#the third season goes... weird | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urhoneycombwitch · 11 months ago

Text

I know what they call you.

You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you. shy!reader

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

2K notes · View notes

sparrowlucero · 5 days ago

Note

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

#does this not make sense or sound mean. I'm not trying to sound mean. it's fine. you'll like it if queernorm magic school sounds appealing #which it will to many many people #I think what happened is that they were studio mandated to make some changes that weakened the initial idea #but then the writers #all again tumblr art students #were just as interested if not more in making their own played entirely straight YA magic school thing #probably more than i even grasp as according to a friend who loves the show there's like.#cassandra claire harry potter fanfic references I'm not picking up on

178 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 3 months ago

Note

Could u pls do a Winchester sister fic like (season 10 ep. 15) but instead of the parasite going into cole it goes into the sister and Dean tries to shock it out like in the episode but then she almost dies and they have to try and find another way

The Things They Carried

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word Count: 2284 (wow look at me go)

Warnings: Uhhh not sure how to phrase it. Overall gore, kinda throwing up?

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The woman had vanished without a trace. Well, at least at first. Her body was found strung upside down in the storage room of a remote part of the city Feyetteville, North Carolina. Perhaps one of the most perplexing parts of the victims disappearance, was that not only was she an Army Private, trained in Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu, but her organs had been drained, along with the bone marrow sucked out of her body. This is what had caught Dean’s attention. He now sat in front of you and Sam, the article pulled up on his ipad.

Sam raised his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling as he studied the article once more before handing it off to you. “So…cannibalism. You thinking a Rugaru?”

“Or a God. Maybe.” Dean agreed. A second later he was up on his feet, ready to go. Sam tried to protest. Ever since Dean got the mark of Cain Sam has been solely focused on trying to find a way to remove it. He was constantly on edge and you had to admit you were too. It seemed that no amount of research seemed to give enough answers on the mark. Eventually, with a look from his older brother and a defeated sigh, Sam let up and not even 10 minutes later, the three of you were speeding down the road.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrived in the city the first thing the three of you were told was that the local police had closed the case. However, they had given you a name, and the incriminating evidence. The sheriff; an elderly man, perhaps late 60s with white, thinning hair, had also told you that the offender had also committed suicide before the feds could lock him up. He also told you that this was the third suicide the city had seen in the last 6 months. A pattern. This was definitely something supernatural, if that wasn’t already clear. However, when Sam asked about the body, the sheriff informed the three of you that there were no bite marks, and that the victim had been killed with a bowie knife. That ruled out a Rugaru, leaving your trail dry.

The next step of the hunt was to speak to Beth, the offender's widow. She was rather distraught as she bounced her baby softly in her arms. When she glanced away from it, you could see the pain in her eyes; the dark circles that rim them.

“Rick was a kind soul.” She insisted sadly, glancing down at the floor. The way she spoke of her late husband was filled with awe, but woven thick was pain that choked up her voice. You could tell that she still hadn’t processed her husband’s recent change in personality.

“Did you ever notice anything strange?” Sam asked gently, his fingers clasped together as he leaned against the countertop. “Violent mood swings?”

“Weird smells?” You added.

“No….” The woman frowned. “But Rick was- he was-” she stuttered, unable to word what she wanted to say correctly, almost as if she didn’t really believe it or understand it herself. “He was thirsty.”

You tilted your head at her, her words catching your interest. “Thirsty for what?”

Her answer surprised you. “Water. He’d spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. And then, when I told him to stop it was like he couldn’t even hear me. And his skin; it got so dry it bled.”

Your older brothers watched intently. “Did he see a doctor?” Dean questioned gruffly.

The poor woman shook her head. There were now soft tears rolling down her face, mingling with the ghosts of the ones there before. “He just got put on a list to be put on a list. And then he stopped talking. He just wasn't himself–” she sniffled, shifting her baby in her arms. “I thought….maybe it was just PTSD.”

No one said anything for a moment before you broke the silence tenderly. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that Rick had been recently deployed.” Dean said. “Do you have any idea where?”

“No.” She answered rather bluntly. “That stuff’s classified. They don’t even let the wives in on it.”

And the trail runs cold again.

But then, just as you were about to leave and Sam left your number, Beth stopped you again.

“There’s one other thing.” she added. “I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She’s married to Kit Verson. A guy from Rick’s team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing.”

The trail picks up again.

After a little while running around after Kit Verson, discovering that he murdered someone else the same way that his friend did, the three of you ended up in an old shack that his wife believed he might have fled to. It was dark. Eerily so. However not as eerie as the trail of dead mice on the floor. Machetties in hand and guns in holsters, the three of your crept through the darkness of the hut. You found him hunched over in the back room of the house. His breathing was rough and ragged as though he might have run a mile at top speed. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, his head whipped around, bloodshot eyes boring into you. His mouth and face was splattered with blood and dirt, and his movements were erratic as he stood up to face you. He gripped you tight, cold fingers like icicles against your skin as he pushed you back against the wall. And then his eyes were pleading with you. The harsh crease between his eyebrows softened for just a moment as he used his body weight to keep you pinned up against the wood panelling.

“I’m sorry,” he grunted out, wrestling with you to keep you in his grasp. “I can’t stop.”

And then, you were on the floor, dirty ground rising to meet you fast as he made you lose your footing. And then, as you struggled beneath him he made this awful gagging noise as the creature slithered out of his throat and forced its way into you. You coughed, gagging yourself as your brothers rushed into the room. They were on Kit in seconds, but he was strong, throwing your brothers around before dashing out of the door. Quick on his feet, Dean followed, leaving you staggering for breath on the floor with Sam.

“Are you alright?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he rushed to your side, helping you up off the floor.

You coughed. “Some-something’s inside of me–” a grimace spread across your face as you felt it move. “It’s alive–”

“It what?” Sam blinked. “What did it look like? Do you know what it was?”

“Khan worm.” Dean answered, catching on to the end of the conversation. “At Least i think it is. Why? Did you see it?”

You groaned in pain, so Sam answered for you. “It crawled inside her.”

Dean froze, his eyes going wide. “What?”

Sam nodded grimly.

“Did you see what it was? Dean asked worriedly.

You coughed, hands flying to your mouth. “Khan worm.”

“Shit.” Dean cursed aloud, running his hands through his hair.

“We have two options.” You said, trying to hide the grimace on your face as you felt the worm moving, ,crawling under your skin. Neither of the two options were very pleasant at all. You and your brothers had worked a case with Khan worms a few years ago and there were two ways that you discovered the worms could be killed. And while these worms seemed slightly different to the first ones you discovered, you figured that they were similar enough that the same rules would apply. The first option was probably the most forward one, but it also involved certain death; a headshot to the infected person that would cause the worm to flee the body where it would then be crushed by Sam or Dean. Option one was very clearly off the table. The second was far more painful, but it also harboured greater chances of survival.

Dean began to protest immediately. “No. No no. there’s got to be another way.”

“You know we dont-”

“Kid….” Sam started.

“Just do it. We have no other choice.”

Dean sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright.”

Dean had managed to find two batteries hidden in the small cabin. He placed them grimly on the table with a thud before connecting two of the jump wires that Sam had gone and collected from Baby’s trunk. You were sitting in the armchair, fingers gripping the leather as you waited anxiously. Sam tried to give you some comforting words, but you weren’t sure who he was trying to comfort more; you or himself.

“Alright.” Dean said, his voice laced thick with an anxiousness and guilt he was yet to shake. He brought the cables over to you as you took a deep breath, placing a wooden spoon between your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue.

Settling back in the chair, you took a moment to collect yourself. To prepare for the agony you were about to put yourself through. And then, you gave him a brief nod

The sudden pain when Dean pressed the jump cables to your skin was overwhelming. Unbearable. A million agonies all combined to one as the electricity raced through your veins. You screamed, crying out as your teeth bit down on the wood of the spoon, which helped to muffle the sound. Both of your brothers winced at the sound of your agony as you twisted and writhed. Sam had to look away and Dean had to force himself to keep the cables against your skin though he yearned to take away your pain. But nothing happened. As soon as your brother removed the cables, you were panting for breath, trying to recover quickly from the pain. You couldn’t help but notice the looks on your brother’s faces.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head dismally. The parasite was still in you.

“Go again.”

Dean startled. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Go again.” You strained.

Dean collected himself, and then; the same pain. But still as you writhed. Fists clenching and nails digging into your palms the worm remained inside you. And your brothers were growing increasingly concerned. Your movements began to slow as you grew quieter and your eyes fluttered, drooping with a sudden heaviness. Dean pulled the cables away immediately and you slumped back against the chair. Your head lolled forwards against your chest and your breathing was concerningly slow and laboured.

“Okay….okay…” Sam said gently, slipping an arm behind your back to help support you.You whimpered slightly at the movement. “ Shh. You’re alright sweetheart.” he glanced up at Dean, fear and worry evident in the creases on his forehead. They would have to find a different way to get the worm out.

You were sweating. Gods….you’d never been hotter. Your body still ached as you sat in the armchair of the cabin. The old leather was flaking off and was practically covered in a sheen of your own sweat. Sam and Dean had pushed it towards the fire, leaving you to sweat against the heat. They had figured that as the parasite needed water, if they could make you sweat it all out…then the creature would leave. But now you were practically slumped in a chair, dark veins crawling up your neck as you tried to rid the worm from your body. You coughed a little, your throat dry, with no way to soothe it. Thirst…..that was the only thing that consumed your mind…you were so. damn. thirsty. Your body craved it. Anything you could get you would take….even your own brothers’ blood. The parasite yearned for something. You could feel it, squirming around inside you. Uncomfortable, you whined before coughing a little, doubling over on yourself.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. You have to sweat it out.”

“Can’t–” You coughed.

“Yes you can.” Dean shut you down quickly. “You can’t give up. Winchesters don’t quit.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your head spun. You felt sick. But you knew you couldn’t give up. You were in for a long waiting game.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were on the verge of breaking down that you began to feel it slithering up your throat. You gagged, coughing as you tried to expel the creature from your body.

Sam and Dean were by your side in seconds, both trying to coax you through it, ready to stomp on the worm as soon as it made an appearance. Sure enough you managed to cough it up uncomfortably. It splattered on the floor, squealing as it writhed and trying to slither off to infect someone else. It didn’t make it far before Dean slammed a heavy boot over it. And once more for good measure. It squelched under his shoe, peeling off from it as it stuck to the floor. He grimaced at the sight before moving to crouch beside you, checking on you.

You wiped the string of saliva from your mouth with a grimace before gratefully taking the water bottle Sam offered you and wasting no time before drinking it to quench your impossible thirst.

“That's it. Easy, Sweetheart.” Dean cooed. “It’s over now.”

“You did it, kiddo.” Sam said, guiding you to lean back in the chair more. “We knew you could do it. We’re proud of you.”

(A bit of a rubbish ending! I'm sorry i wasn't sure what to do)

⛤⋅•⋅∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @rosecentury

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#supernatural x reader #spn #spn x reader #supernatural #supernatural x sister reader #spn x sister reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #supernatural fanfiction

207 notes · View notes

mikeylo · 5 months ago

Text

A Reason to Stay, Bound to You

Length: 13.2K+words

Genre: Fluff, Sullyoon x M!Manager (age gap, let just say appropriate range), in-depth detail of an idol manager work, 2nd POV style.

Summary: You Y/N being Nmixx manager got into feeling complication with Sullyoon, one of the Nmixx's members (Same goes for Sullyoon with her manager). Multiple instances happened between them in which only strengthen their bond deeper than a mere staff or worker. A controversies strike the group costing your job as their manager. Will their feelings stay intact?

