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THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE IS THRILLING, AND I CAN'T TAKE MY EYES OFF IT. jade leech

♛: It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia. Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

tags: mind manipulation, emotional constipation, pining, not actually unrequited love, pop culture refrences, manga & anime, male-female friendship, board gmae club (twst), fights

Azul and the word ‘mistakes’ are oil and water. They keep themselves separated from one another, boundaries drawn quite clearly. Though it has been his pride since his first year attending Night Raven College, Azul cannot always be there during its operating hours. Schedules eventually collide and two events overlap. And though it was an honest mistake of Azul’s to forget a club meeting, Jade was surprised to see which had reigned more important to his house-warden's attention.

“Keep a keen eye on the bar. Most tables are already in rotation for waiters. I do not anticipate any unruly customers this evening,” Azul says, folding the scarf five times in his arm.

Dorm coat draped on his chair and dorm hat rested on the hanger, it seems evident that Azul will actually be leaving. Of course, Monstro Lounge has managed to sail without her captain. It has perhaps experienced a few scratches in the helm but nothing more. Truthfully, the worst she had suffered was under the hand of her own captain during his incident. Jade smiles at the memory: tables splintered down the middle, a flower field of glass shards, dehydrated fish upon the marble floor. Since then, nothing that they cannot handle! But still Jade wants to push, just a bit!

“And if we have the misfortune of taking in an unamiable student?”

It is unlikely to happen. Today is a Tuesday, they are not in the middle of any exam season and no holidays are around the corner. Today is perhaps one of the most quotidian days of the year.

“The same old, same old, you know. Call in Floyd if you need assistance. No stains this time.”

“And if Floyd is wrapped up in something else? Would you really leave me here, with no protection?” Jade puts his fingers to his lips and bats his eyelashes once. “Poor and unfortunate me.”

Azul makes his way to the door and fixes him with a glare. “No stains this time,” he repeats.

“Of course.”

Jade lifts a hand to push the bridge of Azul’s glasses up. How entertaining it is when he bristles under the slight touch. Scoffing, Azul leaves his office to the roaring waves that await him. The eelmer giggles as his captain abandons the ship. And when an hour later, a customer gets short with him at the bar, Jade is benevolent enough to remember the little pledge of his and simply wrings the breath out of him with his own tie instead of anything more drastic. However, the customer falls limp off his stool and Jade judges this might be the best time to retrieve their captain.

He puts down the drink for the Diasomnia student’s friend. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere ~” his tone is saccharine but his grin is venomous. And the terrified student does not dare to move an inch as Jade abandons the ship.

It is very unusual for something other than profit to capture Azul’s attention. What matters most to Azul is coins and contracts, then whatever monetary profit that he can squeeze from each item. Perhaps a game of poker that he is betting on would prove more profitable than a mostly uneventful Tuesday in the lounge. But, valuable time spent playing board games? Jade surmises that is a bit strange of his housewarden. He takes a right turn down the college’s hallway.

The Board Game Club’s meetings were typically Wednesday, but the designated classroom for the club was empty both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Perhaps they bummed up the date of the club meeting because of a riveting match of Sorry. Not that Jade himself would get the appeal. To each their own. He takes another right.

Jade guesses that Azul won’t be too upset by his disturbance. If that fae student had simply refrained from species targeted insults and focused his animosity towards his drink being made wrong, it would have been smoothed over. Not that Jade made his drink; as rare as mistakes are from Azul, they are even rarer from Jade Leech. He takes a left and opens the clubroom door.

His eyes widen momentarily before his typical expression returns. Jade expects to be met with a crowd of people that he would have to navigate through to locate Azul. But the place is desolate besides the table where Idia Shroud and Azul reside. And as Jade is an observative person, he does not fail to notice the claymore resting on the table’s edge. His skin buzzes. Oh are you perhaps –The thought is snipped when he feels a ruffle of limbs push through the space made by himself and the corner of the door. He lowers his gaze to apologize when his eyes widen much larger than before.

“Excuse me, Jade,” you move deeper into the clubroom, a bowl of watermelon in your hands.

“No, my apologies, Prefect,” Jade assures and places a hand over his heart to cover the wrinkles in his purple dress-shirt. Are his clothes wrinkled? He had not even considered checking after incapacitating that Diasomnia student. He straightens his already straight posture and discreetly pats his clothes down. Gloved hand over his breast, he can feel that quivering rabbit pace of his organ.

Diligently, he follows after you. “Have you switched from Track & Field to Board Games this semester?” It is unexpected of you. You had only ever missed one of the twenty-six Thursday club meetings due to an illness. Perhaps, your physical prowess was complete and you were focusing upon intellects. If that is the case, he could tutor. His strong suit was not board games but with a mind that is always mapping out the second or third steps of a plan, he could prove to be quite of use. Would you use him? Should he ask you if you –

“No, I'm still running at Track. But, today is the final day of the big Idia versus Azul showdown,” you place the bowl of watermelon down on the table. “To be frank, I think both of them are liars and this will go on till graduation.” You take your seat … to Jade’s displeasure, in a chair shoulder to shoulder with Idia Shroud.

“Oya, knowing them both, I’d wager you might be correct, Prefect,” Jade smiles despite your seat. “Have you –”

“Jade.” His organ quiets down, regaining the typical pace of a wolf rather than a rabbit. “Did I not put you in charge of the lounge today,” and though Azul smiles, he has just barely managed to leash the snarling beast of aggression that wants to make itself known on his face.

“Oh yes, but you see, there has been a complication. I endowed the lounge to Floyd for the time being. Perhaps, we should switch positions?”

False kindness melts off his face as Azul groans into his gloved hand. Jade notes it is odd of him to release his guard in front of you. To show genuine dissatisfaction, unhear of. Idia, he can understand as Idia seems to be the only one Azul finds on equal standing but you? Have you two perhaps gotten closer? “Not necessary. I will take care of it.”

“Rung in a friend to avoid losing Azul-shi, fufufufu,” Idia grins. “What a cheat~”

Azul sends Idia a glare. “Nothing of the sort. I’ll get this matter sorted then we shall continue. Unless … you would like to phone in an excuse to prolong your inevitable downfall? Ortho perhaps?”

“Damn, and it was just getting riveting.”.

“Can you really call a game of Monopoly riveting,” Idia asks you.

“Well, not riveting in like the terms of Evo Moment 37 but riveting in like entering the basement in RE: Biohazard. The anticipation of it all,” you defend. Idia chuckles at the comparison. However, the laugh is snipped by Jade’s irate voice.

“Don’t worry, Prefect. I shall return Azul so he may defeat Idia shortly.”

Idia shrinks back at being acknowledged by one of the twins. He puts a cube of watermelon in his mouth to avoid carrying on conversation. You, everlastingly polite, supply both vice housewarden and housewarden with a wave. “Looking forward to it.”

Jade flashes you a smile. A tiny centipede of teeth wiggling on his pale features. Teeth that are sharp enough to bite into steak like dull human teeth bite into whip-cream. And despite his unnatural teeth that unnerve others, your lips inch up a slight bit. As they say their own goodbyes, you hum and return to analyzing the Monopoly board too. Outside the door, Azul turns towards Jade sharply. Where Jade’s teeth are razor-edged, Azul’s glare is of a similar caliber.

“There are no stains, just as promised. Aren’t I too good to you?”

“You’re comparable to a splinter.”

“Fufufufu, so cruel, Azul.” The words hardly mean anything. It was an unexpected but welcome surprise to see you. Perhaps, Jade could even manage shrinking off the responsibility of Mostro Lounge to return and spectate with you. Yes, that sounds ideal.

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Jade did not get to return to the club meeting nor was the scolding from Azul pleasant. If Jade was more impressionable like Floyd, he would have spent the last two days sulking around. But his brother is who he is and Jade is who he is. So, he continues along seemingly unbothered.

Jade did thrive in observation, however. Collision of two stars was too ephemeral; Jade preferred being the satellite, influencing slowly. Glimpses of you fed him until today where he could feed you. Of course, he would not deprive himself of food either. The returning violetish-red heat of the lava lamp of blood under your skin, hand, and fingers, passing by him to grab another serving. That pleasant burn of your body heat would soon return to him tonight.

He had attempted various times for you to open up about your interests. They were as successful as trying to get a flower to bloom during the off-season. You wilted at the emotional tweezers snapping at your petals. Resolutely, you bite your tongue. Though, he admired your foresight to never reveal too much. He still remembers three weeks ago that you had mumbled into your hand “, no, you wouldn’t find my interests all that interesting.” And Jade should have denied that acquisition or at least persuaded you otherwise. But he predicted that if he had pushed, it would have revealed his hand of cards. Instead of balancing a bit of mushroom on his fork, he would have been balancing his poor, unfortunate heart on the prongs. He too had the foresight to never reveal too much.

So while he took great delight in your shared Thursday nights, you two were crashing into an inevitable pause. But, no, he should focus on cooking. After Track and Field, body hot and stomach empty, you dragged sore feet to Mostro Lounge all to see him. He provided free food and you provided the conversation. And if you stop providing conversation, he’d resolve to beguile your pretty tongue.

Afterall, you were a busy student. You made the choice he was worthy enough for your time. Jade was no stranger to the value of that ticking march. So the conversation too must become valuable as what fills your stomach, or Jade would be seen as an inadequate provider.

The timer dings. Putting down his pen, Jade crouches to the mouth of the oven. You are unexpectedly optimistic about trying new foods — a trait both of you share that makes him more endeared towards you. He pulls the mushroom lasagna from the steel tongue.

Unlike Azul and Floyd, you will humor him in trying his mushroom-themed plated meals at least one. At the very start, he tested you and put a slightly paralyzing type of mushroom in both of your portions. Your reaction was amusing, poking at the dead pink member with fork prongs, seeing if you would start to slur certain letters, not the least bit unnerved. Perhaps, you thought it unintentional because you did return the following week. You even made intriguing observations on the meals he served you. Enoki blooms: you compared those to coral reefs. Hen-of-the-wood mushrooms: you compared those to a dissected brain.

Jade is delighted to hear your pending reaction about tonight's dish, cutting into the pasta. You should be here soon.

Once the dish is sliced and portioned, he moves to check the voices coming from Mostro Lounge. Some unorganized customers? Some intruders? He keeps the cutting knife on him, concealing it behind his back. Cannot have you getting you harmed by any brutish students, though with that sword on you, you should be — hm. Oh, you are here!

Under the gleam of the lounge’s cobalt lightning, you look riveting. Stubborn droplets of sweat remain on your biceps and cheeks but it does not subtract from the sight of you. Your forearm muscle slightly bulges as you hold your sword’s handle to your hip. As you talk with whoever is on the other side of the entrance, you slightly straighten up. Jade wonders if something is wrong and tightens his once relaxed hold on the knife. However, the grip is nothing to the tremendous squeeze he gives the knife upon hearing your huffing snickers.

Now who was making you —

“No, I promise! Gojo’s feats can walk Diavolo like a dog.” You start forming words around a laugh. “When Diavolo looks into the future, he’s gonna see the strongest sorcerer kicking his ass.”

The other voice starts growing louder, so you join along. “Dude! I swear! — No, Jotaro is not winning! He literally has infinity, no JoJo is beating him — But you can’t! Wait! Hahaha, Joseph and Gojo would be drinking instead of fighting — Come on, Dio is not winning that.”

You are so caught in power-scaling that Jade’s presence surprises you. Muscles bulging, you jump slightly as an aerial voice sings, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too pressing. Am I, Prefect?”

Jade has both of his hands on the door frame. Faithful cutting knife still clutched in his dominant hand, he crowds over you. His body bent forward, left foot toes tapping on the ground. A weaker individual would have swooned or shivered at the lack of distance between his chest and your skull. His presence engulfs and swallows you like you are Jonah sitting like a pill on the whale’s tongue.

Instead of shivering or swooning, you relax and answer, “No, just some power-scaling between Idia and I.”

Smile dropping, Jade turns his focus onto the eldest Shroud. He had not realized the two of you were so close. What meets Jade’s glare is just the floating tablet that Idia uses. And though he is safe in Ignihyde, a full body shiver spiders its way through Idia’s bones. Despite his polite smile, Jade’s eyes are two coals of vexation.

Is that a knife in his hand! All the blood drains from Idia’s already moon white face.

“Hm, power-scaling. How interesting. Is that a method of testing your own strength against one another?”

“Um, close. It’s more like between,” but you slowly trail off and do not finish your sentence.

“Ah, you’ll have to tell me more over this lasagna I prepared. Mushroom ragu and prosciutto cotto. The pasta sheets are even handmade.”

“Hah, yeah I will. Um, Idia, I—“

“I’m afraid I only have enough servings for two.” That is a lie. There are enough servings to provide you and Grim a week’s worth of dinner. There is a second lasagna already tinfoiled for you that you will be taking home.

He knows your routine to prepare protein meals. He also knows that Dire Crowley provides low income that makes meat a rare treat instead of what it truly is, an everyday diet necessity. And though you two at ten P.M. will go through the same dance of ‘oh, i can’t accept this much food’ and ‘I insist’, Jade smiles at the thought of cornering you once again into taking his cooking home.

“A-ah, that’s completely fine. I have to run maintenance with Ortho. I’ll see you around, Prefect?”

“Yes, yes, see you, Idia.”

“Bye bye~” When you are not looking, Jade reveals the front gallery of his teeth. Thin lips pushing up and up to give Idia a warning smile rather than a winning smile.

Intelligent Idia Shroud employs the unused emergency motor to make a swift escape.

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To be honest, one of Jade’s favorite days is the day of Azul’s overblot. Unfathomably cruel, others would criticize if they knew. Trey might even shrink away from the friendly terms they established; Jade smiles at an image of uneasiness etched on the baker’s face. Though Azul’s foundering had been entertaining, it was not the fondest memory of that day. No, it had been you. You and your scrambling friends. You and your sword. You and your wrath.

You always had that claymore on you. Perhaps even more commonly than you were seen with Grim. Snaked around your waist with a baldric, no matter where you spent your time, it stayed. It was an extension of your body.

Jade came to learn much about it through honed investigation. One: you acquired it from Sam’s Shop after Riddle Roseheart’s overblot. Two: it was prematurely infused with magic to give the user support, ideal for some magicless as yourself. Three: it had a blessing put upon it by Malleus Draconia, making it unbreakable. Jade’s mood had soured quite some time ago from unearthing the third fact. Though his own magic was not on par with the prince, he would have bled and forgo sleep if it meant he could add a spell you wanted added to your claymore. To protect you, he melts at the thought.

Despite that, it was still magnificent seeing you work with your sword. Raw, nude desperation to attack each movement. If you missed one counter, you would suffer far most of all. Jade mourns that you had not actively participated in the fight against him and Floyd in the Coral Sea. Your physical prowess was both elegant and gauche. You reminded him of a shark-mer locking onto the smell of blood but you reminded him too of a struggling seal with its neck between a shark-mer jaws. Winning and losing. Volatile in every swing that you did. Most people were at the very least stunned when seeing his mismatched eyes; however, they were nothing compared to the color of yours. Two moons trapped in red skies. When Azul had thrown your body into Mostro Lounge’s centerpiece aquarium, you had broken a blood vessel in your eye and it only made you more irresistible. Watching your stumble, crawl, limp back to your claymore, past the flower field of glass and starry night skies full of dehydrated, dead fish, lifting back up your secondary arm and yelling out in pure wrath, “ Azul Ashengrotto!”

He shivers at the memory and almost drops the glass he was polishing.

Yes, you had acted as splendid entertainment that day. When both Ramshackle and the photograph were temporarily taken, your eyes were weak. You glared at him and Floyd but it was a childish glare. The hardened stare of a child who had gotten their favorite bear taken away by an adult or older sibling. A powerless yet vexed look. You were pitiful and laughable to Jade before the hour of Azul’s overblot.

But since then, Jade had yet to see any of it resurface. Not that that disappointed him. As you had already caught his eye, he would be even harder to shake off than Floyd. He was going to remain. A flea that can only be torched off and, in removal, singe the skin it has burrowed into.

Sighing, Jade put the last polished glass up on the bar-shelf. Enough reminiscing. He keeps remembering those bright, evocative sclera and iris, he will be forced to retire to his room and take care of a physical burden. Now, next Azul wanted the aquarium whipped down, then I should check upon Floyd’s process in the kitchen. So much to be done. As Jade crouches to grab the window cleaner, he realizes one essential thing.

He never wants you to look upon anyone but him. It’s a desperate, unattractive yearn in him. If he could capture your precious face in his hands, eyes tilted up towards him, glaring, it would feed him to the fullest he had ever known.

──────────────────

Idia tries to keep his physical presence in school down to one time per week. If it is a good week, he physically enters Night Raven College zero times. If it is a terrible week, he steps foot on college ground twice.

This week has been horrible to Idia. He entered the college once each week for the Board Game Club. The rules he and Azul mapped out stated that both of them needed to handle the dice with their own flesh and blood to avoid a cheating move. Then, he is entering Night Raven College a second time to retrieve the paperwork from Dire Crowley on Winter Break preparation. Today Ortho’s ancient curses exam was keeping him busy. Oh, woe is him. All of this grows into pulling the blue of his lips into a desolate frown. His glum mood is already making him anticipate the worst to come.

“Just get this done as quickly as possible” he mutters through gritted teeth .

His anxious nature makes him more susceptible to what he knows is going to go wrong. It is written all in the air. It’s coming. It is the end of the world, armageddon and doom’s day. It is the feeling of walls closing all around. It is like missing on a pre-order sale of a figure you had coveted for months! It’s coming. Crashing right into Idia.

Jade places a hand on his shoulder and Idia fights with the sudden numbness in his legs. “Idia Shroud. How fortunate of me to have run into you.”

Sevens, please hear Idia, and let his death be swift and please don’t let anyone see his browser history. Amen.

“Classroom 3-B is void currently. Come.” Not like Idia has much choice. The door clicks behind them. Shivers convulse in Idia as Jade pushes him to sit down at a desk.

