#it’s me and my millions of fic ideas against the world

[sage-lights]

oh no i tripped and fell and dropped this…

(actress!angela x bodyguard!amanda)

[tytonnidaie]

the most dangerous part of having a pet au that u never seriously work on except think abt it to ur writing playlist as u drive is that. you develop it. and it gets better. and then you really really want to write it. and you're in danger

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Twenty

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 17.2k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

PLEASE SEE ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT FUTURE UPDATES HERE

Hello!!! Long-awaited 20 is here!! Honestly this is the longest I've stuck with a fic so I am very honored and lucky to have so many readers willing to wait and enjoy Trouvaille. You all mean the world to me! While Trouvaille will be going on a short hiatus, I will be working on drabbles for the series, so feel free to shoot me some ideas in the meantime. That said, my new fic "Sanctity" will be out in time for fall, and I'm pumped to work on something new and different.

About 20- of course we have the angst, but there are lots of tender moments and humor to patch that up. We have a confession in this update, too, and I hope you all enjoy that scene. It has been highly anticipated 💜 Love to you all and please enjoy (and thank you!! again for all your support!)

Previous Chapter

Silence rang out as Y/N watched Harold Bass’ figure retreat down her porch steps though the stained glass, her heart thundering in her chest painfully and the walls closing in. Was it truly possible that her hybrids could be taken away by such a man? Did a deposit he made on them months ago really hold weight in court? She couldn’t even make a motion to grapple for her phone in her pocket to call Ben in a panic, her breath coming out in uneven pants. 

“A million dollars for seven of us,” Jeongguk broke the stillness, his voice taking on a cold and distant quality that she hadn’t heard from him in months. “Kind of an offer you can’t refuse, honestly, Y/N.”

Flinching like she was shot, Y/N spun around to stare at his stony expression, tears immediately gathering in her eyes. Everything hurt, the idea of her boys getting shipped off to their demise, Jeongguk’s dig, and the way Namjoon couldn’t even look at her. Tears slipping down her cheeks, her elk hybrid’s demeanor shifted slightly, surprise flashing in his eyes. 

“How… how could you say that to me?” Y/N asked quietly, devastated. With all the progress she thought she made with Jeongguk and Namjoon, she couldn’t understand those reactions. Jeongguk blinked, all of the iciness melting from the wall he put up, Namjoon stiffening when he scented her bitter tears. “How could you t-think that I’d ever? Why would you think…”

Voice cracking when she spoke, an involuntary sob wracked through her. 

“Shit…” Jeongguk hissed, regretful. Y/N was too busy miserably staring at the floor with tears pouring from her lash line to notice him stepping forward. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jeongguk’s palm cradled the back of her bowed head, his tattooed fingers sliding through the strands of her hair as he coaxed her into an embrace, her cheek squished against his chest. Pausing, she was stunned when his heavy forearm wrapped around her lower back and drew her even closer. Sniffing, her tears were flowing for a different reason now, her arms hanging limply by her sides as Jeongguk held her. 

“That was stupid, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, doll,” Jeongguk rested his chin on the top of her head, Y/N curling her fingers into the front of his tee shirt at the new, tender pet name he offered her. Curiously, her vision still watery, she peered at Namjoon looming over them close by, his fluffy ears sideways and eyebrows knit together. Concerned. 

“It’s– it’s okay, as long as you really b-believe I’d never,” Y/N swallowed, throat raw. “I’d never let him take you from me. Not for anything! No amount of money or threatening lawsuits, we’re a family. Tell me you believe that, please.”

Jeongguk shushed her, his hand sliding from her hair to around her shoulders, squeezing firmly, the action a non-verbal response. Still looking at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid was all soft edges after hearing how Y/N resolutely stated that she thought of them as family. 

“I believe you,” Jeongguk murmured, giving her one last pat on her shoulder before releasing her, his shirt pulling out of her sweaty fists. “Don’t cry anymore.”

“Sorry,” Y/N mumbled, cheeks flaming. Namjoon growled, Y/N glancing at him nervously, gasping when he was inches from her face. “Joon–”

Namjoon cupped one of her cheeks– still damp– and lowered his face to hers, Y/N’s breath catching in her throat. Reflexively, her eyelids dropped shut when his warm breath washed over the side of her face, and when his full lips pressed against her temple resolutely, her eyes flew back open. Namjoon had never kissed her, and sure, she had brushed one against his cheek before, but he was more than used to her being the more affectionate one in the dynamic. Her tears dried up immediately, Namjoon’s long fingers caressing beneath her jaw. 

“Oh,” was all she could breathe, his lips on her skin warm and supple, and the gesture seemed calculated and sure. 

“Y/N, your friend, Ben. He’d be able to help us with this, right?” Namjoon stretched back up to his full height, smoothing her hair that Jeongguk’s fingers had just mussed back into place gently. 

“Y-yes. I’ll call him… he’ll do everything he can. He’s taken on cases involving hybrids before,” Y/N finally shook off her surprise and dismay, reaching for one of Namjoon’s hands and one of Jeongguk’s, too, holding on tight. Then, there was thundering footsteps smacking against the wooden floorboards.

“What happened?” Yoongi was flying down the stairs, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the two hybrids hiding Y/N from his view. The leopard hybrid walked into the heavy scent of Y/N’s fear and despair as soon as he opened the door to the music room, and his fight or flight kicked in. At that moment, he wanted to fight. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi, even though he was smaller than the two hybrids shielding her from his view, shouldered past them with urgency, Jeongguk stumbling back a few feet due to the force of Yoongi’s shove. If she wasn’t overwhelmed with emotion, she would have giggled at the look of astonishment on Jeongguk’s face. There was a deep crease between Yoongi’s eyebrows as he grit his teeth at the tear tracks on her cheeks, and Y/N could practically see steam coming out of his ears. 

“Did you two say something to her?” Yoongi’s voice was dangerously low, the words spat out between his teeth. Oh, he was furious. 

Quickly, Y/N shook her head, grabbing Yoongi’s wrist before he could lunge at Jeongguk. Posture coiled, he looked down at her, everything about him positively feline and predatory. 

“No, angel, they didn’t do anything! Um, let me explain… how do I..”

“We had an uninvited guest,” Jeongguk recovered from being shoved, rubbing his shoulder where Yoongi barreled into. 

“Who?”

“The motherfucker that wanted to adopt us before Y/N. The one that probably would have killed us. He found the house somehow,” Jeongguk grimaced, Yoongi’s tail going ramrod straight in shock. “Apparently he was the spam caller, he wants to buy us all off of Y/N.”

A pause, Yoongi’s eyes turning into slits as he tried to determine whether or not Jeongguk was telling the truth, before the leopard hybrid scoffed sharply. 

“That’s ridiculous. We’ve been legally adopted, he can’t do that. Only if he has proof of some kind of abuse Y/N has put us through or–”

“A legally binding document,” Namjoon finished for Yoongi, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Right, which doesn’t exist. Y/N got to us before he did. Why does this guy think he has any kind of claim to stake over us? After all these months?”

“I don’t know, he’s a hedge fund douchebag. He said he made a deposit on us and is actually willing to take Y/N to fucking court,” Jeongguk rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his head around the situation. 

Sure, Y/N’s friend Ben was a very successful lawyer, but with people like Harold Bass and their never-ending supply of money and privilege, the elk hybrid was worried. Yoongi turned a touch green, Y/N able to feel his pulse racing through the grip she had on his wrist. 

“Wait, what’s going on?” Hoseok jogged into the foyer, a layer of sweat coating his golden skin. He had been gone for a few hours to run around the neighborhood, and must have come into the house from the back door. “What are you guys talking about, court? Jesus, you all reek of doom.”

Hoseok’s upturned nose twitched, his russet ears flattening against his head when he saw Y/N’s lower lip begin to quiver. Jeongguk cleared his throat and repeated what he told Yoongi minutes prior, Hoseok’s constant tail wagging going completely still. 

“What the fuck?” Hoseok breathed, staring at Y/N with alarm. “He must have gotten our address from Gerry. That’s the only way he could have found us… hold on.” Something dawned on him, remembering something from his run when he turned down the street they lived on. 

“When I was heading back, not even fifteen minutes ago. Fancy car was driving by, but slowed down when I was passing. The rear window rolled down and this dude started saying some creepy-ass shit to me. He had a gold tooth. Stuff like that happens to me every once in a while, so I just blew him off and kept running. Was that him?” 

Horror washed over Y/N. What if Harold Bass attempted to abduct Hoseok? Bile rising in her throat, she released Yoongi’s wrist and reached for her fox hybrid, palms settling on the slick skin of his biceps. 

“He just talked to you? He didn’t get out of the car or try to touch you, did he? What did he say?” Y/N rapid-fired, scanning his entire body for any sign of something wrong. 

“No, he didn’t get out of the car, I ran away before he could. I’m fine, darling,” Hoseok’s mouth flattened into a line, patting the back of one of her hands. “I didn’t really catch much of what he was saying. The usual, for guys like him. Calling me an ‘animal’, something about how I’d be a tricky one to ‘catch’ or whatever. Probably referring to sport hunting, now that I know who he is.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Y/N’s voice was faint, blood draining from her face. Urgently, she barrelled to the powder room off of the foyer, her knees slamming against the tile floor when the contents of her breakfast made a second appearance in the toilet bowl. 

As she was heaving, she felt someone gather up her hair in their fist, a free hand gently rubbing her back. Crying again, this time because of the way nausea was curling in her gut, she heard the tap running and the sounds of a washcloth being rung out. Once there was nothing left for her to heave up, she shakily flushed the toilet, sitting back on her heels. 

“Here,” a damp cloth was placed in front of her face, Y/N gawking at the fabric blankly. A rough sigh came from the hybrid holding it, bending to kneel beside Y/N. “It’s alright, doll.”

Jeongguk used a thumb and a forefinger to pinch her chin, angling her face towards him, a concentrated line making up his mouth when he used the cool cloth to dab around her face. Simply staring at him, attempting to catch her breath, she felt the elk hybrid swipe the cold sweat from her brow before he mopped up the saliva around her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yoongi and Hoseok lingering by the bathroom door, both of them displaying animalistic anxiety with the movements of their tails and positioning of their ears. 

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked, feeling like she had made their nerves worse by getting physically sick on them. She found a spare bottle of mouthwash under the sink, taking a pause to rinse out her mouth. “Sometimes that happens when I’m really anxious. Thanks, Jeongguk.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Hoseok answered for Jeongguk, watching the elk hybrid toss the washcloth in the hamper and offering his hand to Y/N in order to help her to her feet. Limbs trembling, she let Hoseok pull her up, an arm around her waist to keep her upright. “We’ll figure this out, darling. Don’t you worry.”

“Where did Joon go?” Y/N’s throat was scratchy, noticing his absence when Hoseok led her back into the hall. She watched Yoongi march towards the direction of her bedroom with purpose, her fox hybrid herding Y/N close behind him. 

“He went to deliver the news to the others outside. Jimin and Seokjin were in the garden and I think Taehyung was chopping firewood,” Yoongi grunted, rummaging through Y/N’s dresser determinedly. “Hoseok, can you make her some tea?”

Hoseok whistled, squeezing Y/N’s waist and leaving her in her bedroom alone with Yoongi. Holding onto the wall, she eyed her leopard hybrid warily, having a good idea what he was thinking about. Yoongi wasn’t the type to be afraid of things; he’d watch horror movies with Y/N, unflinchingly carry spiders outside, and chop vegetables with a cleaver while maintaining eye contact with whoever was talking to him. But Y/N knew there was one thing that scared him to death: the possibility of being separated from her. 

“Yoongi, I’m going to call Ben. I want to get ahead of this. Ben might have a way to get this guy out of our life before we even see a courthouse,” Y/N announced firmly, reaching for her phone on her nightstand. 

“Come here,” Yoongi’s voice was barely above a whisper, Y/N turning to look at him curiously. He stood close, and stacked a soft pair of sweatpants and a slouchy tank top on her bed, his familiar purrs filling the room when she obeyed his request. “Let’s get you changed, baby. Wait for Namjoon to tell the other three what happened before you talk to Ben.”

Y/N nodded, distractedly popping the button of her jeans open. Yoongi helped her out of them, his eyes not darkening like they usually did when he saw her in such a state of undress, Y/N shivering when his cool fingertips slid beneath her sweater. Gingerly, he peeled the garment off of her, and Y/N let him dress her like a Barbie doll– she suspected he was deeply focusing on the task to make himself feel better. Once he tied the strings of her sweatpants, Y/N took his face in her palms. 

“No one's gonna take you from me, you got that?” Y/N brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones, his hazel eyes glittering. Long hair falling forward as he leaned down, Yoongi kissed her lower lip softly, his hands stroking up the length of her spine. 

 “I know you won’t go down without a fight, baby,” Yoongi murmured, pulling her in for a hug and resting his face in the crook of her neck. 

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Y/N admitted, pressing her cheek over Yoongi’s heart so the steady beating would calm her. “I love you all too much to not give that motherfucker the fight of his life.”

Y/N expected Yoongi to snort at her comment, but he didn’t. If anything, he paused, pulling away from her slightly. Confused, she accepted her phone from him, his free hand clasped with hers. 

“We should put Ben on speaker in the living room. He might have some advice for all of us,” Yoongi began to escort her to the parlor, his tail curling around the back of her leg securely. 

Silently agreeing, she searched for Ben in her contacts, catching a whiff of a familiar cologne as they walked through the hallway. Sandalwood– Taehyung. Namjoon must have swallowed some pride to drag him back into the house. Biting her lip, she wondered how he took the news, wondering if that would be the straw that broke his back. As if sensing her thoughts, Yoongi tightened his grip on her hand, perhaps encouragingly. Everyone was standing around in the living room, Seokjin looking like he was about to pass away and Jimin’s leg bouncing nervously. Without a word, Y/N dialed the number, placing the phone on the coffee table gravely. 

“Y/N! How are you, honey?”

“I’ve been better,” Y/N glanced at Taehyung, who was staring out into the backyard, the Kodiak hybrid unseeing, like he was neither here nor there. “Something happened, I need your help.”

The first thing Ben suggested was filing a temporary restraining order against Harold Bass, which he was promptly in the process of taking care of for her. Ben told her that the fact that the man took it upon himself to harass her with phone calls, show up at their house, and make indirect threats to Namjoon, Jeongguk, and Hoseok was plenty of evidence to file the order. Y/N sent screenshots of the amount of times Harold tried to call her. If they did end up at the courthouse, Ben said he could get a recording of the time Y/N had actually picked up the phone and talked to Harold and use that in her defense. 

Ben’s calm tone and reassuring words did wonders to ease not only her mind, but seemed to get her boys to relax somewhat. The lawyer sounded confident that even if Harold Bass managed to take them to court, he wouldn’t be able to take the boys from her with a mere deposit slip, considering how long the hybrids had already legally been under her care. Ben told her to take things easy for the following days, perhaps staying close to or inside of their home, advising Hoseok to pause his runs around the neighborhood and making sure that their house alarms were working. 

In the days that followed, Y/N and the boys stuck closely together. Thankfully it was the weekend, so trips to the rec center were unnecessary, and Y/N even arranged for groceries to be delivered to the house. The backyard was fenced in as well, so when the boys got a little itchy to stretch their legs and be outside, they could do so freely. Y/N felt horrible that they weren’t able to do things that they normally did during the weekends; like go into the city for dinner, see a movie, or shop in the town square. If any of them were bummed out about it, none of them let it show. 

Jeongguk took it upon himself to set up Pentagon-level security in the house, ordering Ring cameras, setting up lights that would automatically turn on if anyone approached the entrances inside, and monitored the cameras in the downstairs office like the Secret Service. He hadn’t so much as mentioned anything paranormal related since Harold Bass turned up on their porch. 

Namjoon, too, had upped the intensity with security. He would linger by all the doors for hours, looking out the windows, making sure things were locked up tight. Y/N caught him in the office one day, his teeth bared, asking Jeongguk to order more locks to install on the front and back doors. 

As for her two feline hybrids, there was hardly a moment where one of them wasn't glued to her side. Truthfully, her alone time (not that she necessarily craved it) was reserved for when she needed to use the bathroom or bathe. Every night Seokjin and Yoongi would curl around either side of her body, not being able to bear sleeping without her until Harold Bass was out of their lives for good. 

It was only when Ben called her Saturday afternoon to tell her the temporary restraining order had gone through that everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. One of the positive things that came with the recent bumps in the road was Taehyung being around more often. He started to make an appearance during their nightly movies, and didn’t skip meals anymore. While he hardly spoke unless it was absolutely necessary, Y/N counted his presence as a silver lining. 

However, that same Saturday evening was when Y/N had asked Laura to come over and assess the situation with Taehyung as a third party, followed by watching her son Kai for a few hours while she and her husband went out for dinner and a movie. Paired with the good news of the restraining order, Y/N actually grinned when she swung the front door open to reveal one of her best friends, holding her son on one hip and balancing a diaper bag on the other. Behind her, Y/N could see Tyler– Laura’s husband– lugging some kind of play mat up the porch steps. 

“Is this your way of asking me if I can watch him for the weekend while you two go to Sandals or something?” Y/N made grabby hands for Kai, a sweet toddler with dark coily curls similar to his Auntie Alice’s. 

Laura snorted, passing him over easily, Y/N cooing and nestling the boy on her hip. Kai sleepily rested his rounded cheek into the crook of Y/N’s neck while she ushered his parents inside, Jimin appearing from his bedroom to take the diaper bag from Laura. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin were the best with children out of all of her hybrids. It was likely Jimin had such a way with them considering his upbringing on the ranch with his own family. Hoseok loved to goof off, and kids being around was the perfect excuse to be wacky. 