Disclaimer:

First time posting a story on here or ever, English is my second language, technically it is third but the second one in terms of which came first.

Props to my friends for beta read my fic to lessen the mistake in there.

Credit to her for giving the fic such a lovely name. It's so good it freaking make sense

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Nmixx manager is a diligent worker, always provide what Nmixx needs. That is you, Y/N we are talking about. All Nmixx known for extrovert aura, but Sullyoon is otherwise, well she did have to blend in with the energy of her group in which she already gotten used to it by now, but her old self still lingers around. With all due respect, other girl is easier to interact with, but Sullyoon is a more on the difficult side. You Y/N, their manager also once a shy timid little boy understood her demeanour clearly, it makes her heart flutter you are able understands her without much communication. The moment when two path crosses its way to conjoined, it all started back in the dressing room where the love spark first ignited in midst of a cold season. Being a caring manager you are, you decided to prepare some set of blankets for the girls. So, you entered the room with the folded blanket.

“Anyone needs a blanket” you voice out to the members. The room was hustling with staff going in and out ensuring the showcase smoothly progressing displaying every group distinct music colour, Nmixx the group you are taking care of was not an exception. You hope for the best award every given to them

“Aniyo (no)” member replied in unison except the one at the far back of the room, Sullyoon. At the corner of your eye, you saw Sullyoon turning around with puppy eyes and slightly protruding her lips looking for you. She assumed you will head out again since the member doesn't need the heated blankets, so she was a little bit let down as she was kind of cold by this frigid atmosphere. “Here you go” astoundment was shown in her eyes staring in appreciation towards you. You didn’t notice her heartful stare as you carry on facing the crowd in the room. “You girls need anything else?”

“You need anything?” Your remarks broke her out of her trance. She shakes her head a bit, eyes fluttering waking up her sense back, “No….… opp- manager-nim” she softly spoke. Red hue on her cheeks can be seen but you sensed it as a fleeting thought because you got a lot to take care of, part-time, siblings college fees and any other breadwinner was tasked for.

“Manager Oppaaa, get me pumpkin spice Americano juseyo and…...” in baby voice, Haewon make a call from the other side of the room. Being their manager for almost two years, you are still amazed by how explosive their energy is, the iconic trio, Kyujin Jiwoo Haewon are unstoppable force, adding Lily and Bae is just a cherry on top.

“Make it three oppa” Kyujin interrupts Haewon while holding her left hands up with the number three. You can sense Haewon glaring her eyes out at Kyujin as you take note of the order on your phone. The so-called twin maknae, Kyujin and Jiwoo always teaming up on their unnie. They even sit next to each other in the room.

You inquire their usual order from the rest of the girls, Lily and Bae. You tilt your head a bit since Sullyoon decline her daily caffeine order. You found it weird especially today with her, as if she's not being her usual self. You clearly notice all the member comfortably call you “Oppa or Manager oppa” beside Sullyoon. Well, it's a given as you regularly call her by her stage name. When you were first introduced to the members, they present themself by their stage name which is their real name but only until later you found out Yoona is her real name. By now it's a habit calling Sullyoon her stage name and looks like it doesn't bother her at all. Little did you know, she does get bother by it, seeing you calling every member by their real name make her heart feel unease.

“The order will be here, see you guys in a bit, got some errands to do, ask manager unnie if you guys need anything, FIGHTING!” with fist clench showing unwavering support to them.

Being the head manager usually handling company, production team and event organizer applications for the group, making sure they are up to date. Most of the time you get it done quickly a week before. Having no pending task, in the meantime you watch the members do their idol work from behind the scenes, assisting manager unnie taking care of the girl’s wellbeing 24/7.

Afternoon and evening schedule are filled with photo shoot, interviews and live broadcast on a music shows. Since it takes place at the Seoul broadcasting station, ending a few schedules at the station with an interview with the media outlet at the front entrance with fans cheering in the background.

Unfortunately, your stomach has been feeling uneasy for the past couple of hours as there's some technical issue earlier at Magazine shooting session making the intended schedule falling behind. You are tapping your feet away waiting behind rows of camera witnessing the girls do their interviews, finishing two to three interviewer question, bidding goodbyes to the fans and walk off to their van. To add salt to injury, the interview also taking a few minutes more than what has been planned, so you must guide the member quickly. That's what your hope for, but fate got better plans for you.

As you lead the group and assist the van’s door. The rest of the girls went on the van, but you saw the back of the Bae’s head covering the incident you never expected to happen. A commotion happens to Sullyoon with a media reporter. The reporter looks like on the last thread of his job and would do anything to keep it, even if he must break the standard moral of conduct. The media reporter was crossing the belt barrier holding onto Sullyoon wrist and bombarded her with questions.

“Mr……please…. stop it” She murmured out her discomfort and wince a bit of pain due to the tight hold. To not cause further the havoc. She grabs her left fist with her right hand to make an attempt to flee the situation. Bae hesitantly come closer to Sullyoon trying to snatch her away from the man. “Mr..…we got other schedule to attend… maybe on the next fan meeting” a chance was taken by Bae but doesn't budge the man’s hold on Sullyoon’s wrist.

“You guys are the reason Jini was kicked out of the group, she never left voluntarily!” The reporter shouted attracting more witnesses to the scene. The girls were startled by the thunderous claim by the man. Jinni issue was settled years ago, even Jinni herself say it herself.

You watched as everyone attention was pointed to them, this matter will only worsen as time goes on, you take big step towards them. Yanking the reporter’s hand off Sullyoon. It takes every ounce of your energy to not put a dent on the reporter’s face. With a lot going in your head from delayed schedule, controversial claim to the sight of frightened Sullyoon really boils your anger.

“Kindly put your hands off the idol Mr, they have fixed schedule needed to follow.” You spoke with teeth clench while trying your best to carve a smile on your face, some even may see your veins pulsing on your temple.

“Yahhh, hands off you basta-” The man was ready to throw hands but reconsider his choice after seeing you seething with anger through a fake smile as it wasn't worth to have broken nose and jaw over his job. He broke off your hold and flee the area. You didn't notice your grip earlier left him to massage his wrist.

“Are you guys, okay?” You gently hold on both of their shoulder checking for any injuries. You quickly ushered them to get into their van. After closing the door, you jog your way to the driver seat and drove off.

--------------------------------------

From time to time, you glance at the rear-view mirror to check on the girls, especially Sullyoon. Being assaulted must be putting a lot of weight on her mental health. You cursed yourself for not doing your job properly, probably you should have stayed close when guiding them, or maybe you should have been more attentive about the group schedule last week, then this wouldn't had happened. Today’s occurrence overwhelmed your mind to the brim.

“Oppa, we have arrived” Haewon tapped your shoulder from the backseat. Haewon’s call break you out of your trance. You look over your shoulder and multiple sets of eyes are directed to you. The corner of your eyes detecting your surroundings, makes you realise that you have driven them to their next schedule location instinctively. They have a schedule at Ajou University for rehearsal for upcoming University Festival consert and you brought them here with your mind going autopilot mode. “Your sick piece of shi-” once again you mouth curse word to your carelessness of not being conscious throughout the drive, it could have led to nightmarish accident. “You guys go ahead; I will catch up” signaling them with the back of your hand to go ahead. They all went out leaving you alone in the van. It was one hell of a week you think to yourself. Taking side quest while having a job to take care others was not the most ideal life choice, but the extra cash was needed.

Being a people pleaser really has took a toll on you, having most trusted friends swindle your money with debt still calling your name like student loan, monthly bills. And on top that regular hospital fees for your ailing little sister, Jiu. You wouldn’t want to complain about family burden but it’s still your responsibility. Well, you always hoped being that very unlucky main character to suddenly be granted with the most beautiful reward like those slices of life comic you used to read. You chuckle at your own ridiculousness.

With you having a laugh at your life stories. Sullyoon look back at the van before entering the tent area for the rehearsal. She can't really see you through the window as it was black tinted. But deep within her heart, she hoped that everything would go your way.

For the past years working together, she somewhat able to relates herself with you as both of you are very good at hiding your pain. Back when you have a fever, you pretended to drink an energy drink, but it was actually coughing syrup. You left her flabbergasted taking the sight of others believing your act.

On the side note, it leaves her a hint of excitement and connection knowing both of you have something in common, but it does not last long as hiding one’s pain also hurts her. Like the intense bruise on her wrist after the incident with the reporter that you missed.

“Yoona-yah, hurry up! We have to go” Jiwoo brings back Sullyoon back to earth seeing her standing far from the pack. “Wait up, I’m coming” Sullyoon take one last glance towards the van but this time from afar both of your gazes met as you step out of the van. Both of you stares into one another. Even though her sensory experience is being occupied by the intense swelling of her bruise, Sullyoon still able to shows you her toothy smile and crescent shape eye. Her smile really captivates you that you almost didn’t notice she’s waving at you lightly with her right hand. You sheepishly wave back with an equal smile but grasp something is off with her overall condition.

A sigh of relief as you see her back to her usually demeanour as that what you assumed, she’s a strong girl given a heavy responsibility to hold such beauty in this thorny world. As she turns back to catch up to her member, you furrowed your brows in confusion catching her conspicuously awkward movement. Seeing her stop mid-way to check on something. Witnessing her grasping onto her left wrist with her other hand before disappearing into the cluster of tents. You may haven’t had a meal for today, but your gut’s instinct was stronger than usual after what you had just witnessed.

You grab available med kit and rush to their tent. Despite not being fond of your overthinking traits, but it mads you think she’s been affected by the earlier incident in some way. You ran through manifold rows of tent from various group and almost missing their designated tent. Once you parted the curtain, at your dismay the members weren’t there. Checking the sign pasted outside maybe you could've gone to the wrong tent. “They already went on stage” You heard a voice beside you, seeing Manager Unnie sitting on a plastic, focused on her phone,

Without much thought, you make a beeline straight to the main stage while slither your way avoiding bystander staff. Then you found yourself by the foot of the stair leading up to the stage, since it was an outdoor concert so there are a lot of deployable stage light rigged on some beam and trusses. From there you saw the members getting ready for rehearsal, doing some stretching and vocal warm-up. Adding humorous element to the scene, Haewon poking Lily by the waist while she trying to do vocal warm-ups.

You scanned through the set while walking up the stage’s side stair and your eyes land on the person you're looking for, Sullyoon. She's doing her stretches while she's entering her pensive mode staring into the horizon. One of her few habits you happen to see quite often throughout the years, she always shies her face away when you caught her pondering her mind for too long. But for today, I don’t think it’s the case.

Since she stands close to the steps, the clanking sound of metal stairs from your footing makes her turn her head around and stumble upon seeing you with a med kit by your side. She was a bit startled by your unexpected presence and the sight of the med kit only making her anxious about what's going to happen next. From your perspective, her demeanour changes from her usual ethereal looking beauty to a timid little girl after she’s been caught red handed.

You motion her to come here before you are rummaging through the med kit searching for an ointment and a bandage and she hesitantly obliged. As she stands in front of you fidgetingly, you signal her to give her left hand. She hesitantly places her hand on top of your right palm. As you gently twist her wrist to see the damage, horror came down to you as the bruise patch was quite sizeable with deep colour. Being a manager, acquiring basic dermatology is essential, your concerned only tripled knowing it’s not what you consider a normal bruise but a severe one. After having a knowledge of her injury, you ruffle your hair in frustration, now you wished you had let your intrusive thought of busted the reporter’s nose to extinguish your wrath.