The look on Jade's face is deadly. Shadows cut and slice over his oily pointed features. Almost Rembrandt-like, the darkness on his face is painted by the jaw of the light overhead. The intensity of his glare would cause even wool to ignite in seconds. His eyes glimmer like yellow embers or olive beetles of hate hate hate. Idia could envision smoke starting to float up from his eyelids with the fire they held within. The housewarden is glad for the seat because his legs are numb now. Terror pins him down as Jade calculates.

This might not be effective, Jade surmises. Idia Shroud is a third year student, advanced in magic studies, and sometimes resistant to magical attacks. But – an image of your wrathful eyes appears in his head. But he had calculated all the risks beforehand, plan after plan, for days. Manipulating his premature failures to even turn into successes. Idia Shroud was a skittish individual, if his resolve was shaken then he could win this battle, here on the stage.

Jade slams his hands down to the desk. The sound will disrupt his mental fortitude. One of his gloved hands striking out to grab Idia’s face in a vice grip, he pulls his mug forward. The close proximity will unnerve the touch averse housewarden. With his index and thumb, he pulls the blue shaded skin of Idia’s eyelids. “Shock The Heart.”

Jade waits with bated breath. Searching in the housewarden’s face for a twitch or spasm. He cannot feel if his magic was effective, which wasn’t too surprising, but … “What are your opinions on the Ramshackle Perfect?”

“Hm? (Name)?” Jade’s eyes turn sharper. He still can’t gauge if Idia is influenced by his unique magic. Yet, as panic settles in, the word vomit that Idia drools out is satisfactory enough.

“Um, well! They’re kind of stoic and standoffish but really staunch too. Energy is trying way too hard to be ‘mysterious’. And they don’t make friends easily because of it. But they’re great! You know, Mifune from Soul Eater and Teresa of the Faint Smile, totally their kins.”

Kins? Are you perhaps related to someone that he hasn’t heard of? The thought of missing information about you vexes him. His grip tightens up on Idia’s face and his lips are squeezed together, hushing his sentence.

“Do they have relatives in Twisted Wonderland?”

“N-No, they have no family in Twisted Wonderland.” Idia speaks through the hole in his squished lips.

“Hm, then who are you comparing them to?”

“Anime characters. Ones that stand on business. Same personality and same True Neutral Myers-Briggs type. They both wield swords and their strength is unnatural.”

Yes, Jade knows this. Impatience burns his skin. He knew because when you and Jack Howl had been helping around the lounge by proxy of your trio of friends, you had broken off a bit of a table in your hand with the ease of snapping a graham cracker. Your unexplainable strength was perfect for you surviving in the Coral Sea. And he knew you wield a sword, anyone with eyes knew!

You were stoic, loyal, and strong. All of this Jade knew because he had been observing you!

His unique magic might not hold for too long with Idia. He needs information that is new and valuable, or else he will be stuck with prodding Ace or Deuce or either of their acquaintances for information. Already, Jade had calculated out how to talk to you and get you two on friendly terms. Thursday’s meals, offering help with botanical garden exams, and being ready to assist. All that paled in comparison to the friendly terms settled between you and Idia. What did he have, that spineless housewarden? If intellect was the key to your heart, Jade had that and then some.

His nose scrunches at the question he is about to ask. “What does the Ramschakle’s Prefect find … desirable in people?” What do they look for in a mate? If anyone knew, it would be Idia or that senseless trio.

“Formal with ulterior motives. They’re totally into your character archetype. Really gets them going. Shit, last week, they were being super cringe and ranting about the Falling Devil when she –” Idia luckily stops himself when he sees the startling intensity that Jade is staring at him with.

Was this perhaps … a code of sorts?

“My character archetype?”

“Your personality is appealing to them,” Idia seems to gag around the next word “, ugh, romantically. A normie crush”

Idia immediately regrets his words. Because as the spell starts to splinter off him, his brain returning, the look he is confronted with is even more terrifying. Idia panics that he might be in the hands of the more openly unhinged twin because Jade’s face is split ear to ear in a wide grin.

“Fufufufu, is that so~”

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Night Raven College’s beauty is most prominent to you during the night. Up the stairs, down the hallways, into the Hall of Mirrors, there is an inkling of hypnotizing beauty in a college that is otherwise a pain in your ass. Burning cat eyes of lanterns dance on the top strip of walls. Marble statues in the Hall of Mirror seem to shine, oily in their strict features. Mostro Lounge is exceptionally gorgeous with its low cobalt lights.

As winter draws nearer, days shorten. You have gradually lost the fear of walking alone at night. Everything that went bump in the night seemed trivial in the face of a rose tyrant or dethroned lion. You felt what bruises on bones felt like. That causes anyone’s well of fear to eventually dry up.

So, stepping into Mostro Lounge, you are quite surprised when a tiny droplet of fear falls on the tip of your nose and rakes down your body. Because, well, the scene in front of you is quite startling.

This can’t be – No, it’s definitely not.

What catches your eye is not the company. The company, though weirdly dressed, is expected. You are fearful of the way all but one of Mostro Lounge’s booth-table has been cleared away to Sevens knows where. On the tabletop rests a delicate medusa lamp. The five heads are nude fluorescent bulbs blown to the shape of jellyfish. Plates and silverware for two are present too. Even a tea kettle has joined the group. Why won’t you two be sitting at the bar like usual?

You try to shift your attention to the meal in the center, avoiding what you do not want to acknowledge. From this distance, it perhaps looks like a type of filet of steak or chicken. Something you have never tried before obviously. You try to distinguish what mushrooms were used. Maybe if you focus all your attention on that, you can avoid it. Steam still rises from the plate. And your foolish eyes follow the gray wisps up to the nightmare. A vase of red roses decorates the frightening table – coincidentally or purposefully? Your favorite flowers. Roses still are your favorite despite Riddle’s overblot. You had only told your Heartstlabyul friends that.

Trying not to panic, you decide to look at your company, especially since he is approaching you.

Usually, Jade stuck with his student uniform despite how late you two kept each other. Personally, you hated peeling off layers to change at night. But tonight, he has switched his attire for a simple button-up and his usual slacks. His tie and gloves are still on but his sleeves are rolled up. In your scan, you notice he is wearing Floyd’s Santoni charcoal gray shoes.

You look past Jade, trying to gauge if you can grab that chicken or steak and make a run for it. Tragically, Jade is already in front of you. You innerly grumble because you know Track and Field has mostly drained you of most of your energy. Well, nothing you can do now.

Hand over his heart, the eel-mer greets you with his polite, trained smile. “How lovely of you to make it tonight, Prefect. You look quite breathtaking.” He closes his eyes and hums at you. Trying to appear less predatorily? You remain tight-lipped but the silence does not deter him. Instead, he scoops your callous hand and presses a kiss to it. “I have prepared a, let’s say, compulsive meal tonight that I would be honored to share with you.”

EW! You repress a shiver quickly. “So-sounds good.” Jade drops your hand and, once he is turned, you quickly scrub the kiss off on your sweats. This isn’t what you think it is – It’s a mind-game of Jade’s and you love deciphering those. Try to enjoy it, (Name), the inner voice scolds.

You follow and take your seat when he gestures at it with one hand. Still standing, he begins to cut up the portions of your shared meal. Ah, so it is chicken and typical field mushrooms.

“I believe I have already disclosed this information to you, but please let me continue, Prefect.” He grabs your plate and starts filling it. “Agaricus campestris, known by many as field mushrooms, actually share a resemblance with one of the deadliest mushrooms, amanita phalloides. It has been used in many assassins attempts. It has snatched the life of a Pope, Roman Emperor, and a Russian tsaritsa.” Returning your plate, full of half of the main course’s field mushrooms, he reaches out to fix a bit of your hair. “How cleverly deceitful Mother Nature can be, yes?”

Okay, this is more like it! Though Jade is certainly acting more Jade-like tonight, you can deal with this in stride. You refrain from lifting up your fork as he starts to fill his own plate. “Mother Nature certainly has a sense of humor that is both sycophantic and prepotent. She is such a whore.”

Jade openly laughs at that. Finishing his own portion, he sits and continues, “I think she is giving her subjects a word of warning. Those who don’t finish their food will taste death.”

Your first hint? No, it is too early and you should not jump like a humping dog on every word of Jade’s. “Even she plants her roses with thorns. Her prettiest creation even bites. That warning that she will certainly turn on you, eventually. She would take her tea with both poison and honey. Don’t you think, Jade?”

“An astute image of her. ‘Mad honey’ and regular honey on her spoon. Would you perhaps like to try the blend tonight before we feast?”

“Of course,” you chirp. As he pours you a cup, you continue, “Tonight’s blend won’t happen to be roasted oolong?”

“A keen nose on you, Prefect.” You assume that this one is safe and you waste no time in sipping it once it is in your hands. This seems to be the right move in the game because Jade’s expression flickers. It … It grows a bit softer around the edge, happier? You drain your cup to the middle and absentmindedly stroke the ridges on the ceramic squid design.

“Perhaps, a tea made for a Pope?”

“Ah, more commonly, oolong is a blend dancing on the tongue of a Russian tsar.”

Your pride takes a hit; you got one of the answers wrong. Finger moving down the squid’s arms, you take in a bit of the scenery. Usually, clues are not in the backdrop but it is never an impossibility. You look back at Jade and see he is staring at you with a certainly strange look. Hm, odd. You turn away. But you think you finally got it.

Confidently, you push your plate into the middle of the table and finish your tea. Perhaps the outfit and scenery change was only a red herring to deceit you away from the real mind-game. The meal is most certainly poisonous! Inside, you beam at guessing correctly until you hear a hesitant voice.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“No, I don't think I will.” Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.

“Is the food perhaps not to your liking?” Well, that tone of voice is certainly concerning. You turn away from the aquarium you had been looking and return to Jade’s sight. Panic is almost dotting his features; his teeth pulled back in a vulnerable grimace. “It was my mistake to make a meal you hadn’t tried before for this. I know your fondness of trying new meals but I might have overstepped. I’ll remedy this. My apologies, Prefect.”

HUH! You quickly grab back the plate before Jade can touch the edge. Why did that voice unnerve you so – “No, no, I just.” Great, now you have to find a way to remedy a mistake you made. “I just wanted to test your resolve to this.”

To you, you are talking about the mind-game Jade is playing. To Jade, he thinks you are talking about this date and the relationship that he wants to foster with you. Rejuvenating, he chuckles and shows his full smile. “I want you to know I am very committed to this.”

Still, unsure of your steps, you wait till Jade takes a bite of mushrooms first as you focus your fork at the chicken. The conversation dims down like the autumn sun. Though, it has never been unpleasant with Jade. Eating and nourishing your bodies: that is a big part of Mother Nature’s hierarchy of needs. Company is less than food, but it has never been absent from that hierarchy either. You always enjoy meals with Jade.

Am I doing this right? Jade questions.

Jade peeks around the roses as he watches you eat what he can provide. He is grateful that you are eating the mushrooms; field mushrooms were both fascinating and delicious. He knew how to differentiate between various mushrooms in the fungi field and had yet to make any mistake when selecting them. Moving onto the next step, Jade hopes that your aversion to eating at first was just a malnourished mistake.

Finger by finger, Jade removes his gloves. Delicately, he plucks one of the roses out of the vase. He had retrieved them from Trey that morning, specifically asking for the thorns to remain to the baker’s confusion. The thorns prick at his rather soft human skin. Under your watchful eye, he takes the stem and squeezes off the head of the rose.

“Roses, your favorite flower, correct?”

That fear comes back like a returning tidal wave. You feel your spine lock up and you swallow around your bite. “Yes, I enjoy them very much. How did you know?”

“I have my ways~” He takes the rose and tucks it behind your ear. Anxiously, he wanted to feel some warmth on the tip of them but nothing sits there but cold sweat from Track and Field. “Though I have a fondness for the ecosystem of fungi, the floral kingdom is not without its appeal.”

Your heart hammers. No, no, no need to panic, (Name). Perhaps you are jumping to conclusions and are mistaken, an inner voice speaks out. Slowly, you unfurl your tensing hands and ignore the blood you had drawn. Yes. You are mistaken, you reason.

“I actually grew a fondness them because –”

“Because it is your middle name.” You only revealed that to Grim. And well, the recorded files that Crowley had on you in your school information center. So, your surprise is a guarantee.

“Yes, hah. It is.”

“Both of you are parallel in your looks. I can see why Heartslabyul graciously accepts your company. Though, really, I sympathize with anyone who wants to keep your company.”

“Hah, well, being a Prefect is certainly time consuming. Grim, Ace, and Deuce are certainly not the best at dodging trouble.” You place one of your hands on the leather and squeeze your nails tightly into your skin.

“Yes, I certainly remember that. Some of my fondest memories actually came from the time after those three made their deals with Azul.”

You stay silent.

“(Name), you know that mistakes are a rarity from me. However when I am around you, I feel that I am always balancing off the edge of falling into one big mistake. And though I take everything in stride, I find the thought of making mistakes with you is far from thrilling. But, I’m willing to remedy those mistakes whenever the time comes.”

This – This, you realize it with impending horror. Harshly, your teeth snap together. This is – Your palms are slick with new sweat. THIS IS A DATE!

“And, I know, that perhaps —“

“Please, Jade, please stop.” The look on both of your faces is shared: a pained expression for entirely different reasons. Immediately, his faux politeness is dropped to reveal worry. You, terrified you, cannot handle a confession in this world.

“(Name)…”

“I have to go.”

You quickly push away the plate and stand. Stirred by the motions, the rose balancing on your ear falls to the ground. “The meal was delicious. You’re a brilliant cook, Jade. I just —“

“Please, let me apologize to you.”

“No. No, it’s alright.”

“(Name).”

Your strict avoidance of looking Jade in the eye is ruined as he grabs you by your wrist. Quickly, your eyes climb up to meet his face. What returns your look is terrifying. No, it is not a smoldering look of anger that three-fourths of the student body is terrified of. The vulnerability in his eyes terrifies you. In Jade’s face, there is the slight hint that this was not a meticulously crafted confession. In his face, you can tell he does not like the action of confessing. Showing his hand of cards, slitting his wrist, wearing his heart like a cufflink on his uniform.

Well, fucking hell, you don’t like this either! Romance, you simply cannot. “I have to go, Grim needs me back at Ramshackle.”

By some miracle, you manage to free your wrist. And the look on his face is easy to tear your eyes away from.

──────────────────

Has anyone ever been isekai-ed twice?

You gnaw around the cover of your phone. You know you will be scolded when Idia gives your phone another upgrade for higher speed or more data space, but that concern pales in comparison to the terrifying concern you’ll need to face. Now you understand Idia’s apprehension to leave his dorm. Perhaps, you can lay here and rot away. Wait till your skin sinks down like pastry crust and your bones moss over the sheets. You will nourish yourself slightly. Perhaps, three cigarettes? Or another bottle of vodka? Which would be more of a soothing balm to the flame that has engulfed your skin? Your thoughts are cut when the phone in your mouth buzzes.

Isekai Shoukan Wa Nidome Desu, not worth the watch bro was trying too hard to be Guts LOLOLOL

Good, reliable Idia. Despite all your stress, you can always smile at someone who has similar, admittedly nerd-routed humor such as yourself. You type back, Do you think the black carriage can cart me to another universe?

u probably haven’t buffed up your stats enough to cash in another isekai

Is that your ‘sweet’ way of saying I don’t deserve a second try in a new universe?

not sweet, just based

Kys actually. I have like a real problem this time.

something you can’t just punch through? u’re literally Saitama just punch your problems

This is emotional, I can’t punch it.

EW! IDIA LOGGING OFF. NO NORMIE EMOTIONS HERE.

Idia

Okay, you forced my hand. Yoko Littner ¼ Bunny Scale Figure. You patiently wait. The dots appear, sink away, reappear until …

boxed? You are already digging the box off your display shelf when your phone vibrates. You confirm it is boxed, even sending a picture and verbally highlighting how the tape is still intact. You can almost feel the bone-deep sigh Idia must have taken as the bubble returned. k normie, what’s going on?

So, you recount it all for him. Fleeting touches, warmth on your tongue, the ease of banter, and the security that you had felt in your long-standing friendship only to be disarmed by words that sent a ripple of lightning down each vein in your arm. You could not comprehend it. Just … Jade Leech? Fucking Jade Leech. One whose intellectual prowess could perhaps even puppeteer the downfall of any house-warden. And he had looked upon you with such affection. The whirlpools of his eyes reaching out towards you. His eyes … mutilating your common sense … God, why did you long to see that look again? Why did he say that to you? To manipulate you for what purpose?

You wish you had punched him.

As soon as you revealed to Idia that the person who had confessed was Jade Leech, your steady back and forth came to a halt. Idia? Idia. What do you know? Two minutes passed. Idia Shroud, remember Yoko.

okokokok listen, he used his unique magic on me! i am not in violation of any normie code, none! but … a week ago Jade caught me off guard and asked me your, uh, type. pls don’t be mad.

A tiny tiny part of you is flattered to see Idia try to keep benevolence in your friendship. The oldest Shroud is not one to worry about friendships. However, that tiny part is smothered by something much bigger. Crunch. You look down at the electronic you have broken in your grip. Anger growing, you start to scream. Not even words, just ah, ah, hah, ah, AAAAA!

──────────────────

“If the Prefect takes down one of those eels, it wouldn’t be so bad. I still haven’t forgiven them for the exam scheme.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't they have a vengeful Floyd on their hands?”

“I say one down, one more to go. My Henchman’s got this.”

“Isn’t it so romantic! The tenacity to fight for another’s hand in love. The agonizing beauty of having to harm that certain someone. Like a lioness who sees herself unfit to be a mother devouring her cubs. Quelle vue! Blood drawn by the brawn of love. Hah.”

The three shiver at the intruding voice. Maybe if they do not look at him, he will find another person to entertain himself with. Minutes pass by and they still feel his presence. Cracking first, Deuce is the only brave soul who turns around to greet Rook Hunt.

“Bonjour to you too, Monsieur Spade. Do you know how long Monsieur Mastermind has been coveting our fair Trickster?” It seems like he is asking out of genuine curiosity instead of bragging that he himself knew before.

