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sallowsarchives · 2 months

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War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

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"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror.

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can.

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin.

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.”

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.”

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance.

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate.

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident.

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last.

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.”

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony.

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!”

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte.

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side.

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor.

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with.

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow. “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back.

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness.

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny.

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable.

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence.

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets.

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you.

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement.

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?”

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur.

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise.

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.”

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below.

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion.

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations.

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him.

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk.

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point. “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you.

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks.

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.”

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?”

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness.

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss.

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality.

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony.

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze.

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed.

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over.

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings?

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say.

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration.

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded.

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt.

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

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inkskinned · 2 years

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accidents happen. accidents particularly happen around children.

we make scissors designed for children because we know they can hurt themselves on it. we cut their food up smaller so they are less likely to choke. we "babyproof" our houses, make sure our medications are all closed and locked, close all the outlets.

we are told to just carry a gun.

at some point a kid is going to get hurt. everyone with or around kids knows this. often adults (who shouldn't work with kids) are a little-too-okay-with-this. they sneer that in their time, kids just got hurt. which is great for them, but i don't feel it's particularly necessary to willfully allow children to break bones just to "build character". the kids do just fine when i do my job right. i make sure, to the best of my ability, that they don't break the bone. it turns out you can still learn life lessons without trauma. yes, at some point they'll get hurt. that's the nature of it. but i like to try to keep it to a minimum of bloodshed.

about five years ago, in the middle of my summer training, the cop that came in to prepare us for mass shootings actually happened to be the same cop that used to be my DARE officer. what a small world! his hair had gone grey.

before working with children, i had no idea how many things a child can hurt themselves on. i had never thought about the possibility that a child could climb a bookshelf, only for that bookshelf to topple over. everything has to be screwed down. nothing can have particularly sharp corners - what if a child falls backwards onto it? - or be particularly breakable. no plastic bags or choking hazards. watch out for allergens, do your best to clean your super-gross classroom with all-natural (and expensive) fragrance-free products. there's a million other considerations, most of which are difficult on a public school budget. i hate the calculation - either the kids get a new playground 5 years from now OR they get new books now and just risk the tetanus.

the gun is not included in the paycheck.

we do our best, you know? but like, there's the rest of the actual job to do. we're neither trained, paid, or aided in our one-person quest to somehow get jason to stop giving himself splinters. and besides, we have the 98 other things to consider for our 30 other students. one of which is, you know, teaching them.

the children aren't prisoners. we need to walk this incredibly fine line of "chaotic exploration" and "reckless endangerment." to be frank - they're gonna do stupid shit and get hurt while they do the stupid shit. it's my job to at least try to predict the stupid shit, and minimize the risk. and before you judge the kids - i'm going to remind you that adults die every year from shaking vending machines. people just do stupid shit.

did you know that the leading cause of childhood deaths in america is to guns? we're the only country in the world with that statistic. it used to be motor vehicles, which is why there are so many laws about seatbelts, air bags, babyseats, and other protections against accidents. 1 in 5 childhood deaths will be a result of guns. of these deaths, 65% are the result of an intentional attack.

my brother often takes me to archery. i fucking suck at archery, because i have no aim, bad eyesight, and no grip strength. it's fun, though! as a teacher, archery at my school is super banned, because kids could get hurt. no throwing rocks or sticks. no impromptu self-made bows or arrows, oh my god, why do we keep having to have this conversation.

i remember this one conversation with a parent. he was chatting with me during pick-up and mentioned that kinder eggs being banned is so stupid, because, like, if a kid is gonna choke - they kind of "deserved it" for being so stupid. without thinking, my response was, "we don't typically practice darwinism at school, but you can encourage that at home if you wish!" which did result in me getting written up - for "talking back", i guess.

but his idea isn't unusual, is the thing. there's this sense that there's somehow almost an "expendable" child trauma rate. that it weeds out the weak or whatever, which is categorically cruel & dehumanizing. children should be able to mess up and have fun and - again - do stupid shit. they might get hurt, yes. but the job of the adult is to just go help the kid.

i had to quit teaching. i was really, really good at my job - 15 years of practice. but i would wake up at night, coating in sweat. trying to figure out how to bullet-proof my public school classroom with a public school budget.

bad things happen. in every other category: we try to prevent them.

#gun violence #gun control #warm up

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spencerreidsreads · 2 months

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I’d take 100 bad days for this

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: A bad day turned good by a stranger giving you his sweater

Genre: Fluff!

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Spencer is probably slightly out of character. I’m still learning and this is my first time writing for him so please forgive me.

AN: Once again not proof read as I’m still too embarrassed to read my own works. Please let me know if there’s any mistakes.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

With tears streaming down your face, you continue your walk through the streets. The barley there light flickering from the questionable lamppost above casts a slither of light to shine over your soaking wet form. Your tears mix with the raindrops to coat your skin and add to your already terrible mood.

Everything that could’ve gone wrong today, did. First of all, you’d had a terrible nights sleep. Coffee was the first thing on your mind when you woke up in the morning, but instead of starting your day with a warm vanilla latte like you had planned, you found yourself out of coffee. This was strike one.

Then, as you started your journey to work, hoping to stop off at your favourite coffee shop to try get your fix in, your favourite jacket that you had been wearing got caught on god knows what and ripped. The hole that now sat in the sleeve of your jacket mocked you as you lost the energy to detour for your morning caffeine.

Other small things continued to happen throughout the day to add to your sour mood. Someone shut the door on you as you were walking into the building, you realised you had forgotten your lunch and a colleague of yours spilled her coffee onto your recently completed paperwork.

The final straw, however, was when your boss called you into her office. This was never a good sign, you don’t get called into your bosses office unless it’s bad news. The eyes of the rest of your colleagues followed as you trudged into the room that was your idea of personal hell. As soon as you sat down opposite your boss, she explained that the design for a project you had presented had been turned down. They had gone with someone else’s.

This in particular broke your heart. You had been so passionate about it. So confident in your ability to make it work, so why did no one else see that? Add this to all the other small things that had happened that day, and it’s enough to open the floodgates.

As you exit your office and enter the street below ready to walk home, the sky matches your mood. Grey clouds and heavy rainfall are all you can see and hear. Well, you thought, at least it matches your mood.

You decide to take the train home, the quicker you get home the quicker you can drown your sorrows in ice cream. Once you get to the station with tears still spilling from your eyes, you’re happy to note the platform is completely empty. Except for one other individual, a tall man with longish hair, who looked just as soaked as you were. He stood, clutching onto the strap of his brown satchel as he looked around the platform.

His eyes locked onto you and he gave you an awkward smile. You reciprocated the smile and looked away. He didn’t look like the type of guy who would cause you any trouble, but you certainly weren’t in the mood to find out. Avoiding any more contact was the best option, you thought.

Though no matter how hard you avoided looking in his direction, you didn’t anticipate that he would initiate the contact with you.

“Excuse me?” you heard his voice. It sounded unsure and soft, yet friendly in it’s tone.

You turned to look back at the man with the satchel, your eyes asking the question you didn’t need to vocalise, “what?”

You look down and see he’s holding some sort of fabric in his hands.

“I just - uh, you looked cold and I have a spare sweater… if you’d like to put it on. Don’t think you have to! I just thought I would offer since you’re wet and well if you’re wet and cold for a prolonged period of time, it may negatively affect your immune system, making you more likely to get a cold” - he didn’t look in your eyes once whilst saying this - “so… yeah, I just wanted to offer”. You struggled to hold back your smirk, already feeling slightly better. He was a rambler for sure, you knew this much already. He also seemed terrified as he waited for your response. You got the idea he wasn’t the most confident guy in the world.

“Are you sure?” you asked the man. You were very aware of stranger danger and knew you most likely shouldn’t be taking this from him, but honestly you were absolutely freezing. The rain had completely soaked through your clothes at this point and had left your skin feeling the cold. Not to mention, the guy was cute and the idea of wearing his sweater made you feel slightly warmer already.

“Oh absolutely! I don’t need it, it’s just a spare I had in my bag. Actually you should probably take off your shirt before putting the sweater on. Wearing wet clothing in cold temperatures significantly increases the risk of hypothermia, as it rapidly removes heat from the body. The water in wet clothing quickly evaporates, taking heat away from the body therefore reducing the body's ability to maintain a normal temperature.”

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion that you take off your shirt. He looked confused for a second before realising what he’d said. The man’s eyes widened in surprise and he began to stutter out an apology.

“N-no I didn’t mean that. Well, I did but not like that. I’m not asking you to take your shirt off. I- uh, I’m sure you’ll be totally fine if you keep your shirt on. In fact-“

You cut off his panic induced ramble with a laugh, he is absolutely adorable, you thought to yourself.

The stranger looked at you, his cheeks flushed, most likely out of embarrassment and slightly biting his lip. Like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. You decided you’d help him out.

“That’s certainly the most creative way a guys ever hit on me. Asking me to strip on a train platform is a new one for me” you said with a smirk.

The man’s eyes widened in horror. “No, no - that’s not.. I didn’t..”

You once again cut him off with a laugh, louder this time. “I’m just messing with you, I know you didn’t mean it like that. Thank you, for the sweater. I really appreciate it. And your concern for my well being too, that’s very sweet of you” you spoke as you slipped the sweater over your head. You couldn’t help but softly inhale the light smell on the sweater, it smelt clean with a hint of warmth.

“Oh, yeah you’re welcome” he replied, still not making eye contact with you. He didn’t say anything else so you decided to try and continue the conversation whilst you wait for your train.

“So, do I get to know the name of my knight in shining armour who protected me from freezing to death on the train platform?” you asked, you’d made the decision that this man didn’t want to hurt you, so you wanted to get to know him a bit better.

“Oh I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid” he replied, finally looking at you.

“Well Spencer, Spencer Reid. I’m (y/n), I assume you’re waiting for this train?” and you pointed to the empty tracks where your train should be showing up within the next few minutes.

“Yeah, just heading home for the day” Spencer told you. “I’ve been out of town for the past couple of days so I’m excited to just get home and relax with a book”

At the mention of his idea of relaxing being a book, your eyes lit up. You’ve always loved reading, ever since you were a child. Anything you could get your hands on and you were grateful. Fantasy, romance, thriller, historical fiction - anything. You were an absolute bookworm at heart.

“What book are you planning on reading?” you asked.

“I haven’t decided yet. Though I’ll probably go for some light reading since it’s late, I have a few chemistry textbooks I’ve been meaning to read so maybe I’ll get started on those”

You laughed at his mention of chemistry textbooks being light reading, so he’s pretty and funny, you thought.

Until you looked at his face and he seemed utterly confused as to why you were laughing. Was he serious when he said that?

You halted your laughter and decided to get back on track with the conversation. “Well that sounds interesting, I tend to read romance or fantasy books when I’m feeling tired. They keep me engaged enough that I don’t fall asleep straight away. Though I’m currently rereading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Housseini. I haven’t read it in years but came across it in the library recently and decided I wanted to read it again. It’s just as good and moving a second time”

Just as you finished saying this, your train started to pull up. The both of you moved together and approached the doors that were waiting to open. Once they did, Spencer signalled for you to enter first, thanking him you stepped onto the train and headed to find a seat. One sat, you saw Spencer who looked unsure. You guessed he wasn’t sure if you’d want him sitting with you, but just in the short conversation you’d had, he already decided he wanted to talk to you more.

Luckily you sensed his worry and patted the chair next to you; inviting him to sit. Spencer slowly approached and dropped down next to you, taking his satchel off of his shoulders and placing it on his lap. He turned to you and continued your previous conversation.

“You like to read?” he asked “that’s great, I love reading, I can actually read twenty thousand words per minute so I get through book’s extremely fast so I’d love to hear any recommendations if you have any”

Since he again, looked completely serious when he said this, you assumed he maybe wasn’t joking. A guy who can read 20,000 words per minute and enjoys chemistry textbooks in his spare time, what is he some sort of genius?

“Wow” you blinked. “ I’m lucky if I get through one book per month, I get distracted too easily. No matter how much I love a book I just can’t get through it in one go” you admit. Though not out of shame, you read for pleasure and getting through one book a month is working just fine for you.

Spencer smiled slightly at your words,

“but I’d love if we could trade book recommendations” you add on. “Though I’d prefer if you didn’t recommend anything to do with chemistry. Or biology for that matter, or physics. You know what, anything science based is just not my cup of tea.”

He laughed slightly at your request. “Deal” he said. “Are you more of a fiction fan?”

“Absolutely” you responded, “I’m good with any genre but it has to be fiction”

“Ok. I can do that, I’ve read plenty of fiction” he smiled through his words.

“I bet you have Mr twenty thousand words per minute” you giggled.

Spencer laughed along with you, he could tell you weren’t teasing him, it actually almost felt flirty. If he knew for sure Spencer might flirt back, or attempt to at least. But he doesn’t want to have got the wrong impression and make a fool out of himself. He was currently fighting an internal battle with himself.

Either act like this is just a normal, totally none flirtatious conversation and leave the train with a few book recommendations for books he’s probably already read and nothing else. Or, be brave and ask you out. Not only had the conversation you had been fun to him, but Spencer couldn’t deny, you were absolutely beautiful. Even soaking wet from the rain, your hair in ringlets and makeup smudged slightly on your face, Spencer thought you looked breathtaking.

Unfortunately for him, he would have to hurry up and make his decision. Because whilst he was in his own head, he hadn’t realised the train was slowing down.

“Well” you said as you begin to stand, “this is my stop”. You hadn’t even had the chance to exchange book recommendations. You were seriously hoping he would ask for your number. It was almost like your bad day hadn’t happened at all when you spoke with Spencer. He made you smile for the first time since yesterday and you really would love to see him again.

And Spencer was thinking the same thing. It wasn’t often he had to chance to have normal conversation like this. Especially about books. He mainly spoke with his team about serial murders and cases they were working on. It felt nice to leave work behind for a while and have a conversation about an interest of his.

Once he saw you stepping towards the doors of the train, he jumped out of his seat after you.

“Wait, uh (y/n)” he seemed nervous again. “We didn’t get to recommend books to each other.”

He seemed genuinely upset about this.

“You’re right” you replied. It seemed he may need a little push to say what he wanted to say. So you decided to help him again, you couldn’t wait all day, you needed to get off the train any minute now. “I wonder what we could do about that?” you posed like a question, giving Spencer the option to offer a solution.

And in an act of courage that he didn’t normally have around women, he offered one.

“Would you like to get a coffee sometime? With me, I mean”. You could almost hear his heart pounding with how nervous he seemed.

“You mean like a date?” You asked.

“If you’d like, I’d love to take you on a date. We can discuss books and drink coffee and hopefully we’ll be more dry and comfortable than we are now” he reminded you that you both were still currently soaked from the rain.

Your face showed a small smile, but on the inside you were ecstatic. You couldn’t believe after your terrible day that this gorgeous, sweet man was asking YOU on a date.

“I’d love that Spencer” you said earnestly.

You noticed the train doors were about to open, you needed to be quick as you had no way of contacting each other but you needed to get off if you wanted to get home any time soon.

“Uh, do you have a pen? Or your phone. I need to give you my number” you began to panic that you wouldn’t have time to exchange numbers. The doors had just opened.

“Just tell me it.” He stated.

“What?” You responded.

“Trust me” he replied, “I’ll remember it”

How could he remember a full phone number that quickly, after just hearing it once. But you didn’t have time to question it, you quickly relayed your number to him and went to step off the train.

“(Y/n)!” Spencer called your name.

Now on the platform, you turned to look at him, he stood there, looking at you with a smile on his face.

“I’ll call you. It was-“

Spencer was cut off my the doors of the train closing. You watched as the train pulled away, taking the handsome man with it. He awkwardly waved at you as he left.

You felt like a fool, of course he wouldn’t remember your number. Was he just playing you this whole time? Why did he ask you out if he had no intentions of actually wanting to do it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. This was just a coincidence. It was probably someone wanting to give you more bad news to finish off your day. You signed and started to walk whilst pulling your phone out of your purse.

“Hello?” You said into the phone, not even looking at who called.

“So when are you free for coffee? I can’t wait to hear those recommendations.”

You had to pause your steps you were so surprised. It was actually him, you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face.

You looked down at the sweater hugging your fame, the sweater that belonged to him. The man who was taking you on a date.

You’d take a hundred bad days, if it meant your evenings would end like this. Softly conversing with a gorgeous man on the phone, wearing his sweater and discussing when you were going to see each other again.

“Ah, Mr twenty thousand words per minute, it’s so nice to hear from you…”

Maybe your day wasn’t so bad after all.

#spencer reid fics #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #cm #criminal minds imagine #fluff #callie writes

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importantgalaxyrunaway · 10 months

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Between the bars (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

AUTHORS NOTE 📝 : yall im so proud of this one i think its my best one yet would you want a part two bc i would be interested please comment and o worked Really really hard on this one especially a little longer than normal got a little carried away.

WARNINGS: pining, my post concussion writing, suggestive but no lemon, hardcore making out, fluff and slight angst w/ coryo family, tried my best for snow to be in character, were basically Lucy gray

My hands wrapped around the cold metal bars of the monkey house where I was enclosed in. I couldn’t sleep no, not a wink so I decided to watch over my district parter. It was cold at night, they didn’t give us any blankets. It’s barbaric the way they treat us, just because we’re district doesn’t mean we’re not human. And just since most of us are going to our death you’d think that we’d be entitled to a least a little dignity.

you’d think….

Suddenly I hear footsteps and peer out the bars of the monkey cage into the empty zoo. Well…..not empty anymore. There approaching me is the one person who has treated me fairly since coming here. He handles me like I was a true lady of the capital.

Coriolanus snow walked up to the bars where I was.