With wide eye you look up from the bruise to her eyes to make eye contact. As if telling her telepathically how serious the injury is, and she is hiding it, but she avoids the mutual glance and averted her eyesight to the ground waiting anxiously for scolding from you. But you are more obliged to attend her injury as it’s a serious one.

“ Does it hurt?” you whisper softly while maintaining your gaze on her. With both of your hand on her left wrist, positioned both thumbs on the bruise mark, just a mere graze of your thumb on her skin causing her to wince in pain. You felt sympathy for her. It really reminds you when you had to endure endless throbbing sensation for weeks on your right thigh from slipping down small steps and not having a luxury of proper treatment. Since she's under meticulous care of their manager, she doesn't need to experience it.

“This is a lot more serious than I thought, you should head back to the tent for now” you comment while spreading some bruise-healing cream on her injury. Since haven't got any cold agent around, you opt to go for immediate treatment for her and wrapping bandage loosely around her wrist.

“Bae-yahh! Come here” you called Bae to come over and continued to inform that she will accompany her back to tent. Subsequently, the rest of the member also joined in as they heard you called Bae. As expected, everyone went bonkers upon hearing the news about Sullyoon getting hurt by the incident, Jiwoo being the sensitive one might make one confuse who’s the victim as she’s about to shed some tears. Lily on the other hand being the sweetest she is, giving Sullyoon a patting at the back and lean her head onto Lily’s shoulder. Upon seeing the eldest giving affection towards to younger one, the rest of the member also joined the love surrounding Sullyoon, in contrast to you awkwardly trying to hold onto Sullyoon’s wrist as you fully aware of how excruciating having a bruise and severe one at that.

Being an Idol in a country that's known for it makes up the competitive nature so any schedule must move on. Meanwhile, you asked Bae escort Sullyoon back to their tent carefully. You advised Bae to hold Sullyoon arm closely leveled to heart level to scale down swelling rate. Conversely, you picked up their pre-ordered meals for tonight from a nearby diner run by a lovely ahjumma (Aunty). Unintentionally, it was the restaurant you used to visit frequently when around the area. And you remind yourself to also buy Sullyoon a sling and a cooling agent pack.

“That's quite a big order you got there, what's the occasion?” You were a bit jolted overhearing a voice close to you as you were patting your attire for your wallet at the counter to pay. You saw a familiar figure with some partially white hair with back slightly hunch due to old age, the restaurant owner. “It's for my sisters” you sheepishly smile back at her, I guess you could consider the members as your little sister knowing how close you guys’ bond together. You are dumbfounded knowing your mind can clearly vision where exactly you left your wallet but to only forget you left it back at the tent.

“Don't worry, the meals are on the house” the old women uttered makes you feel guilty, exchanging your forgetfulness for a free meal, such an unfair trade. “You boys must work relentlessly these days, let me tell you…. don’t overdo it like my deceased son” those final three words meant a thousand sweat and tears both from the son and his mother. You grow up without much preference of your parents other than countless cut and bruises as a remembrance of them and final memory of news about their car accident.

The only driving force that’s keeping you moving is those who are under your care. Sometimes you can be selfless to keep other in check and not worry about yourself but hearing Ahjumma’s words make you rethink on how you would approach the future. You really should take care of yourself better, ending your life accidentally by your own hands is not something you want to imagine of your loved one crying over your passing.

Your heart ached just from picturing them tears up. Your only little sister, your best friends, naughty ahjussi that helps you out of the rut, Nmixx member, Jiwoo, Kyujin, Haewon, Lily, Bae………. Yoona.

*Lub-dub Lub dub, “How does pronouncing a name can make my heart beating so fast?” you voice out internally and you opened your eyes recalling yourself you are still in the restaurant. Both pair of eyes from the cashier and Ahjumma gave you a confused look. To not make your face even redder, you bid them farewell and pick up the meals. As soon as you walked out, you facepalm yourself replaying the moment that’s just happened.

Driving back to Ajou University was never a difficult task but the lingering feeling both coming from the mind and stomach make it so. You chose to think the discomfort coming from your stomach is because of you haven’t had any proper meals aside from snack bar so you felt relief that it doesn’t have anything to do from those earlier thoughts back at the diner. But your minds are playing tricks on you, “Why am I keep thinking of her?” You shake your head every once in a while, but it doesn’t go. It only replaying memories of her but in different scenario. “Manager-nim where is my blanket?”, “Manager-nim, can you help me open this up? “, “Manager Oppa, how does Yoona look?” Haewon asking you about Sullyoon’s dress.

You are about to go crazy with this ridiculous thought repeating every instance of her with you. Fortunately, your mind has more tricks up its sleeves. Constructing a scene beyond your experience. The mind started its magic, and you can see Sullyoon is skip walking towards you with both her hands placed behind her. You think of moving out of the way, but you feel your body is stuck in place. Neither your legs nor your hands can be move. As she about to close the distance, you closed your eyes preparing for a head on collision. But then, you felt both of your hands were held by a set of soft and delicate finger. You opened your eyes to assess the situation and you were displayed by the closeness of her profile. You were charmed instantly, never ever have you gotten this up-close inspecting her allurement. You were aware of her beauty, but this only makes you to not avert your eyes away from her. As you had fully submit to your mind’s desire thinking this is the climax, but your mind knows what you truly wished for. Sullyoon tenderly squeezed your hands and say your utmost desire “Call me Yoona…………. Y/N Oppa”.

You screamed at the top of your lungs not as a figure of speech but literally, so loud that pedestrians walking by look at your van. Thankfully, with black tinted window and you stopped at the traffic light unconsciously, you once again saved face from embarrassment. To make it worst, your throat went sore and dry, it really starting to sting when you try to make a sound. You stopped by a convenience store to buy some cold packs and a sling as you nearly forgetting the most important matter.

Only couple of turns left, you arrived again at the parking lot of Ajou outdoor theatre. Not forgetting their meals in hand and post purchase item. A huff of exhaustion escapes you as you walked down the familiar path toward Nmixx’s tent. With your mind more focused than before to end the day on a good note, you settled on the improvised schedule in your head as they will have dinner here and end the day off with a radio show.

As you parted the tent’s fabric to enter, you saw the girls already finished their rehearsal and waited. “Meals are here” as you placed it down on the nearby table. “What's it, oppa?” Kyujin being the first scavenging through the plastic.

“It's Bibimbap (White rice topped with diverse toppings)” you answered while looking around where did you place your wallet. You swear you put it on top of the table. Searching around the tent, ducking under the seat, maybe it slips out of the tent, just a mere thought filled your mind with dread. With the enjoyment atmosphere from the members ensued in the background over a homemade meal, you noticed two members were absence. You reckon they went to the washroom.

You headed outside to check if your instinct were true. You spotted Bae and Sullyoon headed your way from a potentially washroom. Bae was holding onto something while leisurely maintaining Sullyoon’s wrist at heart level but what's intrigued you was both were looking at it so intently like solving a puzzle. “Where did you guys go?” You questioned them insensitively with arm crossed and raised eyebrow as you eyed the very familiar item in their hands.

“Oh, Oppa is here” Bae was the first to notice your presence and followed by Sullyoon with a slight stun perceiving your existence. Bae are oblivious on how searing Sullyoon’s wound is while holding onto your lost wallet, you can only let out unenthused snicker. “Oppa, who’s this?” Bae extended her arm out showing the inside of your wallet while being clueless of her intrusion of privacy, casually asking you who is the younger girl in the picture. “Little sister” responding with smirk, your peripherical vision detect a drastic change of Sullyoon expression from a stern look to a beaming smile. Unbeknownst to you, in the depths of her heart was a hopeless and resentful devotion upon seeing the picture in your wallet illustrating a girl figure where you wrapped your arms around her shoulder. Never once in her life being this thrilled upon hearing some news, like Christmas comes early, there’s still possibility of her uttermost wish to be granted.

“Foods is here too” Bae lightly throws the wallet up in the air leaving Sullyoon catching and grasping onto the contraband. Bae’s action spooked you a bit, it was not about seizing the wallet but the moment she lets go of her hold onto Sullyoon’s wrist got your instinct kicked in quickly holding on to her wrist. You stared menacingly in the direction of where Bae’s headed. Observing Sullyoon getting left out by Bae only adding more evident to her selfless personality. You bet Sullyoon tell Bae off to not worry about her to much as you just ordered Bae to keep watched on Sullyoon.

“Manager-nim……. your hand” Sullyoon shyly tug your sleeve to regain your attention, as you regain focused, oblivious that you unintentionally holding her hand after you noticed her response. You swiftly retrieved your wallet from her hand as you commanded her to hold her wrist with her other hand to lessen her injury. Although, this is not the first time she held your hand, it always sends butterfly in her guts. The major size difference between hers and yours coloured her cheeks red acknowledging that fact that it could easily wrap your hands arounds hers easily. The rough and sturdy exterior of your hand cradling her tender and delicate palm only contributed to her sensory overload.

With the minor mishap out of the way, you swung your sling bag around to the front to search for the sling you just bought earlier. “Here, put this on” you hand her the sling, and she hesitates, unsure about wearing it. “Manager-nim……. I don’t think I need this, it’s only a bruise” she mildly protests, unable to keep eye contact with you. You take the sling off her palm and do it your own way. You politely request her to lift her left arm to put the sling on, it was done in an instant. But the one on the receiving end was flushed to oblivion, having your arm nearly wrapping her around, your warm breath tingling her ear as you try to connect the slings end. Your hand slightly brushes her hair sending shiver down her spine. A hint of your perfume mixed with your natural scent initiate a malware in her mind.

You take a step back, appreciating your work. “Look, doesn’t take long at all to wear” feeling a bit proud of yourself, not aware what kind of blushing mess you made Sullyoon as she stared down to the ground hiding her face with her hair flow with the gravity. Worried slowly overcomes you upon seeing her current form, is she, sick? Does she really do not want to wear the sling? You leaned in to properly judge the situation. “Are you sick? your face redder than usually” you mutter to yourself, but you are not the only who heard it considering both of your face are inches away. Like any typical method to determine whether one has a fever, using the back of your hand will do the trick. You gently sweep her fringe aside and place the back of your hand against her forehead. A burning sensation started to take its place into your hand.

“Manager-nim stop it!!!!” Sullyoon let out a shriek of embarrassment with fist clench by her side. You raised your hand in defends from any potential blow. You peek between your fingers taking in a sight of fully flushed Sullyoon with an annoyed expression towards you. “Ehem ahhh G-Go eat up inside, there’s bibimbap ready” you stutter and nod tensely towards the tent inside, avoiding eye contact with her after what just happened. Sullyoon stomped off into the tent leaving you scratching your head in confusion.

Brushing the thought aside, you make your way into the tent. Everyone already munching on their respective bowl of bibimbap. “Oppa, ant chu eaching?” Jiwoo mumbled; her mouth filled with rice. “I will, just have to update the company our current status” you replied to Jiwoo detecting the scene Lily slapping her hand for talking with mouthful out of the corner of your eye as you whipped out your phone. Their sibling dynamic proving they are more than just worker but more like a family. You typed away on your phone all the details to inform about Sullyoon’s injury. “Sullyoon-ah, I need to take picture of your injury for proof” calling out her name without honorific giving her goosebumps essentially pronouncing her full name, Seol Yoona. Luckily, you proceed getting the proof without causing another scene.

