#jonathan asks himself maybe i can polite my way out of this

[cumikering]

Toxic Phillip Graves x reader

3.4k | angst, suggestive The commander with plenty of years ahead of you never saw you like you saw him, not even close

Next to the large window of the coffee shop, you sat with your book. You sipped your latte – the latte your cousin raved about endlessly the past month that tasted closer to milk. She wasn’t a coffee drinker evidently.

“’Scuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up at the owner of the smooth, southern voice. The man wore an easy smile – too easy, like he knew he looked good. Your eyes wandered past him, to the many empty tables before meeting his blue ones again.

“Sorry, I’m Phillip. I couldn’t help noticing your read.” He held out his copy of the exact same book. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

You gave him a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

“Not my usual read, but it resonates with me.” He sat and placed his cup of tea on the table before cracking his book open where his steel bookmark lay. “He shouldn’t have led her on,” he commented.

“But her story wouldn’t have started otherwise.”

He smiled. “That’s true.”

Phillip ordered you another drink as you discussed your common interest in literature. Before you could finish the tea, the alarm on his phone went off.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, miss, but I’ve got a plane to catch.” He placed his bookmark back in his copy.

It was then that you noticed the scar across his right cheek. As if the cause had the full intention of ripping him off the Earth – like a personal vendetta, but divine intervention let it bolt past, catching the cuff of his ear instead.

“Would it be alright to call you sometime? Maybe we can meet again when I find myself in town.”

You put your number in his phone, not expecting anything to come out of it. Not from a chance meeting with a charming man more than a few years older than you.

But days later, Phillip asked if you’d finished the book. You spoke on the phone for half an hour, listening to his analysis of the characters. He was sharp, brilliant, eloquent. It showed that he was well-read and took pride in it.

He was initially vague about his job, saying he travelled a lot. You didn’t think it mattered at all what he did. He was an online friend who was into the same things as you were. A month later when he told you he was the CEO of a private military company, you weren’t surprised at all. It was plain in the way he carried himself, his poise and decisiveness. The way he filled a room to the brim even when he didn’t try to.

Over the months, he mailed you books to read and discuss once a week. Then twice, and thrice and the calls grew more frequent, longer, later. Quieter, deeper.

He became more than a name on your screen, more than a voice at the other end of the line at nightfall. Your conversations bled into the daylight. You felt less like a secret, more like a part of his life. Like an affirmation that, maybe, you were not the only one in the liminal space.

Thinking of you, sweetheart.

Always love hearing from my woman during the day.

Your man is having some good lunch. Wish you were here to share it with.

You make me feel like I may be close to some, but never close enough.

I’ll show you how much you mean to me when we meet again.

“You promise?” you asked one day.

“I make guarantees,” he affirmed without missing a beat. “I’ll have the last week of this month off.  Why don’t you fly here? I’ll take care of your flights and hotel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done this before… Flown to meet anyone.”

“No pressure, darlin’. You mean a lot to me, you know that? Don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

You booked your flights and hotel. You weren’t going to be a freeloader even that you knew it would have meant nothing to him judging by the suit he showed up at the airport in. You wanted to cry when you saw him and his boyish smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses and a sign of your name. You ran into his open arms.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?” you asked with a chuckle when you pulled away.

He kissed the top of your head. “Taking my darlin’ out on a dinner date.”

He helped with your suitcase to his grey SUV and waited for you to get ready in your room before taking you to a skyscraping French restaurant. Sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window, you couldn’t take your eyes off the view, the shadows of the city dainty against the gold seeping into deep purple.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He placed his hand on yours, making your turn to him. “I knew you’d like it. We can come back whenever you want.”

“I love it, Phil.” You beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my darlin’.” He took your hand to his lips before raising his champagne flute. “To us.”

You clinked yours against his.

At your door, he asked if he could kiss you. You nodded, not meeting his blue eyes as you bit down a smile. He called you when he was in bed, and when you both refused to hang up, you wondered what kept you from staying at his instead.

Phillip spent the next two days taking you around the city and walking you to your room at the end of the night with a kiss, which lasted longer each time.

Darling, I need to take care of something on base. Would it be fine if you’re on your own for the day? His text read the next morning.

Instead of brunch with him, you wondered around the city on your own, reveling in the tall buildings and how friendly the people were. With a sweet Southern drawl, the older women called you honey, darling and everything else Phillip had called you. It made you miss him more.

As you enjoyed your dinner, your phone buzzed with his call. It didn’t take him long to pull up at the restaurant and give you a peck in front of his SUV. You’d seen photos of him in his full gear, but seeing him in his combat uniform in real life made your cheeks heat up as you held onto his biceps. With vivid eyes and a smirk like that, he was dangerously handsome.

His touch seared when he pushed you against the wall of his entryway, fingers grasping your jaw, as he licked and nipped.

“You kiss better than last night,” he mumbled against you.

You paused at the comment, but he didn’t relent. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands roamed. He carried you to his kitchen, setting you on the counter, icy against the backs of your thighs.

His mouth trailed down the side of your neck, sucking harder at the base than you’re used to, but it hurt so good. You shuddered as a small gasp escaped you. He pulled away with a satisfied smile before setting you down on your feet, turning to open his French door fridge.

You took in his kitchen, All-black, with spotless marble countertops and seamless cabinets.

“What would you like, darlin’?”

“J- Just water, please.”

You were breathless with your cheeks warm when he led you to his living room which looked equally as lavish with the large TV in front of his plush leather couch. When he pulled you onto his lap, you let out a small squeak, making him chuckle.

“You’re always so adorable.” He kissed your cheek.

He put on some football on as he held you close, his hot, wide palm on your mid-thigh, exposed from him pushing your dress up. Every so often, he’d give it a squeeze as he sipped his beer, making your breath hitch.

“Darlin’, it’s getting late. Let’s get you back.” He patted your thigh. “Unless you want to stay? You can pick any room you want.”

He gave you a quick tour of his place, and you picked the room next to his. He gave you toiletries and his clothes for the night, and told you to come to his room when you were ready for bed. You opened his door to him on his bed in sweats, a book on his lap. He motioned for you to sit next to him, and you did, leaning onto his bare chest. You read with him, his arm around you, thumb rubbing your arm occasionally.

“Phil?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I just- Well-“ Confidence eluded you as fast as it graced and your heart raced. “Nevermind.”

He laid his book down and turned towards you. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You felt small having to ask, embarrassed that it was even something that bothered you. But when you looked into his eyes, welcoming with that warm smile, you thought maybe it was alright. It was Phillip after all.

“I wanted to know… What are we?”

He kissed your forehead. “Whatever you want us to be. I’d love to be your man if you let me.”

You smiled, relieved as you nodded.

“Anything for my woman.”

Phillip wasn’t in his room when you woke in his bed the following morning. You figured he was in his office, and he was, with the door open.

He looked up from his computer with a smile. He’d put a t-shirt on, his light brown hair tousled now. You noted he didn’t have his usual cup of coffee with him.

“Good morning, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t mean to leave the bed so early, but I’ve got reports to send.”

“That’s okay.”

“I hope you slept well. Feel free to use the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m done in a bit.”

You went to his kitchen, the counters lustrous in the morning light. Next to the fridge, something glinted. It was a bottle cap of his favourite beer from the night before, a foreign brand you’d never seen. You put the cap into your sweats pocket - a keepsake of your first visit to his. You made coffee for the both of you, and when you were scouring the cabinets for some sugar-

“Sorry, sweetheart, who are you?”

You gasped, turning to the kitchen entrance where the voice came from. It was a middle-aged woman, carrying grocery bags. She blinked, her smile polite but confused.

“Uhh, Phil?” You looked straight at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words.

“What is it, darlin’?” he replied from a distance.

“Phillip Graves?” the woman called out, voice thundering.

In a second, he rounded the corner.

“Mum. Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter before giving her a hug. “This, uh- this is a friend.” He gestured to you.

“Hi, Mrs. Graves.”

“Good morning, sugar.” She nodded at you, her eyes warmer as she unpacked the bags. “I stopped by to drop off some fruits. I was at the farmer’s market.” Her eyes flicked to you, a playful smile on her lips. “He never has anything in his house other than beer, does he?”

You let out a small laugh, and he had an amused smile as he shook his head.

“I’m still in the middle of something. I’ll finish up real quick.” He left again.

“He’s married to his job,” she commented as she opened the fridge, stocking it with the colourful produce she brought.

“Um, do you know where the sugar is by any chance?”

She turned to you and glanced at the two mugs on the counter. “If he hasn’t had his coffee yet by now, that’s probably because he’s out of sugar.” She smiled. “And you know how much of a sweet-tooth he is.”

You did.

She continued lining the fridge with apples. “He really does run on coffee. He never learnt to cook, that boy. Lucky he’s got you taking care of him.”

Your heart swelled. Did he tell her about you already?

“All done now,” she said, closing the fridge. “Tell him I say bye, will you?”

“Okay.”

She gave you a squeeze and pinched your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, sugar.”

You beamed as you walked her to the door. She didn’t hate you, and it made you irrationally happy.

“Phil?” You stood at the door to his office. “Your mom just left, told me to tell you bye.”

He beckoned you to come in, and he pulled you to sit on his lap, his hand squeezing your thigh.

“You know why I said you’re a friend, don’t you? I promise I’ll tell her soon.” He gave you an easy smile. “It’s like introducing vegetables to a kid. You gotta do it in small doses.”

“That’s okay, I understand.“ It didn’t bother you seeing how warm she was towards you. Still, you held on to his words.

“Okay, I’m almost done now. I’ll drive you to your hotel to get ready and we’ll go out for lunch.”

As well as the day went, you went ahead of yourself, like you often did when things felt too good. It dawned on you this was a little dream, a fleeting paradise in your ordinary life. Like a ticking bomb, it was going to detonate into a million pieces, and you’ll wake up with nothing but little mice, a pumpkin, a tattered dress and the sweetest memory.

The demon lingered in the backroom of your mind, pounding relentlessly at the door, begging to be set free. You felt like you’d gone too deep, like you shouldn’t even have started with all this.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm, darlin’?” Phillip asked when you entered his house, tossing his keys into the entryway bowl.

You couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed your arms and led you to the couch.

He turned your body to him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t drown the riot in your head.

“Please. If it’s my fault, let me fix it.”

“How is this going to work?” Your eyes flicked to his, continuing in a smaller voice. “We don’t live close at all.”

“Got me worried there,” he exhaled, pulling you to his chest. “You can move here, of course.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

“I know it’s not. If I’m honest, I don’t have an answer for that yet.” He sighed as he caressed your hair. Silence lingered before he continued, “You know what my drill sergeant used to say? You can’t fly when you keep worrying about falling out of the sky.”

“You told me.” A smile flickered on your lips.

“We’re just a two-hour flight away from each other. As long as you still want this, don’t think too much of what’s going to come. It will work itself out.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “We’ll work it all out.”

Perhaps he was right. You just needed to focus on what’s right in front of you. When you asked if you could extend your stay for a few more days, he gave you a peck on the lips.

He held you wordlessly for a long time until he got a call for an emergency meeting. He told you not to wait up if he wasn’t done in an hour. You hadn’t planned on staying the night, but you still had your toiletries from the other day. You got ready for bed and rescheduled your return flight, extending the timer on the proverbial bomb, even just for two more days. You wanted to float in this dream a little longer.

It was past 2 in the morning when your door creaked open. You turned, the dim light from the hallway bleeding into the dark.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

He turned the bedside lamp on and sat on the bed, holding your hand.

“I’ve been thinking. You’re really special to me, darlin’. I want to work this out. I promise we’ll find a way, okay?”

You choked out a sob. His words like balm to your burning chest. You sat up and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re so emotional. It’s adorable.” He let out a small laugh as he stroked your back. “I love you.”

When your tears stopped flowing, he laid you down, caging you between his forearms as he kissed you. Your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand cupping his lightly stubbled jaw. You fell into the kiss, into the sensation of his perfect lips. His hand wandered, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, his lips unrelenting, ever intensifying.

You squirmed under him. “Phil, that’s- you’re being a bit rough.”

He pulled away. “My ex liked it this way.”

You appreciated his passion, but the comment didn’t sit right. He stilled for a second before lying beside you in silence. You didn’t know how long you lay there, but in the dark, your eyes blinked open at the click of the door.

Your heart drained, hollow, hanging by a thread like it was going to float away out of your gaping chest any second. What you thought was going to be a comforting night turned unkind, instead leaving you feeling less than. You let out an uneven breath, pulling the comforter closer around you, willing it to drown the ache.

The next morning, Phillip was quiet, not even meeting your eyes as he told you to get ready. It was jarring, when for days it was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you, but that day felt like he didn’t even want you anywhere near him.

Perhaps he had a lot in mind, maybe something about his meeting the night before – you knew it happened sometimes, but this time, the stillness made you nervous. Rejected, unwanted, out of place. Something was brutally wrong and it hung heavy in the air, it made you hard to breathe.

He finally broke the silence when he pulled up at the hotel lobby. “This isn’t working out.”

You turned to him, not believing your ears. “What?”

“This is a mistake,” he declared.

“But… Last night, we just- You said you loved me.“

“Why are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.”

The harsh tone sent chills down your spine. He’d never used that voice on you.

“I thought you liked sex, sweetheart. Why’d you wear those cute outfits otherwise?” His smirk turned to a frown. “Also, you laugh too loud. It’s off putting.”

You froze in your seat, like you wanted to scream but your voice a prisoner in your throat. Your stomach churned, bitter, singeing.

“You didn’t think this was real, did you? Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t want to see you again. We’ll get coffee when I visit, okay?”

Your lips quivered as you blinked your tears away, but you were not going to let yourself cry.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start crying now. You’re making me look like the bad guy.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Was he not? When he told you all those things, some of the kindest words anyone had ever said to you. When the gold he gave you was brass at heart.

“Fuck you, Graves.” You got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Your tears stained your cheeks as you walked away.

It was the last time you saw or heard from him until two months later.

Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m attached now. We’re visiting next month. Want to meet up?

You regretted not blocking his number. You wiped away the tear that slipped.

Three years later, the universe sprinkled chaos and stirred its pot. You met another Phillip. Your cousin asked if it was the Graves variety. You said no, with a smile brighter than you ever remembered smiling.

This one held your hand and brought you home to meet his mum. This one didn’t bring up his exes when you didn’t ask. This one laughed harder when you cackled.

This one didn’t have to lie about his intentions, because a few years later, his promise of forever came without you even having to ask.

Thanks @shadofireshinobi for making me write this <3

@tiredmetalenthusiast @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[captainlunaxmen]

Just a Little More

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve's over Nancy, and there's a girl on his mind. One night out and some flirting might lead to a jealous Steve getting drunk.

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

I'm not a party person. I'm definitely not a party person.

The music is too loud, the people are... too many. I don't know how Steve always manages to drag me in these things.

And yet, here I am, once again.

"C'mon, don't give me that face," he tells me as we walk to the house hosting the party. "You need to go out more,"

"I'm fine as I am. Thanks" I complain. "you just insist because you need moral support"

"For what?" He asks, faking innocence.

"You want to see Nancy"

"That's... no, okay? I'm over her. I swear." He says confidently "my eyes are on someone else now"

"Oh yeah?" I ask, with a surprised laugh "and who might that be?"

"I'm sure you already know her" he answers.

"Please don't tell it's Robin" I beg, I couldn't even warn him.

"Nah, don't worry." He says wrapping an arm around my shoulders urging me to walk faster towards the party "you'll find it out... sooner or later"

"Whatever"

I hope he's not gonna have his heart broken again. I hated seeing him after the break up with Nancy.

We've been friends for a little while now. We got closer last year after an alternate dimensional creature attacked me, Nancy, Jonathan and him at Byers' house. He turned out to be not so much of an asshole, he even became my brother's best friend... big surprise. And now we're here.

As we enter the big house we're instantly surrounded by music, people and a strong smell of alcohol.

"Want something to drink?" Steve shouts over the music in my ear.

"No, thanks" I shout back.

"I'll be right back" he tells me.

"I'll go get some air"

He gives me a 'already?' look, nods and goes to the kitchen I suppose.

Yep, I decide I already need some air so I try to find my way to the back.

I walk through the sea of people dancing and chatting at the party as quickly as possible until I successfully get to the back.

Luckily there are a very few people, some are smoking and some are... holding their heads, feeling dizzy probably.

I try to enjoy the moment of peace, my mind wandering about who the girl Steve has a crush on now might be. Especially since he told me I know her.

Could it be Casey from my art class?

Or maybe it's Kelly...

I really can't-

"Hello there"

A voice interrupts my stream of thoughts.

Turning around I find myself face to face with none other than Billy Hargoves himself.

"Uh... Hi" I politely say, turning back around away from him.

I sense him walking beside me, he doesn't speak, though I can feel his eyes on me. The gesture makes me more nervous as seconds go on.

I try to not acknowledge him tok much, hoping he'd get tired and walk back inside, but unfortunately he stays.

Where the hell is Steve when I need him?

"I feel very lucky tonight" he casually say.

"Why's that?" I ask, knowing there's no way to ignore him anymore.

"Because I finally got you on your own and not attached to Harrington's hip" he answers with a grin.

"Yeah... uhm.. he's just getting something to drink. He... he'll be here sooner or later" I nervously laugh, trying to sound as casual as him.

"The later the better" he says softly.

"Uhm..." I think of something to say but nothing comes out.

"You tutor my sister, right? Well.. my step-sister" he asks.

"Yeah,I think. Max, right?"

"That's her. She always talks about you with my father and his girlfriend. She always talks about how nice and gentle you are" he speaks softly, slightly leaning towards me.

"Yeah.. well, that's nice of her..." I say, not looking at him "I only try to make her feel as comfortable as I can"

"And we all appreciate it" he basically whispers in my ear.

I step away, but I tripp into what looks like a vase and almost fall.

Billy's hands quickly catch me, helping me up, but even when I'm up straight again he doesn't let go. His grip isn't tight, I could shrug it off, but I can't seem to anyway.

"Careful there, gorgeous" he winks.

"Sorry... uh... thanks" I finally get out of his grip.

"My pleasure" he says looking down at me. He's still very close to me and as soon as I can catch his eyes falling to my lips, I take a deep breath turning my head to look back inside for Steve.

"Uhm... I think I'll go find Steve... I'll see you around" I say walking past him, but he moves to block my way.

"I'm sure he's fine. Stop worrying about him, for once... and" he moves his hand to rub, so slightly, my arm. "And start to worry about yourself... maybe we-"

He's cut off by Steve's voice.

"There you are!"

He's drunk... already?

"Ah! King Steve finally joined us!" Billy declare sarcastically.

"Are you drunk already?" I ask.

"Me? I could never..." he walks towards us, but almost fall as he nears.

"Yeah... sure" I say unconvinced.

"Damn... don't you look stunning..." he hiccups.

"Yeah. Okay. We're going." I state.

"No no no no no no" Steve blurts out. "You were having fun with him. Keep... keep going"

Oh god...

"C'mon Steve." I try to grab him to make him walk, but he yank himself away, falling to the ground.

"Don't worry, I'm okay" he quickly blurts out.

I let out a bug frustrated sigh, thinking about how to bring him home.

"Need a help taking his ass home?" Billy suddenly asks.

"I... you don't" I start.

"It's no trouble, sweetheart" he grins. "C'mon"

He grabs Steve's arm and lifts him up, helping him walk all the way to Billy's car.

"Open the door" he tells me and I rush to open the backseat door so Billy can make Steve lay there.

Then Billy and I get in as well and he starts to drive.

------

"Thanks, Billy" I say as Billy help Steve sit on the couch in Steve's house.

"No problem, sweetheart" he smirk looking back at me. "Take care, King Steve" he adds sarcastically

I walk him to the door.

"You know...how about you and I finish what we started earlier?" He suggests.

"Uh?"

"About you starting to worry about yourself instead of him." He says, moving to grab my hand.

"Uhm... I.. I'm sorry..." I carefully move my hand out of his grip, glancing quickly at Steve on the couch "I better check on him"

"As you wish" He raises both hands in surrender, but surprisingly he smiles too. "If you ever change your mind, give me a call, sweetheart"

When Billy walks back to his car I walk back to Steve.

"Let's get you to bed, uh?" I say and he mutter something I can't catch.

I help him upstairs and to his bed.

"Oh thanks" he says like he just realised what's happening.

"No problem, Steve" I say as I help him take his shoes off.

"I ruined your night" he mutters.

"What?" I'm confused.

"You seemed reeeeeally comfortable with Hargoves tonight" he blurts out.

"What are you talking about?"

"I say you two talking.. and he was preeeeeetty close" he explains.

"We were talking about Max, his sister. I tutor her"

Why do I need to explain myself? And why does he sounds... jealous?

"He was too close" he states and he finally crawls to lay under the covers of his bed.

"Yeah. I guess." I say with a say and heading downstairs to grab him a glass of water.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"To grab some water"

"You coming back... right?" He seems.. anxious. Why?

"Sure"

I walk downstairs to finally grab a glass and quickly go back to Steve only to see him talking his shirt off, to sleep, the sight blocks me.

It happened before... I already saw him taking his shirt off, for any sort of reasons.. well.. not all possible reasons. But now... now feels different. Why?

Fuck.

I take a deep breath and walk back in his bedroom.

"There you go" I hand him the glass and sit on the bed.

"Thank you" he says and manages to drink the whole glass.

"You're welcome"

We stay in a comfortable silence for a little while, Steve layed down taking deep breath and me sitting on his bed playing with my fingers.

"You feeling okay?" I suddenly ask and he hums nodding.

"Good. You need anything I'll be downstairs" I tell him with a smile and get up.

"What? You're not sleeping here?" He gestures to the other side of the bed.

"You want me to sleep there?" I chuckle.

I always sleep on his couch when sometimes it's too late to walk home... never in his bed.. with him.

"Yeah." He says as a matter of fact.

"I... o-okay" I say. "I.. I just don't have anything to wear to bed"

My plan was to take off my trousers and shirt and rely on the covers... I obviously can't if sleeping in his bed.

"Just grab something of mine. I don't mind.. quite the opposite actually" he says simply.

"What?" I chuckle surprised.

"Well.. seeing the girl I have my eyes on in my clothes... God..." he says, without thinking probably.

What...

"Uh?"

"How you have realised I'll never understand" he giggles.

Okay.. he's drunk.

"Sure" I say unconvinced.

I grab one of his shirts and a pair of pj's pants and get changed in the bathroom.

As I walk back in his room he's still laying down, but he uncovered the other side of his bed for me to get in.

"Hey!" He exclaims.

"What?" I ask.

"I haven't seen you!" He complains.

"You're basically sleeping, Stevie. You can't keep your eyes open." I tell him. "Go to sleep"

"You don't believe me" he states.

"About what?"

"You being the girl... I.. like" he hiccups.

Is it true?

"You're drunk, Steve. Your just-"

"No, no, no, no" he says holding his finger to my lips, to stop me from keep speaking. "You're that girl. You. You. Yooou"

So... my crush isn't one-sided as I always thought..

"Stevie..."

"Kiss me?"

"Uh?" I ask taken aback.

"Please?" He says getting closer. Cuddling against me.

"How about this... you sleep and tomorrow morning, if you still feel like this, I'll kiss you." I tell him.

"And you'll believe me?" He asks looking at me with puppy eyes.

"Yes Steve. I'll believe you" I say, thankful for the darkness hiding my flustered face.

"Great" he says cuddling more against me.

"Goodnight Steve"

" 'Night... love"

The thing is... I do believe him. I just want him to suffer a little more.

[heavencasteel420]

WIP Wednesday

From Tomorrow’s a Long Way Off:

They turned onto Robin’s street, and her house came into view. Jonathan took in the yellow clapboard house, the overgrown vegetable garden in the front, the tents where the mushrooms grew in the back.

“Your parents grow all of this?” he asked.

“Yeah, they have a mushroom farm.” Robin watched his awed expression, bemused. She hadn’t expected him to make fun of her weird hippie parents or anything, but she definitely hadn’t expected him to be impressed. “Sorry about the smell. It’s…earthy.”

“No, no,” Jonathan said. He eyed the vegetable garden. “I would kill for these tomatoes. God, there’s so many of them.”

“You really don’t have to,” she protested with a grin. “My parents will probably just give you some.”

As they approached the front porch, she heard the strains of Motown coming from inside. This told her two things: that her parents were home, and that they were having a good time.

“I can go home,” Jonathan offered, as though he’d finally realized their destination. “It’s not that far.”

“No,” Robin said decisively. “You’re gonna tell them how much you want to murder them for their veggies. They’ll love you.”

When she opened the front door, she was greeted with a mortifying, but totally expected sight: her dad grooving around the kitchen and singing along with the music while chopping vegetables.

“Maybe you’ll go away and never call,” he crooned, “and a taste of honey’s worse than none at all. Oh, in that case I don’t want no part, I do believe—”

He stopped when he saw them. A grin spread over his face.

“Rob!” he said. “And Jonathan Byers! Come on in. We made bran muffins.”

From Tonight, Tonight:

Anya cracked a smile, too, and reached out her arms to Miri. Soon the two of them were slow-dancing to the old-timey-strip-club arrangement and overwrought vocals.

“When you’re young and so in love as we, and bewildered by the world we see,” Anya sang, in a low, pleasant voice, while Miri giggled into her shoulder. “Why do people hurt us so? Only those in love will know, what a town without pity can do.”

Jonathan smiled, too, even as he kept one eye on the clock. He had options. He could suggest, in a nice, casual way, that they pick up the pace so they could all go home for Thanksgiving. (He knew himself. It wouldn’t come out nice or casual.) He could tell them that he had a long drive, maybe even that his mom was in a hospital with limited visiting hours. (This shouldn’t seem so unthinkable, not when Anya freely discussed her sick dad and Miri talked about how her own mom had kicked her out, but he couldn’t open that door.) He could tell them to go on home, lock up, and come back to finish cleaning up after dinner with Lonnie. (His bones ached just thinking about it. He’d probably do it.)

Or he could get off the stepladder, jump into the Pinto parked outside, and drive as far east or west as the car would take him. Forget the diner politics. Forget Lonnie’s offer of KFC and easy money. Forget well-meaning ex-hippie Ms. Lafitte, who’d sighed over his half-finished English assignment on Wednesday. Forget Gloria, who was eating turkey with her family in South Bend tonight while he drove all over the state for people who didn’t care about him.

