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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset.

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it.

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud.

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds.

Still.

Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink.

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations.

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say.

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’

Nope.

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure.

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake.

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them.

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through.

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing.

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse.

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something.

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here.

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may.

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house.

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him.

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.”

Likely a lot of things.

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it.

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give.

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.”

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice.

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked.

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle.

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat.

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth.

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.)

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?”

Wayne nodded once, slow-like.

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again.

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?”

“I did.”

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say.

Wayne took advantage.

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.”

“‘Bout trust.”

Eddie blinked at that.

“Trust.” He echoed flatly.

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--”

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.”

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him.

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.”

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway.

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with.

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.”

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like.

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns.

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.”

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.”

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had.

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.”

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.”

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through.

Wayne sat with him as he processed.

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did.

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked;

“What if he finds out?”

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home.

It took Wayne a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret.

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over.

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly. It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself.

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved.

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’

“He won’t.” Wayne said.

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.”

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side.

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other.

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest.

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose.

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine.

Hurt, absolutely, but alive.

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body.

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol.

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door.

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch.

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible.

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup.

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him.

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely.

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior.

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.)

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!”

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it.

Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door.

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries.

“I think I promised you a game, son.” Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall.

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Eddie is, perhaps, the only person who seems to be handling the fact Steve has been turned into a porcelain doll in a level-headed sort of way. Probably because he's the newest person to be privy to Upside Down shenaniganary and quiet honestly just thought 'ah. Of course. Why wouldn't something like this be possible?' instead of freaking out and screaming like everyone else.

"It's a physical impossibility, Robin!" Dustin shouts.

"Well, we thought monsters didn't exist before, but guess what-" Robin is shouting back.

"The monster situation was scientifically plausible, now proven scientifically true! Transforming a living person into a doll is magic, and magic isn't real!"

"It fucking is now! Look at Steve!! Look at him!" Robin, who is holding Porcelain Steve, shakes him in Dustin's face, complete with the clack of porcelain on porcelain.

Eddie isn't even fully aware he moved from his spot on the couch in the Byers-Hopper living room until he's snatching Steve out of Robin's hands with the thought of 'he gets migraines too easily for you to shake him like that' and then is left wondering if little Porcelain Steve can get migraines. "Stop waving him around like a flag, Buckley. Porcelain is fragile, you could break him."

It's a testament to how worried Robin really is about breaking Steve that she doesn't instantly rip him back out of Eddie's hands like she had when Nancy had first picked him up.

"We don't even know that's Steve," Dustin has never been gracefully about potentially not being right and now is no different.

"I know that, Henderson!" Eddie snaps, pulling Steve to his chest in a protective two armed hug, "But wouldn't you feel like shit if this is Steve, somehow magically changed, and we've accidentally murdered him by busting his little porcelain face?"

That brings Dustin to a pause and Robin starts up again, backed by Will now.

Eddie retreats, not back to the couch, but out the front door and away from the arguments. Aside from hating the sound of people yelling at each other himself, he doesn't want Steve to hear it either. Steve only enjoys an argument he can be bitchy in, and he can't really participate.

That is, if Steve can even hear anything. If this is actually Steve changed, and not just the creepiest ransom threat left in the form of a perfectly porcelain replica. Down to the moles on his face and the scars on his torso, which Robin had claimed felt like paint when she'd ran a shaking finger over them.

He sits down gently in the front lawn, crisscrossing his legs and lays Steve in the cradle they create. Blank hazel eyes stares up unblinking into the sun and Eddie finds himself hovering a hand above Steve's face to... protect his eyes, he supposes. He'll admit to feeling a little embarrassed about doing it -anyone walking down the street could see him shielding the eyes of a doll in his lap- but if Steve is trapped in there, can see out those eyes, well, he'd rather do the kind thing and be little embarrassed about it.

"Don't know if you can hear or not, Harrington," Eddie says, "but worry not. If anyone can figure out how to return you to your flesh prison, it's this crew. Not that you need my assurance on that. You know what they're capable of better than I."

It's quiet on the front lawn except for the occasional car rolling down the street or dog barking somewhere down the road. Eddie's never been a fan of quiet, so he talks to fill the silence. Not about anything really important. He recaps the current Dungeons and Dragons campaign he's running for Hellfire, which has been relocated to Jeff's dining room for the summer.

"And Will, very smart strategist that one, delayed his turn in initiative -that's the order they take turns in in combat- to cast Fireball in the room once everyone had run out of it. Worked great, especially since several of the creatures were invisible at the time and-" Eddie goes on, interrupting his own story to explain mechanics, or spells, or give backstory on why something was important, so that Steve wouldn't be too confused about everything. It probably all still sounds like a foreign language to him, or he's just tuned Eddie out, but Eddie would like to think that Steve would appreciate it.

Eddie sits outside long enough for his butt to go numb and for the sun to shift lower in the sky before he hears the front door open and close and Robin sits herself down next to Eddie.

"Come to some sort of agreement yet?" Eddie asks, turning his face towards Robin.

"No," Robin sighs, reaching a hand out. At first, Eddie thinks she's going to take Steve but she just pets at his hair for a moment before pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "El's got an idea, though. Don't know why we didn't think of it sooner. She's going to try and find Steve, y'know, with her mind. Someone will come let us know what she discovers, so no rush to head back in."

"Oh," Eddie replies dumbly, looking from Robin down to Steve. They sit quietly for a few minutes before Eddie says, "Is it wrong of me to hope that this is Steve?"

"Depends on why you hope that's Steve, I guess."

"'Cause then we know he's safe," Eddie says softly, almost a whisper. "'Cause if this is Steve then he's not... not kidnapped somewhere, alone, maybe being beaten up or tortured or- those things happen far too often."

"Then no. It's not wrong to hope. I think right there in your lap is probably the safest place Steve's been, well, ever."

"I don't know Buckley, he was pretty safe in your hands."

"I shook him around like a ragdoll, Munson," Robin levels him with a look, "I'm woman enough to admit I get caught up in my nerves and don't think of consequences. I'm not, like, the number one klutz or anything but it didn't even occur to me that we could really hurt Steve until you said it. Like, what if what happens to the doll actually happens to Steve? What happens if his arm shatters or-" she cuts herself off to pull in a shaky breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to Steve," Eddie says, voice more confident than he truly feels but comforting Robin is important. Steve usually grounds her with some bitchy look and sarcastic phrase but he's not close enough to Robin for him to be sure he wouldn't just be insulting her instead of joking. "I won't let anything happen. You won't. No one in that house would."

A deep breath from Robin, then, "yeah. You're right. You hear that Steve? We've got you, and nothing's going to happen to you except becoming a real boy again."

Eddie huffs out a laugh and sits in the quiet with Robin, waiting to be called back inside once El has made contact with Steve.

#steddie #platonic stobin #my fic #inspired by that poll #porcelain steve #one shot (?)#why do i do this to myself? dont i have enough WIPs out in the world?

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aohisworld · 2 months

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MAGNETIC PULSE! 02

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ ENHYPEN’s new co-ed group starts their first album, MANIFESTO. Aohi makes a mistake that allows Jungwon, to give her a bit of sympathy that she didn’t ask for.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ eventual poly!ot7 x added member!oc. (jungwon centric). contains. angst, a little arguing, a smooch, uhm cringe writing lol.

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: Jungwon chapter yippee yippee!! Also important announcement that my asks are open now, and I’d love to get some interactions :3 don’t be a silent reader! Reblog, comment, send an ask!!

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun. contains angst and a little bit of bickering/awkward tension.

✧. ┊ Jungwon was always born to be a leader, unlike Aohi, who just followed the crowd, Jungwon was born to lead it.

When he was picked as the best candidate for ENHYPEN's leader role, he was overjoyed, of course, but a part of him also wondered if he was ready for that role.

Jungwon worked to his limit to make sure ENHYPEN was where they were now. Aohi and Xiulin... he was stumped on what to do, they were suddenly thrust upon his plate when he already had so much.

Jungwon had no idea how to lead the girls, he didn't go through I-LAND with them, nor did they meet long enough to help them....

so, he didn't.

For about a few months, that went excruciatingly slow by the way, Jungwon barely made the effort to even glance Aohi's and Xiulin's way, well, more Aohi's because he respects Xiulin as his elder sister.

At first, it was smooth sailing for Jungwon, it wasn't that hard to ignore Aohi or avoid her, but as time passed on, Jungwon didn't realize her cold attitude would sting, like being out during a snowfall and it got too cold that your hands would freeze, kind of sting.

Jungwon didn't think the glare Aohi would sometimes direct at him would bother him so much. Like, made his stomach turn kind of bother.

For one, it made him feel like he was a bad person. (he doesn't think he is, is he?)

Secondly, he hated to admit that maybe, just maybe he did deserve it, and he wasn't really living up to the leader name.

Jungwon knows Aohi and Xiulin are his group members now, hell, they're making their first album with the girls now!

As a leader, he was supposed to help the girls, especially when he needed to navigate this whole co-ed situation as well, but he didn't, and knowing that left an incredibly sour taste on the boy's tongue.

That's what brought us to Jungwon now, sitting in an empty meeting room, after a weekly... report? Status? whatever it was, had happened. The boy stared straight ahead at the table, seemingly burning a theoretical hole into the furniture.

He sat unmoving for a while, getting lost in his thoughts, you could say he got it from Sunghoon's morning spacing out routine.

It was only until a can was placed in front of his line of sight did his gaze change from the table, to the girl he was exactly thinking about.

"You stare at that spot any longer, you might've actually burnt a hole into the table."

Jungwon didn't respond, glancing up at Aohi's brown orbs, before looking back down at the can on the table. "What's the drink for?" Jungwon nudged towards the drink, as if scared to touch it.

"To drink? What else?" Aohi stated, sitting opposite of Jungwon, in which Jay sat in before her, so Aohi cringed slightly as she felt the warm seat.

Aohi seemed to magically produce another can of warm tea— Jungwon had analyzed, in front of him, opening it with one hand.

"The drink was Xiulin-unnie's." She hums, blowing inside her can to take her first sip, tasting the tea and nodding her head, outwardly approving the flavour.

"Why didn't you give it to her then?" Jungwon hesitantly took the drink off of the table. "Couldn't find her." Aohi shrugged.

Jungwon made no move to open his drink, sitting up in his chair. "Why're you here?" He asks, moving the metal can from one hand to the other, temporarily using it as a handwarmer.

Jungwon didn't seem to like the fact that Aohi was so close without any reasons to be, he had no idea why he was so alert around her either, as if two cats meeting on a territory and intimidating each other.

"Why can't I be? I'm sitting with one of my members, I don't see anything wrong with that." Aohi's eyes narrowed like that of a cat as she willingly made eye contact.

As the two cat-like members stared on, Jungwon could feel that grumbling feeling in his stomach once again as he didn't back down from the intense eye contact Aohi established.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it, I mean that you don't really like us—"

"I like Ri-ki, so I don't think that I don't like my group members." Aohi's shrugged once again, "You look at us like we're the worst people on earth." Jungwon scoffed, already disliking Aohi's response.

"I don't know why you have to look for a reason for me to be here, I'm being nice—" Aohi grumbled, placing her drink on the table since she was an easily irritable person, and this conversation— is it still even a conversation? could end up firing her up even more.

"With a stare like that?" Jungwon raised his eyebrows, he'd never seen someone who was being nice have a stare that could probably kill.

"Gosh, why do you have to start a fight with me all of the time?!" Aohi stood from her seat, pointing at Jungwon with an accusatory finger.

"Because you have so much against my hyungs and I! You don't even know us," Jungwon stood up from his seat as well, pushing Aohi's finger away with the back of his hand. "You just decided we're not even worth being nice to!"

"Neither do you! I wasn't the first to be rude, it was the hyungs who looked at me and Xiulin-unnie like we were of no hope!" Aohi argued, her words were true, how could the young girl forget?

Xiulin-unnie had to learn everything for herself and Aohi, because Aohi was finishing her studies and had to miss most of their practices.

Aohi was only angry because she cared for her unnie, and a few months in living like that, Xiulin was already extremely exhausted, and Aohi couldn't do much to help her.

Aohi was frustrated, she only wanted the boys to help, not just Ri-ki, all of the boys.

"Well—" "I'm not done!" Jungwon was silenced by Aohi, taken aback by her sudden outburst, even if he wanted to, what Aohi said was true, they truly didn't think they could debut, not so late into ENHYPEN's career at least.

Still, how could Jungwon admit that?

"Xiulin-unnie and I needed help, and we couldn't even confide in our hyungs, much less our leader." Jungwon's throat dried at Aohi's words, not knowing how to respond to that.

In all honesty, he felt like he was slapped with a hot iron pan of truth.

"Sure, Jake-hyung barely tried to help us with our dance practices, but not before pointing out every little wrong thing from us." Aohi poked her finger to Jungwon's chest, hating the way he was silent.

It wasn't like Aohi didn't know that Jungwon was the type to lead, from just meeting him, you could already feel it. That's what makes it worse.

The girls— Aohi, needed someone to follow, because that's all she knew to do, and she hoped that there was a small chance, Jungwon, as the leader, would knock some sense into his group members and allow her and her unnie to have someone to follow.

Apparently it was too much to ask for.

"We didn't even know each other, and we just decided to hate each other... months straight, we'd barely interact, even when we started to record the album.." Aohi frowned, seeing that she'd stunned Jungwon into silence.

Aohi wasn't sure whether to continue after that, only sighing and sitting back down, taking her cup of warm tea, trying to drink the tension away.

Jungwon stayed standing up, thinking. Jungwon knows he was cruel, but he thought he was doing right, he followed his hyungs along as well.

He could remember his Heeseung-hyung telling him that the girls will not gain anything by being in ENHYPEN, that they should let it be for their own good.

Jungwon should've asked what Aohi and Xiulin's thoughts were, if they could really do it, if they were really willing. Maybe then, he could've helped them, give them a place in the group, rather than giving up on them from the start.

"...I'm sorry." Jungwon hesitated, sitting next to Aohi, rubbing the palms of his hands nervously.

"You're only apologizing because I told you—"

"You're right, but I really am sorry, I mean that from the bottom of my heart." Jungwon interrupted her, Aohi turns to Jungwon, looking at him with a skeptical look.

"I was stressed, and I know that it's not an excuse, because you and Xiulin-noona were also under a lot of pressure," Aohi didn't bother to try and intervene with Jungwon's ramblings, he seemed to have a lot to say.

"But let me try and make it up to you, and Xiulin-noona."

Aohi stayed silent for a few moments, thinking, if Jungwon was genuine, and he was serious about treating her and Xiulin like actual members, maybe...

"It's been months, Jungwon.." Aohi replied curtly, turning to the side, as if hesitant to even agree. "Then I'll make up for it for as long as you girls want."

"You—" Aohi tried to start, Jungwon shaking his head at her reply, "I will, as long as you don't look at me like that again. I'll change."

And change, Jungwon did.

Aohi was taken aback the first time he did something for her, it was an interview, their first interview as a debuted co-ed group.

Aohi sat in one of the dressing rooms, spacing out on a make-up chair as the girls' own stylist worked her magic onto Aohi's newly dyed hair.

Xiulin and Aohi were successfully debuted into the group, despite the boys' hesitance, except Ri-ki and Jungwon, who happily congratulated the two girls.

Aohi remembers how much they had to handle on the first few days, the incorporation of Dark Moon, the making of their first co-ed album, it was a mess, and not to mention they barely had any breaks.

"Aohi-ssi, your make-up is done." Her stylist spoke, ushering her behind to start working on Xiulin next. Aohi stretched her arms in front of her as she sat on the couches, next to Ri-ki.

Ri-ki instantly turned to her, phone in hand to show whatever he was currently laughing at.

While the two teens giggled over whatever was on Ri-ki's screen, Jungwon approached the couch with drinks in hand, just like Aohi did, and for some reason, the leader of ENHYPEN disliked that their youngest was shoulder to shoulder with Aohi.

Without thinking any further, Jungwon pushed the two apart, Aohi looking startled at the sudden intrusion. Aohi looked up, seeing Jungwon looking down at her.

"I got you a drink, you have to stay hydrated." Jungwon took Aohi's hand and placed the cold drink, using his palm to curl her fingers over it.

Aohi's eyebrows just furrowed, glancing at Xiulin, who only stared from the mirror of the stylist chair in shock.

"Thanks, I guess.." Aohi mumbled, placing the drink on the table in front of the couch. Ri-ki didn't seem to notice, or suspect anything as he just returned to bumping shoulders with Aohi and looking at random videos.

Jungwon seemed to bite the inside of his cheek at the unsuccessful attempt at separating the two, wait— why was he even annoyed that they were so close to each other?

"Noona, are you going to drink that?" Ri-ki points to the drink Aohi had recently placed on the table.

"Why, are you thirsty, ki-yah?" Aohi hummed, grabbing the can, wiping the top and popping it open for the youngest to drink.

Jungwon stood behind them, a bit offended as he watched Aohi place the can to Ri-ki's lips, like a big 'screw you!' from Aohi to Jungwon as she gave Ri-ki the first sip of the drink he decided to kindly get for her.

"Good?" Aohi asks Ri-ki, grinning when he nods. "That's really good grape juice." He nods, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"here, you can have it."

Jungwon could hear his heart crack as he heard that from Aohi's lips, and Aohi heard clearly.

'You aren't gaining my forgiveness that easily..' She thinks, glancing at Jungwon, a slight mischievous smile on her face.

Since then, Jungwon had been... overbearingly kind to Aohi and Xiulin, as in... even sneaking in ordered food for them late at night. Jungwon was really determined to gain Aohi's forgiveness.

Jungwon had already earned Xiulin's respect, it's just Aohi being stubborn.

"Here..." Jungwon huffed, having ran a few floors down and back up to deliver the ordered food to the girls' dorms.

Aohi could only blurt out a small thanks before closing the door in front of their leader's face, stopping him from even saying anything.

Jungwon sat in front of their door for a bit, catching his breath, letting out a sigh before turning around, despite hearing muffled voices behind the door.

"Aohi! That was rude! You know he's still a member, he's stuck with us!" Xiulin whisper-yelled from beside her, opening the door as soon as it was closed. "Sorry, won, she's just hangry, have some with us." The older girl ushered, pulling a turned Jungwon inside.

