#man just wakes up every day and chooses violence

[ministarfruit]

let him in

#vtuber #holostars #holotempus #magni dezmond #axel syrios #gavis bettel #axel is so funny and for what #man just wakes up every day and chooses violence #it's just a little hehehaha you know

[the-axe-and-flail]

Hashira- What they kiss like pt 1

Gyomei Himejima

(WARNING- NSFW topics, MDNI/18+ only)

Surely I'm not the only person who's spent far too much time thinking what it's like kissing every single Hashira, right? (minus Mui, he gets forehead kisses bc baby) Well then, let's go on an adventure, shall we?

Shinobu•Sanemi•Obanai•Tengen•Kyojuro•Giyuu•Mitsuri

Gyomei kisses you like you are the most delicate bone China he's ever held. He is reverent, worshiping at your lips as his fingers trace the sides of your face, your body humming with hymns he'd never dreamed of hearing. There is a deep and adoring connection when your lips meet, his busy hands begging to find rest as they intertwine into your hair. It almost hurts; the tug your heart gives when he lets a soft groan reverberate through your entire being as you pull away for air. His kisses are not greedy, nor are they lazy, but rather, they are admiring and awed. His lips quiver with emotion as they linger against yours, tarrying as if the answers to nirvana lay within them. He takes his time memorizing every curve of your lips, the touch of your tongue, and each and every gasp and sigh you give as he explores you. You are his most precious, his most important, and he makes sure you can feel that in the very depths of your heart each time he holds your face and leans in.

Gyomei's hands never leave you while you kiss, needing as many points of contact with you as he can get, but rest assured they are not idol. He loves to pull your entire body into him while he kisses you. Every inch of you touching him, as he is wrapped around you like a protective shield from all the terrible things in this world. His lips would part from yours only to find purchase on your neck, your collar bone, your jaw, but it would only last a moment before he longed to taste you again and find his way back to your kiss swollen lips.

Gyomei especially loves kissing you during sex. He craves to be as close to you, as unified with you as possible. If souls were not meant to touch, then why does his long for yours so fervently? Were he a seeing man, he'd relish in the love and desire he would read on your face while he was buried deep inside your welcomimg walls, but the connection of your lips make up for it 10 fold. He speaks words of exaltation against your jaw; his own sounds of pleasure signal the benediction to your lovemaking. At his climax, his hands so tenderly cup your face, a soft prayer, a declaration of love on the tip of his tongue as his mouth finds yours once again. This kiss is more needy, more passionate, filled with the longing to tell your spirit how profoundly he treasures you. He hopes with all his might that you understand a fraction of the depths of his love for you.

Gyomei kisses you only in private. He's not one for that kind of PDA, especially not something so wholly personal. A slayer has so few things that are truly private, he'd want to keep that part of your relationship just for you two. If you tease him a bit, letting your fingers linger on his forearms or circle his own fingertips, you can feel the shiver travel down his spine as he whispers about how very terrible you are to tempt him like that in public (not that he's serious mind you, but the ache in him doesn't stop until he can finally get you alone). He isn't the type to punish you for stirring him in inappropriate places, but the moment he gets you alone he will ask to feel you against him again.

#demon slayer #kny #kay's thoughts #gyomei himejima #kny gyomei #kimitsu no yaiba #gyomei x you #gyomei x reader #gyomei smut #look i just love this man okay you can pry him from my cold dead fingers 😭 #not enough people adore him so now ive decided to make that everyone's problem #imma wake up and choose violence like this every damn day until his fans outnumber the stars #big resonance

[maize-is-lost]

If I were the PLA protagonist and Kamado told me to fight him I simply would not get thrown. I would rather throw my shoe at him than fight him head-on. The man has like four wooden chairs in his room I would grab one and throw it at him without hesitation-

#this is not Kamado negative I just think there's better ways of fighting a man twice your size #pokemon legends arcues #pla kamado #currently writing Reis first encounter with him and I've put way more thought into this one paragraph than I shouldve #but god it's such a good paragraph. Rei wakes up every day and chooses violence and I love that about them

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: I

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: In the spirit of Christmas hehe

Masterlist, Prologue

He didn’t believe that you were gone no matter what anyone said.

Everyone was saying the same thing. You were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring you back. However, Min Yoongi didn’t like their answer and anyone who said that you had already passed on from this earth was met with his wrath that was communicated through his fists and weapons. No one could even tell him that he now couldn’t physically follow where you were. In his twisted mind, he thought that he could follow you because you never left this earth. Of course, he could follow. You did promise, after all, that you would never go somewhere where he couldn’t fucking follow. His angel would never lie to him, he thought. But your absence was saying otherwise. Your absence was too loud.

The days following the moment he opened his eyes and learned of your demise were bloody and dark. Everyone was on edge, and the traitors went to hell here on earth. They did wish they had died instead, but death was never quick when it came to them, nor was it painless. Min Yoongi made sure that they felt every ounce of pain he felt when you were taken away from him. His brothers could not even reason with the man. They didn’t know how to handle this Min Yoongi. It was as though he died there with you, and what was left of him was only his darkness. Agustd was already ruthless, but now he was just outright cruel, burning everything and everyone that crossed his path.

No one could even say their piece to him-well, all except Kim Seokjin. Despite Jin choosing the less violent life and despite him spending his days treating people in the hospital, no one could deny the power he naturally excluded. It was the power that was inherent to him when he was unfortunate enough to be born to a father that was the previous mafia king. Kim Seokjin may possessed the face of an angel, but he was the most dangerous of them all. It was just that he had a patience of a saint, and everyone fret the day someone snapped his patience. He was a dangerous, eccentric man. And he was a ticking time bomb in comparison to Taehyung who just kept on exploding without an end in sight. Min Yoongi, though, was known to be a reasonable man, his calm nature was never broken. It took losing you to break the calmness in him. The days after he woke up, he was seen back where he was the happiest. Day after day, Yoongi could be found there, leaning against the tree with cigarette in between his lips as he looked at the ruins of your house. The fire took everything from him. It was angry as it smoldered what once was his latibule to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Yoongi thought that the world was simply too cruel to him to strip away the only place he had of you. He couldn’t even smell you anymore, couldn’t even go to the place that was full of your presence.

How cruel was it to have you once and never again? How cruel was it for him to finally have found the warmth, to finally have basked in it for a moment too short, only for him to live in a winter forever after you? He would never admit to anyone that each time he closed his eyes, the only thing he saw was the moment you fell as the bullet pierced your skin. So, he had not been sleeping well. If you were here, he thought, you would chase away all the demons in his head. If you were here, you would put your arms around him, rub your hands on his shoulder in a soothing way only you knew how, and you would silently tell him that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. Yoongi couldn’t do anything. All he did was to go to the place where he found and lost you.

He was always there, Jimin noted. He made this place your temple, mural and shrine. However, never once did he visit where you were finally laid to rest. Never once did he even acknowledge your death. It was like not seeing it would make your death untrue. And so, day after day, hour after hour, the man could be found there as though he was waiting on a miracle, as though if he waited long enough then you would return, as though if he stayed long enough, you would walk back and smile at him, all while calling him a fool for looking too sad.

But you never did.  

And after a whole year, Min Yoongi never uttered your name again.

---

“Y-you’re supposed to be the good one! W-what is the Chief of Police doing here?!”

Yoongi watched in boredom as Jungkook pushed a man to kneel in front of him. The warehouse was quiet, well, save for the screaming of the traitors. The other brothers were busy with torturing the remaining traitors they kept alive. And today, he was faced with the last remaining traitor they had yet to kill. See, this asshole was so below the rank that he didn’t know that the Chief of Police was also the same Agustd, the leader of the mafia.

He was nothing, Yoongi thought. And yet, he was the one who blew up your house. He could almost laugh if he still knew how.  “T-the public will know! I’ll tell them that you’re the d-devil!”

Yoongi blew the smoke on his face emotionlessly, a strand of his dark hair falling on his face. “You’re not an intelligent man, are you?” he asked evenly before pulling the cigarette in between his lips and onto the idiot’s eyelid. He heeded his screams no mind as he removed his jacket with his badge on it. Someone from his right stepped in to carefully fold his jacket. Yoongi folded his sleeves to his elbows and without any warning, punched the man on his face.

The man proved to be an even greater fool as he laughed in false bravado, blood a stark contrast against his crooked teeth, “Is that all you can do? You don’t have it in you to kill. You’re a civil servant!”

“Is that so?” he asked in a conversational tone as he picked up a knife, putting it up over the light to inspect it before turning to the buffoon. “Which hand burned the house?”

“What?”

Yoongi looked at Jungkook and the latter manhandled the man near the table, flatting both his hand on it. “Which hand should I cut?” He walked nearer to them as though he had all the time in the world. “This one,” he stabbed the table, missing the man’s hand by a centimeter. “Or this one?” he repeated the action for the right hand, except that this time he intentionally stabbed the knife through his thumb, severely cutting it. “Oh no,” he said in a deadpanned voice before looking directly at him. “Guess my aim got bad.”

“W-who are y-you?!”

He smiled at him; his eyes remained emotionless. “Hi, I’m Agustd. Nice to meet you. So which hand?”

“N-No! No, please! I’ll give you what you want-“

Yoongi sighed, already losing his patience. “You do have to choose. We won’t stop until you only have one hand. Or do you want me to choose?”

“L-lef-“

Before the traitor could even finish sputtering what Yoongi deemed was bullshit, he buried the hilt of the knife into his hand. He didn’t even blink when he felt resistance from his bones, Yoongi merely kept on pushing, uncaring of the wailing man. He never stopped until he the knife finally touched the surface of the table.

And after that, he stabbed his hand again. He never ceased, not until the hand was completely mutilated. He never stopped, not even when the blood kept sputtering on his face from the man’s open wound, a stark contrast on his pale white complexion. He never stopped even when the man lost consciousness.

“He’s going to die, Yoongi,” Seokjin noted lightly from his seat. From outside looking in, he looked like a perfect image of peace, yet the hold he had on his phone was a telltale sign that he was far from pleased. He was not even phased by the violence around him, his focus merely on the whereabouts of his runaway sunshine. “I do not have the patience required to revive a dying man tonight.”

Yoongi paused, leering at the man who was slipping in and out of consciousness, before heeding his hyung’s statement. He did not want to test Jin’s patience tonight when it was apparent that he was barely holding on to his control.

He didn’t want to kill this man tonight. No. He planned on keeping him alive for years and years to come. He planned to give him hope, only for him to squash it away like he did his. As long as Yoongi shall live, then he shall suffer with him. As long as he was living in this fucked-up nightmare where you weren’t by his side, then so should he lived his very own crafted nightmare.

If he wasn’t happy, then why should anyone be?

---

“That phone looks like it wants to rest,” Jimin observed lightly as he and his hyung visited another crime scene that was definitely not because of them. It was three hours away from Seoul, the travel time giving him headache, similar to what Jimin was giving him. He watched as Yoongi ended the call before glaring at him.

“What about my phone, Jimin?”

“It looks like it wants to retire. Please, for the love of all that’s good, let me buy you a phone.”

“No.” It was the only thing he had of you.

“Whyyyyy do you love that phone so much, hyung? Our enemies would think our business is not doing good that you cannot even buy yourself a phone!”

Yoongi just shrugged his broad shoulders before walking out of the police line and through the busy market. He nodded at the policemen as they acknowledged him. His watchful eyes observed the chipper attitude of the marketgoers, chatting among themselves. He wondered how people could wake up this early and yet looked so alive. He hadn’t felt alive since that night. However, he thought that had you been here, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would. He would wake up at an ungodly hour for you.

He could hear Jimin chatter beside him as they navigated their way out of the busy street when it happened. Until it all turned into a white noise when it happened.

When he saw you.

He halted his brisk walk, his eyes following as you walked away yet again from him.

 For a brief moment, he believed your eyes met. For a brief moment, he felt his heart beat again. Yet, your eyes seemed to hold no recognition for him as it only passed through him. You didn’t even stop. It was as though he was merely a stranger.

On the other hand, he thought that you looked different, but he knew in his dead heart that it was you.

Or was it his mind finally crumbling on him, reveling on his insanity?

He blinked once and you were gone.

Jimin, suffice to say, was shocked as his hyung ran back. He never saw him moved that fast, uncaring of the people who he would runover from his haste. His dark coat trailed behind him as he moved, a touch of desperation evident, compelling Jimin to reluctantly trail after him. Yoongi forcefully cleared a path, parting the crowd with determined strides. His singular focus was on reaching you, leaving his mind devoid of any other thoughts.

It was you, he was sure. It was his angel.

He was almost sure.

But when he reached where he saw you last, you weren’t there.

Jimin was breathless when he finally reached his hyung who was looking around the crowd like a lost child. His hands were on his waist as his desperate eyes searched for…who, exactly?

“What happened, hyu-“

“It was her, Jimin-ah. I saw her.”

He blinked, following his hyung’s shifting gaze. “Who?”

“My angel. She’s alive."

Latibule 2.II

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yandere agustd #yoongi x you #yandere yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic

[film-in-my-soul]

A Well-Ordered Love Story by Dira Sudis (dsudis) / @dsudis

2 Part Series | Rated T-E | Total Words: 8,635

Part 1 Summary: Dream E. tipped well—absurdly well, sometimes, which was probably because Hob actually obeyed all the notes about things like Do not buy apples without sending a picture of them, I will tell you which I want and No other brand is an acceptable substitute on items like Sainsbury's own-brand custard creams. He would order half a dozen of the exact same frozen meal every week for months, then switch to a different one and be just as obsessed with it. There was only one kind of honey he would accept in one size jar. Hob knew probably not only how he took his tea but how many cups of it he drank every day; he was forever forgetting to order teabags and then texting Hob at the last minute to add a box. Hob had taken to adding "Do you need tea?" to the standard "This is Robert G. and I'm shopping your grocery order" text.

Complex Maths by cuubism / @cuubism

6 Part Series | Rated T-E | Total Words: 18,941

Part 1 Summary: Dream is beautiful and brilliant and completely insufferable, and Hob is so into him it hurts.

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs by Moorishflower / @moorishflower

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 19,319

Part 1 Summary: You are always welcome," Hob had said, with such warmth in his voice that Dream had listed towards him like a pale fern grown in darkness, starved for the sun. "Any time, day or night. My home is your home." After the Dream Vortex, after Desire, after the Corinthian, Dream is drawn back to warmth, and comfort, and safety, to Hob.

Please see below for more recommendations!

We Will Be Enough by Kavute / @mashumaru

2 Part Series | Rated T-M | Total Words: 24,862

Part 1 Summary: He will never wake up. “You may stay here, Robert Gadling, or you may leave to the Sunless Lands with my sister.”  Is there really a choice? Would anyone ever choose otherwise? Hob falls to his knees, bows his head, slowly, ever so slowly reaches out his hand and takes the hand of the person before him. No, not a person, he thinks as soon as their skin touch, he must a god. Robert brings his hand to his lips, and places them on his knuckles. It’s a promise, an oath, a declaration. “Allow me to stay, sire.” 

The Wine-Dark Sea (Siren!AU) by Moorishflower / @moorishflower

7 Part Series | Rated T-E | Total Words: 40,611

Part 1 Summary: Hob Gadling lets his lover practice his needlework on him. He's also been shot three times, which is rather part of it, but a little bit less important at the moment than a creature with tentacles helpfully digging out the bullets and trying to sew him shut again.

Hallmark 'verse by Moorishflower / @moorishflower

3 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 42,709

Part 1 Summary: "So, what's the thing that makes you poor company, stranger?" Morpheus opens his mouth -- it is none of your business, my heart is broken, I am contemplating going home and committing suicide because I am clearly and patently not designed to be loved in any meaningful way -- but is interrupted by Hob's cheerful continuation, "Because I've just been dumped by my girlfriend of two years."

Fuckboi Hob by dancinbutterfly / @dancinbutterfly & Moorishflower / @moorishflower

2 Part Series | Rated M-E | Total Words: 55,855

Part 1 Summary: Kids like this don't make themselves. He narrows his eyes and looks at the man, who could probably have him disappeared a dozen ways with nothing but a text, and weighs his options. He can feel Morpheus still shaking and decides - fuck it - and chooses violence. "You can call me Hob, Tim, and all you need to know is your son calls me Daddy, too."

They're Husbands, Your Honor by Moorishflower / @moorishflower

6 Part Series | Rated | Total Words: 63,545

Part 1 Summary: 'Would that we were married,' Hob thinks unkindly. 'If we were married I could give you a shake and not have to worry about chasing you off for another century.'

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling reclist #fanfic reclist #reclist #the sandman reclist

[hideousvoid]

Can you do yandere Malleus headcanon?

Possessive Fae

Reader: gender neutral

warnings: isolating, stalking mentions, slight mention of violence and manipulating behavior.

You won the dragon's heart, the future king of the Fae's, it's amazing right? It's up to you to take it as sarcasm or not, he has many good qualities as bad ones. From now one you can't go anywhere without him or Sebek, Lilia or Silver.

At first you noticed how people started to avoid you, isolate like you weren't there. Your friends slowly disappearing and never talking to you again. What was happening? It was horrible, you didn't have anyone there for you leading to stay in your room most of the time to try feeling better. The only student that still talked to you was Malleus, rarely Sebek but only to mention his master and Lilia doing the same. One day, tired and sick of all the things that were happening you wrapped your arms around the dragon Fae crying on his shirt. You told him everything keeping him the closest to yourself, you needed love so much. He softly caressed your hair whispering gentle words to make you feel better, it was all his plan and you as a poor lamb was falling in his trap.

"Don't worry child of man, I will be here for you from now on, forever"

Everywhere you go or stay, you can feel a pair of eyes looking at you, never knowing who's those are. Could be Lilia, Sebek or even Silver, ready to tell Malleus everything. Sometimes the gaze is different, cold and harsh, as if that person is going to devour you any moment. Every little movement, breath or word is caught by him, you are his precious human and he needs to know about you. If you try to talk to him about it you are getting nothing else than the silence, looking at you unbothered. It's not like he is going to stop, as a spoiled kid he does whatever he wants and gets what he wishes. He could wake up tomorrow and choose to bite you to taste your blood, leaving a mark so everyone knows that you are his. What are you going to do about it? Nothing, because you can't and words doesn't work with him.

"you look so cute in your pajama, you know? I could just eat you up"

Then you are going to stay in his room, can't return to your old one anymore. All your stuff is there, your clothes in his wardrobe in a side just for you. You can only leave the room with the company of his familiars or him, then you'll immediately return to his room no matter what. You are only his and his alone, this is why he hugs you in his sleep tight as he is going to lose you any moment. Lilia deliveries the lunch and dinner that Sebek cooks, Malleus doesn't wish for you to eat the bat's almost poisoning cooking. Don't hope in those three, if you try to escape they will catch you and immediately warn the Fae. Neither talking with them will work, Malleus gave permission only to Lilia to chat with you. Obviously the conversation is about Malleus and you, he won't mention anything else. You do your homeworks with the dorm leader, you wash with him and you have a very little privacy.

"Did you seriously attempt to escape, (y/n)? I'm giving you all my love and attention, why are you doing such a cruel thing to me? You are hurting me so much.."

Naive as he is, he won't care much about the consequences of his punishment. In fact he will take you in his arms and shower you of his love, whispering how he did it for both and that you will feel better soon. You won't stop loving him, at least he thinks, you are too desperate and without him you can't survive. Malleus makes you find your room full of gifts everyday, name one thing you desire and you'll be immediately satisfied. Your body is full of bites mark made by him, his scent over you while you can only wear his clothes when you aren't at school. You won't leave him, neither death will, you are going to be with Malleus forever with no way to escape.

"your body, mind and soul are completely mine. Our souls are becoming one soon, you won't imagine of running away from me no more. Bear it with me, my jewel"

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere twst #malleus hcs #malleus headcanons #twisted wonderland #tw violence #tw stalking #tw isolation #tw manipulation #twst writing #twst #twst malleus #gender neutral mc #gn reader #yandere x reader #yn #diasomnia #yandere

[legallybrunettedotcom]

i think i should re-learn german this year. i studied it throughout elementary and high school, but i can maybe string two sentences together. and that's the case for a lot of people in my generation who have all learned it in school. i think it's because we're just not exposed to it on a daily basis like we are with english. every time i stumble upon it i find that i understand a lot of it, like i got the vocabulary and pronunciation isn't a problem, i just can't speak it. the year of watching herzog movies i guess. i was watching this documentary he made about his turbulent relationship with klaus kinski called my best fiend, and i was sort of semi-aware of kinski's reputation, but oh my god, this was... what an utterly scary man. just waking up every day and choosing violence. he was yelling so much. i think i got a pretty good grasp on how to insult people in german after this.

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 6: Revelation

Previous Chapter: Chapter 5 - Via Domus

Summary: More secrets are revealed to you as your reunion with Eddie comes to a close, and in their wake, a covenant is made between the two of you.

Word Count: 18.2k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Kas!Eddie, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Gore, Body Horror, Angst, Smut, Fluff, Monsterfucking, Slight Pain/Discomfort/Injury due to Monsterfucking (short lived), Unprotected PinV Sex (he's undead it doesn't matter), Oral Sex (M Receiving), Bloodletting, Defiling of Religious Grounds/Paraphernalia, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Note: On March 27th 1986, Eddie Munson was left to his fate in the Upside Down and a year ago today I began this journey with Hell, the story of how he was left to his fate under Vecna's control. Now here we are, finally able to "see" what he became. The man turned monster finally revealed in his entirety. And all the...trouble that entails for him and his love, the Knight. Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far, who has listened to me rant and rave, who has stuck with me for this long. I love and cherish you. This one--hell, the whole story actually--is for you.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”  - Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars

November 6, 1983 October 15, 1987

It was dark and, although it wasn’t a place you would choose to rest, there you lay.

It was a welcome rest. All rest was welcome when you hadn’t had any for an eternity.

Countless days and nights you’d spent trying so hard to save him. Save yourself. Where did it get you?

Back into the darkness once again.

Fate was cruel.

And you were lost.

“Sweetheart?”

You could hear his voice faintly, and tears involuntarily escaped the corners of your eyes; he never called you sweetheart anymore.

"Angel, come on," he cooed softly, closer now, and closer still the longer it took. "Time to make the donuts, open your eyes for me. Please."

You took a rattling breath and you trembled all the while, as the fear that your mind, or maybe even this place, might be playing tricks on you became overwhelming.

Hands grabbed for you reverently--hands, not claws--and pulled you over and up, til you were sitting, and then a solid form slid behind you. The gentle soul let you rest back against them, and then caressed you.

You whimpered as those hands and fingers paid special attention to the most wounded parts of you, as they willed some kind of healing, and made you whole again.

You felt it slowly fill you. The light. So soft and pure.

It was something that you'd long since resigned to losing someday, your light, but here it was again. Not yours but made to be yours, because he was yours. Just like you were his. The light, given freely, returned all of the pieces of you that were missing, bit by bit.

The piece that had vanished from your sternum, the gaping hole that was taken from your side, the jagged incisions at every joint. They were filled and sealed and suddenly you were like new again.

Your eyes shot open, and you released a startled gasp as your lungs were allowed a full breath for the first time in ages.

And just like an infant experiencing the overwhelming majesty of the world for the first time, you sobbed.

"Shhhh," Eddie whispered into your ear. His nose and lips gently brushed the shell of it, and he left a kiss there when you finally relaxed against him. "I've got you. It's alright, it's gonna be ok. I’m here. I've got you."

November 6, 1983

“…and there’s this ice cream cake called Viennetta.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It is! It’s…vanilla and chocolate and the ice cream does this swirl thing.” You waved your hands for dramatic effect. “It’s delicious. Nonna got to try it before she passed. Said it was better than tiramisu.”

“Fuck, I miss ice cream.” Eddie groaned and tilted his head back.

It wasn’t said in a bitter way, more for dramatic effect.

You'd been shut away in the secret little house in the Upside Down for a few days now; making love, talking, and eating the little snacks that Wayne had brought Eddie previously. When he’d gone to bring you more sustenance from the kitchen after that first night of sex and reconnection, you’d asked him if he could eat normal food. He explained that he had never thought to try. All he craved was blood. But it was the idea of food that he missed more than anything. The variety. The choice.

You'd squirrel that thought away for later.

For now, the two of you lavished in the comfort of each other and you regaled Eddie with the less-adventurous aspects of your life--and he his--that you'd both missed out on.

Topics jumped back and forth between lazy kisses and frantic fucking, sometimes even right in between, interrupting your most intimate moments. It felt reminiscent of those early days together, where you couldn't get enough of each other and couldn't get enough of talking to one another.

Especially when it came to the things in life that passed him by while he was stuck in this infernal dimension.

People and events.

"This...nuclear reactor almost exploded."

"What the fuck? Like Ten Mile Island?"

"Worse."

"How much worse?"

"Like the Vatican almost wanted to send the Knights in to investigate."

"Damn."

Food and music.

"Van Halen is back together."

"Oh shit, they are?"

"Yeah."

"Soon as I'm out of here, I'm challenging Eddie Van Halen to a guitar duel."

"They have a new lead singer though. I think you'd hate them less now to be honest."

"Fuck David Lee Roth. Remember when I got you to admit you had a crush on him?"

"I was coerced. It was said under duress."

"If I had your phone number when I found out that they had broken up, I would have called you and laughed right in your fucking face, sweetheart."

Television and movies.

"There's a new James Bond movie coming out," you broke a heated kiss and pushed yourself to sit upright on Eddie's hips, groaning at the change in angle as you sunk further down onto his cock. He stretched his neck and then grabbed at your hands to kiss your knuckles as you took the lead in both the pace and the conversation. "And a new James Bond."

"No more...what's-his-face?" he asked, panting. "Roger Moore."