“How long does she have to wear it?” Haewon posed a question piqued everyone attention. As soon you submit the report, you turned and faced Haewon before answering. “At most 3 weeks if you casually only applying balm on it, but at short as 1 week if it’s under attentive care like wearing a sling, healthy diet, gentle exercise and avoid re-injury will suffice. “It’s going to be a hassle wearing that around, how the media will react if she wears that in public?” everyone focuses on the one commenting, Manager unnie. Hands on your chin, you reflect on your assistant point of view. “Hmmmmmm” you hummed in contemplation as you walk around the space with everyone anticipating your answers.

You stopped your track standing in front of Sullyoon. “Sullyoon-shi, does your hand feel pain when you move your arms around” almost in interrogating tone you question her. “A bit but I feel it is more convenience to- Ahhhhh” sharp pain shot through her joint as Kyujin were sitting beside her raising her knee to scratch her ankles inadvertently hitting Sullyoon’s arm. “Oh My God Sullyoon! Unnie, Are you okay! I’m Sorry!” she freaks out getting everyone on their feet. Promptly grabbing the cold pack, you went and place it onto her affected area and proceed to check-up on her. Your observation conclude that her breathing gets heavier, seeming that her body is trying to cope the sudden twist on her swollen wrist. Beads of sweat started forming on her face

Upon seeing Sullyoon condition worsened, you instantly act voicing out your game plan. “I will drop you guys off at the radio station then I will take Sullyoon to the nearby clinic” everyone nods in agreement. The reason for your urgency was because Seoul traffic gets packed during the dusk hour. By looking at Sullyoon’s current state, it’s only matter of time she will lose consciousness from enduring overbearing pain. “I will get the van closer; you guys steadily assist Sullyoon to the van” you tried to sound as calm as possible despite the critical tension to prevent any mishap occur along the way. You are not in this alone, anyone mistake will hold accountable.

You hasten your movement towards the van and with quick manoeuvre you parked it close enough for them catch up. You grimace at a sight of Sullyoon limping with her arm draping over Bae’s shoulder. With everyone buckled up, you put pedal to the metal heading towards the designated location. “Manager-unnie, can you book a VIP health check-ups at a nearby hospital?” With manager unnie doing her part, conversely you pick up steady pace on the road while not forgetting others safety. Suddenly, the situation in front of you caught your breath viewing a massive traffic jam. “Will we make it in time Oppa?” you imagine Haewon sticking her head out behind the sits. You looked closely through the rear mirror, a sigh of relief upon seeing Sullyoon’s breathing pattern has steadied. You saw a glimpse of her eyes slightly opened and nods in assurance at you that she’s doing okay.

“Everything will be under control, believe me” comforting those under you in critical moment what makes you stand out from others. Ironically, you may construct deep attachment easily with this attribute, but you will have a hard time to let go of that person. Going back to the matter at hand, you reroute your path finding alternative for better chance of arriving early as progressing slowly is better than stuck in a never-ending traffic. Even with the situation toned down, you are still concerned about Sullyoon’s wellbeing and it’s your top priority for now.

Fortunately, with 15 minutes to spare. Everyone disembarks from the van leaving Sullyoon in your custody and splitting our respective path. “See you guys in a bit after I check-up on Sullyoon at the hospital” you bid them farewell through the window and off you went. You take a glance at the rear mirror, you saw Sullyoon soundly asleep like a baby koala latching onto its mother. Seeing her in slumber state only shows how straining the pain is putting onto her mentally and physically.

Upon arriving at Seoul National University Hospital parking space, you looked around you to determine how crowded it is. It’s a given as it’s on national level public service. It wouldn’t be pleasant walking around with an idol by your side. You looked behind your seat, Sullyoon is still sleeping. You felt guilty to wake her up, but you must for the sake of her health. You jumped out from the driver’s seat and slide the door open. The heavy sound of the sliding door woke her up randomly, she looks over her shoulder scratching her eyes.

You proceed to put her cap and mask on to prepare for check-up. You wear your sneaky outfit with a mask and the same black cap on, even though you are only a mere manager, you don’t want to risk of being caught. There’s been multiple occasions of you accidentally inside of Nmixx photos taken by fan, it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone recognize you. The walk to the receptionist was a bit of a hassle as Sullyoon still half-awake from her nap while clutching onto your arm. The reservation registration was done quick with only needing to post your assistant name and trudge to meet up with private medical officer in a consultation room. “Manager-nim, I want to take a nap” you didn’t complain much despite you basically support half of her weight as she essentially leaning onto you with her head rest on your shoulder.

Slowly but surely, you make your way crossing the doorway. “Reservation under Mrs Kim” you state your assistant’s name to the doctor inside for customer identification. You explain her condition to the doctor while she’s still drowsy with her head lean on your shoulder. The doctor instructs you to seat Sullyoon upright in the designated chair. The doctor begins doing his job and start removing Sullyoon’s sling. You were occasionally answering questions thrown out by the doctor as he keeps on his progress. How does she get the bruise? What are the first air treatment that you give her? Did you apply ice pack on it? And you also add that her bruise might be getting worse as there was a small mishap of twisting the joint.

The doctor clarifies more about her bruise severity. The more you understand her condition, the more you treat her with empathy. He highlights the extreme discomfort from the swollen bruise can put heavy stress on the patient’s mind. This justify the reason Sullyoon is drowsy because she’s exhausted put up with the pain. “Manager-nim….”she looks up at you, her lips slightly protruding and her sleepy eyes pleading, as she leans her head against your torso.

“Who is she to you? Your girlfriend?” the doctor asks but shrugged it off. The doctor interrogates you in the meantime he’s spreading arnica gel onto her bruise. You go for simple answer “Idol and manager” as his question got you acting on high alert. You heard light chuckle from the doctor “Don’t worry sir, our customer’s privacy is our priority” as he just finished wrapping up Sullyoon’s arm. You are amused by the doctor sense of humour and were reminded to take medication at the reception.

Luck was in your favoured, you felt grateful things went smoothly as you step into you van with Sullyoon taking the passenger seat beside you. A quick glance at your wristwatch telling you got ample time to even send Sullyoon back dorm before getting the other members back at the radio station. Without wasting a single second, you head straight to their dorm.

--------------------------------------

There’s nothing more enjoyable than driving on a road in which the traffic has thinned out. Saving you more time to grab a bite as you are starting to feel the spike poking your abdomen. As you put the van to a halt in front of Nmixx dormitory, you hear Sullyoon’s yawn and stretch wide awake. “Good morning” you jokingly said to her. She understood the assignment and greeted you back with a yawn, in which you find it cute because of how down to earth she’s in spite of how ethereal she can be.

“It’s time to go to bed, I will need to get back to fetch the member” you utter with a giggle seeing her abrupt aegyo refusing your idea to go to sleep. She whines with a subtle pout; you are about to go crazy with her unexpected adorableness. But at her core, she feels the most comfortable around you just right after you earnestly taking care of her.

You disregard all her cute attacks and carry on bringing her belongings. You hoped and wished everything unfolded as intended, well it did but not the way you least expected. With her bags in hand and Sullyoon clinging onto your arm looking up to you in admiration, you aren’t complaining but this really shouldn’t be happening as you stand still waiting for the elevator.

“Sullyoona-yah, can you get the keycard” you are not falling for her doe eyes, but at least she follows your order. You started to think is this what you called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)? You don’t remember reading an article stating being clinging was part of the disorder. You take your shoes off, lead the way to their living room. With your eyes squint to resist her charm, you command her prepare for bed and go to sleep but she got better scheme to do. “Manager-nim, want to have ramyeon with me?” she requests cutely.

“Naah, I must go back at get your other members, okay? Plus, I’m not hung-” a growling sound stops disrupt you. Your eyes went wide averting towards your stomach. To make matter worst, you heard a giggle right behind you and you don’t want a whole week having the members replaying the same stories on how loud your stomach growl after being offer have ramyeon. You can’t be too certain Sullyoon be able to keep her mouth shut, she will possess the best sleep of her life reimagine this moment with you.

At last, you stayed for ramyeon with Sullyoon in the living room. “Dig in manager-nim” you side-eyed her as you scanned for potential hidden trick up her sleeve but instead you examined her to be going back to her usual self. Despite her inviting for ramyeon, you did all the cooking right at the coffee table supposedly since she got one hand on hold by a sling. You grab two set of chopstick and bowls, serving her one and one for your hungry belly.

“Jal meokkesseumnida (I will eat well)” both of you said in unison before dig in your respective bowl of ramyeon. You hummed in satisfaction savouring the tasty goodness of ramyeon. It wouldn’t satisfy your hunger fully, but it will enough for now. You both enjoyed your ramyeon in silent, but Sullyoon was the first to break it. “Manager-nim…. why are you always so nice to me?” you are in the middle of your last slurp, but her question made you stop and look at her baffled. You swallowed the last strain of ramyeon and reply to her answer defensively “What do you mean? I treat everyone equally”. Sullyoon elaborate more by adding more details proving her claim. She revealed that her member telling her that they see you treat her a little bit better and to illustrate her points clearer, even she and her other members agree that you can telepathically understand Sullyoon better than anyone else, as if you read her thoroughly. She even lay out scenarios where you read her like a book, the member say that they must tell you exactly what they want then you will bring it to them, Sullyoon on the other hand just by reading her expression and body gesture you as if able to decipher what she needs.

You were left in awestruck by how detailed her accusation is towards you. Your brain couldn’t be able to construct a legitimate excuse to defend yourself as everything that she said was accurate to you. With the amount of evidence essentially exposing you, you might as well be transparent to her and explain your whole side of the stories.

“Look Sullyoon, with all the evidence you lay out to me, you could say I’m biased, I’m not trying to refute that claim because from your guy’s point of view it looks like I’m favouring you”. You accentuate your word carefully as to avoid misunderstanding. You continue your clarification by expressing that Sullyoon looks the most vulnerable out of all the members. You even suggest that she’s unable to open-up to you for the first 3 months of you being their manager. Of course, it would imply that you must somehow adapt to each member on how they supposed to be treated. You realized that you are going off track a little bit too much about defending yourself as you started to see Sullyoon eyes starting to get watery.

Before anything going too out of hand, you grab and grasp her right hand tenderly with both of your hand and reassure her about your stance that she’s not a burden nor a cause of unfair treatment towards her members. “Actually Yoona-yah. Whenever I see you, you remind me of myself back then, shy and timid. You can be hesitant at times, but I know you are doing your best to keep up with the world. I know how exhausting it is to take every burden on your shoulder alone. That’s why I’ll take extra measure to assist you. Don’t compare yourself with other members, you will have your time to shine. Other member like Haewon, I know she will do well on her own in a long run but you, Yoona-yah you just need a little more time and care to build yourself up so you can be on par with others.”

You are in deep stare into her eye’s orb, the tears stream down her cheek almost went unnoticed. You were startle by her sobbing tears that you hand subconsciously wipe her tears with your thumb. “Don’t cry Yoona-yah, Aigoo you are big baby girl aren’t you” you smirk while wiping the remaining tears of comfort.

Cleaning up the dishes as you go, you are flabbergasted that you had to tuck Sullyoon to bed. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite” she lightly punches you on the shoulder for treating her like a kid. Well in fact that’s how you view her, a kid who was thrown into society to meet its standard. Well, you once being one of those kids and you don’t want youngsters to suffer the insufferable. Before you turn back, you heard her mutter something. “Do you say something?” you questioned but she only shakes her head. You bid her good night and went straight to the exit.

As the sound of the dorm’s door being locked on the outside, Sullyoon’s heart was racing millions of miles an hour. She whispers to herself something she wished you had heard “Oppa, you paboya (idiot)…………Saranghae (I love you)”.