As for Seokjin, kids were drawn to him like a magnet. Probably because he was so sweet, gentle, and shy. Y/N had noticed a frequent expression of longing whenever she and Seokjin were in a store together and they encountered a baby in a stroller. She hadn’t explicitly talked to Seokjin about it, but she was pretty sure he wanted kids in the future. The thought of a tiny version of her and Seokjin, maybe one with his ears, nearly made her trip into the living room with Kai still in her arms. 

“Aw, look how big he’s getting!” Hoseok exclaimed in a silly voice, wiggling his fingers against Kai’s tummy when Y/N came into the parlor. 

Not everyone was present, Namjoon and Jeongguk were in the van doing a little research on the hotel they were to investigate in the near future, and Yoongi was stress-baking in the kitchen like he had been doing for the past several days. Y/N had never eaten so many cookies in her entire life. 

“Can you believe it? He’ll be in preschool before we know it,” Laura was helping Tyler roll out the mat on the floor, one with shapes, colors, and animals labeled on it. 

“Momma, a fox! He has ears,” Kai pointed a chubby index finger at Hoseok’s head, his triangular appendages twitching when the child’s attention were on them fully. 

“That’s right, honey. That’s Hoseok, Auntie Y/N’s friend,” Laura took Tyler’s hand to help her up, Hoseok making an odd chirping sound when his name was called. “He’s a fox hybrid. Look over here, see who’s helping daddy? That’s Jimin, he’s a coyote hybrid.”

It had been so long since Y/N had seen Kai, she didn’t realize how much his vocabulary had expanded. He was wiggling in Y/N’s grip, so she gently lowered him to the ground, where he hurried over to Jimin placing some of the child’s toys on the mat. Jimin didn’t even flinch when Kai accidentally tread over the coyote hybrid’s sandy tail, which had Y/N cringing– if she knew anything about the sensitivity of hybrid tails, she knew that that must have hurt like a bastard. 

“Hello Seokjin! Taehyung, you too! I haven’t seen any of you since Taehyung’s birthday party in December,” Laura sat on the couch beside Y/N, taking stock of how many of the hybrids were in the room. Taehyung lingered in his usual spot at the back of the room, the settee by the window overlooking the backyard, while Seokjin was glued to Y/N’s other side on the couch, naturally. “So, how have things been? I heard about… that unsavory man. Ben will kick his butt though.”

“I have no doubt about that, I’ve seen him demolish Hoseok with sarcastic banter. He must be an amazing lawyer,” Jimin pointed out cheerfully. The coyote hybrid had attempted to be upbeat ever since finding out about Harold Bass, which Y/N appreciated. “That aside, next time you’re here during the day, we can show you two and Kai the garden and the stable. Do you think he’d like to meet the horses?”

“Oh, absolutely. He loves animals and hybrids. Can’t you tell how excited he is to be around you? And little Daisy has become one of his best friends,” Laura leaned back, subtly glancing at Taehyung behind her shoulder. Y/N was glad he hadn’t snuck from the room already, though with hybrid perceptivity, he could definitely tell Laura was no threat to him. “Kai, gentle! Remember what I told you about their ears?”

Indeed, Kai was climbing on one of Jimin’s thighs as the hybrid sat on the floor, his toddler-sized fists reaching for Jimin’s ears that were flopping forward cutely. 

“It’s okay, I’ve had my share of young ones on the ranch tug at my ears. I’m used to it,” Jimin shrugged, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, letting Kai scratch behind his ears easily. “Are you two going out?”

“Ah, yes. I made reservations for us at a place near the theater in town. We’re going to catch a movie after. Laur, I’ll start the car while you say goodbye?” Tyler gave Kai a hair ruffle, waving good-naturedly to everyone in the room. “Thanks for watching him, we really appreciate it!”

There was a squawk coming from Hoseok on the leather recliner when Kai chose to amble towards Seokjin rather than the fox hybrid gesturing wildly, Y/N giggling at Hoseok’s faux-devastated expression. 

“Up!” Kai lifted his arms in the air, staring at Seokjin determinedly with his wide chocolate brown eyes. “Cat!”

Seokjin froze from beside Y/N, who was trying her very best not to laugh at her jaguar hybrid, who looked like he didn’t know whether to shit or go blind. 

“It’s okay, Seokjin, you can pick him up,” Laura encouraged, Seokjin tentatively leaning forward, his forearms flexing when he gingerly lifted the child into the air, Kai curling into his lap and the crook of his elbow immediately. “He just likes to snuggle. It’s his nap time right about now, I’ll scoot as soon as his eyes get heavy.”

Y/N had a hard time focusing on anything but Kai nestled in Seokjin’s arms. Subconsciously, Seokjin’s sleek black tail curled around the boy’s lap protectively, soothing purrs vibrating from his chest. The tender expression on Seokjin’s face, one that Y/N was more than used to by now, had her melting into the velvet fabric of the couch. 

“Aw, Jinnie, he likes you, cat,” Hoseok teased, recovering from Kai not choosing him to take his late afternoon nap on. “You’d make a decent dad, huh?”

Seokjin’s purrs grew louder, Y/N chewing on her lip and not missing the very pointed look Seokjin gave her; feline sunset eyes burning– a look that had her heart swelling and something warm blooming in her gut.

“Yeah, I don’t think he knows the word ‘jaguar’ quite yet,” Laura stood and stretched her legs, turning her keen eyes onto Taehyung awkwardly perched on his settee with an old camera to fiddle with, who hadn’t made a peep yet, effectively distracting Y/N. “How's the photography club going, Taehyung? Y/N tells me you’re amazing!”

“O-oh. I don’t know about that… it’s fun, though…” Taehyung couldn’t maintain eye-contact with Laura for more than a few seconds, pulling his threadbare beanie down further over his forehead, but Y/N was relieved that he responded at all. “Thanks for asking, though.”

Laura waved him off with a smile, adjusting her scarf. Y/N texted Laura earlier to tell her she decided to put a hold on her doing conflict resolution at that particular moment. Y/N didn’t think it would be wise to stress Taehyung out even more on top of the legal issues they were caught in the middle of. Besides, with Taehyung being around her more often, especially since his fuckup forgetting Hoseok and Yoongi at the rec center, Y/N had a feeling he was starting to come around again. 

“Okay, I’m going to try and sneak off. He’s a pretty heavy sleeper, so feel free to put on movies or whatever! I should be back here no later than 10,” Laura murmured quietly, Kai’s eyes shut and his small body slumped onto Seokjin’s chest, the jaguar hybrid soothingly rubbing circles on the kid’s back. 

“Wait, Laura,” a voice came from the kitchen, and Yoongi emerged with a large tupperware and was covered in flour and caramel. “Here, take these for later. I have like four more batches on the way.”

“Angel, you’re gonna give us all diabetes. Please relax, take a shower and turn the oven off,” Y/N sighed, getting up to untie the frilly apron Yoongi had been wearing since the sun rose that morning. 

“Don’t listen to her. If you ever start selling these, let me know,” Laura countered, a cookie sticking out of her mouth as she headed towards the front door, her collarbone-length braids swishing as she walked. “See you all soon, have a nice night in!”

Laura shut the front door behind her, and promptly, the new security system chimed as it armed the house, and Namjoon appeared out of nowhere in the foyer to turn the three separate locks with a grunt. 

“Hey Bug, why don’t you come and watch a movie with us? I can tell you’ve been reading all day, your eyes are super watery,” Y/N was in the middle of pushing Yoongi towards the stairs, cringing at the tacky caramel that was clinging to the ends of his long locks. “Yoongi, please go up and shower. If this caramel dries in your hair and I have to cut it I’ll weep for two weeks.”

Mumbling, Yoongi gave her a sugar-sticky kiss on the back of her hand, trudging up the stairs with his tail wrapped around one of his legs– something he did when he was exhausted. Y/N predicted he’d probably fall asleep in his towel on his bed, leaving her to check on and dress him before she retired himself. 

“Don’t you get to pick the movie tonight?” Jeongguk emerged from the kitchen with a cookie in his hand while he addressed Namjoon, crumbs collecting in the corners of his mouth. 

“Ah. I might have to push your night to tomorrow, Joon. Kai, Laura’s son is here, I’m watching him for the night… we should probably put on some kind of cartoon movie,” Y/N passed her palm over Namjoon’s upper arm, the wolf hybrid pushing his blue-light glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know you wanted to watch Blue Velvet tonight. Tomorrow, I promise.”

“I don’t mind, Y/N. I’m probably too tired to understand anything that requires more brain power than Beauty and the Beast,” Namjoon blinked languidly, Y/N noticing the pen ink covering his fingertips. “At least research took my mind off things.”

“Well that’s good! I’d love to see what you’ve found out so far, in the morning over coffee, how does that sound?” Y/N felt the two hybrids follow her back into the living room, Namjoon double-checking the locks on the front door again. 

“I take it that paranormal topics are off-limits while the kid is here,” Jeongguk had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black sweats, so close behind her that his caramel-scented breath wafted over the sensitive skin of her neck.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s currently asleep on Seokjin’s lap. Just keep it down and if he wakes up, change the subject,” Y/N pointed at Seokjin, who was still in the exact spot she left him in, Kai drooling on his white tee shirt. 

“Well, can I drink? It’s Saturday night, and he’s got seven other babysitters,” Jeongguk lifting a pierced brow and nodding towards the bar cart in the corner of the room. 

“Go nuts. I mean, don’t get whacked or anything. I won’t ask you to play pat-a-cake with him when he wakes up, like you said, he’s got seven other babysitters.”

Grumbling, Jeongguk stalked by Seokjin and Kai, sifting through the bottles of liquor on the cart for his favorite gin. Jimin, while Jeongguk’s back was turned, made a dramatic look of great distaste. The coyote hybrid didn’t approve of drinking around children, even if they were asleep. 

“Let’s go with what you mentioned earlier, Joonie. I think I have Beauty and the Beast in my library somewhere…” Y/N slowly lowered herself beside Seokjin, hoping she wouldn’t jolt Kai awake, Namjoon clumsily copying her movements to land on her free side.

Because Namjoon was such a clutz, it wasn’t often that he was able to snag a spot beside her– he was lucky that Yoongi was still showering shortening off of his body. If Namjoon was uncomfortable that his right arm was pressed firmly against her left and his large frame crammed against the armrest, his expression gave away nothing.

Halfway through the movie, Y/N slightly dozing off on Seokjin’s shoulder, she cracked an eye open to the sound of a shutter going off. Taehyung was on one knee, snapping a picture of Kai on Seokjin’s lap, Y/N realizing that the child had one hand wrapped around Seokjin’s tail, and the other around her pointer finger. Smiling lazily, she was too comfortable to say anything, so she let Taehyung take pictures until he settled back down on the floor to watch the rest of the movie. 

When Laura returned a few hours later, Kai stacking blocks on his mat with Jimin, her cheeks were rosy and several of the hybrids were reluctant to give the toddler back, mainly Jimin and Seokjin.  

“Hmm, maybe I’ll have to drop him off here more often,” Laura held Kai in her arms, the boy’s eyes starting to fill when Jimin began to wave goodbye. 

“We’ll watch him whenever you need!” Seokjin blurted instantly, his cheeks turning pink when he realized how loudly he spoke. Laura simply brightened up, turning to her husband. 

“Maybe we can start having our bi-weekly dates again, if that’s the case,” Laura snickered, Kai calling out for Jimin and ‘Cat’. He wasn’t able to precisely pronounce Seokjin’s name yet, which Hoseok teased him for the entire night. “Alright, it’s past his bedtime. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m buying all of you dinner next time I see you, okay?”

“Night Laura, drive safe,” Y/N waved, choking down a smirk when Namjoon closed the door tightly, the three deadbolts sliding into place smoothly. “Thanks for being good sports tonight, guys!”

“It was fun. He’s a cute kid,” Hoseok was leaning against the door to the basement, where his room was. “I think he was kinda spooked by Goth Bambi, though.”

“The fuck did you just say? I know your dumbass isn’t referring to me,” Jeongguk barked, his tapered ears fluttering furiously. That time, Y/N couldn’t bite back her smirk. “You better lock yourself in your foxhole, motherfucker.”

Hoseok whistled his signature tune, not intimidated in the slightest, quick on his feet to do just that before Jeongguk could even take a step forward. 

“You’re laughing? You’re really laughing. I wiped vomit off your face, kiddo,” Jeongguk crossed his inked arms over his chest, Y/N screwing her mouth shut and eyeing the tiny bumps that were beginning to grow where his antlers once were. Truly, in a few weeks, he’d look exactly like Goth Bambi. 

“That’s good. I’m changing your contact info to that,” Y/N wiped a tear from her eye, pulling her phone from her pocket. 

“I’m blocking your ass,” Jeongguk threatened, sticking his pierced tongue right back out at her when she flashed hers at him first. 

“No you won’t. Who else will watch those Youtube videos about shadow people if not me?” Y/N countered, dodging a flick to her forehead. “It’s late, munchkins. I’m gonna check on Yoongi and head into bed myself. Let’s do something fun tomorrow, since the restraining order is in place.”

“That would be nice, I heard there’s a farmer’s market in the town square in the morning. We should go, Y/N, see if they have potted plants that you wanted for the patio,” Jimin suggested, rubbing his eyes tiredly but his tail still swishing contentedly. 

“Perfect, let’s do it!” Y/N agreed, watching Taehyung slip up the stairs with a glass of water and his headphones on, Jeongguk not far behind him and still bitching about Hoseok’s comment. “Mm. I’m gonna follow him so I can make sure Yoongi’s doing alright. Night Jimin, Joonie!”

Namjoon nodded, beginning his rounds to make sure all the windows and doors were sealed before slipping into his bedroom, while Jimin wished her sweet dreams as he always did. The only one left in the foyer with her was Seokjin, who clasped a hand over her elbow to escort Y/N up the stairs. 

“Yoongi pass out again? He’s really living up to feline stereotypes,” Seokjin joked, shaking blue black waves out of his eyes and slowing down his pace so Y/N could keep up. 

“Mmm? You nap more than he does, Seokjinnie. On the other hand, he gets sort of narcoleptic after a hot shower,” Y/N teased, gaze lingering on the glittery chain dangling from his earlobe– a new earring she hadn’t seen before, one that nearly brushed his jutting collarbone. 

“I guess that’s true… you should nap with me next time, my pretty girl,” Seokjin’s smile was easy, squeezing her midsection for a goodnight hug. 

“Sure thing,” Y/N hummed, regretfully pulling away. “Get some sleep, honey.”

Seokjin saluted her, slinking into his bedroom, and Y/N was trailing through the winding hallways of the second floor to the west tower bedroom where Yoongi slept. His lights were still on, but there was no sound coming from behind the door, so Y/N tip-toed in as quietly as she could. 

Her psychic skills must have been getting stronger by the day, because her leopard hybrid was starfished on his bed in nothing but a towel, his phone tossed beside him. Rolling her eyes playfully, she retrieved pajamas from his dresser, not exactly keen on waking him up, but not wanting him to wake up with a cold from laying in a wet towel all night. 

“Baby, come on. I’ll tuck you in,” Y/N whispered directly into one of his spotted ears, brushing a kiss over one of his eyebrows. The effect was immediate, a grumbly purr coming from the back of Yoongi’s throat, his eyebrows pulling together under her lips and a veined hand shooting out to grab her hip. “I know you’re awake. I got you pajamas, can you sit up for me?”

“Depends. Do I get a kiss?”

“What are you, Sleeping Beauty?” Y/N rolled her eyes again, though pressed a simple kiss to his lower lip anyways. “There. Sit up, please.”

Yoongi did as he was told, looking at her through sleepy, lidded eyes, his hair still slightly damp. Hoping her gulp wasn’t audible, seeing him in just a towel and a silver chain, Y/N held his soft tee shirt and pulled it over his head, his ears popping up adorably through the neck hole. 

“Uh, here. I’ll turn around,” Y/N muttered, tossing his sweats and boxers on his lap, and as soon as possible she spun to face the wall. Yoongi scoffed incredulously, though Y/N refused to turn around.

“Why bother facing the wall?” Yoongi questioned, the coils in his mattress squeaking as he got up. Y/N shuddered when he tossed the towel at her feet, her skin tingling. “It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock before.”

“Yoongi,” Y/N hissed, face hot as an iron. “Just put your pants on!”

“You sure?” 

“Stop being a pervert,” Y/N covered her eyes with her hands, listening for the sounds of the leopard hybrid stepping into the clothing she picked out. “You decent?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Ugh,” Y/N tentatively looked over her shoulder, Yoongi by his nightstand table, plugging in his phone. “Even though you’re a hybrid, sometimes I forget you’re still a man.”

“Can’t help it. Not when my girl is so gorgeous,” Yoongi shrugged, collapsing on his bed. “You sleeping in here?” 

“How do I know you won’t seduce me?” Y/N crossed her arms, tsking. “There’s a few things I wanna do before I go to sleep. Tomorrow night, okay, angel?”

Yoongi humphed, rolling over on his side to face away from her. Chuckling, she shut off his lamp, making sure he was tucked in. Exchanging ‘I love yous’, Y/N left his room, creeping down to her own bedroom. After a quick shower, she lit a candle on her bedside table, settling in for a meditation session to keep her nerves in check before passing out face-down, hopefully dreamlessly. 

Sunday morning, Y/N decided to take Jimin’s advice to check out the early spring farmer’s market in the town square, just so everyone could get some fresh air and scenery. With all eight of them loaded up into the Land Cruiser, the trunk full of reusable bags for produce, and sunny pop music on, the general mood was lighter than it had been in quite some time.

It was almost April, small buds dotting all of the trees around the shops, a clean, floral scent in the air. That morning, she was actually able to have her coffee outside due to how pleasant the temperature was, while Namjoon offered her a thick stack of notes he had taken on the bed and breakfast they were going to investigate– apparently called the George Parkman House. Not having too much time to leaf through the packet the wolf hybrid complied, considering the farmer’s market ended at noon and it would be a miracle to get Hoseok up and ready before then, she elected to discuss specifics with the two of them when they got back. 