"No, Timothy Dalton," you said, looking at his face expectantly for some type of reaction. You rolled your hips into his roughly, almost as punishment, when you got no response other than pleasure. "You remember, the guy from Flash Gordon? You made me watch that movie a hundred times. Prince Barin? What about Jane Eyre?"

He stilled beneath you, brow furrowed in concentration.

"You made me watch that one a hundred times."

"No, there were just a hundred episodes. Remember I said you would make a good Rochester? And you said it was because you were..."

Eddie grabbed your hips and canted up into you, a feral grin on his lips now, fangs glinting in the low light.

"Because I'm handsome and mysterious," he recalled. "And a desirable bachelor."

"And I said no," you collapsed back against him again, lips brushing against his. "It was because your name is Edward."

You reconnected for a bruising kiss before he got the upper hand once again and got you beneath him.

It didn't matter what or when, every moment and every word was of the utmost importance; the actions that they were preceded or punctuated by simply added to the depth of your reunion.

In those private little moments, between silly banter and declarations of your devotion to one another, you promised never to be apart again.

"Once we get you out of here," you said, words hushed against his cold skin. "We can go to concerts and see movies, drive anywhere you want. Get the hell out of Hawkins and never look back."

"Once I get out of here," he parroted as he broke away from his intense feeding. "We'll go everywhere and do everything. Start a new band together or just find a place with a nice couch to sit and never leave. I never want to let you go."

"All I want," you and Eddie echoed to one another over and over, "is to be with you forever."

It took three days before the two of you emerged from the peaceful solitude of Eddie's childhood home.

The watch on your wrist beeped at some supposed midnight every night signaling the end of another day, and Wayne's visit was soon upon you. You figured, instead of just asking for Wayne to fetch your bag, you'd just return to Hawkins with him and get it yourself. Maybe some books you'd abandoned in the trunk of your car too.

Then you could really get to work remedying this whole situation, and getting Eddie home.

Eddie was loath to let you go, though; he watched as you got dressed in your ripped and stained clothes, arms crossed behind his head comfortably while enticing temptations leached from his lips.

"I can just go," he offered. "Wayne'll have fresh food for you and then you don't need to leave until three days after that. How does that sound? Stay with me just a little longer."

"Eddie," you groaned. "I've already been gone long enough. As nice as that sounds, I'm sure your friends--hell, my friend--is wondering where I've disappeared to. They've found my car by now too."

"I can send Chrissy or Fred to tell them you're ok."

"That'll go over well," you rolled your eyes.

You shrugged your jacket on and in a blink, he was standing before you, still naked, eyes wide.

"Jesus," you jumped, startled.

"Guess again," he teased tensely.

"You're...fast," you squinted your eyes at him, motioning between him and the mattress.

"I have a few tricks that I take advantage of when I'm in the mood for them. Some things Vecna showed me; y'ain't seen nothing yet sweetheart."

You hummed a noncommittal response and just stared at him, let your eyes rove over his form once again, taking in as much detail as you could before you left him.

"Pretty sure I'm seeing a lot of you, actually," you told him, voice laden with appreciation for the sight before you.

You reached out and ran a finger over one of the seams along his skin, around his wrist; so much time over the past few days had been spent reacquainting yourselves, and you wondered if you spontaneously lost your sight, would you recognize him by touch alone?

So much time had been spent with the phantom presence of him around over the years, though, that it really didn't matter either way; your soul would sing simply by having him nearby.

"Alright," you sighed lamentingly. "Put some clothes on Romeo. Time for me to go back to Verona."

Another blink and he was on you. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed across your cheeks and jaw, edging the exposed bite wounds.

"Promise me," he muttered and leaned closer so your noses brushed and breaths mingled. "Promise me you'll be back."

"I promise," you agreed.

"Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"When the watch beeps at midnight again, I need you back here," he pleaded. He pressed the lightest kiss to your lips. "Please don't leave me here."

"I won't," you said with finality, as you looked into his eyes with the fire of promise and determination. "Nothing could keep me away."

Satisfied, he moved in a blur, and then stood before you again, fully dressed in a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shrugged his jacket back on and then gestured for you to take the lead.

The walk back into the Upside Down's version of Hawkins seemed quicker this time. Probably because the two of you actually talked, a continuation of the conversations you'd started over the past few days.

Eddie was more eager to show you the sights around Hawkins again, less fond memories and more "could have beens" that turned into "will be one days."

"Some days."

It filled you with hope.

You were also much more comfortable with the creatures that roamed around. The bats overhead and a herd of demogorgons that ran alongside you at one point; they largely ignored you and so you ignored them too.

A curious little demodog approached you though; well, it approached Eddie, jumping and whining to get his attention. He let go of your hand and knelt down to give it a few pets, and then even took your hand so it could sniff and receive a pet from you on its slimy head, which it eagerly accepted. The creature was much friendlier than the demodogs you'd encountered previously, and you wondered if it was Eddie's influence that affected it, much like Dustin and his pal Dart.

You weren't nearly as hesitant as you had been with the bats; you trusted Eddie, which meant you had to trust them too. And he was just as gentle with the demodog as he had been with any of the cats or critters around Forest Hills, like Lucy and her kittens.

"Cerberus," he grinned proudly as he introduced his friend. "Not the first of his name, unfortunately, but a loyal friend nonetheless."

Once Cerberus was on his way, you both continued.

"Wish there was a faster way to get around here," you commented about halfway through the journey, feet starting to ache in your sneakers. "Do any of these cars work?"

"I, uh, never tried them," he admitted. The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought a smile. "I honestly get around quick enough."

"Uh huh," you rolled your eyes. "Mr. Speedster here. Who runs faster, you or The Flash?"

"I'm more partial to the Reverse Flash, actually," he reminded you.

"Nerd."

Before long, you arrived at the dry waste that was this world's Lover's Lake and stared at the glowing, smoking fissure that originated at the center and ran towards the center of town.

"Where'd all the water go?" you wondered aloud.

"I dunno, the lake was dry when Nancy and the Wonder Twins and I crossed over way back when," Eddie sighed. He got that sly look on his face again. "I could try to open the gate a little wider. See if I can drain the real Lover's Lake?"

"Don't you dare," you backhanded him across the arm, but he pulled you into his embrace.

"Just say the word and I'll do it."

"No!"

"I'll give you anything you want."

"Stop."

"What is it you want, Mary?" he quoted, taking on Jimmy Stewart's vocal cadence. "What do you want? How about the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

"I hate you."

"You love me," he grinned proudly and then kissed you again.

It felt like a kiss of finality, a goodbye kiss, like the one you shared when you left Hawkins; it was bittersweet and left a painful ache in your chest, even though you knew you'd be back in a day. Eddie must have felt the same though, because when you pulled away and looked into his eyes, you found they were wet with tears, just like they had been then too. He blinked and one lone tear--made of thick blood instead of water--rolled down his cheek. You reached up to wipe it away, and he grasped your wrist so he could kiss the droplet.

"And I love you," he whispered against the pad of your thumb. "Love you so much I'd give you the moon."

"I'll take it."

"Well look at that," a groan of a familiar voice interrupted the sweet moment, and you both turned to find Wayne pulling himself through the gate at the shore of the lake. You quickly rushed forward to help him to his feet, as he stumbled and wheezed and coughed. "Fancy seeing you here honey. Guess the cat's out of the bag."

"No thanks to you," you ribbed him good-naturedly.

"You figured it out on your own, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he teased and then looked past you to Eddie. "Good to see you kid."

"Hey Wayne," he greeted his uncle.

"Looking more like yourself," Wayne nodded appreciatively.

"Feeling more like myself."

"Hmmm," Wayne clapped a hand on your shoulder and then winked at you. "Wonder why. Makes me feel almost silly that I'd had the brilliant idea to bring some of Rick's old tapes over today."

"C'mon, you know I'll take whatever music I can get my hands on. Everything here is pretty much covered in gunk anyway."

You watched their interaction fondly as they bickered back and forth like they always had. Eddie clapped a hand on Wayne’s shoulder and made him laugh, and Wayne cupped the side of Eddie’s head affectionately, the closest they would get to a hug for now.

Eventually, Wayne hefted the backpack from his shoulder and unpacked all sorts of items for Eddie: clothes, food--more of Eddie's favorites--tapes, and a new book.

Suddenly what he said back at Rick's the other day made a lot more sense.

"Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

He hadn't been talking about what he'd done when Eddie was wanted for murder and was then believed to be dead; he was talking about this right here. A futile effort to bring Eddie comfort while he was stuck in the Upside Down.

That sinking feeling that you had felt when he'd said that to you was back, worse now knowing that it wasn't just grief he'd experienced, but the constant reminder of his failure to run with Eddie while he could.

You found yourself even more determined to fix this; not just for Eddie, or for you. But for Wayne too.

October 16, 1987

It had taken a little time.

A little elbow grease, a little prayer, a lot of Wayne's mechanical knowledge and jumper cables, but before long you were back in the driver's seat of the Marquis, headed for the Harringtons.

Driving through town had a different weight to it now. There was no insidious evil lurking beyond sight and understanding, it was just Eddie.

Yes, there were still many obstacles to face before things were made right again. But it wouldn't be such an impossible, herculean task anymore to fix things, would it?

But people still died. There were still dark creatures roaming about. Eddie was stuck in the Upside Down and had still resurrected any number of people, which was a big deal in and of itself.

And you were still burdened by your family's curse.

"Right," you muttered to yourself. "All of that. Fuck."

What you wouldn't give to return to the bliss of Eddie's arms right now instead of face that ever-growing list.

"One thing at a time." You nodded and tried to keep your eyes on the prize. "First let everyone know you're alive, then figure out how to get Eddie out of there. The rest will follow."

If only things could be that easy.

You almost--and quite literally--ran into Steve's maroon BMW at some point on your drive. Tires screeched, curses shouted, and then you followed the gang back home. Dustin and Robin bickered in the back seat of Steve's car and you watched their animated expressions, arms flailing as they did. It warmed your heart, made you realize how much you had come to care for them and miss them, even in a few short days.

You beamed brightly as one specific scathing remark from Dustin made Steve turn around in the driver's seat to give a warning glare.

By the time you parked behind Steve at the Harrington's, Dustin had bolted out of the car to greet you and, in a full 180 from his behavior in the car, essentially tackled you in a hug.

"You made it back," he sounded relieved, "We were getting worried."

"First off," you scoffed and flicked the bill of his hat. "I wouldn't expect any less, you little worry wort, especially after three whole days. And second, mister, you have some explaining to do."

“Three day—wait,” he stumbled over his words. “Me? I have some explaining to do? Why? What’d I do?”

He twitched and shifted nervously, then his eyes roamed over you, really taking in the beaten, bruised, and bitten nature of your appearance. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something when a car door slammed heavily and another voice chimed into the conversation.

“Actually, I think it’s you that owes us an explanation,” Nancy announced, arms quick to cross over her chest. You could feel the ire come off her in waves. “Did you think Claudia was gonna keep Billy a secret from everyone else just because you decided to stay with Wayne Munson instead of here?”

Maybe it was the reunion with Eddie that made you more patient. Forgiving. You already gave Nancy the grace that she, understandably, didn't seem to have for anyone else outside of her inner circle, and you thought, once again, about how much the two of you were more alike than different.

Maybe in a different world, you might have been friends.

Instead here, she very much felt the need to be your enemy.

Because the entire world was her enemy thanks to the shitty hand it dealt her.

You could be whatever she needed you to be until she saw that you were not against her, the way she believed you were.

"It's good to see you too Nancy," you deadpanned. "I didn't think it was going to hide the truth from everyone if I left."

"So you just wanted to leave the others to the consequences of your decisions rather than face them yourself," she accused.

"No I thought it would be easier if you all didn't see my face every day, especially with how royally I was fucking everything up," you told her. "See? I can admit when I fuck things up. This isn't the first time. It happens a lot actually."

Her face crumpled in a scowl.

"I know it isn't a surprise," you continued. "Because you seem to think I'm the one who continues to bring misfortune to Hawkins but we both know that it's been here regardless of my presence or not. Just like Kas would still be around whether or not I was. Isn't that right?

"Or should I say Eddie would still be around?"

Steve, Robin, and Dustin stared at you with wide eyes, but Nancy smirked and threw her hands out with a sarcastic laugh.

"Thank God, now we don't have to keep that secret anymore."

"I don't know why you thought it would be ok to keep it a secret in the first place," you shook your head. "As if I wasn't going to find out at some point."

"It was me," Dustin insisted, stepping between you and Nancy with his hands out to placate you both, as though you were about to lunge for her or something. Or maybe Nancy was going to lunge for you.

Whatever foresight he had, it was unnecessary.

As was the ashamed look on his face.

"I didn't want you to know what he's become," he explained. His voice was low and he refused to meet your gaze. "I didn't want you to know--"

"He didn't want you to know Eddie's an evil monster," Nancy chimed in. Steve and Robin both shouted her name in shock. "Am I wrong? Look at everything he's done? Done to Hawkins? Done to us."

"He helped us!" Dustin argued. "Helped us defeat Vecna."

"And look how many people died Dustin! How many people he killed?He's a monster! Don't tell me you'd rather have him back. Don't tell me you never thought that he should have just stayed dead in the Upside Down, instead coming back to kill everyone we love."

"Hey!" You shouted at her now. You stomped your foot, hard, against the concrete driveway and drove enough of your power into the ground to cause it to shake. The reverberations threw Nancy off-balance for a moment, and she fell against the car for support. "That's enough! Don't be an asshole!"

"Yeah," Dustin nodded his agreement with a glance back at you, before he turned back to Nancy to restart his own onslaught.

"You either," you pushed his shoulder to get him to stop. "Fuck, we're not gonna fix this if we're too busy arguing with one another."

"Fix this?" Nancy scoffed. "You think you can fix this? Fix Hawkins? What's next? Can you time travel? Go back to 1955? Kill Henry before he can become Vecna? What else? Can you bring back the dead?"

"I can, actually," you said, a shocked silence falling over the driveway. "Maybe not in the way you think. Maybe not everyone. But Eddie brought the dead back, didn't he? Brought Max back. Eleven did too. So is it really a stretch to believe I might be able to.

"I can't bring back all of your loved ones, but maybe I can help fix this. Put this town right. Close those gates for good. Help you get closure. Move on with your lives, instead of being under this constant...shitstorm of death and destruction."

Nancy recovered from her shock and took a few calming breaths.

"And what does that all entail?" she asked. "You gonna bring Eddie back to this world too? Fix him? Does he get a clean slate? A fresh start? In spite of everything?"

"Not in spite of it," you told her. "Because of it. Everyone gets a fresh start. A second chance."

"Forgive me if I find that a little too good to be true."

She turned on her heel and stormed into the house with Robin hot on her heels.

You let out a relieved breath and relaxed your posture.

"I'm running out of these motivational speeches," you said aloud.

"You're really good at them," Steve offered as he joined you and Dustin. "Better than I am."

"I usually just tell people to run and they listen."

"You're really good at that too," Dustin added. You put your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"You could have just told me about Eddie," you said to him gently. "Honestly, I think it probably would have worked out a lot better if you did."

"I didn't...I didn't want to hurt you," he sighed.

"First of all," you let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Clearly I needed help figuring it out. And second, I hurt myself more by trying to fight an invisible enemy than if I just knew he was Kas. I could have started fixing it from the get."

"Can you fix him?" he asked hopefully. "Get him out of the Upside Down?"

"I can try." You jumped at the sound of Eddie's watch beeping on your wrist. You looked down at it and frowned; the display read midnight...but it was the middle of the afternoon. Weird. You pressed the button to silence the alarm. "I just need to get back."

"You, uh," Steve pointed at his neck. "You've gotta fix yourself first. Need a little first aid there bud?" You had half a mind to flip him off.

"Yeah, Jesus," Dustin reached up and pulled at the collar of your jacket to reveal your bite wounds; he blanched at the sight of them. "Did...did Eddie do that?"

"Uh," you nudged his hand away. "No comment. But yes, uh, maybe some first aid. And some dinner. Then I can head back to Wayne's for a good night's sleep. But uh...a good shower and some disinfectant cream would be great."

The three of you headed inside.

"We just set up a makeshift infirmary yesterday, actually. Pretty well-stocked and everything," Dustin announced matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? What for?" Both boys stopped in their tracks and you felt the guilt oozing from them. You shot them with what you were sure was a withering stare. "What's the infirmary for, guys?"

"What do you mean you got struck by lightning?"

"I got struck by lightning," Mary Victoria shrugged from her place in bed.

She was propped by many pillows, had a stack of comic books beside her--courtesy of Dustin--and was scribbling in a fuzzy purple diary when you walked into the room the two of you had been staying in. She looked relieved to see you for a literal second until she saw the worried look on your face, and then immediately devolved into making excuses and saying she looked worse than she felt.

But truly, she did look terrible.

Her neck and the visible part of her right arm were bandaged up, eyes concerningly bloodshot, and the ends of her hair singed.

You offered to heal her one moment--and she denied you, claiming she'd have a cool scar to show off and guilt people with--and then demanded the story the next.

The story, unfortunately, seemed unbelievable.

"I pissed God off, and he smited me," was her explanation. Simple as that.

Great.

"That's not a thing," you scoffed.

"Are you sure about that?" Mare narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion.

"Alright, it sort of is, but," you sighed. "It's not God. It's usually some...I don't know...other being of higher power. Angels...Jesus Mare, you're a nun. Sodom and Gomorrah. You should know this."

"I never claimed to be a good nun," she shrugged then winced. "You know this."

You reached across to take her hand and you willed a sense of soothing from your body into hers; not enough to heal her wounds, but to give her some relief.

"So...an angel smited me then," she shrugged again, easily this time.

You snorted for a second thinking of Gabriel, bored of watching your eternal struggle and smiting Mary Victoria for fun just to spice things up a little bit. He didn't have that much of a sense of humor though.

“I’m gonna bank on it being coincidental; what did you even do to incur some holy wrath?”

“Called Him an asshole.”

“You’re fine. I do that all the time.”

“You’re also doomed to Hell. So I don’t think smiting is gonna do much to change you.”

She closed her eyes and leant back against the pillows.

"There's something else," she announced.

"Ok..."

“I know I’m already here and it’s already too late, but what if I don’t want to be a Knight?”

“Then you don’t have to be,” you told her immediately with a gentle smile.

She popped one eye open and then frowned.

“Seriously?” She asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

“I mean, you didn't take an oath or anything, and yeah you're here. It's not like I can send you home so we need to see this through but," you tilted your head back and forth. "You're allowed to choose. Everyone is allowed to choose what it is they want. All of the Knights made a choice, even me."

"But I think this is why I got struck by lightning. Because I changed my mind. I chose to come with you, I left everything behind, and I still chose to change my mind."

You opened your mouth to speak, to refute her belief and spout something that she'd already heard from you a hundred times--how fate was stupid and God didn't have some master plan--when Eddie's watch beeped and interrupted that train of thought.

You glanced down at it and pressed the button to silence it.

Midnight again.

There was a split second where you thought it was funny; either time was moving slower, or the watch was moving faster. But that led you to another thought, more relevant to the conversation at hand.

You sighed and let it roll around in your head for a moment, let it marinate, before you spewed some bullshit on your friend.

"I'm gonna say something a little hypocritical," you offered. "And you can take it any way you want. What if...what if the lightning wasn't a punishment. It seems like a punishment, that's how you're choosing to believe it. But what if it was a sign that you're making the right choice by deciding you don't want this life."

"That's kind of a funny way for the universe to tell me I'm doing the right thing."

You looked back down at the watch.

"I guess it's all just a matter of perspective."

You left Mare to her thoughts as you went to shower, tend to your wounds, and change your clothes. You took your time with it too, hot water be damned; you deserved the time to yourself, to take care of yourself.

The sustained damage and grime of several days in the Upside Down made the shirt and jeans unsalvageable; however, the sentimental side of you couldn't bear to part with your jacket. You hand washed it in the sink, wrung out as much of the dirt and sweat and blood and muck as you could, and laid it over a chair in the dining room to dry as you shared a hearty meal with Dustin and Steve.

They waited to eat with you, instead of the other inhabitants of the house, who--as Nancy had revealed--all knew of the situation with Billy and were less than pleased with your involvement or your return.

So the boys spared you another bombardment of questions and accusations, and chose to eat with you instead.

It was...normal.

Or as close to normal as you were gonna get.

And it was nice.

"You need a break," Dustin said as he scooped now-cold mashed potatoes into his mouth. "We all do, honestly."

"Mmm, I don't think my boss is gonna let me have that," you snorted a laugh. "But it's a nice thought."

Conversation flowed easily, and of course strayed to Billy, who you learned was doing alright, but was still tied up in the garage for the time being.

"News travels fast through the Hawkins grapevine," Steve said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "But, uh, now Max knows he's here."

"And she wants to come and talk to him," Dustin added.

"So, you should let her," you suggested.

"I thought we already established that wasn't going to happen," Steve argued.

"Hey," you held your hands up defensively. "You brought it up. All I know is, something is going on with Billy...some side effect of his resurrection. Maybe even his death. Maybe seeing Max...talking to her will help him work through it."

"I brought it up so you could ask Eddie to undo whatever the fuck it was he did to bring Billy back in the first place."

"Uh huh." You pursed your lips and dragged your fork lazily across your plate. "I'll add it to my to-do list."

"I'm surprised that you hadn't asked him about Billy already."

"You know, my boyfriend who I haven't seen in 3 years, who I thought was dead for the last year and a half...asking him about Billy Hargrove wasn't a top priority."

Steve groaned and made a gagging noise. Dustin turned in his chair and wrapped his arms around himself as he made kissy noises to mock you and Eddie making out.

You laughed and thought of the many times Gareth or Mickey would do the same things--any of the guys really--when you tagged along with Eddie during their hangouts or band practices.

You missed the feeling of belonging, of having these pseudo younger brothers. And you knew Eddie must be missing them as well, Dustin especially.

You had half a mind to ask them where the Corroded Coffin boys had disappeared to, if they knew Mickey or Jack's families, if they were still in town--

Beep beep. Beep beep.

"What's that?" Dustin asked as you groaned and hit the button to silence the alarm. "S'that Eddie's watch?"

Midnight again.

"Yeah he gave it to me to...I dunno, prove this point that he only sent the creatures to feed every third day," you shook your head and then did some mental math. "So I guess they should have hunted yesterday. Right? Sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth. But the watch keeps saying it's midnight. I don't know. I think coming through the gate fucked it up and now it runs fast. It's the nineteenth and the watch says it's the twenty-first."

"Today's not the nineteenth," Dustin frowned. "It's the sixteenth."

"No it isn't. It's the nineteenth, I was in the Upside Down for three days. Maybe four?"

"That's why you said three days earlier?"

"Why else would I say three days if I wasn't gone for three days?"

"You were gone for a day," Steve explained. "Barely a day. You left last night before it started raining."

"No I didn't, I--" Your words fell short when Dustin shoved his own wrist in your face, and you looked at the flashing digitized date and time.

"You know," he swallowed thickly. "Way back when, we figured out that time is stuck in the Upside Down. Like, it's perpetually stuck on the day Will first disappeared. November 6th, 1983. And for a little while, before Vecna came back, we thought that we could...restart the timeline or something. Save all of our friends who died. If only we could...I dunno, access the past."

"I've seen a lot of shit," you muttered. "But time travel definitely isn't one of them."

"Obviously, it didn't work," Steve deadpanned.

"No shit!"

"But maybe," Dustin continued over your and Steve's quick bickering. "Maybe it didn't work because time isn't really stuck in the Upside Down. Vecna manipulated the Upside Down. Will did too--"

"And Eddie," you cut in. "He...he created a house from his memories. From when his mom was still alive."

"So the Hawkins in the Upside Down is stuck in the past, but time is actually moving faster."

You could feel the electric buzz as the three of you considered the implications of it all.

Time moved faster, which meant Eddie might not have just been stuck in the Upside Down for a year and a half...but years. Your heart ached at the thought of him there, alone except for the creatures and Vecna. Years. Maybe decades.

And you...you'd only been there a few days, sure. It felt real. The hours, the days...they had felt real. You slept, you got hungry, you ate. But in this world it was only one.

You looked at Eddie's watch again, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

The watch had beeped three times. Signaled midnight three times.

"Fuck!" You bolted to your feet and grabbed the still-damp jacket from the chair beside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"What? What's going on?" Steve shouted.

"I need to go," was your only explanation. You briefly considered grabbing extra supplies--food and first aid--you thought of the books in your trunk, and your bag full of clothes. But it didn't matter in the end. You threw the jacket on and ran for the door. "I need to go. Don't wait up...I'll be fine just...fuck, I need to go!"

You were not precious about getting in the car or backing out of the driveway, and you might have even clipped the Harrington's mailbox as you threw the car into drive to race to the nearest gate.

It didn't matter, nothing mattered except for getting back to the Upside Down.

Because you had told Eddie you'd be back tomorrow. You'd promised him.

But to Eddie, you'd already broken your promise.

To him, it had already been three more days without you.

November 6, 1983

Crossing from the Upside Down into the real Hawkins with Wayne had been difficult.

He'd warned you about what to expect before he led you through the gate back home, and he was right, it had been strange. It felt like a weight was slowly lifted off your shoulders, but something invisible pinched at the backs of your arms and legs all the while, trying and failing to get you to stay.

It was worse crossing back through, though.

That heaviness settled back onto you, heavier than the load you already carried, with your bag laden with books and weapons that you'd taken from the car; the weight of an entire dimension and all of the beings that resided within ripped through the membranous barrier and settled onto you and into you as you forced yourself through to the other side.

No wonder Wayne had struggled to stand when he had crossed through earlier in the day.

The toll you needed to pay to enter this world was almost too much to bear.

Still, you made it through, wearily.

Your body ached, your half-healed wounds throbbed, and something deep down inside of you felt almost...abyss-like. Suddenly a little emptier than it had been just minutes before.

But you made it.

