#songs with strangers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subcultureblues · 14 days ago

Text

When I Feel That Something (I Want To Hold Your Hand)

T | Steve Harrington / Eddie Munson | tags : Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship | cw : Period-Typical Homophobia, Discussions of Homophobia

———

It’s late and it’s been a long but lazy day. Eddie and Steve decided to go to that one diner in town that’s open late.

Eddie was drumming along to a nonexistent tune, his fingertips tap tapping away on his lap. He looked over at Steve very studiously reading the menu.

“You’re actually getting something different?”

“Nah.” Steve said without looking up. Eddie grinned. He figured as much. Steve was a creature of habit. Eddie was pretty sure he’d anyurize if they came here one day and they were out of strawberry ice cream for his milkshake.

And then he felt it. The slick bastard…. Without taking his eyes off the menu Steve had slipped his hand onto Eddie’s lap and tangled up their fingers.

He’s tenacious. Eddie’ll give ‘im that. Of course one glance around the diner and he was elbowing Steve between the ribs.

“Hey.” Steve held the wandering hand against where Eddie had jabbed him as if it actually hurt, the big baby. “What was that for -“

“Heya. I’m Mylene. What can I get y’all tonight?” Eddie gave Steve a fabulously vindicated, ‘I told you so’ look as their waitress materialized.

She must be new or something because Eddie’s never seen her working here before.

Eddie let Steve order for him, because he too, is a creature of habit and Steve knows what he likes. The waitress hadn’t seen anything, clearly - considering she’s definitely flirting with him.

She’s pretty too. Soft, delicate face. A real Miss Indiana.

Eddie pretends to study his rings and Steve pretends not to notice her overtures.

And that’s as good as it’s ever gonna get.

As soon as she walked away Eddie could feel Steve scooting closer.

“Sittin’ awful close there, Stevie.” Eddie teased, smiling casually and looking straight ahead.

“Yeah, yeah…” he heard Steve slide back a few inches down the seat. Eddie snuck a glance and chuckled.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty when you pout.” Eddie whispered, nonchalantly stretching to rest his arms over the back of the booth. For just a second, he let the tip of his thumb brush the back of Steve’s neck.

Softly, Eddie hummed that one song Steve put on when he was feeling corny. I wanna hold your hand-a-aand. I wanna hold your hand. Because Eddie did. Really did.

Steve smiled ruefully, but! He was smiling. As good as that was ever gonna get either.

When they get their separate checks, and no she didn’t ask, Steve’s had a number scribbled on the bottom. Next to the waitresse’s name and a little heart. Eddie looked down at it and huffed dryly, like maybe it was funny.

Steve reached past him and crumpled it. Left it there with the discarded napkins as they got up to leave.

“Can you believe her?” Steve muttered after they had stepped out of the diner and into the dark and cold. Eddie shoved his fists in his pockets for warmth.

Steve looked back at Eddie expectantly.

“Can’t fault a gal for good taste.” He shrugged. She didn’t do anything untoward. Eddie knew that. Steve did too. Still he was high strung, his shoulders tensed as they walked up to the van.

“You gotta get your head in the game, man.” Eddie said, opening the driver side door.

“What are you talking about?” Steve said, pausing in front of the open passenger side to look up and bite the inside of his cheek. When they were both inside they closed the doors and locked out the night chill.

“Come on, Stevie.” And then more reluctantly, almost apologetic he said, “You know what I’m talking about…”

“Yeah.” Steve pouted. God, what an adorable, majestic labradoodle of a man. Eddie never stood a chance…

Steve crossed his arms, uncrossed them. Crossed them again. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter though. No, I’m serious. Stop with the face. I’m not gonna risk you getting - “ Eddie huffed. Obviously, Eddie wasn’t upset with him. But honestly… would it so hard for Steve, just once in his life, to not be quite so brave and shining and true. Just once.

For Eddie’s sake if not his own.

“You.” He said, “Do not get to get hurt over this shit. Capiche?” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Steve mouth the word Capiche back to himself. Eddie valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes back into his skull. The two of them actually do have to take turns being entirely juvenile or nothing ever gets done around here. “I’m not - fucking letting that happen, alright? It’s just not worth the risk. So yeah. It sucks. But you gotta stop - “

“What?” Steve raised a bitchy eyebrow.

Eddie laughed, a bit startled at how just fond that look makes him feel. “Being cute.”

“Being cute?” Steve scoffed.

“Mmhmm.” Eddie said pulling out of the parking lot. “Cute.” He nodded definitively.

Steve rolled his eyes. He quietly waited for Eddie to finish fiddling with the radio, til he found a compromise worthy station, before speaking again.

“Ok, well.” Steve looked around. The roads were empty. It was dark. “What about, now….?”

Eddie lolled his head to look the opposite direction as Steve, biting his lip to hold back a ridiculously satisfied smile. Only then could he bare it - to glance at his boyfriend.

He was so sure Steve could see the big cartoon hearts in his eyes. It was annoying, when he was trying so hard to give Steve the ‘I told you to quit it’ eyes.

Steve put his hand over Eddie’s on the stick shift and locked their fingers together. Made a petulant noise, as if he was in active defiance.

“You’re one to talk about being obvious…”. Steve muttered

Eddie laughed. Steve had him dead to rights on that one.

“You know usually you’re meant to look at the road when you’re driving.”

Yeah usually. But then there was Steve in his car. Which, made it hard. And Eddie was a weak, weak man.

“God Steve Harrington... I love you so much sometimes it makes me sick.” He said smirking. Shaking his head at himself more than anything.

Sue him. He’s got Steve Harrington (yes that one) on his arm. He’s gonna be a little bit love struck for the rest of his life.

But now Steve was just slightly pink and biting his lip. Trying to contain himself, struggle against the upward tilt playing at the corner of his mouth. Still playing at mad while giving Eddie the ooiest, gooiest of eyes.

“Shut up…”

“Yeah. Because you fell in love with me for my strong but silent demeanor.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked out the window and huffed a laugh, squeezing his hand. “Something like that…”

Eddie still has no idea what about his ‘wet rat on the run from Johnny Law’ look had managed to charm Steve, but he refused to question it.

Eddie shifted the car in a higher gear, but Steve’s hand stayed right there on his. Didn’t move the rest of the way home.

When they got back to the trailer, they puttered around in easy silence. It was familiar. Eddie kind of loved it. That Steve didn’t even ask before raiding his pack of beers. That he had shirts in the dresser and a toothbrush next to Eddie’s and that he left his ridiculous shampoo here even though he knows Eddie’s been siphoning from it.

Hell, at this point he knew what drawer they kept the spatula. It was downright domestic.

That’s right folks. Eddie Munson had officially gone soft.

They were hanging out in his bedroom, Eddie playing his guitar at the head of the bed, one leg hanging off it and the other bent at the knee facing Steve. He was crisscross on the foot of the bed, back against the wall. Tossing a baseball of unknown origin up and down.