--------------------------------------

You take a deep breath to awaken your senses back. You thought that was a good way to end your day, but you nearly forget about the other members. Your stay with Sullyoon went a bit too late. So, you hoped that you when you arrived at the radio station, they wouldn’t be questioning your delayed arrival. Without wasting any more time, you drive back to the radio station to pick up the girls.

“ Yahhh Oppa, why are you late?” Bae being the first out of the station is asking you sulkily. You pick your own ears to check if it’s still intact due to her loud voice, Bae’s voice being the most obnoxious one neglected the fact that you almost thought she’s the most normal one out of the six member. But you grow to accept her later on. You decided to ignore her completely and open the door for other members as they walk past her.

With everyone on board, you stroll away down under the night sky of Seoul. “Oppa, why did you pick us up so late?” you sigh in defeat as another one asking you the same question, Haewon peaking her head from her seat. But this time, you answer them as it will only make it even more shady if you stayed silent “I had ramyeon before I left Sullyoon before picking you guys up”. Your anxious mind already predicts the subsequent question after you answered, so you gulp your saliva and willingly admit your fate. “Ouh getting TMI (too much information) from oppa, I was expecting you to say the medical check-up was taking too long.” Haewon said, her voice trails with disbelief . Kyujin follow up with an unexpected question “So you did have ramyeon with Sullyoon?”. The two witty member’s comments had everyone bursting into laughter upon catching you in the act.

Your face went bright red getting fully exposed by the members. You wouldn’t have a calmly ride back to their dorm. You sensed that there’s something going on among the members like a gossip talk among them. You would like to give it more though, but you already fed up with the amount of catastrophe you had to put up today. But your guts unable to detect the fact that there’s a rivalry between who will get your heart, you did not notice Bae being the only one who’s not amused by Kyujin and Haewon act on you as she is saddened by a new revelation about you and Sullyoon.

With everyone going back to their respective resting nest, finally it’s your turn to went back home. Since tomorrow is Nmixx day off, that’s also means your time to compensate lack of sleep on the weekdays. As soon as you step inside your apartment, you waste no time slamming face first into your bed. The bed quickly sucks up your tired body and off to slumber world you go.

The sound of your phone ringing for hours forcing you to wake up. As you squint your eyes to see who’s the caller, it shows on the dialer “Manager-Unnie”. You mutter to yourself “Who the heck would call someone this early”. “Yahhhhh! Y/N -shii, don’t you get my message? Why aren’t you here yet?” and immediately she hungs up the calls. You are puzzled by the unexpected morning scenario, but as soon as you see your phone messenger app was filled with half a thousand unread messages. You are still unaware that one tap of a button to the messenger app would turn your life around completely.

The app was opened, and you still haven’t grasped on what’s going on, you thought maybe just a scammer getting your phone number and spam the heck out of you, you wouldn’t make a deal out of it. You went to Manager-Unnie contact list to check her message. The first message was not a greeting but a news headline link. You starting to feel uncomfortable seeing the link has disturbing wording especially it’s spelling out the group you are taking care of. Adding more horror to you, the picture blurred somewhat showing familiarity about the recent place you have been yesterday.

You tapped on the link, it leads you to Naver News website, as the website starting load its content. Your eyes went wide upon seeing the big red headline saying “NMIXX Male Manager Hurts NMIXX’Fan who’s A Reporter”. Just by reading the main headline, you went to your browser app and see the news feed are filled with your entitled name, “NMIXX Manager” across the screen. You make a call to manager-unnie to analyse the situation. “Palli wah (quick), it would be easier if we discussed this back at the office” She hanged up on you again.

You are frustrated to death waking up into this hell hole, you just want to suffocate yourself with your pillow. Throw you pillow aside, you stared into your ceiling, steadily digesting the uproar you had woken up to. Soon, your breath becoming more stable, and you went to your bathroom to fully wake you up with a splash of cold water shivering your senses to wake. A swig of water cleansing your through, comb your hair to look presentable, donning your jacket and you are ready to face the media allegation.

With van key in hand, you are set to go but you make a quick stop at Ahjussi’s store. “Isn’t today your day off?’ Ahjussi question and pause his daily sweep down the street. “Got an emergency matter to deal with” Ahjussi bid you safe trip before you heading straight to the company.

Cutting to the chase, you are currently running through the company’s corridor making a beeline for the company meeting room. You almost slipped trying to grab a hold of the room door handle. Your stomach immediately sucked in upon everyone arrival making the tension atmosphere tighten. Expressionless and poker face were the only option for whoever enter this room. All higher up who are under Nmixx management are there too including the members, but you don’t spot Sullyoon anywhere. Maybe she went to the bathroom. You tried to squeeze in to take a seat vacant near the girls and whisper to them about Sullyoon whereabout. “She back at the dorm recovering” manager-unnie respond coldly, not even staring at your way.

You felt like you are missing a memo. Surely, it’s just some misleading article. Just pay the whoever posted the article to take it down, right? Thud! You are jolted by the loud hitting sound at the far side of the room and only having you swallowing your saliva upon acknowledging the presence of the CEO himself. The sound of him flaring his nostrils only making you tremble down to the core and unexpectedly he slides a tablet down the tabletop straight to you. The tablet almost slides off, but you managed to catch it. The CEO recognized how clueless you are upon entering the room, not well informed how serious this issue is.

You tried to be friendly by smiling and nodding at the CEO that you will go ahead look what the tablet screen shows. You saw the familiar headline back at your apartment but as you scrolled more into the article, more dread enveloping your skin. The details of what you missed what got you quivering your legs. You were bewildered by how freaking clever they twist the narrative just from a clip that didn’t do you justice. They only add the part of the clip where grab a hold onto the reporter’s wrist.

That bastard reported makes up stories about how you push the reporter away a bit too harsh. He has the audacity to post his injury on the internet to make him the victim. The video cut making a villain impression of you portraying as a villain, saying unnecessary usage of hard force to push away fans and reporter, even there is a picture of you last night with Sullyoon getting medical check-up and adding description that you hurt the idol and make it seem like you try to silent the idol from voicing out their assault by giving them a treatment. They were never assaulted in the first place, now they put their attack and pinpoint it to you.

You voice out your opinion about this absurdity of the situation it is “Sajang-nim (CEO) this is all just altered stories making me look bad, I have never raised my hand on Nmixx member ever, and I- “. You were cut short as you the CEO interrupts you with a question “How did Sullyoon get hurt initially?” his clasped hand covering his face partially investigating you. You carry on explicate what happened beginning with everything going according to the schedule up until the period where it all happened, after the interview. You said Sullyoon was heading towards the van, but a random reporter grabs her wrist cruelly, so you had to interfere as you saw her getting hurt by the reporter.

You were sceptical, you thought you did great explain yourself to them, but you hear everyone in the room murmuring with each other. “Is that all?” question proposed by the CEO got you feeling agonizing, as he stands up from his seat and make his way to you, you tried to look as confident as possible not being hitched by his demeanour. “I’m opened for any possibility, even I would believe there’s an alien attending the interview yesterday. But…….” The CEO gave his insight on this matter, accumulating to your distress there’s a brief interval before he finished his sentence. “If there’s no evidence, there’s no persuasion” The CEO utter his last word.

You were taken aback by the unexpected turn of event. “Ouh Come on Sajang-nim, you guys just going to believe that bullshit of an article” you sound with clear hearing of everyone in the room. You turn to the members “You girls know me, right? We have been together ever since”, you know it very well that the members know you are innocence but seeing their horrified face only proving how powerless they are even if they spoke out the truth, the media had overpowered the truth once again.

You attempt to seek help from the occupants maybe there’s hope among the darkness “Hey, we can fix this together, we got thi-”. You look back to the sound of opening door, you saw a group of people with a dark blue uniform. One of the guys walk up to you with a handcuff “Mr, you are under arrest for assault. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law” prosecuting you by handcuffing both of your hands.

“Sajang-nim! hey Sajang-nim! what are you doing? Is this some sort of prank? Get off me! I’m not finished talking to the CEO” you squirm left and right unable to come to terms with reality as the policemen drag you out of the company’s building. You are then met with million flashes of camera shutter from dozens of reporters from difference mainstream news agency and plethora of mic shoved in front of you. “Did you hurt Nmixx member?”, “What grudge do you hold onto them?”, “Is it related to Jinni leaving”. Avoidance of camera shutter and mic was the only thing you do up until you step inside at the back seat of a cop car. From that point on, the future looks bleak.

Back at Nmixx dormitory, Sullyoon just woke up from her heart fluttering dream of you. She took it as a sign of good weekend, maybe she could even get you to spend time with her. But soon, her initial thought was replacing with questionable silent atmosphere of their dorm. She wonders where everyone went. Did they go to get grocery? She investigates every room, but no one was there. She went back to the living room and detect the sound of doors opening. She doesn’t suspect anything and saw her members returned from somewhere she isn’t aware off.

As she inspects closer to her member and grasp a situation from what it seems to be the members just arrived from a crime scene. Some have dark spot under their eyes, some have tears spot visible. She inquired about what happened this morning. Upon hearing the news, she thought her aching sharp pain on her wrist is the most painful experienced but that turns out to false after what she just heard from the members. Just a mere thought of not being able to see you again shattered her heart to million pieces. Tears starting to shed to thousands off her eyes. She would gladly trade her arm to be able to see you again.

She couldn’t had imagined she would wake up into this nightmare. She slams her affected wrist hard into the ground hoping to wake up from this unbearable nightmare but it only making her wheeping in pain and mourn over your disappearance even more. A total horror shot down upon their members faces as they immediately went towards Sullyoon to stop her from hurting herself. They couldn’t stand anymore seeing their loved ones getting hurt after losing you and couldn’t be possible be her next.

--------------------------------------

It’s been weeks since the article explode, with Nmixx’s manager arrest and their activity was halted after the controversy. And here you stand in the middle of your cell, staring out into the small opening separating you and the outside world. You would be lying if you couldn’t be any better since your arrest. Honestly, it turns out going a lot better than you expected. No need to deal with early traffic, countless paperwork signage, eyes blinded by paparazzi, and…...even free from controversy.

Life’s great in here but there’s lingering void in your heart that you are longing for, the feeling of loving someone, your little sister and the members that you leaved unintended. They are the only thing that you have left, Jiu; your little sister, Haewon, Kyujin, Jiwoo, Lily, Bae and your dearest Sullyoon. By now, you had truly accept your feelings for her, there’s no faking it anymore. *Bang-Bang-Bang- “Wake up sleepy head……you are free now” You are about to scream with anger when the guards interrupt your daydreaming, but the latter comment got you perplex.

No news, no message, not even a pigeon letter informing you about your released. With your former outfit on, the one clothing before you were dragged to jail. You stand cluelessly outside of the prison gate with no goal in mind. You thought of going back inside with now that you don’t have anywhere to go. On the verge of making the decision, you heard a honking noice. “Hey kid, need a ride?” that one pervy ahjussi from the convenience store is here to fetch you after your discharged.

While you and ahjussi strolled down the highway in his muscle car, you end the silence by inquiring him about your release. Ahjussi simply hand you his phone with an article already opened on the screen. “NMIXX’s Manager Was Never It, It Was The Reporter” you read the title word by word, not repeating the same mistake again like how you act cocky towards the CEO for missing the detail about the whole issue. Just right below the title, a display of a video playing a clip.