“hello y/n….I’ve brought you something” he hands me an intricate compact “it was my mothers I thought it would remind you of me in the arena and…….” He pauses and looks around though no one is there “there’s poison in it. I know, but only in self defense in that arena your going to things you’re not proud of”

I nod “I understand” I say knowing I’ll have to use it at some point “it’s beautiful…thank you” I run my fingers over the delicate and fancy design.

he smiles. That smile that stupid smirk. When I first met Coriolanus I had to admit I was struck by how attractive he was. Paired with holding out a rose for me to take from his hand and saying that he would take care of me….well it’s enough to have any girl blushing like a fool. I tried my best to keep it together but I knew some of the blush was showing on my face when he held out the rose. Whenever I look at him I get butterflies in my stomach. Little did I know at the time he felt almost the exact same way about me and my appearance when he first saw me. But it was my spirit at the reaping and going foreward that truly made him fall for her. In fact the was one of the things that prompted him to arrive with the rose at the train station. When I was reaped I didn’t cry or scream or anything but….well I sung. I’ve always been a performer at heart and though my song was very short it showed that they couldn’t break my spirit.

now he leans down and brings his face close to mine. Closer than ever before.

“Coryo, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again…but I wanted to thank you, you’ve treated me well like an equal and that’s rare. If I die in that arena it won’t be your fault-“

“I’m going you out of there y/n. You’re not just a tribute to me. You’re going to survive”he shocks even himself by saying it. He had never spoken about his feelings to y/n. Not even to Tigris. But with the games tomorrow there was no chance other than now. He was enchanted by her beauty and her charm when they first met, her realness. And though it was hard to admit her survival in that arena now meant much more to him than just getting the plinthe prize. He cared about her. Love was a feeling that was all too foreign to the young Coriolanus snow. He had only ever possibly experimented with a girl or two and that was nothing special just a fling. He was an orphan he never knew love from his parents all he had was Tigris, the grandma’m and now y/n.

I let my fingers slip in between the the bars that separated us and caress the side of his soft cheek. Letting myself give in to the temptation that has plagued me ever since we met. His eyes lock onto mine and me gaze at each other for a while lost in our own thoughts. as I stroke his cheek he leans into my touch so heavily as though he has never felt real love in his life. My other hand goes to cup his other cheek from the side so I’m holding his head in my hands now. He looks up at me and I slide one of my hands down to his neck. He was so clearly touch starved, I could see the desperation and hunger in his eyes.

and we’re both wondering the same thing. is this it? Is this the last time l’ll ever see them?

“Y/n l/n” he breathed like it was a desperate plea.

“coryo…”

and then he leans in close and we are in between the bars. He kisses me at first gently, soft and pure like driven snow. I can smell the roses on him a sweet scent that fills my lungs and takes me away. And we both forget about everything. The arena, the tributes, the fact I might be facing my death tomorrow. Because all I can feel is his lips upon mine. His lips are warm and soft, unlike the cold crisp air around us. We’re almost gasping for air. The kiss turns hot and heavy. More rough as it goes on. Like he was holding back before, now he had given up the fight with control. I gasp as I feel his hand snake around to the back off my head and pulling impossibly closer to him in the kiss. When I gasp he takes advantage of that and and deepens the kiss even further if possible. It was never a fight for dominance he took control. A small groan of pleasure escapes Coriolanus’s lips. I hum in response showing that I’m enjoying it as much as he is. Eventually we break and put our foreheads together.

And there stands Coriolanus snow one of the finest men in the capital, panting uniform messed up, and face as red as a beet. All because of the tribute y/n l/n from district 12. She had more than just affect on him. That was an understatement

not that she was any better…

Our foreheads touching both of us panting for our lives, tomato faced. I gaze once again into those beautiful blue irises that remind me of crystals

“Coryo…I won’t let you down in that arena I’ll survive for us…you’ve given me something to fight for” I breathe out

”and you’ve given me someone to root for. I’ll be waiting for you y/n” he almost whispers the last sentence

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memento-mori-twilight · 2 months

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Alright, I know everyone and their cousins are all gaga over the Superboy reveal but

Let's talk about that new villain lineup!

And more importantly, how a lot of them are Honest-to-God head scratchers. Well, I have my guesses. As usual, more rambling explaining why is below the cut.

1) Like, Sir to Lex's immediate left, whomst the fuck are you?

You're too old to be an alternative of Clark, don't fit the previous design of Zor-el, still have both eyes unlike Jor-el...

Unless you are an Alternative Jor-el. Like the Fortress AI Jor-el. But even then, the outfit is slightly off since there's no Kryptonian armor (or symbol for that matter) and Jor-el would have no reason to be a threat to either of the Super Crew.

Speaking of AI, could be Eradicator as a more stable construct now that it's no longer one of Brainiac's protocols (echoing how it went from possessor to physical entity in the comics)...but I think someone else in this picture fits that bill.

Maybe it's Zod? But if so, Jesus are they making him look *exactly* like Jor-el, which DC has famously NEVER DONE. Since Zod is often seen as more of a brutish and ruthless character compared to Jor, he's often bulkier in build.

But then again, they've also built Kal's father like a truck in this adaptation so who knows, maybe that hair style was an official military mandate?

2) Speaking of hair, I see that curl on Lex's right.

HI HANK!

Looks like Lex found you after your plane exploded and fixed you up, huh!

Now you're well on your way to becoming Cyborg Superman officially and cementing yourself on the Permanent Superman Hater Squad!

3) Ah Lex! I see your luscious red-brown locks are finally gone. Wonder what caused it? Was it a bad outcome due to an experiment backfire, or are you sick from being around all that Kryptonite for those Metallos for weeks? You looked pretty run down last time we saw you. Maybe some new competition would bring some life back into your face.

4) Maybe another super genius on your level will challenge you? Maybe someone like...

Ultra-humanite! (On the villain screen bottom right)

Yeah I know the popular take on U-H is the super smart white-furred Gorilla with a surgery scar, but that's just his final form. And I think they're gonna pull what they did with Ivo/Parasite with him by only showcasing his final form on the Villains screen (only it looks like they're not going full Gorilla if he still has a human head).

He started out as Superman's oldest archenemy, a mad scientist who was obsessed with getting rich, getting revenge and living forever, predating Lex by a long while! So it will be fun watching Lex bump heads with what is essentially his ancestor until Ultra morphs himself to something beyond human.

5) Speaking of beyond human, I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what to make of that creature to Ultra's right.

Is that Ivo/Parasite fully free and morphed into a rabid alien creature? Is that just a normal alien creature?! Is that Dubbilex?! Is it Krypto?!?! I have no Earthly idea!

6) Last but not least on me still being confused, on the bottom left where the League of Lois Lanes used to sit, you will noticed there's a whole new group of people there.

And you will also notice that 2 out of that group of 4 are wearing helmets disgusting their features, but the other 2 aren't.

One looks like Lois in a pageboy cap with a sun and the other looks like Kara.

But wait a minute, it's not our Kara bc she's in the showdown squad at the bottom with the other 3 and that one is still in K-armor with the shoulder pads.

Maybe this is a fully Eradicator-pilled Kara as Brainiac tried to create during the season finale or..

What if the League of Lois' return, this time with their own Kara, but this isn't quite the same take on Kara that we got in Season 2?

What if this is a form of Power Girl Kara?!?

Would make sense for Clark and Kara to have matching brain conflicts meeting Kon-El and Power Girl at the same time, wouldn't it?

Or maybe this is another certain League making their appearance, this time with an Action Lois™ in tow? Maybe this is a glimpse at a version of the Legion of Superheroes, who are initially perceived as a threat until it turns out they're just trying to help?

Possibilities abound!

Those are just my predictions.

I have no idea what to expect for this season or what Josie, Brandon, or Jake have cooked up for us

But I have absolute certainty it's going to be one hell of a ride, and they haven't disappointed us yet!

Can't wait for Season 3!!!

#but also #where is doomsday #if they're setting up ROTS #where he at?#maws spoilers #clark kent #maws season 3 #my adventures with superman #maws villains #lex luthor #hank henshaw #cyborg superman #kara zor el #ultra humanite #power girl #dru zod #sdcc2024 #my adventures with superman season 3

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ghostradiodylan · 8 months

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[s k i l l ]

So, we talk a lot about Quarry headcanons and what could have been on the Brainrot Discord server that Kat made and one of the things I keep thinking about is how they gave (at least some of) the characters these sets of skills that never really impact gameplay, and I think it would be really cool if they did. Like, if there was more variety in who could be sent on which path. Switching Kaitlyn to the Hackett house path with Laura and Ryan to the scrapyard with Dylan being a popular one for fanfic, but also, idk, maybe Dylan won't let Ryan go without him so he ends up on the Hackett house path too? Maybe Abi steps up to go with Kaitlyn to the scrapyard and has to figure out the crane even though it's way out of her skillset, maybe Emma and Jacob can actually come back and link up with the rest of the gang instead of being stuck out in the woods for so long, stuff like that.

I'm just thinking about what their skills might be and how that might impact the game. Also keep in mind that if the character you most need for a task ends up up dead before that task comes along, it's going to be carnage for everyone else, which would up the replay value significantly IMO.

Kaitlyn: Shooting. She's a MUCH better shot than Ryan, if we can believe the Shooting Stars scoreboard (four of the actual children attending the camp score higher than him), but we never see that in the game? What if the aiming mechanism was actually different between different characters? What if there were shots you could make more easily as Kaitlyn, that were harder to pull off as Ryan?

Ryan: Agility. Guy does a lot of running and jumping, what if there were timed segments that were easier to complete as Ryan within the allotted time, or else something consequential happened? Good luck if you ended up plodding along with Jacob instead, now Abi and Nick are both mauled and turning, or something like that.

Dylan: Tech. Dylan's the physics nerd who slays at the crane game. What if you could bring him to the Hackett house and he could figure out the electric circuit puzzle in no time, but that meant someone else had to help Kaitlyn in the scrapyard? Maybe Ryan can still save Jacob without him but he takes too much time and the Hacketts catch you and pick off one of your party.

Jacob: Strength. Jakey's probably the buffest of the dudes, so maybe there are times you need a pair of strong arms or legs and Jacob's the only one who can come through. They also show us him picking locks but he never does that in an impactful situation, so maybe he'd have a lesser talent for that as well.

Abi: Stealth. Okay, so Abi runs and hides? Maybe she's awesome at hiding, then? Maybe she can get through parts of the game undiscovered by the werewolves that other characters can't. Maybe her being short AF means she can fit into hiding spots that you can't cram the leggy bois like Dylan and Nick into.

Emma: Observation. Emma's always watching and analyzing everyone's behavior and documenting things on her phone. Maybe she can find evidence or tarot cards others can't, or put pieces of the mystery together in ways no one else thinks of. Emma's a badass in the game, but it would be cool to see her 'documentarian' side come in handy prior to the credits rolling, too.

Nick: Climbing. I completely made this up because we don't get to see Nick do much besides try to pull his crush, suck face on a dare with Emma, and get mauled, but we do know he takes kids through the ropes course based on his dialogue with Abi, plus he's tall so he's got long arms and legs! Maybe he's the aerial expert. Maybe he can scale fences and get important items down from trees. Maybe he can climb up and free other characters who get stuck in those snare traps. (Obviously this assumes someone else can be the Designated Werewolf Victim, which I also think would improve the game.)

This also assumes Laura and Max keep their current roles, but I'd be up for that to be changeable too. It's not that I necessarily want a higher number of choices available, I just want the choices we can make to actually impact the gameplay and story arc more! Anyway, that's my Quarry ramble for the day (unless I come up with another one). Anyone else have thoughts?

#the quarry #skill #double skill #the quarry headcanons #the quarry missed opportunities #fixing the quarry #kaitlyn & dylan vs the world #kaitlyn ka #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #jacob custos #emma mountebank #abi blyg #nick furcillo

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makerofmadness · 3 months

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ok so what the hell is the legal drinking age in earthbread man like. So I was thinking I would finally have to take the L on the "how fudging old is Alchemist Cookie" thing because Witch's Castle has that side story where she botches an experiment and it basically causes her to act like her brother. Including the alcoholism. (Tbh it is like my favorite special story in the game like part of that is 'cus of favorite character bias but also it ends really sweetly like WC is just really good for grape siblings fans in general they get a lot of content-). So I was like "okay then she has to be at least 19 if we assume the drinking age would line up with the real world/country the game is from. I can take an L I thought she was younger than that but I was wrong" BUT THEN FOR GINGERBRAVE'S BIRTHDAY WE GET THIS:

WIZARD IS A CONFIRMED CHILD THO????

Basically this is like really ancient shxt but like there was something called I think the Junior Cookie Challenge once where basically 9 kid characters gave you missions and WIZARD WAS ONE OF THEM

This is the picture I could find but like. Yeah Wizard's definitely a kid then. (I think this event happened before certain characters were even a thing including Alchemist when I checked the dates so like I have no idea if the characters were like limited for a reason or if this was all the kid characters in the game at the time but regardless I'm. Fubkign. Top 10 questions science can't answer Number 1: how fubkign old is Alchemist Cookie- like I'm guessing she just wasn't designed with a particular age in mind let's be real here-)

but like.

If Wizard can drink then like what is the legal drinking age on Earthbread man like-??????????

EDIT: I looked at the dates wrong/was thinking of when Alchemist existed in Ovenbreak I think and not in LINE (Alchemist was released like years before this event I think)... but then I ran into SOMETHING ELSE that throws a wrench in the works and by that I mean:

so DEVIL COOKIE ALSO existed before this event and yet was excluded but they're like. Really obviously a kid ESPECIALLY as of Witch's Castle (fudging. Three words: Crayon Doodle Set [literally their room decor includes a set of fudging crayola or some shxt like. I think it's obvious what impression we're supposed to get of them like obviously I don't think crayons should be locked off to only kids but like traditionally they're kinda thought of like a kids thing and Devil isn't like. Artistic-themed so to inexplicably have them... you can tell what's being communicated y'know?-) (and like I think Devil being the same age as Angel kinda. Is obvious-).

So the Junior challenge thing pretty much confirms nothing as to which characters AREN'T kids. Just which characters ARE kids. Frickin' almost had it and then lost it again-

Edit again: I also discovered that. Cream Puff existed during the time the Junior Cookie Challenge ran. And yet she wasn't in that. But now they're running kinda a sequel to that in Kakao Cookie Run and she's in THAT. So basically yeah it was never exhaustive 100% frickin' I'm going insane I'm having like two people debating with me (peacefully thankfully) over if Wizard's not actually drinking something alcoholic but like what is he drinking we don't know it could be anything but like he has a wine glass they could've given him a normal glass but they gave the kid a wine glass and we all have to suffer the consequences they didn't even put like a bowl of fruit punch on the table or anything just to say "haha he's just drinking this don't worry he's just a silly little guy :3" no they left the door wide open for us to at least ASSUME if it's not CONFIRMED by this that he's fudging destroying his nonexistent liver at the ripe old age of Child idk it's 2:22am as of me writing this

Too many edits: I need like a dedicated guide on what juice is and isn't meant to be alcohol in this universe because apparently the wizard art is like a reused asset from something about Hollyberry so like. But I know at least half the juice there is treated like alcoholic shxt too looking at some of the dialogue or like I'm mainly thinking of like wildberry's dialogue I think so. frickin'

another thing I realize is that. Alchemist drinking was because her personality got altered she wasn't like In Public. And... look I love Vampire but he isn't like the most responsible guy let's be real and like. Frickin' even can I just get like whether or not she has a diploma or anything please just anything like... ok I know that old as hell personality quiz calls her a "picky model student" so she's probably still in school but like where in school is she is she in high school of college or like. I would've placed her around cream puff's age before all of this but I don't know anymore y'know can someone help me?????- (she probably just wasn't designed with one in mind I'm doing all of this for nothing this is the definition of insanity frickin'-)

FINAL EDIT HOPEFULLY: ok I finally have an answer just like after talking to my bigger cr nerd friend uh. Basically the I Want You Every Day music video gives us definite footage of children drinking:

Screenshots courtesy of @void-the-bear (said friend)

Gingerbrave and Cream Puff are drinking the exact same drinks as the adults and these drinks literally look the same as what Sparkling holds in his goddamn sprites

Like you can see the bubbles in some shots it's the same drink it's frickin' champagne-but-we-can't-call-it-that-because-it's-a-kid's-game

But like there is an official short of Sparkling like. Not being able to serve Custard III I think because he's too young???? So uh.

basically the drinking age in Earthbread is "younger than Gingerbrave but older than Custard III" thank you for coming to my TED Talk (fudging. Finally have an answer though at least I think please tell me they didn't try to call this lemonade or something somewhere not the lemonade anything but the lemonade don't make me have a headache again PLEASE-)

#So basically Alchemist falling into listless alcoholism literally answers nothing because Wizard had to crack open a cold one with the boys #Thank you for coming to my ted talk??????#Fudging. What is going on.#cookie run #Wizard cookie

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kerubimcrepin · 2 months

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Wakfu OVA - Book 1, The Throne of Ice [PART 1]

"Finally, we have arrived to one of my most favorite parts of Wakfu... The OVAs!" <- If I said this, I would be locked up in a psyhiatric ward forever, however, there is some truth to that.

I am a big fan of uhh the bits of the second OVA that have Joris, Kerubim, and Atcham in them. Sadly, Book 1 is not that OVA. It will have Sipho posing as Joris, and, well... that's the next best thing, ain't it? At least we'll get to analyse if he's doing a good job or not.

Ecaflip demigod memory retention deniers will be like "Ush being a core member of a powerful cult at 9-10yo for multiple reincarnations is normal".

Anyway, group chats are real in this setting. And Harebourg is their discord mod I think.

Tot I'm begging you to elaborate on this, what do you MEAN by this, what do you—

STOP USING GRIMALKINE SISTERS BEING A PART OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE FORGOTTEN AS A FLEX ON THE HATERS! I'M SCARED!

youtube

Them in the Great Wave manga when they show up and say they're at fault for Jahash and Julith's whole shtick or whatever.

Ughh.

Le meilleur journal qu'il est -

boufboul

[cant make out the rest]

little text in the corner: fji de ij

Ngl considering the fact that the King of Bonta dies within the next two years, he might have a legitimate reason not to come: being in the process of dying.

They LOVE Joris in this kingdom.

I bet real Joris would like to remain silent because, uh., lying is bad? If he tries to say the situation isn't as shitty as it seems, it might seem condescending.

So, Sipho fails at being in-character moment counter: 1. Joris would not say shitfuck here.

Oh my god... His fangs... His blush... His eyes...