“I wish I could hold your hand.” He said, catching the ball just to stare at it.

“Steve.”

“No. It’s - I should be able to. It’s messed up.”

Eddie shrugged. Because such is life, amright? No point getting bent up out of shape about shit so, so very far out of your control.

Steve just sighed.

Because Eddie was used to the uh, - sociological blue balling. Whereas Steve, was not. Because Steve was new to all this.

“You can hold my hand now.” Eddie offered, but then he looked down at his guitar and thought about the riff he had almost perfected. “Ok, well not now.”

He stuck up his leg in the air and offered it in Steve’s direction.

“Here take this.” He said. Steve gave him an unimpressed face. Or maybe he could just smell Eddie’s socks and that look was judgement. Eddie wiggled his leg around in front of him a bit until Steve relented and pulled Eddie’s foot into his lap. Eddie grinned satisfactorily.

The baseball ended up rolling onto the floor and under the bed. Likely from whence it came. Steve barely even noticed. Still looking the wrong side of forlorn.

“Maybe I just don’t know what I’m missing out on.” Eddie shrugged, going back to running scales.

“I wish you did…”

“You wish I knew what I was missing out on so I’d suffer the more for not having it?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty fucked up, Stevie.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

“I want - fuck, man… I wanna just kiss you whenever I feel like it. Put my arm around you when I feel like it. And you know what? Yeah, maybe I want you to know what it feels like to get shown off a little. You… you should be, deserve to get shown off, you know…”

Eddie looked up at Steve. He was staring into space looking wistful. Sad. His hand still vaguely holding Eddie’s ankle. Eddie gently set his Baby down on the floor, propped up against the nightstand. Refocused his attention on his other Baby. Steve turned his neck to face Eddie, head tilted against the wall.

“It sucks. When you’re sitting right there and it can’t be like how I want it to be.”

“How do you want it?” Eddie risked indulging the hypothetical.

“I want em to know you’re mine.” Steve shrugged, picking at loose thread on Eddie’s thread bare jeans.

Eddie flopped back onto the bed, head sinking deep into his pillow. Sometimes it was like Steve was trying to stop Eddie’s heart in its tracks. He glared at Steve down the bridge of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop being cute.” He pretended to grouse.

Steve’s lip twitched up but it didn’t clear the upset on his face.

“Can’t help it I guess…” Steve said quietly. Distracted.

“No. I guess you can’t.” Eddie agreed. He outstretched his arms, raising them and leaving them suspended in the air. Beckoning for his sweet prince. Waiting for his Steve to come fall into them. “Come on.” He encouraged, with a begrudging tone - but really, who is he kidding.

Steve crawled up the bed, and sunk down on top of his chest. Christ, he was he heavy. And warm. Like the sexiest, most suffocating sleeping blanket to ever hit the market. The last blanket Eddie’d ever need.

Eddie really did love the way Steve used his chest as a pillow. Steve settled so he was mostly not crushing Eddie’s lungs. He snuggled his cheek against his usual spot. Right over where Eddie’s got that screaming face tatt, just getting comfortable.

Eddie ran a hand up and down his shoulder, hoping it did something to soothe this something in Steve. Squeezed his arms around him. Snuggled his own cheek against the top of Steve’s head.

“You think I wouldn’t be running around town screaming about, Steve Harrington, man of my dreams if I could.” He said eventually. He could hear Steve rolls his eyes. “Here ye, here ye! Thine King has the tightest, hottest, most fuckab-“

Steve pushed him away with a hand on his cheek.

“I’ll show you fuckable…” Steve mimicked, muttering nonsense. He looked up at Eddie from his chest. Eddie looked down at him, with a positively lecherous eyebrow.

A look that said, Oh baby. You already are.

And yet… Steve wasn’t preening. Usually he loved how Eddie could lighten the mood. Made light of things because sometimes it did start to make them feel lighter. Said it helped when he got too in his head. But Eddie got the distinct feeling Steve wanted to… talk.

“This comes with the territory of being little Missus Munson, hey stop it! Stop it! Hmph. Ow…”

Steve did stop trying to poke him to death with his pointer finger. Eddie sighed.

Perhaps counterintuitively… Eddie’s not the best at that. He can never seem to shut the hell up, until something important comes along and his silver tongue leaves him, the filthy deserter.

“It does though… It comes with the… me.”

“Eddie. S’not like it’s your fault.”

“Yeah… Doesn’t mean I can do anything to change it.” He said quietly. Staring at the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at Steve. “I remember you in highschool. You always had some girl on your arm.” He said, eyebrows raised and sounding detached.

Steve poked at him again which made Eddie wriggle but it didn’t shut him up.

“You’d be… holding hands in the hallway. Making out against your locker. Under the bleachers… In the lunchroom...”

“Eddie.” Steve frowned. Eddie shrugged the shoulder Steve wasn’t lying on, resigned.

“I - can’t give you that, Steve.” He said simply, though the words rose like bile in his throat. “This is… You can take it or you can leave it. But if you ever want to just,” Eddie felt too big for his skin. Felt sick and warm. Felt like his heart suddenly forgot its easy, devil-may-care rhythm. Which is why he tried not to think about it. This. Not to dream of things so far out of his reach. His eyebrows drew together. “You ever want to just - hold hands and walk down the street again… I’m not the person for that. You’re gonna have to um, your gonna need to, uh, find someone else.”

Someone like Mylene, Eddie thought numbly.

“Eddie.” Steve’s head rose from his chest. His face all twisted up. With that unconscionably cute pissed off little frown of his, the one he puts on when he gets all serious. The one for which Eddie had no earthly defense.

God, Eddie hated when his heart did this. Ached.

“Stop it. Don’t - I want to hold your hand. Show you off. Kiss you. Kiss you whenever I feel like it.” He scoffed. “Not just like for the fuck of it. What’s the point if it’s anybody but you, stupid.”

Eddie managed to smile. It was small and sad and he still couldn’t look at him. But it was there - and a lot more earnest than Eddie lets himself be a lot of the time.

Steve moved up his body and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s temple. Grounded them both at that point of contact.

“Hey.” Steve whispered. Eddie did finally face him. Prayed his eyes looked less scared than he felt. Steve put a warm open palm on the side of his neck. Slid it up to rest on his cheek. Stroking his thumb back and forth purposefully. He nosed at Eddie’s other cheek. “Hey. I love you. I really - I really need this. You.” He could feel the warmth of his breath in the shape of the words. Eddie dragged his nose down the bridge of Steve’s. He loved the way their skin on skin felt. Loved the way it made him feel, how it transported him somewhere simple and safe.

Like those ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz. Press them together, and suddenly… you’re home again.

Like magic.

“It kind of scares the shit out of me when you talk like that.” Steve said, quiet and pretending it hurts less than it really does.

Eddie closed his eyes and squeezed Steve in his arms.

“M’sorry.” Eddie mumbled into his neck. “…You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Right?”

“I better be.” Steve ribbed gently.