With the coming of spring, there were several things to think about, not just a potential lawsuit that was a dark cloud in their lives. Taehyung’s important spring expo was coming up, there was a basketball tournament Yoongi was coaching and participating in, and she’d be spending more time than ever in the backyard garden. Jimin offered to give her more riding lessons, which she couldn’t turn down. Lastly, she had to have a conversation with Seokjin about their upcoming trip to New York, since the date they planned to go was coming up fast. Recalling it from yesterday morning, she gripped her steering wheel tightly and tried to ignore Namjoon side-eyeing her.  

“Pretty, can we talk?” Seokjin appeared timid, his strong eyebrows bunching together. 

“What about?” Y/N put the rake down that she was holding, tending to the herb garden with her jaguar hybrid. In the distance, she could hear Jimin taking one of the horses for a jaunt around the trails, hooves clomping down on the damp grass. 

“Our trip to visit Hannah. I think it should wait, we can reschedule for May or something,” Seokjin scratched behind one of his ears, placing a clump of weeds in the compost bin he dragged over earlier. “Until we sort out this legal situation. Besides…”

“Besides?” Y/N encouraged, leaning into one of his strong shoulders and enjoying the sun on her face. She found the little things kept her spirits up, those days. 

“Um… remember how I said that in April it might be…”

“Oh!” Y/N straightened up, the tips of her ears burning. She hadn’t thought about anything remotely sexual in days, so she had completely forgotten about Seokjin’s apparent upcoming rut. 

“Y-yeah. That. I don’t want to be away from home when it happens, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, Seokjin. Anything you need or anything I can prepare, let me know,” Y/N held onto his hand seriously, pushing aside bashfulness in order to assure him. 

“Uh. Well, the others. What are we going to do about them? I’m not sure how long it’ll last, and. Hybrids need privacy during their ruts, especially mated ones.”

Y/N paused, eyes going round, soaking in every inch of Seokjin’s gorgeous face. Did he just imply…

“What about that building, there? You think we could stay there?” Seokjin pointed off into the distance with a crooked finger, Y/N’s heart beating out of her chest between the statement he made still sinking in and the way he was speaking so nonchalantly. 

Following the line of his finger when her thoughts were interrupted, she spotted the small guesthouse by the pond, the one she had yet to renovate into the movie room for them to hang out in during the summer months. The rounded building, equipped with a first floor made up of a space to sit, a kitchenette, and a tiny bathroom, the second floor a simple loft, would be a pretty good isolated space away from other ears. It solved Seokjin’s desire to stay home, but have enough privacy. Prior to even considering that guesthouse, she toyed with the idea of getting a hotel room, but she knew Seokjin wouldn’t be keen on that. The guesthouse seemed like the best option. 

“I… I’d need to make a few improvements on it in the next week or so, and clean it out. But I think that’ll work,” Y/N replied quietly, her skin still on fire. Should she bring up the fact that he might have referred to her as his mate? Before she could open her mouth, Seokjin spoke again. 

“Okay, that makes me feel better,” Seokjin’s broad shoulders relaxed down several inches, offering her a broad smile. “Don’t be nervous, pretty. It’s just me.”

“Mmm, I know,” Y/N muttered, his playful remark not doing much to quell her embarrassment. It was like Seokjin had never even looked in the mirror– he was telling her not to be nervous he’d be all over her for several days? “I’ll get it ready this week. I’m taking some time off of work anyways, to make sure Ben settles everything and to prepare for the new case Joon and Jeongguk and I will be tackling in the near future.”

Seokjin placed a silly, loud smooch on the apple of her cheek, returning to his task of weeding around the lavender plants, Y/N willing to place a bet that he had a sly smirk on his face. In retaliation, she reached up to teasingly tickle one of his rounded black ears, a choppy hiss dissolving into a purr at the contact.

Swallowing nervously at the memory, Y/N focused on the daffodils studding the sidewalks of the cute town square she was driving through. Hoseok was whistling to the song ‘Where Is My Mind’, the fox hybrid in shorts– he was one of those guys, as soon as the weather was above 50 degrees, he considered it to be summer. Meanwhile, his best friend next to him was bundled up like there was a blizzard raging outside of the car; Seokjin swaddled in his lilac puffer jacket. Y/N tossed a middle finger into the backseat while Jeongguk was taunting her about her parallel parking skills (it did take her three times to get it right), but once the car was stationary, everyone was eagerly getting out into the sunshine. 

“Which way do we go?” Hoseok was bouncing on the soles of his running sneakers, energy coming off of him in infection waves, one of his arms hooked around Seokjin’s elbow. Seokjin didn’t seem to mind, his nose in the air as he caught the scent of fresh-baked pie in the distance. 

“Just take a right up this block, there’s a grassy field where the tents are set up,” Y/N pointed, helping Jimin take the bags out of the trunks. “You guys can go ahead, just um. Use the buddy system, okay?”

“Does that mean I’m stuck with Mr. Happy?” Yoongi mumbled into Y/N’s ear, glancing at Taehyung, who was taking pictures of the decaying brick of a storefront a few yards away. 

“Well, he likes you the most,” Y/N pointed out, mussing Yoongi’s hair and hoping he’d be a good sport. 

“Alright. This is me making things up to you, when I chewed him out a while ago,” Yoongi trudged away, using two fingers to motion for Taehyung to follow him down the block. Naturally, Namjoon and Jeongguk stuck together, so that made Jimin her buddy. 

“What kind of flowers will last under harsh sun, do you think?” Y/N mused, knowing that Jimin had spent a few months learning about botany ever since he began focusing on the garden and landscaping the backyard. 

“Cacti,” Jimin replied dryly with a twinkle in his yellow eyes, Y/N blinking at his joke. “Kidding, that would look odd. We’re not in Arizona. Asters will look pretty on the patio, don’t you think? They sort of look like purple daisies.”

“Love it. Maybe some petunias, too. They’re my Grandmother’s favorites, she’d love to see them around the house again,” Y/N rounded the corner with Jimin close to her side, his clean lavender scent tickling her nose as a cool breeze rolled by.

As soon as the corner was cleared, they were in a medium-sized, festive green field. Multicolored awnings covering stalls was the first thing she noticed, then children of various heights running around merrily. There was a bearded man with a banjo and a microphone singing in the center of the field, elderly people milling around and haggling prices. Lungs filled with lovely early April air, she hooked a finger in the belt loop of Jimin’s blue jeans, tugging him forward excitedly. With a canine whimper of surprise, he stumbled after her.

Y/N made a beeline for the first stall she saw– one that sold windchimes that made beautiful trilling sounds. Before she could get too carried away, she visually located everyone else; Taehyung and Yoongi were watching the performer, the former taking a photo of the show. Jeongguk and Namjoon had managed to find the only booth that sold crystals and occult oddities, while Hoseok and Seokjin appeared to be making a lap around the field before lingering anywhere in particular.

“Oh, look, Y/N! This one is made from driftwood and seaglass. Since our town is by the ocean, don’t you think this would look nice on the patio?” Jimin pointed to a wind chime hanging from one of the poles of the tent they were under, the seaglass pretty shades of aqua and jade. 

“It’s gorgeous, should we get it?”

“I think so. This one, too, is really nice. Looks old-timey, like our house,” Jimin gestured to another piece with fragile looking cloudy glass.

“That one there I made from recycled glass bottles from the Victorian era. I found the bottles around my property and thought I could repurpose them,” the middle-aged woman who ran the booth explained to them with a proud smile, folding her work-roughened hands on the table in front of her. 

“It’s beautiful. We live in a Victorian, it would look perfect on our front porch,” Y/N ran her finger over the hanging glass pieces to hear how it sounded: clear and pure. “Can we take both, please?”

“I’ll wrap them up while you two enjoy the other booths, thank you!” The woman began taking the two wind chimes down, Y/N reaching for Jimin’s calloused hand so they could continue taking in the sights.

“Did you notice Namjoon has already picked up a mini cherry pie?” Jimin snorted, Y/N able to easily find Namjoon in the throngs of people because of his taller-than-average height. 

Namjoon must have heard his name across the field, because his head whipped around, a pie in his hand and jam smeared over his thick lips. Shushing Jimin’s giggles while trying to suppress her own, she dragged the coyote hybrid to the next few stalls. She picked up knicknacks here and there, as well as some veggies to cook up for dinner.

The last booth they visited before sitting on the grass to enjoy some of the folk performance was filled with the kind of potted plants they were looking for. The farmer informed them that the flowers could be delivered to their home, which saved Jimin from having to haul them back to the SUV.

“He has such a nice voice,” Jimin commented, a note of jealousy coloring his tone. Y/N nudged him with her shoulder, crossing her legs and feeling grass tickle her bare ankles.

“I’m sure your voice is nicer, Jimin. I mean, your speaking voice is melodic and pretty, why wouldn’t it be?” Y/N cocked her head, wondering if he ever sang around a campfire with his friends on the ranch or if she was stereotyping ranchers.

“You flatter me,” Jimin whispered into her ear, the hybrid’s face peach pink. “I guess I can carry a tune.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime, huh? Yoongi can accompany you,” Y/N grinned, Jimin raking his fingers through his blonde hair. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing. Even if I am serious.”

Moments blended into one another, her and Jimin enjoying a container of cut fruit together, his bushy tail occasionally batting her lower back when he’d hear new noises like a child squealing or cars passing by. Y/N took a moment to study Jimin’s side profile while he was occupied by the show. 

Jimin’s easygoing nature set her at ease completely. There was something about feeling so safe around him, in a different way from Namjoon. Namjoon was intense, territorial, and physically protective, which was certainly comforting to have, particularly in dangerous situations. However, Jimin was more quietly protective, which was due to his abundance of empathy. If one needed to be comforted, Jimin knew exactly how to do it.

“Hey, Jimin,” Y/N tugged on his cargo jacket sleeve, capturing his attention with a curious flop to his ear. “Thank you for keeping me sane these past few days. For staying so upbeat. Don’t think it hasn’t gone unnoticed by me. It’s okay to be nervous about everything in front of me, too, you don’t have to hide your feelings.”

Jimin stared at her with his alarmingly vibrant eyes, processing her words. Usually, Jimin was easy to read, but not at that moment. Sighing with a tiny smile, he picked up one of Y/N’s hands, patting the back of it.

“My dad always told me that worrying about something before it happens is to suffer twice. I know we’re in capable hands with Ben, and I know that you’ll do anything in your power to keep us out of harm’s way, Y/N. I’m not worried because I know we aren’t going anywhere. I can feel it. As for staying ‘upbeat’...”

Jimin’s gaze shifted around the farmer’s market, locating each of the hybrids he lived with, occupied with looking at various wares of their choosing. Free.

“All we ever wanna do is make you smile, Y/N. Make you as happy as you’ve made us.”

“Hey, you. What are you thinking about that has you in a catatonic state?” Jeongguk was annoyingly snapping his fingers in Y/N’s face, Y/N catching one of his fingers in her grasp with narrowed eyes. A zodiac symbol was tattooed on one of the knuckles. 

“Yoongi’s chili,” Y/N fibbed, when actually she had Jimin’s voice bouncing around in her skull. She was still trying to dissect the moment shared with him– was the tenderness in his voice something she made up, or did Jimin sound… lovestruck? “Why do you have this sign tattooed on your knuckle? You’re a Virgo.”

“I have all of the zodiac signs somewhere on my hands or arms. They all have their uses,” Jeongguk leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the van’s breakfast table. “When do you think we can get started on this investigation?”

“As soon as I get an update from Ben about you-know-what, I’ll take that as a green light to focus on this fully,” Y/N gestured to the packet of handwritten notes Namjoon gave her. Speaking of the devil, he rested his hip against the kitchenette counter, waiting patiently to start a productive conversation about the building and its history. “Joonie, wanna give me a run-down on the bed and breakfast’s past?”

Straightening out importantly, Namjoon rolled up the sleeves to his thin button down. 

“The property is on Beacon Hill in Boston, facing the Boston Common. It belonged to a member of an elite class at the time– a Boston Brahmin– by the name of George Parkman, hence the name of the building. He was a successful surgeon that graduated from Harvard, and used his skills around Massachusetts during the War of 1812.

But, the guy ended up being murdered. He went missing one afternoon while he was collecting debts in 1849. A Harvard professor by the name of John White Webster killed Parkman in a lab, dismembered the body, and incinerated the body in a furnace. What’s interesting about the trial, however, is that it was the first trial to use dental records and forensics to make a conviction.”

“Jesus,” Y/N gritted her teeth at the gruesome details, but was also very attracted to Namjoon’s intelligence. “So Parkman wasn’t murdered in his home, but in a lab at Harvard?”

“Yeah, but apparently the poor bastard haunts his old house. Spirits work in mysterious ways. To be murdered so brutally and abruptly, sometimes human spirits don’t even know they’re dead. That could be the case, here,” Jeongguk picked his nails, lip ring sucked into his mouth.

“So, you’re not getting any demonic vibes?” Namjoon drawled sarcastically, his sharpened canines flashing. 

“Well, no. Not from what we’ve gathered so far. This could be just a simple haunting, maybe Parkman’s just agitated and confused as to why there are so many random people in his house, if he doesn’t know he’s dead yet. Judy’s email mentioned the manager brought in a quack group of investigators that stirred shit up. They probably instigated Parkman into being even angrier, which caused the uptick in activity. Just my guess, though. I’d have to physically be there to feel it out,” Jeongguk responded calmly, itching around his new antlers beginning to grow. 

“Didn’t you instigate at the Sanders’?” Namjoon probed further, Jeongguk rolling his eyes to the sky. 

“That was different, that was a demonic haunting. Provoking human spirits is just sad and pathetic. Usually you can get rid of them or help them out with simple EVP,” Jeongguk enunciated like he was talking to a five-year-old. Y/N counted it as a miracle Namjoon hadn’t knocked Jeongguk’s block off yet. 

“Was there anything else that was reported besides the apparition of George Parkman, Y/N?” Namjoon ignored Jeongguk, his teeth drawing beads of blood to his lower lip so he wouldn’t say something uncouth to the elk hybrid. 

“Not that Judy mentioned in her email, just general hostile and creepy energy. Jeongguk is probably right, the spirit of Parkman may just be angry that he was provoked. I don’t think we’ll have to return as many times as we did with the Sanders’ case, unless there are surprises waiting for us.”

“It is a pretty large building, though. It might be easier if we split up, during the investigation,” Jeongguk pointed out. 

“That’s fine–”

“No.”

Y/N and Namjoon spoke at the same time, the wolf hybrid firmly cutting her off with immediate disagreement. That familiar, calculative glint in Namjoon’s eyes hardened his softer features, Y/N’s mouth drying up.

“Would you rather be there for six hours, or three, wolf? There’s one of us for each floor.”

“Would you rather get socked in the face when I have to carry Y/N out of the building god forbid something unpredictable happens, or stay together the whole time? This isn’t up for discussion. We won’t split up.”

“Wasn’t aware this was a dictatorship, not a democracy,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath, but did not argue with Namjoon any further. Namjoon’s stern, unquestionable dominance had Y/N squirming in her seat. “Whatever, we’ll stay together. Lighten up, wolf. Where’s that thing we got at the market this morning?”

Namjoon’s jaw slowly began to unclench, reaching backwards for a little bag behind him on the kitchenette. Gingerly, he dumped the contents of the bag on the table in front of Y/N and Jeongguk, the elk hybrid moving his combat boots off the surface and sitting up straight. The receipt fluttered to the carpeted floor, and whatever was in the bag made a clattering noise then it hit the table. Vision focusing, Y/N stared at the items with confusion. 

In front of her were three antique rings, all identical. Made of dark, pounded silver, each ring had a rough-hewn green stone set in the center. Picking one up, Y/N looked closely, the window beside her illuminating the green stone and making it shimmer. 

“Peridot rings. They’re supposed to be especially protective around spirits. The woman at the farmer’s market recommended them,” Namjoon went from predator to sweetheart in a matter of seconds, the tips of his ears turning red. “One for each of us.”

“Matching rings! Cute!” Y/N couldn’t help herself, sliding the ring on the fourth finger of her right hand. “So pretty. And functional! Thank you guys, this is really sweet.”

Swallowing back laughter at the sight of the two of them, ears turned back in embarrassment while they put their own rings on, they copied her by wearing them on the same finger. Y/N froze while she was admiring the rings on their fingers– Jeongguk had her sun sign tattooed on the very same digit. Struck again by the cosmic connection she had to each hybrid of hers, Y/N twisted the ring around her finger a few times, clearing her throat. 

“Okay, so should we start making a list of things we gotta bring to this investigation?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?” Yoongi watched Y/N carefully as she mixed up 8 different cocktails that night, one that was unique to each individual in the house. His tail was flicking back and forth in sharp shapes, something it did when he was on the edge of disapproval. 

“No, I took some time off this week. You can probably guess why,” Y/N replied, sliding his cocktail across the island for him: Hennessy, soda water, and a lemon slice. “We might as well cheers.”

“Hell yeah!” Hoseok waltzed in doing a moonwalk, fresh from the shower. His auburn hair appeared even darker red when it was wet, flashing Y/N a grin when he located his simple rum-and-coke. “Nothing like getting hammered while waiting for a shoe to drop!”

“I wish you’d grow a filter,” Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, Y/N not caring in the slightest. She liked that Hoseok said whatever popped into his mind. “Where is everyone?”

“Probably upstairs. You didn’t check your phone? I suggested a game night in the billiard’s room. We can play pool, I set up the card table for poker, I even have Candy Land. There’s darts, too, but I don’t know if I trust Jeongguk not to throw one at Hoseok.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Hoseok took a hearty swig of his cocktail, pushing up the sleeves of his dark green crewneck sweatshirt. “Goth Bambi~”

Hoseok sang off-key, scampering from the bar cart and dashing up the stairs to push Jeongguk’s buttons. Shaking her head, Y/N started loading up a tray with the drinks, and a separate one with bottles in case anyone wanted a top-off. 

