

Tommy wasn't an idiot. He knew something was going on, but he couldn't focus on it, having a much bigger problem to sort out.

"She's a kid. We can't take her back, and we can't take her to Salt Lake City. It ain't right," said Tommy gently, hoping he would make his brother see through whatever was plaguing his mind and look at the bigger picture. Joel frowned and glared at the grass below his boots, clenching and unclenching his jaw as his mind struggled to wrap itself around the situation.

"Eugene?" Tommy said, turning to raise his eyebrows at the older, and suspiciously quiet, man. Eugene sighed, dropping his shoulders like he was carrying an enormous weight.

"I agree with Tommy," he said, and Joel spun on his heel, angrily pacing a few feet away to take some deep breaths.

"So, what? We take her to Jackson? We don't show people where we live for a fuckin' reason," Joel reminded them, his back still turned on the two men.

"We take her back, just a bit, til we can find where her aunt and uncle were livin', and we'll take her back home," Tommy said, the gears in his head turning as he formulated the plan on the spot. "In the meantime, we tell the Fireflies she ran off in the middle of the night. Maybe if we can get those guns to 'em, we can still keep the antibiotics."

Joel scoffed and shook his head, turning around to glare at his younger brother.

"This is stupid and risky. Lyin' to those people don't seem like a good move to me."

"Yeah, well, it's the only move we got, Joel. Otherwise, we're just as bad as them," said Tommy, his eyes drifting through the trees to make sure Ellie was still perched on the log where they left her. "I won't ask you to help take her back to her family."

"Damn right, you won't," Joel muttered, rolling his shoulders angrily. He stared off in the direction of Ellie, his jaw ticking off to the side with his hands on his hips, lost in thought.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, is it settled, then? Can we hit the road, go back home?" Eugene asked, clearly tired of the bickering. Joel glared at the other two men before stomping back over to Ellie, who stood when she heard the men approaching, eyes flicking to each of their faces. Joel brushed past her to scoop up his bag from the ground and jumped back up on his horse with a grunt. At least he won't have to be away from you any longer. Not that he was sure what to even say, he just knew he needed to see you.

"C'mon, kid. We're takin' you to our town," Tommy said, motioning for her to grab her things and follow him to his horse.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, a small smile playing on her face for the first time.

"'Til we can get you back to your family, yeah," he replied, holding an arm out to help her scramble up the back of his horse.

Joel remained quiet the next day and a half, inwardly brooding about the potential blowback from taking this kid, which then morphed into nerves when he realized he was a few hours away from seeing you again.

When they arrived through the gates of Jackson, he didn't watch Ellie's eyes light up when she first saw the town, the people, the animals, kids her age playing. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on searching for your face in the small crowd that welcomed them back, then he would have seen how happy Ellie was. How, for maybe the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on the ache in his chest when he didn't see you, it wouldn't have come as a surprise when Ellie snuck off the first chance she got, bobbing and weaving down the busy street, eager to see what the town had to offer.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

[puppym3]

heartstrings and lullabies chap 3

soft!seungmin x afab!reader

chap 4!

wc: 5.5k (whoops...)

warnings! : smut!, fingering (f receiving), readers implied first time, seungmin is experienced, seungmin is so sweet and soft, secret relationship trope, seungmin + reader hold back a lot, angst at the end, family arguing

a/n: i accidentally got too into it and wrote a lil extra... hope you enjoy! i appreciate all of the love, thank you so much!! I'll combine all of the chapters together when I'm done writing! <3

MINORS DNI!

this is only a work of fiction!

---

“We should take things slow,” Seungmin says, backing away for the fourth time since he’s gotten to my room.

“Yeah, I agree.” I mustered out, unsure if I was mentally back yet when I replied because of the amount of fog in my head from the kisses.

The lingering taste of his kiss still tingled on my lips as we sat there, our breaths still mingling in the quietness of the room.

“I need to calm down,” Seungmin said embarrassed, trying to dismiss himself from the room. I could guess what “calming down” meant and my breath got stuck in my throat again, coughing slightly. Remembering the moment he left the room for a while yesterday night when all of his blood went to other places.

And as much as I wanted to say something, and tell him to stay, I knew that these boundaries were important to him and we should try to take things slow. 

I watched him as he stood up, his movements a bit awkward as if he was fighting with himself to stay composed. His eyes flickered to the door and then back to me, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the clear tension in his shoulders.

"Right," I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Taking things slow is... good."

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening a bit at my words. "Yeah, it is. I just need to... take a moment."

I could see the faint blush on his cheeks, and it made my heart ache with a mix of affection and desire. He was trying so hard to keep things respectful, and I appreciated that more than I could express.

As he reached for the handle, he hesitated, glancing back at me one last time. "Um, Just… to let you know, I really like you. A lot."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I felt my face heat up. "I like you too, Seungmin. A lot."

A genuine smile broke across his face, and it was like the tension melted away just for a second. "I'll be back soon," he said softly before finally stepping out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. The room felt strangely empty without him, and the lingering warmth of his presence seemed to fade away slowly.

I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Taking things slow was the right choice, but it was challenging. My mind replayed the moments we had shared, the way his lips had felt against mine, the way his touch had sent shivers down my spine.

For some reason, I felt tears welling up in my eyes, a sudden hit of overwhelming emotion. I was so lucky that he reciprocated the way I feel in some way, but he’s right about it being difficult. Maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling of happiness, nervousness, anticipation, and being unintentionally edged over and over again. 

I wiped the tears away quickly, not wanting to dwell too much on the emotions I was feeling. There was a lot to process, and Seungmin and I had decided to take things slow, which meant I'd have to get used to managing these feelings without rushing into anything.

I knew I needed to keep myself occupied. I decided to tidy up my room, hoping the mundane task would help me regain some semblance of control over my racing thoughts.

Just as I was straightening a stack of books on my desk, I heard a soft knock at the door. My heart leapt into my throat, and I took a deep breath before opening it.

Seungmin stood there, looking more composed than when he had left. His eyes softened as he saw me, his face a little flushed and he offered a tentative smile. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," I replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Sorry that I keep on leaving."

"I understand," I said, smiling reassuringly. 

Seungmin took a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before he looked up at me. "I meant what I said earlier," he began softly. "About liking you. And about wanting to figure this out, together."

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, and I nodded. "Me too. I want to find a way to make this work, no matter how complicated things might get."

He reached out, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll take it one step at a time."

I squeezed his hand back, feeling a surge of determination. "One step at a time," I echoed, a sense of hope blooming within me.

After sitting on the edge of my bed for a while, Seungmin hesitated for a while, as if he needed to say something more.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Seungmin begins, and for some reason my heart immediately drops all the way to my stomach. “But… I don’t think we should, uhm” He looks at me, debating how he should choose his words. “...have sex… yet” 

I felt a wave a relief, but also embarrassment hearing him say it out loud cause I thought it was already implied with “taking it slow”. “I really want to, like… do that, like, a lot, but now probably isn’t the best time.” he finishes off, nervously brushing his hair out of his eyes. His puppy eyes nervously scanned my face to see how I’d react.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, quietly accepting his words. “I’ll wait for you.” 

Seungmin's smiled, and he pulled me into a hug. I melted into his embrace, feeling the steadiness of his heartbeat against my cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it evoked such a warm feeling inside of me.

I let him hold me for a moment, listening to his soft breathing and quickening heartbeat.

I let Seungmin hold me for a while longer, savoring the closeness and the comfort of his embrace. When we finally pulled away, he gave me one last lingering look before leaving the room, promising to see me later.

When we had to gather for dinner, the atmosphere was charged with tension as our parents decided to have a family gathering in the dining area. Seungmin and I exchanged nervous glances as we entered the room, trying to act normal despite the many things we were hiding.

I was more upset than anything that baby Yun wasn’t here, I knew if he was here I would have something else to focus on. But he was gone visiting his grandparents for the weekend.

My mom was chatting animatedly with Seungmin's dad, their laughter filling the room. It was clear they were enjoying each other's company, which only made me more uncomfortable.

Seungmin and I sat on opposite ends of the table, pretending to be engrossed in our own thoughts. Every now and then, our eyes would meet, and a silent understanding passed between us.

"So, have you two been getting to know each other?" my mom asked, turning her attention to us.

I forced a smile, feeling the weight of her question. "Good," I replied, trying to sound casual. "We've been getting to know each other better."

Seungmin nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

His dad looked at us with a warm smile. "I was nervous! I thought they wouldn’t make an effort to get to know each other at all."

Seungmin and I exchanged a quick glance, I was suppressing the urge to laugh at the irony.

"Yeah, my daughter isn’t the social type" My mom said, almost teasing at me. 

As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but steal glances at Seungmin. The memory of our kisses lingered in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I could tell he was struggling too, his fingers tapping restlessly on the side of his thigh.

Our parents didn't seem to notice the underlying tension between us, too caught up in their own conversation. It was both a relief and a challenge, trying to maintain our secret while being so close to each other.

At one point, Seungmin's dad suggested playing a board game, and our parents eagerly agreed. Seungmin and I found ourselves sitting next to each other, our shoulders brushing occasionally as we moved pieces on the board.

The game was a distraction, but it also brought us physically closer. Every touch, however accidental, sent a jolt of electricity through me. I could feel the heat of Seungmin's body next to mine, his presence both comforting and exhilarating.

As the game progressed, I noticed Seungmin's fingers brushing against mine under the table. It was a small, discreet gesture, but it sent my heart racing. I glanced at him, and he gave me a subtle, reassuring smile.

His fingers were interlocked with mine, then when it was my turn to go my hand quickly broke apart with his. His hand fell from mine and gently rested on my thigh, his fingers tracing the outline of my jeans.

I felt heat follow everywhere he touched, making me shiver. He finally stopped when his hand reached out to lay on my inner thigh but did not move an inch. It was getting more and more hard to compose myself as he watched my reactions with a careful eye. 

We continued the game, our parents oblivious to the silent communication happening between us.

At one point, Seungmin's dad excused himself to get more snacks from the kitchen, and my mom followed to help him. The moment they were out of earshot, Seungmin leaned in closer to me.

"How are you holding up?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I shuddered. "I’m…” I let out a quick shaky breath, “Managing. You?"

"Same," he replied softly. "I didn’t realize how hard this would be."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip to suppress a smile. "Me too."

It was a little thrilling to hide this one thing from everyone, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hold it up.

And I remembered Seungmin’s words from earlier, how were we not going to get physical when this amount of contact was getting me worked up? I meant what I said to him, I was going to wait even if it killed me. 

Two weeks had already passed, and I had stayed true to my word. I kept my hands off of him and he did the same. We would occasionally share a peck or he would give me a back hug when nobody was around, and those intimate moments were enough to keep me satisfied for the moment.

Yun had also been keeping me busy since he had started crawling around everywhere. I had my eyes on him like a hawk to make sure he wouldn’t do stupid baby stuff. 

Seungmin had been beside me most of the time as well. But whenever I had to watch the baby, my attention would only be on the baby (for a good reason). As much as I was frustrated with my mom for going around and leaving us with the baby, I’m glad she gave me a good distraction.

I was cradling Yun for a while, and he had finally gone asleep in my arms. I placed him carefully in his crib when I felt arms snake around my waist and kisses on the back of my neck.

“Seungmin” I whispered out to him, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his embrace. His touch was gentle and I leaned back into him, savoring our one daily moment of intimacy.

“Wanna watch a movie tonight? We have the house alone tonight and we could finally hang out.” He whispered in my ear.

I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time alone with Seungmin. "Sure, that sounds great," I replied softly, turning around to face him and I couldn't help but lean in to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Let's pick a good movie," I suggested, already feeling the tension easing between us as we settled into the familiar rhythm of being together.

Seungmin nodded, his hand finding mine as we walked together to the living room. We scrolled through the movie options, our shoulders brushing as we debated over genres and actors. Eventually, we settled on a romantic drama, something light and entertaining.

As the movie played, we lounged on the couch, occasionally stealing glances and sharing soft laughs. The comfort of his presence filled me with a sense of contentment.

But once his hand found his way on my thigh again, my mind completely blanked again just like what happened at game night. I felt the tingling sensation and the sudden heat in my body. 

I could see his eyes glued to the TV, but I couldn’t focus at all on what was happening. It wasn’t fair that I seemed to be the only one struggling this entire time when he seems perfectly fine.

As Seungmin's fingers traced gentle circles on my thighs, I could feel my mind growing hazy with desire. Each stroke sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't suppress a soft sigh as his touch moved higher, igniting a tingling sensation that stirred something deep within me. His concern was evident in the way he looked at me, his puppy-dog eyes searching for any sign of discomfort.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice laced with both worry and curiosity.

Instead of answering, a surge of longing and impatience surged through me. Without a word, I moved, pushing him back onto the couch and straddling his lap. I could sense his surprise and uncertainty, his wide eyes locked onto mine as I leaned in, capturing his lips in a hungry, heated kiss. It was as if all the pent-up longing and unspoken desire had finally found release.

His hands, initially hesitant, found my hips and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor that matched my own. Our bodies pressed tightly together, each touch electrifying as we explored the depths of our passion. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against me.

Seungmin responded eagerly, his restraint giving way to the raw intensity between us. His hands roamed over my back, tracing the curves of my body with a growing urgency that mirrored my own. The kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, as if we were both trying to convey days of longing in that single moment.

My own need grew with every passing second, my hands exploring him with a hunger I hadn't realized I possessed. Fingers slipped under his shirt, tracing the contours of his slightly toned body, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. When we finally broke the kiss, his surprise was palpable, his heavy breathing a testament to the intensity of our connection.

Seungmin's gaze met mine, his breath ragged against my skin. Without a word, he leaned in to trail kisses along the curve of my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. Each touch of his lips was a revelation, a new sensation that stirred me to my core. I moaned softly, unable to contain the pleasure that shot through me with each caress.

His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer as he continued to explore my neck and collarbone. The touch was both gentle and possessive, sending my senses reeling. I arched into him, seeking more of his touch, more of the electrifying sensation that only he could evoke.

Unconsciously, I found myself moving against his thigh, seeking some relief from the building tension between us. I gasped as I felt his hardness pressing against me, a physical reminder of our mutual desire. His lips continued their assault on my neck, soft and warm, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.

Seungmin's hands moved up my body, tracing the curves of my waist and the swell of my breasts. I let out a soft moan as he cupped my breast, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me. The heat between us intensified, the tension growing as we both struggled to control our escalating desire.

Pulling back slightly, I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw passion and longing mirrored in his gaze. His grip on my hips tightened, fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me closer. His lips crashed down on mine again, the kiss rough and demanding. I felt a rush of excitement as he took control, his hands roaming over my body with a newfound urgency.

"Hurry... do something," I pleaded, the words escaping my lips in a desperate whisper.

He didn't need further encouragement. With a swift movement, he yanked my shirt over my head, the sudden exposure to the air-conditioned room making me acutely aware of our heated surroundings. Seungmin's eyes roamed over my bare skin, drinking in every inch of me with an intensity that left me breathless.

His hands moved to my back, deftly unhooking my bra and letting it fall to the floor. He claimed my lips again, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed over my body with purpose. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, a physical manifestation of our shared need.

Seungmin's fingers traced the curve of my waist, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His thumbs brushed against my nipples, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me. Each caress was like a wildfire, spreading heat and desire through every inch of my body.

Seungmin pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. I nodded, my voice caught in my throat as I struggled to find the words to express the overwhelming desire that coursed through me.

His hands moved lower, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my pants.  I helped him to discard my pants, only leaving me in my underwear, which kind've felt awkward being the only one naked. 

But it didn't matter when I saw his face as he scanned my body, looking at it as if it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever looked at.

Seungmin's gaze lingered on my body, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Can I touch you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, "Yes, please...." my heart pounding in my chest as I surrendered myself to him. Seungmin's fingers moved lower, first teasing the fabric, rubbing fingers slowly over my wetness, then slipping beneath the fabric of my panties. I gasped, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

Seungmin's eyes never left mine as he continued to explore me, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate pace that left me aching for more. I could feel the heat building between us, the tension growing with each passing second.

His fingers found my clit, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I moaned softly, my hips bucking against his hand as he began to circle the sensitive nub. Each stroke sent a wave of pleasure through me, the heat building until I could barely breathe.

The way he was staring at my flushed face, watching my reactions, and making sure he was making me feel good was enough to drive me over the edge. 

One of his fingers finally dipped into me, the sensation building to a crescendo. I could feel my body trembling, my heart racing with anticipation.

"Can I make you cum?" Seungmin asked softly, his voice laced with a mix of desire and concern. His eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign of hesitation.

I nodded, all I could do was choke out a moan. I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside me. I held onto his arm as he prodded into me at a slow pace

Seungmin added another finger and quickened his pace, hitting the right spot and sending shivers down my spine. 

As the pleasure built, I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the heat building inside me, my breath coming in short gasps as I struggled to hold on.

Seungmin's fingers continued to work their magic, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I could feel my body tensing, my muscles clenching as I fought to hold on.

"For me," Seungmin whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Let go and let me make you feel good."

His words were enough to push me over the edge. I cried out, my body convulsing as I came, my muscles clenching around his fingers. I had never came down as hard as this before, but his fingers were like magic.

He slowly removed his fingers, not trying to overstimulate me. He then hurried off to get things to clean me with and get a change of clothes.

As the pleasure began to ebb away, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. My limbs felt heavy, my eyelids drooping as I struggled to stay awake.

Seungmin must have noticed my tiredness, because he gently tucked me into his side, his arm wrapped around me protectively. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

I wanted to do something for him, to return the favor and make him feel as good as he had made me feel. 

I reached out, my hand finding his hardness through his pants. I could feel his sharp intake of breath as I began to stroke him, my movements slow and deliberate.

Seungmin let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the couch cushions. I could see the pleasure in his eyes, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke. I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to give him this pleasure.

But Seungmin's hand stopped mine, his eyes meeting mine with a soft smile. "No, not tonight baby," he said, his voice gentle. "Tonight was about you, about making you feel good."