Thanks to a bit of foresight, you crossed through the gate at the Creel House, figuring it would be your best bet to find Eddie right away.

The towering pillars--now empty of their inhabitants--the mangled silhouette of the house behind it, and the swarm of bats that circled overhead made you a little nervous, though.

Not from fear, necessarily, but worry and doubt.

Maybe Eddie thought you'd cross back at Lover's Lake and was there instead; there was no reason for him to expect that you'd cross through here, especially since you had departed with Wayne. That would be a trek to walk all the way to Lover's Lake, and you knew you wouldn't be lucky enough to find a bicycle or something. And you might have been on this side of the time warp, but that didn't mean time was on your side.

The bats, surprisingly, gave you hope.

If they were here...did that mean that Eddie was nearby? You had seen how fond he was of them, and vice versa. Maybe he was just inside? Or, if anything, were they flying overhead looking for you?

There was only one way to find out, and you were motivated by a singular focus.

A singular thought that was riddled with guilt.

It. Had. Been. Days.

You dropped your backpack and shook off the heavy, weary weakness that the Upside Down had imparted upon you and began the trek into the house to see if you could find Eddie.

You retraced the steps that you'd taken during your initial descent through the Creel house the other day, trying to ignore the frightening flashes of movement that occurred in your peripheral vision.

You knew they wouldn't hurt you, so you couldn't get distracted; you were on a mission.

Distraction, however, was inevitable; you found that, although the path you had taken still remained, the vastness of the maze of rooms had only grown. Grown in size and in scale. In how convoluted the entire house seemed to be, like something out of a horror movie.

Or maybe something out of the Munsters, really, because as unsettling as it all was, there was an air of...humor to it all.

And that brand of humor screamed of Eddie Munson.

Sure there was a living room and dining room--several of them now, actually--and each one was more elongated and warped than the last, like reflections in a house of mirrors. Funhouse mirrors. You passed a bedroom where the bed floated from the floor and then settled on the ceiling. And beside it was a room with a closed door that seemed to expand and contract as though it was a living, breathing creature.

Had he done all of this to the Creel house in boredom? Morphed it into something comical and new as he waited for your return.

What was not comical, though, were the sounds. An unsettling ambience of hissing and grumbling and groaning that only got louder and clearer as you ascended levels and hopped across the cavernous breaks in the stairs.

It was promising at first, then concerning, as the sounds morphed and seemed to sound like words.

They weren't any words you could understand or fathom; you were pretty well-versed with languages--if not through speech, through recognition, at the very least--and this didn't sound human. They were words in some infernal devilish language made to accommodate many teeth and tongues and mouths that stretched wider than a human's could.

Some language that originated here in the Upside Down. Made of chittering and clicking and screeching.

You finally reached the landing at the bottom of the steps that led to the attic, and you tip-toed over the vine-laden floor, only to halt in your tracks by a sudden cacophony of roar and screams.

A shadow suddenly flooded the wall that followed up the steps, and you watched as the contrasting darkness and light fluttered like a wing, then stretched into a clawed hand whose nail scratched along the length of the banister. You could see the sharpness of that claw with such clarity that you were almost shocked that the wallpaper didn't split as it moved.

Finally, the shadow turned into the silhouette of an elongated figure.

"Do you see what happens," came a muffled voice above. "Do you see what happens when you fail me?"

You frowned; the voice sounded familiar.

Eddie?

"How have we failed?" Another voice this time, easier to identify: Patrick.

"She's out there, and you've yet to find her."

Guilt crept in again; were they talking about you?

You could have gone up there, could have made your presence known but you were curious--

Alright, you were nosy.

--but in your curiosity, you were frozen in place.

"She isn't out there." There was a broken, slurred quality to this speech, but you could still tell it belonged to Fred. “You’d know. We would all know.”

"She's lost."

"She left you," Chrissy hissed, her voice having the most clarity of all three brides. "You're just in denial Eddie."

There was that roar again, and you startled at the sound, but Chrissy's simpering whimper cut through the roar, and it stopped abruptly.

"Don't fear me," Eddie sighed. "Everybody else fears me...please I need the three of you on my side."

"We are on your side," Chrissy continued with bittersweetness. "The only ones. You made us, you healed us. We'll always be on your side. But your little knight...left you here. Again."

"She's lost," Eddie repeated insistently.

"She left you all alone to bask in your loneliness. Tricked you into thinking you were alone without her, when you have us Eddie. Left you here with nothing but the smell of her on your skin. You stink of her."

"Then it should be easier for you to find her," Eddie shouted, rage returning.

The shadow moved from the wall and the infernal speech began anew, with the screams and screeches quick to follow.

Until, Eddie's voice boomed with finality.

"You will go out there and find her! And you won't rest until she's back here. Nothing is as important as bringing her back to me."

"Nothing," Patrick groaned. "Do we mean nothing to you?"

"Are you really such a heartless creature?" Chrissy questioned.

"Yes," Eddie hissed.

The ceiling shook above you as a booted foot stomped overhead.

"I have no heart. Without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no love without her."

Stomp.

"I feel no joy." Stomp. "No sorrow." Stomp. "I am hollow. And I will live here--be stuck here--forever."

The roar emanated again, loud enough where you had to cover your ears. When it was over, there was a flurry of wings as, you could only assume, the brides took flight through the cavernous hole in the attic.

You broke from your reverie, and took a step forward; your sneaker-covered foot caused the floor to creak.

You winced and froze again as the shuffling overhead stopped.

The infernal speech sounded once. Then again. Then the stomping crossed the attic towards the stairs and you swallowed your hesitation to speak.

"Eddie?" you called out. "That you? Are you up there?"

"Sweetheart?" he responded, relief obvious in his muffled voice. "You're back."

You took another step upwards.

"I am. I'm sorry, I didn't realize--"

"Stop!" He shouted. "What are you doing? Stay there."

"Why?"

"Don't. Move." He groaned.

The sounds that followed were sickening.

Crunching and stretching and clicking; you could hear him groan for a moment before an agony-filled cry echoed through the stairwell and caused goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

Whatever hesitation you had was gone; it vanished as soon as you believed Eddie to be in pain. In danger.

You took the steps two at a time until you found yourself just feet away from Eddie's heaving, hunched form, teetering near the cracked precipice in the floor that split the attic in two. You crossed the distance and knelt beside him; your hand found his shaking shoulder and you pulled him into you, away from the dangerous edge.

"What happened?" you questioned frantically. "What was all that; what's wrong?"

"How much did you hear?" he ignored you to ask instead, voice weak and dry.

"Does it matter? What is this? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he breathed out. "The others...I'd sent them out to find you, I thought--"

"I'm here." You interrupted him. You snaked your hand around to cup his cheek and lifted his head so he could look at you. His eyes were blood-red and shined with a wet glassiness. "There's just...there was a misunderstanding, but I'm here now."

"Don't go," he muttered desperately, turning his face into your touch.

"I won't."

"You were gone for so long. You promised. Don't leave me again."

"Eddie I promise--and this time I swear I will keep it--I'll never leave you again."

November 6, 1983

You woke the next morning--or at least, you thought it was morning; it was never actually daytime in the Upside Down, it seemed--alone.

Eddie had broken the news that the two of you needed to stay at the Creel House for the night, and despite your hesitations, you were also tired enough that you couldn't object. Any bed seemed appealing enough, after several days of little to no sleep. Even if it wasn't that makeshift bed in his childhood home, that cozy safe haven he'd made, it was alright as long as he was there.

But you'd spent the evening talking, discussing the time warp between the Upside Down and the real Hawkins.

Eddie had a hard time understanding at first, and he confessed that his feelings were affected by the belief that you'd either gotten lost or hurt or abandoned him again. But after a stretch of pensive silence where he squeezed you tightly and ran his nose along your hairline, he admitted that it made sense.

"I used to think time didn't exist here," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "First it was...the endless suffering and torture Vecna put me through to make me into this. And then it was endless waiting. It felt like an eternity."

Your throat tightened at the thought that it felt like an eternity because it probably was.

"I guess that just means," you spoke in a hushed and hopeful tone. "That just means we have more time to figure out how to get you out of here. More time together before I need to go back."

And that sent him into a panic, because you'd just promised him that you'd stay.

His hands clutched you tighter, tips of his clawed fingers biting through your clothes and the slightest bit into your skin. He pressed his body further into yours, as if you meld the two of you together.

It took a lot of soothing, a lot of explaining, to remind him once again that you had very human needs. Like food, and sleep, and hygiene.

"There's not exactly running water here Eddie," you joked and he huffed stubbornly. You let your eyes roam about his skin, somehow not covered in grime like the rest of the dimension. "I don't know how you keep so clean."

"I could show you," he teased seductively, lips brushing against yours.

It was obvious he was trying to change the subject, trying to make you forget the idea of leaving him. And you let him, let him kiss away his worries and yours.

Lying awake now, though, you considered what the consequences would be if you simply stayed.

You observed your body, really honed in on your sense of self. That heaviness that had settled on you upon entering the Upside Down hadn't faded yet; in fact, you'd felt it when you'd woken up the first time, but had simply attributed it to the Brides' attack on you.

Would you get used to it over time? Had Eddie gotten used to it? He seemed comfortable in his skin, in this realm; there was no heaviness about him. Had whatever...transformation he'd undergone at the hands of Vecna contributed?

There was just something about him though that seemed extreme; he'd always had very volatile emotions--normal for a young adult, just like you--now it seemed he teetered back and forth even more than you were used to. Happy and affectionate one moment, distant and miserable the next, and sometimes...there was nothing at all.

What had he said to the brides? He was hollow?

You certainly felt a little bit of that hollowness, but then again...you had for quite some time now. Since you had left him in '85. And it hadn't gone away until the moment you were reunited.

Maybe it was just the connection you had, your reliance on each other and your love for one another, that made it feel this way.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and you startled, then quickly relaxed as Eddie crept inside; the hollowness in your chest suddenly seemed a little lessened thanks to his presence.

Yes. That's what it was; what it had to be.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," he whispered as he shut the door behind him.

"Gross," you whined with a giggle. "When did you become such a romantic?"

"Excuse me, I've always been romantic," he said, hand flying over his heart with mock insult. "You, my love, have never even gotten me a Valentine's Day gift."

"We've never spent a Valentine's Day together dingus." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He hemmed and hawed for a minute and then his figure blurred across the room as he closed the distance and jumped onto the bed, smothering you in kisses and raspberries and little affectionate nips. You squealed and tried to bat him away, with no real force or effort, until he cupped your face and gifted you with the sweetest kiss filled with as much loving reverence as he could.

Your heart soared and that hollowness faded more and more with every second. Faded, but didn't disappear altogether.

And you realized it wouldn't be gone until you made this all better; until you could really be together.

In the real world and not this...purgatory.

"Speaking of conformist, capitalist holidays only meant to sell cards and candy--" Eddie broke the kiss and you flicked his ear.

"I have to have a lecture now? Instead of more kisses?" you scoffed.

"Yes, because you said it's October. And we might not have had a Valentine's Day together, but we've definitely celebrated Sweetest Day together."

"Is that even a thing?" you narrowed your eyes at him. "Sounds like something you made up."

"No," he shook his head back and forth. "I promise. We have had a Sweetest Day together. Remember I told you about the Sadie Hawkins dance at the middle school once upon a time? It was on Sweetest Day."

"Uh," you tried to recall him saying something about it at any point in your relationship. "No."

"I tried to butter up Principal Coleman to get Corroded Coffin to play at the dance?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"And he said no."

"That sounds familiar."

"But then we spent the day together anyway and I got you McDonalds breakfast? Angel, come on."

"You got me McDonalds breakfast a lot of times," you giggled. "Get to the point!"

"I'm trying to ask my girlfriend out on a date," he rolled his eyes at you. "But she is the least romantic person on the face of the earth, if not in all of time itself."

You ignored his dramatic insults and instead fawned over the sweet gesture with some confusion.

"A date? Eddie...what date? We're in the Upside Down. We gonna go out to the quarry and makeout? I'm sure there are cars parked up there, even frozen in time like this, if we wanted to fuck in the backseat."

He froze for a second and looked a little embarrassed, and if not for the low light of the room and the deathly pallor of his skin, you were sure he'd be turning red.

"I, uh," he coughed and tried to recollect himself. "No, not the quarry. Something better. Something perfect just for you, specifically."

"Do I need to wear a dress?"

"Do you have a dress?"

"No."

"Good, neither do I," he laughed. "And I don't have a tux either. So jeans and t-shirts it is."

"Uh, Eddie..."

"Hey listen..."

"...when you said romantic date..."

"...hear me out..."

"A church wasn't the first thing that came to mind," you finished and stared up at the steepled structure before you.

You pointedly avoided anything religious when you lived in Hawkins; Eddie had asked you about it when he'd first seen your cross necklace. You had told him you wouldn't be caught dead in a church, and at that time, it had been true. Because of that, the two of you had mocked Hawkins Presbyterian Church with its pristine white exterior, and its attendees with their John Winthrop-inspired holier-than-thou exceptionalism.

This church, though, was certainly not like that. And although your faith was still shaky at best, begrudging at worst, you felt more at ease here.

Maybe it was the fact that you were in the Upside Down, and maybe because it was clearly a Catholic Church and the stained glass window felt familiar. But aside from the window that reflected all manner of colors at the distant lightning, it was unassuming. Quiet and square and austere, with dull brown bricks that made up the small chapel's exterior, and a steepled bell tower that didn't even look like it had a bell.

Much like you did with Nancy, you felt some kind of kinship to this forgotten little building.

Still, it wasn't your ideal location for a date.

"I knew about this place before I even met you," Eddie explained. "Out past the plant, been abandoned for years. Mickey and Jack and I used to come and throw rocks at the windows. Even broke in once to see if there was anything cool inside."

"Seriously?" you laughed at him. "Yeah, no wonder people thought you worshiped Satan."

"No one ever knew," he held his hands out innocently. "Not even Wayne. And we didn't even steal anything. But uh, I dunno...after you left...I even thought about coming here to pray once. Not even to pray for you to come back. Thought about your grandma all of a sudden one day; drove out here. Couldn't find it in me to get out of the van."

"Maybe that was around the time she actually got sick," you wondered aloud.

"Like I had some psychic powers or something, even before all of this?" he gestured to himself with a laugh. "Hey, stranger things have happened."

He cleared his throat and led you inside.

Although didn't look much better inside--peeling plaster, overturned pews, and the chains to hang a cross over the altar but no cross itself--the interior at least didn't seem to be touched by the vines and tentacles and muck that covered the rest of the Upside Down.

"Maybe God does exist after all," Eddie laughed as he walked backwards down the aisle, responding to your observation almost like he read your mind. "Or maybe Vecna was just afraid of churches or something; places of worship like this...are generally left alone."

"I'm sure religious trauma isn't that far of a stretch to assume with Vecna," you agreed. "My power is a little strained in the Upside Down though; makes me think if...I dunno...there even are any higher powers here."

"I'm sure there's gotta be something out there. Like the Force in Star Wars."

You snorted and shook your head as you followed him.

Contrary to your previous statement about your abilities, you didn't hesitate to ignite the remnants of candles in the votive racks beside the altar. You conjured the warm, ever-present burn of the core of the earth and the wicks lit aflame, bathing the chapel in a warm, illuminating glow.

It was with this new light that you noticed the blanket and pillows that had been set up in front of the altar table, along with a pile of snacks and a puzzle.

A perfect little date, just like you used to have camped out in the living room of the trailer.

You felt your own loving glow emanate from within, as you were filled with adoration for Eddie. That he would try to bring you some normalcy, even if your lives were anything but normal.

"I found a World's Best Boyfriend mug when I was exploring once," he said matter-of-factly after you voiced your gratitude for the setup. "There's not much to do here when we aren't actively feeding or fighting. But, uh, you can give it to me as a gift if you want; I'll even act surprised."

"I'll definitely keep that in mind," you promised him, and then settled on the blanket.

Eddie started organizing the pieces of the puzzle as you dug through the snacks--more of Eddie's favorites, courtesy of Wayne: slice soda, Hostess pudding pies, cool ranch Doritos and...

"Wha--" you hesitated at the items hidden at the bottom of the pile. "Ok, I know we're in a church but all joke's aside, seriously?"

You picked up the bottle of sacramental wine and package of communion wafers.

"I found them while I was setting up," he shrugged and laughed. "Saw the crosses on the packages, thought it would be a good pun. I'll even try them if you want, food aversion be damned."

"I doubt they're any good."

You were about to set them aside so you could open a can of soda, but then a wicked little thought wormed its way into your head. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, but Eddie was quick to notice.

"What? What's that look?"

"Nothing," you tilted your head to the side and contemplated telling him. "It's nothing just...I don't know if I ever told you...probably not but...I've never had communion before."

You explained the principle to him, the way you were denied your own First Communion in favor of the revelation of your family's curse, how you still would take your Nonna up whenever you'd go to mass with her...but were never even offered the absolution for yourself. Even by the priests who didn't know who and what you were, as though there was a stain on your soul that they could simply tell would never be washed away by a simple mouthful of bread and wine.

"To quote my mom, that's a bunch of horseshit," Eddie laughed. "Everyone deserves to be forgiven. You're telling me Loudmouth Linda who curses at the waitress at lunch after church on Sunday's deserves it more than you who's literally fighting evil every day? Baby, if you don't open that pack of crackers and eat one right now I'm gonna have to hand feed one to you."

"Well," you hummed, "this is supposed to be a romantic date. Ed--Eddie I was kidding."

He snatched the packet of wafers from you and sliced it open with his claws without hesitation; he brought the package up to his nose to sniff it and then plucked one wafer out and held it in front of his eyes.

"It looks plain," he noted.

"It's supposed to be plain."

"And it smells stale."

You took the package from him and sniffed gently for yourself.

"Yeah," you agreed. "That's what they smell like."

"Then I don't know what all the commotion is about," he announced dismissively. "I mean...damn I thought it was pretty metal, actually. Everyone going someplace every Sunday to eat someone's flesh and drink someone's blood in a ritual. But it's just...this."

You couldn't help but laugh at him.

He cleared his throat and knelt before you; he held one hand over your head and spoke your name aloud. He projected his voice and it echoed throughout the chapel, the deep reverberation penetrated deep into your bones.

"Eddie," you muttered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm forgiving you," he spoke normally for a second.

"You...you can't," you laughed in disbelief.

"Who said?"

"Uh, I don't know," you scoffed. "Only every priest, bishop, cardinal, pope everyone in my family has ever met. We have to earn our own forgiveness. End this curse ourselves. And it's gonna end with me, one way or another."

"Well, I think that's bullshit because it sounds like no one has ever tried." He closed his eyes and held his hand out again.

"It's not even gonna do anything," you argued. "The wafer is symbolic."

"I'm channeling my holy energy sweetheart. I can't hear you."

"Alright," you waved dismissively. "Whatever, go ahead and try."

He hummed deeply and recited the monks' chant from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, complete with smacking the top of your head with the palm of his hand. He even had the audacity to shush you as you giggled.

But the longer it went, the more he waved his hands and whispered blessings from this book and that movie, the more you felt...something.

Something inside of you stirred, felt different, lighter. Even the weight of the Upside Down wasn't as prominent. And you knew, logically, that nothing had changed in you, that the curse would still be there after whatever-this-was was over.

But in the moment, you couldn't help but close your eyes and bask in the feeling, especially as you started to feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

"Alright sweetheart," Eddie whispered after a few more moments. "Open the hatch."

You snorted and opened your mouth, hands coming together in prayer almost instinctively; he laid the wafer on your tongue and then cupped your face in his hands.

"There," he whispered and pressed the lightest kiss to your forehead. "You're forgiven."

You choked a sob and opened your eyes to look at him, tears immediately running down your cheeks and over his fingers.

"God," you sobbed and laughed simultaneously. "Fuck."

"I'm not God, I'm Eddie." He shot you his idiotic, crooked grin and then thumbed over your cheeks. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. Sit down now, before you ruin our date even more," you hiccuped.

You silently wiped the tears away and tore into the snacks, joking that the junk food tasted a lot better than the wafer did. Eddie hesitantly put a wafer of his own into his mouth and then immediately stuck his tongue out and scraped the remnants of it away.

"God, I really can't eat real food, can I?" he lamented once he'd spat out the taste of it enough times.

"I think it just tastes like that," you offered as a consolation.

"Expectation almost never meets reality, I guess. You should try the wine too; prove that grape soda is better. Or maybe don't, that way I don't have to miss it that much."

You laughed and swatted at him, and then got an idea.

"Hang on," you got to your feet and held your hands out to stop him from following you. "Hang on, don't go anywhere, keep working on the puzzle, I'll be right back."

You skipped back past the altar to the little rectory hallway that led to the sacristy. The door was already cracked open and although it was mostly barren, there was a small pile of cloth that must have been vestments, and...

"Bingo," you muttered and crossed the room to grab your prize. You blew dust off of them and then turned back the way you came.

"You know," you exclaimed when you arrived back in the chapel. "When I say you're an idiot, you really are an idiot, Eddie Munson."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," he responded. "But what did I do to earn such an honorific?"

"You come to a church in the middle of the Upside Down, you set up a picnic for us, you even find holy bread and wine for me. And you don't even bring us the proper drinking vessels."

You held out two golden chalices, ornately etched with crosses and flowers and vines.

"You know," you dropped to your knees and placed them on the blanket. "You and I spent an entire weekend way back when making chalices for Hellfire club; I'm honestly surprised if you went pillaging for goods for this picnic, you didn't immediately cream your little nerd pants at the sight of these. Something might actually be wrong with you."

"Excuse me, I was only trying to find the best things for you, your highness." He did an exaggerated bow as he sat. "Wasn't thinking of finding any treasure for myself. But now that you mention it, these could be an awesome addition to the Hellfire repertoire. If only I..."

He trailed off and cleared his throat as you opened the bottle of wine and began to fill one of the chalices for yourself.

"If only what?" you asked. He shrugged dismissively and refused to meet your gaze. "What? If only you get to play with the guys again? You will. I'm getting you out of here. Or I'll die trying."

"Don't say that," he hissed, head snapping back towards you. "Don't."

"Then don't be such a negative Nancy," you said, intentionally thinking of your would-be-nemesis back in Hawkins.

"It's more than just getting out of here, alright? I've done things. Terrible things, actually, speaking of Nancy.

"You know I killed her boyfriend? Jonathan Byers. He was the first one. The worst one. But Vecna wanted me to send a message, so it had to be him. I killed her dad too. And this kid Lucas' dad. Both of them in one swift slash."

He jutted his arm out, hand curled in a claw, talons razor-sharp and glinting as they cut through the air. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, mouth wide open in a hiss, fangs extended.

Then there was a beat and he seemed to realize himself; he drew his arm back against his chest and cradled one hand in the other. He clicked his claws against one another pathetically and then sighed.

"I killed Mickey," he murmured, voice so low you could barely hear. "I killed Rick. Watched the life leave their eyes. And I think...I know...I enjoyed it."

The chapel was silent after those words, save for the roar of lightning outside, and your heavy, pensive breaths.

Your heart ached. Ached for Mickey and Rick, but more for Eddie.

You knew that feeling. Knew that guilt. It was an old friend.

You looked down at the chalice filled with wine, and then at the other one, which you were about to fill despite Eddie's lack of need for food and drink.

And you were struck with an idea.

You set the bottle aside and scooted closer to him, you took one of his hands in yours and ignored his questions as you leant down and kissed his palm and each of the pads of his fingers.

You then maneuvered his hand so his clawed thumb pressed into the meat of your palm, and then dragged it deep through the middle of it. You created a cut deep and long, despite Eddie's protests, and then let the blood drip down into the empty chalice.

"What are you doing?" he snapped at you. "What is this?"

"You forgave me," you answered, voice heavy with determination. "And now I'm forgiving you."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to--"

"Don't have to do this?" you repeated your own words from earlier. "This isn't going to work? Eddie...just...if I'm not doing this for you then I'm doing this for myself."

He looked like he was about to argue again, but you weren't going to let him.

"You never know," you quickly stopped him. "This could get us a step closer to getting you out of here."

He closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth, and motioned for you to continue.

You didn't have as much theatricality as Eddie had before. You simply let the chalice fill to an acceptable amount of blood, and then grabbed it with both hands and held it slightly raised before you.

"This is my blood," you recited words that you'd heard thousands of times. You looked at Eddie and shared a shaky smile as your eyes locked together. "The blood of a new and everlasting covenant. It has been shed for you, Eddie, so that your sins may be forgiven. Now and forever."

You lowered the chalice and tried to pass it over to him, but he backed away quickly. Quicker than the eye could see.

He was suddenly across the room, pacing with his head in his hands, shaking.

"What is it?" You watched as he muttered to himself and shook his head. "Eddie, what?"

"I don't deserve this," he said. "I don't deserve...your forgiveness."

"Yes you do. You said it yourself, what makes you any less deserving of forgiveness than...I don't know...than me, than Nancy Wheeler, than anyone?"

"Because I'm a liar!" He turned back to you and shouted. "I'm a liar, I'm a coward, and I'm a monster."

"Don't say that."

"I am."

"You're not! You're my boyfriend. You're Eddie Munson. You're...the silliest, stupidest, bravest boy I know. You take care of everyone you love, much more than you think to take care of yourself, and you...you were lost. And all of those things that you did...you did them when you were lost. So you deserve a chance to make it alright. You deserve forgiveness."

"I'm not talking about what I did when Vecna was still alive," Eddie told you through gritted teeth. "I'm talking about now. I'm a coward now. I'm a liar now. I'm a monster now."

"Eddie..."

"And you'll never know how much I don't deserve this," he waved at the altar, at the chalice, at you. "Until I show you what's become of me. Who I am now. What I am now."

You were stunned silent as he shed his jacket, as he kicked off his boots, as he took several breaths.

And then he screamed.