“Can you get the bottles, angel?” Y/N’s voice was strained, trying extremely hard not to spill the six cocktails balanced on the tray in her arms. Easily, Yoongi scooped it up, Y/N envious of his hybrid strength and feline grace. “Show off.”

The billiard’s room was connected to the music room via a ‘secret door’, one that was disguised as a bookshelf. The door was closed more often than not to keep everything sufficiently soundproof while the piano was being played or Taehyung had the turntable going. With the bookcase open, going from room to room was a breeze. Navigating into the area carefully, the thick scent of leather invaded her nostrils, thanks to the massive sofas lining the room. It was a large space, about the size of the kitchen directly below it, filled with tabletop games, card tables, a minibar, and a TV that her cousins used to use for sports games.

“If he calls me Goth Bambi one more time,” Jeongguk approached her quickly, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and swiped his gin and tonic from the tray. 

Y/N told him it was the only room in the house he could smoke in, as long as the windows were cracked. After all, her grandfather had a shelf of cigars in the corner he used to smoke and show off to his friends, back in the day. It would be a shame for him not to use the vintage ashtrays and table lighters. 

“Play nice,” Y/N warned, placing Seokjin’s chilled glass of white wine near the pool table, where Yoongi was showing him how to set up the balls. “Give this to Joon, okay?”

Handing Jeongguk a small tumbler of whiskey, identical to the one she poured for Jimin, Jeongguk scoffed and returned to Namjoon, who was inquisitively staring at the poker table. Over the past few months, Namjoon was able to steadily increase his tolerance for alcohol, and found that he liked the same whiskey as the coyote hybrid the most. The shared preference made her smile. 

She left the remaining two drinks– Jimin’s whiskey and Taehyung’s glass of Cabernet– on the minibar. The former was still in the shower after a long afternoon of exercising the horses, and the latter, last Y/N heard from him, was wrapping up something in his darkroom. Y/N still wasn’t sure that he’d accept her ‘game night’ invitation, but because he hadn’t been hiding away lately, she let herself get her hopes up carelessly. 

When Jimin and Taehyung ended up traipsing in, both of them appeared shocked by the rowdiness. Not that anyone was drunk yet, but everyone felt like it was okay to let loose made for a merry atmosphere. Y/N recruited Jimin to be on her team playing pool against Seokjin and Yoongi, which was sort of evil of her considering Jimin had once told her he used to hustle people at pool halls in Montana. Seokjin and Yoongi didn’t have to know that, though. 

Taehyung took up the task of going back and forth to the music room to switch out records when they ran out. To Y/N’s hazy surprise, it seemed like he was actually bartending, too, which had her feeling like she should check outside to see if pigs were soaring through the air. Either that, or he was trying to liquor everyone up so the other hybrids wouldn’t be so stiff around him. 

At the other end of the game room, Namjoon, Jeongguk, and Hoseok were caught in the middle of an intense darts battle. Hoseok’s shouts mingled with Jeongguk’s, and the more liquor the two of them consumed, the louder they got. Y/N wasn’t worried about an actual fight breaking out, considering Hoseok would win one round, and then Jeongguk would win the next– it was only poor Namjoon who failed to win a single round due to either his clumsiness or poor aim. He tapped out after the fourth round in favor of watching the game of pool, which was much less intense but still entertaining to witness. 

“Wow, you guys suck,” Yoongi took a sip of his drink, pointing his pool cue at Jimin and Y/N, Y/N stepping on Jimin’s foot after their third loss. Time to reveal the hustler.

“Ugh. Maybe it’s just me. Joonie, jump in for me? I wanna get some fresh air, it’s hot in here.”

Namjoon stood, wobbling on his feet a little, tossing back the last of his whiskey before surprisingly accepting the pool cue from Y/N. 

“But I’ve never played,” Namjoon muttered, mystified when Jimin offered cue chalk to him. 

“You’ll catch on. Aren’t you some kind of genius?” Yoongi raised a brow, Seokjin’s squeaky laugh sounding on the tipsy side.

 Namjoon huffed, embarrassed, Y/N walking past Taehyung who was shuffling a deck of cards, and Jeongguk refilling his drink. The only one unaccounted for was Hoseok, who Y/N assumed was in the bathroom. Humming, she ambled down the hall to one of the bedrooms that didn’t belong to one of the boys in search of a balcony to sneak a cigarette on. Not that she’d be able to hide the scent, but she’d handle that later.

Finding the creamsicle orange unclaimed bedroom, the space smelling like fresh paint still, Y/N stumbled when she saw that the balcony door was open already, someone standing outside and leaning over the railing on their forearms. Eyes adjusting, she studied the shape of the ears protruding from the figure’s crown, an eyebrow lifting.

“What are you doing out here, social butterfly? Battery drained?” Y/N stepped out onto the balcony, Hoseok’s fluffy auburn hair finally dried. 

“No, no. Just licking my wounds,” Hoseok kept his gaze on the moon, his nose twitching when Y/N stood close to him. “Jeongguk kicked my ass at darts.”

“Sorry to hear. That’ll give him a chip on his shoulder,” Y/N snickered, the fox hybrid’s shoulders shaking but his usual boisterous laugh inaudible. “Is something up? You’re quiet.”

“Nah, it’s nothing, darling.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, Foxy.”

“Shit doesn’t get by you, huh?” Hoseok shook his head, swirling the remnants of his rum-and-coke around in his glass contemplatively. “Jus’ thinking about that guy.”

“What guy–” Y/N was confused for a moment, but the look on Hoseok’s face had it all flooding back. “Oh. Harold Bass.”

“Yeah, him or whatever. I try to keep it outta sight outta mind, but I don’t know. I guess I have some abandonment issues to sort out, or whatever you call it.”

“That’s understandable,” Y/N responded softly, her heart breaking. “I’m sorry this is happening, honey. I wish I could just make it go away.”

“I know you do,” Hoseok sighed, bumping his hip against hers. “I mean, this situation sucks, but it’s bringing back shit I should probably get to the root of.”

“What do you mean? If you don’t mind sharing, of course,” Y/N asked, forgetting all about a cigarette. “You can use me as a sounding board, if you want.”

Hoseok managed a chuckle, ruffling Y/N’s hair like she was a little kid. 

“Back when I was young, that wolf hybrid ruined a potential adoption for me. Remember when I told you that?”

“Uh-huh. Fucker.”

“Pretty much,” Hoseok agreed, draining the rest of his glass. “I guess that sort of changed how I look at adoptions afterwards. From then on, I’d ruin every adoption attempt for myself on purpose. I just didn’t want… how do I put this. I think I didn’t want to accept the possibility that I could be adopted and then discarded. That shit happens all the time to fox hybrids, most people don’t trust them. So I wanted to eliminate that possibility entirely.”

Hoseok took a breath, eyes still on the moon. Y/N just listened, the way Hoseok’s jaw was pulsing told her he wasn’t quite finished. 

“But when you adopted me, I couldn’t do anything about it. Gerry’s wasn’t like a normal shelter, there were no interviews or meetings beforehand, and besides, I was shifted,” Hoseok seemingly braced himself, gripping the balcony’s ledge. “Part of me was relieved because you seemed harmless, but another part of me was wondering if you would break my heart. I prepared for the worst– that you’d dump me back at that shelter after a few days, once you reality sunk in and you didn’t like my personality. I don’t know. All this stuff is just coming back.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. Hoseok grimaced, tapping his fingers along the balcony railing, his muscles taut when Y/N slipped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. The fabric of his sweatshirt was saturated with his woodsy, natural scent, Y/N nearly purring when she breathed it in. The fox hybrid relaxed, Y/N feeling his tail brush between her legs, and she looked up at the moon with him. 

“Even if I didn’t love your personality, which I do love, I wouldn’t have brought you back there. But I understand why your mind went there. Years of thinking a certain way can be tricky to let go of,” Y/N squeezed his trim waist, still focused on the moon. “But let’s start here. I won’t abandon you, not ever. When your thoughts go in that direction, remember that simple truth.”

There was silence, nothing but the wind blowing through the willow branches in the backyard. Hoseok exhaled shakily, his throat clogging up when he tried to formulate a response. Never quite at a loss for words, Hoseok’s voice came out as a rasp.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I think you’re sort of like my favorite person ever.”

Hoseok internally cringed, unable to believe that was the best he could come up with, managing to peel his back from Y/N’s chest and turn to face her sheepishly. There was a look of surprise that flashed across her features before she recovered smoothly, poking the crater above the corner of his mouth.

“I think you’re sort of like my favorite fox hybrid ever, Hoseok. No, actually, I know you are, sunshine,” Y/N captured his hand, tangling their fingers together. Hoseok had an odd fluttering sensation in his gut, Y/N tugging him back towards the house. “Hey. You ever play poker?”

“Huh?” Hoseok spluttered, the change in subject taking him off guard though not particularly in an unwelcome way. “You gonna teach me?”

“I’ll show you a few tricks. You gotta get back at Jeongguk, after all.”

Hoseok realized quickly what Y/N was doing– cheerily letting things go so he wouldn’t wallow for the rest of the night. Hoseok didn’t like to beat dead horses, preferring to bounce back as quickly as he could. A part of him wondered if Y/N had figured that out about him, and was attempting to prevent him from standing on a metaphorical ledge. Tightening his hold on her small hand in his, Hoseok let her lead him into the light.

“Clever girl,” Hoseok praised, smirking at the way Y/N stumbled over her own feet. “You deal. I don’t trust him to shuffle correctly.”

 “I can’t believe this thing works,” Y/N muttered, sliding bottle of water after bottle into the vintage minifridge. 

The morning after game night, she decided to stock up the guest house for anything her and Seokjin might… need. She started with the obvious; snacks and drinks, comfortable bedding, towels and whatnot. Y/N didn’t know where to go from there, once all of Seokjin’s favorite snacks were in place, worrying her lower lip when she sunk down onto the loveseat across from the kitchenette. Too shy to ask Seokjin for any additional information about his rut, Y/N turned to the internet instead. Her main concern was somehow letting Seokjin down– whether it was her being unable to keep up with him, or not knowing enough about being able to take care of him. 

“Ugh, Reddit. Staying away from those mouth breathers,” Y/N scoffed to herself, scrolling through her cursory Google search of ‘hybrid ruts with human partners’. Y/N clicked on a link, gnawing on her nails as the page loaded. “Medical journal. Promising.”

Ruts or heats are a natural cycle that all hybrids experience when they reach sexual maturity. For years, the cycle can be managed by the hybrid alone, but this can change when a hybrid has a romantic partner, and drastically change if they claim a mate. 

For hybrids that choose to spend a cycle with a partner that’s a human, a few things need to be considered by that human. First, contacting their doctor for supplements is essential. Supplements provided will ensure the human gets enough vitamins, increase their stamina, and trigger similar symptoms that their hybrid counterpart experiences during their cycle. These supplements should be taken for two weeks prior to the hybrid’s cycle. 

It is important for the human to remember that ruts or heats heighten animalistic instinct in a hybrid. The purpose of the cycle is to breed or be bred, and the hybrid will attempt to do so successfully. Of course, when birth control is used, this can be avoided– but nonetheless, the baser instincts of the hybrid will think of nothing but reproduction. Humans should make sure they are using birth control during the cycle if pregnancy is undesired. 

The cycle will heighten the temperature of the hybrid’s blood, so they may appear feverish, much like when they need to scent. This is normal and not something to be concerned about. Having plenty of ventilation in the room is necessary, as is enough water or electrolyte drinks. Items that bring your hybrid comfort are recommended to have around the area, such as blankets, sentimental objects, or their favorite movies. 

Finally, limit interruptions if possible. While the purpose of the cycle is reproduction, it is a deeply intimate time to the hybrid. Their partner is the only thing that matters to them, and interaction with others could warrant possessive and even dangerous behavior towards the person who interrupts. Privacy is a priority to most hybrids, so make arrangements to avoid interruption. 

“Sweet Jesus,” Y/N’s heart was racing, still processing the words ‘breed or be bred’. 

On top of that, it would be somewhat of an awkward conversation to have with her doctor to get the supplements, but she’d have to get them right away. Seokjin’s rut was fast approaching, and she only had about three weeks to fill the prescription and begin to take them. However, the thought of the supplements augmenting her stamina to keep up with Seokjin was immediately comforting. 

Thinking she did all she could at the moment, Y/N called her doctor as she headed back towards the house, focusing on admiring the dandelions studding the grass rather than the odd conversation about the supplements. The kitchen was eerily empty, Y/N growing suspicious until she remembered her dad swung by earlier to take the boys to their dental appointments. With a sigh, she prayed to the sky none of them had any issues with their teeth, wondering how to keep herself entertained until everyone was home.

Deciding to do some housework, Y/N hauled her ass upstairs to throw a load of laundry in. However, when she got to the top of the stairs, she paused by Taehyung’s dark room. There was a large stack of frames wrapped in paper, Y/N able to tell that they were the portraits Taehyung took months ago. He must have been able to take them home for Y/N, which she had begged him to many times. Reflecting on what exactly made him want to bring them home then, she abandoned her quest to put laundry away in Jeongguk’s room in favor of a quick DIY project. 

“Where the fuck did I put that hammer?” Y/N sucked in her cheeks, rummaging around in the supply closet for what she needed. Cursing again when she bumped her hip against a step ladder, she shook off the pain and located a box of nails on the shelf. Singing a tune, Y/N methodically unwrapped the portraits, grinning at the one of Jimin. “Oh, he’s so cute.”

Luckily, she remembered the order that Taehyung had originally arranged the photographs during the particular expo he displayed them, so she decided to copy his vision and hang them that way. The wall in between the music room and the dark room was large enough for her to put all nine of the frames, so she started mapping out the spots with a stray pencil. With a grunt, she placed the picture of the house in the center, making sure it wasn’t crooked. Getting lost in the task, Y/N’s heart felt full as she admired the photos of her boys. When she was halfway through the process, the front door downstairs banged open, Y/N cringing.

“Motherfucker,” Y/N pictured Jeongguk blasting through the door like he always did, not giving a flying fuck about the antique stained glass. “I’m up here if anyone is looking!”

“I heard the ‘motherfucker’ remark,” Jeongguk, predictably, barreled up the stairs in his heavy combat boots. “Namjoon had a cavity. Can you stop filling him up on the pastries now?”

“Oh no, is he okay? Did he get it filled?” Y/N panicked, setting the portrait of Hoseok down urgently. 

“I’m fine,” Namjoon appeared on the stairs, rubbing his jaw with a slight pout. “Hurt.”

“Sorry, Joon Bug,” Y/N frowned, Jeongguk helping her out by hanging the portrait that was up high. “There’s Advil in my room if you need it.” Namjoon did, in fact, need it. He disappeared with a swish of a tail, Jeongguk snickering at him. 

“Need help screwing your piercings back in?” Y/N decided to test the waters and be bold, Jeongguk blinking stupidly as soon as the words left her mouth. Appearing like he was attempting to recover, Jeongguk cleared his throat, an eyebrow lifted. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jeongguk replied, crossing his inked arms over his chest. “I think I can manage myself, doll.”

“Suit yourself,” Y/N shrugged, going back to hanging Hoseok’s portrait on the wall. “I’ll be here in case you change your mind, Bambi.”

“You–” Jeongguk spluttered, taken aback by her blatant, flirtatious banter. “You know what? Fine. Gonna shower, see you at dinner.”

“Mm-hmm…”

Hearing him stalk away, a nail in her mouth, Y/N smirked to herself. Maybe her game wasn’t so bad after all.

“Oh, you’re–” A new voice met her ears, Y/N peering over her shoulder curiously. Not that she had to guess who was speaking, his voice distinct and instantly recognizable to her. “You’re putting them up? Here?”

Taehyung, in an oversized jean jacket and cargo pants, was gawking at the photographs, wringing his hands together. His hair was so curly and wild that afternoon that it completely disguised his rounded ears. 

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me you brought these home! I was so excited to see them when I came up here to do laundry,” Y/N hung up the last portrait, Jimin’s, and fondly ran her fingers over the curves of the coyote hybrid’s face. “Is the spot I chose okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Taehyung approached her slowly, like he was approaching a crocodile or something. “You put them up like I did.”

“Uh-huh. I think I got the order right, but feel free to correct me. Ah, they look so good. I love these so much,” Y/N gushed, unthinkingly passing her hand over Taehyung’s back. He didn’t flinch away, thankfully, but he was blinking rapidly at the contact. “My handsome boys… ugh, it looks perfect. New favorite part of the house.”

“You like them that much?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not?” Y/N snorted, booping Namjoon’s nose through the glass frame. “You’re talented, Tae. Besides, these pictures are all of the important people in my life. There was a reason I was begging you to bring these home for months.”

Taehyung was staring at her analytically, his straight eyelashes brushing his cheekbone. Y/N didn’t notice that he was staring, however, too busy admiring the portraits. His heart ached when he realized that Y/N actually remembered how he hung the frames at the Christmas expo, and took enough care to replicate it on their wall at home.  

“Sorry I didn’t bring them home sooner, Y/N,” Taehyung murmured, finally snagging her attention when he called her name. “Thank you for putting them up.”

“Ah, don’t apologize. Just promise me you’ll always bring your pieces home so I can display them,” Y/N glanced up at him, struck by how beautiful he was all of a sudden. She missed him. 

“Okay, I promise,” Taehyung whispered, using an index finger to cross over his heart. The action was playful, in stark contrast to the morose way he had been carrying himself for weeks. Patting his back once more, Y/N scooped up the nails and hammer to shove back into the supply closet. 

“Y/N, I can’t find the Advil,” Namjoon shouted from downstairs, a slight whine in his voice. 

“Be down in a second, Bug,” Y/N snorted, picturing his frustrated pout. “What do you feel like for dinner, Tae?”