One of the things I really like about the OVAs are the changes to Joris's design. While yes, like most people I miss the finer details of the previous seasons — but his new design is more sleek, and a bit more... catlike. It takes a lot of inspiration from his Aux Tresors design.

It is not the intention of the authors, but the fact that he is drawn with a mouth makes sense on a character level: he is more understandable and human than he was in the first two seasons. While he used to be a mystery back then, now he is a friend to the Brotherhood of Tofu, — and, to us, the viewers, he's just a guy.

Anyway, there is a big question here — while it seems obvious that other nations are involved — Sadida wouldn't invite other politicians to this meeting, if them seizing the Eliatrope Dofus was a secret, — just how involved were other nations? Was it mainly a Bonta-Sadida project which they let others know about? Were others interested up until the moment the Dofus were stolen, and is it the reason nobody showed up?

It seems kinda too obvious to state, however: Guys, this confirms that Joris and Harebourg are enemies.

Though, let's be real, all three of the Crepin-Jurgens are kind of opposed to the Brotherhood of The Forgotten. The trio is very... god-neutral? The outlook those three have is more of optimistic-nihilism — "the gods suck sometimes, life does too, but whatever. I need to restock the store and eat a soup, why should I ruminate on this." instead of "WE NEED TO KILL AND DETHRONE GODS IMMEDIATELY", which... creates a bit of friction.

Something to note is that Joris and the Kingdom of Bonta were involved with hiding the Dofus.

So, the Dofus disappearing, the proposition, and the condition that Amalia should be accompanied only by the Brotherhood of Tofu, are already both a political incident in on themselves, and a bunch of red flags stacked together.

Just listen: the property of a nation (the Eliatropes), which was in custody of a different nation, and can be used to save a kingdom, was stolen by a different kingdom to unlawfully demand marriage and unification of two kingdoms.

If real Joris was here, I'm sure he would be quietly having a panic attack about the fact that there may be spies in Bonta, and that Harebourg was able to do this without, let's say, knocking him out after he got all the Dofus and stealing them.

So, Sipho fails at being in-character moment counter: 2. Joris would be having a quiet panic attack, and pointing out just how fucked this is. just how fucked this is.

Sipho fails at being in-character moment counter: 3. At this moment, real Joris would come in, and say "YUGO THIS IS FUCKED!! Anyway we are going to beat Harebourg to death when we get there. I didn't want to say anything objectionable because Amalia would be sad."

He already did that in the manga. When Amalia and Eva asked him about his real opinion on Jiva getting the six Dofus.

While I think that Joris is someone who very much believes that the leaders of this world make hard decisions — and for this reason he MUST keep doing war crimes in Waven times to keep Bonta afloat, he MUST keep eating pig people and using slave labour and making explosive devices out of crackler babies, because really, 90% of war criminals quit just before true peace and prosperity—-

But, Joris is canonically enough of a feminist to be 100% pro-"pregnant women on a ship during a dangerous adventure across the world", so I think that outweighs his sense of "greater good".

In my opinion, he is more likely to think "very evil of you Harebourg, to force a woman into a relationship using the lives of her subjects. You're SICK, you're SICK, you have NO sense of romance or how a person should be treated!" and say "ughh we need to beat him up for this, Yugo. This isn't a very good deal for the Sadida. He's holding them hostage, Yugo. My main concerns are definitely not the way Amalia is being treated as an object but the political implications of that, Yugo."

Sipho literally committing character assassination out here. I will count this as the 4th time he does that.

Adamai is still very pissed off about Joris not asking before taking the Dofus. I think Joris deserves this quip very much. I wish Joris could hear Adamai be a hater towards him.

Sipho fails at being in-character moment counter: 5.

At this moment, instead of ignoring Adamai and continuing to talk, real Joris would make a funny face that implied he is in mortal pain due to someone he likes making a snide remark about him.

He is shown to be very much ashamed and worried about the fallout this will bring to his relationship with Yugo and Adamai in OVA 2.

Huppermages already did this, and it kind of failed when Ogrest's Chaos hit.

#ro liveblogs dofus #krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #non liveblog posts #wak3 #Youtube

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year

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Spit Pt. IX

Spit Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Characters: Negan x Alexandrian F!Reader, The Commonwealth

Summary: Your temper lands you in hot water with the Warden leaving you and Negan to find a way to relieve some tension. Set in the events of S11 E22.

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: NSFW - Physical violence, vaginal sex, very brief blood play, xtra DILFy S11 Negan

A/N: Oh boy. It has been MONTHS since I last updated and I always think that people are done with this fanfic until one of you comments every now and again and reminds me just how loved this fanfic still is. 😭 So here's me trying to push past writers block and get this outta the drafts with the hopes it'll motivate me to finish the next part sooner. 🤞

The beam of a flashlight being shone directly at your face startled you from your surprisingly deep sleep, the focused light burning your freshly open eyes leaving you squinting and blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the light-induced shapes floating in your vision. You sat up and instinctively shielded your eyes.

"Alright, alright shit. I'm up." You snapped, and the soldier finally moved on and directed it elsewhere.

You didn't remember much after you got off the bus, the temporary amnesia causing you to observe where you were. They'd set up buildings throughout Alexandria to serve as accommodation for the 'prisoners', yours being a small barn jam-packed with uncomfortable bunk beds filled with springs that had been digging into your back all night.

"Move it, prisoner."

You stood to your feet, resisting the need to shoot the soldier a cold, murderous glare and let your feet carry you outside. It was freezing. Whilst he led you to a designated area you found your mind wandering as you tried to ignore the disturbing truth that you were being held captive in your own home. He was trudging you down a path you'd walked thousands of times over several years, a path walked side by side with people so close you considered them family, and the cruel persistence of some sort of homesickness takes up the forefront of your mind. You were home but it wasn't yours anymore; it was alienating to say the least. The only thing you were relieved by was seemingly no sight of Maggie, Lydia, Rosita and a few of the others. They were still out there somewhere, and they'd find their way back to you all soon enough. He led you to a point in the woods outside the perimeter and ordered you to haul logs to and from the wood chopping station, your destination being a rather large wheelbarrow around half a mile from where you had to retrieve the logs in the first place. How convenient. You propped the first hunk of wood on your shoulder, wincing a little from the way it weighed down on you and caused a sharp pain to shoot through the crook of your neck, and started to walk. You largely underestimated how the added physical task would encumber you and just how much that would prolong an otherwise relatively short trip, the ache forming in your neck getting more intense by the minute. With your eyes having been fixed to the ground and the assortment of leaves crunching beneath your boots you glanced up, your breath hitching when you saw him. Negan was on his way back, his empty hands and the direction he was heading in suggesting that you'd been put on the same post. His eyes wandered towards yours, locking in an intense, concerned stare. The strain on your body was written all over your features and when he got close enough he prompted you to stop, carefully putting his arm out in front of you.

"Hey hey, just put it down."

You narrowed your eyes at him, and some of the fear from the thought of being seen talking to him fed your brusque and unappreciative tone.

"I got it, move Negan."

Negan rolled his eyes and reached out to lift it from your shoulders, propping it onto his own and causing your grip to naturally loosen on it. You hissed at the sudden removal of weight from your shoulder, the relief undeniable, and your eyes met his. He supported the end of the log with one hand, his free hand lifting to pass over the side of your neck and to your shoulder, applying a slight pressure that alleviated some of the tension in your muscles whilst a soft smile teased at his lips.

"There's no use in you pulling a muscle. Go get a smaller one and I'll take this. Hell, I'll even walk you back."

You briefly surveyed the surrounding forestry to ensure you couldn't be seen and then shook your head with a small laugh.

"I can't ask you to do that. Besides, you're not getting any younger, Negan. You probably need the slack more than me."

It was a playful insight, but plenty of sincerity as to whether Negan should be going out of his way to help you or not.

"I weren't asking, I'm telling baby."

When he stood before you like this, the eyes that once cast sheer terror over you now kind and full of light. And his lips, the ones that once smiled as he bludgeoned your found family to an early grave now tempting, the need to feel them moving against yours wildly contrasting their otherwise dark past, his dark past, it left you submerged in utter conflict. The further you plunged into the rabbit hole that was the man before you, the closer you got to having to explain this to the one person you loved most, the woman that Negan had undoubtedly devastated for life in one night. It was an impossible task.

"C'mon, let's make a move before we get our asses caught."

He started a slow walk back, and you smiled a little before following shortly after.

For what it was worth, the day was running quite smoothly. It turns out Negan managed to sweet talk Ezekiel into forming some sort of union, and you'd gotten willingly roped into the plan they'd laid out. Negan was in charge of the piece of cloth mapping out the footpath of the soldiers and detailing the times of their shifts, a responsibility that you were surprised they had trusted him with. So when Magna pulled you aside and whispered an update on the soldier's positioning before moving on you knew it was your job to pass the information onto Negan, something you weren't surprised by being tasked with considering you'd been mostly working on the same post all morning, which placed you closest to him. You bide your time, sparing the troops in the surrounding area a quick glance to see where their attention was directed, and then seized the moment the second the nearest's head turned. Negan was standing by the workbench, back facing you as you moved to him in fast steps, your fingers closing around the crook of his arm as you leaned in.

"Two in the perimeter and four inside." You whispered into his ear.

He kept his line of sight straight ahead to seem more inconspicuous and muttered an 'okay', your fingers trailing down his arm to trace over the sleeve of his black hoodie as they lingered for a little longer than they should have, and then you parted from him. It was only a brief trip in Negan's direction, but supposedly long enough to make the nearest geared-up lackey feel as though you were slacking. You'd been sifting through a heap of junk nearby, your job being to separate any rock and place it in a bucket lying on the ground next to you. Twigs and the occasional rubble would dig into your knees whilst you knelt on the forest floor, the leaves it was blanketed with doing nothing to alleviate the both physical and mental discomfort of the repetitive, tiresome task you'd been repeating for at least the last hour. So when you returned to the spot you'd made for yourself on the ground to discover a soldier pointedly waiting for you, the narrow of his eyes just daring you to take accountability for your unfinished work, you knew you were in for it.

"This is yours, right prisoner?" He gestured down to the bucket on the ground with the tilt of his head, and you gave a silent, composed nod.

You should've seen it then, the cruelty flitting through his stare. Carelessly he raised his boot and kicked it over, a slight clang ringing out as the sole of his shoe collided with the metal, and the tumbling of rocks poured out onto the ground at his feet. Your hard work. Your fists clenched, the resentment coursing through your veins. He just looked at you like you were an idiot.

"Well, go on prisoner. Pick it up."

It was sadistic, as though he got off on the power of forcing you into having to get on your hands and knees to fix the mess he made like you were some kind of animal. You kept your mouth closed, demonstrating some restraint. Besides, the silent glare you gave was perfectly 'go fuck yourself' enough, it hardly needed to be paired with words. When it was obvious you had no intention of getting onto the ground he stepped forward enough to reach past you and grasped the collar of your shirt, using the grip on the fabric to yank you down to the ground, the material choking you slightly on the way down. You landed on the floor with a thud, sticks digging into your skin from having fallen with flattened palms to protect your face from a similar fate, the now broken skin on some parts of your fingers making you hiss. You took a moment just to find your bearings, your stare fixed on the scattered rocks in front of you as you processed what had just happened, and then felt it. Rage. Your hands shook, and all your composure was gone in a moment.

"You put your hands on me again and I'll break your fucking fingers." It was flat, straight to the point.

You were giving him an out, an opportunity to avoid the temptation of the rocks in front of you, and what it would feel like to crack it against the skull of his pitifully empty head. There was a pause, and you glimpsed up at him curious as to the nature of his silence. You shouldn't have, the bastard was smiling, practically ecstatic with having provoked you into losing your shit.

"That kind of talk is perfect to earn a talk with the warden, prisoner. Anything else?"

You snapped. You had enough sense not to bludgeon him to death, but not enough to not pounce on him. You tackled him to the ground, hovering above him similar to the confrontation you'd had with that man in the Claimers all those years ago, except this time there'd be no turned tables, no chance of letting him overpower you. He wasn't even wearing his helmet, the opportunity practically presenting itself. You delivered your first blow, bringing your fist down against the side of his face, then another, and another, until you were wildly bringing your knuckles against his face over and over, the adrenaline numbing the soon-to-be ache in your knuckles. Despite the sound of ringing in your ears, the white noise muting and dampening your senses, you could discern the many sets of quickened footsteps approaching you, the warning of an oncoming storm of soldiers, but you didn't give a shit. The feel of arms hooking under yours to hoist you away from the altercation was the last thing you expected, your initial means to thrash and attack whoever would attempt to stop you getting lost with the feel of his arms wrapping around your body, and you turned your head to confirm exactly who those limbs belonged to. Negan spared you a worried glance before directing his attention straight ahead, watching the soldiers flood in to assist their bloodied and beaten comrade on the floor, and kept you tight to his chest. He knew this would go wrong, and that getting involved meant putting his head on the chopping block for you.

"Her!" One of the soldiers yelled with a pointed finger, the assertion springing three of them into action as they stormed in your direction.

Negan took steps back with you still in his arms, your feet clumsily following his as you made a collectively hopeless attempt to delay the confrontation, but to no avail. The first soldier to reach you raised his baton with the hopes of cracking it across either one of you, hopeful that the impact would split you two up, but Negan had other ideas. He spun you in time with the swing of the steel instrument, and you felt him jolt against your back as the steel met his, the sensation of pain working through his spine.

"Negan!" You tried to claw his arms off of you to suffer the rest of the soldier's frustration, but it was no use.

Negan was determined to endure the worst of it all and to keep the focus of the most volatile and vicious soldier. The delivery of the second hit finally buckled his legs, the pain drawing a groan out of his throat as he sunk to his knees still shielding your body with his, but the third time was a charm. His arms fell from you, and you scrambled forward as the other two rounded Negan to reach you. You felt the first kick, the steel toe cap of a combat boot slamming against the middle of your back making you grit your teeth, and then it went from one boot to a pair, the two of them just kicking the everloving shit out of you. Though only lasting a quarter of a minute you felt every slow, agonising millisecond of the assault up until the moment you heard a shout, and everything slowed to a stop. It was so silent you could practically hear a pin drop. The kicking ceased and you managed to lift your head enough to see what had halted them. The warden. He often stood on an elevated area of the ground by his office to oversee the operation and ensure things were running smoothly, and well, this wasn't exactly smooth sailing.

"That's enough! Bring the girl, and we'll deal with that one later." The warden commanded, the order leaving the two soldiers to roughly haul you upright, the denim clinging to your knees dragging along the ground as they held you by your arms.

For the half a second you had you lifted your head to take a glimpse at Negan he had his head turned to look at you, eyes ablaze with solicitude as the soldier above him kept him pinned to the floor with a knee on his chest, his gaze never leaving yours. You tried to fight the oncoming headache as the ground passed beneath you, the many shades of autumn leaves becoming but a blur with the pace at which they heaved you along. There was an aching in your spine, a sharp pang of pain that had you hissing on occasion, though you could do nothing but wait to be dropped wherever the warden wanted you.

Eventually, the leaves turned to floor, and you were lifted and dropped rather harshly into a wooden chair, the carelessness with which you were placed making you ground your feet against the floor to remain in your seat. The soldiers walked off without one word, closing the door behind them and leaving you in an empty room. You could make out that this was where the warden resided, which wasn't difficult to figure out due to the rather apparent commonwealth flag hanging over a portion of the back wall. It was their very own indication of having conquered your home causing it to be posted up all over the place and hung proudly over the gated entrance to Alexandria. If you ever got out of this mess, you'd burn it.

"You have been quite the handful, prisoner."

The sound of the warden's voice made you aware of his presence, the door behind you clicking shut as he made his way inside and then walked past you to stand behind his desk.

"Yeah, I tend to have a knack for that." You remarked, the comment etching irritation into his features.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" He started whilst rounding his desk to stand in front of you. "This was found after your friend's rather pathetic display of heroics."

He tossed the piece of cloth Negan had been using to keep track of the soldier's routines at you, and you grabbed it as it slowly descended towards your chest. You made a point of looking at it with furrowed, confused brows.

"Okay? I've never seen this before, I don't know shit about it."

The warden let a small patronising smile paint his lips, almost as if he was entertaining your lie for a moment, and then it faded.

"And I don't believe that for one second. So you tell me which one of the people in your little rebellion is responsible for this, or you're never gonna see any of those people again."

You clenched your jaw, narrowed eyes shooting daggers at him, and said nothing. Your silence caused him to look off to the side contemplatively and let out a long sigh, his gaze averting back to yours after a moment.

"I'm disappointed. I admire your loyalty, truly, I could use more people like you. But you're prioritising the wrong things."

The mere suggestion that you'd be suited to help run an operation like this made you bite your tongue, your only retaliation being the way you threw the cloth back at him.

"So, we done here?"

The warden hated that he hadn't made you cower, hated how resistant you were to his intimidation and threats, and you knew there was no way in hell he was letting you get off the hook with an attitude like this. There'd be consequences to come for your defiant actions, and it was just something you'd have to wait to discover the extent of.

"Fine. My men will take you back."

He waved his hand to signal the two soldiers stationed at the door to come forth, and you were being hauled up by the arms before you knew it, your shoes scuffing against the floor as they dragged you back out. You heard the warden muttering something over a radio on your way out, from what you could make out something along the lines of another one of the commonwealth's locations, and presumably, that being wherever you were next headed. Shit. After bringing you back to your post, with Negan unnervingly nowhere to be seen, you worked right through till the lunch break. Your back was sore with the incident that occurred in the morning, thus the somewhat free reign during the rest periods and the nagging pain shooting down your spine driving you right back towards the barn you'd woke up in to sit down on your bed, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you felt your weight shift off of your feet. You closed your eyes and propped your elbows on your knees, your head tipping into your hands and allowing you to cup them over your face. This place wouldn't break you. It couldn't when you'd already been broken so long ago, with Rick having picked up the pieces left of your past and put it back together with his promises for the future and all inspiring leadership monologues. Not that you resented him for that either, but Rick was gone now. Everybody was. All you had left was Maggie. Often when you closed your eyes you could still hear the way she sobbed as Glenn choked on his words, his life slipping away before her very eyes. The way that after all of it, the hours upon hours of the gravel digging into all of your knees, she was still the first to stand. You remembered holding her as she sat by Glenn's unmarked grave back at Hilltop, and the heavy next few weeks that would come to follow. Her grief and the way everything had been taken from her so swiftly haunted you, but her resilience? Well, it gave you something to stand for, to believe in.