“Actually, none of us knew. Apparently, it’s been a while. The Prefect said Jade integrated Idia before confessing.”

“Hm, and Roi de Ta Chambre is missing from attendance. Perhaps jealousy?”

“Nah, more like fear. (Name) almost tore his tablet apart when they crossed paths on our way to potionology.” Ace chuckles at the memory.

“My Henchman isn’t too happy about it.”

“Still, I figured (Name) would just ignore it forever. Any emotion they can’t solve with anger is just pushed to the side.”

“Their emotional intelligence is sooo low.”

At Ace’s words, they all cast a look out onto the center of the track-field. Jade stands, arms folded behind his back. Oddly, he has only chosen to waive his jacket and rolled up his button-up’s sleeves. He is comparable to concrete whereas you are like a spinning power-drill. You are pacing back and forth, randomly swinging your claymore at times, pacing again. You switched your uniform for a tight black shirt and white tai chi pants. Content is Jade’s expression, watching you warming up to fight him.

The crowd has grown quite a bit. On the farturn and backstretch, most of the crowd has accumulated. And at the start of that farturn is Azul behind a fold-out table, sign shouting “Place your bets. Jade Leech vs Ramshackle’s Prefect.” Outstretched like a cat, Floyd is the only one of the crowd lounging on the bleachers.

Deuce is quite surprised to see that every housewarden has shown up. Even Malleus Draconia is flanked by his two bodyguards, his vice-housewarden floating a bit off ground and excitedly rambling in the taller fae’s ear. There is a sizable gap in where Malleus is standing among the crowd.

But, he also feels quite bad because he isn’t too sure who to support. You had gone to Azul Ashengrotto with a proposition that you said should reach the ears of a certain eel-mer. Your conditions that you and Jade would battle on the upcoming Sunday morning. If Jade bested you, he would be granted a date. If you bested him, the matter would be dissolved. Deuce was anxious about seeing perhaps one of the brutalest rejection of his life. To surely be beaten up by the person you desired, he groans at the idea. Poor Jade.

Thankfully, Rook Hunt leaves to stand by his own housewarden. The crowd waits anxiously, wondering who will start, before Ortho Shroud enters the green of the track-field. To the trio’s surprise, you do not seem agitated at the interruption. The boy comes up to you both, hand altering itself into a megaphone.

“The rules are,” the crowd hushes “, if either opponent is knocked into the red of the track, they lose. If either opponent's injuries stop them from fighting, they lose. If either opponent vocally forfeits, they lose. Jade Leech will be fighting to win a date with Ramschakle’s Perfect (Name). Please start in 59, 58, 57…”

You track Ortho leaving the green. Somberly, you take steps to make a little gap between Jade and yourself. You gradually stop fiddling with your claymore; from flipping it to and fro in your hand to letting it lie cement at your thigh. Victory was simple and foreseeable for you. Ace had asked you before if you planned for a fight against Jade Leech, one of the finest alchemical students. But you recited what you said during each overblot, “All I gotta do is win.” The simplicity was laughable, even you know this but, you glance up at Jade, all you really have to do here is one thing: win.

“4, 3, 2, 1. Go.”

Magic in Twisted Wonderland comes in categories. The basic elemental forms are flora, water, fire, and cosmic then it branches off into sub-genres. Certain magic in Twisted Wonderland is palpable and, most important to you, able to support the weight of a body. So when Jade miscalculates and flings a beam that you can jump upon, you waste nothing.

Being airborne is thrilling. You tuck your legs up to your rear as you cup your claymore’s handle in your hand like a child holding a fragile insect. Ground rapidly approaches you. Arms up, back arched, eyes front. You swing down with all your might with the full intention to slice Jade Leech down the middle like an unbirthday tart. These first three minutes will give you plenty of time to judge how he fights. You got to observe him in the Coral Sea; that gives leverage.

Jade goes to counter what seems like an attack raining straight down. You maneuver your body with the pressure of the spell, drop your right foot, and snap right towards Jade’s body. Got in, now deal a blow. Shoulders inches from each other, you wind up like a baseball player and go to lock eyes with Jade.

You expect frustration. You expect his typical calculated yet distant look. Yet - tch! You drive your sword into a swoop. No matter what his eyes look like, time to win.

You two dance in a tsunami of black-red sparks and thumping air. You two whip around each other, arms repeatedly tearing in and out to the collision of yours and his attacks. When either of you stumbles, the other relentlessly pushes. You can admit as a flora attack pushes you back that Jade, despite his eyes, is calculating each motion of yours. Trying to get two steps ahead but stumbling along. You both stumble in your little dance, too evenly matched.

But, the count in your head ends; three minutes have passed. Time to get serious. As Jade raises his pen to the sky to send a wave of energy at your body running towards him, he stops. Not in submission but because you have disappeared from his sight. Where did you –

Hm, Jade’s back is surprisingly muscular. Swimmer muscles? You can feel it through the tight shirts both of you are wearing. On your own latissimus, the turbulent avalanche of blood roaring through his system pounds at you. Back to back, you gently decline your head to rest on his dominant shoulder. His scent is quite sweet too when he is sweating like a cooked lobster.

You move your mouth near his ear. The words you speak cause his sturgeon scales to sway a bit. “Jade.” His back shivers under yours. “I’m gonna show off a little, kay?” Then once more, you are gone.

Jade catches a flash of silver, swooping right down to his neck. Time does not even allot for him to counter against your claymore specifically. Instead, he sums up magic to bubble around him and push everything back. Finally, you return to his vision, feet dug in soil and running right back at him as soon as the magic presence wilts off his pen.

To the left, to the right, to the left again, the dance resumes. Cornered right back into defense, Jade mourns. You attack faster than before, faster than what he witnessed at Azul’s overblot. Your claymore moves like a flickering light. You move around him and manipulate him to twist like a puppet to counter each strike. Down to his legs, up at his shoulders, behind his back. Unlike the noticeable strain in Jade’s face, you remain pouting.

His scent. You attempt to cut his left arm off and he counters. His scent. Why was it still distracting you! You pivot your feet, fall down in a swooping arc, and attempt to cut his tendon. That scent was all you could think of. Not that anyone could tell as you were moving both faster and more dynamically than before. He smells so good, you agonize. It bleaches the inside of your memory. To rid yourself of it you would probably have to crush up peppers and grind them into your nose until it bled. You had been around sweat enough in Track and Field but none sweated so saccharinely. With a vertical swipe, you try to cut off the hand of his that holds his magic pen.

Jade counters and you two are caught in a standstill. You two push at each other, magic pen and claymore vibrating against one another. Speckles of dirt start to fly up from the ground. The jet black strand of Jade’s moves wildly at the air pressure. Is that bastard locking you close to him on purpose! Sparks start to fly off the middle of your blade. Elbows lowering, you strain against the spell but you will – you – you will find that weak area in his counter.

It comes in one explosive burst as you push harder and send Jade a mile or so back from you. The ground settles. Typically, you would make no mistake to run back in and continue, but - ugh! Quickly, you start to rub at your nose. Murmurs start up again but you keep scrubbing. The stench of bacteria from blisters and new blood is a welcome relief. Once his smell is thoroughly gone, you get right back into it.

You planned to close that distance but it seems Jade Leech did not let an opportunity go to waste. As expected of him –

You sweep underneath the crackling violet of a cosmic attack and redirect a burst of thorns aimed for your heart. Some time was allotted for Jade to think when pushed down, but you will not allow that to be unfortunate for you. You said you were going to show off, so show off you will. Tucking your non-dominant hand to your breast, you cut a canyon’s mouth into the fire attack Jade sent at you.

Again, you two clash, synthetic grass leaping up like a million frogs. You unlock from the exchange, tilt your blade, and start stabbing at him. “Tch,” is all you get from Jade as he tucks himself to become smaller and dodge each incoming stab. By the shoulder, by the ribs, by the tip of his nose. Rapidness and precision is your groundwork. Jade jolts back and forth to dodge each incoming strike, playing into your hand.

Then, unexpectedly, you abandon your claymore by the effort of launching it into the air. You can see it in Jade’s eyes that he sees this as an opening. Then in his next blink, your foot is connected to his ribs. His heart pounces on your sole. You grant him a small smile then thrust all your strength in your kick.

He has to use two air spells to stabilize himself. Two caverns blown into the field. Damn, you had meant for that kick to knock him into the red.

Without looking, simply outstretching a hand behind yourself to catch your sword, you wonder if Crowley will make you pay for property damages. So be it. With that too enticing smell drawn out of your nose, you can go all out.

You start closing distance when – shit! You are suddenly knocked off your feet when Jade lands an attack at the place your running feet were going to land. The fall you take is not elegant. Your dominant shoulder bounces once then twice more on the ground. Your bones clang but you manage a grip on your sword. Metallic warm blooms on your tastebuds, did you bite your tongue? Groaning, you go to stand up when suddenly Jade Leech is towering over. Face shadowed, eyes bright.

Ah, teleportation magic.

Instead of threatening your life like all the overblots did or moving in to kill you, Jade says with his typical sycophantish smile, “I was thinking of cooking maitake mushrooms for our first date, Prefect.” Smug bastard!

You smile wide around the blood coating your teeth, “I actually prefer portabella.” In a blink, you pivot your body to wrap around the back of his leg. Like a scorpion launching an attack, you swipe at him. The connection is perfect. You watch a squirt of blood spit from the back of Jade’s thigh. As you are rounding your body back up around him, you laugh, " if you really want to win this, you need to fight with at least seventy percent more effort.” Then, another perfect collision that makes you giddy of all things. His head is thrown back by an elbow to his nose.

And to complete the full rotation, you aim your sword towards his neck once more. But you are caught by surprise when that elbow did not knock around his brain enough to disorient him. Where your sword should have landed is intercepted by his magic pen. Another time-wasting standstill. This time feels different though. Rotating your wrist up and down as you might, you cannot gauge a weak point and you are forced to look at him.

Red is slick down his upper lip and chin. It shines violet, blue, and a blackish-green in the light of his counterspell. Tidiness is swept and rustled out of his typical hair-do. The ‘J’ of his black stand resembles more of a combination ‘K’ and ‘Z’ the way it is blown through. His matched eyes? Arrowed directly onto you. Olive brown and canary yellow, wide and crazed. And that look – That look!

Di-Did your heart just skip a beat? No. No. No. What is wrong with you today! You are never so distracted by an overblot or sparring partner. You never had some kind of revelation during your training with Silver or battles with Riddle, Leona, or Azul. Are you falling ill of all things!

Your face luckily does not change. The only indication of your inner crisis is a bulging vein in your arm. Relentlessly, your claymore and his magic pen scraping against each other, you try to dictate where his weak spot is. Clump by clump, ground starts to be serrated by your combined efforts. Then, fuck! Your face crinkles with pain. Bits of magic jump over your weapon and start to cut paper-thin lines on your cheek. One. Two. Three. Tiny whiskers of hot pain. You grind your red teeth and push even harder. You silently mourn the opening you lost before as Jade starts to push you back. You are growing angrier.

Separate from this moment, Silver mutters under his breath, “The Prefect is going to win.” He meant to keep it to himself, but –

“Huh? How can you tell?”

“I- Master Malleus. Well, because,” and before Silver can start, there is an explosion of noise in the crowd. Joined by an explosion of red coming from Jade’s left shoulder.

Crouched on the ground, behind Jade, you cross both of your arms to your chest. Red rain drops down onto your back as the appalled noises grow in volume. Uncaring, you spin back and once more throw your sword into the dry blue skies. You plant your feet. Instead of feeling the pulse of Jade or smelling his sweat, you shift all attention to the Earth like you should have from the start. The gumminess from the blood in your mouth gradually fades away. Your labor torn veins gradually relax. Air is cold. You are warm. As Jade struggles to comprehend where you even went, you perform tomoe nage on him backwards.

Jade only sees four images: your face when locked in a standstill, emptiness, emptiness again (in the form of sky), and then he is blessed with your face again as you retrieve your claymore from the air and hold the tip of it to his throat. Laid on the ground, he gasps. That expression has returned to your face. Wrath. Your scleras are white but it is still the same. A tightened and angered expression that one would think could cause a head to implode with a single look. Crazed and wide. The rhythm of your wrath thumps around him like crashing waves. The ferocity of predator’s teeth and riptide’s rocks in your eyes. Sevens, he wanted a life with you. Yearned for you to join him, Floyd, and Azul. If this is the last time, you’ll talk to him – if this is the last time, you’ll see him – His heart aches like a fresh bruise at the thought, hurting more than the slash from his shoulder. If you will no longer cross paths with him again, then he needs to say what he always wanted to. He needs to reveal his hand. Pierce his heart on a fork so you can eat it whole.

“Sevens, you’re beautiful,” Jade rasps.

HUH!

You leap back. Your claymore clatters to the ground. You care little for the starting murmurs of confusion, spinning your head away from him to put a hand over your mouth. Mortified, your fingers collide with skin and reveal you are starting to blush of all dreadful things. You turn your head back towards Jade. He is looking at you with th-those soft eyes again. You turn away faster the second time.

Your fingers start to climb up towards your nose bridge and eyelids. Mortification is an inadequate word for you now. Hotter than Grim’s or Idia’s flames, you swear your cheek could start expelling smoke in the dry autumn air. Instead the air whispers and theorizes: “Is it over? Who won? Did Jade poison them before the fight? Is that a forfeit? Do I still have a chance with the Prefect?”

For the first time ever you do not care about retrieving your blade from battle. If you had to encounter those eyes, you could not direct the head on your shoulders to act civilized. Why did he have to be so – ugh!

With a huff, you start walking towards Ortho. Your eye must be drawn in a monstrous glare because the robot boy turns his head back and forth to avoid your gaze. You school your features as you get closer. When in front of him, you raise your dominant hand and say “Announce Jade as the winner. I sprained my wrist.”

Ace and Deuce vocally make it known that they are confused and bewildered. You do not spare them a glance, watching as the yellow of Ortho’s eyes shift, little rectangles in the artificial irises shrinking and rotating. His gaze lasered down on your arm. “Prefect, your wrist is not –”

“Announce that Jade won.”

With a smile, you turn towards Ace, Deuce, and Grim. Somewhere that feels as far off as another country, Ortho’s hand changes back to the megaphone and announces “Jade Leech is the winner! As a result of injury!” That makes little difference to your overall mood. Your smile grows and you ask your friends, "Are you guys willing to walk poor, unfortunate me to the nurse?”

“S-Sure, Prefect.” Deuce agrees, catching on.

Sighing, Ace crosses his arms and remarks “ Always relying on the magic-able students, aren’t we, Prefect?”

“Yeah,” you agree, knowing you saved them both four times over. “A magicless student like myself needs all the help she/he can get. Come on, Grim. My wrist is injured, but my shoulder’s completely fine.” You crouch and Grim reclaims his usual spot.

“(Name),” he whines in your ear “, you better not skimp on feeding the Great Grim because of your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And it’s just one measly date; you three will always be more important.”

“You got a good head on you, Henchman!”

“Damn right.”

“Still, Jade Leech? Do you want bodyguards for this date,” Deuce asks you as you all start walking.

Another tiny smile crawls on your face. Now that you are a safe distance away, you think you can finally look back. The crowd is peeling away in sections. Some students are cheering. Others are forlorn. The most miserable of them seemed to be gathered near Azul Ashengrotto’s betting table, where the octo-mer is counting his thaumarks. In the center are your claymore (which you are slowly itching to retrieve) and Jade Leech and his twin brother. You chuckle watching as Floyd goes through the motions of shaking his brother excitedly by the shoulder, throwing his own arms up in the air, whooping and hollering, and taking Jade’s limp arm to raise to the sky.

At this distance, Jade’s eyes are blurred upon his face and safe to look at. He is staring straight at you. Hm, he does have some appeal, you muse. Raising your ‘injured’ wrist, you wave to him. “No, that won’t be necessary. I would’ve mopped the floor with him.”

“Huh? But you lost?”

“Huh? Did I say something,” you respond to Grim, faking a sheepish look. You return your arm to your side. “Ow, my wrist really hurts, guys. Ow ow ow~”

──────────────────

The worst part of it all was the wrist splint. That black, velcro monstrosity wrapped on your lower arm seriously took a nasty chip off your pride as a student of Silver Vanrouge. You bowed so low to him that your forehead hit your knee. However, that was not even the cherry on top. You had to cry out in pain every time Ace or Deuce took your ‘injured’ arm and pinned it behind your back instead of fighting back like you wanted. Though Riddle did collar them, the day the nurse ‘cleared’ you, you made it known that that would never happen again. Ace did actually have to borrow your wrist splint after.

You did get your sword back. You swear on the Seven, you were having withdrawals from the first night away from it. Tossing and turning enough to cause Grim to bite your ankle. Jade was gracious enough to return it two days after the fight, just as you were zippering up your coat to meet up with Tsuntaro. He even polished it for you!

You exchanged your thanks and then stood for too long at your threshold, waiting for him to leave. You were unsure if you could really look him in the eye. When he knocked and you received him, you busied yourself with looking at your sword.

“You know, I could provide a spell that might be of use to you for your weapon. Free of charge. I know that it already has –”

“Jade.”

“Yes?”

“I really don’t want our date to be at Mostro Lounge. There’s an ax throwing place on the island. We can take a bus route to get there.” You finally look up.

Wrathful eyes are not what makes you swoon. To you, there is little appeal being crushed by pulsing anger. Jade’s eyes are completely antonymous and devoid of that fiery emotion, but they still burn you because, because — Well, he is looking at you as if you yourself hung stars in the sky and whittled the mountains’ edges by your hand. He is looking at you with such warm affection. And you, emotionally constipated you, are smitten with that warm expression.

Ears tinted pink, Jade says “, Yes, arrangements can be made for that. This weekend?”

“This weekend.”