The clip basically displays how the incident played out from a different perspective. The video capture from the initial grab of Sullyoon wrist with a clear sign of the reporter pulling her wrist forcefully, up until the second you popped into frame interfering the scene showcasing the need of rough grab onto the reporter’s wrist. “Heheeheh, took them long enough to post the video” you let out a feeble laugh on how ridiculous that you shouldn’t have to serve your time in prison if this video went viral, but your realistic mindset brings you back with optimism. “It must be tough mentally for the user who recorded this to post the video” you mutter to yourself.

On top of that, there’s another clip that catches your attention as the thumbnail used was clearly shows Sullyoon’s face. As you tap onto the video, you’re in for a treat as the seconds progressing through the video. Your heart softens and turns into fragile glass witnessing the content displaying Sullyoon speaking the truth to the media.

It was clearly shown it was her own initiative knowing the low-quality recording. “Our manager-oppa actually……...he was never the one that was portrayed on the article. Ever since our debut, he always there for us through thick and thin. He can be selfless at times and still got his insecurity about taking care of people, but he is putting his effort at best……...” she proceeded to explain her whole side of the story supposedly being the most affected victim out of this tragedy. Until reaching the moment where you and she went to the hospital to seek medical attention to treat the injury origin from the earlier event. Adding more sorrowful setting in the video, it was self-evident that Sullyoon was stifling her tears wallowing the past for the sake shedding the truth to the world.

For the first time Sullyoon referring you as Oppa was one thing to think about. Her comforting words heals your self-doubting capabilities of managing them was another. The video’s sound cut off suddenly, marking the end of the video. You rub out your eyes to dry out the tears. “Have you got any place to visit?” he probed you for answers. You choose to visit your little sister, Jiu.

Jiu, being one of those people that you are truly cherishes. But unfortunately, she got chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). You aren’t an intellectual in diseases but after reading a few articles of it. You are only saddened by it fully understand how unfortunate Jiu’s condition is. Here is the analogy, normally you’re tired, you take a rest, you got better but for these patients they get tired, they take a rest, and they are still tired. Most hurting part about it, Jiu’s smile will always be carved on her face whenever you visited her.

The journey to the hospital where your sister hospitalised was quiet, with you sitting silently contemplating your current situation. The pervy ahjussi was only a nickname for him from the first impression of him. When you first moved into your current apartment now, as you open the door, the sight of him ducking with a bra attached to his face makes a terror out of you. It was a pain in the arse for him to explain himself, but it got solved soon later. Apparently, he was the landlord wanting to check the water pump to your apartment but still that doesn’t explain the bra part.

Soon after knowing him even more, he doesn’t appear to be of what your first impression thinks of him. Yes, he’s the one been there for you at your lowest, betrayed by your fake friends, the genuine one taking his own way to the after world, news of your sister had to be transferred to another hospital due to the lack of service of the former hospital as your sister illness getting more severe. Everything went downhill for that whole week.

It was raining that day; you embrace the coldness of rainwater soaking you in waiting hypothermia to put a full stop of your life voyage. It all change when the drunk ahjussi throwing tantrum you to drink with him because he needs a drinking buddy. You got more confused at a drunk a person taking walk outside in the rain, being drunk should be enough reason to. Entering a new day, you regret drinking with ahjussi as you got a massive hangover. Both of you went to their respective toilet bowl and a sink to ease up the hangover. Who would have known a middle-aged man acting childish to annoy you would extend your lifeline.

Reminiscing the past got you company for the whole car ride. Upon arriving, you inform the receptionist about your presence before strolling down to her room. You asked ahjussi beforehand to stop by a store to buy some flowers and her favourite snack, tteokbokki.

As you look through the glass door of her room, you spot a figure that’s not matching with any of your possible ideas. Wears a black hoodie with a black cap on. Doesn’t look like a nurse here. You don’t remember having an extra sibling or relative. Is it Jiu’s friends? She never tells you about them, maybe she a got a new one during your time in prison? You set the final thought as the possible answer. But you are opened for any possibilities as you heighten your alertness as there’s couldn’t be possible, she got herself a boyfriends

You slide the door opened, attracting all occupant’s attention to you. As Jiu’s eyes set to you, she waved cheerly to you transitioning your facial expression from serious to friendly. Jiu was informed earlier about your visit by the nurse through Ahjussi contact. You saw the mysterious figure turn his face to see whom Jiu’s waving to, but he quickly turns back. You catch a glimpse of his side profile but can’t construct an image who might this be.

“Who is this Jiu-yah?” you inquire Jiu while you cautiously glance at the unknown man’s face, but the man keeps averting his face from you. “She’s been visiting me while you were serving time” you look at Jiu with question mark planted on your face. “She?’ you wide eyed you sister and emphasized the word pronunciation intricately upon this new disclosure. “Yoona-yah, don’t be shy, this is my brother” Jiu nudge Sullyoon’s shoulder a bit gesturing her to face you properly.

“Anyeonghaseyo manager-nim” Sullyoon lightly bow in courtesy and weakly smiled at you after she pulls down her hoodie. You got millions of questions running in your heads upon seeing Sullyoon visiting your sister

After a solid hour of connecting the dots, finally everyone is on the same page. Clearly during your imprisonment, Sullyoon decided to visit your sister as she feels like it’s a right thing to do. You are not the only one having guilt rotting you alive, Sullyoon also felt the same way towards your sister especially, having your loved one wrongly accuse because one’s unable to do anything in their power to save them. With the help of manager-unnie, she could track where your sister hospitalised.

Ever since then, Sullyoon and Jiu were so in tune together, even if it’s only a couple of visits but every meeting mends her heart as she expressed out to Jiu like you were in front of her. While Nmixx schedule suspended and everyone were so stressed handling the issue, Sullyoon able to find tranquillity in the midst of this controversy by visiting Jiu in her free time. Every time Sullyoon visit your sister, she talks a lot about you, in which you aren’t conscious about. Jiu has a knack for digging through people emotion, mind controlling everyone to spill a little too much information. She kind of have a plan as she heard you are going to visit her at the same time with Sullyoon

“Oppa, what are you going to do now? you’re free” Jiu raise a question to you, unconsciously waking you up from staring a little too much to Sullyoon, hitting you back to reality now that you are yet again starting from zero. Sullyoon look at you with anticipation expecting an answer that align with what she hoped for. “I’m not too sure, probably check on Ahjussi about any job vacancy at his convenience store” you respond naively, earning a jab at your torso from Jiu. “What was that for?” you rub the area of Jiu’s jab quite shock by her random attack. “Just because” Jiu half-heartedly displays her fake smile with a scowling amber seeing your air-headed mindset. “Yoona-yah, you guys got a new manager?” Sullyoon shake head in denial.

In front of Jiu, presented two people who are unaware of their mutual affection. Jiu’s trying to play cupid with you two but the way you react mindlessly to the question earlier, makes her sighing with hopeless. “Alright then, I need to go to the toilet, so I don’t think I need to see you guys off, Is that alright?” Jiu clap her hand indicating you and Sullyoon can leave. She hopes that you guys can work this off on your own.

As the three of you walk out, “Bye guys” Jiu bid off cutely before turning around going the opposite way to the toilet. With both you and Sullyoon left alone, awkward atmosphere ensued. In your head, you amused how drastically energetic Jiu had been, you fully understand her condition as one can’t possibly exert themselves to much or they will be drained easily. Truthfully, having Sullyoon giving her occasional visit is good for her recovery in terms of emotional scale. Sullyoon on the other hand went haywire. She never thought she would see you this early after your imprisonment. Maybe at least she expected you to be freed from the charges but not this early after an anonymous video was uploaded online in which it clear out all of the injustice that had happened.

“Has your wrist fully healed yet?” your sudden question diverts her consciousness back, instantly making eye contact with you. You already know the answer as she’s now not constrained to a sling anymore, but you want to hear her soothing voice reply as it would put you more at ease. “It’s been only a week after I removed my sling, so far I can move my wrist around, even the bruise patch is gone” she showed you her wrist that’s been fully recovered returning her fair white skin.

Soon enough, both of you walk together mindlessly, cherishing each other company but reluctant to initiate a conversation. You look around you, empty and tranquil space of open-air area of the hospital encourage you to engage in a small talk with her. “How’s the members doing back at the dorm?” both of you converse with each other at a gentle pace, enjoying the moment. She calmly replies to you stating that the girls recover far better than expected after the incident. She goes on how the members cope with criticism and pressure from the media, reappearance of false accusation of the members kicking Jinni out of the group. There is some instances where Jiwoo was too scared to even go out of her room, locking herself up and many more countless nights crying, exhausting mentally by the insults and isolating themselves from the outside world. You regain solace again knowing the company doing their job rehabilitate the girls. Unluckily, you didn’t ask how she cope her problem considering she had cried countless night missing you so much.

“……. It was really a rough week, but I really wished someone was there to lend their shoulder when we are at our lowest” Sullyoon’s eyes are on you, she tries to push her luck to gauge your response, hoping it relates to you reuniting with the group again……. reuniting with her. You take a nervous deep breath, pretending to ignore her indirect comment towards you. You would be lying that you wouldn’t want to reconcile with them. In the matter of fact, you want to, you need to, but after listening of what the girls had gone through, you can’t fathom at the assumption of you retaking the position as their manager again without a promise that their safety is guaranteed. You done hurting people like how you have hurt your parent heart for being incompetent. Before you know it, nature had taken their lives before you can ask them for forgiveness.

You were so in dazed with your thought that you didn’t notice Sullyoon stop her track. As you feel an empty space right beside you, you look over your shoulder and see Sullyoon looking at you with a sulk as if she’s saying you are ignoring her. You grin, reliving the image of Sullyoon that you used to love but it’s time to let her go. You walk back to her in gentle pace. And as you stand in front of her, you patted her head and say “Yoona-yah………it’s okay, you can take care of yourself now”.

--------------------------------------

5 years after.

“Sullyoon-sunbaenim (senior), how did you guy able to break the 7-year curse? and still maintained as a 6-membered group, and what makes you guys want to renew your contract?” Sullyoon lightly chuckle, seeing her junior getting nudge by her co-partner for asking to many questions in a single sentence. “Well actually, it’s a long story so I hope I can make you guys understand in a brief explanation…….”. She promptly continues her speech act stating the group secret overcoming the curse which is deep understanding to one another. Deep bond comes from extensive communication among the members, they would bicker over little things but communicate through small misunderstanding built into big network of empathy to each other. Additional point, the group made noteworthy changes after the big conflict 5 years ago, Truly reinforced their capability to strive for the future. She ends her answer with a small bow.

Under the span of 5 years, a lot of unforgettable achievements accomplish by Nmixx. For instance, winning an award as The Song of the Year categories under The Mnet Asian Music Awards (MAMA) on their latest comeback and success continues with reaching new audience at the Billboard Music Awards and was proposed as one in the Top Duo/Group category. Focusing on more individual member, every member had done their solo debut. Presenting each respective member’s distinct colour including Sullyoon. Today marking her first solo comeback attaining her first win on Music Bank Show.

“Sullyoon-shii, after this magazine photoshoot, we will end with a fan sign event” Her private manager informed her for the upcoming schedule. She hummed in respond before he leaves her alone in the dressing room. She takes a quick moment looking at herself in the mirror tracing back of fond memories up until now. Ever since then, Sullyoon developed into more confident and independent women then she is. Her dedicated fan would discover that she’s becoming more charming than ever contrasting from her old wary and shy behaviour.