No, he thought, blinking at the mustard dispenser. That wasn’t fair to Gloria, not when he knew how complicated her situation was. It definitely wasn’t fair to Mom. She didn’t always know him, but that wasn’t her fault.

[no-side-us]

Letters From Watson Liveblog - May 17

The Engineer's Thumb, Part 1 of 3

The Naval Treaty would also count here, but although we read it before this story it was actually published a year later. I guess if I wanted to create a Watsonian reason for the discrepancy, maybe because Phelps asked for Holmes' help, Watson considered himself less the introducer and more a facilitator of the case.

Now this is a nice change from the last mention of Watson's life after leaving Baker Street in The Stockbroker's Clerk:

I imagine The Stockbroker's Clerk case was the impetus for Holmes and Watson seeing each other more often as is seemingly the norm in this story and the cases right before this one.

With Dracula Daily going on right now, seeing this young man with the pale complexion and bloodstained handkerchief, I can't help but see a possible vampire victim in the same vein (heh) as Jonathan Harker, especially with how polite and apologetic he is despite having been through such a severe situation.

Mary cameo! Once more she is not named, but it's enough for me to at least put her in the tags.

Mr. Hatherley was just a young man, an orphan no less, starting out in his new career after having recently lost his father. There are more Jonathan parallels here than I expected.

He then meets an older, foreign man who, despite having such emaciated features, is still quite youthful in manner! He's called Colonel Lysander Stark! That even sounds like a pastiche on Count Vlad Dracula, with the honorific and everything.

So someone recommended young Hatherley to the Colonel, with the information that Hatherley was talented, an orphan, a bachelor, living alone, and also capable of keeping a secret. It'd have to be someone quite familiar with Hatherley, perhaps someone who's worked with him, or maybe even over him, like a former boss!

The parallel I'm talking about is to Mr. Hawkins and his letter to the Count, in case I made it too vague:

He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters.

The Count never did this, but I can also very much see the Count doing this. As we know, he does like to dart around quickly when he thinks nobody is looking.

I feel like this line speaks for itself in how easily applicable it could be to the Count, or any number of vampiric scenarios.

The Colonel wants Hatherley to work in the middle of the night, which would result in Hatherley having to stay the night.

And Hatherley can't refuse because he needs the money and has his career to think about.

The Engineer's Thumb was published in 1892 by the way, five years before Dracula, so this is all likely a coincidence or just some common motifs of the era. Won't stop me from seeing the parallels though.

A passage from when Jonathan Harker first meets the Count:

The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

Just one chestnut horse? No quartet of coal-black splendid beasts? I guess not every vampire has the resources to complete the aesthetic.

And I am going to assume the Colonel is a vampire, even if the next two letters contradict it. But based on this letter so far, I think I'll just get more evidence if anything.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

[lunamadhatter99]

Just a little more

Steve x fem!reader

Summary: Steve's over Nancy and there's a girl on his mind. One night out and a flirting might lead to a jealous Steve getting drunk and then admitting his feelings

So... I'm not very very very proud of this one. I gotta say. BUT I wanted to write for Steve and this is what came out.

Let me know if you'd like a part 2 maybe.❤️

I'm not a party person. I'm definitely not a party person.

The music is too loud, the people are... too many. I don't know how Steve always manages to drag me in these things.

And yet, here I am, once again.

"C'mon, don't give me that face" he tells me as we walk to the house hosting the party. "You need to go out more"

"I'm fine as I am. Thanks" I complain. "you just insist because you need moral support"

"For what?" He asks, faking innocence.

"You want to see Nancy"

"That's... no, okay? I'm over her. I swear." He says confidently "my eyes are on someone else now"

"Oh yeah?" I ask, with a surprised laugh "and who might that be?"

"I'm sure you already know her" he answers.

"Please don't tell it's Robin" I beg, I couldn't even warn him.

"Nah, don't worry." He says wrapping an arm around my shoulders urging me to walk faster towards the party "you'll find it out... sooner or later"

"Whatever"

I hope he's not gonna have his heart broken again. I hated seeing him after the break up with Nancy.

We've been friends for a little while now. We got closer last year after an alternate dimensional creature attacked me, Nancy, Jonathan and him at Byers' house. He turned out to be not so much of an asshole, he even became my brother's best friend... big surprise. And now we're here.

As we enter the big house we're instantly surrounded by music, people and a strong smell of alcohol.

"Want something to drink?" Steve shouts over the music in my ear.

"No, thanks" I shout back.

"I'll be right back" he tells me.

"I'll go get some air"

He gives me a 'already?' look, nods and goes to the kitchen I suppose.

Yep, I decide I already need some air so I try to find my way to the back.

I walk through the sea of people dancing and chatting at the party as quickly as possible until I successfully get to the back.

Luckily there are a very few people, some are smoking and some are... holding their heads, feeling dizzy probably.

I try to enjoy the moment of peace, my mind wandering about who the girl Steve has a crush on now might be. Especially since he told me I know her.

Could it be Casey from my art class?

Or maybe it's Kelly...

I really can't-

"Hello there"

A voice interrupts my stream of thoughts.

Turning around I find myself face to face with none other than Billy Hargoves himself.

"Uh... Hi" I politely say, turning back around away from him.

I sense him walking beside me, he doesn't speak, though I can feel his eyes on me. The gesture makes me more nervous as seconds go on.

I try to not acknowledge him tok much, hoping he'd get tired and walk back inside, but unfortunately he stays.

Where the hell is Steve when I need him?

"I feel very lucky tonight" he casually say.

"Why's that?" I ask, knowing there's no way to ignore him anymore.

"Because I finally got you on your own and not attached to Harrington's hip" he answers with a grin.

"Yeah... uhm.. he's just getting something to drink. He... he'll be here sooner or later" I nervously laugh, trying to sound as casual as him.

"The later the better" he says softly.

"Uhm..." I think of something to say but nothing comes out.

"You tutor my sister, right? Well.. my step-sister" he asks.

"Yeah,I think. Max, right?"

"That's her. She always talks about you with my father and his girlfriend. She always talks about how nice and gentle you are" he speaks softly, slightly leaning towards me.

"Yeah.. well, that's nice of her..." I say, not looking at him "I only try to make her feel as comfortable as I can"

"And we all appreciate it" he basically whispers in my ear.

I step away, but I tripp into what looks like a vase and almost fall.

Billy's hands quickly catch me, helping me up, but even when I'm up straight again he doesn't let go. His grip isn't tight, I could shrug it off, but I can't seem to anyway.

"Careful there, gorgeous" he winks.

"Sorry... uh... thanks" I finally get out of his grip.

"My pleasure" he says looking down at me. He's still very close to me and as soon as I can catch his eyes falling to my lips, I take a deep breath turning my head to look back inside for Steve.

"Uhm... I think I'll go find Steve... I'll see you around" I say walking past him, but he moves to block my way.

"I'm sure he's fine. Stop worrying about him, for once... and" he moves his hand to rub, so slightly, my arm. "And start to worry about yourself... maybe we-"

He's cut off by Steve's voice.

"There you are!"

He's drunk... already?

"Ah! King Steve finally joined us!" Billy declare sarcastically.

"Are you drunk already?" I ask.

"Me? I could never..." he walks towards us, but almost fall as he nears.

"Yeah... sure" I say unconvinced.

"Damn... don't you look stunning..." he hiccups.

"Yeah. Okay. We're going." I state.

"No no no no no no" Steve blurts out. "You were having fun with him. Keep... keep going"

Oh god...

"C'mon Steve." I try to grab him to make him walk, but he yank himself away, falling to the ground.

"Don't worry, I'm okay" he quickly blurts out.

I let out a bug frustrated sigh, thinking about how to bring him home.

"Need a help taking his ass home?" Billy suddenly asks.

"I... you don't" I start.

"It's no trouble, sweetheart" he grins. "C'mon"

He grabs Steve's arm and lifts him up, helping him walk all the way to Billy's car.

"Open the door" he tells me and I rush to open the backseat door so Billy can make Steve lay there.

Then Billy and I get in as well and he starts to drive.

------

"Thanks, Billy" I say as Billy help Steve sit on the couch in Steve's house.

"No problem, sweetheart" he smirk looking back at me. "Take care, King Steve" he adds sarcastically

I walk him to the door.

"You know...how about you and I finish what we started earlier?" He suggests.

"Uh?"

"About you starting to worry about yourself instead of him." He says, moving to grab my hand.

"Uhm... I.. I'm sorry..." I carefully move my hand out of his grip, glancing quickly at Steve on the couch "I better check on him"

"As you wish" He raises both hands in surrender, but surprisingly he smiles too. "If you ever change your mind, give me a call, sweetheart"

When Billy walks back to his car I walk back to Steve.

"Let's get you to bed, uh?" I say and he mutter something I can't catch.

I help him upstairs and to his bed.

"Oh thanks" he says like he just realised what's happening.

"No problem, Steve" I say as I help him take his shoes off.

"I ruined your night" he mutters.

"What?" I'm confused.

"You seemed reeeeeally comfortable with Hargoves tonight" he blurts out.

"What are you talking about?"

"I say you two talking.. and he was preeeeeetty close" he explains.

"We were talking about Max, his sister. I tutor her"

Why do I need to explain myself? And why does he sounds... jealous?

"He was too close" he states and he finally crawls to lay under the covers of his bed.

"Yeah. I guess." I say with a say and heading downstairs to grab him a glass of water.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"To grab some water"

"You coming back... right?" He seems.. anxious. Why?

"Sure"

I walk downstairs to finally grab a glass and quickly go back to Steve only to see him talking his shirt off, to sleep, the sight blocks me.

It happened before... I already saw him taking his shirt off, for any sort of reasons.. well.. not all possible reasons. But now... now feels different. Why?

Fuck.

I take a deep breath and walk back in his bedroom.

"There you go" I hand him the glass and sit on the bed.

"Thank you" he says and manages to drink the whole glass.

"You're welcome"

We stay in a comfortable silence for a little while, Steve layed down taking deep breath and me sitting on his bed playing with my fingers.

"You feeling okay?" I suddenly ask and he hums nodding.

"Good. You need anything I'll be downstairs" I tell him with a smile and get up.

"What? You're not sleeping here?" He gestures to the other side of the bed.

"You want me to sleep there?" I chuckle.

I always sleep on his couch when sometimes it's too late to walk home... never in his bed.. with him.

"Yeah." He says as a matter of fact.

"I... o-okay" I say. "I.. I just don't have anything to wear to bed"

My plan was to take off my trousers and shirt and rely on the covers... I obviously can't if sleeping in his bed.

"Just grab something of mine. I don't mind.. quite the opposite actually" he says simply.

"What?" I chuckle surprised.

"Well.. seeing the girl I have my eyes on in my clothes... God..." he says, without thinking probably.

What...

"Uh?"

"How you have realised I'll never understand" he giggles.

Okay.. he's drunk.

"Sure" I say unconvinced.

I grab one of his shirts and a pair of pj's pants and get changed in the bathroom.

As I walk back in his room he's still laying down, but he uncovered the other side of his bed for me to get in.

"Hey!" He exclaims.

"What?" I ask.

"I haven't seen you in my clothes!" He complains.

"You're basically sleeping, Stevie. You can't keep your eyes open." I tell him. "Go to sleep"

"You don't believe me" he states.

"About what?"

"You being the girl... I.. like" he hiccups.

Is it true?

"You're drunk, Steve. Your just-"

"No, no, no, no" he says holding his finger to my lips, to stop me from keep speaking. "You're that girl. You. You. Yooou"

So... my crush isn't one-sided as I always thought..

"Stevie..."

"Kiss me?"

"Uh?" I ask taken aback.

"Please?" He says getting closer. Cuddling against me.

"How about this... you sleep and tomorrow morning, if you still feel like this, I'll kiss you." I tell him.

"And you'll believe me?" He asks looking at me with puppy eyes.

"Yes Steve. I'll believe you" I say, thankful for the darkness hiding my flustered face.

"Great" he says cuddling more against me.

"Goodnight Steve"

" 'Night... love"

The thing is... I do believe him. I just want him to suffer a little more.

[tasteofgummies]

Hi, I was wondering if the relationships ask are still open if so can I request one with Dio or Jonathan or both if you don't mind 😳

My pronouns are she/her and i'm an Aquarius. My personality is a bit of a mix, between being an angle and a devil. It depends on my mood and the people i'm surrounded with lol. My personality is basically just a mix between Dio and Jonathan. I don't really have any hobby's back in the days i used to draw a lot but i kind of lost interest in it. What i usually do in my free time is collecting manga's and reading it or playing games and watch k-drama's. The drama's i like the most are about crime, somehow I find that genre really interesting. Since i have never had a s/o before i can't really say how I would behave. Maybe i'd just be obedient a simp or yea idk i have no idea 😂

If you need more information lemme know.

Cw: nothing, sfw

Jonathan x you ✨

>I'm going to assume you're not as evil as Dio (in the sense that you wouldn't burn a dog alive 💀)

>Jonathan pretty much assumes the best out of everyone, so he may be surprised with your more devilish tendencies with other people

>But as soon as you're by his side again, you're just such an angel! So he guesses you must have a reason for behaving that way around others

>But if you ever feel like you need protection, you should tell him! He can't call himself a gentleman if he can't even protect his girlfriend!

>Pretty obvious, but Jonathan probably would like shoujo manga, so if you have some of it in your collection, you could lend him a few to get him interested

>He would be interested in seeing your art, but will just wait for you to bring it up

>If you express wanting to retake your hobby, he'll buy you new art supplies and even accommodate a room in the mansion for you, he's a simp, so pretty much anything you want is an ask away

>He's so bad at videogames it's just not even funny

>But he's your personal cheerleader whenever you game <3

>He wouldn't really enjoy scenes of shocking crimes, but he likes the mystery, and likes trying to guess who's the culprit, he's right 50% of the time

>No matter how you act towards him, he loves you, and is happy to have you near

Dio x you ✨

>He probably thought you were easy to manipulate

>So he was polite in case he ever needed something from you

>Boy, was he wrong

>Totally charmed by you when he realized how wicked you could be

>Was flabbergasted that your personality was naturally that contrasting, and that you weren't faking neither of them

>Once he was sure that you weren't some manipulator genius who was there to spoil his plans, he informed you (yes, informed you) that you two were dating

>"I'm sure you're honored to be dating me"

>"Wh-what?"

>He left, mostly to hide the blush creeping in his face at the worst time

>He isn't bad as a partner, but he is kind of a tsundere

>Teases you lovingly while he takes you on picnic dates

>Doesn't let JoJo get close to you, he's very possessive (because he's scared you'd like a gentle loving guy rather than him)

>I think his taste in manga would be seinen, he strikes me as an anime elitist who would secretly watch cheesy mahou shoujo

>He thinks that if you lost interest in something then it isn't as exciting anymore at all, so he wouldn't bug you to try again, and instead introduce you to new hobbies

>He gets super into k dramas, and gets pissed when he his deductions end up being wrong

>"Oh, but that was my second option- no, I'm not a sore loser, of course you need a multitude of options when you're investigating"

>Says your more hero-like side is a bother, but in reality, he likes that you're more noble and trustworthy than him

[imagine-knb]

Hi can I request a matchup :)

My nickname is Ibti, female pronounces are she/her.

When I'm surrounded with people that I feel comfortable with I can be loud, outspoken and goofy, but with people I just met or don't feel comfortable with yet I can be reserved and quiet.

My likes: Jonathan Joestar 🤣🤣🤣, food, trash reality tv

Dislikes: Bugs especially spiders and bees (have a huge fear for both lol), people who behave like snakes

My hobbies: Gaming, watching/reading anime/manga, drawing

Team preferences: GOM + Nijimura captain 🥺, Seirin, Rakuzan, Kaijō, Vorpal swords

Type of Romance

Strangers to Friends to Lovers

How You Two Met

Before Kiyoshi healed enough to begin playing basketball again, he often frequented stores that sold books, playing cards, and the like. On a whim one day, he decided to go through the manga section and that's where he walked into you.

Literally.

It wasn't until after he'd apologized and you walked away that he realized he recognized you from class. After that day, he made it a routine to find you at least once throughout the day to say hello.

"Ibti-san!"

You startle as a loud voice interrupts your thoughts, nearly dropping the book in your hands. Looking up from the pages, you notice the guy from the day before — Kiyoshi Teppei — entering the room with a wide smile on his face. He's waving at you, walking directly into your bubble.

"I knew I recognized you from yesterday. It's good to see you again."

How He Fell For You

Initially, Kiyoshi thought it was just in your nature to be softspoken around people and he didn't mind it in the slightest. When the two of you would hang out at first — his insistence, not yours — it was more often than not that a quiet game of cards was played. Or perhaps he'd ask you about the manga you were currently reading, always curious what you were up to and making polite conversation.

As things naturally go, you would eventually open up to his presence more and reveal more of your outgoing nature. It came as a surprise to Kiyoshi the first time you began joking around with him, showing more of your sillier side. But it's that slow burn of getting to know you better that has him falling, though he doesn't realize it at first.

His confession was actually an accident.

"You're always fun to be around, Ibti-san," Kiyoshi says behind laughter, the joke you had previously told him still bouncing around in his mind. "I really like being with you."

The way he had phrased it doesn't go over your head and it makes you pause to look at him. At your silence, Kiyoshi also goes quiet, re-evaluated what he'd said. It dawns on him then all the feelings he had for you that had been building up.

Tentatively, he repeats himself. "I really do like being with you. Could we do it more?"

What a Relationship with Him is Like

He's really good at reading the room, despite his own lax nature about certain things, so he's quick to realize when you're uncomfortable or shy around strangers. Thankfully, he's a naturally outgoing person no matter the situation, so he's often the one talking for the two of you when new people are involved.

He's the type of boyfriend to want to make sure you're taken care of, so if that means chasing away a few creepy crawlies even if he thinks they're not a big deal, he's gunna do it (though he might tease that you'll have to be the one to chase away any rats).

He takes interest in your hobbies and likes, though he might not understand a few of them, and he hopes you'd do the same in return.

"My grandparents wanted to know if you'd like to come over tonight?" he asks you one day, scratching at his cheek while he gave a sheepish smile. "That show you all like is on tonight, right? They wanted to watch it with you."

The way he seems to have a slight pout to his lips and furrow to his brow tells you that there's more to his request. When you press him to continue, he gives you a hopeful smile.

"Well, I was hoping maybe afterward I could show you how to play some games with my hanafuda cards? I'd like to spend more time with you, too."

Match Up Requests are Closed

[ahoysteviex]

Homie I’m asking politely for headcanons about Billy, Steve, or Jonathan dating Hopper’s son (assuming he adopted the reader like he did Eleven) 👀

The Boys with an S/O Who's Been Adopted by Hopper

contents: mild/brief nsfw under steve's, billy being an ass, fluff, reader is a senior and 18, reader is GN, minors DNI

Ko-fi

DO NOT LIKE WITHOUT REBLOGGING

Billy

you already know that Billy is doing everything he can to piss Hop off

leave the door open three inches? that bitch stays closed. no going out after a certain hour? that's when Billy's picking you up.

he's sneaking in your window, dressing you in shit Hop would never approve of, getting you to drink and/or smoke... you name it

he gets a sort of satisfaction from pissing your dad off, as evidenced by the smirk on his face whenever you protest with "Billy I can't, my dad will kill me!"

if Hopper ever confronts him, Billy plays stupid. Hop sees right through it, but with you standing right there, he can't push Billy against the wall and threaten him like he wants to. and Billy knows it. that's why he's smiling like that.

you'd be lying if you said the whole bad boy act didn't turn you on, but you still feel bad for your old man. you owe him a Billy-free movie night or two

as much as El does not like Billy, she's sometimes grateful that he takes the spotlight off of herself and Mike

whenever Billy gets Hopper all worked up, Mike seems like an angel by comparison and your dad seems to take it easy on him for the time being

Steve

Steve is a lot more respectful of Hopper and the rules he puts in place. in fact, he's almost scared to piss him off

he's definitely not perfect, though. sometimes he'll notice the clock tick past 8, but your lips on his just feel so good... ten more minutes can't hurt, right?

if you notice and say something, he'll take you home without protest, but he will pout a bit. "8 is so early. can't you get him to extend curfew just by, like, an hour?"

since Steve has already proven himself trustworthy with the kids (protecting them, babysitting, being in on the whole Upside Down business, etc.) Hopper will be open to letting you stay out with him a little later

maybe, maybe you'll even be able to spend the night at his house? but absolutely not on a school night and definitely not two nights in a row! and if your homework isn't finished when you get home, you're grounded for the rest of the year. (totally not exaggerating)

it'll take awhile to get Steve to quit making out with you in order to actually get your homework done, but he'll settle down eventually. he wants to stay in Hoppers good graces. just promise to wrap those pretty lips around his cock once you're done with chemistry?

overall, Hopper doesn't give Steve too much grief

Jonathan

Hopper is pleased when he finds out you and Jonathan are dating! he knows Joyce's boy is a good kid. how could he not be? look who he has for a mom!

Jonathan is also very respectful of Hop. He's always the one the point out the time or get nervous if you shut your door all the way

he'll take you home 20 minutes early if he notices, so you better keep his attention or hide every clock in sight

sometimes it can even get a little annoying with how much your dad likes Jonathan. your boyfriend will pick you up for a date and end up having a 20 minute conversation with your father while you wait by the car

the worst part is that he doesn't even mean to! he's not kissing Hop's ass, he's just a good guy. and your dad can tell; it's why he likes him so much!

if you ask to go out with Jonathan, Hop will sometimes ask if Jonathan wants to come over to watch a movie instead, fully intending to hang out with him himself. you'll end up third wheeling as they become best friends, so be careful

going over his house instead is always nice, though. you get to see Joyce! she's always asking how your dad is doing or if he's busy. sometimes she'll send food home for him or even send it with Jonathan whenever he comes over

Hopper is forgetful, though, and you're always the one to bring the tupperware back to Joyce

[helpwhatsthis]

the start (E.M.)

1982-1983

love divides pt.1 series masterlist

eddie munson x hopper! reader

“if we can’t go on, to survive the tide, love divides.” - separate way (worlds apart), journey (1983)

word count: 18k

this was a lot to edit, so there are probably mistakes! sorry!

warnings: ANGST!!! weed, alcohol, nicotine, language, vomit, attempted s.a., NO SMUT (obviously), bi eddie, hints at bi reader, litterally the sadest things i’ve ever written, both eddie and reader are underage in part one! let me know if there are any big ones i missed! this part does not have a happy ending! 

"can i please come in?" her voice is soft, so much so that he can barely hear her over the rain pounding on the trailer. 

1986:

she's drenched, makeup running messily down her puffy red face, and he wonders what's tears and what's raindrops. what the hell y/n? he knows he should be pissed, tell her to get fucked and just forget she was ever here. but he doesn't. he wraps his arm tightly around her and is astounded that after all this time she melts into him. 

"what the fuck happened to you sweetheart?" 

1982: 

it's your first day of freshman year, and while everyone else in your class is dying to get in the lunchroom and make friends with the upperclassmen, you are heading to the parking lot with a tattered copy of the scarlet letter that you had to practically beg the librarian for.

jonathan had left your side before first period had even started and you'd been running through the motions ever since. god you fucking hated the first day of school. but after three and a half hours of hell, you were finally getting some peace and quiet.

maybe.

"that other seat taken?" a voice rings through the formerly silent lot and you visibly flinch with annoyance. you look up and see a boy leaning on a van and looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

"uhm-" you start, not sure how to tell him to go fuck himself without being rude.

"i was only asking to be polite, it was my spot first, but I'll share." he states simply and you nod, looking back down at your book. 

you're looking at the pages for a minute at least, not really reading but too worried about looking back up at him. 

his hair isn't long, but definitely not trimmed or taken care of. he's wearing a t-shirt for a band you've never heard of and it leaves his long pale arms on display. 

"i'm eddie by the way." he breaks the tension and you sigh in relief, "eddie munson" he clarifies. when he hold his hand out, you shake it without hesitation. 

" y/n hopper." you reply and his eyes get wide. his hand stops moving and he grins.

"like, the chief hopper?" he asks and you nod in frustration. this was the same response you'd been getting all damn day. 

"that must be…" awesome, cool, interesting! were a few of the phrases you'd heard today before they inevitably started talking about him being a deadbeat drunk when they thought you weren't listening. 

"- a drag" he finishes and you're caught off guard at his bluntness. so much so that you can't suppress the small laugh that chokes its way up. 

"yeah, actually" you nod and give another small giggle. what the fuck was that sound? you scold yourself while he nods.

"I'm assuming you're a freshman?" he questions and you nod, to which he snorts. 

"Ah, well then, welcome to the shit show." he smiles and you break out into a fit of laughter that he matches. 

"I'm a junior, 16" he says, before you even have the chance to ask and you're quick to reply.

"I'm 14." you answer and he grimaced. you raise your brows for an explanation.

"shitty age for me" he shrugs and you respond with a silent 'oh'. 

you spend another twenty minutes talking to him before the bell rings, and even then he's showing you to your next class. it was the first one you haven't been late to all day. 

//

"what do you know about the munsons?" you ask your dad timidly. he'd insisted that you have dinner together to celebrate your first day of high school, much to your dismay. 

"which one? wayne or-" he starts and you quickly cut him off.

"eddie" you state simply and he looks up at you from his plate of spaghetti. 

"uh, got into some minor trouble in middle school for stealing and vandalism. but we kinda let it go after his dad ran out and left him with his uncle." 

you're nodding, trying not to seem too interested as you lazily move the noodles around your plate. 

"why?" he asks and you feel your chest tighten. 

"dunno" you shrug and hope it'll be the end of your conversation.

"you hear something?" hopper asks, continuing to eat.

"i met him, actually" you shrug and try to ignore the way he tenses.

 "is that a problem?" you ask after a few moments of silence. he starts to shake his head and your shoulders slump in relief. 

"no, of course not. just be careful y'know?" he looks at you, awaiting your answer but you continue to look at him confused. 

"he comes from a long line of violent weirdos, y/n. i'm not saying you have to hate him. just don't get too close." he explains and you're nodding quickly.