“You’re asking me?” Taehyung was confused, adjusting the collar of his flannel nervously. 

“Well, yeah. You want some takeout? Or anything in particular I can make?” 

“Um… Thai food?” Taehyung spoke very slowly, Y/N cocking her head curiously. 

“Do you want Thai food or are you just suggesting it because it’s my favorite, Tae?” Y/N teased, surprise flashing over his face. 

“No, no, I like it too! I swear!” Taehyung put his hands up, Y/N giggling at his defense. “Or if nobody wants that… Korean food?”

“Let’s go with that. I could definitely tear up some kimchi jjigae,” Y/N cheered, somehow knowing that that was what Taehyung really wanted. “Alright, honey. I’m gonna help Namjoon hunt for the Advil. Text me what you want from the restaurant, okay?”

Taehyung didn’t answer verbally, simply nodding– and for some reason– looking her up and down like he was trying to memorize her figure. Flashing him a smile, Y/N waved cheerily as she raced down the stairs. 

“I swear I looked here,” Namjoon complained, his ears flat when Y/N pulled the bottle of pills out of her medicine cabinet. He was still rubbing his jaw, Y/N fighting back a coo at the sight of him. 

“It was sort of hidden behind the jar of cotton balls. No worries, Bug. Just take two of those!” 

“Two?”

“Yeah, Joonie. You’re a big guy, you gotta take two,” Y/N chuckled, filling a paper cup with water for him. Y/N wasn’t exactly how tall Namjoon was, but he had to be at least six foot four. Hybrids tended to be taller than humans anyways, but Namjoon’s height was still startling from time to time. 

“I’m trusting you not to poison me,” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, apparently cracking a joke. She watched him through the mirror toss the pills back, following the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. 

“Why would I poison you? You’re too precious to me, silly,” Y/N grouched, poking him repeatedly on his sweater-clad chest. The wolf hybrid caught her wrist after the third poke, his amber eyes burning. 

“You mean that?” He asked quietly, thumb brushing over her wrist bone. With a tiny intake of air, Y/N smiled at Namjoon gently, curling her fingers around his thumb. Y/N knew that Namjoon, as a wolf hybrid, needed consistent reassurances of loyalty, and whenever he got it, he both glowed and became unsure.

“I mean it, of course I mean it. Come on, Bug. I’ll make you an ice pack, you keep rubbing your jaw,” Y/N squeezed his thumb, and the intense desire to kiss him had her shoving down the sensation aggressively. “How’s japchae sounding to you tonight?”

“You’re ordering from Haju? Uh… I want to try the knife cut noodles,” Namjoon brightened up, letting Y/N drag him along by his thumb. 

“You can order anything you want, that’s our policy in this house,” Y/N pushed him onto a barstool in the kitchen, blowing a kiss to Yoongi making tea on the stove. “Angel, do you know where that fabric ice pack went? Joon had a cavity, I think he should ice his jaw.”

“Third drawer to the left of the stove, baby,” Yoongi responded without looking up from the kettle he was standing over, instantly beginning to purr when Y/N pressed a kiss on the nape of his neck. “Take it easy on the sweets from now on, wolf.”

Namjoon snarled, hair on his tail standing on edge, though his fingertips were inching towards the cookie jar on the island, so Yoongi was correct to warn him. 

“I wouldn’t do that, Joonie. Wait a few days to have sweets–” Y/N began, handing him the ice pack before her speech was cut off by her phone ringing in her pocket. The caller ID showed that it was Ben, which had her pulse galloping. “Oh. One sec.”

“Ben, hi. You’re on speaker, Yoongi and Namjoon are here,” Y/N swallowed thickly, praying for some good news. Namjoon was frozen in his seat, the ice pack pressed to his jaw, while Yoongi shakily poured himself a mug of tea. “Um. Any news?”

“Hey, guys. I’m sorry, this man is a fuckin’ prick.”

“Oh, great. What the fuck did he do?” Y/N put her head in her hands, Yoongi petting the back of her head gingerly. 

“Even with the restraining order, he still wants to take you to court. Y/N, I don’t want you to worry. He cannot take your hybrids. If anything, if his lawyer miraculously ends up being better than me, you might have to pay him what he gave Gerry for the deposits. Oh, and when this blows over, I can help you sue Gerry for giving up private information,” Ben sounded like he was furiously taking notes on the other line, though his tone was soothing. 

“R-really? You’re certain he can’t take them?”

“I’m positive. The only way that would be possible would be if his ‘deposit’ was more than what you paid to adopt them, and even then, the chances would be slim to zero. The jury would be in your favor, Y/N.”

“Ben, you’re not sugar coating things for me, are you?” Y/N leaned into Yoongi, his sweet cologne curling around her. 

“No, and you know I’d never. Not about something like this. Listen, Y/N, Yoongi, Namjoon– you’ll be perfectly safe. I’m gonna give that prick the fight of his life, if you don’t kill him first, Y/N,” Ben replied, the prickly sound of him scratching his beard coming through the receiver, before adding quickly– “Not that I’m encouraging that, Y/N. Stay as far away from him as you can.”

“Of course. We’ve been sticking close to home,” Y/N felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, even Yoongi relaxing beside her, his ever-constant purring resuming. “Thanks for everything, Ben. I love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Take care of each other, alright? I’ll call you when I have an update.”

Breathing out slowly, Y/N pet the back of Yoongi’s head when she hung up. 

“That’s good news. We’ll be okay,” Y/N said encouragingly, Yoongi melting into her touch. “I’m gonna order some dinner, then we can pick out a movie or something. Maybe have another poker tournament. I don’t know, I feel like we should celebrate.”

“One step closer to getting that motherfucker out of our lives,” Yoongi agreed, glaring at Namjoon when the wolf hybrid tried to get himself a cookie again. “I wish I could kill him.”

“Me too, but alas,” Y/N sighed, wagging her finger at Namjoon. “Joon, I’m serious. Cool it with the cookies for a few days.”

“What were you doing upstairs? I heard loud banging,” Yoongi changed the subject while Y/N began compiling an online order of an ungodly amount of Korean food. 

“Oh, I put up Tae’s pictures. You know, the portraits of all of us. I’m so happy, they look beautiful…” Y/N answered distractedly, Yoongi’s tail winding around her leg. “Hmm. You think Seokjin would want naengmyeon? I think he’d like that… he did tell me once he’d try anything… but yeah! Check out the pictures when you can. All of my beautiful boys.”

Distantly, she heard Namjoon grunt, and when she cast a look at him, his face was rather flushed and he was gawking at the window into the backyard. He was always rather bashful with compliments, something that endeared him to her. 

“Can you get me bulgogi? Please,” Hoseok made an appearance, drawing out the syllables of his words. “My gums hurt. I think the tech scraped them too hard.”

“At least you didn’t have a drill in your mouth,” Namjoon responded to Hoseok’s complaint bitterly, and to Hoseok’s credit, he managed a merry laugh. It seemed like, those days, Hoseok wasn’t intimidated by Namjoon any more. Leave it to a stressful situation to bring everyone together. 

“You’re very brave, wolf,” Yoongi drawled, sipping his tea placidly. 

“I missed you guys so much today,” Y/N snorted, the lack of their banter during the afternoon striking her all of a sudden. Hoseok, on his way to the fridge, pinched her cheek like an elderly aunt, Y/N rolling her eyes. When she turned, she noticed Taehyung distractedly organizing items on the coffee bar, staring at her strangely again. She decided she’d take that over him avoiding her any day, adding the stew he wanted to the order and getting him extra rice. 

Taehyung was pacing around his room like a madman. If it went on for much longer, he could see the floorboards taking on impressions of his footprints. Stopping by the window, he froze when he saw Y/N ambling in the direction of the pond in the backyard, where the guesthouse was. While no one explicitly said anything, all the hybrids knew– it was all in Seokjin’s scent. Y/N was probably preparing that space for the two of them to get privacy during the jaguar hybrid’s rut. Taehyung would be a liar if he didn’t admit he was nearly boiling alive in his own jealousy. 

“Look at her. Hauling heavy shit out there all by herself,” Taehyung rested his forehead on the cool glass pane, biting down on his lip when she stumbled over a stray stone, almost dropping the space heater she was carrying. 

Taehyung realized a simple truth. Y/N loved them all, he knew it. He knew it, but he had been too terrified to confront her about it, to confirm whether or not she loved him like he had grown to love her. Cursing, Taehyung sprung into action when Y/N tripped again, this time sending her into the grass. Like a bat out of hell, he sprinted down the stairs and out into the yard without a single thought, not aware that he could even move that fast. 

Y/N was still reeling in the grass, the space heater beside her, the fabric of her floral skirt fanning out around her. Her eyes widened when she saw Taehyung hurrying over to her, his chest heaving. 

“Y/N,” Taehyung crouched, pushing strands of hair in her face aside. Stiffening, he caught the scent of her blood, heart stopping dead in his chest as he looked her over. “You’re hurt!”

“...huh? Tae?” Y/N was confused, like the rock she had tripped over hit her on the head. Was she dreaming? Was Taehyung really the one running trembling hands over her body?

“Your leg,” Taehyung sounded pained, spotting a jagged cut on her shin. “Why didn’t you ask for help? Where is everybody?”

“The store… needed a few things. Joonie, Jeongguk…” Y/N, dazedly, pointed off to the distance, probably the driveway where the van was parked. Taehyung was too busy staring at the blood rolling down her leg. “I’m okay. I’ll get a bandaid after I bring this space heater to the–”

She was interrupted by Taehyung removing his red flannel, tearing strips of fabric from the bottom of it with his teeth. Blinking at his sharp canines, Y/N was sufficiently shut up, watching the Kodiak hybrid mop up her blood with a concentrated expression. His grip around her calf was tender, but Y/N could tell he was irritated with her as he tied the makeshift bandage around her leg. 

“Can you stand?” Taehyung caught her eyes, trying not to drown in the color of them. Based on her scent, Taehyung knew she could tell he was ticked. “Let me help you up. No, I’ll carry that to wherever you’re bringing it.”

Taehyung brought Y/N to her feet by hooking his hands under her armpits, her skirt fluttering in the wind as she held onto his shoulders for support. Gazing up at him, Taehyung noticed how easy it would be to lean down and kiss her. Clearing his throat, he released her, bending to scoop up the space heater. 

“O-oh. Thank you,” Y/N whispered, Taehyung able to hear how fast her heart was racing. It got his hopes up. 

“I’m assuming you wanna bring it there,” Taehyung gestured to the guest house by the pond, Y/N humming in agreement. “Seokjin’s rut coming up?”

“Ah– um. Yeah. I suppose it’s obvious, bringing all of these things out here,” Y/N said awkwardly, noting that Taehyung was slowing down his pace so she could keep up with him. Taehyung didn’t reply, letting Y/N open the door to the small building, the Kodiak hybrid strolling in and placing the space heater next to the loveseat. 

“It’s nice in here,” Taehyung offered, taking a good look around. Y/N had put all of Seokjin’s favorite comforts in the space, the jaguar hybrid’s scent coming heavily off of the fuzzy blankets, piles of his pajamas, and even the stuffed animal he often carried around. 

“Yeah, it is. I totally forgot this was such an awesome space. We can probably use it this summer to watch movies,” Y/N began to recover from her stumble, straightening out the stack of DVDs on the coffee table. “I think that’ll be fun. I’m looking forward to spending summer with you guys. We can make day trips to the beach.”

Taehyung made a lap of the circular room, peeking up at the loft where the bed was. Y/N kept rambling to fill the silence, which was making her somewhat nervous. 

“Plus we’ll have the garden in full bloom, so I can teach you all how to dry herbs. Jimin says he knows how to make jam, so he can pass that knowledge onto us, too. He’s been working so hard on the greenhouse and the garden beds, it’s going to be the best,” Y/N’s gaze was far away as she looked out the window, admiring the garden beds a few yards away. Taehyung caught that scent again– the syrupy sweet one that Y/N took on when she complimented them. 

“You must really love him,” Taehyung remarked quietly, referring to Jimin but his eyes on Seokjin’s stuffed alpaca. He wondered if Y/N would take the bait as she almost broke her neck to stare at him. 

“H-him? Seokjin?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung shook his head, finally mustering up his courage. “Seokjin too, obviously. But you love Jimin as well.”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, completely caught off guard. Taehyung’s confidence surged when she had no reply, taking a step closer to her. 

“How can you t-tell?” Dizzy, Y/N saw something vulnerable swimming in his carmine eyes, astonished that they were finally having the conversation the two of them were skirting around for weeks.

“Scent. The way you talk about him. The way you look at him,” Taehyung rattled off, ticking the items off on his lithe fingers. “And it’s not just him. You love Hoseok, especially when he teases you. You talk about Namjoon like he hung the moon and you love Jeongguk despite his poor attitude.”

Y/N was too shocked for words, her hands shaking, so Taehyung continued. 

“And it just makes me wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Y/N found her voice, Taehyung taking one of her hands gingerly. 

“It makes me wonder if there’s any space left in your heart,” Taehyung whispered, plunging straight into the deep end, wanting to swallow the gasp Y/N made. “Do you love me?”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, unaware they even gathered in the first place. Swiftly, Taehyung brushed it away, his thumb warm on her skin. 

“Tell me, please,” Taehyung begged, unable to bear not belonging to her for a single moment further. 

“I love you,” Y/N’s voice cracked, wrapping her hand around Taehyung’s wrist and leaning her cheek into his palm. “There’s always been space for you in my heart. Always. Tae–”

“You love me?”

“Yes, so much,” Y/N was shaking like a leaf, heart threatening to break free from its cage, and to calm herself down and reassure her Kodiak hybrid, she pressed a kiss to the base of his palm. “I’m so sorry you thought I didn’t know.”

With a shuddering breath, Taehyung shut his eyes, letting go of her face in favor of winding his arms around her waist. He pulled her so close, he thought their souls would merge, Y/N melting into his chest and clutching at his white tee shirt. Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, Taehyung drank in her scent, sweeter than ever since he confirmed the reciprocation of his feelings. 

“I’m sorry, Tae. It would have been easier for you if I was braver. I love you. I’ll tell you every day from now on,” Y/N babbled into his chest, not caring that it was difficult to breathe with the way Taehyung was squeezing her. 

The Kodiak hybrid’s ears were practically ringing, he was so elated. He never felt that way before, and it was entirely overwhelming. He couldn’t wait a second longer, so lifting her body easily, he pressed her to the window and crashed his lips down onto hers. 

A muffled noise of surprise passed from Y/N’s mouth to his, Y/N’s arms around Taehyung’s neck to hold on tight. Pinned to the wall by the hybrid, Y/N was consumed by him, surrounded by his sandalwood cologne, and tasting honey on his tongue when he slipped it into her mouth. It was like he was trying to eat her whole, his kisses rough and all-consuming, and Y/N loved it. Carding a hand through his curls, she whimpered when he sucked on her lower lip.

Taehyung couldn’t get enough. Now that he had kissed her, he didn’t know how he could go another day without one. When his lungs started to ache from lack of oxygen, he paused, their lips centimeters apart. When he opened his eyes, Y/N was already looking at him. Cupping one of his cheeks in her hand, Y/N kissed his forehead softly, and when she pulled away, Taehyung was smiling at her, teeth and all. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she saw it in all its glory, but she was delighted to see it once more. Taehyung wondered if he’d ever stop smiling when he ducked back down for another kiss. 

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

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[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

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

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 

"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 

" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early." 

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 

So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 

He shrugs, noncommittal. 

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?” 

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

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@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

[leclerced]

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

[bambikisss]

Congratulations :: Song Mingi + Choi San

🎶: One of the girls - The IDOL

📙: After debuting at number one for your 1st album, you decide to rent out a club to celebrate. While that was your idea of celebrating, your best friends San and Mingi have other ideas on how to

⚠: Honestly smut without plot, public, biting, anal, threesome, oral (m + f), nicknames (baby, beautiful, whore), riding, 69, multiple creampies

Bambi's notes: HI! I'm back from a break. I wanted to get back into the flow of writing, and I love a good Mingi/San fic, so here we are. Also, this is smut with a sprinkle of plot, <3

REBLOGS + COMMENTS ARE WELCOME AND ENCOURAGED

"And everyone, let's raise a glass to the woman who's album is already raking in 30 million dollars day of debut!" You smiled at the back of the club, raising your glass with everyone as they cheered for you, the red lights hitting your best friend who stood on stage. Your eyes moved over San's tough figure, his open suit jacket and loosely opened white button-up clung to him as he met your eyes, a smirk now on his lips as he said "To Y/N, may you rake in twice as much money next time so you can buy us all more drinks. Good Job, baby."

Everyone cheered at San's words, downing their drinks before they returned to dancing. You leaned back against the seat cushions and watched everyone enjoy the album release party. You had dropped your first album which your fans had been begging for, the album hitting number one on all music platforms and physical CDs already selling out, pre-orders racking up as well. To celebrate, you rented out a club for you and your guests to party and relax, as the album-making process wasn't easy. At least for you, anyway.

"You didn't have to do all of that, you know," You said as San slid back into the booth, a chuckle leaving his lips as he rested his head back against the cushion, already pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "You could've said something simple." "Why would I say something special when my best friend is number one all around the world tonight?" He chuckled, downing his drink easily. You rolled your eyes, your eyes landing on his eyes open chest as he chuckled. He was frankly too big for the shirt: his chest pecs were pushing away the fabric, giving you a view of his cross necklace that sat in between them, rising and falling in the club's red lights as he breathed, glimmering as if it wanted to draw your attention back constantly.

"I, for one, liked his speech" You turned to Mingi who slid back into the booth, the group of women he was dancing with leaving as he waved them away, turning back to you with a grin. He was now covered in kiss marks from the girl's lipstick-covered lips, their smudged kiss adoring his collarbone, neck, his cheek, and his chest. He smirked proudly as your eyes moved over them, chuckling out "Drink in in, Beautiful. The woman are crazy about me tonight." "You guys know that you're supposed to be celebrating me, right?" You asked playfully, taking a sip of your drink as Mingi moved to sit on one side of you. He placed his arm around the back of the seat, his fingers playing with your hair as he said "of course. Just how I celebrate things is different than this."