"Unnie!" Aohi gasped, somewhat stomping her foot from the door and staring up at Jungwon with a frown. "Don't be like that, we ordered enough for an extra person." Xiulin scolded.

"I could've called Ri-ki..." Aohi grumbled, turning around and stomping into the kitchen. "You're not calling the youngest down for some fried chicken, Aohi." Xiulin retorted.

Jungwon stood by the entrance awkwardly, he was the first of the boys to even be in the girls' dorms. "Don't just stand there, go!" Aohi pointed to the living room, chopsticks and plates in her other hand.

Jungwon hesitantly approached the room, looking around curiously at the new environment, before sitting next to Xiulin, on their couch.

"I'm hungry, hurry up!" Xiulin whined from the living room, the TV still turned on, they seemed to be watching a random k-drama, obviously bored but not tired.

"Eung!" Aohi replied, sitting by the table in the middle of their living room as they started to open the food they ordered. Jungwon sat back with his hands on his lap, a bit nervous.

"Loosen up, won." Xiulin looked from behind her, Aohi placing a plate and chopsticks for Jungwon to use. The two girls were silent as they placed the food out.

"Looks so good... I'm literally about to devour everything." Xiulin let out a 'psh!' sound, bumping Aohi's leg with her own and gaining a protest from Aohi.

"I will enjoy this food.." The three recited, Jungwon slowly sliding into the middle of the two girls as they started to eat.

The trio ate silently, an occasional groan or dislike for any event that went on in their k-drama. "She's so fake for going back to her ex.." Aohi spoke, looking at the TV with a furrowed brow.

"Right? Like, if you're going to go back, don't do it in front of the boy who's liked you for forever.." Xiulin scoffed, taking a sip of her cider. Jungwon silently chewed from between them, just listening in.

Jungwon stared down at his plate, swallowing, 'ah... I need some pickled radish..' Jungwon looked for the container around the table, seeing it but... it was being guarded by Aohi.

Jungwon didn't want to ask Aohi, just watching the girl place another cube into her mouth. Xiulin glanced from beside her, seeing Jungwon eye the container.

"Yah, Jungwon wants some, don't finish it all." Xiulin spoke, nudging her head towards Aohi's direction.

Jungwon felt alarmed at the sudden call-out Xiulin made, jumping in his spot, "Ah— no, it's okay!—" Jungwon used his free hand to make a no motion.

Aohi stared at Jungwon, chopsticks in her mouth, before staring back to the TV. The younger boy felt a little awkward as the noise died down between both Aohi and Xiulin.

Aohi then stared down at the container of radishes, there was only five cubes left.. and she really liked the radishes, she glances at Jungwon, who seemed to have a bit of trouble eating the last of his bites, using cider to down it.

Jungwon grabbed the last bite of the boneless bites he was eating, getting ready to chew his way to a finished plate, unknowing to Aohi's gaze at his struggling figure.

In a small moment, Aohi made the decision to pick a cube up from the container with her chopsticks, before turning to Jungwon.. "Eung.." Aohi was feeding him a cube of radish.

Jungwon stopped mid-chew to stare at her like a deer in headlights, Xiulin was too busy being immersed in her digital show to even bother seeing the live-version play out right beside her.

'Did.. did she want to feed me?' Jungwon thought, looking at the radish before looking back up.

Aohi waited with a blank look on her face as Jungwon swallowed his bite, hesitantly coming forward as he used his teeth to bite the radish, so that his lips wouldn't touch her chopsticks.

Jungwon could feel the back of his neck warm slightly, trying to finish his food.

Ever since then, it was even more awkward between Aohi and Jungwon, the leader starting to practically follow the girl around like a cat does to his owner.

Aohi guessed he wasn't that bad, more so tolerable. Aohi didn't mind Jungwon that much, just thought it was a little tiring having to be followed around.

It's been almost eight months since Jungwon promised to change, and Aohi and Jungwon seemed to be... friends? Acquaintances? All the leader knew was that Aohi didn't avoid him anymore.

Aohi was secretly appreciative of Jungwon, he had helped plenty with her and Xiulin with coordinating their first album together, MANIFESTO.

Aohi and Xiulin learnt their roles in the dance pretty quickly, thanks to Ri-ki and Jungwon. Aohi started to find her confidence in being in the group, trying to find her dynamic, trying to fit in.

Aohi thought she was ready, actually. That she was perfectly in the spot she was. That was, until their first performance of their songs.

"Get her and Sunoo off-stage, quickly! Check on her, see if she broke or injured anything!" The staff ran around frantically behind stage, trying to close the lights to cover up the incident on-stage.

It was their first performance of their song, ParadoXXX Invasion, Aohi thought she was going to nail this first performance, she really did.

Aohi lost her footing half-way into the song, tripping onto Sunoo as the two came tumbling down. The lights dimmed as their fans gasped, murmuring at the sudden absence of lights on-stage.

Sunoo held Aohi stable as he winced, feeling a sting from his lower back from where he fell.

Aohi looked at Sunoo with teary eyes, shaking her head as a worried expression washed over her features.

"Sunoo-hyung... I'm so sorry.. I'm sorry- i didn't mean—" Aoihi whispered, wrapping her palm around her mic, just in case it was still on. Aohi didn't want the crowd hearing her lose her composure.

The whole group was ushered off-stage as Aohi couldn't even hold back her tears as she suddenly burst out in worry, and honestly, in fear.

The staff members had no idea how to comfort the overwhelmed girl. Aohi felt vulnerable at this moment, she felt more like Yoon Aohi, the seventeen-year-old girl who was a little too sensitive for her own good.

Xiulin could only usher her away from the eyes of the other members, letting out soft mantras of reassurance as they walked away. Ri-ki and Jungwon looked on in worry, being by Sunoo's side as the medic on seen checked on him.

"Go check if she's okay, I'm okay—" Sunoo grabbed Jungwon's arm, looking at him with a strained smile, knowing Jungwon's conflicted thoughts behind his eyes, of staying with his hyung, or going after Aohi.

Jungwon glanced up one more time from Sunoo to a fading Aohi, through the crowds, the boy could see glimpses of Aohi's face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

In that moment, Jungwon didn't hesitate to follow after her, swerving through different staffs as his hyungs called for him.

"I'll just leave you here, okay? I'll be right back... just stay here.." Xiulin softly spoke, rubbing Aohi's shoulder for a bit, leaving to go talk with staff.

Jungwon tailed after the girls, approaching the dressing room that Xiulin left. Jungwon stood in front of the door for a bit, hesitating to knock before he did.

Thankfully, he did manage to do it, cracking the door open soon after, entering with as little noise as possible.

Aohi looked up from her make-up stained hands, up at Jungwon. Aohi sniffled as she wondered why Jungwon was there.

Jungwon could feel his heart tighten at Aohi's tear-stained face. Her expression seemed to hurt even worse than all of those glares she shot his way in the past.

Jungwon never wants to see her cry like this again, he wouldn't be able to take it if he did.

"Aohi..." Jungwon calls out softly, approaching the couch as he attempted to sit down, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

Aohi quickly pulled her hand away before Jungwon could even wrap a finger, "Wag mo ako hawakan!— please!" (Don't try to hold me, please.)

Aohi sniffled as she scooted to the side of the couch, making space between her and Jungwon. he didn't know what she was asking of him, not understanding what she said.

Instead, Jungwon sat on the other side of the couch, hoping she just wanted space. Jungwon could feel his stomach spin in worry for Aohi, the last few months, spending time with her made it that way.

Despite Aohi's firm obstacles in the start, trying to push him away, they ended up becoming somewhat close.

"Why're you even here?.." Aohi sobbed.

"I wanted to know if you're okay.." Jungwon frowned, looking at Aohi, itching to bring her into his arms, itching to comfort her.

"Since when did you care?" Aohi spat, she seemed defensive, thoughts racing in her head, she wondered, if Jungwon as the leader, would scold her for being so careless.

Aohi was stressed enough as it was. Jungwon could see that.

"I've always cared, Aohi.. ever since then..." Jungwon whispered, inching closer, freezing when Aohi flinched at his sudden movement.

"Please don't push me away," Jungwon begged. "I'm not here to berate you, or scold you—"

"I don't need your pity!" Aohi cried, a sob following her words. Jungwon held grabbed Aohi's hand as she tried to stand.

"I'm not pitying you, Aohi! I genuinely care for you!" Jungwon begeed once more, keeping Aohi in place, her movements frantic.

Aohi had to admit, Jungwon was pretty strong and she had to scold herself for thinking such things in a situation like this. Aohi tried to pull her hands away from Jungwon when she was pulled into his chest.

Aohi gasped, struggling in his hold as Jungwon held her in place, whispering 'you're okay's and 'relax' in Aohi's ears as she sobbed even more, only grabbing onto his sweatshirt as she cried her teenage heart out into Jungwon's clothes.

"You made a mistake, and that's okay.. it happens.." Jungwon softly comforted the girl in his arms, his hand reaching up to pat the girl's head.

"I just ruined the performance.. I tripped Sunoo-hyung.. I hurt him—" Aohi sobbed out, Jungwon shaking his head with a soft laugh. "Aish... Aohi, you're thinking too much, Sunoo-hyung won't hate you for that."

"It's not just that!" Aohi cried out, Jungwon leans back from his hug, looking down at Aohi, who seemed to stare up at him, her eyes puffy and nose red, Jungwon was convinced he could've been looking at a scared bunny.

"Then what is it? Hm?"

Aohi sniffled for a bit, moving away from her embrace with Jungwon, "I hyped myself up so much for this album... I was so confident, Jungwon," She whimpered, using her arm to wipe her eyes.

"I thought I would be able to do the performance flawlessly. I just embarrassed us, maybe I'm really not meant to be in enhypen, won.."

Jungwon stays quiet at her words, Jungwon is reminded of their starting months, he wonders if he and his hyungs made that mindset for Aohi. Jungwon wonders if he did, he really thought he was cruel.

"Don't say that, you didn't do anything," Jungwon wanted to change those thoughts in the poor girl's head, it was the least he could do.

"You're a hard-working person, Aohi, and you made a mistake but don't think for one second that you don't belong with us because of it."

"...You mean it, won?" Aohi whispered, looking up at the taller boy. Jungwon looked down at her once again, he felt a bit stunned at how Aohi was fine with showing this vulnerable side to her, especially when he's always been avoided by her.

"With everything I have." Jungwon replied, just as soft.

The two continued to keep eye contact with each other, getting lost in each other's gazes. It was quiet in the dressing room, except for the rustling of Jungwon's hand rubbing at Aohi's palm and his rings clinking with hers.

Neither Jungwon or Aohi made an effort to move away from each other, they didn't even bother to notice that, instead of moving away from each other, they inched closer and closer.

"Won?" Aohi whispered, her eyes fluttering softly.

"..Eung?" Jungwon asked, Aohi could feel his breath on her cheek, that's how close they were.

Aohi glanced down at his lips, Jungwon following her actions, dreading for the moment they would touch.

Another minute passes, an inch following.

It was quiet, too quiet.

In a span of a second, Aohi could feel Jungwon close the gap in between them, a soft gasp leaving her lips. His lips were soft, oh so soft.

Jungwon's eyes had fluttered close, he didn't know why he ended up closing the gap, hell, he didn't even register that he was kissing Aohi!

Aohi could've melted from just how soft Jungwon's lips were on hers, it was perfect, so perfect. Aohi wanted it to last forever, the feeling of their lips moving in sync was perfect, like a dream.

but as quickly as a dream ends, it did, Xiulin being the main culprit as she busts into the room.

Aohi and Jungwon jumped away from each other, Aohi fixing her appearance and Jungwon covering the lower half of his face.

"Noona! Are you okay?" RI-ki voiced, his worried figure approaching Aohi as she tried to compose herself.

"Yeah- Yeah, I'm..." Aohi glances at Jungwon, who's forced himself not to even think to turn to look at her. "I'm.. alright.." Aohi finishes her sentence, her voice lowering softly.

"We should get you out of here, the staff gave us the green light.." Xiulin spoke curtly, staring at Jungwon as she rubbed Aohi's shoulder.

Before Aohi could even get a word in, Ri-ki was already ushering her up, softly telling her to move. Xiulin taking over when she reaches the door.

"But, won—" Aohi tried to call for the other member, Ri-ki only blocking her sight. "Go, noona." The youngest pleaded, wanting Aohi to rest.

Aohi didn't say anything further as Xiulin pulled her outside, reaching the car with their stuff in tow, letting the younger girl enter the car first.

"Unnie-" Aohi tried to speak her mind before Xiulin could even scold her, but she was instantly silenced by the way her elder sister just sent a glance her way.

"Aohi, what were you thinking?" Xiulin spoke from her seat, leaning back into her seat.

"Unnie.. it was a mistake, I really didn't mean to trip—" Xiulin made a 'nuh uh' sound, shaking her head as she raised her hand up to stop Aohi from speaking even more.

"Not. That." Xiulin turns to her dongsaeng, a slightly annoyed look on here face. "I mean that... the— you know!" Xiulin motions to her hand, making kissing motions by touching the tips of her fingers together.

Aohi watches the action with her lips ajar, she opened her mouth to try and make a reason, an excuse, on why she did it, why she... kissed Jungwon.

Since nothing came out, she only sighed, looking off to the window, as if deep in thought. There was barely any sunlight left, the night coming to replace the sun.

"I don't know.. Unnie, believe me, I was upset and—" Xiulin clicked her tongue. "I thought you disliked our members? That's all you could ever talk about, remember?"

"I know but-" Aohi sighed, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with the rings. "Jungwon- He's different—" Xiulin suddenly puts her hands up in the air, it's like she's finally noticing the plot of a k-drama.

"Different? Because he was nice? You and I have known him for a few months, batsy!" Xiulin argued. Aohi flinches at her aggressive tone, feeling like a kicked cat on the curb.

"It's the way he's changing! Believe me, I tried to push him away, but he was persistent, and I started to change—" Xiulin huffed in her seat, she truly wonders what was going through Aohi's head.

Xiulin thought of the future of ENHYPEN as quickly as she saw the scene of Aohi and Jungwon. It would cause such an outrage, especially between newly-debuted members and how it would conspire so many rumours.

Xiulin's heart was in the right place, worrying about their careers, but she has to understand that Aohi didn't mean for the kiss to happen.

"Unnie.. you said it yourself, we're stuck with them! Is it so bad to try and change? To want to be on better terms with them?" Aohi reasoned, pleading her older member to understand.

"You call that better terms, Aohi?" Xiulin frustratingly replied. The two girls seemed to struggle with finding a middle ground. "Kissing Jungwon is worse than having something against him."

"I like him, unnie!" — "Is you liking Jungwon worth more than our careers?!"

Aohi stays silent at this, for once her stubbornness flickers out like a flame.

She thinks about the whole situation from Xiulin's eyes. She and her unnie worked to debut after being picked out of their respective groups and now that they are debuting, Aohi could ruin it.

Hell, she should be lucky it was Xiulin and.. maybe Ri-ki? who saw the kiss.. Oh gosh, what about Ri-ki? What will he do?

"I'm sorry, unnie... I didn't know what I was thinking..." Aohi whispered, deciding to back down and agree to Xiulin. Her unnie turns to her, seeing the young girl deflate into her chair with a soft sniffle.

Aohi was obviously upset, feeling dejected. Xiulin could only sigh, "You should stay away from Jungwon off-camera.. You and won will only hurt yourselves if feelings start to form..." Xiulin reaches over to rub her arm on the girl's shoulder, in attempt to comfort her.

Aohi only nods, their conversation ending as their separate manager enters the car, ready to drive them home.

MUSIC BANK DRESSING ROOM, 8:56 PM—

"Hyung." A voice calls out for him. Jungwon could only squeeze his eyes shut for a few moments. "Look, just- don't tell the others.." He let out a sigh through his nose, looking up at Ri-ki, who seemed visibly upset.

"I don't care about that, you shouldn't of done that to her." The youngest spoke. Jungwon was taken aback at the sudden hostility coming from Ri-ki.

"Ri-ki, what are you talking about?" Jungwon's eyebrows furrowed, looking appalled at the youngest's behaviour.

Ri-ki clenches his fists, biting the inside of his cheek. "You shouldn't of kissed her."

Jungwon wonders why he'd bring this up, he already knew? What does Ri-ki gain from telling him again?

"You don't think I know that? I'm saying not to mention it to the other hyungs, I'll—" Jungwon spoke, trying to pass the conversation as quickly as possible, the leader didn't want to speak about it, his mind jumbled from the big events of today.

"You're going to hurt Aohi-noona, you know that?" Ri-ki replies, and at this point, Jungwon wonders why he cares so much. Sure, their youngest and Aohi has been closest, but to be so defensive about her?

"Ri-ki, drop it please." Jungwon pleaded, Ri-ki flicking his head to the side, as if ticked off. "she doesn't deserve that, you—" Jungwon stopped Ri-ki from saying even more words, words that could hurt both of them.

"I care about Aohi as much as you do, Ri-ki!" Jungwon argued, Ri-ki biting back just as fierce. "I don't just care, Jungwon-hyung!" He yells, and Jungwon is quiet for a few moments, wondering what he meant.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, ki. You know we're just friends." And at this, Ri-ki scoffs. He felt like a little kid being hid away from things he obviously understood.

"Don't bullshit me, please, hyung." Jungwon clenches his jaw, he could feel the tension rise between them.

It was a familiar feeling, one that started to become obvious as months passed, the more both spent time with Aohi.

"You don't think I notice? The way you look at Noona like she showed you the wonders of the world," Ri-ki steps towards Jungwon, and the older boy takes a step back.

"You used to hate her, and now you kiss her like the past just didn't happen?"

"That was months ago! Aohi and I are on better terms!" Jungwon takes this as an opportunity to stand his ground with Ri-ki, he has never seen their youngest be so rebellious, or hell, angry with them.

"Still! I won't let you play with her feelings like that!"

Jungwon is angered at this, Ri-ki doesn't get to put that claim on him, not when he spent months caring for Aohi, not when he's made a habit to glance at Aohi to make sure she's okay, or always asking her if she needs any help.