"Thought I might find you here."

You'd been so invested in your thoughts you'd barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps, and the man whose voice that belonged to. You lowered your hands from your face and lifted your head, the sight leaving you yet again awash with irony. The cruel reminder that you sought refuge in the man that brought you and the woman you'd do anything for so much torment, and yet seeing him brought you more relief than you could ever fathom. When you didn't reply he lowered himself down onto the space beside you with a sigh and leant towards you, his fingers delving under the hem at the back of your shirt. You winced as his fingertip passed over a tender area, and he paused once you did.

"I know, baby. Just, just let me see."

A small nod prompted him to continue to roll your shirt up your back, and the material of your tank top underneath followed suit. Eventually, he had everything rolled up at the top of your back to expose your bruises, patches of discolouration and barbaric contusions from where blood had leaked out beneath your skin. You heard his breath pause, and then the way it got slightly heavier, in a shaky, wrathful way.

"That bad, huh?" You teased, the silent response that followed and the fact that he was out of sight not providing much reassurance.

The sudden feel of lips pressing against your shoulder blade startled you slightly, your surprise causing Negan to wrap his arm around your waist to soothe you. His hand caressed your hip as his lips connected with your skin again, this time focusing more on the middle of your upper back, every repeated press of his lips making you relax more into him.

"I should be the one doing that, considering the beating you took for me."

He only hushed you, his breath fanning against your skin as he mumbled from behind you.

"I'd do that shit again in a heartbeat, over and over."

He pecked your skin once more, and then carefully rolled your clothing back down your body. After that, Negan shifted more towards the edge of the bed as he returned to the space beside you, and he was quick to raise one of his hands to softly cup one side of your face. Negan used the touch to guide you to him, his lips pressing against yours for the first time since your day together in the commonwealth. Having been so starved of him you quickly found yourself practically swallowing him, his tongue dominantly slipping into your mouth as you stole each other's breath. Not only was he kissing you just to feel you again, to breathe you in, but to seal the underlying promise in his words with a kiss. Negan didn't have anything left in this world besides you, and that gave him something to fight for. Neither of you had ever been the type to fall so deep, even less likely were you the kind to plunge into the very abyss that was the rabbit hole of needing someone, of allowing yourself to be so dependent. It equally frightened the both of you.

"Negan, I need to tell you something." You whispered as you chased your breath, your foreheads touching, the tips of your noses brushing.

Even through the thrilling rush of feeling his mouth on yours again it was rather easy for Negan to notice that your head was elsewhere, that something was playing on your mind.

"I'm listening." He husked in response, the warrant for you to continue making you screw your eyes shut and sigh.

"I don't know when. Could be tonight, tomorrow, but they're moving me."

Negan immediately leaned back, narrowed eyes pairing with furrowed brows to form one hell of a scowl.

"You know me, I didn't play nice with that asshole. He wanted me to give up the person responsible for the map and well I just, couldn't."

Your eyes momentarily flitted elsewhere to avoid his harrowing stare, and when you finally resumed the long, excruciatingly intense gaze he held you in you watched the fire roar to life in his eyes. It was something you hadn't seen in a long time, not since that night. But it wasn't with the intent to hurt you this time, it was meant for you. Despite the cold, inferno blazing in his irises his hand reached out and brushed over yours, his palm resting on the back of your hand as his fingers closed around it.

"I don't give a damn about the kind of screwed up crap I gotta do to stop that from happening, but I promise you, I'm not letting that happen."

You shook your head slightly, your eyes threatening to fill with tears when his hand squeezed yours.

"No Negan, don't you dare make promises you can't keep." You warned, an underlying bite to your tone that made Negan's nose briefly scrunch up as he grimaced.

"Well, tough shit. I'm gonna try my damned hardest, and there ain't a thing you can do about it." Negan snapped back steadfast, a calm hint in his voice that indicated the frustration was coming from a place of protectiveness.

A tense silence fell, and you paused just to stare at one another, everything in this moment characterising the very essence of your complex draw to one another. You were glaring at him like you wanted to kill him, jaw clenched as you tried to refrain from pushing him away. Similarly, Negan had narrowed his eyes, his jaw set and the occasional rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slow, his eyes wholly focused on you. And yet, your fingers remained interlinked, your hand squeezing his as though you were pouring all that anger into his palm.

"You wanna know why I wanted to take a look at your back?"

His thumb idly swept over your knuckles as he awaited your reply.

"Why?" You responded plainly with a small sigh.

"Well, aside from the obvious, I needed to know what that asshole should look like before I'm done with him. Every bruise, every mark, even the smallest bit of red to your skin, he's gonna feel it. All, of it. And then more." Negan spoke low, occasionally punctuating his words with pauses, and the familiarity of it all gave you chills.

The last time you saw that look in his eyes, the last time he spoke with such venom and made such violent promises, was the night he bludgeoned two of your friends to death. You could still hear the way the gravel ground beneath the soles of his boots as he paced back and forth, his mouth running with all the ways he was going to terrorise the group, and the way your breath got caught in your throat when he promised to beat one of you to death. This time your breath caught but not out of fear, rapture. Your lips were on his before you even fully realised what you were doing, the sudden affection prompting Negan to rest his hand on one side of your face, the other using your still connected hands to pull you towards him and into his lap. After a few days without being so intimate with one another the mere feel of his hand on your arm or his skin touching yours was enough to electrify you, and you couldn't get enough of him. Your free hand dived down to unbuckle his belt, the tugging of the leather causing Negan to break the kiss with a surprised, amused breath.

"As much as I would love to screw around, this ain't the time or place. Besides, you're not exactly quiet sweetheart."

The comment drew a small chuckle from the both of you and you persistently shook your head, your smile fading a little as you parted your lips to speak.

"I know, but I could be gone by tomorrow morning. Negan, this could be the last time we see each other."

The thumb of the hand cupping the side of your face started smoothing over the top of your cheek.

"Don't say that."

"Negan, please." You interjected, the brief pause as he did nothing but stare into your eyes and let your words sink in allowing you some time to slip in a persuasive tease.

"Besides, I think screwing in not so appropriate places is kinda our thing by now."

He contemplated it for a moment, his eyes locked on yours as a singular thought loomed in his mind, and then grinned.

"Alright, but we gotta make this quick."

You nodded with the enthusiasm to take something, anything from him, and resumed your pursuit in undoing his pants. His mouth was on yours again in no time, the metal of the buckle on his belt clinking as you let the leather rest on either side of the fly on his jeans. One of his hands took hold of your hip to urge you to lift up so he could unbutton his pants, fingers hurriedly hooking into the waistband of his jeans to push them down his hips and over his thighs, his mouth still claiming yours all the while. You hesitantly allowed your lips to part if only to tilt your head down and steal a glance at the deep lines resting across his pelvis, one of your hands rushing to greedily trace the v-shape resting above his boxers with your fingers. You got a little lost in it, the way your mind wandered prompting him to tilt your head back to look at him with a lift of your chin, his thumb moving up to rest on your bottom lip, lightly pulling it downward.

"We're on a time limit here, baby. Now I'm all for going out on a high, but not when it means taking you with me."

You let a small smile spread across your lips.

"There's no way I'd rather go."

He shook his head with a chuckle, lips brushing against yours as he leant forward and spoke against your lips.

"That's my girl."

You had little time to process the ownership he'd so affectionately branded you with, his lips crashing back against yours as his fingers worked to remove your jeans. You kicked off the denim that had eventually gathered at your ankles the quickest you could, your panties crumpled carelessly somewhere in the heap. Negan placed his hand on your waist, the other caressing over your hip and stopping to apply a slight pressure. He guided you down onto him, the removal of his boxers having happened somewhere in the events of the removal of your own clothing, which you were now aware of. A small gasp escaped your lips as you sunk onto him, stretching around him the further you got. That was nothing compared to the sensations to follow, however, the feel of fullness as your ass rested against his thighs, knees on either side of his hips and breath heavy as the sudden intrusion became all too surreal. He gave you some time to adjust, a small mercy, and then lifted his hips with a groan. The movement had you throwing your arms around his neck, one hand sliding up the nape of his neck and getting lost in his hair, fingertips ruffling the strands of hair towards the end of his slick.

"You're so damn pretty when you're taking my cock." Negan breathed, your slightly parted lips allowing the dirty sentiment into your mouth, to which his tongue readily followed.

You took it, letting his tongue past your lips and not even bothering for a play in power, tongue languidly moving with his. You rolled your hips in time with the movements of his own, practically bouncing on him once he cupped your ass and fastened the pace. It was everything you needed, a sinful, consuming fuck that'd swallow you whole amidst the misery of it all. At every dead end, every wrong turn, every bleak and dim day to ever lower your spirit, he was there one way or another. Because through it all the man who had taken so much from you, who had taken everything at one point in time and destroyed the very man who saved you, gave you so much. He made you feel what you needed to feel, touched you in the ways you needed to be touched, and held you in the ways you needed to be held. The universe works in mysterious ways, and creating a void that can only be filled by the same man who created it is most certainly one of them.

"Mm, fuck Negan you feel so good." You whispered between repeated kisses, the flattery encouraging Negan to bury his head in the crook of your neck and press his lips against your pulse point.

"That so? Cause it's like I've died and gone to pussy heaven." He drawled with a small chuckle as he smiled against your skin between the kisses he littered your neck with, the vulgarity of his words as Negan as ever.

His lips sucked and teased the skin on your neck whilst one of his hands wandered to your back, fingers lifting the hem of your shirt and delving beneath the more tight-fitting fabric of your tank top. His hand alternated between drawing circles on your bruises, a light touch to soothe the tender skin, and smoothing over the affliction in its entirety with the careful movements of his open palm pressed flush against the violet, blood-tinged skin. The tenderness of his touch mixed in with the unrelenting and persistent thrusts that filled you to the hilt over and over had you succumbing to an intense and sudden release that you'd hardly even noticed had been building. Negan's efforts to bring you to a quick, euphoric release paid off as you squirmed on top of him, the continuation of his hard thrusts only dragging every sweet second as the pleasure of your orgasm crashed over you. You bit down onto your lip so hard you were bound to draw blood, the teeth you dug into your bottom lip acting as a way of suppressing the screams you were so desperate to release. In the haste of being moments from release he guided you off of him as he removed himself from you, hot wet spurts landing on your abdomen whilst he let out low, rough grunts as Negan worked through his own long, unsparing high. You slumped against his chest, your breath faltering as you screwed your eyes shut and prepared to return to the outside world, for it was no longer recognisable as home. The only thing left that felt like home was him, as much as it turned your stomach. You were so wrapped up in your mind you barely felt the fingers running through your hair, and the fingers of another hand passing over your jaw to coax your head upward. When your eyes met his a small smile appeared on his lips, and then they were on yours. It was then as your lips moved against one another that you recognised it, the tang of metal as he kissed the taste of your blood into your mouth, and smeared it onto his. It was just like the first time, but things were so different now. He broke the kiss with some protest, your heavy breaths filling the air around you.

"As much as I'd love to keep kissing that pretty mouth, and hell, a second round, we are about to go unaccounted for. We can't afford that kinda level of shit hitting the fan." Negan croaked through gradually steadying breaths.

Whatever light may have been illuminating your irises dimmed at the reminder of what was waiting for you outside the confinement of these four walls, and Negan caught the shift in your expression immediately.

"Hey, cut that shit out. You're not getting moved, I'm not letting your hot ass go anywhere."

You snorted your laughter and rolled your eyes at the light-hearted comment, playfully placing your hand against his chest and pushing him away.

"You just never stop, do you? I gotta find your off switch."

Now it was Negan's turn to snort, shaking his head as he snickered to himself. You climbed off of his lap and stood to your feet, your hands gathering some of the makeshift bedding they'd provided you with and using it to wipe away the droplets slowly working their way down your stomach. After a few moments you were both fully clothed and ready to return to the chaos, though the feel of his hand closing around your forearm interrupted you a step from exiting the barn. You came to a halt and turned to face him, and were taken aback by what you found. It was like you'd swapped places, the solace previously whirling in your eyes having transferred into his, though he did his best to conceal it. A momentary slip of his eyes lowering to the ground was enough to give him away.

"You know I meant every word in here, right?"

You paused to search for words that wouldn't come, the idea of trusting his every word and promise he makes of your safety leaving you tongue tied. All you could muster was a small nod, the gesture small enough that it didn't have to have so much weight to it. That was enough for Negan, his hand unfurling from your arm and freeing you from his clutch.

You held the gaze you shared with one another for a moment too long and then stepped out into the cold.

#negan #negan smith #negan twd #negan smut #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x you #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

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If your inbox is open could I please request a yandere sae where he traps his Darling by getting them pregnant and also this is around the time where he kidnaps them and they get Stockholm Syndrome if you're uncomfortable with this feel free to ignore my request

hey hey!! sure it's pretty much always open 🤗 thank you for giving my brain something to chew on - this really tickled me bc he isn't necessarily the first character i think of when i think yandere bllk! a cold one, for sure 🥶

tags: yandere, sae is 20+, emotional abuse, baby trapping (no pronouns used for reader but they can get pregnant), noncon mention, smidge of unreliable narrator word count: 0.6k

Sae is one thing: selfish. He knows you're here against your will and he simply doesn't care. He gets what he wants. You won't ever know why exactly he picked you out of all the possible people to obsess over because he won't ever treat you like one would a spouse. He's blunt, he's brash, he's an asshole - even to you. He doesn't keep you small on purpose, Sae is just like that. Unlike some others, he doesn't criticize you to snuff out your self-esteem, he truly thinks what he says. You'll learn how to play by his rules and admittedly - he is fair, at least as far as he is concerned. Neither cruel nor sadistic, he simply expects you to conform and be perfect for him. Deviate from his vision for you and he'll let you know- but as long as you are good for him you won't hear a single word.

He actually strikes me as one of the few from Blue Lock who would choose to kidnap you - it's easier and keeps you by his side. He's pragmatic like that. And because Sae doesn't need your love - he simply takes what he wants - he doesn't care for all that lovey-dovey shit, either. Watch him simply lock you away even though you have never talked to each other. He's convinced you're perfect for him and that's enough. He really wastes no time. In his opinion, your predicament isn't all too bad, even beneficial. Isn't this what so many people strive for? Marry rich, be pampered for the rest of your days, no more worries, no more hurt? Really, you should be over the moon to be the spouse of a famous soccer player. He'll tell you as much; that you should be grateful for the roof over your head, that you'll never have to work another day in your life because of him, that you'll have everything you'll ever want - and that being kept like this is the trade-off, that he expect payment from time to time. All your fighting, your scratching, your crying - it doesn't matter to him. It's annoying, sure, but it won't stop him at all. (Although even Sae has his limits. If you keep screaming at him how you don't care for the designer clothes, the expensive furniture and his stupid house, he isn't above showing you what you're taking for granted right now. Some nice, quaint nights in the basement with little food and water and no clothes should set your head straight. Not cruel. Just pragmatic.)

And because he takes such good care of you, he deserves something else in return, doesn't he? A baby is perfect. It's easy to realize that dream - he's expecting sex from you regularly, anyway and never really bothers with birth control. In the beginning, he humored you a little by using condoms (to soften the blow, so to speak) but by now he simply doesn't care anymore. The thought of you pregnant with his child excites him more than he'd like to admit. It isn't necessarily about keeping or trapping you - he just wants to start a little family with you. (And maybe, just maybe, he is actually a tiny bit in love with you, not just obsessed.) He won't tell you of his decision, he simply fucks you more often. But you're smart enough to catch on, with time - too bad you don't stand a chance against a pro athlete when he bends you over for the tenth time this week and tracks your periods, waiting for your fertile window. You can only grit your teeth and take it, terrified of the day he actually knocks you up.

And as always, he doesn't get why you're making such a fuss; you only have to be good for him. He'll take care of you and your child, you'll see.

#blue lock x reader #yandere blue lock #sae itoshi x reader #yandere sae itoshi

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sunthyme · 8 months

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Hehehe. Part two baby! Be prepared! (Pun absolutely intended) Also, to the people who are yelling the the tags, I love you guys! I read them all and I can't say thank you enough. It genuinely means a ton!🩷🩷🩷

Enough of me being sappy,

🌻Savanaclaw🌻

Disclaimer: Savanaclaw is like lowkey my favourite dorm, not in terms of redesigns but I love the characters. Huge Leona fan and Jack and Ruggie are my children so I will not stop talking about them. You have been warned.

First up, though y'all have seen him already,

♟️Leona Kingscholar♟️

(he/him) - Unlabelled but doesn't care about gender

I snuck in a lil treat of my work in progress housewarden card. The jumpscare it was to toggle my version with the og card underneath, y'all. Am I making my version of pretty much all his cards? Yes. Will they ever be finished? Who knows? Anyways, onto the headcanons...

- Physically, I feel like I changed a lot and not a lot at the same time. I gave him some more scars which I guarantee you are from really stupid accidents.

- Piercing on his ears just cause I felt they fit him and snakebites because (I'm so down bad for them) it gave the illusion of fangs even with his mouth closed. Gave him moles cause they're pretty.

- I textured his hair and gave him a shit ton more because if the og design won't AT LEAST give him fluffier hair, what's the point? Yana Toboso, if you don't give this man a high ponytail in the Clubwear Card, I will hunt you down. Also made his front, larger braids the colour of Cheka's (And presumably Farena's) hair because honestly? They didn't really look similar enough? Also threw in some smaller braid to 'tie' them in more (haha).

- Someone gave him like this cool inverted pupil due to a scene in the movie but I simplified it to basically heterochromia.

- This might be hardly noticeable but I give give him slightly more muscle? I felt it suited him more idk.

- Onto non-physical headcanons, he has 💕depression💕! This is kinda not up for debate given how much he exemplifies the symptoms. Hell, he made me realise that I may have depression cause I was like, "Damn, he's so relatable, not wanting to get out of bed, no motivation to do anything, struggling to care of himself. He just like me frfr- oh..."