You tried to get to your feet, tried to get to him, but the sight before you prevented you from moving at all.

His clothes ripped first, then his skin; they stretched until they couldn't stretch any more. The seams of his shirt, of his jeans--the seams that you'd traced along his limbs--all split as his body bulged and stretched in an utterly inhuman way.

But where his clothes shredded and tore gave way to thread, his skin just made room for more skin, more bones.

His legs elongated, raised him higher off the ground, and his feet practically uncurled to become longer, more dexterous, with claws of their own that could slash and grab like his hands.

And speaking of his hands and his arms, they were next; you felt sick to your stomach as you listened to his bones snap into pieces, as he groaned with each snap. But they were quick to shift into new places, and soon he stretched to find comfort in this new, elongated wingspan that matched his towering height; he flexed his fingers, now sporting longer, knife-like claws, and extra phalanges that could bend in any direction he chose.

On and on it went, as his shoulders got wider and broader, as his torso stretched and rippled, as his neck became unfathomably long.

He threw his head back and the seams of that scarred Glasgow smile ripped open anew, dripping blood down his cheeks and throat. The unsettling smile he now sported wasn't complete though, not until rows and rows of fangs--not just the two sets you'd seen and grown used to as they smiled and bit into you--grew and settled along his jaw. Razor sharp, glinting in the firelight, promising to bring about a creature's demise if they weren't careful.

And finally, just when you thought it was all over, the skin along his abdomen rippled. You had thought there was something wrong there, when you'd run your hands along his ribcage over the past few days as you'd held each other in bed.

There was something wrong. Something terribly, horribly wrong.

Eddie fell to his knees, and his talons anchored into the stone floor of the chapel as he hunched over. The scars you had felt along his back split, and from them grew two massive, bat-like wings, unfurling from where they'd been tucked away in the cavity of his body. They were made of bones and muscle and a thin, veiny, membranous skin that you could practically see the light of the votives through.

Eddie twitched on the ground and the wings flexed and flapped; the droplets of blood that had coated the wings sprayed around the chapel; onto the altar and the pews, dousing a few of the candles with a steamy hiss, even pelting your skin, causing you to flinch.

At the end of it all, when this metamorphosis was complete, and something new had emerged from the body that had once belonged to Eddie Munson, he rose.

With a great wide mouth and clawed hands raised to the heavens, the creature roared.

It was an ear-splitting sound, bellowing and shrieking all at once.

And then it turned to you.

He turned to you.

Eddie turned to you.

Because you might have made the mistake of thinking him a creature once, but you vowed never again.

All of the thoughts that had halted as you watched the spectacle with unblinking eyes suddenly flooded your brain. All manner of logic and emotion, fighting and contradicting one another, as you struggled to reconcile what you had seen, what you had felt, and what you knew all into one truth.

How many things had you faced like this before, with too many teeth and claws that slashed and tore? How many countless names of creatures had you memorized over the years, not just of being a knight, but of being alive? You could name them all now, if you dared, but no name would ever match up to what was on display before your very eyes. Nothing like this.

But what was this?

This...it...he...was your boyfriend. The love of your life.

He wasn't just what he was once or had ever been; this was what had become of him, what had been done to him in the name of evil. This was the result of his trauma, but also his survival. And because of that, or maybe in spite of that, he wasn't inherently evil himself.

Contrary to your instincts--contrary to what had been taught to you all your life, all you had ever faced or ever known--you knew he was good. In fact, good was all you ever knew him to be, even during the brief stint where you believed there was a Kas, a dastardly nemesis who'd vowed to kill you.

This image certainly could conjure that belief...but it simply...didn't.

You thought back to something that you had told Mary Victoria. That Eddie was good, but you didn't know if he was good enough for Heaven.

Heaven, though, was not just a place for good people. It was a place for forgiveness, a place of peace. And didn't Eddie, by the grace of all the atrocities that he had been a part of, that had been imparted onto him, also deserve that peace? Deserve that forgiveness.

You stood on shaky legs, chalice still held in your wounded hand, and approached him.

His shoulders heaved with labored breaths as he watched you, and he flinched as you got close enough.

"Please," he growled, and you recognized the muffled quality of his voice from the previous night, talking to the Brides, and you realized that he had to talk through the mouthful of his teeth. It was different, but still his voice. "Please I don't want to hurt you.

"You won't," you assured him, shifting to try to meet his gaze; you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye at this new height. "I trust you. I believe in you."

"I'm a monster. I told you."

"No...you're..." You paused and let your eyes roam over him again, closer this time, and you were able to see the small details now, illuminated by the candlelight. The throbbing of veins, the texture of his skin, the ripple of muscles, yes...but also the soft curl of his hair, his musicians fingers--even with the claws--and the bulbous tip of his nose.

He was still Eddie.

And Eddie Munson was many things.

But not a monster, not a creature, not a beast. No.

You reached out to grab one of his hands and you wrapped his elongated fingers around the rounded bowl of the chalice.

His red scleras shined wet with tears and he took the chalice from you fully; he raised it to his mouth, then tipped his head back, and drank your blood in one exaggerated swallow.

Was this what happened when someone looked upon the true form of a God? Were they fully unprepared for the sight before them? Was that the true test, to see something so unfathomable and horrific and still find it...

"Beautiful," you muttered. "God...Eddie, you're beautiful."

He was quick to grab you, quick to haul you into his arms and run the edges of his claws along your face and down your neck reverently; he made quick work of your clothes, ripping the seams of them like his transformation had ripped the seams of his. With you, however, there was surgical precision.

He was almost too gentle in this new form, not wanting to hurt you, but you'd welcome the hurt, crave it, if it meant you could be one with him quicker. You desired it now, desired him, all of him, every part of this new version that he had revealed to you.

How many times, before the Upside Down, before Vecna, had he been ridiculed and mocked because of his appearance? Because he seemed rude or dangerous or rowdy...evil. But those closest to him--the people he belonged to, that belonged to him--always saw the true him. Recognized it, celebrated it.

Now, it was only amplified; the startling appearance, the danger, the fearful exterior. But it was still Eddie.

How could you not embrace him entirely? Want to bask in him? Consume all of him? You'd changed entirely in his eyes--maybe not in appearance, but in fundamental definition--and his want for you never faltered.

It was still Eddie, and he was yours.

And you were still you, and you were his.

Body and soul.

You swatted his hand away from you so you could touch him for yourself, so you could explore and caress him, kiss him.

You were hesitant at first, running your fingers gently along his lips, then further back along the cavernous maw that had been revealed.

"It hurts you," you noted; not a question, an observation. "To do this...it hurts you."

"It's easier to hide it," he tried to make the excuse. "They don't look at me like I'm...a monster when I still look like Eddie Munson."

"You still look like Eddie Munson, though," you tilted your head to the side in quiet contemplation. "Same eyes, same hair, same dumb jokes...just a little more..."

"Metal?"

"Bitey."

You touched the tip of one of his fangs with a finger and watched how easily it punctured your skin as a droplet of blood pooled there. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the apples of his cheeks round and pleasant; he nipped at your fingers gently, playfully as his shoulders shook and there was a hissing, chittering sound that rattled inside of his chest along with a deepened chuckle. You listened in awe, and basked in the sound of his new laughter.

When you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the bow of his upper lip. He huffed and you kissed it again, and again, until he shifted his jaw and was able to kiss you back properly.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the contrasting plush of his lips and the unforgiving hardness of his fangs just below; strange to navigate, actually, but it made for an interesting time. Just when you thought there couldn't be many more new or first experiences together, this change presented so many possibilities.

Possibilities that you both seemed eager to discover.

The kissing was something mastered quickly, which was relieving as you seemed to always want your lips on him, or his on you. His teeth nipped and cut when the excitement overwhelmed you both, but it wouldn't matter really. You'd heal, just like all of the other bites and wounds he had inflicted on you in the past few days slowly healed. Eddie was incredibly apologetic though.

That was where his tongue came into play.

At first you thought he licked the cut that had carved your bottom lip to lap up the bit of blood that pooled there, and you had half a mind to offer your neck to him to feed, or your wrist or some other part of you. But soon it became soothing, and you almost craved the calming back and forth over the stinging wound, as you stared up into the deep, warm, blood-and-chocolate abyss of his eyes.

But he didn't stop at your lip.

You offered for him to feed from you, as you had intended, and he had laid you down on the altar in order to do so comfortably. Comfort was not the word that you would use, though; the sensation of more fangs piercing your throat was almost troubling, and the pain was borderline unbearable, but you resolved to soldier through it for him.

Anything for him.

His tongue made itself known once again, and your eyes, that you had shut to keep stinging tears at bay, shot open as you tried to fathom the sensations you felt.

His teeth had punctured your skin, and he drew mouthful after mouthful of your blood, but then there was his tongue, snaking over the bite wounds as well, pressed against his teeth from the inside of his mouth...and then the outside.

"Eddie!" you exclaimed in shock, and with a wet squelch, he pulled away from you and you saw it.

Long and wet, patchwork and mottled, his tongue was elongated and lolling out of his mouth; it began to retract, back into his mouth, and his throat seemed to bulge with it.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

And you should have been scared; instinct told you to feel fear. Especially because the image he presented right in this very moment--the combination of the teeth and tongue and his wings extended behind him--conjured thoughts of the manananggal.

The creature that killed your father.

"I'm not afraid," you told him truthfully.

You weren't.

There was that dark little whisper inside of you again, only this time, it basked in some invisible triumph over your father. He had faced countless dark creatures and failed. Perished. And here you were, despite everything you had been through because of him...facing the dark and dangerous thing Eddie had become and still seeing the good, the light, the love in him.

You and Eddie were basking in something greater than the light of "God's forgiveness," you were basking in the light of each other. A forgiveness you crafted together.

You reached out to Eddie to bring him to you again, so you could soothe the worry that he'd scared you; however, he took the gesture to mean something else.

He lowered himself to you again, rubbed his nose along yours gently, only this time, he allowed his tongue to snake back out. You watched, entranced, and allowed yourself the moment to get lost in the feel of it, lapping at the still-weeping bite on your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, the soft slope of your stomach, right down to the core of you.

You gasped and Eddie's cold breath fanned across your face as he huffed in triumph.

You let him play with you for a moment, tease your clit, your weeping slit, but just as he was about to breach your entrance, you stopped him.

His tongue retracted as he pulled back, and his brow furrowed in concern.

"You don't want that?" he teased. "Don't want me to eat your pussy; you always want that, sweetheart. Fuck, I always want that."

"I want to take care of you," you confessed with wide-eyed wonder as you trailed a finger along his arm. "I want to learn everything I can about you, want to explore every inch of you."

Like a great adventurer exploring a new and unknown world.

His eyes shifted back and forth between yours--nervously and full of uncertainty--and then he melded your lips together again, a desperate kind of gratitude emanating from him through the kiss.

You switched places then.

Him laying comfortably on the altar, propped by the pillows he had brought for your comfort.

But not before you got a full glimpse of him.

Tattered clothes shed, he stood there for your pleasurable observation, proud and preening and practically purring as you circled him like the predator he was meant to be.

You found that all the bleeding wounds that had split open during his transformation had healed now. And the scars, the seams of him that you attended to over the past few days and had been susceptible and weak before, were now strong; yes still scars, but mountains along the topographical map that made up his skin. And where the scars were mountains, the visible veins were rivers.

You stood on your tip toes to kiss along his spine, and that was when you found his wings to be especially sensitive. They fluttered at your touch, and he chittered and shook again, spoke your name with a delicious groan.

Amused, you tried the move again, but he seemed to have enough. He flapped his wings in several great beats, the power of which carried him forward, toes just grazing the stone floor. He turned as he settled into the little love nest on the altar to give you some faux withered stare, and that's when you got to see the effects of your attention.

His cock stood proudly against his belly.

And as arousing as it was to know that he was hard for you, because of you, the mood was effectively ruined momentarily as you snorted, all sense of seduction gone.

"What?" Eddie chuckled along with you, clearly happy to see you smile. "What is it?"

You shook your head and stalked forward, finding the perfect seat upon his thighs as he leant back into the pillows.

"All of these...upgrades," you tsked. "And Vecna didn't touch your dick."

The chapel suddenly filled with laughter as the two of you shared in the absurdity of the moment.

"Can't mess with perfection sweetheart," Eddie winked at you, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Did you tell him that?" you teased. "Was that a formal request?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't even think he had a dick."

"Seriously?"

"He walked around naked. Never saw one."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe that's why you're stuck here. You're not adhering to the uniform requirements of King of the Upside Down."

"Castration?" he asked.

"Nudity," you clarified.

"Is that a formal request from you now?" He licked along the seam of his lips and then grinned that unsettling, feral grin. "Because I can make it happen just for you, angel."

"I know you're joking but you forgot one thing," you leaned closer to him, stretching so your lips could brush his. "I like your cock."

You suddenly rivaled Eddie for speed as you denied him a kiss and shifted further down his body to take the head of his cock in your mouth, fingers squeezing the length of him, making him choke on the sudden and unexpected pleasure. The noises that he made as you devoured him were sinful, feral, guttural though, and you couldn't help but feel an arrogant sense of pride about it.

Great strategist that he was, he should have known better when it came to your escapades. Your seductress tricks, as he’d called them once.

You closed your eyes and savored the taste of him. The taste of his skin and sweat, remnants of whatever detergent or cologne that clung to his clothes...but conspicuously no musky taste of sex.

You considered, once again, the cleanliness of his body.

And the lack of water in the Upside Down.

And then that impossible tongue.

You hummed as you released him and then kissed down the side of his shaft so you could glance up at his face; he usually liked to watch but his eyes were wrenched shut, nose scrunched, as he panted. A clicking purr roiled somewhere deep in his chest.

"Naughty boy," you hummed and his eyes shot open. "Licking yourself clean like a cat."

You emphasized your accusation by running your tongue, flat, up his length. Then you flicked at the head once, twice, three times until he had the good sense to look bashful.

"W-what else w-was I supposed to do sweetheart?" That naive schoolboy routine wouldn't work on you. No silly crooked smiles while he sported so many razor-sharp fangs.

No puppy eyes, no innocent act.

Especially not when waves of guilt and desire emanated from him implicitly.

He knew exactly what he was and what he did.

Perv.

You snorted at him but went back to sucking the head of his cock; then, ready to make him beg, your teeth scraped ever so tantalizingly until his breath hitched. You let up to lave at him to relieve the slight sting...

"That's enough of that," Eddie hissed at you and pried you up and away from his cock, despite your whining protest.

You were underneath him before you knew it, and his teeth were buried in your shoulder, pad of his thumb working at your clit to pull an orgasm from you at the same rate that he pulled your life's essence from the bite.

The mixture of pleasure and pain boiled in your veins as you climbed higher and higher and you were sure that Eddie could taste it on you, because every hitch in your breath, every moan, was parroted right back at you from him.

A hiccup matched with a huff.

A soft yes followed by a delicious snarl.

And the moan that ripped from your throat as you came was answered with a roar as he released you from the bite and stretched to his full height, head tossed back towards the heavens, announcing his victory to whatever demon or deity dared to listen.

Your euphoria was short-lived though, as he positioned himself at your entrance and drove into you. He grabbed you and hunched over to press his forehead against yours and began thrusting wildly.

It was sweet for a moment.

But you weren't ready.

You weren't ready for his trusts, the raw power that he possessed in this body that he couldn't seem to control after his frenzied feeding, or the way he pistoned into you so roughly that your hips knocked yours in a way that would bruise.

You weren't ready for his talons to puncture your skin and the flesh of your torso, digging painfully deep into you, tearing through muscle and sinew and organs in an otherwise-devastating way.

You weren't ready for your own blood to drip from his fangs onto your own lips and into your mouth as you opened it in pain and shock.

You weren't ready and neither, it seemed, was Eddie.

It only took seconds of the rough uncontrolled fucking before instinct kicked in and you shouted. Your hands grabbed him and your body channeled the surrounding flames of the half-dead votives to burn deep into his skin and the meat of his shoulders.

He pulled out and away from you with a cry that echoed yours; his wings propelled him backwards and across the chapel instantly, where he crashed into the pews and crushed them.

There was a beat of tense silence, as you collected yourselves, and then you stared at each other in shock.

"What was that?" you asked in tandem.

You wrenched your eyes shut even further, brow furrowed in concentration, and dug deep to try and channel the healing energies within. The flesh of your sides and your palm began to knit back together, any bruising and internal injury healed instantaneously, and the bleeding of the bites sluggishly stopped.

But the bite wounds themselves remained, just as all of the bites you'd endured remained; healing at a glacial pace. And that worried you more than any of the injuries you'd sustained, or how they came about.

You took a few deep breaths and returned to the present, opening your eyes to find Eddie's concerned and guilt-ridden face before you. You startled, and so did he, but you shushed him as the apologies fell from his lips and bloody tears began to leak from his eyes.

"Sweetheart, please," he stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't...I didn't know, I didn't realize."

"It's...it's ok," you nodded.

"It isn't," he shook his head. "I hurt you. I'm a beast, I'm a monster." His clawed hands came up and his fingers buried into his hair.

"Stop," you shushed him and grabbed his wrists to try and get him to let go. "Stop it. You're not."

"I am."

"You didn't know," you told him.

"I knew I could hurt you if I wasn't careful and I did it anyway."

"And I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm made of tougher stuff. And you stopped; I was hurt and you stopped. A monster wouldn't stop when they hurt someone."

His chest heaved but he nodded and let you pull his hands away and into yours, held tenderly between you.

"You drank my blood Eddie," you reminded him. "Blood shed for the forgiveness of your sins. Now and forever. It'll be ok. We'll be ok."

Your gaze shifted from his eyes to his shoulders then, to the shape of your hands burned onto his skin.

"Besides I hurt you too," you muttered with a tense smile. "So I guess we're even here. Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"They'll heal; it doesn't matter."

"Do you know how to heal yourself?" you asked. "Or does it just happen?"

Eddie was silent.

"Let me heal you then," you told him softly. "It'll go much faster."

You held his clawed hands tightly in your smaller ones and instructed him to close his eyes. You felt a brief and sudden doubt; he wasn't human anymore, not entirely, would it be any different?

What if it didn't work?

If you were going to fix this momentary hiccup, if you were going to fix all of him, you at least needed to try.

"Do you feel me?" you asked him. "Do you...feel my presence here?"

"I do," he nodded, and then his mouth quirked in a smile. "Your light."

"Good," you nodded and shifted closer. You closed your eyes and reached out to feel him too. "Do you feel us together?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

"That means you can feel yourself. Shut up, I can hear you laughing."

"Means I'm not upset anymore," he argued.

He had a point, still you weren't going to let it go.

"When you resurrected..." you hesitated.

"My brides."

"I'm not calling them that." you scoffed. "When you resurrected Max...what did you feel? Did you feel her light? And yours?"

"I did." He snorted. "It was silly. I imagined a pitcher pouring into a cup."

"That's a good way to think about it," you encouraged him. "Healing is such...a special act of goodness, act of light and love. When you...resurrect someone, you take part of yourself and you use it to spark the light in them. It's like...jumpstarting your car though. All the parts need to work right if you're gonna bring someone back. Their body. Their soul. Otherwise...otherwise it's like they're driving around without a windshield."

"Like the Marquis."

"Focus Eddie."

"Sorry."

"To heal someone, like I'm about to do to you though...it's easier...and it isn't. You just...shine your light on them. It fills them, warms them. You share a part of yourself with them, like sharing a blanket. There's a hole in them--"

"I think there's a few holes."

"Alright you're fine then." You tried to pull away from him but he gripped your hands tighter and pulled you closer again, practically onto his lap. "You gonna interrupt me again?"

"No, I promise."

You loosened one hand from his grasp and, on instinct, laid it over the burned handprint on his shoulder.

"When you're hurt, there's a hole that needs to be patched up. And your body can heal in time, but sometimes it's easier for someone to pour their light into you."

Just like you had with Mary Victoria the previous day, you willed the light inside to stir, to pour into Eddie, and to heal the burns. You opened your eyes and released his shoulder, and the burn was gone, the skin pristine, save for the scars that had already been there.

"There," you announced with a smile. Eddie opened his eyes and stared at you. "How does it feel?"

He inhaled deeply.

"You..." his eyebrows knit together. "You feel...I still feel you."

"I'm sure. It'll linger for a while."

"But I feel that way whenever I'm with you," he continued. "I think I've always felt that way with you, even when you weren't next to me, when you left...when I was still alive. When I was still me. And when you...when you left the other day and you went back to Hawkins...I needed you...I was desperate for you."

"I thought you said I've always been there with you," you reminded him.

"This is different," he whispered as softly as he could, and it came out as a rasp. "I need you more than anything now. I feel like I'm empty. And I need you to fill me back up."

Your breath hitched as you thought about the weight of the Upside Down and the hollow feeling; was that what he felt too? And you lessened that feeling for him, just as he had done for you?

Yes. That must be it.

"I need you too Eddie," you agreed. "In whatever way, shape, or form I can get you. Man...or monster, I need you."

He leaned closer, pulled you closer too, pulled you to straddle his lap. He watched you, you assumed, to see if you would flinch or push him away. But you never pushed him away.

You let him take your lips with his, let him kiss you, let his claws rasp along your skin again, trace along the very spots that he had pierced. You let him maneuver you, drag your center along his length to get you both ready for this connection once again.

This union.

This promise.

Just like the promises you had made since he returned to you; like the promises you made since the moment you met.

He broke your kiss and looked to you for reassurance, for consent, before he pulled you onto him, before you moaned in tandem at the feeling of being joined together once again.

If there was something about Eddie, he was a quick study; the things that had hindered you just moments ago--the sharpness of his claws, the untethered power of his body, the strength of his wings--suddenly became tantamount to your fucking.

He anchored those claws deep into the sturdy softness of your thighs, no vital organs at risk; his long arms wrapped around you so you'd feel safe in his embrace despite the ever-present sting as he maneuvered you up and down his shaft at a steady pace.

When he grew bold, he used those wings to propel you both forward, back to the altar, to cradle you in the soft safety of the nested blanket and pillows. He used the strength that this body belied to drive himself home within you over and over, twisted and contorted his body to bring you to the height of your pleasure repeatedly.

All the while he vowed to give you his sweet devotion.

Words spoken in hushed tones and then desperate shouts and then world-altering roars as his teeth snapped just inches from your face.

But there was no danger, no fear, no doubt.

Only love and worship and reverence and awe.

And then the moment came where you and Eddie reached the peak of your bliss, and your bodies ceased to exist. The moment where, in one instance he stilled deep within you and you clenched around him, and then next your beings melted together in a whining, chittering, quivering mess of light and being and consciousness.

When you returned to the universe, renewed once again by the presence of one another, Eddie fed from you again, from your wrist this time. He didn't even have to ask; you hues knew. You sensed that need within him, a hunger you wished to satiate, and you urged him to take what he needed.

It was the gentlest that he had ever bitten you; you barely felt a thing. Until he pulled away and you saw the matching, gaping, red wounds of your wrist and his mouth.

You pulled him to lay against you, and you carded your fingers through his hair as he thanked you repeatedly, whispered and kissed his gratitude against the skin of your chest.

You realized, as sleep began to overcome you, that something was different now, and you wondered if you had even descended from the height of your climax yet. Or if you were still there in the afterglow.

And if you were, was Eddie still with you?

Then you had another thought.

Was this what being normal felt like? Was this the outcome of his forgiveness? Had he really broken the curse?

You closed your eyes and figured that you might never know, might never make it to Heaven.

But this moment here, with Eddie, was the closest you would ever get.

And it would be enough.

It was a dance.

Quite literally.

A dance with Eddie. Just you and him in this place deep and dark and hidden from the rest of the world.

Well alright, that was not quite the truth, not when there were thousands of glowing eyes and glinting claws and mouths dripping with hunger along the perimeter of the room. But it might as well be just the two of you; your love was enough to protect you. They didn't dare cross the veil of security while his hand held yours and you circled one another.

No music could be heard, no rhythm to speak of.

Just you and him. Jumping and head banging and twirling. He spun you, dipped you. Made a joke for you to dip him too, which caused you both to tumble to the ground in a fit of laughter.

Unadulterated joy.

You felt whole. Healed. Complete.

And you knew he felt the same.

This was where you belonged. Together.

"Let's try a waltz," he suggested.

"I don't know how to waltz, how do you know how to waltz," you laughed.

"PE, obviously. I can square dance too; you wanna do that instead?"

"No, no, show me how to waltz, Mr. Rochester."

"Gladly, my beloved Jane."

He did some wild and intricate bow, over exaggerated in the way only he could, and all the while you appreciate the sight. Full of life and energy and love, and it glowed from within him, practically illuminating the room.

He took your hand in his, grabbed your waist with the other, and led you with gentle instruction and encouragement. Once you had the steps down, he urged you to move, to spin, to traverse around the room, practically flaunting your invulnerability to the monsters that lay in wait on the outskirts.

Your combined laughter overwhelmed the clicking and hissing from beyond the dark veil.

"Alright, let's try this," Eddie instructed you with a chuckle. "I'm gonna dip you again."

"Oh Jesus ok, I'm not ready for that I don't think," you tried to dissuade him.

"You can't do any worse than Jeff did. Come on."

Unfortunately you did, your combined momentum from a spin was too much, and as Eddie went to dip you, you both fell in a soft pile of limbs and giggles and love. You rested your head back against the cold ground as Eddie rolled to the side, and when you opened your eyes you saw it.

A grand mirror, the frame of which was a dull and tarnished gold and layered in vines and slimey excrement. The edges of the reflective glass were scratched, but in the center, there you were.

The laughter and joy died in your throat as you stared at yourself, alone.

No monsters, surely, but no Eddie either.

You felt a familiar panic settle within you as your eyes darted back and forth around the reflection. A familiar hopelessness. And dread filled you because you knew, instinctually, that Eddie was still behind you...but was he?