Not when Jungwon spent so much time caring, not when he started to form feelings, when he started to love her.

"I'm not playing with anyone's feelings, Ri-ki!" Jungwon finally yells, like a cat defending his territory, feeling offended and intimidated.

"You don't get to accuse me of that! Aohi is just as important to me! I get my actions but I won't do it again! So, drop it!"

"No! I'm not dropping it!" Ri-ki keened.

"God, Ri-ki! Why do you care so much?!" Jungwon groaned, "I said I wouldn't do it again, what more could you want?—"

"It's because I have feelings for her!" Ri-ki reveals, his hand instantly reaching up to slap over his lips. It was so shocking that even Jungwon's eyes widened slowly at his words, not expecting to hear that fall from Ri-ki's lips.

Even Ri-ki's surprised that those words came out of his own mouth.

"I.. I like her."

The two stare at each other for a while, before Ri-ki couldn't handle his hyung's gaze, dashing out with a heavy heart, and a twisting stomach.

Jungwon seemed to grab at a table behind his back, feeling his knees weaken. His hands reached up to wipe the sweat on his face, the temperature of the room seemed to change as the fighting between the two got worse.

Jungwon repeated Ri-ki's works in his head over and over, as if it was a mantra. Ri-ki liked her, he had feelings for her.

God, what will he do?

#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑶𝑯𝑰!#enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen added member #enhypen addition #enhypen au #enhypen eighth member #enhypen female oc #enhypen ot7 #enha x oc #poly enhypen x oc #enhypen x oc #enhypen fic #enhypen female addition #enhypen female member #enhypen extra member

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marvel-ous-m · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson’s Guide for How to Adopt a Jock in Four Easy Steps (3/5)

Part One

Part Two

Part Four

AO3 Link

A.N.- shorter chapter today, but the next two chapters make up more than half of the rest of my google doc! So I promise that it’s worth it, lol. Enjoy!

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“Eddie, I’m going to need you to repeat what you just told me, because I know for a fact that I didn’t hear you correctly. I couldn’t have.” Grant crossed his arms angrily, leveling Eddie with his best intimidating glare.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I need you to trust me on this. Steve is… fuck man, he’s not in a good place, okay? So yeah, he’s sleeping in the Hellfire room right now. Before you come for my throat, I need you to think about this.” Eddie held out his hands, counting on his fingers as he went through his reasoning. “His parents haven’t been home in three months. Hagan abandoned him last year, Nancy broke up with him then hooked up with Jonathan Byers, Billy beat the shit out of him this weekend, he isn’t sleeping, he has no one. He’s an outcast, just like the rest of us.”

“So this is the perfect opportunity to get back at him.” Gareth muttered under his breath, crossing his arms.

Eddie turned to the youngest member of their party, raising an eyebrow. “I know that his type like to pick on you Freshmen, but that’s not how we do things here, Gar-bear.” Eddie sighed then, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s easy to get back at people in times like this, but that would make us no better than them.” Eddie turned back to the entire group then, shaking his head at the three of them. “You guys didn’t see him. It was bad… I mean, if I’m being honest, it was a little scary.”

“So what are you proposing?” Jeff finally spoke, looking up from where he was previously staring at the linoleum floor of the hallway outside the drama room.

“Just let him sit next to me and watch the game today. Be civil. Don’t tease him, don’t make snide comments- just don’t be assholes. If things go well after today we’ll talk about bringing him in permanently.”

“Permanently?!”

“Eddie, I mean this when I say it, you are certifiably insane.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Shut up!” Eddie shrieked and held his hands up, effectively quieting the uproar from his group of misfits. “Just- look, if you fuck this up I’ll TPK this whole campaign- which, honestly, is probably more of a punishment for me because I’ve been working on this campaign for about a month, but I digress. Give. The guy. A chance.”

Grant, Gareth, and Jeff looked at one another. They always seemed to be able to have a conversation without speaking (and that conversation usually was centered around some shit Eddie was pulling). Finally, Jeff nodded at Eddie. “Alright, we’ll give him a chance. BUT only on the condition that each of our characters starts with a rare magic item.”

Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh, nodding at the three boys. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll add them to your character sheets before we start.”

Jeff blinked in surprise and looked at both Gareth and Grant, then back at Eddie. “Even though the magic items may not make sense with your campaign?”

“You’re the ones asking for ‘em.” Eddie shrugged, then pulled the lanyard out of his pocket. “Okay, just gimme like, ten minutes, then you can come in.” As Eddie walked away, he could’ve sworn he heard the boys whispering about a giant crush and him being head over heels. Eddie scoffed to himself. He could never fall for Steve- what with Steve’s stupid big eyes and his floppy hair and his dorky polos. Eddie unlocked the door, rolling his eyes as he did. Him falling for Steve. As if.

Steve sat up from his space in the corner when the door opened, instantly relaxing when he saw who it was. The jock rubbed at his eyes, humming sleepily. “Hey Eds. S’it time for Hellfire ‘lready?”

Steve’s hair was a mess, his polo was sideways, his eyes were tired and a blanket was hunched around his shoulders. He was… actually kind of adorable. Eddie smiled at him and could’ve sworn he felt a flutter in his chest.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

He had a crush on Steve Harrington.

...Shit.

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A.N.: this tag list has grown so much! I’m sorry if I forgot to add you if you requested it or if you didn’t end up on here, there were some accounts that were giving me trouble. Thanks again for all the support!

@ellietheasexylibrarian @cuips-not-cute @melodymeddler @i-have-three-feelings @sc00ps-ahoy @singmeyoursimpsong @patchworkgargoyle @spectrum-spectre @devondespresso @thesuninyaface @obsessivlyme @angeldreamsoffanfic @carlyv @nburkhardt @inspirationorinsanity @rebelspykatie @my2amgaythoughts @lavenderagenda @just-a-tiny-void @mamafaithful @breadboi66 @beholdingloser @randomfandomcontent @oftirnanog @yellowdevilkitten @steves-strapcollection @keep-er-steddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bisexualdisastersworld @jinxjinn @copingmechanizm @blackpanzy @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @evix-syne666 @crisisinverted17 @satan-is-obsessed @shrimply-a-menace @anaibis @trashcanniballecter @thoughtfulbreadpolice @awholedamnmesstbh @chaoticvictorianspirit @jcmadgirl

#stranger things #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #1984 steddie meeting au my beloved #stranger things fic #steddie fic #pre s4 #pre s4 meeting #s4 rewrite #steve harrington needs a hug #hurt/comfort

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lunareclipses-moments · 6 months

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Red string of trouble

Idia x FEM reader

Summary: who would have thought that his soulmate would be out of this world

Part 2 since I had so much fun writing this

Words count: 0.8k.

In the intimate refuge he meticulously crafted—a haven untouched by intrusion, where solitude reigns, shielding him from the disturbances of judgment or irritation—lay a young kid gazing at his thumb, where a thin red string was wrapped around it. No matter how much he chased it, it wouldn't end, wouldn't break; heck, it didn't even get tangled. But only he and his supposed soulmate could see it.

At first, he thought he was crazy, but after confiding in his parents, he found his answer: at the end of the line, he would discover his true love, the one he was destined to be with. Day after day, the blue-headed youngster pursued the elusive thread until he ultimately surrendered to the futile quest for his destined companion. After all, who would fall in love with someone like him? His bloodline was cursed; he couldn't venture far from the island, and the prospect of love seemed bleak for a gloomy shut-in. So why bother?

But one day, during his third year of living in NRC, Idia felt something tugging at his thumb. Clueless as he was, he ignored it; it's not like his soulmate just respawned. Secondly, he wasn't going to leave the safety of his room to meet someone he didn't know at all.

"It's best to stay here. Ortho will come back soon anyway," he thought to himself, unaware that indeed, his soulmate had just been Isekai-ed into his world.

As the days went by, life for the magicless Isekai-ed human wasn't getting any better. Overblot followed by another, a talking cat that loved getting in trouble, a duo who shared the same braincell, a haunted dorm, and finally, a stupid red string of trouble tied to her pinky finger. The string did nothing but cause problems. She noticed it the first time she arrived, not paying it any mind. However, after some digging and researching, she discovered it should lead her to her supposed soulmate.

"At least if I didn't go home, there would be someone willing to stay with me here. That's if he wasn't a serial killer or some sort of a creep," she mused, unable to help but laugh at her misfortune. "Is it because of this Facebook post that I didn't send to 10 people? Maybe? Who knows."

On the other hand, Idia wasn't living the best life. The first time he heard about the poor magicless Isekai-ed student, he felt pity for her. Stuck in a foreign world that relied on magic, and with no knowledge about it, her situation wasn't going to be easy. However, apart from that initial sympathy, he didn't pay her much attention. With all the Overblots happening and his impending role as the soon-to-be chairman, he had more pressing troubles to contend with.

Other than the rapid increase in Overblots, Idia found solace in a relatively peaceful life with just his brother, eagerly awaiting a delivery set to arrive in the quietude of the night. Nothing seemingly suspicious – just a tall figure with flaming hair, resembling a sleep-deprived zombie, venturing out into the nocturnal stillness.

However, his plans took an unexpected turn when he spotted the infamous troublemaking cat, Grim. Driven by curiosity, he approached to pet Grim, inadvertently causing the feline to run off in a frenzy, screaming and crying.

"Wait, I didn't mean to scare you! Come back, Mister Grim!" Idia called out. As he contemplated chasing after Grim, a rustling from behind the bushes caught his attention, prompting him to instinctively seek out hiding spots.

Finally finding a hiding spot behind some thick trees, he crouched down, attempting to conceal his presence from the newcomer. As he observed, he was taken aback to see it was the feline-human companion. Yet, what struck him even more profoundly was the sight of the red string, the very one tied around his thumb, now intricately woven around her finger.

"Grim! Where are you? Don't go around scaring me like that!" The desperation in her voice echoed through the night, and Idia, hidden in the shadows, felt a mix of surprise and an unexpected twinge of warmth at the shared connection.

In the wake of her frantic search, he was left behind, his expression transformed into a tableau of astonishment and bewilderment, his face and hair turning as pink as a valentine decoration. The revelation stirred a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him grappling with the unexpected ties that fate had woven between them.

Suddenly jolting back to reality, his instinct was to dash back to the safety of his room, completely forgetting about the delivery. In his haste, his lack of physical fitness became evident, and he found himself gasping for air. His brother, noticing the rapid change in Idia's condition, became alarmed at his increased heart rate and labored breath.

"Idia, are you alright?! What happened to you?" exclaimed a panicked Ortho, his worry intensifying as he observed his brother gasping for air.

The only response Ortho received was a muffled laugh that emerged amidst coughs, as Idia rambled about the incredibility of having a soulmate from another world, drawing parallels to a particular anime he had once watched.

There was Ortho, gazing at his blushing and coughing brother, a realization dawning upon him. He pondered whether the Shroud bloodline might end with Idia, given the seemingly hopeless romantic situation he found himself in.

"Yup, that's how our bloodline will end," Ortho remarked, the only words he uttered before excusing himself to charge, choosing not to confront his brother's evident sense of hopelessness.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twst idia #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst imagines #ortho best boi #i love feral ortho #twst grim #might make a part 2 #twisted wonderland idia #idia

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witchthewriter · 10 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝, 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 & 𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: all characters over the age of 18

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You didn't know how it all started. You had no idea how or why all four of them were pining after you. Well, you didn't notice it at first. You guessed it was denial.

・And you never thought of yourself as that beautiful. Not compared to other women at court (which was self-confidence based, not on truth, but you didn't feel that.)

・But for some reason, you had caught all four men's eyes.

・Some thought you had put a spell on them, and at times, you thought that yourself. Because you would find hidden love letters, flowers and presents in your rooms.

・You would be escorted by one of them every morning to wherever it is you needed to go

・You were never ... without attention. You were always being asked for dinner, for a date, for a horse ride.

・But you weren't the type to take away someone's free will. Even if you did have a crush on each man.

・Peter was High King, and so passionate. So ready to defend his kingdom, his people and his family.

・King Edmund, but Ed as you knew him, was so witty, kind and you couldn't deny that whenever he winked at you from across a room your heart beat faster

・Caspian ... god .... his accent, his hair, the way he always put you at ease. And he always made time for you.

・And then Eustace, who the Pevensie's said he was once an irritating young boy, who had grown up. Narnia had helped him mature. Plus, you loved that wherever Eustace went, Reepicheep went as well.

・Eustace towers over you, and his smile ... you always get jealous when he smiles at anyone else. You would never admit that though.

・It was very suspicious that they all decided to pursue you. Susan had brought it up, talking to Lucy about it. They both wanted to understand why three members of their family were head over heels for the same young woman

・When they asked you, (you were slightly hurt by this and Lucy could see it on your face;)

"We don't mean it like that!" Lucy said walking forward and taking hold of your hand.

"Oh no! Not at all, it's just ... out of the ordinary," said Susan.

・Lucy had grown to be just as tall as her sister. And just as beautiful. You were confused as to why Caspian wasn't pursuing Susan.

"Oh! Because I know there are more beautiful people in the castle. And I've wondered why this was happening as well."

・You liked the surprises, which turned into dates. But now you knew that Susan and Lucy were gathering evidence

・Eustace was the first to ask you on a date. To which you said yes.

・He took you to his favourite spot in Narnia. A sparkling pool that cleaned anything completely off of you as soon as you got in.

"It's great for washing!"

・You didn't believe him at first. But he brought a pot of ink and spilt it all over his finest shirt.

・You gasped, but watched as he took off his shirt and plunged it into the water. Immediately the bubbles turned into sparkes, and almost like small rays of light bounced from the fabric, where the ink had once been.

・He pulled it back out and it was almost gleaming.

"H-holy god, this place really is magical," you said and touched the fabric. It was dry as well. But you were doing your best to advert your gaze. Eustace was shirtless and you were blushing...

"How did you come across this?" You asked, trying to take the attention away from the tension

・He coughed. Then put on his shirt.

"I-I love exploring Narnia-" He said with a slight smile, realising his actions

��You bowed your head and looked back at the water, hesitant to touch it. But you plunged your hand into it and instantly you were filled with light.

"Oh my-" Eustace said, looking at you like you had two heads.

"What is it?" You said, swishing your hand through the water.

"You're ... glowing."

・That's when a voice came forward.

"Y/N, what are you doing out here- oh, Eustace," said High King Peter atop his horse.

"Cousin," Eustace bowed his head as Peter trotted forward, his horse just as regal as he.

"Hello, my King."

Peter tutted, "how many times do I have to tell you. Just Peter."

・You blushed, already standing. You stood next to Eustace and felt incredibly awkward; not just because of the two cousins who were staring one another down, but because you were barefoot with unbound hair and completely without makeup.

"Well..." said Peter's horse. The mighty steed, Gideon, who was taller than you.

"I was wondering if you wanted to dine with me tonight?" Peter asked you, and you smiled, nodding.

With almost like a sigh of relief, Peter beamed but tried to hold it in, "I'll see you at seven in my dining quarters."

・Oh, alone. You hadn't had dinner with any of the men alone.

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stevesbipanic · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 31: New Year's Eve

There was always a certain magic in the air on new year's eve. Steve could feel the bubble of excitement in the countdown and it almost felt like a clean slate washed over you as the fireworks brought in the new year. When he was little his parents would often take him to New York for the big celebration, his father often hosting a party. After they stopped returning home as often, Steve brought in the new year with Tommy and Carol getting drunk on his father's whiskey.

1983 he spent alone and hoped that 1984 would be better, it wasn't, well except for the kids coming into his life. 1985 saw him cuddled up in the living room with Robin watching the fireworks on tv, he hoped 1986 would be their year.

"Stevie, do you have plans for new year's?" Eddie had asked at Christmas dinner, Wayne had insisted he joined them when he heard Robin and the Hendersons wouldn't be in Hawkins this year. "Not really, Robin won't be back, I might just turn in early." He was kind of sad to be spending it alone this year.

"No! You've gotta have fun Steve! Come join us here, Rudy a couple doors down always lights up the best fireworks!" Eddie explained excitedly and who was Steve to say no to that face.

Steve had gotten to Eddie's around 8, a pack of beer and a warm smile on his face when Eddie answered the door.

"We've gotta get you your own key one of these days, Stevie, you're here enough." If that warmed Steve's heart that was his business.

Wayne wouldn't be back from work until 11, getting that holiday pay to help them through the rest of winter. The boys didn't mind, curled up on the couch watching movies, laughing and drinking beer. Steve felt a soft buzz from the alcohol but the butterflies were certainly because of the boy sitting across from him.

When Wayne got home they switched the TV to the countdown of the final hour of the year. Eddie moaned about the pop music they played but didn't seem to mind as much when Steve was pulling him up to dance around the trailer. Soon it was time to head outside with all the other neighbours to watch the fireworks.

"Here, Stevie, I know the perfect spot," Eddie said pulling Steve up to lay down on the trailer roof. They could see Rudy setting up the fireworks on the hill, sleepy looking kids still just staying awake gathered with their parents. The radio crackled as the last song finished and the countdown began.

Ten!

Steve could feel the magic start to fill the air, the new year was so close.

Nine!

He hoped that next year they'd all be safe, that next year would be their year.

Eight!

Next year he's going to make sure he spends it with Eddie, this has certainly been his favourite new year's eve.

Seven!

He turns away from looking at the hill to the other boy to find him already looking at him, there's something in his eyes.

Six!

"I'm glad you're here this year, Stevie."

Five!

"I'm glad I'm here with you, Eds."

Four!

Eddie's face is holding a soft smile and his eyes flick down to Steve's lips.

Three!

Oh, that's what that magic was.

Two!

Steve took a chance and lent forward, pressing his lips softly to Eddie's who immediately pushed back against him smiling.

One!

Fireworks went off behind them but they didn't care as they pulled away, twin smiles on their faces. Yeah, 1987 was going to be their year.

Ao3

#and thats a wrap on steddiemas!#Australia is only a couple hours away from 2024 #ty for joining me this month these prompts have been so much fun #ty dani for a great project #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddiemas #new years eve

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the-lonelybarricade · 7 months

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A Blaze in the Dark - (10/12)

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

All my love to @itsthedoodle for beta-ing this when my anxieties were running amuck, I appreciate you! And also shout out to the angst eding anon for being so nice, I hope you enjoy!!

