#hint of hellcheer

[justhere4thevibez]

89? 😈 Please and thank you (for the prompt game btw)

hehe this was a fun one! A touch of NSFW content ahead, hence the "keep reading" (I hope this works right, I've never used that button before)

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“You sent me pictures of you naked while I was in a work meeting!”

Eddie looked up at her, his face the picture of angelic innocence. Liar, liar, pants on fucking fire.

“Technically, the guitar covered any, uh, sensitive areas,” he said, giving her a pleading smile.

Chrissy pressed her face into her hands as she let out a sigh of exasperation. “You can’t do that, Eddie. I could get in trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He licked his lips, unrepentance all over his face. “Spent too long in the bathroom afterward, huh?”

“Eddie Munson.” She grabbed his shoulders and brought him down to eye level, which he seemed to be enjoying far too much. “My boss was right in front of me when I opened that text. Do you know how much self-control it took not to let the ‘my husband just sent me a dirty selfie’ look cross my face?”

“Poor baby,” he crooned, pinching her cheek. “Maybe I can make it up to you.”

He cupped the front of her skirt, and Chrissy had to bite her lip to keep from groaning. She’d been keyed up all afternoon, ever since he sent that goddamn stupid text. It had taken all of her self-control not to drag him into the bedroom the second she got home, but that was exactly what Eddie wanted from her. And he wasn’t going to get what he wanted today. At least, not yet. Asshole.

“Oh, you’ll be making it up to me alright,” she said, her voice going low and sultry. “You,” she said, steering him to the kitchen. “Don’t come in the bedroom until all of those dishes are washed.”

“What?” He turned back to her, a pouty look on his face. “But sweetheart—”

“No arguments,” she said sternly. “Once you’ve finished your chores, maybe I’ll let you help me get off.” She sighed, shaking her head mournfully. “Until then, I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

“You wouldn’t,” he almost whimpered, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Baby, that’s just cruel.”

He slid his hands up her legs, inching toward her, but she threaded her fingers through his curls and jerked his head back.

“You should’ve thought about that before you broke my rule,” she said sweetly. “You know how important this job is to me.”

“Wasn’t trying to get you in trouble,” he said, his eyes big and pleading. “I just wanted to give you something to look forward to.” His hands tightened on her thighs, and she tried not to moan as heat pooled in her belly. “Please, sweetheart. Just one?”

God, she was so weak to his warm brown eyes. “One.”

The words had barely left her lips when Eddie yanked her panties down her legs, tearing them straight in two. Pressing her against the wall in one quick movement, he slung her leg over his shoulder and dove in with a fervor that had her bucking and mewling within moments.

She shuddered, clenching around his tongue as her first orgasm rocketed through her. Oh, punishing him tonight was going to be fun.

Ask me things!

[spacebabesuki]

Wrapped Up in Love (Hellcheer Christmas AU) ‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

The soft glow of Christmas lights illuminated Eddie Munson's cluttered living room, casting a cozy warmth over the chaos of wrapping paper, ribbons, and an overworked roll of Scotch tape.

Chrissy Cunningham sat cross-legged on the carpet, her pink sweater dotted with tiny reindeer, as she concentrated intensely on folding a piece of wrapping paper around a suspiciously vinyl record-shaped gift. 

The chaos of wrapping paper had reached its peak. Eddie sat with his long legs on the floor, trying to wrestle a roll of shiny gold wrapping paper into submission. His tongue peeked out in concentration; his Santa hat (which she had put on him) slipped precariously as he attempted to cut a straight line with scissors that were definitely too dull for the job, testing his patience.

While he was chaotic, wrapping gifts like trash bags, Chrissy Cunningham crafted perfect gifts with fairy-like precision. She tied a flawless bow, her pink reindeer sweater and glittery cheek evoking a Christmas movie star.

"You've got to fold corners like this," she demonstrated calmly, her nimble fingers making it seem effortless.

"I don't know how you're so good at this," Eddie grumbled, exasperated, glaring at his sloppy wrapping.

Chrissy giggled. "You're using too much paper again. You could wrap an entire room!"

Eddie lounged beside her, legs sprawled, curls barely contained by his Santa hat. "Babe, this is hopeless," he muttered, holding up the misshapen bundle meant for Dustin's D&D dice. "It looks like I trapped a gremlin."

Chrissy giggled, snatching the gift from him.

"You're hopeless. Let me fix it. It's the fingers; you have to be gentle, see? Don't push too much."

"I'm not good at this kind of stuff," Eddie said dramatically, leaning back against the couch with his hands behind his head. "I can be good with my fingers at a lot of things, but not this."

He gave her his best smoldering grin, the one that always made her blush.

"Stop distracting me," she replied, though her cheeks turned rosy as she worked to salvage the mess he'd made.

Eddie leaned closer, his Santa hat slipping slightly askew. "You know, we'd be done by now if we just stuffed everything into gift bags."

Chrissy shot him a playful glare. "Gift bags are cheating. Wrapping presents is supposed to be fun!"

"Fun?" Eddie said. "Chrissy, I've got tape in places I didn't know tape could go." He gestured dramatically at his black sweater, where a rogue piece of tape had adhered itself to his sleeve.

"Hold still," she said, reaching out to free him. "Look at you, such a crybaby!"

As she leaned closer, Eddie couldn't resist. He grabbed the ribbon and playfully looped it around her wrist. "Now you're my Christmas prisoner," he teased, grinning.

"Oh, really?" Chrissy countered, raising an eyebrow. She grabbed nearby wrapping paper and whacked him on the shoulder.

Eddie yelped, feigning injury. "Abuse! Abuse under the tree!"

Chrissy laughed uncontrollably, nearly falling over. Eddie gently tackled her onto the carpet. She squealed as he hovered above, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"Alright, Mrs. Claus," he whispered. "You win. I surrender."

Her laughter quieted as she gazed up at him, her hair spilling across the red-and-green throw blanket beneath them. "Good. Because I still need to teach you how to tie a bow."

Eddie smirked, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. "How about we save that lesson for later?"

Before she could reply, he kissed her – a sweet, lingering kiss hinting at peppermint.

The world faded, leaving only the glow of Christmas lights and each other's arms. When they parted, Chrissy's eyes sparkled.

"You're lucky you're cute, Munson. Come on, Mr. Grinch. Give me your presents; I'll wrap them since you're useless."

"Fuck no!" Eddie protested, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “Hey, where are you going? Come back here!.” But she was already gone.

"Not now, handsome. We've got gifts to finish."

Chrissy stood up, and he tried to grab her wrist, but he tumbled onto the carpet instead. She smiled mischievously from afar.

Without knowing it, Chrissy walked over to the pile of gifts he had bought for her. Eddie jumped up before she could see and spoil the surprise. 

"Hey, no... not these ones! Get out now!"

"Why, are these for me?" Chrissy's big blue eyes sparkled like stars as she let out a delighted squeal. "I'm gonna peek!" She laughed, attempting to grab the half-wrapped gift.

"No way, Christmas sneak!" Eddie shouted, leaping up and holding the gift high above his head. Chrissy jumped up after him, but he was too tall, and she only managed to brush the edge of the gold paper with her fingertips.

"Eddie!" she squealed, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Not a chance, Cunningham!" he teased, raising the gift higher and spinning to keep it out of her reach.

Chrissy leaped, clutching his arm, and Eddie swept her into a dramatic twirl.

"You'll have to try harder than that, short thing!"

Chrissy pouted, crossing her arms. "That's not fair. You're cheating with those freakishly long arms!"

Eddie flexed exaggeratedly, the present still in hand. Chrissy tried again, jumping up to grab it, but Eddie caught her mid-leap, lifting her off the ground and spinning her once more. She clung to his shoulders, laughing uncontrollably.

"Put me down, Munson!"

"Say the magic words," Eddie teased.

"Fine! Please, Eddie, please," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes but still grinning. She knew how he loved hearing this.

"Good girl," he said, setting her gently on her feet and holding the present behind his back. "I'm gonna hide this now, pretty thing."

"You're impossible," Chrissy said, trying to glare at him, but her smile betrayed her.

"And you're adorable," Eddie countered, leaning in to kiss her forehead before running off to hide the present in another room.

When he returned, Chrissy was crouched on the floor, shaking her head at the carnage of Eddie's previous attempts. She had taken his poorly wrapped gifts and was carefully undoing the tape, smoothing out the crumpled paper.

"Are you fixing my masterpieces?" he asked, feigning offense.

"I can't let you give Dustin a gift that looks like it's been through a tornado," Chrissy said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"It's part of the charm," Eddie argued, sitting beside her and watching as she neatly folded the paper.

"You're lucky I love you," she said, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

Eddie leaned back on his hands, watching her work with an affectionate smile. "Yeah, I am."

As Chrissy finished rewrapping his gifts, Eddie grabbed a loose ribbon and gently tied it around her wrist again. "There," he said with a playful smirk. "Now you're the prettiest present under the tree."

Chrissy rolled her eyes, but the pink in her cheeks gave her away. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," he teased, leaning in to steal a kiss. She didn't pull away.

As they untangled themselves from the ribbons and laughter, Chrissy leaned against Eddie, resting her head on his shoulder. Outside, snow began to fall, but inside, the warmth of their love made everything glow.