She got a call from her stone-cold manager “Sullyoon-shii, are you still in the dressing room? We need to move to the photoshoot set”. Sullyoon answer coldly before packing up her purse and finish her last two schedule. However, even if she did turn for the better, she prefers her old self, composed and reserved demeanour. In her member’s eyes, she’s still Sullyoon who opted to stay indoors and play games all day. Her on-stage and off-stage aura was so difference to the point where the members joke about her being another whole new person when she’s on-stage.

After the recovery of the tragedy 5 years ago, manager-unnie was appointed as the main manager and got them a new assistant to aid her side. The new assistant who is now her temporary private manager is supervising her schedule strictly and professionally. Sullyoon only had one last schedule to go through. “Huhhhhhhh, when will this end? I just want to go back home and sleep” Sullyoon whined in frustration leaning on her right shoulder on top of the vanity table. With eyes closed, she breath steadily trying to regain her composure after 10 hours schedule with barely any breaks.

As she opens her eyes, she sees her left wrist recalling her past memories. She sorts of wished that there’s more significant trace to preserve her memories of you. The only remembrance she had of you is her unforgettable wrist pain still fresh in her mind till this day. A ringing sound from across the room got her senses heightened, breaking her out of her mental imagery. She stands up slouching to get the phone call from her purse thrown to the opposite side of the room as she enters the room earlier in annoyance of her pack time schedule.

She takes out her phone and see the screen display the dialler’s name “Manager-unnie”. She takes the call calmly “Anyeong, what is it Unnie?”. “Ouh Yoona-yah, there’s some adjustment with manager time shift, it looks like my assistant had to went back to take care of other group itineraries, don’t worry we already got you covered on manager replacement, there will be a new manager on your way to take care of you starting today, Okay”. Before she can respond, manager-unnie hung up on her before she could ask for her new manager’s name. She sighs in disappointment but quickly regain her emotion at a thought of tricking the new manager to skip the last schedule so she can head straight back home early.

A knocking sound of the dressing room’s door can be heard signaling the new manager has arrived, “Wait for a moment” Sullyoon rapidly pack up her belongings to execute her plan. She maybe got a little too carried away of how thrilled this is going to work, taking advantage of newcomer for her own benefit. With her belongings in hand, she scrambles away towards the door. As she’s about to reach the doorknob, the door swings open hitting her in the face.

She lands butt first on the floor, making her flinch in pain “Ouch, can’t you wait outside instead”. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you” the familiarity of the voice got her nerves sending shivers throughout her body. She looks up towards the source of the voice, as her eye regaining its focus. You take her hand in yours helping her to stand up. Sullyoon gasped in shocked upon recognizing the figure she misses the most. “Y/N oppa?”.

-The end-

#seol yoona #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #sullyoon x male reader #nmixx sullyoon x male reader #fluff #nmixx #sullyoon x male oc #sullyoon fluff #nmixx sullyoon fluff #nmixx sullyoon #nmixx sullyoon x male oc #kpopfluff #nmixx fluff #kpop manager #idol manager

242 notes · View notes

wingedcat13 · 4 months ago

Text

Tell No Lies

[Part One of the third Synovus installment.]

Living on a tropical island didn’t mean the weather was always sunny.

Your island wasn’t in quite the right spot to really get the worst of the monsoon season - too far on the eastern side of the Pacific - but you did still get plenty of rainstorms. When that happened, your group of minions battened down the hatches, triple checked the generators, and usually played cards or other bored games. Sorry, board games.

Sometimes you played, sometimes you didn’t. You weren’t playing this time, because you were catching up on some reading. Sans costume, slumped sideways in a chair, one hand on the cup of hot chocolate you had requested and immediately forgotten about.

Then your phone had dinged.

That was weird, because during storms you didn’t usually have service - technology hadn’t yet beaten Mother Nature entirely. But there were the underwater cables that had been set up to provide internet access, and emergency calls.

And that was more than enough for an entity like Optix to get through when it wanted to. Even when your phone was set to silent.

With a small sigh, you had set the book aside and reached for the screen. An email from Optix: the subject line, in all caps, “INVITATION.”

Intriguing.

You opened it, scrolling past the gold-adorned letterhead to the digital party invitation. You read it. You deleted it. You reluctantly pulled it from the trash folder to read it again. You forced yourself to read it a third time.

‘Thank you for informing me.’ You replied to Optix, before sliding the phone away. The book came to rest comfortably against your chest, pages down, probably doing all kinds of damage to the spine. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the present to alternate between stewing over the possibilities of the future and miring yourself in the past.

Eventually, your field of vision had been interrupted by a slow-moving face, drifting in from your peripheral. One eyebrow raised, only inches from your own face, it continued moving slowly and smoothly past where most people would have reached a limit.

“Dude.” Alexandria said, “You haven’t even blinked in like. Two minutes.”

Your erstwhile ‘apprentice’ was using her abilities to float over you. Wearing her suit, which had been modified recently to include panels of bright color against the near-black gray you’d initially designed, she looked sleek and surreal. And older than seventeen, though maybe you just couldn’t judge ages past ‘young’ anymore.

“Hello, Menace.” You’d greeted her placidly. “How goes the Great Pacific Vandalism Project?”

Alexandria beamed, and floated away an inch or so to a more comfortable speaking range. She’d finally gotten a better handle on equilibrium in flight, so her gestures as she talked no longer caused her to wobble in whatever direction she indicated. “It went great! We finally managed to get that CEO.” Her grin widened, “Right in the middle of a press conference.”

“It was satisfying.” A different voice had agreed, as another costumed figure moved into your general field of view. This one didn’t lean over you, but rather settled into the chair opposite, and helped themself to your hot chocolate. Cold chocolate, by now.

A bit of concentration had changed that, as the thief raised the mug to consider it. Their dark blue form-fitting suit had changed in recent times as well, now featuring more delicate details around the neck and wrists. Not quite scales, not quite flourishes, not quite vines, picked out in a slightly darker shade. The short cape at the hips now had flared ends, rather than a pointed tip. It had an elegance that Menace’s suit lacked.

Or perhaps that was the wearer?

“Naiad.” You’d been certain that your tone hadn’t changed. “Welcome back.”

Minerva had lifted the stolen mug in salute, and allowed you a trace of a smile. Crime agreed with her - even if she only rarely agreed with it. Once the straight-laced, impeccable hero Athena, she was now known much more widely as the Naiad: a bioterrorist with a strong cult following among ecology groups.

Over the past year, she had very publicly and very precisely targeted companies who were responsible for much of the pollution going into the Pacific Ocean. Working alone at first, then allowing Menace to join her, she had made trips to the great garbage patches that floated in the ocean’s wide expanse, and returned their contents very directly to sender.

Cars, homes, persons, factories and distribution centers (while they were closed and no one was present; employees were innocent until proven guilty) were all fair game. The only way to be sure of immunity from the Naiad’s attacks was to publicly document cleanup efforts, make donations to the groups who did the same, and implement vast reductions in pollution.

It was good mother/daughter bonding time for the two of them. You knew your presence would only overshadow their efforts, so you simply offered aid and tips during the planning phases. And there was the standing unspoken fact that you would appear to bail them out, if it ever became necessary. So far, it had not been necessary.

Minerva had even admitted, grudgingly, that this new angle on life was, at times, fun.

And that, really, plus the trace of a smile, is what had given you a terrible idea.

—------------------------------

What was even more terrible was that Minerva had agreed.

She stood now at your shoulder, just a step behind, while your invitation was inspected by a man who had gotten very tense at your approach. His costume was patterned in pale yellows and purples, a strip of rainbow draped over his collarbones. You couldn’t make out much expression behind the mask, but you didn’t really need to when you could hear the material creaking as he prepared to square up.

“I am… confused.” He allowed, considering the printed invitation. “You - do know this is a hero’s wedding, right?”

“I’m aware.” You answer flatly, the helmet giving you a wonderfully crisp punctuation. You’ve made only the slightest concessions to the event’s formality in the form of a nicer, gilt-edged cape with decorative clasps, and white rose corsages at your wrists to indicate your intention of peace. “I don’t begrudge you the confusion, Sun Dog. I will be grudging if you attempt to deny me entry.”

Sun Dog hesitated a moment more. You really didn’t want to hurt the man, no one you knew of did - which was probably why he was the bouncer at this particular event. It was hard to hate the person whose sole job was disaster response and relief.

Just when you were resigning yourself to this going poorly at the gate, Naiad leaned forward over your shoulder. Her costume had been adapted to include a floor-length skirt in a blue ombre, slit to the thigh on the sides and revealing the usual suit’s leggings beneath, and her arms were bare to the shoulder except for jewelry in the places of her normal accents. She’d pinned her hair up with sea-shell and coral pins, with deep purple pearls for earrings. You stopped breathing, attempting to be as still as possible to prevent any of those decorations catching on part of your ensemble.

“Parhelion. We’ll cause no trouble.”

The name clearly meant something to him. Sun Dog’s body language changed, shifting rapidly through a few shades of things you didn’t know him well enough to identify. None of them were hostile, though, so you gave the man his moment to process.

“I… had my suspicions, but…” Sun Dog shook his head, “Sorry. Not the time or the place. Glad you’re alright - Naiad, is it?” At her confirming nod, he continued, “Anyway, the invitation is legitimate, I’m just surprised you actually came. Uh. Guest book is ahead, gift table to the left. Good luck?”

You nodded regally and moved further into the venue, gaudily bedecked in white and taupe and glittering silver and gold. At the guest book, you confined your signature at first to the simple stylized S that was popular among bored schoolchildren. Naiad signed more gracefully, and pressed the pen back into your hand. You contemplated stealing it to make a point, but added the remaining letters to your name in a normal script instead.

Naiad was also the one to place your gift - a small black box with a silver ribbon - among the bright and shiny assortment of well-wishes, though that was more a matter of practicality. If you’d put it there, everyone would’ve assumed it was a bomb.

And the entire time, you were surrounded by people in costume. Some had made little to no alteration to their standard getups. Others had clearly commissioned outfits specifically for this event. Those who were part of the wedding party were all in what felt to you like mockery of their usual garb; the same shapes and silhouettes, but in shades of champagne and adorned with glitter, their masks or helms altered to match each other.

You didn’t stand out as much as you might’ve. There were heroes who dressed in dark colors and full-coverage helmets. It was the cape that really made your silhouette distinctive, which was why you’d shortened it from its usual wide floor-length to a slimmer, knee-length drape. And besides, who would invite Synovus to a wedding? Particularly this wedding?

Abruptly, you wished that changing your outfit hadn’t felt like so much of a concession, a surrender. You wished that you could’ve hemmed and hawed between narrow or wide skirts, short or long sleeves, backless or high necked. Layers of chiffon, of deep blue with tiny flickering gems in blues and greens and purples, a clear blue sash at the waist, or perhaps a shawl around the shoulders -

But that kind of wishful thinking is what got you here in the first place. The moment passes. Your suit is familiar, fitting, and practical. The rosettes at your wrists feel like chains.

You hear the first whispers from one of the bright costumes around you. Is that Synovus?

You turn to Naiad, “We should find our seats.”

—-------------------------------

You were, rather mercifully, seated to the back and one side, in a portion of the room not quite as well lit. The set up was rather traditional, with everyone split down rows, and the aisle in the center. You were on the bride’s side, and couldn’t honestly have said what the name of the groom was.

A few of the heroes had taken to eyeing you. Before they could investigate or act on their suspicions blindly (you knew which one you thought was more likely), the music started.

And the lights went out.