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

An open doorway stood between Elain and Lucien.

One glimpse at her husband’s expression and Elain’s memory was cast somewhere far away. Her mother had once warned that a doorway should always be approached with great caution. She spoke of curses upon thresholds—woven nets of magic that could trap the thoughts and memories of anyone who walked through, if not careful.

But at the Archeron manor, magic was not a concern. When Lady Archeron advised her daughters to always brace themselves before passing through a doorway, it was not because she believed their memories would become trapped. But rather because she wanted her daughters to learn to use the concept as a tool. To act as if a curse had been enacted in every doorway, they crossed and to use that small, ingrained warning to remind themselves that any unladylike behavior should be stripped away before crossing the unseen barrier.

A doorway, she said, was always an opportunity for transition.

Elain recalled sitting on a plush stool in the powder room of the Archeron manor, quiet as she observed her mother pressing a cold spoon to her puffy eyes. She must have swiped it from the dining room after she had excused herself. Elain hadn’t heard what was said over the chatter and clinking silverware, but the unusual tightness in her mother’s expression had compelled Elain to follow.

It was the first time she’d seen her mother cry.

She met Elain’s curious gaze in the vanity and sighed. “Now remember, Elain. We came into this room because we were feeling overwhelmed—and ladies mustn’t look overwhelmed where others can see us.”

Elain nodded because her mother had put on the voice she used when she was imparting wisdom. The spoon clattered against the table as her mother set it down and practiced a smile in the mirror. Elain practiced one, too, despite the odd tightness in her chest.

“When we go back through that door, Elain, we leave our overwhelmed feelings in this room, understood? We let it take the unpleasant memory. And we pretend we’re thespians, putting on our masks to play our part.”

This was a trick Elain had already discovered. She nodded, showing her mother her best impression of a lady’s mask—chin tilted, shoulder blades pinched, smile primed. Her mother strained a hum of approval before returning to fixing her own mask. It was perhaps the first time Elain fully grasped that what stepped out of a doorway was not always the same as what initially stepped inside.

Now, Lucien was staring at Elain from the doorway to the bathing room. And she had the sense that something had changed. Been left behind and filtered through that invisible net.

He offered her a lazy smile, wet cloth in his hand as he’d promised.

And yet she found herself sitting up. Asking, “What’s wrong?”

Lucien crossed the room in long, casual strides. “Nothing at all,” he said.

He pressed the cloth into her palm before turning his back politely. As if it wasn’t his own release she was wiping from her thighs.

“If you don’t want to stay the night…”

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice.

What reason did he have to stay, anyhow? She had asked for help in making a child, and he had done just that. She had been the one to hint that he should stay, and like the gentleman he was, he’d spared her the embarrassment of rejection.

They had separate bedrooms for a reason. They’d agreed to a platonic marriage for a reason.

Once again, Lucien was making his feelings and intentions perfectly clear and she was choosing to complicate the matter with affections he did not ask for. And if she thought there had been something more to his tender touches and gentle words, that could only be blamed on her own hopeful misinterpretations. He was a kind man. Of course he would ensure the experience had been pleasurable, exactly as Vassa had said. Any further examination would be a disservice to them both.

This had been strictly a matter of child-making, she reminded herself.

“I will stay the night,” he said. Ever dutiful.

Elain should have left it at that for her own well-being. But she could recognize his heavy swallow, how the bob in his throat took the familiar form of unspoken words. And she risked cutting herself on their jagged edges as she pilfered the debris of his silence, guessing at what he was too kind to say to her.

But I do not want to.

But do not let this be an expectation.

But I will be gone before you wake up.

She set the cloth on the bedside table with too much force. Lucien’s shoulders jerked at the wet slap, and she suppressed an apology for startling him. It would not be what she was truly saying sorry for.

“Lucien,” she started—

“Elain.”

He turned to look at her. She could see him fighting to hide it, but there was a hollowness to him that hadn’t been present before. The flame in his russet eye was guttered. The golden one was spinning as though recalibrating. Lucien touched her thigh, much shyer than the bruising grip he’d kept when his head was buried between her legs. Had all that passion, all those honeyed words, been driven solely by lust?

His voice was quiet. “I’m staying because, just this once, I’d like to know how it feels to fall asleep holding my wife. I’ll do better by you in the morning.”

Just this once. Like he was doing it as a favor.

An indignant part of Elain wanted to tell him not to bother at all, but it was outweighed by her longing. She wanted to know how it felt to fall asleep in Lucien’s arms, too. Even if it was just this once. Even if it would break her heart in the morning.

Elain leaned over to snuff the gaslamp before her expression could slip into dismay, and Lucien took that as his cue to sink down beside her and pull the blankets over their bodies. It took a moment for their weight to settle, where the snaps and pops of the hearth filled the spaces between their breaths. She was afraid of what her voice would reveal, and Lucien clearly had no words to offer that would spare her unrequited feelings. Had she made herself too obvious? Too eager?

After a moment, as though he had been waging some internal battle with himself, Lucien shuffled closer to Elain and slipped an arm around her waist. All it took was a slight tug for her back to find his warm, solid chest. He curled around her, knees pressed behind her own, face against her neck, hips flush.

“Cauldron, you’re cold,” he murmured, rubbing his palms over her arms like he could banish the chill. She supposed, with the magic heating his skin, he was doing precisely that.

“You were in the bathroom for a while,” she said.

A subtle question, which was met with crackling silence.

She could sense him calculating his response, and perhaps she was vastly overthinking things. Maybe nothing had changed at all, and the time he’d taken in the bathing room had simply left space for reality to creep back in.

“Apologies for my neglect, then.” He kissed her on the shoulder. “Allow me to make it up to you.”

His heated palm slid from her arms to her stomach, moving in slow circles. Up her abdomen, along her hips, up and around her breasts. She arched into the touch, feeling her eyelids grow heavy as she focused on the soothing sensation. How infuriating—that he could be so doting and reserved at the same time. She wanted to scream at him, but all of her temper was being quelled beneath the movement of his hand.

“Allow me to call on you during my next cycle,” she said, only mildly joking.

“Please do.”

The ease with which he offered, the sincerity in his voice… Elain could not understand him. There was amity between friends, there was fulfilling their marital obligations, and then there were the fingertips dragging against her skin with a reverence that spoke of more than simple duty.

Elain summoned the courage to speak his name, prepared to ask him for the truth of his feelings, but it clashed with the sound of her own name on his lips.

His idle strokes paused.

“You go first,” she said.

“Do you remember what you said in the carriage, that secrets are a currency?”

And like currency, they can be exchanged, traded, lended. Or stolen.

She had said it to wound him because she’d been irritated by his secret-keeping and had wanted to remind him that he was not the only one capable of seeing beyond what a person wished to reveal of themselves.

“Yes,” Elain said, wary of its relevance here, now.

“I was going to propose a trade. In the interest of knowing more about my wife. One secret from you and one secret from me.”

A very dangerous game if she did not play it correctly.

“A secret of our own choosing?”

“No,” he said carefully. “It would be too easy to choose something irrelevant. I get to ask you a question met with honesty, and you receive the same.”

Elain fought to keep her body from tensing up, knowing that with Lucien’s body pressed against hers in every way possible, he would be able to feel it. And she would betray her guilt before he could ask anything condemning.

“You can go first,” Lucien offered.

Was it better to go first? She would be able to measure the vulnerability of his answer to gauge how much she should reciprocate. But he had clearly started this game with a question in mind, one that she would not be able to return by going first. And one she could not hope to guess at.

Then there was the matter of what she should ask him. There were too many things she wanted to know. And far too many of them would give away the hope turning on a spit in her chest. Lucien began moving his palm again, unaware each touch was another laceration. She shut her eyes, ignoring what she truly wanted to ask because she couldn’t bear the truth of it.

“How did you lose your eye?”

Lucien stiffened.

Elain was instantly flooded with guilt. “I’m sorry. It is surely a painful memory—let me ask something else.”

“No, it’s okay.” His voice had taken on a solemn quality that chilled her bones, even as Lucien’s arms tightened around her. “As you can imagine, it’s not a happy story.” He cleared his throat. “Before I reached maturity, one of my brothers had an illegitimate child with a commoner woman. As a result, my father forbade us from having any relationships outside of the matches he explicitly approved. All of my brothers broke the rules—quite frequently, I might add—but I was the only one who got caught. And my father decided to make an example of me. He took my eye and left half of my face scarred so that I would be… less desirable. I can’t say if it had that effect, but it kept me in line and coaxed me down the aisle, so he got what he wanted in the end.”

Elain’s stomach knotted. Not only had Lucien been given no choice in their betrothal, but he had been punished, severely, for seeking any other match for himself. No wonder he resented her, this marriage. She winced, recalling the accusations she’d hurled at him on their wedding day.

“Lucien—”

He was quick to press his lips to her neck like he might temper her horror with gentle touches. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel any guilt. This happened well before I was betrothed to Elain Archeron. Though I hope you might forgive me that I was too stubborn to court you properly before our wedding. And that I acted in haste trying to separate our lives.”

There were no words to fully express the deep, abysmal horror caving open inside her. She only managed a weak, “When did this happen?”

“Over a year ago now. My father gifted me this palace shortly after as an apology, though I think he simply grew tired of witnessing everyone’s sympathy. It might be the closest he’s ever come to remorse.”

Elain had guessed that King Beron was cruel, but she hadn’t known the depths. She thought of the Queen’s sunken eyes and the way Lucien’s hand trembled standing before him. How Vassa kept her voice low, always cautious of listening ears. For a man whom she had never seen step foot in this home, he haunted every corner.

“He’s a monster,” she whispered.

“He is.”

And this was their King. Her father-in-law, the man who would grandfather any of their future children. Elain pressed a hand to her stomach, contemplating if her desire to be a mother was worth one day exposing their child to Beron Vanserra. The thought of him holding their baby, knowing what cruelties he’d exacted on his own son…

Lucien’s hand fell over Elain’s, intertwining their fingers. “I am doing what I can to keep him away from you. Once tensions settle in the North, he’ll fix his interest elsewhere.”

“And if they don’t?” She struggled to stay her rising panic. “If Rhodes and the Eastern Kingdom go to war?”

“Then I pray my father will see no further use for you and Nesta as pawns. And that he’ll leave you in peace while I go off to fight.”

Then, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t become his hostage. Especially with Lucien gone, sent away to lead some war camp on the other side of the Kingdom. Would she ever see him again if that happened?

Lucien added soothingly, “Eris is convinced this conflict will resolve without war.”

She thought of his eldest brother’s cutting gaze, so similar in nature to Nesta’s icy stare. But where Nesta was all cold temper, borne from feeling too much, there was an underlying ruthlessness to Eris that caused Elain to suspect he felt very little for very few.

“And you trust Eris?”

Lucien huffed, not quite a laugh. “I trust that Eris will act in his own best interest. This war will serve nothing but Beron’s pride.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His voice was little more than a whisper. “I hope I’m right, too. And if I’m wrong, I’ll find a way to get you out. Maybe back to Carterhaugh or—somewhere else.”

Fleeing the Kingdom while Lucien stayed behind to fight a war? As the Lady of the estate, it would be disgraceful, even if she risked becoming a hostage in the dispute. But the way Lucien’s voice wavered gave her pause.

“Where else were you thinking?”

Lucien was quiet for a long minute. Then he said, “Before I left on my trip, you asked me what I would do if your True Love demanded I give you to him. I asked if you would want to go, and you didn’t give me an answer.”

“I-Is that—” Elain, tripping over her tongue, stopped for a moment to compose herself. She forced her voice not to wobble despite how the thundering in her chest tried to shake her. “Is that the secret you want in exchange?”

“No,” Lucien said, too quickly. Like he couldn’t bear the answer. “No, it’s just—It occurred to me that there is a true love somewhere, searching for you. And if everything here went to shit, I could take you to him and trust that he would look after you. He could give my wife a chance at happiness where I have failed.”

She twisted to face him. It was dim in the bedroom, but the hearth cast enough light to see his face. His cheeks, smooth and scarred and dusted with dark freckles. She raised her hands, drawing the backs of her fingers along both cheekbones. Those beautiful eyes watched her beneath pinched, wary brows. Her fingers curled beneath his strong jaw, and she rose to kiss each side of his face.

A pleased, startled noise kindled in the back of Lucien’s throat.

Elain held his gaze, saying with every ounce of her conviction, “You have not failed, Lucien.”

She could see him fighting the urge to add yet. He had not failed her yet. Elain didn’t want to press him on what he feared this conflict would bring, why he felt it would be necessary to smuggle her out of the Kingdom if war truly did break on the horizon.

Forcing lightness into her voice, Elain teased, “And how do you know that you aren’t my True Love? You could be delivering me to yourself, for all you know.”

But she knew. And she was a wretch for pretending she didn’t, but it was a nice thought. Lucien and her True Love, the same person. It would spare her the guilt of betraying her husband before their wedding while painting him as some callous monster.

Elain brushed her thumb over the pulse in Lucien’s neck, faint with a rhythm so familiar she could have sworn she’d listened to it all her life. As if all along, they’d been tied together by a thread that spanned the ever-changing distance between them. And their hearts were the expert musicians, plucking a song that could only be heard on the other end, through Autumn and Spring and the vast stone walls of the Archeron manor. She’d heard his song even before she’d had any awareness of him. She could hear it now.

And she knew what her heart, swelling in answer, was telling her, even if magic—if fate—said differently. Her heart beat more surely than a butterfly’s wing, anyway.

Lucien’s voice was strained. “I doubt the Mother would look upon me so favorably. I’ve done nothing to deserve a wife as lovely as you.”

“Nor I a husband so insufferable,” she said, hoping to draw out his smile.

His lips twitched. The world’s smallest victory. He leaned forward to brush a soft kiss against her forehead. “Sleep, wife, and I’ll endeavor to be less insufferable tomorrow.”

“But you didn’t ask me for a secret in exchange.”

“Another time,” he said, shutting his eyes decidedly. But he didn’t withdraw.

His lips were still pressed to her forehead when his breathing leveled out. And Elain, content in knowing he wouldn’t be sneaking away once she was asleep, allowed the warm darkness to slowly overtake her.

Falling asleep in Lucien’s arms was a perilous thing.

Elain knew just this once would be an excruciating promise the next time she tried to fall asleep and there would be no warm, sturdy arms to wrap herself in. She’d expected that by morning, she would wake to cold sheets and a deserted bed, her husband long retreated back to his own side of the palace as they had agreed upon the day they were married.

She wasn’t expecting the slow waking of lips against her neck. A nose, dragging behind her ear and burying in her hair like he was trying to memorize its scent. Elain made a soft, sleep-contended noise and turned her head to bury deeper in that warmth. His laugh rumbled against her cheek. She felt his arms tighten, readjusting to curve his body around her. The hearth had died in the night, but the morning chill was somewhere far away, a concern only for the maidens who weren’t presently cocooned by their husbands.

Elain hummed, her sleep-addled brain taunting her as she thought, this is how it feels to wake in the arms of someone you love.

Lucien kissed her again, this time on the crown of her head. He must have thought he could get away with more while she was asleep because those were his fingers lovingly tracing the shape of her spine. Warm, like all of the rest of him was.

She wanted to luxuriate in this moment for eternity.

A knock on the door reminded Elain that the Mother and her Cauldron would never be so generous. With a noise that sounded decidedly like a grumble, Lucien pulled away from Elain. Cold air invaded the space he left, persistent against the protest that rose in her throat. Even as she pulled the blankets back around her, the cold stayed, an unwelcome reminder that their evening of bliss had finally ended.

And Lucien was again the husband who wanted nothing to do with his wife.

At least he was a naked husband who wanted nothing to do with his wife.

Elain peeled her eyes into the bleary morning and found that the sight of his firm, rounded backside eased some of her disappointment. Lucien had nothing to cover himself, which was ever so fortunate for her, though less fortunate for the poor servant on the other side of the door.

Lucien cracked the door just enough to peer through the slim opening, shielding the worst of his indecency.

“Clothes for you, Your Highness,” came Vassa’s response. The dry humor to her voice caused Elain to duck her face into the blankets, hiding her laughter from Lucien lest he think it was at his expense.

If he heard, he didn’t glance over his shoulder to see what had tickled Elain. He merely extended a hand to accept the clothes and nodded to the lady. “Thank you, Vassa.”

He began to shut the door, but she hovered.

“Shall I have the cooks prepare a breakfast to be served in Her Highness’s room?”

There was a question behind the question, one which carried more weight than perhaps Lucien understood: will you be staying to dine with your wife?

At this, Lucien paused. Paused as if he did understand the significance. That here, now, he’d be setting a precedent for what came after these attempts to produce an heir. He could stay, could allow them to connect their hearts just as much as their bodies.

Or he could leave. And with something so simple as passing through a doorway, the memory of all those fervent touches would be caught and tangled in that infernal net, and the evening prior, which had meant so much to Elain, would be reduced to little more than a fulfilled obligation.

The floorboards creaked beneath her weight. Elain hadn’t meant to get out of bed. In truth, she’d wanted to preserve what precious warmth remained of their night together before the phantom heat of his body became only a memory. But her body acted of its own accord, and the old wood groaned loud enough to turn Lucien’s head.

Elain had not drawn anything to cover herself. Her skin prickled in protest at the sudden exposure to cold air. She felt her nipples harden and resisted the urge to cover them up, particularly as Lucien’s gaze dipped, shameless in raking his eyes over the sight of her body in the full light of day. Was it less alluring without the flickering candlelight, the golden fire?

It didn’t appear that way.

Indeed, there was nothing covering Lucien either, and she was able to witness precisely how her naked body impacted him. And maybe, in a fair bit of turnabout, Elain let her eyes wander, too. To the swelling arousal between his legs.

No wonder she felt sore.

“Your Highness?” Vassa asked, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the door.

Elain tried not to squeak at the thought that only a plank of wood separated her friend and her fully erect husband. Lucien didn’t seem to mind or care. He was simply staring at her, not trying to hide the longing in his expression.

“Sorry,” Lucien answered distractedly, still not taking his eyes off Elain. “What did you… Was there a question, Vassa?”

