#and it will be so tender and sweet and loving that it’ll be genuinely good. but the rest of the album is ass

[laniidae-passerine]

the outfits are UGLY the lyrics are TRASH the singing is QUESTIONABLE the persona is CRINGE rockstar lestat you are so popular on twitter and ao3 and absolutely everybody else hates your ass. someone’s gonna blog about how your bars are borderline illiterate and you’re gonna fly off the handle because WHO TOLD THEM ARMAND WAS IT YOU. DANIEL WAS IT YOU (it was Gabrielle)

[ywuji]

yuuji doesn’t think he buys you things often, but your bed full of stuffed animals says otherwise. (f!reader, plushie humping and them watching u fuuuuck)

often times when he goes out with friends or on missions, yuuji will come back with little trinkets or toys he thought you would like.

he doesn’t listen when you tell him you have nowhere to put them—when he gifts them to you, he’ll just smile his giddiest smile, hoping you’ll forget about that for a moment.

it's funny because he’ll come over to your tiny uni room down the hall from his own, see his gifts taking up the majority of your space that you’re meant to have, and he’ll still have a mind to think of other things he could get you!!

‘the more the merrier!’ is the sentiment of all of his lighthearted protests when you bring it up in conversation—and he’s genuine with that—but there’s also something else.

something about those times when either you or him are away and you’re missing each other, him telling you to call him—voice or video, ‘whichever you prefer, cutie’—and the conversation ending up in him talking you through straddling his favourite stuffie of the day and grinding your sweet little wet cunnie on it.

"does he feel good, sweetie? …yeah. y'sound so pretty... mhmm, sound so good, my love. keep going, baby."

"nonono, you’re doing great, honey. i know you’re tired, but it’ll be over soon, yeah? just a little more and you can cum… yeeaahh that’s it, princess, doing so well f’me."

"f-fuck… l-look so cute, baby… can you see? ’m leaking so much. …mhm, ‘s all you, pretty girl, ‘s all f’you."

or the other times, when he spends the night at yours, and you touch and you kiss, and the next thing you know is that you’re pushed into the bed, surrounded by your dear stuffies, whining and mewling as yuuji hungrily looms over you, pumping his thick cock into your wet, messy heat.

“yuuji..! a-ah! ‘s too much, ji—ah!” you whimper, voice struggling to come out of your throat every time he pushes into you. he knew from your previous three orgasms he gave that you're reaching your limit, and he’d pull away if he knew you wanted him to, but the way you’re grasping at his toned back, his beautiful neck, and his tousled hair, pulling him closer, deeper into you—he knows you can take it.

“pussy so fuckin’ good, princess… l-love it so much—f-fuck! s-so good for me, baby,” he caresses your precious head, brushing hair out your face and staring right into your eyes as he pushes himself in further into you. the waft of his breath heating your cheeks as he praises you, “suckin’ me in s-so—fuck—tight…“

“‘m close, ji! s-so good! ohmygod…!” you grip onto him impossibly tight, fingers digging into his thick, muscular shoulders.

“h-haah—y-yeah? me t-too... where can i cum, baby?” he pants, his whimpers that you love so much becoming louder.

“inside! insideinside! please inside! pleaseplease—please!” you choke out. you don’t have to wait a moment longer before he’s pounding into you like your lives depend on it, fat cock drilling you at an angle, stretching you out and hitting all those right spots only he can reach.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cu—!“ his lips crash into yours, swallowing your sweet sounds as you cum and cream around his cock, legs wrapping tightly around him feeling ropes of his thick, hot cum spurting into you as you both shake and tremble from your orgasms.

he lowers the rest of his body onto you, being careful not to crush you. his face burying itself in the crook of your neck, whispering little praises and tender words of affection. ‘love you so so much, baby’, ‘did so well for me, pretty’, ‘look so beautiful when you cum’. with his sweaty front now pressed to yours, he lays still. warming his cock inside your cunt to let the both of you ride out your blissful highs.

his head comes up to look into your dazed eyes as you gently cup his hot cheeks. he smiles and chuckles breathily, littering quick kisses from your lips to your chest, licking and sucking cheekily at your nipples, leaving a few lovebites on your breasts.

moving to sit up on his knees, he looks down at where the two of you connect, softly rocking his hips and moving circles over your sensitive clit, watching the sticky white ring of your mixed orgasms coat his cock with each slow thrust.

you whine and hold out shaky fingertips to his hips. he grins, pulling his cock out painstakingly slow, watching his cum leak out of you, collecting it up with his fat cockhead, and pushing it back into you with one last gentle thurst.

“yuuji...” you mewl out with a small pout on your face.

“yeah, honey?” he looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“...they were watching the whole time.” you point to the little crowd of plushies who are all faced towards you, an odd feeling washing over you as you realise your shared stuffed ‘children’ witnessed the two of making love right in front of their plastic eyes.

he shrugs nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face “it’s not that bad.” he teases.

“wha-?! what do you mean…?!”

“they’ll just learn a few things,” he smiles playfully at your puzzled expression. “y’know? like how to be in love and… how it feels to know someone truly.” he nods his head and purses his lips as if he's just said something deep.

“you’re so stupid.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Remy with shy gn s/o please?

Remy loves how shy you get whenever he does near enough anything.

Your flustered and cute responses to his affection only made Remy want to smother and flirt with you all the more than he already did! You were far too sweet for many but to him you were just sweet enough that it should be forbidden.

He’d kiss the back of your hand, guide you by the small of your back through crowed areas, press tender kisses against the side of you head just to see that sweet, timid smile of yours that you always made before looking away from him to calm your reaching heart.

It was Remy’s favourite part of being with you is knowing that your reactions were genuine, not an ounce of emotion you’ve shown him was fake or fabricated. You may hate it but Remy loved it more than ever as it meant he could tell the effect he had on you no matter what.

‘Good morning mom Cherie.’ He said while pressing a kiss to your cheek as you smiled sheepishly at him. It fills with nothing but warmth and a sensation that felt as though he had butterflies in his stomach.

‘Good morning Remy.’ You reply and he couldn’t help but steal a kiss from your lips, causing you to squeak in surprise.

‘Remy.’ You whined, ‘we talked about you surprising me with affection and how it gets me.’

‘I know and I’m sorry mom Cher but you are just the sweetest thing alive that I just wanna eat you up.’ Remy replied as he gently nipped at your bottom lip cheekily, causing you to softly swat his arm before crossing your arms over your chest.

‘Am I forgiven?’ - Remy

‘I guess .’ - you

He loved the squeals and jolts you did whether he held you from behind before meting into his hold as though it’ll keep you safe and protected, you had so much trust in him with your heart that he was genuinely worried that he might make you regret giving him such an important task one day.

He respects your boundaries for if you feel things have gone on long enough, he wasn’t going to push you out of your comfort zone for his needs or wants, he just wands and needs you to be happy.

So for now he takes to appreciating every moment he gets to spend with you no matter what as you deserved to be worshiped and appreciated for everything you’ve given him, and if you ever were to show an ounce of insecurity about yourself, Remy was more then ready to shower you in sweet whispers and tender kisses and lovingly hugs to show you that you were everything and more to him if that was even possible.

‘Wouldn’t you be with someone more confident or social?’ You’d ask him one day and it broke his heart to hear you say such things because why should he desire anyone else when he has you.

‘And why do you i should be with someone like that when i have everything I’ll ever want or need right in front of me.’ He replied, kneeling in front of you with worried expression. You shrug. ‘I just don’t think we’re compatible and that what we have won’t last and you’ll find someone who can keep up with you..’

‘Oh mon Cher.’ Remy sighed as he held your hands in his, intertwining your fingers, bringing them to his lips as he kissed each and every one of your fingers. ‘We’re more compatible then you think, you may think we don’t fit well together but to me we couldn’t be two piece of the same puzzle, meant to be in more ways then one. We fill in the others blanks, we balance each other out and there should be nothing more important then that.’ Remy concludes as he eyes your lips.

‘May I kiss you mon Cher?’ He asks

‘You never have to ask but yes, yes you may kiss me. That sounds good right about now.’ You answered chuckling as Remy kissed you gently and slowly but deeply enough to convey his feelings towards you.

Remy didn’t care that you were shy or less interested in social interactions or were more of a homebody type of person, you were perfect the way you were and Remy wouldn’t want you any other way.

[rainystarshower]

SFW Alphabet with Aventurine

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chara : Aventurine

cw : possible OOC, grammar mistakes, fluff, gn reader, not proofread

a/n : Oh dear, it’s been far too long since I’ve made something for this page 😅

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈✩┈┈┈┈┈𝄞

A — How they show affection 𝄞≛

For Aventurine, it’ll take time for him to really open up to you. But when he does, he’s very affectionate. He’ll appear out of nowhere — instantly snuggling against you, holding you tight like you’d turn into ashes the second he let go. He spoils you rotten! Even if you try to decline, he’ll sneak it somewhere in your room or bag <3

B — How they are as a bestie 𝄞≛

The only best friend ever!! Aventurine wants to know everything if you two gossip!! If you have quite the limited information and he’s especially invested in whatever you told him, he’ll secretly dig into it more and tell you all about it! He’ll always share the best news from the IPC with you — unless it potentially puts your life in harm

C — How they cuddle 𝄞≛

Cuddles with Aventurine make you feel like he’s on his last breath. He may not seem like it, but when you two are dating or really close, he’ll always be asking to cuddle. He holds you, like you’re something so fragile. He’ll randomly latch himself onto you and never let go!

D — A domestic life with them 𝄞≛

On days when he’s tired, he’ll try to help out with anything the best he can. On days when you’re tired, he takes care of everything; no matter what it is! Though, if you’re both tired? He’ll snuggle up to you, watching whatever you two feel like watching whilst eating fast food. The both of you eventually drifting into slumber in each other’s arms

E — Ending the relationship 𝄞≛

He’d be sour about it. No matter who ended it, he’ll still be upset. Every little thing he does, reminds him of you. Even if he tries to brush it off and bury this reminder of you — it almost feels impossible. For someone he was so vulnerable with, to be gone, out of his grasp is a pain unexplainable.

F — How do they feel committing with you being their fiancé(e) 𝄞≛

He’s all in! Maybe he’ll feel a bit hesitant, worried and scared for the future that could bestow him, or possibly not being good enough in committing, but you, oh you... Your presence soothes him, making him feel comfortable and ready for whatever hurdle may appear as your fiancé or more. He’s ready to dedicated so much to you, as well as his commitment for something so big <3

G — How gentle are they with you 𝄞≛

Very gentle. Even during days he’s in a foul mood, he’ll try to remain gentle with you. Even if you really manage to piss him off, he’ll be upset, but in the end he’ll try and make it up by being tender and sweet with you. For you, the effort would definitely be worth it.

H — Do they like hugs 𝄞≛

At first, no. He’ll flinch and back away, trying to mask how uncomfortable he is with a smile. Though as your relationship develops, you find him hugging you more than you hug him! He loves everything related to you, especially hugs!!

I — How long does it take for them to say ‘I love you’ 𝄞≛

It takes a while. It takes almost everything in him to say it, even if it’s an empty ‘I love you.’

But be patient, wait for him. He’ll love you like no other, constantly reminding you of it in different forms because words can be quite hard. Mustering up the courage to really, genuinely, say ‘I love you’ is rare for him. But it will definitely happen. Take it slow

J — How are they when jealous 𝄞≛

He’s quite petty about it! Oh and hurt... He’ll tell you “Oh, why not ask them to do it for you?” Or if somebody’s flirting with you, he’ll wrap himself around you from behind, purposely calling you the world’s cringe petnames, hoping whoever is flirting with you will take the hint!! When he’s being petty, he’ll eventually break, asking you directly who that person was. He refuses to let go of you until he’s relaxed

K — How do they like kissing 𝄞≛

Aventurine’s kisses with you are tender, sweet and gentle. I like to think of his emotional kisses. Where he pours out his whole heart into his kisses. He gives you pecks here and there whenever he thinks you look handsome, cute, pretty, beautiful — which is almost all the time! Kisses gave him much more meaning after meeting you. Now he’ll practically start whining the entire day if you refuse to kiss him!

L — How good are they with little ones 𝄞≛

Have you seen the way he treats his younger self?! If you have any younger siblings, he’d spoil them beyond rotten just as he does with you. He’s really good with little kids. Some might feel a bit nervous at first around him, but they warm up quickly as Aventurine tells them his PG (?) stories. Perhaps even showing them the cool things he has on him, magic tricks, or anything really. He’s quite patient with them too!!

M — How are your mornings with them 𝄞≛

I’ll admit, mornings aren’t entirely the best with him. Half the chance is you’ll wake up from Aventurine on the call from the IPC, and he’s normally up and at it before you are. On times he’s not disturbed by work, he’s rather cuddly and refuses to get up. He will also not let you get up either. He wants to stay in bed with you forever!

N — How are your nights with them 𝄞≛

Nights are much better than mornings. He always tries to come home early, back to your presence. He gets nightmares most the time, so help him out the second you notice. He’s also cuddly at night but he’s a light sleeper. The slightest creak could jerk him awake, so be extra quiet when you sleep with him!!

O — How open are they with you 𝄞≛

He’s actually really open even if he shows hesitancy in it. He feels guilty for it, but he can’t help it. He tries his hardest to be as open as he can be with his feelings about you or anything for that matter. When he learns how much you truly care, he might end up getting a bit emotional <3

P — How patient are they with you 𝄞≛

He’s very patient. Or so, he tries. With you, as I’ve said, he’ll always make the effort. He’ll wait for you, even it bores him in the meanwhile. As long as you’ll be alright, he’ll be alright. Same is the other way around, you need to be really patient with him too, alright?

Q — Quizz them to know how much do they remember about you 𝄞≛

Everything. Every detail down to the bone. The only stuff this guy would forget would probably be how much money he has left! Even if he finds himself in a muddle, unable to remember something about you, he nails it with his guesses which relief him

R — What’s their favourite moment in their relationship that they remember 𝄞≛

(This is something I think everybody has reallyyyyy different opinions on) I think it’d be the first time he cried in your arms... Sure he was vulnerable during the time and embarrassed about it afterwards, but it’s a memory etched into him. The way you accepted his cries, comforting him, making your scent the scent of ‘home’, ‘security’, and ‘comfort’ to him... Also any of the times you’ve made or bought him something !

S — How secure — protective are they of you 𝄞≛

Protective enough, but if anything happens, of course he’ll be upset. He might dwell on it, but he’ll trust you not to harm yourself again. He’s very protective if he notices anybody glaring at you in a not-so-friendly-way. He’ll run background checks on anybody who harms you and let’s them know that the next time you’re harmed because of them, they’ll have to grovel at your feet for mercy

T — How hard do they try for their relationship 𝄞≛

He tries his hardest. After all, you’re not just some fling to him. You’re somebody he cherishes more than anything, really. He’ll try and try, he’ll keep trying for your sake

U — What’s an ugly, bad habit of theirs 𝄞≛

He has a very... Unpleasant habit of making you worry like crazy, even unintentionally. Sometimes, when he’s so swept up in work, he’ll forget to tell you how busy he’ll be for so and so. He makes up for it when he sees how panicked you were with a dinner and whatever else you’d like!

V — (Vanity) How insecure are they 𝄞≛

He’ll be quite insecure about his eyes no matter what, even if he’s improving slowly. Or maybe he’ll be insecure about some other part of himself, to which he doesn’t confide in anybody with. Although, you take matters into your own hands, reassuring him, comforting him. You make him feel like maybe his insecurity isn’t so bad...

W — Would they feel incomplete — not whole, without you 𝄞≛

Absolutely. With a far developed relationship like yours with him, he’ll most definitely feel unimaginably incomplete without you. He, himself doesn’t understand at first why he feels like something’s missing — though he’s quick to catch on that it’s you. You’re what’s missing and, it kills him. He needs to be with you again, so he can feel whole. Not Aventurine, but Kakavasha.

X — Xtra headcanon 𝄞≛

Cried when you called him ‘Kakavasha’. Your honeyed tone, so tender and sweet... It strikes him in the heart. He really loves you. As well as his cat cakes!

Y — What’s in their list of ‘Yuck!’ things 𝄞≛

He doesn’t like ‘boring’ people. He prefers when people have a little extreme in them, or a rather odd characteristic that makes them stand out differently. He doesn’t like dirty people either. In both ways, personality and literal dirty! If you’re physically dirty due to health issues, he’ll help you out. Otherwise if you’re plain lazy, he won’t appreciate that. Nor does he appreciate people who try to ‘cheat’ during fair and honest gambles. It irks him.

Z — How do they zzz 𝄞≛

Sleeps like a baby!! Even if he wakes up due to any small sound, in his deep slumber, he’s just spread himself all over the bed like a starfish. One of you will end up waking up on the floor one day, that’s for sure. He easily feels when your presence is gone, making him curl up in his sleep, but when he feels you, he’s all starfish again!

[dollyyss]

stop stop bc bc bc bc um um um.

maybe u should do hpw craigs gang kisses you. maybe

~🍋

Because I love you, and I was thinking of Craig and remembered I had this in my inbox.

Also I promise I’ll get requests done I post once or twice sometimes Daily so I do what I can! But please feel free to bring requests in!!

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙂𝙎 𝙂𝘼𝙉𝙂 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎

𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥! 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝘼𝙐

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙜, 𝘾𝙡𝙮𝙙𝙚, 𝙅𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙮, 𝙏𝙤𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: not really aware of any, if there is please let me know!

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Craig ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⋆｡˚

Craig leans into the kiss, he subtly brushes his thumb against the back of your hand, creating a tender connection beyond the physical act of kissing. It adds a sweet and personalized touch to the moment, expressing his deeper connection without saying it. one he just doesn’t do far too often.

-His kisses tend to be quick. Just pecks to your lips or the sides of your cheeks.

-I think there’s a part of him that’s a bit.. afraid to fully go in for it? He doesn’t want to kiss you just to kiss you, he wants to kiss you to.. explore that whole side of his love for you. But he doesn’t want to overdue it.

-Though.. when he does go in for it, his hands are holding onto you for dear life, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away from him. He becomes more confident in himself, pressing himself against you, his nose a bit squished against you.. your like some drug he can’t stop. Filling him with a buzz he can’t come down from. When like this he occasionally bites at your bottom lip, softly pulling when he stops the kiss.

- Never a huge one to do it outside ever or in public, and if he does they aren’t on the lips. They’re on the top of your head, quick swift kisses.

-He’s the same when not in public as well, except he’s more then okay with giving you them when you both are alone. So it’ll tend to happen more often then.

Clyde

In the quiet intimacy of a moonlit night, Clyde’s letterman Jacket had been hung on your shoulders, eyes wandering as he leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours. The air hummed with unspoken words as his lips met yours, creating an overwhelming feeling of the weight of a thousand untold stories in that stolen kiss. “You taste good.” With a soft shove he let out a blissful laugh, “Clyde you are so stupid.”

“Stupid enough for you to kiss again?”

- he’s quite the kisser. Will take any god damn kiss he’ll get. I’m telling you he’ll pout like a mother fucker if he doesn’t get it. He thinks your lips are so fucking sweet, so addicting.

-his normal kisses are always on your lips. Yes occasionally he’ll kiss elsewhere but he loves how soft your lips are, how they fit so perfectly with his. If he could kiss you a million times he would, never wanting to pull away.

-Clyde is completely okay with PDA. So kisses in public? 100%. He wants everyone to know you’re his. His arm will be hung around your shoulder whilst he talks to one of his friends. He’ll press a kiss to the side of your head every now and then, sometimes pulling your chin to look up at him and placing a kiss to your lips.

- He can be needy. When things are heated there’s no getting Clyde Donovan off of you. He’s pushing you back against his bed, lips locked while his hands roam underneath your shirt with curiosity. He won’t stop for air, I’m telling you. He’s desperate for you.

Jimmy

With an unexpected twist of humor, Jimmy seized the moment, pulling you into a spontaneous dance of laughter. Amidst giggles, he planted a playful, yet surprisingly genuine kiss, turning a lighthearted exchange into a memory where joy and affection collided in a delightful, whimsical symphony

- Oh Jimmy. That sweet sweet boy. He loves you tremendously. He likes to kiss you wherever! But his personal favourite is your nose. He loves whenever he makes a joke.. you laugh so hard your nose turns pink. He can’t help himself but plant a kiss to it, making you giggle even more.

- he’s okay with kissing in public, but he’s more then happy to share these moments at home. Though,, if you ever have a really shitty day at school, you have a panic attack.. anything. Text him. He’s immediately getting up from his seat and coming to your aid. Once he finds you, his crutches are against the wall and he’s sliding down the wall to sit, ushering you over to sit between his legs. Your face is littered in kisses, occasionally your lips.

- When moments become more intimate they tend to be a bit silly, his lips move at such a sloppy rate, his hairs a mess. Occasionally your teeth clink against his braces and he can’t help but laugh with you before diving back in. He’s gentle, but also likes to get what he wants so he does put quite a bit of force to it.

-he can be a goofy kisser…. He once puckered his lips for you to give him one.. just for him to blow a raspberry and piss himself laughing at your face..

Tolkien

In the soft ambiance of a candlelit evening, he held out his hand, a silent invitation to a dance that transcended mere steps. With a courteous smile, he led you through the waltz of shared glances and whispered conversations. Finally, in a moment of undeniable sincerity, he pressed a gentle kiss upon your hand, leaving an indelible mark on your pumping heart.

- stop because he’s so god damn loving. We know Tolkien to be quite the gentleman, he’s constantly kissing at your knuckles, your hands and up your arms. He’s like Clyde, he just can’t seem to keep his lips off of you. It doesn’t matter where.

-you’re sitting on his lap while his lips dance over your chin and jaw, sitting beside him class? He’s gripping your hand and placing a gentle kiss to it, crying? He’s kissing those tears away. You took a nap on his bed, he’s finding his way over and placing a kiss to your head and tucking you in.

-he’s more then okay with it in public. You don’t have to ask him please, he’s delighted to have your lips on him, he wants to show people he’s happy in his relationship.

-He’s quite good at it, he knows when to be rough, when to be soft, when to pull away to leave you wanting more.. and he uses this so often to tease you whilst your body sits on his lap facing him, a chuckle escaping his lips before he kisses your neck..

Tweak

Amidst the whirlwind of nervous thoughts, he took a deep breath, his anxious gaze meeting your understanding ones. In that vulnerable moment, he mustered the courage to bridge the gap, and as your lips met, a quiet reassurance unfolded—a kiss that spoke of shared vulnerabilities and the solace found in each other's presence.

-He’s so scared to do it wrong. He’s so scared to push forwards, to place his hands literally anywhere. What if you didn’t like it? What if you didn’t want his kiss? “Tweak my love, right here..” he melts when you place your hands on his to guide him. Once you’ve done it, he’s confident enough to place shaky lips on yours.

-He likes kissing your jaw, and lips. Your jaw being because he enjoys being able to hide his away, peppering kisses to your jaw while he takes in the scent of your hair. It’s soothing to him. And your lips because they’re so warm. If he’s ever just not able to calm himself he’s looking for you immediately to press his lips to yours, soon hiding his face and littering kisses all along your jaw.

-He’s typically not the one to act out on kissing in public but if you do it to him he doesn’t mind it. Just try not to in a group of people, not that he’s embarrassed of you but more embarrassed that people could stare at what he believes is a sweet intimate moment.

- hi. He’s whiny when he kisses. Because I said so. He doesn’t like when you pull back, he grips your shirt muttering out a shaky whine and almost begging you for you to come back. His eyes are half lidded, lips quivering while his hands find anyway to bring you closer. “No! You can’t just.. pull away from me like that, agh! I need you..”

- Needy. Whiny kisser. I love him.

[the-curious-butterfly]

Today just feels like a day for firsts so this is for them.

Chloe was sitting on her bed doing schoolwork when Red came, more like barreled, in. She had thought to greet her roommate or say anything really, but all the words got caught in her throat as soon as she looked up and saw the look on her face. There was this intensity to her eyes that would have been frightening if it wasn’t for the fact she was also smiling. Though their eyes met for only a second before she beelined it towards Chloe. Taking the Charming completely by surprise as all she could get out was a “Red, what-“ and then she couldn’t speak anymore. Suddenly her lips were too busy with something soft and tender and…oh.

Funny, she originally thought of herself as more resistant to give in but the minute she felt those lips she was done for. Her body gave a quiet sigh as it went limp, the only thing holding her up was Red who had wrapped her arms around her the moment she sat upon the edge of the bed. Pulling her closer and closer to the point Chloe felt like she would break, but also that it wasn’t close enough.

Chloe has heard and read about first kisses. None of that had prepared her for this. Where first kisses are described as slow, soft, and sweet. Red is quick, intense, and yet still somehow so sweet. While her movements may seem erratic Chloe could tell she was being rather mindful, especially with her teeth. At one point Red even bit her bottom lip, though only enough to tease not to hurt. Her hands, which travel up and down her back now, feel more soothing rather than needing.

How is it possible that Red is kissing her senseless, yet reassuring her that she isn’t losing her senses all at the same time.

It’s so Red. So very very Red. Just like this first kiss.

This perfect first-

…Wait.

After what felt like a lifetime, but was really only moments, Chloe had found the strength to place her hands upon Red’s arms and slowly push her away. Breaking the intensity but not the kiss, not completely anyway. Red’s lips chased hers, though she wasn’t the only one to blame.

“Wait, wait.” Oh good, she hadn’t completely lost her voice. She had been worried about that for a minute. Before she could say anymore, however, Red took her breath away once more for a completely different reason. Something was being held before her that she swears wasn’t there a second ago, something circular that looks oddly enough like a-

“What, Red?!”

“No this isn’t me proposing, not yet at least, this is me saying I don’t mind the thought of marrying you either. Someday.”

All Chloe could do was stare at Red, because really what is she suppose to say to that? Was she suppose to reach out and take the ring? Which was silver and plain looking, but that’s not what mattered. Chloe wouldn’t have cared if it was plastic, what she cares about is the person offering it to her and saying they’re fine with her.

“I talked to Principal Uma and she helped me realize a few things. Number one being, Chloe, if I ever get to the point where I do marry you. It’ll be because I chose to, and how could I regret choosing the first person who believed I was more than what I seemed?”

Chloe stared at the ring then up into Red’s intense yet genuine gaze. “But…I also told you that you weren’t more than what you seemed when we met.”

The answer came after a spot of laughter. “I told you the same thing too, I called you a privileged little princess.”

“I am-was a privileged little princess.” Chloe could admit that now. Red on the other hand was never evil, not the way her mom is…or well was?

“You sure you’re not still are?” She raises a perfectly constructed brow as she teases Chloe. Prompting said girl to shove her off the bed, ring still in hand. “Hey, at least accept this first before you kick me off.”

“Nope, keep teasing me and I might never.”

Red feigns a rather audible gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

Chloe looks down at the pouting child before relenting with a sigh. “You’re right, I wouldn’t, I love you too much to do that.”