"you understand?" he prompts and you quickly agree. 

"i won't." you hum, continuing to eat.

but you do. 

\\

it's been three weeks since you first met eddie. you'd spent every lunch together either at the picnic table or in his van. 

you learned he's in a band, his dad left when he was fourteen, his mom when he was seven, he lived in the trailer park with his uncle wayne, and he smoked a fuck ton of weed. 

oh yeah, and his friends despise you.

it's a thursday, hopper is supposed to pick you up on thursdays because it's his day off. but it's been a little over twenty minutes since the last bell and you're huddled under the awning to hide from the rain. 

eddie is standing beside you, even though you told him he could go just about every five minutes since his friends had left. they'd been rolling their eyes at the way he insisted on staying with you until your dad arrived. 

he checks his watch and sighs. just as you're about to tell him to go again. that you'll wait a little longer or walk, he pulls your hood onto your head and trudges out into the rain holding your wrist. 

"what the shit!" you shriek when the rain starts thumping on your shoulders. 

"It's been half an hour, i'm taking you home." he explains as you both run up the hill to the parking lot, his hand still holding your arm. 

"you really don't have t-" a yelp escapes you as your feet give way to the mud under them. shit shit shit. you think, but eddie turns quickly and catches you by your elbows before you can hit the ground. 

he pulls you up and puts his arm around your shoulders, yours going around his back as he continues to trek up the hill. 

"shit, you're so helpless." he huffs in mild annoyance and your stomach drops. 

"am not" you protest as he unlocks the passenger side door and quickly ushers you in before running to the other side. 

"sure princess." he rolls his eyes and shuts his door. your stomach flips.

the first few minutes of the car ride are silent, not the comfortable relaxing kind you normally share with him. it's awkward, you've never been in the front seat, let alone while he's driving. 

"thank you for the ride." you finally whisper and he nods nonchalantly. you shut your eyes in frustration. shit please say something. 

he seems to pick up on your tension, like he always does, and reaches to turn up the radio. 

"oh hell yeah!" he shouts as the first cords of cherry bomb filter through the speakers. he turns the nob until the beats cause a small sting in your ears. 

when he starts dramatically drumming on the steering wheel you let out a small giggle. he turns his gaze to you questioningly. 

"you like the runaways?" you ask and he freezes, a small flush of embarrassment runs up his cheeks. 

"if you tell anyone, I'll kill you." he threatens and you start laughing. his own chuckled follow suite. "i'm serious!" he yells. 

when you don't answer, he reaches one hand over and starts to tickle your ribs. 

"i won't, i won't." you promise just as he swerves, you hold out your pinkie to him. he grins and he locks it with his own. 

the rest of the short car ride is spent singing and laughing, you almost wish you lived farther away. 

the rain has died down to a light mist, and just as eddie pulls up to your trailer your dad steps out of his bronco. shit.

you hadn't exactly told your dad you'd been spending so much time with eddie, opting to lie and say your weekends and lunches were spent with robin or johnathan. 

when eddie stops the van, hopper waits patiently for him to roll down the window. 

"heyy, chief hopper." eddies’ voice cracks as the words leave his mouth and you're digging your nails into your palm.

this is going to end so badly.

"thank you for bringing my daughter home, had some trouble at the station and couldn't be there on time." 

his words leave you in shock because holy shit why isn't he yelling at you? 

"of course, didn't wanna just leave her there." he laughs and hopper nods. 

"everything okay?" you ask and he huffs. 

"yeah, mrs driscoll just having another one of her fits." he says sadly, causing you and eddie to nod. 

"well uh, thanks again for the ride eddie." you smile awkwardly at him and he salutes you.

you're standing on the porch with your dad, watching eddie pull behind the trees down the long driveway when he finally speaks.

"well that's an interesting development." he scoffs and makes his way inside. shit.

//

he actually hadn't been mad once he found out you and eddie weren't dating. he knew wayne, knew he wasn't such a bad guy. he also thought eddie seemed nice enough to let you continue to hang around with him.

you were excited to tell eddie just how nerve wracking the whole experience had been as you march up to his van when the lunch bell rings. 

"of course you can come with, I just don't wanna watch you play babysitter all night." carter, one of eddies best friends, snaps crudely.

"what do you mean?" eddie asks defensively. you know it wrong to stand here and listen, but you were interested in where this was going. 

"he means don't bring that stupid freshie." donnie, a junior in your freshman math class, speaks up.

"yeah man, it's a drag. i don't even know why you hang out with her. she's a kid." says carter 

"and a cops’ daughter" donnie adds.

"she's chill, and fun to hang out with when i'm sick of you assholes." eddies explanation makes you stomach twist and your heart beat faster. 

"oh what the fuck ever, if you're gonna bone her then just do it already."  donnie exclaims.

"dude no, it's not fucking like that." he's quick to defend himself. "i don't see her like that… it's not like that at all." he sounds desperate for them to believe it. 

"sure man"

"fine, i'll tell her i have shit to do today." he promises them. 

"damn straight" carter replies, "we're gonna head out before she gets here" 

"why?" eddie asks softly.

"she's annoying as shit, man" donnie explains. you expect eddie to reply in your defense, to stick up for you. 

but he doesn't.

"i mean, i guess." his voice sounds guilty, but you don't even notice it over the way your blood begins to pound in your ears. 

you don't wait to hear anymore, turning around and hurrying back down towards the doors. 

you don't want to face any of your friends like this, moments away from tears. why do i care so much?  but you have no idea. no clue why it's so important what eddie and his friends think of you. 

you'd never had this feeling before. not when robins band friends called you weird, or when people called you a freak for hanging out with johnathan. not even when nancy told barb she should stop being friends with you. 

nancy fucking wheeler, who wasn't shit anyway. and you never gave a shit what she thought of you. 

so why did eddies opinion matter so much to you?

the tears start to fall just as you push open the doors of the empty gym. why does it feel like this? 

you hide under the bleachers and pull your knees to your chest. you try to breath, force yourself to be calm, but a sob rips from your throat. and when it does, the lights flicker. 

\\

it's been 2 days, a little over 48 hours since you last heard his voice. you'd sat with barb and nancy at lunch, and tonight you were going to robins’ after school. 

it was better than sulking in your room alone.

"so why are you coming to mine and not sitting outside eddies band practice." she seems genuinely curious, after spending the whole walk to the park complaining about her new marching band group. the "odd squad" made up of dash, kate, and milton.

"just wanted to hang out with you instead." your shrug is unconvincing and she tosses her bike down exasperatedly next to the swings. 

"that's bullshit." she states matter-of-factly. you know she’s right, but even worse, she knows she's right. she almost always is. "spill, now."

you plop down dramatically on a swing and groan. 

"his friends don't like me." is a simple statement, and coming from anyone else it would be completely reasonable. 

her eyes get wide as she sits in the swing next to you. she brought me here to interrogate me on purpose. the two of you always came to the park when you wanted to vent about your lives. 

"since when do you care about that?" she seems genuinely perplexed, me too. 

"no idea." you stare at the ground in front of you, lightly swaying your feet.

"wow, this is heartbreaking." she giggles, sarcasm laced into her tone. your eyes shoot up, glaring daggers at her. if looks could kill. 

"excuse me?" there's a bite in your voice, why are you being so defensive? 

"it's been like two weeks and you're in love with him." there's a bright smile on her face and humor behind her eyes. 

panic starts to build in your chest because, no, what the hell?

"no, absolutely not." your words come out in a rush and she smirks.

"first, no okay, just no. second, he's two years older than me. third, it's been three weeks. fourth, we're just friends." you can barely hear yourself speak, and you have no idea how robin catches any of it. 

"right, sure thing." she rolls he eyes and you let out a small 'hmph'. i don't like eddie.

right?

//

you didn't. you were adamant on the fact that you did not have any crush on eddie whatsoever. 

"where the shit have you been?" his voice rings out above the crowd fighting their way into the cafeteria. 

he grips your shoulder and spins you around, your heart already thumping harder in your chest. 

an excitement washes over you just by seeing him, just by a moment of his voice. 

nope, you're mad. remember?

"sorry, thought i'd give you a break from my annoying as shit-ness." there's more sarcasm in the single sentence than you think you've ever used in your life. and you were raised by jim hopper. 

his face morphs from confusion to guilt as he processes your words. 

it's been three days since he talked to you, two since he came to school excited to show you his first ever tattoo, and one since he realized there's probably something wrong.

after he had the realization on the drive home from carol's, which he'd never admit to anyone, it had consumed him. 

he hadn't heard of anything happening to your dad, so he'd crossed that out quickly. there also hadn't been any defieling news on the friends you'd told him about. 

he'd also never admit to anyone that he was fucking worried about you. 

“look it wasn’t like that princess.” he looks nerve wracked, something you’re not used to seeing on him. “i didn’t mean that, just wanted them to leave it alone.” he reasons, his eyes pleading. there’s a small pout to his features; he looks genuinely upset. 

goddamn him and his stupid face. 

“i’m still mad, but i don’t think i can stand another second of nancy staring at steve.” his eyes lighten up. “let’s go, i’m hungry.” 

you start walking to the doors that lead to the parking lot, not giving him a second look. he’s following behind you though, not missing a beat. 

you nearly puke on the blankets beneath you after taking a bite of your sandwich, spitting it out the door. 

“what’s wrong with it?” eddie asks across from you. 

“it’s supposed to be ham, but robins mom made it.” you explain, chucking it into the grass. he raises his eyebrows at you in question. “she’s a hippie.” you clarify. he starts laughing hysterically. 

“she must love you, being a cops’ daughter and all.” you laugh, recalling the way she’d gasped when you’d introduced yourself to her for the first time. 

“she feels bad for me.” you chuckle and eddie nods. it’s quiet for a moment; there's no sound except the breeze rustling the trees in the distance. 

“he likes you by the way.” you state offhandedly. “my dad.” 

“really?” the shock is evident on his face, a pretzel nearly falling from his mouth. 

“yeah, once he found out we weren’t dating.” you explain. “thinks you’re respectful or something.” you muse, causing his snort. 

“never thought the chief of police would find me respectful.” he says in disbelief and you agree. 

he shows you his new tattoo, playfully threatening to kick you out of the van when you tell him it looks like the bats from the intro to scooby-doo. within the thirty minute span, it’s as if the past three days hadn’t happened. 

you can barely remember what it feels like to be mad at him when he smiles at you like that. 

\\

it’s been almost four months since you met eddie. the two of you had spent nearly everyday with one another. 

it stopped being a shock to hopper to come home from a late night of work, seeing eddie sitting on the couch looking at the tv without really seeing it, you asleep on his lap. 

he’d started teaching you how to play guitar, taken you to your first party on halloween, and even had begun forcing his friends to include you. 

the last few months had been so good, you’d all but stopped hearing the droning thoughts of hawkins residents as you drifted to sleep. it’s was easier to keep others' thoughts out when he was playing with your hair. 

“i should probably go, it’s getting late.” he thinks out loud, patting your ankle that’s spayed across his thighs. 

“isn’t your heat out at home?” you ask, your voice groggy. he smiles at your concern and shrugs. 

“it’s not a big deal hun.” he shakes his head, trying to get you to lay back down and stop worrying. 

“just stay here for the night, kid.” your dad offers, finishing the can of beer in his hand. 

“oh no, i couldn’t impose.” he says quickly, but hopper shakes his head. 

“eddie it’s freezing.” you try to persuade, but he’s not having it. 

before he can act though, your dad is up. he grabs eddies keys off the counter and starts to walk toward his room. 

“pull the spare mattress from under your bed for him.” he instructs, and you're heading towards your room in seconds. 

you pull the mattress out just as he walks in; he’s rolling his eyes as you throw blankets and pillows onto it.

“thank you, brat.” he beams, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

oh yeah, one more thing. you had fallen inexplicably in love with him. something you had finally admitted to yourself on halloween night. 

you had been high, about to throw up, and he’d left to take you home. even though he was having a good time, even though his friends and the people he was dealing to were pissed, even though you know he probably didn’t want to. 

you’d been sitting in the passenger seat, head lulling against the window, when the song ‘eddie my love’ started playing on the radio. you’d gasped, which quickly turned into a fit of giggles when he rolled his eyes. 

but singing the lyrics made it feel all too real all of a sudden. you’d jerked your door open and threw up. 

“shit sweetheart, are you okay?” he’d panicked, while you sat hunched, trying to breathe. 

“you left me last september to return to me before long, but all i do is cry myself to sleep, eddie since you’ve been gone.” 

he’d carried you in the house to bed, giving you a mint and a glass of water. 

“just sleep it off, princess. you’ll feel better in the morning.” he promised. he’d stayed with you all night, rubbing your scalp and quieting the little cries you made in your sleep. 

1983:

it’s january now, the fuzzy lining of eddies’ big jean jacket protecting you from the bite of the wind. 

you’re walking around a mall in kentucky with eddie, donnie, carter, and carters’ girlfriend, olivia. she actually seemed to like you in the short amount of time you’d gotten to know her. 

“c’mon!” she gasps, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to a rack of prom dresses. you sit on a bench and watch her look through them, holding the ones she liked so she could try them on.  

“oh my god, this would look so pretty on you.” she gawks, pulling one out. 

“i can’t go to prom, i’m a freshman.” you remind her, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your voice as you speak to the senior. 

“you can go if you’re invited.” she explains and you laugh. 

“yeah but what are the odds of-”

“i’ll take you.” eddies’ voice cuts off your own from behind you. he comes up and hands you a slushy. 

he can’t be serious. you think; the look on the other boys' faces show that they’re thinking it too. you’d never voluntarily put on a dress in your life. but as you look at the dress, something in you wants it. you can’t help but think the dark green fabric would complement your pale features. 

“really?” you ask shyly, taking a sip of the liquid sugar to hide the hope on your face. 

“duh, who else would go to prom with me.” he shrugs nonchalantly, looking at the dress in olivias’ hands. 

“here, i’ll help you try it on.” she smiles, taking your hand and leading you to the dressing room. 

the dress fits you like a glove, and she spins you to look in the mirror. holy shit. you feel so fucking pretty. 

her chin rests on your shoulder, a cheshire grin on her face. 

“you’re getting it.” he decides, grabbing your elbow and pulling you out the door. “boys! come here!.” 

they all turn to look at you; your whole body heats up in embarrassment. when eddies’ eyes land on your figure, he smirks and starts clapping. 

“you like it?” he asks, looking at you softly. you nod shyly and the goofiest smile breaks out onto his face. “looks like you’re going to prom.” 

you’re going to prom with eddie munson. 

you spend all the money hopper gave you for the day, and another fifteen from eddie buying the dress and green converse to match. olivia had wanted you to get heels, but eddie had scolded her. 

“one step at a time.” he chided, sensing your worry. 

you're in the passenger seat on the way home, much to donnies’ annoyance. 

“and now, the new hit single by journey: separate ways.” the radio host announces and you reach to turn it up. 

“they’ve been playing this damn song nonstop for the past two weeks.” carter groans. you know it’s true, you’ve heard it nearly once everyday since it came out. but you never tire of it. 

“i like it.” you defend and eddie smiles lightly. 

“you would.” donnie says sarcastically, followed by a loud ‘ow’ as olivia kicks him. 

when you walk in the door of the trailer, your dad is rushing around to get dressed. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask, grip on the shoe box tightening. eddie’s standing behind you, holding your dress wrapped in plastic. 

“forgot i had a date tonight.” he explains, then freezes mid-step. “what the hell is that?” he asks, pointing at eddie. 

“a prom dress…” you trail meekly. the anxiety quickly fades though when a bright smile stretches across his face. “you’re going to prom?” he muses. you nod and he chuckles. “and you’re wearing a dress?” he asks in disbelief. 

“yeah.” you reply softly. he looks up at eddie, whos nodding with a smirk. 

“good job.” he laughs, patting eddie on the arm. 

“what?” you say, confusion lacing your voice. 

“just never thought that would be your thing.” he shrugs. “what was i doing?” 

“your date.” eddie reminds him and he jerks into action.

“i can go to robins for the night.” you offer and he shakes his head. 

“no, you don’t have to do that.” he insists. eddie interjects. 

“you can stay with me if you want.” eddie suggests, looking at hopper for approval. 

“i mean you can if you want.” he answers. “but you don’t have to.” 

“i’ll put these away and get a bag.” you tell eddie quickly.

you’d been to eddies’ before, but never really long enough to look around. now, you're standing in front of a small sliver of his wall he’d devoted to postcards. he’s laying on his bed, head hanging off the end with a cigarette between his lips. 

“they’re from my aunt, well ex-aunt.” he explains, blowing smoke from his nose. “after her and my uncle got a divorce she started traveling a lot, and when my dad left she started sending me them.” the tone of his voice makes your chest tight. 

“that’s so sweet.” you hum back, trying to keep the topic away from his dad. he’d only ever told you about him in depth one time, during which he’d started crying. 

“yeah, she’s so nice. if she comes up in the spring i’ll introduce you to her.” you turn and smile at him, nodding softly. when you reach for the cigarette in his hand he jerks it away quickly. 

“no ma’am, weed is one thing. i’m not getting you started on these too.” he protests. 

“but you do it.” you argue back and he rolls his eyes.

“that’s because i have no regard for my own personal well being.” he responds, and it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “i don’t give a shit about what happens to me.” he shrugs. 

“i do.” you state; he grins. 

“fine.” he breathes out more smoke before sitting up and putting it out in the ashtray on his nightstand. “happy?” 

“a little.” you giggle and he does too. 

he reaches for the guitar at the end of his bed and pats his thigh when he settles back in place. you make your way to him, sitting on his lap facing away from him. you place your fingers on the cords without needing his guidance. you start strumming the notes of a song he’d taught you; he chucks softly. you can feel the vibrations of his laugh against your back.

“you're getting better.” he praises; your face grows warm. he places his chin on your shoulder as you continue to play. you fumble a few times, cursing slightly under your breath. he’d mutter a soft ‘s’okay’ before urging you to continue. 

when the tips of your fingers are red from the rough cords, he pulls the instrument from your grip and leans to put it back in place. when he’s done, he flops down on the bed, pulling you with him. 

your legs are tangled together, his arms around your waist. when his nose brushes the back of your neck you release a shaky breath. you lay there with him in silence, hoping to god he can’t hear how loud your heart is beating. 

even through your inner panic, it’s nice. it’s so relaxing to be in his arms. he invades every part of your senses. the only grounding you have is the weight of his arm across your body. 

“should probably go to bed.” he hums into your hair. you nod softly in agreement, beginning to crawl to the head of his bed. 

//

the fluorescents burn your eyes as they focus on the paper in front of you. the scraping of metal on linoleum pulls your eyes up to the doctor sitting across from you. 

“you’re excelling, y/n” he states. it should make you feel better, but it doesn’t. “you’re smarter than the others.” you shrug.

something isn’t right, you have a strange sense of deja vu. ‘i’ve lived this before.’ your mind rings. you look down at your hands, so pale the skin is practically translucent. 

“hell, you’re smarter than most fully grown adults.” he explains further. you look back at the photo in front of you. “that’s why we want you to do this.” 

“do what?” you ask timidly, mind fuzzy. 

“this man, he’s trying to bring down everything we’ve worked to build. he won’t hurt a child though. if he breaks in, we need you to be the one to kill him.” 

you stare intensely at the photo, an i.d. photo of an nypd officer. 

“no.” the statement is simple; his face screws up in disappointment. 

“y/n-” he starts.

“no, i won’t do it.” you protest. the lights flicker and he shakes his head. 

there’s a harsh crackling behind you and you instinctively wince. 

“don’t make it harder than it has to be.” he threatens. you lean forward, glaring into his eyes. 

“no.” your small voice comes out as a growl. 

but now you're screaming, begging the hash electricity burning your back to just stop. it doesn’t it never does. 

you’re pulled from your sleep by your own scream. eddie is up in less than a second, pulling you up and examining your figure. 

your whole body is shaking, tears running down your face. 

“oh baby, come here it’s okay.” he tries to shush your sobs as he pulls you up into his chest. you can barely breath, your airway constricting with every attempt. “it’s okay, it was just a nightmare.” 

there’s fear in his voice, but you can’t even feel bad with the way your lower back is throbbing. you continue to gasp for breath in his chest, fingers gripping tightly to his shirt. your tears have created a large wet spot on his shirt, but he doesn’t care. 

“it’s okay princess, you’re here with me. you’re safe here with me.” he coos, hands running up and down your back. when his fingertips brush the spot that’s burning you give a sharp cry that has him jerking his hand back. you continue to cry and he lifts the hem of your shirt in confusion. 

he can see your skin is darkly flushed, little scars littering the area. he experimentally runs the tip of his pinky over one. it’s puffy and pushing away from the rest of your skin. you let out another loud whine, body jerking away from the contact. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry honey.” he apologizes profusely, dropping the fabric in his hand and going back to comforting you. 

you sit in his arms for nearly half an hour. you’re still trembling and you’ve barely stopped crying when you pull your head back to look at him. his head tilts to the side, examining you with concern like a puppy. 

“i’m really sorry.” you croak out with embarrassment. 

“no, it’s okay princess.” he promises. he sees that you’re covered in sweat and still slightly shaking. “let me get you some water.” 

he begins to pull away, but you hold him tighter and cry out again. a jar full of weed on his nightstand shatters, causing you both to gasp and grip one another. you watch it, something distant in your eyes that fills him with worry. after a moment, both of his hands find the hem of your damp shirt again. 

“can i?” he whispers, eyes meeting your own briefly. you finally notice the wetness clinging to you uncomfortably. you nod solemnly, lifting your arms. 

he pulls the garment off slowly, trying not to hurt you. he tosses the shirt to the floor and looks back at you, sitting in his lap in only your bra and sleep shorts. an ache fills his chest. he wishes he could just make your shaking stop, even for a second. 

he pulls you back down into a lying position, one hand cradling your head in his chest while the other rubs small circles on your back below your bra strap. even with distance, he can feel an intense heat radiating from the red part below. 

“you’re always safe with me princess.” he breathes as your eyes flutter shut, falling into a peaceful sleep. 

when you wake again, there's streams of sunlight leaking in through the window. eddies’ arms are still tightly wrapped around you, your nose is pressed to his chest. you breathe in deeply, inhaling a scent that’s purely him.

you try to pull away, muscles protesting with an ache that’s begging you to stay in bed. his arms tighten, pulling you back in. his eyes open just enough to see what you’re doing. 

“gotta pee.” you whisper, not wanting to pull him out of his sleepy daze. he barely nods, arm lifting to allow your movement. you slowly exit the covers and try not to wake him any further. he’s already out again by the time you reach down to pick up one of his shirts from the floor. 

your shoulder blades pop, body screaming for the movement to stop as you pull the clothing over your head. there’s a painful pressure in the small of your back that makes your legs wobbly and hard to walk on. 

when you get done washing your hands you glance at yourself in the mirror. you’re taken back by how exhausted you look. there are dark bags under your eyes, the skin raw from crying. your eyes themselves are bloodshot. your skin seems washed out, hair greasy from dried sweat. 

there’s a burning in your side, causing you to pull the tee up to see your ribs. the barcode tattooed there is puffy and raw, looking almost fresh. you know rationally that it’s not, that it’s been there for as long as you can remember. 

your eyes must be playing tricks on you; because when you look back up you can only think that you look younger. sicker. weaker.  you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ward off the tears. 

after a moment you huff and begin your trek back to his room. you don’t want him to see you like this, but the idea of being by yourself- away from him- for a second longer threatens to drown you in panic. in false loneliness. because you know you’re never alone now. now that he’s with you everyday. 

when you enter his room, he’s sitting against his headboard with a cigarette between his lips. a warmth fills your chest; it shadows the sluggishness and exhaustion in your bones. 

“watch the glass.” he calls a moment too late. you hiss, more from shock than pain as the shards pierce your skin. he reaches and pulls you into the bed, tutting softly.

he shakes his head as he examines your foot. he’s got it in his lap as he pulls the glass from it. 

“what are we gonna do with you.” he laughs. you roll your eyes and look away. you can’t keep looking at your blood on his fingertips. 

after he’s assured that your foot is okay and the glass is cleaned up, he’s got you laying in his lap on the couch. ‘the texas chainsaw massacre’ plays on the tv; he’s got his chin propped on the top of your head as he watches. 

“you wanna talk about it?” he whispers, trying not to wake his uncle who’s asleep in the other room. 

yes. you want to curl up and cry and tell him how terrified you were to be back in that place. you want so badly to tell him everything. you know you owe him an explanation for scaring the shit out of him the night before. 

but you can’t. 

“not really.” you murmur. your heart clenches, begging you to be honest with him. his hand snakes out, reaching to squeeze your own. 

“okay.” he mumbles into your hair, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your head. 

you spend the rest of the day there with him. he never pushes you to talk, just comforting you in a way only he can. 

\\

“this is so stupid.” you laugh. he’s in the water below you, dopey smile splayed on his features. february 14th is far too early to be swimming, even in a heated pool. 

“that’s what makes it fun.” he insists. 

after carter and olivia got back from their valentines date they had called and insisted that you, eddie, and donnie come over and make use of carters’ big empty house. olivia is wrapped up in carters arms in the water, donnie behind you smoking a blunt while eddie tries to convince you to get in. 

“come on princess, it’ll be fun.” he promises; you can’t deny that the steam rolling off the water he’s submerged in looks much more inviting than the winter air prickling your face. 

“get in or i’ll push you.” donnie threatens. eddies’ persuasive smile turns into a glare. 

“don’t you fucking dare.” he defends. 

“fuck it.” you shrug, beginning to unbutton your jeans. you shuck them off your legs, wincing at the cold as you throw them onto a pool chair. eddie whoops and starts clapping. you bite your lip and muster the courage to pull your sweater over your head. 

before you can talk yourself out of it, you jump in. the heat immediately envelops your skin. when you come back up eddie is laughing, the hearty sound creating a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the water. 

you blink the chlorine out of your eyes, only for eddie to splash you. 

“asshole!” you squeal, beginning to fling water at him. you’re laughing and splashing each other for a few minutes before he swims up behind you and wraps his arms around you. 