“Would you like me to bring your breakfast to Her Highness’s quarters?”

From the look on his face, if he stayed, Elain had a feeling that she would be the breakfast.

After a long moment of consideration, Lucien’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said. “Bring it to my study. I’ve much to catch up on in my absence.”

There was a small pause in which Elain imagined Vassa bowing her acknowledgment. Her tone was more frigid than usual as she said, “As you wish, Your Highness.”

Vassa’s footsteps retreated down the hall. Lucien shut the door.

He hovered there, forehead pressed against the wood. Like he wasn’t prepared to face the fallout of his decision, the devastation she knew was plain on her face. She wouldn’t let him. By the time he turned around, Elain had slipped on the perfect mask of a lady. She was halfway to the armoire as if all that preoccupied her mind was what clothes she might wear today. It likely wouldn’t wound him to think she was indifferent to his answer, but at least she’d be spared the embarrassment of mistaking his desire for affection.

Neither of them made an effort to chase away the silence as they dressed on their respective sides of the room.

She thought he might even leave without saying goodbye, but Lucien paused with his fingers curled around the ornate door handle. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and turned to stride across the room. Towards her. Elain froze midway through buttoning her bodice, worried now that she’d upset him in her refusal to speak. Even as he stopped in front of her, she said nothing, hesitant to guess at his motives.

He lifted his hand, and Elain stood perfectly still as it glided over her cheek, so warm in contrast to the air pressing around them that she couldn’t suppress her shiver. He stopped with his fingers captive in her hair. Even Elain’s pride couldn’t keep her chin from tilting up when he leaned down.

Nothing—not silk, or flower petals, or the whisper of a butterfly’s wings—was softer than the press of Lucien’s lips against her forehead. He lingered there, allowing her to carve the sensation into her memory. The heat of his breath brushed over the crown of her head, the fingers curling into her neck. As if his body and mind were at war, half wanting to stay and the other half desperate to go.

She imagined it must be awful to desire someone he didn’t love. How conflicted his heart must be. One eye of russet that saw her for who she was—his wife, a woman with no greater control than he, who was struggling to make the most of their situation. And one eye of gold that must surely gaze upon her and see his injustices made flesh—a woman who caused him misery, who served as a lifelong reminder that he served the will of a tyrant.

Though it was painful to love and not be loved in return, Elain thought she preferred it this way. Love had always been something she expressed outward. First, with her sisters, with what ways she could find to bring a smile to their faces. Then, with her plants, where she learned to nurture the soil until the flowerbeds bloomed. She would not know what to do if the warmth in her chest went hollow and there was none left to extend to the world around her.

And she pitied her husband. Because she sensed he had never been treated with very much love and perhaps had never truly learned how to extend or accept it. He’d believed, possibly all his life, that even his marriage was to be loveless. They were so different in that regard. Even as he pulled away without meeting her eyes, Elain let herself hope that a day would come when he wouldn’t need to leave her bedroom on such a somber note.

For now, it brought her peace to know that their marriage would not be loveless, so long as she loved him. A small part of her delighted in proving him wrong that way.

Elain stared blankly down the long dining room table.

It was longer than any table her family possessed at the Archeron manor, equipped to fit as many as two dozen guests. She tried to imagine the clinking glasses and laughter that bubbled as readily as flowing wine, but all she could see were the countless empty chairs. Had such a thing ever existed in this palace? It was clear that the ballrooms and banquet tables had been constructed with lavish parties in mind. This was a place that was designed to be filled with music and dancing. Life.

That seemed a laughable concept to Elain, who’d spent the better part of the week with only herself for company. Vassa checked in regularly with tea and cakes and idle conversation, but this was Elain’s honeymoon, and it was improper for Vassa to take up much of the time that should be spent with her husband.

Should.

“His Highness will be taking lunch in his study,” Vassa said. She did not try to hide her irritation.

Nor did Elain restrain her sigh. She had not expected differently. Lucien had taken every meal in his study for the last week. He claimed it was a consequence of being away for so long, but Elain suspected he was trying to reestablish the separate lives they’d promised to uphold. They’d started off on the wrong foot, with her fever and the exchanging letters. The lovemaking. She’d become too accustomed to their proximity.

Once your fever has passed and I have returned from my journey, I’ll see to it that this palace feels far from empty.

He’d promised that before she’d asked him for a baby. Before they’d made love. Elain thrummed her fingers against the wooden table, staring at the vacant seat her husband had occupied on the one and only occasion they’d dined together. Maybe she’d asked for too much.

“Do you know what he’s doing in there?”

Vassa shrugged. “Paperwork from the looks of it, Your Highness. And lots of reading.”

“He’s been in his study all this while?”

“I think he’s slept in there a few nights, if he’s even slept at all.”

What was he doing? Surely, his governing duties had not accumulated so significantly that they required his attention day and night.

Elain rose from her seat. “Tell the cooks not to fuss. My appetite is fragile this morning, and I’d much prefer to garden.”

The servants had been bemused to discover her love of gardening, but she had not met the resistance she’d encountered at the Archeron manor. Vassa merely insisted she wear a fur cape to ward off the Autumn chill, and the gardeners had been happy to supply her with the tools and seeds she needed.

The grounds of the estate were well cultivated with short grass and perfectly trimmed conical shrubs, but aside from the yellow and gold leaves decorating the forests in the distance, there was no color. Elain was determined to change that, and she’d been using this week of silence to dedicate her attention to the flowerbeds on the east side of the building.

Maybe she was hoping that Lucien would open his window and see her crouched below. And maybe within the flowerbeds, she was trying to quietly grow the courage to storm into his room and demand justification for his neglect.

An hour into gardening, Vassa appeared with a tray of tea and small finger sandwiches.

“You’re too doting,” Elain said, brushing the dirt from her hands before reaching for one of the steaming cups.

“Well, someone ought to dote on you.”

She said it loud enough that Elain glanced towards the open windows above, nervous that the words might have carried. She was certain Vassa had raised her voice intentionally.

“Thank you,” Elain said, meeting Vassa’s eyes so she could see the sincerity of her words. These days, it felt like Vassa was the only one keeping her sane. Nodding to the second cup of tea, Elain asked, “Will you be joining me for a moment?”

Vassa shook her head. “Oh, no, Lady. I thought you might be tired of my company, so I’ve brought an extra cup of tea, hoping to lure someone to join you. If not your husband, perhaps one of the handsome guards stationed by the door? I imagine one of them would be grateful for the warm tea and warmer company.”

At this, Elain laughed. “Do you think so? I found the one with auburn hair rather charming.”

“The guards have a job, you know,” came a voice from above. Both Vassa and Elain glanced up to see Lucien, forearms propped against the windowsill of his study. His hair was tied loosely off his face in a braid, exposing the full cut of his jaw. Elain was grateful for the distance between them so that he couldn’t hear her breath catch, though she still earned a raised brow from Vassa.

“And you, husband?” Elain called. “Do you not also have a job? I’ve heard it’s so demanding you have little time for anyone else these days. Yet here you are, idle at the window.”

Vassa pressed her lips together. “Speaking of jobs,” she said, “I must return to mine.”

With an apologetic—or perhaps encouraging—squeeze on the shoulder, Vassa fled back into the palace.

“My curiosity drew me away from my work,” Lucien said. “I wanted to know what my wife was up to while she spoke so discourteously about her own husband.”

Elain drew herself up and crossed her arms. “If you were listening as closely as you’re pretending, you would know I didn’t say a word against you.”

“Nor did you speak in my defense.”

“Well, a lady mustn’t lie,” she said primly. “And, in fact, it has been so long since I’ve engaged with my husband that I’ve forgotten his true nature.”

Ignoring the jab, Lucien nodded at the plants and the dirt on her hands. “What are you growing? You mustn’t forget this land rests in eternal Autumn. No spring will come to reward your efforts.”

Elain huffed. “You underestimate their tenacity. There are plenty of flowers that can bloom in Autumn.”

“Even with the chill?”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Do you anticipate that beauty thrives only where it meets no resistance?”

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Having met you, sweet wife, I’ve learned that beauty may thrive under any condition.”

“Even solitude,” she said.

That dealt the killing blow to his smile. His voice took on an edge as he said, “While these flowers may survive the Autumn, surely they do so in spite of the conditions. Would they not be happier in a more fertile land, one blessed with warmth and sunshine?”

Elain looked at the flowerbeds she’d spent a week tending. She shook her head at the arrogance. “No plant is the same, husband. Which is why you must learn about them to understand what they need.” She gestured to one section of the soil, which appeared to be little more than dirt at the moment but, in time, would be bright, blooming flowers. “It’s true that flowers like these asters and dahlias prefer warm weather, and they’ll bloom here despite the conditions. But here—” she pointed— “These violas will flower because of the cooler temperatures. Put them in a warmer climate, and you will be hindering their growth.”

There was a moment’s silence in which Lucien seemed to mull over this description, weighing how much of her words held a larger meaning. “How strange that a flower would require adverse conditions in order to grow.”

“It’s not strange at all,” Elain countered. “Steel tempers in flame, doesn’t it? And humans grow wiser with each new encounter, particularly the unpleasant ones. Nature is no different—it’s likely where we learned it from.”

“You have a curious mind, Elain,” he said, his voice softer now. More like the curling steam from her tea. “I’d like to know all your thoughts one day.”

Elain took a sip before she responded. “That would require spending time with me, Your Highness.”

He looked pained. She thought he might turn back into his window entirely, but he burst out— “Tomorrow?” She only raised her brows. He added, “You asked me once if we could look at the autumn leaves. We could go on a ride through the woods together.”

She was surprised he remembered. And though she wished he had sought her without Vassa’s taunting, it was progress.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

The next afternoon, Elain waited patiently for her husband to appear in the dining room. He hadn’t said he would join her for lunch, but she reasoned they would need to eat before setting off on their afternoon ride. The slightest sound from the hallway made her glance towards the doors, and though she coached herself not to seem too eager, she couldn’t help fiddling with the tablecloth while watching the entrance.

Finally, the dark mahogany wood swung open, and Elain was graced with company at last. Her smile faded once she saw that the arrival did not take the form of her husband but rather a scowling Vassa and a handwritten note which read,

My dear wife,

I’m afraid I am still held up in estate affairs and must postpone our ride.

I beg your patience for another tomorrow.

Your husband,

Lucien

Another tomorrow. She could see it now, their life made up of thousands of stagnant tomorrows, perpetually waiting for the one where Lucien would pity her enough to emerge from the eastern wing. She would not wait for another tomorrow.

“Pardon me, Vassa. I need to speak with my husband.”

Vassa flinched as Elain’s chair scraped back against the floor, but Elain marked approval in her fierce blue eyes. She bowed her head, stepping aside to allow Elain straight passage to the large double doors. From there, it was a matter of winding the halls back into the entryway, where the double-helix staircase stood proudly in the center.

Climbing the grand marble steps, she could admit that the staircase was an impressive feat of architecture, even as she fantasized about burning it to the ground. Besides being a tangible barrier in her relationship with her husband, she could not understand the practicality of a staircase that only connected to one side of the palace. It must have been a horrendous experience for the servants who had to climb to the bottom and back up any time they needed to move from one end of the palace to the other. But then, the architect likely hadn’t cared about the extra burden on the servants—the impracticality of the design was boastful in itself.

It did serve one purpose, however, and that was the slow kindling of Elain’s temper as she circled around and around, replaying all of her husband’s empty promises. That they would be friends, that the palace would feel less lonely on his return, that he would be present whenever she needed him. Up, up, up, she could feel her rage rising with every step, carrying her forward until she was before the door to his study.

Elain didn’t bother with knocking. She suspected he was up to something other than estate work, and she didn’t want to give him an opportunity to cover it up. Thankfully, a prince didn’t bother to lock the door. He expected that the respect of his servants was absolute and that his wife would accept his flimsy excuses with a meek smile and swallowed protests. Not any longer.

“Elain,” Lucien started, standing immediately from his chair. His russet eye was bloodshot. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” she repeated, fighting the instinct to raise her voice lest he dismiss her as hysteric. Her eyes flickered to his desk to see that it was littered with books upon books upon books. Many of them open, words scribbled in the margins and pages of notes scattered about.

What was he up to?

“What’s wrong,” she said through gritted teeth, “is that we have not spoken for a week, Lucien. And you dismissed me today with some meager note as though this is not supposed to be our honeymoon.”

Lucien opened his mouth, but before he could slip in some silver-tongued excuse, she pushed past him and surged for one of the books on the desk. The small black and white rendering of a butterfly made her heart sink, but what was worse were the words written beside it: How to contact your true love.

She looked towards him, not trying to contain her hurt. “I see.”

“You don’t,” he said stiffly, reaching for the book.

Elain reared back, holding it over her shoulder, though she knew he towered her in height and could take it from her with enough force. Lucien let his arm drop, saying nothing as she hopelessly glanced toward the other tomes on his desk. Spellbooks, all open to similar pages.

How to reveal a true love’s identity.

Locating a true love.

Magic and true love.

Her anger drained as quickly as it swelled, retreating like the tide from the shore.

“At last, the silence makes sense,” she said. Hardly more than a whisper. She shut her eyes. “If you are going to be taking a mistress—”

“I’m not,” Lucien said quickly. He stepped toward her, arms out like he didn’t trust she wouldn’t launch the heavy tome at his head. “Elain, I promise you—”

“I have had enough of your promises, Lucien!” Her voice cracked, and she dropped her head so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. She set the book back on his desk. “This has all made it plenty clear to me. My apologies for interrupting. I will return to my side of the palace, and you can keep to yours. Precisely the way you wished.”

Elain attempted to dodge around him, but Lucien stepped into her path. “I have not wished for any of this,” he said. She took a sharp breath, his words a knife in her chest. Lucien reached for her as if to offer comfort but stopped himself when she flinched. His eyes darkened, and his hand fell back to his side, fingers curling. “Elain, this is laughably far from what I wanted.”

“I know,” she said, more like an accusation than anything else. “You never wanted a wife and now you are shackled—”

“You are the one who is shackled.” He said it quietly, his voice so raw that her words dried on her tongue. Lucien ran a hand through his hair. “There are things about this universe that I will never fathom, Elain, and winding up married to you is one of them. This was supposed to be a punishment, a misery, and somehow, I’ve been gifted with the best of wives. And the only curse I can think of is that I’m to have this taste of happiness, and it will not be permanent. That you might be taken from me or worse.” He expelled the air from his chest in a dry, brittle laugh. “Or perhaps the torture of it is that I will be helpless in love while knowing that you loathe me, that I will forever stand in the way of your happiness.”

“I…” Elain blinked, looking again at the books on the desk. “Lucien, I don’t understand.”

“I think this is precisely what my father wanted,” he said, like that explained it all. He threw his hand out again, gesturing vaguely at her person. “He must have known that you would be lovely beyond comprehension. That you would bewitch me so thoroughly I would seek nothing more than your happiness. And that by trapping you in this marriage, that aim would be forever unattainable. Perhaps he wanted me to see myself in him. To understand how it feels to bear the resentment of a wife and watch her wither, knowing she would rather be anywhere else.” He followed her eyes to the desk, shaking his head. “I am not my father, Elain. I will not be my father.”

Love. He’d used the word love to describe his feelings for her, this marriage. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she couldn’t let herself hope, not yet. “You want to know what has been making me unhappy, Lucien?” She ventured a step toward him. “That you have been in here. All I have wanted this last week was to see you, talk to you. You promised me that the palace would feel less lonely when you returned. So what happened? Did I—”

Don’t say it, she could hear Nesta warn. Don’t let him know how much his absence has wounded you. It will give him too much power.

Elain’s lip wobbled, and she decided she didn’t care if it exposed too much of her heart. She wanted him to understand it, understand her. Voice broken, she choked, “Did I do something wrong?”

She watched his throat bob, working past whatever truth clogged his throat. Then he said, “I saw the butterfly wings, Elain.”

Feeling as if he’d struck her, Elain stumbled back. She laid a hand on her chest like that might keep the pieces of her heart from shattering. “W-what?”

“Beneath your sink,” he said. “I found them the night we made love, and I knew immediately what they meant.”

It was dreadful to think of what Lucien might have concluded. He didn’t sound angry, at least. She sensed there was no threat of him raiding the lands for whichever man was having clandestine meetings with his wife. At least not imminently. But did he think she’d been seeing her True Love in her sleep all this time? Did he believe her claim of loneliness was a farce, that she was trying to make a fool of him?

Elain shook her head, trying to quell the anxious thoughts swelling around her. “Lucien, please, you must understand—”

“You don’t need to explain it to me.” Rolling up his sleeves, Lucien returned to his desk. “Given your circumstances, why wouldn’t you seek him out? You deserve that happiness, and I won’t stand in the way of it any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

He reached for one of the spell books, skimming through the pages. “I’ve been trying to find a way to contact him. Perhaps you and Nesta can flee with him to the North. I’m sure your sister will provide the three of you refuge.”

“Lucien—”

He continued speaking, mostly to himself. “My father will lose his bargaining chip, and our Kingdoms will likely go to war, but the majority of it will be fought on our lands. You should be safe in Rhysand’s kingdom.”

“Lucien.”

At last, he looked up. It was midday, but with the curtains drawn, it was dark enough in the room that he’d lit the golden sconces on the wall. Elain maneuvered herself between Lucien and the desk, intentionally blocking the books from his sight so that he was forced to focus solely on her. Candlelight flickered in his red-rimmed eyes as they met hers.

Elain set her shoulders the way she was taught a lady should. Despite her shaking hands, she managed to keep her speaking voice level and deliberately slow, so that the full weight of each word had a chance to settle on him. She said, “I will forgive you for making so many assumptions about what I want without once consulting me. But I need you to understand three things, Lucien Vanserra.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before continuing, waiting for him to nod his agreement that he would listen without interruption.

Once he did, she plucked one of the books from his desk and chucked it to the floor. “Firstly, I have no intention of fleeing these lands or this marriage. I’m insulted that you so greatly overestimate my cowardice. Did you think you married a woman who runs away when things get difficult?”

Lucien, wisely, shook his head.