[wheremermaidsdwell]

peeping @luxheroica's tags:

#i'm gonna be honest this is some of the appeal of hellcheer to me#is rescuing chrissy cunningham from the narrative and giving her the rich interiority that was hinted at but never fully fleshed out

💯💯💯

saving the dead cheerleader and giving her agency and love is absolutely why it hits so hard

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

You guys. I actually wrote it!!!

Thanks so much to @justhere4thevibez @pearlypairings @rose-n-gunses and everyone else who thought this was a great fic idea 😄💕

Read Vecna Can Wait on Ao3

Imagine if Eddie did postpone Hellfire?

Imagine if all the guys showed up at the basketball game in their matching demon shirts, to cheer for Lucas and ONLY Lucas. Imagine during a quiet tense moment Eddie starts up a chant of “we want Sinclair!” which is quickly taken up not only by the rest of Hellfire, but also Robin and therefore the rest of the band, and Steve over on his side of the bleachers (next to his very embarrassed date).

Imagine how mad that would’ve made Jason? *evil laugh*

[fuctacles]

@genderthings Robin's Gender Week Day 4 but if I was really stubborn I could say pants get mentioned once and that was yesterdays prompt so. Same universe as days 2 and 3 | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Ao3

Masc/GQ Robin | T | 620 | (queer)platonic Hellcheer | there is no Robin in this just Hellcheer being gross about their crushes. A little hint of fwb if you squint

Eddie's old bed frame squeaks again, and the covers keep rustling, slowly driving him insane. 

"Please go the fuck to sleep," he hisses at the ceiling, eyes shut while he's trying to strangle his friend with the power of his mind.

"I can't!" Chrissy whispers from above, and when he opens one eye, her head is hanging off the bed. He sighs.

"Well, since you can't sleep anyway, why don't you take the floor?" he suggests, voice dry like sandpaper.

"No." She rolls herself protectively into the blanket, back to the center of the bed. As if he would push his best friend off the mattress. 

Well, now that he thought of it...

Eddie sighs. They should have just taken the pull-out, swap with Wayne for the night. 

"What's bothering your blonde head so much that it won't let you, and therefore me, sleep?" he asks with the last of his patience.

Chrissy sighs wistfully, and he knows what's coming next.

"Girls," she says out of habit, before correcting herself hesitantly: "Uh, semi-girls."

"So, Robin."

"Yeah," she sighs, somewhat even more forlorn.

"And what did he do this time?" Eddie asks. "Wore a tie again? Kicked out a shitty customer?" That, even he had to admit was hot. 

"No," Chrissy whines, shuffling on the bed some more. She better not be getting horny on his bed. Without him.

"Well, you wanna share?"

She sighs, and it better be good with how she's stalling with the answer. 

"He wore these, these tight ass jeans, literally tight-ass, everything visible, the rolled up boxer legs and the, the..."

"The dick?" Eddie finishes helpfully.

"Yeah," she sighs. Again.

"Chrissy, for the love of Satan, please do not think about dicks while in my bed, okay? I just washed these sheets for you." And he doesn't do that for everyone. Steve has to sleep in his sweat, but he does have a hidden agenda with that, to be painfully honest. 

"Well, that's why I'm wearing a liner, so fuck off."

Eddie gives up on sleep and sits up at that. 

"You came into my bed fully expecting to get horny? Ew. Gross, Chrissy," he scolds her, and immediately gets a pillow in the face. 

"I always wear them for sleepovers, you idiot. It's called common decency. Bet you leave all your—"She flaps her hand in the air. "Whatever, wherever you sleep."

The room is nearly pitch black, but it's easy to imagine her disgusted frown. He's seen it many times now. 

"Duh," he rolls his eyes. "It's called marking territory."

Thankfully, Chrissy doesn't have any more pillows to hit him with.

"Disgusting," is all she says, but he only grins wider. 

"Bet you'd like Robin to mark your territory, huh?"

He thinks he's safe with all the pillows in his possession, but then he gets boinked in the head with something else, though still soft.

"Lupus!" he gasps, darting for the small wolf mascot Wayne got him when he was a wee boy. When he's sitting back up again, he gets hit with a pillow Chrissy must have recovered when he had his back turned. "Playing dirty, I see?" he huffs. "Does that mean you don't want to talk about Robin's dick anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm good," she answers dryly. "All horniness gone, thank you Eddie." She finally settles into the bed with the intention to sleep, and not hump his mattress. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Eddie sigh with relief, pressing Lupus to his chest before settling back into his nest on the floor. 

"Goodnight indeed," Wayne murmurs all annoyed from his couch in the living room.

The two friends snicker into their pillows. It's his own stupid rule to leave the door cracked open, after all.

tags: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Vecna Can Wait by 1lostsoul0fishbowl

@1lostsoul0fishbowl

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

4,914 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: No Vecna (Stranger Things), Pre-Hellcheer, Jason Carver/Chrissy Cunningham Break Up, Fluff and Humor, no actual ships but hints of:, hellcheer - Freeform, Ronance, greatmage, byler, plus Grant and Jeff get some lovin since they deserve love too, Lucas Sinclair Gets Actual Support From His Friends

Summary:

Dustin convinces Eddie to postpone The Cult of Vecna, and the entire Hellfire Club attends Lucas’s championship game.

This rec is for our Artist Highlights. Our featured artist this week is 1lostsoul0fishbowl

Know a stranger things artist that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[genderthings]

Robin's Gender Week Masterpost

PROMPTS | Ao3 COLLECTION

ART | @alicetallula

Nonbinary Robin | Prompt: overalls

Coming Out Of Her Shell | @stevesjockstrap

Some flavor of genderqueer Robin | Prompts: bigender, gender euphoria, sharing clothes, coming out | T | wc: 689 | Platonic soulmates Stobin, Steve’s along for the ride, coming out, binding, Robins supportive parents

Dick Undercover | @fuctacles

Masc/GQ Robin | Prompt: pants | T | 620 | (queer)platonic Hellcheer | there is no Robin in this just Hellcheer being gross about their crushes. A little hint of fwb if you squint

Dick Talk | @fuctacles

Masc Genderqueer Robin | no prompts | T | 343 | Pre-Steddie, Eddie being dramatic, Just silly shit

*insert dick joke* | @fuctacles

(G)Queer/Masc/GNC Robin | Prompts: safe, he/him lesbians | T | 1570 | | poor boundaries Stobin, pining or background: Steddie, Buckingham, Argyle/Jon/Nancy | 90s/00s AU (they're baby queers), STP packers, spicy seven, kayaking with friends

never anything but sharing | @formosusiniquis

Genderqueer Robin (and also Steve) | Prompt: Sharing Pronouns | T | WC: 2123 | Gender Identity; Fluff and Humor; Period Typical Discussion of Gender | AO3

I'll have what they're having | @fuctacles

Genderfluid/Queer Robin(&Steve) | Prompt: sharing pronouns | T | 594 | QPR Stobin, hinted Steddie and Rovickie | Modernish AU

[foundtherightwords]

The Minstrel, the Maiden, and the Knights of Hellfire - Chapter 13

Pairing: Hellcheer, Medieval AU

Summary: England, 1139: the civil war between King Stephen and Empress Maud looms large, threatening to tear the country in half. For Ed and his band of traveling minstrels, however, the more pressing matter is how to survive the upcoming winter, now that they were tossed out by their latest patron. When they stumble upon a naïve pageboy looking for warriors to escort the lady Christiana to safe haven in Wales, Ed comes up with a daring plan - pose as knights, take the job, and collect the reward. After all, how hard can it be? What Ed doesn't count on is endless battles, treacherous roads, marauding bandits, Lady Christiana's pompous fiancé, and his own growing attraction to the fair maiden herself...

Chapter warning: some violence at the very end

Chapter word count: 5.7k

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

Wain insisted on giving them some food for the journey. Ed was loath to deplete his uncle's already meager larder, but Wain wouldn't hear of any protest. Dustin and Maxime decided to leave Christiana's scrip with Wain, agreeing that it would be too risky to lug around jewels and coins while they were going into a very den of thieves. If they found Christiana—when they found her—they could come back for it.

Although it was late, they set out to cross the river that same evening. Luckily, they caught the ferryman on his last trip, and some generous coins pressed into his palm ensured that he took them across the landing in silence, without any question of who they were or what they were about that they had to cross the river in such haste. On the other side, Ed led them by memory to the spot on the riverbank where he'd lost the trail. He had hoped that once they'd crossed the river, he could pick up the trail again, but again, he was at a loss. The woods grew so close and thick here that the horse left no trace on the ground, and there was no telling where Vecna could have taken Christiana.

"Are you quite certain they've gone toward the Clees?" asked Geoff.

"I don't know," Ed admitted, feeling his hope drain away as he looked into the gloomy woods.

It was getting dark. An indifferent gibbous moon rose in the east, casting her cold gray light over the trees, making a filigree out of the leafless branches.

"Perhaps we should make camp," Tadhg said. "Start searching in the morning."

At that moment, Maxime cried out, "Over here!" She pointed to a thorn bush. "There's something—look."

Ed looked and saw, in the moonlight, something white and light like thistledown clinging to the thorns. He picked up the soft fluff and rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the hint of a quill there. Down it was, but it did not come from a thistle. It was swan down. Like the trim on Christiana's cloak.