“god, you’re freezing.” he whispers, nose brushing under your ear. you standing there in his arms for a few moments, basking in the heat of his skin. 

he sways you lightly. your eyes flutter shut, the now cold droplets run down your cheeks from your lashes. a ghost of his breath fans over your shoulder. it’s almost easy to forget that anyone but the two of you exist. 

“the two of you are so adorable.” olivia beams. you know it’s the alcohol in her system and carter sucking on her neck, but you love the way she says it. the two of  you. love what it implies. 

“isn’t she though?” eddie laughs, starting to tickle you. his fingers dancing across your ribs causing you to wriggle out of his grip. but he’s stronger than you, or you let him think he is, as he holds you in place. 

“what the hell is that?” you’re all pulled from your laughter by donnies’ question. your gaze follows his finger to your ribs, eddie moving your arm to do the same. his eyes find the dark splotch, face contorting in confusion. 

under any other circumstances you’d be panicking. eddies’ frame so close to your own keeps the feeling at bay. his fingers brush the inked skin, head tilting softly in examination. 

“dunno.” you lie “had it all my life.” 

“tattooed as a baby? that’s fuckin rad.” carter laughs, causing you and eddie to chuckle while oliva slaps his shoulder. 

“guy, it’s snowing.” donnie intejects again. 

once you’re inside, carter and olivia are fumbling up the stairs. donnie calls a quick goodbye as eddie tosses you your backpack. 

“go change.” he mumbles as the front door closes. when you exit the bathroom, he’s sitting in front of the fireplace. you make your way to him quickly, prying your way under the blanket wrapped around him. he’s shirtless, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

“shit, babydoll. your fucking lips are blue.” he cries out in concern, thumb trailing across the bottom one. 

“i’m okay, really.” you promise. he pulls you into his lap, heated skin warming you. 

you sit with him in silence; eyes fixed on the flames before you. it’s peaceful. you don’t know when you fell into this routine of ignoring the way he makes your heart beat faster every time he’s near. it was hellish to pretend you didn’t have feelings for him, but it was normal for you by now. the squeaking from the floor above you pulls you out of your daze. 

“oh god!” eddie groans. you start to laugh hysterically. 

“ew.” you choke out between giggles. 

“your poor baby ears.” he huffs. he clasps his hands over your ears, which only makes you laugh harder. “keep it down up there!” he shouts. 

when the sounds finally stop, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes from his bag. he takes a long drag once it’s lit. there’s a fluttering in your stomach as he lets the smoke pour from his nose. you try to ignore it by making a keening sound and reaching for his hand. he holds it out of your reach. 

“just this once.” he warns, slotting the stick between your fingers. you inhale ignoring the horrid tastes as the smoke burns your lungs. your whole body feels weightless when you exhale. you lay your head back on his shoulder, it seems too heavy for you to hold on your own. 

“light headed?” he quizzes. you know you’re nodding, but you can’t feel it. “i’m such a terrible influence.” he says amusedly. he leans forward to take a drag through the filter that you’re still holding. his lips brush your finger and your stomach gives another small jolt. 

“i can’t wait to get the hell out of here.” he hums, a distance in his eyes. 

“what do you mean?” you whisper back. 

“hawkins.” he clarifies. he looks out the window toward the snowy backyard. “go somewhere it’s warm. just me and my guitar and whoever the hell is lucky enough to come with me.” there’s a sadness in his tone. you don’t dwell on it, choosing to take another hit instead. “let’s run away.” 

“right now?” you playfully ask. he laughs, nose brushing the start of your cheekbone as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. 

“how about this?” he starts. “for your next birthday, i’ll take you anywhere you want to go. you’ll be sixteen and i’ll be almost eighteen. we can do anything you want.” you turn to look at him, nose bumping his own. 

“that sounds perfect.” you grin. you wonder what it would be like to close the minute distance between your mouths. 

“better than the skateboard i got you this year?” you recall the morning he’d showed up at your house with the shiny board in hand. school had been closed for snow and he’d spent the whole day in the empty parking lot with you while you taught yourself how to ride it. when the cold had finally been too much for the both of you, he’d brought you home and cleaned up your scraped knees. 

“definitely.” you reply. a lazy smile adorns his face as he nods. 

“guess now we have to.” nothing has ever sounded better to you. 

“i love you.” you whisper, chest tight. the three seconds of silence feel like three billion years. 

“i love you too, kiddo.” he laughs. kiddo, that fucking stings. but you smile, he loves you too. “i think you’re my best friend actually.” 

you don’t understand, you’re my everything eddie. you want to protest. 

“you’re mine, hands down.” you shrug back. 

“better fuckin be.” he chuckles, finishing the ciggarett and throwing the stub into the fire. 

// 

“it’s gonna hurt, sweetheart.” eddies’ voice pulls you from your thoughts. you’re splayed out of donnies’ uncles’ couch. your shirt is pulled up, pants pulled down just enough to expose your hip bone. eddie is trying to talk you down while donnies uncle, james, prepares the needle. he’s squatting on the floor at the end of the couch, face over yours while he speaks.  

“i know.” you breath. he smiles down at you with sympathy. 

“it’s not too late to opt out.” he reminds, hand reaching for yours. 

“alright, you ready?” james asks. you give a shaky nod. 

“you can’t fucking tell your dad about this.” donnie says angrily. eddie glares at him. 

“i know.” you repeat. james holds the small paper you’d given him up to the light. 

“you drew this?” he asks, turning the image towards yours and eddies line of vision. it’s a small sketch of an open switchblade. you give a small nod and a polite smile. 

“it’s gonna be so bitchin.” eddie grins. 

the buzz fills your ears as the tattoo gun comes to life. james glances up at you, to which you nod in confirmation. when the needle meets your skin your face screws up in a small wince. eddie presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“contact is made, people.” james calls out, beginning to move the instrument. olivia claps from carters’ lap.  

once it’s moving it’s not so bad. you’ve definitely had worse. the room is quiet, soft sounds from whatever was on tv and the buzzing filling the space. every so often your skin would snag on the needle and pull, eddie softly squeezing your hand for comfort. you have no idea how long you sit like that, watching the ink make home on your flesh. 

“okay, this next layer is going to hurt worse. after that it’ll be done though.” james warns. eddies soft brown eyes meet your own. 

“i got you.” he whispers, fingers lacing into yours. when the needle meets the raw flesh again, you let out a small whine. eddies’ face contorts in displeasure. olivia comes into your sight, leaning down to whisper something in eddies’ ear while pointing at the spot on your hip. he nods softly. 

“hold on tight, going over the bone bump.” james informs. you dig your teeth into your bottom lip in preparation. you give a small gasp when the needle hits the spot. you’re not given time to register the pain though; because eddies’ lips are pressing into your own. 

you’re in complete shock, body both tensing and relaxing at the same time. he tastes like beer and whatever candy he’d had been in his mouth. there’s also another thing, something you can’t quite place that’s so purely him. his knuckles lightly rub the underside of your jaw. 

“all done.” james says triumphantly. eddies’ mouth releases from your own, a small string of saliva on his lips. he licks it away as his eyes travel to your new tattoo. your head is spinning, breathing irregular. 

what the fuck just happened? 

\\

“we should go as rogue and gambit for halloween this year.” his voice pulls you from absentmindedly playing with the hem of your pajama bottoms. 

“aren’t they like… a thing?” you ask meekly. you know they are, and you want to scream ‘god yes!’ immediately. 

“well, yeah. but it could be fun.” he suggests. 

“yeah.” you nod, going back to playing with the hem of your pants. you hadn’t really spoken a lot since you left james’ today, and he was starting to worry. 

“if they’re bothering it, you should take them off.” he instructs. you nod and begin to pull the fabric down your legs. 

“it itches.” you mumble. 

“i think i have something for that.” he says, reaching to open the drawer of his nightstand. 

“should it be bruised?” you ask. he turns back to you, a small tin in hand. 

“ones on a bone usually do.” he informs, pulling the lid off. “lemme see.” 

he applies the gel-like substance to your skin softly, careful not to press too hard. 

“i hope it didn’t hurt you too bad.” he whispers, rubbing his fingers on his shirt and tossing the tin toward your backpack. 

“eh, kinda liked it.” you shrug. he chuckles

“little masochist.” he laughs, ruffling your hair. “i’m uh… sorry if i made you uncomfortable today.” he whispers. his voice is barely loud enough for you to hear. your heart starts to beat faster. you really don’t want to talk about it. 

“it’s okay. just startled me.” you state. his eyes meet yours, something guilty behind them. 

“was that your first kiss?” he asks somberly. embarrassment floods your being, tinting your cheeks pink. you nod shyly. “oh god, honey i’m so sorry.” he hides his face in his hands. 

“it’s okay, really.” you say, maybe a bit too quickly. “it could have been worse, i could have had it with some random asshole that i’d break up with one day.” you urge, attempting to pull his hands from his face. 

“i guess, but i just took it from you and i didn’t even ask and-” he begins to ramble. 

“eddie, it’s okayyy.” you practically whine. “at least i got it over with, and i don’t have to worry about being laughed at for being bad my first time.” 

“oh you’re definitely not bad at it.” he states, peering out from between his fingers. your jaw drops in shock, eyes widening. “that sounded so much worse!” he shouts, throwing himself face down on the bed dramatically. 

“no no no, eddieee” you laugh, attempting to roll him over. “it’s okay, eds. i swear.” it comes out as a pout. 

“really?” he asks, peeking at you. you nod, awkward smile on your face. he sits up, fully looking at you. “you promise you’re not mad?” an idea pops into your head. 

don’t you fucking do it! the logical part of your brain screams. you don’t listen to it as you lean forward and press your lips to his. he gives a small gasp as you slot your mouth against his. this time he tastes like weed and grape juice, but still completely eddie. just as you’re about to pull away, his hands come up and stroke your jaw. he leans into you gently, kissing back. nope, this can’t be happening, it's too much. you pull back, panting slightly. 

“see, i promise i’m not mad.” you choke out. a fake smile makes its way to your face, praying your nerves don’t show through. he laughs.

“was this your plan? get me stoned and get kissing lessons?” he continues to snicker. 

“don’t be a dick.” you groan, lightly kicking his knee. 

“y’know what scratch what i said. you could use some practice.” he says sarcastically. you groan again, throwing yourself back into his pillows. it’s silent for a moment. why in the fucking fuck did you just do that? you sigh, slinging your arm to cover your face. “what’s wrong?” he breathes, fingers rubbing your knee. 

“now i’m worried i made you mad.” the words sound strangled leaving your lips. he laughs, resentment seating itself in your limbs. 

“i’m not.” he says. you can feel the bed dipping as he crawls toward you. “it’s okay, friends kiss all the time.” his fingers wrap around your wrist, putting your face in view. 

“really?” you continue to pout. he nods, soft smile gracing his features. “i don’t think olivia would be happy to hear you’re kissing her boyfriend.” you tease, trying to ease your own tension. he breaks out into a fit of laughter. 

“carter? maybe. donnie?-” he trails off.

“definitely not.” you finish. you both look at each other, fighting (and failing) to keep from wheezing. “wait-” you freeze. his word finally set in your brain. he can see the realization cross your face. 

you can see him start to panic. the cute smile you love leaves his face and his hands start to shake. 

“i don’t- i mean i didn’t i-” he gasps, trying to find his words. 

“no eddie it’s okay.” you try to reach out for him, but he pulls away from you. tears prick at his water line. 

“y/n, please-” he sobs, biting the inside of his cheek. his eyes won’t meet yours; his trembling getting worse. 

“it’s okay, i swear i won’t tell anyone.” you plead, reaching for him again. he lets you embrace him, but he’s tense in your arms and you feel so fucking bad. “i just didn’t know that you-” he nods, his tears soaking your shoulder. you sit like that for a moment, rocking him softly and letting him cry. “so… is it just guys or like?” don’t be selfish! your mind screams. 

“n-no.” he stutters into the skin above your shirt collar. “god, you probably think i’m so disgusting.” another sob leaves his throat; his arms grip you tighter. 

“no eddie, of course not.” you whisper into his ear, hands going to run through his hair. “i get it, everyone is hot sometimes.” you shrug. “nothing like that could ever make me think less of you.” you can feel his body slump in relief. “now if you told me you liked donnie or steve harrington or some shit i’d probably think you’re gross.” he pulls back, a small gasp leaving his lips as he dramatically throws his hands against his chest.

“you don’t like steve harringtons’ magnificent hair?” he says if false bewilderment. his face is red, eyes puffy and still leaking tears. “how dare you? god are you even female?” he asks accusingly. you giggle. 

“nah, yours is far better since you decided to let it grow out.” you hum, reaching to run your fingers through the fluff behind his ear. he grins, a real smile that puts one on your face as well. 

“you think?” he asks, glancing at your hand as you continue to play with the soft tuft. 

“oh yeah.” you muse, softly thumbing the tears off his cheeks. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “i’m sorry if i scared you.” he shakes his head. 

“i’ve never told anyone before.” he whispers. 

//

“stop worrying, you look perfect.” olivia chides, resting her chin on your shoulder. the green dress is hugging your frame, hair and makeup (done by olivia and her mom) done perfectly. “eddie is gonna think you look so pretty.” he smirks. 

since the night you’d slept over at her house, she’d been relentless in her comments about you and eddie. the boys were downstairs in the kitchen, arguing over pizza while the two of you arranged her floor to accommodate five people. her parents were away on a vacation, so the group had practically lived there the whole week of spring break. 

“you need to tell him that you like him before i leave for college and don’t get to see it!” she’d said, throwing a pillow at you. 

“he’s my best friend. it’s not like that.” you had argued. she’d simply rolled her eyes and huffed out a ‘sure’ in response. 

“come on, let’s get this over with.” you groan, beginning to exit the bathroom. when you step into the foyer of the living room, you immediately spot eddie, donnie, and carter standing with the dads while carters’ and olivias’ moms prepare the camera. donnies’ dad is nowhere to be found, even though he’d promised he’d be here. 

“we’re ready!” olivia calls, smiling brightly from beside you. everyones’ gaze perks up immediately. when eddies’ eyes land on you, his face softens and the slightest side smile plays on his lips. 

after nearly a half hour of being directed around for pictures, you’re finally given the okay to leave. as you’re getting ready to load in the van, donnie begins to argue with you. eddie is too lost in conversation with hopper to notice. 

“donnie, she’s his date so she’s going to sit in the passenger seat.” carter groans, obviously annoyed as he waits for his mother to stop fawning over his girlfriend. 

“why the shit do you always get the front seat?” he snaps, puffing his chest out. 

“because i’m eddies’ goddamn favorite!” you respond matter-of-factly. 

“language children!” carters’ dad shouts. eddie quickly comes to unlock the door, ushering you into the van. 

“this is fucking bullshit.” donnie whispers under his breath and truges to get in the back with carter and olivia. eddie turns back to you with a smile. 

“just because you know you’re my favorite doesn’t mean you should rub it in everyones’ face.” he playfully scolds. 

it’d been nearly two hours since then, two hours of laughing and giggling with eddie. you’d been making fun of peoples’ hair, dresses and makeup nearly non-stop. he’s dancing sillily with you to ‘don’t you want me’ by the human league and you feel like you’re on top of the world. for the past couple weeks you had been dreading prom; but you were actually having fun. the music suddenly cuts off’ turning to something slow. he grimaces. 

“do you have any idea how to slow dance?” he asks, putting his hands on your waist. his soft grip makes your skin tingle. 

“a little, my grandpa taught me the first time i met him.” you whisper back. you don’t think you could speak any louder without your voice faltering. 

“good.” he laughs, guiding your hands to his shoulders. “because i have no idea; so i need you to teach me.” nerves fill your stomach. you nod shyly, beginning to slowly sway his movements. 

without the loud and energetic music you suddenly feel much more on display. everything feels much more open and intense, especially with his gaze on you. there are people, couples, dancing together on every side of you. it suddenly feels wrong for you to be here. anxiety makes your limbs tingly and your body unbalanced. but eddie’s there with comforting words and soft touches, like he always is. his fingers grasp your chin and pull your face to look at his own. 

“don’t worry about them. they don’t matter.” he breathes. his deep brown eyes feel like they’re looking into your soul as the hushed words leave his mouth. “no one matters but us.” 

his words make you smile and bury your face into his chest. a light headed feeling washes over you, better than any high you’ve ever had. 

how did he get you this way? it seemed that in the nine months you’d know him, your whole world had changed. how long had it been since you’d talked to jonathan? or robin? how long had it been since you’d spent a full twenty-four hours without eddie by your side? how long had it been since the name ‘freak’ stopped burning your chest when it was yelled at you in the hallway?  and most importantly, how long had it been since you’d had a single coherent thought about a human being that wasn’t him? 

these questions rattle your thoughts to the point they almost become deafening. but when eddies’ lips place a small kiss to the top of your head, you realize you don’t care. 

you look up into his eyes again. the lights strung up around the ceiling reflected in his irises. 

you don’t care in the slightest. 

because it doesn’t matter as much as he does. you’d give up every single friend you’ve ever had, get called any awful name in existence, and lose any moment of alone time for the rest of your life if it means they all get to be spent with him. you would give anything to stay this way with him forever. but nothing lasts forever. 

“hey eddie!” olivias’ voice captures both of your attention. “do you have any weed in the van?” she asks quietly. 

“or your flask?” carter furthers hopefully. eddie looks down at you momentarily before nodding at them.

“i’ve got something better.” he smirks, leaning you all out of the gym. 

once in the van, he pulls up the hide-away seat to reveal the biggest bag of weed you’ve ever seen, a bottle of vodka, and two cases of beer. 

“god, you’re the fucking best!” carter shouts. his hand slaps eddies shoulder in approval before reaching for a beer. 

nearly three hours later, you’re laying on the top of the van staring at the stars. you’re parked in the hess’ field on the outskirts of town, the other three dropped off long ago. the glass bottle is nearly empty and the second blunt is almost burnt out. 

you can’t bring yourself to form a thought, the numbing lightness too much to complete the action. the chilly night air of spring pricks your arms, but you barely notice as you stare at the sky. the galaxy is so beautiful, but eddies’ eyes are still my favorite. 

“you wanna go swimming?” he asks suddenly, pulling you from your daze. 

“why is that your first suggestion every time you get stoned?” you giggle. 

“because it’s fun, duh!” he states obviously, rolling his eyes. “c’mon, we’re going.” he decides. he jumps off the roof, quickly pulling you down into the damp grass. 

“where the hell are we going to swim at?” you slur, following as he pulls you along. 

the dew wets your bare feet as you walk on shaky legs. you giggle at the way they shine in the moonlight. he shushes you, pointing down the hill. after a second of squinting, and nearly falling, you can see the small pond he’s gesturing to. 

on the trek there you slide nearly seven times, eddie barely being able to hold you up himself. once you reach the waters edge he quickly begins pulling off his clothes, you reach for your own zipper and whine. 

“wait! eddie i’m not wearing a bra under my dress!” the realization nearly brings tears to your eyes in your cross faded state. 

“it’s not a big deal, y/n. it’s just me.” he shrugs, finally down to his boxers. you shrug. 

“then help me with my zipper.” you whimper out. he clumsily makes his way behind you, knuckles running along the soft skin of your back as he pulls the zipper all the way down. you shudder at the touch, letting the dress slide off your body. the breeze hit the exposed skin of your chest, making you hiss and back into him. he wraps his arms around you and softly guides you into the water. 

you’re too far gone to feel self-conscious about being practically naked as he begins to splash you. it’s nearly twenty minutes of laughter and playing like children before you’re in his arms again. 

your arms are around his neck, chest pressed against his own while your head lays on his shoulder. 

“eddie?” you whisper, breaking the peaceful silence. he hums back, and you can see the way his neck flexes while producing the sound. “can i kiss you?” you ask, barely audible. 

“of course.” he slurs. in less than a second, your lips are molded to his. you don’t even think about what you’re doing as your fingers lace into his hair. the slight tug to his scalp has his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. you whine into his mouth at the contact of teeth to flesh. 

when you pull back, you’re both panting. you momentarily admire him before moving your lips to his neck and sucking softly. he moans, head falling back as his fingers dig into the skin of your waist. his sounds only spur you on as you nip at his pulse point. 

“jesus christ, princess.” he huffs. you kiss the small bruise you created lightly. 

“eddie, please.” you whimper, preening your whole body into him. his hand trails up slowly, pausing to look at you. 

“it’s okay?” he manages, fingers so close and yet too far from the skin of your breasts.

“please!” you cry out, and he doesn’t wait. he needs the flesh softly and you moan into the skin of his neck. 

he quickly slots his knee between your thighs and you squeal at the pressure it puts there. you move your hips softly. 

“oh god, eddie!” you whimper, biting at the skin of his jaw. he groans when your knee bumps his crotch. 

“shit, y/n!” he moans back. but suddenly his whole being freezes. his hands pull away from your chest and he stops bouncing his leg. “y/n…” his voice trails, as if he’s just realized who he’s actually with. “oh god y/n-” he breathes, hands coming up to cup your face. you’re staring back at him, confusion on your usually soft features. “no, no, no…” he gasps, a tear runs down his cheek as his thumbs stroke your own. 

“eddie? what’s wrong?” you ask desperately. more tears run down his face. 

“i’m so fucking sorry.” he cries. your mind is too foggy to understand why he’s apologizing. “i almost- oh god!” he sobs, wrapping you tightly in a hug. 

“why did we stop? was i bad?” you ask, anxiety starts creeping up your spine. 

“no honey.” he whispers in your ear. “it’s not like that at all.” his grip on you tightens, almost as if he’s trying to ground himself with his hold. “we just can’t do that.” 

“why?” you ask, almost innocently. you pull back to peer up at him. he’s crying heavily, face puffy and eyes red. 

“because you don’t want this, and it’s not right.” he states. 

“no, eddie i do want this! i swear!” you protest, tears of your own start to surface upon his rejection. 

“no. no, sweetheart you don’t. you’re drunk, and high. and if i let you do this then you’ll wake up in the morning and hate me.” he rambles. “you’ll resent me until we can’t even be friends anymore. i can’t take advantage of you like this!” he tries to reason, his own sobriety coming back to him faster and faster each second. 

“you don’t want me?” you cry, the tears finally breach your waterline and cascade down your face. he shakes his head. 

“it’s not like that-” he tries, but a loud cry cuts him off. for a moment, he can’t tell if the sound came from you or him. as your body goes limp in his hold, he realizes it’s you. “shit.” he huffs, lifting your body up to carry you. 

you continue to sob the whole way back to the van, his own tears dripping from his face and falling onto your back. when he lays you down in the back, you sob and reach for him again. he comes back with one of his shirts and a pair of boxers he kept for emergencies. once the shirt is covering your naked top, he reaches for your underwear. 

“i’m gonna change these, okay?” he manages to gasp out between his own sobs. he pulls the damp material away quickly, replacing it with his dry boxers, all while staring at the ceiling of the van. 

he looks back down at you to see that you’re still crying, body trembling as you lay limp on the floor. you notice his gaze and reach out for him, he leans over you and pushes the damp hair from your face. 

“i love you, eddie.” you choke out. he squeezes his eyes shut, resisting the urge to get sick. 

“i love you too, y/n.” he whispers back. once he pulls a light blanket over you, it doesn’t take you more than a few minutes to cry yourself to sleep. 

he’s still crying himself as he walks back to get your clothes. when he sees the fabric of your dress lying by the water, he can’t hold back anymore and finally throws up in the grass. 

“fucking god.” he chokes, pressing his hands agaisnt his aching chest. 

he has no idea how long he sits in the drivers’ seat, hugging his knees to his chest and crying. he even prays, he fucking prays, even though he doesn’t believe in god that you won’t remember any of it in the moring. he wishes that he could forget it too, but he knows he’s not that lucky. 

\\

it’s the last day of school, nearly a week after prom night when olivia finally musters up the courage to ask eddie what has been bothering him. 

he’d been pushing away from everyone. gone were the sarcastic quips and funny remarks, they’d been replaced with stony silence and panicked breathing anytime you got too close. to say that everyone was worried would be an understatement, well except donnie, who claimed there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. 

the breaking point had been last night, when you’d suggested to eddie that you all have a big sleepover and go to school hungover today. and he’d told you no. 

no. a word that eddie close to never used with you. 

later, you’d called her crying. you’d been terrified than he was mad at you, and you had no idea what you could have even done wrong. 

the morning after prom he’d barely been able to look at you. after you’d hugged him goodbye and thanked him for a fun night; he’d driven until he physically couldn’t take it anymore and thrown up on the side of the road. he quickly lost count of how many times he did that within the next forty-eight hours. 

then, the most hellish school week of your life had started. your eyes had begun to look more sunken and face gaunt with the nightmare you’d had without him by your side. olivia was fucking tired of it. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” she snapped, plopping down in the seat in front of his. he glances up at her, then to the study hall teacher who’s nearly passed out. 

“what are you talking about?” there’s an edge of agitation in his voice, one that seemed to be becoming more and more familiar. he doesn’t even give her the courtesy of looking at her as he speaks, going back to doodling in his notebook. 

“you know damn-well what i’m talking about.” she rips the book from his reach. he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits back and pretends to be looking out the window. “what. happened. after. prom?” she growls, anger bubbling in her stomach. 

“nothing.” he whispers, rolling his eyes. her scoff makes him flinch. 

“then why are you acting like such a little bitch?” she bites, but when he glances back at her, she can see tears in his eyes. “eddie?” she tests, voice softening minutely. a shaky sigh leaves his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“do you have one of your makeup wipes?” he asks. her brows furrow. 

“why do you-” she trails, but he grabs her hand and begins to pull her from the classroom. 

when they finally reach the unused, dingey girls bathroom she can finally tell just how wrong something is. he’s trembling and blinking tears from his eyes. without hesitation, she hands him one of the small towelettes from her bag. as he runs it along his neck, she sees tiny, nearly faded bruises begin to appear. 

“so what? you got a girlfriend and didn’t want to tell us?” she assumes. he bites his lip and shakes his head. 

“y/n gave me these.” he chokes. she can feel her heart plummet from her chest to the pit of her stomach, and still manages to choke on the sensation. “we were both fucking drunk, and she-” his voice cracks as he rolls the wetness from his eyes. “and i almost fucking let her.” it doesn’t work, and tears begin to fall. he also can’t remember how many times he’s cried in the past six days. 