“Secondly.” The next book, which was thicker and heavier, hit the ground with a satisfyingly large thud. Lucien spared the leather-bound tome a brief, mournful look before he snapped his attention back to Elain. “I’ll admit that I sought my true love before our wedding. I was anguished that we had not had a proper courtship, and in truth, I did it largely out of spite. But I have not contacted him since I arrived at this palace, nor do I have any intention to. Burn the wings for all I care. True Love alone is not enough to earn my affection.”

Those full, perfect lips parted like he intended to say something. She cut him off by sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, “Finally—”

“Elain.”

She threw another of the books to the floor.

“You will listen!” She snapped in the wake of its silencing echo. He shut his mouth. “Finally, Lucien, I need you to understand that it does not matter that you are not my True Love. You will never be your father. Because I do not resent you, I do not loathe you. In truth, I love you so desperately that even fate cannot shake my conviction. I love you despite all of your foolishness and all of my own. You are my husband, and you are the man I choose to walk alongside, even if that may only ever be in parallel.”

Lucien said nothing once she finished, but she could sense him tracking her every breath like he was waiting for her to add something that would take it all back. His mechanical eye clicked as his gaze roamed from her eyes to her mouth, to her chest heaving out of her tightly laced corset. And finally, to the carnage she’d wrought on his study. The ancient—and likely valuable—books were tossed carelessly about, some of the spines likely now damaged, the pages folded over.

He offered her a sly smile. “Am I permitted to speak now, Your Highness?”

Just like that, all of the tension eased out of her. A small, astonished laugh bubbled out of her throat. “Only if you say nothing foolish.”

“In that case, it’s advisable I remain silent.”

Words weren’t required, anyhow. The way he reached for her hand and drew it carefully to his lips said enough. That soft kiss against her knuckles was a silent apology. The second, an admission that unfurled something warm in her chest.

“I have been a fool,” he conceded, bowing his forehead to the back of her knuckles. “I have been a fool helplessly in love with his wife. And you have been so patient with me.”

Elain winced. “I did wreck your study.”

“It was in need of redecorating,” he said, tugging gently on her arm now, trying to guide her into his lap. She obliged, perching herself delicately across his knees. One of his hands moved to brace her hip while the other raised to her chin, drawing her face down towards his. “You love me?” he said like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I love you.” She leaned down to kiss him, stroking a hand through his hair. His body was shaking. “But no more silence, please. I cannot bear it.”

“Consider it done,” he said.

“And the agreement we made on our wedding day, that we should live our lives separately?”

Lucien pressed his forehead into her chest, inhaling deeply before saying, “I am happy to cast it out of my memory for eternity. You can move into my bedroom in the east wing, or I can move to yours in the west. Or we can maintain separate bedrooms if you please, but I’d like us to at least be on the same side of the staircase.”

“And our meals,” Elain said. “We take them together from now on.”

“Happily. Our baths, too, if you’d oblige me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he laughed.

“You’ll forgive me for trying my luck.” He kissed her shoulder. “There is one agreement, though, I’d like to keep if you’re willing.”

Elain felt wary at the suggestion. “Which agreement is that?”

She could feel the wicked grin spreading across his lips. His voice dipped low. “I’d like to continue our attempts to conceive if that still sounds agreeable to you.”

Oh. Elain felt something heat in her gut. She lowered her voice, too, to remind him, “It’s been over a week since our last attempt.”

He hummed against her skin. “Something I think we should rectify.”

With a grin, Lucien withdrew far enough to reach an arm around her body and swipe the remaining books off his desk. Then he lifted her so that she was sitting atop the wooden surface, his body wedged between her legs.

“I believe the study will do nicely,” he said. “What do you think, wife?”

Elain reached for the buttons of his waistcoat, the top button already loosened by the time she said, “I think it’s a good thing someone relocated all of your books.”

#A Blaze in the Dark #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months

Text

In which Eddie panics a bit, Wayne is a voice of reason, and Steve is really going through it but finds some relief in Eddie bringing him lunch.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4 of the love spell no go au

Eddie does not, in fact, see Robin or Steve the next day. He holes up in his room for three days until Wayne drags him out by his ear, sits him down, and pries an explanation out of him because “do you know how many times that Harrington boy has called, knocked, and slid notes under the door trying to track you down? I’m surprised he hasn’t climbed in your damn window by now.”

He breaks and tells Wayne about the love spell and getting to know Steve. He walks his uncle through the entire strangled route of his logic and the thoughts he’s been stuck in his head with ever since the other day.

And, okay, the whole prom scenario had been a completely theoretical product of his overactive and dramatic imagination, but something like that might have happened. Except if Eddie, instead of fucking up, had somehow cast it really, really strong…

“That’s why he keeps calling, because of the spell,” Eddie concludes. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He desperately wants to hear that no, actually, he’s lost his marbles, no one can brute force a spell into being smart and biding it’s time like that.

But Wayne sighs, somehow conveying both endless patience and weary amusement, and says, “Eddie, what have I always told you?”

“Uh… never tell anyone that magic is real?”

Wayne snorts. “That, sure, and that magic ain’t ever something outta nothing. Your daddy always thought he could make gold from thin air, never even tried spinning it outta straw, and look where it landed him.” Jail. Eddie winces. “The reason no one bothers with love spells much is they gotta have some potential to grab onto, so they fail more’n you’d think. Spell or not, Ed, there was always something there.”

By the end of the conversation, Wayne has more or less managed to hammer in the idea that maybe all the spell had done was keep them apart until they fit better. Eddie retreats to his room again, this time to brainstorm how to make up for the abrupt three day radio silence.

Steve has had… a rough few days. If it hadn’t been for Wayne Munson assuring him that no, his nephew hadn’t disappeared like Will Byers or the Holland girl, just “got a bug up his ass about something and is still holed up in his room working on it,” he would have completely spiraled. As it was, he’d had trouble sleeping even before smoking through the last of his stash, on edge all the time, swimming laps at night because that feels better than doing nothing.

So when he looks up at the jingle of the bell over the door and sees Eddie slink into Family Video, he’s torn between relief and upset. If Eddie is fine, and very obviously not eaten by monsters or kidnapped to an alternate dimension, then where the hell has he been? Why hadn’t he returned any of the messages Steve had left him? Is the return to jock tendencies that off-putting?

His eyes catch on the bag and cardboard carrier Eddie is carrying, laden with three paper cups from the nearest diner. The warm greasy smell hits him, and it’s been a long few days of wanting to stress eat but not letting himself. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva—just because he hasn’t had his lunch break yet.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks flatly, since there’s no one else in the store right now.

Eddie ducks his head. “Ye-eah, I deserve that.” He holds up the bag and drinks, tentatively meeting Steve’s gaze from under his bangs. “Brought you a peace offering?”

Steve breaths out sharply and runs a hand through his hair. He’d probably…Yeah, he’d probably been overthinking everything. Wound too tight, like Robin said. Not everything is a sign that the world is ending; Eddie had probably just been busy and knows that Steve is kind of needy, and brought him lunch as an apology.

God, it smells like his usual order from before Starcourt. And Eddie is here now, perfectly fine except for the shadows under his eyes. What does Eddie have to be so worried about?

Get it together, Harrington.

“Okay,” Steve says, not bothering to wonder if he can make whatever Eddie’s brought him fit into his diet—cheat days are a thing for a reason, right? “I’ll let Keith know I’m taking my break.”

Tilting his head to one side, Eddie is now close enough to set his offerings on the checkout counter. “No Robin today?”

“I wish. It’s her dad’s birthday, so she got roped into family stuff.”

“Hm.” He flicks at one of the straws poked through the top of the lid. “Looks like I brought one too many milkshakes then. Which is the more egregious sin, letting it go to waste or sharing it with Keith?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Second one. I’ll go punch out, meet me around back?”

A few minutes later they’re sitting across from each other at the table behind the little strip mall that houses Family Video and the arcade. It’s technically for anyone who works there, not just the video store, but it’s hot as balls out so there’s no competition for the spot. The first mouthful of milkshake is a welcome explosion of cold and rich chocolatey goodness in Steve’s mouth, and he hums approvingly. Holy shit, he’d forgotten how much he liked ice cream.

“How’m I doing on the apology?” Eddie asks, starting to pull foil-wrapped burgers out of the greasy bag.

“Pretty good, if one of those has cheese or bacon on it.” Steve accepts the one held out for him and unwrapping it to find both, and a second patty. He takes a big bite and hums in satisfaction, chewing for a moment and pleasantly aware that Eddie is watching him. As soon as his mouth is empty enough to speak, he says, “... Alright, you’re forgiven. Just answer your damn phone next time, man, okay? Let me know you’re still alive?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking guilty. “Yeah, sorry, I will.” He nudges a large fries across the table, followed by several packets of ketchup. Eddie hates ketchup on fries, because he’s some sort of heathen, but doesn’t so much as comment when Steve squirts all of the packets down one side of the container for himself. “Didn’t mean to make you worry about me, Stevie, I just… got in my head about something.”

Steve swallows a mixed bite of fries and burger, christ he’s hungry today. Must be the relief of knowing that Eddie is okay. “Anything I can help with?” he offers, because now that his ruffled feathers are soothed, he doesn’t like how tired his friend looks or the hint of melancholy that had flashed across his face at Steve’s requests. Eddie, who had looked at his bruises from Starcourt and visibly didn’t buy the government-concocted explanation for them but agreed not to ask, and thinks the source of his recent tension is from a few days of trauma rather than going on two years.

But also—Stevie? That’s new. Steve takes another big bite of his burger to hide how much the nickname makes him want to beam, that would be so weird given the current topic of conversation.

“Nah,” Eddie says. He mimes knocking his fist against one temple, other hand tapping the underneath of the table to make a wooden sound. “Got it worked out now. I’m good.”

“Well, good.” Despite himself, Steve grins around his next bite of burger. He swallows, snags Eddie’s milkshake (strawberry) and then Robin’s (vanilla), following with a sip from his own—a poor man’s Neapolitan. “Want to come over tonight and finish that movie?”

A surprised look crosses Eddie’s face at the offer, followed by something else that Steve can’t read, and then a small grin of his own. “Sure, if you don’t mind starting it over. I’ve kinda forgotten the beginning.”

Which is fine, because Robin had insisted on finishing it (“You know I don’t do well with cliffhangers, Steve. Do you want me to not be able to fall asleep tonight trying to guess what happens next? Do you?”) and Steve isn’t sure he remembers where they paused it last time anyway. He’s pleased as he finishes his burger, licking the grease from his fingers and grabbing a bunch of fries positively dripping with ketchup, hurriedly getting them in his mouth before any can drop on his work clothes. Feels even better when Eddie chuckles and reaches across the table to wipe a smear of the condiment that had dripped down the side of his chin, almost making it to his work vest. The contact is nice, makes his heart beat faster.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but he wants it to.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8

Part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

#love spell no go au #wg steddie #scoops words #steve harrington #eddie munson #good uncle wayne #feeder eddie munson #i don't even think he realizes what he's doing he just wants steve to have a nice lunch #the extra milkshake really was a coincidence but of course steve finishes it #and most of eddie's too lbr #goes back to work with a little more pep in his step that has nothing to do with the eating purely to fuel his body he's been doing lately #does he learn anything from this? no he does not #but he's got a lot on his mind

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rainintheevening · 21 days

Text

Part I – Part II ... Part XIII – Part XIV

It's like it used to be, between Peter and Edmund, but it's not, because it's better.

When they go out in the woods, Peter loves how Edmund lifts his head, how he walks with his shoulders back, how he slips between trees with a surety that is new, that Peter is certain he has seen before, somewhere else.

They both silently find good solid sticks on that walk, whittle hand grips and hilts, and fall into the circling steps of a dance they fumble through in echoes, echoes that catch them breathing fast, wooden blades in a bind, grinning into each other's faces.

When the Professor tutors the four of them that autumn term, there are moments, the briefest of flashes, where Peter glances over at Edmund's careful writing, or Edmund moves one of his rooks in a particular strike, or he feels the warm weight of Edmund leaning over his shoulder to read something Peter’s holding, and the room blurs between the panelled wood of Kirkley House and the tapestried stone of Cair Paravel, as if some magic still lingers in the air and in his eyes.

Then there's a night when the wireless is all the whispers of his nightmares turned up loud, and Peter starts when Edmund switches it off, looks up blinking into brown eyes darkened with fear.

“Come on,” and Ed's voice quivers a little. “The Professor's got out his gramophone, and the girls want to dance.”

So they dance, Peter and Susan, Edmund and Lucy, and the Professor claps, and asks where they learned that one reel.

“Where do you think, sir?” Edmund says, grinning, and Peter is taking a sharp breath to scold him for his tone when Professor Kirke laughs, so Peter exhales into a laugh of his own.

A week before Christmas, there's a sharp, cold, still day, and Peter rides Fiona the grey mare into the village, taking the post with him, and an order from Mrs. Macready for the butchers with the particulars of the goose they have ordered from the farmer Adams. He's riding slowly down the main street, staring into all the delightfully decorated shop windows, and feeling the chill on his nose, while he thinks about presents. He has Lucy's (a copy of The Lost Prince which he knows she hasn't read yet), and Susan's (some pretty hair pins he'd spotted at the druggist’s), as well as a surprise letter from Dad for all of them but really for Mother (who’s coming out to the country for the holiday, oh joy!), and even a fancy tasselled bookmark for the Professor (that he'd made with the help of Susan and Margie the housemaid). But he doesn’t have anything for Edmund yet.

In the afternoon twilight, under a dull grey sky threatening snow, the lamps are all lit, and their light makes him smile, makes him remember.

A snowy wood. A sword and shield. A bow and a horn. A dagger and a healing cordial. And a brother. They'd been given their brother back.

Narnia. He should give Ed something to remind him of Narnia. Narnia had changed them all, but none more than Edmund.

Father Christmas had given Ed a magnificent chess set the following year, Peter remembers suddenly. But he could never afford something like that here; he has only a little pocket money from Mum, and his small wages from the Professor for being an errand boy and working in the grounds.

On impulse he halts by the warmly lit jumble of window labelled: Bit's and Bob's Curiosity Shop, ties Fee at the rail, her clouded breath warm on his hands. He'd found Lucy's book here, perhaps he can find something else.

He finds it there, dangling over the corner of a shelf, just catching the light so it catches his eye, and he stills, heart leaping in recognition.

A little silver lion pendant about the size of a shilling, strung on what might have been a leather bootlace, and his hand goes out, cups it gently. The metal is warm when it settles in his palm.

Edmund, he thinks, and Peter smiles.

The shopkeeper, a great big man with one hand, squints through his black eyebrows at Peter's find, rumbles, “Five pence, boy, and God’s blessin’ upon ye.”

He bolts back out into the cold, heart singing, paper packet tucked into his coat, and can't resist throwing his arms around Fiona’s neck in a hug. “I found it!” he tells her, as she mildly noses his shoulder. “And I have enough money left over to get him a few sweets.”

Christmas Day dawns a bright pearly grey, with a heavy frost, and the enormous tree glows with many colourful decorations and a few strings of electric lights, when they exchange presents.

Peter is astonished by the first thing Ed hands him: a roughly-bound journal, leather cover hand-tooled with a lion, a unicorn, a sword and shield, a crown. He smooths his thumb over the inscription on the first page: The Personal Record of High King Peter, Wolfsbane, His Memories of Narnia, and Life Thereafter, shuts the cover before anyone else can see.

“I had help,” Edmund says, very quickly. “A lot of it. And it was partly the Professor's idea in the first place. He gave me the paper.”

The colour is high in his cheeks as Peter grins admiringly over at him.

In the hubbub that Mother's presence necessitates, Peter misses Ed’s opening of his small package, but he is on his way up to his room before lunch, when a voice calls, “Peter!”

He's more than a little startled when Edmund throws his arms around Peter's middle, hugging him tightly, and burying his face in Peter's shoulder.

“Ed…”

It's not a question by the time he exhales, instinctively returning the embrace, Ed’s shoulders thin under his arm, but he is warm, quick-breathing, and Peter cups the back of his head with one hand, gives him an extra squeeze.

Ed breaks away before Peter is ready, but he lets his little brother go, knows how much of a gift Ed has already given. They're both trying not to think about Dad, he's sure, both just trying to be there with each other.

There are tears on Edmund’s cheeks, but he lifts his chin, brave-like, looks Peter in the eyes.

“Thanks.” One hand drifts up to his collarbone, and Peter spies a gleam of silver between his fingers.

“For all of it,” he adds.

“Anytime.”

Peter smiles, reaches for the other boy's shoulder, tugging him along as he turns back down the hall.

“Now, come on, we need to get tidied up for lunch. It's Christmas, remember.”

Not the same, no. But maybe better.

#peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #pevensie brothers #narnia fanfiction #my writing #narnia movies #narnia #this one took forever #largely thanks to deciding the presents

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chainmailchalamet · 10 months

Text

Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽) Pt. 4

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

the least eddie could do, he thinks, is be sweet about it.

vulnerable as you are, fresh out of a relationship with someone who didn’t deserve to have your love, your patience, your back to stab, your heart to mishandle. brave little thing, you’d left him, left behind the home you’d built together, the home you built for him. the wound was still fresh, eddie knew. you spoke about it sparingly at first, in watery tones. tried to be tough about it, keep your voice strong, give off an air of nonchalance when you spoke about the ex. he was cheating on me, which is just so original. she’s more his type, i think. blonder hair, lighter skin, cis girl, you know…guess he was done experimenting.

stupid, stupid boy, eddie thought. he didn’t need to see the ex to know that you were too much for him. to bright, too sharp, too good. you’d cooked for him, kept his home, made his friends your family, shrunk yourself down to almost nothing. could barely talk about your own accomplishments without that unsure glint in your eyes, like you weren’t sure you were allowed to take up so much space. he’d watch you at your work table, making magic, cutting and measuring and sewing — putting together intricately constructed jackets and corsets in the span of a few days, face scrunched up in concentration as you sketched up new designs, fingers smeared with oil pastel.

you’d feel his eyes, look up and smile all shy, what are you lookin’ at, eddie? and his heart would lurch in his chest. he felt like he could drown in you, in your soft voice, the slope of your nose, the little gap between your front teeth, your baby hairs curling soft and wild when your braids settled in. your deep brown skin, the gold hoops in your ears, your pretty eyelashes, your strong arms.

the way you would swing your hips to reggaeton while you cooked, insisting he just sit in the living room and read, c’mon eds, you always cook, just lemme make you something, just this one time.

he liked to feed you, loved the look on your face when you tasted something good (eyes rolling closed, tongue darting over your bottom lip to catch a rogue bit of food, the soft little sigh of pleasure. god it drove him crazy, had him digging his fingers into his thighs so he didn’t reach out and touch, just this once).

he loved the way you put up a fight too, the way you put your foot down and crossed your arms and pouted up at him all stern. made him feel warm, made him tease you, yeah, darlin’, you gonna take care of me? not even gonna let me help you prep? because he knew you weren’t as good with a knife as he was. but you held fast, pointed to the couch and said sit your ass down, munson, lemme show you how it’s done.

you made him feel wild. made his mouth water just at the sight of you with your hair pulled up while you cooked, the scrunch between your eyes while you read a book splayed out on the carpet, bathed in the warm flicker of the fireplace. looked so pretty he wanted to shuffle up behind you, keep you pinned to the carpet with a hand on the small of your back, grind you into the fluff, cup you by your neck and kiss you wet and dirty from behind, swallowing up every little noise.

wanted to bend you over the counter, spread your legs and devour you. loved you sleepy and sweet in the morning, mumbling scuse me, ‘ddie, when you walked past each other on the way to the bathroom. loved to lay in your bed surrounded by stuffed toys, sheets smelling like you and making his head swim, drowning in the scent of laundry detergent and strawberries. loved you dressed down before bed in an oversized tee, big dorky glasses perched on your nose because they helped you sew (you sure they’re just for sewing, darlin’? he’d tease, giggling and ducking when you told him to shut the fuck up, eddie and tossed a pusheen plush at his head. cuz you were squinting all the way through practical magic last night, and the laptop was right in front of you, don’t think i didn’t see that shit.), loved the way you let him in, made space for him.

he was wild for you, fucking feral for every drop of your attention. he wanted you in his bed, wanted to wrap himself around you and keep you warm while you slept. wanted to kiss you first thing in the morning, lick the sleep right out of your mouth, take you apart slow. you made his mouth go dry, every last bit of you made to fit in his hands, in his mouth. he’d touch himself to the thought of your nipples poking through your shirt. bet they’re sensitive, he thought. bet they’d cry if i licked them there, used my teeth, roughed them up a little bit.

he stripped his dick damn near raw imagining the taste of you, laying you on your back, spreading you wide and dragging his tongue through your pussy, making you watch. making you cry, licking the tears from your cheeks, fucking you deep, holding your hand over your stomach and pressing down. he’d wrap his fingers round your throat (bet you’d wear him so pretty, bet your eyes would roll right back into your fucking head when he squeezed hard), croon filth in your ear, get you worked up and squirming. right there, sweetheart, you feel me? tell me, c’mon? feels good? mm, i bet it does.

the way you looked at him sometimes, it took everything in him to keep his cool, to lay across from you in your bed at night while you ran your fingers through his hair and breathed you make me feel so safe, eddie. to not press a kiss to your pouty mouth, bite at your lips until they went cherry red, taste you. he wanted so much.

but he wanted to do it right. wanted to treat you so good that you’d feel it, know that no one could give you what he could give you. no one could even come close to making you feel as good. he needed you to know that. didn’t want you to feel used, to feel backed into a corner. needed you to come to him, to say i want this eddie, need this, need you. he promised himself that when you let him have you, he’d be so good, so, so sweet. he’d take his time, make you feel so good, give and give and give until you couldn’t take it anymore. he promised himself, swore it. he’d be sweet, so so sweet.

and then you put your hands in his hair and pressed your body against him, and he felt just how soft your skin was underneath the gauzy fabric you wrapped yourself up in, just how easily you gave underneath his hands. you ran your teeth across his skin, gave him your neck to bite, whispered in his ear. what will you do to me, eddie? what first?, mewled like a cat in heat when he told you. when he said he’d take a knife to you, that he’d spit in your mouth, hold you down, play with you. you moaned in his ears like a needy little slut, pulled him in closer, whined take me home eddie take me home and fuck me and feed me and don’t let me out of your bed, eddie. you better make it hard to leave your bed, eddie. demanded it, like the mouthy little brat he knew you could be, like a goddamn dream.

and well. when you said it like that, demanded it, even. he really had no choice but to give it to you.

#eddie munson #dark!eddie munson #dom eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x black!reader #black!y/n #black!oc #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb

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cirrus-ghoulette · 18 days

Note

okay this is in response to the anon with the substance abuse/ED Dew ask/story (cw medical stuff. unforseen consequences of the actions he took in that story. talk of Dew's elemental transition and therapy n stuff.)

I swear I don't know what came over me. I swear some fucking ghost of a writer possessed me cus Ive NEVER written anything like fiction or stories or anything like this (at least, I dont write them down, most of my OC stories are just in my head)

Imagine, they finally get him into the infirmary and discover EXACTLY the kind of, and especially AMOUNT of damage this has caused. Both sets of gills shriveled and severely dehydrated. The ones on his torso almost disappearing between the sharp juts of his ribs. They find out he was using makeup and maybe something he'd put in his cheeks to keep the sunken cheek look as faint as possible. So when they take that all away, he looks GAUNT. The fins on his ears and body all look weak, floppy and shriveled. He can't move his fingers and toes as easily because the fin-like skin in between is so brittle and shriveled, it threatens to tear. His horns are cracked in several places. His hair has lost its shine.

The quints and human Dr's and nurses do their best but after a while they realise. They can't save most of the fins. His inner gills could possibly be saved but who knows if they'd still work or not.

Ifrit had already been thinking of retiring for a while, but seeing Dew like this, he couldn't take it. So he decided he would retire. He would spend most of his days at Dew's bedside, just praying for things to work out. Vowing he would take care of Dew, no matter what happened.

After this, the difficult decision was made to transition Dew into a fire ghoul. There was a lot of opposition, as you can imagine. However, as Omega and Aether explained to the pack, through tears. This was the most promising way to save Dew. He would be kept in a magically induced coma, to help his body heal. This would also give them some time to pump his body full of the nutrients it so desperately needed. Even if they didn't transition him, he would never be able to swim like a water ghoul. Most of the processes that would happen during the transition were already happening, most of his fins were already about to crumble away, his gills might never work again anyway.

He stayed in that coma for 2 months. 2 agonizing months of Ifrit at his bedside, helping Aether, Omega and the nurses turn him over to keep from getting bedsores, washing him, reading to him, bringing flowers to brighten up the room, even if Dew couldn't see it.

At long last Dew woke up. For weeks he could barely speak, his vocal cords cramped up due to disuse and the abuse they'd been put through with the dehydration and then the burning of his gills. Part of his inner gills were left, but the openings had been singed closed. He could still sometimes feel them trying to pull in air, causing him to have difficulty breathing as his body fought between which form of breathing it should use. It took a while for his horns to grow back in. They'd broken off and basically turned to dust a few days after the transition. His hair was shorter, having to be cut due to how far the split ends went up and the fear of them irritating the healing scars on his gills and ears. Ifrit had tried to argue, but even when he brushed and washed Dew's hair every day, he couldn't keep it looking well. Luckily, by the time Dew woke up, it had grown out a bit since they cut it. At that time it was just between the bottom of his ear and his jaw.

He cried, a lot.

He cried for the things he had to leave behind. He cried for Ifrit, feeling like its his fault that he quit. He cried for Aether who had to make such a difficult decision. He cried for Mountain, who had been struggling to keep the pack together during all this time. He cried for his old pack, some of whom, already knew they would retire, feeling like he let them down. He cried for the future he would never have.

Eventually his physical wounds had healed enough that he was allowed back to the den. From then on, he was put on watch. He wasn't allowed to drink alcohol. His food and water intake was strictly monitored. He wasn't allowed to be alone for more than an hour at a time. Always sleeping with someone else in the room.

He got therapy. Went to rehab. Things that were luckily able to be done within the church either via professionals who worked at other Abbey's who came to visit (or who he would visit) and online meetings. This way he could fully open up, not have to leave the whole elemental transition as an after thought. Didn't have to stay in control of his emotions enough to keep up his glamour.

Slowly but surely, things started to get better. He didnt have those dark thoughts as often anymore. And when he did, he knew how to deal with them. He could go to his pack for help. When the new summons arrived, it was tense for a while. Especially between him and Rain.

One night, Dew had snuck out, gone to the lake. He missed it, so much. He didn't know how to swim without his fins and gills and tail helping him. So he sat at the pier, staring into the water, tears slowly dripping in, making ripples appear. Of course, the rest had noticed and were frantically searching for him. That is when Rain felt a pull to go look at the lake. He didn't really know why but, hey, at least it's something right? So he made his way over. Texting the group that he had found Dew and that he would let them know if he needed help. he Slowly walked up to Dew, trying not to startle him and sat down besides him. It was quiet for a long time. Rain began to wonder if maybe he should call Mountain or Aether. They always knew how to help Dew.

"I just.. wish I could go one more time" Dew sighed. Rain startled, waiting a moment before replying. "go.. where?" "the lake. Swimming...its my own fault I know but.." Dew trailed off "I guess its no use moping. I cant. Not without my fins and gills anyway" Dew tried to joke but, it was painfully clear how much it hurt him.

"..what if you didn't need them?" Rain offered softly after a moment "I could help. I could keep both of us afloat so you don't need to think about swimming or staying above water. Just, be in the water." A moment of dead silence rang out over the Abbey grounds. As if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting to see if they'd take the plunge.

"ya know what, nevermind forget I said any-" Rain began to utter after a moment, but was quickly interrupted "Do you mean it? Will you.. keep me afloat?" Rain stared for a moment, before smiling softly "of course. I'll keep you safe"

and so, Rain let himself slip into the water, right off the pier. He came back up, holding out his hands for Dew to hold. He grasped them tightly, taking a deep breath, feeling his gills frantically beating against his scars, trying to close his airways. And jumped.

At first the rush of ice cold water hit him, making him gasp, getting some water as well. As soon as he hit the water, Rain was pulling him back up, arms grasped around his middle to keep him up effectively. Dew coughed and gasped, expelling the small bit of water from within him. Then, when he calmed down, he giggled. giggles turning into chuckles, chuckles turning into laughing, laughing turning into full crying belly laughs. Rain smiling at him the entire time.

Once Dew's laughter calmed down a bit, Rain pulled him along, had both of them float on the surface. One arm always under Dew's middle, holding onto his side. As they were floating peacefully, Dew told Rain what had happened, about his transition. He had known vaguely that Dew used to be a water ghoul like him but due to some kind of accident he had to be transitioned. But he never knew the specifics. Didn't want to pry.

The rest of the time they spend softly talking, laughing and crying with moments of comfortable silence, listening to nature, as it finally breathed a sigh of relief. Pointing at stars and the clouds. Telling stories and jokes. After 2 hours, Aether got worried again and went out to the lake to check on them. However when he saw them, he only took a picture and left quietly. They were all cosied up, napping together while holding hands, Dew's head laying on Rain's chest. And the picture? Well, let's just say, the little otter couple floating next to them added a good visual comparison of what the two floating ghouls looked like.

(again idk what writer ghost fucking possessed me but thanks bestie??)

This is amazing!!!!

#Whump month 2024 #ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #cw substance use #cw ed #cw sh

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naesarangyunho · 2 years

Text

Patronus- Jeong Yunho (Harry Potter AU)

[I don't own these images credits to the original owners]

SFW

Synopsis: Just a cute little piece of domestic Yunho and y/n but with magic. I've wanted to do a Harry Potter AU for so long so I decided why not write one with soft Yunho.

Contains: fluff, husband! Yunho, father! Yunho, Harry Potter terminology, Yunho is a professional Quidditch player because I say so

[Word Count: 2k]

Y/N had been slaving away in the kitchen for most of the morning, preparing a large meal.

Her in-laws were visiting for Sunday lunch and she wanted everything to be perfect.

Her feet ached from standing for so long and even though she knew that she could cut the time it took for her to cook and bake in half with the use of her wand, she was determined to avoid using magic. She'd always firmly believed that food should be made by hand and with love.

As she finally placed the two pies she'd been working on (one of her signature apple crumbles as well as a beautiful blackberry pie) in the oven she felt arms snake around her waist.

She was pulled back into her husband's chest and felt him kiss her neck. She chuckled and turned around in his hold to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What's up? Are you missing me?"

He nodded, "You've been busy all morning. You know you don't have to go through so much effort, my love. My parents love you and would probably be satisfied with meat, rice and that amazing kimchi you always make."

"I know; they've said so before but I still want everything to be perfect. It's not often that they come to visit us in England."

He cupped her face in one of his hands and pecked her lips, "I love you."

She smiled and pecked his lips, "And I love you."

He grinned and pulled her tight against him, leaning in to kiss her properly. She sighed happily against his mouth as she returned the kiss.

They kissed slowly and softly, just enjoying the embrace of their lover and the faint music that Y/n had playing softly in the kitchen to keep her motivated as she cooked.

He ended the kiss all too soon and kissed her nose and then her cheek as he began to slowly rock them to and fro in time with the music.

She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself be swayed, listening to him hum softly to the music.

Their warm, loving bubble was pierced by loud, high-pitched cries.

Yunho and Y/n both sighed heavily at the sound.

"Looks like someone still doesn't like naps," Y/n muttered.

"I think she just gets lonely," Yunho chuckled.

He gave his wife a quick kiss, "You finish up in here, I'll go and take care of Haneul."

"Thank you." Y/n gave him a grateful smile. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, too busy attending to their eighteen-month-old daughter who was still unable to sleep through the night. Usually, she and Yunho took turns to go and check on her but he'd been dead asleep last night and she hadn't had the heart to wake him. Being a professional Quidditch player was taxing sometimes, and he was always exhausted after matches.

Yunho left her to finish up in the kitchen and disappeared down the hall to their daughter's nursery.

It wasn't long before she heard the wails of her baby be replaced with giggles. She smiled to herself; Yunho had always been so good with kids.

She wondered what he'd done this time to get her to stop crying. Last time he'd Accio-ed a chocolate frog into the nursery and set it loose. Not ideal but Haneul had found it very amusing.

She set a timer for the pies and took off her flour-dusted apron before making her way to her husband and daughter.

She'd expected him to be doing something silly like making her toys float around the room like he often did but instead she was greeted by the sight of him sitting on the carpet with Haneul in his lap as his Patronus lit up the room.

She gasped softly as she watched the golden retriever bound through the air, tail wagging and mouth open with silent barks, casting a white-blue glow over the room.

It was beautiful and something she hadn't seen in a long time.

Haneul was mesmerised by the imagery and her little mouth was open and curved into a big smile.

Yunho was smiling too, looking between his Patronus and his daughter's face to watch her reaction.

She'd never seen his Patronus so strong and stunning. It had always been something he struggled with back in the day in school, earning him subpar grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It had never been a case of struggling to find a happy memory; he just had too many and could never really settle on one to focus on specifically. He would flip through his happy memories as if turning the pages in a photo album as he cast his Patronus and the constant changes in thought as he struggled to focus on one specific memory would cause the Patronus to flicker in and out of existence or have it fighting to stay lit up.

She wondered what had changed. Had he been practising or something?

He spotted her standing in the doorway and blushed. His Patronus faltered and then dissipated as he lost focus and looked at his wife.

Haneul let out a squeak of confusion at the sudden disappearance of the doggy she wanted to play with and she looked up at her dad.

He kissed her hair, lifted her and rested her on his hip as he walked over to his wife.

"Hey,"

"Hey," She responded with a soft smile, "That was beautiful, Yu."

"I… Thank you." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, the tips of his ears red.

"And then? Why are you so coy all of a sudden?"

"Nothing. I suppose it's just been a long time since I cast a Patronus or since you'd seen it." He responded, bouncing Haneul gently on his hip.

"Why would you be shy about it though, darling?"

"I don't know… Your Patronus has always been so vibrant and unique, mine has never really been able to compete."

"Yunho."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure if you saw what I just saw but that was the most beautiful Patronus you have ever cast. You would have passed with honours in DADA with that creation."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do. And what do you mean yours could never compare to mine? Honey, my Patronus is a salamander, you know that. I think everyone would much prefer your puppy over mine."

She accompanied the last part with a chuckle and reached out to stroke his cheek.

He smiled softly at her, "But fire-dwelling salamander patronuses are so rare and beautiful."

She waved off his comment.

"I'm curious though, what's changed? You'd always struggled to keep your Patronus alight, but now it's brighter than half those nitwits we went to school with."

"I mean I haven't cast it since it happened but I found a new memory to focus on a few years ago."

"It must be a really beautiful one for your Patronus to manifest like that. Can I ask what you think of?"

His cheeks flushed slightly and his gaze softened as he looked at her. He always looked at her with such love and had ever since before they started dating in fifth year. It never failed to make her heart flutter.

"Our wedding night."

Her heart melted, "Which part?"

"Well, the whole thing I suppose. How beautiful you looked in that wedding gown and how I definitely didn't cry when I heard you say 'I do'. But also afterwards."

Her cheeks flushed. A certain someone had been conceived that night.

They both looked down at Haneul who was looking up at her parents with big doe eyes and her mouth hanging open.

Yunho looked up at Y/N again with a warm grin, "She is one of the best things to happen to us and I'm glad that we decided to have her."

She felt herself tear up, "Have I ever told you how much I love you, you big dummy?"

He gave her a cheeky grin and kissed her, "I don't know, maybe you should tell me again."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a quick peck, "Maybe later when your parents leave and a certain someone is asleep I'll show you."

"Oh?"

She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Sweetheart, you've never told me what you think of when you cast your Patronus."

"Oh," It was her turn to blush, "Remember our first date to Hogsmeade?"

He grinned at the memories, "Yeah, we wreaked havoc in Zonko's before heading to The Three Broomsticks. How could I forget?"

"Well, I think of that. It was the first time you said 'I love you.'"

His grin widened as the memories came flooding back, "Yes! I remember. It was winter and your nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. You had taken a sip of your warm butterbeer and some of the foam stayed behind on your upper lip. You looked so adorable I couldn't stop the words from falling from my mouth."