“We’ll uh,” he cleared his throat, but it still felt like there were like, rocks stuck in there or something. He tried again. “You won’t ever be able to get married… can’t have kids - s’illegal and all.”

“So what? Ya know? So what. I get to have… this, right?” He grinned, reverently running a hand through Eddie’s mess of hair. Scratching his fingernails softly into the back of his neck. “And I’d like to see them try and take that from me. I have a pretty scary bat, you know.”

“I heard about that.” Eddie murmured.

“Yeah? It’s all covered in like, nails and demon blood and everything.” He laughed softly, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair.

“You’re very metal, baby.” Eddie said, placing a kiss on his neck.

“And don’t think I won’t use it.” Now it Steve trying to unsuccessfully lighten the mood.

Eddie uncurled and laid back, just staring at the ceiling.

“You want it though. You’ve always wanted that…”

“Well. Yeah…”

Eddie’s eyes start to sting and somewhere in the back of his head his dad’s voice is there telling him to stop being a pussy, that he’s being a real baby about this, that he’s always been a fucking idiot. He’s too loose limbed and sedated to bother toughen up. Too tired to be impenetrable.

Steve kissed him. On the cheek, softer than anything else in Eddie’s life.

Eddie’s been slowly trying to wisen up to the fact that uh. When he and Steve are all pretzeled up like this, their whole bodies a tangle. When it’s dark and quiet and just them. It’s actually fine to feel like a pussy, and a total baby, and a fucking idiot. It just makes Steve kiss him like that. Squeeze a little tighter. Makes him want to stay folded up like this longer, as long as they can. Even when Steve like really, really has to pee.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck he’s gonna do with himself when he looses this too. Steve nuzzles up against him, make a small sound. If, he tried to remind himself. If he looses it.

Pretty please, Jesus fucking Christ - Please be an if.

“I wanna marry you Eddie.”

“Ok.” Eddie shrugged, disaffected. He wants to marry Steve too.

He also wants a million dollars, a 84’ Flying V, to be trapped in an elevator with Gary Gygax for like 30 minutes, because he’s got some serious ideas about the rules alright?

He wants to be a rock star. He wants Wayne to be able to retire.

The wanting is the problem. It’s an indulgence that doesn’t do anyone much good. That just precedes a dull, drawn out ache.

Steve sat up very suddenly, straddling Eddie’s hips. And God, if Eddie’s not a boy because he’s way too easily distracted by Steve sitting on his dick. Steve stretches an arm out to reach over Eddie. He puts his hands on Steve’s hips to steady him as he goes to grab something off the nightstand.

Sweet. So they’re gonna fuck it out. Eddie won’t complain about that. Simple ecstasy? A carnal pleasure? That’s the #1 Munson Recomended method to treat self pitying bouts of despair, baby.

He was great with the words that didn’t matter, really not so much with the ones that did. And Steve always was and would be a man of action. And ok, maybe Eddie was even a little relieved to forget this conversation, this hole in his chest. Just, not have to think about it.

But then Steve didn’t present Eddie with a bottle of lube. Instead he was carefully holding one of Eddie’s rings pinched between two fingers. Eddie had slipped them off and put them on the nightstand (because as cool as they make him look on stage they’re clunky and obtrusive and practicing with them on his fingers gets on his nerves.)

“Marry me.” Steve said, presenting Eddie’s very own ring to him.

“Uh - “ His eyes crossed looking at it held up in front of his face.

Steve huffed.

“Fine. I Steve Harrington, ask thee, Eddie Munson, for your hand in marriage.” Steve said, gently picking up one of Eddie’s hands. He was just staring at Steve trying to figure out the punchline.

“Maybe not today, alright? But like, someday, right? There’s gotta be a a someday. And then I’m gonna marry you. First day they’ll legally let me do it.”

“Sure. We’ll probably be like, a hundred.”

“Ok.” He shrugged. Like for Steve it was that simple. It came that easy for him. “Would you want…?”

“Fuck you. Fuck you, man.” Eddie rolled them over so he was curled on top of Steve. Steve put up a struggle, slowly suffocating under him.

“I want it so bad it’s like a bullet to the chest.” He said, holding the love of his life down in an illegal wrestling move.

“You’f suz a drauma queen.” Steve mumbled under him. Eddie rested his weight his on his forearms, one on either side of Steve’s head, releasing the petulant creature from it’s confines. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“And you’re… something else, Harrington.”

“It’ll be Munson won’t it.” And there’s a second round, a clean shot to the heart. He hides his face in Steve’s neck, pretending he’s not squealing on the inside like a teenage girl with a bad case of Beatle-mania.

“Fuck off.” He sighs. “You’re gonna kill me one day, Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Munson.” He sputtered a little, mouth open like he was trying to get a stray hair out of it.

Eddie made a sound like he’s dying.

“God that sounds awful actually.” Eddie said, as if he’s not gonna be writing it in little hearts in the margins of his notebooks. “Just. Does not roll off the tongue. Like at all.”

Steve’s fingers were trailing featherlight up and down his spine. “Yeah.” He agreed. And Eddie could hear the smile on the bastards face.

“Robin can be our incubator.”

“She agreed to that?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Steve snorted. “But I’ll wear’er down. She’s a total sap.”

Eddie snorted. She was a god awful hopeless romantic.

“You’re gonna force that poor lesbian to pump out 4 little Harrington’s?”

“Little Munsones. Munsonses?”

“Munsons?” Eddie raised a condescending eyebrow.

“Besides I don’t need 4, I’ll already have one giant fucking baby waiting for me at home.” He digs his nose into Eddie’s cheek accusatorially.

“You get one.”

“Three.” Steve bargained, eyes squinting in challenge.

“Two.” Eddie said, grinning widely.

“And a dog.”

“You get a hamster.” Eddie said, feeling warm all over. “Final offer.”

Two little tikes running around the house, screaming like banshees. He could read them The Hobbit when they’re all tuckered out and tucked in, to put them to sleep. Use all his silly voices.

He could teach them D&D and they could all giggle and create chaos together as a family, sat around the dining room table.

They could play princes and princesses in the yard and Eddie could be the big mean dragon - that they then vanquish in glorious combat. He would fall to his knees and ‘die’ oh so dramatically. He knows he would.

When they’re real little, he could bounce them on his knee like a cowboy. Do stupid shit like play peek-a-boo and blow raspberries on their tummy’s til they barfed themselves laughing. All the stuff he doesn’t remember but had wanted anyways.

He pictures himself up at 2 am with Steve standing behind him, pressed against his back. Having finally gotten the wailing little beast in his arms to fall back asleep; and he gets to hold something small and fragile and full of so much living potential and do it better this time around.

Damn.

He was crying, wasn’t he?

He just noticed. Steve had noticed too. He was quietly kissing up Eddie’s jawline, into his temple. Running those magical hands through his hair in a way that made him want to pur like a cat.

“Eddie?” He spoke softly.