There it was, Chloe said it. It was the first time she told Red that she loved her. Six months after you start dating, even if you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, was enough time right? She sure hoped so, except Red isn’t responding nor can she read the expression on her face.

Oh fairy godmother, this was a mistake wasn’t it?

It was a mistake. It was a mistake.

“It was-“

She couldn’t even finish as a pair of lips had defended upon her once more. Though this kiss was a lot different from the first. It was much more like the ones she’s read and heard about. It’s so very soft, slow, and sweet. It’s fireworks and fairy song and everything she’s ever imagined. Red’s arms are sitting on her shoulders this time so Chloe places hers around the other girl’s waist. Something small falls onto one of the sheets of paper scattered around her bed, but she’s too focused on Red to care about what it is.

She takes this to mean a good thing, even if Red hadn’t said it back. The fact that she’s kissing Chloe like this must be a good sign.

That thought gets reinforced when Red pulls away to rest her forehead against Chloe’s. “I’m not very good at the whole feeling thing so I didn’t know how else to respond. Just, know that it wouldn’t feel enough to say that I like you.”

Chloe’s smile in response is so radiant she’s pretty sure she should have gotten the name Charming for that alone. Red herself could barely look at it, but she couldn’t look away either.

Except suddenly that radiant smile turned into an amused frown. “Did you say you went to Principal Uma for advice?”

“Yes…look, I had to go to someone and Maddox is a whole kingdom away.”

“So you went to the Principal? Shouldn’t that be something I would do?”

“What can I say, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Or maybe you respect certain authority more than you like to let on.”

“Chloe Charming, you take that right back this instant.”

“Or else what?” At this point Chloe unconsciously starts rubbing Red’s back through the fabric of her riot jacket. Red’s response is to rub their noses together.

“Or else I’ll stop hanging out with you.”

“Hanging out? Is that what we’ve been doing?”

“Have we not, that’s what people do isn’t it?”

“Red, you really do need more friends.”

Red gently bites Chloe’s left ear causing Chloe to give out a soft yelp. “First of all, rude. Second, why would I need more friends when I have you?”

“That’s exactly what someone who needs more friends would say. Wait, don’t you dare bite the other one!”

Too late, she bit the other one too.

[miupow]

NSFW, MDNI! sub!beomgyu, femdom!reader, puppy play, pup!beomie, mommy kink, extreme degradation, name calling (dog, mutt, pup), pillow humping, cumplay/cum eating, orgasm control, breeding kink, oral (f. rec).. this is genuinely so filthy and i'm obsessed with it.

written by @tigerhoshi25, sent to me in my inbox! all credits go to her <3 thank you so much for this delicious meal annie...

a teary eyed beomgyu sat in between your legs on the floor. his hands were resting on your plush thighs as you sit on the couch and glare at him. his lips pressed into a pout and his collar was perfectly tight around his neck. he wishes he could go back a few moments ago when he was eating you out like a starved man but no. dumb mutt couldn’t control his dick and he came over over his thighs and the cushion of the couch while eating you out. you laugh and make him feel humiliated, “dumb dog come just from eating some pussy? now look at you getting hard again just from me speaking down on you.”

his breathing is erratic, his eyes are pleading silently for you to ease up on him-- even though he loves the way you treat him- he leans and rests his chin on your thigh to look up at you with puppy eyes. you push him back and were about to scold him for touching without asking when an idea crossed your mind. “wanna cum again?” you switch up your tone from plain out malicious to sweet and tender but beomgyu heard ‘cum again’ and didn’t register the sudden change or the fact that you’re offering another orgasm.

he nods his head and you don’t respond since '‘good boys use their words." he finally speaks up with a shaky voice, “please, please can i cum?”

you pat his head a scratch behind his ears to give him a false sense of safety. “how do you wanna cum, pup?” you ask calmly and his ears perk up at the mere thought of you maybe letting him cum the way he wants. “i-inside, wanna give you your own pups.”

you chuckle evilly, “dumb dog wants to breed like it’s instinct?” you grin before continuing, “stupid dog, you wasted your cum on your thighs.” you glance to the creamy release on his thighs. “there’s not enough to fill me up.” you say with fake sympathy and beomgyu cries even louder. poor thing believes you even though you both know he cums buckets.

“please, please, please.” he whimpers and presses his face against your soft tummy, he just glares at it like it’ll make his situation better.

“you can cum…under my conditions.” you push his head away and he looks at you with a glimmer of hope in his glossy orbs.

“anything, ill do anything,” he breathes out. poor thing.

“i want you to humo the couch, like a stupid dog in heat.” your voice was far too sweet for such vulgar words.

beomgyu shakes his head, “nuh uh, wanna cum in you,” he starts tearing up.

“sorry pup, i already told you there’s not enough,” you lie again. beomgyu shuffles his body closer to the couch and whines once the sensitive tip rubs against the rough fabric.

“i dont wanna, mommy please~” here come the water works.

“no, pup. you cum on the couch or not at all,” you scratch his ears and scalp gently which makes him feel the need to obey. he lets a a pathetic whimper escape the back of his throat before he starts pushes his hips towards the couch and back again, dragging his weeping and aching cock across the cushion. every thrust against the couch makes him cry more. it hurts so good, so bad all at once. the friction burns on the underside and the head of his cock while the rest of begging to be touched. he even looks pathetic, tears streaming from his eyes to his neck, his bottom lips trapped in between his teeth and his nails dig into the couch cushion.

his hips speed up and little and he starts to beg again now that he’s close, “please, mommy im doing it, please let me cum inside.” if he got what he wanted he would stick it in and cum the second he met your warm walls.

“no, mutt. i want to you make a mess on the couch,” you pull out your phone to record him. he cries out but doesn’t stop his hips.

“mommy, no,” he sobs. he feels like a dog doing tricks to impress his owner… and it just brings him closer to spilling all over the cushions. he keeps going and even pushes his dick in between to couch cushions for more painful friction. his pink head keeps poking out with every thrust forward, still leaking with precum that barely aids in the pain of the fabric.

just a few more thrusts and beomgyu presses his hips flush against the couch, his tip starts spewing cum across the top of the cushion and even the back of the couch, it seeps down in between the two cushions that he’s currently sandwiched in. you, without missing a beat, tell him, “now lick it up.” Beomgyu looks up at you and sees your smirk, your phone still recording the shameful act. he knows if he doesn’t he’ll get in more trouble so the poor pup pulls his dick out and leans down to starting licking up his own cum. he whines at the salty sticky substance that he has to lick up but your words help him.

“such a good boy, cleaning up your mess.”

“good pup, looks so pretty with tears and your mess on your face.”

beomgyu can’t finish it all, he gives up and waits for you to punish him. “what are you doing, mutt?” you glare. “c-can’t mommy, I can’t finish it,” he pouts. it makes sense, you don’t even think you could since the brainless pup cums so much but you have to punish him anyways. “bad boy, you made a mess so you have to clean it up,” your tone drops and beomgyu’s heartbeat quickens. he just shakes his head, “can’t mommy…im’sorry.”

that almost makes you want to forgive him and let him fuck you but you instead grip a handful of his hair, while the other hand is still holding your phone that’s recording, you pull his hair tight to look at you. “stupid mutt, you’re a stupid dog that just wants to cum and can’t clean himself up,” you sneer and he cries out. you push his head down, pressing his tear stained cheek into the creamy mess on the couch. “dumb fucking dog.”

im going fucking feral. im going to turn into a werewolf and start howling at the moon or some shit.

[capy123]

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ SHORT COLLECTIVE S/O READING: (dm me to book a reading !!)

𓂃 𓈒 ࣪ ˖ 🎀 🌸PICK A CHERRY BLOSOM:

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໒꒱ ‧₊˚ cherry 1 !!

+‧₊˚ 🎀 KING OF SWORDS, 5 OF SWORDS, KNIGHT OF SWORDS REVERSED:

⁃ your significant other has taken their role as your protector very seriously. they notice that you struggle with defending or standing up for yourself, so they’ve made it their responsibility to do that for you. in their eagerness to protect you, they often act impulsively, ready to confront any challenges head-on if necessary.

⁃ there’s a possessive energy about them, almost as if you’re their favorite person and they don’t like the idea of sharing you. while this possessiveness comes from a place of love, it can sometimes be overwhelming. it’s important for both of you to work on your communication.

-it almost seems like, whoever your s/o is, they are in a rush. in a rush to make things right, to make things work, to show you the world, they don’t notice how abundant it is in your eyes, they have so much love they don’t know what to do with it. but it feels like, they’re on a quest to make things right, it feels like they’ve done a lot of bad things in the past, they’re in a rush to have a good life with you, because their past is a burden they’re trying to get rid of, with the 10 of wands reversed. it’s almost like, with you, it’ll all fade away, almost as if you ground them, like a healing presence. there are no ill intentions with this at all, they’re just overwhelmed, in the end, all they want is to have a happy, stable future with you, they have never experienced love like this.

🎵 ˈ∗✧ SONG CHANELLED:

𓂃 𓈒 ࣪ ˖ LABIOS ROTOS BY ZOE (the lyrics are in spanish, so i will translate it)

“give me those broken lips”

“i want to kiss them, i want to heal them”

“i will take care of them, with all my love”

“love is strange”

“with your gaze, your tender voice”

-they feel like you’re everything that’s right in this world; you’re so sweet, so delicate, and it would be a shame to let you go. this is why they’re in such a rush—they want to have you before anyone else does. they don’t really experience sweet things in life, so you can believe they’ll do whatever it takes to keep you by their side, by fair means or for worse. they don’t care.

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໒꒱ ‧₊˚ cherry 2 !!

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 🎀 DEATH, QUEEN OF CUPS, ACE OF PENTACLES REVERSED:

⁃with these cards, i sense that the collective’s s/o wants to put an end to conflict and leave past mistakes behind, seeking a fresh start. the death card signifies a transformation, a desire to move beyond old patterns. the queen of cups represents the collective as their safe space, the emotional anchor they always return to. this time, the ace of pentacles reversed suggests a more cautious, patient approach, allowing love to develop gently and naturally. they are ready for this change, all you need to do is ask. it feels like past conflicts involved a lot of defensiveness and hasty decisions, but now there’s an opportunity for a more thoughtful and nurturing beginning.

-with the three of pentacles and the empress reversed, it’s clear that your s/o is committed to putting in the work to make things right. expect creative dates, secret spots, and thoughtful plans. they’re eager to show you all the things they’ve planned and are genuinely excited about it. it’s evident they deeply regret whatever happened in the past.

with the chariot, there’s a sense that they’ll be less insistent on their demands, allowing things to flow more peacefully. they recognize that both of you are human, prone to mistakes. this marks a release of titles and expectations, leading to a love that will blossom beautifully because you’re allowing it to. you both care and love each other that much, and it shows in the effort and creativity being invested into your relationship.

🎵 ˈ∗✧ SONG CHANELLED:

𓂃 𓈒 ࣪ ˖ CRY BY CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

“i’ll only make you cry”

“wish i was good”

-even though they are willing to do so much for your relationship, they feel as if they aren’t good for your regardless, and it guts them. knowing you can have someone better than them, but still, they want it to be you. (self sabotage)

ᡣ𐭩 https://open.spotify.com/track/0Qr61NXlyAeQaADO5xn3rI?si=cY_SrOhZQOKQDZwuyNyO5w&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A4XXEXrhICf1t5ddUzOZonn

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໒꒱ ‧₊˚ cherry 3 !!

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 🎀 8 OF WANDS, THE HANGED MAN REVERSED, 4 OF WANDS:

- your love blossomed quickly, perhaps even love at first sight. there were some obstacles along the way, but with the hanged man reversed, it seems you overcame them just as swiftly. you fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, always together :) it feels like a friends-to-lovers story; you understand each other so well. not only are you lovers, but also best friends. it’s such a cute connection. all your hard work has paid off, as indicated by the 4 of wands. you both have a bright and beautiful future ahead.

- i’m envisioning you two running through an empty castle together, or perhaps sneaking out for a late-night snack. it’s clear you have a “partners in crime” dynamic; you do everything together and share the same sense of humor. your bond is so close that you often finish each other’s sentences and even say the same words simultaneously. it’s silly and cute at the same time, though at the same time, sometimes it might feel like you guys are more friends , but this wont be permanent, they will loosen up, they are just not good at being vulnerable on the romantic aspect.

- even though you both enjoy fooling around, there’s a mature side to your relationship as well. whenever there’s an issue, you both instantly switch to serious mode to resolve it quickly, allowing you to return to your fun-loving selves. their love language seems to be quality time and acts of service; they enjoy brushing your hair and cuddling with you at night.

- i am also sensing that, though you are attached at the hip, the both of you are independent enough to fend for yourself, though you don’t need to since you have the other. they just want you to know that, they’ve always got you.

🎵 ˈ∗✧ SONG CHANELLED:

𓂃 𓈒 ࣪ ˖ TRULY BY CIGARETTES AFTER SEX

“know that you really don’t need to be in love to make love to me”

“and your lips are red”

“wearing white or black”

“all leading up to when we met truly”

-they can be somewhat immature; whenever someone teases them about you, they blush and become defensive because they’re deeply attracted to you. they always notice the small changes you make, whether it’s your hair, makeup, or anything else. they have some difficulty with vulnerability, but as you spend more time together, this will fade. they will gradually open up to you

ᡣ𐭩 https://open.spotify.com/track/6qwEx0TQJMEqvQdN8hRZDx?si=_-TPmfINTKm5oUMkPbevkA&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A4XXEXrhICf1t5ddUzOZonn

[lunarheslwt]

28th appreciation fic recs: February edition

Hi! Welcome to the February fic rec list! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over this month for the 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments, and sharing any fic posts!

☁️To you I can admit, I'm just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28

(28k / not rated / non traditional a/b/o)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?” Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him. “It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket. “No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.” the nesting shop au

Thoughts: the softest dearest thing you'll read, characters I would die for, a true comfort read

☁️While you're figuring it out by @silverstuff50

(4k / E / wholesome bdsm)

Harry is in a rut and his mood is getting lower and lower. Louis helps him with love and kink.

Thoughts: if you love kink, and if you love the softness and emotions that come with established relationships, then this is for you, its the perfect combination!

☁️On that note by @allwaswell16

(6k / E / pen pals, getting together)

Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day.

Thoughts: this was so cute, and Louis' character esp is so endearing, and the way they get together is so precious !

☁️(drippin' on me) till my feet are wet by @justanothershadeofblue

(3k / E / watersports)

They’ve known each other so long, is the thing. More than a decade, at this point; their entire adult lives. They know each other with a deep and abiding familiarity, know each other's ins and outs, hopes and fears, secrets and kinks. There’s nothing hidden between them, and little that escapes each other’s notice. All of which is to say, Louis knows exactly what Harry’s up to, making this huge pitcher of lemonade and waiting until the lads were out the door to bring it outside and press a cold glass into Louis’ hand. He’d poured the liquid carefully, sunglasses concealing his gaze as he filled it to the top. “Drink up,” Harry had said, and Louis had, tipping the contents down his throat in one long pull, letting a few drops slip free and run down, chilled and sweet, into his short beard. He’d caught Harry’s eye and held out his glass for more. “Good,” Harry had said, voice deep, and filled it again.

Thoughts: so. fucking. hot. And bonus: the tenderness that comes with established relationship. Best of both worlds really, so it's perfection.

☁️We don't fight fair by @hellolovers13

(2k / E / chase, non traditional a/b/o)

“What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.

Thoughts: *muffled screaming*. Genuinely was so hot I was speechless for a good while. If that's not convincing: there's a chase. And it's O/O. I'm begging y'all to go read this.

☁️Man spreading by @red-pandaaa

(2k / E / pwp)

“Manspreading is such a bad habit,” Harry said, mainly because he felt like he was obligated to. “Is that so?” Louis said, in a tone that challenged Harry to disagree. Harry nodded as firmly as he could. “I think you should try to tone down the manspreading a bit.” “Maybe I should spread out my man instead,” Louis mused. OR Harry complains about Louis manspreading, Louis makes a joke, and rimming ensues

Thoughts: short and sexy, i loved it sm, this ones for the uh...rimming enthusiasts!

☁️Trippin', Stumblin' by @itsnotreal

(4k / M / friends to lovers fluff)

Harry was falling for Louis. No, really. He was literally falling for Louis— well, okay, maybe it was because of him. Technicalities. Or the one where Harry is super clumsy but still manages to catch Louis’ attention.

Thoughts: nervous awkward harry is so precious to me, this was so fucking cute and PRECIOUS

☁️You can try to hide by @itsnotreal

(6k / E / cnc, hunter prey kink)

Harry has managed to keep his innermost thoughts at bay when he’s around Louis, but what happens when he shows up unannounced one night when Harry’s at his most vulnerable.

Thoughts: read tags! cnc done WELL, so gripping so thrilling, so hot. The mind reading is SUCH a nice touch ahhhh

☁️Shut your mouth, baby by @larry-hiatus

(3k / E / new years smut)

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

Thoughts: Em never misses with the smut so this is another banger, bonus: desperate overwhelmed Louis. So. 10/10 in my mind.

And that's it! Yet another short list bc I've been so tired and falling asleep before I could read sigh. Also yes literally almost all are smut but in my defence it's because I didn't get time to read long fics and short ones are usually smut. But then again we love and support smut in this house so you're welcome. Send some love to the authors if you check out any of these!!

[munsons-maiden]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔 (𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫)

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 |  Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world  that might be more persistent  than you’d thought: Evil…and love. The story is told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending (I PROMISE!!!), fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, attempted assault, bullying, canon-typical violence  

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~ 1 hour

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | spiders, canon-typical gore & violence, blood, mention of a syringe (brief), SMUT (oral, m!receiving; p in v; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and stay safe in real life!)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.  

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | The day I started writing this story was May 27th - the day I fell in love with Eddie Munson, like so many others did as well. By the end of the first episode, I knew I loved this sweet, tender-hearted, sometimes-brash-and-loud-but-always-genuinely-kind dork with all my heart, and by the time the credits of the second episode were rolling I knew Eddie was my One In A Million, my forever-character. Nothing I’ve ever felt for a fictional character comes close to the love I feel for Eddie Munson, and I know it’ll forever stay that way. I remember how I paused Netflix during the intro to season three, opened a blank word document, and started writing. It was the first chapter of Worlds Apart. Back then, I prayed with all my heart it wouldn’t turn out a fix-it fic - but it did. I promised I’d fix it, and I did, though I’m convinced Eddie will be back and we’ll see him again, alive and happy. Until then, this story will give him - and all of us - the happy ending Edward Munson deserved. This story crossed the 200k-words-mark somewhere in the middle of Chapter 15, and while I have so many more ideas for series and oneshots for Eddie, for so many more 200k-word-marks to cross, Worlds Apart will always hold a special place in my heart. And I can’t thank you all enough for sticking with me, for waiting patiently for the next chapter and laughing and crying alongside Eddie, Monster Slayer and me, and I hope that this story was able to bring you the same amount of joy as it did for me, that every single one of you might have been able to find a piece of themselves in monster slayer. Thank you for all the support on this story, the comments and reblogs and keysmashes and tags and fanart and asks. I don’t know whether I could have done this without you. This isn’t goodbye, I promise - just the final chapter before a new story starts because I’m planning to give Eddie Munson the million happy endings he deserves. So...Eddie, this is for you. I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐     ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓    ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔  

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕    ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖   ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑  ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒   ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓

[Friday, September 12th, 1986.

Six months later.]

The water was warm as it swirled around your feet with a happy little gurgling sound nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves.

The breeze carried the scent of salt.

The scent of the ocean.

It smelled exactly like you’d always imagined it would.

Dawn was still a while away, the first gentle blush creeping over the clear skies arching above to make the stars slowly fade away and herald the first rays of the morning sun, the promise of another beautiful hot day.

The moon overhead was a full moon, hanging in the sky like a silver dollar coin.

Like the display of a clock.

You quickly averted your gaze.

The shades of the early morning sky, the foam dancing on the crests of the rolling waves…it all blurred like watercolors on a canvas beneath the first of your tears falling down your cheeks in hot rivulets as you sank to your knees, into the warm water of the Pacific Ocean, letting it engulf you as the tears fell harder, drip-dropping into the waves lapping at you as you tugged your legs against your chest, hugging your knees.

Salt to salt.

You couldn’t keep the emotions bottled up any longer.

A frail, suppressed sob spilling from your lips, too quiet to be heard over the melody of the waves, your hand found its way to your chest, to the guitar pick resting against your skin right below your collarbone.

The smooth plastic was warm with your body heat as your fingers wrapped around it, thumb flicking over its surface the way Eddie had brushed the pad of his thumb over your wrist, over your pulse point, back when you’d patched him up at Skull Rock.

Right before he’d kissed you.

Months ago.

A lifetime ago.

Your fingers clutching the guitar pick, holding on to the little thing like a lifeline, you let your forehead sink against your knees.

And with the waves and the breeze for company, you wept.

 [Thursday, March 28th, 1986.

FIVE MINUTES PAST MIDNIGHT.]

“I don’t have a heart, little songbird.”

Henry Creel’s voice was a low croon, a threat laced within.

And his remaining forget-me-not-blue eye watched as the creeping vines pinned Eddie to the pillar.

Tightening their relentless, freezing grip around Eddie’s wrists, his throat.

“People believe that once you’re dead, there will be no more pain. No more misery. Only…peace,” Henry crooned, slowly raising his hand, his spidery, disfigured fingers reaching towards Eddie’s face. “They are wrong. Souls can break, did you know that? Just like bones. Over…and over again.”

***

You barely heard the death cries of the bats, falling from the skies all around you, flames eating at the skin on their convulsing bodies, wings and tails trailing behind them as they rained onto the blood-soaked grass like a shower of meteors.

Shooting stars straight out of a nightmare, less and less of them left in the skies.

You leaned down to place the softest of kisses on Eddie’s forehead, the curls poking out from underneath his bandana tickling your lips.

“Good-bye,” you whispered against his skin, which still held the residual warmth of life like a distant memory. “I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

Your eyes fluttered close.

When you reached out, the darkness wrapped around your mind, ready to heed your command one final time.

Burn it down, you commanded. Burn this place to the ground until there are only cinders left.

***

There was pain. So, so much pain, worse even than the agony inflicted by the bats.

Back then, it had been Eddie’s body which had been ripped apart.

Now, it would be his soul.

Would the pain stop, Eddie wondered, when Vecna was done with him, when he was nothing but another broken soul with shattered limbs standing out like branches of trees in a winter wood, and two empty holes where his eyes should have been, dislodged jaw frozen in a muted scream until the end of time? Maybe.

And yet, amidst all the agony, the knowledge that he’d failed was what destroyed him.

He hadn’t been able to save you.

He could only hope Eleven had managed to get Max out of here, back to you and the rest of her friends.

I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, monster slayer. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m so, so sorry.

***

The flames looked like blossoms, at first.

Petals unfurling all over the black creeping vines covering the dead grass, growing as they shed their golden glow into the night, brighter and brighter.

The vines hissed, the noise mingling with the death cries of the bats still hailing down all around you, wings and fluttering tails ablaze as the heat of the flames chased away the coldness of the air.

You barely felt it on your skin.

Eddie’s lifeless body in your arms, his head resting on your lap, one of your hands wrapped around the green silk ribbon on his wrist, the other clamped tightly around the guitar pick dangling from Eddie’s necklace around your neck, you watched as the fire spread.

Along the vines, like sparks on a fuse, travelling across the ground as it left only ashes in its wake.

Up the walls of the Munson trailer, the Mayfield trailer across the lawn.

Through the Forest Hills trailer park and into the woods as the darkness did your bidding and the Upside Down was swallowed by an inferno of your own making.

It almost looked beautiful. Like a meadow of glowing flowers in shades of gold and red.

Or like stars.

As if all the stars which were missing in the void of the eternal night sky above had fallen to the ground to shed their golden light and chase away the darkness, send their warmth into the air to melt away the cold.

And at the other side of the bond…you could feel Vecna scream in agony.

***

Just as Eddie though he couldn’t take it anymore, the strain on his bones – no, his fucking soul – right before its breaking point…it stopped.

And Vecna…Vecna started to scream.

***

It was good, so good, to feel Vecna’s agony, feel the echo of his tormented wails reverberate through every fiber of your being, connected through that bond he’d forced on you.

Hands trembling as you knelt on the dead grass, you could feel the strength draining from you, pooling with Eddie’s blood that had started to cool soaking through the fabric of your combat pants.

You knew enough about powers that they came at a price. Had seen it with El enough times, after all, that at some point, you’d need to stop if you wanted to live.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to live.

It was just that you didn’t care anymore whether you lived, because Eddie was gone, had paid the price for what you’d stolen. Like Max, two innocent souls taken tonight. Two loved ones. Gone. Just like that.

By the time you’d burned down the entirety of this realm, you knew there wouldn’t be any strength left for your heart to keep beating.

So be it then.

If you went out, you’d take Vecna with you.

Even if you had to set the entire world on fire to do it.

***

With a blood-curdling wail of agony, Vecna’s hand fell away from Eddie’s face, and through the blur of his own tears, Eddie watched as the monster sank to the ground.

Pieces of shriveled, rotting skin were falling away from him like dust scattered in the wind.

And Eddie realized…they were cinders.

Vecna was burning alive, piece by tiny piece.

Only then did Eddie realize that the ringing in his ears, the high-pitched noise, wasn’t coming from within his head. It was coming from all around him.

The creepers slithering across the ground and snaking around the maze of pillars were shrieking and hissing and writhing in pain as they crumbled away inch by inch, dissolving into black particles scattered into the air as Vecna’s lair was falling apart as if it were devoured by…by invisible flames.

Monster slayer.

***

As you watched the flames of your mind’s making spread through the Upside Down, consuming the web of Vecna’s creepers like angry beasts feasting on their prey, the way the bats had torn through Eddie’s skin, the agonized wails and screeches of the vines and creatures in the distance piercing the eerie silence, you could feel Vecna growing weaker.

Weaker.

His own powers were draining away with every inch of his hive your flames devoured, taking away his strength –

Taking away.

Taking away.

Like you had taken some of his powers away.

Realization hit you like a speeding truck.

By luring you away from Eddie and the relative safety of the trailer to save your friends, knowing Eddie would follow suit to distract the bats for a second time as soon as he thought they’d followed you, Vecna had set an elaborate trap for Eddie, yes.

To punish you.

But the reason why the bats hadn’t attacked you had never solely been to lull you into a false sense of security.

No, they hadn’t touched you because…if you died, that fragment of Vecna’s powers you’d stolen and made your own would die with you.

And he couldn’t let that happen, because by taking it away, you’d weakened him.

He needed it back.

That had been what he’d wanted all along.

To punish you, take Eddie away and destroy you, break you, before he’d take back his powers from you.

But he couldn’t do that anymore, because he’d underestimated the amount of power you’d stolen from him.

He was dying.

Vecna was dying.