The pet name “baby” felt so good to hear in my head and I wanted to argue, to protest that I wanted to give him just as much pleasure as he had given me, but the warmth of Seungmin's embrace and the gentle reassurance in his eyes silenced any protest. He held me close, his touch soothing as I nestled against him, feeling safe and cherished.

The room felt cocooned in intimacy, the air thick with the lingering echoes of our passion. I could still feel the aftershocks of my release, a pleasant tingling that ebbed into a deep sense of contentment. Seungmin's heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that lulled me toward sleep.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, his touch a gentle caress that whispered of tenderness and care. I sighed softly, my exhaustion finally catching up with me as I let myself relax completely in his arms.

"Sleep, beautiful," Seungmin murmured, his voice a soft whisper against my hair. "I'll be right here."

With his comforting words, I closed my eyes, allowing sleep to claim me. Wrapped in Seungmin's embrace, I drifted into dreams filled with the warmth of his love and the promise of tomorrow.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as I woke up. Memories of last night flooded back to me, the warmth of Seungmin's touch still all over my body, and the way he guided me through everything brought heat back to my cheeks.

I felt so happy, but a little upset that I couldn’t do more for him.

The sound of my bedroom door opening abruptly pulled me out of my reverie. It was my mother, her expression a mixture of concern and disapproval.

"Good morning," I greeted tentatively, sensing the tension in the air.

My mother's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room, her gaze landing on the disheveled bed and my tousled hair. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

I glanced at the clock and winced. "Um, sorry, I lost track of time."

She sighed heavily, folding her arms across her chest. "I understand, but you can't keep disappearing like this. Joon is trying to connect with you, and you're barely giving him a chance."

I felt a surge of irritation at her words. "I can't keep relationships? Maybe I learned that from you."

My mother's face hardened at the accusation, her lips pursed tightly. "This isn't about me, it's about your future. You need to start thinking about your responsibilities."

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I'm trying, okay? But it’s kind’ve hard to think of my future when we’re constantly moving around, how can I keep relationships, mom?”

My mother's expression hardened further at my retort, her brows furrowing in displeasure. "Moving around is no excuse. Plenty of people manage to maintain relationships despite changes."

I stood up from the bed, suddenly feeling defensive. "Maybe if you'd consider staying put for once, I wouldn't feel like every connection I make is temporary."

Her eyes flashed with hurt, but she quickly composed herself. "Life isn't that simple, and sometimes we have to make sacrifices for our future."

I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of frustration and resentment building inside me. "What about my future? What about what I want?"

"You're still young," she replied sharply. "You need stability, discipline. I’m trying to provide that for you."

"Yeah, by dragging us from city to city every few years!" I shot back, my voice rising. "I can't even have a stable friendship, let alone a relationship!"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You need to learn to adapt."

I shook my head, feeling tears of frustration welling up. "Adapt? How am I supposed to adapt when I don't even know where we'll be next year?"

"We're doing what's best for us," she insisted, her tone firm. "You need to think beyond your immediate desires."

I took a step closer to her, my voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe I wouldn't need to cling to every fleeting moment of happiness if I felt like I had some stability."

Her expression softened slightly, a flicker of regret passing through her eyes.

I turned away, blinking back tears. "I just want to feel like I belong somewhere."

She reached out tentatively, but I pulled away, needing space to breathe. The weight of our argument hung heavy in the air, words left unsaid but emotions raw and exposed.

After a moment of tense silence, she spoke again, her voice softer now. "I know you're upset, but I promise I’m trying to set roots."

I turned back to face her, my anger fading into resignation. "I know."

Her gaze softened, a trace of maternal concern in her eyes. "Give Joon a chance. He cares about you, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

I nodded, feeling drained by the emotional turmoil of our conversation. "I'll try."

She turned and slowly closed my door, leaving me to be alone as I wiped away the tears from my eyes.

There was only one place I wanted to be right now, back in Seungmin’s arms, where I felt understood and cared for, or back in the nursery, surrounded by Yun and Seungmin, where everything felt simpler and more comforting.

As I sat alone in my room, the weight of the morning's argument still heavy on my heart, I couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds. On one hand, there was Seungmin, whose presence brought me comfort and a sense of belonging I rarely felt elsewhere. On the other hand, there was Joon, my mother's choice for stability and a future she deemed secure.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions. The memory of Seungmin's touch lingered, a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool, calculated words of my mother. I wanted stability, yes, but not at the cost of sacrificing every connection that meant something to me.

I felt a strong urge to hear Seungmin’s voice, I needed to hear him, I missed him so much. I feel like he’s the only thing that would cheer me up at a time like this.

I picked up my phone, fingers trembling slightly as I scrolled through the contacts until I found Seungmin's name. With a deep breath, I pressed the call button, hoping beyond hope that he would answer.

The phone rang once, twice, and just as I feared he might not pick up, I heard his voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"Seungmin," I breathed out, relief flooding through me at the sound of his voice. "It's me."

There was a pause, then a soft, comforting reply. "Hey... Are you okay?"

Tears welled up again, my voice wavering as I struggled to keep it steady. "Not really. I just... I needed to hear your voice."

"I'm here," he reassured me gently. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

His words were like a lifeline, grounding me in the midst of turmoil. "I miss you," I admitted quietly, feeling a rush of vulnerability.

"I miss you too," Seungmin replied softly. "I’m not home but, do you want me to come?"

The thought of him being here, of his comforting presence, was exactly what I needed. "Yes, please."

"I'll be there soon," he promised, before hanging up the phone.

I clutched my phone tightly, the reassurance of Seungmin’s promise echoing in my mind. The weight of the morning’s argument felt a bit lighter now, replaced with the anticipation of seeing him again. I knew I needed to pull myself together before he arrived.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked to the bathroom connected to my room. Splashing cold water on my face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, it was clear I had been crying. I took a few moments to compose myself, running my fingers through my hair and tidying up my appearance as best as I could.

The moment I stepped back into my room, I heard two soft knocks at my door.

Opening the door, I was met with his concerned gaze. He looked as if he had rushed over, slightly out of breath, but his eyes softened as they met mine.

"Hi," he said gently, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, but the tears threatened to spill again. "Better now that you're here."

He pulled me into a tight embrace, and I clung to him, feeling the tension melt away. "I'm here," he murmured into my hair. "I've got you."

For a few moments, we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in the shared silence. Finally, he pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, nodding. "It's just... my mom and I argued. She doesn't understand how hard it is to lose your dad and then all of a sudden never have a place to call home again, and she thinks dating a bunch of guys will somehow fix our problems."

Seungmin's expression softened with understanding as he listened. He guided me over to the edge of the bed, where we sat down together, he scanned my face and wiped away the stray tears. 

“What if… she’s really in love with Joon?” I said, my voice shaky, “What does that mean for us..?” 

Fear was in my eyes as I scanned his face, as he was thinking of how to respond.

Seungmin held my gaze for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought as he considered my question. He reached out, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last remnants of tears.

"I don't know what it means for us," he began softly, his voice carrying a mix of concern and reassurance. "But I do know that whatever happens between your mom and my dad, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I like you a lot, and I want to be here for you, no matter what."

His words eased some of the fear tightening my chest. I leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his presence. "I'm scared," I admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable.

"I understand," Seungmin replied, his voice tender. “But I’m not giving you up, that’s not an option I’d ever consider.”

I placed a soft kiss on his lips  He smiled, and I knew everything was going to be alright.

[vessels-two-front-teeth]

In The Low Light- Chapter 2

Photo credit and source unknown

Notes: tumblr is fucking testing my patience with this. This will be about the 6th time I’ve tried to make this post, so if the formatting is weird I am going to break something. Quality control by @365granitegirlx thank you Professor Wolfie, you’re a saint and a lifesaver. Anywhoozle, this one has me allllll up in my feels. Enjoy!

Masterlist (please read first)

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Tags/warnings/etc: Biker!IV x Fem!OC, disordered eating habits but you have to squint, smoking, aggressive words of affirmation, sweet sugary fluff that’ll make you diabetic

Word count: 2368

Summary: IV takes some time over the week to show Sadie that she can trust him, he drives her home from work, and he asks her on a date.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The following day I found myself replaying the interactions with Mr. Numerals. He was clearly no stranger to dangerous situations and was not to be toyed with. He was about to offer to walk me home or something. Why was he so concerned with my safety? And my biggest question: why was he being so kind to me? He was obviously wanting to get something out of this for himself, but I was lost as to what. He didn’t act like a starving animal drooling over a piece of meat. He said it himself, he may be a criminal, but he isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s just genuinely being nice for the sake of being nice… I’m pulled from my conflicted thoughts by the sound of a customer obnoxiously clearing their throat at the pharmacy counter. I spend entirely too much time explaining to the senior gentleman that he didn’t have any refills left. When he finally leaves with a dramatic huff of frustration and a few colourful metaphors, I tell the pharmacist that I’m going on a smoke break. I take my name tag off, grab my cigarettes and lighter, and head for the front doors.

As I walk along the side of the building, my gaze focuses on the sight of a familiar looking motorcycle, the rider leaning against the seat. He’s wearing the exact same thing as yesterday—helmet on, the visor pulled down. In his hands is a cheap flip phone, and his fingers move deftly across the buttons. I bring my cigarette to my mouth and light it, inhaling deeply before speaking. “I thought I told you not to follow me.” I blow the smoke from my lungs and shiver as a cold breeze blows across the parking lot.

His obstructed face turns towards me and he reaches up to pull off his helmet. Underneath is the same mask as yesterday. “I’m not following you. I swear I had no idea you worked here.” Surprise colours his voice, and his eyes reflect this. I almost believe him.

“Mmhmm…” I walk to the wall of the building and lean against it, taking another drag off my smoke. My eyes catch on his, and I hold his gaze for a few seconds. “I’d tell you I believe you, but I’d be lying.”

He chuckles slightly and breaks eye contact first. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, however I am being honest. I’m here to make a business deal. I didn’t know you worked here.” He brings his eyes back up to mine, and I see no deception in them.

I struggle to find something to say, and before I can, my stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear it, even from several feet away. I wrap my arms around myself as another icy breeze hits my skin.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Before I can answer, he turns to the back of his bike, opens a large compartment, and begins searching through it. He seems to find what he’s looking for and turns, walking closer until he’s in front of me. He holds his hand out, one of those high calorie protein bars in his palm, though it’s a brand I don’t recognize.

“I’ll be fine.” I shake my head no at him. My stomach growls again in protest.

“Please, I insist.” He pushes his hand even closer. “You need to eat.”

I sigh, reaching out and taking the bar from his grasp, a small smile playing at the edges of my mouth. “Thank you.” I rip open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s chocolate and some kind of dried fruit. It’s absolutely delicious. My eyes shut of their own accord as I enjoy the taste. “Oh my god…”

I hear a deep chuckle from him and feel a flush in my cheeks. I open my eyes and find him watching me, his eyes crinkled at the edges from the unseen smile on his face. I pull my eyes away and look at my feet, the warmth in my face burning even hotter now. I take another bite.

I hear a faint buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Unfortunately, I need to cut this short. Enjoy the last few bites, princess.” He gives me a small nod, and turns back to his bike. He picks up his helmet, but turns to look at me before he puts it on. “I like it when you smile. Your whole face lights up. It’s a beautiful sight.” With that he pushes the helmet over his head, settles into the seat, and the engine roars to life. He backs out of the parking spot, and drives away leaving me reeling from his compliment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day happens much the same. Only this time when I walk outside, his helmet is off and in his hands are a to-go cup from the coffee shop across the lot and another protein bar. He hands me both when I get close enough, our fingers brushing for a second before he pulls away.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got peppermint tea with a little bit of honey. And another one of those bars.” His voice is soft, with a touch of uncertainty. His eyes avoid mine, and his fingers twitch.

He’s so charming. This thought flies through my mind, catching me off guard. “Uhm- Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything.” My voice is hushed. “It’s too kind of you.” I step away, moving to stand against the building. A harsh cold wind blows over the parking lot, and I hold the cup close to my chest to absorb the warmth. I shiver hard and my teeth chatter together.

“Actually,” he rummages through the compartment on the back of the bike again, this time pulling out a small throw blanket. “I think I did. I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, and a hot drink.” He shakes out the blanket and walks toward me. He stops directly in front of me, and holds the blanket out with an expectant look in his eyes. “May I?” I hesitate for a second before timidly nodding and pulling away from the cold wall behind me. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders, pulling the corners across my chest and I tuck them under my arms. His fingers land on my shoulders and trace down my arms lightly, and I glance up to find his eyes on me.

A few moments pass before the words tumble out of my mouth. “Why are you being so kind to me? You don’t owe me anything. And besides, you said it yourself: you don’t need to clean up someone else’s mess.” I pause as I flick my gaze between his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

His hands drop from my arms and he lets out a small exasperated laugh; he shakes his head slightly and looks up at the gray sky. “Princess, I don’t want anything from you…it’s what I want for you. And that’s your safety. As for why? Well, I feel obligated to take care of you. Lastly,” he turns his eyes on mine, and I’m captivated by the intensity there. “You are a person deserving of kindness. You are not a mess that needs to be cleaned up. Do not take what I say to a couple of idiots for what I think about you. You would be sorely mistaken.” There’s a stern tone to his voice that makes me feel like a child in trouble. “Am I understood?”

I swallow heavily and nod, my eyes glued to his.

“Words, please, princess.” His eyes are still drilling into mine, and his voice borders on frustration.

“Yes, I understand.” My voice is quiet, and I can breathe again when he finally releases my gaze from his. I study my shoes, and I hear him heave a sigh.

“I should go. Keep the blanket, you need it more than I do. I’ll see you soon.” He puts his helmet on, and starts the engine, quickly pulling out of his spot and driving away. Once again, I’m left standing playing his words over in my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the rest of the week, the pattern repeats. He hands me a hot cup of tea and a protein bar, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders. We talk about nothing special for a few minutes. He never stays for long, five minutes at most. I don’t question his motives, and I accept his offerings without hesitation. He makes kind gestures to me, and we share a few touches here and there that linger for just long enough. He never pushes any further than that.

Until Friday that is. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to drive you home today. I don’t like the thought of you walking alone in the cold on such a busy street.” He’s leaning against the wall beside me this time. Today he has his own cup, and when the breeze blows just right, I’m greeted by the aroma of decadent hot chocolate.

I’m halfway through my tea, and swallow the last bite of the bar before I answer. “Sure, on one condition.” He looks at me with an odd combination of disbelief and curiosity. I hold his gaze with my own. “Tell me your name.”

He drops his eyes to the ground and laughs softly. “For now,” He looks back at me, and reaches up to his left shoulder and taps his finger on the numerals. “You can call me four. And yours?”

A small smile washes over my face. “Sadie. It’s nice to meet you IV.”

After a few more minutes of easy banter, he finishes his drink and makes for his bike, pausing and turning back to face me. “What time are you off?”

“I finish at 5:30”

He nods, and gets on his bike. “I’ll see you then.” He puts his helmet on and pulls out of the lot.

When my shift ends, I find myself filled with a strange excitement. I put on my warmer layers, and head outside to the usual spot.

He’s there waiting, an extra helmet under his arm. When I stop in front of him, he stands and flicks his visor up. “Ok, first off, you’ll have to take your hat off. It won’t fit under the helmet.” I take the woolen hat off, and stuff it into my pocket. “Now, you’ll have to tie your hair back. Or it’ll all push into your face and you won’t be able to see anything.” I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and look at him expectantly. “Perfect. This is going to feel a little tight at first, but it’s supposed to fit a bit snug. We don’t want it to come off too easily.” He places the helmet on the top of my head and gently pushes it down. Once fully on, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes holding mine. “How’s that feel?”

“Good. A bit snug, but good.” My eyes flick between his eyes. They’re so pretty. I could look into them for hours. They crinkle at the edges with a hidden smile.

“Good.” He drops a wink at me, and leans back. His deft hands reach for the chin strap, fastening it under my jaw. Lastly he reaches up and pulls my visor down, then his own. “And we are good to go. Ready?”

I nod, “ready.”

He gets on first, and I climb on behind him. He shows me where to rest my feet, and I hesitantly hold onto his sides, suddenly overtaken by shyness. He turns his head towards me. “You’ll want to hold on tight, love. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I can hear the smile in his voice. I slide my arms around his middle and lean further into him. I catch a little of his cologne, and the heady scent leaves me breathless. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my forearm for a moment.

He asks me my address, and I freeze for a moment. Anxious thoughts flit through my mind but I push them down before answering him. The engine roars to life and we pull out of the lot.

The ride is short, much shorter than it would be to walk. When we pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, I feel a little disappointed that it’s over so quickly. We climb off the bike, and he takes off my helmet for me. I can’t stop the wide grin that consumes my face, and my cheeks hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve smiled this much.

He takes his own helmet off, and his eyes have those little crinkles at the edges again, and my fingers twitch with the desire to gently brush over them. He’s so beautiful. “I’d like to take you on a proper date sometime. I hope that’s not too fast.”

My cheeks flush, and my eyes drop to the ground for a second before flicking back to his. “No, that’s not too fast. And I’d love to.” My face still hurts from the smile plastered across it.

He places a hand over his heart, closes his eyes and tilts his head back, while releasing a relieved sigh. His knees bend slightly before straightening again. “You just made me the happiest man alive, princess. How does tomorrow night, 7 pm sound? I’ll pick you up here?” He looks down at me, and his eyes are sparkling.

“That sounds perfect, I’m counting down the seconds.” He nods at this, and I take it as my cue to head inside.

As I go to walk past him, he catches my hand in his. I look at him, surprised by the prolonged presence of his skin on mine. His eyes lock onto mine, and he pulls my hand up to the mouth of his mask, pressing the hard material into my knuckles. I can hear the soft kiss behind his mask. “Goodnight, Sadie.”