"This was Christiana," he said. "She was leaving me a trail." Like the apprentice leaving a trail of goose down from the princess's bedroom to the underground palace.

"How do you know?" Geoff bent down to look at the fluff, squinting skeptically in the pale moonlight. "It could be from a bird."

"I just—know," Ed said lamely, unable to explain the absolute conviction he was feeling.

"Lady Christiana does have a cloak trimmed with swan down," said Maxime.

"There's more over here," said Dustin, going further down the path. "That's too much to be from any bird, unless the bird is badly injured, and I see no blood on these feathers."

There was no more talk of setting up camp. Leading Warlock and the wagon, they followed the feathers, which glowed silvery white under the moon like a trail of will-o'-the-wisps through the woods. Ed gave a silent prayer of gratitude to the wind for staying still and to the moon for shining bright, illuminating their way. They encountered no one. None in their right mind would venture into the woods at this late hour, and the bandits must be lying low to avoid the avenging forces of Lord Beaumont of Worcester, and for that Ed was grateful. He was also grateful to see that his friends were as determined to find Christiana as he was, and even Gareth had ceased his usual griping and moaning.  

Even after the moon had set, they refused to stop. They lit a lantern from the wagon and continued the search, though it was much harder to pick out the clumps of white feathers dotted here and there amongst the undergrowth by its fitful light. Ed's eyes grew tired and hot from staring into the murkiness for too long, and his legs were heavy with cold and fatigue. He glanced at his friends. They were dutifully searching, but he could tell they were getting tired as well. They hadn't even had the luxury of a three days' rest, like he had.

"You should stay and rest," he told them. "I can go on by myself."

"No, we shouldn't," Geoff grumbled. "Not when they had half a day's head start. And you bloody can't. How are you going to face all those villains on your own?"

"We're the Knights of Hellfire, Ed," said Gareth behind him. "We do this together."

Ed's throat closed up with a sudden surge of emotion, so he couldn't say what he wanted to say and had to settle for clasping their arms to show his appreciation.

They were closer to the hills now, and the feathers were becoming scarcer and scarcer, as though Christiana had run out. It was something Ed hadn't thought of—suppose she ran out of feathers before Vecna and his men reached their destination? Even now, sometimes they would go yards without seeing a single feather, and Ed's heart would sink, afraid the trail had been blown off or they had taken a wrong turn somewhere. But always, the feathers would show up again, shining like small but constant beacons, and they would resume their search with renewed hope.

When dawn broke over the hills, they encountered a new obstacle—snow had started to fall, the first snow of winter. Though the snow was light, it was nigh impossible to tell the feathers from the icy flakes, and the muted gray light of dawn didn't help either. Without a word to each other, Ed and his friends sat down amongst the rocks, too exhausted to go on, while the snow swirled around them and the cold settled into their bones.

"Where are you, Christiana?" Ed whispered. He couldn't have lost her, not now, not when Christiana had been so clever. She knew he would be coming after her; otherwise, she wouldn't have torn her own cloak to leave a trail for him. He could still feel her now, her arms around him, her lips on his. She was counting on him to rescue her. He couldn't let her down, not when he had been such a coward, a fool, a weakling...

Ed put his head in his hands. As he did so, his eyes fell on something rippling under a rock by his feet. He picked it up. It was a ribbon, bright blue like Christiana's eyes. He had seen it, many times, fluttering at the end of her braid. At the sight of it, the cold that had been seeping into his body and heart vanished, to be replaced by the warm spark of resolve.

Clutching the ribbon in his palm, he looked up at the formidable peak of Titterstone Clee and remembered all the stories he'd heard about it in his childhood. Although Brown Clee Hill, lying five miles north of it, was taller, it was Titterstone Clee that commanded the local people's fear and respect. There was supposed to be an old fort on its peak, where an old Saxon chieftain had been buried, but no one dared to climb up there to attest it. Stories abounded of the misfortunes that befell those brave—or foolish—enough to venture up its slope. One came back swearing he had seen the Devil lead a hunt along the peak, on the back of a horse with fiery eyes and with a pack of demonic dogs. One young man had gone up one night and returned the next day with his hair snow-white. Some hadn't returned at all. Even people from Ed's village, over twenty miles away, knew not to let their cattle and sheep graze too near the foot of Titterstone Clee when they brought the animals to market day in Ludlow, the town closest to Clee Hills.

Now Ed must brave it. Because Christiana was up there, he was certain of it.

His friends were less convinced when he told them.

"Suppose you're right and they are on the top," Geoff said, "how are you going to climb up there without them noticing? If they have a lair, they will have guards. And they have the advantage of higher ground."

Geoff was right, of course, as always. No matter how sure he was, Ed had to confirm that those outlaw knights were indeed hiding on Titterstone Clee, and they had Christiana with them. He looked around at the barren hillside with its gray rocks and thin white layer of snow. There was nothing to provide cover. Anyone on top of the hill could see him coming from miles away.

Seeing Ed hesitate, Dustin stepped forward. "Let me go with you," he said. "We can watch out for each other."

Despite himself, Ed couldn't help feeling a surge of affection for the boy and admiration for his courage. "I'm sorry, lad, but no," he said, ruffling Dustin's curly head as the boy's face dropped. "You stay and keep watch down here." Then, turning to the wagon, Ed continued, "Tadhg, do we still have that white cloth used for our backdrop?"

Though their audiences were not the most sophisticated, Ed prided himself on all the careful details they put into their battle reenactments, and that meant not just city walls, gates, and siege machines, but castles, trees, deserts, and mountains as well. Most of the time, these details were no more than a painting on a large cloth hung on the wagon's wall, but they lent a touch of authenticity to the Knights of Hellfire's performances, which no other minstrel troupe could match. Now Tadhg unearthed the cloth from the back of the wagon. On one side, it still bore the scenery for the Siege of Jerusalem, showing what Ed and Geoff, the two painters of the troupe, had imagined the Holy Land to look like—palm trees that bore a suspicious resemblance to oaks and birches, and mosques and casbahs that looked not unlike English churches and castles. The other side, left blank, had gone gray with dust, but it was perfect for what Ed had in mind.

He took off his dark cloak and threw the cloth over his head, pinning it under his chin. From the top of the hill, he would simply appear as a smudge of grayish white against the grayish white rock and grayish white snow.

"Wait for me here," he told his friends. "If anyone approaches from below, give a signal. And if I—if I don't come back in an hour or so, go to Ludlow and alert the sheriff's men."

They nodded mutely.

"Here, Ed," Maxime said, extending the handle of her dagger toward him. "Take care, all right?"

Ed looked from the dagger to the girl's steely eyes, then looked around at the others, finding courage in their faces. Feeling much more confident than he had a moment ago, he took the dagger and nodded his thanks to Maxime as he tucked it into his belt.

Thus armed and disguised, he set out for Titterstone Clee.

He followed the spiral path of the hill at first, with the countryside spread out behind him like a gray blanket lined with black stitching. The snow was falling thicker by the minute, but Ed was glad of it—thicker snow meant more covering for him and less chance of the outlaws coming out of their fortress. Some horse droppings on the path told him he was going in the right direction, and, bending his head under the flurry, he continued on. The higher he climbed, the narrower the path became, until the fields below vanished from sight, and he was hemmed in from both sides by sheer rock faces. From time to time, he would carefully lift a fold of his covering cloth and glance at the summit looming overhead, watching for any movement. There was nothing, not even a half-starved winter bird, but Ed didn't let this lure him into a sense of false safety. He kept his eyes on the rocky hillside, his hand on the dagger, and the ribbon in his fist like a talisman.

It was thanks to this caution that Ed caught an opening in the escarpment on his left side, so narrow that he would've missed it altogether if it hadn't been for a piece of white fluff clinging to the jagged edge. He reached out and touched it. It didn't melt between his fingers like the powdery snow falling all around him, and there was still a thread of blue attached to it. Christiana might not have dropped this piece of fluff, but it had been from her nonetheless—her cloak must have caught on the rock when she was taken through the gap.

This must be the entrance to the lair then. Heart pounding, Ed took a step back to examine the terrain. Behind him, the path that circled the hill disappeared between the rock cliffs; above him, the summit rose with its tall rocky crests like battlements, and in front of him, the mysterious fissure gaped, dark and foreboding, the gate to some accursed country. But his princess was behind that gate, and breach it he must.

Wrapping the white cloth more carefully around himself, Ed stepped through the cleft. It was larger than he'd first thought, though only enough for one horse to go through at a time. It didn't seem to be watched, and he managed to make his way up the tight passage through the rocks, following a large brook which had gone to ice, without being detected. Through the thin, freezing air, he could smell woodsmoke and the rich, hearty scent of cooking bacon. His stomach rumbled as he remembered he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, except for a quick bite of bread and cheese before they set out from Wain's croft. If the smell could carry to where he was, he must be close. Then the passage widened into a plateau, and Ed finally understood why the outlaws had chosen this place as their hideout.