Right now, alongside his realm of monsters and darkness, devoured by your flames.

Like the spark of a bonfire drifting into the air…an idea took shape at the back of your mind.

It might be impossible.

A shot in the dark.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t shoot it.

Eyes squeezed shut, your voice drowned out by the tormented shrieks and screeches of the vines as your fire spread, reaching the outskirts of Upside Down Hawkins, spreading through the body of Vecna’s realm like the black veins of his control had once spread through your blood right beneath your skin, you whispered, “You thought you were a God. That you were invincible. But you’re not.” You swallowed. “I want to make a deal.”

***

Eddie could hear it, feel it echoing through Vecna’s lair and every fiber of his own being.

He’d been so certain he’d never hear that sound again – but there it was, real and as clear as day.

Your beautiful, beautiful voice, filled with this burning, fierce determination Eddie had always admired so much.

Fresh tears ran down Eddie’s cheeks in hot rivulets.

Of love and loss, the need to run to you and wrap his arms around you, feel your breath against his skin as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, feel your heartbeat and hear your laughter, chase away all the agony and terror you’d gone through and keep you safe and sound in his arms forever, right next to his heartbeat where you belonged.

“You thought you were a God. That you were invincible. But you’re not. I want to make a deal.”

***

You could feel his presence even before your eyes flew open.

Like a dark shadow cast on a sunny day, erasing the light; the chill of a pair of malevolent eyes watching you like a vengeful spirit in a haunted house.

“Little thief.”

When you opened your eyes, the world around you was gone. Replaced by the place which had etched itself forever in your memories to haunt you in your darkest nightmares.

Vecna’s lair, his collection of horrors. The broken souls pinned to their pillars like beautiful dead butterflies displayed behind glass, trapped forever.

Broken limbs like twigs.

Empty eye sockets, jaws dislodged and frozen in eternal muted screams.

And right in front of you, the monster of this dungeon.

The god of this realm of terrors.

It took a single glance to see he was injured, gravely so.

His pallid grey skin, festering with rot, was falling away to cinders like firewood turning to ash as it was eaten by your inferno.

And one of his eyes was missing, an empty socket matching those of his victims while the other stared back at you, the freezing abyss encased by the eerie blue of blooming forget-me-nots burning with raw hatred.

Hatred was good.

Hatred meant you had a chance to win.

“Henry.”

Your voice was as frozen as the time in the Upside Down.

His rotting lips twisting into a sneer which reminded you oddly of Jason, Vecna stepped aside.

Clearing your line of sight so you could see what lay behind him.

A pillar.

And pinned to that pillar, pale cheeks streaked with tears of blood…

“Eddie.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, a susurration stirring the air, but at its sound, Eddie’s eyes, those beautiful umber eyes, found yours.

Your feet were carrying you towards him on their own accord, your body’s reflex to be close to him kicking in split seconds before your mind could catch up, and a choked sob ripped from you, right from the place at the center of your chest where the abyss of numbing darkness had opened up with Eddie’s final heartbeat, a desperate flutter of stirring within you.

“Monster slayer,” Eddie whispered as your hands came up to cradle his cheeks, the blood of his tears cold beneath your fingertips. Cold as death.

Neither of you could grasp for another word beneath all the heartbreak and grief, the hope and love and bittersweet joy of being reunited for those precious, ephemeral seconds. And neither of you needed to put all of these things into words – you read them in Eddie’s umber eyes, and he read them in your own, quietly understanding each other as deeply as you always had, right from the start.

But there was no time to linger in the moment.

Every passing second was precious time running through your fingers like water.

You whirled back around to face the monster who’d positioned himself right behind you, his one remaining eye an abyss of evil.

“I want to make a deal.”

“I don’t make deals.”

Vecna’s voice was as distorted as the chimes of his clock, floating in the crimson skies above your heads.

“Yes,” you replied calmly, positioning yourself between Eddie’s slumped form and Vecna, “You do. Else, you wouldn’t have let me in here.”

“I let you in,” Vecna droned, “So you could watch how I break his soul like I broke his body.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” you hissed. “You’re dying.”

“So are you, little thief. Do you want to join your songbird? Reunited in death? It will not be a peaceful ever after. Look at you, monster slayer.” His voice was dripping with disdain. “Weakened. The life draining out of you with every second you keep your inferno alive.”

“Yes.” He was right. You could feel it, how the life was fading away from you, like the sun setting and taking its light with it. “And if I die,” you said, “So will you. We both know it. So cut the mind games.”

Straightening your spine, you hissed, “You’re injured. My friends have injured you, and now you’re burning alive as we speak because that’s what I will keep doing until my own dying breath. If I go down, I will take you with me. You’re growing weaker with each second my fire keeps devouring your hive. Your creations. And you can’t stop me. Because if you could, you would’ve already done it.”

“Clever little thief,” Vecna drawled darkly.

You swallowed.

You didn’t know if your friends would ever be able to forgive what you were about to do. If Eddie could.

But if there was a way to bring Eddie back, to rewrite his stars after all…you needed to seize the chance.

No matter the cost.

“I offer you a way out.” Your voice didn’t waver with hesitation. Because there was no hesitation. Not one second. “I offer you a deal. I’ll give you back what I’ve stolen from you…and you’ll return what you took from me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“How are you so sure I cannot simply take my powers back?”, Vecna crooned.

“If you could, you would have done so by now. But you can’t, do you? Because it’s not yours anymore. It’s mine. It belongs to me, and it won’t serve another.”

“What makes you think I can bring him back?”

I know he can, the dark sliver within your mind whispered. You knew it because when the fire had burned all around you, you’d felt it, a shiver running through the hive, the Upside Down, because Max…Max had returned. It was a feeling, a knowledge inherent – and if El had defeated death and brough back Max, however she’d done it from so far away…so could Vecna. They were the same, in a way.

“Can you?”

“Bring him back?” Vecna sneered. “I do. And you…so in love with your songbird that you’re willing to risk the fate of your world, all else you hold dear, to strike a deal with the Devil? Betray everything you’ve fought for, risk the lives of so many for a single one?”

“Yes.” The words spilled from your lips without reluctance. The truth was always quicker than a lie.

There was a dark smile twisting Vecna’s rotting lips as he stepped closer, one of his legs dragging behind. An elongated index finger stroked your cheek. It felt like a spider scuttling across your skin.

But you stood your ground, refusing to take even a single step out of his way, his path to Eddie still blocked by your own body.

“Hmm,” Vecna hummed, “We are alike, after all.”

We are not, you wanted to tell him. What I’m doing, I’m doing for love.

But Vecna wouldn’t understand, because he’d never known love.

Love, just like time, was a concept foreign to him, a thorn in his flesh.

“What makes you so sure I will keep my word?”

You swallowed. “Because you’ll bring him back first.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest, more and more of his shriveled grey skin crumbling away, cinders in a nonexistent breeze as your inferno kept wreaking havoc.

“I need this power you stole to bring him back. I am weakened.”

Lie, the darkness in your mind whispered. Lie, lie, lie. Trick, trick, trick.

“No, you don’t.”

Vecna tilted his head, and you breathed, “It’s a simple trick. I just don’t know how to do it, because I wasn’t born with these powers.”

“How will I know you won’t betray me?”, Vecna crooned.

A grim smile tucked at your lips. “It’s either trusting me…or death for both of us. I guess you’ll have to pick your chance and trust me.”

“What makes you so sure I won’t kill both of you as soon as I brought your lovebird back?”

“You can’t,” you hissed. “Your bats are cinders, and so is the rest of your monsters. You will make it out with your life, and nothing else. Just like we will.”

There was silence, the seconds ticking by too loudly on the clock suspended in the skies.

Every tick a droplet of Eddie’s life seeping away.

“Will you do it?”, you breathed. Your voice cracked like an egg beneath the words, your despair spilling out.

Vecna’s remaining forget-me-not-blue eye locked on yours. “I will. But –“ his index finger locked underneath your jaw, “Under one condition.”

Everything.

“I’ll make his heart start beating again, and I’ll release his soul to find its way back into his body. But his wounds will remain. Until you gave me back what you stole.” His rotting lips twisted into a devious sneer. “And if you don’t give it back…his wounds will stay. He will succumb to those wounds for a second time in a matter of minutes.”

“Deal,” you breathed.

With a blink, you snapped back out of the trance he’d put you in, Vecna’s lair dissolving around you as you resurfaced with a sharp intake of breath – just in time to hear it, a choked gasp for air on the ground beside you.

“EDDIE!”

You scrambled across the dead grass, your hands grasping his shoulder as his eyes, filled with life, locked on yours, wide and terrified and confused and flooded with pain, the agony of his mutilated body, every nerve on fire like the vines in the Upside Down as blood spilled from the bat bites just like it had only minutes ago.

Time was running out all over again.

Your eyes squeezing closed, you reached out towards the darkness, the enemy-turned-companion, for a final time.

You saved him, you told it. You need to leave so I can save him again. Go back to your master. Please.

The darkness writhed, a shadow curling against your mind for one last time, bidding you good-bye.

Who would have thought that this thing you’d been fearing for so long would be the one to save your love, in the end?

The darkness heeded your plea.

You hadn’t been prepared for the pain.

All-consuming pain, just like it had felt when the Mind Flayer, Vecna, had forced the darkness past your lips, into your mind and soul, all those months ago.

You could feel it, tendrils of shadow untangling from the strings of your soul like fabric unraveling into its threads. One by one.

When it left you, dark shadows spilling from your lips and into the skies, back to its source, your scream carried through the frozen air.

And then it was over.

Tremors racking your body and blood spilling from your nose in rivers of crimson, you scrambled closer to Eddie.

His breaths were ragged, sharp and shallow as he rang for air.

There was no time for your tears of relief and happiness, to pull Eddie into your arms and feel the beautiful flutter of his heartbeat against your palm.

Because Eddie’s wounds were still there, his blood still pooling onto the dead grass, running warm through your fingers.

And his eyes were filled with agony.

Raw, unfiltered agony.

“Eddie,” you sobbed, hands cradling his head, making sure he could see you. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

You waited.

For Vecna to make true of the final part of the deal and heal Eddie’s wounds.

One second, two.

Three.

Come on, you fucking bastard. Keep your word, you wanted to scream into the air.

But you knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t.

That he would leave you here, your final bargaining chip gone and back in his own hands, Eddie bleeding out in your arms for a second time as you were forced to watch, helpless and alone.

No.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

Your shifted, your hands finding their way to Eddie’s chest to press over the spots where the bats’ fangs and talons had ripped through fabric and skin and tissue, and Eddie’s agonized wail pierced the air and shattered your heart, but you needed to staunch the bleeding, stop it so he would’d bleed out all over again and the light would fade from his eyes for a second time, a final time.

“I know,” you sobbed, “I know, it hurts. But I need to stop the bleeding, okay? You’re – you’re gonna be okay, Eddie. I got you. This time it’s gonna be okay –“

Your voice was strangled with the force of the tears you kept fighting back, swallowed by his own choked sob, tormented and frail.

Eddie’s eyes were on yours, panic and agony swirling together as tears streamed down his face to mingle with the drying blood coating his lips, his cheeks. You could see that he wanted to reply, but his strangled, shallow breaths, the all-consuming pain in his body, muted the words.

You needed to get him out of this place.

Into warmth, somewhere where you could actually start patching him up, the wounds too many, too deep to even think about covering them with a makeshift-bandage, but you were alone, and you were too weak to get Eddie out of here on your own –

“HELP!”, you screamed into the darkness of the Upside Down, cinders and spores floating around you like the glittering flakes inside a snow globe.

The eerie silence had returned.

Cradling Eddie in your arms, your hands pressing over his torn chest in a failing attempt to staunch the bleeding, you felt like you were adrift on a freezing dark ocean, stretching into every direction with no shore in sight, no lighthouse to guide your way.

Alone and so horribly, utterly helpless.

“HELP ME! PLEASE! SOMEBODY!” The next sob shattered your voice into a whisper. “Anyone. Please –“

It took a heartbeat for you to register the sound piercing the cold air.

Your name.

Somewhere in the distance, someone called your name.

Your heart did a little somersault of hope in your chest.

“NANCY!”, you cried out, your voice breaking, “STEVE! ROBIN! HELP! HELP ME!”

And then they were there, breaking out of the woods and racing towards you.

Your friends. Uninjured. Alive. Like the mirage of water in the scorching desert sun – only that they were real. So beautifully real.

“What happened?!”, Robin cried out, her eyes wide with terror as they found Eddie, slumped and bleeding, fading in and out of consciousness with weak cries of agony, his blood spilling all over your hands.

“We need to get him out of here,” you sobbed, your own gaze finding Steve’s, who gave you a curt nod before bending down, arms locking underneath Eddie’s to pull him across the yard, towards the spot where the ground had ripped open, a glaring abyss shedding pulsing crimson light into the darkness of the Upside Down, the gate no longer only a doorway because the walls had been torn down altogether.

Max was alive, alive alive alive and so was Eddie – but it hadn’t reversed the consequences.

Vecna had taken his fourth and final victim.

He’d torn down the walls between worlds.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now.

Because as long as Eddie was alive, as long as you could still save him…everything could be okay again.

As long as Eddie was still here…you could face every other thing thrown your way.

You couldn’t remember how Steve had managed to drag Eddie through the rip in the ground. Couldn’t hear the voices of your friends, Robin’s shaken, panicked rambling dulled and blurry as if you were under water; couldn’t feel Nancy’s gentle hand resting on your shoulder as she shouted something at Steve.

The only thing you remembered was the night sky when you emerged from the Upside Down.

It was a clear spring night, almost warm, a myriad of stars winking down at you as you raced towards the Munson trailer alongside Steve who was half-dragging, half-carrying Eddie across the grass of the lawn.

The black mist inside your mind was gone, the connection to Vecna and the Upside Down severed. No, not severed – erased. Gone for good.

The Forest Hills trailer park had descended into pandemonium.

It felt like a lifetime ago, since the ground had ripped open.

In reality, it had been mere minutes.

Screams and shouts and cries echoed through the darkness immersing the trailer park as people left their homes to assess the rip in the ground, like an angry gash bleeding crimson light into the once peaceful spring night, running through the entirety of the park and vanishing beyond the tree line of the woods, in the direction of the Hawkins town center.

If anyone noticed the four of you dragging Eddie across the grass, they didn’t care.

Somewhere on the other side of the woods, the kids were all alone in the attic of that horrible, decaying house which had never been a home but a graveyard of nightmares.

The first wails of sirens rang out in the distance, but they blurred.

Everything blurred, drowned out by the pounding of your racing heartbeat in your ears, the roaring blood, the world turning into the static of a walkie without a signal as all your senses zoned in on Eddie dangling limply in Steve’s grip, his eyes half-closed as the life was pooling out of him for a second time, and the muted cry on his lips, too weak to spill.

On the task of saving your songbird’s life.

The cresting flood wave of emotions was held back by a concrete wall of fierce determination locking around your heart as you reached the foot of the steps leading up to the trailer, the rip running straight through the Munsons’ living room – but there was no time to look for an alternate shelter. It would have to make do.

You raced past Steve, holding Eddie’s lifeless form, with Nancy at your heels as you burst through the trailer’s door, a wide-eyed Dustin greeting you inside.

“What the fuck happened?! Erica said Max died and came back and then Eddie cut the fucking rope and Max is alive again –“

“Mattress!”, you shouted, pushing the boy aside as you and Nancy gripped one half of Eddie’s mattress, sliced through clean by the rip running through the length of the Munson trailer, the edge still smoldering, but it was better than nothing.

“We gotta call an ambulance,” Steve began, dragging Eddie inside, but Nancy cut him off.

“They won’t be here in time. It’s chaos outside. We need to stop the bleeding now.”

“HERE!”, you commanded at Steve, before your gaze met Nancy’s, her blue eyes calm and collected, grounding you, before you announced, “Robin, get us all the clean towels you can find. Bathroom. In the drawer beneath the sink. Now!”

The vehemence in your voice seemed to work to tear Robin out of her shellshocked daze as her wide blue eyes left Eddie’s slumped form to lock on yours before she gave a dazed nod and vanished down the little hallway, careful not to fall through the freshly torn ground. The gate. Not a rip, but a massive gate not even El would be able to close again.

But that was a problem for another day.

Eddie’s choked cry of agony when Steve dragged him onto the mattress on the ground was tearing you apart as you fell to your knees beside him, your hand finding his, fingers intertwining.

Eddie’s skin was cold. So, so cold.

And his eyes were crazed with agony.

He wouldn’t make it through the torment of all those horrid wounds being patched up, you realized, if you didn’t find a way to sedate him.

“Towels!”, Robin shouted, her return only registering at the edge of your perception as your mind was racing, going a mile a minute – and then it clicked.

“Special K,” you breathed, head snapping up to meet Nancy’s gaze.

“Drugs?!” Robin blurted, dumping the stack of towels at the foot of the mattress, beside Eddie, “I don’t think that’s a good –“

“In one of his drawers,” you cut her off, eyes still on Nancy’s.

“What does it look like?”

“I – I don’t know,” you breathed. “Just…just look.”

Nancy raced away towards his room as you untangled your hand from Eddie’s.

“I’m going to undress you now, okay?”, you said softly, your hands clasping the hem of his Hellfire shirt, sodden with blood.

You couldn’t tell whether Eddie had even understood your words.

You clenched your jaw and ripped at the shirt, careful to keep the fabric away from Eddie’s wounds as best as you could as his weak cry filled the space, mingling with the sound of the material tearing beneath your grip, ripped open in the middle like the ground beneath Hawkins.

Nausea gripped your guts and fresh tears forced their way into your eyes as you took in the damage beneath.

“Holy fuck,” Steve’s queasy inhale filled the shellshocked silence.

Eddie’s chest was torn. His skin had been ripped off by dozens of needle-sharp teeth and talons.

And the blood…

You’d never seen so much blood in your life.

Eddie’s frail cries of agony had muted to shallow, ragged breaths.

It was not a good sign.

Panic clawing its way up your throat, your eyes fell on Dustin.

He was frozen in his place beside the front door, his blue eyes wide with shock, so uncharacteristically muted as he stared down at Eddie, at the torn skin and blood soaking the mattress around him.

“Steve,” you commanded, “Get Dustin out of here.”

Steve’s eyes were just as wide as the boy’s, frozen in his own shock and horror at the sight of Eddie’s wounds.

It dawned on you that in all the time fighting monsters alongside these people, this weird little found family…you’d never been much of a fighter.

Nancy and Steve, El and Max and Lucas…those were the fighters, the warriors.

But there couldn’t only be warriors. There had to be healers, too.

Those who mended the wounds from the battle field, who waited with open arms and calming words at the sidelines, who took charge to defend and mend.

Eddie was a healer.

And so were you, you realized, a strange sense of calmness freezing you over, a reflex you didn’t know you’d possessed locking up all the panic because with Eddie’s life in the balance, there was no time left to squander.

“No, no I want to stay –“

“STEVE! GET HIM OUT NOW!”

Your voice rattled Steve out of his own shock as he whirled around to grab Dustin’s arm –

As the front door of the trailer was slammed open.

You’d grabbed the shotgun from Nancy’s discarded backpack before any of the others could react, the sawed-off barrel aimed at the door before you’d even fully jumped back to your feet as your eyes met those of the intruders.

A woman and three men, all of them clad in dark suits, freezing in their spots at the sight of your weapon.

“Out,” you hissed. “Now.”

“We’re here for Eddie Munson,” the woman said. If she was scared, she covered it up like a true professional.

“Yeah, I know. You’re not getting him. He’s innocent.”

“We know that,” the woman replied calmly, unfazed by the blood coating your hands all the way up to your elbows, staining your clothes. “We’re here to help.”

“Yeah, sure.” The resounding click as you cocked the gun sounded too loud even in your own ears. “Go away.”

The woman slowly raised her hands in a gesture of surrender as her gaze flitted down to Eddie. “We’re here because Dr. Owens sent us to help.”

“Dr. – Dr. Owens?”, Dustin began.

“How does Dr. Owens –“

“Can you help him?”, you cut them all off, despair forging your words. “CAN YOU HELP HIM?!”

“We can,” the woman replied, “If you let us.”

There was no time to check whether these people were actually working for Owens, whether they were friends or enemies.

Eddie’s time was running out. And it was running out fast.

You opened your hands.

And the shotgun thudded to the carpet.

***

You stayed.

When Steve shepherded Dustin out of the destroyed Munson trailer and Nancy followed the woman, Dr. Owens’ agent, into Eddie’s room to tell her what had happened, the men in suits – doctors, it turned out – started staunching the flow of blood from Eddie’s wounds, you stayed.

They told you to leave, but you ignored them.

Attentive like a hawk, hackles raised and adrenaline sharpening every speck of light in your eyes, every whisper of sound in your ears as your heart raced, you stayed, Eddie’s head resting in your lap while you watched the doctors.

“What are you giving him?”, you breathed, eyes focused on the syringe one of them had pulled out of the bags they’d brought with them. Medical kits.

“A sedative.”

You couldn’t remember whether they had told you their names.

You didn’t care.

All you wanted was for them to save Eddie. Save the love of your life.

With the nod at the clear liquid inside the syringe, the needle glinting in the dim light – when had the lights went on again in the trailer? Had they ever been out in the first place, or had the darkness simply been the panic, the all-consuming despair in your chest? – you settled at the edge of the mattress, your gaze already on Eddie.

His eyes were open, tears catching in his lashes and running down the sides of his face and mingling with the blood still spilling from the bite wound in his cheek.

“I’m here,” you whispered. “I’m right here, okay? You’ll be okay again. I promise you’ll be fine.”

His lips parted – for another agonized cry or a reply, you couldn’t tell – but there was no sound.

“I know,” you said softly, biting back a sob of your own, “I know it hurts. But it’ll stop now, and when you wake up again, I’ll be right here.” Maybe your words would burrow their way through the daze of agony and reach him. You shuffled closer, your trembling hands gently lifting Eddie’s head to place him on your lap, your hands brushing a few blood-crusted curls away from his forehead.

“I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up, Eddie.”

And I promise that you’ll wake up again.

The liquid inside the syringe found its way into Eddie’s bloodstream.

Whatever it was, it was fast.

You could see it cloud Eddie’s eyes, the way he seemed to try and fight the leaden heaviness of his eyelids, the sudden darkness creeping in at the edge of his senses, and with a soft croon, you caressed his uninjured cheek. “It’s okay, Eddie. You’re safe. Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

A tiny spark amidst the glassy haze spreading in his gaze told you he’d understood your words.

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut.

The doctors didn’t ask you to leave. It was evident that you wouldn’t.

With your fingers gently combing through his soft curls in the hopes that the tender touch would seep through the peaceful darkness of the sedative in Eddie’s bloodstream, hoping it would reach him and let him know he wasn’t alone, you stayed.

 [Monday, March 31st, 1986. NOW.]

When Eddie had been a kid, he’d made a kite all by himself.

Not one of those boring diamond-shaped ones, but one that had looked like a dragon.

He’d painted the fabric of its wings himself, shimmering scales in all shades of green. It had taken him two weeks until the dragon had actually been ready to conquer the wind.

He felt a little like that kite now; ripped away by the storm, the only tether holding him from being carried away the soft tune of a voice.

Your voice.

It pierced the darkness shrouding him, capturing his senses, the words strangely familiar as they painted pictures of rolling green hills, of dragons and adventures into his mind like brushstrokes forming a colorful landscape on a canvas.

***

“’If preciouss asks, and it doesn’t answer, we eats it, my preciouss. If it asks us, and we doesn’t answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it the way out, yes’”, you read aloud from the book in your hand as your other carded gently through Eddie’s dark curls fanned out around his head on the pillow, “’Alright’, said Bilbo, not daring to disagree, and nearly bursting his brain to think of riddles that could save him from being eaten. Thirty white horses on a red hill, first they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still. That was all he could think of to ask – the idea of eating was rather on his mind. It was rather an old one, too, and Gollum knew the answer as well as you do.”

You paused, eyes flitting away from the pages of the copy of The Hobbit Dustin had brought yesterday, to glance down at Eddie.

Three days had passed since that night. Eddie had yet to wake up from his sleep.

The doctors had assured you it was normal, that he’d wake up as soon as his body had regenerated enough.

Beneath the blanket you’d tucked up to his chin to keep him warm, you could see the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, his breathing calm and even in his sleep.

In between visits from the rest of the party – Steve and Dustin, Nancy and Robin who’d been busy volunteering at the Hawkins High cafeteria which had been transformed into a temporary shelter for those who’d lost their homes to the four rips which had opened up in the ground, crossing right at the library at the heart of Hawkins, and the Byers and Hopper, miraculously alive, back from California – you hadn’t left Eddie’s side. You’d spent hours and hours those past three days just watching him breathe.

Scared that, should you tear your gaze away from him, he’d just…stop. Stop breathing, the tune of his heartbeat going silent again. Forever, this time.

It would stay this way, you figured, checking that he was still breathing, his heart still beating against your palm, making sure that Eddie was still here.

His pale features were calm, not a single flutter of his closed eyelids breaking the serenity, his lashes long and dark as they rested against his cheeks.

Whatever kind of sleep had been holding him ever since Owens’s people had brought him here, to El and Hopper’s cabin…it was a dreamless one, at least, void of nightmares.

It was better, you figured, if he slept through those first days of healing, anyways. They’d left painkillers behind, but you didn’t know whether there was any kind of painkiller strong enough to numb the pain of those wounds.

You’d washed the blood from Eddie’s skin as best as you could with a bowl of soapy water and a washcloth, and every morning and every night you cleaned his wounds and switched the bandages just like Dr. Owens’s doctors had shown you, with Joyce’s calm assistance.

Joyce Byers had taken one look at Eddie and shifted into protective-mom mode, and you loved her all the more for it.

While you watched Eddie now, you could hear them rummage beyond the closed door of El’s former bedroom as Hopper, El, Nancy and the Byers were busy repairing the cabin’s roof, the damage the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had done on the little home last summer.

Hopper. Max. Eddie.

Three people who’d conquered death and returned – two of them quite literally, even.

Maybe the odds were in your favor after all.

With your fingers still slowly carding through Eddie’s curls, you watched him a little longer.

The bruises Jason and his friends had given him at the boathouse only days ago had started to fade, replaced by those Jason had added to his face in the Upside Down, blooming underneath the pale skin of Eddie’s jaw like dark flowers.

His face was nearly as white as the gauze covering his left cheek, where the bats had torn open the skin, more bandages covering the side of his throat, his entire upper body beneath the faded blanket you’d spread over his naked body to shield him from the cold.

There would be scars. On his skin, and on his soul.

But you’d be there every step of the way, helping him heal, helping him let those scars fade over time just like he’d done with yours.

You gently brushed a few stray curls of his bangs away from his forehead. No matter how many hours you’d already spent trying to brush the dried blood out of his dark curls as best as you could, it clung to the strands, another horrid reminder of that night in the Upside Down.