“but you didn’t, eddie even if you wanted to you didn’t and that’s-” she starts to ramble, but his shout cuts her off. 

“i don’t fucking want to!” his aggression makes her wince. “it’s not- we’re not-” he tries, and the words fail him. “it’s not like that.” he whimpers sadly, maybe because he’s starting to realize it’s not true. 

she can’t help it, it doesn’t matter how mad she was at him fifteen minutes ago; she wraps her arms tightly around him as he cries. 

“she doesn’t remember, if that helps.” she whispers, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. he nods, sniffing softly. “but right now… you’re scaring her eddie. she thinks she’s done something wrong- that you don’t want her anymore- that you’re embarrassed of her. which, let's face it, that’s ridiculous because i don’t think you’ve been embarrassed about anything since like the sixth grade.” 

so he’d agreed to go to the end of school party that night, albeit reluctantly. he’d been making an effort to talk to you, to touch you without feeling sick all night. he was so fucking greatful you didn’t ask what had been wrong; he didn’t think he could take that. by his third beer, things had started to feel easier, less forced. 

but all nerves, all reluctance, all anxiety goes away the moment tommy h thinks he has the right to fucking touch you. you’re dancing to some abba song with a thoroughly wasted carter when tommy comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. eddie is standing by donnie, watching you with a small smile while he holds olivias’ drink. he can see the way you gasp, attempting to pull away. he can also see that carter is too far gone to notice what’s happening. 

even years later, if someone had asked him what had come over him that night, he probably still wouldn’t be able to explain it. he slams the solo cup down and stomps his away toward you, just in time to hear you cry out from tommys’ tight grip. 

“tommy, stop!” you whimper, and it’s as if someone injected gasoline into his veins and dropped a match in his lungs. he rips you from tommys’ grip and into his own, he can feel more than hear the way you gasp as you make contact with his chest. the moment you realize it’s him though, you fingers fist his shirt and you snuggle closer. 

“aw, come on munson! there’s enough of her for both of us.” tommy chuckles. you squint your eyes shut and attempt to move impossibly closer to eddie. 

“if you ever fucking touch her again, i’ll knock your goddamn teeth out.” the growl in his voice surprises all three of you. he sounds scary. his tone makes tommys’ eyes get wide and you gasp again. 

it was that night that eddie realized things weren’t going to be easy anymore. you weren’t a little girl, and the threat of being the cheifs’ daughter didn’t scare people anymore. you were fifteen, and being around people like eddie made you susceptible to all kinds. he knew that realistically you weren’t helpless, that you could fight for yourself if you needed to, but you shouldn’t have to. you should never have to, and he’s going to make damn sure that you don’t. he promises himself that he’s never going to push you away, or leave you lonely again. 

there’s a lot of things for you to fear at the age of fifteen, but he swears he’ll never be one of them again. 

//

you’re lying against eddies chest watching ‘alien’ while he sips a beer, it’d kind of become your nightly routine in the past three weeks since school let out. you’d go out for the day, swimming, shopping, or even just driving around, then come home and eat dinner while watching whatever horror movie he’d rented. 

you’d barely been home, practically living at eddies’. neither wayne nor your dad seemed to mind. wayne was happy you got eddie out of the house, and hopper was happy you had someone to spend time with. wayne also liked that you made dinner some nights, home-cooked meals were not something he and eddie were used to, and he adored the way you attempted to teach eddie how to cook. 

the music is tense as the xenomorph watches bret from the rafters of the ship, and just as it’s about to pounce- the trailer door slams open. you and eddie both scream, grabbing each others hands. 

“what the fuck dude!” eddie yells at a teary eyed carter. 

“olivia broke up with me.” he sobs. you sit up, opening your arms for him and whispering a soft ‘oh honey’ that’s got eddies’ chest burning as carter cries into the crook of your neck. 

“i’m sorry man, what happened?” he asks, awkwardly rubbing his shoulder. 

“i don’t even know!” he cries, grip on your (eddies) shirt tight. “she said she has feelings for someone else of some shit!” 

it takes nearly two hours to convince carter to go to bed, but the moment you’re sure he’s out, you’re flying down the hall and toward the phone. eddie watches from behind you, lips pulled into an angry line as you dial the number of olivias’ house. 

“hello?” the tone of her voice has you glancing over at the clock, two in the morning?

“okay, what the actual hell?” you growl. eddies’ brows rise in shock at the tone of your voice. the line is silent for a long moment, only furthering your anger. “i mean you guys were fine like what? two days ago?” 

“yeah, i mean it’s crazy what you and eddie miss when you guys just disappear.” she snaps back. you’re livid by now, squeezing the phone so hard your knuckles turn white. eddies’ fingers softly run over your own, pulling the phone from your hand. his back is against your chest, and you’re leaning up so you can still hear her words. “look, i just wanted to tell him and get it over with. it’s better than lying to him and telling him i still love him!” she defends quickly. 

“i mean, i guess.” eddie shrugs. “it’s gonna make going to college together pretty awkward though.” she huffs. 

“i told him i still wanted to be friends.” she whispers, “it’s not like i want him out of my life completely, i just have feelings for someone else now.” you scoff, walking over and throwing yourself on the couch. they talk for a few more minutes before eddie places the phone back in its place, leaning his forehead against the wall. 

“what else did she say?” you ask, taking in his tired demeanor. 

“doesn’t matter.” he hums, but he’s tense as he sits down beside you. 

“god, we leave them alone for forty-eight hours and they fall apart.” you laugh, throwing your head back in exasperation. he chuckles along, hand squeezing your knee. 

“i think summer just got a lot less fun.” he says sadly. 

\\

“c’mon doll, it’s four days. i think you’ll live without me for four days.” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood; it doesn’t work. 

“maybe if i had someone else to talk to! carter and donnie are camping all week, eds!” you whine. you’re laid out on his bed while he finishes packing his bag, continuing your week long whining since he told you he was leaving. 

every summer, eddie and wayne went on a trip upstate to stay with one of waynes’ friend to see an annual car show. you’d been dreading it since he told you about it. four days when he would be miles away, having fun with one of his childhood friends while you stayed here, in shitty little hawkins. you’re dread had only increased when you found out donnie and carter were going to be gone all week on a camping trip. 

eddie was the only one who had spoken to olivia since her and carter broke up. he huffs, flopping down in the bed beside you and putting a tape on your chest. 

“what’s this?” you ask softly, seeing the words ‘your mix’ in eddies’ messy handwriting. 

“mixtape.” he states, speech muffled by his face being pressed into the bed. “for when you miss me.” he furthers, finally looking up at you. you swear your heart fucking melts at his words. you coo happily, wrapping your arms around him to hide your inevitable blush. 

but the longer you sit, the more your chest tugs, because he’s going to be gone. for four whole days. 

the longest amount of time you’ve spent apart since you met him. 

“i’m gonna miss you so much.” you whimper, before you can think better of it. 

“aww, baby.” he laughs, sitting up to look at you. baby. the word rings in your ears. he squeezes your cheeks together, contorting your pout. “here.” he whispers, beginning to tug his ring off his finger. he slots it onto your own and you let out a small gasp. 

“eddie i can’t take this! it’s your-” 

“my moms.” he finishes and you nod, looking up at him in confusion. “and it’s the only things of hers that i have, so i need you to take care of it for me while i’m gone. it’ll give you something to do.” 

“eds, i can’t” you try to argue, but he doesn’t let you. 

and that’s how you end up standing on your doorstep, playing softly with the ring on your finger as eddies’ van drives down the road, wayne dozing off in the passenger seat. after hopper had left for work, you’d laid in your bed for hours reading ‘the shining’ and constantly replaying the tape eddie had given you. 

it’s nearly three in the morning when the phone finally rings. you drop the cold potato wedges you were about to shove in your mouth and practically run to it, hoppers tired laugh sounding behind you. 

“hello?” you ask hopefully into the receiver. 

“hey loverboy! your girl picked up!” an unknown voice shouts. your heart beats faster. your girl? “he’s on his way, i’ve heard so much about you by the way. he literally will not shut the fuc-”

“give me that!” you hear eddie yell, followed by shuffling and laughing. “hi y/n.” he sighs happily into the phone. your grin, a small giggle leaving your lips.

“hi… loverboy.” you hum mockingly. he groans. “what’s all that about?” you ask slyly, trying to ignore the way the flutter in your chest makes your lungs tighten. 

“wayne told everyone that you’re my girlfriend.” he huffs, the air of annoyance in his voice makes your face drop a little. “i’ve been teased non-stop ever since.” 

“aw, i’m sorry.” you giggle. 

“no you’re not, shithead. you’re enjoying my pain.” 

“only a little.” you muse back. you hear a laugh somewhere on the other end of the phone. 

“i’m going to bed kiddo, don’t stay on the phone too late.” hopper informs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head and patting your shoulder. 

“night, hop!” eddie shouts, causing hopper to chuckle. 

“goodnight, munson!” he shouts back before padding down the hall. 

“so how was your day, sweet girl?” eddie asks, and you hear another snicker followed by a loud ‘ow!’.  

“pretty good.” you state, sitting on the floor with your back to the wall. “almost done with my book, and i listened to the tape.” 

“what? miss me already?” he asks teasingly. you roll your eyes. 

“always.” you whisper. 

it’s nearly three the next afternoon when you finally decide to get out of the house and stop feeling bad for yourself. it was actually pretty nice, skating down the road with the summer breeze against your face. your headphones are on your ears, blaring ‘edge of seventeen’ to block out all thought, because they all seem to be about eddie. or, the lack thereof, the constant reminder that he’s hours away. 

you’re pulling snacks off the shelf at the convenience store as the song changes to ‘jessies’ girl’ making you hum happily. but the happiness quickly turns to anxiety when you round the corner and see olivia arguing with the guy behind the counter. 

“c’mon dude! it’s three damn dollars” she exclaims, throwing her arms up as you pull the headphones from your ears. you pull the cash from your pocket, are you really going to do this? you haven’t talked to her in like a month. you shake your head, pulling three dollars out and slamming them on the counter. her eyes get wide, face softening when she sees you.

“y/n, honey, you don’t have to.” she protests. 

“ring her up.” you snap, glaring at the worker. 

“wait, no-” she gasps, but the register is already dinging and you smirk. 

“don’t sweat it, you can just drive me home.” you smile, laying your snacks on the counter. she rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. 

“you’re a brat.” she beams, ruffling your hair. 

surprisingly enough, it’s not awkward as you sit in the passenger seat of her car, singing your heart out to ‘bad reputation’. 

“god, you hang out with eddie too much.” she laughs, turning the music slightly. you scowl, but continue singing anyway. “you wanna come stay at my place tonight?” she asks shyly. “it’s just- i know he’s out of town and i don’t know, it could be fun. but you totally don’t have to-” she starts to ramble. is she nervous right now? 

“yeah, sure.” you agree and she nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. olivia is never nervous. 

you’re in your room shoving clothes in a bag when you hear her coo softly. you turn and see her looking at the assortment of things tacked to your walls. 

“aw, this is so cute!” she chuckles, running her fingers over a polaroid of you lying in eddies’ lap and flipping off the camera, or more so carter who was behind it. 

it feels good to be out, somewhere that’s not your house, eddies’, or bennys’ with your dad. she’s got a nearly empty wine bottle in her lap, giggling like an idiot. 

“okay, so let’s talk business.” she laughs, passing it to you. you tilt your head at her in confusion, cigarette dangling from your lips. “you and eddie-” she says slyly, biting her lip. 

“oh god!” you groan, falling back into her pillows as ‘the chain’ filters though her room. you get lost in the voice of stevie nicks and begin to shake your head. “there’s nothing to talk about.” you lie. 

“oh whatever y/n! you’re totally in love with him!” she shouts. you shut your eyes and huff out a cloud of smoke. 

“utterly.” you whisper. her jaw drops, a small gasp leaving her lips. you sit up on your elbows to look at her, and a grin breaks onto her face.

“holy shit!” she screams. “holy shit, oh my god!” she begins to bounce in her seat. “you have to tell him y/n!” you feel tears begin to well in your eyes. 

“just because i am doesn’t mean he is.” you whisper again, voice cracking at the mere thought. a pitiful frown pulls her cheeks down suddenly. 

“oh, sweetheart.” she reaches out to hug you. “he definitely is.” you scoff. “i can see it in the way he looks at you. you’re the only one who's allowed to touch the radio, that he shares food with, that gets to touch his guitar- i mean you have matching stick-and-pokes of gods’ sake!” 

“in not that simple!” you whine, “it’s just not like that with us.” a tear runs down your face. 

“wait-” she grabs you hand and begins to examine it. “is that?” her jaw falls slack again. 

“his moms’ ring.” you nod; she laughs in disbelief. 

“jesus christ, you’re practically married.” she beams, but you only shrug. 

hours later, you’re asleep in the floor while she talks on the phone.

“babe-” she interrupts eddie, glancing back at you. “i’m starting to feel bad.” she whispers. 

“why?” eddie asks softly. 

“we’re going to break this girls poor fucking heart if she finds out-” she looks sadly at the ring on your finger. 

“no one is going to find out. what are you even talking about? why would y/n care?” he asks and she clamps her eyes shut. 

“i just think she’ll be upset that we didn’t tell her.” she lies straight through her teeth, guilt swarming in her chest. 

\\

a pounding at your front door wakes you, causing you to groan. you fumble your way to the door, cursing pissily as you throw it open. all your anger diminishes when you see eddie rocking back and forth, hands behind his back. 

“eddie!” you scream, throwing your body toward his own. his arms don’t wrap around you, and you pull back, confused. 

“i have a surprise for you.” he smirks, hands still hidden from view. “well, a few. but the most important one comes first.” 

“the anticipation is killing me.” you say dramtically, but you’re not able to force the stupid grin off your face. 

he pulls his hands out to reveal what must be the tiniest kitten you’ve ever seen. you gasp, hands immediately reaching for it. he lays it gently into them, and your heart nearly shatters at the tiny cry it lets out. 

“oh my god.” you gasp again, “eddie it’s so tiny!” he laughs, finally wrapping his arms around you as you cradle the small animal to your chest. 

“promise not to love her more than me.” he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you melt into his touch, releasing a soft sigh. god, these past four days have been the longest of my fucking life. the kitten croaks from between you. 

“i’ll try.” you laugh, holding her up to look at her. her all black fur is fluffed out, tiny tuffs sticking up from her ears. 

“she has to be bottle fed, but i got the stuff for that on the way here.” he informs as you begin to tug him into the trailer. “just found her. on the fire escape of all places.” he laughs, flopping down onto your bed. 

“aw, poor baby.” you hum, laying her down on his stomach as you crawl in bed beside him. you sit in content silence, both of you petting the small creature.

“i missed you.” he whispers, pulling you from your daze. he looks so fucking tired. you lean forward, moving some hair from his forehead. 

“i missed you too.” you admit, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“it’s good to be home.” he mumbles, thumb stroking your cheek bone. the kitten emits a small cry from the spot she crawled to on his chest, causing you both to giggle. “what are you gonna name her?” 

“how about ororo?” you ask, looking into her small cloudy gray eyes. 

“like munroe? like storm?” he laughs when you nod. “oh my god you have been reading them!” he beams, sitting up and nearly dropping ororo. 

“yeah, you were right. they’re pretty cool.” you hum, rolling your eyes as he shakes your shoulders in excitement. 

“now we have to go as rogue and gambit! and we can bring ororo!” he laughs, picking her up to talk to her. 

he doesn’t leave your house for the next two days, not that you mind. he’d slept a lot the first day, much to your insistence when he’d told you he’d drove all through the night and came over as soon as he’d gotten home. he’d helped you feed ororo, napped, told you about his trip, napped again, and then given you your other surprises: a fleetwood mac record, a coffee mug with wildflowers printed on it, and a sketchbook. you’re lying on the couch with him, watching some show your dad had told him about when the phone rings. 

“hey, you wanna hang out with me, donnie, and olivia tonight?” you hear carters’ voice through the line. since when were they talking again? you look back at eddie, who’s carrying on a one-sided conversation with ororo. 

“i don’t know if i can get eds off the couch for that long.” you laugh, causing his head to snap up and scowl at you. 

“stop hoarding him!” you hear donnie shout over the line. 

so that’s how you end up walking up to carters’ front door, eddies’ arms slung over your shoulder as you carry a mewing ororo in your arms. 

“she’s too little to leave by herself.” eddie had insisted, shoving the small bottle into his bag. 

“oh my god!” olivia yells, running off the porch to meet you when she sees the feline clutched to your chest. 

all of you are sat in a circle, passing around a joint while eddie attempts to feed ororo. olivia and carter are surprisingly civil with one another. 

“she doing okay?” you ask eddie, reaching over to pet the top of her head. he only nods, clearly concentrating, tongue poking out slightly. 

“aw, it’s like you two have a baby now.” olivia giggles. you blush slightly when carter hums in agreement. donnie only rolls his eyes and glances around the room. 

“closest thing i’ll ever have to one.” eddie states, pulling the empty bottle from her mouth and setting it on the floor. 

“you don’t want babies?” olivia gasps, hands flying to her chest dramatically. eddie shakes his head, mumbling a quick ‘nope’ while handing the sleepy kitten to you. “what if your wife wants them?” she asks, causing him to laugh.

“not getting married either.” he shrugs, taking a hit. olivia looks horrified. “i don’t need a certificate to tell me how much i love someone.” 

“that’s sweet.” you hum.

“that’s stupid.” olivia snaps at the same time. 

“anyway-” carter interrupts, not wanting it to turn into a debate. “are we going to kats’ end of the summer party?” 

“obviously.” donnie chirps. eddie groans and throws his head back. 

“do we have to?” he whines, looking over at you. 

“yes, you do.” olivia intejects before you can answer. “it’s the last high school party carter and i will have before we leave for college.” 

a somber mood takes over, like it’s suddenly dawning on everyone that in a few weeks they won't be here anymore. 

“that’s fucking depressing.” donnie states. 

// 

“holy fuck! you look so hot!” olivia screams. you’re in a tight black slip dress with a mesh red t-shirt underneath, all of which formerly belonged to her. she’d given you practically her whole wardrobe while packing up her childhood bedroom. an experience which had been full of tears, even eddie had almost cried while pulling photos from her wall. 

eddie’s in a tight red tee and black jeans to match you, and the thought makes your stomach flutter. 

“do you have it?” she whispers in your ear, carefully not to let the three boys in front of you hear. you nod, pulling the flooded up piece of paper from the pocket of your black jean jacket. she beams, “he’s gonna tell you he loves you too. and then i’ll have completed my goal of getting you two together and can leave happily.” you simply roll your eyes, too nervous to think about it any longer. 

it’s been two and a half hours since then and you’re well buzzed. your cup sloshes sound as you search for eddie in the sea of people. you can’t find him anywhere, and you’re starting to feel claustrophobic. 

“found him.” donnie says, coming up to you and grabbing your wrist. he leads you up the stairs and into a small bedroom. you glance around, noticing it’s empty. 

“he’s not in here-” you whimper, but when you turn around donnie is shutting the door. “what are you-” you start, but you’re interrupted by him smashing his lips onto yours. you gasp, shoving him back by his shoulders. “what the fuck was that?” you shout. 

“finally gonna have you all to myself while he’s off screwing that whore.” he growls, shoving you back onto the bed. you attempt to stand up, but he pushes down hard on your chest causing you to cough. he begins to climb over you and you panic. 

“no stop!” you all but scream, but he just laughs. you feel sick, mind fuzzy and moving too fast to comprehend. 

“what’s this?” he asks coyly, picking up the paper that’s fallen from your pocket. 

“wait!” you try to reach for it; he smacks your hand away and begins to read it. 

“oh my god-” he laughs, looking up at your terrified expression. “so you’ll fuck eddie but you won’t fuck me?” he asks annoyedly. 

“it’s not like th-” you attempt to speak, but he grabs your neck and holds you down. your brain runs on auto as you reach up and claw at his face. even though you draw blood, it doesn’t seem to phase him. “no!” you shriek as he reaches for your tights. 

“what the fuck is going on in here?” carter yells, throwing open the door. donnies hand comes off your throat and you begin to gasp for breath. 

“help me.” you cry out. carters’ face turns from one of confusion to complete rage. 

“get the fuck off of her!” he yells, running to help you off the bed. he stands you up on trembling legs, and you notice for the first time that you’re sobbing. “are you okay?” he asks softly, turning your face to look at him. all you can do is fall into him, letting the sobs fall freely. 

“fuck you, you’re gonna get what you fuckign deserve when eddie finds out.” carter screams at him.

“he’s too busy for that.” donnie laughs angrily as carter helps you walk out. 

even with him leading you, the walk outside feels like miles. when eddies’ van is in sight, you finally feel like you can breathe again. you don’t hesitate, immediately dropping carters hand and running to it. 

“oh eddie-” you cry, pulling open the back door. but you feel your heart stop as it opens. 

olivia is sucking on eddies neck, hands down the front of his jeans. when he sees you, his jaw drops. you can feel bile starting to rise in your throat. 

“fucking seriously, dude?” carter shouts, something broken in his voice. olivia throws herself off eddies’ lap. 

“why are you crying, babydoll?” eddie asks, and the name makes you finally throw up in the grass. 

the next few minutes happen in a blur, olivia holds your hair back as carters’ fist lands on eddies’ cheek. the harsh sound only makes you throw up again. you hardly notice them fighting over the sound of your own head throbbing. 

“shit, eddie stop! he’s had enough!” olivia screams, running up to them. you look up to see a few people are starting to come over. donnies grabs eddie and pulls him off carters’ limp frame on the grass. 

“i think you’re gonna want to see this.” he laughs, handing eddie something. you don’t realize it’s your note to eddie until he’s looking up at you, confusion and sadness on his face. fuck. 

“tell him how you got it.” carter croaks, coughing up blood as he tries to stand. eddies eyes trail to donnie, a stream of blood running from under his eye. donnie starts to back away from him. 

“how’d you fucking get this from her?” he growls, but donnie doesn’t answer. all eyes are on you, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. 

“he tried to fuck her.” carter snaps crudely, his words make you gag again. 

“oh baby-” eddie whispers. 

“he what?” a deep voice shouts. and there he is. chief jim hopper stands, full uniform. your whole body relaxes. 

“dad-” you whimper softly. 

“get you asses in these fucking cruisers now.” he yells, officers powell and callahan guide donnie, carter, and oliva toward their cars. 

“can you stand honey?” eddie asks, hands on your shoulders. you almost reach out for him to take you into his arms, but you spot the bruises on his neck. you don’t even think about it as you reach up and slap him hard across the face. hopper jerks you back quickly.

“get in the car.” hopper instructs. eddies’ lips tremble, tears filling his eyes as he begins to walk to the bronco. 

the car ride is silent, occasionally broken by a soft cry from you or eddie. you feel numb, nothing but a deep ache in your chest. how could it all go wrong so quickly? the car comes to a stop before the station. 

“can you do this?” hopper asks, hand resting on your knee. you exhale shakily. 

“no one’s gonna blame you if you can’t, y/n.” eddie whispers, reaching up to touch your shoulder. you nod, leaning into his touch. 

“i can do it.” you whisper softly. 

your sitting in the lobby, olivia in front of you. eddie’s cuffed to the other desk, holding an ice pack against his face, carter mirroring his actions on the opposite side. no one speaks as your dad come up to kneel beside you. 

“he admitted it.” he tells you, hand coming up to stroke your arm. “do you want to press charges for attempted rape?” he asks sadly, voice cracking. 

“oh god.” olivia cries, hiding her face in her hands. you can’t force your eyes away from the wood in front of you, much less speak. 

“y/n?” eddie asks. officer callahan shushes him. you look up and see tears in his eyes, and reality comes crashing down on you. hopper pulls you into his arms as you begin to sob again. 

“yeah, yeah i do.” you choke out. eddie squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as tears roll down his cheeks again. 

as flo takes pictures of your bruising, olivia and carters are questioned. then finally eddie. you sit in the lobby, lonely even though flow is at her desk typing and officer callahan and powell sit with carter and olivia outside. 

“he needs to talk to you.” hopper whispers, sitting in the seat on the other side of the table. 

on trembling legs, you make your way to your dads office. eddie is cuffed to the chair, not looking at you. 

“eddie-” you whisper softly. 

“we’re done.” he states simply. your chest tightens. “after tonight, after you walk out that door… your not gonna talk to me anymore. we’re not going to hang out. not going to be friends. it’s done.” he finally looks at you, face bloody, eyes red. 

“please don’t say that.” you beg. he shakes his head. “eddie, i love you.” you whimper, but you can’t cry. it hurts too much to even cry. 

“i promised your dad that i wouldn’t hurt you anymore, and that means leaving.” 

“you can only hurt me by leaving. you’re the best thing i’ve ever had, eddie please don’t leave me.” you beg desperately. “eddie, i’m so in love with you.”

“i’m not.” he states, without missing a beat. 

there it is. 

the words you never wanted to hear. 

they make you feel like the world is falling from beneath your feet. 

“no-” you whisper. 

“i’m sorry.” he says back. “but i can’t do this to you. you and me just don’t work that way, and i can’t keep stringing you along like this.”

“eddie-” 

“i love you, but not the way you want. y/n, i really do. i need you to know that, but this has to end.” 

and with that, you storm out of the room, out of the station. you slam your fist into the pillar by the sentence. it splits your knuckles, but you don’t even feel it. you can’t feel anything but the deep emptiness in your chest. 

hopper exits the station, guiding you back to the car. he buckles your seat belt for you, because once you sit, you suddenly can’t move. all of your limbs feel too heavy. so heavy that you feel like you could just sink into the earth and never stop. 

and the scariest part- you can’t think. can’t make a single thought enter your mind.  

the dark woods surround the road, the car. you stare at them, wishing you could disappear into them and never come back out again. the radio plays softly, but you don’t even notice it. 

“i know what it’s like-” hopper finally says. you look over at him. “i know what it’s like to fall in love with someone… just for it all to be ripped away from you.” you blink at him, dumbfoundely. 

“i always thought i was cursed, and i guess i passed it on to you. i know that it feels like you’re dying, like you’re all alone, like your whole world is falling apart. but you’re not alone. you have to remember that, because i also know that you may not be my biological daughter but you’re so damn much like me, and i need you to not do something stupid about those feelings like i did.” 