Already well concealed by the rocky outcrops, the plateau and the round stone buildings that occupied it were surrounded by a stockade of more stones—whether naturally-occurring or manmade, Ed could not tell. One side of it faced the hillside, giving its occupants a good view of whoever was coming up the slope. The other side was backed upon the sheer drop of the western face, unreachable save by birds. What he'd thought was part of the summit turned out to be a tower, its timber walls and roof already covered in powdery snow, allowing it to blend in perfectly with the rest of the rock. With such a watchtower and gate, no wonder Vecna and his men could afford to be so complacent about their stronghold.

Hidden behind a large boulder overlooking the plateau, Ed watched the buildings below for signs of life. The smoke he'd smelled earlier curled lazily around a thin thatch roof, and soon enough, a man emerged from the building, yawning and scratching himself. He went into another building, which Ed guessed was the stable, for a chorus of whinnies greeted the man as he entered. The man grumbled, "All right, you old nags, here's your breakfast," and Ed was so close he could almost hear the sound of the horses munching their hay and oats. 

Then another man came out of the first building, carrying a steaming bowl toward the tower. Ed's heart beat faster. Could that tower be where—? He strained his ears and caught the very faint slamming of a door, and a moment later, a different man left the tower. Clearly a changing of the guards. And who else would be so strongly guarded?

Ed wanted nothing more than to jump down and carve his way through those men to free Christiana, and he had to dig the handle of the dagger into the palm of his hand to stop himself. He stood no chance against those outlaws. If he confronted them now, he would be the one carved up, like a suckling pig at a Christmas feast. Now was not the time for bluster and bravado. Now was the time for watchfulness and stealth. Not the Siege of Jerusalem or the Battle of Hastings, but the Trojan Horse.

At that moment, Vecna himself appeared at the door of the first building, turning in a slow circle, watching the sky. As the warlord's remaining eye swept across the rocky fence surrounding the hideout, Ed found himself ducking behind the rock where he was hiding. Though he knew Vecna could not possibly see him from this distance with just one eye, deep down, he felt that eye had some malevolent magic that allowed it to see more than a pair of normal eyes ever could.

Vecna barked some orders at his men before returning to the warmth of his hall. Ed continued his survey of the place, counting the men—there were only five of them, six including Vecna—and committing every detail to memory. Once he was confident that he had seen everything there was to see, he beat a quiet retreat, back the way he'd come.

At the gap in the rock, he paused. The reconnaissance had given him a good idea of the outlaws' lair, but still he saw no way to approach it, no plan to attack it. After gnawing on his lip for a moment, he turned westward, searching for a path to approach the tower from the back. It was the only direction where he could catch the outlaws unawares.

The only trouble was, there was no path. On this side, the hill fell sheer, and the rocks were sharp and angular. One false step and his blood and brains would splatter amongst those rocks.

Ed got off the path and onto the steep hillside. Nimbly, like a mountain goat, he clambered from rock to rock, using both hands and feet to find a grip, his muscles still remembering Master George's lessons in tightrope walking. Once or twice, he slipped on a patch of treacherous moss, slick with snow and ice, but he managed to right himself by grabbing a nearby ridge. Ignoring the snow clinging to his hair and melting into his lashes, he continued, keeping his eye on the bulk of the tower that loomed in and out of view between the ridges above him. Now that he knew it was there, he no longer mistook it for the summit, and as he came closer, he could even make out the gaps between the logs hastily put together to form the pointed roof. What drew his attention, though, was the small lattice on that roof. With his eyes, he measured its height and span. Could a person fit through it? Christiana was slim, but would she fit?

For a few moments, Ed stood clinging to a ledge on the sheer cliff, gathering his breath, and weighing his options. The tower was within his reach. He could climb it, break through the lattice with the knife, and try to get Christiana out. But if he, who had been trained in acrobatics as a boy, had had such a hard time on this cliff, then Christiana would have even less chance. And he was exhausted and starving; should they get discovered, he wouldn't be able to defend her. It was too big a risk. Best to rejoin his friends and come up with a plan.

Before he made his way down the hill, there was one thing he needed to make certain of. He scaled the tower, careful not to make too much noise. The logs were so new that they still retained the bumps and knots from their branches, which provided him with excellent foot- and handholds. Reaching the lattice, he put his eye to the opening.

His heart skipped a beat. There she was, curled up under some fur, with her head pillowed on a grain sack, her golden hair all loose like a tousled halo. His princess. His Christiana. She was asleep and didn't see him. The bowl the man had brought her was now empty on the floor. Good. At least they were keeping her well fed and rested. She would need her strength, if Ed was to free her from this cage.

Christiana shuddered in her sleep, and Ed thought he could see tears glistening at the corner of her eye. "Hold tight, sweetheart," he whispered. "I shall come back for you."

It was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, turning away from that tower, but turn away he did. After picking his way across the rocks and returning to the path, he eventually found his friends, who had retreated into the woods at the foot of the hill and were now cooking breakfast behind the safety of the wagon. Ed fell gratefully upon the hot food and told them of everything he'd seen.

"What's the plan then?" Gareth asked, once Ed had finished eating.

"I can make the climb again, now that I know where to go," Ed replied. "But how to get her down..."

"Why don't we go to Ludlow now?" Gareth said. "The sheriff and his men should be more able to deal with this than we ever could."

"I'd rather not have Vecna and his men barricade themselves inside their lair and use Christiana to bargain," explained Ed. "We shall try to steal her away as quietly as we can."

"We have ropes," Tadhg said. "The cliff is sheer but not that tall, you said so yourself."

Ed nodded. "Yes, only about as tall as a three- or four-story house."

"Then you can tie a rope to that tower and climb down, and once you've cleared the cliff, it's just a downhill run—"

"But what of Vecna and his men?" Geoff interjected, looking at Ed. "Suppose they discover you?"

Dustin, who had been sitting in uncharacteristic silence throughout Ed's report, now spoke up. "Let's wait until dark," he said. "Those outlaws will either leave at dusk to do their robbing and pillaging, or they will have come back by then, eating and drinking and merrymaking to celebrate a successful hunt. Either way, they will be distracted and not keep a close watch."

The boy's reason was sound, but Geoff was still unconvinced. "And suppose they give chase?" he asked. "We can't outrun them. Where should we go? Where can we hide?"

Dustin and Maxime exchanged a look. "We've discussed that as well," Maxime said slowly. "And I suggest we use a decoy. I have a similar cloak to Lady Christiana. I can dress up like her, so if they give chase, I can lead them away—"

"No." Ed looked at the girl, horrified. "I cannot let you take such a risk. Christiana would not want you to take such a risk."

"It is my decision," snapped Maxime, her eyes flashing. "Do not for one moment believe you're the only one that cares for Christiana. She is like a sister to me. I would gladly do that for her and more. And it's only a precaution. If you can steal her away as planned, there may be no need for me to be the decoy at all."

Ed sighed. "All right. But you two"—he pointed at Dustin and Maxime—"stay with Gareth. Other than myself, he knows the area best. I don't want you to get lost if we are separated."

They spent the remainder of the day trying to get some rest and going through their plan again and again until everyone knew his or her part. Occasionally, one of them would go to the edge of the woods to watch the slopes for any movement, but Vecna and his men appeared to be staying put. At last, as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, they left the protection of the woods and headed for the western face of Titterstone Clee. Rather than retreating his steps earlier that day, Ed had decided to approach the tower directly from behind, where he could be safe from the outlaws' watchful eyes. While Geoff and Tadhg followed him to the bottom of the sheer cliff with Warlock, Ed had Gareth, Dustin, and Maxime—now dressed in a blue cloak—wait where the trees ended and the barren hillside began, so they could escape into the woods more easily. They all agreed to reconvene at Wain's croft if things went right, and if not, they would try to find their way to Ludlow.

Then, with a length of rope wrapped around his waist, Ed began the climb.

The way was harder, but this time, he'd had food in his belly and some rest—though he had been too agitated to get much sleep—and was fueled by the impatience to free Christiana as soon as possible. He climbed steadily, ignoring the sharp rocks that cut his palms and tore his shoes to shreds, ignoring the snow that had collected in the cracks between the rocks, which turned his fingers into icicles, ignoring the freezing wind that hissed in his ears and whipped his hair about his face. In truth, he was glad of the wind, for it helped to mask the sound of his approach. When he found a ledge wide enough to rest on, he took out Christiana's ribbon and used it to tie his hair up, away from his face.

As the dark mass of the tower drew closer, Ed no longer had to worry about making noises, for plenty of noises were coming from the hideout. Dustin had been right—Vecna and his men had not left for a nightly raid, but they were indeed drinking, and their drunken shouting and singing could be heard on the thin, lofty air across the hills. Carried by the wind from the hidden plateau, those noises took on a sinister note, like they were made by a pack of demons climbing up from the bowels of the earth. No wonder people believed Titterstone Clee was the site for the Devil's Wild Hunt.

But Ed had no time for superstitious fears. The sound of merrymaking had awakened another, more immediate fear in him—what if the outlaws became bored of their own company and used Christiana to amuse themselves? If they touched a hair on her head, he would have to confront them after all, his own skin be damned.

A few more steps, and he managed to reach the lattice window of the tower. As he had before, he put his eye to it and sagged with relief when he saw, in the slats of firelight coming through the timber, Christiana sitting on the grain sack with her arms around her knees. Her head was turned toward the main hall, where the light and the noises were coming from, so she didn't see him.