- By the way, I see a lot of people talking about Ruggie's reaction to the fallout of Book 2 but I think that on Leona's side, he felt horrible and probably locked himself away for a WHILE. I think his mental state must have been terrible and I'm SO PISSED HIS FCKING PROBLEMS NEVER GOT BROUGHT AGAIN WTF! Well, I'm on Book 4 so maybe???

- Anyways, I saw someone posit he could also be autistic, more on the asymptomatic side which is actually growing on me a lot. Picky eater, doesn't like tighter clothes, not fond of loud noises, smaller things but I'm a fan.

- Really random but I like the idea that he's one of those people who kids love for literally no reason, he just doesn't like to be around them.

- Is actually extremely book smart, though that's kinda already canon but I mean this bitch was a nerd when he was younger. Knows way too much on various topics, especially about his homeland.

- He can purr. I know lion's can't but there are literal mer and fae. He's just a big kitty. My and Idia like 🤞 when it comes to thinking of Leona as just a big meow. I have a cat who doesn't like anyone but I'm her favourite, I could win him over.

I could talk about him for sooooo long tbh so I'll shut up now.

Anyways, now for my boy,

💸Ruggie Bucchi💸

(he/she) Bigender - Biromantic Asexual

God I love my bigender child.

- I made him black, though probably mixed and gave him vitiligo for both visual flavour and a mild(?) reference to like hyena spots?

- He originally was going to have her hair down but then I realised how many of them had their natural hair already so I gave him dreads? I'll have to render them out at some point.

- Gave her more scars too, since she grew up in a more rough environment. Made his eyes really big and cute 'cause I feel like she can get extras when she hits 'em with the puppy eyes.

- Probably got mad ADHD, has to constantly be fiddling with something or another. Wears spinny rings a lot. He's actually really good at paying attention in class and likes to learn.

- Steals from Leona, whether it's money or items or clothes he leaves out (which, while Leona would never admit, he purposefully leaves out for Ruggie).

- Oh and a post pointed out that hyenas can purr, so have fun with that.

That's mostly it for now, but expect this list to grow lmao.

Now for,

💪Jack Howl💪

(he/him) - Queer (he doesn't know lol, just knows he likes dudes at this point)

Not me struggling to find a weight emoji (I failed) 😭😭😭

- Ah, I made a reference in the Heartslabyul post about my concern about darker skinned characters with white hair and I was mainly talking about Jack. I also had to make Kiki, and I figured that wolves have pretty naturally salt-and-pepper hair, so why not. I actually love how it looks omg, it's very pretty and marbled.

- Gave him darker skin, since I headcanon him as black but I did see someone who designed him as indigenous so it might change in the future idk. Also it makes his eyes almost glow and I love that for him.

- He gets more scars too, though likely from sports rather than fights or anything.

- He's autistic. Apologies that so many of them are autistic to me, not only am I autistic but like, the way they're written speaks to me. His whole moral compass being the reason for Book 2 playing out like it did was an immediate 'yes' from me. He's my boy and my son and I will fistfight anyone that smack talks him (looking at those Savannaclaw NPCs in one of Deuce's vignettes).

- Oh, I forgot. He listens to K-Pop. I don't know if it?s canon that he has younger siblings, though I totally think he does, but one of them accidentally got him into K-Pop and J-Pop so whenever he's at the gym, that's what he's listening to lmao. Specifically girl groups, he likes them enough that he knows all their names. He insists it's out of respect, which it is but he's also lowkey a stan too lol.

- Generally has a weakness for cute things, even if he doesn't show it. Also a total plant nerd omg. He could instruct you on pretty much any houseplant on how much sunlight and water it needs, seasonal changes, etc.

Final note is that I'll make a separate post about him and Epel, cause I love them and have some headcanons there too.

Now for my ocs!

💎Kiki Adebayo💎

Third Year - (she/her) Transfem - Aromantic Demisexual Sapphic

- Twisted from Rafiki? I think that's his name, the baboon. I'm crying sobbing throwing up that you can't see her eyes in this.

- She got the white hair since the fur on a baboon is directly white and took inspiration from Dislyte's Isis design. Her eyes are a pale gold like her earrings and she has red to blue eye shadow.

- Natural resting bitch face but she's just tired most of the time. She'd probably be the actual vice housewarden as I think her family has been close to Leona's for a long time, though she earned her spot with her own skills.

- Additionally, I wouldn't call her and Leona 'childhood friends' but she's known him for a long time. She's like, concerned about him as he's changed so much but she also worries that it's not her place. As a result, she tries to make sure Ruggie's not taking on too much and handles most of the dormhead duties herself.

God, she's so pretty omg anyways

👟Mandisa Jelani👟

Second Year - (they/she) Demi-girl - Pansexual

- Mandisa is also based on the hyenas, though I don't know if her and Ruggie are from the same pack necessarily.

- I gave her scars, moles, and some piercings as well, I just felt like they'd suit her.

- I think she and Jack would be relatively similar in terms of personality, I see her being the gruffer upperclassmen. I think she'd be rather protective of the first years, knowing how harsh the older dorm members can be and she does her best to make everyone feel welcome.

Next up,

🤘Rocío Chávez🤘

Second Year - (she/her but doesn't really care) Transfem - Panromantic Asexual

You'll never guess who she's based on /j

- My girlie based on Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove! Yes, she is a big and buff bimbo? Himbo? I don't know but she's got a heart of gold and head empty.

- I wanted to keep her physique cause it always annoys me when people genderbend a character but don't keep them proportional to their og design. Mini tangent over, she so silly I love her.

- She and my Yzma character met as first years and have been inseparable since, though I'll talk more about that later.

- Not a massive ton of characterisation sine it's been a while since I've seen this movie too but I'm always open to suggestions.

Finally, my silly

🎸Abayomi Furaha🎸

First Year - (she/they/it) Nonbinary - Bisexual

- My final baby from Savanaclaw, also based on a hyena. Specifically the lil bug-eyed one, but I gave her a lazy eye instead. Not sure how well that comes across but I tried.

- She's got scars, was definitely bullied as a kid and I think that once the dorm members consider her a part of the pack, they'd be super overprotective as a result.

- That being said, she's more than capable of defending herself as she's good at various martial arts.

- She's into rock music and joined the music club as a result. Probably a drummer or guitarist as I think she's insecure about her voice.

- She and Mandisa are quite close and she convinced them to dye the edges of her hair red. Abayomi wanted touch up hers and managed to get Mandisa in on to lol.

That's all for now! Stay tuned for Octavinelle and thank you so much for reading!

#twisted wonderland #twisted oc #twsted oc #god save me i’m in twsted hell #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #digital art #art #fanart #sunthyme

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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{27} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader - Final

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 14,770

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Mentions of past mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! The final part to book one!! Ahhhhhh!!! I can’t believe how far I've come!! Never did I expect such a simple one shot to turn into this, but here we are!! I really hope you all like this final chapter, I think it sort of rounds things out nicely and ends on a, quite literal, high note. Also, the two songs I highly recommend listening to during this part appear in the latter half of the fic. They are named when they come up, so I don’t want to spoil them here. I do highly recommend listening to at least the second one, as it is quite significant to the story and the characters. Anyways, enough of my ramblings lol, I hope you’ll all look forward to what book two has in store! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Twenty-Six - Mini Masterlist

A yawn escapes your lips as you slowly trudge your way down the hallway the very next day. You can hear the sounds of your slippers sliding against the floor with each step you take, bringing your hands up to rub the sleep from your eyes. Luckily, you managed to sleep much better last night. An ease settling over your mind enough so that you didn’t need to ask any one of them to influence your dreams. You also opted to sleep alone for the evening, stretching out on your bed as you relaxed into your covers..

Looks like that conversation yesterday really did help.

Walking into the kitchen, you freeze right in your tracks.

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times, before a lazy grin is tugging onto your features as you see three males positioned around the counter. All three sporting new hairstyles.

“Well, good morning to me,” you hum, taking in their appearances as they turn to look at you.

Both Seonghwa and San have returned to heads full of black hair. Where San’s is slightly longer in the back, the very ends a silvery blond underneath, Seonghwa has opted to give himself more of an undercut. The best part about the eldest’s cut is that when you get closer, you see a wave like design etched into the sides of his head, seeing as it’s pushed back for the moment. A fact which has you subconsciously stepping into his side to trace the design with your finger as you smile sleepily.

Even Jongho’s new head of fiery red hair suits him quite well, and you cannot help but to nod to yourself in approval of their choices.

“We take it you like the change?” Seonghwa chuckles, a shiver caressing his spine as he feels the tip of your finger ghosting along the side of his head.

“Oh, I more than like it,” you breathe, almost as if caught in a trance as he turns his wide eyed gaze towards you. “I love it.”

Three low rumbles of contentment reach your ears, smiles pulling onto all of their faces.

“Good,” a voice draws your attention to the open entranceway of the kitchen. “We’re glad.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the change in Yeosang’s appearance though. What once were long, bleach blond locks, now sit short, black strands that fall just above his eyes.

“Oh, wow,” you cannot help the gasp that escapes you, forgetting all about Seonghwa for a moment to meet Yeosang halfway in order to brush some of his newly cut hair out of his eyes.

You feel as if you’re caught in a daze, especially when both Yunho and Mingi walk in sporting newly dyed chestnut locks. Mingi’s hair is styled up and out of his face, while Yunho’s rests parted over his forehead.

Your lips part in awe, a small breath escaping you as you take them all in. Though, the final straw for you is when both Wooyoung and Hongjoong both appear before your very eyes.

Wooyoung still sports his skunk dye, the blond simply having been re-bleached for the moment. Hongjoong, on the other hand, sports newly blond locks, cropped short once again.

You place a hand over your heart, feeling it skip a beat beneath your fingers as you attempt to balance yourself on the counter.

“Warn me next time, fucking hell,” you purposely stare at the floor with wide eyes as you lean heavily onto the one arm you have supporting yourself on the counter. “Can’t wait to tell my mom I have eight handsome as fuck men trying to kill me all at once by simultaneously changing their hairstyles on me.”

Eight chuckles sound around the room, the hint of a pleased growl on each of their lips as they look towards you. Seonghwa even goes so far as to place his hand over your own still resting on the counter, offering you a touch of support as you attempt to wrap your head around their new hairstyles for the moment.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest,” Yeosang steps in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“We thought we should clean ourselves up a bit before meeting your parents,” San admits, flicking his bangs out of his eyes as he smiles at you.

“Though, we’re still not entirely done getting ready,” Yunho adds, a gentle smile on his lips as he walks over to your opposite side to place a kiss onto the side of your head.

“You guys already look incredible, I fail to see what else you’d have to do,” you take your time trailing your gaze around the room, glancing over each of them in time.

Another round of pleased growls reach your ears.

“Thank you, Darling,” Jongho grins, a subtle blush creeping up his neck as he absolutely revels in your praise.

“We just want to make sure we look our very best for when we meet your parents,” Hongjoong explains, a loving smile pulling at his features as he meets your gaze.

“We also enjoy looking our best for you,” Wooyoung grins, eyes crinkling at the sides with the honesty of his words.

A small heat rises to your cheeks as you avert your gaze bashfully.

In the next moment, you’re clearing your throat lightly. “So, do you all do your own hair, then?”

“We usually style it ourselves, but Hongjoong is usually the one that cuts and dyes it for us,” Mingi tells you, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes as he looks towards their Captain.

At the way your awe filled gaze turns towards Hongjoong, he cannot help but to smile shyly.

“We usually just tell him what we want, and then he works his magic,” Seonghwa grins, noticing how the younger male suddenly becomes bashful beneath your stare.

“That’s incredible,” the way your eyes shine, a hint of pride echoing within your words, has a blush dusting Hongjoong’s features, the tips of his ears turning red as he clears his throat. “You’re incredible."

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to brush off your praise, a small shrug to his shoulders.

“Like hell it is,” you continue to stare at him with wide eye, a large smile pulling at your lips. "My sister is going to love you.”

“You think so?” Never have any of the others seen Hongjoong so timid. At least, not like this.

“I know so.” You hum, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa in the next moment. “She’s also big on fashion, so you two will probably instantly get a free pass.”

“Should the rest of us be worried, then?” Yunho jokes, a grin tugging onto his features.

“She can sometimes be more intimidating that my dad, so…” you trail off, raising your own brow teasingly. “But that’s if she and Vasco actually show up.”

Just like you said you would, you did manage to call your mother yesterday. Only, she didn’t let on if your sister and her husband were coming over for dinner, just that she and your father would be home all day.

“We’ll be prepared for anything and everything,” Wooyoung grins, an eager gleam shining within his eyes.

You smile back, a small nod to your head as you meet his gaze from across the counter. Honestly, you cannot wait for your family to meet all of them. There’s a certain eager pride building within you at the mere thought of getting to show them off to your family after so long of being single, that you cannot wait to see their reactions.

You can already picture it now. Your mother will probably give you her signature look where she blinks in disbelief while trying, and failing, to hide her surprise. Your father, on the other hand, will probably freeze in his spot and look like a deer caught in headlights before awkwardly clearing his throat.

You just have to brace yourself for your sister’s squeal of joy and subsequent ‘I told you so’s and ‘I knew it’.

An hour and a half later, after you’ve had a small bite to eat and finished getting ready, you’re heading towards the main foyer. You’ve already discussed just how you’re going to be getting to your parents house, much to their discontent.

It would be a bit alarming if you just suddenly popped up out of the blue on your parent’s front porch, not to mention with eight men, so you’ve all agreed to drive. Needless to say, you were a bit surprised when they told you that they could all drive cars, they just didn’t for convenience sake.

You had nodded at that, more caught up with the fact that they actually agreed to your idea without any push back. Well, San, Wooyoung, and Mingi still all pouted, but understood that they probably shouldn’t freak your parents out, or draw any unnecessary attention to themselves in the neighbourhood the first time they meet your family. Still, you cannot wait to get back in your car.

Driving has always been a way for you to clear your head; the way you can just cruise down the streets with your favourite music playing through your car speakers has always been able to relax you. Honestly, you’re looking forward to it, and besides, you could really use something to help clear your mind right now. Though, you don’t know how much relaxation you’ll find with Wooyoung, Mingi, and Yeosang all in the car with you.

That was one of the conditions you offered to them. Three of them could ride with you up to a certain point before heading back home to finish getting ready.

That, and you don’t think Wooyoung would have bothered to stop himself from joining you, anyways.

Needless to say, there was a big argument about who would be driving with you to start. You can still remember the way San pouted the entire time after the decision was made. A pout which still paints his features, arms crossed over his chest as the four of you walk towards the main entrance of the house.

“Well, I’ll see the rest of you later,” you say, a giddy smile on your features as you wave to them one last time.

For the first time since that night all of those months ago, you step through the front doors.

The exterior of the building is almost exactly as you remember it to be: grand, sleek, and beautiful. The only difference is that instead of those glass doors with the supposed hotel’s logo on them, they are now intricately carved wooden doors with glass windows covering the upper half of them.

You nod, approvingly, and even though it’s subconscious on your part, the three males that follow right behind you cannot help the way their hearts swell with pride at impressing you yet again in this way.

“Shotgun!” Wooyoung cheers, scurrying passed you and to the front passenger’s seat.

You grin, shaking your head, “someone’s eager.”

“We all are, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles, walking over the the passenger’s seat directly behind the driver’s.

“We just love spending time with you, Starlight,” Mingi says, walking over to his designated seat now.

You quirk a brow. “So, how many times have you guys been driving with me without me knowing?”

Wooyoung shoots you a cheeky look from over the top of your car as he pulls open the passenger door.

You tilt your head expectantly, but the other two also remain silent, smiles tugging at their lips.

A sigh before you chuckle, shaking your head all the while. “Guess that answers that.”

Sliding into the front seat, you’re quick to start the car. Honestly, you’re surprised it still runs as smoothly as it does for the moment, considering you haven’t touched it in months.

“Jongho and I made sure to keep up its maintenance,” Mingi’s voice coming from the backseat has you sparing a glance at him from over your shoulder. “Just in case.”

“I didn’t know you guys were mechanics.” A soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brows raising slightly in amusement. “I appreciate it.”

A moment later, you’ve finished connecting your phone to your stereo, your favourite songs playing gently through the speakers.

“Cars, weapons, machines, the house, you name it,” Wooyoung shrugs. “It’s all just another form of maintenance to us.”

Your brows raise even more as you put the car into reverse and finally drive away from your new home.

“You boys never fail to surprise me,” you hum.

“In a good way, I hope,” Yeosang meets your gaze briefly in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You smile. “Always.”

The entire drive to your parents house is spent teasingly bickering with the guys, laughing all the while. Honestly, it’s the perfect way to clear your mind and focus on the conversation you’re sure to have with your mom when you get home. A fact which you could not be more thankful for.

At some point during the drive, Wooyoung had grabbed your one hand in his, seeing as you were driving with only your left on the steering wheel. The cheeky grin he sent you had you shooting him a brief side-eyed look in amusement, hearing Mingi grumbling about how he wanted to hold your hand instead. Hell, even Yeosang had crossed his arms at this, and you could just tell they were mentally complaining to Wooyoung about it the whole time.

Not that the younger minded. After all, he’s the one that got to hold your hand.

No wonder he wanted to sit in the front.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” you comment, turning onto one of the backroads that lead into your parent’s subdivision.

“Aw,” Wooyoung pouts. “Do we really have to go?”

You only quirk your brow in response. You all agreed that they would transport themselves back home before you reached your parents place, just so that your parent’s nosy neighbours wouldn’t get suspicious seeing four people drive up in a car, only for one to get out of it.

“We just don’t want to leave you, Starlight,” Mingi complains, a slight whine to his voice.

“You all agreed to the terms and conditions beforehand,” you spare a glance at Wooyoung. “Don’t make me turn this car around.”

“I don’t think any of us would complain about spending more time with you driving back home, Dearest,” Yeosang chuckles.

“I swear, if you guys could attach yourself to me like a symbiote, you would.” You snort, shaking your head.

Wooyoung smirks, his eyes flashing. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Okay,” Yeosang’s eyes widen, his lips tightening into a thin line. “And on that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.”

“No!” Wooyoung whines, his lips pulling downwards dramatically. “I don’t want to!”