“i love him so much.” you cry. 

“i know, i know baby. he wanted me to give you this.” he holds that stupid fucking paper out to you. you open it, and begin to read the word you wrote only a few days ago. words that you wrote with so much love, hope, happiness, lightness. 

hey eds, i know this is stupid. but i’m writing all the things i’m too scared to tell you, which is stupid because i know once you read this you’ll tell me i have no reason to ever be scared of you. anyway, here it goes:

i was so lost before i found you. i had no idea who i wanted to be, what i wanted to do with my life. then you walked into it, and now it’s like the ideas had been there the whole time. i can’t wait to see what adventures we make together eddie. you made me feel like a real person. i’ve learned so much about myself in the past year. 

but the most important thing i’ve learned is that it takes me approximately four days to fall in love, and about four months to realize it. 

i couldn’t see myself spending every day of the rest of my life with anyone, until i met you. i love you eds’, so fucking much. 

-your favorite shithead, y/n. 

the words bounce around in your skull, enough tears running down your face to fill an ocean. you hold the paper up to the open window, and let the wind rip it from your fingers. 

your eyes settle back in front of you, staring out at the dark road as the curse of loneliness that seems to consume hawkins sucks you in too. so you reach to turn up the radio- 

“feelin’ that it's gone, could change your mind. if we can’t go on, to survive the tide, love divides. someday, love will find you. break those chains that bind you. one night will remind you, how we touched and went our separate ways. if he ever hurts you, true love won’t desert you. you know i still love you, though we touched and went our separate ways-”

tags: @kik51199​  @lynnsthoughts​ @multifandom-loser​ @naughty-koala07​ @httpsunflowers​ @munson-burner​ @shinydixon​ @aereth​ @yoyoanaria​ @madhatterweasley​ 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Fri 28 May ‘21

Zayn’s rap EP??? Dropped yesterday???!? “Breaking my silence” says Zayn on Yellow Metal- Cathartic (Zayn is Yellow Metal here) and he DOES in 24 minutes of political, personal, complex and lyrically dense rap zoems! It was leaked/dropped whatever you wanna call it by being posted to Z’s cousin’s account (like the cover the other day); but clearly Zayn is behind these drops and that’s what matters, he is releasing this stuff in a way that will get to the fans but not inspire the media uproar (or contract issues) that posting to his own accounts would. As he says “don’t say I can’t communicate, you know I conversate with you in several different ways”, plus “I’ve had enough of being my own enemy, come a long way since 17, I have a few things to say when I get up on a microphone, I didn’t give up on fame I need this time like therapy it’s just to keep me sane… and to be honest it’s offensive, offensive to my still open wounds, trying to ask me questions they know they don’t have I ever replied, I prefer to sit down be online and respond to fanart,” I LOVE THAT. And the political content?! “What a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees, it's never leaving to a real sense so FUCK THE FEDS” (or fuck the fence, not clear, either way, YES ZAYN!), “the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding by what they put in writing we should be used to it by now say whatever for the vote and then just chose another route say they’ll never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown” and “been facing the racists back when I was a kid...kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me and the kids that would call me paki still sit in the classroom chilling, and now that I’m older I see they treat us different, got me thinking I was the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues, 20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat, came to tell you what I stand for, man I think this shit’s a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat, ‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight, try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white, my name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” HELL YEAH ZAYN. PLUS: “never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl,” not gonna lie I LOVE to see this GOOD good good, "just became a dad so now I’m taking all the checks" HA yes get it, "trying to be a better person than the world deserves to see," and, “with a cigarette, sun coming up, write my thoughts on the internet, feeling deep, I'm just bored with the silhouette, get fucked up for the thrill of it,” “I’m just here for the rap then I’m leaving.” AND SO MUCH MORE all in Zayn’s excellent voice and accent, a GIFT that’ll take much more than a day to really unpack and appreciate!

And happy 28th, Louis is writing music! Looks like he is working with producer team Rick Parkhouse and George Tizzard in London (they call themselves Red Triangle Productions and put out music as SuperHi)- they posted a studio picture and tagged Louis. He’s just visible in the booth, singing. Also present- writer/ musician, Paul Whalley and songwriter Robert Harvey (The Music, The Streets) who were both posted and tagged Louis in as well. Louis followed Harvey. Hell yeah, what a line up! Not only that, Jamie Hartman answered a ProjectKMM participant’s question about other songs with Louis-- are they still working on new stuff? He says “I’m sure Louis has been working on new songs with lots of people!” [as we see, yes] “But yes we have done some too- who knows what will make the next album but he’s a top man and I would always write and hang w LT.”

Harry won Best Lyrics for Adore You at the iHeart Awards and Best Cover Song for Juice but failed to take the Artist of the Year or Song of the Year Categories, but more exciting than that- he’s listed as the Director of a new cosmetics and perfume company!!! People have been speculated about him doing something with Gucci Beauty for a long time now (he’s been noted to use their cosmetics, and definitely models their nail polish), and he has of course done perfume ads for them- there’s speculation that this could be for something with them, or it could just be a new thing of his very own. Well the Harry Styles palette would be a damn hit and we all know it, bring it on!

Anne Marie’s Big Weekend performance aired today and yes! She did Our Song with Niall! It’s the performance they recorded last week or so that we saw the pics from, yay first time getting to see them play it, but it was very quickly followed by the next time as their Jonathan Ross show performance also aired! And in case you’re sad about Niall’s previous promo buddies being replaced, there’s no need for that, he’s only adding to the pack; he tweeted Julia Michaels just today, “love ya hules” AWWW. He posted a bunch of cute OS video bts pics too, followed Oprah Winfrey and said he’d like to go to space and that he “would have liked to have been” a godfather to a 1D boy’s baby but “maybe the next one.”

Meanwhile Liam is looking at the fanart submissions he asked for- he retweeted a terrific drawing of himself laughing and said “this is amazing!” and liked a couple of other art posts. Feels like it’s about time for a monthly Liam catch up video, perhaps? Something else to look forward to!

[yandere-society]

The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired 

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it. 

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story! 

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango​ 

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know! 

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon. 

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me? 

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire. 

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing. 

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together. 

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine. 

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk. 

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.” 

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.  

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water. 

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold. 

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight. 

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person. 

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear. 

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces. 

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field. 

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain. 

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me. 

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor. 

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist. 

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?” 

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-” 

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come. 

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

-

I’m chasing something odd in my dream. 

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing. 

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast. 

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains. 

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face. 

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am. 

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men. 

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail. 

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy. 

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

-

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two. 

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle. 

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit. 

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me. 

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family. 

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.  

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room. 

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?” 

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother. 

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.” 

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again. 

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites. 

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room. 

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. “These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.” 

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows. 

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely. 

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch. 

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant. 

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-” 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” 

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend. 

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.  

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me. 

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” 

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.” 

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more. 

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me. 

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week. 

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount. 

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly. 

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.” 

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me. 

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.” 

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand. 

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.  

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features. 

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire. 

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone. 

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.” 

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?” 

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.” 

-

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.  

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper” sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer. 

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.” 

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago. 

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well. 

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave. 

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him. 

-

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice. 

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing. 

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take. 

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I... 

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages. 

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl. 

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.  

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands. 

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.  

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me. 

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened. 

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain. 

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

-

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America. 

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!” 

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?” 

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over.  “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL 

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole 

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers, 

                                      The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.” 

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?” 

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace. 

-

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes. 

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!” 

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.” 

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns. 

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so. 

-

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse. 

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway. 

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this. 

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning. 

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger. 

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp. 

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper. 

-

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry. 

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief. 

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence. 

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in. 

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room. 

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room. 

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls. 

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well. 

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts. 

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares. 

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I  turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn. 

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board. 

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us. 

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room. 

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me. 

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy,  dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!” 

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase. 

Mr. Jeon Jungkook. 

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.” 

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at. 

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.” 

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me. 

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of  this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor. 

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue. 

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second. 

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure. 

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues. 

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.”  My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise. 

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue. 

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.”  Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.” 

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously. 

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head. 

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?” 

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.” 

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.  

“You have my word.” 

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find. 

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.  

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?   

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not. 

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me. 

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction. 

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes.  The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.       

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more. 

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man. 

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire. 

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago. 

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.                          

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain. 

“I live to serve.” 

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses. 

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white. 

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up. 

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him. 

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed. 

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.” 

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on. 

 “The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us. 

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need. 

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing. 

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck. 

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his. 

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me. 

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show. 

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way. 

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought. 

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation. 

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets. 

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.” 

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt. 

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.” 

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! 

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting. 

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition. 

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something. 

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus. 

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold. 

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?” 

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket. 

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?” 

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier. 

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him. 

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?” 

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before. 

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes. 

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare. 

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks. 

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus. 

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice. 

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,” he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,”  Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked. 

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs. 

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound. 

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly. 

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping. 

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark. 

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead. 

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it? 

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

[princessphilly]

Plain Jane Chapter 2

Word Count: 2391

CW: a mention of P K*ne, allusions to issues with alcohol, references to being in the closet

Tag list:  @newlibrary , @luvsherleafs @spine-buster , @m00nlightdelights @lovethepreds @myhockeyworld87 @Defiant-mouse, @callllumhood @yzas-stuff , @stars-canucks @laurenairay @cutiesara23, @besthockeyfics @hockeyallthetime @tazerass , @markymarkstrom @letsgobaby, @himbos-on-ice @hockeywocs @bloodthedevil @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @whatishockey @dreamer1430 @shelbsatans @no-pucks-given @stlbluesbrat21 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2 @heatherawoowoo​

Join the tag list here!

I’m too damn stubborn for my own good. I admit it; I don’t like to lose or be wrong. I hate being wrong. Well, I hate losing money more than anything else. But I really hate losing or being wrong after that. - Journal 10/12

One year later

Jamila couldn’t help but look at Jonathan Toews as he sat at the table for this charity dinner. He really was more handsome in person than in the pictures. But the guy sitting next to him was just as good looking as him, in her opinion. He was rougher looking with long auburn hair and blue eyes and probably a good decade older than her, just the way that Jamila liked it. The only issue was… Duncs was nice but he wasn’t as exciting as Jonathan Toews. But Jamila told Shan and Mel that she was going to fuck Duncan Keith and she always got her man. Plus, it didn’t help that Jonathan always has something smart to say which made Jamila more dedicated to fucking Duncs. 

But it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen. Jamila was frustrated; she knew she was gorgeous and she was used to getting her way. But Duncs had a preference for blondes and.. Jamila had no desire to dye her hair blonde anytime soon. Plus, she hated the fact that she was going to lose because then Jonathan would hold it over her. 

Normally, Jon wouldn’t give a fuck that a girl wanted Duncs over him. He knew exactly where he stood with the vast majority of women and that he could have anyone he wanted. But he really, for some reason, wanted her. It had been over a year since they met and she was still hung up over Duncs. Granted, during that time, Jon was recovering from an injury and was at home in Winnipeg. Now, he was back and he wanted Jamila, even though she was supposed to be Cizisky’s girl. Jon had pulled the younger defenseman to the side and asked him about her and Cizisky straight up said that she was just going out with him as a friend to events. So Jon knew that Jamila was basically single and available.

Jamila was smiling in Duncs face but whenever he talked to her, she got angry and flustered. Jon knew she really wasn’t that interested in Duncs. He could tell by the way Jamila got closer to him when they argued that she really liked him. But the stubborn woman didn’t want to admit it. 

As the captain, Jon was used to solving problems. But this was a problem that he couldn’t solve and he was becoming frustrated.

**

It wasn’t fair how intense those dark brown eyes were. And they had been focused on her while Jamila attempted to flirt with Duncs. Jamila had to admit she was failing and it was annoying her. He was being polite but she knew she was being brushed off.

She could hear Jonathan; “Duncs isn’t interested. Aren’t you tired of wasting your time?” All of that paired with a mocking look. She was done doing favors for Shan’s cousin. Next time he needed a plus one, he could find someone else.

“Tired of shooting wide?”

“Really, a hockey metaphor?” Jamila rolled her eyes while Jonathan chuckled. He really was tired of watching Jamila flirt with Duncs. She wasn’t his usual type but Jonathan wanted to be her type. Once Duncs made it clear that he wasn’t interested, Jonathan decided it was time to try his luck.

“Good, you’re learning about the game! But are you tired?”

“What do you mean?”

Jonathan was tall enough that while she wore 5-inch heels, Jamila still had to look up at him a bit. He licked his lips and once again, Jamila felt those unwanted shivers. Jonathan smirked before saying, “Stop pretending you’re interested in Duncs when we both know that you really want me.”

“You’re so conceited,” Jamila retorted. A small part of her said he was right but her pride hurt so fuck him.

Jonathan gave her a devilish grin. “Fuck me? We can make that happen.”

Jamila’s eyes grew wide when she realized she said that out loud. “Captain Serious? More like Captain Dickhead!” Jamila rolled her eyes as she gave him a once over.

Then Jon shocked her. “That was a bit too much, I’m sorry,” he said. The earnest look in his eyes told Jamila he was telling the truth. “But seriously, you’re wasting your time.”

Jamila sighed deeply. She knew he was right but her ego didn’t want to let her admit it. Jamila just grimaced before pushing away from Jonathan. 

For the rest of the night, Jamila kept mostly to herself and Alex, nursing her wine. She was tempted to get something stronger, very tempted, but she kept herself to her one glass of wine. It helped that Alex was watching her like a hawk, as if he knew that Jamila was in a mood. As soon as he was able to, Alex made his goodbyes, escorting Jamila out to the valet.

“What happened, Mila?”

Jamila sighed as Alex’s car was brought up. “Nothing, buddy. Nothing.”

Alex wisely didn’t press it as he got his keys from the valet, opening the door for Jamila and closing it after she got in. Once he was in the car and driving away, he said, “You’ve been in a mood since you talked with Tazer. Did he say something that triggered you? I’ll tell him to back off if he’s triggering you, Mila.”

Jamila sighed. “He didn’t say anything that triggered me, per se, but you know I hate being wrong.”

“Yeah, because you’re very wrong about Duncs… I’ve been telling you that for months,” Alex cracked.

Rolling her eyes, Jamila replied, “Jonathan basically said the same thing. Then he hit on me, again.”

“I thought you enjoyed verbally sparring with him. It’s entertaining as fuck.”

“Fuck you too, Alex!”

Alex snorted as he said, “I would if I liked pussy.”

“Talking about that, have you thought of coming out,” Jamila asked. 

Alex looked at the road as he thought about his words. Then he said, “I could but I feel the same ones who talk about ‘You Can Play’ and all of that aren’t as accepting as they pretend to be. I mean, Tazer would be supportive, probably Duncs, maybe Kaner, Brinks, Murph, but the rest of the guys… I don’t want to risk it right now.”

Jamila reached over, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. That was a lot to have to deal with. “People fucking suck, man.”

“I know. Thanks for being my plus-one, Mila. I will always support you, even when people are asking me to call you names when you finally get with the captain.”

Jamila laughed, tears forming in her eyes at the idea of dating Jonathan. “That was very funny, Alex, you should become a comedian.”

Smirking, Alex turned into the parking lot of the building that they lived in. They had separate units, Jamila’s bigger and more expensive, but it was still home. “Jamila, your eyes still follow Tazer everywhere he goes when you two are at the same place. It’s a matter of time, well, it’s a matter of how stubborn you are about it.”

**

As Jamila walked into her condo, she thought about Alex and his words. She felt a bit bad for him; locker room culture was real and it sucked that Alex couldn’t fully be himself yet. At the same time, Jamila wasn’t fully open about her own sexuality. If she wanted attention, she could easily come out as pansexual but Jamila didn’t want her life to become a circus. Add on the fact that she enjoyed bdsm and was a submissive…. It would be a hot mess, she thought. However, Jamila knew that she didn’t have to worry about the potential reactions of a bunch of other people if she did decide to come out. 

One thing Jamila did have to worry about was her thesis. It was finished, turned in, it was just a matter of finding out when she would have to defend it. Since she was graduating with her PhD this December, Jamila knew it would be before then. Not knowing the exact date was just irritating to her. Maybe once she had it, her dad would respect her more. 

Jamila sighed as she looked out at the Chicago skyline. It didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t really care. The only ones who would were Nina, Marisa, Ms. Tracey and Mr. Vernon, Siobhan, Lauren, maybe Karesha and Desiree. Sighing again, Jamila decided it was time to go to sleep for the night.

**

Jon looked at his computer screen as he looked at his budget for the month. Coming back this season has had it’s ups and down so far. The travel and other rhythms of the season were familiar but at the same time, Jon had enjoyed being at home. For over a decade, Jon had lived under the grind of the NHL season plus the playoffs. There was something nice about being a home, not a hotel room every couple of weeks. The hotels were all the same, they stayed at the same places in the same cities every year. But staying in his own bed night after night had it’s own appeal. 

At the same time, Jon wanted a 4th cup. It still irritated him that the team had decided to rebuild without even asking if the boys wanted to rebuild. Last season, Jon appreciated that the boys didn’t give up and tank even though the front office would have preferred that they did. Odds were stacked against them this season but Jon believed that they could make it. Once the playoffs started, it was anyone’s chance to get the Cup. 

Jon sighed as he opened the Netflix app. He was starting to really feel his age this year. He was only 33 but he could feel every hit now. Plus, coming home to this new place with no one waiting for him was getting very old. “Maybe that’s why you like that girl so much,” Jon muttered to himself. He felt dumb; every time he talked to Jamila, he felt like he put his foot in his mouth. But then, it seemed like she was just looking for an excuse to tell him no. 

As he mindlessly scrolled through shows, Jon felt super frustrated and ready to give up. He didn’t want to continue asking her out if she kept saying no. Jon blanched as the idea that maybe he was making Jamila uncomfortable came in his mind. As he clicked on watching Brooklyn 911, Jon decided that he was going to leave Jamila alone.

**

Jamila felt weird. It was two weeks since the last time she saw Jon and he was keeping his distance from her. All night, all he had done was say hi and wave when she greeted him. Jamila felt strangely bereft. Unconsciously, Jamila’s eyes drifted towards Jon more often than not during the charity auction. His black suit fit him like a glove, the crisp white shirt setting off his remaining tan. Of course, Jon didn’t wear a tie and it made him look absolutely delicious. Jamila inwardly scowled as she looked down at her water. 

Jamila was attempting to be good by sticking to water instead of any of the myriad alcoholic options tonight. The last time she had wine, she had to resist the urge to down the whole bottle. Jamila sighed; she thought she could try to have a bit of alcohol but now, she was sure that was impossible. Her sobriety was worth more than trying to fit in. 

The auction went pretty quickly, all things considered. Jamila made a couple small bids, there wasn’t really anything that caught her eye. Then the auctioneer said, “For our last, and surprise, auction item tonight, a date with the captain, Jonathan Toews. The winner gets to have one night with Captain Toews, at a place of your choice. Mr. Toews is a gentleman so it will be on him. Bidding starts at five hundred.”

One woman yelled, “One thousand!”

There were a flurry of bids and Jamila knew she had a screwface as she listened. One of the bidders was that bitch Frances and it looked like she was going to have the winning bid. The bids went up to six thousand before it started to slow. The auctioneer called out, “sixty-five hundred, do I hear sixty-six hundred?”

He waited for a couple of moments for additional bids. Jamila looked at her hands as the auctioneer said, “Sixty-five hundred, sixty-five hundred, going once-”

“Seventy-five hundred,” Jamila called out, raising her placard. 

There was a hush as people turned towards her. Jamila smirked as Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

“Seventy-five hundred, do I hear seventy-six hundred?”

Jamila waited as she sipped her water. Frances called out, “Eighty-five hundred,” frustration laced in her voice. Jamila smirked; this was time for payback.

The eyes turned towards her and Jamila looked down at her phone. There was a message from Alex: have u lost ur mind?????

“Ten-thousand,” Jamila called out. 

Jon let out a whoo, pursing his lips. This night had turned out in a way he hadn’t expected. The auctioneer called out, “Ten-thousand, ten-thousand, going once, going twice, sold, to number 53.”

Jamila rifled through her purse, looking for her wallet. She hoped she could just put it on her black card instead of needing a check. The money wasn’t a problem; the way of paying could be. One of the team’s interns came to Jamila. “Miss, come this way to pay.”

Following the intern, Jamila gave Frances a wide smile when she passed her. Luckily, Jamila was able to use her card to pay for her bid. 

“This wasn’t expected,” a deep voice said to her side. 

Jamila smiled. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

“I’m a tool for revenge? I feel like shit,” Jonathan joked. 

Jamila shrugged. “I’ll let you know if I ever want that date.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Jamila walked away. She still felt some satisfaction winning the bid over that bitch, but something told her she made a crucial decision in some way.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

The Crown Found in Rose Thorns (Part 2) - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Timothy Drake, bits of Steph, Jason and Dick Summary: Jonathan and Damian go on their first date. A/N: I just think about royal princes jon and damian a lot, mmkay. also, those flowers don’t ever wilt, Damian will find out. maybe it’ll be important later, if I remember that detail.

Ao3

~~

There was a giddy energy around the castle this morning. He felt it as he walked through the halls. The servants were all chattering amongst themselves, smiling in his direction whenever he passed by.

The prince has a date! They were all saying. The prince has chosen a suitor!

Damian could only roll his eyes. Hardly.

He found his hand had drifted to the hilt of the sword on his hip as he entered the courtyard. Perhaps he could challenge that infuriating Jonathan to a duel? It was only appropriate – he tried to mock Damian in front of his court.

But he ended up shaking his head. Knowing what little he did of this prince of Krypton, the simpleton might enjoy that.

As he neared the gates, he felt himself give an involuntary sigh. It must have been loud, as the one waiting there turned and grinned.

Almost as annoying as Jonathan of Krypton – his brother, Timothy.

“Don’t tell me you’re my chaperone for this…event.” Damian called.

Timothy kept his smirk. “Well, since you sound so enthused by the prospect, I can ask to be.”

“Don’t.” Damian scolded as he reached him. “I don’t need protection. Especially against the knight.”

“While I don’t doubt your skills, we don’t know that.” Timothy reminded. “He could be working for Ra’s.”

“He claimed to be the child of Father’s ally. Or did Richard not tell you that?” Damian hummed, staring out into the bustling streets. A small child waved towards them. He smiled and waved back. “Or do you just not believe him?”

“You do?” Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Prince Damian of Gotham, believing people at their word? Surely Father has taught you better than that.”

Damian felt heat in his face. “Of course I don’t. But I also know he doesn’t fit Grandfather’s brand of agent. He’d use someone we wouldn’t expect. A fortune teller or shop keep. An old cook or cleaning woman. A young, strong-looking knight who draws so much attention? Seems…implausible.”

“Strong-looking, hm? And here, Richard told me you only agreed to meet with him today as a barbaric game.” Timothy questioned mischievously. Damian pursed his lips and punched Timothy’s arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Frankly I trust Sir Jonathan to not be an agent more than I trust the likes of…of Cassandra’s suitor.” Damian mumbled. “Why don’t you spend more time investigating that bard woman? How can you be so sure she’s not an agent? That’s exactly the type of person Grandfather would use. No direct ties to me, and could harm someone else in our family in the process. Exactly what Ra’s al Ghul would want.”

“Stephanie has been vetted. She was vetted long before she and Cassandra were romantically involved.” Timothy explained. He laughed then. “Speaking of her – back to your original question. No, I am not your chaperone today. I’m here waiting for Stephanie.”

“Why?” Damian demanded. “Does Cassandra know?”

“Yes, she does. She’ll be joining us.” Timothy nodded. “Stephanie is a bard, like you said. So she hears the stories. She knows things.” He looked towards Damian. “We’re hoping she knows things about the Kingdom of Krypton and a certain prince.”

Damian crossed his arms. “So…who is my chaperone, then? Surely there is one.”

“Not directly. You and Jonathan will still be alone in general. He’ll just follow in the distance.” Timothy shrugged. “And it’s Jason, I believe.”

Jason, the raunchy brother. He had almost as little manners as Jonathan himself. Always yelling and cussing. No filter, no politeness. A rough man who drank too much.

He’d almost prefer Timothy.

“And I believe Richard will be joining him later in the day, or switching. But I cannot remember.” Timothy suddenly stepped forward. Damian looked into the crowd and saw a blonde woman in a purple travelling cloak gliding towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman came forward, and bowed when she was close enough. Damian gave her a head nod in return as Timothy turned to guide her into the courtyard. They were halfway to the castle when Timothy turned back.

“And Damian, don’t forget!” He called. “If Sir Jonathan does anything untoward,” He pulled his own blade out of its sheath halfway. “You stab to kill.”

Stephanie laughed. Damian grinned in response, and turned towards the town, making his way towards the forest.

~~

He caught sight of Jason a few times on his walk. Riding his gray horse lazily fifty or so yards away. The one time, Jason saw him watching, and gave him a cheeky wink.

Damian had scowled and tried to walk faster, almost hoping to get lost in the crowd. Just because he had to have a chaperone, didn’t mean he couldn’t make the job worth their while.

As he entered the clearing on the edge of the forest – the agreed meeting place – he slowed. Jonathan was already there.

He wasn’t in his armor today, but rather a simple tunic and pants, similar to Damian’s own outfit, just minus the tied vest. He was sitting on a fallen log, fiddling with the flowers popping up around his boots.

Damian did not see a weapon on him.

Along with the change of outfit, his demeanor seemed different from the day before as well. His face was no longer sharp confidence and sunny mischievousness. Now, his eyes were half-lidded as he relaxed, face thoughtful as his head tilted and he examined the flowers.

Damian ignored the sudden feeling in his chest. Because it wasn’t annoyance or haughtiness or even suspiciousness like he expected.

Without warning, a bird swooped down from overhead, cawing as it brushed along Damian’s hair. The noise made Jonathan look up, and once he recognized Damian, he smiled.

“…She sure seems to like you.” Jonathan laughed as he stood. “Hello, Your Highness.”

“Hello.” Damian mumbled, holding his arm out. The bird fluttered down to land on his elbow. “Waiting long?”