Using Maxime's dagger, Ed pried the lattice off its frame. The sound alerted Christiana, who whirled around like a trapped bird in a cage. Her mouth fell open as she took in the sight of Ed tugging at a stubborn nail in the window frame. Ed put a warning finger to his lips, and she closed her mouth again, suppressing her half-uttered cry of relief. With one final tug, he took the lattice off and wriggled his head and shoulders through the opening, before sliding his way down the inner wall. His feet had barely touched the ground when Christiana fell into his arms. Her wrists were still bound, so she couldn't embrace him, but she pressed her trembling body against him.

"Oh, Ed!" she cried out in a choked whisper, her voice full of tears. "I knew you'd come for me! I kept praying—"

"Of course I'd come for you," Ed said, freeing her wrists with a quick slice of the dagger. "How could I leave my princess? But we must hurry. We don't have much time."

He tied the rope to a beam on the roof of the tower and pulled on it a few times to make sure it was fast in place. This done, he threw the other end out the now lattice-less window and turned to Christiana. "Now," he said. "Just grab the rope and climb down. The others are waiting at the foot of the hill."

Christiana pointed at a trapdoor on the floor of the tower, next to where she'd been sitting. "There's a guard down there..." she said anxiously.

Ed took a quick look around and dragged all the grain sacks he could over the trapdoor. They would not hold forever, but that would give them enough of a forestart.

"Right," he said, kneeling by the rope and locking his fingers to form a step so he could boost her up the wall. "Let's go."

Christiana looked at the rope uncertainly. "I don't know if I can—"

"Yes, you can." Seeing that she still wavered, Ed pulled her close and placed a kiss on her lips, a strong, reassuring kiss that made up for its brevity by its depth and passion. "Take courage, sweetheart," he said when they drew apart, the term of endearment coming so naturally to him that he realized he'd been calling her by it in his mind all along.

Christiana's eyes widened, both shocked and delighted by Ed's unexpected display. Then she set her chin, squared her shoulders, and gave him a determined nod. She stepped on his proffered hands and pulled herself through the opening. A moment later, her soft voice came from outside the tower, sounding a little breathless, "I have the rope!"

"Hold tight, I'm right behind you."  

He joined her on the rocky ledge. Carefully, they made their descent, Christiana holding on to the rope. Ed, who didn't need the rope for himself, kept it steady while listening out for any change in the noises from the lair above them. It seemed Mother Nature had extended her benevolence to the two of them and made their descent as easy as possible, for the wind and the snow had stopped, and the waning moon came out from behind the clouds to shine down on them, showing them the way. The going was slow, for Christiana had to take frequent stops to rest her ankle, which no doubt was still sore, but Ed didn't push her. When her fingers chafed and bled from the roughness of the hemp, he gave her his handkerchief as a pad for her hands. When her breath became shallow and her grip on the rope slackened, he was right next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist to support her as they found a foothold amongst the rocks.

Finally, the silhouettes of Geoff, Tadhg, and Warlock came into view at the bottom of the hill. Tadhg was waving his hand to show all was well. Ed allowed himself to breathe a little more easily and nodded at Christiana. "We're nearly there," he said.

That was when pandemonium broke out.

A roar came from the tower, and the noises of revelry abruptly stopped. It seemed the outlaws had discovered the flight of their captive bird.

"Go, go, go!" Ed urged Christiana.

Above them, a shaggy head poked through the lattice, looking down against the moonlit sky. There was another angry roar, and a shout, so loud even they could hear it, "Cut that rope!"

The rope started shaking horribly in their hands, as though someone in the tower was sawing through it.

Ed glanced at the ground, trying to calculate the remaining distance. They were still some ways off, but if they waited, the rope would be cut and throw them off balance. Better to abandon it now.

"Jump!" he shouted to Christiana, and they let go of the rope.

Landing on the half-frozen ground, they were pulled to their feet by Geoff and Tadhg, just as the cut rope crumpled in a heap next to them. Tadhg, never one to waste anything, gathered it up. The man at the tower cursed.

"I think they're onto us," Geoff said unnecessarily.

"Yes, thank you, Geoff, I've gathered as much," panted Ed, for the jump had knocked the breath out of him. He lifted Christiana onto Warlock's back. "Hold on to his mane," he told her. They led the horse toward the trees. Already, the sound of charging horses was coming up behind them like thunder.

"Go, Ed!" said Tadhg, nodding at Warlock. "We'll lead them away!"

"Meet us at Ludlow!" Ed managed to say before jumping on Warlock's back. Bless him, the horse seemed to grasp the urgency of the situation and, for the first time in his life, tried to gallop as fast as his sturdy little legs permitted. They tumbled down the slope together, before Geoff and Tadhg melted into the trees along with Gareth, Dustin, and Maxime. Ed couldn't see where they'd gone.

"Where are they?" Christiana asked in front of him. He didn't know if she meant their friends or their pursuers.

"Just go! Don't look back!"

Yet despite his own words, Ed did look back. A column of men and horses was coming down the slope of Titterstone Clee—were his eyes deceiving him, or had the outlaws grown in numbers? How could six men look so numerous? The one at the front was already at the edge of the woods. Instead of pushing his horse into the thicket, the man had perplexedly pulled his horse to a halt and was now raising his arms. There was something in his hand...

Ed's heart stopped when he realized what the outlaw was pointing at them. A crossbow. That weapon deemed so un-Christian that it was banned by the Pope. Naturally, such a ban would have no hold over these outlaws.

Ed gripped Warlock's mane and kicked his heels into Warlock's flanks, desperately urging the horse to go faster. There was a hiss through the air, and he felt something hit his back with a thud, like being walloped by a singlestick. He was wondering why it didn't hurt when pain exploded across his back, white-hot, spreading through his body, numbing his limbs.

Ed felt Christiana's hair under his cheek. He must have slumped forward, his body jolting violently along with Warlock's gallop, each jolt bringing the pain deeper, thousands of tiny needles penetrating his flesh. Somewhere, dimly, Christiana was screaming. And then the world went—

Chapter 14

I took the idea of a bandits' lair on top of Titterstone Clee from "The Virgin in the Ice", book #6 of the Brother Cadfael series (I learned so much about medieval life and the civil war between Stephen and Maud from these books.) The book doesn't mention it, but there is an actual Iron Age fort on top of this hill.

The Catholic Church did issue a ban on the crossbow starting in the late 11th century and again in 1139 (the year the story takes place), but it didn't do much good.

[rose-n-gunses]

8, 9, and 23 for hellcheer please 🩷

Absolutely! Thanks for the ask! 🤍

8 - What do they love most about each other? Why?

Things hellcheer love about each other? Uh. Everything. Next question! (Kidding)

Chrissy loves how Eddie is pretty much never afraid to be himself. He doesn't give a shit about what other people think or say about him most of the time. Even before they got together, she always admired his confidence and it inspired her to be a little more confident with herself.

Eddie loves how kind Chrissy is. She treats everyone with the respect they deserve. (Which, in some cases, is none. And he loves just as much, if not more, how much of a capital b Bitch she can be in those situations.) She has seemingly endless patience, which he greatly appreciates, but she also will not stand for anyone's bullshit -- not even his.

9 - What do they dislike most about the other? Why?

Chrissy can get kind of fed up with Eddie's lack of organization. (I mean. You saw how many places he had to look for the special k. The maid took the week off.) She knows it's mostly not his fault but she's so used to her space being nearly pristine that a slight mess in Eddie's room drives her insane. (Don't even get her started on the two-weeks-old pizza box she knows is under his bed.)

Eddie doesn't like how Chrissy never talks about her feelings. He's not always the best at noticing nonverbals or emotional subtext or whatever, so if she says she's fine then he assumes she's fine (and is extremely confused when he comes into the living room half an hour later and finds her crying on the couch). He would much prefer it if she would just come out with it and simply tell him what's wrong so he can fix it for her rather than have her be evasive about it or just hint at something being wrong.

23 - What are the defining characteristics of their relationship?

Undying loyalty and unwavering support! They are 4lifers, ride or dies, soulmates, everything. They will always side with each other and protect each other. They're attuned to each other on some psychic or cosmic level so they always see things about the other that nobody else sees. They seem like opposites but actually have a lot in common, which means they can relate to each other and find comfort and support in that.

[sourw0lfs]

the very first night part two

OR: the one where Chrissy joins Corroded Coffin, a 5+1 fic wc: 1086 | rating: M | pairing: hellcheer | modern au | AO3 written for @strangerthingsreversebigbang art inspiration by @sunflowerharrington beta'd by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

2. after the band gets signed

When Chrissy made the decision to join Corroded Coffin, something so far out of her comfort zone that it had initially felt like a mistake, she never anticipated actually getting anywhere. The only expectation on her list was: have fun. 

Sitting at a table far too large for the number of people at it now, she thinks she might have to reevaluate that list. It’s also the only time in her life she’s been glad her father is a lawyer. Mostly because none of them had been able to make heads or tails of the contract they’d been given, and Chrissy, at least, had given it her best shot. 

So she’d called home and asked for help. 

It’s a rare thing these days, her asking her parents for any sort of help, but this is something she wants to work out no matter what. It’s given her purpose in a way none of her other activities or hobbies growing up did. It’s given her people that she can’t imagine her future without in a way none of her friends in school ever had.