“Neither do I, but we promised we’d stick to the plan,” Yeosang replies, shaking his head at the way Wooyoung crosses his arms grumpily over his chest.

“I’ll probably be contacting you guys soon enough,” you chuckle, noticing how Mingi remains quiet for the time being. “Besides, they’ll need you for the directions.”

Another condition of sending them back early after driving with you is so they can get the best route possible. Not that they’d really need you to show them the directions, but still, it’s the thought that counts.

“We’ll see you soon, Dearest,” Yeosang sends you one final tender smile in the reflection of the mirror before he’s reaching out and teleporting the three of them back home.

A puff of laughter escapes you just as you turn into your parent’s subdivision, shaking your head lightly at their antics.

Blinking, you adjust your focus to the houses around you, rounding the corner to turn onto the street your parents live on. After one more turn, you pull into the driveway, a smile on your face.

Finally, you’re home.

Immediately, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you step out of your car after cutting the engine. A warmth begins to spread throughout your body, radiating from the centre of your chest outwards.

You take a deep breath.

Yeah, this’ll be good for you. You can already tell.

Walking up to the front door, a gentle smile rests on your face. In the back of your mind, you wonder if your mother has left the door open.

Much to your content, she did.

The chime of the front door opening greets your ears, and you can faintly hear music coming from the direction of the basement. Your father must be down there either relaxing or doing something else for the moment, then.

“Hello!” You hear your mother’s chipper voice call out from just around the corner of the kitchen. “You’re here early-“

Her voice gets caught in her throat as she rounds the corner to see you standing at the front door having just finished slipping your shoes off for the moment.

A breathless gasp of your name escapes her as she rushes over to you, wrapping you in her embrace. A hug of which you eagerly return, just as tightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, I’ve missed you so much!” She coos into your ear. “I had a feeling you were coming to visit soon after your call yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’ve missed you, too, mom,” you breathe out, practically melting into her arms. “It’s good to be home.”

“Well, come in! I’m making my homemade pasta sauce for dinner, you should stay!” She begins to lead you into the kitchen.

“If that’s okay,” you smile softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

You gaze catches on the baby grand piano right beside the front entranceway, the wood shining beneath the afternoon sun. It’s slight, but your breath hitches.

“Nonsense!” Her voice catches your attention, shifting your gaze to see her standing beside the entrance to the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You’re family, you could never intrude.”

That warmth returns to your chest. “Thanks, mom.”

“Your father is just downstairs for the moment.” She continues as you walk into the kitchen. “He’s working out on the treadmill like he so often likes to do. It was raining a bit earlier, so he couldn’t go on his regular walk.”

“Oh, he must have been devastated,” you joke, hearing your mother chuckle along with you.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grins, moving over to the stovetop to stir the sauce for the moment. “Anyways, please, come sit! Tell me all about what you’ve been up to lately. We’ve missed you so much!”

Pulling out one of the chairs at the counter, you’re quick to join your mother, who now stands eagerly on the other side of the kitchen island. She rests a hand on top of the granite, a giddiness to her features that immediately rubs off on you.

For the next forty minutes or so, you give your mother some updates on your life. Just some basics that don’t give much away as to what you’ve been up to with the boys, nor do you explicitly mention them at all. Though, with the way you notice her smiling at you, her eyes darting to the shining necklace you currently wear, you know that she’s putting a few things together.

“Speaking of that mall,” she begins. “I ran into David the other day.”

“Oh, did you now?” You quirk a brow, amusement shining on your features.

“First of all, he was more than happy to look into commissioning a pin of one of the Leaves of Lorien for me.” She says, and recognition flashes in your eyes.

Your mother has always loved The Lord of the Rings almost as much as you, and she’s admitted to wanting a broach like that for quite a while now. You’re just sad you didn’t think of getting one for her sooner.

“He told me a very interesting thing about when you went to pick up that necklace of yours.” A knowing gleam shines within her gaze.

“What did he tell you?” You hum.

“Well, a little birdie told me that when you went to pick up your necklace, which is beautiful, by the way-“ a pointed look.

“Thank you.”

She nods, smiling faintly. “He told me that there were two men who were with you at the time. Two very handsome men.”

“Of course he did,” you sigh.

“Sweetie, you know if you’re seeing somebody, you can tell me,” she meets your gaze. “Don’t feel like you have to hide your relationships from us. We only want the best for you.”

“I know, mom,” you exhale a long breath, chuckling slightly.

“Even if it’s the both of them that are your mystery lovers, as long as they make you happy. That’s the main thing.” She adds.

“You would be okay with that?” You shoot her a knowing look. “Me, being in a relationship with more than one person?”

She pauses for a moment, considering your words. Then, she’s nodding once. Firmly. “I would.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise.

“Like I said, as long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, that’s all that matters to me.” She nods in confirmation, voice firm.

“Thanks, mom,” you smile. “That really does mean a lot to me.”

“Of course, Sweetie,” she smiles back. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about those two mystery lovers of yours.”

At the wink she sends you, you laugh. “Actually, I would really like for you to meet them all.”

“All? So there is more than one?” Your mom quirks a brow knowingly.

“Oh, there’s more than one, alright,” you chuckle.

“Just how many of them are there?” She frowns lightly, tilting her head in confusion at you.

A tight smile tugs onto your features as you let out a bit of a nervous laugh.

“Sweetie?”

“Uh, well,” you chuckle nervously once more, eyes flitting everywhere around the kitchen but in her direction for the moment. “There’s…“

“Yes?” Your mother leans forward slightly.

You mumble out a response lowly, enough to have your mother’s frown deepening.

“Pardon me?”

A brief pause.

“There’s eight of them.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you as your mother’s eyes nearly bulge right out of her head.

“Sweetie! Eight of them? Holy shit!” Her jaw drops. “That’s- that’s-“ your mother searches for the right word as you smile sheepishly, “incredible!”

You blink, caught slightly off guard by her reaction. “You’re not weirded out?”

“I mean, I was expecting three at the most, but eight? As long as you’re happy, and they treat you right, you can have as many as you want. Though, your father might have a harder time wrapping his head around this.” She chuckles as she nods, grinning widely. That is, until her expression is becoming serious in the next second. “Honey, you didn’t stumble upon a cult accidentally, did you?”

You cannot help it, you burst out laughing. “No, mom. I didn’t stumble upon a cult.”

She simply raises an eyebrow at you in response. However, before either of you can say anything else, your dad rounding the corner of the kitchen catches your attention.

As soon as he sees you, he freezes in his tracks. He blinks once before a large smile is stretching across his features as he meets your gaze. “I didn’t know you were coming for a visit.”

“Surprise!” You chuckle, waving slightly at him.

“It’s great to see you again, Sweetie.” He says, his eyes shining as he looks at you. “I would give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty at the moment.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be around for a while still.” You smile.

“She’s staying for dinner,” your mother chimes in, and immediately, your father’s smile widens.

“That’s wonderful!”

“I promise I won’t leave unexpectedly again,” you tease, hearing how they both chuckle in response.

“Well then, I’m going to go shower, but I promise to be as quick as I can!” With a new spring to his step, he’s hurrying back the way he came and up the stairs to go freshen up.

As soon as your father is out of earshot, your mother is turning to you with a knowing look on her features. “One hour later.”

You laugh along with her, cheeks beginning to hurt already from how much smiling you’ve done so far today.

Yeah, you really needed this. You just knew it would help.

“I can’t wait for your sister to get here, too,” she hums. “Did she mention she has a surprise for you the next time you see her?”

“Yes, she mentioned something,” you nod, mildly surprised your mother hasn’t already spilled the beans in her excitement.

“Oh, so then, when are we going to get to meet these mystery lovers of yours?” A wiggle to her brows. “Soon, I hope.”

“I was hoping you could meet them today, honestly.” You admit, watching your mother’s reaction carefully.

At the way her eyes light up, you know she absolutely adores that idea.

“I’m making pasta, so there’s plenty to go around!” She grins, already moving to the cupboard to pull out two more large cans of tomato sauce to add them to the pot.

“Do you need any help?” You immediately offer, going to push back your chair and stand.

“Not in the slightest!” She tells you, placing the cans onto the counter. “You just sit and relax. Tell me all about these partners of yours before they arrive!” A brief pause. “When will they get here?”

“I’ll message them now, but probably in about an hour or so,” you smile, a glint shining in your eyes.

“Perfect!” She scurries over to the pot, reaching into one of the cabinets to pull out the can opener next.

Grabbing your phone, you make a show of sending a message to someone for your mother’s sake. Even if you don’t actually send anything.

You drop your void.

So… you begin, your voice resounding through all of their minds and catching their attention. Who wants to come over for dinner?

You mean…? San replies, an eagerness to his voice.

Yes. An affectionate brush of your mind against all of theirs. My mother is very excited to meet all of you.

You swear you can hear Wooyoung cheering happily in your mind as they all brush back.

We’ll be there in an hour, My Love. Hongjoong replies, and you don’t have to see him to know that he’s smiling right now.

With Hwa’s driving, make that thirty minutes. Yeosang chuckles.

Man nearly tore the car door open as soon as you reached out to us. At the way Jongho huffs, you can just tell he’s shaking his head in amusement right now.

Well excuse me if I’m excited. Seonghwa retorts.

Hurry up, you’re all taking too long! Wooyoung whines, and you just know he’s already in the car waiting for the others to join him.

We’ll see you shortly, Petal. Yunho chuckles fondly, brushing against your mind once more.

We love you, Starlight. Mingi hums affectionately.

You smile. I love you, too, My Kings.

Not even a moment later, you close your void.

Your mother manages to pull you out of your own thoughts by speaking, a hum to her words.

“I know that look,” there’s an understanding unlike ever before that paints her features as she meets your gaze. “They must be very special if you’re so caught up in your own little world like this after texting them.”

You avert your gaze, somewhat bashfully, to your phone which rests on top of the counter for the moment, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “They are.”

“Good,” she nods, that motherly look of affection dripping from her features. “I’m glad.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet them,” you grin giddily, wiggling slightly in excitement in your seat.

Your mother chuckles happily, “me neither.”

Almost immediately, you begin to launch into short descriptions of each of them. You don’t necessarily realize just how much your eyes light up as you speak of them, but your mother does. A fact of which warms her heart, glad to know that her little girl is all grown up and in love.

Before you know it, your ramblings span over the course of forty minutes, now able to add in little facts about things that you’ve done together with the guys that you couldn’t before. Minus a few details, of course.

“They all sound like real gentlemen,” your mother nods, approvingly.

You sigh, somewhat dreamily, “they really are.”

“I’m so happy for you, Sweetie,” she smiles widely, a gleam in her eyes.

“Thanks, mom,” you return her smile, somewhat shyly as you realize you’ve just spent almost an hour gushing about them to her.

Looks like you care even more about them than you thought. That, and the fact that you can finally talk about them to another person, and that person being your mother, is just so freeing. You’re so glad you can finally share your adventures with your family, even if they’re somewhat altered for the moment. Talking about everything most certainly is making you feel better, and brightening your spirits.

“From the sounds of things, they really love you, too.” She hums, stirring the sauce once more.

Your gaze darts to your hand resting on top of the counter. The same hand Wooyoung had been clinging onto in the car for practically the entire ride. “Yeah. They really do.”

“Just know, if they hurt you in any way, I’ll send both Sammy and Wolfie after them!” She mockingly threatens, turning to you with the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand.

“Oh, boy! I don’t think they’d be able to survive that,” you giggle, grinning right along with your mother. “Speaking of, where is that Monkey Boy? I’m surprised he hasn’t strutted down the hallway looking for attention yet.”

“He’s probably up in your old room, on your bed, sleeping,” she says, eyes briefly darting upwards in the direction she’s referring to.

“Of course he is,” you sigh teasingly, shaking your head.

Just as you go to push your chair out to go see him, a knock sounds at the front door.

Your heart skips a beat, nearly feeling it leap into your throat as you realize just what that knock means.

“Oh, is that them?” Your mother giddily scurries towards the front door, smoothing out the front of her shirt all the while.

“Most likely,” you reply, following right behind her and noticing how she also goes to smooth out her hair. “Relax mom, you look as lovely as you always do.”

“Oh, you!” She smiles bashfully, but you can tell that your words have helped assure her for the moment as she watches you walk passed her.

Reaching for the handle, you’re quick to pull open the door.

A smile tugs at your features as you see eight familiar males standing just on the other side. “Hello, boys.”

Opening the door wider, you step back to allow them entrance into your parents home.

“Hello, Dearest,” Yeosang is the first to enter, placing a brief kiss onto your cheek as he steps into the house.

Mingi is the next to step through the threshold, a bottle of red wine held in his hands. As soon as he sees you, a smile lights up his features. “Hi, Starlight.”

Subsequently, as each male enters, they greet you tenderly, either placing a kiss onto your forehead, or your cheek, smiling all the while. What you fail to notice, is how their eyes all light up as soon as they see you, such fond looks of affection shining within their gazes.

Looks of which your mother is quick to catch on to.

She smiles.

Closing the door quickly, you take a step back to observe them all as they stand just inside the foyer. Yunho holds another bottle of red wine, while both San and Seonghwa hold a bottle of white each. Wooyoung appears to be holding a box of chocolates in his hands, while a bouquet of flowers is cradled within Hongjoong’s arms. A book is held in Jongho’s hands.

“Sweetie, you didn’t tell me just how handsome they all are,” your mother teasingly tuts, stepping forward to greet them.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiles bashfully, a blush beginning to dust his cheeks along with Yeosang’s, Mingi’s, and Jongho’s. “I can now see where My Love gets her stunning beauty from.”

“Oh, you’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?” Your mother giggles. “I’m so glad you all could join us for dinner.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Yunho replies graciously.

“Something smells absolutely delicious,” San hums, excitement shining in his eyes.

“You have a lovely home,” Yeosang adds, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you very much,” a certain pride laces your mother’s words as she stands a little straighter.

“Here,” Hongjoong gently addresses your mother formally by your last name. “These are for you.”

“Please,” a certain gleam begins to shine within your mother’s eyes as she takes the bouquet of flowers from Hongjoong’s outstretched hands. The smile that graces her features is nothing short of touched as she sees the type he’s given her. “Call me Kaitlyn.”

The way she addresses all of them has a warmth already spreading throughout their chests. So far, the interaction between them all is going well, and they could not be happier.

“Lillies of the valley?” Her voice is soft, tender as she meets his gaze. “These are my favourite. How did you know?”

Briefly, Hongjoong’s eyes dart over to your figure leaning casually against the wall a little ways away.

“How thoughtful.” She hums. “You must be Hongjoong, then. My daughter says you have a habit of bringing her flowers.”

Again, his gaze briefly darts over to you. The tips of his ears begin to turn red.

“I am.” He nods, somewhat shyly in confirmation.

“She also tells me that you have an eye for design,” a knowing look is sent his way.

“It’s really not much,” he attempts to humbly brush off the praise, the blush spreading down his neck soon after.

“He’s being bashful,” you chuckle, grin tugging at your features.

“In fact, she’s told me a little bit about all of you,” Kaitlyn continues, eyes briefly glancing over all of them with a somewhat fond look shining in her eyes. “Please, do come in.”

Eight affectionate brushes are felt against your void, and you can just tell that it’s them asking you if you’ve really talked to your mother about them. At the subtle way you nod your head in response, they can feel their chests swelling with that familiar happiness even more.

Just then, the sound of footsteps hopping down the stairs reach your ears.

Turning your head, you see your father make it to the second landing of the stairs before lifting his head and stopping in his tracks. His eyes widen significantly before a furrow is pulling to his brow at seeing eight unfamiliar men standing just inside the front entranceway.

You nearly laugh at the sight. Looks like you were right about your father’s reaction.

“Papa!” Your excited voice calling out to him draws his attention.

Not even a moment later, he’s finished walking down the stairs to meet you halfway to wrap you in his embrace.

You bury your head into his chest as he holds you tightly, a large smile on his face.

“How’s my little girl? I’ve missed you,” his voice rumbles out, low and full of rough emotions as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around you.

You giggle. “I’ve missed you, too.”

You fail to see the way your mother gazes on so tenderly at the two of you, but the others do.

Smiles of their own tug subtly onto their features as the intimacy of the moment washes over the room. They can tell that you two haven’t seen one another in a very long time, and the happiness they can sense simply radiating off of the both of you rubs off on them immediately.

After another few seconds, your father is pulling away. His hands rest on your upper arms as he studies your features, a gentle smile tugging at his own. That is, before his gaze is shifting slightly towards the eight males still standing by the door.

“Who…” your father trails off, eyes narrowing the faintest bit in their direction before taking note of the bouquet of flowers now held in your mother’s arms.

“Perfect timing,” you chuckle, stepping away from your father for the moment as a soft smile adorns your lips. “Mom, dad, I’d like you to meet Yeosang, Mingi, Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Jongho, San, and Wooyoung. My significant others.”

As you say each male’s name, they each give a polite bow of their heads in acknowledgement towards your parents. Of course, you make it a bit simpler by going in order from left to right, too.

Your father’s reaction is immediate: his eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline, eyes going wide as he looks like a deer in headlights. You swear he’s also stopped breathing for a moment there as his eyes flit over each of the eight males standing before him.

“It’s so lovely to meet the people who have been the cause of our daughter’s happiness over the past few months.” Your mother smiles, clutching the bouquet of flowers a little closer to her chest.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Seonghwa returns her smile wholeheartedly.

“Truly, it is an honour.” San adds, and you watch as they all bow in unison towards your parents.

“Thank you, again, for inviting us into your lovely home,” Wooyoung voices as soon as they straighten, staring deeply into your mother’s, and then your father’s eyes.

“They’ll be joining us for dinner,” your mother leans into your father slightly, and you watch as you see your father nod in understanding.

“Well then, let’s not stand at the door all day,” the way an instant sense of relief fills the room as your father says this has a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The instant your parents turn around and begin walking towards the kitchen, you shoot the eight of them a thumbs up and a wink. Actions of which fill them all with a sense of pride as they slip off their shoes and follow you further into the house.

As soon as you all enter the kitchen, you see your mother stirring the sauce and your father standing just beside the counter.

“I see you’ve brought wine,” he nods, approvingly. “Good lads.”