When the cloud of jade green fireflies arrive by your gate, you actively have to ignore the way Jade bristles and glares. You learn that day that a hand placed upon his lower back calms him down perfectly fine. A trick you will use later. And use it later you did~

It had been about two months since your first date. The winter break came and went. You defeated Jamil Viper, suffered a few snake bites but nothing tremendous. Then at Kalim’s party, you had to defeat Jade’s seven evil attempts at getting a kiss from you. Both successful, as expected of Night Raven’s Prefect. Another success of yours? Defeating the newest game Idia gifted you as an apology with an S rank, which you were journeying to Mostro Lounge to tell a certain someone about.

“Hey, you can’t just cut the line!”

Well, that might not be good. Steadily, you place your hand over the auburn pommel of your sword. Eyes narrowed and piercing to find the line-cutter, you turn. And for some reason, the host panics. “A-Ah! It’s just you, Prefect. Go ahead. Sorry!”

Hm, did the matter resolve itself? Well, you hope the host finds the line cutter eventually as you venture deeper into Mostro Lounge. You scan briefly over the tables and aquarium lighting. Persistent cobalt shadows are quite enchanting to you now. Gratefulness pushes your lips up a small amount when you locate Jade Leech among the swimming blue.

“Jade!”

The vice-housewarden’s head almost comes off his neck at the speed he looks towards you. That familiar, once tortuous look returns to his eyes. “(Name), what a pleasant surprise.”

“Jade, put down your tray.”

“Hm? Whatever for?”

Well, at least you gave him a semblance of a warning. Advancing on him the whole time, you reach chilled hands to the back of his neck. His pulse is relaxed; you think it’s a shame because you love hearing its rapid speed. One hand cups his cervical and he reasonably tenses because last time you did this, you spun him into a headlock. But that’s not the agenda and he can start to piece it together as you push his head down to meet lip to lip. Ah. That beautiful pulse is back.

His lips are well kept, soft and thin. This close you can smell the sweat of a hard day on him. You tilt your head to the left to deepen your first kiss. It is no question to invite tongue into the kiss, though it certainly catches Jade by surprise.

You can tell Jade is upset that he had not put down his tray because the dishes upon it are rattling. And his one free hand is tightly holding onto your waist like a snapping turtle locked onto a finger. You push up harder into the kiss and almost start laughing when his reaction is a muffled groan. “Ag - Agh,” his throat hums at you.

During this rather inappropriate display, your hands have been focusing on running through his hair or gliding over the skin of his neck. Boldly, you inch one hand down his arm and wrap it around to hold the middle of his back. AH! His pulse is exploding now. This time you actually do need to pull away to laugh a bit.

Your laughter gradually stops as you hear Azul Ashengrotto emerge from the kitchen, chastising both of you for your display. In your ear, Jade asks “Do I get to know what I did to be rewarded with such a pleasant surprise?”

And in the face of teeth that could tear your throat out, you hum “I just ranked S on my new game.”

“In my lounge of all places! You two are so indecent. You have dorm rooms; Perfect, you have an entire house to yourself. You couldn’t have possibly waited; you just had to come in during rush hour on a weekend!”

Jade smiles despite being clueless of what you mean. “Well aren’t I one lucky eel~” And he means it, the efforts and mistakes made to get to this moment … Jade’s smile grows as he watches you and Azul bicker. All that effort was worth this.

#disclaimer: MC is gender-neutral despite tag of male-female friendship #reblogs are appreciated bc i only have 5 followers on here #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #jade leech x reader #jade leech

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months

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the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour.

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.”

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.”

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer.

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?”

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible.

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?”

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who…

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle.

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.”

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.”

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.”

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!” Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.”

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction.. Damn, the boy can kiss!

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless.

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson lives #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington hc

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 2 months

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Need Brooks no Delay, but Late is Better Than Never

by etlagiapet

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers Additional Tags: fifteen years later, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives, POV Steve Harrington, Misunderstandings, Angst and Feels, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Smut, The Lord of the Rings References, Angst with a Happy Ending, No beta we die like Barb Words: 20,620 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

The year is 2001. The Fellowship of the Ring is out in theaters, and Steve is being dragged along to the supposed most important day of Dustin's life. The thing is, Eddie Munson's coming, too, and Steve hasn't spoken to him in nearly six years. Not since misaligned feelings and an ill-timed love confession created a rupture Steve didn't know how to repair. “We just drifted apart, man. That’s all.” Dustin sighs dramatically. “Was it because you figured out you liked dudes and freaked out?” Steve winces. It’s a joke. He can tell by Dustin’s tone, knows he likes to poke fun about Steve’s sexuality after he identified as a self-proclaimed ladies' man for so long, but it’s never come up this way before. Steve could deflect, but something in him shifts and instead he says, “More like because I figured it out too late.” “Ooooooh,” Dustin breathes, and Steve can all but imagine the lightbulb flashing to life above his head. It makes Steve think of Dustin’s old hat with THINKING CAP on the front. “Oh my god, that makes so much more sense."

#steddie #steddie fic rec #10-25k #future fic #misunderstandings #angst #angst with a happy ending

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totally-stoked · 2 years

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List of tropes and dynamics I like

girlboss x malewife

“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

“I am NOT going there, and that is final!” *cuts to the exact location they said they wouldn’t go*

Found family

Enemies to friendly rivals to unrequited one sided crush to actual friends maybe allies to mutual pining to lovers

Literally any character being a good parent or parental figure to a child

Unintentionally goes on a rambling spiel about everything they like about a person who they had previously insisted that they did not have feelings for

cocky asshole x stuck up nerd

bad ≠ evil: a “robin hood”-esque dynamic, a criminal or bad guy who has a heart and uses their abilities for good (i.e. that one news article about the inmate who used his car jacking skills to work alongside the police to free a baby from a locked car, and they were able to free them within like five or ten minutes; I’ll link it) https://abc7.com/amp/inmate-saves-infant-chris-nocco-ryan-smith/5142698/

“You fucking asshole, you scared me!” @ a person who got seriously injured and/or almost died (bonus points if they’re the rival lovers from before, completely relieved that this person they’ve grown close to is alive)

Stubborn characters who insist that they are not soft for the child actually being soft for the child

“What is wrong with me?!” <- someone developing Romantic Feelings and being unable to acknowledge them

Best friends being basically siblings and when one of them has a baby the kid calls them aunt/uncle/auncle

Character A has a moment of vulnerability, Character B is surprised to see it and comforts them through it, they have a bonding moment (panic attacks, grieving, sickness, depression, injury, etc.)

Sickfic

villain x good guy (slowly falling for each other, hating it and trying to resist it, maybe the villain has a redemption arc and the good guy has a corruption arc and they meet in the middle and fall in love)

red x blue, fire x ice

hetero ships but in an explicitly bisexual way

“Idk I just don’t celebrate my birthday :/”“absolutely NOT that is unacceptable we’re gonna celebrate Right Now” *proceeds to celebrate them with presents and cake and a stupid party hat and making them feel loved* 🥺

Awkward but genuine confessions

Anyways this was random but whatever

Reblog with your favorite tropes and dynamics

#ship dynamics #fic tropes #enemies to friends to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #girlboss x malewife #found family #sickfic #raeda #blandela #sparkierra #queenkaard #suselle #lumity #ferriswheelshipping #dualrivalshipping #rocketshipping #an unintionally alarming amount of my OC’s

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amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix · 10 months

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fight off the light tonight and just stay with me (honey, don't you leave) || ot7

Warnings: a teeny tiny bit of blood, mentions of hospitals and surgery, heavy angst(?)

I won't control you, but MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader, Jackson Wang/(F) Reader

Plot: Will it be too late for them to try and make things right?

Genre: not really unrequited love (but they're all idiots), mutual pining, angst, denial of feelings, poly ot7

Did you ever love her? Do you know?

Or did you never want to be alone?

And she was singing "Baby, come home."

"Baby, come home."

I've got those jet pack blues

Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me;

Honey, don't you leave.

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

thank you so much because this fic was my first one to reach more than 10 kudos in ao3 and some peeps liked the first part enough to reblog to want to read the next part you don't know how much it means to me :o oh my fucking god how did that happen??? thank you so friggin much!!!

sorry if my summaries are all song lyrics owo i just love taking inspiration from them when i write because i can't find the old me who can write and word vomit in a drop of a hat huahuahauhauhauahuahauaau am sorry my bad

bit of warning for some teeny tiny blood and hospitals but no one will die, i promise! i mean not yet, so far i haven't thought that far yet.

also!!!! i'm not a medical expert so please let me know if there are inaccuracies because there are bound to be, no matter how much research i do or how much i ask from doctor frens hueheuheuuefhiuf

title from Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy because fuck yeah i wouldn't get them as a first tattoo if i didn't love them so much

hope i don't disappoint! if i do, i'm so sorry hahahuhu my mom always told me i'm a disappointment so there's kinda nothing new

hope i can write the next parts soon T_T

❤️‍🩹

You can feel the string in your chest slowly fraying.

You never thought that is possible. After all, the strings are connected to the soul and can never be seen. However, when you started the therapy, you started feeling it fray. Slowly and painfully. You don't know how and why, you just do.

Your symptoms are worsening, too. Doctor Im advised you against overworking and stressing yourself but how can you not? It feels like no matter what you do or where you turn, the boys are there. Your only escape is your work and in your line of work, stress is inevitable, so you have no choice but to endure it. At least at work, you are in control. At least at work, you don't have to think about being unwanted—your clients are the ones who request your services, after all.

You don't know what to feel, really. It feels like fate is pushing you to your limits and wants to see you suffer.

Look, even you can admit to yourself that there's no need to undergo the therapy. Your soulmates can go get fucked and feel your pain through the bond.

But you can't have that, can you?

You're not one to lie to yourself, you know why you feel this way. Aside from the fact that fate (unfortunately) assigned you seven soulmates who can give less of a fuck about you, you know deep down that you want to be with them and not just because your souls were linked to each other.

You're in with love them, period.

You've seen them through their bests and their worsts, and you're still hopelessly in love with them. You've seen their sides that they never dare show you, the beauty they unfairly grant other people but not you. You've also seen their worst, the ugliness seemingly reserved for you alone, but the longing is still there.

You can't help it, and you're sadly fucked no matter how you look at it.

As you massage your perpetually aching chest, you also think how your dignity and pride are the only ones you have left. While it might be a rush of satisfaction to see them squirm, it is at the cost of your pride. You learned early on in life that you can never show your emotions—most especially your weakness—with how many times people fucked you over by using them against you.

In this case, you have to endure every pain to save face. So if it helps everyone sleep at night, then you'll give them what they want. If they don't want you, then you'll just have to remove yourself from the equation altogether. Simple math.

You snort. You're being too dramatic. You're used to this, you tell yourself. From your mother to the few lovers you had; there was always something wrong with you, something lacking. You're never needed in your whole life, so it was easy for them to leave you. It was always the easiest choice to not choose you. Why are you crying about it now?

You shake your head with a resigned sigh. There's no use regretting this. You swore to yourself you would stop regretting things you do and now is the time to stand by it. For yourself, and for the inner child in you who did nothing but run after people who turned their backs on her.

You try to stave off the pounding behind your temples by rubbing your eyes with your palms. While you are thankful that the meds seem to be working and the boys can't feel any input of emotions from you through your bond, the medicines and treatments are such pains in the ass. Fucking side effects.

Speaking of side effects, Doctor Im told you that one side effect would be them not feeling any of the emotions you feel, but you would still feel theirs, the latter possibly more potently than normal. You tried to test the emotion theory before, afraid that it will fail and the meds won't work. This is your only chance at walking away with your precious pride intact, so this should work. This has to work.

"It might take a while, but your emotions shouldn't reach through their strings anymore once you continuously undergo the whole therapy process," Doctor Im had said.

"You would still feel theirs, unfortunately." He looks at you tenderly, albeit with not an ounce of pity. That's okay, you don't want anyone's pity. "You'll be more attuned to them than a normal person is to their soulmate because your soul will be tender from all the treatments."

Doctor Im Jiho is kind, a little young for his profession if you say so yourself, but he is brilliant. It's what made you trust him. Even if the therapy is still not ratified and recognized legally, and still in its human trial stages, something about how passionately Doctor Im explained the whole therapy process and what it entails just screamed 'I know what the fuck I am doing'.

Or he should. Please let it be true, or you'll just rip your lungs out of your ribs and unalive yourself. So far though, Doctor Im and his team delivered.

Back to the emotion theory you have.

You wanted to see if the therapy works. Since soulmates can feel each others' extreme emotions, going through soul-scraping therapy shouldn't send any of yours to their end of the bond. To be sure, you waited a month into the treatments to start with the observation.

Since you've been keeping your distance and you cannot see it for yourself, you asked for help from Ae-cha and their other managers, most especially Kyunghee. They understood and agreed with no questions asked, and for that, you are eternally grateful.

You asked them for even the slightest changes in the boys' behavior during times when you know your emotions were at high. So far, there were none. It's either the meds are really working or they are just good at masking it. The second would be implausible, knowing how anything related to you would be a nuisance for them. They would make their displeasure known about it, you're sure.

Sejin, however, you're not sure you can face his pitying eyes again, so you never asked him. You don't want to hear the pitying tone in his voice one more time either. Once is more than enough to last for your lifetime.

You are just about to reach for the medicine bottle when you feel your eyeballs twitch rapidly from behind your eyelids and the pounding in your temples grow louder.

God, not now. You still have that meeting set with your lawyers. Not now.

You dial your assistant's number shakily.

"Joy, can you please phone Attorney Shin for me?" You say to the phone through your coughs, the air in your chest feels like slowly being squeezed out of you.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" Comes your assistant's concerned voice through the phone speaker. "Do you want me to call Doctor Im?"

You take the glass of water on your table with shaking hands. "I'm okay. I'm okay." You take big gulps of water, but the feeling doesn't pass. "There's no need."

Joy ignores the last part. "I'm going there, wait for me."

You go to tell her not to bother, but she hangs up before you can. A few minutes later, Joy comes through the door slightly panting.

"[Name]!" Joy takes hurried steps toward you, but you weakly wave her off. "You look like death. Jeez, I'm calling Doctor Im!"

"No, no! I'm—" You burst into another fit of whooping coughs and faintly hear Joy's worried voice.

Your hand comes away with splotches of blood, some staining the sleeve of your pullover shirt.

"Oh, shit. Shit, [Name]!" Joy screeches, now terrified. She runs to the doorway and shouts. "Jenny! Jenny! Come quick!"

Footsteps sound shortly later and you hear Jenny's panicked shrieks.

"[Name]? Are you okay?!" You feel Jenny's hand touch your shoulder. "Oh, my god. Dongwoon! Dongwoon!" More footsteps but you don't register them, black spots dancing in your vision.

So maybe you're not okay right now.

Oops, your bad.

You stand up slowly to tell them you're fine. However, before you can even open your mouth, you cough and retch.

More blood.

"[Name]!"

The last thing that registers in your brain are strong arms catching you when you black out, their panicked voices warped in your ears.

(oh, darling. what are we going to do with you?)

---

"I got it! I got it now, hyung," Taehyung says with a grin to Hoseok as Jimin comes back through the door of their practice room.

"Yeah? Let's run that through again?" Hoseok asks with a satisfied smile.

"Okay!" Taehyung nods. The boys are all feeling happy because the choreography turned out really good and is something they are proud of. The good feeling doesn't last long, however, when Jungkook bursts into the room.

"Hyung! Hyung!"

They all turn to look at him, eyebrows raised. Namjoon tsks at him.

"Kook, don't run. How many times do I—"

"[Name]-noona!"

They all freeze.

''She... she..." Jungkook then bursts into breathless tears, which propels Yoongi and Namjoon out of their seats. Jin turns off the music. When Jungkook doesn't continue, Namjoon shakes his shoulders.

"Jungkook, what is it?'" Panic rising in his voice.

"They rushed her to the hospital," Jungkook chokes through his sobs. "Y-Yonsei. They rushed her to Yonsei, hyung."

Their stomach drops at that.

Ever since they discovered by accident that you had been undergoing soul-scraping therapy, they have been keeping an eye on you. It took a while for some of them to accept or maybe even acknowledge you as their other soulmate, some longer than others, but they're getting there.

However, the pit in their stomach and the guilt in their chests never really went away, so they had to do it slowly and inconspicuously. They watched from afar and through their staff, and it pissed them off to no end that they have to do so, but they have to. They want to take it slowly and surely so as not to confuse and overwhelm you, still also confused about what they're feeling themselves.

"Yonsei? Hospital? Are you sure?" Jimin asks. "Why—"

"I don't know, hyung. I just heard Manager Sejin talking to Kyunghee-nim." Jungkook looks lost, tears flowing down his cheeks. "[Name]-noona..."

Jin doesn't even wait for their response, sprinting out of the room to find where Sejin is.

"Jin-hyung!"

He ignores them, spotting Sejin standing with his phone clutched in his hand, and talking to one of their other managers, Kyunghee. The pained expression on their faces and their hushed conversation say everything Jin needs to know.

"Sejin-nim!"

At the sound of his voice, Sejin and Kyunghee both turn to look at him.

Jin halts to a stop in front of the two. "What happened to her?"

"How did you—?"

"Please, Sejin-nim," Jin begs as the others come into view, slightly panting. "I need to know, please."

Sejin looks at Kyunghee, the latter with a grim expression on her face.

"Is it because of the therapy?" When Sejin didn't answer, Jin turns to Kyunghee. "Kyunghee-nim, please."

Kyunghee nods with a solemn expression. "Yes." The others gasp behind him but nothing registers. "Joy told me she'd been getting sicker as of late. She collapsed this morning."

Jungkook's sobs get louder, but Jin paid them all no mind. The only thing on his mind is—

"[Name]." He looks at Sejin with desperation in his eyes. "Take me to her. I want to see her."

Sejin purses his lips, sharing a look with Kyunghee. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why?!" Jin's eyes are shining from unshed tears, frustration bubbling in his chest. "I want to see her. Take me to her, Sejin-nim. Please."

"We have explicit instructions not to let any of you see her," Kyunghee says steadily. "We can't take you there, Jin. I'm sorry."

"If you're not taking me to her, I'll go there by myself," Jin says stubbornly. "I don't care about whose instructions they are; she's my soulmate and I'm seeing her."