My breath shudders a little, and my response comes out as a whisper. “Goodnight, IV.”

[danvy121994]

promised pt 2

authors note: hello! sorry for being so inactive but I have lots of exams wright now and I managed to this chapter just yesterday. Hope you enjoy! <3

also I’m new to the world of fan fiction writhing so if anyone can tell me how to respond in the comments it would be amazing! also thanks everyone for the support!

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: after the ceremony, you realise that you won’t be as sad as you thought you would be with the bridgerton

He couldn’t believe that in a week he would be wed to a woman he had never met, in fact he believed that if it wasn’t for that foolish pact that her mother had with her silly little friend, he would have wed sometime in his thirties, not out of love of course, he would have simply chosen the diamond of the season and marry her, it wouldn’t have been that hard since he’s a viscount, but of course his mother wasn’t really fond of his future projects even if over the course of the years his mother actually regretted the decision of marrying him of , or at least that’s what she said; but that now didn’t matter because he was in the only place in which he felt comfortable in past few weeks before the marriage, in his favorites mistress arms, on her bed, after a long night full of desire and longing, but even that couldn’t stop he’s thought on the matter, since he found out about the agreement he’s been asking around about the girl he was going to marry, her mother didn’t knew much she just told him that she was a very beautiful girl and that she was very polite and studious, but that was all she knew, and asking other gentlemen’s led him to nothing, for all he knew she lived on the country side, kind of isolated and has never interacted much with the ton, she appeared for the first time in London during her first season, in wich she got courted from a couple of gentlemen that were quickly sent away, but that was everything he knew, it wasn’t nothing of course, but still, he was marring a complete stranger.

“Come on brother! The worst that could happen its her looking like an ogre!”

needles to say that after sais comment, Colin Bridgerton got rightfully hit in the head by a flying fan, lady Danbury looked at the boy and with an offended tone replayed “ I’ve meet lady Y/S/N personally, and let me tall you, she’s a fantastic woman, she will integrate well with the family!”. Obviously out of all the people that he asked to he didn’t ask lady Danbury, of course! As soon has he got the courage of asking lady Dembury more about you, the priest informed him that the ceremony was starting and not long after the doors of the church opened, The Woman was walking arm in arm with who he supposed was her father, he was an interesting man, not handsome but not ugly, he also managed to have a look at her mother and for her age she wasn’t that displeasing, in fact she looked quite younger than his mother, maybe she was, considering that he didn’t know much about his spouse’s family either, he could only guess. As soon as she reached the altar both her and her father bowed, and since he is a gentleman he did the same, the Woman then stepped up the steps of the rostrum and positioned herself before him; she still had her veil covering her face but he could kind of see her face; and then she took it of. Anthony was pleased of the fact that at least he didn’t have to procreate and look at a hideous face for the rest of his life, in fact she was kind of pleasing to the eye, maybe even beautiful.

After the end of the ceremony he didn’t speak a single word to her, did he think she was ugly? If that was the case then maybe she was more free than she thought, she wouldn’t have to go through the whole horrible experience of having to bed with the Viscount and maybe he would only speak to her when necessary, maybe it was a good thing, she was thinking to herself whilst her mother and Lady Violet Bridgerton were speaking to one another, but that didn’t last long before she was whisked away from a pair of strong arm, when she turned, she saw a girl, a couple of years younger tha her and she was wearing the Bridgerton signature color, light blue, and beside her another girl, much shorter and with a bright yellow dress, that was quite inadequate to the occasion, after a litte bit of explaining you found out about their names, the girl in blu was named Eloise, the one in yellow Penelope Fethetington; the three of you started talking, and for once during the whole day you felt that you were in the wright place with the wright people, “ and I love her ok, but just because she was the diamond last season, now people have high expectations on me and I don’t wanna let them down” Eloise as been talking about this for about an hour, and you felt bad for her, you haven’t known her for long but could already tell how much her family didn’t understand her, from their eyes she was just a troubled girl who was looking for attention, and it couldn’t have been farther from the truth, as both you and Penelope were trying to help her speak of her emotions ,someone , who you recognised as one of the Bridgerton brothers since he was standing with the Viscount at the altar, came in the room in wich you girls were hiding, “ what are you girls doing?” Said the Bridgerton, “ our new Viscountess has to have a ball with Anthony to open the dances” he said looking at you “Of course, my apologies” you said and after bowing, you got whisked by said brother to dance in the arms of your husband.

(another) author note: Hi! I hope you are enjoying my story<3 I don’t know when I’m going to post the continue of this story, but as soon as I can i’ll start writhing again! also I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a mike schimit x reader fan fiction, maybe a one shot, let me know in the comments!

tag list: @khaylin27

[taylorsv3rsion13]

we never go out of style || c.f.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

tw: skinny dipping- being naked in an unsafe situation

words: 2.8k

synopsis : things were always rocky for conrad and you. after the whole break up, will everything be the same the year later? or will it all turn to shit.

Ever since that stupid kiss everything has been complicated.

I wore the puffy dress for Susannah. The gorgeous but heavy puffy white dress.

It wasn't super hot out, but it felt like it was with this thing weighing me down. I did try my hardest to sit still for Susannah though.

"Everything okay?" Susannah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, just warm right now." I smiled.

"Just a little longer." Susannah said before looking back at the portrait and then sighing to look at me, "Don't you just love that dress."

I sighed, "Yep, I love it."

I didn't hate it, no, I just didn't love it either.

"You excited for the volleyball tournament?"

"Yeah, I can't wait! I had a lot of time during the school year with volleyball, so I think I'll do pretty good. My only worry is Belly and Steven."

"And which charity are you representing?" Susannah asked, smiling.

"Oh um, the same one you support." I said nodding, "The homeless women's shelter."

She chuckled softly, "That's sweet of you, Y/N/N. Thank you."

I nodded before messing with my dress again.

"Now sit still, I just need to add some more of those frills." Susannah said.

I began making my water, adding in electrolytes and everything.

My shirt had a "Team Y/N" name on the back and it had purple 3/4 length sleeves. I roughly put my hair in a ponytail.

"Hey, Y/N" Conrad said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Oh hey." I said, giving him a quick smile.

"What's that?" He asked.

I looked up to him. "Drugs." I said jokingly.

"Mm delicious." He responded, laughing a little. "Feeling good about the tournament?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." I said, nodding.

"You know, if you stay ready, you won't have to get ready later."

I laughed softly because of how dumb that had sounded from him. "That was, an interesting statement."

"Yeah." He said, laughing a little as well.

I continued with my water in front of me.

"Y/N" Conrad said, yet his voice dropped to seriousness.

"Mhm?" I hummed.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Being cheesy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I looked up at him.

He sighed, "For being a jerk the other day, and pretending like I didn't remember, when I remember everything. I've been just replaying it over and over again in my head for the last couple of days."

I shook my head, "Conrad, I just don't know what you want me to say"

"I know, Y/N. It's to late, I get it. Um..."

I looked down awkwardly, not really understanding where Conrad was trying to go with this.

"Can I take you to the ball?"

I looked up at him strangely, "What?"

"I mean, I already know all the dances. It's no problem."

The doorbell rang, "Uh, I'll-I'll think about it."

As I opened the door, Taylor stood there.

"Taylor?!" I asked in surprise.

"Y/N?!"

We both hugged each other as Belly came down.

"You guys have some catching up to do." I said as I smiled.

"Y/N, don't think I didn't hear everything!" Belly called out as I walked up the stairs.

"Wait up!" Taylor called as her and Belly followed after me into my room.

Taylor put on her shirt as she asked my multiple questions and Belly answered them how she saw it.

"He was begging." Belly said.

"He was not begging" I said.

"He should be begging." Taylor said. "And this makes things so much more exciting because you get to tell him no."

I didn't answer as I looked through my phone.

Belly turned to me. "You're going to tell him no?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't have a date for the ball-"

"Okay ask Jere. It's not like you guys didn't kiss yesterday.

"You guys kissed?!" Taylor asked.

"No! It's not like that."

"Yes, it's totally like that!" Belly laughed.

Taylor was on my team, and Cameron was on Belly's team. I was pretty happy. But Cameron and Belly were a good duo, it made me more nervous.

The games started and Taylor and I went through the process.

Also with a random hand shake we had somehow made up on the spot.

"Play sharp, play smart." We both stated as we stood in our spots.

The whistle blew and the ball was thrown. The first round we had won, luck?

The second round against this team began again as I dived to get the ball with one hand.

"Nice!" I shouted as Taylor hit it over the net neatly.

Taylor fell hard on the ground as she attempted to get the ball. I ran quickly over to her.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I asked.

"No, it's just... ugh, my ankle."

"Here, let me help you." I said as I grabbed her arms.

"You okay, Taylor?" Jeremiah called out from the stands.

"Yeah, I just like twisted it."

Taylor turned over to Jeremiah, "Can you sub, please?" She asked, taking off her shirt and throwing it over to him.

And here, the games began again, as I stood playing next to Jeremiah.

I practiced the handshake with him and he immediately got it.

I wouldn't say he was the best at volleyball, but he wasn't the worst. Yet he was better the first couple of rounds that he did play. The more we played, the worst his game got.

I ran into his arms as he gave a good throw. "Yeah!" I shouted.

Because of that, we were able to make it to the second game.

The second game was harder. The girls took it much more seriously than the guys we played against before.

Jeremiah had missed the ball as it went under his arms.

One round, the ball didn't even go over the net and he was flung into it.

I grew a little more frustrated as each round happened. I had to win.

"Okay, don't look at me, watch the ball." I stated.

"You got it." He said as he looked at me and the ball passed right by his face.

"Jere focus!" I yelled.

The score was now 10 to 2. And I wish I could say that we were 10.

I sighed as I looked at the score board. Now 17 to 7. "Ref can we get a time out." I said as the whistle blew.

I looked over, seeing Conrad staring straight at me from the side lines.

"I'm so sorry, Jeremiah, but I have to win this, okay?"

"Yeah, I get it." he said.

"Conrad, can you sub in." I asked.

Jeremiah took off the shirt, tossing it over to Conrad.

"Where do you want me?" Conrad asked.

"The start up." I said.

"All right, let's do this." He patted a hand on my back.

I definitely made the right move. Conrad knew how important this was for me and he definitely helped. I should've picked him as my volleyball partner all along, I justt forgot how could he was.

I smiled and laughed with Conrad as the ball was just inches away from being out when he threw it over. He ran to me and hugged me, lifting me off the ground a little.

The semi finals were hard. We were going up against Cam and Belly. I did a quick handshake with Conrad before getting in the zone. It was a close match. Closer than all the rest that happened today, but Conrad and I still beat them.

It was now left to us versus Shayla and Steven.

The game went back and forth as our scores were always almost tied.

"That was it. You got it." Conrad said as we stood in the middle of the court, doing our small handshake.

I hit the ball and watched as Shayla and Steven were too far, not being able to run after it. It fell to the ground on their side.

"Oh!" Conrad exclaimed as we both started jumping up and down in excitement.

He hugged me and now fully lifted me off the floor as we celebrated our win.

Susannah had made it to the mic quicker than I anticipated as she shouted, "And the winners are Y/N L/N and Conrad Fisher!"

"Nice game." I said to Shayla and Steven as they congratulated us.

Susannah came running at us with the large trophy, giving me a hug.

"You guys were amazing." She said, "Oh, you two make such a great team. Did you ask her yet?"

"Ask me what?" I asked.

"To be your escort." Susannah said, smiling. "I told him he had to ask you, since, you know, you haven't decided yet."

"Congratulations!" Laurel said as she hugged Conrad and I.

I avoided making eye contact with Conrad. He was forced into asking me to be my escort. He didn't want to.

"Nice ankle." I said laughing as I pushed Taylor lightly into Belly.

"Hey, Y/N." I heard Nicole say from behind me.

"Oh, hi Nicole." I said.

"Um, so my dad's boat just came up from Anguilla and I was wondering if you'd like to come and have some pizza and a rosé in a few hours? It's just something fun to end the day. And you all are welcome to come." Nicole said as she motioned to Belly and Taylor besides me.

"Will Kayla be there?" Taylor asked.

"You mean Shayla, and no, she has plans with Liam and everyone." Nicole said.

"Oh yeah, we'll be there." Taylor said, giving her a smile.

"See you later, Nicole!" I said as Belly dragged me with her and Taylor.

We walked n the dock. Taylor wearing a blue cropped tank top with jean shorts and two fishtail braids, Belly wearing her hair curled, with a bright pink top and blue jean shorts, and I was wearing a black and white tube top with a pair of low waisted jean shorts.

The girls were talking about boy drama and school stuff as I walked besides them. On a large boat stood 4 girls and one in a red crew neck.

"Girls."

"What?" They both asked before their eyes lay on the large boat.

"Y/N!" Nicole yelled as she waved from on top of the boat.

"Fuck me." Taylor said as Belly said, "Oh my god."

We did many things before the sunset, but once it got dark, we started saying truths and putting a finger down each time we had done something.

Belly had most of her fingers still up, and I had most of mine as well, not budging for most of them.

"Put a finger down if you've ever made out with Jeremiah Fisher." Taylor said, smirking at me.

I rolled my eyes as I put down one of my fingers.

The girls gasped as Gigi acted as if her heart was just shot.

"Wow, I'm sorry Gigi." I laughed.

"No it's fine, take my man." She said as she laughed as well.

"It wasn't anything. I didn't even mean for it to happen, nor did I really want it."

"I always thought there was something going on with you and Conrad, I guess I had the wrong brother though." Nicole said.

I hummed a 'mhm' to her, not really knowing what to say.

"Put a finger down if you've ever gone skinny-dipping at Hopper's Cove." Nicole said.

"Is that a dare?" Taylor asked.

"Oh absolutely." Nicole responded.

Taylor, Belly, and I were the first to hop in as we all splashed each other with the cold water. Yeah, it was kind of awkward just being naked, but it also felt freeing.

"Hey! Watch out for Jellyfish, I don't want to have to pee on any of you guys." Gigi exclaimed as she ran down the dock.

"The other two girls are missing out." Taylor said as she laughed.

Nicole agreed, "Yeah I was expecting them to come as well.

"Nicole." Gigi called out.

"Yeah?" Nicole asked.

"Conrad's texting you."

"Okay, coming." Nicole said as she swam over.

"I actually like them." Taylor said from beside us, which made us laugh.

The lights of the cars shown brightly before us.

"I knew they were bitches." Taylor spat.

"What's happening." Belly asked.

"Fuck." I mumbled as I swam closer to the dock.

Taylor got to the dock before I could.

"They took everything." She said. "Except for Y/N's phone, which has a really incriminating text from Connie..."

"Wait what? What does it say?" I asked as I swam right beside Taylor.

"My mom did ask me to ask you to the ball, but that's not why I did it. I did it because I wanted to." Taylor read out.

"Oh my god." Belly and I both said in unison.

Belly and Taylor both began questioning what to do, trying to make the best out of the situation which only made me laugh.

"We can not walk home naked." Belly said.

"What about that?" I asked, pointing to a boat cover.

I could see Taylor tense up from beside me.

"No." She whined.

We began our walk home, draped in a boat covering. It was cold, and we smelled like a boat, which didn't make anything any better.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." I said. Taylor seemed to understand.

"Pick Jeremiah duh." She said from beside me.

"But, Susannah told me to give people second chances. We didn't know anything when we first dated. It's different now." I said.

"Y/N, I'll support you, I just don't want you to get hurt." Belly said from beside me.

"I still think about when Conrad and I were still dating. How safe he made me feel." I said.

"But Jeremiah is head over heels for you." Taylor said from beside me.

"Okay? What If I don't know if I like him." I stated, puffing out a sigh.

I don't know when, or how, but we had somehow gave up on walking home as we just prayed and sat on the curb.

Two bright car lights came and all of us sighed.

"God, they're going to lecture us." I mumbled.

"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?" Jeremiah asked.

"What are you doing here." Taylor said, venom lacing her voice as she looked at Conrad.

"Nicole... she had told me um..." He motioned to the covering on us.

"I hope you told her to watch her back." Taylor said.

Conrad nodded as we took the plastic bag of our clothes.

We walked to the lights of the cars as we told them to hold the covering up as we began to redress ourselves.

"Are you going with Jeremiah or Conrad?" Belly asked me.

"I don't know. I guess, Conrad." Was all I could say.

"Crazy night." Conrad said as I hopped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Yeah, it didn't have to be though." I said, staring at him, "Quit playing these stupid games with me. I don't know if you want me or not, but I want a clear answer."

He didn't say anything has he drove.

"I'm sorry, but I've made my decision, and I'm asking Jeremiah to be my escort." I said.

Conrad's emotion didn't change much, but I could see the way his hand grew tenser on the wheel and how his other hand was stiff around the gear shift.

I didn't want the drama. And if I brought Conrad as my escort, there would be more drama than I needed.

That night, I slept in Belly's room, having a sleepover with Taylor and her.

I scrolled endlessly on my phone, not being able to fall asleep.

And of course, Conrad just had to text me.

"U up?" was all he asked.

I sighed as I got up quietly from the bed, walking out of the room without waking any of the girls up.

I walked out onto the dock, seeing Conrad's figure.

"Hey." was all he said, his voice deep and raspy.

"What the hell do you want from me? You're so fucking confusing Conrad! I can't figure out what you want or what you don't want. I don't want to deal with your stupid goddamn texts either. Everything bad happens when you text me." I yelled at him.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I really am. I feel like I keep doing the wrong things when it's about you." He stumbled over a few of his words before digging into his pocket.

"This is yours. Uh, you don't have to keep it or anything. I just..."

I took out the moon necklace. Which wasn't even mine. It fit him. It was him. I was the sun, he was the moon. I was a hot headed girl and he knew how to calm me down.

"What?" I asked.

"I just..." He moved closer to me. "I just don't want to lose you."

Conrad's hand was touching my arm, and we were inches apart again.

"I've given you chances. I just don't know what to do anymore, Connie." I said.

He nodded.