Eddie sniffed. He grabbed at the fist Steve was still holding the ring in. “Gimme.” He said, frowning.

“Hey.” Steve warned. He took Eddie’s left hand by the wrist, slowly coaxed his fingers open. Carefully slid the ring on. Stared at it on Eddie’s hand. Smiling just, way too smugly.

Eddie flexed his fingers, testing his grip. It’s literally the ring he wears on his left ring finger almost every single day.

And isn’t that something. The way Steve can take something that should be entirely mundane. And make it mean everything to Eddie, make it mean the fucking world.

A very serious expression crossed Eddie’s face, then he reached over to the night stand and grabbed a handful of the rest of his rings.

He opened his palm and sorted through them by size. “What are you doing?” Steve asked. Eddie shushed him. Steve clicked his tongue but he went easily when Eddie reached out to grab his left hand.

“Oh.” Steve said, as Eddie went about trying a few different rings on his fingers. Steve’s hands were a lot meatier than Eddie’s. Steve was a fit guy, you see. Even his hands were bigger, more muscular. Eddie had slender guitar player hands. But eventually he found one, a simple silver band with a fleur-de-lis that fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

“Mine.” Eddie said, hugging Steve’s forearm tightly and trapping it possesively against his own chest. Steve looked at the ring on his finger. He turned his hand around in Eddie’s grip to press it flat against Eddie’s heartbeat. Then Steve kissed him, rested their foreheads together.

“You’re such a brute, you know that?” Steve said, kissing him again.

“I’ll show you a brute.” Eddie raised his eyebrows suggestively. They kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Have you heard about what’s going on in New York? And like San Francisco and stuff.”

“The big gay revolution? Sure.” Eddie shrugged. Kissed him again. Lots of tongue.

Does it still count as premarital sex after whatever that was? Eddie’s gotta be honest, he’s a little disappointed at the idea of their sex life getting even the slightest bit less actively sinful.

“What do you think?”

“Hmmm? It’s a nice dream. I’ll give em that.” Steve gave him a look. Eddie scoffed.

“I want to… I can’t just sit here, man.” Steve said. Because Steve was a man of action. Because when Steve sees a monster he just starts swinging. He held Eddie’s hand in his own, looking at the ring that was next to meaningless 10 minutes ago and it just wasn’t anymore. “I’m not kidding. I am gonna marry you. I want to be out there. Doing that. Until they have to let me.”

“I dunno, man…. I’m more of a rebel without a cause.” Eddie said, because activism’s an idealist’s game.

“Oh, come ooon. Fighting the power. Sticking it to The Man. Riots in the streets. You gotta admi-t. Pretty metal….” He grinned, knowing each and every one of Eddie’s weaknesses and exactly how to tempt him.

“Yeah. Ok, yeah it kinda is.”

It would be nice. Knowing there’s other people like them is different from actually knowing other people who are like them. It’s crazy just how much Eddie’s life changed from having two people in the world who could get him the way Steve and Robin got him. They could drag her out there with them. Hit up the lesbian bars, ‘find her Eddie’ as she and Steve refer to it sometimes.

The music scene there is actually… existent. Unlike here. Eddie could… he try and make a name for himself.

They could… it sounds like a fucking pipe dream. That things could ever change. That people could ever change. That some day people like them wouldn’t have to be afraid of lingering glances or hands - or a kiss.

But… fuck if Steve’s optimistic smile wasn’t convincing him of something. Convincing Eddie that hey, it’s at least worth a try, right?

“I wanna hold your hand.” Steve said quietly, even thought he was already holding it.

“That’s not very metal at all.” Eddie teased.

“I dunno… Feels pretty metal to me.” He said, absently playing with Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie huffed a laugh.

“Yeah… Yeah I guess it really is.”

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #Steve Harrington #steddie ficlet #mine #I’m not joking when I say realistic Period Typical Homophobia #don’t worry though #the end is bright ♥️#title is from the Beatles song obvi because it just . MEANS something different to the gays aight

279 notes · View notes

seongwars · 10 days ago

Text

strangers by nature | v

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.4K Warnings: a little angst, mentions of stalking, one swear word, only 50% proofread because of the holidays, panic attack

Fic Masterlist | Taglist Signup

a/n: I struggled to write this chapter, but things will definitely be picking up soon! as always feedback is appreciated! i love reading everyone's thoughts!

The faint jingling of the bell announced your arrival as you stepped into the cozy coffee shop. Mingi trotted in behind you, his tiny paws clicking against the tiled floor. Heads turned almost immediately, and the quiet murmur of conversation gave way to coos and giggles.

“Look at that dog!”

“He’s so cute!”

Mingi puffed up his chest, his little tail wagging in satisfaction as he soaked in the admiration. His tail wagged in satisfaction, a clear sign that he was enjoying the attention. Someone nearby pulled out their phone, angling for a picture, while another patron whispered to their friend about how much he resembled a fluffy toy.

Despite his tiny form, he still had his ego intact. He strutted a few steps ahead of you, taking in the praise from others.

“I’ll get us something quick,” you muttered to him, scratching behind his ears. He gave a soft huff, clearly not impressed with the idea of waiting, especially when a cup of whip cream was to be had.

You straightened and made your way to the counter, your eyes scanning the menu overhead. Behind you, Mingi entertained his growing fan club, a gaggle of customers marveling at his antics as you stepped aside to wait for your order.

“Y/N?”

Turning, you were greeted by the sight of Park Seonghwa standing near the condiment bar, a takeaway cup in one hand and the other tucked into his pocket. It was rare to see the heir to Park Enterprises out and about like this, given his reputation for being both elusive and endlessly busy. That fact that he was here at all felt oddly serendipitous.

“Hey, Seonghwa.”

His smile widened slightly, and he took a step closer. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Yeah, I’m on the way to the hospital to stay with Mingi. Just stopping by to grab coffee before heading over.”

As if on cue, Maro let out a sharp bark, turning Seonghwa’s attention downward. His brows lifted in surprise and delight as he took in the tiny, proud pup sitting at your feet.

“Mingi let you have a dog?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated. “Well... not exactly,” you admitted, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s...complicated.”

“Complicated, huh?”

Still, the thought lingered in your mind: would you have to give up your puppy once Mingi woke up? Maro had simply happened, and now you couldn’t imagine not having him around.

“I found him,” you blurted. “Or, I guess, he found me.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on Maro, his expression softening slightly before he returned his attention to you.

“Knowing Mingi,” he said carefully, “I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled about this.”

You laughed, though it came out a little strained. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t exactly have a say right now.”

The humor in the moment dissipated almost immediately. Seonghwa’s teasing expression softened, giving way to something more serious.

“How is he?” he asked quietly.

“The same,” you admitted. “No changes yet.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice so low it barely reached you over the hum of the coffee shop. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

You nodded, lips pressing into a tight line as you fought the sudden swell of emotion in your chest.

“If you need company at the hospital,” he offered, “just let me know.”