"A soulmate you all rejected!" Sejin bursts out sharply. "You all asked her to stay away from you, asked me to talk to her before. Or don't you remember?"

Jin falls silent at that. The others are no better, hanging their heads in shame.

"You didn't see her eyes that day, Jin. I was the one to look the poor girl in the eyes." Sejin's tone softens. "Don't do this to her. Do you want to see her in more pain?"

"I just want to see her," Jin says brokenly. "I won't show myself to her. I'll be gone when she wakes up." Jin pleads. "Please, Sejin-nim. It's all I ask of you, please."

"She explicitly asked me before not to let anyone of you near her, so I can't. We have to respect that."

Jin huffs angrily, turning back to Jungkook. "Yonsei, you said?" He doesn't wait for the response and stalks off, patting for his keys in his pockets.

Shit. He left them in his room.

"Seokjin!" Sejin runs after him, but he ignores him.

"Hyung!" Someone pulls his arm back, and it's Namjoon.

"No!" Jin yanks his arm back. "This stops now, Namjoon."

"Hyung."

"That's our soulmate. Our soulmate!" Jin shakes his head. "Fuck getting burned and left behind—we left her behind. All seven of us. If us getting used and left behind by people who are not our soulmates hurt, how do you think that would feel for her, rejecting and leaving her? Her own soulmates!"

"You know why we had to do it!" Namjoon bellows.

"And it's bullshit! She is our actual soulmate, you saw her marks!" Jin yells back. "You know how I felt about this. I told you all how I felt about this, but you didn't listen. Nobody listened to me."

"Hyung, that's enough!" Yoongi growls. "It's unfair for you to put this on us; you agreed to it, too."

"Because I'll lose you all if I don't! You gave me no choice!"

"We never said that!" Hoseok holds Yoongi back from stepping further toward Jin, the latter seething in anger. "We never asked you to do that."

"You get drunk and cry to me, telling me to always choose you and the others. That's not asking me?" Jin sneers. "You always saying how we should always choose each other and no one else, that's not asking me? You asked me to stay away from her even when it hurts choosing between you and her. Do you take me for a fool, Yoongi?"

Jin looks at all of them and they would shrink at the anger that is not normally present on his beautiful face, but they're all too furious to back down.

"I tried to talk to all of you, but no one listened."

He looks at Jimin and Hoseok, and they both look away in guilt. "This is not something you two should be neutral about. She had been nothing but kind to you."

Jin turns and jabs his finger toward Namjoon. "I thought you of all people can be reasoned with, but you let your pride cloud your judgment. I thought you had the brains to see through your fucking ego, but I was clearly wrong."

He then looks at Taehyung, rage marring his face. "And you. Do you think I wouldn't know how you rubbed the rejection in her face like an asshole, Taehyung? Huh? How dare you?"

Jungkook gasps and whips his head toward Taehyung with a hurt expression.

"Hyung?" Jungkook puts his hand on Taehyung's shoulder, who doesn't look back at any of them. "What is he talking about?" Jungkook turns back to Jin, confusion on his teary face. "What are you talking about, Jin-hyung?"

Jin scoffs. "He asked her how it feels to be rejected, and how it feels to run around with people who aren't her soulmates a few months ago at that bar. Didn't you, Taehyung?" The others gasp, their eyes widening as they all turn towards Taehyung, who now looks guiltily away from them.

"And I had to know from Jackson, of all people. Jackson! The asshole didn't hold back in letting me know how it's a good thing [Name] will never be ours. How do you think it feels to stand there and listen to him tell me how stupid I am for dropping my soulmate when I never wanted to in the first place, Taehyung?"

"Taehyung-ah!" Hoseok cried. "Why would you do that to her?"

Taehyung yanks his arm off Hoseok's grasp. "I don't know, okay?! I don't know!" he snarls. "She looked so happy with him and I can't think straight! I wasn't thinking straight." He chokes on his sobs.

"You shouldn't have done that, Taehyung-ah!" Hoseok admonishes. "She didn't do anything wrong to us."

"I know, okay?!" he snaps. "I know we asked her to stay away but I can't help feeling angry that she's so happy without us when all I can think is we asked for this, we wanted this."

Taehyung breaks down and weeps. Hoseok puts his arms around him in a tight hug.

"I didn't know what I was thinking," he cries repeatedly. "I didn't know what I was thinking."

There were a few heavy minutes of silence, save for Taehyung's sobs and Jungkook's sniffles.

"If anything happens to her, I'll never be able to forgive myself." Jin eventually says. "I'm no saint, but I never ever would intentionally hurt [Name] more than we are already doing.

"Even if we try to make things right, it might be too late. But, I still want to try because it's what she deserves. So, I won't let anyone stop me. No one can stop me," Jin looks at them one by one, lingering a little longer on Namjoon's and Yoongi's faces. He takes a deep steadying breath.

"Not any of you can stop me. Not even any of you." He shakes his head. "Not anymore."

He abruptly turns on his heels, and Jungkook runs after him.

Jin needs to see you, and he'll find a way to, even if has to go against anyone's wishes.

He'll find his way to get back to you.

(took him too long, darling. will he make it in time?)

---

In the end, Sejin did take him to the hospital. Jungkook, unsurprisingly, came with him. The younger clung onto him all the way to Yonsei, tears staining his dark shirt.

"I don't want to lose any of you, hyung." Jungkook cries, face buried in Jin's chest. "But I don't want to lose her, too."

"I know," Jin says, voice hoarse. "You won't lose me. I don't want to lose her, too." He buries his in Jungkook's soft locks, trying to keep the tears that had been threatening to spill since he sat in the back of the car.

"We'll make it right this time, Gguk-ah."

---

Jin doesn't know what to expect when the car stops in front of Yonsei Medical Center. He had a plan up until they stopped, the car running idly in the background. Now, he doesn't think he's ready to see you, too afraid of what he'll come across.

He knows he's getting ahead of himself, but he can't help but think that he might be too late, that he had already lost your heart.

No.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself.

He can do this. He can do this for you.

"You ready?" he asks Jungkook. Jin wipes at the stray remaining tears on Jungkook's face and runs his hands through the now-long hair just so he can keep his hands busy and stop them from shaking.

"I don't know, hyung." Jungkook's wide eyes are still glassy. "I'm scared."

Jin smiles gently. "Don't be. Hyung's here." He takes Jungkook's hand on his own. "We have to be strong for her if we want to do it right. Okay?"

"Okay, hyung." Jungkook nods with a small hopeful smile. "Okay."

For all the bravado that he conjured up while in the car, in the elevator, and in the hallways to the sterile room of the ICU, Jin still isn't prepared for what greets him when they take you inside your room.

They had to wait for you to be taken to your room from the operating room. The whole time they were waiting, Jin can't stop his leg from jiggling and Jungkook was no better, pacing around the room while lost in his thoughts.

Then the door opened.

He stands and gasps in sync with Jungkook's own, and he has to stop himself from falling to the floor.

When they said that you collapsed, he was thinking that maybe you were just overworked. That, and that the therapy's side effects just added to it. You'll be fine, you'll be okay.

This... this is far from what he expected. This is definitely not fine, and this is way worse.

You are hooked on different machines and it scares him to death. Your skin is pale and frail with bluish spots and rashes all over your face and skin, and your lips are almost blue. Your hands and fingers have spots of violet, green and grayish tints.

You look like death.

Jungkook breaks into sobs, calling your name as Jin stands there frozen. He only snaps out of it when one of the nurses stops Jungkook from running to your side and grasping your hand.

"We have specific instructions from her doctor not to allow skin contact with the patient, not until we know who her soulmate is," the nurse says as she wheels your bed to place, putting a hand to stop Jungkook from getting closer to the bed.

"That's us," Jungkook says as Jin steps behind him. "We're her soulmates."

If Jungkook thinks that this will make the nurse relent, he's sorely mistaken.

The nurse shakes her head resolutely. "All the more reason you are both not allowed to have skin-to-skin contact with the patient."

"What?" Jin blurts out.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss information about Miss [Last Name]'s condition," the nurse points out. "We advise waiting for Doctor Choi. He'll be here in a few minutes."

Jin is itching to just fuck it and take your hand, but he knows it would not be wise until they speak to the doctor.

Doctor Choi can't arrive fast enough.

Jin pulls Jungkook down to sit beside him as they see the nurses fuss over you. He has no choice but to resist the urge to touch and hover over you as his chest pulls him to do. He doesn't want to risk hurting or harming you further, so he sits on the couch and puts his hand on Jungkook's knee instead.

"What's taking them so long, hyung?" Jungkook's knee is jiggling, and Jin pats him gently. Jin looks calm outwardly, but his shaking hands betray him. "Why is her doctor not here yet?"

"I don't know, Gguk-ah, but we have to be patient."

Jungkook looks at him with furrowed brows. "How can you be so calm about this?" His eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

Jin laces his hand with Jungkook's, still shaking. It then dawns on Jungkook that Jin is anything but calm.

"I'm not." Jin takes a deep breath, otherwise, the tears he tries so hard to suppress will start pouring. "I'm not, but I have to."

He looks at where you're lying on the bed.

"We have to, Gguk. She needs us right now. We need to set things right, and we can't do that if we fall apart right now. Okay?"

It's then that the door to your suite opens. Jin and Jungkook both stand at the sound and in strides whom Jin recognizes as Doctor Im from his visits to you, and another doctor whom he presumes as Doctor Choi.

"Oh. Mr. Kim. Mr. Jeon," Jin and Jungkook bow slightly at the acknowledgment, "I didn't expect to see you two here."

That sends a pang to Jin's chest, but he ignores it. He knows they deserve the unintended jab.

"Should I expect the others to arrive soon?" the doctor asks.

Should they?

"We're honestly not sure, Doc." Manager Sejin, as usual, saves the day. "Kim Sejin." Sejin holds his hand out to shake the doctors' hands.

"Im Jiho, Animaelogy specialist." Doctor Im shakes his hand and points to the doctor beside him. "This is Doctor Choi Daeseong, head surgeon for Yonsei Medical." The other doctor shakes Sejin's hand.

"Due to the nature of Miss [Last Name]'s case, we would have to request the rest of the security detail present to leave the room for a while. You three can stay, but that's as far as we can allow for this discussion."

Sejin nods. "That will be no problem." He nods at the two men standing by the door, who immediately bow and take their leave. The nurses slowly file out of the room as well.

The two doctors walk toward your prone figure, and Jin and Jungkook follow suit. Doctor Im makes a short check of your vitals, while Doctor Choi checks you with gentle hands and looks at your charts. Once done, the two doctors turn toward the three remaining men in the room.

"Is there someone we can talk to from Miss [Name]'s team about her overall condition and routines these past few weeks or months?" Doctor Im asks.

"We can ask Joy Song from her team, as well as Jenny Ri. They're her closest assistants, so they can provide information. I last saw them trying to contact [Name]'s lawyers." Sejin supplies.

Doctor Im nods. "I see." He takes a quick look towards you before turning back to them. "I'm afraid [Name] isn't doing too good right now.

Jungkook finds Jin's still shaking hands, lower lip trapped between his bunny teeth.

"It's a good thing that her team was able to rush her in right away. If not, the situation would have been graver than it is now."

Jin's heart stops.

"G-grave?" he asks, voice trembling. "What do you mean 'grave'?"

It's Doctor Choi who speaks this time.

"When Miss [Last Name] was brought in for the emergency surgery, we had to do an emergency septal myectomy." Doctor Choi holds up a film of a scan, presumably [Name]'s.

"This is Miss [Last Name]'s echocardiogram." He points at a white portion in the middle of the scan, and Jin's head swims. "Miss [Last Name]'s septum is drastically thicker than that of a person with a healthy heart, so it prevented healthy blood flow to the chambers of her heart. Added to the treatments she was undergoing, it caused abnormal and uneven blood flow to her heart and the rest of her body, and caused complications that were...life-threatening."

Doctor Im looks at the other doctor. "It appears that [Name] has been hiding her symptoms since our last meeting, possibly way longer, so it was left untreated."

"What happened, Doc?" Sejin asks as he looks between the two doctors. "Is she going to be okay?"

The doctors share a grim look, one that Jin notices.

"What is it?" he asks, eyes darting between the two.

"Her heart nearly gave out from the heavy stress her body was in, Mr. Kim. Her blood wasn't being properly pumped and filtered, and her immune system was heavily compromised, so she suffered from bilateral pneumonia, which also affected her bloodstream.

Doctor Im takes off his glasses and sighs heavily. "She had septic shock caused by sepsis."

"She almost didn't make it." Doctor Choi says. Jin gasps in sync with Jungkook, the latter almost collapsing to the floor. "She went into cardiac arrest on the table, but we were able to bring her back."

(jin thinks his heart can't get any more bruised than it already is. your poor heart is battered literally and metaphorically. how can he possibly fix it for you?)

(he should've never listened when they asked him to stay away from you. he should've fought for you and with you, that way you're not alone.)

"But she's going to be okay, isn't she?" Sejin asks what the other two can't, what they're too afraid to ask.

Doctor Choi pauses before he shakes his head with pursed lips. "I'm afraid we can't really tell right now. We put her in an induced coma while we try to let her body recover, and we administered treatments, which will continue within the next few days. We can only hope for the best."

"Hope for the best?!" Jungkook cries his first words since the two doctors entered the suite, and looks up at them with tears now steadily running down his cheeks. "So we do nothing?!"

"Unfortunately, so." Jungkook finally loses it and collapses onto the floor on his knees, staring into nothing. "We have done everything we could for now, and we'd have to run some more tests in a few days. But right now, we can only monitor her. An induced coma is the best bet we have to let her body rest and the for treatments to take effect."

Induced coma.

Jin's head is swimming with those two words as he walks closer to your prone figure and reaches out to mindlessly grasp your hand, but a hand stops his wrist.

"I'm afraid we have to advise you not to touch or make any skin-to-skin contact with Miss [Last Name] right now, most especially since you're her soulmate."

"What?" Jin asks dumbly.

"One of the side effects of the therapy is skin burns when the person comes in contact skin-to-skin with their soulmate, so skin-to-skin contact is highly discouraged."

Jin feels like his whole being wants to shatter. He can't love you, and he can't touch you? Was this how you felt all this time?

Before he can even make any further moves, the door to your suite opens, and in bursts Jackson, panting heavily.

Jin can't even find it in himself to be mad. After all, Jackson was there when you needed someone the most. No matter how it hurts him that there's another person who holds your hand, he can't do anything about it. They weren't there for you, he wasn't there for you. The least they can do is let you find someone else to hold when you need to.

Jackson crosses the room at record speed straight to you, grasping your hand delicately with a pained gasp. His manager is tailing behind and closes the door gently.

Jackson lets go of your hand gently and turns to the doctors. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Im Jiho, Miss [Last Name]'s animaelogy physician." Jackson grasps the doctor's hand, as well as Doctor Choi's hand in a firm handshake. "This is Doctor Choi Daeseong, head surgeon for Yonsei."

"Jackson Wang." He smiles politely. "Is she gonna be okay?" He repeats.

"I assume Miss [Last Name] has made you aware of her treatments since she informed me she made you her next of kin?" Doctor Im asks.

Jackson's face darkens. "Yes, she did."

Doctor Im nods his head. "I'm afraid Miss [Last Name] is not doing so well right now. We would need to keep her in a coma for a while as we observe her and let the treatments take effect."

Jackson's eyebrows furrow. "Isn't that dangerous? How long would that take?"

"We'd need to assess first within the next few days. Right now, we cannot provide or guarantee until when she will need to be, but we'll do our best, Mr. Wang. I can assure you that."

Jackson nods but turns to Jin, his gaze hardening. "This is your fault." He looks at Jungkook, then back to Jin. "Why are you two here? Who gave you the right to be here?"

"We're her soulmates," Jungkook says coldly, to which Jackson snorts. Jungkook gets up from the floor swiftly. "We have every right to be here."

"Do you, Jungkook? After you all left her, do you really think you still have the right to be here? And for what? To make sure she's dead?"

Jungkook takes an angry step closer to Jackson, his face painted with rage. "What did you fucking say, you asshole?!" Sejin, the doctors, and Jackson's manager step between them. "Say that again, you motherfucker. I fucking dare you."

"Isn't that what you came here for, to make sure she stays away for good? Isn't that what you wanted?" Jackson is red in the face as the security detail rushes to the room.

"I'm still her soulmate, know your fucking place!" Jungkook shouts back, Jin holding him back by his chest. "In the eyes of the law, we have every right to be here."

"You gave up those rights when you rejected her, so you can shove that law up your ass and fuck off." Jackson's manager holds him back by wrapping his arms around Jackson's shoulders.

Jungkook can vaguely hear the doctors speaking to Sejin, but he pays them no mind. "I'm not leaving her here alone, so you can go get fucked."

"Jungkook." Sejin holds him by his shoulders. "I think it's best if we come back another day."

"I'm not leaving her again!" Jungkook cries.

"We're all emotional, and it will not help [Name] if one of you ends up in the ER." Jungkook looks at your peaceful figure, unaware of the disorder around you, and it hurts him. He feels his hands yearn to touch you but he can't, he doesn't want to hurt you. "Come on, I'll take you and Seokjin home."

Jungkook's expression crumples as he looks at Sejin. "But—"

"We'll come back, I promise." Jungkook's breathing is heavy, but Sejin's expression is steadfast. "I promise."

Jungkook has no choice but to concede. He turns back to Jackson. "You can't keep me away from her forever. I'll come back for her."

Jackson opens his mouth to retort that you don't need them, but his manager stops him.

"I'll come back for her, and no one can stop me. Unless it comes from her mouth that she doesn't want me here, I will be here." Jungkook chances one more look at you before he shrugs off the arms around him and stalks out of the room. Jin, who had been quiet all throughout the ordeal takes one good look at you before following suit, not even sparing Jackson a glance.

No one can keep them away from you. They'll stop at nothing just to do what they should've done before—give you all the love you deserve. Until you tell them that you don't want them in your life, they'll spend forever to try and make it up to you.

And make it up to you, they will.