I didn't have much to say anymore. I left him on the dock. I didn't want to deal with him.

I was the sun, and Conrad was the moon. We were two very different people.

[coeluvr]

I replayed your game yesterday because of the short stories and I can't take this question out of my head, in chapter 2 if MC decides to stay with Helios in the festival what did Vincent think of that? since he was the only one who knew that the random kid who joined them was MC in disguise

God, this is from September of last year so yeah it took me a while lol. Anon, if you're still here thank you for still being here LOL.

I don't think he was overly upset or anything like that because I think at that point Vincent doesn't really see MC as the enemy anymore. 🤔 At that point in time, Vincent is already quite similar to the Vincent in chapter 3 and forward rather than the kid MC met when they first arrived.

I'd say he most likely kept an eye on Helios just to make sure nothing happened, it was probably odd to him that MC approached Helios when before that scene they're quite distant with each other and almost never interact... which probably makes him think MC likely has an ulterior motive which makes him more wary... 😓 weird cycle with this guy.

But yeah short story: he thought it was odd.

[silhouetteonpaper]

DERIVED FROM POWER | CH. 4

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

WC: 2828

Warnings: None

CHAPTER FOUR

Y/N dragged her feet as Natasha guided her back up to the floor she attempted to flee from, her arm around the young girl’s shoulder as a comforting gesture, as well as a precaution in case she decided to run. The team knew she could use simple aspects of her abilities, so they stayed on their toes just in case she chose to. But at the end of the day, Y/N truly seemed like a sweet girl who wanted to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, that was the thing following her constantly.

The feeling of Natasha’s arm around her made Y/N’s expression soften, her parents having never used physical touch as a way to show support or love. They only used it when posing as a ‘perfect family’ for the photos, Y/N getting side hugged between her parents while the cameras flashed.

Tony stayed close to the pair as he walked briskly in front of them to his own room, ready to get back to sleep. Y/N rolled her eyes once he shut his bedroom door, knowing he cared more about the money this position offered than the actual human he was protecting. Still, Tony would do all he could to make sure she was safe, just not with a consistent smile on his face.

Peter split ways with the group to go into his own room as well, offering a soft wave as he opened a door farther down the hall and disappeared inside. Y/N smiled back at him, forcing herself to swallow the joy that she felt when thinking about what he said. It was probably one of the nicest things she’d ever heard, so she let herself replay it over and over.

Natasha wasn’t completely in the mood for her smiley demeanor though, softly pushing her toward her bed once they reached Y/N’s room. “Can I trust you to stay in here for the rest of the night?” She asked scoldingly. At that moment Y/N’s exhaustion became more overwhelming, a yawn preventing her from speaking as she nodded and sat down on her bed. Natasha laughed, pausing before walking out of the room. “I know today was a lot, but we can deal with everything tomorrow. Just get some rest. Goodnight.” She spoke with a warm smile as the door softly closed. It didn’t take long for the girl to get comfortable under the gray comforter, Natasha’s words repeating in her head. Deal with it tomorrow. Soon, Y/N fell fast asleep as the chaos from the day turned to yesterday’s events.

The large window allowed the bright sun to illuminate the room, a strong ray finding its way to Y/N’s face. The girl blinked her eyes open slowly, squinting as the blinding light filled her vision. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face as she began to remember where she was. Her feet still hurt from running in her heels last night, and her arm was a bit sore from the wound. Otherwise, she felt physically fine.

Mentally, though, Y/N felt terrible. Like she was a sitting duck just waiting to get shot, letting the other ducks around her take the fall too. Not to compare superheroes to ducks, but the metaphor still stands. Her parents left her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the next people who are supposed to protect her do as well.

The girl's worries were quickly interrupted by soft voices coming from down the hall. She crept out of bed, freshening up in the bathroom before going to investigate. To her surprise, she was greeted by a bunch of smiling faces in the kitchen. All of the Avengers were awake, and sharing nods, good mornings, and waves to the young girl that walked tiredly to join them. There were some new faces though, ones Y/N couldn’t quite recognize as she was still waking up.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m Wanda.” A strawberry blonde woman spoke. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Y/N smiled, now bringing herself back to full consciousness as she extended her hand for Wanda to shake.

“Nice to meet you too.” Y/N told her, waiting for Wanda to shake her hand. She simply laughed, quickly covering her mouth to see that the girl was serious about the formal introduction.

“I know you’re the senator's kid, but you don’t have to do that here. We’re not fancy like that.” Wanda explained. Y/N cringed slightly out of embarrassment, dropping her hand and quickly tucking her hair behind her ear to break the awkward gesture. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen Tony slip on a wet floor, it’s ten times more memorable and laughable.” Wanda told the girl, hoping to bring her some reassurance.

Y/N laughed, imagining the billionaire ignoring a wet floor sign out of carelessness and slipping onto his back. The two both shared the joke, Natasha nudging Steve’s arm and nodding toward Y/N, noticing how big she was smiling. It was a relief to the pair that the young girl was able to joke with a smile on her face, maybe she would soon start fitting in and become more open to the idea of staying.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Natasha strutted over once the conversation with Wanda met a pause. Right on her heels was a blonde girl who Y/N had yet to meet. “Oh, this is my sister Yelena. Yelena, this is Y/N.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows, a smirk forming as she spoke. “Ah, so you’re the girl we’ve been obsessed with. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Yelena voices, earning an elbow to the side from Natasha. Y/N was surprised to hear the accent lacing her words, too entertained to be offended. “Ow! I was kidding!” The blonde exclaims.

“Excuse my sister, her and Wanda just got back from a long, tiring mission.” She shot a glare at Yelena, who put her hands up in fake defense. “How’d you sleep, Y/N?” Natasha asked after her sisterly fighting concluded. The girl shrugged.

“As good as I could have for a girl that just learned her closest ancestor is a rock.” She joked. The three women laughed, understanding the whole ‘superpower’ thing was an incredibly confusing topic to be entangled with. But the Avengers as a whole were glad to see that Y/N was slowly opening up more, and seemingly comfortable with joking around about her newfound abilities.

Y/N herself still lacked trust, but for now seemed to go along with what the team was saying as she got to know them better. After all, she had known Steve since she was two, he was just doing his job with a different outfit on… and different persona. She was sad to see that the man she grew close with as a security personal was not who she thought he was, but this side of him was almost even better. She could see him interact with the Avengers as a team, not as a discreet employee under her parents.

“If you’re going to sneak out, at least try to be more discreet.” A figure stood in Y/N’s bedroom doorway, the young girl crawling out of her window. She sighed, seeing Johnson—the security guard—catching her in the act. She just wanted to hang out at a friend’s house like a normal teenager, but knew her parents would object. As she began to climb back inside, the security guard spoke again.

“If you promise to text at the smallest, tiniest, sign of danger, then my lips are sealed.” He smiled. Y/N grinned, her heart soaring at the idea of finally getting to be a normal teenager, this time with permission… kind of. She thanked Johnson before exiting the window and sliding down to the ground, the man helping close the window behind her.

“Looks like someone’s still a bit tired today. Hello? Y/N?” Steve waved his hand in front of the young girl who was staring blankly at the counter. She shook her head, coming back to the present moment. She got lost in the memory, leaving the real world as her mind re-lived the past experience.

“Sorry, what?” Y/N apologized, now bringing her attention to the group. Steve chuckled.

“We were wondering if you wanted to train with us today, maybe learn about your abilities more? Might as well since you’ll be stuck here for a while.” He offered. The group nodded with him, their eyes fixed on Y/N curious for her answer. The young girl bit her lip, unsure if it was a good idea. The thought of training with professional agents made her stomach twist, she knew she had no skill compared to them.

“Can I watch for today? Get an idea of how you guys train? I’d feel more comfortable joining in after observing.” She asked, wanting to gauge exactly how these superheroes trained to fight. Most of the fighting she saw from the Avengers was on the news, where they’d take down buildings full of enemies or attack weird looking creatures. She was curious how someone prepares for those things, especially people with superpowers.

“Of course, that’s a great idea. You can sit on the side and watch today. Then tomorrow, if you’re up for it, you can join us.” Steve voiced. Y/N nodded, feeling good about their plan. What the girl didn’t mention, though, is that she didn’t intend to stick around long enough to reach tomorrow. They only caught me last night because they expected it. She told herself, knowing it was worth another attempt at escaping if she did it when they weren’t prepared.

After a quick breakfast, the team gathered in a large open room—the training room. The tall ceiling was supported by a huge wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in lots of natural light. There was anything a training agent could possibly need, from racks of every weapon to targets and dummies for practice. Mats lined one side of the room to provide space for combat, and benches for resting sat up against the windows.

The Avengers were all dressed in workout gear, leaving Y/N a bit underdressed in her sweatpants and T-shirt, but she didn’t mind. She sat on a bench, focusing in as the training session began.

Steve led the group at first, eventually splitting them off with tasks to work on specific things. Clint picked up a bow, grasping a few arrows in hand as he stood a distance from the wooden target. One by one, he aimed an arrow, placing it swiftly yet gently in the center of his bow before drawing it back and letting it snap. She watched him calculate the arrows movement, choosing exactly how it would fly through the air. The young girl studied his technique closely, eventually understanding exactly how he was going to shoot the next arrow.

She moved her attention to Natasha and Steve, who were moving back and forth on the mats as they sparred. Practicing hand-to-hand combat, Natasha threw some well thought out punches as Steve attempted to block and counter attack. They took turns throwing hits and receiving blows, offering some simple to advanced moves. Y/N’s eyes flicked back and forth between the pair, her mind noting every single move they made.

After an hour and a half of watching the team train, Y/N felt a little more confident. Although she’s never had to throw a punch or shoot an arrow, she studied the Avengers’ work thoroughly enough to get a deep understanding of how they fought. Maybe, if she focused hard enough, she could be capable of fighting for herself.

Everyone was sweating and hungry after their intense workout, the group all heading to the kitchen to grab lunch. As people pulled out ingredients for various meals, Tony turned to Y/N. “After I grab something to eat, come join me in my lab. We’re going to test out your powers today.” He told the girl. 

Her eyebrows raised, surprised that they wanted to test them out so soon. But ultimately, it made sense. HYDRA wasn’t going to stop looking for her, so it would be useful to learn how to harness her powers for protection. She nodded, spreading some peanut butter on a slice of bread. She wasn’t super hungry, but didn’t want to make a fuss and not eat while everyone else was. The last thing she wanted was to draw more unwanted attention to herself.

“It was cool watching you guys train today, I’ve only seen you all in action on the news, so it’s nice to know you don’t need powers to be a badass.” Y/N expressed as she sat at the table, impressed by their hard work. She noticed how no one really used any superhuman abilities today, yet still displayed a variety of skills.

Steve nudged Clint and Natasha, chuckling. “Yeah, you don’t need powers to be cool!” He teased them. They rolled their eyes, ignoring him as they dug into their meals. Y/N shook her head with a laugh. She wondered if she could ever fight as well as they did. What if I never get the hang of my powers? She thought, the idea of having her only hope at a defense against HYDRA vanishing made her anxious. She tried to swallow her nerves as she finished her food, biding time until she met with Tony.

“Don’t touch anything.” Tony said as he led Y/N into his lab. The room was quite futuristic and modern, different robots and beeping machines scattering the room. The girl lifted her hands up defensively, pretending to be offended that Tony would think someone like her lacked respect.

He sat at a desk with a large computer screen, typing away at his keyboard without bothering to look at Y/N. She sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, continuing to look at all the busy machines and technology. “Can you hand me that file, over on the table there? Oh, but without touching it.” He asked. Y/N furrowed her brow, but then quickly realized what he was asking.

She spotted the file and focused her eyes closely on it. Soon, the file was in the air, her eyes guiding it over to Tony’s desk. He could see the slight glint of purple that appeared in her irises, refraining from pointing it out for now. Tony nodded slowly as it landed softly in front of him, Y/N now looking up and breaking her focus. “I’ve been waiting so long to see that.” He commented, having known about Y/N’s powers since she was two yet never actually seeing them. The girl laughed, agreeing it was pretty cool.

“Now I want you to set it on fire.” Tony ordered. Y/N looked up at him puzzled, was she even capable of that? She had no clue. But it seemed Tony knew of something she didn’t, some extent of power the girl held yet was unaware of. “Just try it, focus on the object and direct your energy toward it.” He assured.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath as she set her eyes on the file. Her mind honed in on the object completely, her stare intensified as the energy inside her began to build. In under fifteen seconds, the file was lit ablaze, Tony quick to dump a glass of water on it to extinguish the flames.

The young girl sat in shock after unfocusing from the now scorched file. “I hope that wasn’t an important file.” She joked awkwardly, still weirded out by this new ability. Tony chuckled, cleaning up the mess and throwing away the charred remains.

“This is only the beginning of what you can do, that’s why I encourage you to begin training as soon as possible. I understand you’re dealing with a lot at once, so whenever you’re ready. But know that you’re powerful and I want you here.” Tony spoke, his expression embellished with kindness, something the girl had yet to see in him prior. Y/N nodded, her own face softening.

“Thank you, I appreciate your help.” She responded, being genuine about her words. It was nice to know Tony, as well as the other Avengers cared about her, but she still was learning to trust. And still she repeated to herself that no matter how nice they were, no matter how much they showed their support and care, she couldn’t stay here.

Y/N was too scared of putting someone else at risk to even consider sleeping another night at the Avengers Tower. She was too worried about what, or who, might be out there. So, the next plan to escape soon formed in the front of her mind as she exited Tony’s lab.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 7: Extended Stay

WC: 4991 | R: Explicit | CH: 7/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6

*EDDIE*

For a long time after Steve fell asleep in his arms Eddie lay awake, gazing down at the other man’s face, not quite able to believe what had just happened. 

It felt like a dream, though he knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t. Even his own admittedly wild imagination couldn’t possibly have come up with such tantalizing images on its own. He had been in awe, transfixed from the moment Steve told him to take his clothes off and traced the pattern of his tattoos, first with eyes and then the soft press of fingertips, with a reverence usually reserved for works of art.

Eddie had slept with his fair share of partners, knew what it was like to be wanted—desired, but no one before now had made him feel like that—like something precious and beautiful.  

It was all so overwhelming. He’d been completely unprepared for how life changing it would be to actually feel Steve writhing under him, to hear the debauched sounds that fell from his lips, to sink inside the deepest part of his baby for the first very time.

Not his baby though, not yet. 

That was part of why he couldn't sleep. Not only because he couldn’t stop replaying the night’s events in his mind, like the way Steve so desperately tried to fuck himself harder and faster on Eddie’s fingers, though that was definitely a contributing factor, but because he knew that come morning he would have to talk—and say all the right things.

He could not fuck this up.

Because Eddie was ruined now. He would never be the same after this, and all it had taken was one night.  

When it felt like sleep might finally come for him Eddie settled his head down, closed his eyes, and thought again how it would be far too easy to fall in love with Steve Harrington. But as the exhaustion of the day finally pulled him under, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he already had. 

Eddie woke in the same position he’d fallen asleep in, flat on his back, arms wrapped around Steve who was resting on his chest. There was a stiffness in the body he held, a signal warning him that Steve was already awake, confirmed when he looked down and found a pair of soft hazel eyes staring back at him nervously from under a thick curtain of lashes. 

“Hi,” Eddie said softly. His voice thick with sleep and all the other things that were rising back up to the surface now that he was fully conscious. 

“Hi,” Steve repeated, carefully neutral.

The air between them was already tense and strained. Eddie hated it, recognizing it was all his fault and praying he’d be able to fix it. He smoothed the hair back from Steve's face and kissed his forehead, trying and failing to think of where to begin. Somehow It was all a bit scarier in the light of day.

“Steve, I’m— “ was as far as he got before the words got stuck on his tongue. Eddie cleared his throat and tried again. 

“I-I’m gonna take a quick shower.” 

Which was definitely not at all what he’d intended to say, but he needed a minute. 

Just a minute. Just to gather his thoughts and shit, that was all. He slid gently out from under Steve, squeezing his arm in a way that he hoped was comforting before fleeing to the privacy of their shared bathroom. 

He actually did feel a little gross to be fair, having run around all day yesterday in clothes from the night before, and then working up a sweat the way he did…

Fuck.

Eddie washed himself quickly, standing under the hot spray for a long time after, feeling lost for words. For someone who hardly ever shut the fuck up, he wasn’t kidding when he told Steve he didn’t know how to talk. He could bullshit with the best of them all day, but conversations about feelings weren’t exactly something he had a lot of experience with growing up—or since.

The creak of the bathroom door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He knew he’d been in there too long. Steve probably thought he was hiding, or stalling, and Eddie waited for the other man to say something—to ask if he was okay or to yell and scream—but it never came. Instead Steve quietly peeled back the curtain just enough to step into the shower and join him. 

Neither spoke as Steve crowded up behind and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist.

Like the night before they let their bodies do all the talking. Hot lips to wet skin, Steve dropped a series of open mouthed kisses from Eddie’s shoulder to his neck, pressing into him from behind, making Eddie shiver and lean back into the touch as Steve’s cock began to fill out against his ass. 

Eddie’s heart pounded as his fantasy came to life, Steve’s broad hand sliding down to grip his cock, stroking in time his own heavy breaths. The filthy wet sound of it along with Eddie’s own moans echoed loudly in the small space. 

Somehow it was even hotter than he’d imagined, and It would've been easy to come like this, but suddenly he was desperate to see Steve’s face, to taste his mouth again, and he turned drawing Steve into a deep lingering kiss. 

Steve melted into it at first, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulders and biting at his bottom lip, before his mouth slowly began to travel lower, kissing a trail down his body, licking the water from his skin as he sank down to the floor—and the sight of Steve there on his knees in the shower with Eddie’s cock down his throat was far better than any daydream. 

He wouldn’t last, Steve’s mouth felt far too good for that, but Eddie didn’t mind. He was too eager to return the favor to wait that long anyway.

It was… better—ish between them after the shower, a little easier to breathe. 