"Well then, how do you guys celebrate things?'' You asked, watching as both of your friends made eye contact across the table. San's eyes darkened slightly, the red lights adding shadows to his face as he moved closer to you. His hand landed on your thigh, smirking as he said "Well, we can show you…" Mingi smirked, agreeing as he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet before he placed a red card on the table in front of you. As you leaned forward to read the black ink on the card, your hair left your shoulders as Mingi's lips met your neck, San's hands moving up your sides.

IOU CARD: Good for anything as a replacement for a gift on a holiday

For Christmas a few years back, you had gifted both San and Mingi IOU cards as you couldn't afford to get them gifts at the time. However, when you did buy them gifts, you thought you had gotten them all back. Mingi must've held onto one. "Is the card good for this type of situation?" Mingi asked against your ear, his body blocking you from the view of everyone else in the club as he moved your face to meet his, San's hands moving down your sides to the bottom of your dress, pushing your legs apart. You felt like you were in a daze, Mingi smirking at your hooded eyes and parted lips. He repeated his question, his lips meeting your immediately when you nodded. When you had first gifted them the IOU cards, you didn't think they'd use them for this, but now that you had Mingi's tongue meeting yours and San's hands playing with your panties underneath the table while he watched, you weren't mad.

"You know, we could take you right here at this table, baby" San whispered into your ear, his chest now pressed against your back as you fully faced Mingi, your arms wrapping around his neck as you both made out. "Everyone here is so drunk and so focused on dancing that they won't even see us. How about I have you ride me, while you suck off Mingi, hmm?" San whispered his dirty thoughts into your ear, making you moan against Mingi's lips. The kiss heated up at that, Mingi smirked at the idea.

"I like that. Having tonight's special girl on the table, back against the table with my cock down her throat and you in between her legs, making a mess" You bit your lip at his words, your eyes slowly dragging down Mingi's body, landing on each of the kiss marks those women he was dancing with earlier left. San noticed your growing jealousy, his hands cupping your face to meet his as he asked "someone looks like she's jealous, isn't she?" San clicked his tongue, turning you to face Mingi once more as he pressed his cheek against yours. San was like the devil on your shoulder, his dark smirk showing off his dimples as he spoke to Mingi. "She's far too focused on all those kiss marks you have on you to feel good, man."

"Is that so?" Mingi asked, standing up from the booth to tower over where you were bent slightly due to San pushing you down a little with his chest. "Don't you wish these were from you, not them?" You felt your jealousy kicking into a higher gear, being egged on by San's words. You nodded, turning to kiss San when Mingi went to kiss you again. This made him chuckle darkly, San doing the same before he pulled back, licking his lips as he met your eyes. "I think someone needs all of our attention, don't you? You're just an attention whore, aren't you, Y/N?"

"She couldn't just be happy with having the world's attention, no, she needs our attention too" Mingi grabbed your jaw, making you face him as he picked you up. The club's loud music blocked out the noise from the wet kiss Mingi had you locked in, San rushing to knock every bottle and glass off the table with his arm before grabbing you by your hips, pulling you back to rest on the table. You looked up as the two men towered over you, the various people at the club not noticing anything, oblivious to the heated moment between you and your best friends.

You looked up as Mingi and San swapped places, their shoes crushing the broken glass bottles underneath their dress shoes as they settled into their new positions, with San sitting back down in the booth, setting your legs up to spread yourself for him, while Mingi stood at your head, his hands playing with his large belt buckle. "You're such a greedy whore, you know that right?" Mingi mumbled, his thumb rubbing over your lips before he moved to cup your neck, forcing your head to stay back as he removed his belt. "You've been so busy in the studio and haven't had time to hang out with us. Then here you are, inviting us out to celebrate the same album that you were locked away recording, and you get all upset when I get some attention."

You gasped as San pulled back your panties, letting the ruined fabric stick against you once more, making him chuckle. He ran his hands up and down your legs, kissing down the inside of your thighs as he looked up at you. "She can't handle it if someone else wants us as much as we want her right now."

Your mind was clouded as San's lips met your covered pussy, his tongue moving over the fabric before he took your clit in his mouth, his free hand's thumb rubbing over your covered entrance, teasing you as he pushed in his thumb, only to pull it back out a second later. Your eyes closed at the feeling, Mingi pushing down his pants only a little so that his cock can come out from his underwear. Your eyes opened up to see his cock standing up against his abs, a kiss mark right above it. His hands moved into your hair, pushing his cock slowly into your mouth as he moaned out "I'll have you kiss over these kiss marks when I'm finished filling your throat."

Your mouth widened to accommodate Mingi's size and length, your hands now pinned to the table by San's hands. You moaned as Mingi began to fuck your mouth, San's tongue and mouth focused on wetting your panties. Anytime you tried to drop a leg or pull him closer, San would firmly place your foot back against the table, biting the inside of your thighs with a warning. You were at their mercy as they used and played with you, and you loved it. The music only became background noise as Mingi moved faster, his tongue poking out over his lips as he watched drool and his precum leave your lips, dribbling down your cheeks and neck. He paused his movements, fully stuffing your mouth with his cock to the hilt, your nose pressing against the kiss mark that was left by one of the women he was with earlier.

"You know," he started, pulling his cock out till only the tip was in your mouth before he went back to slowly fill your mouth once more, repeating it multiple times. ''I thought about you the whole time I was with that girl? She doesn't know how to take the whole thing without complaining like this" He hummed, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks, cooing at you to breathe through your nose. Your legs were shaking, your eyes now welled up with tears from the constant teasing from San and Mingi fucking your throat. "You look like a mess, baby" Mingi continued to coo, leaning down to place a single bite onto one of your breasts. "Looking like such a mess at your own party."

San sat up from your legs, his hands moving to your hips as he laid his head against your pussy, looking up at you. His eyes were dark, his lips now in a devious smirk as he began to play with the waistband of your panties. "What if I announce to everyone that you're getting used on a table right now? That you're allowing us to taste you, and fill your throat with our cum over a fake IOU card?" San's words made you pull away from Mingi's cock with a pop, sitting up to ask what he meant. Mingi rushed to bite and kiss your neck, his hands moving to grab your breasts over the dress and San chuckled.

"When you let Mingi borrow your laptop that one time, he found your IOU card templates and he copied it and sent it to himself." San paused, picking up the IOU card, placing it into your mouth as he slithered up your body, his hands meeting Mingi's to play with and grab your breasts. You bit the card at the feeling, not wanting to let your friends know you were enjoying it, making San chuckle darkly. "Oh, she's trying to hide it now. She's trying to not show us that she likes it because we lied."

Mingi let out his own chuckle from your neck, his lips meeting your ear as he whispered "Let us make it up to you, you know, since it's your IOU party." San leaned forward to bite the card from your mouth, his hands now on your hips as he met yours. Your body was hot and full of need, your hand moving to cup San's jaw as he pressed himself against the front of you, his hard, clothed cock now pressed against your ruined panties. ''Is that a yes?" Mingi asked, making eye contact with his best friend. "Are you going to let us make it up to you?"

Usually, you would be mad if your best friends lied to you. You would've made them make it up to you somehow. "Faster, baby, fuck," Mingi had his head off the side of the bed, his hands gripping the bed as he fucked up into you, matching your bounces as you rode his cock. You nodded, moving as fast as you could to match his new pace, both of your noises filling the bedroom. You leaned your head back to rest on San's shoulder, his hands gripping your breasts as you moved your hips up and back, meeting both of their cocks. "Slow down" San moaned through gritted teeth, landing a hard smack to your breast before he gripped it again, his cock filling your ass as you rotated your hips. Mingi shook his head, moaning out loudly "no, fucking don't, I'm so close"

San shoved his face into your neck, littering it with marks as he began to move his hips to match your bouncing as well as he could, his mind fuzzy as he moaned out "I'm gonna cum if she doesn't slow down." You bit your lip as you sped up, making both men shake and moan your name, rushing to grab you wherever they could as they pressed their hips against yours, filling you up with their cum. You placed your hands on either side of Mingi as you all panted, San's hand rushing to grab your hair as he began to roll his hips into your plush ass, making you moan out.

"Kiss them" San panted, forcing your head down to kiss over all of the lipstick marks Mingi had on him. The sight made both men go feral, Mingi's cock hardening inside you as he moaned. You felt San tug you back, meeting your lips in a messy kiss, Mingi pulling out to litter your body with bite and kiss marks. You three had been at it since you all decided to leave the club, going at it in the car as they each took turns driving while the other one got a blowjob in the back of the car. Now you all had been in the same position for what felt like forever, your pussy now leaking all of Mingi's cum onto the bed, San's cum also doing the same. You panted against San as he pushed back in, San's growl covering your pants as he said "you're still so tight, no matter how many times I fuck this sweet ass and fill it. It's just as needy as you are."

You licked your lips at his words, San's mind turning off as he pulled you back into the messy kiss. Mingi licked down your stomach to your pussy, having you sit down on his face while San began to fuck your ass once more. You moved your hips over Mingi's tongue to meet San's movements, your mind shutting off at the sensation of Mingi moaning against you. San pulled back from the kiss abruptly, his hand moving to push you down onto your stomach against Mingi's. He continued to lap away happily at your pussy while you took his cock into your mouth, humming at the taste left on it by you. San smirked at the sight before he moved to slowly push back into your ass, making you choke around Mingi's cock.

"Breathe baby" He smacked your ass, his hand grabbing a handful of your ass. You tried to focus once more on Mingi's cock, bobbing your head, but once Mingi pushed his tongue fully into you, along with San fully pushing into your ass, you choked again, making both men chuckle. "She can't focus like this, San" Mingi chuckled, his ringed finger playing with your entrance before pushing into you slowly. You gasped, backing up against them both before you were met with two rough smacks to your ass, both men urging you to move faster. San pushed your head down on Mingi's cock as he resumed fucking you, chuckling and cooing at your loud, gurgled moans around Mingi. His hands landed on your hips, keeping you from moving away as they both used you.

You began to feel your sixth orgasm rush to you, your eyes rolling back as Mingi urged you to cum, his mouth latching onto your pussy with great need, San's pace becoming more brutal as you came hard, moaning loudly around Mingi. The vibrations from your moan made him cum as well, his cock returning to your throat as he emptied his load down it.

Your head fell against Mingi's thighs as San pulled out, his cum leaking out of you, down your thighs. You didn't react to Mingi moving, resting your body down against the bed. San kissed along your shoulders and back, soothing you slowly. "Did all that make up for the fake IOU?" Your eyes opened to face both men who were cheekily smiling at you, both covered in sweat and bite marks. You rolled your eyes, both men high-fiving each other before they laid down next to you.

"We should do this again sometime, baby" San whispered, his hands moving down your body to play with your clit lazily. You whimpered, Mingi now kissing your shoulder as he whispered "right now." "Mingi's right, we should do it again right now" San moaned, his lips meeting yours as Mingi moved down your body once more, moving in between your legs with a smile as he said, "all to celebrate you, babygirl."

"Do you think you can spell congratulations with your tongue?" San asked, grabbing the back of Mingi's head to force him into your pussy, Mingi's chuckle against your pussy made you moan out "please do."

"Well, since she asked so politely" Mingi hummed, his tongue moving out to play with your pussy, his mind focused on spelling one thing.

Congratulations.

@bambikisss | 2024

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog

[rose-pearls]

hi can I request a clarisse fan fic where she asks you to marry her and what it’s like when you guys are married 🫣🫣

Hi! Thank you for the request! Here it is, I hope you like it! Requests are open!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303 (open)

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley (open)

Clarisse knew deep down that you would say yes, but she still felt scared to ask you the question. A million possibilities were running through her head but as she saw you slowly wake up next to her, she felt her nerves dwindling down. You had always hated how you looked when you woke up, but she thought you were the most beautiful person on the planet, even more so when you woke up.

“Hey sweetheart,” she whispers softly as your eyes flutter open and a soft smile appears on your lips.

“Hi, love,” she hears you whisper, a smile forming on her lips at the pet name, it had always made her feel safe and loved.

“Slept well?”, you ask, innocently, but it still made her worried that you knew something was up.

“Couldn’t fall asleep, don’t know why,” she says, even if she knows why but she doesn’t want to say it just yet. You look a bit worried at her words until she takes your hand and squeezes it in reassurance.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” she tells you and you look relieved as she comes closer to you.

“How did you sleep?”, she asks you and a smile appears once again on your lips.

“Really good, but always when I sleep next to you,” that flirty grin that you always have around her makes her stomach swoop and she can’t help but smirk in response.

“Is that so?”, she asks with a smirk, already knowing the response, but she still enjoys your nod before she brings you into a soft kiss. 

She loved these moments, early in the morning when she could have you all to herself and no one was there to distract you.

“What do you want to do today?”, you ask her, your fingers brushing patterns against the skin of her back.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk in the park?”, she asks, trying to play it casual as to not alert you to anything and by some miracle it seems to work.

“That’s a good idea, let’s get ready then,” you say with a smile, your eyes now woken up and excitement appearing at the thought of a walk in the park.

“Relax sweetheart, we have all the time in the world. Let’s enjoy some more time in bed,” there is a soft shade of pink that appears on your cheeks and Clarisse can’t help but enjoy it, even after five years together she could still make you blush.

“Fine, but you better make it worth it,” you tell her with a teasing smile and a coy smile appears on her lips.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be sure to do that,” she whispers before kissing you once again, enjoying the softness of your lips and the warmth of your skin against hers.

The parc is busy, and while you look around, she can’t help but feel more and more nervous at what’s to come. She has the box in her pocket and plays with it as the both of walk around the park. She had planned to do it in a secluded spot, one that you had both found when you moved here and as you both approached it, she felt her heart beating right out of her chest.

“You know it’s still as beautiful as the first time we came here,” she hears you say before you go a bit more forward to take a couple of pictures, giving her the opportunity to get on one knee, the box with the ring now open. It feels like hours before you turn around but once you do all she can hear is the gasp you let out at the sight of her on one knee and the whisper of her name.

“I know your mind is probably trying to wrap itself around what is happening here but please let me talk,” she says, and you can only nod at her words, your mouth still open in shock.

“We met at camp half-blood when we were just twelve years old, and we didn’t know it then but the two of us would become inseparable. It took me some time to realize my feelings for you and get over my high horse and come talk to you, but it was the best decision in my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I sometimes still can’t believe you chose to be with me but I’m so happy you did. I love you so much and I can’t imagine a life without you, so here I am asking you to marry me. Will you, Y/N, marry me?”, she is breathless after saying all of that, but she can still feel her heart beating so fast that she is scared for a moment that it will stop beating all together.

“Of course, I will,” she hears you say, tears brimming in your eyes before you launch yourself at her. She only has the time to stand up a bit before you wrap your arms around her, holding her tightly. There is a breath of relief that leaves her lips as she holds you just as tight, and she is already thinking of the both of you being married.

“Thank the gods,” she can’t help but say and she hears you laugh in response before you turn to look at her.

She slowly moves her arms from around your body to take the ring and put it on your ring finger. It looks beautiful on you, like it had always meant to be there. 

“It’s beautiful Clarisse,” she hears you whisper, looking at the ring in awe and she smiles, feeling proud at your compliment.

“Only the best for you”, she says, and you look at her with a bright smile before bringing her into a passionate kiss, making her wrap her arms around your waist once again.

--

What it’s like being married to Clarisse:

She will probably constantly say that you are her partner and that the both of you are married, to anyone that even talks to you, and it never fails to make you smile.

You can expect slow mornings, where the two of you just stay in bed while cuddling and talking. 

I can just see the both of you cooking together and dancing in the refrigerator light, laughing as she spins you around.

There are some nights where one of you has a nightmare, but you are always there to help the other, holding them to reassure them that you are there.

If you want children, she would be open to it, either having your own or adopting them; doesn’t really matter to her. 

She is scared sometimes that she won’t be enough for you, even after marrying each other but you always manage to reassure her.

So many date nights, where you get to try new things out, like cooking classes or bowling and you always look forward to them.

You sometimes fight but you always make sure to not leave the house angry, as you never know what could happen as a half-blood. 

She loves to cuddle when you watch a movie or when you are reading in bed, just laying her head on your chest and enjoying your fingers brushing through her hair. 

Sometimes you have self-care nights, with a bubble bath and a glass of wine to talk about everything that is happening. 

You travel a lot, trying to discover new cultures and then trying to replicate somethings at home, it is not always successful but it’s fun to try.

Clarisse goes to the gym, and she loves it when you come with her.

She looks tough but she is a giant teddy bear with you, and you can’t stop enjoying the strong hugs, that make you feel safe. 

[leclsrc]

hi audreeey!!! could i get a drabble where charles and reader are on a basic (not "basic" but u get me) dinner date and they're just all capital F Fond... like maybe even pretending theyre married bc they love the other's company sm... I LOVE U

begin again – cl16

Tonight is different. Tonight is special. title from this

auds here... my quasi-apology for being mia-ish. also i am writing a long form fic it's just taking agesss as i'm traveling rn (its nearly done) but know that I LOVE U ALL... like crazy. this is p long for a drabble but i missed writing them a lot! love u guys n i hope i did this adorable prompt justice

He says something in French, pointing at something on the menu. Then he flips the page and points at a bold red image of a bottle, mouthing its name in perfect fluency. Two glasses, he adds. One for the entree, another for dessert.

“Red wine?” You ask, smiling. Charles doesn’t usually order wine.

“Well,” he says, beaming at you and then the waiter, “tonight is special for us.”

You have to wrestle with the grin that fights its way onto your lips, but you admit valiant defeat. “Very special indeed.”