“No, not long.” Jonathan scratched awkwardly at his hair. “…I tend to arrive places early when I’m nervous.”

Damian snorted. “You? Nervous? Your showing yesterday implied you didn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Jonathan let out a gentle laugh. “Well…I had to get your attention somehow.” When Damian glanced up at him, he found himself unable to hold the gaze, so looked to the bird. “Is she yours?”

“No, she’s wild.” Damian assured, even as he pet gently at the bird’s head. “I…spend a lot of time out here. Feed them on occasion.” He looked towards the bird and smiled. “She must remember me.”

“Well, you are hard to forget.” Jonathan mumbled. Damian had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so didn’t push the issue…yet. Instead, he let Jonathan admire the bird for a moment, then shook his elbow and pushed the bird back into the sky. She flew off with another caw. “…Lead the way?”

Damian nodded and moved down the path. Jonathan stayed behind him for a few moments, before jogging to catch up.

“I…um.” He let out a small cough. “I don’t mean to alarm you.”

Damian glanced at him.

“There’s a man on a horse following us.” Jonathan whispered. “…Would you like me to deal with him?”

Damian stopped walking and turned. In the expanse of trees, he could see the shadow of Jason, chaperoning as promised.

Damian smirked.

“I should.” He called loudly. “I should absolutely let you dispatch of our stalker.” He heard Jason’s horse snort as Jason turned her away.

Jonathan glanced between him and the trees. “I…think I am missing something.”

Damian laughed. “My family is overprotective.” He explained. “With this…situation with my grandfather, they are chaperoning my every movement, including with potential suitors. That’s merely my brother, Jason.”

Jonathan hummed. “I’d heard about that.” He sighed. “I’m…sorry.”

Damian shrugged. “My grandfather has always been ruthless. Apparently tried to kill my father when he and mother agreed to marry. Why anyone is surprised he’s come after me is beyond me.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Damian’s bird friend let out another cry as she flew above them once more.

“That was why you came, though, isn’t it? For all that glory?” Damian asked. “You know, to be the one to succeed in protecting the youngest prince of Gotham?”

“No.” Jonathan said simply. “I came for you.” When Damian looked at him, he was uncupping his hands, revealing a small flower. He twisted the stem into his fingers and held it out. “Just for you.”

Damian stared between the flower and Jon’s face, then back again.

“…You weren’t holding that before.” Damian whispered. He looked up again. “I know you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Jonathan smiled and held the flower out. Damian took it without thinking, cataloguing that the mischievousness was back in Jonathan’s brilliant purple eyes.

Curious.

“I will admit, though, that hearing about your mother’s call for a suitor did spur my action.” Jonathan admitted wistfully. “Gave me a reason to return to Gotham and try my luck.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Many times. My family travelled often when I was younger. We were in and out of kingdoms all the time.” Jonathan chuckled. “How my father met and befriended your father, I still don’t know. It’s a story he won’t tell.”

“Old men love their secrets.” Damian agreed. He stared down at the flower as they walked, stroked at its pink petals.

Those feelings Damian expected, the pride and suspicion, they weren’t manifesting. In fact, he was finding that it was…surprisingly nice, walking with Sir Jonathan. It didn’t feel awkward or forced. Their conversation was flowing naturally. There was no hint of the bordering animosity from yesterday, or the challenge. And, loathe as he was to admit it, even just to himself, he was easy on the eyes.

He still couldn’t trust him, though. Couldn’t stop assuming there was going to be another shoe to drop. A catch to this seemingly simple situation.

“So…” Damian sighed after a few minutes of silence. “I am to believe you are sincere, then?”

“Hm?”

“You aren’t here for the glory of protecting the prince?” Damian repeated, putting the flower behind his ear so he could clasp his hands behind his back. Jonathan shook his head. “Or for the riches that come with joining a highly respected royal family?” Jonathan smirked and shook his head. “You are here for love and all it entails, truly?”

“Yes.” Jonathan said easily. “At least I hope so.” He looked up into the sky, watching the clouds between the reaching tree branches. “I believe love could happen, but I also know that’s no guarantee. I mean,” Another laugh, this one nervous. “I know you’re not happy with me so far, but I will admit I am fond of you already. But I know that could change.”

He gave out a dreamy sigh.

“I could end up hating you.” He mumbled. “Or I could end up so deeply in love with you I don’t know what I’d do.”

Damian stared at him, specifically at his sparkling purple eyes. “…The former is more likely.”

Jonathan blinked and the sparkle disappeared from his eye as he looked back at Damian. He gave another smile, but it was sadder. “Surely you think better of yourself than that, Your Highness.”

Damian shrugged. “It…has happened before. An occurrence I’m used to. Friends, family…look at my grandfather, after all. Why do you think my mother feels the need to beg for someone to love me?”

“Well then, I will just have to hope to fall even deeper in love with you myself, then. Show them all what they are missing.” Jonathan decided.

But the answer made Damian stop. Jonathan took a few steps further before stopping and turning back himself. Damian watched as he glanced over Damian’s shoulder, no doubt at Jason’s lurking form. “Why?”

Jonathan looked back. “Why what?”

“Why are you so keen?” Damian demanded. “You know nothing about me.”

Jonathan blinked, and that shine in his eye was back. “Of course I do.” Jonathan said simply. “I know a lot about you.”

“How?” Damian asked. “Your father?”

“No. By our own interactions.” Jonathan shook his head. “You don’t remember, and that’s fine. It’s not important, really. Maybe one day you will.”

“When did we interact?” Damian snapped. “When did we meet?”

“As children.” Now Jonathan frowned, glanced at the ground. “But if you don’t mind, I don’t wish to talk about that now. That’s not what today is about.”

Damian crossed his arms. “What is today about then, if not to get to know each other?”

“Get to know each other, yes!” Jonathan agreed. “But as we are now, not as we were.” He took a step towards Damian. “Maybe another day, when you trust me more?”

He almost sounded like he was pleading, and Damian couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. “Who says I ever will?”

Jonathan laughed again, bowing his head in admittance.

“Like I said, who knows how this will turn out. I’m hopeful, but have been wrong before.” He smiled. “But that is neither here nor there, and I won’t bring it up again. The future doesn’t matter, only today does. So let’s get back to it, shall we?”

Damian pursed his lips in thought, vaguely sensed the flower tucked behind his ear.

“Fine. Let’s.” Damian nodded, stepping off. Jonathan’s face lit up as Damian returned to his side and they continued their quiet stroll through the woods.

Jonathan kept his promise, he kept his romantics to himself the rest of the day. Instead, they talked about typical things. Not love and coups and kingdoms, but food, books, battles. Jonathan, it turned out, enjoyed cooking. He spent much of his time in Krypton attempting to recreate the recipes he was taught when they travelled to share with his court. He also loved competing, and learning a skill when it bested him.

Damian asked about the bloody armor he had from the day before. Jonathan admitted is was from an attack on Krypton right after his father had retaken the throne. He didn’t like war, or the constant fighting around the lands, but recognized the need to take part when he had to, especially when it came to protecting the innocent.

Jonathan asked about his own skills, especially by being the son of the notorious Talia al Ghul. Damian explained that was what was so silly about this suitor business – he could protect himself. Always has been able to. Just like his siblings.

He then talked about his family. How his siblings were all adopted, but it’s not like you could tell, since they all looked so alike anyway. Richard was adopted by his father, Jason by his mother, and Timothy and Cassandra after the two were married. Damian had been an accident.

Their rendezvous was supposed to finish by midday, but they were so distracted by their winding conversation that they did another two laps around the forest path, before making their way back into town in the late afternoon. Absently, Damian noticed when Richard joined Jason, but otherwise continued to ignore them.

He could also see the townsfolk all whispering already. Gleefully talking about how handsome Jonathan was, how close the two were walking. He even heard a few talk about how warm his own smile was, and how relaxed he looked.

He ignored them too.

As the sun went down over the hills in the west, he found them nearing one of the castle’s gates and decided to end their meet for the day.

“Shall we see each other again?” Jonathan asked after Damian said so. “Have I proven myself to be worth even a second of your time?”

Damian let himself have a small smile as he crossed the gate threshold and turned back. “I suppose we can. How long are you staying in town?”

Jonathan shrugged. “As long as I need. Unless I get a letter from Krypton or something, I have nothing urgent to return to presently.”

“Alright. Where are you staying, then?”

“The tavern a few streets away.”

“Okay.” Damian smirked. While the day had been pleasant, and Jonathan an interesting companion, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to have his fun. “I’ll come find you when I wish to see you again.”

Jonathan gaped for a moment. “And when might that be?!”

Damian just kept his grin. “Whenever I feel like it. So, if you’re actually serious about this. I suppose…well, don’t leave town.”

Jonathan stared for a moment more, then let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re cruel, Your Highness.”

“So I’ve been told.” Damian agreed cheekily. He turned to walk away, but:

“Damian.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Jonathan was still there, looking down at his hands as he clasped them together.

“I…would like to apologize, for yesterday.” Jonathan muttered. “I didn’t mean to potentially embarrass you in front of your court. I only wanted to get your attention, by any means necessary, which was selfish of me.” He bowed his head. “That…is not me. Not really. Today, though, that was me. I promise.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Damian countered. Jonathan looked up, confused. “You never explained how you made the flower, how you know me, or why your eyes sparkle – and yes, I noticed that. You’re still hiding something of yourself.”

Jonathan lowered his head once more.

“But we all have secrets, I suppose. Masks we wear on occasion.” Damian relaxed his shoulders, and touched at the flower still behind his ear, still as fresh as the moment Jonathan gave it to him that morning. “So…all is forgiven, Sir Jonathan.”

Jonathan perked at his words. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward again.

“Damian?” He asked softly. Damian hummed in response. Without warning, Jonathan took hold of Damian’s hand and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He lingered there for a moment, breath brushing Damian’s skin as he whispered, “Thank you for a lovely day.”

As quickly as he approached, he retreated, backing up until he was almost in the street.

“Until next time, Your Highness!” He called as he raised his hand. And in a flash, he was instantly lost to the evening crowd.

Damian was left blinking owlishly at the gate threshold. As he heard Richard and Jason approach on their horses behind him, obviously coming into the courtyard from another entrance, he looked down at his hand, the one Jonathan had held.

A purple rose sat against his fingers.

He looked back into the crowd, looking for even a glimpse of that black hair and violet eyes. There was nothing.

He swallowed thickly. This was supposed to be a game. Damian wanted it to be a game. He wanted to break Jonathan down and send him back to Krypton weeping.

He’d wanted that.

Now…so quickly…he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure what he wanted. Wasn’t so sure if it was a game. And if it still was, who was winning.

“…Until next time.”

[staysaneathome]

Let’s Meet At The Gathering of the Witches (4)

It feels like the next Gathering of the Witches lies in ambush to catch him off-guard.

One minute it’s a month away and the next it’s today.

He and Martin travel up to it together.

He does ask whether Frey will be traveling up with them, but Martin just shrugs.

“Xey told me xey’ll be going with xir uncle.” He says. “Though they’ve been very…distracted these past few days. Distant. I think xey might be trying to be more independent, to better access xir magic?”

Jon shrugs back. He doesn’t really care so long as it means he doesn’t have to spend time in the company of the Lukas who let Robbie get hurt in the first place.

This of course means that they have no reason to linger outside the inner sanctum. They do so anyway.

Jon’s Eyes try to find Robbie in the crowd. It’s unlikely but maybe, just maybe, Georgie will have brought them here…?

The crowd of apprentices and familiars is unusually sparse despite how close the Gathering is to starting, so it’s easy to See that Robbie isn’t in it.

His Eyes keep Looking though, hanging around long enough that Jon has to actively corral them into following him again.

One of them catches the attention of Tim Stoker who, against all reason, gives Jon something approaching a grudging nod.

Jon, who has been on what can politely described as “bad terms” with Tim ever since he went to the Desolation, is so shocked all he can really do is return a shaky little nod of his own before following Martin inside.

The oddities don’t stop there.

He finds himself and Martin confronted by Jane Prentiss, Witch of the Corruption.

She’s smiling unpleasantly, though considering all the wasp larvae crawling in and out of the many holes making up their hive, it can be argued that every expression she makes is unpleasant.

“Eye Witch,” The way the words come out is an awful mix of a rasp, a hiss and a purr. “So glad to finally be forming an alliance between our territories. The Corruption shall not forget the debts owed to you.”

Martin is glancing between Prentiss and Jon with such incredulity that Jon’s mildly worried he’ll strain something.

Jon does what he does best when he has no clue what the hell is going on.

He puts on his most firm and serious expression and inclines his head back, pretending he understands the situation perfectly. “Th-thank you. You have my word, the Eye will honor the ties between us as well.”

Prentiss lets out a hum that Jon…thinks is positive? Before she turns and strides off.

“What was that?” Martin whispers, frantic.

“I have no idea!” Jon mutters back.

No sooner has Prentiss left them in peace than they’re being confronted by the Witch that is Not Sasha James.

Or rather, the Grand Witch. The jewel-toned regalia which Nikola had worn so proudly looks gauche and ill-fitting on her, which given that she’s a Stranger may be the point.

She’s followed by a vaguely male mannequin which dogs her footsteps with something that Jon almost feels like he recognizes.

“Jonathan Sims. Witch of the Eye.” She says. “I would like to request negotiations for a ceasefire.”

Jon’s glare hardens, finding his footing on familiar ground. “You? After all you and yours have done? You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”

The mannequin gives what would be a derisive snort on any other being. “As if what Nikola did was in any way comparable to what you turned her into, and you setting Seven of the Fourteen on us—!”

Wait, what?

“Easy, Tom.” The Not!Sasha pacifies with a hand on the mannequin’s arm and a fond look, before turning a very obviously fake smile on him. “How about it, Witch of the Eye? A cessation of hostilities between us, with an embargo on either entering each others’ territories. Are these acceptable starting terms?”

Jon feels like he’s lost the plot a bit on this. Still, his mouth moves on its own as he says, “No attempts on your part to capture or claim Robbie. Non-negotiable.”

“Done.” The Not!Sasha says it almost before he’s finished speaking. “The further away from us that awful little familiar of yours is, the happier we’ll all be. I’ll be in contact to negotiate whose grounds we’ll meet on to formally discuss the terms once you’ve tied off your outstanding loose end.”

And with that she and what Jon thinks might be her boyfriend sweep away in that uncanny fashion which comes naturally to all Witches of the Stranger.

“What was that??” Martin whispers, nearly hysterical.

“I have no damn idea!” Jon mutters back, in a similar state himself.

They don’t quite flee towards where Georgie and the others are, but it’s a near thing.

Melanie, Georgie and Oliver are all huddled together, talking quietly and quickly. For some reason all of them look worse for wear.

“…out of control for months now!” Melanie is hissing. “We’re lucky no one’s been killed! This is bigger than us now, Georgie, bigger than your pride. Either you tell him, or I will!”

“Tell who what?” Martin asks as they draw level with the group.

The three of them freeze, eyes fixating on Jon.

“Well…” Georgie heaves a sigh. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, Jon, but…?”

She trails off, biting her lip.

“But?” Jon prompts, his Eyes clustering closer.

They note the slight tensing of her expression, the stiffening of her posture as though rigor mortis has set in.

Finally, she bursts out, “Melanie’s familiar is attempting to court Robbie!”

Jon promptly chokes on his own saliva.

Martin makes a worried noise and begins rubbing his back as he coughs.

“Georgie!” Melanie squawks in something resembling outrage.

Oliver is covering his face with his hand, for some reason.

“We didn’t want to bring it up,” Georgie says, cheeks flushed. “But I realized not long after they moved in, given what Emil did to them at the last Gathering. I’m not entirely sure he knew? What he was doing, by stabbing them there? But—“

“Explain.” It’s a legitimate struggle to keep the Compulsion out of his voice. Especially considering that the feeling of prickling-licking-a-tea-towel is back in full force.

Georgie gives him a cool look and makes a careless gesture. “It’s something. Something Melanie did to me not long after we first met. A wound inflicted close enough to the heart that you’ll feel it with every beat, but careful enough to avoid damaging the heart itself in any way. It’s weirdly romantic once you get down to it.”

Melanie’s cheeks are flushed, but there’s mutiny warring with affection in her eyes as she picks up where Georgie left off. “S dumb is what it is. So our magic gives us various impulses. Doesn’t mean he should’ve acted on them.”

“I think it’s sweet!” Georgie teases.

“I don’t.” It feels like Jon’s mouth is responding on autopilot. His body is prickling all over, uncomfortable and itchy.

And it’s not because of the idea that his familiar (good lord, they’re not even a teenager yet, how was this allowed to happen?) is apparently the subject of romantic interest from a violent ghost.

Well. Not just that, anyway.

Melanie’s expression creases with indignation that might be performative. “What, you think Emil’s not good enough for your familiar or something?! I’ll have you know—”

Fortunately the Gathering is called to order at that moment, so Jon remains blissfully ignorant to what she would have him know.

The entire meeting passes by Jon in a blur.

He can’t concentrate on what’s being said, can barely recognize that different people are taking turns speaking.

Because while talking over distance through the crystal ball diffused its effects somewhat, the unfiltered face-to-face interaction has made Jon realize what the source of that awful, dry-mouthed, prickling feeling is:

Georgie’s using the truth to lie to him.

And that. That hurts. Not in the least because Jon hasn’t any clue what she could possibly want to lie to him about.

He can’t even talk about it to Martin, because Martin murmured something about “need to have a Word with Oliver, love, won’t be but a minute, wait for me outside.”

And it’s as Jon’s waiting outside the inner sanctum that he is ambushed by the worst possible person in existence.

“Ah, Johnny-boy!” Says Trexel Geistman as he sidles up besides him. “Good old Johnners, that’s you. The Johnster! Johnston and Geistman, united at last!”

“No.” Jon grits out, as if the verbal denial will somehow affect the awful reality he’s found himself in.

Trexel Geistman fails to dematerialize. “Not a fan? Hm. Well I think those are much better than boring old John, but who knows? Who cares? I do, because that’s what Trexel does. He cares. Caring is the Geistman way, except for when it comes time to crush those ungrateful worms you call superiors or colleagues or family or friends under your boot! That’ll show them, Johnny! That’ll show them, for not coming to my ventwarming party—!”

Good lord, but Jon loathes Trexel Geistman. Every word out of the man’s mouth is nothing but pure drivel, coherent enough to make you feel like there should be a logic you’re following and responding to, but circuitous enough that trying to do so only results in frustration and a Spiral-induced migraine that effectively blinds him with its ferocity.

He’s trying to talk himself out of murdering the pompous little creep here and now and causing an international incident, and he’s not sure he’s succeeding.

“Jon.” A hand lands on his shoulder. “Might I steal you away for a word? Sorry, Mr. Geistman, important Eye business.”

Jon’s so grateful for the opportunity to escape that he doesn’t really protest Elias leading him away, even as Trexel Geistman babbles some nonsense beginning with, “But you tol—!”

His head is swimming as Elias leads him through passages that he’s not sure he knew existed before.

His Eyes try to keep track of the journey, but they’re affected by the pounding in his skull as well, too dizzy to really take in any relevant details.

They arrive in what Jon thinks might be a room? But it’s too curved, convex and concave, sending his poor brain reeling with the idea that he’s somehow stumbled into the Pupil of a giant Eye.

Elias’ voice is too loud, too echoing as he recites an incantation that Jon’s muddled brain can’t quite follow.

There’s the overwhelming THUD of doors slamming shut.

“El, Elias, what…?” Jon’s barely able to stammer, turning around.

His limbs lock in place under the luminous green gaze that greets him.

Jon can’t even move his mouth to speak as Elias walks forward and pushes him to his knees with a gentle touch.

His Eye are immobile witnesses, only able to watch as Elias manacles his wrists and ankles to the circular depression in the floor.

Why, Jon thinks but cannot say, what’s going on, why is Elias doing this?!

“Oh, Jonathan.” Elias smiles at him, responding to his frantically racing thoughts. “You only have yourself to blame for this, you know. If you’d just been a bit more observant, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

All of a sudden, like the moon emerging from behind the clouds to reveal something terrible in its stark light, Jon remembers.

Elias’ eyes were blue. Pale, watery, often red-rimmed blue, but blue all the same.

They had twinkled when Elias was high off his gourd, slurring about how proud he was of his four star apprentices, how he was sure they’d all surpass him in witchery someday.

Until one Gathering where Elias disappeared off somewhere after the meeting and remerged with green eyes so dark they resembled rotting mulch on the forest floor, with a calculating gleam turned on the four of them.

Eyes that had previously been in the head of former Grand Witch of the Eye, James Wright.

“Of course, if you had noticed, it’s unlikely it would’ve done you much good anyways.” The thing that is Not Elias Bouchard says as he pours the memories of how many times he has done this into Jon’s head, how many witches of the Eye he has brought to this very room before taking up the mantle of Grand Witch anew in fresher, younger bodies. Cheating death and amassing power in one fell swoop.

“After all, Knowing never saved poor Miss James, did it?”

Oh God.

Jon chokes on a whimper as he Sees it, sees Sasha putting the pieces together, attempting to bargain with what Jon now Knows is the First and Only Grand Witch of the Eye, Jonah Magnus.

Sees as she’s sent off to be Unmade at the hands of the Stranger Witches, the secret apparently dying with her.

“I really must thank you, Jon. The life you’re leading now is practically perfect.” The tool in Magnus’ hand is old, ornately carved, pristine. Jon Knows he is an expert on how to use it by now, hasn’t left even an incriminating bruise in well over three hundred years.

“Your powers are strong enough to reduce even a Grand Witch of the Stranger to a mere plaything, to say nothing of the way you smote her followers.” Magnus’ voice is reverential, almost proud. “You have secured steady alliances with the End, the Fog, and the Slaughter, to say nothing of your unwitting arrangements with the Flesh, the Buried, the Hunt, and the Corruption, thanks your little familiar. The Stranger has been severely reduced between the two of you, their Grand Witch so weak it will take next to nothing to wipe them from the map.”

He openly laughs at the confusion permeating Jon’s brain. “Ah yes. Ignorant of that, aren’t you? I’ll admit, it was a noble effort to try to send it away in an attempt to keep them out of my clutches. Pathetic, but noble. It’s a shame its devotion to you lead to it undoing all of your hard work. Did you know it only remained in the End for three days before it managed to give its protectors the slip? It can be quite creative, when it applies itsef.”

Three days?

Robbie was only with Georgie for three days?

Jon’s mind is forcibly transfixed on memories of teaching Robbie how to get to the End from Eye territory, back when they first started staying with him. Of ensuring they could plan diversions and re-routes through other domains, in case the quickest path was ever blocked.

But—! No. They were in the End, they are in the End, they have to be in the End, because Georgie—Georgie…

A thumb smooths over his cheekbone in a parody of comfort. “But rest assured, Jonathan. I’ll bring my familiar home from its gallivanting about the domains, and put it to far better use than you could have ever dreamed. It’s sacrifice will pave the way to greater understanding about a soon-to-be-extinct magic.”

The smile that splits Elias’ cheeks is nightmarish. “Though of course the work I’ll do on it will pale in comparison to what I’ll be able to do to dear Martin. I’ve done good work with Peter, of course, but a Fog Witch with genuine emotional attachment? Think of the possibilities, Jon. Will he ever even realize the man he’s saying ‘I love you’ to is gone?”

Rage sparks uselessly through Jon’s paralyzed limbs, leaving him able to do little more than bare his teeth in defiance. Don’t you dare touch them.

“How sweet.” The tool is poised over his right eye. “Well, I’m afraid this is goodbye, Jonathan. If it’s any consolation, you far exceeded everything I’d hoped you’d b—”

BANG!

Jonah Magnus pulls back, a frown marring his features. “What in the world…?”

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The harsh blows continue, as if something is throwing itself against every door to this place with all its might. It does so in a way that’s rhythmic, the pulse of boots marching to war, of bones cracking beneath a fist.

Magnus sneers, leaning back over Jon’s face. “It seems time is of the essence. This won’t be as clean as I’d li—”

“GBWEH!”

That actually causes Magnus to startle back as he looks up at something that has somehow entered the room.

Something that stinks of alcohol, lotion, and half-rotted fish.

Jon, who cannot operate his vocal cords, wishes he could groan in despair.

“Geistman?!” Magnus snaps, obviously as repulsed as Jon now is. “How did you—?! Ugh, never mind, get back to your vents and your boozing, you blithering, incompetent—!”

Jon’s head has been tilted upwards all this time, to better allow for Magnus to perform his little “operation”.

Which means he has a perfect view of the vent that is suddenly present in the ceiling, and Robbie dropping out of it with murder in their eyes and jaw unhinged.

There’s a short, sharp scream from Magnus that ends in a wet gurgle.

Then all of a sudden, Elias’ voice is shouting something indecipherable that’s less a counter-incantation and more a frantic desire to Stop, to Open, to LET JON GO.

He finds his limbs loosening, slacking from their rictus as his eyes blink and move and swarm over to his familiar.

Robbie’s spitting something out with a disgusted look on their face, head shaking and hands flapping by their sides.

Then they spot him and their expression turns frantic as they run full-tilt over to him, colliding heavily as they practically trip over themself to get a good look at his face, staring at his eyes with a desperation bordering on manic.

“I, it.” His tongue feels thick and heavy, unwilling to obey him. “S okay, Robbie. He didn’t. It’s me. It’s me.”

His familiar’s eyes fill with tears as they fling their arms around him and bury their head in his chest.

Jon rests his head on top of theirs as best he can while manacled, trying to soothe their gasping sobs. There’ll be plenty of time to scold them for running off and not sending him any word of their harebrained schemes later. Now he can let himself feel the relief that they’re here, they’re alright.

Or perhaps not.

Jon’s Eyes catch sight of Magnus rising, blood staining Elias’ high collar, his tool clutched in a tight-knuckled grip and raised over his head like a dagger as he staggers towards them.

Jon curls over Robbie as best he can, trying to summon some, any of the power that allowed him to reduce Nikola to lifelessness—!

Several things happen in rapid succession.

A pair of large, cool, familiar arms coil around Jon and Robbie, yanking them through the Fog and away from their attacker.

There’s the harsh thud of several doors opening at once, pouding footsteps and panicked voices filling the room.

