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kingofbodyrolls · 25 days

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | ten

🐴Chapter summary: When Mikrokosmos goes missing, you don’t know what to do and when Jimin suddenly starts talking to you, wanting to help find your horse, you’re not sure if you should accept or not. When you can’t find Mikrokosmos and have to spend a night with Jimin in the wide open land, will old feelings bloom? 🐴Chapter title: The First Touch 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex; sex in public (they are outside in nature by themselves), oral (both male and female receiving), very very brief anal play (female receiving), nipple play, hair pulling, sweet/dirty talk, pet name (babe), cock warming, multiple orgasms, a loooooooot of kissing (so much that it should be illegal), just very slow and tender love making. Jimin is very gentle, but he is also a devil 👿 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 16.4k (whoopps, but it’s smut!)

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “The First Touch” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: hello, how are you doing? After weeks of leaving you high and dry and potentially crying, I finally come bearing a gift in the form of slow and sensual smut. I really hope you love it, otherwise, shame on you (I’m sorry I just really love it, and it will get dirtier later (yes, that was more smut promised!)). This chapter was so fucking fun to write, and can you belive I wrote it in a day? The last three previous chapters have been harder to write, because they were more angsty, but this, oh dear god, when I write smut and fluff, the words just flows differently 🥰 So I really hope that you enjoy this, I ended up turning myself on with the smut, so yeah… I hope that means that it is good, please let me know okay???

And I am so sorry for all the angst I put you through, if you need therapy like me, send me the bill, okay? 🥹 We also finally get some answers to Jimin’s behavior the last chapters!! I really hope you enjoy, and I hope you haven’t given up on this series 😭

PSA! For the ultimate reading experience, I recommend grabbing a warm blanket and something nice to drink (whatever you like; water, tea, cocoa etc) 🫂

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“When I finally touch you Soft upon your skin You travel to the heart of me And so it begins” - ‘The First Touch’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You find yourself yearning for the ground to swallow you whole. The aftermath of the gala weighs heavily on your mind, and you’ve been evading Jimin ever since. Anger still lingers, but embarrassment overshadows it. Why on earth did you let yourself unleash such a torrent of emotions on him?

You release a frustrated groan, urging Marshmallow to stretch his stride, his powerful hooves churning up the earth beneath. The wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the anticipation of your imminent arrival at Bell Ranch.

Praying to avoid any encounter with Jimin or his undoubtedly furious girlfriend, you navigate the winding path to Bell Ranch with a knot of apprehension in your stomach. The thought of further embarrassment looms over you like a storm cloud, urging you to keep a low profile and escape unscathed.

Marshmallow ambles toward the pen, Yoongi immersed in his labor. Presently, his focus is on a horse adorned with a tapestry of brown and white spots, each stroke of his skilled hands an intimate dance with the wild spirit captured within the creature’s untamed gaze.

You bring Marshmallow to a stop, securing the reins to the fence, before settling into your customary perch. From this vantage point, you observe Yoongi, his hands orchestrating a ballet with the untamed energy of the horse.

Suddenly, a stir in the vicinity of the house catches your attention, prompting you to shift your gaze. There, you spot Jimin making his way toward you, an unusual limp in his stride suggesting he might have overexerted himself today. Despite the evident fatigue, he’s adorned in a button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, revealing the golden hue of his skin and the well-defined contours of his biceps. A gentle breeze plays with his blonde locks as he traverses the yard.

A curiosity nags at you as you observe Jimin’s solitary figure, wondering about the absence of Deiji and the distant expression etched across his face, brows knit in contemplation. The air seems to carry the weight of his thoughts, leaving you to ponder what might be troubling him. Just as you’re caught in this web of speculation, the abrupt roar of an engine pierces the air, drawing your attention. Swiftly, Jimin mounts his blue dirt bike, tearing out of the yard with an intensity that propels him over hills and into the expanse of a distant paddock.

He’s likely headed off to some task, a sentiment that resonates with your own responsibilities awaiting attention. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you shift your gaze back to Yoongi, his tender gestures toward the spotted horse capturing a moment of tranquility amidst the ranch’s bustling routine.

Yoongi’s playful grin widens as he teases, well aware that your attention involuntarily drifted towards Jimin once more. “How are you doing?”

A light chuckle escapes you. “Well, hanging in there. Just grappling with the lingering sense of embarrassment, you know?”

He erupts into laughter, the kind that reveals his gums and sets his chest into a hearty jiggle. “Got it. I heard Jimin’s girlfriend was less than thrilled with your little performance at the gala.”

You scoff, indifferent about his opinion. Regret lingers for your harsh words, a realization that an apology is overdue—a bridge you’ve yet to cross.