---

#bts soulmate au #polyamorous bts #soul bonds #soulmate rejection #they're idiots your honor #i really dk what i'm doing i'm so so sorry #i mean there will be no fic if there are no idiots in denial #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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lovewheeler · 2 years

Text

— training wheels

summary: mike doesn't know why he keeps letting you drag him to these dumb parties.

content warnings: 7 minutes in heaven, tooth-rotting fluff, not smut but suggestive, making out, mike calls reader "pompoms" cuz she's in cheer, fem!reader, everyone lives no one dies, college au, mike is NINETEEN!!!, childhood best friends to lovers, mutual pining, not beta read i wrote this and immediately posted it

wc: 1.93k

dt: @arachine <3

You and Mike are bickering like an old married couple, which wasn’t new. Your hand was wrapped tight around his wrist while you led him around, which also wasn’t new. No, what was new was that this was happening at a party, something Mike generally didn’t get invited to.

And he wasn’t, not really – neither were Dustin or Max, who were currently huddled up on the couch looking ridiculously uncomfortable; El was drunk, but at least she looked happy. Will found some luck talking to a guy on the patio. Lucas was more comfortable, leaning against the side of the couch also relatively drunk but at least able to talk to the teammates who came up to say hi.

The reason any of them were here, really, was because of you and Lucas – you’d made it a point to tell your group of student athletes that if they wanted you two anywhere, then the rest of your friends would be able to come too. Lucas nodded vigorously next to you, letting you do most of the talking.

It was a begrudging agreement (from both sides, honestly), but one flash of your puppy dog eyes had them all caving. Mike took a bit more convincing, but after promising him more movie nights in exchange for a party every other week, he caved.

And that’s how you’d ended up here, huddled in the center of Chrissy Cunningham’s living room with your best friends, some fellow cheerleaders, and a whole lot of frat guys, writing down all of your names on little slips of paper. You loved party games.

“Alright, losers, we’re playing seven minutes in heaven–” Chance’s voice rings throughout the room and you tilt your head up from where it was previously resting on Mike’s shoulder, “All of your names are in this hat, so we’re gonna pick two and then send you in a closet with whoever you get – no redos, we don’t care who you end up with, just, like, knock on the door or something if you guys are fucking when seven minutes is up.”

His friends laugh and you grimace, thinking distantly about how maybe Mike was right and you didn’t need to play every party game you came across, but –

“Okay, Y/N –” The sound of your name being called makes your eyes widen and your body tense. You feel Mike’s arm tense from its place around your shoulders, tightening almost imperceptibly.

“Aaaand – oh. Wheeler,” Mike’s name is called with much less enthusiasm than yours is, coated with distaste, “You lucky bastard.”

You feel your entire body heat up because oh my god, why does he have to flirt with you right now?, and also because you’re currently about to be sent into a dark closet with your best friend slash longtime unrequited crush.

You hear a bark of laughter at your side and give Dustin a withering glare (which of course doesn’t shut him up, but you tried). You’re immediately very aware of the fact that your knees are touching and his arm is around you, a position that was previously so comfortable now feeling so, so intense.

You want to scream, and maybe die, but you guys are getting hauled up way too quickly by some basketball players that are way too strong for their own good, then being led (and frankly thrown) into a relatively large closet. The last thing you see before the door closes is El giving the two of you a double thumbs up, bless her heart, while Dustin, Lucas, and Max laugh their asses off. Nice.

“And your timeeee starts – now,” You hear Chrissy’s girly giggle from outside of the door and make a mental note to throw a pompom at her during your next practice; she was one of the only people who knew about your crush on Mike and you just knew she was kicking her feet right now.

And then…silence. Save for the dull thud of the music blaring outside the closet, it’s just you two, breathing in the dark. You fish around for a light and as soon as it clicks on you both seem to realize that you are way too close.

You and Mike retreat to opposite sides of the closet and you busy yourself with looking at a pretty coat (it’s not pretty, it’s linty and has threads hanging off of it, it’s just pink). You hear him clear his throat and think about how hard it would be to fake your own death and move to Iceland.

“So, uh, hi –” Hus stupid voice breaks through the silence and somehow your humiliation is taken over by an overwhelming urge to punch him, “Crazy seeing you here.”

And that’s what sends you into a fit of giggles. You shake your head, already crawling forward so you can sit next to him, close enough to smack his head lightly, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Hey! I was trying to lighten the mood!” He laughs, swatting your arm away before pulling back to get a good look at you, smile fond. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

And then the reality of the situation sets in again and you both get quiet.

“What do we – what are we supposed to do?” His voice is soft, honestly kind of worried, and you can’t bring yourself to throw him a light-hearted quip.

“I mean – like, us in particular or the game?” His expression indicates the latter and you shrug, “Usually people make out. Sometimes they’re caught having sex, that’s why Chance said to knock on the door – you know, I have no clue how people have time to do that, but –”

You cut yourself off, realizing you’re rambling again, and offer him a sheepish smile. God, you haven’t felt this nervous around him since you were ten and figured out what a crush was.

“But, uh, yeah. That’s – usually what happens.” Why were you so nervous? You were in a closet with your best friend. So what?

“Okay, cool, cool, perfect, yeah –” He nods, throwing his head back against the wall and running his hands down his face, “So what do we do, then?”

“Um – I dunno. Just sit here, I guess?” You grip his wrist to check his watch. The touch feels like it burns, “We have five minutes. You could start your ‘I told you so’ lecture about how I never should’ve dragged you to this party, we could devise a plan to kill the others when we get out of here, we coul–”

“Have you had your first kiss yet?”

You splutter, “W-what?”

“Your first kiss. You had it?”

“Well – no, but I don’t really see what that has to do with –”

“Why?”

“Are you insane?”

“Answer the question. You’ve had boyfriends.”

He’s right. You sit there and twiddle your thumbs, biting down on your bottom lip. How did you tell him that the reason those boyfriends had never lasted for more than a month was because they always ended up getting jealous of your nerd best friend, and you’d give them up in a heartbeat for him? How did you tell him you never had your first kiss because you were saving it for him?

So you do what you do best; you deflect.

“Well have you had yours?”

He has the audacity to look surprised. To scrunch his stupid eyebrows together and let his jaw drop. God, he’s so annoying.

“Well no, but I think that’s kind of irr–”

“Why?” Your tone is mocking, your nose scrunching up while you do a crude imitation of his voice. Whiny and grating.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“Okay, and you always told me first is better, so I don’t think its very fair of you to–”

“I was saving it!” Your outburst cuts him off and your hands shoot up to cover your mouth, eyes wide like you can’t believe you just said that (you can’t).

“Saving it for what? For who? You could’ve had, like, all of those meatheads on the football team by now. You’re literally vice captain of the cheerleading squad, pompoms, the hell are you saving it for?”

“For someone special. But he’s a fucking idiot and can never take a hint.”

He looks at you in confusion. You think you can physically hear the clock ticking and your eye twitches.

“Oh my god — you, dipshit! It’s you!”

His eyes widen and he jumps. Jumps back. You want to die. You feel your entire life crumbling – having to explain to your friend group that you’ve left the country because you finally told Mike you liked him and he didn’t accept it, having to learn how to translate cheer skills into farming, having to –

You feel the pressure of lips against yours and your mind goes blank. Mike’s lips. Oh my god. Mike is kissing you. He’s got his big hands on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your shirt insistently and you all but clamber to seat yourself on his lap.

You’re straddling him now, legs caging in bony hips, arms looped around his neck, and it feels nice. Right. Like two puzzle pieces. Millions of little butterflies erupt in your tummy and you think you’re shaking. His lips are so soft, everything you’d ever dreamed of and fantasized about and written in your stupid pink diary.

He pulls back. Looks at you with half-lidded eyes. Gives you that stupid, stupid dopey smile that you hate so much and lets his hands fall to your hips, “Woah.”

“Woah indeed, Mikey –” You giggle, feeling a bit hazy yourself. Is this what they feel like in the movies? “Such a romantic, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, and you catch yourself counting the freckles across his nose. His voice snaps you out of it, “Sooo, we got –” He looks down at his watch, “Two minutes. Got any ideas on what to do for two minutes?”

Your lips curl up in a smirk and he almost groans when your hands tangle in his hair, long nails scratching against his scalp, “I’ve got a few ideas. Oh – wait up.”

He eyes you curiously, big brown eyes confused and looking like a lost puppy when you pull a hand from his hair, only to widen when you give one, two, three knocks on the door. A message.

Your smirk only widens to a grin at the commotion it immediately causes – you hear Max gag, then El giggle, hear the distinct sound of Lucas hollering, and a chorus of groans from a frat’s worth of men who now realized you were off the market. You hear Dustin say “Finally, it’s only taken our entire lives” and you decide to plot his murder another time.

You’ve got priorities.

You turn back to the boy of your dreams, leaning forward to press your nose against his and grin.

“Ever thought you’d have your first kiss and lose your virginity in the same night?”

“Nah, but I knew it’d be with you.”

“Oh, you asshole, don’t one up me like that.”

You cut off whatever he was going to reply with with another kiss, this time more passionate than the first one. Hungrier. You tug on his hair and use the opportunity of him gasping to slide your tongue against his, arching your chest into his with a whine. It’s perfect.

You’ve both got a lot of time to make up for.

#mike wheeler x you #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #mike.

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saintmurd0ck · 7 months

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I’m unsure if multiple stops is done this way >< buuuuut 🎟️ ticket for 🚇 34th St-Hudson Yards ("for years i have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence.") and 🚇 86th St (“you bring out the good in me.”) with Owen Sleater please! I’m dying 4 more content about this boiii!!

la douleur exquise

join my sleepover | main masterlist

pairing: owen sleater x reader

warnings: kinda unrequited love (ISH), angsty owen, hurt + comfort

a/n: thank you SO much for being my first sleepover ask! this was so heartbreakingly beautiful to write, and as this is my first ever owen piece, i hope you enjoy 💗 (p.s. tagging mrs sleater, @murdock-and-the-sea)

There’s a breezeblock sinking deep into your stomach as Owen reaches for the coat that’s lived on the hatstand for the past two years. It never mattered that the hatstand sat empty most of the time; not when you always knew he was coming back.

But today is different.

You barely register the sense of melancholic dread coursing through you, spreading outwards from the centre of your chest. Not when there are a million little things running through the abyss of your mind.

It feels like you’re gasping for air as you take in a staggering breath, doing your best to cast aside the unease carving his initials into your heart. Your voice cracks when you speak, and with it, any attempts you’ve made to ground yourself. “All packed?”

Owen’s lips twitch upwards as he nods, tightening his grip on the brim of his hat.

You’ve known for a while that this day would come, when he would inevitably have to leave Atlantic City. To go home, as he would fondly say. Home being Ireland.

Not here.

It couldn’t be here, unless Owen could resign himself to a life working for Nucky, being his right-hand man at best, but doing nothing else except taking orders and cutting down anyone who would get in the way.

You swallow thickly, tears prickling your eyes as his fingers close around the door handle. You imagine instead that his hand moves away, a man on a mission to seek out his love, but he turns towards you not to then press his lips against your own, but to angle his body towards the promise of his exit. “Ma’am.”

You draw in a breath, wanting to say something, anything, to fill the now-awkward space between you. The fact that nothing comes out shatters something whole within you. He’s reverting back to your old pleasantries, because you’re more strangers-than-not, and now, you’ll have to remember him for longer than you’ve known him.

“Mr. Sleater,” you call out from your place on the stairs, not caring that the words catch in your throat, “You needn’t address me like that.”

There’s a hitch in every syllable, one that wedges and distorts the sound coming from your mouth. But you keep going. “I thought we’d agreed that you’d call me by name. And don’t you say it’s because of manners.”

You wait a moment. “I know you’re not capable of manners, Owen.” You let his name roll off your tongue, and for some reason, it’s this instance that feels more indulgent than any other time you’ve used it. It reminds you that you’ve grown fond of his temporary permanence, and even then, fond is too austere a word.

He smiles sadly. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll be goin’ now.” The words echo in your mind even before he says them. “And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

He turns the handle, and he’s gone in an instant; so quickly and without further goodbye you would think he’s otherwise vanished into thin air. It doesn’t surprise you all that much, because that’s how it’s always been with Owen: a man of few words, always leaving without a trace.

It all becomes unbearable too fast as you watch the sunlight filtering into the foyer, the spot where he stood now agonisingly empty. You stare fixedly at nothing in particular, replaying his words in your head, unable to do anything but bring a fist to your mouth to stifle the oncoming rainstorm.

As you make your way up the stairs, turning your back to the lingering ghost of Owen’s solid form, it hits you that this is what goodbye feels like. This is what it means to farewell something that could’ve worked out, if only you’d properly tried. Your knuckles whiten around the wooden banister, clutching it so tightly it’s a wonder you’re not rooted to the spot, able to move upwards at all. But you trudge onwards, shoving down every hint of his smile, his scent and his warmth, as deep as it’ll go.

Muscle memory leads you to the edge of the bed, and you sink down onto the mattress, rumpling the crisp sheets. Good, you think, let me stay here. Let me be consumed by the inordinate grief I carry for a man who was never mine.

It’s then that you feel the dam break, washing away your hardened resolve and with it, two years of missed opportunities and what seems like wasted yearning. Part of you screams that it’s no use dwelling on what could’ve been, but you allow yourself that luxury, if nothing but to live in delusion for just a little more. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror doesn’t do much to help your case; not with your glassily dejected expression, your leaden limbs that hang by your side.

“All this,” you murmur aloud, your eyes fluttering closed, “for someone who never loved you back.”

You mull over your thoughts so forcefully that you almost miss the response.

“Is that what you really think?”

Your body goes rigid at the sound of his voice, your frantic gaze widening as you clock him standing by the door. His name comes out as a squeak, but you say it nonetheless. “Owen?”

He jerks his chin at you, taking a step forwards, his coat and hat markedly draped over the banister. “Now who said I didn’t love you back? Nucky?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Instead, you purse your lips together, praying that the shallow rise and fall of your chest is noticeable to none other than yourself.

But it’s Owen, and nothing goes over his head. He fixates on your breathing, hyper-aware at the effect his reappearance has had on you, or more accurately, the implication laying heavy in his tone.

He walks in, rubbing his face as he paces in front of you. He grits his teeth as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave. “For years,” he starts, seething in anguish, “I have yearned for you, in secrecy and in silence. Years.” He lets out a small, sarcastic chuckle, but the pain laid bare in his eyes fool no-one. “I have thought every day of how to tell you.”

You feel like keeling over, but this isn’t the time. Gathering whatever’s left of your internal strength, you push up off the bed to get to your feet to face him.

Owen blinks at you, his expression inscrutable. “You bring out the good in me.”

You don’t know what this means — about whether he’ll stay or go, but you cast aside any reservations, choosing instead to focus on the matter at hand.

“Do you love me?” you ask, unwavering.

“Yes.”

You drop to a whisper, taking one of his hands into your own, brushing over every callous with your thumb. You’ve never known how to say anything to him about how you feel, but his candor sparks a light, but you know what you say next is the irrevocable truth.

“Then I am yours, Mr. Sleater. I am yours until the world — my life — decides otherwise.”

#owen sleater #owen sleater x reader #owen sleater fanfic #owen sleater angst #owen sleater fluff #boardwalk empire #boardwalk empire fanfic #all aboard the saintmurd0ck express #rhi writes 💻#x reader

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theladyofdeath · 2 years

Text

The Viscount Who Loved Me {One}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father. Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war.

Tag list is at the end. If you'd like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

Dear readers,

I heard a rumor that a certain rake with a capital R is looking to wed this season. Luckily for one cunning young lady, he's incredibly wealthy.

Handsome, too.

And are those not the qualities one looks for in a husband?

Yours Truly,

The Suriel

Cassian hadn’t slept a wink even though the woman beside him was out cold and had been for hours. As it neared dawn, he decided it was time to take his leave, even though he was perfectly comfortable wrapped up in the blankets of Tanwyn’s warm bed.

Leaving was always the hardest part but he thought it better to do before most of the ton was up and going for the day. Even though they all knew he was a Rake, he preferred to keep his reputation on the down low.

And by that, he preferred to let the people of Velaris think whatever the hell they wanted about him as long as they talked about him behind closed doors.

After sliding out of bed, he tugged on his trousers, boots, and shirt before throwing on his jacket and stuffing his vest into his satchel. The three coins didn’t so much as clink as he set them on the table in the corner. With a final glance at the sleeping form in the bed, he tugged his hat over his long hair and was out the door. He’d have to have a trim before the first event of the season, so as to not gain the wrong kind of attention.

Even in early spring, it was brisk so early in the morning. Cassian huffed out a breath as he headed down the street, sticking his hands into his pockets, for what little warmth they offered. After buying a paper from the boy on the corner he was on horseback, trekking from one side of town to the other.

There was a shortcut through the park, which he found both useful and lovely first thing in the morning. Although a fog had settled over the fresh, green grass, there was something ethereal about an empty park that Cassian had never grown tired of. He took his time, riding slowly through the open field.

It was the perfect time to let his thoughts roam.

It was mad to think that in a couple of months he would be a married man. After his upbringing, it was all Cassian wanted: to find a wife and have children. His parents had died young, passing along a title that Cassian didn’t get to truly claim until he was much older.

He had it all, though. The money. The title. The houses.

Now he just needed a family to share them with. He’d always wanted children, had always been fond of the idea. Finding a woman to carry those children, however, had been an impossible game in itself. It wasn’t that he had been picky over the previous years, but settling down and pinpointing one woman had been a challenge.

He liked women.

He liked to fuck.

He liked the freedom but knew that he could not have both. Now that he was getting older, it was time.

This season, he would find a wife.

And she must be the best that the season had to offer.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fresh morning air as his horse meandered on. He thought about going to Rhysand’s but it had been a few days since he’d been home. He should probably check in on things, should probably make sure all was in tip-top shape if he were to be having any sort of guests soon.

As he approached a hill on the far side of the meadow, he went left, opposite of the river.

He’d just started to yawn when he heard it.