Now hold on! Mingi growled, his tiny body stiffening. His big brown eyes locked onto Seonghwa, narrowing as much as his puppy face would allow. Park Seonghwa, for all his charm was still Park Seonghwa, a man with a reputation whose commitment issues rivaled Mingi’s own.

You glanced up at him, managing to raise an eyebrow as you struggled to muster a semblance of a smile. His offer, so simple yet so unexpectedly kind, caught you off guard.

“Is it because your family owns Hala Medical?”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone playful as though he could sense you needed the levity.

Mingi didn’t care how successful Seonghwa’s family was in healthcare, or how much he was trying to play the concerned friend right now. He wasn’t going to let him swoop in with his perfect hair, stupid face, and infuriatingly genuine smile to worm his way into your life while he was stuck in a coma, unable to defend himself.

And you’re a married woman! If Seonghwa thought he could charm his way past that little detail, Mingi was more than ready to remind him otherwise. The puppy let out another indignant bark. You shot him a quick look, tilting your head in confusion.

“What’s with you?” you muttered softly, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him.

Mingi growled louder this time, his tiny body practically vibrating with the effort. Did Seonghwa think he was fooling anyone? Mingi was onto him, and he wasn’t going to let the infamous Park Seonghwa forget that you were spoken for.

“Don’t mind him,” you said with a sheepish laugh, shifting Mingi in your arms. “He gets like this sometimes. It’s all that puppy energy.”

Seonghwa raised a brow, his lips twitching with amusement as he leaned slightly closer. “Protective, huh?” he remarked, his tone light.

“Guess he has good instincts.”

Of course I do! Mingi thought, puffing out his little chest. If he’d had hands instead of paws, he’d have already swung on Seonghwa for good measure. A man like Seonghwa didn’t just casually offer to visit hospitals out of the goodness of his heart. No, he had an angle, and Mingi was determined to sniff it out.

Still, you were oblivious to the growing tension between the two males. “I should grab my order,” you said, glancing toward the counter and adjusting your grip on Mingi.

“I need to get there before visiting hours are over.”

Seonghwa nodded, stepping aside with a gracious smile. “Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

Mingi let out another low growl, shooting one last withering glare at Seonghwa as you turned your attention back to the counter. As far as the pomeranian was concerned, this wasn’t over.

⋆

Yeosang’s car rolled to a stop in front of the hospital. As soon as the door opened, Mingi’s tiny legs worked furiously as he darted toward Yeosang, his fluffy tail wagging so hard it looked like he might fly away.

“Hey buddy,” Yeosang chuckled, scratching behind Mingi’s ears before scooping him up. “You ready for another sleepover?”

Hetmon barked from the backseat, his paws resting on the window. Let’s go already!

“Thanks so much for meeting me here! Sorry today’s drop off is a little out of the ordinary,” you said, handing Yeosang a bag of baked goods from the coffee shop.

“No worries. It actually works out great! Having the park between my apartment and the hospital is pretty convenient. I told Hetmon we’d stop by and let him and Maro run around before heading home.”

“You’re a lifesaver, I can’t thank you enough. Hetmon is more than welcome to stay with us whenever he’d like.”

“Careful, he might take you up on that offer and never want to come home.”

Laughing, you bent down to give Mingi a kiss between his fluffy ears. “Be good for Uncle Yeosang, okay?” Mingi gave an enthusiastic bark in response, his tail wagging so furiously it made his whole body wiggle.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a final wave, you turned and headed toward the hospital, glancing back once to see Maro already pawing at Yeosang’s leg, eager to get going.

Once they reached the dog park, Mingi wasted no time. The moment Yeosang unclipped his leash, the little pomeranian shot off like a rocket. He barked gleefully, weaving through the open field with such speed that even larger dogs stopped to watch in astonishment.

Hetmon trotted after him at a more measured pace, as if he knew Mingi would wear himself out eventually. Finally, the puppy skidded to a stop under the shade of a tree, panting dramatically as the doberman joined him, settling down onto the grass with a huff. But before Hetmon could catch his breath, Mingi launched into a tirade.

“So, get this,” Mingi began, his tiny voice surprisingly serious despite the constant wagging of his tail. He paced in front of Hetmon, his little legs moving with purpose.

“There’s this guy. His name is Seonghwa, and he was hitting on Y/N at the coffee shop.”

Hetmon tilted his head, his ears perking up. “Seonghwa? Who’s that?”

“He’s not important,” Mingi snapped, spinning around dramatically. “What’s important is that he thinks he can just charm his way into Y/N’s heart.”

“Well, if he’s not important, why are we talking about him?”

“Because!” Mingi barked, “He’s literally perfect and I don’t want Y/N to replace me! She’s my wife and I… I…”

His voice faltered, the words catching in his throat as if saying them aloud might make them too real. His paws stilled mid-step, and he froze, staring down at the ground.

Love her.

Was this love really his? Or was it just some puppy instinct to adore the person who cared for him?

He thought of the way you’d let him curl up in bed with you, ignoring how much space his small, fluffy frame somehow managed to take up. You always tucked the blankets around him, murmuring something soft and sweet. He felt safe there, pressed close to you, as though nothing could hurt him as long as he was with you.

He thought about how you scratched behind his ears, those tender moments when he’d rest his head on your lap. You’d tell him, you love him and each time, he could feel it in your voice, in your touch. It wasn’t just words.

You meant it.

You didn’t just care for him. You saw him. You saw past all his flaws–his arrogance, his pride, and you still stayed. Even as he was in a coma, you chose him.

And if that wasn’t love, what was?

“I don’t want to lose her,” Mingi admitted, his voice trembling.

He sank onto his haunches, his tail lying limp against the ground. Yet, the act of speaking them aloud released something within him. It was like stepping into the sun after years of darkness.

It wasn’t just the loyalty of a pet. It wasn’t just some fleeting puppy affection. It was real. He loved you.

But love, he realized bitterly, came with its own demons. It came with fear, sharp and gnawing. The fear that you’d leave him. The fear that one day, you’d look at him and realize you deserved better.

Mingi's chest tightened, his breaths coming out in short, shallow huffs. What if you already realized it? What if the only thing keeping you by his side was pity? That thought was unbearable.

His tail gave a tentative wag, hesitant at first but growing stronger as he allowed himself to lean into the feeling. It wasn’t just relief. It was hope.

“I love her,” he declared, this time with a small smile.

“Aww, look who’s grown a heart.”

Mingi’s ears perked up, and he whirled around to see Wooyoung perched on a low-hanging branch, his black tail swishing lazily. The cat’s eyes twinkled with amusement, his signature smirk in place.

“It’s the cat!” Hetmon barked excitedly, bounding over to the tree with his tail wagging furiously. He let out another bark, practically vibrating with energy as Wooyoung hopped down from the branch.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi narrowed his eyes to gaze at the Judge.

“Am I not allowed to congratulate you? You’re knocking these tasks out in record time” he drawled, arching his spine and flexing his claws. “Touching confession, by the way.”