She still got butterflies so many years later, "Our first kiss also took place that day. "

"Yup. I had to help you clean that foam up somehow.", He chuckled.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Their nostalgia was cut short when Haneul decided she wasn't getting enough attention anymore and started crying again.

"Oh no, don't cry, princess." Yunho moved her to let her head rest on his shoulder and rocked her in his arms. She was getting bigger every day but she still looked so small in Yunho's arms.

"Do you want mummy to show you pretty lights like daddy did?"

Haneul probably had no clue what he meant but the soft voice of her dad calmed her a little and she looked up at him through her wet lashes.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Drama queen."

But she took her wand out from her back pocket nevertheless.

"Expecto Patronum!" She said softly but firmly. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to yell the spell out like your life depends on it, usually just being firm and having a strong intent works. Unless you're planning on visiting Azkaban anytime soon- yelling might be necessary there. Dementors don't discriminate.

No sooner had she spoken the words, a salamander appeared in the air in a brilliant blue glow.

It swam through the air and twirled as it did so, mock flames rising from it's skin. It was a pretty delightful sight. Haneul and Yunho thought so too, watching it with identical smiles and bright eyes. They looked so alike.

Haneul giggled and pulled Yunho's wand from his hoodie pocket. He took it from her just before she could stick it in her mouth. There were already a few teeth marks on the almond wood handle and his friends and teammates in his Quidditch team teased him every time they saw it.

He moved to hold her on his hip with one arm and held out his wand and conjured up his Patronus with firm words and a swish of his wand.

Haneul clapped her hands together in pure joy as Yunho's Patronus bounced through the air, silently barking as it chased Y/Ns.

Y/N couldn't help the laugh that escaped her as she watched her salamander scramble to get away from the big paws of the golden retriever.

Eventually, she started giggling so much that she lost focus and her Patronus faded away.

He stopped paying attention to his Patronus too, too busy lovingly gazing at his wife.

He wrapped his free arm around his wife, pulling her against his chest. He held both his girls in his arms and pressed kisses to each of their foreheads.

His little family would never lack in happy memories and he would make sure of it.

#kpop #y/n #kpop fanfic #jeong yunho #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez yunho #harry potter #harry potter au #kpop hogwarts au #yunho fluff #dad yunho #husband yunho

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heliosthegriffin · 9 months

Text

Shadow Knight, and the Magical Girls

Chapter III

------

It occurred to Jaune, that if he ever got found out about his night-time activities, he'd be thrown into a padded room and drugged out of his mind.

Not because it wasn't real, but because it would challenge normalcy, or the conspiracy, or whatever. It wasn't a matter of keeping people safe, so much as it was of keeping the illusion of control. If, whoever is actually in charge, suddenly admitted that monsters are real and killing people, it would change everything.

It would make the populace challenge everything from that point on. If monsters are real, why wait for the police to protect you, if they can protect you. Why listen to anything the government, what else might they be hiding? Why pay taxes, if you don't know where your money goes.

He suspected that was the most important one to the higher ups.

Jaune shook his head, he walking to his workshop and got lost in thought, probably due to his poor sleep, maybe he should look into something about that.

Regardless, he didn't have any proof that the Authorities had any more information than he did, and if they did, no proof that they were a cause.

At best they were a lead, and nothing more.

For all he knew, the Shadow Monsters might have only first appeared the night he met one.

Anyway, his workshop, wasn't really anything that could be called a legit workshop.

It was barely a building, and if he had to estimate it net-worth ... In-between a crack-den and a moonshiners still, and looked half as good.

Still it served his purposes. It was secluded deep in the woods, because it used to make drugs probably, and had plenty of space for him to work, and he could sleep and workout here if he needed too.

It also functioned as his meal-ticket, as Jaune was not a rich, he did not come from a rich family, either. So in order to fund his one-man crusade, he had taking to finding junk, repairing, and then selling it off.

He also did it entirely under the table, so he did not pay his taxes either, but considering what he did was a public service, it probably could count as charity or a write-off, or whatever.

If the authorities ever found out about this place, and his notebooks, he was fairly sure he'd be labelled a domestic terrorist.

That is if they didn't just unperson him, burn him, his notes, and the workshop down to pile of ashes.

Only happy thought here, Jaune thought to himself. He mused for a moment, when did he become so paranoid? Vale had never done anything to him, at least directly, even then it wasn't evil, just amoral.

He had no proof that any higher-ups knew anything, so why did he keep coming back to worrying about them? Was it because they were a easy target, all the leads he followed telling him about black-sites and Vale's own dark history, or was he on to something?

Jaune looked at the white-board, he had drawn a very detailed diagram of a shadow-monster, and they're possible anatomy.

He could always say that he was a character-author. That for him to write that he needed to be the character. That might work.

He went to the white-board, writing 'Fire not as effective as hoped, no nerve-endings to burn.' No more molotovs ... for now. Jaune wasn't above collapsing a building on one of these creatures, though he'd like to not get to that point.

That was his main pain with this monsters, no vitals really, beside the eyes, and even those, he was considering were just for show, due to the lack of response from the bear-mace he tried on them a couple nights ago, but further testing wouldn't hurt.

Pure and raw destruction seemed to be his best option when fighting them. Unfortunately, strong as Jaune knew he was, he didn't have the strength to cleave through they're bodies, especially the larger ones. Even if he were to start bringing bigger, heavier weapons, they'd start to weigh him down, and his biggest advantage over them was mobility, and if he lost that, he'd be dead.

Well, good thing he had the saw-ed off, things had been very, very difficult before that. So much damn cardio, running around luring shadow-monsters into kill zone, he felt like some kind of a cartoon with some of those traps.

Hell, the first night, he discovered how much a natural he was for long-distance running, and beating things to death with a lead-pipe.

You never knew what life has in-store for you until your back is against the wall. To be honest, most of the first night was a blur of running, then frantic slamming and beating a small shadow-wolf to death with a pipe.

Everything had hurt the next day, he remembered. In fact he hadn't just hurt, he was terrified, he refused to leave his room for week. His family didn't understand, he couldn't tell anyone, and he was sure he had imagine it, until ...

The bodies started adding up. People being mauled, torn apart, left as stains of blood on the ground, and pieces of people being found around the city.

Nobody had any clue, except for Jaune. He had survived. Survived, and with it came knowledge, power. Responsibility, he had to do something.

Jaune was terrified. He was still terrified. But, he was even more terrified of what would happen if he didn't act. Those Girls might be killing Shadow-Monster too, but they had failed and where they failed, he had to succeed, or ...

More blood would be on his hands.

Jaune went to his work desk, and got to work, he was making preparations for another night.

----

Ruby was thrilled to fly. It was a freedom that you couldn't find on the ground. She didn't get her ability to fly from magic like the others, it came from her semblance and aura. But ... she did have her own magic.

Flying above the sky could see the aura of darkness of The Grimm, a flock of Nevermores flying above and ready to do evil!

"Halt, monsters! Face the silver eyes of judgement!" Ruby stopped mid-air and posed at the monster-birds, who fired razor-sharp feathers at her, which she dodge easily, before firing a ray of silver light at them, utterly destroying them.

Holding up a v-sign. "Victory for Ruby!" She cheered, before covering her mouth, looking around for anyone else, and then sighed. "Stupid, can't blow my cover."

"Not like they're is anyone up here beside us." Came a voice from the darkness.

"Eep!" Ruby, or in other-words, Magical Girl Red, (which was totally different from Crimson!) shrieked.

"Calm down," Black, or in other words, Blake said floating not far from Ruby.

"Don't scare me like that! How long have you been there?!" Ruby accused.

Blake shrugged. "Not long," She smirks, though only her fellow magical girls could see through the veil of magic on her face to see any expression. "Just enough to know, Victory for Ruby."

Red pouts. "Please, don't tell the others!" She shakes her head like a puppy. "You know I can't take anymore teasing, I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Black asks with malice. "Then, you'll have no probelm going to pick up a certain book for me at a certain date at a certain place, right?"

Red's blushes like her namesake. "Oh, you mean," She looks around for the other, and then whispers. "Ninja's of Love 8: Lord of Kunoichi's? I didn't know it was out yet..."

Black smirks like a cat. "I have my connections, but you'll have to got a kinda of shady part of town to get it." She thought for a moment. "I'll let you borrow it when I'm done!"

"Deal!" Ruby said with cheer, she saw no downsides in this exchange. "Wait, a shady part of town? Doesn't that have you know bad people in it?"

"I didn't take you for the kind to stereotype people, Miss Red. I guess, I'll just have to ask Yang do it?"

"No, I'm not like that, I pinky swear!" Red says holding out her petite finger. "I"ll just have someone come along with me so that my cover doesn't get blown if I need to fight."

"Good, hmm, you could take your Knight in Grimy Armor with you, though, looking at him, he might cause more trouble than you can handle. They're a difference from looking tough to avoiding trouble, and attracting trouble by looking tough."

Red stared at Blake deifiantly. "Jaune's a softie, he'll protect me like a true good-guy."

"Not that you would actually need it," Black added.

"Yeah, but ... It would be nice to play pretend for a while. It's nice to have some fight for you, instead of the other way around, for once. It makes me remember why we're out here fighting every night, to protect the good people, Blake."

"Ru-, I mean Red..." Blake said softly.

"Yes?" Red asked sweetly.

"If anyone had been here, you would have blown my cover."

"Aaccck!"

Black gave her a evil grin. "So, they're is another book that I need, but, it's a bit out of my price range, but seeing as your such a good friend, who wouldn't go around name-dropping my identity, that just got her allowance, you wouldn't mind going out and picking it up for me, would you?"

Under her magic veil of magic, Ruby shed a single tear over her lack of sweets and tinkering she'd be experience soon. "N-no, not at all, Bla-- aah-ah-ack, Black," She said managing to save at the last second.

"Hmm, alright. You have my silence." Black's ear's then twitched, and turned her head. "That way. It's coming out of the east end, near the junkyard."

"Yeah! Lets beat its butt back to it's ugly home and family!"

"Wow, no need to be mean, Red." Black said flatly.

"Oops." Red did not process sarcasm.

"Whatever, lets get rid of it, it's just a Beowolf pack, or two, hardly even worth our time."

Said Beowolves were 12ft tall standing up and 800lbs of Dark Matter, minimum, with claws that could cut through steel and limbs that could smash through concrete, to say they were dangerous was an understatement.

Regular side-arms wouldn't cut it, a dozen men mobbing it with sticks and stone, or knives and spears might not do it, and if they did, they were almost guaranteed to die. To have a chance, this type of fight power was needed, or a exceptionally skilled fighter armed with wits and good firepower could do it.

Ruby and Blake tore through the pack in less than a minute. It was not even a fight, it was culling, the Beowolves being hit with enough firepower thrown around to level a city-block to rubble. They didn't fall to piece or have a chance to fade away, they merely erased off this planet, along with a millions of Lien worth of damages to the streets, cars, and nearby buildings.

It was the most successful attempt at directing they're powers this far!

------

Jaune had fucked up, he realized, clutching his side where his stitch had reopened. Blood was coating his entire side down to his thigh in a sticky red paint.

His back was a mess, he also noted distantly, it felt like someone had taken it through a meat grinder, and likely looked like a ground beef.

The girl behind him was shivering with fear, and he smelt urine. Two dog-sized scorpion-monsters circled them, with stingers glowing in the darkness.

He had been doing his patrol tonight, everything going well, which he should have known was a bad sign. It had been nothing but slow, clumsy, or young Shadow-Monsters.

Then everything went silent. He could find feel a strong concentration of Shadow-Monsters near by, and then, well, the Junkyard exploded, well the street in front of it did, that would have been bad enough, but... well. There was a girl.

There was always a girl. She had been out jogging for whatever damn reason she had, but froze up as silver and purple light tore the street open like some sort of scalpel from heaven. It was something that boggled his mind to see, how was something like that even possible?

He made a decision, and found himself covering her as the explosion launched debris over them, and something sharp, well a lot something, sharp hit his back, as the shock-wave hit him, knocking and rolling the both of them for several feet.

Jaune was sure he had some broken bones, maybe worse. But, he had covered her the entire way, and hadn't let her get hurt.

That would have been bad enough, and then he heard chittering, and had the most unfortunate discovery of the night, but not a unexpected one.

The Shadow-monsters, they lived underground. When the street broke, it gave several of them a exit out.

Like these two here.

Getting up had hurt like hell, but he managed it, practically forcing his body back together, as he got off of her, dragging the brown-skinned girl to her feet.

Then more or less dragging her to an alleyway, which thinking about it, Jaune realized sounded horrible.

Which had turned out to be a horrible idea. As more than one hole underground had opened, and another Shadow-Scorpion had been at the other end.

Leading back to where they were now.

Looking around for any advantages, Jaune saw very few, besides a fire escape.

"Sorry," He dared mumbled to the amber-eyed girl.

"What?" She had a moment to say, before Jaune grabbed her by the collar of her jersey, as he tossed her up onto the fire-escape, the woman managing a squeak of fear.

Jaune then put her out of mind, holding Ferrum Vis in one hand and Spite in the other.

"Not tonight," He muttered, a mantra of sorts. "Not tonight," He continued.

A stinger struck, he parried it to the side. Another from behind him struck, he side stepped, putting him side to side against the wall.

The two scorpion struck at once, stingers stabbing deep into the brick wall, as Jaune jumped forward, leaving the scorpions briefly stuck.

Seizing the moment, Jaune rounded on the closest, and brought down Spite in a slashing arc down from over his shoulder like a machete, cutting through the arm-thick tail in one moment, leaving the glowing stinger in the brick-work.

Then reversing his grip, brought it up, severing the tail of the other shadow-scorpion.

Tailless or not, that did not deter them in the slightest, as they turned to him with pinching claws, that glinted off the alley-lights.

Jaune analyzed them, and attached Spite to Ferrum, to create a spear. Over the course of a minute, he took turns stepping out of range of they're claws, before stepping back in to deal a deep stab with his make-shift spear, again and again, until he managed to stab them in the eyes.

The ugly red light disappeared, and with it so did any cohesion the Shadow-monsters had over they're bodies, quickly falling apart, to be like they were never there to begin with.

Jaune looked up, seeing the girl was no longer there, and smiled, she had escaped.

Then he took two steps forward, before he fell down onto his knees, Jaune was panting now, he felt hot and cold at the same time. He was sweaty all over, and he felt tired.

Taking a nap on the alley-road started sounding like a good idea to him.

If only for a moment, taking a deep breath, he forced himself back up, and then promptly threw up bile and stomach acid, hastily lifting his helmet.

Water, he needed water.

Using his spear as a walking stick, steadying himself as he hobbled his way out.

Only to turn around violently, as he pulled out Dragon's Breath at whoever had crept up behind him.

"What the Dust, Man!" Came a feminine voice, though Jaune was having trouble focusing on her face as his vision wouldn't stop blurring. Jaune said nothing, then lowered his shotgun, feeling he had made his point clear, continuing to hobble away.

"Stop! Stop! You're making your wounds worse!"

Why was she bothering him, the longer she bothered him, the longer it'd be before he could stitching himself back up, uhgh, he hated having back wounds. He'd have to use a mirror and a back-scratcher again, wouldn't he?

"Look, I'm a medical professional, let me call you an ambulance, and I'll take care of you till it gets here. It's the least I can do, seeing as you saved my life."

Jaune squinted under his helmet, ok, that's nice, but he has a secret identity.

He continued to hobble away, shaking his head.

"What!? Are you in shock or something, man! Do you hate hospitals, or something, come on, you're bleeding out, and I don't need that weight on me!"

Jaune feel over, and saw her shadow over him, he managed to see her clearly.

Oh, it was the jogger, with the pretty brown hair.

He waved a apology. "Sorry." Was all he could rasp out.

"Oh no, oh no, this is bad!" The dusky-skinned girl made a decision. "Come on, get up, I got a first aid kit in my car!"

Jaune oblige, pushing himself up, and felt arms supporting him. This was nice, but he really needed to get home. "Home."

"What? Home? Do you want to go home? I don't know where you live... Wait, I'll take you home after we get you to the hospital."

Jaune shook his head. He hated hospitals, that's were people went to die. "No." He said firmly, pulling himself away from her, or trying.

The girl looked at him, tightening her grip. "Wait ... You're the Shadow Knight!"

Is that what people called him? Wicked. Not that he'd call himself that, he probably die of embarrassment.

"Fine, I'll figure something out, just don't die on me, please!" She said sincerely.

Eventually, Jaune ended up shoved into the passenger seat of a car, and mumbled. "Sorry, bleeding." "It's cool, it's cool, don't worry, I know how to get blood out." She paused. "Ok, I know that sounds bad, but it's not. I'm Amber, by the way, sorry for the late introduction, Amber Autumn, and I'm going to get you fixed up Mr. Knight."

Jaune nodded, feeling tired, eyes shutting slowly like curtains. "Cool." He muttered, starting to nod off.

Time blurred for him. He heard Amber shout and snap her fingers at him to do .. . something, he wasn't suppose to fall asleep, or something.

He ended up getting up pulled out of the car, and heard screaming, with another girls voice, this one deeper and meaner sounding, asking questions.

Two sets of arms taking him out of the car, grunting and cursing.

"Heavy bastard!"

"How much does he weigh?!"

"Agh! Got him, got him! Don't drop him!"

Before, setting him on a table.

Time seemed to speed up, he felt his clothes be taken off, which was followed by gasps and more curses.

"How is he alive, he looks like he's been stitched together by a dozen different bodies?!"

"I don't know, hero stuff! Just focus on keeping the wounds clean!"

"Some of these scars look like they wend down to the bone, why hasn't he gone to a hospital about these, how is he even able to walk?!"

"Look, shut up, Vernal! We can figure that out later!"

He felt a hand touch his helmet, and Jaune shot up, eye's alert, turning to the offender, as he clutched her hand in a death-grip.

It was a unknown woman with short brown hair, she looked pissed off.

"Take the helmet off, we need to check for concussion."

Jaune frowned. "No." He said firmly.

"This isn't a debate, take the damn thing off, idiot."

"No." Jaune repeated, his grip weakening as darkness took him, and felt his head grow lighter and hands touching his hair.

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