Suppressing your fresh tears, you grabbed the book from where you’d placed it on the mattress beside you, your other hand still gently combing through Eddie’s curls.

There was the soft clatter of plates from the cabin’s tiny kitchen, the sounds of voices muffled through the closed door.

Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you resumed to reading to Eddie.

Maybe your words would find their way to him, through the unconsciousness holding him firmly in its grasp for now.

“Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters. ‘Half a moment!’, cried Bilbo, who was still thinking uncomfortably about eating. Fortunately, he had once heard something rather like this before, and getting his wits back he thought of the answer. ‘Wind. Wind, of course’, he said, and –“

A tiny movement in the periphery of your vision drew your gaze away from the page. To Eddie.

Just as his eyes fluttered open.

For a breathless moment as his umber gaze – filled with life, the spark back within – met yours, you were frozen in place.

Then, with a muted sob, the dam you’d built over those past three days broke to open the floodgates. The tide of terror and loss, of hope, love and relief broke over you as you squeezed your eyes shut, a deep, trembling inhale not enough to keep the tears from spilling any longer.

With a choked sob, the book falling from your hand and thudding to the wooden floorboards, you barely stopped yourself from falling into his arms and accidentally ripping open the wounds.

Instead, you gently inched closer, hand untangling from his curls and lacing with his on the blanket.

He blinked up at you, the sight of his beautiful umber eyes meeting yours making it hard for you not to break down sobbing with relief at the expression of love and devotion shining within them. The life.

“Monster slayer,” he whispered. His voice was raspy from staying unused for so many days. Or maybe from his screams of agony which still rang through your mind when all else was quiet.

Choked by your tears, you raised his hand in yours to place a kiss on his knuckles, his skin so beautifully warm, but the fear to hurt him and the almost physically painful desire to take him into your arms warring in your chest as you whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“Fucked.” There was a weak smirk on his lips as he blinked. “‘n wrapped up in bubble wrap.”

The frail little smirk disappeared from his face as another thought dawned on him, making room for a frown as he whispered, “Max – my uncle…?”

“Live.” You felt the tears streaming down your face. Of relief. So, so much relief, all-encompassing. Because Eddie, your songbird, was alive, and so was Max. “Wayne is fine. And Max is at the hospital. Her bones…are broken. But she’ll heal. She’ll…she’ll be okay again. Lucas is with her, and Erica and El and the rest of the party. And Wayne knows you’re alive. We couldn’t risk bringing him here, because…you know. People tend to get sucked into the monster-hunting-shit pretty quickly but…he knows, and he’s fine. He loves you so much.”

For a moment, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut as he gave a frail nod of relief, a trembling exhale for the breath he’d been holding while the first stray tear rolled down his cheek.

“You saved her, Eddie. You saved Max and El. El told me. You distracted him from the girls.”

“I tried to kill him,” Eddie rasped. “From within. So he couldn’t hurt you again. But I remember that I failed and the rest is…the rest is blurry. You were there, and then we were back in that place and it hurt, it hurt so fucking much –“ His voice broke at the memories, arms rising to bury his face in his hands before, with a pained flinch, he let them sink again.

“I made a deal.” Your voice was quiet, even. “With Vecna.”

“I know. I…I remember. That place…” Eddie’s voice was strangled as the images flitted back to him, and you squeezed his hand, combatting your own memories. Of Eddie, limp and broken as he dangled in the chokehold of Vecna’s vines. “You gave it back.”

“I did,” you said quietly.

“Did it hurt?” It was so soft-spoken, the question catching you by surprise.

“What?”

“When you gave it back.”

“You’re the one who died, Eddie,” you breathed incredulously.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“It did, but…it’s gone. Just gone now.” You took a trembling breath. “I could have killed him, Eddie. I had him right there, and I could have done it. But…but I didn’t care. About anything else but saving you. And I’d do it all over again. I’d always choose you, a million times over. And I don’t care one bit about the rest of the world. And now Hawkins has fallen, the ground is open and the barrier between worlds is down. It’s snowing, but it’s not snow, Eddie. It’s not snow. It’s this place, bleeding into our homes. But I don’t regret anything. I never will. I got you back and I don’t care at what cost and I’d pay it again.”

And this time, I don’t care what kind of person that makes me. A bad one, or just a desperate one.

It were the same words you’d used when you’d told the rest of the party about the choice you’d made.

They’d understood. All of them.

And of all of them, it had been Hopper who’d spoken first.

“That’s not bad. That’s love. And if we didn’t have that, what the fuck would there even be worth fighting for?”

“Well, uh,” Eddie rasped, his lips tucking into the softest of smiles as he turned his head a little on the pillow to face you, “I’d sure as Hell have made the same choice if it had been you. Not a single second of hesitation. Not one second, you hear me?”

More tears streaming down your face, you shifted in your chair, shuffling closer until you could gently rest your forehead on Eddie’s, his umber eyes never straying from you as, on a choked sob, you whispered, “Next time when I tell you to stay put, Eddie Munson…you stay put. Because I will drag your ass back from whatever afterlife-situation you managed to get yourself into and I’ll be goddamn furious.”

“I promise I’ll let you hold that against me for the rest of our life,” Eddie chuckled softly, his breath warm as it ghosted across your lips, inches from his.

For the rest of our life.

The most beautiful truth.

An entire lifetime ahead.

When your lips brushed his, the touch as light as a feather, too scared to somehow hurt him with his wounds barely having started to heal, it felt like the first saving intake of breath after nearly drowning in a freezing lake. It was, in a way. That’s what Eddie was.

The sun to light your day, the moon to illuminate your night, the stars to guide you through the dark. And the air you breathed.

Where your own kiss was cautious, carefully holding back not to hurt him, Eddie’s was fierce as if he couldn’t believe this was real yet, as if he feared that you’d be gone any second and he’d be back in that dark, dark place filled with its unspeakable horrors.

And with each slow kiss, tasting of the salt of both your tears mingling on your lips, each soft sigh spilling from Eddie, each move of his lips as his hand laced with yours on the bedsheets beside him, you could feel all the broken shards of your heart coming together, put back in their places and mended together until you were whole again.

Until that night, these ten minutes in which you’d been forced to live in a world where there was no Eddie Munson, faded into a distant memory, like the images of a nightmare already fading away beneath the morning sun.

Eddie raised his hand to cradle your cheek –

“FUCK!” It was a strangled, pained outcry, making you jump back in your chair as he hissed, “Goddamnit –“

“Don’t move,” you winced, your hands coming up to grasp his, “Don’t move, okay?”

“Yeah, noticed that,” Eddie pressed through gritted teeth. You could see the pain beneath the tough exterior he was putting up.

For a heartbeat, you stayed like this. Hands intertwined on the bedsheets, Eddie’s eyes momentarily squeezed shut and his fingers squeezing yours as he waited for the tidal wave of pain to ebb which had seized him upon the movement, his sharp breaths slowly growing more even as it subsided.

When his umber eyes fluttered open again, he whispered, “How bad?”

Instead of a reply, you slowly reached out to gently pull the blanket downwards to his hips so he could see for himself.

For a moment, Eddie fell uncharacteristically quiet as he glanced down, taking in the gauze wrapped all around his upper body, parts of his thighs.

Then, “Jesus Christ. I always made fun of people dressing up as mummies for Halloween. Uh. By the way. Whose…um, whose bed is it I’m so casually lounging in naked?”

“El’s,” you said as you gently pulled the bedsheets up to cover him again, careful not to brush against the gauze on the side of his neck as you tucked the fabric under his chin to keep him warm. “This is her and Hopper’s cabin.”

Eddie’s eyes widened.

“You and Max aren’t the only ones who conquered death.”

“And here I was thinking I’m special,” Eddie quipped, drawing a soft giggle from you.

“You’re the specialest,” you reassured with a soft grin.

“You just say that ‘cause you think I’m pretty.”

The laughter was already bubbling up your throat, but it was choked by more tears spilling from your eyes as you let your forehead gently fall against Eddie’s.

“Fuck,” you choked, “I thought we’d never have this again. I thought I’d never hear your voice again. See your smile. I…Eddie you can’t do that again.” Your words were fusing into quiet sobs, ripping out of you in waves too strong to suppress them any longer, “Promise. Promise you won’t leave again. Promise –“

“Hey,” Eddie breathed, shushing you as slowly, gently, one of his hands settled on the side of your face. Your tears were seeping into the bandage wrapped around his palm, covering the deep gash where he had caught the blade of Jason’s knife. “Ssssh, I’m here, monster slayer,” he rasped, “I’m here. You’re not gonna lose me again, ‘kay? I still got your ribbon, remember? Can’t lose me. That thing’s magic.”

You sniffled, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, before you breathed, “Okay, I’m…I’m calm. I got it. You really need to drink something. And eat. I think Joyce said she wanted to make some chicken soup for later. Come on, I’ll help you sit up.”

You moved to help Eddie sit up, stuffing the pillow behind his back for support, and your heart ached at the sight of the pained flinch contorting his still bruised features, his face growing even paler with the exertion of the small movement, cold sweat beading on his forehead and making the dark curls of his bangs stick to his skin.

“You’ll heal,” you breathed, gently squeezing his hands. “The doctors said it will take a few weeks but you’ll heal and I’ll be with you all the way. And for now…” You let go of him to pick up one of the Yoo-Hoo bottles you’d placed on the ground beside the bed, waving it in your hand with a budding smile, “You-hoo need to drink something. Come on, I’ll help you sit up, okay?”

As you moved to unscrew the bottle’s lid, the door to El’s room creaked open, a pair of warm brown eyes widening at the sight of Eddie sitting in bed, more or less upright and awake.

“Oh!”

You jumped up from your chair to help Joyce with the tray she was balancing in her hands, a steaming bowl on it already spreading the savory scent of broth through the room.

“Hi.” Eddie gave her an awkward smile. “Uh. I’m Eddie. Sorry for occupying the bed.”

“No worries, honey,” Joyce smiled, letting you take the tray from her hands to set it down at the end of the bed.

“This is Joyce Byers,” you said, and Eddie’s face lit up.

“The Christmas-Lights-Lady who’s never been wrong.”

Joyce gave you a smirk. “I like him already.”

With a glance at Eddie, she said, “You need to eat. I’ll bring you two a second portion of broth and –“

“It’s fine,” you said, sitting down in the chair beside the bed, “He can have mine. I’ll help myself later.”

With a nod and another smile at Eddie, Joyce pulled the door shut behind her.

“She’s tiny,” Eddie commented. “And I’m still pretty sure she’d win every fist fight she joined.”

You laughed. “That’s about the most accurate description of Joyce Byers I’ve ever heard.”

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but he stilled as the door creaked open for a second time, his eyes widening, and you followed his stare to the looming figure in the doorway.

“Joyce sent me with more soup.”

“It’s broth,” Joyce’s voice sounded from somewhere in the background.

“Same thing,” Hopper murmured, raising the steaming bowl. It looked tiny in his hands, like the dishes on a fairy’s tea table.

“Munson.”

Eddie seemed to sink a little deeper into the pillows behind him. “Chief.”

“Wait –“ you gaped, “You know each other?!”

Hopper chuckled. “Had a few run-ins in the past. Callahan got his ass for underage drinking three years ago –“

“One beer,” Eddie said, “It was one beer.”

“ – and while our Munson Junior here was waiting for his uncle to get from his night shift to pick him up at the police station, a good pound of bagged weed flooded from the boy’s clothes all over the goddamn floor.”

“The start of a wonderful friendship,” Eddie quipped with a smirk, and you laughed.

“No way.”

“And it was good weed at that,” Hopper grinned, and Eddie’s smirk made room for an incredulous grin.

“You kept the fucking weed?”

“Confiscated,” Hopper corrected with a mischievous drawl, “I confiscated it.”

The chief placed the bowl in your hands.

“Alright. ‘M gonna leave you to it.”

With a nod, he left.

When the door clicked shut, you let out another disbelieving laugh. “You need to tell me everything about that encounter.”

“He never filed a report,” Eddie said. “Not once. He’s a good one.”

“Don’t let him hear that,” you winked, before you placed the bowl of broth on the night stand. “Okay, Joyce is right, you need to eat. I’ll –“ You cut yourself off at the sight of Eddie’s pained flinch. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh. I gotta pee first.” He winced a little as he mumbled the words, and your heart squeezed in your chest.

You knew Eddie hated it to ask for help.

He’d always hated it to ask whether you could proof-read his assignments, hated it to need help with anything, no atter how much he loved helping others.

“You wanna try and go to the bathroom?”, you said softly as you rose from your chair. “I’ll help you. We just need to get you some underwear on first.”

Eddie gnawed his lip. “You…you’re sure? Like…you won’t find me less, uh. Hot, or stuff?”

You suppressed a soft laugh at the way he was staring at you with those beautiful umber puppy dog eyes.

“Eddie,” you said softly, “I’ve been washing you and changing your bandages every day. I was there when they…when they patched you up, all the way. We went to literal hell and back together. I think we’re both past the point where it’s weird to accompany each other to pee. Besides,” you quipped, giving him a grin to loosen some of his tension, “It’s either me who’s helping…or Hopper.”

“You’ve washed me?”

You swallowed at the memory of bowl after bowl of soapy water turning crimson, then pink, then finally clear as you’d washed the dried blood from Eddie’s skin. “How did you think the blood disappeared?”

“That explains the flowery smell.”

“I’ve never met a person in my life who’s so ready to always help others yet absolutely despises to receive help themselves, you know.”

“I don’t despise receiving help,” Eddie corrected with a mumble, “I despise needing help. Especially if that entails my girlfriend needing to help me pee.”

“Then look at it this way”, you whispered, “You’ve been there. All the way, helping me through the darkest time of my entire life. Every step. That’s the beautiful thing of being together. You don’t have to do things on your own anymore. And neither do I. So after everything you’ve done for me…please let me do this for you. Let me help you until you can do these things yourself again in a few weeks. And –“ you gave him a sultry smile, “There’s nothing that could ever make you less hot for me, anyways.”

***

You couldn’t tell what had roused you from your slumber, slumped in the chair, your feet resting on the foot of the mattress of El’s bed right beside Eddie’s.

A strange sense of foreboding perhaps, the way birds took to the skies before an earthquake or cats hid before a storm when the sky was still clear. An intuition sprouted from being connected to another person as deeply as you were to Eddie, heart and soul.

As you blinked against the pale moonlight seeping through the window to cast the little room into a silver glow, your hackles were raised even before the remnants of sleep had left your bleary eyes and dazed mind.

Eddie was still tucked in beneath the blankets, the rise and fall of his chest making relief bloom in your heart once again – but it was short-lived, this time. Because his breathing wasn’t even. It was shallow and ragged.

And his features weren’t schooled into the serene mask of peaceful sleep.

His brow was furrowed, and tears were rushing down his face, soaking the gauze patch on his left cheek and dripping into the dark curls fanned out around his head, like spilt ink in the silver moonlight.

He looked as if he were in pain.

Just as you moved out of your chair to sit on the mattress and rouse him from whatever nightmare was plaguing him, a frail, agonized whimper ripped from him to fill the silence of the moonlit bedroom, peaceful no longer.

“Eddie,” you whispered, your hands gently settling on his shoulders, careful not to startle him. “Eddie, hey. Wake up. Wake up, Eddie.”

Just as panic clawed its way up your throat, Eddie’s string of whimpers was broken by a sharp intake of breath as his eyes flew open.

You could see the panic brimming within like fish in a pond.

“It’s okay,” you whispered softly, taking his hands in yours on the sheets, “You’re okay. I’m here. Right here. You’re save, see?”

In the dim silver light, you could see the exact moment in which the nightmare’s talons which had been holding his mind hostage started to loosen as he recognized you.

But his tears didn’t stop spilling.

A strangled sob ripped from him, so horribly pained and helpless, making your heart bleed for him when you shuffled closer, cuddling up at the edge of the mattress beside him. Gently, ever so gently not to rip open his healing wounds in the process, you pulled him against you until the side of his face rested against your collarbone, his quiet, heart-wrenching sobs spilled against you.

You stayed like this, with Eddie next to your own heartbeat right where he belonged as you held him, the moonlight and the silence filling with his muffled sobs the only company.

“It’s okay,” you cooed softly, “I got you. It was a dream.”

Your fingertips carded through his dark curls in soothing motions, brushing them away from Eddie’s tear-stained cheeks while his tears soaked the fabric of your shirt.

“They were…they were back,” Eddie choked, “The bats. They got me and then they…they got you.”

“They’ll never get you again.”

“How do you know? He’s out there. He’s still out there.”

You were at a loss. “Because…because he’s hurt. And weakened. And we nearly had him. Next time, we’ll be wiser. Next time we’ll have El and Hopper and the entire Byers family and you haven’t seen Joyce with an axe yet and El got her full powers back. Next time, we’ll get him. And we’ll make sure he won’t get up again. But for now, we’re safe. And I got you.”

“Will it stop?”, Eddie breathed. “The dreams.”

You bit your lip, pulling him a little closer. “One day.”

“How did you do it?”, Eddie whispered. It sounded pleading. “How did you get through them?”

“At first, I didn’t.” You swallowed. “And then I met you. You found me. And you made them go away. You made them fade away, Eddie. And now I’m going to do the same thing for you.”

You placed the gentlest of kisses on the crown of Eddie’s head, stray curls tickling your lips, running your hands through his hair until the tension had left his body and the ears had dried on his cheeks, until the soft susurrations of his even breaths were weaving with the beams of moonlight once more.

“I promise I’ll make them stop,” you whispered into his curls.

And you did.

Like a dragon guarding its gold, you watched over Eddie’s sleep, beside him in bed with your back resting against the headboard and your eyes flying over the pages of a book illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window.

Every night, when his breathing grew shallow and ragged, you roused him from his sleep, already holding him close before the first tears started falling, letting him sob as he buried his face in the crook of your neck while your fingers gently carded through his curls, or painted soothing patterns on his back as he drifted back to sleep.

His wounds started to heal, his skin mending as night for night, the nightmares took longer to get him, their intensity fading.

There would be scars.

You knew that better than anyone.

The memories of Vecna’s collection of horrors, his crimson lair and the army of bats, the agony of being torn apart by hundreds of razorblade-claws and needle-teeth…they would fade over time, little by little, growing paler and paler like the colors of a polaroid picture left in the sun, until the pain would be numbed to a faint sting flaring up only occasionally.

It would take time, of course.

But time was what you had.

After a few weeks, Eddie was able to leave the bed for longer than the obligatory ten-minute shower.

He was still a wanted man. The Hawkins PD, back under Hopper’s orders, was busy in the aftermath of “the earthquake”, trying to find those who’d gone missing.

Hawkins stayed destroyed.

Finals had been postponed to the summer, the school’s gym and cafeteria turned into a makeshift shelter for those who’d lost their homes to the four clean rips which had torn the town apart.

You’d been to the cafeteria for a few hours to help Robin and Steve as they sorted clothes – but beneath the pity for all those poor souls who’d lost their homes, their friends and family, there was resentment simmering beneath the surface. Hawkins was small, and you recognized most of these people from the townhall meeting, staring at you with barely concealed curiosity and – in most cases – disdain. Because you’d told them a truth they still didn’t want to hear. Because you’d spoken up against Jason and his lies, taken Eddie’s side when they’d been shouting for vengeance.

He was ready to die, you wanted to scream at them, shake them, he was ready to die for this fucking hateful small-minded town and you will never accept that he’s a hero because you don’t want a hero who has long hair and ripped clothes and tattoos and plays D&D.

Some of them refused to take your help, even.

You couldn’t have cared less.

Safe to say, you never went back there – and none of your friends asked you to.

You all knew that there would never be a way to clear Eddie’s name – because people didn’t want it cleared. They needed their monster, and they needed it to be visible, someone they could point their finger at and say, See, I told you that boy was a bad apple.

There were things not even Chief Jim Hopper had enough power to change. So Eddie stayed hidden at the cabin in the woods, his five-minute-walks around the little wooden structure alongside you growing longer and longer until the two of you were venturing deeper into the woods, careful not to be caught.

Sometimes, El or Dustin accompanied the two of you.

Sometimes, you were alone, eager to make use of the solitude the woods granted the two of you when the sun was setting and your kisses grew heated, Eddie’s hands wandering beneath the hem of your summer dress – but never farther. You didn’t dare go further, still scared to hurt him, cause his still healing wounds to rip open again.

April blurred into May.

The ground stayed open, columns of smoke rising into the skies on some days. Flakes of white sailing through the air on others. Ashes, the officials and news said – but you all knew what they were.

But there were no monsters. No strange disappearances or mutilated bodies found, no sign that Vecna was still alive.

You knew he was, though, and so did Will, vigilant and jumpy most of the time, always a hand on his neck and a quick glance cast over his shoulders wherever he went.

For now, though, Vecna was gone. Rallying his strength and forces for one final blow. You managed to push the thought away on most days, store it in the trunk with all the bad memories and thoughts, at the bottom of your heart. The only thing that mattered was Eddie, breathing and smiling and laughing again, right beside you.

Spring flowers wilted as meadows of wildflowers started blooming all around. Fields of scarlet poppy dotting the landscape at the edge of the woods, forget-me-nots blooming at the edge of the path leading to Hopper’s cabin. You knew they remembered Eddie of that night, as much as they did you.

One day, teeth gritted as tears of hatred blurred your view, making the eerie blue color swim as your nails dug into the earth to rip them out one by one. It felt good.

“You’d make a very pretty, very aggressive gardener,” Eddie had commented as you’d righted yourself, a little sweaty in the late-spring warmth lacing the air even in the shade of the woods.

And each night, you rested beside Eddie, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Each night before you switched off the lights, you let your fingertips brush over the vibrant green silk still tied around Eddie’s wrist, whispering a silent thank you. For bringing him to you, and back again and again, like the thread pulling your lover out of the Minotaur’s Labyrinth.

It was a warm day in early June when the lady in the dark suit appeared on the front porch of Hopper’s cabin, her gaunt features stern and dark eyes locked on Eddie and you, sitting on the steps to enjoy the warmth of the day, before she handed him an envelope.

You already knew what was inside even before Eddie had opened it, his rings glinting in a beam of waning afternoon sunlight.

It was a fake ID.

“Harold?” Eddie scrunched his nose before squinting up at the agent. “Like, come on. You’re the government. You could’ve picked every imaginable name and what you came up with is Harold?”

“Let me see,” you snickered as you grabbed the ID, letting out a snort. “They picked this photo and you worry about them giving you the fake name Harold?”

“You know how to cheer me up,” Eddie scoffed good-naturedly, taking back the document to scrutinize the picture.

There had been some rather heated discussions with Hopper about cutting Eddie’s hair to “not stick out like a flamingo in a flock of penguins”, as Hopper had called it – but there had been something in Eddie’s eyes when he had protested, something that had raised your hackles – but Hopper had seen it, too, and he’d backpedaled faster than you’d even jumped up from the sofa to take Eddie’s side.

And you’d all agreed that pretty much everyone would suspect a person on the run to change looks, especially someone who stood out as much as Eddie did – and thus, he could be hiding in plain sight.

On the run.

It was so wrong that he needed to run, after having stayed to fight for this fucking town.

You pushed the thought away. It was of no help right now.

And as long as Eddie lived, things would be okay. Were okay.

Not a muscle in the agent’s face twitched as she announced, “You’ve got ten minutes to pack your bags and say your good-byes, Mr. Munson. I’ll be waiting by the car.”

“Now?”, you blurted, rising from your place on the steps, “But his wounds aren’t even fully healed –“

“With every second Mr. Munson spends in this town,” the agent interrupted you, her expression growing even sterner, “He is at risk to be spotted. This town is neither forgetting nor forgiving. And if the angry townsfolk show up here, there is nothing Chief Hopper or the government can do to tame their ire.” She paused, her expression softening a little at the edges. “For now, this is all we can do.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said, suppressing a pained wince as he slowly rose from the steps. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange.

With a curt nod, the agent turned to vanish between the trees again, her high-heels making a crunching noise on the carpet of dried leaves covering the forest floor as her steps faded away.

You’d known this day would come, that Eddie would have to go into hiding until Owens’ agents would be able to clear his name. However long that might take.

“Okay,” you sighed, “Let’s go and pack. I mean, Wayne already salvaged whatever it was that could be salvaged from your stuff, and I don’t actually need that much, though I might have to stop over to grab a few of my things and…and tell my good-byes for now. I mean, we’ll be back at some point but –“

“Monster slayer –“

“But,” you grinned, “This means we’ll actually get to the beach way sooner than we thought. I was thinking…California’s nice this time of year. A little hot but I think I’d prefer it over Florida and its alligators –“

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name, soft on Eddie’s voice, a strange gravity laced within, made you halt.

Deep, dark sadness clouded Eddie’s umber gaze as he looked at you, the final beams of light of the warm summer sun painting streaks of caramel into his curls, his posture slumped with the residual pain of defeat and an invisible weight resting on his shoulders.

You knew what he would say even before he began to speak.

It didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“You can’t come with me.”

In the silence that descended upon the two of you, the birdsong floating through the woods, the rustle of leaves in the breeze and wings in the foliage, it was all too loud all of a sudden.

Eddie swallowed. “I can’t let you do this.”

“You can’t?”, you said quietly, swallowing against the lump which was growing in your throat, “Or you don’t…don’t want me to?” Your voice was strained with the weight of the tears you were trying to hold back.

“That’s not what you deserve,” Eddie said quietly. “Life on the run. We have no clue how long it’ll take them to get my name cleared and even then, I’ll never be able to return to this goddamn shithole of a town. They’ll burn me at the stake. We both know it. There will always…there will always be a Jason pitting others against me. And always an Andy and a Chance and a Chad and whatever to chase me. I’ll never be safe here.”

“Nobody will ever be safe here again,” you said quietly, just as a single white particle floated down in front of you, like the flake of ash after a fire. “Nobody.” And it’s exactly what this fucking small-minded god-forsaken town deserves, a bitter little voice chimed up in your mind, for what they did to Eddie.

“For now, you will be. With your friends, your family –“

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered, echoing Eddie’s own words. Spoken only days ago, in the calm before the storm. “You’re my family, Eddie.”

“And you’re mine. Fuck, monster slayer, I’m not doing this to hurt you. But it’s me who’s the wanted murderer, not you, and I can’t drag you into a goddamn life on the run! You – you gotta graduate. You gotta walk that stage for both of us, and snatch that diploma because that fucking piece of paper is your future, and it will open all the doors for you that you want it to. And just ‘cause I don’t have that chance anymore, doesn’t mean I can let you throw yours away, too.” Eddie took a step closer, taking your hands in his. They were warm. Voice fragile, a desperate plea in those beautiful brown eyes, Eddie breathed, “You’re my future. But I can only be yours, too, if you don’t close the doors that scrap of paper will keep open for you.” Eddie’s hands squeezing yours, he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours, breathe in your scent, before he added on a whisper, “They postponed finals to the end of summer. Graduate, monster slayer. Get that diploma.”