Nothing like a little more sex to break the ice, Eddie thought hysterically.

Even so, the pressure was rising for him to explain himself and he had no idea what the hell he was doing. Still dripping from the shower and wrapped only in their towels, Steve sat down on the edge of his bed, while Eddie paced the floor around him. 

It all had to start with an apology, that much was obvious, but every time he looked at Steve and tried to form the words Eddie was gripped this all consuming urge to just rip the towel from his body and see how long he could hold his breath as he choked himself on— 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep steadying breaths. 

“Sorry, this was a mistake. Can you maybe-”

A small wounded noise came from Steve’s side of the room, and Eddie immediately cursed himself and his poor choice of words. 

“Shit–fuck. No, sweetheart. I’m sorry! Oh my god I’m so bad at this,” Eddie rambled, holding his hands up in front of him. “I mean, I can’t think straight with you sitting there in only a towel. Can we just–” 

He trailed off with a sigh, finally cracking an eye open to find Steve looking both relieved and a little amused.

“You want me to put some clothes on?” Steve asked, fighting off a smirk

“Please.”

When they were both dressed and Eddie could think with his actual brain, he sat down next to Steve, held one of his hands, and hoped for the best.

“I’m sorry for the way that I acted—have been acting. It wasn’t fair to you. Not when I took off, or when I walked away from you down by the beach, and definitely not when I brought other guys home to try and distract myself from the fact that you were consuming my every fucking thought. You deserved better.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, letting Eddie's words sink in as he chewed on his thumbnail. 

“Why did you do all that, and what—what changed?”

“Apart from thinking you were straight?”

Steve nodded. 

Eddie blew out a long breath, looking down at their tangled fingers. “Fear, mostly. I don’t do this, Steve. I don’t date—if that’s even what you’re looking for out of all this.” 

Steve nodded again, squeezing Eddie’s hand encouragingly. 

“I don't trust anyone. I don’t… let people in, Wayne and Chrissy being the exceptions I guess, and I've never wanted to change that before. But now—I think—with you, I…” Eddie paused, shaking his head.

Don’t be wishy-washy about it, Munson. 

“No, I know that I want to try. I was so wrong about you before. If anyone is an asshole here, it’s me. I’ve liked getting to know the real you, and I want to keep doing that and maybe show you more of me too. That’s why I came back, to give it a chance. To see if you would give me a chance even though I don’t deserve it, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m sure I’ll fuck it all up somehow, but I-”

Steve cut him off with a kiss, murmuring a single word against his lips. 

“Yes.”

Eddie pulled back, looking from one of Steve’s eyes to the other. “Yes?”

“Yes, I'm saying yes to giving you a chance.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” Eddie exhaled, his mouth spreading into a wide grin before leaning back in for another kiss.

“Are you sure you have to work tonight?” Steve asked, watching from the bed as Eddie stood in front of the dresser, tying his hair up into a haphazard bun and slipping his rings on. 

It was one of the many things they hadn’t addressed yet, the fact that they were still on opposite schedules and how that would play into things now that they were together. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to bring it up, he was following Steve’s lead on everything since he had experience with relationships. 

Boyfriends.

It seemed like such a childish word to describe this intense thing blooming between them, but maybe that was just because Eddie’d never had one before. 

He glanced back at Steve through the mirror and admired his own handiwork, spotting the bruises that had taken form on either side of the other man’s throat. They were probably a little too old to walk around sporting visible hickeys like that, but something about lounging around making out all afternoon had made them both feel a bit like teenagers again—and judging by the sounds Steve had been making as Eddie sucked the delicate skin of his neck, he didn’t mind.

“Why, you gonna miss me or something?” Eddie teased, sauntering back over to the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve said, and it sounded like the truth. He said it like it cost him nothing to admit, and Eddie wondered if he could ever be brave like that. 

“As much as I might want to, I can’t call out again. I already bailed on a shift yesterday. Now that I'm staying I don't really want to lose this job.”

In the few moments between bouts of trying to devour each other that they did talk, Eddie had done his best to open up. Confessing what he suspected was the real reason why he moved around so much since leaving their hometown behind. Namely that anytime a place got too familiar or someone got too close, he would cut and run.

“Were you really going to leave?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d come damn close. “I felt like I had to. I was losing my mind, ready to drive eight hours straight to get to my Uncle’s place and lay low for a while.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” Eddie agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to Steve's mouth. He was becoming obsessed with the taste of him, and only for the sake of getting to work on time did he pull back, keeping it from turning into more “Any plans tonight?”

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes lit up as he practically shouted. “I can’t believe I haven't told you! You know how Robin and Chrissy are not-so-secretly in love with each other?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“I think I finally convinced Robin to ask her out on a real date. I’m supposed to watch the front desk for a few hours while they go out to dinner tonight.”

Eddie grinned, his eyes going wide. “Holy shit!” 

It was about damn time.

He couldn’t believe it was finally happening, although, the happy news made him feel even worse about the way he’d been avoiding his best friend for much of his stay so far. He’d make it up to her somehow, and if anyone could understand what he’d been going through, it was her. If they were both about to embark on new relationships they would need each other now more than ever. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “You wanted me to stick around so you don’t get bored down there by yourself.”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged, “but I still meant what I said about missing you.”

“It's nice of you to cover for them.”

“I don’t mind. They deserve a little time off, date or no date.”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

“Shut up.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but his deep blush betrayed the way Eddie’s words affected him. It was adorable that after everything they’d done in the past twenty four hours a simple compliment could cause heat to rise in his cheeks. 

 “Actually, I need to get down there soon so she can show me what I have to do. Do you think…” Steve trailed off absently, picking at a loose thread on the comforter below him. “Nevermind.”

“No.” Eddie didn’t like that one bit, didn’t want Steve to be afraid to speak his mind. “Please, what were you going to say?”

“Can I tell them about us—Robin, and Chrissy?”

Eddie fought not to squirm, It felt like the first big test. A part of him wanted to keep things just between the two of them, at least for a while, until he trusted himself more not to mess up, but he also desperately wanted Chrissy to know and he was sure Steve would die if he couldn’t tell Robin.  

And given Eddie’s recent discoveries, he was pretty sure he knew why Robin had been so pissed all the time. Maybe now she’d stop giving him the evil eye. 

“Yeah. Of course you can tell them.”

*ROBIN*

Robin was trying to stay busy, puttering around the motel lobby straightening things up and definitely not freaking out about the night ahead, or worrying about how she was going to tell Steve that she hadn’t exactly gone through with their plan. 

Her and Chrissy were still going out to dinner and all, but Robin may have, possibly, on purpose, neglected to actually call it a date. 

She was also still fuming about Eddie and whatever he’d done to make her best friend look so sad and dejected last night. The whole thing was getting ridiculous honestly. If that little son of a bitch hadn’t run away because he was jealous that Steve had a date with someone else—she’d eat something gross. 

The fucking nerve he had to pull this shit after Steve had been so clearly pining after him, after he’d endured several of Eddie’s own hookups without complaint—and just when Steve was trying to get over him.

 She wasn’t sure what kind of game Eddie was playing here but she didn’t think she could let it go this time, no matter what Steve or Chrissy said. 

God—this had all been such a colossally bad idea. Lying to both of them, forcing them to room together. Robin felt terrible for her part in it, and the pain it'd caused her best friend. If only she’d just told Steve the truth when it all started going south, or better yet not gone through with this stupid scheme from the beginning, it would have saved him so much hurt feelings. 

The bell above the door dinged, interrupting Robin from her spiraling thoughts and she looked up to see Steve entering the lobby. 

He grinned when he saw her and it went all the way up to his eyes. It was a complete one-eighty from last night—he radiated happiness in a way she hadn’t seen in literal years. He was practically fucking glowing.

What could have possibly happened to change things so much in the few hours since she saw him last? 

Then she spotted it, a hickey—several hickies just barely peeking out from the neck of his favorite baby blue polo shirt.

Robin crossed the room in a rush, eyes narrowing as she yanked his collar down for a closer look. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, readjusting his shirt. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

If possible his smile got even wider with the admission.

“Gross,” she groaned.

Steve scoffed. “Just cause you don’t like men.”

Robin rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, even if she had no idea how this new development had come to pass, but she had to ask anyway. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve replied, with the nerve to sound all wistful like a fisherman’s wife waiting for her husband to return from sea. 

“Do I even want to know?”

As much as she wanted to know how he and Eddie had gotten from point A to point B, she could happily live the rest of her life without the more sordid details—assuming there were sordid details. 

Steve took a deep breath as if preparing to launch into a long explanation, then appeared to decide better of it. “No, probably not.”

Right.

She hated to be the one to rain on his parade when he looked so bright, but it was unfortunately part of her job according to the best friend code. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Steve looked away, smile slipping for the first time. 

“I can’t be sure about anything, Robs, but I have to give this a shot.” He sighed, shaking his head before meeting her eyes again. “I mean, c’mon. You said it yourself, how long have I been into the guy?”

Robin snorted. She couldn’t help herself. “So we’re just freely admitting that now?”

Steve glared, dragging his feet over to one of the cushioned wicker benches that sat along the sides of the lobby and plopped down.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Listen, I like Eddie—most of the time—and if you’re happy, then I'm happy for you. He’s fun to be around, and it’s sweet the way he’s always been there for Chrissy. I know deep down he’s a good guy–”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

Robin sank into the seat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I hate the way he’s treated you.”

“Not exactly a fan of it myself,” Steve grumbled, “but he–he owned up to it, and apologized.”

“I’m just worried. Clearly he’s got some… issues, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Steve leaned in, bumping their shoulders together. “I don’t really want to see me get hurt either, but I'm willing to take that risk. I think he might be worth it.”

Oh no. Steve had that twinkle in his eyes—she knew that tone. 

“Shit, you are in so deep already aren't you?”

If the way he would no longer meet her eye was any indication, she was dead on.

Steve cleared his throat loudly, ignoring the question. “Don’t you have a date to get to?”

Robin bared her teeth in a grimace. “About that—“

“You didn’t ask her?”

“No, I did! Sort of. We’re still going out, but only as friends.”

“Wait, did she say she didn’t want it to be a date? Or did you chicken out at the last minute and not call it a date.”

“Might as well call me Henrietta—I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Robin, you have to tell her!”

Any chance of defending herself was lost as the door chimed again and Chrissy came walking through it, looking absolutely gorgeous in a bright yellow sundress, white strappy sandals, and her hair tied up in a high bouncy ponytail. 

And fuck was Robin was a sucker for a bouncy ponytail.

Chrissy always looked stunning, whether she was dressed up with a full face of makeup, or flushed and sweaty, fresh from the gym, but sometimes, like right now, her beauty stole all the air from Robin’s lungs.

She stood there gawking for a moment before Steve elbowed her, then quickly snapped her mouth shut and tried to remember how to be a functioning member of the human race. Everything was fine, she was cool, totally not about to spontaneously combust at all.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy greeted them both, but her piercing blue eyes were trained on Robin. “Are you ready to go or do we still need to give Steve the lay of the land?”

“We were… just getting to that. Do you want to take him to your office and show him the books and the phone?” 

Chrissy nodded, pulling Steve up by his wrist and pulling him along behind her around the back of the counter, and threw Robin a wink over her shoulder when he wasn’t looking.

This was another one of the many things Robin had been stressing about for tonight. Even if it were to somehow miraculously work out between Steve and Eddie, she really didn’t want him to find out she’d set him up. It was Chrissy’s idea to fill the books with fake names to help cover for the fact that the motel was barely half full tonight. She didn’t know how closely Steve might look at things, and they could get away with having a few rooms open, most guests wouldn’t have been staying the whole summer like the boys were anyway, but too many obvious vacancies and the whole ruse would fall apart.

Chrissy assured her it would be fine, seemingly overjoyed at the chance to get out for a night. Steve wouldn’t even need to be in there that long, they only kept the office open till about nine or ten at the latest, anyway, leaving a sign on the door after closing with their own room’s phone number in case of emergencies. 

After only a few minutes Chrissy and Steve reappeared—and the asshole proceeded to walk them to the door like an overprotective father. Robin glared, daring him to say something embarrassing. He didn’t, thankfully, but he did catch her eye through the window as she followed Chrissy down the street and mouthed the words, “Be brave.” 

It was sweet. 

She smiled and flipped him off.

“So, where are we headed, Tide’s?” Chrissy linked their arms together as they headed towards the middle of town.

Robin's skin broke out in goosebumps at the touch. “That was the plan. Not sure if it’s a good idea anymore, considering.”

Chrissy squealed, feet dancing along the pavement excitedly. “I know, isn’t it great! Steve told me when I was showing him how to use the phone. I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Robin agreed halfheartedly. 

What else could she say?

“He said Eddie was working tonight too! Can we go there, Robin? Please? I’m dying to see his face.” 

Chrissy made a big show out of batting her eyes, a little trick she’d picked up from Eddie that seemed destined to send Robin into cardiac arrest—as if Robin wasn’t already powerless to deny her anything. 

It was just as well. At least now she could get her shovel talk out of the way nice and early. 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

As soon as they walked in the door Robin eyes landed on Eddie, standing behind the bar. He grinned when he spotted Chrissy, giving her a little wave, but looked quickly away when he saw Robin, busying himself with wiping down the already spotless surface in front of him. 

Without thinking she began to move in his direction, chomping at the bit to say her piece, but was stopped by a gentle grip at her elbow and Chrissy’s soft voice in her ear. 

“I know you probably want to march over there and threaten him with bodily harm if he hurts Steve again in any way, but do you think you could hold off for a little while so we can enjoy our night out together?”

Robin's stomach flipped and suddenly her legs felt like jello. 

“Yeah—um, yes. That’s… of course, sorry.”

Smooth.

The night was going great. 

They were two drinks in when Robin finally started to relax. She wasn’t thinking about Steve, or the motel, or anything besides enjoying the company of the girl sitting across from her. They hadn’t had fun like this in months. She really had to hand it to Steve, he was absolutely right. As much time as they spent together at work and at home, it was different like this, being out together with the sole purpose of enjoying themselves, people watching at the bar like they used to do all the time back in college. 

With a healthy buzz going they ordered some food and Robin excused herself to the bathroom, touching up her lipstick and maybe giving herself an embarrassing pep talk in the mirror before stepping out. She paused on her way back to their table to duck behind a half-wall, realizing that Eddie had taken up a seat next to Chrissy in her absence.

They were sitting close, heads bent together, talking quietly as Chrissy held his hand. Robin nearly looked away, feeling like she was intruding on a very private moment—even if they were in the middle of a busy bar on a Saturday night. It’s just… she’d never seen Eddie like that before, his face devoid of its usual cocky overconfident mask. He looked so… vulnerable, scared even. 

It was almost enough to make her feel bad about all the ways in which she’d imagined maiming him. 

Robin continued to watch as Chrissy soothed him with words, and hugs, and a kiss on the cheek, and saw the moment Eddie’s shoulders relaxed. Soon they were laughing and giddy and Eddie was clearly gushing about something—Steve she hoped—so it seemed like it was safe to resume her walk back to the table.

Eddie noticed her first before Chrissy did, and quickly rose from his chair, eyes widening a smidge like she made him nervous. 

As he should be.

But, Robin was determined to be good and not ruin the evening, so she smiled and nodded and he did the same before retreating back behind the safety of the bar. 

“What was that all about?” Robin asked casually, as though she hadn’t been creeping on them for the last five minutes, and wondered if Chrissy had gotten more details out of Eddie about the boys’—coming together, so to speak.

Chrissy stared down at the cocktail in her hand, something unreadable crossing her face as she stirred the ice around. 

“Oh, y’know,” She said eventually, huffing a laugh before proceeding to upend her glass abruptly and down the entire drink in one go.

Which was hotter than it had any right to be, honestly, but Robin felt compelled to ask, “Is everything alright?” 

After a long beat of silence in which a hundred different worst case scenarios ran through Robin's head, Chrissy finally looked up again, studying her face with pursed lips. 

“I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

That didn’t sound good.

“...Okay?” 

“Was this supposed to be a date?”

Oh god. 

Robin’s heart pounded loudly in her ears completely drowning out the sound of the crowd around them. She blinked, fighting hard just to keep breathing.

“W-w-what makes you ask that?”

Chrissy shrugged.

Bullshit. 

Eddie had to have said something to her, it was the only explanation. Steve must have told him about the plan.

Robin swallowed hard. There was no use trying to deny it. The cat was out of the bag now and Chrissy was still sitting there, so…

“And, if it was?” Robin asked, softly.

Chrissy slid out of her chair and for a second Robin thought it was all over, that she’d ruined everything, but then Chrissy was coming around the table, sitting down next to her and taking her hand under the table, lacing their fingers together.

“Then I would say, that I've had a crush on you since we moved into our first dorm together and ask why the hell you haven't kissed me yet.”

The rush of relief that came over Robin was second only to the joy she felt as she let Chrissy’s words sink in, and her mouth spread into a smile so wide it made her face hurt. “Well, there's still time. It’s not the end of the date yet right?” 

Ten minutes later, with takeout bags in hand after flagging the server down to ask for their order to go, they were headed for the door, ready to continue their date in a more private setting when Eddie caught Robin’s eye, tossing her a wink and a smirk from across the room.  

She rolled her eyes, smiling fondly despite herself. She might even thank him for this someday. One thing she knew for sure—that was the last time she was thinking about either of those damn boys for the rest of the night. 

She had something much more pleasurable in mind to focus on instead. 

Chapter 8

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world 💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369 @finntheehumaneater

[cozmicwonder]

He Loves me, She Loves me not

Chapter 3

As you walk down the hallway you stare at the paused video. A video that could…ruin..her reputation…You ponder on the thought and sigh. I’ll just sleep on it you thought. “That should work” you you mumbled on your way to your dorm. The thought of someone like her cheating on a boy who does every and anything for her. You almost feel bad for him. The incident replayed in your head like a broken record.