It’s made her happy, and if asking her dad to read a contract keeps it that way, it’s just a small sacrifice to make. 

The fact that he agrees initially surprises Chrissy, but she doesn’t question it. She just takes it for what it is, the pair of eyes they need to make sure they’re not getting screwed over. And as things turn out, they’re not getting screwed over. Sooner than later, the contract has all five of their signatures alongside the necessary parties and the band decides to go out and celebrate. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Jeff says as the five of them pile in around a table at the first bar they find. “Did we really just do that?” 

“Hell yeah we did!” Grant crows with the widest grin Chrissy’s ever seen on him. 

A familiar arm finds its home around her shoulder and she feels herself being jostled against Eddie’s side as he grins at all of them. “I always knew we could do it,” he announces proudly. “Just had to find the right lure.” 

He jostles Chrissy again, enough that she gets the hint he’s talking about her and she grins too. “This is just the start. We still have a lot of work to do,” she points out but the smile in her voice doesn’t fade. “There are no better people I’d rather do it with.” 

The rest of the band raises a collective cheer at her words. “I’ll drink to that,” Gareth declares. “First round on me.”

Then he’s gone before any of them can protest, not that any of them try to anyway. Chrissy takes the moment to look around at her bandmates, to feed off their infectious excitement and mix it with her own. It feels good, it feels right. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky. 

Eddie’s still pressing her into his side and she takes the chance to rest her head on his shoulder. “Comfy?” he asks as he glances down at her. 

Chrissy nods, grinning back up at him. “Perfect,” she confirms. 

Though she’s not sure she is actually perfect. Things could always be better. There are things she’s found herself yearning for in the last several months of gig after gig, words left unspoken and actions unexplained. But she’s never found just the right moment to ask Eddie about them. There’s always something going on or someone poking their head in every time she thinks they’re about to make it somewhere new. 

But Chrissy still can’t complain. Even if she never gets her answers, she thinks she can still be happy. Her life finally means something on her terms, and that’s more than she could have ever asked for. Especially since she hadn’t asked. It had simply been handed to her over an overheard moment in a hallway that feels a million years ago already. 

Gareth comes back with the round of drinks a moment later, and the rest of the night passes in a wild, excited, and somewhat tipsy blur. Chrissy finds herself pressing against Eddie’s side for the majority of the night, except the times he bounces away to grab the next round of drinks. The energy between the five of them is contagious and carries them well into the night. 

Stumbling out of the bar as a group several hours later, laughing and shoving at each other, the band finally say their good nights, grabbing various rides back to their homes depending on the direction they needed to go. 

“Let me take you home,” Eddie says in Chrissy’s ear as the other boys wave out of car windows. 

“We live in opposite directions!” Chrissy protests weakly, because honestly she doesn’t mind the sentiment. In fact, she appreciates it. 

“Gotta make sure my best girl gets home safe, though,” Eddie argues back. 

The words light up in Chrissy’s chest, somewhere between her heart and her stomach, with an intensity she’s missed recently. It pulls her back to the night of her first show, when she thought they were maybe at the start of something more. She doesn’t try to push it away again. 

Instead she just nods and tucks herself into Eddie’s side, waiting as he calls a ride for the two of them, only moving when he nudges her to get settled once it arrives. The ride to her place is quiet, comfortably so but there’s a spark trying to ignite in the air between them, even though the two of them aren’t touching anymore. 

Once they arrive, Chrissy gets herself from the car and hesitates. “Do you want to come in?” she asks softly, offering a hand back out to Eddie. 

Eddie, for what it’s worth, doesn’t seem to have the same hesitation, taking her hand with a smile. “I’d love that,” he tells her as they head into the building. 

It’s not the first time she’s had Eddie over, but it is the first time it’s just the two of them. Usually it’s the whole band, alternating homes each time they meet up. The electricity that’s been crackling between the two of them flares up with new life as they make their way to the door of Chrissy’s apartment. 

Once Chrissy lets the two of them in, she turns to Eddie. “Probably not up for more drinks, are you?” she teases with a smile. “But I can offer a snack or two or three, if you’d like that.”

“That sounds wonderful, dinner feels ages ago.”

“It was!” Chrissy giggles as she leads the way to her kitchen. 

The space is small, pressing the two of them together as they try to share it, but Chrissy doesn’t mind. She also doesn’t mind the silence that hangs between them again. Being able to be quiet feels just as important as being able to talk to them. Especially if it’s going to move anywhere besides friendship. And Chrissy thinks she wants that rather badly at this point. She really, really does. And it’s not the few drinks from the bar talking for her. 

The silence stretches between them, with Chrissy trying to work up the courage to say something or do something. But then Eddie’s glancing at the clock and back at her with a smile. “I should probably… head home myself. Don’t want to keep you up too late, you know?” he says. 

It’s nearly enough to get Chrissy inviting him to stay the night, but only nearly. She’s not sure she’s brave enough to make a move yet or brave enough to face the morning if nothing happens. “Yeah!” she agrees with a nod. “Yeah, uh, if you’re sure.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Eddie promises, tucking a piece of her hair back and sending a jolt down her whole body. 

Then he’s kissing her cheek and out the door before she even has a chance to process it. If she wasn’t already sure that Eddie feels the same energy she does, Chrissy is very sure now. 

[spacebabesuki]

The Vampire's Kiss - Eddie Munson | Chrissy Cunningham | Hellcheer

oneshot, word count 3.1k

Warnings: angst, blood, darkfic [+18]

Summary: The Full Moon was a celestial event. Few knew, but it awakened all the creatures of darkness. It was the brightest celestial event, brighter than the sun. And once a year, in March, on the anniversary of his human life's end, when the full moon was shimmering in the sky, he always, always came to visit her.

This was the only way they could meet. It was the only date, for a single night of the year. The last full moon of march was the night that awakened all the creatures that skeptical human eyes had never dared to see. It was the night of darkness, the absence of light, the night when the supernatural took over, the night of rustling in the forests, howls, and mysterious deaths. But it was mainly their night.

The Full Moon was a celestial event. Few knew, but it awakened all the creatures of darkness. It was the brightest celestial event, brighter than the sun. And once a year, in March, on the anniversary of his human life's end, when the full moon was shimmering in the sky, he always, always came to visit her.

His sweet, favorite human.

And she waited. Her sweet, pulsating human heart beat steadily as she leaned against the window, her anxious blue eyes scanning the night. Dressed in a short, beige nightgown, her hair neatly combed, and her skin scented with perfume, she was all prepared for him, bathed in the glow of the full moon, waiting just for him.

As he had in the past two years, that night, he came again. To see her.

She is the one who kept him alive.

Though he could not speak, he could feel. Like any creature with heightened senses, he heard the joyous rhythm of her sweet heart from afar.

She opened the window when she heard the familiar sound of wings beating outside, at the same time as always—a sound she eagerly waited to hear for 364 nights, until the 365th finally arrived.

She opened the window, and he stepped inside. His instincts surged with excitement on that one night he could be with her. He had never frightened her—not even the first time when he appeared in the shadows by her window, and certainly not then. Even though his heart had been frozen since becoming Vecna’s puppet, even though he now toweredover 6'7", pale and hollow, with black wings tearing through his back. His ears were sharp, his fingers like claws, his eyes blood-red. Veins coiled beneath his skin, and scars remained from the bats that stole his life. Cold as ice, with a heart as still as stone.

He couldn’t feel anything; he was dead inside. But somehow, she made him feel something. She was the only thing that occupied his lifeless mind, and it was because of her that he endured the emptiness, waiting for that one night each year when he could see her. He waited eagerly because he had died for her, and now his entire existence revolved around her.

He had died for her, and if he could still think, he wouldn’t have regretted it.

And still, she had never been afraid of him. If anything, she was so happy to see him that she wondered if her heart could handle it.

He was harmless around her.

Oh, Chrissy Cunningham, with her sweet, angelic eyes. Eyes like an angel—she was life, and he was death. But he remembered her. He thought of her constantly. She was the only one he cared about. Only her. Chrissy was the only one who could stir anything within him, the only one who could make the cold, lifeless creature feel even the faintest hint of warmth.

Eddie,” she whispered, her soft, rosy lips forming his human name—a name he hadn’t heard in years, kept alive only in her heart. “You came!” She let out a small, joyful squeal, her eyes shining with happiness, as blue as the ocean. Her hero had come to see her once again.

Her small, warm hand reached up to touch his face—the cold face of a vampire that should have sent her running, not invited her closer. Yet, like a lost, cold creature craving affection, he pressed his icy cheek against her delicate fingers. Eddie closed his eyes, surrendering to her touch, melting into the gentle warmth of her caress, like a stray puppy finding comfort at last. For the first time in a year, he felt something beyond the cold emptiness that had consumed him.

He took her in his arms, cradling her with the utmost care. She was fragile, and he knew it—like a lion handling a lamb. He would never have hurt her. His only purpose, his only mission, was to protect her. He was her dark angel, a silent guardian hovering over her.

His long fingers, resembling sharp claws, lifted her effortlessly from the ground, her weight as light as a feather in his grasp. He held her by her nightgown and pulled her against his strong, cold body. His wings, which had carried him to her, ceased their beating as he landed on the floor, crouching slightly because his towering figure was too large for the room.