Your hand found Naiad’s in the darkness, and you lifted it to your helmet so she could feel you shake your head. Not me. Your power was quiet, the shadows entirely natural. You remained still, watching the attendees shift and begin to whisper. Most of them must have been warned ahead of time - prudent, considering how many of these people you’d fought. How many of them had you given a fear of the dark?

When a light appeared, it was not natural, nor electric. Nor was it yours. A pale silver glow began at the foot of the aisle, illuminating from beneath one high heel. Then another. On the next step, the first light began to float, turning from a spot on the floor into a small orb of light. Others joined it, like so many small sparkling stars.

In this way the bride, the hero Dazzler, made her way down the aisle.

You had to admit, it was a stunning display. On occasion, one of the lights would twirl around her, granting tantalizing glimpses of her dress and playing off the crystals in her hair. The pale silver glow was soft and alluring, and in the darkness of the room, it made her seem as though she were a deity of creation; the steps she took forming reality in her wake.

At the altar, she paused, to hand off her bouquet. Then she turned to face the crowd, raised her hands, and called all of the globes of light to encircle her and the man in a suit who was presumably her groom. They formed the shape of a heart, then faded as the room’s lights came back on.

Everyone oohed and awed appropriately. Naiad shifted, and you realized you still held her hand. Without conscious thought, your grip had tightened. Abruptly, you let go.

The two of you sat in silence as the ceremony began.

—----------------------------------

Once everyone had moved to the tables, you actually thought you might get through this without being officially recognized by anyone other than Sun Dog. That was both a relief, and mildly insulting.

Naiad had given you questioning glances since you had left the ceremony, but you’d yet to provide an answer. You’d warned her before you arrived that you would speak as little as possible once inside the venue - your voice would certainly give you away. Naiad had said that was the consequence of being a monologuer. You’d protested, vociferously, because it was true.

But as the guests were mingling, the open bar being besieged, the instant your shoulders started to relax, there was a high pitched shriek from somewhere behind you. Not a shriek of terror or anger or surprise. One of joy.

Of course.

The syllables of your name filled the air, broken into three and a half parts. There was a frantic rustle of cloth and the rapid clicking of heels. Then arms wrapped around your middle, and a heavily perfumed, glittery weight slammed into you.

You, very judiciously, did not move.

“I’m so glad you came!” Dazzler gushed, moving around in front of you. She let her arm trail as she did, so that she never lost contact with you. You felt like you were being circled by a shark. Up close, the makeup and glitzy hair-pieces felt like an attack. “You never RSVP'd! I’d almost given up hope!”

You still had not moved, even to turn your head. Dazzler pouted at you, and you tried to ignore that you knew she was just looking at herself in your helmet’s reflection. Around you, half the guests had abandoned their chairs or their place in line at the bar, half-starting, ready to leap into action. Every single pair of eyes in the place was fixed on the two of you.

And you knew that this was exactly why Dazzler had invited you. You’d known when you received the invitation. You knew when you decided to attend. Because this kind of bullshit was exactly why you’d harassed her into moving to a different continent.

“Many felicitations, Diane.” You reply, as though she isn’t doing her damnedest to make a scene. As though she’d cornered you in a hallway, instead of the middle of the banquet hall. “I get invited to so few parties - I can’t imagine why.”

Laughing, Dazzler moves to swat you on the arm, and transitions from that to looping her arm through yours. “Oh, Syn. People just don’t know you, that’s all! Come on, say hello to everyone with me, it’ll-”

You have no intention of being dragged off by Dazzler to become arm candy. But before you can find a way to elegantly maneuver out of the situation, Naiad is stepping between you.

“Perhaps things have changed since my wedding.” Without a filter, Naiad’s voice is not far off from Athena’s. She’s taking a terrible risk to do this, that someone will identify her by her past persona and its questionable end. But Athena never took quite that tone of condescension. “But greeting the guests is typically something one does with their groom.”

“Oh.” Dazzler steps away, a tiny frown creasing her brow. She’s not used to having competition. Not used to being thwarted by anyone who isn’t you. Still, she recovers quickly, laughing again and holding the back of one hand to her forehead. “Of course! With all the preparations and everything, I forgot there’s so many steps! You must remember, right? All the decisions you have to make, and then there’s so many people here -”

Again, Naiad cuts her off, “Then we wouldn’t want to monopolize so much of the bride’s time. Happiness - and many years of it - to you both.”

She raises an arm to your back, and automatically, you reciprocate. It makes you a unified front, automatically reinforcing her words. You know everyone here will remember this. Naiad is now permanently associated with Synovus.

“Be well, Dazzler.” You add, so no one will think this is some kind of catfight you allowed to happen. You’re not sure that thought was coherent, actually, but saying something seemed important at the time.

Together, you and Naiad turn away, moving to your assigned seats in a corner. The rest of the room is silent, except for the music no one thought to pause. Dazzler’s bridesmaids - most of them heroes themselves - swarm her, whispering furiously.

Dazzler raises her voice to be heard by everyone when she responds, “Oh, we used to date.”

———————————

“I dislike that I can’t even call that woman a menace without besmirching my daughter’s name.” Naiad said, some time later.

The two of you had sat in silence while the room slowly restored itself to a cautious order. No one had forgotten you were there, but some seemed to accept that you were here peacefully. Given that you were not going to remove your helmet, and therefore could not actually consume anything, both you and Naiad had eaten before you came. This also spared the nervous waitstaff the task of servicing your - otherwise empty - table.

You let out a long, slow exhale, below what your helmet will verbalize. “Calling her anything will please her, in the end. Any attention is good attention, and if it lets her play the virtuous victim, all the better.”

Naiad glances back at you, gauging something. “She fooled you?”

You wince, attempt to communicate something solely by facial expression, and fail utterly because you’re wearing a helmet. How to describe what you’d seen in Dazzler once?

“I…. Wanted very badly to be someone worth effort. She caught me by surprise. It wasn’t until much later I realized she actually believed….” You break off, grimacing.

Naiad’s head tilts in a way that suggests she’s raising her brows at you. “Believed you loved her?”

“No - no, I knew she thought that. I wasn’t - I was young.”

These had been the days before Rosie, before Doll. Before there had been anyone but you, still running from and hunting any of Sunhallow’s surviving lieutenants. Nineteen and alone and then suddenly there was someone telling you otherwise, someone with a power of light so like and so different from your father’s.

“She felt.” You say finally, “That we were… destined. Her light, to my darkness. That I was… tameable.”

It had taken some years of retrospection to put the pieces together, but you had. Dazzler had wanted a tame villain; proof she was worth loving enough that it erased your identity in the process. Justification for everything she was, because she was the ‘good’ half. The ‘pure’ one.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Naiad mutters. She raises one hand, as though to pinch the bridge of her nose, but settles for bracing against the mask’s thick material.

“That too. But as I said - we were young.” Your voice was dry, and a little bit weary. Dazzler exhausted you, even now.

“Does she-?” Naiad cuts herself off, looking to re-affirm that Dazzler (and her groom) are on the other side of the room. Still, she lowers her voice, “Does she… know, then?”

Your laugh is bitter, but it is a laugh, “No. No, I got away before she learned all my secrets.”

You tap the table, curving your hand to make a small alcove where only you and Naiad can see your palm, and summon a small flicker of light. Then you let your hand fall flat again, extinguishing it.

“I am complete without her, by whatever metric you care to use.”

Naiad nods, accepting that explanation. There had been glasses of water on the table when you arrived, and she’d pulled one closer to claim it. You can tell she’s thinking by the way she traces its rim. You can tell she’s upset in some way by the way the water in the glass rises to follow her movement.

“How’d you explain the tattoo?” She asks mildly.

“She never saw it. I think she believes I have scars I don’t want anyone to see.”

A tattoo was a kind of scar, in a way, so it hadn’t been a lie. And it had fit with the image of you Dazzler so wanted, for you to have been broken and abused. Ashamed.

Naiad narrows her eyes, “If you were lovers, then-“

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, my dear.”

She leans back in her seat, taking the glass with her. She sips at the water and surveys the crowd. You pretend not to be surveying her. Dazzler was not a secret, per se, but the details of how you’d felt about it are not something you’ve ever shared.

You need to stop giving Minerva your secrets. Particularly when she doesn’t realize how many of them she holds.

The music is upbeat and space-filling. Loud enough that conversations are confined to their groups, but not loud enough you have to shout to be heard. You’re pretty sure this song is on one of Menace’s playlists - something by Chappell Roan.

“Synovus, why are we here?” Naiad asks finally. You willingly give up any attempt to identify the song to consider the question.

“Because I’ve never been to a wedding. Well, no, that’s not quite true. I’ve never been a guest at a wedding.”

Naiad’s gaze drifts to the middle distance, and she downs the remaining water like she wishes it was something stronger. You silently slide another glass over towards her - they set the tables for six apiece.

“Whose wedding were you in?” She asks, making conversation.

“Mine. Technically.” It’s a long story.

Minerva - no, Naiad, you need to think of her that way in the field - had been toying with the stem of the second glass. Now she stopped, becoming very still. At first, your attention pivots to your surroundings, searching for the threat.

Then Naiad says, flatly, “Explain.”

“It wasn’t - like this.” You wave a hand. “I - this was after Dazzler. There wasn’t - I’m not still married.”

“Synovus.”

“It lasted a week, as we’d agreed at the start, the identities were fake, and we swore to never speak of it to each other again.”

It had been a last grasp at normalcy. You didn’t have a social security number, you hadn’t had a community in which to undergo rites of passage that weren’t geared towards Sunhallow. You’d never been to a public school or a prom or a fucking football game. But getting Vegas married and having a honeymoon, then immediately divorcing?

Well that you could do.

“Who did you even do this with?” Naiad asks, flabbergasted and possibly appalled.

“Ah.” You wish you could sip water, to buy yourself time. “Tallflawes.”

Naiad’s outraged, “What?” Is drowned out, however, by the sound of shattering glass, as a blurred figure drops through the roof.

———————————

It’s a bad idea to crash a wedding. Lots of people, most of them easily rallied to at least half the attendees’ defense. It’s worse when more than half the guests have superpowers.

The good news was that no one had to worry about the falling glass - there were four or five different barriers flung up immediately.

The bad news was that it was absolute fucking chaos for five minutes. You hope no one attending had epilepsy.

You, of course, had no intention of intervening. This wasn’t your doing, you were going to be blamed for it regardless, so you might as well enjoy the show. But then you’d recognized the invader as Prodigy. And he was alone.

And the only thing he was yelling, over and over, was your name.

So you stood, removing the white rosettes at your wrists as casually as someone adjusting cuff links. You called to the shadows you’d been keeping at bay. You dialed up the volume of your helmet’s speaker.

And as everyone in the room except Naiad - including Prodigy - found themselves wrapped in solid darkness, you bellowed into the room,

“BE SILENT.”

You also had a small loop of shadow kill the music, because you never did a thing by halves.

As the room suddenly quieted, Prodigy came to drift in the middle of the space. The hum of his hoverboard was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. He wasn’t even struggling against your bonds.

And when he neither complained nor cracked a smile, only looking at you with wide wild eyes and tendrils standing on end, you felt your stomach drop. You knew even before he said, “They’re coming, Synovus! My homeworld - they sent a ship!”

——————————————

[I did say this was the one where they went to space. Buckle up, everybody, it’s time to dance!

Which Chappell Roan song is playing? Whichever one you personally believe is funniest and/or most tragic. Tag it!

Links to Ao3.]

#synoverse #synovus #Tell No Lies #Personally I liked the idea of the song being Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl #but I see potential in other options #Also #what are people’s thoughts on Dazzler?

234 notes · View notes