"Sweetheart what's wrong?" Eddie questioned softly.

What if you turned around and you were alone again?

Lost again?

"Talk to me." You felt his hand on your shoulder, saw the indent of his touch in the reflection...but didn't see him. "What's going on?"

You wrenched your eyes shut as he fully grasped you by the shoulders and hovered over you.

"C'mon baby please," he sounded desperate. "What's wrong? Nothing's gonna happen. It'll be ok. I promised you, I'm here, it's gonna be alright. Trust me. Have faith in me."

Faith.

Was this a test of your faith? A test full of temptation? You taking the place of Orpheus as you sought safety in this underworld? And Eddie your Eurydice, continued existence hinging on that fragile string of faith?

But you knew deep in your heart, if you didn't have faith in anything else, you could have faith in him.

You slowly opened your eyes.

And witnessed a terrible sight.

Eddie, your Eddie, your soul and your salvation.

Broken.

Bleeding gashes on both sides of his neck, a slash on his wrist, a tear in the side of his shirt revealing a terrible wound, and lips that bubbled with blood.

"There you go," he muttered as though nothing was wrong. As though there were no droplets spattering onto your face as he spoke. "There's my girl."

You screamed.

"But if you bite and devour one another, watch out, or you will be consumed by one another.” - Galatians 5:1

Next Chapter: Chapter 7 - Exodus

#aasb #as above so below #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson smut #kas!eddie #Eddie munson x oc #tw: blood #tw: smut #tw: gore #tw: religious themes #monsterfucking #dead dove do not eat

[saintmurd0ck]

aere perennius | matt murdock x reader | drabble

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: matt murdock's love for you can only be described as 'aere perennius', or more lasting than bronze

warnings: a little angst, brief mention of blood/matt typical violence, gn reader

a/n: inspired by the lovely em's (@marvelswh0re) comment on bun's moodboard (@pleasedin), as well as the most incredible fic, quintessentia by my love jace @murdocks-devil // releasing this while i work on the rest of my sleepover stuff because i’m feeling incredibly wholesome rn 😌

Matt thinks of you so much he worries it’s become prayer.

If you’d stopped him on the street a year ago, and told him what a life with you would turn out to be, he would’ve laughed. He would’ve simply arched his eyebrows, flashed you a non-committal smirk, and laughed.

But here you are, waking up next to him in his old Columbia sweatshirt, heart so full it feels like it could leap out of his chest, completing each other so perfectly he doesn’t even know where to start. On rainy days Matt smiles at the crinkle of leather echoing in his ears, as you sink down onto the couch, kicking your feet up with coffee and a good book. He joins you moments later, not fussing about his messy hair, his sweatpants tucked into his socks or the half-asleep state he’s in. He doesn’t need to worry about that stuff with you.

This just isn’t something he’s ever envisioned; that someone loves him for who he is, truly for every facet of his identity. And unlike Elektra, you bring out the very best in him, making him not only want to be the man he’s always striven to be, but the protector of his city it so desperately deserved.

Life with you is one filled with tenderness, akin to the gentle warmth of the first rays of sunlight filtering into your bedroom; the domestic bliss of slow dancing in the living room at three A.M. or voice messages left on each other’s phones.

Your relationship is also contoured by the darkness in which Daredevil thrives. This darkness, this call to protect Hell’s Kitchen; it’s fuelled by purpose deeply ingrained in Matt’s DNA. Sometimes this urge is overwhelming, one that takes ahold of his body, mind and spirit, but nothing, nothing compares to the feeling that slid in his veins the second he met you. Sure, he’s devoted his life to his city, but there is nothing he would more fiercely protect than you. You’re entwined in the fibre of his being, curling like a luminous thread that wraps around his body, sparking in his fists when he enacts his crimson justice.

He thinks of you, especially when the worry and frustration simmering in your gut grows too much, too heavy, further amplified by the tang of his coppery blood in the air and the bruises that mar his body. Matt knows it isn't easy, but still you accept him. Still, you love him more and more for all that he is; every gossamer layer of Catholic guilt, every scar inflicted, every single good day and all of the bad.

And so he wonders, in the confession booth, when he's on his knees in Mass, in every admission of guilt... he wonders what he's done to deserve you. Matthew Murdock; God's lonely soldier, His favoured one, the one He put the devil in, the person who always thought he was destined to be alone.

But then you came, and there you shine. A star so brilliant, so radiant, your heartbeat alone became his lifeline; its steady rhythm his tether to this world.

For you it feels the depths of his love knows no bounds, for you’re everything he could’ve ever prayed for. For he would choose you, in a hundred different lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. He would always find you.

Because in the middle of his chaos, there you were.

And there you will always be.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfic #x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #rhi writes 💻 #the gospel of st murdock

[mariacallous]

“I am opposed to war, unless in self-defense.” This was the most-liked comment on Douyin—the Chinese counterpart to TikTok—in reaction to a speech delivered by Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi on Jan. 9. In his address, Wang previewed China’s top diplomatic goals for 2024 and emphasized “the unwavering resolve of all 1.4 billion Chinese citizens to achieve reunification with Taiwan,” a statement made just days prior to the island’s general elections.

The broader reaction to Wang’s remarks likely wasn’t what the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) hoped for: Tens of thousands of Chinese social media users responded, many of them with grievances, sarcasm, and defiance, widely questioning the costs of a potential war.

One man from Shanghai complained, “Who is going to fight the war? If I die, who is going to pay my mortgage or my car loan?” Wang’s speech framed “national unification” as one of “China’s core interests,” but as one user from Hunan rebutted, “[China’s] core interests are that every Chinese can be treated equally and have access to elderly care and health care.” The pushback went beyond economic and social grievances. Some posters were even bolder, suggesting that Taiwan’s democracy may demonstrate a political alternative to mainland China: “The fact that Taiwanese choose their own way of life,” said one commentator from Shandong, “might show that Chinese people can take a different route.”

The mood among social media users is a sharp departure from past elections. After almost every Taiwanese general election since 2016, a wave of pro-war fever has swept the Chinese internet. After Taiwan’s 2020 elections, for example, upbeat war enthusiasts in China produced oil paintings that illustrated wild fantasies of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) capturing Taiwanese President Tsai Ing-wen alive after landing in Taiwan and forcing her to sign an official surrender document onboard a Chinese aircraft carrier—a scene reminiscent of the 1945 Japanese surrender that ended World War II.

In 2021, one of the most popular songs to go viral on Chinese social media was “Take A Bullet Train to Taiwan in 2035.” Its allusion to a high-speed rail line connecting Beijing and Taipei was a dog whistle to nationalist masses who hoped that unification was on the horizon—by force, if necessary.

Absent from these fantasies, however, was the blood and violence that accompanies real war. At the time, China’s star was rising on the international stage, and public confidence was riding high on China’s success in controlling the COVID-19 pandemic within its borders. As such, the sentiments surrounding unification and the use of military force were quite romantic; many people believed that victory over Taiwan would be easy, that the Taiwanese would surrender voluntarily if the PLA simply blockaded the island.

In 2024, however, things have changed. The most recent Taiwanese presidential election—in which the pro-independence Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) won a repeat victory—served as an uncomfortable reminder to the Chinese public that neither Taiwanese politicians nor voters are interested in Beijing’s plans for political unification. Although the forceful unification narrative still exists, any push from nationalists to reignite war fever has now run into a wall of skepticism following the DPP victory.

“Wake up,” one Weibo user wrote in opposition to the broader online calls for forceful unification. “Stop dreaming,” another echoed. The defiant voices are becoming a common reaction to the suggested use of military force to an extent rarely seen, given the massive culture of censorship on Chinese social media.

A clear reason for this change is China’s economic slowdown. While Taiwan went to the polls in 2024, China was grappling with a youth unemployment rate above 20 percent, a housing market crisis with sales down by 45 percent, and a stock market in free fall that lost $6 trillion in just three years, the likes of which haven’t been seen in almost a decade. News about Taiwanese elections failed to arouse the same nationalistic reactions among the preoccupied Chinese public that had occurred in the previous two contests.

Instead, the 2024 elections triggered a flood of complaints: “Sort out our own economy, what a mess.” a Shanghai resident said angrily. “Look at our stock market,” an apparently frustrated investor from Hunan grieved, “It’d be better to keep the status quo, and leave Taiwanese alone.” The gloomy economy has made some commenters question the underlying justification for war: “With low-income people making less than 1,000 yuan a month ($140), and the national insurance tax going up, huge medical bills, and unaffordable apartments, why do you want forceful unification? I don’t get it.”

“It is the economy that really matters,” another person from Tianjin pointed out. “[Taiwan] being independent or not has nothing to do with ordinary people.”

The changing attitudes toward Taiwan’s elections reflect a broader shift in public sentiment in China’s online space. Discontent about the country’s poor economic reality has been growing louder, drowning out calls for a military takeover.

Ironically, the CCP’s own past propaganda efforts contributed to this cooling effect. Right before Nancy Pelosi, then the speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, visited Taiwan in August 2022, official and semiofficial rhetoric in mainland China was so belligerent that it led many Chinese to believe that the day of unification had finally arrived and that the military would shoot down her plane and launch its attack on Taiwan imminently.

This was the peak of forceful unification hysteria, but it only left its crusaders disappointed. In the end, there was not only no shootdown of Pelosi’s plane, but there also weren’t even military exercises conducted before she left Taiwan. Many Chinese, especially forceful unification advocates, felt betrayed and disillusioned by their government’s failure to follow through on its belligerent rhetoric, and the after-effects of this letdown are still being felt today.

During Taiwan’s 2024 elections, war enthusiasts were continuously reminded of Beijing’s military inaction following Pelosi’s trip to Taiwan. “Have you guys forgotten Pelosi?” one said. One commonly repeated joke, observing the lack of military action, scoffed that the only thing that was fired up when Pelosi visited was the stove in her hotel. The kinds of threats that once resonated with nationalists now drew widespread ridicule online: “delusion,” “talking a big game,” “an unrealistic fantasy,” and “all hat, no cattle.”

Meanwhile, at the other end of the Chinese political spectrum, the 2024 election prompted the resurgence of the view among many liberals that Taiwan’s democracy represents a desirable political model. In the early 2010s, many Chinese saw Taiwan as a beacon of hope for Chinese society—a liberal, civic, and democratic alternative to the one-party state. The liberal Chinese writer Han Han coined a popular phrase—“The most beautiful scenery of Taiwan is its people.”—that encapsulated the view of how trustworthy and free a people can become under democracy.

But after the crackdown on liberal intellectuals and online speech under Chinese leader Xi Jinping, the honeymoon did not last long and was gradually replaced by a climate of xenophobia, jingoism, war euphoria, and a longing for unification by force. Making matters worse, a growing nationalist mood in Taiwan led many to believe that Taiwanese looked down on mainlanders.

The 2024 elections, however, prompted a renewed interest from the Chinese public about their neighbor, home to the world’s only Chinese-speaking democracy. News about Taiwanese elections aroused great curiosity on Weibo about the nuts and bolts of the electoral process—what a ballot looks like, how many ballots one can cast, how votes are counted, and how candidates are selected. When a few Taiwanese Weibo users answered these questions, they were liked and retweeted by thousands of Chinese accounts, drawing genuine admiration and blessings from many.

“Are we going to see one day like this?” one user from Gansu wondered with a crying emoji. “Maybe this is accumulating experience for our own future: giving speeches, holding debates, and counting votes,” commented another, from Tianjin.

China’s shifting public sentiment is bound to have repercussions for cross-strait relations, but it would probably be a bridge too far to infer that the Chinese public will fiercely oppose a war in the Taiwan Strait. Ultimately, the nationalist base remains. At present, the euphoria about forceful unification is quieting down, mainly because the party’s over-the-top propaganda failed to meet the expectations of its most ardent supporters. But if aggressive rhetoric were followed by military action in the future, war fever could be easily fanned again.

Despite the prevalence of extreme nationalism, Chinese public opinion is more divided on Taiwan than it seems, and these divisions are only likely to increase. What concerns most ordinary Chinese are decent jobs, good income, accumulating savings for retirement, and getting affordable access to health care and housing.

So long as the economy is struggling and people’s livelihoods are threatened, there is no guarantee that the CCP’s attempts to exploit nationalism will work; quite the opposite, it could be faced with plenty of pushback.

[waterless-witch]

Of Knights and Demons

Chapter 4

TW: Rape/Non-con, Dark themes, forced marriages, violence and swearing. MINORS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU

This is my first ever fic so please be nice to me, I’ve also got it posted on A03 under the same name in case anybody would like to read it there.

You are the sole daughter of Byakuya Kuchiki, the sole heir to a noble family. Your father has broken from tradition with his refusal to marry you off against your wishes, instead wishing for you to find a husband of your own choosing. After years of arguing with not only your own family, but the other lords of your court all seems well. That is until a once thought dead knight returns with an army to take your home.

Souske Aizen, a man you once found kindness in has demanded that the two of you are to be wed, with your father still missing along with most of the guards you’re left with few options but to comply and hope that aid comes before anything can be set. How will you stop a man like Aizen from destroying your home and the people you care about? And who are these strange people with bone masks on their face?

Previous chapter

Sleep finds you much easier than you expected and you sleep soundly through the remainder of the night. You wake in the early morning and find that you're alone. Good, you prefer it that way, you don’t think that you could bear to see Aizen right now. You feel disgusting. Your skin is covered in dry sweat, your thighs and core are sticky with the evidence of your consummation, and your eyes are puffy from crying. Your whole body is sore and in pain you realize as you make your way to the bathroom to bathe.

You take note of a beautiful red dress placed carefully over the dresser, but the dress itself is not what catches your eye. No, what catches your eyes is the finely crafted crown that sits atop it. It’s made from beautiful thin crafted metal, adored with vines and flowers just as your wedding dress had been. It looked light and elegant. You walked past it, refusing to even touch it, you refused to wear it today, maybe ever. Definitely never you decide. You would do everything you could to let it be known that you didn’t want any of this. You would not play his happy wife, you’d do what he’d make you to keep the people you cared for safe but you would make sure he knew the depth of your hatred.

Once you entered the bathroom you looked at your reflection, which was a mistake. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were red and swollen. But that’s not what upset you. You choked on a cry as you looked over your body. Your neck was covered in brown and purple bruises, where you neck and shoulder meet there was a large mark from where he’d bitten you and drawn blood. Your hips held more bruises that were clearly from his fingers. It’d take days for all the bruising to subside and you couldn’t stop fresh tears from falling down your face. You turned away from the mirror, unable to look at yourself any longer. You began filling the tub with hot water.

Once the tub was filled you got in immediately even as the hot water burned your skin. You spent at least an hour scrubbing every part of your body raw. When the water went cold you drained it and replaced it with more scalding water and continued. No matter how much soap you used or how much you scrubbed your skin you simply didn’t feel clean enough. After giving up on your skin you began washing your hair and brushing out the knots. You didn’t want to look back in the mirror so you put it up in a sloppy braid while still in the tub. You got out of the tub and pulled on the nightgown from a few days ago, you weren’t going to leave the room but you didn’t want to sit around naked either.

You entered back into the bedroom and thought about what you’d do. You’d not been to keen on the idea of being shown around the manor before but you definitely didn’t want to now, you could already hear the lewd comments Grimmjow would make if he saw you. You thought about sitting by the widow again but you didn’t want to have to look at your reflection. Instead you just went back to bed, you pulled the blankets around yourself making a makeshift cocoon. It took you a good while to fall back asleep, mind to busy worrying about when Aizen would be back and what he’d make you do when he did show back up, but eventually sleep did find you.

You woke hours later to the sound of someone banging on your door. You shot up but didn’t move further than that. You waited quietly, after a few minutes the banging sounded again. “Hey!” You heard Grimmjow shout from the other side. He’d never knock like that unless he was telling you that Aizen wanted to see you and you had already decided hours ago that you would not be doing that. “Look, if you don’t want to come out I-'' he said clearly out of his element and struggling for what to say, “I get it…” To say you were confused would be an understantment, but he continued, “But you have to fucking eat, I’ll get someone to bring something up just tell me what you want.” You didn’t move, you didn’t want to see him or anyone for that matter. After another couple minutes of silence you heard him pound his fist into the door “Stubborn bitch.” He mumbled to himself.

Your eyes narrowed even when it seemed like he was being nice to you he had such a backwards way of doing so that you couldn’t tell what was going on. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you heard him start to pace again and mumble under his breath. You laid back down to sleep, listening to Grimmjow’s footsteps. Strangely it calmed you, lulling you back to sleep quickly and without any of the nauseating thoughts from earlier.

The next time you woke up the sun had already set. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room. You sat up only to see Aizen had returned. Instantly you felt sick as his eyes fell to you, he looked you up and down before cocking his head, “While you look lovely I much prefer how I’d left you this morning.” He tells you casually. You keep your mouth shut, staring daggers at him as he strips from his shirt. “I missed you at supper, not feeling well?” He taunts you with a smirk before stalking closer to your shared bed.

You try to crawl away from him but he catches your ankle and pulls you back, flipping you so you're facing him once again. “Please don’t,” you beg willing to try anything to keep his hands off you. “Everything still hurts from yesterday ple-” he cuts you off with a dominating kiss. Your heart sinks and you know what's coming.

He pulls away from you just enough to shush you as his hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling harshly so that you're looking up at him. “I’ll have you every night until my heir grows inside you, even then I doubt I'll be able to stop. Not when you cry so sweetly for me.” He says, hand still gripping your hair. You feel tears start to form in your eyes again, you know there’s nothing you can say or do that would make him stop. You don’t want to have his children but how could you possibly fight him? Even if you could somehow stop him he’d just have Renji killed and you don’t think you could handle that guilt.

True to his word he’d had you again. Similarly to the previous night he took his time preparing you, forcing you to orgasam twice before he even considered putting his cock in you. You hated it, how he could turn your body against you with such ease. You also came to realize, as he slammed into you just as rough as before, that he liked when you cried. He wanted you to beg him to stop and tell him that you couldn’t take it, he reveled in it. You want to stop crying, hold out and take some of that enjoyment away from him but every time you try to he just gets rougher. He forces you to look at him with a strong grip in your hair as he slams his hips into yours and releases inside you again.

Only this time he doesn’t pull out of you, instead his hand slips between your legs to start rubbing small tight circles on your clit. Your hand shots out before you can stop it to try and grab his wrist to make it stop, you're already overstimulated and you're not fully thinking. Before you can even grab at him the hand fisted in your hair pulls so hard you're afraid he’ll pull a chunk of it out. You cry out and your hands whip to try and pry his hand out of your hair all the while keeping up with his stimulation of your body.

Heavy tears roll down your face, “Please no more.” You whimper out in a way that sounds pathetic to even you.

He doesn't stop, not that you really expected him to. “Gods you’re so pretty when you beg.” He mumbles before leaning over you and kissing you. Between the fullness in your core and his thumb stimulating your clit the knot in your abdomen was building much faster than it had previously. You can’t stop the cries and whines which Aizen seems all too happy to swallow though the rough kiss. It took a minute more before that knot had snapped your back arched as you cried out before sinking back into the bed feeling completely ruined. He pulled away with one quick peck on the cheek before pulling out of you.

He pulled you up to him and laid the two of you down the same as the previous night. One of his hands runs soothingly up and down your back. You want to move away from him or tell him to stop but you don’t have the energy nor do you want to risk upsetting him. You fall asleep quickly and when you wake he’s gone yet again.

~~~

The days that followed happened in the same fashion, you wake up alone and spend the morning hours trying to clean away filth that you knew you’d never be able to, go back to sleep, wake up to Grimmjow trying to get you to come out or to eat something, go back to sleep followed by Aizen having you how ever he sees fit for that night. Even though you’d been sleeping all day you felt exhausted all the time and even though you know you should be eating you couldn’t.

The very thought of food made you sick, not that you would venture out to find it even if it didn’t. Somewhere in the back of your head you screamed at yourself that something was deeply wrong with you but you couldn’t make yourself care enough. Maybe you were going insane, you thought to yourself bitterly.

On the seventh day since your wedding you were making your way back to the bed after bathing when your door slammed open, hitting the wall and reverberating off the hinges. You whirl around expecting to see Aizen but instead Grimmjow stands in your doorway looking positively pissed. You gape at him for a moment not knowing what to say or do. His eyes fall to your neck and in turn his jaw clenched in anger. You quickly realize he’s looking at the marks on your neck and flush in embarrassment. “Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door.

His eyes flick back up to meet yours, “You look like shit.” He comments bluntly. You can feel yourself getting angry, you knew you weren’t a pretty sight at the moment but you also didn’t need him to barge in and tell you about it.

You breathe an angry huff out, “Great observation now leave.” You bite back, you don’t know what he wants and you don’t care, he has no right to barge into your room and make fun of you.

He just keeps staring at you until the rattling of metal on metal sounds from the hallway, “Hurry up!” He barks, turning his head to throw over his shoulder. You hear a woman sigh.

Your eyes widen instantly recognizing the sound before she even speaks, “Now don’t rush me boy! I’m old, this is as fast as I go!” The women grumbled back. Her name was Lista, she had been one of the servants at your home, she was a kind woman in her mid fifties with long coiled brown hair that had begun to gray around the roots. She had worked in your family’s garden and since you were a young child you’d often found yourself in her company. She would teach you how much water each plant needed, how to weed the flower beds, and she’d answer every little question your child brain could come up with. She was foreign born and sometimes would tell you about plants that grew in her native home or about how to grow different kinds of food. Sometimes she’d even bring in sketches of said plants that she’d have her husband draw up for you. Once you got older you always made sure to slip her some extra silver or bring her some of her favorite foods from the kitchen. She had a sweet tooth and as a child you loved to share your desserts with her as you sat outside in the heat.

She came into the room pushing a small metal cart with food and a few cups on it. Her hazel eyes meet yours and instantly her expression softened. “Oh baby,” she said sadly as she crossed the room to pull you into a tight hug, “He said you haven’t been eating but look at you.” Lista placed her hand on your head and held you tightly. She was right of course, you’d lost a noticeable amount of weight from not eating.

Before you could stop yourself you were crying into her shoulder, as if a damn had broken you let every one of your emotions flow. She held you for a long time, just shushing you and running her hand down your hair not unlike she used to do when you’d fall as a child and she’d carry you inside to get bandaged. You heard the door close quietly and eventually composed yourself. As you pulled away Lista gave your forehead and light and loving kiss. “I don’t understand, why are you here? What’s going on?” You asked, face still wet from crying.

“You wouldn’t let me help you so I had to track down someone who could.” Grimmjow said from behind Lista, he sounded irritated but far less so than normal. “Which was not an easy task since none of them wanted to give me any kind of information about anything.” He said leaning back against the door.

Lista rolled her eyes, she had never been one to shy away from any kind of confrontation and wasn’t about to start now. “Now listen here boy,” She said to Grimmjow earning her a growl from him, “You have to think about it from our point. Y'all barge in here, kill a whole lot of us, take our lady as a war bride then have the gall to demand to know who she’s close with,” She said pointing her finger at him. “Doesn’t really scream that your tryin’ to help the poor girl.” She finished.

Grimmjow's nose crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed but he didn’t say anything, which was unusual. Lista gently pulled you towards the small cart of food, “Listen to me little lady,” she said, voice much softer than when she’d talked to Grimmjow, “Ya gotta eat, I can’t imagine how awful it is for you here but you have to. People are gonna start to notice that you're not.”

Grimmjow scoffed from behind the two of you and you turned slightly to look at him, “Yeah they are, if I noticed your husband will too, and I can garentee that he’ll force you to eat about as kindly as he fucks you.” Your face twisted in disgust as did Listas.

“The boys right but ignore him.” Lista began as she reached for a small mug on the tray drawing your attention from Grimmjow.

“Can you stop calling me that?” He interrupted angrily. Neither one of you turned around to face him.

“No,” She answered, “Now hush.” You heard him growl again but it was much more half hearted than the previous one. “I had the magisters make this for you, you need to drink it daily but it will keep him from putting a child in you.” Your eyes widen at the realization. Lista gently places the mug in your hands, it's warm and it doesn’t smell at all pleasant but you’re so happy to have it. “The boy has promised to get it to you each day and I’ll make sure that the kitchen staff have it made for you, do you understand?” She asks looking into your eyes.

You nod your head quickly, “Lista, I’ll never be able to repay you for this.” You tell her genuinely. She reaches forward and gives your forehead another light kiss.

“Just eat my dear, don’t let that man kill you.” You nod again and promise her that you will, “I have to go before someone sees I’m gone, but I’ll come back when I can.” Lista says before giving your hand a squeeze. You exchange goodbyes and another hug before Grimmjow opens the door for her, letting her out before closing it behind her.

Grimmjow stares at you for a while before it ticks in your brain that he’s put in a lot of work to make this happen for you. You don’t understand why he’d bother or what he’s seeking by doing so but you’re grateful regardless. “Thank you, again.” You say to him before downing the tea quickly.

He continues to stare at you while you place the mug down, “I already told you not to thank me princess.” He says with no real bite, you think it might be the first time you’d heard him talk without anger or irritation, besides of course when he’d make lewd comments at you but still.

You can’t help but wonder why he’d done it, “Can I-“ you started not really knowing how to say what you wanted, “Can I ask why you went through all the trouble?” You asked quietly. He might not want your thanks but you did want some answers, and maybe if he’d been in a good enough mood to help you he might give you some answers.

“Eat.” He commanded crushing your hope for answers. You roll your eyes at him but pick up your fork and knife and do as he says. It’s been a long time since you’ve eaten anything so you don’t quite eat what you normally would, stomach no doubtably having shrunken a bit. Grimmjow doesn’t leave, there’s an awkward air in the room as you can all but feel his eyes looking at every bruise and mark that Aizen had left on you. “You want him dead don’t you?” He asks out of nowhere.

You stop all movement and look up at him through your lashes. He’s not angry, he’d gone back to lounging against the door and was picking at his nails with his thumb seemingly uninterestedly. When you don’t answer his gaze flicks up to you, “I- uh, well,” you stutter, placing your utensils back down. You have no idea what to answer with. He’s been nicer to you as of late but you still don’t think that you can tell him that you want his leader dead.

He gets tired of your stuttering and spits out, “Well, if you do want him dead you should hurry up and do it before he starts questioning why you can’t get pregnant.” He says it all with such a casual tone as if you were talking about the weather or something else equally as unimportant.

It’s your turn to scoff at him, “Yeah, that’s something I can manage.” You quip back sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. How could you possibly hope to kill a man that could cripple a kingdom?

"You could,” He says, pushing off the wall and walks towards you. He picks up the knife from the cart and reaches for you. You sure he’s about to cut you and you try to pull back but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you closer. He brings the knife close to your eye but doesn’t touch you with it, “The next time he climbs on top of you, put a knife through his eye,” he says before lowering the knife to the center of your neck, “or through his throat. Or learn to live with him.” He says looking down at you, your eyes lock with his and he keeps you firmly in place, “Either way enough of this pathetic damsel shit.” He releases his hold on your head and grabs your arm, placing the knife in your hand.

You think for a long moment and Grimmjow doesn’t move, he just watches you run problems through your head. You shake your head and look up to him, “I can’t, what if I fail?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Aizen would kill Renji, and anyone else he knew you were close to, like Momo or Lista.

Grimmjow shrugs and turns around and starts walking away, “He won’t kill you if that’s what you're asking.” He says in an annoyed tone.

“I know he won’t kill me but he will kill Renji.” You say to his back. He stops walking and is silent for a minute, clearly thinking about something.

He looks at you over his shoulder and his eyes narrow. “Your little knight’s not here anymore.” He informs you. Your breath catches and your heart sinks.

You’d let Aizen do whatever he’d wanted with you and he’d still killed him? Your eyes glazed, “But I- I did what he wanted, I married him. He’s dead?” You say rapidly, tripping over your words the whole time.

Grimmjow scoffs and you think he’s going to insult you again but he doesn’t, “I never said he died.” He says in a harsh tone, “Your brave and valiant knight managed to escape along with an entire holding cell the night of your wedding.” He informs you like you're stupid for not knowing.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, “So he’s not dead?” You ask just to confirm with him. If what he’s saying is true that lifts a lot of weight off your shoulder, you might still be stuck here but at least if you don’t do something perfectly for Aizen he can’t kill Renji.

“Not yet,” he says with another shrug. “Can’t say he won’t be soon though, Aizen’s pissed, sent a whole group out after them. If they’re not back in three more days, me and my group switch with them.” You don’t know why he’s telling you all this but you think this is the most helpful that he’s been. “When he catches them it won’t be pretty, he doesn’t like to be fucked around with like that.” You don’t say anything back and he leaves the room.

You set the knife back on the cart. You think over everything that Grimmjow had told you, you know you can’t kill Aizen, he’s quicker than you, stronger than you and more battle ready than you’ll ever be. But there is another option now. You decide that you’ll bid you time and when the timing is perfect you’ll escape. It might take a while but you swear to yourself that you will. You’ll find your fathers camp and get away from here, Aizen can’t use you if he doesn’t have you. You start making plans on how to do so. Firstly, you decide, you need to figure out where you're going.

That means tomorrow you’ll have Grimmjow take you to the library so you can look over the books and records of where your border camps are. You’ll figure out how to get rid of your guards another day, but for now your feeling much more hopeful.