Mingi is the first to hand his bottle to your father, jumping into an explanation as to why he chose each bottle as they’re placed onto the counter beside him. You can see how your father continues to nod approvingly at the choices Mingi has selected, listening intently to every word he says.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see San subtly inching towards your mother who stands beside the stovetop. A second later, and he’s offering his cooking services to her to help in any way that he can.

She readily agrees, shooting you a look of acknowledgement in the process.

You smile.

Wordlessly, you move over to grab a small vase from the cupboard, seeing as your mother is now conversing with both San and Yunho for the moment while Wooyoung presents the chocolates to your father. You can tell your parents already like them, seeing as how naturally they’ve slipped into conversation with most of them as they stand around the kitchen.

Once you have the vase in your hands, you move to begin arranging the flowers Hongjoong got for your mother for her. Only, he gently takes your place, automatically placing the flowers in the vase once it’s filled with water.

Your mother just about steps in to stop him, stating how she shouldn’t be letting a guest do that work for her. Yet, at Hongjoong’s insistence, she backs off with a small nod and a smile.

Stepping around the counter once more, you stand just behind the chair you had been occupying for the past while. Placing your hands onto the back of the seat, you spare a glance around the room, feeling your heart swell with fondness at the scene surrounding you.

Just as Yeosang comes to stand beside you, you notice Jongho beginning to converse with your father.

“I brought this for you, Sir,” Jongho presents the book in his hands to your father. “I thought since you’re an author, and one of our,” he spares a brief glance in your direction, “favourite things to do is read and share literature together, I would bring you one of my favourite books.”

Your father nods, accepting the book graciously with a small thank you falling from his lips. “Feel free to call me Nick.”

That cover looks very familiar.

You see recognition flash across your father’s face, his eyebrow quirking in amusement.

“Oh,” a teasing lilt can be heard within Nick’s voice. “Would you like me to sign this for you instead?”

Immediately, all heads are turning towards your father as Jongho stands there with wide eyes, completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Pardon me?” The shock is clear in Jongho’s voice as he stands there, arms still half raised in the air in front of him as he blinks at Nick in surprise.

“I’m assuming she told you,” Nick chuckles, holding up the book slightly in his hand. “This is my pen name.”

You never thought you would see the day were it looked like Jongho would faint from shock, but alas, here he is, standing frozen to his spot. The youngest looks about ready to spontaneously combust, red creeping up his neck as he turns to look at you with a somewhat tight smile on his lips.

“No,” he replies. “I had no idea.”

Your father chuckles, walking over and bonking you lightly on the top of your head with the book. “Are you still on about that thing that happened in high school with Linda?”

“Oh, fuck no,” you nearly scoff. “The fact merely didn’t come up yet.”

“Linda?” Seonghwa quirks a brow at you, and you can tell from the subtle way they all spare glances at your from the corner of their eyes, they’re all curious about what happened.

You share a look with your father.

“Final year of high school, my homeroom found out who my dad was. Linda just so happened to be a big fan of his work.” You explain.

“I still think you should have torn her hair out when you found out, Sweetie,” Kaitlyn supplies, with an air of casualty to her tone.

Hongjoong nearly drops the flower in his hands.

“Mom, you and I both know that would have been a little too violent at the time,” you reply. “Besides, she ended up getting suspended, anyways."

Mingi frowns. “What did she do?”

“Oh, she became friends with me to try and impress my dad,” you recount, a certain gleam shining within your eyes as you spare a glance around at all of them. “Wasn’t subtle about it, either.”

You swear that if your parents weren’t in the room, eight low growls would have resounded in your ears.

“She used you?” Wooyoung frowns, disgust clear on his features.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It’s not like I didn’t really see it coming.”

Yeosang places a gentle hand onto your lower back, yet you can just tell how he feels at the moment. You can feel it in the way his fingers press into your skin.

So, you decide to quickly change the subject. Sort of.

“Speaking of, did you finally figure out the ending to your next novel?” You shift your gaze to your father.

Instantly, his eyes are lighting up. “I did!”

Nick jumps right into explaining his next novel, excitement clear on his features. The way you can see all of them listening intently to what he’s saying warms your heart. You can just tell Jongho is hanging on to every word.

“In fact,” he turns his attention to Jongho, “come with me.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement as you watch your father lead Jongho into his office right down the hallway, Mingi and Yunho following close behind.

“Oh, now look what you did,” your mother chuckles. “You know how much your father loves talking about his books. Those poor boys will be stuck in there for hours.”

“I heard that!” Nick calls out teasingly from inside the office.

“Believe me,” you grin. “I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”

“Well, when you’re done,” your mother casually raises her voice to include your father in this, “show those three around the house. It’s about time we give them all a proper tour.”

“I think I speak for all of us when we say that we would love that,” Hongjoong turns to smile at your mother, seeing how he’s just finished arranging the flowers in the vase and pushed them to the centre of the counter.

“Alright then,” she places the lid over the pot, turning down the heat on the stove to let the sauce simmer. “You three,” she points to San, Yeosang, and Hongjoong, “follow me."

In the blink of an eye, she’s leading the three of them towards the basement, chatting all the while.

You spare a look at both Wooyoung and Seonghwa, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. “Come with me."

Without another word, you’re leading the two of them upstairs.

Once you reach the top landing, you’re turning to look at the two of them. There’s a subtle quirk of your brow as your gaze shifts from one male to the other, mentally debating on if you actually need to show them around or not. They’ve probably seen it all before, anyways.

Wooyoung’s brow raises, amusement dancing on his features as he looks around. “So, Gorgeous. Are you going to show us around, or not?”

“I just figured you’ve seen it all before,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Surprisingly, we haven’t,” Seonghwa replies, and at the way he curiously looks around, you can tell he’s not lying to you.

“Alright then,” you turn back around. “Follow me.”

It takes you maybe all of five minutes to show them the majority of the upstairs. That is, until you only have one room left.

Anticipation claws at both Wooyoung’s and Seonghwa’s chest as you lead them into what they know is your room. Only, from what they recall of your memories, it’s completely different than they expect.

At the mild confusion lingering on their faces, you’re quick to speak.

“It’s been four years since that happened,” you begin, something tugging at the back of your mind. “My parents moved here two years ago.”

Recognition flashes on both of their features as they fully take in your room. Until scowls are pulling on both of their faces as they see what resides on your one wall.

“Honestly, I’m surprised my mom hasn’t taken these down,” you chuckle, looking over the few Taemin posters you have hanging on the one side of your room. “That, and I’m surprised someone hasn’t torn them to shreds.”

At the way you turn your pointed gaze towards your bed, the two cannot help but to chuckle.

There, laying on your bed with his front paws crossed over one another, lays Sammy, your parent’s cat. He has a smug look on his features as what appears to be a fuzzy blanket is bunched up on the end of the bed right beside him. His eyes haven’t left you since you’ve entered the room.

You cross your arms over your chest, a scoff escaping you in the next second. “Why am I getting the ‘welcome home, cheater’ treatment?”

The two males standing on either side of you laugh.

“It’s because you are,” Wooyoung chuckles, taking the time to lean against your desk at the side of the room.

You gasp, as if scandalized, “and here I thought what we had was special, Sammy.”

The moment those words escape you, he’s cooing, flipping onto his back and exposing his belly for you to come and give him scratches.

“Oh, I see how it is,” you chuckle, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. As soon as you start to pet his belly, he begins to purr. “Some belly rubs and all is forgiven, huh?”

“He is a simple man, with simple needs,” Seonghwa jokes, turning to study every inch of your room.

“He’s a Monkey, is what he is,” you begin to coo at Sammy, noticing how he stands back to his feet in the next second.

Laying back on your bed, Sammy is quick to crawl up your body, settling comfortably on your chest.

“Just like old times,” you grin, petting the cat happily as the two males watch on with nothing but affection dripping from their eyes. “Though, I’m surprised he didn’t come running to the front door as soon as I got here, or you guys for that matter. Probably having too much fun with his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

You vaguely motion to your scrunched up blanket laying at the end of the bed.

Understanding flashes across both of their features as Sammy jumps off of you and scurries from the room.

You sit up, resting on the edge of the bed. A look of nostalgia crosses your features as you take the time to look around your room.

“I may not have been here for long, but I do have some good memories of this place,” you smile faintly, taking note of your somewhat empty bookshelves scattered throughout the room. “Though, I think the majority of my jewelry is still- yep!”

Opening the topmost drawer on the left of your dresser which sits right in front of you beside your bed, you pull out a small box. Opening the lid, your eyes take in the sight of all of your necklaces tangled in one great pile, rings buried beneath some bracelets.

“I don’t think I’ve touched this stuff in years,” you smile faintly, putting the box on top of your dresser for now. “I really only ever wore a few pieces.”

Your eyes dart to your small jewelry tree on the far right of your dresser.

A gasp escapes you. “No way."

Standing quickly back to your feet, you’re quick to snatch what appears to be a ring hanging from a somewhat thick chain from the tree.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” you hum, gazing fondly at the item held in your hand as it sways slightly.

At the two curious gazes you can feel darting between the object in your hand and your face, you’re quick to grab another small ring off of the tree.

“A girl I used to know once got me two versions of the One Ring as a gift. One was this one,” you hold up the one on the chain, “and the other was this one.” A thinner version of the same ring is held in your fingers. “I always-“ you let out a small sigh through your nose. “I always planned to give this one,” you raise the chain slightly in your hand, “to my significant other, if I ever got one. Though, I don’t think I can split it into eight.”

“Then would you-“ Wooyoung clears his throat. “Would you keep the other one?”

“Yes,” you meet his gaze. “I always thought of it as having matching rings without the added concept of marriage attached to it.”

Seonghwa practically collapses on top of the small shelf you have at the end of your bed.

“Did you-“ he clears his throat. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

“Oh, sure,” you reply casually, placing the two items back on top of your dresser. “When I was younger, I would joke about it all the time. Though, as I got older, it didn’t really have the same appeal to me.”

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung pushes himself off of your desk in order to slowly begin making his way closer to you. He sits himself beside his brother, the both of them looking at you expectantly.

“To have a piece of paper be the sole reason you can even acknowledge the fact that you’re married to someone just doesn’t appeal to me.” You shake your head. “I don’t know if it’s different for you guys, but if we’re together, we’re together. If you call me your wife, then I’m your wife. I don’t need a piece of paper dictating what I mean to you. I’d still sign it if my significant other wanted me to, but I think it’s more meaningful to acknowledge what we are and determine what that is ourselves, than with a signature on a flimsy sheet of paper.”

“Not to mention if things didn’t work out, then you have to go through the whole trouble of filing for divorce.” You add. “At least without a marriage certificate you can just end things without the hassle. It’s just easier that way, I think.”

“So, if I wanted to start calling you wifey…?” Wooyoung grins cheekily, a wiggle to his brows.

“I won’t stop you,” you grin. “Like I said, there are other means of acknowledging being in a relationship that I prefer. The most important being how we define ourselves. That’s what really matters.”

“Okay, so if what I’m understanding is correct,” Seonghwa nods, a gleam in his eyes as a cheeky grin pulls onto his features. “We’re married now.”

“Woah, slow down there, Mars,” you chuckle, turning your attention back to your jewelry tree for the moment. “Let’s make it through some things first before we actually start talking about that.”

At the way you notice him pouting out of the corner of your eyes, you chuckle.

“I’m not saying ‘no’,” you meet his gaze. “Just not yet.”

The way they both visibly perk up has a smile pulling at your lips.

“Besides, I do have something to give each of you, now,” you grin, pulling two pieces of jewelry off of your tree.

Moving to step in front of them, you face Wooyoung first. A necklace seems to be held in your hands as you smile at him softly.

“May I?” Your voice is gentle as you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine, lips parting slightly as he nods.

Stepping into him, you’re quick to bring the thin chain up and clasp it around his neck. A soft smile rests on your features as you look down at the small replica of a belladonna flower staring back at you. At the way his hand comes up to gently grasp the flower in his fingers, gazing upon such a gem with such awe, you know you’ve chosen right.

“Beautiful, but deadly,” you hum, noticing how Wooyoung’s eyes flash in recognition almost instantly.

A moment later, and you’ve stepped away from Wooyoung in order to place yourself directly in front of Seonghwa. Gently, you raise a hand in front of him, motioning for him to give you one of his own.

A look of complete wonder rests in Seonghwa’s eyes as he places his hand softly in your own. He can feel his heart racing as you begin to slide a silver ring onto one of his fingers, your thumb stroking over the metal as soon as it’s in place.

Sparing a brief glance down, Seonghwa takes in the sight of a small diamond embedded within an etching of a brilliant star.

“Planets tend to outshine even the brightest of stars,” you hum, thumb tracing over the band of the ring once more.

Nothing but awe fills each of their gazes as they continue to stare at you. Their hearts race erratically within their chests, hearts swelling as a warmth floods their veins. This moment is so tender to them, so significant, that nothing could take away the pure, unfiltered joy coursing through their very souls at this point in time.

You are everything to them, and this only just proves it.

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all bask in this moment together. You take the time to lean into both of them, placing a tender kiss onto each of their foreheads in tandem, a smile gracing your features soon afterwards.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?” The teasing drawl of your mother’s voice catches your attention from the doorway.

You quirk a brow, “not at all.”

The four of them stand just inside your room, the three males looking around subtly. Again, you can see the distaste flash across their features, even if only briefly, at seeing the Taemin posters hanging on the side of the one wall. A fact of which that has your lips twitching upwards in the corners slightly.

“Looks like we finally caught up with you,” your father grins, stepping into the room with the final three males in tow.

The way Jongho still looks completely starstruck nearly has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Well, I’m sure we can leave these fine gentleman in our daughter’s capable hands for the moment,” your mother begins to usher your father out of your room. “Besides, I need to go check on the sauce.”

Nick’s words of protest die on his lips as both Wooyoung and Seonghwa stand back to their feet.

“We’ll join you,” Seonghwa says, already beginning to follow after your parents with Wooyoung right behind him.

Briefly, you notice the two of them share a glance with the six others who have just entered your room, and you just know they’re speaking with one another in their minds. A fact which is only confirmed when six gazes turn towards you as soon as the others have left.

“Good timing,” you grin, walking back over to your jewelry tree. “I have something to give each of you.”

“You do?” There’s a slight bit of pleasant surprise clinging onto Yunho’s words as they all watch you carefully.

“I do,” you confirm softly with a nod of your head, turning your gaze to meet his own for the moment. “I’ve already given Woo and Hwa theirs, so now it’s time for yours.”

Motioning Yunho closer with your finger, you turn to fully face him as he comes to stand in front of you. A gentle smile rest on your features as you hold your one hand out for him, watching as he places his own in your hold in the next second.

Sliding your touch up, you’re quick to clasp an intricate bracelet around his wrist. Soft blue gems glitter up at him as what appears to be a stem of forget-me-nots wrap around his skin.

“I know it can’t replace what once was lost, but it’s a start,” you squeeze his hand, gazing deeply into his eyes.

At the way his breath hitches, you know that he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“It’s more than enough,” he whispers lowly, eyes shining as he squeezes back.

Tenderly, you bring his hand up to your lips, placing a gentle kiss against his skin.

Yunho’s heart swells in his chest, a loving smile gracing his features. “Thank you, Petal.”

You nod, squeezing his hand one final time as he steps away. The way you can feel the other’s watching you carefully has your attention on them once more.

Just as Yunho begins to step away from you, you lock gazes with San across the room. With a motion of your head, he’s quick to begin making his way over to you.

“It’s a little on the nose, but I can’t picture it with anyone else.” You hum, turning briefly to grab another chain off of your jewelry tree.

Holding up the chain, an intricate trident pendant swings slightly in the air.

You meet his gaze, noticing how San comes to stand directly in front of you and blocks the others from your sight.

Wordlessly, you mouth ‘My Aquaman’ to him once more, noticing how a pleasant shiver trails up his spine as you move to clasp the chain around his neck. You’re sure a pleased growl would have escaped him, too, were it not for the current situation he finds himself in.

As soon as the clasp in in place, a brilliant smile is shining on his features. Almost immediately, one of his hands comes up to begin toying with the charm affectionately, staring down at it in awe.

Slowly, San begins to back away from you, and you meet gazes with the next male.

“Moonlight,” you smile softly, motioning him forward with one of your fingers.

Mingi steps towards you eagerly, a grin tugging on his features as he watches you grab another piece of jewelry from the tree.

Again, you present your hand, palm facing upwards, to him, and almost instantly, his own is placed in yours. Your fingers settle over his pulse, flipping his wrist as you wrap a leather bound bracelet around it. Once Mingi turns his hand back over, he nearly lets out a gasp in shock.

There, sitting against the back of his wrist, is an intricately carved silver crescent moon, swirl like designs hidden within. The leather straps holding it in place are a dark brown, almost black, tied securely around his wrist curtesy of you.

“Starlight,” his voice is but a breathless whisper on his lips.

“The stars cannot shine without their moon.” You smile faintly, meeting his gaze as you squeeze his hand.

He squeezes back, eyes shining with unshed tears as he steps away from you.

The next male you call over to you is the youngest, of whom is more than happy to make his way over to you as soon as you motion for him to join you.

On the necklace you hold up to him hangs an intricate charm of a book. Although small, the silver cover is carved with vines, a small clasp near the side.

“Open it.” You encourage, allowing the charm to dangle between the both of you.

Wordlessly, Jongho reaches forward, grasping that little silver book in his fingers. The moment he flicks the clasp open, his breath hitches in his throat. There, held within the book, rests a small diamond heart, hidden within the pages of the novel.

He meets your gaze, eyes shining with all the unspoken words he wants to say. Yet, he doesn’t have to, for you already understand.

Stepping forward, you’re quick to secure the chain around his neck.

A bashful smile tugs at his features as a blush begins to creep up his neck. Instantly, his fingers reach up to begin toying with the charm, thumb brushing over the little pendant as he slowly backs away from you.

The next male you turn to begins walking towards you as soon as you meet his gaze. A soft smile rests on both of your features as Yeosang comes to stand before you.

“I’ve had this one since I was small,” you say, turning briefly to pull another necklace from the tree.

Again, you meet his gaze, and you know you don’t even have to say anything else for him to understand how much this single piece of jewelry means to you. How much he means to you.