“And then what?”, you choked out.

Eddie’s voice was fierce when he said, “Then we’ll find each other, like we always do. And run away together, if…if that’s what you want.”

He slowly raised your joined hands, until the sunlight caught on your green silk ribbon wrapped around his wrist. “We always did. We always will. Even when we’re worlds apart. ‘kay?”

“It’s not fair.” Your voice was nothing more than a choked sob. “It’s not fair. You haven’t done anything wrong. You fought for these people –“

“I fought for you. And Wayne, and Max, and the rest of your friends. Listen,” his voice softened as Eddie gently pulled his hand away from yours to cup your cheek, “This is not good-bye, ‘kay? I promise it’s not. It’s a see ya later.”

“And then we’ll find each other?”

“Three months. Then we’ll find each other.” And with the saddest of smiles, Eddie placed a kiss on your forehead. “This is not good-bye, monster slayer. I promise this isn’t goodbye.”

 [Saturday, September 6th, 1986. NOW.]

“I don’t want to.”

“What else are you gonna do? Sit at home, wrapped in your eternal gloom and misery like the unmarried heroine in a period drama?” Robin huffed from behind you. “You’ve been doing that for the past three months.”

“I’ve been studying.”

“And look,” you friend tried, the grin she gave you through the mirror wide, “You’ve even taken a shower!”

“I take regular showers, thank you very much.”

“Bathing in self-pity doesn’t count.”

With a deep sigh, you turned away from the mirror, the hem of the ridiculous prom gown Nancy and Robin had forced you to don tonight swishing around the tops of your knees.

You’d bought the dress with Nancy at Starcourt Mall, on the first day of the summer holidays. Right before everything had gone to hell. Before the Mind Flayer and everything else.

Thinking back to this time, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Not because it had been the last day of things being okay – but because back then, Eddie hadn’t been part of your life. Back then, he’d been a daydream quickly swatted away because he’d been Eddie The Freak. The slacker everyone would have told you to steer clear of.

Wearing this dress now, bought for the final prom, the dance at the end of senior year right before you’d leave the cage that was Hawkins behind…it felt strange. And it felt wrong. Because Eddie was gone again. He would never take you to prom, or see you in that dress, because he was on the run for crimes he hadn’t committed.

And you didn’t know when you would see him again.

“Oh, no, no, no – Nance!”, Robin exclaimed as she carefully dabbed at your cheeks with the sleeve of her blazer, wiping at the tears you hadn’t realized had started to fall again.

“He’s on the run Robin,” you whispered, the words choked by a silent sob.

“So’s your makeup.”

The comment did nothing to soothe your heartache.

“Nancy, we got a situation here!”

When Nancy darted into the room, her own blush-colored dress glittering in the light of the setting sun, she took one look at you and groaned, “It took me half an hour.”

“Didn’t you think of using waterproof makeup?”

Nancy threw Robin a sideways glare that silenced her. “You do the makeup then, next time.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a quiet sniffle, “Just…go without me. I’m not in the mood.”

It had been Dustin’s idea, to have a private little prom with the party, now that the Byers had returned to Hawkins and Max had been released from the hospital. To celebrate not victory – for there had been no victory, with Vecna still out there and licking his wounds – but survival. Even more in times like these, when the ground was still split open, and ashes – spores – drifted from the skies above Hawkins on most days.

“Go without you,” Nancy echoed, as Robin cocked an eyebrow.

“So you can do what, sit on the ground in that ridiculously sexy prom dress and weep? Hell, no.”

“To pack,” you said.

That had been the plan all along.

Graduate.

Grab the diploma.

Run.

Not away from Hawkins, but back to Eddie. Find him, wherever he might be now.

With a sniffle, you sunk onto the edge of Nancy’s bed.

“I know,” Nancy said quietly, taking your hands in hers as she knelt in front of you. “I know you miss him.”

“It hurts,” you whispered.

It did. A physical pain lodged deep within your chest. As if the thread tying your soul to Eddie’s was being pulled taut over the distance, tugging painfully at your heart with the strain of it.

It wouldn’t tear. You knew it wouldn’t. But it hurt, nonetheless.

“Have you heard anything? Like, a hint or something?”, Robin asked quietly, as she settled on the fuzzy carpet beside Nancy’s bed.

You shook your head.

“He can’t exactly risk a call,” Nancy said.

Robin shrugged. “A postcard, maybe. Without a sender or anything. It would give away his location without giving away it’s from Eddie. But I mean, she’d know.”

“No post card,” you said quietly. “I don’t know how to find him. But…I’ll find him. I always have.”

Robin gave you a soft grin. “Just make sure you don’t run him over with your car again.”

“If you’re gone tomorrow, anyways,” Nancy said, sadness in her dark eyes as she grabbed a Kleenex from the box on her night stand to dab at the tears now drying on your cheeks, “Then you should definitely come tonight. It’s our prom. We don’t know when we’ll see you again. Remember when we bought that dress at the start of last summer?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, a faint little smile tugging at your lips as your fingers brushed over the tulle spread around you. It was the deep midnight-blue of a night sky, glittering beautifully in the waning light of another warm summer’s day. It looked like the November night sky underneath which Eddie and you had shared your first kiss.

“If everything had turned out, you know –“ Robin made an awkward little gesture, “Less monster-y, do you think you’d have said yes if Eddie had just, like, walked up to you and invited you to prom?”

The words Eddie had whispered to you on the clearing, right before you’d all went into the Upside Down for what you’d hoped with all your heart would be the final battle, came back to you.

“When this is all over, I’m gonna take you to prom. I mean, if you wanna go, that is. I’d love to be all sappy and cheesy and take you to prom. I’ll give you one of these little flower-bracelets and take you out for dinner first. Or milkshakes. Or both. Gotta treat my girl. Dance with you all night, twirl you around in whatever dress you’ll pick which doesn’t matter ‘cause you could attend in your pajamas and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“We’d probably create a bit of a commotion.”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“I told you I’d wear my Hellfire shirt proudly. I wasn’t joking, Eddie. When this is over, I can’t wait to show the world that I’m Eddie Munson’s girl. That you’re the one who stole my heart.”

“Not stole,” Eddie had whispered, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose, “Won. Stealing means it doesn’t actually belong to you, but winning means it’s been given freely. That it was a choice. So…you’re gonna go to prom with me?”

“Yeah. I think I would have.”

Nancy let out a chuckle. “But…Eddie Munson at prom? In a tux?”

You giggled. “I don’t think he’d have switched the leather jacket for a tux, but he would’ve given me flowers.”

“You’d have caused a hubbub,” Robin giggled. “You two might’ve won the front page of the Tigers Post.”

“Okay,” Nancy interrupted good-naturedly, “Now that that’s settled, I’ll freshen up your makeup and then we’re ready to go.”

“Go where, by the way?”, you wondered, but Nancy only smiled.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll see when you get there.”

***

“When you said surprise location,” you mumbled, glad you’d opted for the sneakers instead of the glittery heels, “I didn’t think we were going for a hike.”

You’d been surprised when Steve, who’d picked you up at the Wheelers’, had parked his car at the side of the dark road running along the edge of the patch of woods behind Hawkins High, before following him, Dustin and Robin into the thicket, not caring if the brambles lining the little dust trail would tear at the glittering fabric of your gown. You felt a little like a fairy tale princess on the run.

“We had to choose somewhere where nobody would notice us breaking curfew,” Dustin huffed from beside you.

Eight-pm-curfew. Another government-installed rule for those who’d opted to stay behind in what was left of Hawkins. As if a curfew would ever be able to stop whatever Vecna would send through the rips in the ground once he’d recovered.

“Yeah, and since you burnt down the boathouse,” Steve chuckled as he threw you a glance over his shoulder, “We thought this was a good alternative location.”

The thing was…the little clearing was Eddie’s and your spot. Your safe haven. And while you loved your friends dearly, having a private little prom at this clearing felt like breaking the sanctity it held for you, painfully reminding you of all the lunchbreaks you’d spend there with Eddie. The almost kiss you’d shared on this clearing, and all those kisses afterwards. It had been on the clearing where Eddie had helped you find peace and control the darkness you’d been so terrified of all the months before. The way he’d made love to on that picnic table, before he’d given you his guitar pick necklace with the promise to always find his way back to you.

“At least it has a picnic table,” Robin mused, and you bit your lip.

“Um. Yeah.”

Steve threw you an appalled glance over his shoulder. “Oh, hell no. Really?!”

“What? What’s happening?”, Dustin chimed in, confused for once, as you shrugged.

“Oh come on,” Steve groaned, raking his hands through his perfect hair. “In the fucking woods?!”

“What did you do?”, Dustin inquired, growing more and more exasperated.

“Nothing.”

“Picnic,” Robin drawled sweetly with the most devious grin you’d ever seen on her freckled features.

You narrowed your eyes at Steve. “I don’t think you’re the one who should be criticizing, Mr. Skull Rock.”

“Ew,” Dustin muttered.

“There.” Steve waved at the boy, who’d scrunched up his nose. “You traumatized the kid.”

“And your dating life has traumatized me, dingus,” Robin announced good-naturedly.

“So, um,” you began, “Nancy and the rest –“

“Are gonna bring the snacks and drinks and music,” Robin interrupted, hooking her arm with yours as she pulled you along.

The sun had sunken below the horizon by now, night creeping in at the edges to tint the sky the deep dark blue of fresh ink on paper, matching the soft fabric of your dress.

Dustin and Steve had started bickering again as they walked in front of you, their voices mingling with the evening sounds of the woods coming alive after another scorching summer’s day, the air cool as it brushed against your bare arms and legs. A beautiful summer night.

But the words were drowned out by your own thoughts already wandering back to the task of finding Eddie.

Wherever he was now.

You’d been caught up so deeply in your own thoughts that you nearly ran into Dustin, who’d stopped right in front of you, an endearing wide grin on his face.

“My lady.”

You gave him a gin in reply. “Sir Henderson.”

“You need a date for prom, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you’re offering?”

The boy’s grin widened, turning weirdly mischievous.

“Close your eyes,” Robin said gently as she let go of your arm.

“Why?”

“Just do what you’re told,” Steve chided good-naturedly, “Just for once.”

“This feels like a very weird Carrie-esque moment,” you said slowly as you complied and shut your eyes, listening to the sounds of wings in the canopy of trees above, the footsteps on the dried leaves covering the ground. “Nancy will kill you if anything happens to my dress or my makeup. Right now, you’d all take well to remember the girl’s hiding a variety of guns in her bedroom.”

There was a shift in the air in front of you, before someone chuckled, “Yeah, I promise I’ll behave.”

At the sound of the voice, so beautifully familiar, a voice you’d missed so much it had hurt, your eyes flew open, a chocked squeal already bubbling from your lips before your gaze met a pair of sparkling umber eyes and the most radiant smile you’d ever seen.

“Hey there, monster slayer. Did ya miss me?”

Your reply was already choked by the happy tears streaming down your face as you threw yourself into Eddie’s arms, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards a step as Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, his intoxicating scent of leather and cologne and the faintest trace of cigarettes, of home, immersing you as you breathed, “You’re here. You’re here. How –“

“Congrats for graduating, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered into your hair before he pulled back, dark eyes scanning you in a beat of overwhelmed silence as he took you in, wonder and disbelief and joy warring on his features.

He looked as beautiful as ever. His mane of dark curls had grown a little in the past three months, the dark brown tinted black in the half-light of the rising moon sending its pale beams through the leaves above, and the wound on his cheek had healed into a slender silver line cutting across his pale skin.

Tears were glittering in his eyes.

Happy tears.

And finally, his lips crashed on yours as he pulled you flush against him, and all the heartbreak and misery of those past three months without him, of worrying and hoping he’d found safety, that he was okay, that his nightmares weren’t plaguing him too much at night and that he knew, even if none of you was allowed to reach out in order to keep him safe, that your heart was with him...all of it faded into the past, scattering like confetti on the ground because Eddie was here, he was back and holding you and kissing you and that was all that would ever matter.

The kiss was passionate but chaste, and you could feel how much willpower it cost Eddie to hold back as long as your friends were still here – a sentiment you shared. And it got harder with every passing second.

“Okay,” you heard Robin chuckle softly in the background, as Eddie pulled away from the kiss, his hands lacing with yours as if he were scared you could fade like mist in the sun if he let go of you, “We’re gonna, um, leave you alone now.”

“Are we?”, Steve muttered. “With the poor picnic table?”

It took so much resolve to even momentarily tear your gaze away from Eddie and throw your friends a glance over your shoulder. Robin, with her cheeky, knowing smirk, Dustin with his wide grin and Steve, looking like an annoyed protective big brother, all of them looking a little funny in their festive attire in the middle of the woods.

“We’ll meet you at El and Hopper’s cabin for our little prom,” Dustin grinned, and with a wink, Robin added, “As soon as you’re…ready.”

“Yeah, yeah, come on,” Steve muttered as he steered Dustin away from the little clearing, “I need a drink.” With a glance at Eddie, he added, “Don’t bring her back too late.”

And with your friends’ footsteps receding, you turned back to Eddie.

He was watching you, the warmth of a summer’s day shining in his dark eyes as he took you in, adoration and disbelief still warring in the umber depths, as if he still couldn’t believe you were here.

“You look…you look beautiful,” he breathed, voice strained with emotions.

“This is real,” you breathed. “You’re real.”

Eddie tilted his head, the widest grin on his face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Hell yeah. Told you I’d take you to prom, sweetheart. By the way, I, um…I got something for you.”

His grin turning a little shy, he pulled something out of the pocket of his leather jacket, careful not to crush it in the process.

A wreath of daisies.

“I couldn’t exactly walk into an actual flower shop so I picked these on the way here and did it myself but, uh, that’s what the girl is getting for prom, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, the tiny white petals of the daisies blurring beneath your happy tears, “It’s perfect.” The thought of Eddie the metalhead sitting cross-legged in a meadow of wildflowers weaving a wreath of daisies made warmth bubble in your chest like frizzing champagne as your lips curved into a wide smile.

“I’m a man of many talents. Catch me opening up a flower shop in disguise.”

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips as you watched Eddie gently tie the little wreath of daisies around your wrist, the tip of his tongue poking out in that endearing way he probably didn’t even know he was doing when he focused on something. The sight made a sob of relief rip from your throat.

Eddie didn’t get time to inquire about whether everything was okay before you grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him into another kiss.

And this time, with both of you alone in the clearing, there was no holding back anymore.

You could feel Eddie smile into the kiss as your tongue flicked over his bottom lip, the blood in your veins replaced by liquid fire, fire that wasn’t stolen from anyone but your own, a fuse lit by Eddie’s own greedy kisses as he gently steered you backwards, your back bumping against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Fuck, monster slayer,” Eddie breathed, his lips grazing yours as he spoke, as if every inch further away from you would cause him physical pain, “I missed you so much. So fucking much. Those were the longest three goddamn months of my life.”

“I missed you, too,” you whispered, your hands tangling in the soft curls at the back of his head. God, how you’d longed to run your fingers through those beautiful curls again, feel their softness beneath your fingertips and breathe in Eddie’s scent, hold him close to your heart where he belonged. “So much it hurt. Every single day. Every first thought of the day, and every last one before falling asleep, was of you. That you were safe. And okay.”

“I need to show you something,” Eddie breathed, stepping away before he extended his hand for you with a dorky little bow that was so Eddie it made you giggle and put happy tears back in your eyes all over again.

Butterflies and sparklers dancing in your chest, you placed your hand in his, the smooth metal of his rings warm against your skin as his fingers gently closed over yours.

And with the soft hoot of an owl somewhere in the distance, and the stars rising in the inky skies above, the warm breeze laced with the scent of flowers and grass and the faint traces of smoke which was rising in pillars from the rip running through the town center, Eddie pulled you along with him, through the trees, away from the clearing and out of the woods.

When the first houses and street lamps were visible through the trees, Eddie came to a halt, a giddy smile on his lips as he turned around to you.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just close them,” he snickered, and you obliged in time as he stepped behind you, hands settling on your shoulders to guide you for the rest of the way.

“It’s just around the corner.”

With your eyes closed, you let Eddie steer you the last few steps, the soft carpet of rustling dead leaves beneath your feet making way for asphalt as you reached the street, the glow of the street lamps painting orange patterns into the darkness beneath your eyelids while Eddie’s breath stirred your hair.

Just when you were about to inquire how long he was planning on walking you around like that, he came to a halt.

“Gimme one second.” There was a soft creaking sound of metal on metal that sounded like…a car door being opened?

“Are you going to kidnap me?”, you chuckled.

You could feel Eddie’s grin, even with your eyes closed, as he snickered, “Would you like me to?” Voice softening, he added on a whisper, “’kay, you can open your eyes now.”

You did.

A little squeal of surprise bubbled from your lips at the sight in front of you.

At the side of the lonely road parked a van. Another model than Eddie’s old van, a little newer and free of rust but just as big, painted a light blue.

The doors to the back were open, revealing the coziest back of a car you’d ever seen.

The van’s interior was illuminated by strings of battery-powered fairy lights dangling from the ceiling to shed their golden glow like a swarm of fireflies above a large mattress that fully covered the floor, lined by a dozen pillows with tassels and flower prints matching the neatly folded blanket on top of the white bedsheets. And mounted to the windowless wall above the makeshift bed on one side, amidst a sea of band posters, were two guitars – an acoustic one, the words This machine slays dragons written on the wood with white paint, and another familiar one, the dark red surface polished spotless. There was even a small potted houseplant in the corner, on top of what looked like a carved wooden trunk pushed against the back of the passenger seat.

It looked warm and safe and comfortable. It looked like a home.

It felt like a home.

“What –“ you breathed, turning around to Eddie, who was fiddling with the little chain on the sleeve of his leather jacket as he watched you, looking anxious all of a sudden.

“Do you like it? It, um. It was completely bare when Owens’ agents gave me the van, so I tried to turn it into somewhat of a home. It’s not much but…it’s all I could do. I even picked the stuff with the flower stitching. If you…if you still, uh. Wanna come with me. I mean, I wanted you to feel at home but if you’d rather stay in Hawkins, in your actual home, I completely understand. Which is all to ask…” Eddie took a trembling breath, taking your hands in his, the golden glow of the fairy lights dancing in his wide dark eyes as he watched you, before he breathed, “Do you still wanna run away with me, monster slayer? Even if it means you’ll be leaving your home and everything behind to live in the back of a stupid van?”

It felt like your heart would burst with happiness, your own little supernova trapped within the confines of your ribcage.

“My home,” you said, hands locking at the nape of his neck, “Is exactly wherever you are, Eddie Munson. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

You could almost see the weight lifting off his shoulders and heart as your words hovered in the warm sliver of night air between the two of you, the relieved exhale of breath he must’ve been holding as he’d anxiously waited for your reply, as if there was anything that could keep you from him even a single second longer.

And when Eddie’s lips met yours once more, underneath the glittering summer night sky, you felt nothing but happiness. Pure, unfiltered happiness, setting you aglow from within.

You’d lost your songbird three times.

When you’d pushed him away that November night, breaking both your hearts because a broken heart was still a beating one, at least.

When Vecna had taken him, right out of your arms.

And when Hawkins’ festering hatred for everything different had chased him away into hiding.

And yet, each time Eddie Munson had found his way back to you.

If there was such a thing as fate, a thread tying two souls together in love, this was it.

Eddie was your Forever.

With your fingertips grazing his wrist, brushing over the soft silk tied around it, you smiled into the kiss.

Yes, if there was such a thing as a thread of fate, it was a silken green ribbon.

A lucky charm.

The world around the two of you blurred as you lost yourselves in the kisses you shared, growing greedy, feverish, with every passing second. Hawkins and its rage and small-mindedness. The rips running through the ground in the distance, shedding pulsing crimson light into the warm night. The spores floating around you through the air, settling on flowers and roofs, on lamp posts and leaves, like snow, testimony to a poisonous world bleeding into this one.

Maybe it wasn’t the Upside Down which was poisonous. Maybe it was Hawkins as well, the cracks in the ground merely a curtain having been lifted to reveal the ugly truth behind white picket fences and neighborly smiles shared across them, the rot festering behind the neatly painted walls and decorated front doors.

It didn’t matter. None of it.

All that mattered was Eddie, his lips moving against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks and your own fingers tangling in his dark curls.

Never breaking the kiss, you pulled Eddie backwards with you, towards the van with the cozy pillows and fairy lights.

Home.

You settled on the mattress, drawing Eddie with you, the doors of the van shutting with a soft thudding sound as he pulled them close behind him with one hand, the other never letting go of the side of your face, shutting out the world and locking the two of you in your own happy little bubble.

In the peace of the golden glow of the fairy lights glittering from the vehicle’s ceiling like your own personal skyful of stars, making Eddie’s curls shimmer in the softest hues of chocolate and caramel and dancing in his umber eyes as he sat on the mattress in front of you, you pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, the fabric rustling softly as Eddie shrugged it off the rest of the way – but when your fingertips found the hem of his DIO shirt to lift it, Eddie’s hands shot out, wrapping around yours, and you froze mid-movement.

The sudden change of expression on his face, like a light switch being flipped, made your heart sink.

He looked almost…scared.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, pulling your hands away from the hem of his shirt. And it dawned on you that maybe you’d startled him with the sudden touch, the memory of the agony of the wounds the bats had torn into his skin too fresh. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly, “I didn’t want to –“

“No,” Eddie interrupted quietly, shaking his head vehemently enough to send his wild curls flying, “No, don’t – it’s not that. Just…uh. I…the last time you saw me, there was still…the wounds were still healing. And now it’s…uh…” He took a trembling breath, struggling for words.

“It’s okay,” you smiled, taking his hands in yours. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to,” Eddie said quietly. “Just…I look different.”

The way he said the word different felt like a punch to your gut. Laced with…not disgust, exactly, but insecurity.

He’d only talked about it once, but you didn’t need to be a genius to know someone like Eddie, who’d been different, looked different, for all his life, had experienced his fair share of bullying.

People at Hawkins High had left him alone, for all you knew – but there had always been other ways to bully someone without directly attacking. Vile words whispered loud enough to be heard, cruel names.

You knew the vile little nicknames people had given Eddie. Freak. Trailer trash. Sewer rat.

And no matter how confident he behaved, how he’d worn the name Freak like a shield, armor in battle, those words must have still gotten under his skin, burrowed deep in his mind to plant their roots and grow there like weeds in a beautiful garden.

“It’s me, Eddie. I’m…you don’t need to hide your scars. None of them. Not the visible ones and not the ones nobody can see, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. I know,” he whispered. “Still look like Frankenstein’s monster.” It was meant as a joke to conceal the bitterness underneath, but his voice was hollow all of a sudden. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

He angled his head to the side, making his curls fall forwards to cover his left cheek where the bats had bitten him.

“Scars aren’t ugly,” you said softly. “They tell a story. And yours tell the story of a guy who became a hero and saved the girl he loved. I don’t know about you…but if that isn’t the most beautiful, most metal story, I don’t know what is. And while this is totally on you and if you want to keep your shirt on forever that’s something I’ll learn to live with, but –“

“These things ate my tattoo,” Eddie interrupted, his tone as grave as his expression.

“I know,” you said quietly.

“They ate my nipple as well.”

“I feel it’s time to clarify,” you said slowly, “That the reason I fell in love with you has never been your regular amount of nipples.”

There was a beat of silence as Eddie stared at you, at the sternness that had settled on your features, before the corners of his lips curled into the whisper of a smile. It was fleeting, the span of a heartbeat before it unraveled again.

“It’s bad,” Eddie said quietly.

And slowly, as if fighting some inner voice screaming at him to stop, Eddie grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tousling his curls in the process.

You’d seen his wounds that night, had tried to staunch the bleeding. You’d seen the damage afterwards every time you’d cleaned them and changed the bandages.

But still, you hadn’t been prepared for the pain in your chest at the sight of the scars which had stayed behind, the memory of death and agony, so much agony, the terror of all he’d gone through that night forever tattooed into Eddie’s pale skin.

A pattern of raised silver lines was painting his entire chest. From his neck downwards, disappearing beneath the waistband of his ripped jeans, the shape of dozens of gaping maws and curved talons.

Marks on Eddie’s skin to match those that night had left on his soul, nightmares which would accompany him for the rest of his life.

It was unfair, so horribly unfair, that he had to be reminded of them with every glance in the mirror.

It took so much resolve to fight back the images which had etched themselves into your own mind. Memories of Eddie, bleeding and dying in your arms. These few minutes in which his eyes had been empty, the life gone from them, an unseeing stare at a starless sky of eternal night. Of the way Vecna had tied his soul to one of his pillars, a beautiful, broken butterfly trapped in a spider’s web. Eddie’s screams of agony –

“Told ya it’s bad,” Eddie whispered into the shaken silence, reaching for the discarded band shirt to cover his chest again as you blinked back your tears.

“No,” you murmured, and his hand stilled, fist clamped around the hem of the shirt in his lap as he watched you inch closer to carefully cradle his face, “It’s just the memories of that night.”

But maybe you could combat those horrid memories summoned by those scars. Banish those restless, angry spirits with something good.

Until seeing these scars would lose its sting for Eddie.

Swallowing back the lump which had started to grow in your throat, you slowly leaned in, pressing the most delicate of kisses on Eddie’s lips before you whispered, “Can you lay down?”

You could see the confusion shining in Eddie’s umber eyes, but with the tiniest, most timid nod, he sunk down onto the mattress, his curls fanned out around his head like a dark crown and his gaze never leaving yours.

With the softest of smiles, you leaned down, brushing the curls away from the side of his face to place a kiss on the silver scar on his cheek, before you pulled away to glance down at him.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes still wide with nerves. “I can put the shirt back on if –“

“You’re beautiful, Eddie Munson,” you said softly, tracing the scar on his cheek with the tip of your index finger. “With and without scars. I just hate the memories they conjure. But you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and nothing will ever change that. Nothing, do you hear me? And I’ll spend the rest of our lives to prove it to you.”

You could tell Eddie was ringing with his words, and his tears – but he didn’t need to reply. You could see the relief shining in his dark eyes, the devotion for you dancing within them alongside the reflection of the fairy lights above, as you bent down to place another kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Does it still hurt?”

Eddie shook his head. “No. Just feels a little weird sometimes but…that’s all.”

“Can I…?” Your words faded into the slim space between the two of you, with Eddie’s lips mere inches from your own as your fingertips hovered over the silver line zig-zagging across his left cheek.

Watching you carefully, Eddie gave a soft nod.

Never breaking eye contact, you let your fingertips gently graze the jagged silver line running across Eddie’s cheek, slowly tracing the faded bite mark down to his jaw, the brush of your fingers as delicate as the veins in a dragonfly’s wing.

You could feel Eddie’s umber gaze resting on you, like sunrays on your skin.

This, right now, was the first time you were actually free, you realized.

No heartbreak standing between the two of you, no battle drawing closer, no time running out.