“I understand, but I was just so mad, and I couldn’t hold back,” you admit, your scuffed tone matching the internal storm that rages within, hands tightly clenched atop your legs.

“It’s alright. I don’t think Jimin minds. You’ve given him plenty to ponder,” he mentions, continuing to pat the spotted horse. Your raised eyebrow prompts him to elaborate.

“What do you mean?” you ask, curiosity sparking in your eyes, eager to understand his insinuation.

“The house has been unusually quiet since the gala. Maybe Jimin has taken your words to heart?” he suggests, eyebrows dancing in speculation. You scoff, skeptical of such a notion.

“Let’s shift the conversation, shall we? I’m done with Jimin,” you declare, though a part of you acknowledges that you’re far from finished with the unresolved tension. Uncertain whether you should approach Jimin – preferably without yelling this time – or wait for him to make the first move, you consider extending an apology to both him and Deiji.

Yoongi chuckles, orchestrating a rhythmic dance with the spotted horse as they traverse the pen at a leisurely pace. “Sure,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his voice.

A heavy sigh escapes you, and a pregnant pause lingers, only to be broken by Yoongi’s next words.

“I have a date with Hobi,” he announces, a radiant smile gracing his face, yet beneath the joy, a subtle tremor betrays a touch of nervous anticipation in his voice.

A grin spreads across your face, mirroring your genuine excitement. “That’s fantastic!”

Your enthusiasm bubbles over, revealing just how genuinely thrilled you are for him.

Your eyes light up with genuine joy as you congratulate him, “I’m so happy for you, Yoon.” Your smile reflects the warmth and sincerity of your words.

A playful glint in his eyes, he teases, “Thank you, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Anticipation bubbles within you, eager to hear the tales of their date, whenever they get to have it. As your thoughts wander, a silent wish lingers in the recesses of your mind—hoping for a touch of joy not just for Yoongi but for yourself as well, because you both deserve it, dammit.

“Are you ready to get Mikrokosmos home?” Yoongi’s question jolts you from your daydreams, nudging your focus back to reality. You silently curse yourself for entertaining thoughts about how their date would go and then your mind instantly wanders to sex. Damn, you really need to get laid. Why does your mind always have to go there?

You laugh nervously, your excitement bubbling to the surface. “Absolutely! I can’t wait to welcome Mikrokosmos home at last.”

“I’ll wrap things up here, and then we can ride her home together, sound good?” he suggests, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. You eagerly nod; a ride with the wind in your hair always has a way of soothing your heart.

As Yoongi wraps up his work with the spotted horse, coaxing it into accepting the halter, you watch attentively. Once done, he opens the gate, guiding the horse into a paddock. Together, you make your way to the stables to saddle up Mikrokosmos.

With unwavering patience, you nuzzle Mikrokosmos gently as you expertly fit the bridle and saddle onto her. Leading her out of the barn, you make your way down to the pen where Marshmallow awaits, tethered to the fence.

“Mind if I take Marshmallow? Later, Soo-ah or Ara can give me a ride home,” he proposes, deftly unfastening the reins from the fence. With a fluid motion, he swings one leg over Marshmallow’s sturdy back, securing himself in the saddle.

With a nod, you replicate the motion with Mikrokosmos. Grasping the stirrup, you press your weight onto your foot, smoothly swinging your body over the black mare’s back. A soft, airy whinny escapes her as you settle into the saddle.

“Let’s go!” you exclaim with enthusiasm, gently pressing your legs against Mikrokosmos’s side. She eases into a lazy canter before bursting into a steady gallop. Yoongi follows in your wake, and together, you ride over the hills, the sun casting a warm glow on your skin. In companionable silence, you savor the moment, connecting with nature and the rhythmic pulse of the horses beneath you.

Your heart races within your chest as you revel in the sensation of riding Mikrokosmos. Her movements feel like a dance, as if she’s carrying you to extraordinary places. Today, that destination is home. The anticipation builds as you look forward to having your horse with you at last. Countless hours of hard work have led to this moment, and the thought of bringing her home fills you with excitement and satisfaction.

The wind gently tousles your hair as you grip the reins, relishing the familiar sensation of freedom while riding. There’s a profound joy in being so intimately connected with nature. This feeling, the rush of wind, the rhythmic gait of the horse—it’s something you’ve truly missed. Since your dad took you away from the ranch, you’ve felt the absence keenly. Now, as you ride, you’re determined to reclaim everything you lost, to rediscover the simple yet profound joys that the ranch offers.

In no time, you and Yoongi arrive back at the familiar embrace of home. Guiding your horses up to the barn, you expertly stow them away, each finding comfort in their respective stalls.