Magnus is impaled from behind on several shard of glass and metal, as Melanie’s familiar unleashes his wrath.

A swarm of butterflies descends as Magnus gurgles and topples forward again, the earth itself reaching up to claim him.

Jon’s thankful that the Gathering’s been over for long enough that most of the other attendants have gone home.

It means there’s less witnesses for the apparent murder of the Grand Witch of the Eye.

Though, Jon considers, looking around at the motley crew gathered in the corridor outside of Jonah Magnus’ de-eyeballing room, there are still quite a lot of them.

Thankfully Trexel Geistman is not one of them.

“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” Martin says, looking desperately like he wants to pinch the bridge of his nose but is wholly unwilling to release his grip on Jon and Robbie to do so.

“You,” A squeeze of Jon’s arm which he replies to with a nudge of his head into Martin’s shoulder. “Somehow the most sensible person in this scenario, thought that the best way to protect Robbie was to send them to the End so they couldn’t get caught in the crossfire when Nikola attacked your cottage.”

“Hey.” Jon mutters without heat. Martin gives him a quick, pacifying kiss on the forehead.

“Georgie agreed with this and took Robbie in. But you,” A squeeze of Robbie’s shoulder, who fidgets and looks guilty. “Somehow got it into your head to run away from the End, to…what? Fight the Stranger witches directly, or something?”

Robbie shakes their head as they sign, “I wanted to come home. I wanted to protect Jon. I kept having to make detours, though. They were trying to stop me.”

Martin heaves a sigh. “Which is, I suppose how you all got involved?”

Petra Ito, apprentice of the Buried, gives a careless shrug with her arm around Frey Lukas’ hunched shoulders. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Robbie helped me an’ Janey get rid of the spiders! So Janey said I could go!” Des Fuentes-Macías, the very young apprentice of the Corruption, pipes up. Prentiss has a proud hand set on his head.

“I just wanted to torch it.” Tim admits, a flame sprouting from his clicked fingers that has Robbie flinching minutely. “But then I got the chance to burn even more of the stranger fuckers.”

“I-I wasn’t actually involved in, in any of this until this morning, when they arrived on the Fog’s borders, so…" Frey Lukas trails off under Martin’s hard stare, head ducking again. “Sorry.”

The Monster Pig has wandered off back into the Eye room after a few cursory sniffs.

Emil Walpole, Melanie’s wayward familiar of the Slaughter, flickers slightly even as he hovers a few centimeters above the floor, steadfastly not looking at anyone. “…They asked for my help.”

Jon can’t quite decide if that raises his estimation of Mr. Walpole or not. Especially given that Robbie’s face feels hot when they hide a small smile in Jon’s arm.

“Okay,” Martin begins diplomatically. “And I’m guessing that while Robbie was trying to get back to Jon, Georgie, you were trying to…what, rescue them? While keeping Jon in the dark about it?”

“Me and Melanie were helping as best we could.” Oliver chimes in as Melanie nods. “Ever since Robbie and Emil vanished from the Slaughter together.”

“But why?” Jon bursts out, unable to keep quiet any longer, eyes fixed on Georgie. “Why hide it from me? Why lie that everything was fine when it wasn’t?”

She somehow looks small, even in her End regalia, one foot scuffing the floor.

“I didn’t—!” She pauses, takes a breath, and starts again. “You came to me for help and trusted me to look after them, Jon. I didn’t want to betray that faith and disappoint you, not when I thought I could have the situation in hand.”

Jon’s mouth works soundlessly. He can appreciate that, but. But.

“But the problem was that Robbie was more resourceful than you gave them credit for.” Martin’s gentle tone continues. “And by the time you were considering telling Jon, it had already gone on long enough that admitting felt like it would be worse than not. Even though he had a right to know from the start.”

Georgie gives a weak huff of laughter as she nods.

Melanie plasters herself against Georgie’s side and glares daggers at the room. “Lay off. She was just trying to do her best.”

“No, love.” Georgie nuzzles into her hair, and then straightens to look at Jon. “I am truly sorry, Jon. For keeping you in the dark.”

Jon nods, trying to decide how he feels about that, but ultimately being too exhausted to come to any firm conclusions.

At his side, Robbie circles a fist over their chest. “I’m sorry for running away. I didn’t want to make you sad. I just wanted to go home.”

Georgie quirks a small smile at that, but doesn’t say anything else.

“So.” Martin says. “At some point, Robbie and company find out about Jonah Magnus’ eyeball-stealing and race here in the nick of time to stop it happening, with Frey providing cover to sneak them all into the Gathering…how did you find out about that, anyway?”

“It was the lady that wasn’t!” Des Fuentes-Macías pipes up. “She said the old Eye man was gonna steal his!”

Robbie nods, signing, “The One Who Isn’t Sasha James contained her memories after eating up her life. She traded The Grand Imposter’s secret to us, so we could save Jon. And then we hit the slimy Spiral man until he agreed to help.”

“Traded?” Jon asks, feeling wary. “Traded for what?”

Emil Walpole’s smile is chilling. “Not finishing what we started in the Stranger’s domain.”

Suddenly a lot of context for Jon’s earlier conversation with the new Grand Witch of the Stranger slots into place.

“So, what?” Tim interrupts. “We killed old Jimmy Magma, yippee for us. Does that mean Jon’s the new Grand Witch of the Eye?”

The very thought of it sends a shudder of pure revulsion down Jon’s spine. “Oh lord, I hope not. Elias, Elias’ body is still mostly functional, I, I think? Maybe we can—?”

The Monster Pig emerges from the Eye room, licking its chops clean.

Everyone stares at it as it gives a vaguely self-conscious grunt and trots off, presumably to make its way back to the Flesh’s territory.

“Well.” Oliver says. “I suppose that answers that question?”

“Wonderful. Just. Just wonderful.” Jon groans. He doesn’t want to become a Grand Witch yet, doesn’t want to have to leave his little cottage, forsake Robbie or Martin for any of the new responsibilities that will surely fall to him, without even an apprentice in training to help him manage them.

Oh good lord, he’s going to have to be diplomatic. Jon’s not got a diplomatic bone in his body, there’s no way he’s cut out for this.

“Well, about that…” Frey Lukas glances at Petra, who sighs and reaches into one of her many pockets to pull out what looks like a particularly mucky metal tin.

The contents of the tin inspire several groans of revulsion from the onlookers.

“Good lord.” Jon mutters as Robbie cringes and hides their face between him and Martin. “Did you really…?”

“Well,” Frey Lukas is actually standing up straight now, xir eyes bright. “When everyone told me what was going on, I figured that probably meant that there aren’t any real measures in place for the transferral of power, between witches of the Eye? Given that it was just Jonah Magnus giving it to himself every time. So I thought it was best to have a contingency prepared, like Martin’s always telling me.”

Martin quirks a small half smile at that, and Jon can’t not quickly peck the dimple that lovely expression brings out.

“Plus Grand Witches just need to be there, not actually do anything. That’s what they have us for.” Petra adds, closing up the tin. “S how Hezekiah keeps holding onto the position in the Buried. Wouldn’t be surprised if half his brains are mulch by now.”

Georgie inclines her head. “That’s…not entirely incorrect. But you’d still need a vessel for him while the power transfer is ongoing, and poor Elias. Well. Isn’t, anymore. Now what do we use?”

There’s a moment of contemplative silence.

“I believe,” Jon says slowly, the grin growing on his face only matched by the incredulous one on Martin’s, “I may have an idea.”

“You only have yourself to blame for this, you know.” Jon tells the scarecrow.

Jonah Magnus’ eyes glare at him hatefully from what he now knows is Nikola’s face.

It’s the perfect prison, really. In order to ever let the body have any chance of reanimating, Magnus will have to give up his dependence on Eye magic and his need for total control to let Nikola’s Stranger magic take autonomy.

And Jon’s suffered under his tutelage for enough years to know that this is something Jonah Magnus has no capacity for.

“Don’t worry.” He tells Magnus. “This won’t be forever. Just until I’ve got some other Eye witches properly trained up and established myself well enough to take over the Grand Witch position. Then we’ll give this puppet to Tim to make a bonfire with. He and Melanie are particularly excited for that. Frey too, if you can believe it. Xey’re very protective of xir uncle and xir teacher.”

He delights in the glimmer of fear that’s entered Magnus’s gaze.

His Eyes tell him that Robbie and Martin are on their way to being done with the cake they’ve been baking, that Melanie, Emil, Georgie, and Oliver are almost here for afternoon tea.

There’s a bar of Martin’s “properly bubbly” soap by his sink, Robbie’s converted what used to be the spare room in the cottage into their permanent bedroom, there are several ladybirds with spots ranging from thirteen to seven flying around, and Farmer Peter’s Damn Cow is safely in its field, chewing a cud of grass for once.

“You were right about one thing.” Jon smiles. “My life is practically perfect. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

[bxcketbarnes]

Insomnia

Pairing: Jonathan Pine x Reader

Words: 3900+

Author’s Note: If you haven’t seen The Night Manager you definitely should. It’s super good and Tom looks incredible as usual. I hope whoever reads this likes it!

Your eyes bulge at the beautiful scenery of Milan as your school group walks towards the hotel you'll be residing in for two weeks. You're so glad that you could afford to come on this trip, wanting to visit Italy for a while, since you were a small child.

"Do you think we'll find some hot guys to fuck around with?" Kayla asks as the two of you walk into the fancy hotel.

You let out a snort and shake your head in reply, looking over at the short brunette. "In the time frame that we have? Maybe. I wouldn't think you can achieve more than just a hookup though," you explain to her as your teacher checks you guys in.

"Hm, true, but it doesn't hurt to try," she states and you nod your head in agreement.

"Okay, everyone!" Your teacher calls out to gather the group's attention. "We've got six rooms with two beds in each room. There's twelve of you so pair up and grab a key."

You and Kaya give each other a look before laughing, the two of you walking towards your teacher. You smile at the older woman as she writes your names down before handing you a key.

"Kaya and Y/N… room 145," she mumbles and you grab the key from her hands. The two of you head towards your room, deciding to relax a bit before you all head out again.

Hours Later…

You toss and turn in the queen-sized bed, a soft sigh leaving your lips as the insomnia kicks in. You throw your covers off of your body before getting up. You quietly grab your room key and glance over at Kayla, seeing her dead asleep.

You envy her, wishing you could be dead asleep. You've been dealing with insomnia since your early teens. You'd be surprised if you ever got a full eight-hour sleep. Most of the time it's about four or five hours.

You hold your breath as you quietly open the door to your room, slipping out before the hall lights can shine into the room. You release a breath after you hear the lock of the door click. You walk around the gorgeous hotel, your eyes looking at every art piece you walk by.

"I'm really surprised Mrs. Smith chose this hotel," you mumble to yourself while heading towards the lobby as you remember seeing a little seating area next to a fireplace.

You didn't notice the man standing at the reception desk as you walk into the lobby, your arms crossing over your chest as you head straight towards the loveseat sofa. The man at the desk watches you as you sit down before grabbing one of the magazines.

His eyes glance towards his watch to see that it's almost 1:45 in the morning. It's not often he sees any guests at this time of hour. You run a hand through your hair as you prop your feet up, another quiet sigh leaving your lips.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Miss?" An accented voice asks you and you jump in your seat, looking over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a tall man stands beside the couch, his blue suit making his blue eyes stand out just as much. Holy shit he's gorgeous. "U-Uh, no I'm okay," you mumble shyly and the man smiles.

"Are you sure? I can get you a water bottle or something," he offers and you feel your cheeks blush.

"Okay, sure," you smile softly and the sandy brunette nods before walking away from you.

The man returns with a bottle of water and holds it out for you to take. You thank him quietly while grabbing it, feeling your fingertips brush against his. You press your lips together as you could feel butterflies roaming around your stomach.

"May I sit with you?" He asks politely and you nod your head in reply. The man sits in the chair beside you, his blue eyes looking towards the fireplace. "I'm Jonathan Pine, the Night Manager."

"Y/N L/N," you introduce while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and you lean forwards to set the magazine back onto the coffee table. "So, you stay up all night to watch the place?"

A chuckle leaves Jonathan's throat as he nods his head, crossing one of his legs. "I do, yes. Been doing it for years now," he explains and you hum in response.

"Don't you ever get… lonely?" You quietly ask and Jonathan furrows his eyebrows together.

"I've never really thought about that, honestly. I guess I keep myself occupied enough to not really think about it," he mentions and you grab a hold of the pillow beside you, hugging it to your chest. "Real question is why are you up at two in the morning?"

A chuckle leaves your lips as you lean against the arm of the couch, adjusting your position. You prop your feet up on the cushions as you turn towards Jonathan. "Oh, this is usual for me. I suffer from insomnia and don't usually fall asleep until three or three-thirty," you tell him and the man frowns slightly. "That's why I asked you if you ever get lonely because I'm lonely every night."

"Do you want some tea? I have this tea recipe I use when I'm trying to sleep," Jonathan offers and you smile at him, fond of his kindness.

"If you think it'll work, go for it. I could use the sleep," you joke and earn a laugh from the blue-eyed man as well.

Jonathan stands up from his chair before holding out a hand to you. "Come," he smiles softly and you hesitantly reach out to grab his hand.

He pulls you up from the couch and leads you towards his office. "Have you been to Milan before?" He asks while the two of you walk into the office, Jonathan shutting the door behind you.

"First time, actually," you tell him and fiddle with your fingers. "But, I've wanted to come here since I was younger. I'm glad that one of my college courses was able to make my dream come to life."

"That's pretty neat. So, you're here with a school?" Jonathan questions while motioning for you to sit at the small table. "You must be the one staying here for two weeks."

You hum in response as you watch him fill the kettle. How are you so calm right now? This man is beyond gorgeous. You think to yourself as your fingertips tap along the wooden table.

Jonathan grabs a cup from one of his drawers and sets it on the table in front of you. "I hope I'm not making things weird for you," he mumbles and you shake your head immediately.

"Oh, you're fine, Jonathan," you reassure him with a smile. "It's nice to have someone actually care? Like, I've roamed around places I've stayed and no one's stopped to have a conversation with me. Let alone make me tea."

You rest your chin against the palm of your hand as Jonathan lets out a chuckle. "I'm not like many people, darling. Plus, it's my job to take care of our guests," he informs you and your chest clenches a bit, the smile dropping from your lips.

So you didn't do it just because? You hum as you're suddenly not feeling up for tea. You stand up from your chair, gaining the man's attention. "I'm not feeling well," you whisper as you walk towards his office door. "I'm going to head back to my room."

The smile on Jonathan's lips fell as you leave his office without letting him get a word in. He clears his throat while turning off the kettle, not needing it anymore before letting out a sigh. "Was it something I said?" He questions himself while heading back towards his reception desk.

-

A knock on your hotel room door wakes you from your slumber, a small groan leaving your lips as the sun peaks into the room. "Be up and ready in half an hour!" Mrs. Smith calls from outside the door.

You look towards Kayla, seeing her bed empty and already made. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up slowly, glancing towards the alarm clock to see it was almost nine in the morning. "Jesus Christ," you groan and lay back down, placing your arm over your eyes.

"Morning, sunshine!" Kayla beams as she walks out of the bathroom. You move your arm to look over at her before letting out a grunt. "That's what happens when you roam around the hotel for two hours."

You sit up suddenly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. How does she know that? "What- I-"

"Don't even try to come up with an excuse. I woke up to go to the bathroom last night and you were nowhere in sight," she explains and you deeply sigh.

"Sorry. I have insomnia," you tell her and her eyes soften a bit. "I went to the lobby to sit by the fireplace for a bit."

Kayla sits down beside you as she brushes through her wet hair. "How come you didn't tell me about this? We're best friends," she mumbles sadly and you shrug your shoulders.

"Not many people know. I usually just keep it to myself so no one else has to bother with it," you confess while fiddling with your fingers.

"Well, I care about you. Don't you forget that," she whispers and you give her a soft smile,  thanking her quietly. "Now get dressed. I need some coffee in me."

Kayla patiently waits as you get ready, the brunette scrolling through her phone. You tie your tennis shoes before standing up,  letting her know that you're ready. The two of you walk towards the lobby, your heart dropping a bit as you see Jonathan standing at the desk still.

When does he leave? 

Your friend drags you up to the reception desk, watching her eyes widen as she takes in the man standing in front of her. Jonathan looks up from the computer he's typing on meets your eyes first.

"Good Morning, Y/N," he greets with a soft smile before turning his attention to Kayla, "Miss, what can I help you guys with?"

Kayla quickly glances your way before telling him that she would like a coffee. He simply nods his head and moves away from the desk, doing as she asked. "He knows your name?" She asks you as soon as he disappears.

You rub the back of your neck and nod your head in reply. "I met him last night," you tell her and she slaps your arm, causing you to groan. "What the hell?!"

"You didn't think to tell me you met one of the most handsome guys in Milan?!" She laughs and you shrug your shoulders, feeling your cheeks blush. "Did something happen?"

"No. I'll tell you about it later," you mumble as Jonathan comes back with the coffee Kayla ordered.

She takes it from him with a smile before walking away from the two of you while giving you a look. You hated her sometimes. You think and chuckle to yourself.

"Do you need anything, Y/N?" He asks softly and you shake your head in answer. "Uhm, if you don't mind me asking… have I said something wrong last night that made you run away?"

You press your lips together before looking up at him. "I felt special. You actually made me feel special by taking time out of your night to talk to me… when no one has ever done it, and you ruined it by telling me it's just part of your job. So, what you're saying is that you wouldn't keep me company and offer me tea to help me sleep if you weren't the Night Manager?" You rant on, feeling yourself getting angrier by the second.

Jonathan's eyes widen slightly as you breathe heavily, moving to walk away from him when his hand grabs a hold of your wrist. "I'm sorry," he mumbles and you can see the sadness in his blue eyes. "I… I didn't mean to make you feel that way. That was never my intention."

You pry your wrist from his hand and give him a sad smile. "I've got to go," you mumble quietly as your group begins to walk out the door.

Kayla calls out to you and motions for you to come along when you glance back at Jonathan once more. You swallow thickly and your heart breaks at the look on his face. You shouldn't feel like this. You just met. You take a deep breath as you catch up to everyone else, linking arms with your best friend before walking out the hotel doors.

Jonathan taps his fingers against the desk and scrunches his nose. "That's your girl?" A random person asks and Jonathan glances towards one of the hotel customers.

"Oh, no, sir," he politely tells him with a small smile.

The man scoffs in response and glances back towards the front door. "Could've fooled me. The way the two of you looked at each other. It was like you've been together for years," he explains and Jonathan swallows the lump in his throat before clearing it.

"Heh, no. She's a guest just like you, sir," Jonathan awkwardly laughs while the gentleman working the day shift stands beside the blue-eyed man.

-

"Are you going to visit Jonathan again tonight?" Kayla asks as the group walks into the hotel. It's almost nine-thirty at night when you all return, most students feeling exhausted after today's activities.

You shrug your shoulders and glance towards the reception desk to see Jonathan relieving the man who you assumed works the day shift. His blue eyes meet yours and the two of you smile softly at one another.

"I don't know, maybe," you mumble as the two of you walk towards your room.

"Good Evening, everyone," Jonathan greets and your teacher gives him a warm smile.

You glance over your shoulder at him as you can't help but feel somewhat entranced by the man. A small sigh leaves your lips as you continue towards your room.

"You should. I can tell that the two of you have this unspoken thing going on," Kayla mentions and you hum in response. "I'm just saying… you don't have to follow my advice."

You're twiddling with your fingers as you stare off into the darkness. Tonight's the one night you wish you could fall asleep since you've been out in the sun all day. You're exhausted,  yet here you are, not able to get some shut-eye.

A sigh leaves your lips as you find yourself getting up, deciding to roam around for the second night in a row. Albeit you're a bit nervous to run into Jonathan, but part of you wants to see him again.

You throw a hoodie on before leaving your room quietly. You cross your arms over your chest as you wander into the lobby, seeing Jonathan standing at the reception desk still.

"Hey," you softly call out and the dirty blonde picks his head up, his blue eyes meeting yours before a smile comes to his lips.

"Y/N," Jonathan smiles and lets out a small chuckle, "I'm very surprised the Milan sun hasn't knocked you out."

A snort leaves your lips as you nod your head and rest your arms against the desk in front of you. "Honestly, I am too. I was hoping it would," you mumble loud enough for him to hear.

"If you want I can make that tea I told you about," he offers and your heart flutters at how gentlemanly he is.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Jonathan?" You suddenly ask and his eyes widen a bit before shaking his head. You tsk in response and look into his ocean blue eyes. "It's a shame because anyone would be so lucky to have you."

Jonathan's heart pounds against his chest at your compliment, having not heard it before from a guest… a stranger. A smile comes to his lips before taking a glance down at his shiny shoes.

"Well, thank you, darling. That's quite sweet of you to say." You chuckle softly as Jonathan adjusts the tie he's wearing. "If you're comfortable with it… would you want to come to my room? I can make you some tea and we can just hang out, get to know each other."

You bite your bottom lip softly as you think about it before nodding your head in reply. "As long as you don't murder me, sure," you joke with him and the blue-eyed man lets out a laugh while shaking his head.

"I promise, darling," he grins with a chuckle and logs out of the computer before walking around the desk. "This way."

You fiddle with your fingers as you follow Jonathan down the hall. He glances over his shoulder at you a few times and you give him a reassuring smile when his eyes meet yours.

"What did you guys do today?" Jonathan asks while inviting you into the spacious room.

"Oh, we did so much," you laugh while sitting down in the computer chair, hooking one of your legs beneath you. "We went for breakfast at this cute little Cafe near the hotel and then we went to all the famous tourist attractions. I swear my eyes have never been so wide before. This place is beautiful."

Jonathan grins widely as he listens to you rant while making your tea. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, darling," he mentions and pours the boiling water into the teacup.

"I'm really glad I was able to afford this trip," you chuckle as Jonathan walks towards you with your tea. You swoon a bit as you hear him call you darling once more, taking the cup from his slender fingers. "Thank you for this."

He sits down beside you on the bed and nods his head in response. "It's no problem. I'm hoping it can help you sleep. If so, I'll send you one to your room each night before bed," he offers and your heart flutters in your chest.

"But then I won't be able to have these late-night conversations with you," you whisper while looking up at him through your lashes.

You drink a sip of your tea as it becomes quiet between the two of you. You hum in delight at the taste of the drink and set it down on the nightstand beside you.

"Is it weird that I feel so close to you when I barely know you?" You suddenly ask and Jonathan raises an eyebrow. A dry laugh leaves your lips as you fiddle with your fingers. "I must sound crazy. It's just-"

"I feel it too," he mumbles loud enough for you to hear and your breath hitches in your throat. "There was this customer yesterday… he said that the way you and I looked at each other was the way a couple who's been together for years looks at each other."

You swallow thickly as you can feel yourself growing tired. "Maybe this is God bringing us together or something…" You trail off as you lay back on the bed. "Damn that tea really helps. Are you sure you didn't spike it?"

Jonathan frowns at your joke and shakes his head in response. "Of course not, darling. I would never," he softly tells you and you smile up at him before your eyes flutter shut.

The blue-eyed man stands up from the bed and adjusts your body so you're lying completely on the bed. He covers you up with the duvet before grabbing your cup of tea and places it in the little kitchenette area.

"Sleep well," he whispers to your unconscious body before flicking off the light and returning to the lobby.

-

Kayla's eyes widen when she wakes up as you're not sleeping in the bed beside her. "Y/N," she calls out, and her heart pounds in her chest when you don't reply. The brunette flings herself out of her bed and rushes towards the bathroom to see it empty. "Oh, no."

She quickly throws some clothes on before running out of the room. Kayla makes her way towards the lobby as she spots Jonathan standing at the reception desk, talking to the man who'll take over for him.

"Jonathan, right?" She calls out to him and the dirty blonde picks his head up.

"Yes, Miss?" He asks politely and Kayla breathes heavily as she frantically looks around.

"I… have you seen Y/N? She's not in our room," Kayla mumbles and Jonathan gives her a small smile while placing a hand on her arm in reassurance.

"Do not fret. Y/N fell asleep in my room last night. That's where she is now if you want me to bring you to her," Jonathan offers and Kayla lets out a breath of relief.

Thank God. The brunette thinks while nodding her head in reply. Jonathan leads her to where you're currently finishing up breakfast while watching whatever the blue-eyed man put on the television.

You pick your head up when you hear the door opening, your eyes widening a bit as you see Kayla walk into the room before Jonathan. "You gave me a scare, Y/N!" She immediately says and you give her a small smile while mumbling an apology. "I'm just thankful you were in Jonathan's hands rather than a stranger."

"Jonathan is kind of a stranger, Kayla," you laugh while covering your mouth, finishing the food you're eating. "But, I get what you mean."

A sigh leaves your best friend's lips as she crosses her arms over her chest. "So, what happened?"

"We were sitting here talking and whatnot and the tea he made me that would help me sleep better worked quicker than I expected it to. I ended up falling asleep on the bed," you explain to her as your eyes move to Jonathan, seeing him standing in the corner of his room.

"You take good care of her or I swear to-"

"Kayla!" You scold her embarrassingly, feeling your cheeks heat up as Jonathan lets out a laugh.

"I promise to take good care of her. No matter what," he says in his beautiful English accented voice.

Your best friend lets out a sigh of relief before turning to leave the room. "I'll let Mrs. Smith know that you're feeling ill," she gives you a wink and walks out the door.

"God," you mumble to yourself and hide your face in your hands. You feel Jonathan sit down beside you, his hand resting on your blanket-covered thigh. "Sorry about her she can be-"

"It's quite alright, darling. I understand where she's coming from," he grins and you giggle softly. "But, now that you're ill… I can spend the day with you. If that's what you want anyway."

You grin widely and look up at the beautiful man. "That would be fun, Jonathan," you tell him and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

Jonathan's eyes stare into yours as he brings his hands to your cheeks before connecting his lips with yours. A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening before fluttering shut. You begin to kiss him back while bringing one of your hands to his shoulder, your fingers gripping the suit jacket he's wearing.

After about a minute Jonathan pulls away from you, a stupid grin on both of your lips as the two sit in silence. "Okay… that… felt really good," you whisper out causing the blue-eyed man to chuckle in response.

"Well, there's more where that came from."