Just Eddie and you. Together at last.

His breath hitched as your fingertips followed the line of his jaw and down the column of his throat, and you stilled.

“Did that – hurt?”

Eddie’s lips pulled into a soft smile. “Hell, no. That feels good.”

You leaned down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling his smile on your lips before you moved on to place a second kiss on the mark the bat’s teeth had left on his cheek, his curls tickling the side of your face. And with your heart overflowing with love for Eddie, your songbird with the sunshine in his smiles not even Vecna and his monsters had managed to steal, the music in his voice and the life, so much life and warmth in his umber eyes, you began to trail feathery kisses down the pattern of scars on the side of his neck, until each silver line was covered with a kiss, carefully observing Eddie’s reactions, ready to pull away at the slightest sign of discomfort.

But there was no discomfort.

With a smile unfurling on his soft lips, Eddie angled his head, melting into your kisses as you felt him starting to relax beneath you with each feather-light kiss, the tension leaving his body, and tears of joy stung in your eyes as you felt his pulse flutter right beneath your lips in the spot below his ear.

I will always, always come back to you, monster slayer. Eddie’s words, whispered between kisses on the clearing right before you’d headed into battle, came back to you. I promise.

And Eddie Munson had kept that promise, over and over again – even through death.

You trailed kisses down the lines of scars crisscrossing the column of his throat as Eddie’s hand travelled down your spine, shivers running through him with each kiss you placed on his bare skin.

It would take some time, to kiss the bad memories away. Maybe it would take forever.

But time, finally, was what you had.

An entire lifetime.

You followed the path of jagged silver lines downwards to his collarbones, to his chest, a lingering kiss for every healed bite wound until every square inch of Eddie’s skin was covered in your kisses.

You could hear the way his breath hitched with each lingering kiss you placed on his scars, laced with all the words you wanted to whisper to him but couldn’t because the tidal wave of love and happiness immersing you had washed away your voice.

You’re beautiful.

I missed you.

I love you.

I love you so much.

Eddie understood them, anyways.

The soft sighs spilling from his lips, the way his breaths had turned into panting, was spurring you on as you let your lips wander down his happy trail to the waistband of his ripped jeans, fingers already working to undo the buckle of his belt, your movements slow enough for him to stop you should he wish to.

When the button of his fly came undone beneath your fingertips, your gaze met his, his eyes wide and pupils blown with arousal as he leaned up on one elbow, his index finger tracing the side of your face.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t…I mean, you don’t. Yeah. Don’t have to.”

You smiled. “And if I want to?”

A timid grin lighting up his features, Eddie rasped, “Then I’m all yours.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

You pushed the ripped jeans down to free the already impressive bulge in his pants, and the sound spilling from his parted lips as your hand wrapped around him went straight to your own core, the embers already having built there with each kiss you’d shared.

Your eyes never leaving his, relishing the sight of the darkness of Eddie’s blown pupils, so wide that they seemed to eclipse the umber color of his irises, the blush dusting his cheeks and the way his lips parted for another sweet sigh as he watched you intently, you placed a kiss on his shaft, lips following the outline of the vein leading to his tip, and your smile widened at the shudder running through Eddie before he let his head fall back onto the pillow.

“Jesus H Christ, monster slayer,” he groaned, voice strained with arousal, “This is – “

He was cut off by the wanton moan spilling from his lips as you let your tongue graze his tip to test the waters, feeling him twitch in your grasp.

“You sure you good?”, Eddie breathed, and your heart felt like it would overflow with love for him as you raised your head to watch him, a blushing, flustered mess beneath your touches. You wished he could see how beautiful he looked.

“Better than good,” you whispered. And wrapped your lips around him, the swirl of your tongue around his tip coaxing another lewd moan from him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, fingers digging into the mattress before he sat up, gently cupping your face to guide you away from him to sit up.

“This is fucking amazing but I can’t go a single goddamn second longer without kissing you, sweetheart.”

And when Eddie’s lips met yours again as he pulled you into his lap, it felt as if every single cell in your body was thrumming with your need for him, to feel him closer still, his fingertips caressing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, tasting him, engulfed in his scent and warmth and arms, you knew that everything would be okay. It already was.

Lips moving against his, feeling his hardened length press against the insides of your thighs to fuel the flames licking at your core, your hand settled on Eddie’s chest, the pattern of scars and his heartbeat, steady and strong and racing against your palm reminding you that this was real, that he was here. Not just a beautiful dream, but reality.

It felt like sunlight glittering in the surface of a lake, like a hot chocolate in the middle of winter, the first flowers of spring breaking through the ice on the ground.

“I missed you,” Eddie breathed into the greedy kiss, before pulling back, just enough to look at you with all the love and adoration you were feeling in your own chest, “So fucking much, monster slayer. Not just this, but…everything. Your laugh. The way you giggle right before telling me something funny. How you frown when you concentrate on something. The way it feels when you’re in my arms. Shit.”

“I missed you, too,” you murmured into the space between you. “I missed you so much it hurt.”

When Eddie’s lips were on yours again, the intensity of the kisses growing along that glowing need in your core, his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip to drive you even crazier with need, you rolled your hips against his, clothed core rubbing against his length to cause the sweetest friction and draw a lovely moan from Eddie’s lips.

“I’m gonna take that dress off, now, ‘kay?”, he whispered, smiling into the kiss as you replied with a breathless nod.

But he didn’t just reach around you to undo the zipper on your back.

Instead, his hands settled on your arms, gently indicating for you to turn around, and you obliged, careful not to bump your head against the fairy lights strung along the van’s ceiling in the process.

But instead of the sensation of the zipper at the back of your dress being opened, you could feel Eddie inch closer, his breath fanning across the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck to send pleasant shivers down your spine, collecting right at your core to make arousal pool between your legs.

And when Eddie’s lips brushed over the spot at the top of your spine, the softest sigh spilled from your lips to float along the golden glow of the fairy lights.

You could feel him shift on the mattress behind you, sense the soft smile on his lips as he placed a second kiss on the spot below, curls tickling your back and breath ghosting across your skin like a caress of his own as he took his sweet time to grasp the zipper.

“You’re a tease, Eddie Munson,” you half-snickered, half-moaned as he placed a third kiss to the spot right between your shoulder-blades, the sensation of his soft lips on your skin sending warmth through your body, every single nerve ablaze and zoning in on his touches as you let your head fall back.

Eddie chuckled. With feigned shock, he crooned, “What, did you think I’d just shove up the dress and have my way with you? Nope. ‘M gonna worship my girl just like she deserves.

“Does that mean we can never have a quickie?”, you teased, and the sound of Eddie’s soft snicker travelled right along your spine to make your walls flutter with the need to finally feel him as he placed another lingering kiss to the spot between your shoulder blades.

“We’re never gonna need to have a quickie. We got all the time in the world.”

The sound of the zipper filled the air as Eddie slowly, so achingly slowly, pulled it down to open your dress, inch by inch, a string of kisses following in the zipper’s wake that made your back arch beneath the touch.

But before you could protest the slowness of the movement, beg for him to stop teasing, Eddie’s fingertips roamed down your side, before they dipped beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Oh god,” you groaned, head falling back against Eddie’s shoulder as he spread the wetness of your arousal, fingertips grazing the swollen nub of your clit, and you bucked your hips to meet his hand.

“That all for me?”, Eddie breathed, lips brushing over the side of your neck as his voice, laced with marvel, travelled through your body alongside the sizzling waves of pleasure as he let his fingers slowly swirl around your clit.

“One day,” you moaned softly, “You’ll stop asking this question and realize how fucking hot you are, Eddie.”

Your voice broke, shattering into another lewd moan when Eddie’s teeth grazed the spot right below your ear, where your pulse was thundering against his lips as his fingers danced over that sweet, sweet spot at the apex of your thigs, your hips rolling in tune with his movements to chase the friction of his fingers, the smooth, warm metal of his rings brushing against your skin as you reached over your shoulder to bury your fingers in his curls – but it wasn’t enough.

“I need you,” you murmured, “Now.”

With a soft chuckle, Eddie hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties to help you pull them off, but you didn’t want to wait a single second longer.

With deft hands, you reached down and ripped them away, the sound of tearing silk filling the air as you turned to straddle Eddie, a giggle spilling from your lips at the sight of his stunned expression, umber eyes wide with surprise as his lips tucked into a disbelieving grin.

“Can’t take all my panties on the run with me, anyways,” you grinned.

“What the fuck, how many panties do you have?”

“Enough to tear a few more to shreds.”

Eddie’s quiet laugh faded into the space between you, so close that you could feel his breath prickling on your lips as you reached down to pull the glittering dress over your head.

The warm air inside the van-turned-home kissed your skin as you discarded the garment beside Eddie’s band shirt.

“You’re so fucking beautiful it still takes my breath away every time,” Eddie whispered, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose as his hands gently wandered over your breasts, the caress beautifully innocent as his wide eyes locked on yours.

The fairy lights above were reflecting in the seas of black of his dilated pupils like a sea of tiny stars, painting streaks of gold into his dark lashes as he watched you reverently.

He was nearly close enough for his heart to flutter against your own.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

Eddie was more than happy to comply.

As you shifted on his lap, his tip dragging over your folds with the movement to cause the glowing sensation of pleasure to flare in your belly again, Eddie’s kisses were sweet as maple syrup, slow and passionate, his tongue swirling across your bottom lip as you aligned yourself with him.

And with the loveliest moan spilling from his lips into the open-mouthed kiss, you sunk onto him, burying him deep in your core, drowning in the bliss of being as close to him as humanly possible.

No matter how much you craved our release, you stayed like this for a few heartbeats, kissing, simply relishing the feeling of each other as your bodies melted into each other, linked the same way as your souls while the world around you, the rips in the ground and the spores in the air, the final battle still ahead somewhere on the horizon, faded, drowned out by the duet of your hearts beating in perfect synchrony, their wild tune quickening as you shuffled closer, your chest pressed flush against Eddie’s.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the pattern of scars pressing against your skin, the warmth of him as he shifted his hips a little, burrowing himself deeper in your core and dragging a blissed-out groan from the back of your throat.

You’d never get enough of this feeling.

Of him.

One of Eddie’s hands settled on the back of your head to deepen the kiss as you adjusted to him, his fingertips tracing your spine down to your shoulder blades and back up again as his other hand caressed your side, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered in-between kisses. “I love you so much, monster slayer.”

“I love you, too,” you breathed, starting to slowly roll your hips against his. “I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

 [Friday, September 12th, 1986.

Six Days Later.]

“Hey there, fair maiden.”

The voice was soft, barely audible over the roar of the waves, and your head snapped up as Eddie slowly sat in the sand beside you, the water swirling around his bare feet.

“I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn and you were gone,” he said softly, nudging his shoulder against yours, “Thought I’d find you here. Didn’t think I’d find you sobbing, though.”

The lightheartedness in his voice couldn’t conceal the worry simmering beneath as his umber eyes found yours in the half-light of the sunrise.

“Happy tears,” you whispered.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow.

Your tiny smile grew into a full-blown grin as you reached out to tug a few of the stray curls the ocean breeze had blown into his face back behind his ear.

“Happy tears. I promise those are happy tears.”

It was the truth.

“No nightmares tonight,” you added softly, taking his hand in yours to play with the ends of the green silk ribbon tied around his wrist.

“No nightmares,” Eddie smiled. He’d told you how horrible the nights had been for him in those three months apart ever since he’d left Hawkins – and you’d understood. It had been the same for you.

But now, with him falling asleep beside you every night, his arms around you and the soft sounds of his breathing filling the air inside the van, his heartbeat thrumming against yours in a slow, steady rhythm, the nightmares started to lose their edge. Whenever you felt Eddie grew restless beside you, you pulled him into your arms, fingers carding through his curls to calm him before the nightmares could ever really reach him.

None of them would ever fully fade – not Eddie’s nightmares, and not your own.

But the monster’s teeth had been pulled out by each other’s presence.

And no matter what your mind showed you in your sleep sometimes…as long as Eddie was beside you when your eyes flew open, everything was good.

“I’m happy,” you said softly, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

And you meant it.

He smelled of sleep and warmth, the faintest traces of cigarettes and cheap cologne, and the salt of the ocean. It was as if Eddie’s curls were soaking up the scent of the Californian air. Salt and sunshine and wind.

“So am I,” Eddie whispered, resting his cheek against the crown of your head.

“Is that wrong?”

“To be happy?”

“Yeah. I mean, Hawkins is ripped apart. Vecna is out there, licking his wounds. He’s not gone. But still…I know they’ll always be able to reach us.” Dustin had given the two of you his walkie when you’d parted ways with your friends right before dusk after the night of your little prom.

You’d all danced and laughed together that night after Eddie and you had joined the others at the cabin, ruffled and flustered, but apart from a knowing smirk from Robin and Nance and a sigh from Steve, none of them had commented on it. You’d all shared stories with Eddie from the previous years, the happier stories. His favorite had probably been that of Dustin accidentally adopting a baby-Demogorgon, the anecdote having made Steve groan in exasperation. It might be your favorite story, too.

And when the time had come to say good-bye, the tear-stained faces of your friends matching your own, you’d all known it wasn’t a forever-goodbye. No matter when Eddie’s name would be cleared, you would never return to Hawkins. But you’d see them again.

For now, they were safe.

And if the tides turned…Eddie and you would return for one final battle.

And this time, win.

You knew it with all your heart.

“It’s never wrong to be happy, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “The happy was what saved us from Vecna. So…we’ll collect it. Like polaroids in an album. And no matter how hard he might try, Vecna will be powerless against that. It’s our shield.”

His voice had taken on a solemn hue. You wondered whether that was his dungeon master voice. You loved it when he talked like that – and you were pretty sure Eddie himself never even realized that little shift.

Having been so caught up in your own musings, you let out a surprised little squeal when Eddie jumped up all of a sudden, water splashing around him as he gave you the most radiant grin while he extended his hand towards you as he sank into a deep bow.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

You giggled. “To what music, my lord?”, you teased as you placed your hand in his, watching his ringed fingers wrap around yours as he pulled you to your feet.

“I thought I was your songbird,” he grinned.

His beautiful umber eyes, sparkling with life and joy and love as they rested on yours, flashed as Eddie placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer until your chest was pressed flush against his, heartbeat to heartbeat, resting his forehead against yours while your hands locked at the nape of his neck, fingertips tangling in his soft dark curls.

And with a smile on his lips, Eddie started to sing, his voice soft and low as it laced with the gentle sound of the waves, rising to a beautiful croon like a cresting wave.

“Woke up to the sound of pouring rain

The wind would whisper and I'd think of you And all the tears you cried – they called my name And when you needed me I came through.”

 He guided you through the slow steps of the dance as he wove the song, the warm water of the ocean sloshing around your bare feet. “Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember you."” You felt like your skin was aglow, the sunlight Eddie was putting into your chest warm and radiant, a flood of happiness – raw, unfiltered happiness – engulfing you as he led you through a little spin, nuzzling your nose as he pulled you back against him.

“We've had our share of hard times But that's the price we paid. And through it all we kept the promise that we made I swear you'll never be lonely.”

You wished there was a way to go back in time, to pull that frightened, haunted girl from the clearing that September night into your arms and tell her that everything would be okay. That there was love waiting for her, the kind of love she’d thought she’d never find – never deserve. “Woke up to the sound of pouring rain Washed away a dream of you But nothing else could ever take you away 'Cause you'll always be my dream come true Oh my darling, I love you.”

And a happy ending.

“Through all the sleepless nights, through every endless day I wanna hear you say, "I remember, I remember you!"”

“I love you, monster slayer,” Eddie whispered into the kiss.

Your hand settled on his chest, over his heartbeat, while you gazed into his beautiful umber eyes as the sun rose above the glittering waves on the horizon, painting a golden crown around Eddie’s dark curls and putting streaks of caramel into the strands.

“And I will always, always love you, Eddie Munson.”

There were more battles to fight, a war to win. A monster to slay, the most dangerous and powerful of them all.

But Eddie was here, the life back in his eyes.

And you knew, with all your heart, that it would stay there. That everything would be okay. It always would be.

You were the best team, after all.

The cheerleader and the freak.

The freak and the slut.

The monster slayer and her songbird.

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

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope the ending made you as happy as it did for me 🖤 With season 5, I might add a chapter - or rather, a few - to Eddie and monster slayer’s story - but for now, this is the end of the main story. There will be bonus chapters, though, some of which I’ve plotted out already, but if there’s anything in particular you’d like to read within the world of Worlds Apart, requests for bonus chapters are open now! 🖤

[bbypedrito]

Rough | Joel Miller/f!Reader

Joel is a big ‘ol softie about you and your bad pain days and as much as you love his gentleness, sometimes you crave something a little more rough.

rating: explicit, minors DNI

warnings: one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, spanking, slight praise kink, joel calls reader a good girl, no y/n or reader descriptions besides references to experiencing reoccurring flare ups of pain. setting is purposefully vague but definitely post-outbreak.

a/n: i genuinely didn’t have ANY plans to write joel anytime soon - i was actually gonna write a marcus pike fic instead - but then the other day i was having a pain flare up and started to think about joel to cheer myself up and things got…self indulgent. i don’t know if it’ll resonate with many other people here but i thought i’d share it anyway :-) this has been my first time ever writing a reader fic, first time writing joel or any pedro character AND my first time writing hetero sex in a very long while so…please bear all of that in mind 🥲

📌 can now also be read on ao3!

“I just don’t like it,” Joel says. It’s about the third time he’s repeated the phrase since you broached the subject this evening, pacing back and forth in your tiny shared room like an agitated wild animal trapped in a cage. His footfalls are heavy, old work boots thudding rhythmically on old floorboards, and you wish the stubborn man would relax for just a second because this is getting ridiculous.

“Joel,“ you try, but he shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t feel right.”

“Joel-“

“Too much risk.”

“Joel!” You grab him by the arm to stop him in his tracks and he immediately stills, finally looking you in the eyes. “I’m asking you to fuck me rough, not perform open heart surgery on me.”

Unamused, he rolls his eyes at your joke. “Might as well be, with all the stress you’re puttin’ me through.” Noticing your face fall, he immediately softens, “I just don’t wanna cause any more hurt than necessary, sweetheart.”

It’s sweet, the way Joel is careful and so, so achingly gentle with you. He knows the pain you’ve been through - still go through - and he always goes the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable.

You learned quickly it’s Joel’s love language - his actions speaking for him rather than words - and it’s downright romantic, in an honest, simple, Joel Miller kinda way. He trades anything he can give to make sure you have painkillers that actually work, always somehow gets his hands on fresh, clean, soft blankets just for you to burrow into when you need rest days in bed and he always seems to know when to give you either the space or the company you need depending on your mood.

And when he takes you to bed, he treats you with such tender care and gentle reverence it makes your chest hurt.

You love it, love him for it and you know it’s one of his ways to show he cares for you too but…God, you want more. You want the man Joel is clearly putting a herculean effort into holding back when he slowly and gently takes you apart. You want him to fuck you, selfishly take his pleasure from you, make you feel every single inch of him with every step you take the next day.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reassure him, “not in a way that’s bad, anyway. I want it. I want you.” You cup his face in your hands, stroking his bearded cheeks with your thumbs. Joel tilts his head just a fraction and leans into your touch with a soft exhale. “Do you trust me?”

“‘Course,” he replies, and you resist the urge to laugh fondly and kiss the frowny crease between his brows because it comes out a touch sulky. You don’t wanna risk wounding the man’s pride at this juncture — not when you feel so close to getting what you want.

“Good,” you lean in to kiss him, both hands splaying on his broad chest, “so trust me when I say,” a nip at his full bottom lip, “I want you to ruin me.”

You pull away slowly and feel victorious when you see Joel’s dark eyes looking back into yours, pupils so dilated they’re almost pitch black. Knowing you’ve just about already won this argument, you decide to stoke the flames further by nuzzling into the thick tendons of his neck and letting your teeth catch on the sensitive skin there. You feel rather than hear the soft groan this pulls from him, the way it rumbles in his chest, and your hands tighten their grip on the soft fabric of his wash-worn shirt.

“What you’re askin’ me for is…I won’t be gentle,” Joel warns.

“Is that a promise?” You tease.

Finally, finally, he starts touching you back, reaching for your hips to pull you in closer and kiss you properly. You moan into his mouth needily and that’s when Joel’s resolve snaps like the string of a bow drawn too far beyond its limits. His hands tighten on your hips before moving down to grab your ass and use it as leverage to press you against his chest and the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“I’m just givin’ you one last chance to back out, sweetheart, that’s all.” His chest is rising and falling heavily, his nostrils flaring and his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen pointed in your direction. He looks half wild and it really shouldn’t turn you on but it does, fuck, so much that you’re delirious with it.

Maintaining eye contact, you grind yourself insistently against him and it’s the final answer Joel seems to need. He curses under his breath, muttering something about you being the death of him before guiding you backwards against the wall and kissing you with such heated fervor your head spins and your pussy pulses with need.

He brackets you in with his arms, bracing himself with hands either side of you on the wall and you gasp when he presses a thigh between your legs for you to shamelessly grind down on through your sleep shorts. The rough denim is only barely the right amount of friction you need and you whine as you grind down harder, trying to relieve the deep ache of arousal in your cunt.

“That’s it,” Joel murmurs between kisses, lips brushing yours. “I got you, baby. Use me just like that.”

You tug him back in for a needy kiss, hands running up his chest to cling to his shoulders, then up again to run through his hair, before back down again to paw uselessly at his shirt. Joel pulls away and huffs with amusement, disentangling from you to undo the buttons so you can hungrily pull it off his broad frame and discard it. Feeling confident — and perhaps a little heated and possessive in the moment — you run your nails down his bare chest, leaving little white lines that turn pink and then red in their wake. Joel inhales sharply, watching you with hooded eyes and you shiver at how nakedly hungry he looks.

He reaches for his belt to unbuckle it, but pauses for half a moment. Seemingly changing his mind, he decides to undress you instead, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head and unhooking your bra. Your head falls backwards against the peeling wallpaper with a soft thunk when Joel harshly pinches at your nipples with rough hands, rolling them between calliused fingers until they’re peaked and swollen. You squirm, sensitive, the sensations going straight to your already soaking wet cunt.

“Please, Joel. Please.” You’re not even sure what it is you’re pleading for, and you whine almost pitifully when Joel stops touching you and takes a step back.

“Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.” His voice is firm and you obey immediately. “Good girl.”

The praise makes your heart and your cunt flutter and you barely have time to catch your breath before Joel abruptly pulls down your shorts and his hand comes smacking down on your ass. You gasp at the sharp shock of it, the sting that immediately warms and blooms into hot pleasure.

Joel chuckles. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes, please, again, please,” you babble, sweaty palms slipping a little against the wall.

“Good girl.” Another smack, a little harder this time, and your hips buckle forwards, trying in vain to seek friction. Joel notices the desperate wiggling of your hips and reaches round you to cup your mound, his other hand running over your reddening ass cheek. “So wet for me already, just from gettin’ spanked like this,” he says, voice rough but hushed as if in awe of your response to him.

All you can do is nod frantically in reply and press yourself greedily against his fingers and he clicks his tongue at your eagerness. Two thick fingers sink inside of you easily and when you try to fuck yourself on them Joel uses his free hand to land another hard smack on your ass.

“Greedy,” he admonishes, “you just can’t wait, can you?” He crooks his fingers, pressing them up against the perfect spot inside of you and lands another hard smack and you moan so loud you’d be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.

With a murmur of praise and lips pressed hotly to your ear Joel adds a third finger and the tight stretch around him burns and knocks the air out your lungs in a ragged gasp.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, and it spurs him on, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase and you fall forwards slightly to press your forehead against the wall, eyes screwing shut. The wet sound of your slick as Joel fucks you with his fingers and the smack of skin on skin as he spanks you in time with his thrusts fill the room and it’s so obscene your face flushes, heart pounding in your ears.

“Fuck,” Joel moans, “you gonna come for me like this? Pressed up against the wall and all over my fingers?”

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

Joel presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight, demanding circles until you buck against him uncontrollably and tighten around him with a cry. He buries his face into your shoulder as your hips shake, fingers still working in and out of you as you ride out your intense orgasm.

Boneless, you slump back against him with a sigh and Joel catches you, wrapping his free arm around your middle. Your cunt is still sporadically pulsing around the fingers still inside and you hold back a whimper when Joel eventually eases them out of you.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks you, pressing soft, fluttery kisses down the side of your neck. The brush of his moustache against your sensitive skin makes you giggle.

“Fucking sublime,” you reply, grinning. In truth, your body is aching and you can feel dull pain starting to thrum in your joints and muscles, but you’re used to that by now and you know you can handle it. Besides, it was definitely worth it. You tilt your head back to look Joel in the eye. “Thank you — for trusting me, I mean. But also the really great orgasm.”

Joel’s lips curl upwards into a fond smile and when his arms tighten affectionately around you his hard cock presses up against your ass. You start to move back against him and he groans low in his throat, but before things can get heated again he turns you around so you’re standing in front of him at arm’s length.

“Not now. Next time,” he promises, bending with a grunt to pick up your clothes and handing them to you. “I don’t wanna push you too hard tonight.”

You can’t hide your pout of disappointment, but when your body protests with twinges of pain when you move to get dressed you concede to yourself that Joel’s right, so you let him gently guide you into bed. You watch surreptitiously from under your cocoon of blankets as Joel undresses down to his boxers and when he catches you looking he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Insatiable creature,” he scolds before settling into bed next to you. You curl yourself around him, tangling your legs with his and pressing your face against his broad shoulder.

“Wake me up if you start hurtin’ any, are we clear?” Joel grumbles into the pillow.

You smile fondly against his warm skin. The rough, slightly wild Joel you got to finally experience tonight was definitely everything you’d been hoping for, but this version of him now, soft around the edges, soft bare skin, sharing a bed with you, this version of himself he’s worked so hard on rediscovering in order to take care of you will always be your favourite.

“I promise.”

