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emchant3d · 10 months

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part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over.

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve.

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things.

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that.

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?”

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up.

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…”

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.”

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything.

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck.

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

#steddie #steddie fic #stevexeddie #steve/eddie #guys i'm sorry for not doing a tag list i was just too overwhelmed #but thank you SO MUCH to everyone who had a kind word to say abt part 1 and was so interested in a part 2 i hope you find this!!#my fic

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months

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Mushroom body

(for @mikkeneko)

#SVSSS #shen qingqiu #mushrooms #body horror #better drawn mdzs #<-tag for higher effort art. At times like this I really wish I chose something else.#What is an October raffle for if not to end off with a little mushroomy body horror?#This one is inspired by my massive disappointment upon discovering that sqq's 'mushroom body' was just....guy shaped.#Come ON where is the fun in that? Why are we being kept from Fungi Amalgamation Monster Loving?#It's not going to stop Luo Binghe! SQQ could be a shapeless lump of slime and LBH and would still be over the moon for him.#Thank you *so* much for the prompt! I had so much fun. I love mushrooms and doing research was a delight! My citation list is long!#Broke my style a bit but I think it was a good choice. I have been trying to practice non-dot eyes more and its slowly coming along!#Also huge congrats mikkeneko for winning Twice In A Row!!#Your odds were a little over 1 in 1000! Lucky you!

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flowercrowngods · 3 months

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something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind.

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually.

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch.

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion.

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset.

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up.

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?”

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him.

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now.

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom.

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now.

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now.

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic."

No.

"You know you are."

Shut up. Go away.

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way.

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him.

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always.

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore.

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck.

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice.

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

——

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes.

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up.

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes.

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open.

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched.

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it.

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers.

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking.

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening.

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling.

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?”

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…”

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs.

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already.

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch.

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently.

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual.

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness.

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two.

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move.

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either.

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room.

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next.

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be.

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons.

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not.

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room.

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly.

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?"

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods.

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand.

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?"

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe.

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand.

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night.

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation.

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself.

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay.

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too.

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough.

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety.

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?"

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time.

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?"

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours.

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #kas eddie munson #kas takes care of steve fic #this part is downright short for me lmao #dio words #something so monstrous #i have a lot of things to say about pain and monstrosity but instead i just juxtapose them with an actual monster #and then bend the understanding of humanity around that instead #if the tag list doesn't work pls lmk some of these tags be looking wonky on mobile #the end of this is super rushed but 1) steve is still disoriented n weak 2) the mortifying ordeal of having been taken care of must be fled #3) too many thoughts too many realisations and things rearranging overwritten by the need to leave #so pls know it’s intentional and real life is abrasive like that sometimes hdhdh

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ruvviks · 3 months

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SLIME RANCHER 1 ➤ [5/?]

#slime rancher 1 #slimerancheredit #gamingedit #dailygaming #aartyom #aelyosos #radioactive-synth #userbrujah #userkarlo #userredacted #uservanguard #nucleargifs #*sr1 #flashing //#i dunno who still wants to be tagged for gifs so i just grabbed an old list but!! hiii i am back with gifs. for now #still had this footage so uhh. slimes for you :^)

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dribs-and-drabbles · 7 months

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The Thai 🤝🏽 Taiwanese Communal Wardrobe item #1

Theory of Love ep 5:

En of Love: This is Love Story ep 1:

HIStory 4: Close to You ep 1 & 14:

My Secret Love ep 10:

Check Out ep 10:

Mama Gogo ep 10:

Kiseki: Dear to Me ep 9:

(all credit to @chickenstrangers for this one)

+ bonus not in a series but...

and...

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katsona-the-katsequel · 6 days

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Tier List on willingness to kill someone

#yeah... not tagging everyone #persona 1 #persona 2 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #i like to make lists!

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msfeatherfreckles · 6 months

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This came up on my Facebook feed today.

The picture they picked for this has me 👀.

I do not spy with my little eye.... 🤣

#jensen ackles #supernatural #anti jared padalecki #adjacent #in the neighborhood of #cockles #barely #just tagging for the block lists #misha collins #mark sheppard #aah j2m but there's 2m and 1 j

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merthurians-prat-and-idiot · 3 months

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Okay, its getting super close to 9-1-1 starting up again! So does anyone know any good websites to livestream the show?

#pls & thanks!#i hope there is one for abc bc people watch the rookie live right? outside of the usa i mean #if someone's already made a list i have missed it 😅#911 #911 abc #911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 on abc #tagging these too just in case-#911 fox #911 on fox #not anymore but still #merthurians prat and idiot

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bumfuzzled-bee · 1 year

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Missed seablings so I drew them again.