Mingi puffed up, his fur fluffing indignantly. “What do you want?”

Wooyoung stood, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder with his paw. “I came to remind you that there’s more work to be done. The little girl? That was only task two. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Mingi scowled, his fluffy tail flicking in irritation. “I know that. You don’t need to remind me.”

“But it’s so entertaining,” Wooyoung shot back, his grin widening mischievously.

“Watching our little hero overcome life’s obstacles for love.”

Then, to Mingi’s surprise, Wooyoung’s expression softened, his usual smirk giving way to something quieter and more thoughtful.

“Look,” he said, his voice dropping to something almost gentle, “you did well.”

Mingi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Wooyoung’s demeanor.

“You’ve got more heart than you give yourself credit for. You’re capable of putting someone else’s needs before your own. That you can be selfless when it matters.”

Selfless. That wasn’t a word he’d ever used to describe himself. In his human life, everything had been about him: his ambitions, his comforts, his endless need for validation. If something didn’t serve his desires, he’d ignored it, or worse, pushed it away.

He had been selfish. He could see that now, clear as day, and the realization stung. He’d hurt people—hurt you. He’d dismissed your efforts, neglected your feelings, and then, when things fell apart, he had blamed you.

“Why are you telling me this?” Mingi asked finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

“Because, as much as I enjoy giving you a hard time, I’d rather see you win. For her, but also for you.”

For a moment, Mingi didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to this side of Wooyoung—supportive, almost kind. It threw him off balance, but at the same time, it felt…good.

He swore he’d work harder, not just to make things right, but to make you happy. This wasn’t just about earning back his humanity, it was about earning back your trust, your happiness, and maybe, if he was lucky, your forgiveness.

“Hetmon! Maro! Let’s go home!”

Clutching their leashes in hand, Yeosang hurried toward the dogs, crouching down to clip the leashes onto their harnesses. As they started toward the park’s exit, Yeosang cast one last glance over his shoulder, his jaw tightening.

“Excuse me?”

Yeosang turned, his usually calm expression darkening as he took in the middle-aged woman approaching him. Her clothes were simple and unremarkable, but her presence carried an unsettling air. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of desperation and misplaced affection that made Yeosang’s skin crawl.

“Can I help you?” he asked flatly, keeping his tone polite but distant.

“C-Can you tell me more about that dog?” she asked, pointing to Mingi. Her voice quivered, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness Yeosang could dismiss as harmless. It felt...like she was trying too hard to seem unassuming.

“He’s just a pomeranian.”

“Oh, it’s just...he’s so unique.”

Her smile was tight, forced, and her hands fidgeted restlessly at her sides. “I couldn’t help but notice him. Where did you get him? He’s not from around here, is he?”

Yeosang stiffened, his instincts screaming at him to end the conversation. “I can ask his owner for more information, but—”

“Owner?” she interrupted, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh, so he’s not yours?” She took a step closer, her gaze fixed intently on Mingi.

“No, but I’m sure you can find a pomeranian for adoption if you reach out to your local shelter.”

But the woman didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity, and her smile grew wider, almost manic.

“What about the girl?”

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed. “What girl?”

“The one who owns him,” the woman said, her gaze shifting between Yeosang and Mingi. Her expression softened into something disturbingly wistful.

“My daughter.”

Yeosang froze, his heart thudding in his chest. “Your daughter?” he echoed, his voice flat and cold, masking the unease creeping up his spine.

The woman nodded, her smile growing wider but no less unsettling. “She’s grown into such a lovely young woman, hasn’t she?”

Yeosang’s grip on the leashes tightened, as he scanned his surroundings for any sign of Hetmon and Mingi. The two were playing under a tree, which was a relief. He took a deliberate step back, placing himself between the woman and the dogs.

“That’s none of your business,” he said sharply.

But the woman didn’t seem to notice his hostility—or chose to ignore it. “Is she married? Does she live nearby? Does she walk the dogs often?”

Yeosang felt his patience snap. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by a simmering anger. Who was this woman?

“Listen to me. You’re asking invasive, inappropriate questions about someone you don’t know. That’s not curiosity, that’s stalking.”

The woman’s smile faltered but she quickly recovered, her expression twisting into something defensive.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” she replied, though her tone lacked sincerity. “I just wanted to know more about my daughter. I haven’t seen her in over twenty years ever since her father took her away from me!” Her voice rose on the last part, as if she were struggling to contain an outburst.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but if I ever see you here again, or if you go anywhere near…your daughter, I won’t be this polite.”

For a moment, there was silence. Her hands trembled slightly, and her breath quickened, but she didn’t speak. Instead, her gaze flickered over to the dogs, then back to Yeosang. With a sharp exhale, she finally turned on her heel, her movements stiff with rage. She stalked off, muttering under her breath, her words inaudible but tinged with frustration.

He watched her retreat, his eyes following her until she was out of sight, and only then did he allow himself to relax slightly. Clutching their leashes in hand, Yeosang hurried toward the dogs, crouching down to clip the leashes onto their harnesses.

“Hetmon! Maro! Let’s go home!”

Yeosang kept his eyes scanning the park’s perimeter, making sure the woman didn’t return. His thoughts kept circling back to her, the way she’d spoken about you, referring to you as her daughter.

He shook his head, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away but the voice in the back of his head kept telling him that you were in trouble. Gripping the leashes a little tighter, Yeosang quickened his pace, the dogs trotting happily at his side as he rushed home. He had to let you know that something was amiss and that you were possibly in danger.

⋆

You sighed, stretching your stiff muscles as you laid on the sofa. It had been about a month and a half since Mingi’s accident, and the doctors still hadn’t seen any improvement in his condition. The days blurred together–you’d get up, take Maro out, feed him, get ready for your day, check in on the foundation, before contemplating your existence.

The sofa you’d claimed as your makeshift bed creaked faintly as you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, though it did little to chase away the cold.

“Found you.”

The voice broke the silence, and you startled, jerking upright as your heart raced. Blinking against the dim light of the hallway, your eyes landed on a figure standing a few feet away.

“Seonghwa?”

His dark suit was impeccably tailored, his shoes polished to a mirror shine, and his hair so flawlessly styled that you doubted anything about him had ever been out of place. Even now, standing in the dim, unflattering light of the hospital, he looked more suited for the cover of a magazine than the depressing private suite of your comatose husband. Park Seonghwa and his stupidly perfect face and personality, everyone would say.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still low, more out of habit than necessity.

“I had a meeting with the board,” he said, stepping into the room as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“At 9 at night?” you asked, eyebrows raising in disbelief.

“Hospital boards don’t keep regular hours,” he replied easily, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You frowned, pulling your blanket tighter around yourself. “I didn’t think hospitals held board meetings this late.”

“They usually don’t,” he admitted, taking another step closer. “But some discussions can’t wait.” His gaze swept over the room, lingering briefly on the sofa before settling back on you.