The waiter departs and you recline, mind still racing. It’s only halted by a polite voice from your left—the girl at the table beside yours, asking with meek timidity: wedding tomorrow? She has this giddy smile on her face, like it’s her wedding or her dinner; her husband-or-boyfriend across her just smiles sheepishly. Sorry. I’m curious.

“Oh,” you say quietly, humming. “I got promoted.”

“And…” Charles says, lookin at you like you share a lovely little inside joke.

Your lips grow. “And?”

“This lovely girl doesn’t remember, but I proposed to her this time last year.” He gestures to your left hand. A ring, blending in with the others you usually wear, sparkles in the low light of the restaurant.

Proposed. Your eyes stay on him even as he looks away, devoting his attention to the conversation at hand. Then you nod, a few times, soft bobs of your head. “We’re having a June wedding,” you say fondly to the girl at the table adjacent. You love the way she lights up at the mention of it, at the added detail—she asks for more in accented English.

“How did you propose?” She turns to the guy in front of her, who’s smiling dopily. “We’ve been together a year, so he could use some ideas for the future, if you know what I mean.” They both share a laugh.

Charles hums, recalling the plan he’s thought of a million times over. He conjures the images of it, the memories of mapping everything out, perfecting every last minute detail. “I did it at our house. We live in Monaco, in this, ah—this nice, wide place on a hill.” You remember seeing the house for the first time, from Charles’ car. “I did not want a big fuss around it. I knew I wanted it to be just us.”

“Just us,” you murmur along, nodding. You’ve always known it’s what he wanted for both of you. Just you two against the world.

“So I bought her flowers, lit some candles, and we sat on the couch.” He pauses, like the next few moments are so sacred and so lovely that they deserve to be heard by nobody but you two. But if Charles is anything, he’s loud—loud when he talks, yells; loud when he loves. “And I played our favorite song, Harvest Moon,and I sat next to her and just talked, and I said it. I know it doesn’t sound romantic—”

“—but I cried,” you cut in, looking right at him. Cut off, his eyes flit to you, softening when they see your smiling expression. “I cried like a baby. He was… he meant every word he said. And I was lucky, I guess, that he knows me well enough to, you know—know exactly what I want.” The conversation ebbs into quiet a little bit after that, but you catch bits of how adorable and a June wedding from their own talk.

You eat in relative peace afterward—he talks about a funny story involving Carlos and stolen underwear from the gym locker room. You laugh, bubbling up your champagne, and Charles zips through two glasses of his own drink. Tonight is special, and warm, and you’re in France, and wine seems to be synonymous with the country, and everything, if just for now, makes perfect sense.

In between finishing dessert and the bill’s arrival, when the couple beside you have said their goodbyes and congratulations, and the restaurant has begun to quell its general noise, he takes your idle hand on the table. You look up from where you’d been staring at the puddle of tiramisu filling on your plate.

He’s staring. Charles is always aware of how often and how long he stares, extended gazes of your beautiful features. The awareness does not, however, cause the frequency to wane in the slightest. He still finds himself constantly enthralled by you. And even when he’s away, in a car going a million miles a minute, he finds you in his daydreams. That smile. 

Nothing, he says with a quaint smile. I love you.

The bill comes and he, of course, covers it—before you even get the chance to slide your card onto the table. You fuss over it. He stares at you like you’re worth everything and more and goes, with a little laugh, I just need a kiss.

His car is parked outside, valet this time, but the cobblestone is so inviting and quiet that he pays an extra few euros to let you both walk around first. You’re not the only couple along the Seine—in fact, you’re one of many, but your shared, hushed laughs make you both feel like you’re by yourselves. Charles knows all the detours, can pinpoint buildings from different vantage points, takes you on a voyage of Paris all his own. You will look back on this one day and think—your maps of cities, your maps of places, they’ve all been charted by him. 

He keeps insisting tonight should be special, like he’s trying to convince you. But you know just as well how special tonight is, how different it is from all the nights previous. You’re just quiet, you suppose, because you’d prefer to bask in this specialty, in Charles. You’re quiet because if you open your mouth for more than ten seconds, you’re going to spill your entire self out to the city. Tomorrow night will not be tonight, just as yesterday night was not tonight. This is just tonight. 

You’re guided through the cobblestone streets, arm around your waist. You’re so overcome with love you feel like hugging him, just now, just here in the middle of the street, breathe him in and sigh out little I love yous until somebody has to pass through, grunting about how PDA has gone too far.

“You know how…” he starts, and every time he starts a sentence that way, it’s almost always followed by something fairly nonsensical. You know how turtles can fly? You know how Van Gogh was in an affair with Mona Lisa? You know how the latest episode of The Kardashians had Kim and Kourtney fighting? You smile, laughing already, gesturing for him to proceed. “How we see the stars nearly every night?”

You hum.

“So sometimes, we forget they’re pretty. We think, oh, bah, stars. And then a few weeks, or months, later, we look up on a random evening and we’re shocked again. We go, wow, stars. They are beautiful.” He clutches at his heart to convey the emotion he’s describing.

“Yeah, what about?” You ask amusedly, turning slightly to him. 

“That is how I feel when I see you. Every time. That feeling when you see the stars after weeks.”

You breathe one, slippery inhale and then it leaves you shaky, wet, trembling. Your eyes tack themselves onto the stars. A chill rolls through you at the knowledge that you remind him of something so confusing, so beautiful, so strange. “I—God. I love you, you know.”

“Did you like my story?” He asks. He maintains his smile, his attitude, his goofiness. His little attempt to make you feel better. Unfortunately, it works every time without fail. You sniffle and roll your eyes, thankful that you haven’t devolved into a sobbing mess.

Then for the first time tonight, he breaks the precarious, near-perfect illusion: “You know, that is how I would really propose to you if I did it. I did give you that ring, remember?”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to fight tears. “I remember.”

“Don’t cry,” he quells softly. You keep freezing to dab at the corners of your eyes. He responds by pulling you into a side street so you don’t block anyone’s walk, allowing you to lean against the lamppost so he towers above you, eyes etched dark, saturated with genuine concern. “Come on, darling.”

“Charles,” you say thinly, and you’ve gone from coherent sentences to weak pleads. 

“Don’t cry.” It’s all he can say, gentle and loving and Charles. “It’s a special night.” It is a special night. It’s the night before your first day at your job across the globe.

It’s your last night in Europe, your last night before you leave, your last night before Charles becomes nothing but an apparition of your past. You’re beginning to realize how foolish this plan was, this wrecked and stupid plan, but God if you didn’t love how real it all felt. It felt like bliss, being a great big pretender.

It was—it should be a month ago now, give or take. You’d gotten the offer, accepted it, told Charles about it, and then you both had to sit with the idea of living across the world from each other. You’d wrestled with plans vis-a-vis your relationship, with timezones and the demand that came with the first year on the job. In the end it was something amicable.

In the end, it ended—but not without one last night together, stretching your dreams and future fantasies to their limit.

Charles will always love you like it’s his last chance to do so. He figures that means letting you fly, letting you pursue things that, if you didn’t, would keep you tethered to the same old things. So even if it rips him apart, and even if all he wants to do is drop everything and dance with you, to the quaint Paris traffic—he remains ever the reassuring one.

He remains, forever, the storyteller, the smiling figure that takes your hand across the table and squeezes once to say he loves you. The loud guy who would’ve, if he could, proposed in your now-sold house, surrounded by candles and music. You wish he could love you longer. You know he always will, in the same way you know the nature of his love will inevitably change when enough time passes.

“Things will change,” you say weakly.

“They will always change.”

“And will you remember me after all of it?”

“I will love you after all of it. I’ve loved you through everything else.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss to your eye. “You know that, right? I’ll just do it from afar this time.”

You swear, if love and hope and being young were ever enough to make things work, you swear—this would’ve worked. But the universe reminds you time and again that they are not.

So, when you kiss Charles for the last time, his eyes are twinkling with Paris moonlight, his lips taste like wine, and you get the special chance to relish in what once was, and what will never be again.

[thegreatestsandwich]

i LOVE your namor fics and how soft you portray him! i dont even want kids but they got me looking up baby videos on tiktok 😂😂 i was wondering if i could request? i like to imagine namor spending some time in the surface world with reader, maybe something showing him being domestic? im sorry im not very creative lol im sure you know what im getting at. thank you so much!! 🫡🥰

When the sun came up, you were looking at me (Namor x F!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: He showed you a part of himself he chose to hide from the others.

Warning: Nothing really, well I really don’t think there is a warning, just fluff or my idea of fluff

A/N: I'm back!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!  

You clenched the basket you were carrying, your knuckles white and your breath locked in your lungs as you made your way towards your king’s cavern. You were nervous and afraid, you barely made it through the soft current that guide you upwards, if it was for another reason you would be thrilled to see him. But when the message came from Attuma, his second in command, that changed everything.

You let out your breath when you almost got out of the water, one of your hands quickly went to dig out your mask from the basket you were carrying, quickly putting it on and adjusting it correctly before finally stepping out of the water.

This wasn’t the first time you were invited to his cavern, you were designated to bring him some food if he spent the majority of his time here. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold air that surrounded you. Quickly blinking away some tears that formed when your eyes became a little too dry. Your hands hugged the basket closer to your body as you slowly walked to the entrance. Even if you hadn’t yet to enter, you could still distinguish his figure, his focus away from you.

You stretched your shoulders, stopping at the entrance, it had been a few days since Attuma had delivered the message, you knew you needed to see him as quickly as possible but you managed to postponed it, until the older women forced you to finally confront the king.

Your hand knocked against the stone wall, the softest sound that made the king stopped his actions to turned and put his attention on your figure. You swallowed when his intense dark eyes greeted you.

“Ta p'ataj a k'iin.” You took your time. He stood up, silently putting his tools on the ground before making his way to you. “Ts'o'ok in pensado u ma' ten taal.” I have thought you were not coming.

Your eyes stayed glued to your basket, too afraid to even look at him. “In akaljantik.” I’m sorry. You gulped. “In akaljantik, K'uk'ulkan, ma' táan u yúuchul.” I’m sorry, K’uk’ulkan, it won’t happened again.

He hummed, his hands went to your jaw, gently caressing it before softly guiding your gaze to look at him, you were hoping to find anger on his eyes, but you almost gasp at how gentle they were. “A llamé waye' tumen ba'al, chan.” I called you here for something, little one. “Ba'al Páaybe'en.” Something important.

Namor’s hands let your face for a moment, his form fully turn away from you, leaving you a bit confuse. He walked towards one of the several baskets, pulling out a small yellow flower. Your eyes widened in fear, fully knowing where it come from. He turned to you, the flower firmly on his fist, his dark eyes were inspecting it and the silence made you tremble with fear.

“Namora ka tu kaxtaj ti' a ba'alo'ob,” Namora found it on your things. He didn’t look at you, his fingers playing with the several petals that covered it. “Le ba'ala' ma' pertenece u k noj, u tsool, chan.” This does not belong in our city, explain, little one.

A sick feeling filled your stomach as you clutched the basket closer to your body, the words couldn’t even form on your tongue, even though million of excuses were forming on your head. What could you say? That you made your way to the surface? That you were so selfish that you broke the rules for your own amusement? That you broke his rules and put at risk not only your person but every single one of the others?

Your form began to tremble, you didn’t know if it was from the air that cooled your form or simply the fear of not knowing what your punishment would be.

Namor noticed the shakiness of your form, he frown, not really wanting to put you on this situation, he silently took away the basket of your hands, placing instead the flower you desperately wanted to hide from everyone else. Your fingers didn’t grasped it tightly as he did so his fingers closed around your hands. He smiled at you softly, trying to ease you back to comfort. “Ma' taak ka'ach in a asustaras, mix mix.” I didn’t want to scare you, far from it. One hand left yours and placed it on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

“K'uk'ulkan.” You closed your eyes, trying so hard to not break down in front of him. “Teene'…” I…

He shushed you gently. “In wojel.” I know. He whispered, his eyes looking at the flower. “A wojel wáaj bix u k'aaba' le nikte'o'?” Do you know what this flower is called?

“Ka tin kaxtaj way.” I found it on the surface. You shook your head. “Tin tukultaje’ jats’uts.” I thought it was pretty.

Namor hummed, you almost closed your eyes at the sound. “U k'aaba' cempasúchil.” It’s called cempasúchil. He whispered. “Le nikte'o' le pixan.” The flower of the dead. You gasped in horror, trying to drop the flower but his hand didn’t let you. He quietly laughed at your action. “Mix taan u kíinsikech.” It will not kill you.

You stared at the flower -and him- weirdly, trying to understand how this tiny flower had that huge significance. He grabbed your chin and guide you to look at him once again. “I could show you, but the place I could take you do not speak our language, have you practiced your English?”

“Yes.” You bit your lip. “I am not good still.”

He shook his head smiling. “It does not matter.”

Namor guide you to the surface, carefully explaining you how you needed to blend yourselves from the surface-dwellers, you nodded along his words, but when the both of you finally made your way to the beach, he noticed how your skin turned blue, he frowned, not because of the color, but because he knew that if they saw it, you would be taken away from him and that made something stir inside of his body.

His eyes found a piece of clothe that perhaps belonged to someone else but he didn’t care. Namor grabbed it and helped you put it on, it didn’t do much but he was more at ease. He grabbed your hand and tugged you softly, making your way to the festivities, and as best as he could, Namor explained everything.

Like a child full in wonder, your eyes tried to take as much as you could, every single light, every single smell, everything was so captivating to you that you couldn’t care less if some surface-dwellers were throwing glances at the bluish-tone your skin was taking.

Then, some form of lights began exploding on the skies, making you gasp in surprise, your body sticking closer to your king, who gladly welcomed your touch without any complain. Your eyes never leaving the skies, how the colors were changing with each explosion, it made you giddy, it made you feel like you were a child once again.

Namor felt the soft tapping on his arm, his eyes quickly turning to it, a small child offered him a smile, a few teeth missing on the front, tiny hands trying to place a small object on his hands, he gratefully accepted it with a nod. The child left and Namor inspected it carefully before gently placing it on your hands.

You watched it with wonder. The object providing you with a gentle warm that made you smile, you tried to touch it but it burned you, making you quietly hiss but not throwing it away.

Namor was about to take it away from your hands as it hurt you, but when you turned to look at him something inside him made him stop. The object created a soft glow that caressed the bluish of your skin. You looked beautiful, like a painting he spent hours creating on the loneliness of his cavern, and when your eyes softly closed, he knew you were smiling under the layer of cloth he helped you put on to disguised yourself from the others. He couldn’t look away and even if he could, in that moment, he chose not to.

[ragnarlothcat]

I know I’m a chronic overthinker but I’ve been in the same fandom for three years or so now and I was reflecting that writing seemed so much easier when I first started out. Just looking at my output since 2021 shows a clear trend: I’ve been writing much less and it’s been taking me way longer.

I figured that I’d gotten a little burned out and that three years is a long time to focus solely on the same two guys making out and that there’s a limit to the number of situations I can put them in before I start to get bored. But I don’t think that’s quite my problem because even now, a million years later, I have ideas for dozens of fics and AUs that would be interesting to explore or funny to write.

No, it’s that I’ve let the larger fandom overwhelm me and it’s left me constantly second-guessing my writing. And I don’t mean that I’ve gotten nasty comments or asks, because I haven’t! All the other fans have been consistently wonderful and fun people with really valuable insights. And it’s not that I’ve been obsessing over stats or comments or worrying about going against popular headcanons. I mean, I’m just as excited as anyone else to see an AO3 email in my inbox but I’m also perfectly happy posting niche fics for an audience of me and my three weirdest friends.

It’s more that after so long engaging with other fans and other fics and the general meta, I’ve ended up writing too self-consciously. I’ve read so many interpretations of canon events, analyses of characterization and comparisons between fiction and real-world politics over the years, and I’ve enjoyed them because I genuinely care about these stories and these characters! I like seeing what everyone else thinks and then considering their points of view, no matter how bewildering they might seem at first.

But now it feels like I’m writing almost defensively, like I have to justify every choice I’m making based on this enormous and contradictory body of information. Three years ago I’d have written a scene in a few thousand words and moved on to the next plot point with my momentum intact. Now I’m constantly wringing my hands over things like physical details (I guess he’s not exactly a redhead) or broader social implications (is this trope misogynistic?) or finicky logistics (these locations are too far apart for this scene to make sense) or controversial character nuance (does writing this guy as a kind, doting husband make me an abuse apologist???) and the result is that I’m paralyzed with indecision and a ridiculous need to support everything I write with a lot of context that isn’t especially fun to write or, I suspect, especially fun to read.

I’m aware that this problem is entirely in my own head and that no one has asked me for any of this. And it’s not that all those questions aren’t interesting and important things to contemplate. But I miss the days of sitting down at my laptop and going “wouldn’t it be funny if these dorks played a video game together?” and then writing exactly that.

I don’t know. Were my fics better three years ago? I kind of doubt it. I’ve looked back at some of them and if nothing else I now have a better grasp of what tense I’m supposed to be using. But I definitely had more fun writing those older stories, which maybe feels more important.

[circle-with-me]

Legs - Jesse Cash x Reader

Pairing: Jesse Cash x Reader

Content Warning/Tags: 18+ MDNI! vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mild possessiveness, car sex, mentions of mental illness and self-destructive behavior, hurt/comfort, and some fluff at the end.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @cncohshit @foliosriot @sacredthefran

If you would like to be added to my tag list for Jesse or my other fics, please sign up here.

Author's Note: Not too long ago, @cncohshit and I were discussing how few fics there are about sweet Jesse. So, I decided I'd write up a little something. This is loosely based on Ghost Atlas' song Legs. Thank you as always to @deathblacksmoke for being my wonderful beta reader <3

dividers by @cafekitsune

The rain pours outside as you sit in your car. Heavy droplets pelt the roof of the vehicle. Even with your headlights on you couldn’t see more than two feet in front of you. The sound of the rain was so loud you could barely make out the song playing on the radio.