#bumfuzzled art #ldshadowlady fanart #solidaritygaming fanart #empires fanart #season 1 has a special place in my heart #esmp is still on my list of things I need to catch up on #seablings<3 #empires lizzie #empires jimmy #esmp1 #I still don’t know what tags to use here #don’t mind my style changing every few drawings #I just love drawing and whatever happens happens

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ros-sauce · 1 year

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friendship at 25:00

#kanade yoisaki #mafuyu asahina #ena shinonome #mizuki akiyama #nightcord at 25:00 #25 ji nightcord de #niigo #25ji #project sekai #prsk fa #prsk #pjsk #god gives his longest list of tags to his strongest soldiers #ros sauce art #my art #no one asked but i think mizuki's sister is a unicorn with a standard mlp tail #1 pegasus parent 1 unicorn

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 4 months

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character dynamic ask game

qs focusing around how two characters interact with & see each other. any kind of matchup (partners, friends, mortal enemies, etc.) is fair game!

rules: send two characters and a question (or more!)

what were A's first impressions of B? were they mostly correct or have they changed?

if asked to describe B to a stranger, what would A say? are they mostly truthful, or is there anything they omit?

what's something A thinks in their head about B that they would NEVER tell them out loud? alternately, what's something they want to say to them but haven't/can't, and why not?

how does A refer to B (first name/last name/pet name/title/etc) in their head, to them directly, and to others? are they different? why?

A has to get B a [birthday/christmas/whatever] gift. right now. what would they get? how long would they spend thinking about it?

what does A think B thinks of them? or, if asked to describe their relationship, how would they do it? are they right?

are there any habits, mannerisms, practices etc. A does because of B? anything they do because they saw B doing it, or got advice from them about it, or something rubbed off on them? alternately, are there any little things B does that annoy them?

is there anything they really disagree on? what are they most likely to argue about?

what do outsiders think their relationship is? do they consciously or unconsciously act different around others?

how well does A think they know B? are they correct?

what's something A knows about B that most people don't? alternately, what's something most people believe about B that A doesn't?

if B asked A for help, how likely would they be to give it?

if A needed help, how likely would they be to ask B for it?

for two characters that met very recently, how would their dynamic be different (if at all) if they had known each other for much longer? for characters that are childhood/longtime acquaintances, how would it be different if they met for the first time today?

what's A's absolute favorite (or least favorite) thing about B?

free space: what's your favorite thing about their dynamic, as a fan or as a writer?

#the nemesis speaks #ask game #ask meme #hmmmmmi probably should not tag ramble here too much on account of i want ppl Not following me to not be like put out by it #anyway short(ish) list bc i wanted it to be questions that were actually like. interesting for the majority of characters #i.e. questions that were unlikely to just be ''idk whatever''#+some of them are kind of a 2-in-1 for that reason #ANYWAY #anyway you can always ask me about pla characters. it is always morally correct #or msa or w/e but. yknow. im mostly a pla blog atp

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crow085 · 2 years

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Average day at LOV headquarters

#yes i know this is ooc #Fucked up dabi's jacket on the first page but im not fixing that shit lol #the cover took at long to make as an entire comic page #also can you tell what pages i drew first based on how i get better at drawing the mha style #at least i feel like i can see that #my fav panel is the younger brother cold read one #its the last one i drew #mha dabi #touya todoroki #tw domestic violence #my hero acedamia #this is the art tag #boku no hero fanart #also i started reading MHA because i matched 1:1 with shiggy on every personality test (MBTI enneagram rulen shit like that)#and was looking on a personality databse for what character matched me to most #add mha to the list of series in which the good side are those seeking to preserve the status quo and the villains are people with #legit grievances and a desire to make society better but then have the villains inexplicably like. fight children so we know they are bad #and the end resolution is that society is fine and everything was an individual problem not a systematic one #also fuck endeavor redemption arc #and while enji may SAY it doenst matter if hes forgivven the story SHOWS that it does matte #In the manga Shoto literally explicitly says that if he didn't forgive Enji then he would be as bad as Dabi #and Deku says that what enji did in the past donest matter cause he was nice to him #and the only thing Natsu says against endeavor is that he neglected his kids when thats literally the least of his crimes #and while people see this as a Get Endeavor moment the way the whole arc is framed you're supposed to see Natsu as unresonable #it's why hes shown to be angry and hitting walls and endevor is perfectly calm #the narrative of the story brushes all the truly awful shit away and pretends like it didnt happen #i seriously doubt the fact the Endeavor human trafficked his wife then beat her to the point she was afraid of her own kids for looking like #him will ever be adressed #Rei literally bowed in apology to Hawks for what Touya did shes treated like shit by the narrative #also the fact that Deku explicitly states that none of the shit Enji did in the past mattered because he was a good mentor is such bullshit

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girljeremystrong · 2 years

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*books with great love stories and plots that don’t just revolve around them.