The treble cleft pendant is small, a diamond shining in the centre of the worked silver. You’ve had it since you started learning to play the piano, and you know that he knows just how significant this piece is to you. To the both of you.

Once the chain is clasped around his neck, you brush your fingers over the pendant lightly. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has a smile tugging at your features once more.

“Thank you, Dearest,” you can hear the emotions within his voice as he meets your gaze, eyes shining with that all too familiar love and fondness he always looks at you with.

A nod of your head is all he receives back, that same look of fondness shining within your eyes as you watch him step away from you for the time being.

Now, for the final male who stands directly in the centre of all of his brothers.

Locking gazes with him, a soft smile pulls at your features. That is, until your eyes are briefly darting around to the other five males standing around him.

“May we have a moment alone?” The words haven’t even finished leaving your lips when the other five are moving to exit your room.

“We’ll see you downstairs,” Yeosang sends one final smile your way before closing the door behind him on his way out.

Turning your gaze back to Hongjoong, you notice how he stands, somewhat nervously, by your desk. His hands are clasped in front of his body as he shuffles slightly from foot to foot, the faintest hue of red dusting the tips of his ears.

“At first, I wasn’t sure what to gift you,” you begin, noticing how his eyes briefly dart up to meet your own. “After all, what could I gift the man who has given me everything?”

“Your happiness and love are gifts enough, My Love.” He replies, and you can just hear the sincerity in his tone bleeding through.

You shake your head lightly, that soft smile of yours still pulling onto your features. “It took me a little while, but I cannot picture it with anyone else.”

“My Love?” His breath hitches ever so slightly as he sees you beginning to make your way over to him.

“Close your eyes.”

The moment those words leave your lips, his eyelids are fluttering shut. You can see how anticipation claws at him, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he hears you approaching him.

The sound of a chain rustling reaches his ears, and he cannot help the shiver that caresses his spine as he feels the ghost of your touch grace the sides of his neck. A moment later, and he feels a small weight settle on the skin of his upper chest.

“I have had many ideals about love, Hongjoong, and you have always managed to go above and beyond every single one of them. You all have.” Keeping your voice low, you bring a hand up to gently caress the side of his face. At the way he immediately leans into your touch, you smile. “Open your eyes.”

The first thing that greets Hongjoong’s gaze is your face, looking at him so tenderly as that soft grin tugs at your lips. He can feel his heart racing inside his chest as he notices your eyes glance briefly down towards the necklace you’ve just secured around his neck. Not just any necklace. A chain with the One Ring dangling from it.

Hongjoong’s breath gets caught in his throat, eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration and love as he meets your gaze. “My Love.”

“I’m sure you overheard me talking about this earlier,” you reply, somewhat knowingly.

“I did,” his voice comes out a little strained, choked by his emotions for the time being.

“Then you know how much it means to me, in more than one way.” Your thumb tenderly brushes against his cheek.

“I do.” He breathes, tears finally gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, My Love. This means everything to me. You mean everything to me.”

“Hongjoong,” you smile, meeting his gaze before leaning in and placing a tender kiss onto his forehead. Your next words are a mere whisper against his skin. “I believe you.”

A comfortable silence settles around the both of you as you continue to stare into one another’s eyes. The love you can see shining within his gaze sets your heart racing, a look you’re sure is mirrored in your own.

“Come on,” you grin, grabbing his one hand in your own. “Let’s go back downstairs before my mom starts to think we’re canoodling.”

The way his eyebrows raise in amusement has a chuckle falling from your lips.

“Canoodling?” The grin that pulls onto his features is nothing short of devious as his eyes flash.

“Now, don’t be getting any ideas, Captain,” the way you teasingly drawl out that one title of his has a pleasant shiver running down his spine. You lean in slightly, voice low as your breath tickles the shell of his ear, “we still have dinner to get through.”

The faintest of growls escapes his lips, and you can feel the way the grip he has on your hand tightens ever so slightly. Only, before he can so much as respond, you’re pulling away from him. A bright smile paints your features as you let out a faint giggle.

“Come on,” this time, you begin to tug him towards your closed door. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Leading him back out of your room, you’re quick to rejoin everyone downstairs. Of course, you do not fail to miss the way all eight of them all seem to be standing a little straighter, eyes gleaming with a newfound shine as your look around at all of them.

In fact, a few of them seem to be crowded around your mother’s side as San stirs the sauce for her. It looks like he’s even started getting the noodles ready to be cooked as she turns the page of whatever book they seem to be so engrossed in.

That’s when you realize just what they appear to be looking at.

“Oh, and this was when she was four and we had her taking ballet,” your mother points at a picture in the album. “They were dancing Swan Lake that year, it was so cute!”

“I didn’t realize she had taken ballet,” Wooyoung hums, a grin tugging on his features as he spares a glance towards you.

“Mom,” a slight panic to your voice.

“And this was her first birthday with cake all over her hair,” Kaitlyn coos, a knowing smile pulling at her lips as she meets your gaze.

“Mom, please,” your eyes go wide, feeling as Hongjoong quite literally slips through your fingers to go join his brothers peering over your mother’s shoulders.

“I tried to stop her, Sweetie, but you know how your mother gets with your baby photos,” Nick chuckles, crossing his arms lightly over his chest as he leans back against the counter.

You sigh, “unfortunately.”

“Oh!” Your mother squeals as she turns the page once more. “And this is when she dressed as a little lion cub for halloween when she was three!”

“Mother.” You’re torn between being completely mortified, and laughing in disbelief. You shake your head in defeat. “They were bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I think your mother’s just happy to finally be sharing them with the people you care about,” your father hums, nudging you slightly with his elbow as you rest beside him.

“You’re damn right I am!” Kaitlyn grins. “What is a mother’s job if not to embarrass her daughters in front of their significant others?”

“Now I know how Crystal feels,” you chuckle.

“Speaking of your sister, her and Vasco should be here soon.” Nick comments. “They’re a bit excited for today since we can’t do dinner together next week.”

“What’s next week?” You inquire casually.

“Well, I’m taking your mother out for a special dinner,” he replies.

“Right,” you nod, almost subconsciously. “It’s your anniversary next week.”

The words fall so easily from your mouth that you don’t even register them until you feel the stillness settle itself over the room. That’s when the reality of your situation is hitting you.

You can feel eight subtle glances directed towards you for the moment as you freeze in your spot. For a second, you swear you forget to breathe as your eyes zone in on the floor at your feet. With everything going on, the actual date seemed to have slipped your mind.

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, feeling eight gentle caresses against your void in tandem. You brush back.

“Thirty-five years, right, pops?” You turn your head, noticing how your father smiles as he meets your gaze.

“That’s right.” He confirms with a happy nod.

“Alright,” you push yourself off of the counter, meeting your mother’s gaze once more. “Is it tuned?”

Kaitlyn’s brow furrows slightly in confusion before recognition flashes within her eyes. “Actually, it was just tuned Friday.”

You smile faintly, “good.”

You barely make it three steps out of the kitchen before your father is calling your name, a slight confused furrow to his brow.

“How would you like to relive a memory, papa?” You turn to smile at him from over your shoulder, motioning for them all to join you at the front of the house.

At the way you notice the eight of them hesitating, you’re quick to reach out to them with your mind. You all can join us, you know. This one’s for you as much as it will be for them.

The moment your words echo throughout their minds, they’re all quick to join you. Of course, San briefly turns off the stove, shutting the fan off of the cooktop for the moment so as not to interrupt the scene that is about to occur. A fact of which earns him an approving nod from your mother, causing a subtle blush to creep up his neck.

There’s a giddy spring to your father’s step as he moves over to prop open the baby grand piano as you pull out the bench to sit. You see your mother step in beside him, the others surrounding you on either side. Still, you cannot help but allow your fingers to hover above the keys for a moment, hesitating.

The last time you saw a piano, you had been harshly thrown into it, the strings snapping against your skin. Even now, as you look down at the ivory beneath your hands, you cannot keep the memories from coming to mind.

A gentle hand is placed onto your back, and you turn your head to see Yeosang smiling softly down at you. There’s an undertone of concern hiding behind his eyes as his thumb tenderly rubs against the skin of your back, and you just know that he’s reminding you of what they’ve been telling you all throughout this past week.

They’re all right here. She cannot hurt you anymore.

Subtly, you nod your head, turning back to the piano in front of you. Again, eight gentle caresses are felt against your mind, soothing you even further as you flex your fingers out before placing them on top of the keys.

Turning your attention to your parents, you see them already gazing at you so fondly. Your father’s one arm is wrapped around your mother’s shoulder, just as her arm is wrapped around his waist.

“It’s been a while since I played this, so you’ll have to excuse any mistakes,” you smile lightly at them. “This one’s for you.”

The opening notes to Elton John’s Your Song begin to fill the house, transposed slightly in order to make the key more comfortable for your range when you begin to sing.

“Sweetie,” your mother’s awe filled voice reaches your ears as both your parents look on at you with awe.

The pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet as you begin to sing. Your voice echoes throughout the open space, comforting them all like a blanket with each note that you hit. A fact which makes their hearts all race in their chest as they register that this is for them, too.

Not even a second later, your father is extending his hand out to your mother in offering, a loving smile pulling at his lips. A hand of which your mother places her own in somewhat shyly.

Pulling her in closer, your parents begin to slow dance to the melody that you create for them with this meaningful song. Each cannot help the way tears gather in the corners of their eyes, reliving very special memories all the while as they get lost in each other’s embrace.

The moment you hit the chorus, you drop your void.

“I hope you don’t mind,” every single tender emotion you’ve ever felt towards all eight of them washes over their very souls at this moment in time.

“I hope you don’t mind,” all the love, happiness, affection, and fondness you have for them floods their sense, and each male cannot help the way their breaths hitch silently in their throats.

“That I put down in words,” you smile, heart swelling in your chest as you think of your eight Kings surrounding you at this very moment. You brush against their minds. “How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”

You only play the first verse and chorus, but you can just tell from the way your parents turn to look at you afterwards that it was more than enough. Especially when you notice your mother quickly bring her hands up to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you, Sweetie,” Nick’s voice is rough, choking slightly on his emotions as he meets your gaze. “That truly meant a lot to us.”

“It’s not every day you get to dance to your wedding song again, just like the first time,” your mother chuckles, eyes shining as she leans into your father’s side.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile at them.

“I don’t think we’re the only ones who enjoyed it,” at the way your mother’s eyes briefly dart behind you, you’re quick to turn around.

Eight tender gazes stare back at you, eyes shining with the emotions they cannot put into words for the moment. Emotions of which wash over you, seeing as you have yet to close your void to them yet. A fact of which makes you smile as you are once more surrounded by that familiar warmth you have come to experience with them, comforted by their love and affection just as you always are.

Again, you tenderly brush against their minds, of which they immediately brush back.

Standing from the bench, you’re quick to step out. A faint smile rests on your features as you move to stand beside Jongho for the moment who currently leans against the railing of the stairs for support.

Just as you go to say something the sound of the front door opening draws your attention. You hear the scraping of nails against the hardwood floor before you feel yourself being tackled to the ground, wet, slobbery kisses being placed all over your face.

“Wes!” You giggle, attempting to catch your breath after getting the air knocked out of you. “Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Wes!” The booming command of your sister’s voice reaches your ears, and immediately, the dog is sliding off of you. “No jumping!”

“It’s okay, he’s just-“ the words die in your throat as you sit up to see your sister being helped through the door by Vasco.

The catch in your breath is noticed by all as your gaze settles in on Crystal’s stomach, swollen and round. The way you can see her smiling at you softly, your mother practically beaming out of the corner of your eyes, has you on your feet in an instant.

“Surprise,” she breathes, watching as you come to stand before her as Vasco gently shuts the front door behind them.

“You- I-“ you blink, fresh tears springing to your eyes as you take in her figure standing before you. You laugh, nothing but pure joy pulling at your features as the first of your tears begin to slide down the side of your cheeks. “You’re pregnant.”

She nods. “I am.”

“I’m going to be an aunt,” you voice, gaze darting between her stomach and her eyes.

“You are,” she confirms, her own voice now slightly rough as her emotions wash down upon her, too. “Again.”

You fall to your knees, hands hesitant in touching her stomach. That is, until you see her smiling down at you, a subtle nod to her head.

Gently, you place your hands on her stomach, fingers trembling all the while.

“I swear to you,” you begin, keeping your tone low as you meet her gaze all the while. “For as long as I shall live, no harm will ever come to this little one.”

You fail to see the way eight males straighten ever so subtly behind you, for they know that those words you have just spoken are true. They will do whatever they can in their power to make sure that you keep your promise, protecting that child as if it were their own. After all, it’s exactly what you would want. It’s exactly what you are going to do.

Your sister places a tender hand on top of your head, humming all the while. “I know.”

Softly, you lean forward to rest your forehead against her stomach, feeling the way your sister places her hands atop your shoulders. She gives you a reassuring squeeze, revelling in this tender moment with you as her sister, the meaning deeper than either of your parents will ever realize.

“Now, are you gonna sit there on the floor all day, or are you going to introduce me to your mystery lovers here?” The teasing drawl of Crystal’s voice manages to catch your attention.

“You caught me,” you sigh, a chuckle falling from your lips as you move to wipe your eyes.

“I knew it!” She jeers, practically pulling you back onto your feet in the next second. “Vasco, didn’t I keep telling you that she was probably hiding more than one mystery lover?”

At the way she turns eagerly to her husband standing beside her, you can just tell that you’ve been the topic of many conversations regarding this.

“You did, Honey,” Vasco chuckles.

“Let’s see,” Crystal hums. “Just how many of there are you.”

You quirk a brow in amusement, watching as she nods her head as she counts off each male.

Her eyes widen significantly. “Eight! There’s eight of you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you huff slightly, a teasing quirk to the corner of your lips.

“Blink twice if she’s paying you,” Crystal leans forward slightly, arms spread as if to hold you back at a moment’s notice.

“Crys!” You complain loudly, shooting her an exasperated look in the next moment.

“I’m just teasing you,” she chuckles, flinging an arm around your shoulders in the next second. “After all, what are big sisters for?”

“And here I was going to play you a song,” you hum, amusedly.

At the way her eyes nearly bug out of her head, she’s quick to begin apologizing. “You can still play me a song! I promise I won’t joke anymore!”

“You just missed her performing for us a few minutes ago,” your father adds, somewhat knowingly.

“Well, now you have to play for us!” Crystal states, matter-of-factly. “It’s not fair of you to deny little Elijah a chance to hear his aunt perform when she’s offering.”

“You’re having a boy?” Your eyes shine as you meet your sister’s gaze.

She nods, and immediately you wrap her in your arms. A hug of which she eagerly returns.

“He’s coming home.” She whispers lowly in your ear, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

A few moments later, you pull away, staring deeply into her eyes. Gently, you bring your hands down to grasp hers in your own, guiding her over to the piano. Carefully, you help her sit in the chair closest to the bench, giving her knee a light squeeze once she’s settled.

Not even a second later, Vasco comes to stand beside her.

For the second time that day, you settle yourself onto the bench, fingers hovering over the ivory. Your heart swells, and you find yourself taking a deep breath in.

With the first chord you play, you immediately begin to sing. The soft tune of Marianas Trench’s Forget Me Not fills the air, and the longer you perform, the more you find yourself glancing at your sister out of the corner of your eyes.

“I’m here to remind you, what’s lost is never gone,” you meet her gaze, and you hear her breath hitch as you do so.

You blink, facing forward once more.

“I’m not ready for what’s to come,” again you brush against those eight strings within your mind, letting them know that this song is for you as much as it is for her.

“But I wanted you to know, I still need you, my friend,” you smile faintly, hearing her breath hitch once more as understanding flashes within her gaze. “From the line to amend, to the cradle again.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your parents holding onto one another as they watch this scene unfold before their very eyes. Tears line their vision, one already making its way down the side of your mother’s cheek.

“If memories are shadows, we’d best not waste the light.” Too many painful memories threaten to consume you, reminding you of all of your darkest times. Yet, beneath all that darkness, there is still hope. A golden hue that shines through with all the good memories you have, with all of them.

“I know you’re not quite here, but you’re not quite gone,” you will always hold onto your memories, even the bad ones. A sentiment that you know your sister shares as the first of her tears begin to trail down her face. “Sometimes the night gets darkest before the dawn.”

The only sound that can be heard throughout the house is you, the piano accompanying you accentuating your voice and the notes that you play. The song encompasses everything you wish to say to your sister and her unborn child, but also to yourself and your Eight Kings. You know the future is uncertain, and you know the road will be difficult, but you’ll get through this. Together. One step at a time.

“Life’s too short but the end is so long.” The final notes trickle out, softly ringing through the air as you still your hands over the keys once more.

The sound of your sister sniffling draws your attention to her and you turn your head to see her practically clinging onto Vasco for dear life. Her lower lip wobbles, hand coming up to wipe at her eyes frantically before meeting your gaze.

Everything she wants to say to you, you can see in her eyes. The gratitude, the understanding, but most of all, the love you can see shining within her gaze as she looks at you comes through clearly. A fact of which that has you smiling softly, the subtlest of nods to your head in acknowledgment as warmth floods your chest.

Eight tender caresses brush against your mind, and you let them in.

A content hum escapes your lips as their emotions wash over you for the moment. Shamelessly, all eight of them share with you exactly how you have just made them feel, for watching you, hearing you perform for them like this, means more to them than you’ll ever know. The fact that you have trusted them with such an intimacy which also reflects moments shared with your family has warmth flooding their veins, hearts pounding erratically within their chests.

“What a first impression I must be making,” Crystal jokes, drying her eyes. “Here I am sobbing in front of your significant others, and I don’t even know their names yet.”

You chuckle, a soft, teasing quirk to your lips, “what are younger sister’s for?”

“They’re staying for dinner, so there’ll be plenty of time for proper introductions then,” Nick adds, soothingly rubbing a hand over your mother’s back seeing as she’s finally calmed down for the moment.

You stand, moving to rest between Yunho and Seonghwa. Even though you’re only standing beside the two males, you can feel them all surrounding you, offering you comfort yet again in their own ways.

You smile.

“So,” your mother clears her throat, clapping her hands once to catch everyone’s attention, “who’s hungry?”

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