[themovieblogonline]

Snack Shack Review: 90s-Fueled Coming-of-Age Fun

Anyone that knows me knows that I am a huge sucker for coming-of-age movies. They're the most comforting, joyous films that you can watch in my opinion. Sure, some of them can tackle some truly dark themes and in that case, they're not so joyous, but the magic of a great coming-of-age film makes me feel so strongly. While Adam Carter Rehmeier's new film Snack Shack isn't one of the greatest of the genre, it's still an enjoyable time that will make you eager for peaceful and relaxing summer days, and reminisce on your childhood. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNV-EhyeZWM It's a film that's teeming with the sweetness of nostalgia and the bitter pangs of growing up. Rehmeier's film transports viewers back to the insanely vibrant era of the 1990s, particularly in a sleepy town in Nebraska City, where life's greatest concern was the day-to-day operations of a community pool's snack shack. The Good: The film stars Conor Sherry and Gabriel Labelle, who portrayed Sammy Fabelman in Steven Spielberg's semi-autobiographical film The Fabelmans, who are two teenage friends whose entrepreneurial spirit leads them to win a council auction to run the said shack. The sudden arrival of a new lifeguard, Brooke, played by Mika Abdalla, not only disrupts their business but also tests the strength of their friendship. At its core, Snack Shack is a sweet yet somewhat unambitious homage to the coming-of-age comedies that have defined generations, most notably those that were helmed or written by John Hughes. It is a beautifully nostalgic ride that's chalked full of youthful innocence that does a pretty good job of showing the friendship of two youngsters set against the backdrop of a bygone era. The setting of the summer of 1991 serves as a perfect canvas, painting a world untouched by the digital age, where summers felt longer and friendships felt simpler. The performances by the cast members offer a mixture of heart and humor, grounding the film's more whimsical moments with relatable teenage angst and joy. Sherry brings a level of earnest ambition to the character of A.J., portraying him as a young man that's caught between his huge business aspirations and dreams and the evolving dynamics of his friendships. LaBelle's character Moose is the film's comedic anchor, oftentimes delivering lines with timing that evoke genuine laughter. He's reminiscent of the lovable goofball that exists in mostly every friend group that we've had in our personal lives. Abdalla's Brooke brings a refreshing dynamism to the narrative. She often challenges the status quo of the boys' world with grace and complexity. As Brooke, Abdalla represents the unavoidable shifts that come with growing up. It's certainly a standout performance from an actress that you should definitely be on the lookout for. Some of the supporting cast including Gillian Vigman, David Costabile, and Love, Simon's Nick Robinson bring a good amount of depth to the film's world. They skillfully bridge the gap between the adolescent and adult worlds. They provide the grounding perspective that so often shapes the teenage experience. Their performances highlight the community's role in the character's growth. Adam Carter Rehmeier's direction captures the essence of youth with an evident passion and tenderness. Grounding the film in his own experiences adds charm and authenticity to the narrative. The setting of Nebraska City in 1991 feels like a character in its own right. It's depicted with a vibrancy that pays homage to the era. Rehmeier's storytelling shines in exploring the intricacies of teenage friendship. The cinematography and soundtrack of Snack Shack are noteworthy. It captures the look and sound of the era with an almost documentary-like fidelity. The film's visual aesthetic, with its warm hues and sun-soaked scenes, invites nostalgia. It'll make you long for the simplicity of pre-digital summers. The soundtrack not only enhances the setting but also serves as an emotional undercurrent. It guides the audience through the highs and lows of the character's journey. The Bad: However, Snack Shack is not without its pitfalls. The film often leans heavily on nostalgia, sometimes at the expense of developing a more innovative or compelling narrative. The reliance on 90s-era tropes and stereotypes, while initially endearing, starts to wear thin. This leads to a predictability that undercuts some of the film's more emotional moments. The film explores friendship dynamics but sometimes overlooks deeper conflicts. This choice, while keeping the film accessible, sacrifices some of the complexity and depth that could have elevated the narrative. Overall: Snack Shack is a film that thrives on its simplicity and the earnest performances of its cast. It's a warm-hearted nod to the summers of our youth. While it doesn't break new ground, it stands as a delightful reminder of the joy and pain of adolescence. Rehmeier's narrative resonates with a sincerity that is both charming and effective. For those yearning for a slice of 90s nostalgia, Snack Shack is worth a watch. Read the full article

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Not a bad week all threesomes being equal

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 7 of 8 - Love that they’re addressing being outed (not as gay but) as sex workers. Interesting twist, more classism than homophobia. The sides are FUCKING ADORABLE. Also we asked for a 3some and they sure as shit gave us one, dream sequence or not. Plus baby likes the idea. Everyone say "thank you Thailand." Bonus more lesbians and a lovely mother-son core relationship. I’m feeling spoiled by this show. 

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 6 of 10 - Love that we got the 2nd world romance at laso. I do like how well MaxNat do tenderness. I would call it their forte. Also if you love that picture perfect yaoi size-difference, its this pair more than most others. Max TOWERS over Nat and he's about 2x his weight.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 12fin - It’s cute. They're cute. It was a lovely ending. 

Summation:

A solid little pulp about a closeted actor who falls for his nerdy next door neighbor and has to come out. Makes up for in earnestness and good will what it lacks in acting ability and chemistry. 7/10 

To Be Continued (Sat C3 Thailand grey) - I kind of love that the break up was miscommunication but all around a shitty first time, so common to many of us. And being too young to talk properly, or know what they wanted and needed from each other, for each other, or with each other.

“ I was a coward back then.” “ Are you brave now?”

Sure it was miscommunication but at least they were honest about it.

Achi was genuinely an asshole and I understand Ji's extreme bitterness now - his heart was broken because the friendship fractured and he was abandoned. Then the good kind of time lapse. All in all I quite enjoyed the last few episodes of the show. Mostly because it was better than The Promise. Which doesn’t take much. Still, by comparison I can only give it a relatively good grade (for a not re-watchable difficult to find pulp).

Summation:

A bittersweet reunion romance about a doctor and the superstar who abandoned him in high school, their reconciliation, and the enduring pain of first love. Including the, erm, actual pain of a first time. The honesty of the miscommunication in this pulp and the intimacy scenes elevates it, but not much more than that. 7/10

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 -  They are too cute, with their little promised to die together. I’m still finding the majority of the show very boring, but I can’t discount the sweetness of the couple. Demanding vampire boyfriend is demanding.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) - Finished and rumor is, it never improved and wasn't really BL.

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - no ep this week, Happy Songkran!

We Are (Weds iQIYI) ep 3 of 16 - Sorry all I’m away from the computer that I can use to watch this, so it’ll be a double update next week. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 9 of 12 - I do love this show. How is it, in one episode, more gangster than all of KP or Kiseki? It was always gonna take A LOT for Q to come round but I do hope they resolve it soon. I'd like to see them actually happy for a bit.

Gray Shelter (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 3-4 of 5 - they act about 1000 times more like exes than they do like brothers, just saying. I get what’s happening, they’re each dodging around admitting that they like the other person and trying to force the other one to admit it first. So they push up to the line of threatening to leave but neither one can ever actually cross it because they don’t actually want to be apart ever again. It’s kind of fun to watch actually. All angsty bullshit, but hey, repressed boys be repressed.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - Awe K wants to be N’s bf so bad. All the hints are being dropped. But this is Japan, baby boy is NEVER going to get it without being kissed and sometimes not even then. I mean the Weatherman fucked his boy for years and it still didn’t, erm, sink in. Meanwhile, the classic Japanese version of a bespectacled wingman has entered stage right (never lose your childish wonder, Japan). It’s great, I utterly adore it. 

Blue Boys (Korea ? YouTube) 1 of ? No MDL link - on Sukfilm’s YT channel (along with a cute little GL) interesting short series that just happened out of the, erm, blue. Reunion of old classmates reveals that both are struggling with life, but back then the popular jock had a big ol' crush on the nerd. They go drinking and end up in bed - as ya do. This is Korea, so chaste kisses, but still GOOD START. (The GL is adorable too)

At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Hum. It felt like I'd seen this all before and then Japan dick slaps me with a sex club. Say it with me everybody, "must you Japan?" Let's see how they do but I'm not impressed so far.

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 5-6 of 12 - Speaking of unimpressed. Geonu is definitely the best thing about this show. Which is saying something as he’s the idol AND such a minor character. NO SINGING. (Except Geonu, he can sing.)

It's airing but...

Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari (Japan Furritsubs) eps 1-? of 10 - I may wait and binge it.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - It’s so boring DNFed at 2

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - 6 eps, when it's done, tell me if I should bother?

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting next week

4/25 Boys Be Brave! AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) ep 1 of 8 - Trailer Jung Ki Sub is Kim Jin Woo's slacker friend - and secret crush. So when Ki Sub crashes at his place, his heart tingles to be near him everyday. But as the short stay turns into permanent mooch, how long can Jin Woo keep his true feelings under wraps and hold back from confessing?

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

What happened?

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

ARGH I miss him! But this was hilarious and so well done. (Unknown - Sam Lin)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a bother.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

[glowinggator]

Sonnet 116

Request: Hi! Your fics are so cute and I love them all! Would you be able to do headcanons of the turtles reacting to their s/o wearing their color as lipstick and leaving kiss marks all over their face? Bonus points if they don’t immediately realize until the others see it. Thank you! <3

Pairing: Raphael/Reader (Established Relationship) Leonardo/Reader (Established Relationship) Donatello/Reader (Established Relationship) Michelangelo/Reader (Established Relationship)

Content Warnings: None!

Word Count: 971

  Raphael

This has happened more times than he’d care to admit — it’s not even on purpose, either!You know, unlike some people. He just genuinely forgets that they’re there, especially if you wear red a lot. It’s just such a common color, you know? So unless you’re showing up in firetruck red and pointing it out… he probably won’t notice the difference. He gets very flustered if he does catch onto it though, and thinks it's the cutest thing in the world.

Kisses galore!

He gets very giggly when you pepper his face in kisses like that, and weaves his hands through yours with murmurs of how much he adores you. And about how much of a dork you are.

The two of you settle down later on to watch a movie, and… that’s exactly when he forgets that his cheekbones and jawlines are positively painted in red kiss marks. So when he hops up to grab something from the kitchen, he’s none the wiser!

Sucks at comebacks so much, so he’s just super genuine. He says them so lovingly, rubbing the back of his neck in that telltale flustered way, that anyone with half a brain could understand the pure adoration he has for you. It makes your heart melt more than any witty clapback ever could.

 Leonardo

If you’re wearing blue lipstick, you already know he’s gonna fawn over you. What? It looks so good on you! It’s totally your color, you know. Maybe you should wear it more often? Nooo, there’s no other reason, honest!

Totally sneaks in a few kisses while you tease him about liking the lipstick so much. He cups your cheeks in this sweet little hold that almost makes you want to give it up. So you lean forward, breaking free of his tender hold and peppering his face with kisses. Come on, is it so wrong to want to fluster your boyfriend?

You eventually get a few giggles out of him, and the curve of his lips against yours when they finally meet again gives him away. He’s such a softie.

He wears the marks with pride — hell, he’s borderline parading himself around — but he’ll pretend that he didn’t know they were there. He’s so prideful about it though, it’s not hard to see through the ignorant facade.

Also yes, he’s been drafting up witty comebacks for this exact scenario.

On the one-off time that he really doesn’t realize they’re there though, he’s surprisingly chill about it! Definitely spouts off something about how his brothers are just jealous that he’s got such an awesome partner. Basic response, but cute nonetheless.

 Donatello

You’d think he’d be so chill about this, but the moment he sees you walking in his lab with this gorgeous purple lipstick, it’s nothing but hype.

He gets this giddy smile, and he genuinely yells. Like, it’s a full-on “Yes!” You know the one. And from then on it’s just so much hype about how fucking good you look, how you two are killing it together, etc. He’s so cute, it’s unreal. With how fast his mouth is running though, it’ll probably take you a minute or two to sneak in a kiss. But when you do, you’re sure that you can feel his heart pounding beneath his plastron. He loves it more than he lets on, and not just because you look good in it.

He’s not the type to parade himself around again, unlike some people and he’s usually pretty good about getting a strategic wipe of the face in before venturing out into the common room. He loves you, and it secretly makes him melt, but he’d never live it down. Sorry, dearest.

On the off-chance that he does get caught though, he has two possible reactions and it entirely depends on how unexpected it is.

If he’s caught completely off-guard, he’s GOING to throw whatever he has in his hands at the person who speaks up. And if he has nothing, he’s gonna find a pillow or something to throw while stumbling over some witty clapback.

But if he’s not completely flustered by it? He’s gonna quote love poems until somebody throws something at HIM. Man loves his theatre.

 “Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and-”

 “Oh my GOD shut the fuck up.”

 Michelangelo

He loves it so much, oh my god. He’s at a crossroads between demanding kisses, and just admiring the shade on you. It’s not often that you see such a vibrant orange, but hell if you don’t wear it so well.

If you try and pepper his face in kisses, be prepared! He’s gonna try and do it back! It’s this little back and forth between the two of you — half play-wrestling, half goofy kisses. He can’t help it, he just adores you! He likes to interlock his hands with yours and pull you closer. You can’t escape!

He half-considers doing the same for you, actually. Well, maybe more than half. He definitely starts focusing on your signature colors for a little while afterwards, regardless.

He won’t intentionally go out with the goal of getting spotted by his brothers, but he doesn’t really care if someone sees either. He 100% wears the marks with pride, though! He doesn’t have the witty comebacks that Leo has, but his expression is so smug that he really doesn’t even need one? He just smiles and sticks his tongue out at his brothers before continuing on with his day.

That response kills them more than any witty response ever could.

He probably jokes about it with you later, and encourages you to do it more. He’s cheeky like that, but that’s why you love him!

[wackywritings]

Rafe Cameron - Stare into my eyes

Summary: Y/N and Rafe have a complicated relationship. One minute they're on the brink of kissing, the next they're fighting because he's wanting to get high again.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, fighting.

If it wasn't for the loud music at Barry's and the chatter of people under the influence of god knows what concoction of substances, perhaps she would've heard him arrive on his bike. But alas, she didn't. She was blisfully oblivious as he stumbled up the few steps leading to the trailer, his eyes searching the crowd for her.

"Country club! What you doin' here bro?" It was Barry's voice that made her blood run cold, the conversation she was previously engaging in long forgotten. He was here.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping over the wooden floor making an awfully high-pitched sound, piercing the ringing in her ears. She passed by him on her way to Barry's bathroom, not even having to spare him a glance to know he was trailing close behind as soon as he tracked her movement, only to leave a confused Barry behind. He never quite understood the relationship between the two. It's a good thing she didn't look up at him, because she would've no doubt seen the change in his eyes upon meeting hers; hard eyes void of emotion, fleeting around the room anxiously turning into a soft gaze that didn't focus on anything but her. If it wasn't him, now, it would've been almost endearing.

But it was.

He followed her into the bathroom, locking the door behind him as soon as they were both in the cramped space. It was quieter here, but instead of bringing some peace, it only made their thoughts louder. She wasn't looking at him yet, her back to him as he pondered over how to break the silence. How to address this wrack-up of a matter he'd gotten himself into.

"So. I'm a bit high." He cringed immediately after the words left his mouth, internally cursing at himself.

"Yeah, I figured that much, Cameron." She held up her hands in exasperation, but her frustation soon turned into worry as she finally took in the boy's appearance. His right eye sported a new bruise, green and purple and red mixing together on his sunkissed skin.

"You're hurt."

"Clearly. Why else would I get high?"

"Because you have an addiction?" Her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was not afraid of him in the slightest. "C'mon, Y/N." His tone was pleading, no, begging. In any other instance, he would've loved her having an attitude, doing anything in his power to rile her up even more. But right now he just needed someone to take care of him.

Her stance softened considerably as she took in the rest of his appearance: the bags beneath his eyes, the locks of hair - not gelled back like usual - sticking to his forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, not unlike his polo.

"Okay." She whispered, ever so slowly nodding her head, before moving past him to unlock the door. He didn't smell like the cologne he normally wore, a mix of alcohol and sweat floating between the small space between them. "Let's get you something to change into, alright?" Though she didn't wait for his answer as she opened the door, moving straight to Barry's room.

"You gonna dress me in a wifebeater or some shit?" He inquired with a chuckle as he followed her, plopping himself down on the bed as he intently watched her rummage through Barry's wardrobe. Most of his high had worn off already, and he could begin to feel it.

"Are you kidding? He'll notice it's his and have your ass for it. I'm sure he has some decent shirts he never wears. It'll be less obvious." She reasoned as she opened multiple drawers to find what she was looking for. A victorious 'aha' left her as she finally found what she was after, turning around with the blue longsleeve held high in her hand, only for her proud expression to change into shock, her mouth hanging open.

He'd taken the liberty of taking his shirt off already, something she hand't noticed him doing. She should've said something- anything, so he wouldn't question her change in demeanor. Joked teasingly with him, or even just asked if he thought it would fit. But she couldn't utter a single word as she looked at him. His shoulders broad, arms more muscular than she imagined them to be under his usual attire. Not to mention his chest, or the muscles in his abdomen that rippled underneath his skin (God it looked so soft. She wondered what it would feel like under her grazing fingertips) as he moved to stand up from the bed. She felt her heart hammer against her chest, flushed cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but his shirtless form.

"Gonna give me that?" He was pointing to the shirt still firm in her hand, an amused look on his face. The smugness made her snap out of it - as if his ego needed any more boasting.

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffed, though she made no attempt to throw him the shirt. It took three, maybe four quick strides for him to be right up in her personal space. She was trying to stand her ground, straighten her back and keep eye contact to seem less affected by their current predicament. She was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart anyway. "Just took me off guard, 's all." She managed to murmur, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from shyly smiling.

He wasn't one to play with her feelings - he knew the kind of effect he had on her. But he quite enjoyed dancing around the subject with her, flirting and teasing and tender touches shared after spending long days together. It was their thing. He had convinced himself it was all he needed from her. God forbid he was honest about how much she meant to him, how much he craved her presence.

"Hm. Did you rather have me change in the bathroom, doll?" He came incomprehensibly closer to her, a breath too deep would have their chests touch. His eyes were boring into hers, now at eye level with her as he bent down slightly.

"I-" She wanted to say something. Tell him a warning would've been sufficient, adding a wink just to tease him back. Maybe say she wanted to be the one to take his shirt off, if she so dared. But his blue eyes were so mesmerising - specs of light shimmering in the dark blue pools of his irises, his pupils focused on her and only her. She could look away to stop the tight feeling from spreading in her chest, sure, but then she'd have to look at his large shoulders covered in freckles and sweat, or his chest rising with every breath he took. Warm breaths that she could feel hit her lips ever so softly. Getting lost in his eyes really was the only option she had. Inevitably, so was losing her words.

And it made him smile. A real, genuine smile. If he wasn't so close perhaps she wouldn't have noticed the way his eyes twinkled, how creases at the corner of his eyes formed, how that dimple arose on his chin.

As if that wasn't enough to make her weak at the knees and her breath hitch in her throat, the bolt of electricity that she felt when his long fingers touched hers, tracing around them like it was some kind of game to him, would've done her in.

"That's what I thought." His voice was raspy and dangerously low as he whispered it - so close to her mouth she wished he would just close the goddamn gap already. But it's Rafe, so of course he didn't. He just tugged on Barry's shirt held tight between her fingers, grabbing it and putting it on a split second later.

"How do I look?" His questioned as he couldn't find a mirror in the room, hopefully glancing at her.

"Peachy." She nodded as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She was upset at the loss of proximity, so perhaps what was supposed to be a comment of teasing nature came out harsher than she meant. Something that didn't go lost on him. Maybe he did take it too far just now.

"Alright, well. I gotta find Barry." He discarded her previous comment, rubbing his nose. The high had officially worn off completely now, and he was dying for more. Though he wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to forget his earlier fight, or forget her. How he felt about her, and how he wasn't ever gonna be enough for her. How he would never have the guts to do something about it.

"Rafe-" She started sternly, glaring at him. Though she quieted down as he held his hands up.

"No, not this again, okay? You don't have shit to say about this, you hear me?"

"What, that's it?" She let out a dry laugh as she stood in front of him, blocking the door. "You're just gonna get high again. Seriously?"

"Y/N, don't start with me now." His voice was threatening now, glaring on the edge of venomous.

"It always ends the same, Rafe, and you were high just minutes ago. Don't you think that was enough? Don't you ever get bored of this shit?" She was asking too many difficult questions for his liking. Her tone was exasparated, too. Tired of having to deal with him and his stupid issues. Of having to patch him up and take care of his pathetic self that just couldn't get fucking clean. He felt the urge to scream, but bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from acting on it.

"What, you're not even gonna say anything?"

"Stop." He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched as he spat at her.

She threw her hands up, before running them through her hair. How was she supposed to stay calm - or approach this situation when he wouldn't even talk to her?

"I just- you're hurting people with this. You're not you, Rafe. Not anymore. I mean look at you." She gestured towards him.

"You don't know who I am."

"But I do!" She all but screamed at him. He kept his composure and his cold glare, but she noticed the way his shoulders tensed upwards at her outburst. So she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know you. You're sweet and gentle and caring and so incredibly smart."

"Y/N." He wasn't used to compliments, or feeling this many emotions, for that matter. He could feel the need for another line coursing through every inch of his body. He just needed a little bit. Just needed to be able to breathe again.

"No, I'm serious. You're a great brother to Wheezie, you're great to me."

"Don't." He twisted his head to the side, his eyes rolling back as he felt his whole body heating up again, Barry's shirt no doubt already showing sweat stains. But she was far too invested in telling him how amazing he was, eyes trained on the ground as her brows furrowed, words flowing from her mouth at such a rate that in any other situation would've made him wonder where she found the time to breathe. So she didn't listen nor notice how he was struggling.

"You're always trying to please your father."

"Y/N, do not-"

"No, Rafe. I know how much he means to you, but you're never gonna be able to please him if you keep using! He's just going to keep abusing you and you're gonna keep being disappointed and running to Barry to stop yourself from feeling it."

He was proper boiling right now. Sweat was trickling down his forehead, jaw shut tight as he balled his fist at his side. They always say anger looks red, but even with his eyes shut tight all he saw was white. Pure, white, blinding rage. Everywhere in his mind - dying to creep out all at once.

"And it's just this vicious cycle that's never gonna end. And I worry for the day that it becomes your death, Rafe!" She all but yelled his name, voice hoarse and filled with unplaceable emotions.

"Shut your fucking mouth!" He bellowed out, two quick steps bringing him right in front of her, his fist making contact with the door behind her before he even knew he moved his fist in the first place. She cowered down at the proximity of the sound. His body was flush against hers now, even closer than they were before. He was breathing hard, his arms on either side of her as he trapped her between him and the door. His skin touching hers felt hot and damp, but it still made her shiver. Not in a good way though, not like before.

The worst of it all wasn't even his anger, or the drugs, or the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to stop him.

It was his eyes.

The ones that she had so lovingly stared into mere minutes ago. The ones that held so much adoration and passion for her. The ones that twinkled under the light, sparkled with mischief as he playfully teased her. The ones that she could look into and feel safe - no matter what. The ones that she considered to belong to her home.

They were darker now. Harsh and fierce, flaring up with anger as he looked into her frightened eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed hard, a frown between them. The shadows they casted leaving sharp edges prominent on his face. The specs of light weren't not visible anymore, they were simply gone. She couldn't even distinguish the blue from his pupils. She'd never been the subject of his rage before, and she never understood how most people feared him. But now? As he looked down on her with no emotion but anger written on his face, he looked scary to her for the first time. And she wondered if his eyes would ever feel the same again as her own filled with tears.

"Don't talk about my father again." His voice was strained but louder than she expected. He leaned into her even more to give power to the threathening statement, before completely pushing off. Large hands wrapped around her arms, fingers digging into her skin bordering on putting enough pressure to leave a bruise. He forced her away from the door. Perhaps he expected more of a struggle from her, but she was so shocked by his behaviour that she could only take small and hasty steps away from the door, scared to anger him more. He janked the door open, the sound of the loud bass of the music hitting her ears. The sensory stimulation was too much for her to bear, and she looked up both in a prayer for him to leave and to keep the tears from falling.

"And don't talk to me. We're done." He added. She wanted to look into his eyes. As much as they scared her now, she needed to know if they held any more emotion than his completely void voice just did. But he'd already slammed the door shut.

She was left looking at the closed door as she finally allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.

[julek]

my kingdom for a kiss (upon your shoulder)

read on ao3 | rated T | 6.2K | no warnings | for @asweetprologue <3

The sun shines soft in Toussaint.

Geralt can’t remember whether it’s always been like that — if the golden tint that falls over the city as gently as wind-blown petals is genuine or just a product of his imagination. Spring isn’t in full bloom yet, timid flowers peeking at him from the side of the road, proud birds carrying twigs and feathers to their newly-made nests, the tree branches still cold after the last snow.

They’re not far from the main square, their pace steady and unhurried since they set out to Beauclair in the morning. The midday commotion fills Geralt’s senses, spices and bread and frantic conversations making him shake his head in discomfort — busy cities always take a while to grow used to; thankfully, he never stays long.

Next to him, Jaskier sneezes.

“This weather, I tell you—” he starts, but gets immediately cut off by another dainty, kitten-like sneeze. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, then makes a face at it. “Be the death of me.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’ll take more than pollen to take you, I fear.”

“It doesn’t stand a chance against me,” he says, and strikes a pose, like one of the heroes in the silly novels he insists on buying, but the puffy eyes and red nose dampens it a bit. He doesn’t seem deterred, though. “Besides, I wouldn’t let pollen, of all things, keep me from performing at tonight’s ball.”

Geralt hums, flicking a fly off Roach’s mane. They were in Spalla when Jaskier was approached by a passing servant and asked to partake in some baron Geralt couldn’t care enough to retain the name of’s early spring ball — naturally, Jaskier had jumped at the invitation, eager to be among the distinguished crowds that frequent such events, even more so after a long winter tucked away at Oxenfurt.

“By the way,” Jaskier says, picking an inexistent piece of lint off his doublet, aiming for casual even though he knows Geralt can hear the curious lilt to his voice, “will you be attending tonight?”

“I might not make it in time,” he says truthfully. He rubs his thumb over the contract he’s holding in his free hand, the sharp edges digging into his skin. “I will hunt this afternoon.”

Jaskier nods. “Well,” he says, his voice soft as he bumps his shoulder against Geralt’s. “You’re welcome there. I’ll vouch for you, you know.”

Geralt smiles at him solemnly — then bumps him back, laughing when the bard accidentally crashes into an old woman perusing the wares of a silver-tongued merchant.

“Geralt!” Jaskier says indignantly, smoothing out his doublet and shooting the woman a sideways glance that’s more annoyed than apologetic. “You can’t just push people.”

“Apologies,” Geralt says, not sounding sorry at all. “My balance seems to be off, lately. You know how it is.”

“With your old age, yes,” Jaskier says and pats his arm sympathetically. “I fear you’re showing signs of decay already.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, yes.” Jaskier takes his arm and loops it through his, a steadying hand at his back. “Your gait is off— look, even Roach looks concerned for your wellbeing.”

Roach looks unfazed.

“And all the lines on your face!” Jaskier gasps in mock-horror. “My, Geralt, we should take you to a healer. Perhaps you’ve been cursed— There! Those dreadful frown lines you sport, old friend… Have you considered retirement? I hear there are great Witcher-friendly settlements in this area, and— hey!”

Geralt smirks as Jaskier rubs the side of his head where Geralt’s innocent and weary hand slapped it. He can see the worn-down sign of the inn he favors when they’re in the city a few steps ahead, can already taste the fresh ale on his mouth.

“Whoops,” he says, trying to school his features into something that isn’t a smug smile. “Seems I’m losing control of my limbs, too.”