When he felt her sweet warmth against him, when he held her so close and inhaled her lovely perfume, his eyes widened, pupils dilating in response. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pulsed against his chest, and in that moment, he felt a surge within him—a power so intense that he could have roared from the sheer force of it. If he could have spoken, if words were still his to command, he would have whispered, “My sweet human, I can finally see you, touch you, feel you.”

She looked into his eyes, a sweet smile on her lips as she placed her hands on his strong shoulders, gazing deeply into his blood-red gaze. She knew he was still there beneath it all, even though his heart no longer beat. Eddie Munson was still there.

He loved the excitement that lit up her eyes when she saw him. He adored the big smile she gave him. He loved smiles in general, but hers was different. He loved how her heart stayed calm around him, filled with affection instead of fear.

He loves her, even though he can barely remember what love truly is.

He looked back at her with soft, slightly watery eyes, pupils dilated. His gaze, usually fierce and red like a soldier ready for battle, softened in her presence. Though he was an evil soldier, around her, he was sweet in a way that a creature like him shouldn't have been.

He held her with just one hand, letting her feel the strength of his cold body. With his long fingers, he gently traced a single claw along her cheek, careful not to hurt her. He pulled her even closer, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry-blonde hair, his senses alive with her intoxicating warmth. He took a breath, though it served no purpose in his lifeless lungs, trying to memorize her fragrance to carry with him through the 364 nights he wouldn’t see her.

His sense of smell thrummed with it, the sweetness of her scent.

With just one long finger, he brushed the hair away from the front of her soft neck, where most of the delicious scent came from. Chrissy sighed softly, her arms covered in goosebumps, and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what he was about to do, and she let him. She liked it because she was the one keeping him alive.

She let out a quiet moan and tightened her grip on his broad, strong shoulder the moment he lowered his face. If he could breathe, she would have felt the tickle of air so close to her neck as he approached, but instead, she only felt the cold of his nose against her warm collarbone. The tip of his nose glided along her skin, creating space with a gentle caress, and she closed her eyes.

He buried his face in her blonde hair, holding her gently just above the covered swell of her breasts, a soft touch that provided just enough support. Behind her, he let her feel the strong, cold, and powerful contours of his body pressing against her.

She sighed with anticipation, knowing what was about to happen. Yet, when it finally did, she was caught off guard and trembled in his arms. He opened his mouth and bit her, sinking his sharp teeth into her neck. She groaned softly—not from pain, but from pleasure—as he sucked her blood and fed. She loved the sensation of his wet lips against her skin, the way he drew her warm, sweet blood into him. With each pull, he grew stronger, and he knew exactly when to stop. The connection between them was electric; he could feel her heartbeat on the tip of his tongue, her sweetness intoxicating him.

Every time he does this, he ensures he doesn't grip her too tightly. When he holds her, his hand remains as soft as a feather, a gentle reminder that she can pull away at any moment if she chooses to.

But she stays, and she wants to stay, because keeping him alive is all that matters to her.

After a few moments, he stopped, licking the blood that dripped from her neck with a tenderness that felt like velvet against her skin, gently cleaning her with his own tongue. Each swipe was a delicate caress, as if he were cherishingevery drop, ensuring she felt safe in his embrace despite the rawness of the moment.

The taste of her overwhelmed him, rich and intoxicating. He inhaled deeply between his fangs, throwing his head back in pure bliss, savoring the sweetness that connected them in that fleeting moment.

Chrissy turned to him, her eyes shimmering with warmth as she gently wiped the remnants of blood from his mouth with her delicate fingers. She watched as he tucked away his fangs, a soft smile spreading across her lips. The mark on her neck stung slightly, but she relished the sensation, knowing the small puncture wounds would linger for weeks as a reminder of him and their connection.

"I missed you," she whispered, leaning closer and pressing a tender kiss against his cold lips. She pulled back slightly, waiting for his reaction, even though they kissed every year when he came to see her. He returned the kiss, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he remembered every moment they shared during his visits.

He first looked at her with wide, frightened red eyes, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface. But soon, that fear melted away as he felt her warmth and the softness of her presence. The tension in his body eased, replaced by a sense of comfort that only she could bring.

He immediately pulled her closer by the waist, his grip firm and reassuring through the delicate fabric of her nightgown. The soft, light material brushed against his cold fingers, sending a shiver of warmth through him as he lifted it just enough to savor the feel of her soft human thighs against him. Her warm skin meant everything to him, even though he knew his devilish fingers shouldn’t touch the skin of an angel.

As his fingers glided over the smooth fabric, he felt the stark contrast between the coolness of his skin and the warmth radiating from her body. Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of surprise and delight, as she sensed his touch. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushing a delicate rose, an unspoken longing shimmering in her gaze. Anxious for more, she leaned her neck back, surrendering herself to his hand, her eyes silently pleading, “I’m yours.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, tilting her head back in sheer ecstasy, reveling in the intoxicating sensation of being cradled by him. In that moment, she belonged to him completely. Forever. Deep down, she felt it—she wanted to be his for all time.

He knew that the moment her sweet human heart stopped beating, he would leave the suffering of this world behind, going with her.

Their lips met, and she didn’t pull away from him, nor did he. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her soft body against his strong, cold chest, clinging to him and bringing warmth into his life. He felt her heart beating against him—her heart racing—not from fear. For a brief moment, they existed in a world of their own, where warmth and cold intertwined, and nothing else mattered.

She was still in his arms, suspended in the air. He had become as tall and strong as a creature, and in his embrace, it was the only way for her to reach his lips, her feet too far off the ground. He wouldn’t let her go. After 364 days without something good, his dirty hands—so accustomed to war and the dark world—gripped the delicate fabric of her nightgown, an angelic touch that meant everything to him, obsessed with the softness of her skin.

"I missed you," she repeated with her eyes closed, surrendering and sighing against his lips, feeling his hands on her, holding her close to his towering, powerful body.

Missed you. If he remembered what that meant, he would say he died from missing her, that he spent the last 364 days with the memory of her sweet scent in his nose.

She began to explore his body, her fingers tracing the rough texture of his torn leather jacket and the coolness of his skin beneath it. The strength of his massive arms cradled her effortlessly. As she slid her hands down his strong back, she felt the texture of his wings, catching the soft sound that escaped him.

She clung to him tightly, surrendering completely, feeling the desperation that swelled between them as he pressed his powerful body against hers with increasing intensity. He let out a low growl—a growl of need, of longing. He knew what happened every night they saw each other, and the moon was already beginning to fade from the sky. As they realized this, the desperation and urgency heightened, drawing them even closer together as they surrendered to each other with fervor.

Her breathing quickened with anticipation as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled her panties aside, inviting him in, surrendering more to him, moaning in his ear as she felt his claws rip her beige nightgown, her anxious hands struggled to find the belt on his worn black jeans.

Like a creature, he knows what desire is; his body craves hers as much as she desires him. She pulled off his belt and pants, biting her lip to try to stay silent as he slid his cold, thick and wet cock inside her. They both groaned into each other's mouths. She trembled as she felt how hard and cold he was, a stark contrast to her warm, wet pussy.

At first, he went in slowly, the red, swollen tip of his thick, hard cock needing to get used to how tight and warm her sweet pussy feels, so wet for him that it slid easily. Eddie let out a grunt and squeezed her between his hands, sweet and warm, trying not to hurt her, he closed his eyes, is too good, he tries to control himself. He thrust into her carefully.

She felt him deep inside her, filling her completely, right below her belly. She tightened her legs around him, looking into his eyes, knowing he was truly there with her.

She pressed herself against him, resting her head on his strong chest, feeling his rough wings with her hands as she squeezed her eyes shut in pleasure while he moved inside her.

He kissed her again, savoring the sweet taste of her lips—a frenzy of pleasure that filled him with life. This was the only reason he still existed, even in his immortal state. He knew that if he ever lost the chance to visit his sweet human, the monstrous instinct of sorrow within him would consume him. That weight was too heavy to bear.

He loved watching her as he was inside her, savoring every little movement she made, the soft sounds that escaped her lips, and the warmth of her affection wrapping around him like a blanket. He enjoyed looking at her, hearing the little noises she made, and feeling the warmth that radiated from her. He loved it when she pulled down the straps of her nightgown, exposing her perfect breasts to him as he easily fucked her on his lap, moving in and out of her sweet pussy that felt too tight for his size. He liked seeing the pick necklace - it used to be his, a gift to her when he was still human - swaying against her perfect, pointy red nipples. The marks from his fangs, side by side with the necklace, left during his annual visits, served as reminders of their bond etched into her body, instilling in him a profound sense of connection and a glimpse of his lost humanity.

After they finished, he loved to hear her breathing, savoring the taste of sweat on her skin. He enjoyed how she laid on top of him, snuggling close, small and delicate. He felt her affection as her fingers played with his long hair.

She felt his affection in the sweet way he looked at her and the delicate way he touched her. She was everything to him.

When the sun rose and he had to leave, she whispered, still in his arms, “Are you coming back?” she pleaded, her eyes shining and misty with sadness.

He nodded his head, kissing her again and holding her gently in his embrace, remembering what it felt like to hug. He breathed in the scent of her hair and slid his finger over her heart. They locked eyes as he touched her chest.