You couldn’t get your mind off it even while you lie flat against your bed. It was approximately 12:42 am. You couldn’t sleep so your mind wandered. Your thoughts drifted to you revealing Rika’s secret but no one would believe little old you, especially with no one to back you up. Plus you have no popularity. So you drifted to other ideas. Blackmail? No, if I got caught I could go to jail. You thought. Get her expelled? “Too hard to execute” you spoke quietly. You groaned, you had no more ideas.

That was until a thought popped into your head. What if you went to Maki’s sister, Mai. Mai despises Rika. Rumor has it that they both were in a competition for popularity the last year of high school and Rika made sure every ounce of her dignity was gone. We’re talking, spreading rumors she was selling nudes for money because her family disowned her. Stealing most of her friends by brainwashing them and feeding them lies.

She even went as far as to ruin her boyfriend's reputation and bullied him to the point he left the school and just disappeared from Mai’s life. Ever since her reign ended she’s despised Rika with everything she was made of. It was perfect you could get her secret out and Mai even though you didn’t like her either could get her old life back.

You would ask Maki for her number tomorrow but first, you had to get at least four hours of sleep…You got no sleep that night, you looked like the Walking Dead. Too much overthinking prevented a peace slumber for you and your drained mind. Your brain came up with millions of different possibilities of what could go wrong or right, how it could go down, who would interject, and if anyone would believe you.

You sigh heavily and rub your eyes until you’re satisfied with the feeling. Your posture is honorably horrible, looks as if you would place number one for worst hunch back. Last night you made the executive decision to text maki for Mai’s phone number and she finally texted back at six in the morning. After terrorizing you with questions you finally got it. She was unsure if it was still her number because she rarely talks to her outside of family matters.

You added Mai’s number to your contacts and sent her a text. The text read. “Hey Mai im one of Maki’s friends and I have something on Rika that im sure you’d love to get back at her please meet me at dorm number 62 in the east wing if you want to talk”. You thought that sounded pretty mysterious. You didn’t have any classes today so you decided to wait in your dorm all day because you realized you didn’t give her time. When you realized you went to check the message to confirm, it said it was read.

You could’ve jumped with glee and pride but you held yourself together and waited. And waited and waited until you heard a knock at your door. You jumped up and rushed to the door. You took a deep breath in and out before cautiously opening the door and low and behold it was Mai. “Hi,” you spoke quietly looking up at Mai. She was about two inches taller than you. “Hey,” she said rather blankly. You moved back and opened the door wider for her to enter “Welcome” you said as she entered your dorm. “So let’s cut straight to the chase. What’s this you have on Rika” Mai turned to you staring at you intimidatingly. You swallowed the lump in your throat why were you so nervous now?

You stared directly into her eyes. “So yesterday I caught Rika..” the words wouldn’t come out. “Come on spit it out already I don’t have all day,” Mai said getting slightly irritated. “ICAUGHTRIKACHEATINGONHERBOYFRIENDWITHYUJI’STWINBROTHER” you stammered out in one long breath. You stared at Mai’s shocked face before she erupted in a fit of laughter. She was laughing so hard she hunched over. Your face showed that of confusion.

Mai’s laughter continued for a few more seconds before standing up straight and fixing herself. “Wow,’ She said as she sighed. “She spent countless months ruing my reputation by spreading lies I was a whore when she’s the real whore.” she chuckled one more. She looked back at you and noticed your confused face. “Listen here, I’ll help you get little Miss Perfect’s secret as long as you help me get my rep back. Deal?”. She stretched out a hand for you to grab. “Deal,” you said shaking her hand. It was like you just made a deal with the devil.

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A/n- Hey, Hey. Sorry, it took me sooooooooo long to post Chapter 3. I was busy with school making sure my grades were good and I passed my exams and I did just that! I hope you enjoyed this chapter I'll post another by the end of this month. Tah Tah!

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter five: blood type

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter six

summary: edward gives in, no matter the efforts it took to keep himself away from her.

warnings: swearing, fluff, blood, gore

words: 4.9k (unedited)

Throughout the entire night, Edward’s words replayed in my mind. It's better if we're not friends. What did that even mean? That he wanted to? That he felt this pull just as I did, but was too afraid to embrace it? Or was it just me? My stomach twisted. He must’ve noticed how engrossed I was by him and didn’t want to lead me on. Perhaps he was a mind reader. Oh god. The pathetic thoughts I’ve had towards him… I was considering it.

Normally, it was so easy for me to read people. For all my life, I was able to take in someone's thoughts from just their expressions whether it was genuine or forced. I knew someone was so annoyingly obsessed with me or completely hated my guts. Lauren wasn’t even a good example, anyone could see right through her act even though she tried to hide it with fake smiles and interactions. She didn’t like me and even the entire school could catch onto that. My dad always wondered if I could hear his thoughts because of how in tune I was with his emotions. He was closed off, which was part of the reason him and my mother ended things, but for me? I could always see right through him and know exactly what to say to him. But, Edward on the other hand? He drove me absolutely insane.

My thoughts were thankfully interrupted by a buzz on my cell.

jess &lt;3: Mike said YES!!!!

And then an immediate call afterwards.

Jess had me on the phone for almost an hour talking about Mike, the dance, Angela and Ben, and then of course, the so-called ‘tension’ she felt with Edward and I. But, I quickly changed the subject to shopping for dresses which kept her occupied for another hour.

Finally, she hung up and I went onto doing homework and answering emails from my mom before eventually passing out.

Turning into the school lot, I made sure to park even farther than usual from his Volvo for my own sanity. Getting out of my car, I realized I’d left my keys and yanked it out a bit too swiftly, the keys flying into a puddle just outside my car. As I bent down to get it, a white hand swooped in and grabbed it, causing my jerk upright. I looked up, seeing Edward Cullen casually leaning on my car, my keys just dangling in his hands for me to take.

“How the hell do you do that?” I ask with an exasperated huff.

“Do what?” He held out my keys for me and I snatched them. He gave a light-hearted chuckle.

“Appear out of thin air.” I spat out.

“Y/N, it’s not my fault that you’re exceptionally unobservant.” 

I didn’t want to have this conversation again. I was tired of it. Instead, I walked past him. This time not even bothering to serve him a glance towards his way, no matter how much I wanted to.

To my surprise, he jogged towards me.

“So, why the traffic jam yesterday?” I huffed. “Thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not deliberately annoying me.”

He gave a light chuckle. “That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine. Seems like he wanted a chance with you.”

That’s when I finally faced him, finding the urge not to hit his perfect face or perfect anything for that matter. “You’re fucking kidding.” He only seemed amused by my response.

“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist.”

“Oh, really? So you’re trying to annoy me to death? What? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?” This anger was new to me. Usually, things didn’t bother me this much. But, Edward was different.

I expected anger from him as usual, but he only looked down at his feet, before muttering, “Y/N, that’s not–”

“I don’t care. Can you just leave me alone? Please? I just can’t keep up. One minute you're angry and the other you're consoling me. Your mood swings are giving me whiplash.” I interrupted him, not daring to look him back in the eye.

Silence followed, which was my que to head off to English.

I hadn’t realized class started by the time I walked in, Mr. Mason gave a huff with a “Thank you for joining us, Miss Y/L/N.” I headed to my seat in a rush. 

The entire class, I spent the majority of the time zoning out, thinking about what Edward had said. It wasn’t until class ended that I realized the seat next to me wasn’t occupied by the usual Mike, who would whisper my ear off for a straight hour. The silence was quite nice, but it worried me a bit. Once we all walked out of class, Mike’s spirits seemed to have lifted somehow as Eric mentioned the beach trip. Even with your sixteen years living here, it amazed you how Jess and the boys enjoyed surfing in this weather. No matter how much you favored Forks, California sure had Forks beaten with beaches. Most of the beach trips at Forks consisted of Angela and I waddled up in blankets at the back of Tyler’s van and watching movies off of one of my old DVD players.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Now, it was lunch. With my shaking nerves, I attempted to keep all my focus on Jessica’s babbling instead of searching for those golden eyes. I could hardly keep up with her pace as she rambled on about the dance plans, even convincing Angela to ask out Ben. I couldn’t help but wander my eyes towards his table. He wasn’t there. His four siblings sat in their usual spots, the only one with eyes on me was the one with a pixie-cut, Alice, with a slight smile curving on her lips.

“Edward is staring at you again,” Jessica said. I broke eye contact with Alice, bringing my attention towards Jessica. “I wonder why he’s sitting alone today.”

I followed her gaze from across the classroom. There he was. Edward. His crooked smile widening once he’d caught my attention. Suddenly, I’d lost my appetite. He waved his fingers towards me, motioning for me to join him, then a wink. Fuck.

“Does he mean you?” Jessica’s voice staggered. I’d forgotten we weren’t the only people in the room for a moment. “Told you he was into you.” she whispered, fighting through her giggles. I swore he heard that asI saw him fight a chuckle.

I shoved Jessica with my shoulder, hesitantly walking towards Edward with Jessica’s giggles in my rear view. When I reached the table, I didn’t sit, instead I stood behind the chair waiting for him to speak.

“Why don’t you sit with me today?” he asked, smiling. I eyed the chair, pulling it opening and sitting on the edge of it. His smile felt unreal, as if it was another ploy to reel me in again and push me away just as hard.

“Thought you didn’t wanna be friends?” I questioned.

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“What does that even mean?” I couldn’t read him. Why put so much effort into someone he hardly even knew? Why was I doing that?

“It means if you were smart, you’d stay away from me.” I tried.

“Haven’t I tried that already? You’re the one who wanted me here.”

“Well, I’ve decided to hell with it. As long as I’m going, I might as well get to know you better.”

“Hell? Now you’ve just expanded my theories.” I had none. No logical ones at least. I couldn’t even think them, let alone say them out loud, it was too bizarre.

“Oh, really? Won’t you tell me then?” he asked, tilting his head to the side with a tempting smile.

“Nope.” I shook my head, giving him a malicious smile.

“That’s really frustrating, you know?” So was he.

“Well that’s too bad.” I snickered. I decided not to make a scene, I could’ve bursted to him about the many ways he’s frustrated me. For starters, him being absolutely disgusted by me, ignoring me, then suddenly being enamored by me, then saving me, then ignoring me again, then suddenly he wants to get to know me? But, I wasn’t about to let the entire cafeteria know my frustrations with him.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, then moved his gaze towards my original table. “I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you.”

I looked towards them. Angela and Jessica wore the same attitude: smiles and a fit of giggles. Lauren was angry as always, forcing herself closer to Tyler as he watched Edward and I with careful eyes. Eric pretended he wasn’t looking at all. Mike on the other hand, thankfully Jess hadn’t noticed, was burning holes at the back of Edward's head.

“They’ll survive.”

“Your boyfriend seems to think I’m being unpleasant to you – he’s debating whether or not to come and steal you away from me.” My face fell.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I mumbled.

“He sure acts like he is.”

“Yeah, well that’s not my problem.”

Our table fell silent for a moment, until he spoke, “Aren’t you hungry?” No. I was full of nerves.

“No,” I said plainly. “You?” I knew what the answer was. It was embarrassing how attentively I watched him. He had food and he nibbled at it, but he never once ate. Same with his family. Emmett always carried a large amount of boiled eggs for whatever reason.

“Can you do me a favor?” I breathed out, hesitant to even say anything at all.

“Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“Not much…” He waited for my response. “What is this? What are we doing? Are we friends? Cause I don’t wanna waste my time if you’re just gonna ignore me again.”

“I told you – I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So… I’m giving up.” His smile was almost contagious, but I can see the pained look in his eyes.

“Giving up?”

“Yes, giving up. I’m not good for you, I know that. But, for some reason, I can’t seem to stay away from you.” He said softly. My breath hitched. I can’t seem to stay away from you. So, I wasn’t the only one.

“So…” I breathed in. I could hardly even bring myself to speak. “Friends?”

“Only if you tell me one of your theories.”

“Maybe later. Too many people around.”

He’d gotten up, I assumed that he’d wanted to leave. Instead, he moved his arm in front of himself, gesturing for me to go in front of him. “Lead the way.”

“You can’t be serious.” I laughed. The entire cafeteria’s eyes were on us, even his siblings and the stare they wore seemed unwelcoming, besides Alice, who tried her hardest to not break out into a smile.

All he did was give me another famous smirk. I practically jumped out of my seat, feeling all eyes on me as Edward and I left the cafeteria. We walked until no one was in sight, leading me to the back of the school on a hillside.

“Now, just one theory – I won’t laugh,” he said, plopping himself down in the grass.

“Yes, you will.”

“Please?” he breathed, leaning towards me.

I froze. My mind had gone completely blank. It took me a minute to recuperate before responding, “It’s dumb. I–I don’t know? Bitten by a radioactive spider?” It didn’t even sound better in my head at all.

“Well that’s not creative at all,” he scoffed.

“Well that’s all I’ve got. You haven’t given me much,” I laughed.

“You’re not even close,” he teased.

“No spiders?”

“Nope.”

“And no radioactivity?”

“None.”

“Dammit,” I sighed.

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either.” He chuckled.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to laugh, remember?”

He struggled to compose his laughter.

After a few moments of silence, I started up again, “I just feel like… this doesn’t feel real. I’m here guessing which superpower you have and it sounds ridiculous, it really does…” I was caught up in thought, not even realizing the words I was saying aloud. “But I know what I saw. I just need a little help feeling a little less crazy here.”

“I wish you wouldn’t try.” His tone was serious again.

“Because…?”

“You say superpower, as in superheroes, but what if I’m not a hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” He tried to hide his remorse with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No.” He seemed surprised by my remark. “I don’t believe that you’re a bad person. Dangerous, maybe? I don’t know. But not bad.”

“You’re wrong.”

Before I could even respond, the bell had rang, not even allowing me to process my thoughts.

I got up, offering my hand to his. “We’re gonna be late.”

He ignored my offer, gracefully standing up on his own.

“I’m not going to class today.”

“Why not?” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” He smiled, but still had a look of uneasiness.

“Not me. I’m gonna go,” I said. I couldn’t miss any more school than I already did, plus, I was a coward.

“I’ll see you later, then.” I wanted to stay with him. I considered it about fifty times in my head, but once I heard the first bell, my feet moved to its own accord.

As I fast-walked to class, I couldn’t help that my mind wandered to Edward. How none of my questions were answered, how I wasn’t afraid of him, how he thought of himself as a bad person. Only one question had been answered: I wasn’t the only one who felt a mental and physical pull towards him.

Lucky for me, Mr. Banner wasn’t in the class yet, so I hurried to my seat, hearing Jessica and Angela plead to come to their table for ‘deets’. Mike on the other hand looked resentful as he stared at me with his dejected eyes. I hushed them before Mr. Banner finally came into the room, juggling a few cardboard boxes in his arms, ordering Mike to pass them around.

“Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box,” he said, pulling a pair of disposable rubber gloves from his desk onto his hands. “The first should be an indicator card,” he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it. “The second is a four-pronged applicator –” he held up what looked to be a nearly toothless hair pick “– and the third is a sterile micro-lancet.” He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

It happened when I was 12. I always saw my dad watching sports, but no matter how hard I tried, I was never engaged. One thing I did love: tossing around a foam football in our backyard. It was something that I could be a part of, rather than being lost in all the rules and regulations, tossing around a ball with my dad was almost effortless, with either no rules at all or ones that I maliciously made up on the spot. One day, my dad’s hand was far too strong, throwing it far into the woods. Normally, there was never an issue. Either one of us would run over and pick it up because what was the harm? It was only our backyard after all. So, I ran to get it. I found myself wandering a bit too far off than usual, hearing my dad’s shuffling and yells to head back. When I turned to head back, on my left there was a foot in the distance. I ran to it, calling out to my dad over and over to help the poor person who laid motionless in the middle of the woods. But when I reached them, they were far from gone. There was blood, a lot of it. I could hardly stand the gory horror movies with the blood even knowing it was fake. But this was something entirely different. Blood was absolutely everywhere, pooling from the neck. I was mortified. I ran back screaming, fully broken out into sobs as I tried to explain to my dad what I’d seen. That was the first animal attack in years. Ever since then, I’ve had what the doctor’s called ‘hemophobia’. It had gotten better over the years, the only exception being television or movies where I mostly closed my eyes, but physically? Needles and blood draws were a different story entirely.

“I’ll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don’t start until I get to you.” I felt like all my senses had heightened. At Mike’s table again, he started by carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. “Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…” He grabbed Mike’s hand and plunged the spike into the tip of Mike’s middle finger. Fuck. I felt sweat accumulate on my body, my hands leaving marks on the black countertop.

“Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs.” He demonstrated, squeezing Mike’s finger till the blood flowed. That was it. The entire room spun around me and I couldn’t move a single inch. The words of Mr. Banner turned into a mumble as the ringing in my ears rang at an uncomfortable volume. I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to tune out the entire world. A flash of red floods through my vision, not blood, but hair. A fiery red shade that complimented her pale skin and dark lips. She ran through a forest, impossibly fast, never breaking a sweat. Next to her, a man, just as pale as her, blonde with his hair tucked away in a ponytail. Then a third, one with much darker skin, but they all shared the same quality: red, bloodthirsty eyes. Then there’s water. A dock. A boat. Then, blood. Lots of it.

“Y/N, are you alright?” a voice said. I opened my eyes and I was back in the classroom, Mr. Banner hovering over me. What the fuck.

“I– uh– I already know my blood type,” I said in a weak voice, wiping the sweat from my hands on my pants.

“Are you feeling faint?” I nodded in response. “Can someone take Y/N to the nurse, please?” I didn’t even have to look around to know that it was Mike who volunteered to take me.

I attempted to stand, but Mike had practically ran to my side, putting his arm around my waist and my arm to his shoulder, forcing me to lean on him on the way out of the classroom. While he lugged me across campus, my mind was moving faster than my body, which had almost completely shut down from the shock.