A horse whinnied and raced past him. He hadn’t even realized that there had been someone nearby.

Especially not a woman.

Alone.

But the skirts beneath the cape of the hooded rider were unmistakable and if it was, indeed, a lone woman…

“Miss?” He called after her. The rider continued on.

Cassian dug his heels into the side of his mare and picked up his speed, following the woman, yelling for her to stop, calling to see if she was in trouble.

She didn’t even give him a glance.

After a moment of the chase, Cassian came to the conclusion that she was not in trouble, but it only made his curiosity grow. He begged his horse to run, but she could not compete with the beast ahead.

He tried again, “Miss!”

She turned back to look at him at last, her hood catching in the wind. He saw a flash of golden brown hair and then she was off again, urging her horse forward, faster.

He swore quietly, seeing that she was riding for the edge of the park. Steering his horse around the copse of trees she’d ridden into, Cassian hurried to see if he could make it to the large fence around the park before she did. He reached the fence in just a few moments, and heard the hoofbeats of the woman’s horse soon after. She was riding at a much more acceptable pace now and as Cassian rode up beside her, she jumped, the hood of her navy cloak falling from her braided hair.

She looked at him and he couldn’t quite pinpoint the look in her gray-blue eyes. Anger, with a hint of mischief.

“Good morning,” Cassian said, simply, deciding it was a reasonable way to begin a conversation.

“Do you always follow women at dawn in the park?” she replied, causing Cassian to second guess everything he had ever known about women.

“Pardon?” he asked, and her eyes never wavered from his. “Women do not ride alone at dawn. Where is your chaperone?”

“And who are you to ask of my chaperone?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “Surely, a man who cannot win a simple race should not be asking such entitled questions.”

“A race?” Cassian repeated, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “That was no race.”

“Yes, it was, and I won,” she replied, chin held high. “Although, you cannot blame yourself for your loss. It is your horse. She is old.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before laughing, yet again. “I assure you. If it was a race, I would have won.”

“If it was not a race, then why were you following me, sir?” she jabbed, keeping her eyes on the path ahead as they began to ride.

“I feared you were in trouble,” he replied, unsure of how to react to a woman being so forthright. “I have never seen a woman riding without a maid, especially so early in the morning. It is almost as if you do not wish to be seen.”

“Perhaps I don’t,” she replied. “I did not intend to run into anyone. As for my safety, I promise you that I had the situation under control. My safety should be of no concern to you.”

Cassian could not help the laugh that tumbled out of him, yet again. “Very well. I will not tell a soul of this encounter.”

“I am most grateful,” she replied, and dipped her chin in his direction.

“It’s purely for my benefit,” Cassian went on, and he heard her scoff. The simple sound excited him. “If people were to know of this encounter, could you imagine the questions they would be asking me?”

“Ah, so this becomes about you?” she said, and Cassian shot a glance in her direction. Her eyes remained on the path ahead, but her eyes were lit, her chin raised high. She opened her mouth to say something more, but then she froze. Cassian followed her line of sight and noticed a pair of gentlemen riding in the distance.

“My apologies,” she said, and steered her horse in the opposite direction. “Good day, sir.”

“Wait,” he protested, attempting to turn around but by the time he did, she was hurrying away. “I didn’t get your name!”

She didn’t even look back as she rode away and disappeared over the hillside.

<.>

Feyre Archeron took a deep breath as she stood before the doors to her father’s study. She’d been expecting the conversation any day, had heard her sisters discussing it when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. What they hadn’t realized was that she was often listening when others thought she was absorbed in her art.

What about those ships to Behret, Elain had asked, during dinner one night, when their father had been at the gentleman’s club. Father said the gold from one of the ships on that endeavor alone would cover not only my dowry, but also Feyre’s, and yours, should you choose to marry.

Marriage.

It was not that Feyre didn’t want to be married, didn’t want to be a wife, but the thought was daunting. It was especially daunting considering neither of her sisters were married. Somehow, even though she was the youngest, it seemed that Feyre was the most likely to get married first. She had no idea how it happened, or why, but it was not her place to complain.

“You may come in.”

Her father’s voice echoed in the hallway beyond.

She rarely saw her father. He spent so much of his time away on business that the girls had come to know life without him, and had gotten used to it. It was almost stranger when he was home then when he wasn’t.

Feyre pushed open the doors to her father’s study and entered, smiling as she did so, even though she felt no joy. “Good morning, father. It’s nice to see you home so soon.”

Isaac Archeron smiled - at least, he smiled as much as he could. Feyre swore that she never saw a genuine smile on her father. At least, not since she was old enough to remember such things. “You look beautiful, my dear.” There was only a slight pause before he said, “The season is starting soon. Are you prepared?”

Straight down to business, then.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded, clearing her throat. “Nesta has made sure my dances are impeccable and my pianoforte is—”

“I don’t know how we managed to make it out last season with our name unscathed,” he interrupted, looking back to whatever document he was signing. “After the mess with Lord Harding last year, I hope your sister is a little more cunning to her fellow ladies.”

Feyre didn’t speak, waiting to see if her father was done. It seemed he wasn’t.

“Your sisters are to go to the modiste today,” he said, folding his hands over his desk, paperwork forgotten. “You will accompany them. It’s time to lower your hems.”

“Yes, father,” Feyre nodded, curtsying slightly. “If that’s all, I’d like to take an hour or so to paint before we go.”

“Painting is not a useful skill, darling,” her father said, looking back down at his papers. “You should practice the pianoforte for a while if you have a moment.”

“The pianoforte-.”

“That is all,” her father interrupted.

Her dismissal.

“Good day, father,” she said, before turning towards the door.

“Feyre?”

She stilled although she never gathered the strength to turn and face him, once more.

“You are expected to present yourself in front of the queen in a week’s time,” he said. “Do not embarrass our family. You are our greatest hope.”

There was a lot she wanted to say to her father in that moment. For one, she wanted to tell him that he was being far too dramatic. The world did not revolve around her, nor did their family. Feyre knew that both of her sisters had the same chance of finding a husband to carry on their legacy.

Perhaps it was that that had Feyre turning to face her father, once more.

“Is everything alright, father?” she asked. “You seem disturbed.”

Isaac frowned, stilling at the papers in his hands. “I do not wish you to worry.”

“Is there something you’re worrying about?” Feyre pushed, knowing she shouldn’t, but not caring. “If so, you should not carry the burden alone.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he repeated, clearing his throat. Between one breath and the next, he’d flipped the papers in front him over, his pen forgotten. “Now, you said you had some painting to do. Off to it then.”

A second dismissal. She was not tempted for a third. With another curtsy, Feyre was leaving the study, passing by stewards and servants alike, aiming for her bedroom to change into something more suitable to paint in.

“Feyre!”

Wincing, she came to a stop as she heard the voice of her eldest sister at the bottom of the stairs. She turned from the hallway she’d been headed down, finding not only Nesta awaiting her in the foyer, but Elain, as well.

“We’re to go to the modiste today, did father not tell you?” Nesta asked, tugging a pair of gray gloves on as Elain held a fan delicately in her hands.

“He did,” she replied, bracing a hand on the curved wooden railing, “but I was under the impression we were to go in a few hours.”

“We’ve had to move our visit up,” Nesta said, imperious as always. “We’ve heard rumor that Lady Harding is planning a visit later this afternoon as well, and we’d prefer to not be in her company.”

Elain flinched at the name but none of them commented on the matter. They didn’t dare. Elain had just come out of her dark hole of despair, they wouldn’t do anything to force her back in.

“Very well,” Feyre said, begrudgingly. “Allow me a few minutes to get ready.”

Nesta gave her a tight lipped nod before Feyre was hurrying from the room to collect her gloves and hat.

Going to the modiste was the last thing she wanted to do, not only today but any day. She would, though. For her sisters, and their father. They had all been through too much for her to complain, so she wouldn’t.

She would go try on dresses and have them fitted to perfection.

She would prance around the ton, put on a show that none of them could criticize.

She would marry a man whom she did not love to uphold their family name, even though it was not the desire of her heart.

She was a woman.

It was her duty.

Considering her sisters failed at theirs, it was now on her shoulders alone.

<.>

“What do you think about blue?” The modiste asked, after Feyre had shot down fabric after fabric for her dress to the upcoming ball. Madame Amren was the most popular modiste in town by far, and she was known for her lavish, exquisite gowns. Both Nesta and Elain had settled on fabric, cut, and embellishment, while Feyre couldn’t even decide what color she should wear. She went on, “With your sisters in dove grey and amethyst, a blue gown would be very complimentary.”

“How many blue gowns have you made for the ball at the Beddor’s next week, Madame Amren?” Feyre asked, glancing at the floral fabric she held in her hands. The silk was far better suited for Elain.

A beat of hesitation. “Quite a few, miss, but—”

“My sister is right,” Nesta interrupted, from where she and Elain were admiring her new mesh fabrics for gloves. “She must stand out before Her Majesty, but we must also look good as a household.” She regarded the yards of fabric along the walls. “What about navy? Do you have any silks in a navy coloring?”

“Navy is not a color typically worn during the season, Miss Archeron,” she replied, matter-of-factly. “It is usually made into velvets and wools, for winter—”

“But do you have any in silk?” Feyre asked.

“Of course,” Madame Amren said. “But, only a select few.”

The sisters remained as Madame Amren hurried into the back.

Elain cleared her throat, about to tell Feyre she’d made a good choice, and tell her about the time she and another eligible lady had shown up in the same shade of rose pink last season, when the bell above the door chimed. Amren had just returned from the back, three silks of darkest blue in her arms and set them down on the low lying table next to the dais Ferye stood upon, pins still nearly pricking her skin in some places as Madame Amren took her most recent measurements. “Excuse me,” she said, nodding to the ladies and hurrying to the front of her shop.

Elain froze as she heard her greet her customers. “Lady Harding, Lady Beddor, Miss Clare, how may I help you?”

Nesta and Feyre’s eyes met and they both looked to where their sister was now staring at an unfinished gown across the room, scarcely breathing.

The conversation blurred as Elain’s ears began to ring, and far too loudly, she was certain, she announced, “Excuse me. I need some air.”

She did not wait for anyone to protest as she fled, even though she knew Nesta reached for her hand before she hurried out the front door and onto the cobblestone streets of Velaris.

After hurrying around the side of the shop, she leaned against the brick wall and closed her eyes.

Breathe, she begged herself. In and out.

Her heart was nearly ready to beat out of her chest. The whole reason they had moved their appointment to the morning was to avoid such confrontation. Not that Lady Harding would care that Elain was in her presence.

It wasn’t her that had her heart broken, but Elain’s,

Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes and for a moment, she wanted to scream, wanted to curse, but did not.

She continued that steady, deep breathing until her heart quieted down.

How pathetic I am, she thought, and her cheeks grew red. She did not want to go back in there, she was too embarrassed.

Miss Clare, Graysen’s betrothed, was most likely having a grand ole time, seeing Elain in such a state.

Graysen.

Even his name clanged through her, making her regret every moment they’d shared together the season before. He’d courted her almost the entire season, asking to add his name to her dance card at the very first ball after her coming out. Unfortunately, she was already full up for the evening, but the next morning he was calling on her at their home. He brought her the most beautiful flowers, every time he saw her. Whether it was a bouquet for her dinner table or a single, elegant rose at a ball, Elain’s heart fluttered every time she saw him. He’d taken her out for promenade after promenade, Nesta a dutiful chaperone at all times.

But at the penultimate ball of the season, at Graysen’s family’s own estate, when she’d expected that he was to finally ask for her hand, his father had announced his son’s engagement.

To Clare Beddor.

While Graysen had been courting Elain, their budding romance clear for all of the ton to see, Lord Harding and Lord Beddor had come to a business arrangement behind the scenes.

Elain had never been so humiliated, heartbroken, and devastated. In an instant, the future she’d imagined, the life she saw for herself as Graysen’s wife… It was gone.

She and Nesta hadn’t attended the final ball of the season, lest she have to face Graysen, apology and pity undoubtedly written across his face, or worse, Clare herself.

The smirk Elain had spied on Clare’s face had told Elain they’d made the right choice in not attending.

Once her heart had calmed, once it no longer felt like it would beat out of her chest, Elain pushed herself off the wall, smoothed down her skirts, and began to walk back toward the street.

It was bustling, every citizen of Velaris out and about, preparing. All the members of the ton had somewhere to be. In a matter of days, they would also begin to be displayed like prizes for one another.

The sun was out, bright and welcoming, which was rare for an early day in the Spring. It was lovely, though. Elain tossed her head back and dwelled in the warmth just as she rounded the corner of the shop.

And ran into something - or, rather, someone.

A very unladylike noise flew from her mouth, something between a gasp and a yelp, as she grabbed her hat to keep it from falling off of her head. She took a step back, her heart back to beating wildly within the confines of her chest, and found herself looking into the face of a young gentleman, perhaps a year or two older than herself.

“Oh, my apologies, sir,” she said, the words tumbling ungracefully from her mouth. “I should have been paying attention to where I was going. The sun is just so lovely. It distracted me.”

At first, she noted the crimson rising on his tanned neck, above his collar, but he soon gave her a gentle smile. With a respectful incline of his head, he said, “I should be the one apologizing. I was not paying attention, myself. I am afraid I was in a bit of a hurry and it was clouding my judgment.”

Elain couldn’t help her polite smile from spreading. “It looks like we are both at fault, then. Perhaps we both deserve a little grace?”

“That would be nice,” he said, and went to move around her but frowned before looking down at his fingers, which looked to be coated in charcoal, then to Elain’s sleeve. “It seems I may have gotten your dress dirty. Here, let me-.”

“Hmm?” Elain followed his line of vision, spotting the dark gray smudge on her sleeve. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and reached for her arm, then stopped.

“May I?” he asked.

Elain swallowed but nodded as he reached politely for Elain’s arm and dabbed at the stain. It grew lighter, but didn’t disappear. Elain took her arm back, hastily, and cleared her throat. “It’s quite alright. I’ll see that it gets removed. Thank you, Mr….”

“Draeven,” he replied, when it was clear she was waiting for him to supply his name. “Azriel Draeven.”

It almost seemed like he was uncomfortable providing his name, but he said nothing more about it.

“Lady Elain Archeron, my lord,” she said, feeling foolish for not recognizing his status before. She recognized his name. He was a baron. She curtsied and he returned it with a bow of his own. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he assured her, an exchange that Elain had already had a million times in her life. Yet, this time, it nearly seemed like he meant it.

Men rarely meant such things.

A horse whinnied from the carriage out front of the modiste.

A carriage, Elain realized with a start, belonging to her family. She could already see Nesta in the carriage, a fan keeping her from roasting within the velvet-lined landau.

“I should be going, Lord Draeven,” she blurted, starting for the carriage. She stopped, curtsying and inclining her head.

“Please, call me Azriel,” he replied, and Elain swore she saw him cringe, just a bit. “Titles are… Well, I prefer my given name to my family name.”

She hesitated, but nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

He waited until she’d hurried for the carriage, watching as she turned and looked at her one last time before climbing inside. Softly, so quiet no one but himself could hear, he repeated, “The pleasure is all mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses @photofeesh @the-regal-warrior @gracie-rosee @irisofink @strawberries-and-reveries @zeppelin-and-unicorns @live-the-fangirl-life @cassianscool @clacings @argentumstella @cuppamelia @chillspritecranberry @emilyrose111294 @awesomelena555 @gengen64 @dontbenddontbreak @blueunoias @liliput2203 @sleeping-and-books @kindofawalkingpoem @thebitchydonutcollector @shedoessoshedoes @cretaceous-therapod @emily-gsh @annie-laur @impossiblehistoryofquotes @midnightrose-reader @beanl1 @shniya-hiiragi @towhateverend87 @deezrmuhsheeple @pintas3107 @sarcasm-is-the-best-insult @santkazoya @lady-winter-sunrise @themoonthestarsthesuriel @story-scribbler @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @sv0430 @dreammoutlouddd @katlady13 @lokisllama @mrspettyferr @missannieshay @live-the-fangirl-life @headinclouds48 @secretlycressdarnel @awesomethreedragons

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #nessian #elriel #feysand #gwynriel #fanfic #fanfiction #period au #au #sjm #bridgerton au

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dirtyeddietini · 2 years

Text

wish you were sober (E.M. x Female Reader)

okay so I had this idea. I was very much in a Conan Gray slump for the past month, and I’m so in love with the ‘’Wish you were sober’’ and ‘’Disaster” songs. And idk if it’s just me? But I feel like they kinda go together? So I thought why not make an Eddie Munson fic based on them (Bc holy shit this dude has done something to me). So the “Wish you were sober” lyrics are kind of the Reader’s POV and “Disaster” is in Eddie’s POV? I hope it makes sense. Also pls be kind, english is very much not my first language and I haven’t written anything since my One Directions days (Which, those days are still not over let me tell you that). Also I hate dialogue?? So minimal dialogue for this one idk?? I’m thinking of making this into a series if people like it enough?? Like with a big time jump idk? I have a lot of ideas. But yeah, hope you enjoy ♡

warnings: alcohol, weed, two fools in love, very much angst??, not very happy ending, implied smut?? like mentions of it idk if heavy makeouts are smut??, unrequited love or so they think??, swearing, use of (y/n), idk if i missed any pls do tell me if i did, also me being an american but havent been there since i was born so i dont really know how america works so if anything is weird again pls do tell me, also idk when to fit this in the timeline of stranger things?? nobody really mentions vecna and everybody is happy and eddie is alive (if i go on with this series then this is fit like in their last year of high school i guess?? we’ll see)

I do not consent to my work being uploaded on any other platforms, translated or copied.

summary: You and Eddie Munson have a not so formal agreement. At the end of the night of every party, when alcohol doesn’t really do anything for any of you anymore - You switch it out for each other’s lips. But what happens when you’re a little bit greedy, and still want even more?

Word count: 3795

It was the first big party of the fall. The Halloween party, nonetheless. Pre-Eddie entering your life, Halloween was the only party you ever went to all year. Post-Eddie it was any and every party you could find, at least the ones you knew would be attended by the pretty, long haired boy. Sometimes you liked to imagine he felt the same. “this party’s shit, wish we could dip. could anywhere but here.”