+

The Rose and Thorn is as it has ever been. Clean wooden floorboards that creak as they walk in, the blossoming vine hanging over the kitchen door, the innkeeper’s old dog napping in a spot of sunlight pouring in through the window.

It’s good.

Geralt likes routine. He thrives on it. He likes familiar faces and comforting smells and the sound of pans and pots banging together as the cook murmurs a string of expletives that would be considered indecorous on a lady’s mouth. He likes knowing where he stands, likes the well-loved booths and the tankards that are cracked around the edges, the face of an unruly lion faded on the ceramic. He’s pleased with the way the innkeeper’s eyes crinkle with recognition as she nods at him and Jaskier, as she wordlessly takes his coin and points her head in direction of the room he always takes.

They move upstairs, Jaskier’s lutecase hitting the narrow walls as Geralt pushes the door open. The room is simple — two beds and a small table under the tall window, light pouring in through the thin linen curtains. He sets his bag on one of the beds — the closest to the door — and puts his sheathed swords next to it before allowing himself a moment to sit and wind down.

“I’d say lunch is in order, don’t you think?” Jaskier says after a while, even though his words are muffled by the pillow he’d thrown himself face-down onto and he doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon. “I’m aching for something other than apples and jerky, if I’m honest.”

Geralt’s stomach rumbles in agreement. “Too coarse for your fine palate, bard?” He teases.

“Never,” Jaskier says, lifting an accusatory finger at where he supposes Geralt is sitting. Then, because it isn’t as dramatic as it should’ve been, he rolls over, facing Geralt, his hair sticking up at odd places and his face flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m well used to all kinds of provisions, but the soul wishes for something a little bit more substantial every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” Geralt concedes. He laces up his left boot tighter than the right one and stands. “Let’s go, then, man of substance.”

Jaskier grins up at him, bright and easy, and leaps out of the bed so fast the wind gets knocked out of him.

Downstairs at the bar, there are steaming bowls of pottage being sent to the patrons that are starting to overflow the room, bread and cheese abundant at every table. It must have been a fruitful winter, Geralt reasons as he nods to the barmaid and gestures to the plates.

“Ale as well, Sir Witcher?” She says as she wipes her forehead, no trace of fear in her voice. She’s probably too busy for it.

“Two, please.”

He makes his way to the table where Jaskier’s already tearing a loaf of bread in two, tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the hard wood as he looks out the window at the passersby. There’s a neatly-made arrangement of wildflowers on the wall by his side, larkspur and thistle with a touch of baby’s breath, Geralt thinks.

“Here,” he says, passing the half-full tankard over to Jaskier and taking a sip of his own.

Jaskier hands him a piece of bread. “So, what are we slaying today?”

“The only thing you’ll be slaying today is your audience’s eardrums,” Geralt says, smirking at Jaskier’s huff of indignation. He takes a bite out of the bread. “There seems to be an archespore around the vineyards.”

“An— the—” Jaskier’s face does a complicated thing and Geralt wants to point out that he looks like a gaping trout before he says, “An archespore?! This mythical— magical— never before seen creature—”

“It’s been seen plenty of times,” Geralt points out.

“Not by me!” Jaskier thumps his fist on the table, defeated, and his ale sloshes dangerously. He wipes a hand down his face. “Ugh. And I can’t even fight you on it, because I’ve got, uh, what do they call it— Geralt, help me out here, what’s the word—”

“A compromise.”

Jaskier gags. “Yes. That. I shall honor my, uh, compromise to the arts and leave you alone and defenseless before such a legendary creature. Naught but two swords and the strength of” —he looks Geralt up and down appreciatively— “roughly twelve men built like bulls to keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

Geralt lifts his eyebrows, unimpressed, and leans back on his seat as a barmaid approaches them with a bowl in each hand. “Thank you,” he tells her, and digs in.

The stew is pleasantly hot and thick with spices and vegetables, the potatoes sweet and the meat tender, and he lets a pleased rumble escape his chest.

He doesn’t get to indulge in good meals very often — when he gets the opportunity to sit down at a proper table and have a proper plate placed in front of him, the food is usually sizable and filling, but never particularly appetizing. It’s mostly overcooked, tough meat — if he can afford it — and out-of-season vegetables that remind him of dried-out fields rather than a lavish banquet.

Jaskier is used to them, though. Or was — right before he was hit on the head with a chunk of stale bread and had the brilliant idea to trail after a Witcher, to trade comfortable beds and roasted pheasants for a hard bedroll spread on the forest floor and charred squirrel, at best. It still intrigues Geralt, watching Jaskier roll up his sleeves and dig into the pottage like it’s the finest meal he’s ever tasted, like it doesn’t pale in comparison to what he’ll be served tonight. Like he doesn’t see it — the immensity of the gap between Geralt’s world and his own.

There are moments of hesitation — moments when Geralt thinks Jaskier will wake up. When he thinks the bard will look around and shake his head in astonished confusion, and his blue eyes will widen comically like they do when he’s caught slipping treats to Roach, and he’ll see through the desperately-sewn seams of Geralt’s life. He’ll see that behind the so-called heroics and martyrdom there’s nothing more than a Witcher and a horse and a lonely road ahead.

But then, just when Geralt’s doubts start to creep into his hairline and show on his face, Jaskier will prove him wrong. Like now, as Jaskier lets his spoon fall into his empty bowl and leans back on his seat, sighing happily, nothing but contentment and warmth on his scent. As he watches through the window again, with a smile that dimples his cheek and sunlight crinkling his eyes.

Geralt feels something touch his leg. When he looks down, the innkeeper’s dog is resting his chin on Geralt’s thigh, his eyes big and pleading.

He picks up a hard bit of bread Jaskier had set aside earlier and carefully brings it up to the dog’s nose for inspection. After a few curious sniffs, the dog gently takes it out of Geralt’s hand, tail wagging excitedly. His fur is soft where Geralt smoothes it out with the flat of his palm, softer than Roach’s mane.

When he looks up, Jaskier’s eyes have abandoned the window, and he’s watching the two of them with a smile that’s half fond, half soft. Too tender.

Geralt’s never been looked at like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

It feels inadequate, and he pats the dog’s head to hide the almost imperceptible tremble of his hand. Jaskier’s smile reaches his eyes, and doesn’t waver.

It’s good.

+

The soft breeze wafting through the window as Geralt straps his swords to his back is tempting.

Jaskier yawns.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a nap in before you,” he yawns again, “go?”

He’s sprawled on his bed in a position that just can’t be comfortable, limbs long and bent at weird angles, pants unbuttoned and doublet resting on the back of a chair. His hair is ruffled and his cheeks are pink from the meal and the impending sleep that will follow.

“I’ve read, somewhere,” he continues, forcefully wrestling with the blankets that are firmly tucked into the bed, “ah, that napping increases, um— aha!” He wiggles under the covers. “It increases your strength, sharpens your” — a yawn — “mind, and whatnot.”

“Hmm.” Geralt adjusts his potion belt. “And how’s that worked out for you?”

Jaskier squints at him, managing to stay awake just to be annoyed. “See? You just continue proving my point! That,” he says, gesturing vaguely at Geralt with a half-covered hand, “would easily be fixed with one tiny nap!”

“Your naps are never tiny.”

“Well, no, because as a bard, I require more energy than a Witcher. Besides,” he says, closing his eyes, “I never seem to get enough sleep, you see, since I keep getting assaulted by this beast of a man who thinks dawn is already late.”

Geralt snorts and walks over to his bed. “Should put a contract out, then. A Witcher may come across it.”

Jaskier turns around, facing Geralt. “Oh, no, thank you. One Witcher is enough for me.” Geralt can hear the smile in his voice, though.

Checking he’s got everything he needs, and closing the open windows for good measure, Geralt turns to Jaskier. “I’m going. Stay here.”

This time, it’s Jaskier who has to snort. “Napping, remember?”

Geralt hums. “Don’t sleep through your performance,” he says, closing the door behind him, and the sounds of Jaskier tossing and turning while making indignant sounds makes him smirk.

The walk to the vineyard doesn’t take long. He passes the district alderman’s house on his way over, discusses the payment and whatever information he has to offer about the vineyard itself and the archespore sightings. The man’s face goes white when Geralt asks about any late violent crime.

The sun is still high in the sky when he gets to the heart of the vineyard, the earth uneven and freshly dug up. The victims’ bodies aren’t there anymore, he knows, but the archespore can’t be too far away from him. He draws out his sword and walks deeper into the field, watching the ripe grapevine sway with the wind.

There’s a vine in particular that calls his attention, thinner and bare, no grapes clinging to it. Just as he gets closer to it, it disappears under the ground. Geralt crouches and backs away, waiting to see it come back up — except when it does, it’s not just a lonely vine anymore.

The archespore stands tall and imposing, growling at Geralt as he signs Igni at it and aims for its trunk — he only gets one good blow before it buries itself under the earth. He waits again, looking for the green-brown color, and it shoots back up with renewed force, surrounding Geralt with acid-filled pods.

He casts a quick Quen and gets closer to it, choosing Aard this time as Igni causes it to relocate, and seizes the way it trembles minutely to get behind it and run his sword through its flesh. The creature growls, its jaw-shaped leaves curling around Geralt’s limbs. He struggles and manages to cast Igni at it, freeing himself as the plant relocates itself. When it sprouts back up, one of its pods blows up next to him, making him fall to the ground as the creature towers over him, its screeches deafening.

The archespore opens its forked mouth and screeches louder this time, acid shooting through its pores before Geralt can shield himself. The acid burns his skin where it reaches it, but the creature seems satisfied enough that it misses the opportunity to pin him to the ground. He reaches for his sword and lunges, casting Aard and tearing its leaves and damaging its thick stem.

This time, when it goes underground, Geralt has a feral smile on his face as he takes his Golden Oriole and upends it in his mouth. The venom stops burning for a second, and, when the archespore comes back up, its tendrils reaching for Geralt, he ducks and rolls, positioning himself behind it. The archespore screeches one final time as Geralt runs his sword from its head down to its core before it collapses to the ground, lifeless body still twitching. Geralt throws the severed head far enough that it won’t be able to reattach itself and slices up the remaining pods, their venom oozing sluggishly onto the torn-up ground.

He makes his way back to the city, the head of the archespore dripping slightly from its bag. The sun is setting, painting the walls golden against the pink sky, the shadows cast over the buildings helping the buzzing in his brain. He takes the less-traveled roads to avoid the commotion of the streets, but it seems the city is already mellowed out.

He thinks of Jaskier.

The first star of the night is twinkling against the pink-blue sky, the moon translucent. The baron’s residence is distant, surrounded by a stretch of the city’s walls, but Geralt imagines it’s close, close enough that Jaskier’s voice can carry through the night — that his soft melodies can reach them all.

He thinks of Jaskier, dressed up in his finest clothes that he had especially tailored — because I’ve filled out in the winter, Geralt! — drinking sweet wine from the vineyard he’s just left behind, mingling with the nobles and regaling them with honeyed tales of the Witcher’s heroism. The Witcher who is currently covered in muck and sticky with dried acid, carrying a severed head across the streets of Beauclair.

But Jaskier would disagree. He’d see a knight in shining armor, coming home triumphant after saving a family’s livelihood, the scars of the ferocious battle showing on his face. A defeated beast and a courageous warrior. A tale worth telling.

After dispatching the head and collecting his coin — what they’d agreed on, thankfully — Geralt heads back to the inn. The humming in his veins has simmered down, leaving behind a hint of exhaustion that clings to his bones and makes itself known. He calls for a bath, ignoring the innkeeper’s knowing look — she’s seen him trudge inside wearing worse.

Once he’s in his room, he takes his time unbuckling and sets his armor aside, a filthy pile that he’ll have to tend to eventually. After, he thinks, and sinks into the steaming tub. The room’s windows are open despite him closing them before leaving, tacit proof of Jaskier’s aversion for closed spaces and feeling oppressed, Witcher, and his distinct lack of self-preservation. Geralt’s chastised him enough about being easy prey, but there’s something in the way the bard moves that makes him want to protect, rather than prevent — he’d rather be the one to free Jaskier from his cage than be the one to lock him there in the first place. Not that Jaskier would ever let himself be locked away — he’s feisty enough on his own — but something about him screams freedom.

Geralt can’t take it away — wouldn’t ever want to. So he lets the cool air enter the room.

His bed is neatly made, pillows fluffed and sheets crisp. Next to it is Jaskier’s — somehow, pillows are on the floor and the sheets are turned inside out, twisted like a serpent around the blanket. His side of the room looks like it’s been a victim of a cruel whirlwind — clothes and accessories are strung about the room, picked up only to be frowned at and then put back down.

It’s tempting enough; to crawl under the covers and blow out the candles and get a half-decent night of sleep. Maybe get something to eat from the bar downstairs. Maybe drink some ale. But—

I’ll vouch for you, you know.

He knows.

+

It’s a beautiful night, in truth.

The ball is being hosted in the halfmoon-shaped garden, the cool spring breeze dancing around the guests as they dance themselves, carried away. Moonlight and candlelight alike wash over the cobblestone, a few delicate and intricate paper lanterns placed over a wooden railing casting gentle shadows on the whole scene. There are flowers all around — on tall vases in every corner and on the small centerpieces at every table, on the open hand of every statue and weaved into delicate crowns for everyone to wear.

It isn’t like anything Geralt’s seen before. He’s been to many balls — begrudgingly — but never one in which everyone carries themselves so freely, where raucous laughter is allowed if not mandatory, where not one person sits alone at their table, instead gathered around savoring the food, where there are chairs but no one sitting on them because they’re so busy prancing around the yard, marveling at the flowers and the outfits and the beauty of the night. Where everyone seems to be there because they want to be — because they belong.

He’s standing by a pillar, not hidden but not in plain sight, either. He tightens his jacket around himself, half to fend off the chill of the night air and half to hide the stain on the chemise underneath — a dangerous encounter with a drunk Jaskier and a goblet of wine. His leather band is on his wrist tonight, his silver hair tickling the spot behind his ear and catching on the high collar of his shirt. People are still coming in through the garden gates, the path to the grounds lit by small candles by each side of it, couples strolling hand-in-hand across the grounds and children running around, their flower crowns hanging off their heads.

There’s no music yet, just conversation carrying the night away. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat somewhere in the gardens, but hasn’t seen him yet — perhaps he’s encountered one of his old dalliances and is catching up, as he’s often done before.

Geralt moves to the balcony with the stone railing, the one looking out to the lake. The waves are calm tonight, gently rippling back and forth, shimmering under the stars. He leans his elbows on the railing, feeling very small as he looks down.

Heights used to scare him when he was a child. It’s one of the only things he can remember. His house sat on a small hill, and every night, after his mother went to sleep, he would tiptoe across the kitchen and open the window, and he would look down and feel terror beat inside his chest, gripping his heart like a vine.

Now, as he looks down, he can see the scrape of the stones jutting out of the earth, the clear beach beneath him. He can see the boats resting on the shore and the stars reflecting on the water. Looking down, he just feels at ease.

The sound of children protesting catches his attention. When he looks back to the courtyard, he can see two small children — siblings, he presumes — looking at their mother with very exaggerated frowns on their tiny faces.

“You mustn’t use your sister’s dress as a cleaning rag, Petyr,” she says to the boy as she tries to wipe down the girl’s gown.

“But the floors here needed cleaning!” Petyr responds, petulant. “You told us things should be squeaky-clean.”

His mother is about to reply when suddenly a voice cuts in. “And your mother is right, of course,” says Jaskier, winking at her and meeting her smile of relief with one of his own. “But this is a party! You’re meant to have fun, you and your sister! Don’t you like to dance?”

Petyr and his sister shake their heads. “We don’t know how to,” she admits.

Jaskier’s grin is wide. “Well, then you must be born singers!” At that, the girl smiles.

“Mama says our singing sounds more like a dying wyvern’s last breath,” she says simply, and it makes Jaskier laugh, “but we like to sing anyway.”

“And you should! Singing is the way our soul gets to have a laugh,” he says knowingly, and slowly takes his lute out of his case. “I don’t suppose you know what this is?”

The children’s eyes light up. “A lute!”

Jaskier laughs. “That’s right!” He holds it out to them. “Here, try a strum.”

The children look at each other, then at the lute like it’s something precious. Geralt knows it is. “You go first, Fiona,” the boy whispers to his sister.

Fiona approaches the lute carefully, and holds out her little hand. Jaskier takes it on his own, then gently, very gently, he runs her hand through the strings. It’s a simple chord, and Jaskier’s holding the note, but Fiona looks blown away. “Wow,” she whispers. “It’s so… pretty.”

Geralt can see the way Jaskier’s mouth quirks up and his eyes go soft at the corners. It tugs at his heartstrings.

“Now,” Jaskier says, “Do you want to try, Petyr?”

The boy nods, coming forward. He knows what to do, having watched his sister, so he simply lifts his hand and strums. Jaskier’s changed the chord, a lower one now.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier exclaims, and applauds the both of them, making their cheeks flush. “Naturals, the both of you.”

Petyr’s hand is still on the lute, feeling the strings and reaching the pegs. “And what do these do?” He says just as he turns one of them, the string deflating slightly.

Geralt wants to laugh at Jaskier’s pained grimace as he tightens the string back as he explains to Petyr that he should leave those to the adults, but suddenly he feels a pool of warmth in his stomach, an ache in his chest he hasn’t felt before — as if all the spring’s air has been stolen from him.

He watches Jaskier play a silly little ditty for the children to dance with their very amused mother, and he can’t look away. Can’t stop staring at the way Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with joy and his face is full of laugh lines and his own flower crown threatens to fall down, small yellow petals gathering at his feet.

And the thing is — he knows Jaskier. He knows he’s kind, and thoughtful, and painfully honest. He knows he feels everyone’s pain as his own, everyone’s joy as his own.

Everyone’s love as his own.

He knows that he’ll play silly made-up songs for bored children just as he knows he’ll gather herbs for Geralt’s potions without being asked to, just as he’ll buy treats for Roach, just as he’ll carefully avoid the fork on the road to Blaviken.

He sees it, now — the way his face is lit up but not from candlelight but from within, because he’s so in love with the world that he can barely stand it.

And he’s seen him before — has watched his furrowed brow illuminated by wavering candles as he writes well past dusk, has seen the curl of his mouth and the freckles on his nose and the scar that goes through his left eyebrow and yet—

Yet it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

There’s a smudge of ink on Jaskier’s cheek. There always is. There always has been.

Geralt’s never wanted to wipe it off.

He wants to wipe it off, wants to tuck his hair back behind his ear and kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. He wants to hold him close to his chest tight enough that maybe he’ll crawl into his heart and never leave.

It should scare him. It should feel like standing at the top of a hill and looking down.

It doesn’t.

Jaskier walks into the stage, a space of elevated marble he supposes a statue had been resident of. It suits him, the small pedestal — the way the golden thread of his dark green doublet glitters when moonlight catches it makes something ethereal of him, the few fallen flowers of his crown tangled on his hair — now tousled and matted with sweat — making something beautiful of him.

“Yes, yes, I’ve returned with more!” He exclaims at the whistles and cheers from the crowd, who’ve undoubtedly fallen in love with his first set. “We’re changing things up a bit now— How would you feel about something softer for a change?”

People cheer again, and Jaskier’s face breaks into a blinding grin. “Perfect! Now,” he looks around, “I want you to find the people you love. Your spouse, your lover, your friend, your sister, your child— everyone and anyone your heart beats for.”

The crowd starts gathering around in different groups, and Geralt smiles at how mismatched they are — tiny children and their grandparents, groups of single maidens hugging each other tightly, couples tenderly embracing each other.

Jaskier’s smile is softer, this time. “There,” he whispers. “Because love is something to share— This song I’m sharing with you.”

And then he’s gone — all his stage-borne facade falls away as he starts to play. His fingers are plucking a gentle, easy melody, and he’s humming along. People start slowly swaying to the sound of his voice, their eyes bright and shiny with mirth and love. Then, very softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sings,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you…”

It’s incredibly gentle, and Geralt feels drawn to it immediately. He watches as Jaskier sways with the music, eyes closed and brow furrowed, completely lost on it. There are buttercups on his hair and love in his mouth and Geralt suddenly wants to reach for him, put out his hand only for Jaskier to hold.

Jaskier opens his eyes as the last verse comes in. “Take my hand,” he sings, and he does a brave thing and looks into Geralt’s eyes. “Take my whole life, too.”

He would.

“For I can’t help,” he says with a smile, and looks out to the public. “Falling in love with you.”

The song ends, but Jaskier keeps playing the chord progression softly. The crowd isn’t there anymore — they’re all somewhere else, holding their beloved in tender arms and swaying to the tune of their love. As Jaskier’s playing slowly fades out, there is no applause, no enthusiastic cheering nor plea for an encore.

They all know.

Geralt’s looking out to the waves when Jaskier joins him by the railing.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Geralt turns to face him. “Hey,” he whispers back.

Jaskier’s smile is soft as he takes him in. “You came.”

“I did,” Geralt says, voice low. “Was told someone would be waiting for me.”

“And here I am.”

The waves crash against the rocks.

“That was a new one,” Geralt murmurs, looking at the scar on his knuckle. “The song.”

“It was,” Jaskier replies simply.

Geralt looks at him. “I liked it.” It’s no big compliment, but Jaskier seems to understand him all the same.

He always does.

“I’m glad,” he says. “I like it too.”

He leans his elbows on the railing, their shoulders almost touching. Jaskier’s cheek is still smudged with ink.

“You have…” Geralt says, gesturing to his own face, and Jaskier frowns at him. Geralt shakes his head. He licks his thumb and reaches, Jaskier’s skin soft as he swipes the ink away, his mouth slightly parted.

“There,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t leave Jaskier’s cheek. “Do they really say it?”

Jaskier frowns, confused. Their shoulders are touching. “Who?”

Geralt reaches for Jaskier’s flower crown and looks at him, a silent request. Jaskier nods. Geralt takes it in his hands and gently tucks the loose stems back together, the way he’d seen girls do it in the town square. He doesn’t lose a single petal.

“The wise men,” he says, placing the crown on top of Jaskier’s head, where it belongs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jaskier takes them in his. “It is foolish to rush in unprepared. You taught me that.”

“Am I wise, then?”

Jaskier laughs, shakes his head. “I never said that.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, watching Jaskier’s rings as they glint in the moonlight, watching Jaskier’s fingers as they play with his.

“I love you, you know,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at their joined hands.

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Geralt looks at him. “I know.”

He needs the weight of his swords strapped at his back. He wants to be brave.

He looks down.

“I love you,” he says. “I can’t help it.”

Jaskier smiles. “Well, now you’re just being mean— plagiarizing my song right in front of me.”

“Jask.” It sounds like a prayer. Geralt squeezes his hands, amber meeting cornflower blue. “You know what I mean, when I say—”

“I know what you mean,” Jaskier says. “I know.”

They drink each other in, and Geralt knows this is the first time they’re seeing each other. Gently, he places one hand on the small of Jaskier’s back, the other on his nape, and brings their foreheads together.

Jaskier’s hands find their way to Geralt’s waist. Nobody’s ever held him like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

His nose grazes Jaskier’s cheek and he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

And Jaskier’s smiling when he says, “I wish you would.”

So he does. Soft lips against chapped ones, lute-calloused hands against scarred ones. Jaskier kisses him back tenderly, unhurried, and it’s honey-sweet like the wine he can taste on Jaskier’s mouth, like the love he can feel on his scent.

When they pull apart — only because they have to — Geralt circles Jaskier in his arms, pressing small kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, his forehead. It makes him laugh.

“Tickles,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice. “Your beard.”

Geralt presses a final, lingering kiss to his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers against his lips.

The party has carried on without them, as it is wont to do. There’s a harp player on the stage now, plucking a soft melody from its strings.

Jaskier’s eyes are bright when he looks up at him. It feels right, to be holding him like this, to drown in his warmth and press love into his hands like it’s all he can do — and it is. All he can do is watch into Jaskier’s eyes and try not to get lost in them and stop a smitten smile from curling on his lips.

He’s helpless, he knows. It doesn’t scare him anymore.

“Home?” Jaskier murmurs against his cheek.

The inn, he means. “Aren’t you playing?”

Jaskier’s mouth curls into a mischievous smile, one of Geralt’s favorites. “They’ll survive without me, I reckon.”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “Jaskier—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he protests, rolling his eyes. “We need the coin. Ugh— one would think the guy confessing his undying love—”

“Now, undying is—”

“His undying love for me would change things, would buy me some indulgence— not at all!” He buries his face in Geralt’s neck, letting out a long-suffering groan. “Why must you be so responsible all the time?”

There are many reasons. Looking at Jaskier’s flushed face and capricious frown, Geralt can’t remember any of them. “Go,” he says softly, nodding at the stage. “For me.”

Jaskier groans louder. “That,” he says, poking Geralt’s chest, “is a very unfair card to play.”

“And why’s that?”

Jaskier tangles their fingers together. “Because you know I would do anything for you.”

Geralt’s face softens. He knows. “Go. I’ll wait for you.”

Defeated, Jaskier looks at the stage, then at Geralt, pouting. “Won’t you at least kiss me farewell? I’ve a long journey ahead.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes — still, he reels Jaskier in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Great start!” Jaskier says cheerfully. “Now, like you mean it.”

“Insufferable,” Geralt murmurs, but he gives in. The kiss is deep and slow, and somehow full of promise. He can feel Jaskier sigh happily against his lips, his scent gone sweet and warm as Geralt’s hands find Jaskier’s sides.

They part, begrudgingly. Jaskier’s cheeks are deep pink and his flower crown sits askew on his head once again, so Geralt fixes it for him.

“We should get one for you,” the bard says, watching him.

“Hmm.” Geralt presses a final kiss to his lips. “Go.”

“I’m getting you one,” Jaskier says stubbornly, ignoring Geralt’s wish, and Geralt loves him too much. “Just wait here.”

He lets Jaskier go, and watches as he runs over to the stand where a young woman is weaving tulips and baby’s breath together into a crown. He watches as he excitedly gestures at it and cradles it in his tender hands, a look of genuine joy on his face. He watches as he turns around, his lips stretched into a too-wide grin as he waves at Geralt, pointing at the crown.

He watches as he walks toward him.

He waits for him to fit into his open arms. He waits for him to place the crown on top of his head and adjust it once, twice, before it’s deemed perfect. He waits for him to kiss his cheek and groan about having to return to his duty as entertainment for the evening.

He waits for him as he plays.

“I love you,” he tells him later, when they’re both tucked in bed and their fancy clothes have been folded and their legs are tangled together.

Jaskier grins. “Say it again.”

Geralt can’t hide the smile that curves his lips — he doesn’t want to. “I love you,” he says, and kisses his cheek. “I love you,” his forehead, “I love you,” his eyelids. “I love you,” his mouth.

He says it so much the words sound foreign in his mouth. He says it until they belong in his mouth again.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says after a while, candlelight framing the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s been good.”

Geralt smiles.

It has.