“Can we stop for a minute, please? I– I just need to sit.” I yelped out. He brought me to a bench on the side of the building before I begged, “And p-please, keep your hand in your pocket.” I didn’t know what would happen if I saw blood again. I shivered at the thought.

“Bella?” his voice called from the distance. No, please, no.

“What’s wrong – is she hurt?” His voice was much closer, a voice filled with worry?

I didn’t even bother opening my eyes, instead I rocked my body back and forth, knocking my head on the wall, hoping that by some miracle, I was dreaming.

“I think she fainted. She didn’t even stick her finger, I don’t know what happened.” I could hear the stress in Mike’s voice, also the anger. He wanted more than anything for Edward to go away and so did I.

“Y/N.” Edward was inches away from my face. “Can you hear me?”

“No,” I groaned. “Go away.” A chuckle left his lips.

“I was taking her to the nurse,” Mike explained defensively, “but she wanted to stop.”

“I’ll take her,” Edward said. Please, no. “You can go back to class.”

“No,” Mike protested. Oh god, here we go again. “I’m supposed to do it.” Even with my eyes closed, I could picture Mike attempting to stand his ground against Edward, who was probably three inches taller than him. If I wasn’t so mentally and physically drained, I would’ve giggled at just the mental picture.

Suddenly I didn’t feel the bench anymore. My eyes shot upon. Edward had effortlessly scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.

“Put me down!” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I could hear Mike yelling in the back, but Edward had already strode quick enough to the point where he was only a mumble.

“You look awful,” he said, grinning.

“Edward. Please put me down.” The rocking felt worse. He wasn’t listening, so I settled my arms around his neck to steady my movements. I couldn’t help but notice how much his body had gone rigid. 

“So you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. Yes... and apparently have freaky visions too… I didn’t answer. “And not even your own blood,” he continued, obviously amusing himself.

“Oh my,” I heard a female voice gasp.

“She fainted in Biology,” Edward explained.

Opening my eyes, I found myself in the office with Edward already making his way to the nurse’s door, to which a lady opened for him. Edward gently placed me on the cot, moving only just inches away from me.

“She’s just a little faint,” he said to the nurse. “They’re blood typing in Biology.”

“Just lie down for a minute, hon. It’ll pass.” I nodded in response. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Hasn’t happened in a while.” I couldn’t help, but notice Edward from the side of me, barely being able to contain a laugh.

The nurse faced Edward. “You can go back to class now,” she told him.

“I’m supposed to stay with her.” The nurse didn’t seem to argue with him. How did Edward have such a way with people?

The nurse had left the room to get ice, to which I laid down on the cot, groaning, “You were right.”

“I usually am – but about what in particular this time?” I didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Ditching is healthy.”

“You scared me back there.” His tone surprised me. The way his breath hitched, as if he was confessing his deepest darkest secrets; that he was worried about me. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”

I stifled a chuckle. I tried to imagine poor Mike Newton, anxiety and all, trying to cover up my murder.

“How’d you see me? Thought you were ditching?” I sat up, facing him. Finally, the dizzy spell had passed.

“I was in my car, listening to a CD.” For some reason, it surprised me. So, he was normal-ish?

The door opened, revealing the nurse with an ice pack in hand, laying it across my forehead. “You’re looking better,” she chirped.

“Yeah, I think–” I was interrupted by the door opening, the receptionist had her head peeking through, claiming there was a boy waiting at the door for me.

The door fully opened to reveal Mike, awkwardly walking through the door, glancing from me to Edward, a look of loathe stretched across his face.

“You look better.” I nodded in response. He continued, “So, you ready to go back to class?”

The nurse interrupted before I could reply, “I think it would be best if she stayed. What’s your next class, dear?”

“Gym.”

“Oh my, Ms. Cope here will get a note right out to your class, dear, don’t you worry about that!”

Mike left awkwardly, mumbling, “Feel better. See you at the beach.” before heading back to Biology. I didn’t even realize Edward had left too. I took the time alone to lie back down, placing the ice pack back on my forehead, hoping the ice would numb my mind too.

I felt the cot from beneath me disappear and was once again surprised to see Edward scooping me up in his arms. I yelped, “What are you doing?!”

“Taking you home.” As it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Once we were through the doors, I could feel all eyes on me, both the nurse and Ms. Cope looked at me in admiration. I could feel my cheeks burning red from the embarrassment.

“I can walk, you know?”

“Yep.” I didn’t miss the smirk on his lips, especially when we’d passed Mike, who’d become even more red from the sight of us. Edward simply laughed it off.

As soon as we got to the parking lot, he set me on my feet, leaving us both to walk side by side until we reached our cars.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“A little, yeah.” That damn smile. 

When I went to walk over to my own car, something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his eyebrows completely raised.

“Home?”

“I promised I’d safely take you home. You think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?”

He was right, as much as I hated to admit it. Not even twenty minutes ago I was recovering from a dizzy spell, accompanied by whatever the hell I saw when I closed my eyes. I only asked, “What about my car?”

“I’ll have Alice drop it off for you after school.” He loosened his grip on my jacket, placing his hand on my back to guide me to his car, to which he opened and closed for me once I’d gotten in.

He got into his car and settled his keys in, cranking up the heat. I didn’t even realize how freezing I was until he cranked up the heat, which eventually settled down my shivers. Before we set off, I told him my address. Then, a familiar tune flooded my ears.

“Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised. When he said he was listening to a CD, I didn’t know what I’d expect to blare from his speakers, but it definitely wasn’t the elegance of Claude Debussy.

“You know Debussy?” He sounded just as surprised as I was.

“From my mom.” I nodded. “She plays a lot of classical music – I only know a couple of my favorites.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too.”

I leaned back into the gray leather seat, watching the rain, and letting the music soothe my nerves. The view outside had blurred completely into green and gray streaks, showing just how fast we were going, but the ride had felt as smooth as ever.

“If you don’t mind me asking… Why are you sensitive to blood?”

“Um…” I paused. For some reason, I felt alright with telling him. No one else had known besides my dad, the doctors, and the occasional therapist. “When I was 12, I saw an animal attack. It was in the woods by my house. There was a lot of blood… and since then, I don’t know… I just freak out.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

I let silence invade the space, before mumbling, “Your turn.”

“What?” He looked terrified. As if I’d just asked him to reveal one of his deepest and darkest secrets.

“Tell me something about yourself. It doesn’t have to be as deep and traumatic as mine… What about your family?” I deserved to know even a portion about his life at least.

“What do you want to know?”

“The Cullens adopted you?” I confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask what happened to your parents?” I didn’t expect an answer. Even after all that I’ve told him, it seemed too overbearing.

“They died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember them much. Carlisle and Esme are all I’ve ever known really. I couldn’t imagine two better people.”

“I’m glad.” I continued on, “And your brother and sister?”

“My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter… they are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain to wait for me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, shit.” I hadn’t even realized we stopped, let alone in front of my house already. “Sorry, yeah, I’ll um– see you later?” 

I didn’t get out of the car yet. I wanted to ask him something, even if I ended up regretting it later.

“Did you wanna come with us to the beach?” I breathed out.

A smile littered across his face. “Which beach?” Was he considering it?

“La Push.”

His smile lessened. So I asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, sorry.” His eyebrows furrowed intensely. “I just remembered Emmett and I had plans. Hiking in the Goat Rock Wilderness.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, have fun.” I tried to hide my disappointment, but I don’t think I fooled him too much. A smile was still spread across his face, almost amused by how I reacted.

Just as I was about to open the door, he said, “Maybe another time. Just the two of us. Somewhere more quiet.” I felt shivers down my spine.

“Y-yeah.” I stuttered. “Thanks for the ride.”

Slamming the door shut, I turned to face him, his smile still radiating even after he drove off.

next chapter

a/n: this one is a lot longer than the others and i had to rely on the book a lot for some of the dialogue, but just some little changes here and there! i hope you all like it!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila

[evertidings]

HELLO!!!!!! i played this story like. a year ago and absolutely fell in love. due to switching computers my save files got deleted, so i finally got off my ass and replayed to catch up and god you've made me fall in love for a second time. A is actually the love of my life. i cannot stop thinking about him and the others, how dare you make such loveable characters?? i cannot wait for the next chapter, and just wanna thank you for sharing this with us. you're insanely talented.

:(((( thank you. had a bit of a bad night yesterday and i was doubting myself in every area possible, so i’m going to take this as reassurance that my imposter syndrome is wrong. muah <3

[house-strong]

— DRAGONS BANE, chapter six ʾ ⋆

CHAPTER SIX – old quarrels not forgotten

index ; chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. chapter eight. chapter nine.

summary ; newfound feelings are uncovered but the past remains a constant reminder to aemond. rhaenyra targaryen and her family return to court to discuss the succession of driftmark, should corlys velaryon pass. king viserys makes his last plea for his family to settle their differences and become just that; a family. truths and long-held grudges come out to play, and feelings are hurt.

pairings ; aemond targaryen x reader, slight!jacaerys velaryon x reader

notes / warnings ; rhaena and luke are still betrothed, but jace and baela aren’t. mentions of vaemond’s beheading, general plot line of ‘lord of the tides’ from hotd. arguing, words said out of anger, punches thrown. canon divergence: viserys doesn’t die in this chapter.

taglist ; @gloryekaterina @andysnewgroove @mitsuyaws @vikingsisthenewsexy @signyvenetia @tina-theslytherin @thegreat-annamaria @sana-within-you @averageperhaps @ephemeralninon @sanguinalia @merakiaes @fancylisoo @miaowchan17 @thesnugglingduck @mistalli @rosedovve @itisjustwhatitis @fandoms8 @lizajane2 @sunscreenfeverdream @witchymermaid12 @marytvirgin @s0ph-3 @starddustt @redridingpants @aaleksmorozova @riddlerloveb0t @bcon24 @queenofshinigamis @myspy @ilovepornstaches-69 @woodandwaxwings @muddleofnervouswords @kittykat5742 @moonstruckbucky @tomshollandz @myspotofcraziness @jenoix @bluecatton @ashloonie @zanmorgan @preciouslosers @kirithewitch @m00n5t0ne-blog @heykathchuu @fulviaflaccaisbae @anapnovo-blog @matilda97 @nighttwingg

after the heartfelt experience you shared with aemond, you two seemed to be avoiding each other like the plague. whether it was intentional or not, one thing was for certain; you were starting to miss the one-eyed prince and his occasional, discontent hum of vocality.

it was weird, without a doubt, to be wanting the company of someone who had oftentimes made you the recipient end of a jest. the memory still replays in your mind, vibrant and fresh like it was just yesterday you experienced it. this aemond was gentle and kind, drastically different from the stoic nature he bore and sneers that often left his lips.

it was nice though, nice to see the weight of being the second son of the king be lifted off his shoulders – like it was a burden too heavy to carry by himself.

you’re running a brush through your hair, detangling the clumps that stuck together, when a knock pushes away your empty thoughts. you noted that you wouldn’t try sleeping with a bun and wet hair again.

you grumble quietly to yourself, rising from your seat with your comb in hand, sauntering to the door. you slug it open and your eyes are met with a blue one.

your mouth is slightly slack; how convenient, “aemond.”

“little flower,” he greets, as if he hasn’t spent the past days ignoring your existence. you look down; he’s carrying something in his hand, wrapped with cloth that you assume is keeping its moisture. he moves past you, the breeze that follows carrying a scent that almost makes you sigh at its smell; faint pepper and wood – it’s pleasant and undeniably aemond. you almost object to him coming in, but it’s already too late.

once he’s in the safety of your room and you had closed the door behind him, he turns around, holding the wrapped item up to you as if it were a prize.

“what’s this?” you ask, moving closer. aemond’s fingers deftly uncover the item and reveals it with a little flourish that’s almost boyish; a peach cake. your lips curve into a smile and you look at him through your lashes, a short laugh of disbelief escaping you, “it’s too early for cakes, aemond. what’s it for?”

the outline of his shoulders move into a slight shrug, almost dejected, and he rewraps the cake, “a peace offering.”

“for?” you inquire deeper, watching him place the now covered peach cake on to a nearby table. you watch as he takes a gander about the room, eyeing each and every valuable that adorns the walls and shelves. he hums in content, almost happy that it’s decorated this way.

“no reason.” his hand reaches for a stone figurine, pulling it closer to his vision. a small smile creeps upon his mouth as he realizes what it is; a dragon with wings outstretched. he turns it, admiring the craftsmanship. then, he puts it back.

you assume the gift was some sort of wordless apology for his extended absence.

you eye the abandoned cake, silently cursing yourself when you move forward and grab it. your father would be far from happy if he found out this is how you broke your fast. you tear small, bite sized pieces off, wiping your index and thumb on the cloth to rid of the crumbs.

“what brings the pleasure of your presence, aemond?” you ask once your mouth is cleared. he turns to you as if his trance was broken, eyeing you carefully.

he licks his teeth, unsure and uncertain, “i don’t know.”

the response brings astonishment and confusion; he came here for.. nothing? how quaint.

he knows deep down why he came to your room. ever since he took you on your adventure through the streets of kings landing, there was confusion burrowing it’s way deep underneath his skin. he didn’t enjoy the way he was bare before you, confessing the fate of his eye, but he did enjoy the opulence you brought. the absence of disgust was something he enjoyed; he didn’t feel like a mangled, pitiful boy anymore, but a man who could bear his misfortune without fear or repercussion. he assumed that this was some cruel longing designed by the gods, the desire to be around you and feel your comfort wrap around him like the tentacles of a squid to its prey.

his feet carry him closer to you, the gap quickly dissipating with each long stride of his. he’s close now, dangerously so, his breath fanning your face and mixing with yours. the same feeling from the nightly adventure came, strong and burning with a fire that wasn’t going to be put out.

this aemond was definitely not the same as the first time you met him.

“did you truly mean it?” he asks, voice low and reverberating. it’s enough to take your breath and send a dangerous tickle to your stomach. “did you mean it, when you said you thought i could be good?”

ah, that is why he came.

you nod your head, hands finding his arms to gently hold them, “i know you can be. i meant every word.”

his eye is searching yours, searching for any signs of malice or pretend – he so desperately wants this to be real, to be set in stone that he isn’t a man set on the brutalizing path of vengeance; that he can be something other than the boy who lost his eye.

he licks his lips, eye slowly trailing down to your own. he sucks on his bottom lip and gnaws at it with uncertainty. he doesn’t like this; the way his stomach bubbles with nervousness. he’s usually strong-willed and knowing of his next move, but this, this is something he’s unsure about. he’s only ever read it in books – poetry books, matter of fact.

but this was real and not some short tale depicted in a rhythmic sequence.

feeling his conflict, you slowly creep forward to make his decision for him. it’s one that comes easily to your mind; it wouldn’t hurt, would it? your eyes flutter shut as you place a soft kiss on his lips. it’s less than a kiss actually, just your lips touching his own, unmoving ones. you’re almost self conscious at this point, but then, it’s as if something within him awakens and nudges him into action.

he releases an exhale through his nose and relaxes into your touch, one of his hands moving to fit the shape of your body. the other finds your face and cups your jaw, his long fingers cradling your head. his thumb gently strokes your cheekbone and that’s when his mouth moves against yours.

he’s less stiff now, his lips moving against your own in a slow, easy to follow rhythm; his top lip is more dominate, his bottom one supporting. it’s slow at first, lips testing the waters. it slowly morphs into something more, more passionate and wanting. his lips are increasingly rough, driven by the passion that slowly starts to build. he’s pulling you closer, hands starting to become greedy and unbecoming of a prince.

he reckons he likes this; the innocent desire to be wanted. to be wanted as he wanted, and to kiss the way he wanted. this was drastically different than the night he spent in a brothel with his brother, there, they didn’t kiss, they just —

you’re the first to pull apart, inhaling sharply to quell the dull ache that’s beginning to stir in your lungs. aemond mindlessly follows you, eye closed and lips still puckered, waiting for contact. his eye flits open and he draws in a breath. you’re both staring at each other, faces flushed and lips swollen.

“i– ” he breathes, hands dropping to his sides at realization of what had just happened. he pulls at his clothes and feels himself grow hot with every second.

you smile, a soft laugh of disbelief spewing from your lips. there’s a softness to aemond’s face; one that is unusual and gives him a boyish glow.

there’s a knock at the door that forces you two apart; aemond is practically leaping to the other side of the room whilst you take a few steps away. you watch as the former expression melts away, his stoic nature once again appearing.

you clear your throat, “come in!”

the door swings open and the appearance of a kingsguard takes up the frame. he enters and behind him, the queen alicent walks into the room. her brows shoot in at the sight of you and aemond in the room, though she makes no audible comment.

“lady tyrell,” she sings within a breath, eyes observing the distance between you and aemond, “would you be willing to accompany me on a walk?”

your head turns to aemond. he gives you a look, but turns away towards the door. he mutters a quiet ‘mother’ and abandons you with the queen. great.

“of course, your grace.”

without another word, you and the queen exit your room, accompanied by the silent kingsguard. you two begin to walk, without exchanged words, and seemingly, without a destination. your hands are joined behind your back and queen alicent’s are in front of her, neatly folded.

your mind is whirling with thoughts, thoughts about aemond and the kiss that was shared. your lips are still tingling, almost puckering at the thought of him. what did this mean? was it just a kiss because of the moment? did he like it – did he want more?

questions are flooding your mind, clouding your vision on where queen alicent is taking you. you two pass the apartments, the open roofed courtyard, then the godswood until words are spoken by queen alicent.

“princess rhaenyra is in kings landing.” her words are matter of fact. you blink away the troubles of your mind, turning your head to glance at her.

“is that so?”

“along with her family and her consort, prince daemon.”

your brows shoot up in mock interest, humming along as if it was condescending to the notion of princess rhaenyra and her family. with the time you were spending so close to queen alicent, you were noting of her interests and dislikes, and one of them, was a keen disinterest in princess rhaenyra. you’ve learned to play it by ear, often agreeing her with things you normally wouldn’t agree about.

the way she spoke her was as if she was a spurned lover, mourning over the lost of her dear beloved, then unburdening herself with pain at each and every jab spoken about the princess. it was somewhat poetic, you thought.