SORROW AND BLISS by Meg Mason

Martha’s marriage is falling apart, because there’s something wrong with her but nobody has been able to tell her what. We go back in time to relive all the ups and downs of Martha and Patrick’s relationship to find out if they can make it out together. Beautiful story about mental health and love and family.

TOMORROW AND TOMORROW AND TOMORROW by Gabrielle Zevin

Sadie and Sam love each other but are never lovers and we follow their journey for 30 years, from Boston to California as they develop together a video game and a complicated personal relationship. Very fun book about gaming and being best friends who are often in love with each other and often very mad at each other.

UNLIKELY ANIMALS by Annie Hartnett

Emma flies home from California to New Hampshire as a Med school dropout when her dad is diagnosed with a brain disease. At home her parents are in a fight, her brother is just out of rehab and her childhood best friend is missing. She scrambles to find her feet and pull everyone together. This is such a CUTE, heart lifting book with great characters and GHOSTS.

NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishiguro

Kathy, Tommy and Ruth are three best friend who have grown up in an English boarding school. But throughout their childhood many things felt wrong and as they grow and leave school they realize just how many secrets were kept from them. It’s a love story! It’s a mystery! It’s a critique of human arrogance!

NO LAND TO LIGHT ON by Yara Zghaeib

Hadi and Sama are a Syrian couple living in the USA. As they are waiting for the birth of their son, Hadi leaves to visit his family and then their lives are uprooted by a travel ban. Sama and Hadi are forced apart and as the physical and emotional distance between them grows, they try to find their way back to each other. This is a pretty sad one, I can’t lie, but such a beautiful story.

YOUNG MUNGO by Douglas Stuart

Mungo meets James in their housing estate in Glasgow. They are young and lonely, they become friends and they fall in love. Unfortunately Mungo is a Protestant and James is a Catholic, and where they’re from these things matter, especially to Mungo’s brother, a violent gang leader. This is not a very happy book either but it is THE best story about being young and falling in love. PLEASE READ THIS. Then come talk to me about it.

REAL LIFE by Brandon Taylor

Wallace is working toward a degree in the Midwest. But he’s Black and he’s queer and he feels distance between himself and his colleagues. We follow him through a summer weekend he spends with his college friends, finding out truths about them and about himself. I will never tire of recommending this book. It’s just so interesting and well written. And lovely words about the start of a relationship.

THE NIGHT CIRCUS by Erin Morgenstern

There is a circus that arrives without warning and is only open at night. Behind the scenes two magicians, Celia and Marco, are involved in a duel they’ve been training for since childhood. But despite all that, they fall in love. This is a fantasy novel that will for sure appeal to any fans of the genre. It’s fun and the aesthetics are sublime.

OPEN WATER by Caleb Azumah Nelson

Two young people meet at a pub in South East London. Both are Black British, both won scholarships to private schools where they struggled to belong, both are now artists - he a photographer, she a dancer - trying to make their mark in a city that by turns celebrates and rejects them. Tentatively, tenderly, they fall in love. So beautiful, so well written. Reads like falling in love feels like. LOVE IT.

SWIMMING IN THE DARK by Tomasz Jedrowski

Set in early 1980s Poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide. It’s beautiful and poetic and quite sad. Stunning characters, stunning descriptions.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by Malinda Lo

Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club. This is so SWEET. Lily is such a great character and her story fills your heart with pain and glee and pride. I love this book and this wonderful story.

EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM WILL SOMEDAY BE DEAD by Emily R. Austin

Gilda, a twenty-something lesbian, cannot stop ruminating about death. Desperate for relief from her panicky mind and alienated from her repressive family, she responds to a flyer for free therapy at a local Catholic church, and finds herself abruptly hired as a receptionist. Through all of this she finds a girlfriend. And it’s sweet and slow and lovely.

THE PROPHETS by Robert Jones Jr.

A novel about the forbidden union between two enslaved young men on a Deep South plantation. Isaiah was Samuel’s and Samuel was Isaiah’s. That was the way it was since the beginning, and the way it was to be until the end. Goes without saying, this is a sad story that will make you cry and will make you angry. But it is so so beautiful.