— “Thump thump?” he said, though he didn’t actually speak; this was the only sound he made, the rhythm of her heartbeat —his way of saying he would miss her.

“I know, I’ll miss you too,” she replied, placing her hand over his chest—“Thump thump,” she said, touching the spot where his heart once beat. “For you, my heart only beats for you,” she added, sliding a green scrunchie from her hair and placing it on his wrist, a keepsake, the scent of her still lingering there.

Eddie set her down, sadness in his eyes like a wounded animal, and spread his wings to fly away, not without stealing one last glance at her for several long seconds.

He always comes back. Once a year, he manages to escape, catching glimpses of the memories from when he was human, from the time he saved her from the prison of Vecna’s mind. He sacrificed his own life in her place, offering himself to ensure Vecna would release her. Now, Vecna uses him as a puppet soldier. He has surrendered everything he once was for her, because nothing makes him stronger than her fragile heart. He knows what he’s been living for all this time: for her.

And now, she waits for him forever.

When the full moon shines in March, he will return. He will return to the arms of his sweet human, Chrissy Cunningham.

[thatgirlwithasquid]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

I was tagged by @rigginsstreet with the word TROUBLE

T - Edwin/Charles | Dead Boy Detectives wip : That does it. This bitch does not get to lay one fucking finger on Edwin, not if Charles has anything to say about it.

R - Steve/Eddie | Stranger Things, Beauty and the Beast au : “Run, Dustin,” he hissed over his shoulder.

Steve’d been through this enough to know that something always happened. Someone got left behind. Someone sacrificed themselves. They always lost someone. So he knew how this was going to go. He knew that fate wouldn’t have her fill without one of them being left for dead - and Steve would be damned if he was going to let it be Dustin.

O - Eddie/Chrissy | Stranger Things, aro!hellcheer wip : Over the coming years, Wayne would be the only person Eddie could really talk to about any crushes or things like that. He was the only person that understood. Eddie didn’t exactly love in the way everyone else seemed to.

U - Harley/Rick | The Suicide Squad wip : “Uh.. hi,” he manages, nodding uncertainly.

He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, or some hint of a trap to be laid out before him, because, so far, it just seems like Harley has genuinely just invited him around to her apartment. And, judging solely on the decorations, it seems like it may actually be her birthday.

B - Mr Flower/Argos | The World Of Mr Plant, hanahaki au : But for Mr Flower? It seems to have hit its peak. Sure, he’s still… in love… but it’s not something that’s getting any more intense, no matter how long Mr Flower spends around his fertiliser, as the doctors call him. He honestly doesn’t think it will. This is how he feels about Mr Plant, and this is where those feelings will stay.

L - Maddy/Liam | Wolfblood s2e10 canon divergence : Liam crawls on after it, squinting into the blackness outside of his flashlight’s reach. Occasionally he’ll catch a silhouetted tail swishing through the shadows or a flash of those evil eyes looking back at him. It’s the only reassurance he has that he hasn’t lost his guide.

E - Huntsman/Snow | Snow White and the Huntsman wip : Eric’s grip tightens, holding her jab securely in place. He feels the length of the blade pressed against the side of his ribcage even through the layers of his clothes. A few inches to the left and it would puncture a lung. A few further and his heart would be giving out now, pouring the sludge of his blood into that broken chest.

Tagging @kallisto-k @kittyphoenix12-xx @intothedysphoria with the word SWEET (of course, as always, no pressure :) )

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Do you have any favorite stranger things AUs?

It’s really hard to choose a favorite! Everyone is so creative and comes up with so many fun settings and themes. But just off the top of my head here’s three that I absolutely love and wholeheartedly recommend:

Devil in the Woods by @justhere4thevibez - a cozy, comforting Hellcheer fairytale full of magic and sweetness.

Come What May by @lokinightfury - high school with a twist, with Hellcheer starring in Grease and most of the Party and Corroded Coffin as wingmen, it’s so much fun!

In the Shade of Aurelias by @pearlypairings - a fantasy WIP with hints of D&D, royalty, and magic.

Hope you enjoy!!!

[mistysharks]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @hilarychuff thank you! <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11! For now:)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

75,643

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Stranger Things for now! I would love to branch out but the hyperfocus does what it wants and I am just along for the ride!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm Stupid (Do Me) Steddie/M/Getting together/first time (first one I wrote of them!)

All you have is your fire (and the place you need to reach) Hellcheerington/E/Sex Pollen

Five times Steve Walked in on Eddie and Chrissy (And one time they walked in on him) Hellcheer + Hellcheerington Pre-slash/M/Accidental Voyeurism

5 times Steve absolutely didn't have a bisexual meltdown (and one time he did) Hellcheer + Hellcheerington/M/Getting together

Some lonely night we can get together (and I'm gonna tie your wrists with leather) E/Hellcheerington/ final part of my Vampire Eddie and Chrissy series!

(I need to start doing shorter titles :') )

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Almost always, though it might take me a while! I always appreciate them all <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ok so honestly? I don't do angst much haha, and literally never sad endings. Its all gonna be tied up with a neat little happy bow from me, baby! I think I left chapter 3 of Bardic Inspiration in a pretty sad state - does that count?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Orgasms cout, right? ;D Right now what comes to mind though is the only fix-it fic I've really written - (I only need) the working of my hands Where I give Hellcheer the happy, sexy ending they deserve (but make it Sapphic with a side of coming back wrong)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! Fingers crossed it remains that way! I usually try and stay miles away from any fandom drama tbh

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am determined to! Like sure I would call some of what I've already written smut but I feel like I'm not quite fully there yet. I haven't fully realised the lengths of perversion/intimacy hyperfixation that sits in my mind! Its an ongoing process hehe

Regarding what flavour of smut I write, its always queer, soft, and a little gothic in the undertones... Would love to do some more genderqueer stuff in the future as well

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet! I'm not against them, and I loove a good AU, but nothing has stuck so far. Maybe one day I'll write that Stranger Things Persona 4 AU. (look it would work so well!! Eddie as Kanji makes me feral ngl)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I love that that is a thing people do <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but that would be super fun! I tried RP once couldn't get into it:( Sharing ideas and bouncing plot points is always fun though:)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Thats too hard! I'm just gonna do a current top 5 lol 1. Steddie 2. Hellcheerington 3. Hellcheer 4. Lan Zhan/Wei Ying (Untamed) 5. Kanji/Naoto(P4)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have 2 unpublished, lengthy chapters of a Steddie pirate AU that I love but I really don't know how to keep going with :(

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm pretty proud of how I set the mood of a scene - the colours, the light, the sounds... just hinting at a feeling without describing the feeling itself.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I can like, either do super dialogue heavy bits, or really descriptive bits, and its so hard to marry the two together!! ahh!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Look english is hard enough lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry potter haha, wrote some truly terrible angsty self-insert when i was 14 (luckily that is gone forever!!)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Honestly, I really love When I am done, its such a snap-shot kind of fic, and its got such a mood that I love. Keeping a one-shot simple and to the point is really difficult, and I think this one is my best attempt at it.

Thanks for tagging me as always, Hil! I'm tagging whoever reads this hehe - if you made it this far you should totally do it too (these are fun!)

[justhere4thevibez]

hellcheer kinktober day 8

phone sex

“Want me to take your mind off of it?”

His voice had dropped to low and teasing, and her stomach clenched automatically. Oh god, it was like he’d fucking trained her to respond to that tone.

“What—” she licked her lips, trying to keep some form of composure. “What did you have in mind?”

“I think you know,” he said, the hint of a smile in his voice. “It involves being very good, and very quiet.”

[bluebunnymoose]

For the WIP game: can you tell us more about the medieval nonsense? 😄

Gladly! I will preface this by saying I'm a HUUUGE sucker for medieval/period/mythology AUs. I fell into AO3 fics and fanart for this genre at about the same time as I discovered bardcore Rammstein covers (see the bottom of this post for a playlist. Yep. I have one XD).

The Medieval Nonsense WIP is based on A Knight's Tale, but instead of posing as a knight with an eye for glory, Eddie--with the Party's help--poses as a borderland noble (Lord Kas) and enters a tournament of pageantry and events (jousting, dancing, capture the flag) to win the favor of Lady Christine Cunningham. Her hand in marriage isn't a prize; she's betrothed to Jason (a prince, probably) and arrives in Hawkins hoping to find a way out of the arrangement. Luckily for her, Eddie loves to stand in the way of convention.

The Party is 100% present and on-board. Dustin's a scholar who's dating a nun with incredible forging skills (no one's ever seen her so they don't believe she exists), Robin's a musician in love with Vickie (a minstrel member who works with the theater troupe that Will runs), Nancy (a Lady and exceptional archer) is Chrissy's escort through Hawkins. Will provides costumes, Steve (a knight/lord) teaches etiquette and dancing, Lucas and Max (squire and thief, probably) help him scout out events beforehand, Jonathan's a black/silversmith who armors him up, etc. Playlist for anyone interested in medieval fantasy, hints of plot in song form, and bardcore metal: Hellcheer Medieval Nonsense Tunes

I'll stop here before this becomes a novel, but I'm always down to talk about this AU. Thanks so much for asking! <3