“And what about you? Shouldn’t you be at home? Or at least in an actual bed?”

“I told you,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’m staying with Mingi.”

His expression softened, though the concern in his eyes remained. “You’ve been staying here for weeks, haven’t you?”

“Isn’t that a violation of patient privacy?” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively.

Seonghwa’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “First, you’re not a patient. Secondly, news spreads fast when your mother-in-law is…your mother-in-law.”

The mention of her made your jaw tighten instinctively, your grip on the blanket pulling it tighter around you like a shield. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, she cared in her own way, you supposed. But it was hard not to feel resentment every time you were left to sit by Mingi’s side alone, her absence a glaring reminder of how much he’d been left to you to shoulder.

“I just don’t like the idea of him being left alone.”

“Running yourself into the ground won’t help Mingi. If anything, it’ll make things harder for him, and for you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Humor me,” he said. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

You hesitated. You opened your mouth again, searching for a reply—something to prove him wrong—but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was…you couldn’t remember.

When was the last time you did something for yourself? Getting coffee with Jiwoo and Jongho didn’t count. The same thing goes with taking Maro out for a walk or hanging out with Yeosang and Hetmon. No, those moments weren’t for you. They were distractions at best, small glimpses of normalcy in the chaos, but they hadn’t been about you.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his voice softer now. He straightened, motioning toward the door.

“Come on.”

“Come on where?”

“For a walk,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“In the middle of the night? In a hospital?”

“My family owns the hospital,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk. “And you need fresh air.”

You stared at him. For a moment, you contemplated saying no, coming up with an excuse to stay planted on the sofa in the darkness of the suite. But the weight of his gaze and his stupid handsome face left little room for argument.

“Fifteen minutes,” he added softly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

The courtyard was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of city life. He walked beside you at a leisurely pace, his hands in his pockets, giving you room to gather your thoughts.

“So,” he said finally, “How are you?”

You blinked, glancing at him. “What?”

He turned his head slightly to meet your gaze. “How are you doing?” he repeated.

The question caught you off guard. Not because it was strange or unwelcome, but because it had been so long since anyone had asked you that. Really asked.

“I’m fine,” you replied, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Try again.”

You frowned, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

His lips quirked at the corners, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “And I said try again.”

Your frustration flared, but before it could boil over, Seonghwa leaned back against the edge of the fountain, crossing his arms. He took a moment to study you. You were always a little strange, he thought, but not in a bad way. It was in a way that made you stand out amongst the world of the elite.

You lived in a world of sharp edges, where power was everything, and kindness was a weakness waiting to be exploited. Yet, amidst the cutthroat games of high society, you wore your heart plainly. Somehow, you remained standing, untouched by the corrosive allure of wealth and status. It wasn’t rebellion that set you apart, it was something gentler, something more enduring.

Seonghwa had always admired this about you, even from afar, catching glimpses through the whispers of your peers.

His voice was softer when he spoke again. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he said. “But don’t lie to me either. You’re not fine.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words were caught in your throat. Instead, you sighed in response, stuffing your hands deeper into the pockets of your jacket. Seonghwa didn’t push, though his gaze lingered for a moment longer before he glanced away.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence again, this time with a lighter tone. “What’s the plan when Mingi wakes up?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” you admitted quietly. “I’m just…focusing on what’s in front of me right now.”

“You’re running yourself ragged for someone who might not do the same for you.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have empathy for him.”

Seonghwa let out a low hum, his expression thoughtful. “No,” he agreed, his voice almost a murmur. “It doesn’t. But you’re allowed to have empathy for yourself too.”

“You’re too good for our world,” he added. When your eyes flicked to his, he gave you a small, almost wistful smile.

“You don’t belong in all this chaos, Y/N. You’ve always been…strange.”

“I get that alot,” you scoffed. “You’re not the first one to point that out.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because people like you get hurt the most in a world like this.”

You turned to look at him, startled by how sincere he was. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, your arsenal of witty comebacks failing you. Seonghwa wasn't pitying you nor was he being condescending. He was acknowledging you, comforting you. Reminding you that compassion was a strength and it was something you were worthy of receiving, too.

“Is this…” you started, trying to mask the slight tremor in your voice with a teasing tone, “is this part of that charm you’re so infamous for?”

Seonghwa’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Infamous?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smirk and crossing your arms over your chest to regain some sense of control.

“Your reputation almost rivals Mingi’s.” You hesitated, your voice dipping just slightly as you added, “but, you know, with fewer tantrums.”

“Fewer tantrums, huh? Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the teasing glint in his eyes made it harder to keep a straight face.

“Take it however you want,” you replied lightly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his grin softening as his tone shifted. “But seriously, you know I’m always around, if you need someone. I mean it.”

You instinctively raised your hand, wiggling your fingers to display your wedding ring. “I’m a married woman.”

“Take it however you want,” he teased, throwing your own words back at you with a wink. “But the offer stands.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. Was he genuinely offering support? Or was he trying to make a move on you? Before you could figure out how to respond, the shrill ring of your phone caught you off guard.

Your gaze dropped to the screen, where Yeosang’s name lit up. Grateful for the interruption, you glanced back at Seonghwa with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

He nodded, leaning back with an easygoing shrug, though his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.

“Hey Yeosang.”

“Hey! How’s the hospital?”

“Same old,” you replied with a sigh. “Nothing’s really changed with Mingi.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, and you could feel the genuine sympathy in his voice. “Maro and Hetmon are all tucked in and asleep in the fort, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s this about?” you asked, your posture straightening as a flicker of worry crept in.

Yeosang hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Your mother…is Kim Youngji, right? Former Jinhit heiress?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?”

“Well…” Yeosang’s voice lowered, and you could hear the tension creeping in. “There was this strange woman at the park asking questions about Maro like where you got him and whatnot. At first, I thought she was just a dog lover, you know? Interested in him because he’s such a unique breed or something. But then…”

“Then what?” you pressed.

“She started asking about you,” Yeosang said, his voice laced with unease. “And not in a casual way. She was way too specific, Y/N. She claimed you were her daughter.”

“What!?” you exclaimed, your voice rising in disbelief. The absurdity of his words collided with a chilling sense of unease. You looked over to Seonghwa, who had stepped closer, his brow furrowed with concern.

“She kept pressing,” Yeosang continued, his frustration clear in the clipped tone of his voice. “Her questions got more invasive. She asked if you were married, if you lived nearby, if you were the one who walked Maro most of the time. And then…” He paused, his voice dropping lower.

“Then she said your dad took you away from her. Like she was claiming he took you away in a custody battle.”

Your heart sank further, a cold knot forming in your stomach. “She said that?”

“Yeah. That’s when I lost my shit. I told her to get lost, grabbed the dogs, and got out of there as fast as I could. But…I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, and you felt Seonghwa’s gaze on you. He didn’t say anything, but the slight tilt of his head reminded you that he was there if you needed him.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said finally, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ll…I’ll talk to my mom about it. Maybe she’ll have some idea of who this woman is.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Yeosang agreed, though his tone remained cautious. “But be careful, okay? Whoever she is, she didn’t seem stable. Take your time with pick up tomorrow.”