“she’s coming on the notion that her son, lucerys, must inherit driftmark. vaemond velaryon, wants to see an end to the inheritance,” she continues. why was she telling you this? was this her way of parading the princess rhaenyra’s family in your face – as a way to tell you that they weren’t coming for your rescue? “the crown is going to back vaemond velaryons claim.”

it’s almost as if the sentence was supposed to be a test, for she gives you a side eye look that you could see from your peripheral.

maintaining your composure, you turn to her, “a wise decision.”

you two continue to walk. her arm slips into yours, linking your arms together. you look down at the conjuction, raising your head to smile at the queen.

“there’s also another matter, my dear.” she says, her other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. to her dismay, it doesn’t stay. “you’re going to join our feast, as a guest of honor.”

your brows shoot up and your eyes widen. you open your mouth to protest, but the queen shushes you gently.

she shakes her head, waving her other hand in dismissal, “don’t fret, little one. you will be perfect, i assure you.”

“you honor me, your grace.” words finally come out of your gaping mouth and she smiles. she unlinks her arm from yours, moving to stand in front of you rather than beside you. you both stop walking.

“run along and get dressed – don’t forget helaena!”

you curtsy at the leave and nod your head in response to her words. you excuse yourself, moving past the kingsguard. your feet carry you back to your room, steps quick and light. you smile at the lords and ladies you pass, hands bunching up the ends of your dress to allow more room to move.

you soon reach your room and stop in your tracks once you enter. steps away is the same spot you and aemond had just kissed. it feels like it happened forever ago and it’s faint within your memory. you sigh, smiling at the abandoned wrapper of the peach cake you were eating – the peach cake he brought.

you move towards your wardrobe, rummaging through the dresses that were hung. your thoughts wander to rhaenyra and her family. if what queen alicent had said was true, then that means jacaerys would be among the members of her family that would be at court during the hearing.

you smile to yourself once more, sucking on your bottom lip.

once the dress you picked out is chosen, your hands fly to the strings of your dress. you pick at them, doing your best to loosen each strand so you could shed the layer. you shrug the fabric off, chemise slightly loose against your skin. you pull your chosen dress out, pulling it on. you tie the strings as best as you can, adjusting yourself so the dress fits just a bit better.

looking in the mirror, you fix the flyaways and try to tame the wildness that appears after your dress change.

when you’re finished with that, you smooth out the fabric and pick out new shoes and jewelry.

you walk out of your room and make the journey to princess helaena’s room. once you reach it, you are met with a kingsguard who eyes you curiously. you tip your head, giving him a small smile in which he returns. he turns, knocking on the door then announcing your arrival.

he opens the door once helaena wishes it and allows you to walk past him. you enter the room, your smile widening at the sight of princess helaena. she’s lovely in her golden gown, with hair strung up and out of her face in an intricate manner that you’re sure you want to copy sometime later. you curtsy then approach, kissing her on the cheek.

“helaena, you look lovely.”

she blushes, shaking her head, “thank you, my friend. you look as beautiful yourself.”

you wave away her compliment, reaching for her hand. you exchange pleasantries, talking about your mornings and the events you were up to. you lead her out of her room, escorted by the kingsguard to the throne room.

in the throne room, there’s rows of lords and ladies chatting with one another. some members of the royal family, queen alicent, ser otto, and aemond are standing the nearest to the throne. you lead helaena towards her family, smiling at her and staying silent while her grandsire acknowledges her. you settle between them and aemond, casting him a side eye glance which he returns.

the doors open once more and the crowd stands at attention to the arrival of princess rhaenyra and her family. prince daemon is by her side, with jacaerys and lucerys trailing after them, the former with his head held high and chin jutted out. the other looks unsure, as if he wants to sink into the floor and never come out. you watch as jacaerys surveys the room, his eyes locking with yours.

he dips his head at you, a smile parting his lips. you do the same in return, maintaining eye contact while his family settles on the other side. it’s broken when you hear the whisper of alicent beside you.

“where is your brother?”

you look in your peripheral, brow raising slightly as aemond shrugs carelessly.

“i don’t have the faintest clue.”

queen alicent huffs and it’s as if the gods willed it, for aegon struts in from one of the side doors. he settles on the other side of aegon and there’s a distinct, perfumed smell that follows him. you wrinkle your nose at the scent that wafts over.

the crowd quiets down as ser otto moves toward the throne. he greets them and announces the reasoning for their gathering: to settle the line of succession for driftmark. your mind wanders as they begin to converse.

you didn’t particularly care to listen in; by lawful rights, driftmark was to pass to lucerys velaryon.

it’s vaemond’s turn to speak, his voice demanding reason and clarity. he makes jabs at the parentage of princess rhaenyra’s children by ser laenor, his words laced with discontent. they battle with words, and soon, it’s rhaenyra’s turn to defend her son.

her words are short lived, for the arrival of the king interrupts the hearing.

“king viserys of house targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, the rhoynar, and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.”

his name is announced by the voice of ser erryk and all turn their heads to face their king. one by one, each row bows their head as their king passes, his steps slow and heavy. ser otto arises from the throne, taking steps down so that king viserys may sit.

the room is hushed as king viserys is aided by his brother, prince daemon, and the hearing proceeds as normal. king viserys notes that he thought the succession was settled years ago.

vaemond and rhaenyra continue to battle, word for word. worse comes to worse, and rhaenyra is renounced as a whore.

gasps fill the room and one leaves you as well. vaemond is continuing to levy insults to the princess, then his words are cut short by the pronounced slice of his head. the cut is true and vaemond’s head leaves his body with a sickening squelch.

your eyes widen in horror and you turn, screwing your eyes shut as aemond’s body next to you, moves in front. he’s holding his arm out in front of you and helaena, observing the body with his mouth hung open in almost astonishment.

“he can keep his tongue.”

“disarm him!”

“no need.”

your eyes peek open as lucerys is reaffirmed as the successor of driftmark. queen alicent, beside you, scoffs. aemond turns around, his arms corralling you and helaena away from the body. blood is pooling around vaemond and you can’t help but feel sick to the stomach.

“don’t look,” he whispers, gently pushing you away from the scene. a plethora of feelings mingle in your stomach, pushing you towards queasiness and nausea.

together, you, helaena, and aemond leave the throne room, the beheading of vaemond velaryon left behind. aemond escorts you and helaena to a nearby, private room to catch your bearings. helaena is obviously distraught and aemond is doing his best to quell her anxiety. you exhale slowly, raising a hand to rub at your temple; the events of today were starting to blur together.

“and yet, we still have to stomach a feast,” you grumble, shooting a look to the prince and princess. aemond scoffs, shaking his head and rubbing helaena’s shoulder.

“do they all sound like that?” helaena’s voice is weak, rattled by the events that just taken place. aemond frowns, nodding his head.

“‘fraid so, sweet sister,” he soothes. “best not to think of it.”

helaena nods her head at her brothers words, her hand coming to rest upon her forehead. she sighs and moves to sit down on a sofa nearby. you join her, your hand finding her free one and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“at least we can celebrate that your nephew hasn’t been undermined, right, aemond?” you say, your words directed towards helaena. you shoot aemond a look. you don’t like the way his face has twisted into a grimace at your words, but when helaena peeks up at him, he nods his head and the expression melts away.

there’s some time that passes before the three of you are collected by a kingsguard. he escorts you to a dining hall, where there’s a great table surrounded by chairs on even sides. there’s silverware and platters parallel to each chair.

it seems as if it’s on cue when everyone enters, slowly picking their place amongst the chairs. you’re unsure, but soon, there’s a chair in between helaena and aemond that’s empty. you move forward to take it and a servant helps you scoot in your chair when you take a seat.

you all settle, then arise at the presence of the king. he’s carried in by targaryen men on a portable chair. you grimace at his appearance; disheveled and clearly taken with sickness.

queen alicent leads the prayer and you bow your head in respect. king viserys begins his tribute to his family, imploring them to return affections and quell the hatred that was growing.

you take a look around the room once he starts talking, suddenly feeling out of place when the topic of family is brought up. beside you, aemond surprises you by settling his hand near yours. his pinky twitches closer to touch you and you swear it’s almost his way of including you into the fold. your heart flips and you bite back the smile that’s surely making itself known.

princess rhaenyra toasts queen alicent, and the latter remarks the princess that she would make a fine queen.

aegon, seated a chair away beside helaena, gets up and pours himself another cup of wine. he’s near baela, remarking how if she ever needed to know what satisfaction was, to ask him. together, you and baela make a face. jacaerys slams his hands on the table and stands right up, his jaw set.

beside you, aemond silently rises to his feet to meet his nephew. you turn your head to look, gaze flickering between the two. jacaerys and aemond stare at each other, unwavering and challenging. jace raises his cup instead and makes a toast towards his uncles, landing a delicate punch on aegons shoulder.

“to prince aegon and prince aemond, we have not seen each other in years, but i have fond memories of our shared youth. and as men, i hope we may yet be friends and allies. to you and your family’s health, dear uncles.”

“to you as well.”

everyone raises their cup to sip at the contents and both princes settle back in their seats. aemond is more hesitant and slow to the action, his stare hard on the eldest velaryon. aemond licks his teeth and sucks his cheeks in before he sits down, casting a side eye towards you.

helaena’s cryptic words follow, but it’s hushed and too quiet to hear over the ruckus of silverware clattering. the princess then toasts to baela and rhaena, remarking that they will be married soon. scattered laughs arise at the end of her toast, causing the princess to bashfully sit back down. you frown at the end, gently toying your silverware.

“let us have some music.”

the feast begins and the table is ignited by family members speaking to each other, a song playing to even out the sound in the room. you and aemond, side by side, are silent and onlooking to the other members of the table. your eyes find jacaerys, who is already looking at you. you smile and raise the cup of wine in front of you, and he does the same.

he moves to get up, excusing himself from his side of the family before making his way to you and helaena. he reaches for both your hands and you laugh.

“are you sure you can handle both of us, my prince?” you ask, taking his hand and rising from your seat. he gives you a toothy grin before pulling you and helaena towards the empty space that he would use as a dance floor.

“i’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, my lady.”

aemond and aegon give each other a look, the hardness settling in both their jaws. aemond watches as you, helaena, and jace dance, somehow making the triage look more graceful than it should’ve been. the three of you are laughing and exchanging words that he can’t hear. aemond picks up his knife, twirling it in his grasp before using his other hand to sip at his wine.

“you drink like a braavosi seahorse, aegon.” aemond comments quietly, eyeing his brother as he had finished his fourth cup since the dinner started.

aegon rolls his eyes, waving off aemond’s comment, “you drink too little, brother.”

“i drink enough,” aemond retorts. he licks his lips, leaning in closer to aegon with a scowl on his face, “even with the noose tied so tight, they expect us to break bread.”

aegon murmurs in agreement.

the king is riddled with sickness and then escorted out of the room by the guards. everyone arises and the three of you stop dancing out of respect. your laughter dies down, soft gasps of air heaving in your chest. there’s a platter of smoked pig that enters the room and you follow mindlessly, your appetite beginning to growl with life at the mere smell. if it tastes as it smells, then it would be delicious.

jace reaches out for your hand, stopping you in your tracks. you turn around and look at him.

“my lady, hopefully our family’s come to an agreement and we are betrothed. it’s something i would like, very much, if you would.” his tone is sincere, his hand warm despite the clothing that served as a barrier. you smile at him and nod your head; he then releases you from his hold.

you return to the table, smoothing out your dress and moving it so you could sit.

stifled laughter comes from across the table draws your attention and you locate the source: lucerys velaryon. you watch aemond give him a look, the edges of his mouth turning downward and his brow furrowing into anger.

“aemond,” you whisper, already sensing the incoming retaliation that was surely beginning to arise. the snicker, the sly comment from jacaerys about betrothal paired with his toast – it was all becoming too much for aemond. it was disrespectful and tasteless.

despite the quiet plea that danced off your tongue, aemond’s fist plummets into the table. the music cuts off and the sound of silverware rattling fills the silence. aemond rises to his feet and grabs his cup in one fluid motion.

“final tribute,” aemond says, shrugging off the touch that you placed on his arm. “to the health of my nephews: jace, luke, and joffrey. each of them handsome, wise..”

his words trail off, as if he’s envisioning the chaos that would no doubt follow, “strong.”

“aemond–”

“come,” aemond interrupts; everyone at the table casts each other uneasy stares. jace is squared, facing aemond with a twisted expression, and luke is watching with his brows knitted together. “let us drain our cups to these three, strong boys.”

“i dare you to say that again.” you turn your head to see jace, defiantly raising his head to aemond.

aemond puts his arm around you to move you out of his way, “why? ‘twas only a compliment. do you not think yourself strong?”

the gap between them rapidly closes as they approach each other and jace’s enclosed hand flies to aemond’s jaw. aemond’s face sharply turns at the contact and luke rises from his seat to try and take aegon, who was going to aemond’s rescue. aegon, instead, slams little luke’s head into the table. the younger, smaller boy struggles against aegon’s hold.

“jace!”

you take a step back as aemond faces jace, using one arm to push his nephew. whether it’s from aemond’s strength or jace’s poor footing, the latter falls to the ground. with an angry growl, jace gets up but is intervened by a targaryen guard.

despite the severity of what he caused, aemond laughs and turns back toward the table – it’s devoid of true happiness, like he’s laughing just to laugh. he locks eyes with you, but he’s intercepted by alicent, who tries to pull him aside. you can still hear her question him.

“i was merely expressing how proud i am of my family mother, hm,” he turns his attention back to his nephews and pulls his arm sharply out of his mothers grasp, “though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

prince daemon stops the assault jacaerys was about to put on aemond and instead, stands in front of his family. you scoff audibly, pushing your chair in with disappointment before escaping the escalated tension of the room. before aemond can react to daemon, he hums in disapproval then saunters after you with slow steps.

you’re only able to get down the hallway and round one corner before you hear your name being shouted by aemond. you shake your head and ignore his cries. his steps turn into a jog and he grabs your hand, turning you to face him.

“are you so hellbent on depriving the happiness of everyone around you?” you question, brows furrowing as you snatch your arm out of his hold. there’s a fire in your eye, one that he had not seen in some time – not since the day he told you that he wouldn’t be friends with you. look at you two now; quarreling like lovers.

his own brows knit together and he shifts his weight on his feet. he was unapologetic; they needed to be reminded of their place, just as luke callously reminded himself of his former treatment.

aemond scoffs, “you expect me to silently break bread while they parade my darkest memories in front of me? while they laugh at the ruin they caused?”

“they are your family.”

“they’re bastards,” he snarls with a newfound hatred. his eye is a dark blue; wide, wild, and clouded with vexation, “the bastards who stole my eye and made me who i am.”

some part of you wants to understand, to reach out and soothe the burden of desolation he carried, but the cruel callousness was something too much for you. it was too hateful and spiteful; it almost scared you to see it on aemond.

you shake your head in denial, taking a step back, “this isn’t who you are, aemond. this isn’t the same aemond that took me to a festival, simply because it made me happy, or the same aemond that was in my room, hours ago.”

his jaw becomes hard, his fists clenching at his sides; the knuckles burn white hot on the skin. he feels like he’s at war with himself; at war between two aemond’s that are fighting for control. one is forever bitter and grows with resentment, and the other is the same boy he was before his eye was taken out – the boy who wants to find clarity and peace. he wants desperately to be rid of this pain, but he felt like one couldn’t exist without the other.

“this is who i am.”

his words are spat like poison, dripping from his fangs as if he were a snake levying it’s primal defense against you. you’re upset; bordering heartbreak as the feelings, the memories you’ve created with him are turned to ash, turning the buds of your mouth sour.

was it all a lie? some little game he fabricated to pass the time?

you are staring at him, defiant yet saddened by his choice of words. his beady eye finally blinks at you, his stare still cold to the feeling.

you scoff and turn on your heel to leave him in the hallway.

despite your best thoughts, what were you really expecting? some happy ending, spurned friends turned romantic lovers? did you think he would easily forget the torment he suffered?

whatever it was, it was disappointing to see and hear the truth.

aemond targaryen would not change his hatefulness, not even for the pretty words you sang to him earlier. he liked them – without a doubt, but there was something that clung on to him, a wickedness he felt the need to feed.

he would not change, not now; not while the memory lives fresh in his mind.

[barbwritesstuff]

Ugh i dont know if its just me (and its definitely not a complaint about you, you're wonderful), there's quit a few scenes, routes and even Ro's that i can never find unless i ask you about it specifically??? Am i just that dumb??

Like, just yesterday you casually posted "you can find Ravima in a gay bar in chapter 4" and no matter how many times i replayed the game i have never stumbled upon it :( literally did not know it existed until you talked about it.

Again this is just me venting about my own incompetence, its not a complaint ask about you at all Barb <3

.....also how do we meet Ravima in a gay bar?

Messages like this really scare me because I thought people wanted more interactivity. I thought replaying to find the other scenes would be fun, not frustrating or upsetting.

I really didn't mean to make you feel incompetent, anon. I just wanted to add value by making the game different if you make different choices. Thicker Than is not as liner as Blood Moon. There is a lot you'll miss if you only play once, and that is by design. Different choices result in different outcomes.

I thought players would like discovering those differences by replaying the game... but I get a lot of messages like this asking me for roadmaps on how to get certain moments which makes me think players aren't enjoying the replay experience. They don't want to try and figure out what else is out there. They're annoyed that they have to click through it again to see what they missed.

Which is valid but, like I said, really terrifies me because I'm worried I've messed up.

I think I have read the room wrong. I think overly interactive is annoying rather than fun. But I also don't know how to change it now. Thicker Than is too big to rewrite at this point.

I'm really sorry if my game made you feel dumb, but getting messages like this in my inbox really upsets me. I'm not going to respond to anymore roadmap requests for a while. I'm sorry.