~~~

Grimmjow brings you supper a few hours later and you eat as much of it as you can manage. Aizen returns a few hours later and the rest of the night follows the same path as all the previous. Only this time you’re not scared to get pregnant. You are still scared of him and what he could do to you but you no longer have the threat of hypothetical children hanging over you. When he finishes with you he doesn’t immediately pull you to sleep like normal, instead his eyes rack down your body causing you to shiver under his gaze as you catch your breath. “You should let yourself enjoy this more.” He says to you.

You look at him before huffing a depressed sounding laugh and looking away. You don’t want to enjoy this with him. You already hate how your body responds to him; you don’t want to give your mind up to him as well. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying love making with your husband.” He states as if it's a matter of fact.

Slowly your eyes look back to him and you give a small chuckle. “This isn’t love making and it’s certainly not love.” You tell him back firmly.

Aizen’s quiet for a moment, considering your words, “It will be,” He tells you, your eyebrows knit together, “Not today, not tomorrow, not for a long time but you will enjoy what I do to you. What we are.” He says and you shake your head lightly, you will not, you’d sooner throw yourself from the roof. “You will, this is your life now, you can fight it all you want but you will.” He tells you as his hand runs up your leg. You try to pull back but he doesn’t let you. He pulls you down the bed to him before snaking his hand under your back and pulling you so that you're kneeling over his lap.

Your eyes widen and he smirks at you. His hands fall to your hips and give them a light squeeze before he flips you around so that you're sitting in his lap with your back pressed to his chest. You try to move from his hold but he forces you back with a strong hand atop your thigh. You feel his cock twitch underneath you making panic rise in you. His free hand trails from up your stomach to your breast. You shake your head and he chuckles as he begins to flick your nipple. You can’t help but whine in his hold, you’re already so sensitive from everything he’d done to you before this that all your nerves are heightened.

The hand on your thigh slides downwards, between your legs you choke on a gasp as he runs his knuckles along the length of your folds, lightly grazing your clit with every pass. “Please,” you whine, he just hums to you as he continues. “Please stop.” You plead, voice barely above a whisper.

He brings his mouth to your ear, “Beg me to fuck you.” He demands warm breath fanning your ear before he nips at it. You shake your head in denial, you won’t do that, you can’t do that. “Beg me to fuck you,” he repeats, “Or we’ll stay like this all night.” His fingers begin circling your clit in earnest. “I’ll have you coming on my fingers until you pass out and even then, I’ll keep going until you wake back up.” You're crying again, your hands are on each of his wrists trying to stop him but you're not strong enough to pull him away and he just ignores you, “I can keep you here as long as I like.” He tells you.

He doesn’t stop and you try your best to hold out. By the time he pulls a second orgasm from your body you’re crying hard and you throw your head back on his shoulder, arching to try to get away, his hand at your sex doesn’t stop, it doesn’t even slow. You're so overwhelmed and his attention is starting to hurt, you’ve come twice this round and twice the previous and its all just too much for you. He kisses the side of your head gently compared to how he moves his hands. You’re so desperate to get him to stop that you give in, “Please.” You say words leaving you breathlessly and barely audible.

Even though you’re not looking at his face you know he’s smiling as he hums to you, “What was that love? Did you say something?” He asks even though you both know he’s heard you and is just toying with you. You whine pathetically, of course he’s toying with you, it's what he adores most.

You swallow thickly and shutter, his hands are still moving against you making it all the more difficult to focus on the words coming out of your mouth. “Please!” You all but shout.

He gives a small chuckle against your head, “Please what, my love?” He asks and you grit your teeth so hard it feels like they might break. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.” His cock twitches again beneath you showing just how much he’s enjoying breaking you down like this, how much he enjoys humiliating you.

Your jaw tightens as more tears of frustration fall down your face. You’re sure you look like a mess but you take a deep breath and say, “Please, Aizen...” He takes a deep breath in as you continue, “Please fuck me.” You beg him in a whisper, you're flushed and humiliated. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone the way you do him at this moment.

His hands are on your face, pulling you to meet his lips, back arched against his chest, with bruising force. He moves your head how he sees fit as you try desperately to catch your breath, feeling almost relieved that his hand is off your core. You can’t help but twitch in overstimulation. One of his hands leaves your face and trails down your body, for a moment you're afraid that he’s going to start teasing you again but he moves past your folds. He’s lining his cock up to you again and you pull away for his lips ready to beg yet again for him to please just give you a moment of rest, you know that he won’t stop but you can at least try to take a breather.

But he doesn’t give you the chance to get the words out. Aizen thrusts up into you and from this angle he hits so much deeper. You cry out as he bottoms out, it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had the first time of the night but it still wasn’t exactly pleasant. He breathes your name out and stills, you take the opportunity to take a deep breath. “See that wasn’t so hard now was it?” He asks in a low tone. You squeeze your eyes shut as both his hands rise to your breasts, he teases your nipples making you whine as he stays still inside you. “You will learn to enjoy this sweet girl, I swear it to you.” He tells you before he starts moving inside you, it's not nearly as rough as he had been, not to say that it was gentle by any means but it didn’t hurt like it had previously.

It takes a while for him to find it but after a few minutes he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars and you can’t stop the lewd sounding moan that it rips from you and your hips involuntary buck with his own. You hand shoots to cover your mouth in shock and you still your movements. Aizen doesn’t let you keep your hand there for long though, he pulls your hand away, bringing it up and giving it a small peck, his other hand falls to your waist to keep you moving in time with him. “I want to hear you my love, I want to know how much you like having me inside you.” He says still trusting inside you, taking special care to thrust just right to keep that spot stimulated. You couldn’t form words and you shake your head in denial as the pain starts ebbing away much to your hatred. You don’t want to enjoy this, you want to scream and you think you’d rather have him fuck you rough than take you in a way that forces you to betray yourself.

He chuckles warmly into your ear and after a while gets you to keep moving in time with him. Then his hand moves from your waist to your core and begins to rub your clit in time with his thrust. You gasp loudly and try to pull away from him, he won't let you though and you know it’s futile. You don’t know why he wants you to enjoy this but he does and he takes care to make sure that he gets what he wants. You can’t think about anything but how his cock is moving inside you as you wither and moan his name in little broken cries. Quickly that knot starts building and you're more of a moaning mess, you're still moving in time with him and can’t form enough thoughts to stop. “Feeling good?” He asks breathlessly with a smile. You hate how smug he sounds, how happy he is that your body is feeling pleasure from him. It snaps something in you and you let your movements stutter to a stop and you regain the ability to think for a moment.

You know he’s only doing all this to upset and humiliate you further. You pull yourself together just enough to tell him, “I hate you.” In a broken whisper. He laughs and picks up both the pace of his hand and his thrusts causing you to scream his name out. His other hand starts forcibly grinding your hips into his own again. His thrusts start losing rhythm and his hand spreads up further. The knot inside you snaps and your unable to stop yourself from sobbing and arching your back with your head on his shoulder as he fucks you through it, still toying with your clit the whole time. He finishes inside you for the second time a few thrusts later, hand finally coming to a rest between your legs. You fall back into him, eyelids heavy and tears still lightly falling.

He rubs your legs soothingly as he untangles himself from you and gently lays you down on the pillows. He leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away to look in your eyes. “Hate me all you want, lie to me and yourself if you must but you did enjoy that.” You avert your eyes not wanting to look at him. He kisses your forehead then laid down next to you and drapes his arm around you.

Sleep does not come as easily as it had been. Instead you laid awake upset. You know it was involuntary but he was right, you had enjoyed that. You were a mess for him, you matched his thrusts and moaned for him. You begged him to fuck you. You hated yourself for how weak you were. How weak you are. You couldn’t pull him off you, you couldn’t kill him and you couldn’t even stop him from manipulating you to do whatever he wanted.

Eventually sleep does come and surprisingly you dream, something you haven’t done in weeks, perhaps you’d been too exhausted. In your dream you are with Aizen again as you just had been, except you're not fighting him at all. You're grinding your hips in time with him and moaning obscenely, his pace picks up and you loop your arm around his head to hold onto his hair to ground yourself.

Except the hair in your hand is different from Aizen’s, it's not styled the same and seems a bit shorter. You turn to look back but a hand grabs your chin and keeps you looking straight ahead. “Something the matter princess?” A voice that is very much not Aizen’s rasps into your ear. Instead the voice belongs to Grimmjow and the last thing you remember from your dream is his strange bone mask pressed against you.

You wake with a shaky breath and wide eyes. Your heart is beating wildly out of control as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened. Behind you there’s the sound of metal rattling and you go to shoot up and see what’s there but a hand shoves you back down. Your back hits the mattress with enough force to knock the air from your lungs and you gasp. You take notice that the hand in question is pushing the blanket from the bed against your upper chest. Your eyes shoot up to meet a set of azure eyes staring back at you.

You flushed being this close to him even though you know logically that he had no way of knowing what your brain had just conjured up of him. Grimmjow’s leaning over you, one knee rested on the bed to be able to reach you and keep you in place. “Unless you're planning on giving me a show I recommend keeping yourself covered princess.” He tells you bluntly as he slowly pulls away from you.

You’re left gaping at him for a moment before your mind starts processing what’s going on. “Why are you here?” You ask in a high pitched tone as your arm moves to hold the blank in place over your chest so you can sit up. It’s early morning, you're still naked and he shouldn’t be in here.

He looks at you a second before gesturing behind him to a plate and cup of steaming tea on your nightstand. “Your hag couldn’t make it up so I brought your food.” He said, irritation thick in his voice.

It clicked into place that he’d promised to bring you the tea every morning and made sense enough. “Oh, t-thank you.” You stutter out quickly not being able to look at him and flushing more in embarrassment. You were embarrassed that you’d thought of him like that even if you were unconscious. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome even with the strange bone mask and near constant scowl, but he was also an ass and was rude to you and you didn’t want to think about him like that. He had kidnapped you and brought you to Aizen. He antagonized you for fun and got angry when you didn’t react in a fun enough way for him. He had been kind a few times but he always took such a bastardized approach to it that you couldn’t tell why he’d done it. He made little sense to you so it made even less sense that you’d be having lewd dreams about him.

You could feel his gaze and your eyes flicked to his for just long enough to see them narrow before you looked away again. You don’t know what gave you away but he can tell that something’s wrong. “What’s wrong with you today?” He asks harshly, eyes still fixated on you.

You swallow and try to think of something to say, nothing comes to you and he starts stalking towards you. In a panic you say, “Nothing!” A little too loudly. Your response makes him stop walking but he cocks an eyebrow and scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, “I’m not wearing any clothes can you please get out?” You say with a bit of distress in your voice as he stays firmly planted. He eyes your exposed neck, shoulders and what he can see of your chest making you tug the blanket higher before he rolls his eyes and turns away. He leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You wait a second before moving to make sure he’s not going to come back in before you reach over and drink the still hot tea quickly. You decide to go wash and get dressed before eating. You planned to have Grimmjow take you to the library so you could look over the geography books and maps and start to figure out where your fathers camp might be. You bathe, trying and failing to make yourself seem clean and brush through your knotted hair leaving it to fall naturally. You dress in a black dress that was left for you with the same neckline as all the rest. You knew your hickies and love bites would be on display but there was little that you could do about that. You look at the beautiful crown that sits permanently on the dresser and leave it there. You won’t wear it. You won’t have anything to do with it. You slip on your flats and quickly eat as much as you can manage.

With a deep breath you go to the heavy door and pull it open. Grimmjow is leaning beside it and his head immediately snaps to you. His eyes widen and he pushes off the wall to fully see you. He looks you up and down twice before his eyes settle on yours and he smirks at you, “Well, look at you all dressed up and pretty again.” He says, making you flush a bit, you’re used to him calling you princess but you were not prepared for him to call you pretty. It’s such a simple thing to say but it gets a reaction out of you which only makes his smirk grow. “What do I owe the honor?” He says smirk never leaving his face.

You keep eye contact with him refusing to keep backing away. “If you don’t mind, I'd like to go to the library.” You tell him. He seems to consider it for a moment and for a second you worry that he’ll refuse but he doesn’t.

He lets out a sigh, “Fine, it figures though, you finally wanna go somewhere and it's the most boring place in the manor.” He said with a roll of his eyes. He led you to the library silently after that, you hadn’t seen anyone on your walk which was reliving in a way. He held the door open for you, the library was huge, far larger than the one at your own manor. Rows upon rows of shelves line the room, all with little engraved plaques to tell you which genres the shelves held. As you walked through the library looking for what you needed Grimmjow trailed behind you, running his fingers lazily over the spines of the books and messing with them as he went.

After a while you had a decent stack of books about previous wars of your kingdom, localized weather, localized geography, as well as a few books on local plants and a book about how to grow different crops to make your pile look less suspicious. Grimmjow, you noticed, didn’t pick anything up but you didn’t give him much thought. You strolled over to a small sitting area adored with a few plush sitting chairs as well as a matching chaise and some small tables. Grimmjow flops down on the chaise as you set your books on the table and sit yourself. “Is this really what you’re gonna do all day?” He asked, looking bored already.

You just shrugged at him, “I like to read.” You say as you pick up the book about wars, hoping to find something about where to locate your father, perhaps see if there was an area that they often came back to for their temporary camps. Grimmjow scoffed and threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. You read the first two chapters before you heard him signing and shifting around. You ignored him and got a single page read before he interrupted you.

“What are you reading?” He asked in an annoyed voice like you were inconveniencing him. You looked at him over the top of your book to see he was staring at you.

“It’s about history.” You said, you didn’t want to specify to him what kind of history. While he had been kind a few times and he’d all but told you to kill Aizen you still didn’t want to chance fate and have him report what you were planning to do back to someone.

He raised a brow at you, “They all about history?” He sneered looking at your stack of books. You were a little worried that he had seen through your white lie but you steeled your face trying not to let anything show.

You shook your head lightly, “No, there’s a few about weather patterns and geography but most of them are about local plants and crop growing.” He rolled his eyes and stretched while you went back to reading quietly.

You made it another few pages before he spoke up again. “Why plants?” He sneered at you. You look back over at him and he’s resting with his hands behind his head. He’s looking at you again and it makes you wonder if he’d looked away at all.

You fidget under his gaze and shrug, “I like gardening.” You say, he scrunches his nose and furrows his brows at you, “In the warmer months I like to be out in the gardens and take care of the plants, it's nice.” You elaborate to him.

He gives a light laugh, “Of course you do, princess.” He says and it's your turn to look confused at him. “It’s fitting is all.” He tells you, “Of course the prettiest little princess likes flowers and sunshine and shit.” He says and you can’t tell if he means it as an insult or not.

Instead you tell him, “I’m not a princess, stop calling me that.” His face broke out in another smirk and he flipped himself to lay on his side, head resting in his hand.

“Closest thing I’ve ever seen to a princess.” He says smirk growing a bit, “You’re a pretty girl with pretty little dresses that grew up being waited on hand and foot in a manor. You’ve got a strong family name and despite it manage to be the most delicate little thing I’ve ever seen. For fucks sake you had your own little knight and everything. What part of that doesn’t scream princess?” Your face flushes at his words, it's the third time today he’s called you pretty and you really don’t know how to react to it and you’re sure he knows it. It makes your cheeks burn every time and your pretty sure that he’s only doing it to mess with you.

You roll your eyes and he gives a chuckle, “None of that makes me a princess.” You tell him stubbornly. Your face is still burning red but you don’t want to let him win.

He barks another laugh at you, “I guess you’re right,” he says with a light shrug, “You’re a queen now aren’t you? Technically speaking.” He says with a cock of his head. Your eyes narrow at him, and you decide you're done talking to him and resume reading. Or you at least try too. You can feel him looking at you even if you won't look at him. It makes you fidget and you’ve read the same paragraph four times and you still have no idea what it says. Your mind wanders back to the crown on the dresser. He was right, technically but you didn’t like the thought. You didn’t want to be Aizen’s queen, the thought depressed you.

You tried not to think about it and focus on the task at hand but between Grimmjow’s gaze and his words you were thoroughly distracted. You think about what it actually is to be a queen, you certainly don’t feel like one, you can’t see yourself up there with the previous queens. You think about your escape plan and wonder if it’s actually possible, you don’t know that it is but you’d rather risk dying out there than to stay here with Aizen for any longer than you have to.

Then you start thinking about Grimmjow and what an enigma he was to you. He was rude and bold but he could be kind at times. From the first night you’d meet him in the forest he’d been like that. He’d offered you advice but refused to answer any questions and treated you however he felt like. He’d gone out of his way to find Lista to help with the tea and to get you to eat but only after he said you looked like shit and complained that you were boring. Then today he’d started calling you pretty but only in ways that were used to fluster and embarrass you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he actually thought you were pretty or if he was saying it to upset you.

You stopped yourself from that train of thought, you told yourself that you didn’t care why he did it and that you wanted him to stop. What business was it of yours what he thought of how you looked, you were sure he thought you were pathetic already. What did it matter if you were pretty and pathetic? He frustrated you worse than anyone else ever had so why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? You chalk it up to that stupid dream and that you’ll forget about it in a few days.

You reread the same paragraph for the fifth time before he spoke again, “You read a lot before all this?” He asked laying on his back with a thump. “Seems super boring.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye waiting for your response.

You set your book down on your lap and looked at him. “Yeah I did,” you think back to all the time you’d spent reading with Momo or all the books about flowers and plants from other parts of the world. It felt like such a long time ago even though it had only been a few weeks. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be that girl again, if you’ll ever lay around and read with Momo or if you’ll ever go out to the gardens and pull the weeds out of the flowerbeds. Then you start thinking about your mom. She loved to read and started teaching you when you were three years old, she had always been so patient with you as a child. You remembered when she first got sick the two of you would sit together and read for hours, when she began getting sicker you would read aloud to her so she could relax and listen.

A tear slipped down your face and you were quick to wipe it away, you looked down at your hands and tried to focus on not making yourself more upset. You weren’t sure if Grimmjow had seen your tears but if he did he didn’t say anything about it. “Who taught you?” He asked, looking up to the ceiling.

“My mother.” You said simply, you didn’t want to tell him about your mother. It felt too personal. You didn’t get to keep much of your life private as of late but that felt too private to share with him or Aizen or any of them. He just hummed to indicate that he’d heard you. “Why don’t you go find something to read? You wouldn’t be as bored.” You offer to him wanting to change the subject.

Grimmjow turns to look at you, his eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrowed. You meet his gaze in question. “I can’t.” He bites out angrily.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “You can’t read?” You ask, you knew a lot of servants and common people couldn’t but he just seemed so above it all. You didn’t know anything about his life but you had just figured that he was a knight or some kind of equivalent maybe from a good family but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

He growled and sat up, “I swear princess if you try to make fun of me I’ll-“ He starts to say before you cut him off.

“I’m not making fun of you! I’m sorry, I just thought-“ You cut yourself off struggling for the right words. You didn’t want to make the situation worse by accident but you wanted him to know you weren’t making fun of him. It wasn’t his fault if no one had taught him. “I don’t know, you just seem like you come from some high family or something, I just figured…” You let yourself tail off. He huffed a laugh and you chanced a glance at him, he had leaned back and didn’t look like he was about to rip your head off anymore. “I’m sorry.” You tell him.

He looks back up at you and for a brief second you think about offering to teach him how to read, but ultimately decide against it, he’s not your friend and you have things you need to focus on. He sighs, “Your fine princess, don’t apologize.” He told you before laying back down. He doesn’t bother you too much the rest of the time in the library, in fact your pretty sure he fell asleep for a few hours but that’s fine, it gives you time to examine what you need to in silence.

By the time your ready to leave you have a faint idea of a place your father could be. There’s place high in the northern mountains near the border of your land that would get heavy use up until a few decades ago, it now sat abandoned but if they were fighting with Aizen and trying not to get captured it was a likely place to go. You couldn’t definitively say he was there but it was the best lead you had. You had no idea how to get there or where in the mountains it was but that was a problem for later.

You rose from your chair and stretched out with a yawn, your legs were sore from sitting so long in one position and your eyes were heavy from the strain of reading all day. You looked over to Grimmjow to find him staring at you lazily while still laying down. “Done for now?” He asks and you nod. He rises and leads you through the halls back to your room. Before you can get there you hear voices. Grimmjow's eyes narrow just as Nnoitra and a man you’ve never seen before round the corner.

They’re laughing about something but Nnoitra stops as he sees the two of you, he looks between the two of you for a second before that wolffish grin streaks across his face. “Well look who it is.” He says to the man with him. The other man is slightly shorter than Grimmjow with red hair. He wears a bone mask like the rest of them, it covers his chin and jaw and rises in twin spikes on the side of his head. He doesn’t say anything but he does look you up and down slowly.

“Piss off.” Grimmjow tells them, then stops a few steps in front of you which you're thankful for. There’s something about Nnoitra that terrifies you, maybe it's the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you alive or the way he talks to and about you like you're less than a person but none of it sits right with you.

I wasn’t talking to you,” Nnoitra says with an eye roll. He looks back to you, “I just didn’t expect to see her again. Figured she’d kill herself in all her misery.” He said with a laugh. “I owe Yammy four silver now, he said she’d have to come out sooner or later.” He said continuing to laugh, his red haired partner also gave a small chuckle. He looked down to your neck then to your chest. “Though maybe she’s not all that miserable, maybe she likes getting fucked like a whore.” He sneered at you. Your eyebrows shot up and you flushed in anger and embarrassment. You’re pissed at the very idea that you’d want any of this and the name he’d called you. You're anything but a whore, you’d never even been with a man or entertained the idea before Aizen had forced you to be his wife.

Grimmjow’s jaw tightens and he looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “Shut the fuck up, go take your pathetic ass somewhere else. Just because you can’t get your cock wet doesn’t mean we need to deal with your bitchy attitude.” Grimmjow says before grabbing your wrist and dragging you past the two men. The red haired man just watches you two push past but of course Nnoitra isn’t done yet.

He lets out a wild laugh, “Is that what’s going on here?” He asks, you’re confused by what he means until he continues. “Ya been fucking her while Lord Aizen’s not around?” You can hear the grin in his words without looking at him, “She’s got so many marks on her how would he know if you put one on her, smart really. I’d fuck her if I could get close too.” Nnoitra snorted and his partner laughed too.