YOLK by Mary H.K.Choi

Jayne and June are two sisters living in New York after growing up in Texas. Jayne is struggling through fashion school, while her sister has a hot shot job in finance and a big apartment. They are sort-of estranged until June is diagnosed with cancer. The first love story in this book is between the sisters, but there is a budding romance for Jayne that is so sweet. This is a sweet book. I love it.

EARLY MORNING RISER by Katherine Heiny

Jane falls in love with Duncan easily. He is charming, good-natured, and handsome but unfortunately, he has also slept with nearly every woman in Boyne City, Michigan. A wise, bighearted, boundlessly joyful novel of love, disaster, and unconventional family. This feels like Gilmore Girls but better.

A TIP FOR THE HANGMAN by Allison Epstein

Christopher Marlowe, a brilliant aspiring playwright, is pulled into the duplicitous world of international espionage on behalf of Queen Elizabeth I. I also will never tire of recommending this novel about stupid Kit Marlowe becoming a spy while crushing hard on his best friend. It’s just so fun and so good.

THE BAD MUSLIM DISCOUNT by Syed M. Masood

It is 1995, and Anvar Faris is a restless, rebellious Pakistani boy whose family moves to start life over in California. At the same time, Safwa, a young girl suffocating in war-torn Baghdad with her grief-stricken, conservative father will find a very different and far more dangerous path to America. The fates of two remarkably different people intertwine and set off a series of events. It’s very good, the characters are great and the relationship is very realistic.

THE STORIED LIFE OF A.J. FIKRY by Gabrielle Zevin

A. J. Fikry is cynical but lovable. His wife has died and his bookstore is experiencing the worst sales in its history. Slowly but surely, he is isolating himself from all the people of Alice Island. But there’s Amelia, the lovely and idealistic (if eccentric) Knightley Press sales rep who keeps on taking the ferry over to Alice Island. Such a lovely book. Lovely and heatwarming with amazing characters and unpredictable plot.

WRITERS & LOVERS by Lily King

Blindsided by her mother's sudden death, and wrecked by a recent love affair, Casey Peabody has arrived in Massachusetts in the summer of 1997 without a plan. She waits tables in Harvard Square and rents a tiny, moldy room at the side of a garage where she works on the novel she's been writing for six years. When she falls for two very different men at the same time, her world fractures even more. Again this is just a lovely book. About love and grief and being lost.

AN AMERICAN MARRIAGE by Tayari Jones

Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart by circumstances. Roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. BEAUTIFUL. Just masterful work. Will make you cry like a baby.

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by Madeline Miller

Achilles, "the best of all the Greeks," son of the cruel sea goddess Thetis and the legendary king Peleus, is strong and beautiful. Patroclus is an awkward young prince, exiled from his homeland. Brought together by chance, they forge an inseparable bond, despite risking the gods' wrath. I mean I like this. It’s poetic and romantic and it’s a classic story. Had to make the list...

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Set during the pandemic when the main character and her three daughters are quarantining in their farm. The daughters get their mum to tell them the story of how she fell for and dated a famous actor while putting on a play in her 20s. VERY SWEET AND SPECIAL and also ann patchett can do no wrong!!!!

SIRENS & MUSES by Antonia Angress

The story of two very different girls who meet in art school. Lots going on in this book but it's all very poetic and interesting and the two main characters go through a lot but also like each other a lot.

IN MEMORIAM by Alice Winn

About two boys who meet in boarding school and then join war world I. It is insanely sad and it's a book about the war and about young people meeting terrible fates, but very romantic and they keep sending letters that are heartbreaking and they really love each other.

THE LATE AMERICANS by Brandon Taylor

About a group of friends and acquaintances who are all young and fucked up and all in different weird relationships but it's very interesting and Brandon Taylor also can do no wrong!!!!

TIN MAN by Sarah Winman

About two boys who meet in their youth and fall in love but then suddenly there's a time jump and it's been years and one of them is married to somebody else and the other one is nowhere to be found. Sad but also very special and definitely a book that is all about love.

LESS by Andrew Sean Greer

Pulitzer prize winning book about a novelist who receives an invitation to his ex boyfriend's wedding and is heartbroken so, suddenly, he finds himself coping by going on a world tour. It's funny and sweet and has a happy ending.

#OPEN WATER should have been n.1 in this list cause it doesn't get much more romantic than that #books #book recommendations #book recs #what if i tag #dark academia #just for the notes #bookblr #booksblr #young mungo #tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow #the song of achilles #last night at the telegraph club #swimming in the dark

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