‘’So, what are you supposed to be dressed as?’’ You drank the rest of your drink before hopping off the counter, giving Steve a twirl and showing off your very homemade witch costume. You’d have actually prefered to sit down, plan out your whole costume and find every piece so it would have looked perfect for the night. But between classes, your job and finding a very limited time to see family and friends, the season changing from summer into autumn hadn’t occurred to you. So here you were, in a little black dress with a witch hat you had bought for your first ever real Halloween party a couple of years back and some old jewelry sown lazily onto your dress. ‘’Well Steve Harrington, I am the wicked witch of Hawkins. Can’t you tell?’’ You said with a bow. Steve just chuckled and filled up his glass with cheap looking liqueur.

“nineteen, but you act twentyfive now. knees weak, but you talk really fly, wow.” ‘’He’s here, you know?’’ Steve asked while throwing a ping pong ball that landed perfectly in your beer. You just shrugged while you downed the beer, trying to look clueless as to what he was saying ‘’He asked about you when he arrived,’’ Steve continued while you tried aiming for just one of the 5 still perfectly lined up glasses in front of him, but missing yet again. You didn’t actually know how Steve persuaded you to play beer pong, knowing how bad you were. Maybe some liquid courage for the night ahead?

“ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed, take me where the music ain’t too loud.”

You didn’t know when or how you ended up on the sofa, surrounded by Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. Also it just didn’t really matter at this point, your only point of focus being Eddie, dressed as the devil (no surprise there, right?) talking to that pretty blonde. You know the kind of pretty blonde that actually had planned her costume. The one who actually took her friends out, found a costume (a whole costume, not just a random, forgotten dress on the floor of her closet). The kind of blonde Eddie would be proud to show around in town, not someone who only got to taste his lips when he had one too many beers. ‘’Earth to (Y/N)?’’ Jonathan said, waving his hand in front of your face. Steve looked at you with pity in his eyes, being the only one actually knowing who occupied your mind. ‘’Mmm?’’ You said, still looking at the scene in front of you, afraid that you might miss something if you looked away, even for a second. ‘’So, truth or dare? What is it going to be?’’ Robin laughed. You weren’t entirely sure you had ever agreed to the game, alcohol clouding your thoughts, but you had nothing else to do, right? ‘’I guess.. Dare?’’ You said with a sheepish smile, regretting it only mere seconds later. Not only because you were now sitting comfortably on the sofa, squished between Nancy and the coushions, kinda acting like a weighted blanket. Not only because Robin wore a devilish smile while she whispered something in Steve’s ear. No, also because your friends had seen you literally kill the pretty blonde in front of Eddie, with your eyes and that gave Robin a very good idea.

“save me ‘til the party is over. kiss me in the seat of your Rover. real sweet but i wish you were sober.”

It was the first Halloween you attended with the intent of actually partying. The other years where Steve had thrown his big Halloween parties and invited you, you were always sitting on the sofa, soda in hand while being the designated driver. You didn’t mind, alcohol or parties weren’t your thing up until that day (You know the day every teen gets? When they realize that life is just rushing by and they won’t have any fun stories to tell before they’re out of high school? Or was that just you?) Nevertheless, here you were at your first real (well, first real for you) Halloween party. The drinks were flowing (That was also the night you realized you were very much a light weight) Bodies dancing everywhere. You just needed a second for yourself, just to sit on the toilet to gather yourself. ‘’Hoooly shit, I’m drunk’’ You giggled to yourself. You stood up, ready to wash your hands but got a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. ‘’I looked so pretty when I got here, and now look at me’’ You pouted at yourself in the mirror. ‘’Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here’’ A voice said behind you, but you were all too occupied with your mascara to care ‘’No no, it’s fine. Come in. I don’t mind’’ You hiccuped, trying very hard not to poke your eye out with your mascara wand. ‘’I’m not really sure we’re that close yet, that I would feel comfortable using the toilet in front of you, pretty girl’’ You could see Eddie Munson coming up behind your back in the mirror. It was not that you didn’t know Eddie, your friends were his friends. It was just that he once let it slip to Steve that you were oh so hot, but how he wished you weren’t so boring. He wasn’t wrong, about the last part anyway. But there was one thing you and Eddie had in common, you just didn’t really care what others thought. So even though you had found Eddie pretty, fucking attractive, it didn’t stick with you that he thought you were boring. ‘’A penny for your thoughts?’’ He asked behind you. Guess you had a habit of zoning out a little bit too much. ‘’I’ll get out of your way, sorry.’’ You said, trying to grab the handle, but falling over your own heels. Eddie was quick to grab you, sit you on the toilet, pour out his beer from his cup and hand you the glass back with water.

And that's how the ‘’tradition’’ started. Nothing major happened that night. You were too drunk, and Eddie was a gentleman. You just sat in his van, talked about life, got a much needed (also a little bit too late) apology for his comment to Steve. Ever since then, the parties always ended up in his van. It didn’t take long until the passenger seat got abandoned for Eddie’s lap and curfew got dragged longer and longer into the night. But that was all that it was. Stolen glances at parties, long makeout sessions leading to always just a little bit more. And at first, that was fine. You weren’t really looking for anything other than a little attention. But as you got to know Eddie more, nothing was enough. Eddie, who had started carrying around a blanket in the van, just so you could snuggle under it when you got a bit too drunk and just wanted to talk. Eddie, who remembered that your favorite smell was vanilla (Also it was hard for him to forget, you basically bathed in your vanilla perfume every time you went to a party because one time, he said that you smelled really good) went out and bought a Wunderbaum so his car would smell like vanilla for you. Eddie, whose lips were just a little too soft to forget.

Anyway, that was only in the confinement of his van. At school things didn’t change, sure he would smile at you a little more, talk to you a little longer but until that alcohol hit Eddie’s lips, you felt like you didn’t really matter in his world.

“pullin me close, begging me, ‘’stay over’’, but i’m over this roller coaster.”

‘’I dare you, to steal away.. One Mr. Eddie Munson’’ Robin said, with a proud smirk. You looked at Steve, hoping he would help, but all he could do was shrug ‘’Those are the rules, girly’’. Sure Eddie would go with you, having downed about 10 beers and had 2 joints.. Or at least you hoped so. But as you looked over, once again, the pretty blonde had her arms around his waist and Eddie was biting his lips looking down at her. You looked at Robin, one more time, hoping she would give you another dare, but she just slumped back on the sofa, smiling. You stood up, knees wobbly, straightening out your dress while trying to come up with enough courage to walk over there. You poked Robin’s cheek on your way out to the make-shift dance floor. You could feel all eyes on you, not just your friends, but also the people surrounding you. Honestly, at this point you wished the floor would swallow you whole. And then you came face to face with… Eddie’s back. You still weren’t sure what to do, how to get his attention.

‘’Hey pretty boy, I missed you. Meet me in your van in 10 minutes’’ You whispered in his ear. You were honestly disgusted with yourself. Why would you say something like that? When have you ever said something like that? Why the hell would you call him a pretty boy? You never called Eddie pretty boy? Also, at this point you were pretty tired of whatever this thing between you two was. How would the boy ever know about your feelings, when you said stuff like that? You cringed, and started walking out. Steve and Robin threw their hands up ‘’What the hell was that?’’ Steve asked. You just smiled and skipped out of the door. It was only when Eddie excused himself from the blonde and raced out of the door that Steve and Robin looked at each other, laughed and felt a little proud of their friend's achievement. “i’mma crawl out the window now. getting good at saying ‘’gotta bounce’’. honestly you always let me down. and i know we’re not just hanging out.’’

‘’Eddie.. Eddie, stop’’ As soon as Eddie got in the wan, he was pulling you on his lap, attacking your mouth with kisses ‘’What, pretty girl, isn’t this what you wanted?’’ He said, mocking you. I mean this was kind of what you wanted. Why you came. Only this wasn’t all you wanted, you wanted to arrive at the party with Eddie, not just leave. You wanted to plan cheesy couples costumes, not just arrive and accidentally match (Which this year, you didn’t. So.) You wanted to dance, kiss, and talk all night. Not just when you were in his van or when the party got too boring. ‘’A penny for your thoughts?’’ He asked, just the same way he did at that first Halloween party. You licked your lips, you knew what you wanted to say. You knew what you wanted. You also just didn’t want to lose this. Whatever this was. Because holy fucking shit, had Eddie swept you right off your feet and started your new adventure as a young adult. He cocked his head, while still wearing that smile you just wanted to kiss stupid. But this was the time you needed to stand your ground. When you had mentioned to Steve briefly that you weren’t in the most ideal situation with Eddie, he had tried to coach you in the way of admitting your feelings, in his words ‘’You don’t have anything to lose. So what if he doesn’t feel the same? You’ll stop wasting your time and find someone more deserving.’’ But what Steve didn’t understand, and what you didn’t feel like you could tell him was, that Eddie didn’t feel like a waste of time. No matter what this was, this thing going on between you two, didn’t feel like a waste of time at all. Eddie listened to you, understood you, made you laugh at any given chance.

‘’Hey, you with me, baby?’’ Eddie started to grow concerned. You were just sitting on his lap, looking kind of hazed out while biting your lips. ‘’Y-Yeah. Just thinking’’ You said while playing with his hair, a nervous habit you had formed a while ago, which actually benefited both. ‘’Mmmh, about?’’ Eddie asked, while slowly starting to kiss down your neck. It took everything in you to not just shut off your thoughts and give all of you to that beautiful, doe eyed boy in front of you. ‘’Us’’ you said, almost a whisper. This made Eddie stop his actions, swinging his head back up to face you, while his grip around your thighs tightened. He almost looked like a man in love, you let yourself think for only just a second. There was an awkward silence after that. You weren’t sure if Eddie was waiting for you to proceed or if he had to gather up any confidence to say that there simply wasn’t an ‘’Us’’. There was you, and him and sometimes you and him just happened to cross paths. But there wasn't an ‘’Us’’.

‘’Yeah, and what do you think about, when you’re thinking about us?’’ He tried getting you to proceed. His tone didn’t give anything away. ‘’It’s just.. I’m just.. It’s..’’ You said, biting your lips. Come on. This isn’t so hard. You’ve told him about some of your hardest times, some of your darkest secrets and he didn’t judge you one ounce. Why was it so hard to get it out? ‘’I’m not sure I can do this anymore’’ You settled on saying that, still not giving yourself away. You started fiddling with his jacket. Not daring to look into his eyes ‘’Oh.. Okay. May I ask why?’’ He took your fingers, started to toy with them. This was his new nervous habit. Again, beneficial for both. ‘’I just.. I’m not sure this is enough for me anymore? Y’know? I don’t know if I can keep on pretending that this is good enough for me anymore.’’ You said, without thinking twice. The only thing you were trying to do, is to shield yourself and your feelings against Eddie. You didn’t wanna drop the L-bomb for him to not feel the same (Oh, not the love-bomb by the way. You may be head over heels for this boy, but you’re not quite sure that a few drunken kisses can lead to love.)

‘’ ‘Cause the potential of us, it was keepin me up all night long’’

While the turmoil was still going on inside your head, Eddie was beginning his own war in his mind. What you said, to shield yourself, twisted itself in Eddie's head. What he heard was that he wasn’t enough for you anymore, that he wasn’t enough.

While Eddie didn’t plan on this to be an occurrence as often as it had been, he didn’t mind it. At first you were just the hot girl who could make him forget about his own misery once or twice a month. Eddie swore that at first he only needed company, no matter what or who that company was. It didn’t hurt that it was you, a sight for sore eyes. It made it even easier to forget his own life. But then those stolen, drunken kisses turned into Eddie swapping his beer for water, only for him to remember everything you said the next day, for not forgetting how you smelled so beautifully of vanilla, for remembering every tiny detail about you and lasty, just so he could see your drunken little dance as you walked up to your front door after he’d driven you home. He couldn’t exactly pin-point when he realized that this was no longer just a distraction. That this was actually the best part of the parties. That whenever he knew you were in the same space as him, he couldn’t stop looking to meet your beautiful eyes.

“this could be a disaster, there’s so many factors. Like, what if you freak out and then we’re losin it all. At the critical chapter where I say I love you, and you don’t say it after”

‘’I’ll just drive you home’’ That was it. That was the best reply Eddie could muster up. He wanted an explanation, he knew he should have asked. He knew, deep down, that he must have misunderstood. But that little part of him, the little part telling him that he, Eddie Munson, was not worthy of love from such a beautiful, charismatic, clever young lady like yourself, won yet again. ‘’No, Eddie, it's fine. I’ll just get Steve to drive me home. You just go back to the party and we’ll just pretend this didn’t happen. Honestly it’s fine. Like I saw how much fun you had with that blonde girl, what is her name again? Oh it’s Amelia right? Yeah, Amelia. She is fun. And pretty. And well put together I really liked her costume. And also I forgot to tell you that I liked yours. Like those small devil horns? TO DIE FOR. Yeah, so I mean I guess I’ll just leave your car and then I’ll get Steve to drive me home, and then we’ll just see each other monday like nothing happened, right?’’ Another thing Eddie adored, your rambling. Whenever he’d push your boundaries, just a little, you’d just start telling him about your day. How Dustin had made a fool of himself in the cafeteria, spilling spaghetti sauce all over his white tee, because he was too caught up in telling a story. About how Robin made it a competition to see how many times she could make Steve fall in one shift at Family Video. But not this time. No. Because this time may very well be the last time he will ever hear you rambling, to him at least. This time you were all wrong. Letting your insecurities shine through, ones he himself had added to before he got to know you. And Eddie still cursed himself out for it, everytime he thought of it.

Yes, you did see him with Amelia. What you didn’t see was that he could not stop looking at you, behind her. Looking at how you looked so damn cute when you zoned out from time to time, how your smile grew wider and wider with every sip of your cup, and although Eddie would never really admit this to you - Or even himself. He kind of liked how you didn’t really look all that amused by Amelia. He let himself believe that you were jealous, that you felt like Eddie belonged to you. Because in all honesty, he did. Every fiber of his being belonged to you. You just had to ask, and he would happily, never ever look at another girl again.

‘’but if i’m reading it wrong, man, it’d be better off if i died, oh’’ ‘’Yeah, no. It’s fine. I’m getting tired. I’ll drive you home. I was planning on it, so it’s no hassle.’’ Why couldn’t he at least try to ask? Ask what you meant? Ask what you wanted? Also, why couldn’t he look away from your damn cherry colored lips? So plump, so delicious. But now in a very obvious pout. ‘’Y’know’’ Eddie said, starting the car. ‘’I like your costume too. It’s really pretty.. Your real pretty. You’re always really, fucking pretty.’’ At least that's something right? Kind of gentleman-like? Not a full on, love confession. But something. Maybe it’ll change your mind? Maybe you’ll lean over the console, giving him a kiss that he sought after, ever since you broke off the last one. Maybe you’ll realize he looks at you everyday, thinks of you everyday, daydreams about you everyday. ‘’Thanks Eddie.’’ You say. Not looking at him. Not leaning over the console. So you didn’t understand, and what’s even worse is that you didn’t even believe him. He could hear it in your tone. He knew you, goddammit.

‘’So..’’

‘’I just think’’

You started talking at the same time. Finally. Finally. You smile. At him, nonetheless. ‘’It’s fine, you go first, baby’’ It was a habit. He couldn’t just be expected to stop a habit, albeit he didn’t want to. Not really. ‘’I just think it’s better this way, you know? Like I like you. Very fucking much. Not like, like you? I like kissing you? Is that weird to say? Well I do. And I like hanging out with you, you’re like my party-best friend? Y’know? Like a work-husband? But switch it out with ‘’party’’. Party husband.. No, no. Party best friend? Party, very good looking, very good kisser best friend? That makes sense, yeah,’’ You were so proud of yourself, Eddie couldn’t stop smiling. He knew what was to come, but you were so cute, his smile wouldn’t falter. ‘’Anyhooow. It’s better this way. None of us caught feelings, right? And I’m going off to college, right? So like, we don’t have to do the whole shabang with crying and missing each other. Like we’ll just stop it here. One last kiss at Halloween. Very good. I like that.’’ None of us caught feelings. None of us caught feelings. None. Of. Us. Caught. Feelings.Your sentence kept replaying in Eddie’s head. He didn’t even know what to say anymore. ‘’Yeah, no. Yeah. You’re right. It’s silly. You’re going off to college, and me. I’m.. Y’know. I’ll figure stuff out probably. Yeah, no. Good that we didn’t catch any of those mean things called feelings, right?’’ He said, laughing, hand tight on his neck. The rest of the car ride was silent. There wasn’t anything left to say. A daydream. It was all that it was. You coming out of your cocoon, a beautiful butterfly ready to fly off to college. And Eddie. Eddie was still just that. Eddie. Not good enough for you, Eddie. Not brave enough to tell you how he felt, Eddie. Not your boyfriend, not your hero, Eddie.

And while he watched you dance up to your front door one last time, while he fell in his oh so empty bed, Eddie couldn’t do anything. Not cry. Not laugh. Nothing. Because he screwed it up. He really screwed it up this time.

‘’maybe i’m mistaken. you’re not mine for takin. maybe i’m mistaken. maybe i just made it up, messed it up.’’

so idk i kind of hate this one??? i started writing this in like??? july?? but i have an idea of like multiple chapters?? like throughout their life?? idk the next one is going to be set in college. and i also wanna elaborate more on how eddie fell for the reader. also the whole toilet scene?? where reader is sad about her makeup?? yeah that was very much inspired by myself. only i didn’t have eddie munson coming in. also all my inspirations come from song lyrics?? so i think songs will be a big part of this world im trying to create?? and yeah most of them will be modern:/ im sorry:/ but yeah. let me know what u think. pls be kind. kisses and hugs to all you lovies ♡

EDIT: i privated this for a long time?? so if you’ve already red it thats why. i put it up again BECAUSE IM WRITING A NEW FIC RIGHT NOW and idk so here it is again

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson fan fic

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