“I appreciate that,” you said quietly, “Thanks for looking out for the puppies.”

The call ended, leaving a tense silence in its wake. You lowered the phone, exhaling a shaky breath as you tried to process what you’d just heard. The threat felt closer now, less like a shadow lurking in the background and more like a storm rolling toward you.

“Everything okay?” Seonghwa asked.

“Yeah…It’s getting late, I should head back.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way back toward the suite, your steps slower now, the conversation playing on a loop in your head. Every shadow seemed sharper, every sound amplified. You tried to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing, but the sound of Yeosang’s voice wouldn’t leave you.

“Maro! My baby!” you cooed as Mingi bounded toward you. You scooped him up, burying your face in his fur as his excited yips filled the air.

Yeosang stood nearby, a faint smile softening the tension on his face. He held onto Hetmon’s leash, but his gaze kept darting toward the park’s edges, his encounter the day before still fresh.

“How was he?” you asked, squishing a very happy Mingi against your face.

“An angel as always,” Yeosang chuckled, scratching the Hetmon between the ears.

You smiled, but the way his attention flickered nervously to the surrounding trees didn’t escape you. Setting Maro back on the ground, you straightened up, crossing your arms. “What’s wrong? You’ve been on edge since I got here.”

“Just making sure she isn’t lurking around,” Yeosang said, his tone low and cautious.

“I think she knows more about you than she let on. When she saw Maro yesterday, she called you ‘the girl who owns him.’” He paused, glancing at Maro, who was sniffing the grass.

“She’s seen him before—maybe even followed you.”

“What did she look like?” you asked.

“Maybe… mid-forties? Dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail. She had a dark coat, but it wasn’t even that cold yesterday.” He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he recalled the encounter. “And her eyes… She had this deranged look, like she was completely convinced of whatever twisted story she’s telling herself.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You crouched beside Maro, stroking his fur absentmindedly as you tried to process Yeosang’s words. You tried to recall where you’ve seen or heard that description before. But you couldn’t quite figure out where.

Mingi lifted his head, his nose twitching as an unusual scent wafted through the park. His tail stilled, and his ears perked up, alert to the approaching presence.

There was a hint of coffee, Black Opium, the faintest whiff of ink and…multiple affairs. The pomeranian’s eyes narrowed, his small body tense as a low growl rumbled from his chest. His gaze snapped to the pathway ahead, where a figure was approaching, and his growls turned to a sharp bark.

You glanced down at him in confusion. “Maro?” you asked, crouching to stroke his head.

Mingi’s growl softened slightly at your touch, but he stayed on high alert, his fluffy frame taut with suspicion. He sniffed the air again as Seonghwa came into view, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Seonghwa?” you said, surprised, turning to find him approaching you and Yeosang. “What are you doing here?”

How convenient Mingi thought bitterly, his gaze never leaving the man. His barks grew more insistent, clearly directed at Seonghwa now.

“Just on my way to grab coffee. Hospital coffee isn’t exactly the best,” Seonghwa explained casually, though his attention drifted to Mingi, who looked seconds away from launching himself at him.

“I see someone’s still not a fan,” he quipped.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered, crouching again to pick up Mingi. “He’s usually so well-behaved.”

Mingi huffed indignantly in your arms, clearly disagreeing with your assessment. Meanwhile, Hetmon, who had been lounging nearby suddenly perked up. His ears twitched, and his nose wriggled as if catching a scent in the air.

Oh no, Maro’s upset, I can feel it. Seonghwa? Is that Seonghwa? The one who was trying to hit on Y/N? The one who almost took her away from Maro? When my friends are upset, it’s my job to help. That’s what I do, I help. Because I’m a good friend!

Time seemed to slow as Hetmon sprung forward, charging toward his unsuspecting target, his powerful frame sending Seonghwa stumbling backward. The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he fell, the force of the impact knocking him off balance. A muffled thud followed as Seonghwa hit the ground, his suit jacket crumpling beneath him. Hetmon stood triumphantly on his chest, barking loudly in satisfaction.

“Hetmon, get off of him!” Yeosang rushed forward, his laid back demeanor replaced by outright horror at the sight of his usually gentle dog standing on Seonghwa’s chest, unrepentant.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he grabbed Hetmon’s harness. “I have no idea what got into him. He’s never done anything like this before.”

A few steps away, Mingi wiggled out of your arms and trotted over to the scene. His tail wagged furiously, his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction as he gave a sharp, triumphant bark. It was clear he approved of Hetmon’s intervention.

You stepped forward to help Seonghwa, stifling a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Behind you, Hetmon and Mingi sat like a united front of mischief, but your smile faltered as an icy sensation crawled down your spine. The air felt heavy, like an unseen gaze pressing watching you, and your chest tightened as your thoughts scattered.

Mingi’s ears flicked and let out an uneasy bark. He sensed it too—something was off.

“I should probably get going,” you said abruptly, your voice wavering despite your best efforts to steady it.

Both Seonghwa and Yeosang turned to you, concern etched across their faces, but you avoided their eyes, focusing instead on scooping up Mingi. Your legs felt unsteady, each step toward the park’s exit requiring more effort than the last.

“Y/N! Wait, is everything okay?” Seonghwa called after you.

You glanced back just long enough to nod, offering a weak, unconvincing smile before hurrying away. The icy sensation prickling at the back of your neck refused to dissipate, no matter how much distance you put between yourself and the park.

When you reached your car, your hands fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before you finally managed to unlock the door. You slid inside, slamming it shut and locking it with trembling fingers.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to calm yourself, gripping the steering wheel tightly in a futile attempt to ground yourself. Mingi whined softly, climbing into your lap and pressing a paw to your chest. His warm, steady presence was a quiet reminder to breathe, to focus. You closed your eyes, taking shaky, uneven breaths, trying to mimic the calm he radiated.

“Just breathe,” you whispered to yourself, though it sounded more like a plea than a command. Breathe.

Mingi’s paw stayed firmly on your chest, nuzzling against your chin. If he could, he’d wrap you in his arms and take away all the fear and panic that had overtaken you. He hated seeing you like this, scared, fragile, and hurting, and he wanted to do more. He needed to do more to make sure he could shield you from the world.

The tears came slower now, the overwhelming panic easing into a dull ache in your chest. You rested your forehead against Mingi’s, whispering a soft, broken “thank you.” He nudged you, promising that he wouldn’t let anything harm you, not while he was by your side.

You closed your eyes and leaned back against the seat, still stroking his fur as he rested against you. “Let’s go home,” you murmured softly, smiling down at your puppy. Mingi’s tail wagged and his ears perked up at your words.

Yeah, let’s go home.

<< iv | vi >>

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

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

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

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

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

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

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

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

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

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

@vcutparis

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

181 notes · View notes