Grimmjow releases your wrist and whirls around on Nnoitra, sword drawn and pointed sharply to his long neck before you can recognize what happened. “One more word. One more fucking word and I’ll have your head on the damn floor.” Grimmjow says voice low and threatening. Nnoitra held his hands up in surrender but kept smirking all the while. Grimmjow doesn’t move for a while, clearly thinking on whether or not to just kill him and be done with it but something convinces him not to.

He turns sharply and sheaths his sword before pushing you forward back towards your room. He’s silent until you're a ways away from the other two men. The whole way you're tense and thinking about Nnoitra, he scares you, badly. He’s unhinged and you're terrified that he’s going to hurt you one day, he’s all but said he would. “Don’t worry about him princess, we all know what he’s like and no ones going to let him come anywhere near you. Aizen would kill them.” He says trying to reassure you as you reach your door.

You can’t help but think about how he’ll be gone within two days and while you’re not friends he has made it clear that he won’t let anyone hurt you but you're unsure about the rest. What if whoever fills his place lets Nnoitra in? Or what if the replacements themselves are like him? Grimmjow had told you that not all of them were fully loyal to Aizen and you had no conceivable way to know who was and wasn’t. “And when you leave? What about then?” You ask, panic getting the better of you as you look up at him.

His eyebrows twitch upwards in an almost unnoticeable way, his eyes dart around your face before saying, “Like I said, Aizen would kill if something happened to you. While I’m gone Loly will be your guard.” You didn’t know who this Loly was and he seemed to realize that quickly. “You meet her once I think, black hair, pigtails. She’s kinda a bitchy.” He tells you.