The World At Large - Modest Mouse, the screen read. Fitting, you think. 

You check your phone for the fourth, maybe fifth time in as many minutes. The text message you sent had been read but went unanswered. There were still no lights on in the house except for the glow of the red LED’s in his room. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d finally had enough.

It’s not like you could blame him.

Almost as if he read your mind, he appears in the headlights dashing towards your car. Quickly unlocking the door you let him in. He runs a hand through his damp mess of curls trying to catch his breath. He looks over at you and you forget how to breathe for a moment, his wide brown eyes staring into yours. 

“Hi, Jesse.” You say meekly. 

“You could have come inside, Y/N.” He states, giving you a quick once over. 

You shake your head, gently pushing his hand away when it comes up to examine your face. 

“It’s not a good idea, Jesse.”

Your legs twitch with need and you run your hands on top of your thighs to relax them. You can feel his gaze burning into your skin. It’s not a good idea to go inside. All of your self-restraint will go out of the window the second you step inside his home and you’re not here for that. 

You need him, but not in the way you normally do. Jesse is the only person you feel safe with. He’s the only person who can make you feel anything outside of sex. You’re a broken person. Full of spite and hatred for the world and you take it out on others. You use people to your benefit and abandon them without explanation. 

Unfortunately, Jesse has been a victim of your lies and self-destructive behavior more times than you care to admit. Every time he starts to get attached you panic and leave. For some reason, he always gives you another chance when you come crawling back to him.

Over the time you’ve known each other, you’ve come to realize that Jesse is in love with you. He has to be. No sane person would put up with your bullshit the way he does. But still, you can see the light in his eyes fading every time you leave. Even when you come back there’s an air of tension between the two of you, almost as if he’s dying to ask the question of “How long will you stay this time?”

“What have they done now, darling?” Jesse asks quietly, taking your hand in his. You lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes, knowing that if you looked at him the floodgates would open. 

He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and squeezes it gently. It’s not a demand but a reminder that he’s there, ready and willing to listen. The gesture is so remarkably kind but you know you don’t deserve it. You feel your chest tighten and your eyes well up with tears.

“Nothing I didn't have coming to me.” You decide to leave it at that. 

You watch as Jesse studies you for a minute. It’s obvious there are a million things he wants to say but he chooses not to due to the fragility of the situation.  

“Why don’t you come inside? We’ll get you warm and dry. I can fix you something to eat.” He pauses. “Have you eaten today?” 

You shake your head. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t sure the last time you had a decent meal. Your brain and body have been running at 90 mph and food has been the last thing on your mind.

Jesse hums a sound of disapproval and pats your thigh. The entirety of your body tenses at his touch and he pulls his hand away immediately afraid he has crossed a line. The two of you stare at each other for a long time unsure of what to say before you abandon what restraint you have left and grab his hand. 

You place it on your inner thigh, much higher than it was previously. Jesse audibly gulps and squeezes the flesh experimentally. It’s endearing to you how he always gets nervous like it’s your first time together. Leaning forward, you grab his face to kiss him, parting his lips with your tongue. 

He sighs into your mouth, gathering the courage to push his hand under your dress. His index finger dips into the top of your thigh high stockings, running along the lace edge. He groans and shoves his tongue in your mouth, his free hand gripping the back of your head. 

“You know how much I love these, darling.” Jesse murmurs, kissing along your jaw. He snaps the band of the tights against your skin and goosebumps pop up, making you shiver. You feel him smile against your neck before grazing his teeth against the skin.

Jesse places his hand on your pussy, massaging you through your already damp panties. You arch into his touch and he wraps his arm around your waist. An unspoken request is made when he presses his arm into your back, guiding you towards him. 

Taking the hint, you crawl over the center console and he pulls you into his lap. His grip is bruising as he drags your hips against his hardened erection. The coarse denim of his jeans provides a satisfying friction that sends electricity through your body.

Jesse reaches down to lower the car seat a little so he can lean back. You follow him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He pushes his hands up your dress, his calloused hands softly scratching your back. You hum at his soothing touch. He moves to unhook your bra but you feel his hands shake a little. 

“Are you okay?” You speak, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods but doesn’t make eye contact; the nervousness from earlier returning twice over. After you brush your fingers across his forehead he finally looks at you. 

“You’re breathtaking, Y/N.” Jesse speaks so softly the rain pounding on the roof of the car nearly drowns him out. All you can focus on are his lips as they part; the way his tongue dances behind them. When he asks you to remove your dress, you’re achingly willing. 

Jesse watches you undress before him, completely entranced by your body. Regardless of how often he’s seen your form, he pores over you as if you were the finest sculpture he has ever laid eyes on. He skims his hands across the expanse of your thighs and upwards, twisting the fabric of your panties around his fingers. 

He places gentle kisses to your collarbones, your neck, the junction between your breasts. Jesse Cash is not a man that can be rushed, and you wouldn’t dare try to anyway. Each press of his soft lips against your skin heals a part of you that has been burning alive inside of you for ages. 

He leans you back against the dash, one hand supporting your back and the other coming to your chest. Running his hand down the length of your torso, he slips his fingers through the waistband of your panties. A shuddered breath escapes him and he curses when he dips a finger inside of you, feeling how soaked you are. 

“Tell me, honey.” He coos, not wasting any time finding the sweet spongy spot inside of you. “Do the others make you this wet or is it just me?” 

The sudden flash of possessiveness in Jesse’s eyes catches you off guard. You squirm under his gaze, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’re wildly turned on by it.

“Only you.” You moan, grabbing onto his thigh for support. Jesse grins and adds another finger. You dig your nails into the denim of his jeans as he picks up the pace, your vision already beginning to go white. The filthy wet sounds made as he pleasures you can be heard even over the rain. 

Just as you feel yourself reaching your peak, he halts his movements, eliciting a pitiful whimper from you. He removes his fingers completely, dragging it up your slit collecting more of your juices. 

“Open up.”

Your mouth falls open so quickly it makes Jesse chuckle. He places his fingers on your tongue and you close your lips around it sucking and savoring the flavor of your own arousal. 

Jesse watches you intently; his mouth slack-jawed and eyes trained on your mouth. When you moan around his fingers, he moans back bucking his hips slightly. You feel his cock pressing into your bare pussy and you’re scrambling for his belt, desperate for him.

He helps you shove his pants down, hissing when you take his leaking cock into your hand. As hurried as you were, you sigh in relief the moment he’s inside of you. You set a slow pace, dragging your pussy up his length until you feel just the tip and sinking back down again. Jesse lays back against the car seat, his nails digging crescent shapes into your thighs.

You move like I want to. 

To see, like your eyes do.

The whispered vocals on the hauntingly beautiful track make the moment even more intimate. You pick up the pace a little to match the tempo of the song, your movements causing Jesse to arch his back, moaning loudly. He observes as you move on top of him, chest heaving from breathing so hard. Somehow, his brown eyes grow even darker 

Jesse wraps his hand around the back of your neck, gently but firmly pulling your mouth to his. He snakes his other arm around your waist, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. In this moment, you’re thankful for the deluge outside otherwise your cries of pleasure and pleas not to stop would get the two of you caught in an instant. 

You rake your fingernails through his scalp, tugging at the damp curls. Jesse grunts into your neck, grasping your waist tighter and thrusting into you harder. You slam your hand against the car window for extra support, a distorted hand print forming in the condensation. 

“Jesse, please don’t stop.” You whimper. He shakes his head fervently, refusing to leave the spot between your neck and shoulder that he’s claimed. 

“Never.”

Grasping onto his shirt and pulling it off of him, you reattach yourself to him immediately. Your skin is on fire but you’re desperate to be closer to him, to feel all of him. 

Tonight I feel like more. 

Chino’s voice bellows through the speakers. While the lyrics are nefarious in nature, the line resonates with you in a different way. 

It’s never been a question that you care deeply for the man underneath you. It’s not his fault you have a fear of abandonment. You’ve told yourself that’s all it was, but the truth is you have never felt good enough for him. His integrity and pure heart intimidates you. His ability to see through your lies and still love you anyway scares you to death.

Your orgasm builds with the swell of the music. You allow the pleasure to consume your entire body, the toe curling, stomach tightening, finger gripping sensation overwhelming you. 

The music becomes muffled in your ears when Jesse calls out your name. Opening your eyes, all you can see is him. Tunnel vision has never been more blissful than this. The moonlight illuminates his face and he stares at you with the same entranced look from earlier. It’s evident that you’re all he can see too.

The coil in your stomach snaps, sending shockwaves through your entire body. You grasp onto his knees tighter to keep yourself up right, bucking your hips on his cock chasing your high. He lets out a low groan, his stomach muscles growing taut and cock twitching inside of you. 

I feel like more. 

And you do. 

You feel more alive than you ever have. The numbness in your soul has vanished and there’s nothing but him and you want more. 

The euphoria that creeps up inside of you when you both orgasm at the same time is all-consuming and you hope he feels it too. One wave of pleasure after the other radiates through every muscle in your body, making you quiver relentlessly. You feel Jesse’s legs shaking underneath you, strangled groans erupting from him as he spills inside of you. 

Jesse opens your car door and grabs your hand, the two of you sprinting towards his house. By the time you make it to his front door, you’re both soaked and laughing uncontrollably. Once inside, he leads you to his room to find dry clothes. You peel off your soaked ones and hang them in the bathroom to dry. When Jesse comes in with new clothes, you take them graciously, shivering from the rain.

You sit on the counter towel drying your hair as you watch him change. He turns around, catching you staring and he smiles at you. You curl your finger at him, motioning for him to come to you. He stands between your legs, his hands resting on top of your thighs. 

Placing the towel on top of his head, you rub it vigorously against his hair to get the excess water out. When you pull the towel down and around his neck you can’t help but giggle at how frizzy his hair looks. He leans to the side to see what’s so funny, laughing when he sees himself. You plant a kiss on his cheek and he looks over at you, a soft smile on his lips. He kisses you, holding your chin softly between his fingers. There’s no urgency behind it. He’s simply savoring every second he has with you. 

“Stay tonight?” He mumbles against your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jesse.” 

He sighs contentedly, enveloping your face in his hands.  

“Tell me you mean that, Y/N.” 

This time, more than anything, you hope you do.

[ohtobeleah]

Hey hope this is okay and still open✌🏻😅

Breeding kink with Hangman. If you've already done that, that's fine as well🥰

Thanks, hun, love your writing

Say no more anon I got you covered.

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous, Smut ahead.

I feel like I see a lot of breeding kinks for Bradley but never enough for Jake. Before we get into the smut of it all I think this would be a really good time to tag your fav fic writers that have written for Jake Hangman Seresin and the sudden breeding kink he finds he has when he finds the right partner. The love of his life. 

I think Jake would have the sudden urge to procreate after he sees you doing something so incredibly mundane and motherly? LIke perhaps you were brought up watching your own mother make your fathers lunches in the morning while he got ready for work. So it's in your inherent nature, not because you feel like you have to, but because acts of service are your love language and it makes you just as happy. Maybe you just liked cooking and the smell of whatever you were concocting in the slow cooker is just all too much for Jake to not think about what you would be like as a mother. 

So he catches himself thinking about the idea of you being all swollen and full of his cum far more often than he’d like to admit when he should really be focusing on flying the multi-million dollar fighter jet he's being the throttle of.

Jake catches himself at the Hard Deck, watching you play with his niece and nephew who have come to visit and thinking damn–what if that were your kids. His kids. He had to pause and take an exaggerated sigh before taking his shot in the game of pool he's playing with Bradley because he can't concentrate thinking about what you would look like pregnant with his child. He’d never really been the type of guy to think about a family–but then you came along and rocked his boat and now Jake's drowning in the thought of you being the mother of his children and he can't think or anything else. 

“You wanna make me a mama baby?” You’re straddling Jake's lap, ever so painfully bouncing on his length. Your slick walls coating him in your arousal as he guides you up and down, up and down. Biting his bottom lip because you know he's been acting funny lately and you know it's because of his new found fetish. “Bet you'd be a great daddy, been calling you that for years.” 

“Dont–” Jakes gritting his teeth, trying his best not to give into his temptations. “If I start, I won't be able to stop till you're carrying my child.” He says it almost like a threat, a warning lingering on his tongue while you sink low on his cock and lean in to whisper into his ear. Biting his earlobe gently as you smile against his flushed skin. Jake ran hot, you knew that, but he was as hot as a furnace with you naked on top of him, riding him at an agonisingly slow rhythm in the dimly lit living room. 

“Make me a mama Hangman.” You chuckle. “Wanna have your babies, make you the best daddy in the world.” Jake knows hes fucked when you start picking up the pace, your hands sliding down his explosed chest before theyre coming up to squeeze at your tits, you know he likes it when you play with yourself. His own personal porno. He snaps when you moan his name, the nickname falling off your sweet lips like you were made just for him. “Jakey–”

He takes that as all her permission he needs to flood you, taking control as he shifts you up slightly on your knees, pulling you flush against his chest and holding your arms together behind your back. Jakes taken control. He fucking up into you, groaning every time he feels his tip kiss your cervix. 

“Ahhh fugghh–yess, yess Jake!” 

“Bet you’re gonna look all kinds of beautiful carrying our baby around mama.” Jake instantly falls in love with the term of endearment. “Gonna fuck a baby right into you mama.” Jakes in heaven, he really is. You're moaning above him, clenching him so good before you’re milking him to the point he's bone dry, he couldn't give you anymore if he tried. He was spent by the time his orgasm is draining him of every ounce of fluid in his body. 

“I should go clean up–” You're dismounting, but Jake's following you, trapping you between him and the lounge as he lays you down. “What are you playing at Lieutenant?” Jake loves when you call him Lieutenant, you aren't navy so you don't often. But when you do, it sends his heart clear out of this world because he knows there is nothing but pride behind the status. 

“I'm gonna make sure that when you pee on that silly little piss stick in a few weeks that it’ll be positive.” He's kissing your lips to silence your protest as he guides two of his digits into your folds, collecting the load he just pumped into you that had started to drip, before pushing it back into you.

“Mmmm, Jake–” 

“Does that feel good mama?” Yep, he wasn't gonna stop calling you that, not now not ever. “You like when I finger fuck my cum into you?” He knows the answer he’ll get will be a whimper of pleasure just by the way your back is arching off the lounge. Your nails digging into his exposed back–surely to leave red raw lines trailing from his neck to the small of his back. “Gonna do this every damn time, make sure you're carrying our baby in no time.” 

“What if I just want you to fuck me all over again?” You raise your brow, biting at your bottom lip as Jake stills, the idea hadnt popped into his head, but now that you had planted the seed his cock was standing to attention and raring to go again. Twitching at the thought of being buried in your cum soaked cunt. “I mean if we’re gonna do this we may as well do it right huh baby?” Jakes processing the idea and he's down for it, but he knows that he gave you everything he had in the first round. 

Jakes kissing you, pulling his fingers out of your pussy before sucking the mix of his own cum and your arousal off his middle digits before jumping off the lounge, leaving you to follow him with your gaze as you sit up on your elbows. 

“Jake?” You question as he disappears around the corner, shouting back at you in response. It only makes you laugh at the father of your future children. 

“I need a gatorade, I'll be right back.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Strictly Scandalous // Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

[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! 🖤

[rookfeatherrambles]

hey so for the angle that cries ink ive been wondering how jon like got under the institute in the first place and how similar he is to the jon the know, the character from TMA. like before he was trapped was he our precious little guy who read statements and then immediately disagreed with him or is he more like an OC with a completely different backstory. i don’t know a whole lot about fics in general or how much youre willing to share about this one in particular but i would love to know some things about jons backstory if you could share? idk a whole lot about much of anything rn or if youve shared anything yet that I just haven’t seen so idk this is your sign to tell me as much as you want whenever you want to ig

long story short: would love to know some about jons backstory :)

considering I haven't written anything but chapter 1 so far... and I did yell about this on my blog before, I don't consider this a spoiler. Jon was put under the Institute by Jonah Magnus! You could say that the Institute was built because of Jon, but that's not quite true. However, the place Jon resides and has for like idk 150 years of his 200 that he's spent on this earth was made to be a home for BOTH of them. That, obviously didn't happen, and now its Jon's prison. As for if Jon is the same... yes and no. Yes, he was canon all the way up until the finale, spoilers for mag 198 and 199 and 200, but he went kinda crazy, if killing Jonah, becoming the pupil and then going through with his plan to burn out the fears is crazy. I think its real sensible! (that's a joke). Anyway, mag 200 didn't go according to plan. the panopticon didn't blow, and Jon set about his villian era. I have no idea how I'm gonna write it but he basically waged war, being marked by all fears, he could puppet them (thanks web) to a degree, and he pitted them against eachother to the death. The world burned. He BECAME the Extinction, do you get me? And he kept Martin by his side until, well. He was caught in the crossfire. The End doesn't barter its dead, even to God. Martin was gone, and Jon quickly destabilized and was deposed. I'm pretty sure he was draged kicking and screaming (and cursing) to hilltop house and the rift and thrown into it. Thus, the web's plan was ultimately fulfilled, it just took like a century. In the void between millions of realities, the fears (mainly the web) reshaped Jon. As punishment for him trying to escape the strings he'd been dancing on, he was remade in a mockery of the savior he had tried to be. Markless, beautiful and ethereal, connected to every fear, a harbinger, an angel. They took his voice too, his only weapon. Jon was brought to an almost identical world, but 200 years into the past, and given directly into the grasp of one Jonah Magnus who was just dipping toes into the supernatural. Jon's punishment, is to be immortal, and to be the reason every single person he cares about or so much as knows, falls to the fears. he is the reason they are here, after all. So yeah. That's Jon. He's been alive for 200 years, and all he wants to do is see Martin again, and apologize. Only, his Martin is dead, and this world's Martin has no knowledge of Jon's feelings or even his existence.