You remember her from the day she’d brought you the dress. She hadn’t said anything to you and you were a bit surprised she was a guard but you didn’t voice that thought. “She’s not gonna be the nicest to you but she’s capable enough.” He reassured you. You nodded at him and he looked at you for a moment longer before opening your door for you.

~~~

Your night and following day played out the same as the previous. Aizen came back, did whatever he felt like with you, you woke up, dressed, ate, went to the library then came back only for Aizen to have you again. You started trying to rise earlier to avoid being naked when Grimmjow entered with your tea and breakfast. You're in the bathroom brushing out your hair after your bath when you hear the door open and close. You assume it's Grimmjow and finish with your hair and go to greet him. Yesterday he’d been the closest to nice he’d gotten. He didn’t outright insult you, besides calling you princess but you couldn’t rightfully tell if that was an insult or not. He’d bothered you a lot while you read but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind it. Sometimes you’d even welcome the brief distraction.

But when you leave your room it’s not Grimmjow who stands in the center of the room. It’s the red haired man who had been with Nnoitra the other day. He looks at you and smiles as you stay put in place. His eyes fall to the deep v-neck of your dress and he licks his lips making you want to cover yourself but you don’t have anything to do so. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, you’re getting nervous under his gaze.

His eyes flick up to you and he looks predatory. “Oh you’ll be helping me alright.” He says before making his way to you quickly. He grabs you by the hair and you go to shout for help but his other hand smacks across your face so hard you're thrown to the floor. He picks you up from the floor by your hair roughly and you feel blood trail down your chin and neck, your lip is burst and your face burns where he came in contact with it. “Who ya callin for? Grimmjow? You forget he’s one of us?” He mocks as he walks you back towards the wall.

He slams your back into the wall hard enough that you can’t breath for a second, he slots one of his legs between yours and you try to push him away. “Aizen’s gonna kill you if you touch me!” You shout, remembering what Grimmjow had said and praying that he stops.

This only makes the man pull your hair harder, pulling you to your tip toes and making you cringe back. “He’s never gonna know, how would he, like Nnoitra said you’re covered in marks. He won't notice one or two more.” You try to kick at him but he just pushes closer. “Never fucked a noble bitch before, can’t say I ain’t excited. You’re a fuckin pretty one too!” The hand not holding your hair grabbed your clothed breast and you again tried to scream, he smacked you again, not as hard as the first but it still hurt. “Don’t make me fuckin gag you.”

Tears fall down your face as he wraps his hand around your neck. You can’t breathe and he rocks his hips into yours while still smiling at you. You can feel that he’s hard but struggling gets harder and harder as you lose air. You’re terrified that your about to black out as stars dance across your vision. You try to pull his hand off your neck but he just smiles brighter and bucks into you harder. You can’t breathe and you’re sure that he’s about to kill you but he eases up a bit, you don’t know why and don’t have time to think about it as you suck in air. Suddenly your door slams open and the stranger's hand falls from your throat completely just in time for you to see the man get grabbed by his own hair and thrown to the floor. You take in a breath but hold it as you watch what happens in front of you.

He hits the floor hard and rolls onto his hands and knees. Above him Grimmjow is advancing on him in a silent rage. You’ve seen him angry before but never like this, he looks feral, like a beast hunting its prey and the red haired man must see it too because he starts crawling backwards and trying to reason with him. “Wait! Wait!” He shouts, still trying to escape. “We can work something out, come on! Grimmjow!” He yells before Grimmjow kicks him so hard he files back a few feet, cracking his head on the floor, spilling blood across the stone.

The man tries to get up and lunge at Grimmjow but he’s stopped before he can advance by a sword cutting into his side, knocking him sideways and back to the floor. He screams as he goes down and behind him Ulquiorra stands behind him with a completely natural and bored looking face. Neither of them look at you, instead they watch the bleeding and withering man on the floor.

Your legs are shaking, you lean back against the wall, legs buckling beneath you and you finally let the held breath escape you. Grimmjow whirls around quickly and makes his way to you grabbing your upper arm gently and pulling you up. His eyes flicker all around your face and he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it.

“Don’t move.” You hear Ulquiorra demand behind Grimmjow. “Lord Aizen’s on his way and you’ll be dealt with.” Grimmjow doesn’t bother to look back at them, instead he looks you over a second time. Grimmjow’s jaw is locked tight, he looks less feral than he had when he was fighting the man but he still looked ungodly angry and you go to apologize but the sounds of shoes hitting the stone floor make you stop.

“Take him to the throne room and wait,” You hear Aizen command, voice angry. You finally look away from Grimmjow's face to the door. There’s at least a dozen servants trying to look in, they had parted to let Aizen through but were still trying to gawk into the room. All of them were your people and they all looked horrified. Ulquiorra grabs the man by the arm and drags him out as the man begs Aizen for forgiveness. Aizen doesn’t even look at the man as he is dragged past. The servants all step back out of his way. You watch Aizen’s brown eyes fall to you, he looks at your blood for a long moment before his eyes snap to yours. He’s angry and you're terrified of him, you’ve never seen him like this but you knew it couldn’t end well. “Everybody out, I need a moment with my wife.” He demands, voice angrier than you’d ever heard. You watch everybody file out, Grimmjows the last one out and he shuts the door behind him with one final glance to you. Aizen doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to you.

#bleach fic #bleach x reader #cross posted on ao3 #grimmjow x reader #multi chap fic #aizen x reader #aizen x y/n #tw noncon

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Tell us weird theories/speculation among Insomnia's population about What Happened When The Conqueror Went To Galahd.

Hello and welcome to another episode of Historia Antiqua. A podcast where we dissect anecdotes, happenings and people from ancient history. The grotesque, the mysterious, the mundane, the well known and the unknown. Everything goes.

My name is Falco and today I have something very special prepared for you.

Maybe some of you listeners - depending on when you are listening to this - have already heard of this. If so, welcome! I hope you will learn something new from this as well.

So what are we talking about today? Well, we are going to talk about a man named Firmus Lucis Caelum. You may better know him as the Conqueror and 10th King of Lucis.

'But hold on', I can hear you say, 'we already know everything about this man' - well, you're wong. What I will talk about today currently has near every scholar of antique history up in a tizzy. I think one of the old scolars got so upset his wig fell off. It was great.

But before we get into the meat of things, let's first talk about what we know about dear old Firmus. A refresher, if you will. And maybe you will learn something new as well. You never know.

Who was Firmus Lucis Caelum? We all know him for his epithet. The Conqueror. So let's start there. What did he conquer? The answer to that is most of the Lucian continent.

Before his reign, Lucis was barely more than all of Cavaugh and a few territories along the Leidean coast. After he died, his son inherited a Kingdom that stretched from Cavaugh all the way to Ravatogh. The land north of the mountain was still its own kingdom by that point, but that's not important right now.

What is important is that a single man's ambition more than tripled the size of a kingdom in about a generation's time. Which is very impressive. According to anecdotal history, the moment Firmus brought Ravatogh under his rule, the Draconian gave him his epithet The Conqueror. Before that he was actually known as The Elementrist.

Side tangent: If you ever come across a certain consirancy theory telling you that The Elementrist is a missing King of Lucis that we erased from history, no, there wasn't. It's just Firmus. I cannot stress enough how that is just Firmus's first epithet. Yes, I'm talking to you, Constantia.

*ahem*

Where were we? Ah, yes. Firmus came very close to giving Lucis its modern borders. Which begs the question: Why? Why conquer nigh on a whole continent? No one just wakes up one morning and chooses violence on that scale.

The answer to that question is 'A Divine Decree'. For all that don't know: the Devine Decree is a document written by the Conqueror himself, detailing that his conquest is in accord with the Devine Will of the Astrals. It's a very... interesting read. Sadly, not all of it survived to this day. Part of it got burned when the Old Palace burnt down during the time of The Rogue.

Some people were very upset back then about women being Kings. Let me tell you.

If you are interested in the finer details of what we do have from the Divine Decree, I'll leave a link on my mog-page along with all other sources I have consulted for this episode.

What else we have on written record of the Conqueror is very sparce. Most of what we do know, comes from a man named An Inarim - a Leidean historian who lived around that time - and he wasn't exactly Firmus's biggest fan. For very good reasons as well. According to what we have of his books, Firmus had a very salt-the-earth mentality when a town didn't surrender before he killed their leaders. Among varuous other things. An Inarim also called Firmus a religious fanatic, which was a very bold claim to make at the time.

By now some of you might be wondering what the point of all of this is. Well, that's simple: Some weeks ago a young man named Ianus Veter walked into the Grand University of Insomnia with an old diary he found in his grandparents' attic. The contents of which are so monumental that they will change how we write history.

Yes, you heard that right. A nearly 2000 year old diary is the reason you have seen that funny little picture of old Scolar Lampas loosing his wig circling around the net.

In all seriouslness though, this diary is a milestone in researching ancient history and how we think about it. Especially wen it comes to one tiny detail. A hint to answering the qustion of what happened to the Black Fleet.

Through the tenth book of the Lucis Caelum Cycle - which is what the bools of An Inarim are called - we know that the Black Fleet was built as a part of the Divine Decree, though that part of the document has been lost to time and flame. It was completed somewhen around 427 AS, though some sources also mention the years 424 and 429. We know for sure however, that it set sail in 431 AS. Inarim is quite insistent on that detail.

What we don't know what happened to the fleet after that. All we know through the Lucis Caelum Cycle and a few surviving written pieces in Insomnia, is that only three ships returned, maybe around the year 433 AS. No one can say for sure.

What happened to the fleet has been a mystery ever since. Firmus himself hasn't been very vocal about it. As far as we know, at least. He must have said something, since the vanishing of a whole fleet, ships and crew and all, cannot have been without consequences. Sadly, no sources survived to this day.

This is where the diary comes into play. According to the University - and the parts of the diary they have published - it was written by an older noble named Avitas Veneres. He mostly wrote about his day-to-day life, which in and of itself cound't be amazing enough. That man really loved his wife and children. Which is an important detail, because on the 13th day of the 1st Leviathanis 431 AS he writes that, and I shall translate roughly: 'Worry eats me down to my bones, for my youngest son has signed onto the Farsighted. It is a fine vessel and it would be a fine choice, if this ship hadn't been part of the fleet set sail to the savage nation of Galahd.'

He goes into a bit of a rant, which shall not be repeated here, but let that sink in. Part of the fleet set sail to Galahd. If there wasn't any other fleet being built at the time - and the possibility of that is vanishingly low - Veneres here is talking about the Black Fleet.

Which, I don't even know where to start with this. If this is true, then this would mark the first contact between Lucians and Galahdians in history. It was previously thought that the honour of first contact belonged to the Wanderer.

Why is this important? Well, it would at least in part inform about the animosity between our two people. I mean, who would want to deal with a nation that tried to conquer theirs? And I know it has been nearly 2000 years since then, but I think we all have heard about the famous feuds of the Galahdians by now.

My sister hears two of them arguing in the streets one day. Apparently it was about a member of one family slighting another family, which happened at least several hundred years ago, and they were arguing about it as if it had happened just last year.

So I do have to wonder: Do they know about whaat happened to the fleet? And if yes, how accurate is it? In research circles Galahd is famous for keeping to its oral traditions to this day. Which is quite the amazing feat, to be honest.

All we do know for sure is that the Conqueror has forbidden the depiction of his likeness after his desastrous return to Insomnia.

And that's it, dear listeners. We shall take a quick break and then return to discuss some of the finer details of what Avitas Verenes has written about Firmus Lucis Caelum and the whereabouts of the Black Fleet.

See you in a few.

#ask #ffxv #blinded history au #falco the history podcaster #firmus lucis caelum #the conqueror #the lucii #well #this was #something #it ate my brain #please don't look too closely at the timeline here #I pulled it out of my ass #not exactly speculation #but the start of it #this took longer than I thought #geist answers #geist writes #long post

[runningfrom2am]

the sea around us; chapter three

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 3.3k

my masterlist, series masterlist, requests

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The next morning, JJ and John B picked me up at the dock behind my house on the HMS Pogue. John B sure has a thing for naming vehicles- he's not the worst at it. I live just down the street from the chateau, so I could see them from the porch right after they left John B's.

Hurricane Agatha sure did a number on the Outer Banks last night. The three of us, Anna, Deck, and I, huddled up in our bathroom since Anna wanted to tell "scary" stories and Deck just wanted to be included. The wind was loud all night, cracking trees and crashing sounds outside kept us up. I ended up passing out on the floor around 4 am, with the twins laying tangled on top of each other in the bathtub.

"Morning, Snow White." JJ says to me as I approach them tied up on the dock.

"Snow White? Really?" John B elbows him in the ribs and he winces.

"Dude- ow. I was gonna say Sleeping Beauty but I just thought it was funnier. You know, because-"

"Yeah JJ I got it." I cut him off. "Good one." I say, jumping into the boat with my cooler backpack over my shoulder. "I slept on the bathroom floor last night- my neck is killing me."

"I'll drink to that." JJ says, turning me by my shoulders to get into my backpack as John B unties us and we head off towards the Heywards'.

"Dude, look at this place." John B says as we pull up to Pope's.

He's out working on the dock with his dad, cleaning up the mess that Agatha had left in her wake.

"Well, look who we have here." Mr. Heyward says as we approach, JJ standing up from my side, preparing to help Pope on.

"We have a safety meeting, attendance mandatory." He explains.

"I can't. My pop's got me on lockdown."

"Come on, man."

At this, JJ holds his hands up to his mouth, pretending to talk into a radio. "Your dad's a pussy. Over." I gasp, reaching forward and giving a light hit to the back of JJ's arm.

"Oh, I heard that, you little bastard." Heyward says, pointing a finger at JJ.

"We need your son." I add, standing up and slipping my arm over JJ's shoulder to steady myself in the moving boat.

"Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane's a free day." JJ shrugs

"Who made that up?"

"Uh... Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance. I have a card." I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Think I'm stupid?"

Pope chimes in now as he starts to head toward our boat. "I'll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow."

"Hell no. You doin' it right now." Heyward says sternly.

"Get in the boat." John B whispers to Pope, loud enough for Heyward to hear.

"Boy, if you get in that boat..."

"Go, go, go." Pope says as he climbs in and I wave goodbye to his dad.

"Bring your ass back up here."

"I promise I'll do it tomorrow, Dad."

"You gonna clean shrimp, clean fish, you'll clean your dirty ass room!"

"Love you, Pops."

"Bye, Mr. Heyward! We'll bring him back in one piece." I smile and he shakes his head at me.

"And I don't like your friends!"

Next on our bus route, is Kie.

"Hey Kie!" I smile and wave as she walks up with a cooler behind her. She's greeted with a chorus of "good mornings" from the boys as she jumps in and reaches out for the cooler behind her.

"Whatcha got? You got some juice boxes?" Someone asks as I help set the cooler down on the bottom of the boat, and begin dumping my bag of drinks into the ice with the ones she brought.

"You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks." Kie says, getting settled herself as John B steers us away. I'm looking forward to some fishing this morning.

"You got my kind of juice box?" JJ asks her and Kie nods.

"Yeah." She says as JJ starts going through the cooler already.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

We're almost at our fishing destination of choice out in the marsh when JJ decides to practice his favorite and least successful party trick.

"Hey, Snowy, hold this up for me will ya?" He asks, cracking open a beer and holding the bottle out to me. I roll my eyes as I take it from him, stepping up onto the front of the boat and facing everyone.

"Punch it, Pope!" JJ shouts, pointing a finger at his dark-haired friend, who's now taken over for John B behind the wheel.

"Here we go, I'm movin'.." Pope rolls his eyes and starts to go faster,

"We've tried this six-thousand times and it's never worked." John B protested and I nod in agreement.

"I've got this, it's gonna work." JJ insists.

When we get to the right speed, I slowly tip the bottle back so the drink inside starts flying back toward JJ's face and open mouth. Safe to say about three drops end up in JJ's mouth, and half the bottle ends up on our friends behind him.

"Dude stop you're getting beer in my hair." Kie groans, putting her hands in front of her face so she stops getting sprayed. John B turns away so it doesn't get in his face either.

Pope puts his hand up in front of his eyes too, telling JJ "alright, alright!" He laughs, and John B agrees. "Yeah, alright, you're done JJ."

Their pleas go ignored, only because the bottle is almost empty and I am getting way too much of a kick out of this. This suddenly stopped when we heard the motor make a rattling sound and we were all suddenly thrown forward, JJ and I flying off of the boat and into the water.

When I finally get my bearings and stick my head out of the water with a gasp, the other three are leaning over the edge of the boat shouting at us. "JJ? Snowy?"

"I'm good." I cough as I swim back toward the edge of the boat, giving a brief thumbs-up to my friends.

"I think my heels hit the back of my head." JJ groaned, swimming up behind me. He grabs my waist with one arm, and with the other, he grabs the boat as he helps push me up while John B grabs my hand and lifts me back in.

"Everyone okay?" Kie asks and I look around at everyone, watching JJ climb back in on his own. I definitely don't have the upper body strength for that. His arms though... man.

A chorus of "Yep" and "All good" answered her question, and I pulled my soaking wet shirt over my head, laying it across the front of the boat to dry since I still had my swimsuit on underneath.

"Pope, man what did you do?" JJ asks, removing his shirt as well.

"Sandbar, the channel changed." Pope said and I look out over the edge of the boat, seeing if that beer bottle is within swimming reach for me to grab it. Kie might have a conniption if I left it behind. I squint a little as I see something at the bottom of the water, something big. Not quite the sand, but not a tarp or something either. A boat?

"Guys? I think there's a boat down there." I point, and JJ walks up behind me and looks down at where I'm pointing my finger with his arm around my waist holding me in so I don't fall back over the edge.

"Shut up, what?" John B said, joining us and looking over the edge.

"No way..." Kie says, shielding her eyes from the sun and squinting down into the water.

"That's literally a boat." I said, looking back at everyone.

Within seconds, everyone was stripped down to their bathing suits and diving in to get a closer look. I didn't want to get too close, so I kind of hovered above as long as I could, watching the others swim down.

After a few seconds, JJ starts to swim up towards me, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back up with him so we can get some air. When my head breaks the water I take a deep breath, and JJ smiles at me with a slight chuckle. "A Grady White."

When everyone makes their way back up onto the boat, JJ tells everyone else. "That's a Grady White, a new one is 500 g's- easy."

John B flipped his hair out of his eyes and shook it on top of his head to try and get some of the water out. "That's the boat I saw when I surfed the storm."

"You surfed the surge?" Kie gasped.

"Yeah." John B said, high-fiving Pope.

"That's my boy, pogue style." JJ said, laughing and high-fiving him as well.

"Do we know whose boat it is?" Kie asks and I look back down over the edge.

"No, but I'll see what I can find." John B said, grabbing the anchor to ride it down.

"Be careful," Kie tells him, as he sits on the edge of the boat, walking up and giving him a kiss on the cheek. That one came a little out of the left field. I mean, it's kind of obvious that the boys always hit on her, but that is typically a one-sided inside joke.

"Diver down, fool!" Pope said, walking up and pushing John B off the edge with JJ as Kie stepped back.

He's in the water for a while, and I find myself sitting on the edge of the boat looking down at John B. He's been down there for a while, I definitely would have drowned by now.

Pope speaks up, sharing my thoughts. "He's not back yet..."

"He probably just found something cool." JJ shrugs, sitting down next to me to look over the edge.

"Should we try and get him?" Kie asked, just as John B bursts out of the water gasping for air.

"Oh, my god." I sigh a breath of relief, putting my hand on my chest.

"Any dead bodies?"

"Looting potential?"

"I don't know, I just found this busted motel key." John B says, holding up the key on a small keychain, with a room number written on it as he climbs back onto the boat and hands the key to Pope.

"A key?" He asks, turning it over in his hand.

"Yes Pope, a key."

JJ sighs. "Great, we salvaged a motel key."

"Hey, we should report this to the coast guard." Kie states, our voice of reason.

"What if we waited to see if there's a finders fee?" I suggest and JJ snaps and points his fingers at me, nodding excitedly. Kie rolls her eyes a little at us, in a fun, loving way.

"Yes, Snowy's right. We won't have to work all summer! Thanks, Agatha, ya batch!" He says, pointing his hands up to the sky now.

We quickly pack up to head back to town, in hopes of reporting it and collecting a check.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Without any success, we weigh out our options, and ultimately decide to go to the motel that the key belongs to, and see if we can return it to someone personally. At least, that's what we've convinced ourselves was the plan. No premeditated breaking and entering intended- unless no one is home.

JJ whistles as we pull up towards the motel. Definitely a classy place, at least 2 stars.

"It looks like somewhere kids would stay as a dare."

"A real shitshow.."

"Motel, or meth lab?" The group voices their thoughts, similar to mine.

"It doesn't look like somewhere someone with a Grady White would stay.." John B says as he steers us in.

"More like somewhere with a Grady White gets killed," I add.

"Snowy lay off the true crime pods. This may be a dump but we'll probably be fine." JJ says, ruffling my hair with one hand while bringing back his radio bit and bringing his other hand up to his mouth. I squint and try and pull my head out from under his hand where he's just resting it now. "This is your captain speaking, HMS Pogue comin' in for landing."

JJ jumps out to the ground to help pull in the boat, as John B and I climb out behind him.

"Don't let JJ do anything stupid, Snowy." Pope tells me and I give him a salute.

"Yes sir." I say and JJ wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"C'mon, Pope, she's in on it and you know it." He says, turning us both to walk up to the motel.

We hear John B talking to Kie, telling him again to "seriously, be careful. I mean it." and JJ scoffs slightly. "She's so far up his ass bro." He whispers to me and I quietly laugh.

John B caught up with us quickly, and we headed up the stairs to the second floor, where the motel room we are looking for should be.

"What's with all the mattresses?" I ask JJ, looking up at him next to me.

"After a hurricane, they get ditched because they get all moldy."

"Oh, gross." I reply, scrunching up my nose a bit and JJ reaches over me and taps it before bringing up John B and Kie's chat from just moments ago.

"Yes Snowy, gross. However, not as gross as that conversation we just heard." He said, letting me go and walking up to John B just ahead of us.

"What conversation?" John B just asks and JJ looks back at me knowingly.

"Oh, be soo careful John B..." He mimics Kie's voice, and I can practically feel John B roll his eyes.

"God, you're so weird." He brushes JJ off, walking ahead of us again across the balcony. "Maybe she just wants us to be careful."

"It's true! Ever since you've been threatened with exile from that conversation you had with the social services people she's been like," He grabs John B's shoulders from behind, rubbing them at the same time. "Oh, be soo careful John B, just give me that John D already!"

"Get off me." John B tries to duck under JJ's grip so he would stop as I laugh.

"He's not totally wrong."

"Yeah! See? Snowy knows, when are you gonna swoop on that, man?" JJ asks, looking back at me briefly.

"You're the one always hitting on her and Snowy anyways." John B tells him and JJ nods quickly.

Me too? I didn't know I was actually included in that after what happened between us. I've been known to be a little oblivious though.

"Of course I am! Snowy is pretty much Princess of the Pogues out here, like, look at this hair." He says, reaching back and grabbing the ends of some of my hair that's draped down in front of me, almost reaching my hips. He twirls it gently before dropping it just as I could feel a blush spreading across my face and chest. "-and Kie's a super hot, rich, hippie girl slumming with us, for some reason."

John B chuckles and shakes his head.

"Exactly, I can't figure that out either bro, but who cares?"

John B was unimpressed. "You need help. Not a little help, you need a lot of help." JJ rolled his eyes. Here he went again. "It's like every girl who just has a heartbeat, you're like. . . Uhh!" He imitated a zombie.

John B then stopped and backtracked a step looking at the number on the door next to us. "This is us, 25." He says, changing the subject.

JJ steps up and knocks on the door. "Housekeeping!" He says, in this really funny high-pitched voice.

"That's what you sound like, Snowy." John B leans down to say close to my ear. I side-eye him and roll my eyes, giving him a light shove as JJ tries to look in the window when he didn't get an answer.

"No power, AKA no cameras, let's try the key." John B says, stepping up to the door and inserting it, trusting the handle and holding it for us to slip inside.

"JJ, don't touch anything- this is probably a crime scene," I whisper, as he promptly begins to touch almost anything he can reach. He picked up a bag, and John B instructed him to look for a nametag or something on it, as I look around the shabby-looking motel room. No doubt in my mind that there are bed bugs in here.

We shuffle through everything we find, me with a tissue in my hand so I'm not touching anything, while John B tries to open the safe. He eventually gets it open and calls JJ and I out of the bathroom to come and look.

"Holy shit.." I say, staring in awe at what's inside as he pulls it out. Bare hands. Of course. An orange document envelope, filled with some papers and a load of cash, and I don't notice what JJ pulls out until he talks to me.

"Hey, Snowy, check this out! John B can you take a picture of us? Mr. and Mrs. Smith style?" He says, holding up what I now see is an actual literal gun, leaning his back into me.

"Oh my god, JJ!" I say, backing away.

"Oh yeah? Seriously you want a picture? We're just making our own incriminating evidence now, that's what we're doing?" John B says, running his hand through his hair.

"This is a fuckin' speedy gat, man. Just, bam! Bam!" He laughs, posing with it again. We all jump a little when we hear something tap the window, and JJ and John B look out to see Kie and Pope waving at us wildly, then pointing over to the door and saying something.

"Fuck, cops. Cops man!" John B whispered as we frantically look around for somewhere to hide. We're screwed. JJ grabs my arm and pulls me towards the window as John B opens it.

"I got you, don't worry." He whispers to me, holding my hand and placing his other hand on my hip as I step out onto the small platform under the window. He and John B climb out after me, and John B shuffles to the side opposite us, while JJ steps in front of me and I grab onto the sides of his shirt for dear life, looking up at the sky as he places one hand on my waist to hold me against the wall, and the other up next to my head to steady himself.

I see John B lean over to look back inside, and we hear a small exchange between the officers. They're taking some of the cash. Unbelievable.

I try and take deep breaths, but I can feel myself starting to panic. I'm not good with heights. or cops. "Hey, Snowy, you're okay. You're okay. I've got you." JJ whispers to me and I nod slightly, squeezing my eyes shut. I feel JJ shift his arm that was next to my head, and something falls out of his pocket and hits the dumpster below us, making a loud bang. I flinch and close my eyes tighter somehow, as JJ pushes himself closer to me against the wall, tipping his head back. I can feel his chest moving as he breathes, and I try to focus on that to help me relax. I open one eye to look down at Kie and Pope, who have assumed the "just act natural" position down on the Pogue. Oh god, the cops are looking out the window.

"Oh. My. God." I whisper and JJ slowly moves and puts his hand over my mouth.

"Shh.." He hushes me, and I cringe internally as I feel my cheeks burning up under his hand, and hope he just chalks it up to me literally having a panic attack. But, he's JJ. He'll never let me live this down.

Suddenly, John B and I see Kie and Pope resume their waving, signaling the cops have left the room. That's our cue to get out of here- and we can't do it fast enough.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

A/N;

Hi, me again :)

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm loving writing this, let me know what you want to see in the future!

-R

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc #rafe obx #obx #obx fanfic #outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #outerbanks #rafe cameron fic #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj obx #jj maybank fanfiction

[magnolix]

MHA exchangestudent!y/nheadcanons

They would definitely be interested, Iida and Momo would be trying their damndest to make sure the class was as respectful as possible (gotta respect the class reps) - They probably told Mineta that class was canceled for that day just to save you

If you don't speak the language (native English speaker) then I feel that either Midoriya or even Pony (from class 1-B) would try to help you out.

If you speak Spanish then Sero's gonna be your buddy as he loosely translates for you

If you do speak the language (hey good for you, Japanese is pretty hard to learn) then you get a bunch of more options

If you're from the UK or with a heavy ass accent (like me ^^) then you're probably gonna be hanging out with Bakugou because even though you two can't understand each other, there's enough hand motions and tone raises for him to understand what you're saying

Y/N: "You lavvy-heided wankstain, bug off yay mangled beetroot, I cannae function rit!" Kirishima: "Bakugou, what did they say?" Bakugou: "Piss off, I'm working." Midoriya: *frantically taking notes*

I'd like to think that the Bakusquad would hoard you to themselves and Mina, Denki, and Sero would be walking you around campus, showing you all of the cool stuff to see

"And this is the other class for the generic studies, and that's the area for the support item workshop thingy," Mina explained. "You mean the Department for Support?" Denki corrected her. "Yeah yeah.."

The lunch rush fucking scares you. You're used to leaving class early to get in line so it's a new feeling to be able to get what you want on time without breaking some noses.

Y/n: *running full speed towards the cafeteria right after being let out of class* "OUT TEH FUCKEN WAY!" Bakugou: *running alongside Y/n* "THIS BITCH WANTS PASTA!

You probably made fun of some of their quirks at first but in a friendly and joking way,

you even gave some of them nicknames

Midoriya: Mocha Todoroki: Zuko Kirishima: Jaws or Hammerhead Mina: Weed Jesus Iida: Speed Jesus Sero: Spiderman Jiro: Bluetooth Bakugou: Blondie Ayoyama: Cheese-eating surrender monkey (took you a while to explain that one to him (yes it's a Simpsons reference))

When it comes to actually doing some of the work like homework n stuff, you'd either get shy and have to work up the courage to ask them for help or Momo would just take the lead and invite you for a study session - you didn't know she was rich until you went to her house

The work studies really freaked you out, no matter what your quirk was, you got scared of Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya after seeing what they could do - really made the mind wander when you saw them panting

If your quirk is support based, I could see you helping out some of the others Recovery Girl style

If your quirk is attack based, I could see you running around as Bakugou is trying to spar with you

(you most likely hid behind either Shoji or Eraser Head)

SPEAKING OF PRO HEROES!

the moment you realize that almost everybody has either a hero work-study or daddy issues (or both if they're lucky) you try to get assigned to a work-study as well

If you apply for Edgeshot's, Mt.Lady's, or Ryukyu's agencies, they would accept you on the spot. Saying something along the lines of "expanding your horizons", "getting you good experience", "making you stronger" etc.

If you apply for Best Jeanist's, Endeavor's, or Hawks' agencies, I feel like Endeavor and Jeanist would have a full-scale interview but Hawks would have you join immediately

As for other heroes like Mirko, Crust, Gang Orca (and the other top heroes), it would be a mix depending on what your was

Speaking of Endaevor

Oh poor, poor Endeavor

YOU WOULD ABSOLUTELY BULLY THIS MAN

I may be an Enji simp but I cannot deny how quickly this man would fall to the verbal wrath of our generation

You'd misspell his name on documents

You'd get his food order wrong

You wouldn't tell him about changes to his schedule

You'd wake up each and every day and choose violence

And best of all, he wouldn't be able to do shit about it

He's stuck with you and you know it

#gaslightgatekeepgirlboss (or boy boss, non-binary boss, you get the idea)

#itboss

Y/n: "You have some paperwork you need to fill out, you have a press meeting today at 8:30am, one of your sidekicks is currently out doing your laundry, and that mission report should be back in an hour." Endeavor: "Y/n, it's 9 am. Are you sure that meeting isn't wrong?-" Y/N: *smirking* "I know what I said."

When it comes to events at UA like festivals or other small things like that, it's up to you

if there's a sports thingy though like the Baseball OVA (god bless) I feel like you'd be absolutely amazing at either soccer or baseball

like, you know how to swing

and you know how to kick

and you know how to girl boss (sorry I'll stop)

#headcanons #my hero acadamia #boku no hero acadamia #mha #bnha #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #eijiro kirishima #tenya iida #endeavor #enji todoroki #shoto todoroki #mina ashido #kyoko jirou #hanta sero #yuga ayoyama #eraserhead #shouta aizawa #all might #y/n mha

[tgrailwar-zero]

Choosing to head down the path to the right, PRETENDER and KUKULKAN continued to read through the play as they walked, PRETENDER a bit more adamantly- as CONSTANTINE keep his sword hand ready for any incoming dangers.

KUKULKAN: "Can you do voices and all that when you read too?" PRETENDER: "Oh-ho. Well, if I have such a lovely audience, I guess I can perform a bit. Just remember that I'm a king, not an actor." CONSTANTINE: "Just... whisper if you're going to make this a live performance. Please."

Which was fine. PRETENDER seemed to settle into a narrative role relatively well, reading the play as written- before supplying a summary every so often.

'Augustina' was the daughter of a wealthy family, raised under strict rule. She was to inherit the family's wealth and continue their business, but her heart was elsewhere- wanting to become an artist. For years, she stayed locked in a gilded cage of a room, surrounded by everything that she could ever desire- except for the one thing that mattered. She lives her days in unhappiness, pushing away those close to her, before eventually running away with a stolen knife. There's a rather abrupt cut after the scene.

She wakes up a 'few moments' later, on the riverbanks, her body wrapped in funeral linens. Her neck is bandaged, and she looks over to see a peasant being harassed- and without thinking, she rushes in to save him. After working together and escaping, the young man- named Xavier- reveals that he was the one that bandaged her up. Not for any reward- just because it seemed like the right thing to do.

"That day our paths once crossed You said I saved your life. However a corpse like I, Would only bring you strife." "I hear your painful shouts, Your beating heart yet burns. Forsooth! Thou chose a wretch, This path yet filled with thorns."

They came to a stop, looking around. The path seemed to be empty, as the three of them looked around. KUKULKAN sidled up to PRETENDER, fiddling with her hair a bit.

KUKULKAN: "Uhm... I don't get it."

PRETENDER: "They saved each other. But I suppose she doesn't feel deserving of that kind of merciful affection. This seems... personal. Perhaps Lucius was thinking of a special someone when she wrote this?"

KUKULKAN: "Ah. 'Love', yes? How nice... but, why doesn't she think she deserves it? Don't all humans deserve love?"

After some investigating on his own, CONSTANTINE rejoined the group.

CONSTANTINE: "I hate to put a damper on the discussion, but come over here for a moment. Some of the bricks in this wall seem loose... but I also hear some scratching further down the path."

Taking the time for a closer inspection, CONSTANTINE was right. Some of the bricks on the wall were loose, and you could hear the faintest scratching from further down the halls. In a place like this, that was almost certainly danger.

However, before that information could settle, you also noted a plaque on the opposite wall to the loose bricks.

The Blade's Tomb. All those who venture within, be wary. For the Avatar of Violence shall fall upon you. Those of sluggish mind and body, Turn back now.

KUKULKAN: "...Blade's Tomb... Avatar of Violence... not the most welcoming of messages."

CONSTANTINE: "Seems like. I guess if we're too slow, then we'll get caught by whatever that is- if we don't accidentally run into it first."

#thgw: chapter 5 #thgw story #main post #exploration poll

[kikis-writing-world]

No Life Without You

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (GN, no y/n)

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: All works on this blog are for 18+ consumption.

Warnings include, but aren't limited to: ANGST AHOY! Maybe lightly horror themed as well. Character death; grief, depression, PTSD due to canon-typical violence/events, passive suicidal ideation (character wishes they'd never wake up;) nonspecific gore.

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’.

A/N: Instead of a fix-it fic, consider this a "careful what you wish for" fic. Feedback, likes and reblogs are all appreciated!

5 months, 12 days.

It’s been 5 months and 12 days since the world you knew turned upside down - literally, in some ways. 5 months and 12 days since you and your friends took on Henry, Vecna, One- all the same awful, evil piece of shit. 5 months and 12 days since you saved Hawkins, and the whole world. 5 months and 12 days since you ran through the vine-covered woods to see Dustin crouched on the ground in Forrest Hills Trailer Park. 5 months and 12 days since you looked down at Eddie, his unseeing eyes glossed over and lifeless as he stared at the red and black sky of The Upside Down. 5 months and 12 days since Steve had to drag you back to the trailer as you screamed yourself hoarse. 5 months and 12 days since your friends pushed you through the rapidly closing gate, leaving the love of your life behind.

5 months and 12 days of guilt eating you alive every waking moment. 5 months and 12 days of nightmares every time you closed your eyes.

You were a shell of who you used to be. You watched as Nancy, Steve, Robin, even the kids, they all went back to their normal lives like nothing had happened. Like the world hadn’t almost ended. Like you hadn’t fought demon bats and some evil sorcerer with the power to kill people with his mind alone. How were you supposed to live your life after that?

They tried to help. Steve would bring you movies to watch - you never did. Robin would come sit next to you in bed for hours, trying to convince you to talk - you never did. Nancy would read you articles from the paper, sometimes her own that were being published by The Hawkins Post. You forced a smile at those ones, trying to show her you were proud of her. She worked so hard. She was so much stronger than you.

No, you couldn’t just go on when everything you’d ever known had been destroyed in less than a week. One hellish week of helping Eddie avoid the manhunt. Of learning about The Upside Down and people with powers you’d only ever read about. Of building weapons to charge into battle in some alternate dimension. One week for you to lose the kindest, bravest man you’d ever met.

This godforsaken town would never know what he did. He was still officially wanted by the police for multiple homicides. They had questioned you relentlessly the first two weeks. You were a “known associate” of Eddie Munson. The term made you want to puke anytime they said it. You had been his friend, his best friend, his love, his partner- titles shifting over time. Eddie had a flurry of pet names for you. Sweetheart, cutie, angel (or demon, if you were being particularly bratty.) "Known associate” only sent you further into the numbness that had enveloped you.

The first few days you didn’t speak at all. You couldn’t. When you finally stopped crying after being pulled through the portal, it felt like you'd never talk again. Shock ran through your veins, numbing you to the tips of your toes. It took days to find your voice again and when it appeared you wanted nothing more than to tell them everything.

You wanted to tell them about The Upside Down, about Vecna and his curse, the hive mind tentacles and the demobats- the ugly, fearsome creatures who cried and shrieked as they followed Eddie, sacrificing himself to keep them away from the gate. You wanted to yell and scream, tell them the man they were so convinced was some devil worshiping cult leader did more to protect this town than they ever could. The very man they were condemning had died to save them all and they would never know.

When you did speak, it wasn’t the accusations and damnation that swirled through your mind. You didn’t spit venom at the officers the way you wanted to. Your vocal chords creaked as you tried to speak for the first time in days, your emotions not helping keeping steady.

No, it was with a cracked, tired voice that you finally said “H-he left town.”

The officers questioning you went quiet. They stayed quiet long enough you almost thought that was the end of it, that they had accepted that explanation and were moving on. Maybe your numbness, your pain could be the one thing that sold the story. You were just a heartbroken young adult whose boyfriend skipped town, leaving them behind, without warning.

He had left you behind, without warning.

“What do you mean, he left town?” One of them asked. You didn’t even know his name. What did it matter?

“The last time I saw him,” your fingers hurt from how tightly you gripped the edges of the plastic chair beneath you, trying not to think of the last time you saw him. Cold, covered in blood, in that dark hellscape. The bright streaks of red lightning lighting up his dark eyes; not lively and vibrant as you knew them, but startlingly empty. “He said he was leaving town.”

More questions followed, all of which you answered with a shake of your head. No, he didn’t say where. No, you had no idea where. No, he hasn’t contacted you since.

The official statement was that they believed he fled the state, but were still searching. They could search all they damn well wanted. He was gone.

Some days you wondered if he ever existed at all, but there were too many reminders of him in your life, in your apartment. Most of them were in a cardboard box under your bed. You’d tried to throw them out in a fit of hurt and anger, every last piece of him that you could find. An old t-shirt he’d left behind once. A guitar pick in your bedside drawer. His well-loved copy of The Hobbit, pages curling and dog-eared with his own notes sprawled cover to cover. Papers, so many papers: Doodles, notes, ideas for campaigns, chord progressions and lyrics, drafts of essays you were trying to help him write so he could finally graduate- You wanted it all gone, but Nancy had convinced you to keep them. She packed them neatly inside a banker’s box, tucking them away “for when you’re ready.” You weren’t sure you’d ever be ready.

The only part of Eddie you held onto was his skull ring. You’d somehow managed to pull it off of his hand before you were yanked back to the right side up version of Hawkins. Too big to fit your own fingers, it hung between your collar bones on an old chain, always cold against your chest. The metal never seemed to pick up the heat from your skin, matching the emptiness and cold that had settled in your ribs.

Even holding it tight in your fist, the ring never warmed. It felt like ice against your palm, goosebumps flowing up over your wrist to your forearm. Thin hairs standing on end, reminding you that you were still here. Still living and breathing while Eddie was lost forever. The skull embossed in the metal mocking you, reminding you.

The memories of it all were too heavy to carry, so you just didn’t try. You let the pain fill every inch of you, dragging you down with a heaviness you couldn’t shake. Every time you closed your eyes, you hoped they wouldn’t open again.

The light glows from the TV, the only thing illuminating the dark room. A rerun plays, not that you care what show it is. They all blended together with their inconsequential problems and their phony laugh tracks. Shows you used to find interesting were just noise now. Just enough lights and sound to keep you awake, keep you from slipping into more nightmares.

The show ends, a booming voice replacing the peppy end theme as the clock flipped over. Infomercials were starting. A quick glance at the clock confirms the time. 3:00 AM, when the reruns turn into crappy products to solve problems that no one cares about.

3:00 AM. It was past midnight.

That makes it 5 months and 13 days.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying once again to numb your mind. You watch the bad actors trying to cut a loaf of bread while the salesman screams about his superior knives. You try not to think about the knives tied to the end of a pole in a makeshift spear. You wonder if these sharper knives would have made a difference. If anything you could have done would have made a difference.

Your fingers close around the cold metal of his ring, feeling the design pressing uncomfortably against your skin. You grip it tighter, your knuckles straining white. You hold the ring, like if you wished hard enough it could bring him back.

BANG

You shoot up from the couch, eyes wide and frozen in fear.

You stare at the front door, holding your breath. The tv is too loud as you try to listen for any noise outside the door. The only indication of time passing at all was the man still trying to sell his knives.

Warnings of being quiet, of not touching the vines, of watching each other’s backs and sticking to the plan. Shrieks of fowl creatures as they attacked. The rumble of that otherworldly thunder.

All of it flashes through your mind as your eyes water.

You slowly lower your hand, taking shallow breaths as your lungs burn for air. You swallow around the lump in your throat, a shaking hand reaching for the remote. You turn the TV down one, two, three notches as the man’s voice fades. It drones quietly in the background as you stare at the front door. The flickering light plays tricks on your eyes, pairing with the lack of sleep. You can’t tell if the door is still or not, light shifting with every change of the TV.

There is nothing.

No noise, no movement that you could pick up from the other side of the door. You're starting to think it hadn’t happened, that maybe you’d fallen asleep and confused your nightmares for the waking world once again. Living through hell once wasn’t enough, your brain having decided it was to be savored.

BANG BANG BANG

Three hard knocks on the door. Your free hand, the one not still clutching to Eddie’s ring, slaps over your lips to stifle the squeak of fear that tries to explode from your chest. Unlike the first noise, this was even-metered and confident. The first sound was like a crash, but this was someone getting someone's attention. Your attention.

You slowly slide off the couch to stand on unsteady legs. Padding forward, walking slowly as your bare feet help keep you silent as you cross the room. The little table next to the door, once for house keys and mail, is completely overwhelmed by the various junk that had been splayed over its surface. You ignore it all: the unopened mail, the crumpled receipts, the old scarf, the empty cans- you bypass it all to slowly open the drawer.

The Marakov sits heavy atop the various junk shoved carelessly into the drawer. Nancy had given it to you a month after everything, offering that having a gun helped her feel safe. It hadn’t helped save you from your own taunting mind, but you are glad to have it now as you close your fingers around the grip. Loaded, safety on, just as Nancy had taught you, you keep it hanging by your side as you take a deep breath.

BANG BANG BANG

You jump as they knock again, a perfect repeat of the earlier beat. It was so loud, especially in the quiet of the night. Your hand shakes as you reach for deadbolt. You try to convince yourself it was Robin, Dustin, Max- anyone out of your friends on the other side of the door.

The gears of the lock shift as you turn the bolt. The click of the lock as it snaps into place is so loud in the dead air, you half expected that if you were to look at the gun in your hand you would find a smoking barrel. There was no way the person on your stoop hadn’t heard it too. There's no going back. They know you're here.

You grip the doorknob tightly, knuckles stinging as you turn your wrist. One final deep breath helps steel yourself for whatever is waiting on the other side of the door: human, creature, monster, anything from this side or the other-

Gun at your side, ready to raise, you pull the door. Hard. It swings open quickly. Your body taut. Ready for fight or flight-

Messy brown curls framing a cherubic face. Torn shirt, once white now stained red, under old, worn leather. Big doe eyes. Eyes that haunted you, cold and lifeless, now wide and full of colour: deep brown. The colour of a kit-kat melting inside a single-wide trailer on the hottest day of summer, smearing over fingers and lips as it’s shared next to the crappy air conditioner that never quite gets cold enough-

No.

It’s a dream.

It’s a nightmare.

It’s hell.

Eddie.

He smiles, closed-lipped and gentle, as you realize you said his name out loud.

“Hey sweetheart.”

A sob catches in your throat. The gun clatters loudly on the ground - you hadn’t even felt it leave your hand as you cover your mouth. This can’t be happening, this isn’t happening, but what if it is- You shake your head, vision clouding with tears.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice gentle as you remembered it, taking a single step closer. “It’s me.”

You want to believe, but the nightmares have happened so many times- “How?” You whimper behind your palms. It’s a wonder he heard it at all.

“I don’t know.” He admits, shrugging animatedly. It’s so Eddie that it makes you sob. His own eyes are glossing over, moisture collecting along his lashes. His eyes glance down to the floor beside you - to the gun - and back up. “Can I come in, or have you been spending too much time with Wheeler?” He teases, grin showing off his dimple as he huffs a sad laugh.

You nod, stuttering out a “y-yes, come in” as you reach for him. You’re in his arms a mere moment later, clutching him so tight it hurts. His jacket squeaks between you, smelling of leather and sweat as it always had. There’s a tang to it too, a need to shower and get clean clothes. The smell of rot that hung in the air of The Upside Down clings to his hair. It doesn’t bother you, not if it means having him here. Solid. Real.

He pulls your head against his shoulder, cupping the back of your head with a large hand. You can’t help but cry into his neck. 5 Months and 13 days without him, thinking you would never see him again and now he’s here.

He shushes you, holding you close with his arm around your waist. He pets the back of your head as you sob. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. You don’t want him to be sorry. It wasn’t his fault. You can’t speak. You can barely breathe. There is so much you needed to tell him.

Eddie gently ushers you into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. His gentle soothing continuing as you cling to him with shaky hands.

“You need to breathe.” He instructs, breath fanning over your ear. It makes you shiver, your whole body shaking. You try. For him, you try. You take a deep breath, choking on the air as it fills your lungs.

“Good, that’s so good.” He praises, lips against your scalp. Your fingers tighten, clinging onto his jacket. You’re so cold, shock running rampant on your system.

“Ed-” You manage to sob, but he shushes you once more.

“I told you to breathe, pretty.” It’s almost unkind, might have been without the affection tacked on at the end. His voice is low, deep enough to feel rumble through his chest. You snap your lips closed, all thoughts of speaking banished for the moment. You focus on breathing, on controlling the emotions currently controlling you.

“That’s it.” He praises, making your stomach flutter. “Calm right down for me. Feel your heartbeat? It’s slowing down. So good.”

Your breaths are shaky, stuttering, punchy gasps, but you’ve stopped sobbing. Tears continue to flow silently, smearing over Eddie’s filthy jacket.

Eddie holds you even closer. You didn’t think you could get closer, but his grip tightens. You don’t want him to let go. You never want him to let go again. He leans his head onto your shoulder and you can feel his smile through your thin cotton shirt. A sob slips through your focus to breathe, but you catch the next.

“Good.” He purrs, dragging his nose up your neck. He is sturdy, still, holding you up as you shake like a leaf in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers again, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His cool breath tingles.

You swallow thickly, mouth gummy and thick from crying. “Don’t-”

Sharp, stinging pain shoots through you. A gasp steals the words from your lips, lungs freezing. The pain, slicing and red hot, radiates down your left arm. It paralyzes you.

Eddie’s mouth is cold and wet. Smacking, sucking noises cut through the ringing in your ears. There’s something warm and wet on your skin, contrasting his cool tongue.

He moans, loud in your ear as he sucks at your skin. Every pull sends a shot of pain through you. You whimper, tense and frozen in his tight grip. The ice in your veins starts to dissipate, leaving only numbness. You can't feel your toes. You can't feel your hands. Your eyes are pressed closed, waiting to wake up. It’s another nightmare. It has to be.

Eddie? No.

Not Eddie.

His arms are gone and you fall, crumpling in a heap on the ground. You groan pathetically as your skull bounces off the floor. Everything hurts. Anywhere you aren't numb, all you feel is pain. Your head, your neck, your chest. You can't feel your feet or ankles anymore. Your limbs won't move. Your vision is unfocussed, looking up at him- at it. Not your Eddie.

There’s the sound of something rushing in your ears. Can’t be blood. Your blood is all over Eddie’s face. Crimson red against its skin. Deathly pale in the blue light of the TV. You blink up at it, hoping each time you open your eyes, you’ll suddenly be awake.

He crouches next to you, face more in focus. It’s not Eddie at all. Too sharp. Too angular. Too sharp. Those teeth…

His cold hand slinks under the collar of your shirt. You whimper in protest, to weak to do much else. His fingers close around the chain against your collar and gives it a sharp pull. It snaps, not before cutting a line of pain across the back of your neck. It’s getting harder to see, spots clouding your vision.

“Thanks for keeping it safe, sweetheart” It chuckles, pulling the skull ring off of the chain and sliding it back onto the hand it always belonged on. His eyes, dark red, almost black, not a hint of brown, meet yours.

“Night night.” It taunts, reaching over to close your eyes.

General Taglist: @vonschweetz @generalfoolish @harriedandharassed @like-things-thatarentreal

You’re so weak.

You don’t fight it.

#Eddie Munson imagine #Eddie Munson drabble #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x GN Reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson x You #Stranger Things Fanfiction #wookie tales #Eddie Munson