As you and Yoongi make your way to the house, the air is suddenly pierced by the thunderous roar of an engine. Turning, you spot Jungkook’s sleek bike charging into the yard, your sister snugly positioned behind him. With a smooth halt, he steadies the bike, kicking the stand into place and plants his boots on the ground, unveiling his disheveled black hair as he removes the helmet. Following suit, Jessi frees her own brown locks, letting them playfully dance around her face in the breeze, a tandem display of casual grace as the bike’s engine settles into a quiet hum.

Your hand rises in a friendly wave, reciprocated by the warm smiles adorning both Jungkook and Jessi’s faces as they draw near.

“Hi,” resonates in perfect harmony from both, your sister’s fingers intimately intertwined with Jungkook’s. A twinge of happiness for them pulls at your heart, yet it’s hard not to let a tinge of personal sadness creep in as well.

Yoongi strolls up to Jungkook, nodding toward the bike, “Mind if I borrow that to ride home, in case you’re crashing here?”

Jungkook laughs and gives a casual nod, “Sure thing. Jessi’s playing chauffeur for me tomorrow.”

Yoongi grins with satisfaction, sharing a quick hug and bidding you farewell. He hops onto the dirt bike, revving the engine to life, the sound echoing through the air.

You stand there, watching as Yoongi rides off into the distance, a cloud of dust rising in his wake, the roar of the engine gradually fading into the peaceful surroundings.

“I’m going to grab a quick snack before dinner, do you want some?” You cast a casual glance toward your sister and Jungkook as you leisurely make your way toward the house.

“As long as it’s a sandwich, count me in,” Jungkook chuckles, with your sister in tow. The duo follows you into the house and converges in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you survey the available ingredients for sandwich-making. Jungkook and Jessi settle at the small table on the side, eagerly anticipating the creation of the culinary delights.

You retrieve the bread, butter, and a medley of ham and cheese from the fridge. Your hands move with a rhythmic grace, deftly assembling the ingredients, all the while humming the sweet melody of a love song that resonates in the air.

“Have you talked with Jimin since the gala?”Jungkook’s question punctures the air, shattering the peaceful rhythm of your sandwich-making. The ingredients lay untouched as you turn your attention to him, his words echoing in the kitchen.

Without turning away from the task at hand, you respond to Jungkook’s inquiry, your voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and a tinge of regret. “No, and I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me after everything that happened.”

As you continue working, your back facing Jungkook and your sister, you sense his understanding nod and his voice carries a gentle insistence. “I really think you should talk to him this time.”

You pivot, your eyes locking onto Jungkook, a giant question mark etched across your face.

“Why?” You inquire, curiosity and a hint of reluctance evident in your expression.

A sly smirk lingers on his lips, aggravating you further. The infuriating knowledge he possesses irks you to no end. “I think he has something to tell you,” he teases, and you find yourself caught between irritation and curiosity. A sarcastic chuckle escapes your lips as you refocus on the sandwiches, allowing the knife to slice through them, the sharp blade echoing your conflicted emotions.

“Here,” you offer, presenting Jungkook with a plate laden with half a dozen sandwiches, though your sister politely declines any.

You snatch one for yourself, shooting a casual yet meaningful glance back at them, “Enjoy.”

Savoring each bite of the sandwich, you ascend the stairs to your bedroom, where your eyes linger on the canvas mounted on the easel. The palette has shifted, with softer tones emerging – hints of pink intermingling with delicate whites and purples, forming a composition reminiscent of a blossoming cherry tree.

Sinking into the soft embrace of your bed, a cascade of thoughts floods your mind. The weight of an overdue apology to Jimin and his girlfriend hangs over you, a lingering echo from the turbulent gala. Yet, Jungkook’s mysterious hint at something he knows adds an intriguing layer to your contemplation. Recognizing the need for resolution, you resolve to extend the olive branch of an apology first, aiming to pave the way for a more composed and genuine conversation with Jimin. The anticipation of what both interactions might unveil stirs within you, pushing you to take the first step towards reconciliation.

In an unexpected twist of events, you drift into an unplanned slumber, the embrace of sleep enveloping you so thoroughly that dinner becomes a distant echo. No one ventures to rouse you, and you awaken later on your bed, a half-eaten sandwich still clutched in your hand. The rhythmic resonance of hooves reverberates, drawing you to the window. A herd of wild horses, led by the imposing brown stallion, unfolds in the yard, remarkably close. Its flaring nostrils and challenging hoof scratches paint a vivid picture of defiance. Despite the intriguing spectacle, weariness tugs at you as you wearily retreat to your bed.

A disquieting sensation grips you, seeping into the very marrow of your bones and settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. An unsettling intuition whispers that things are amiss, and you can’t shake the ominous feeling that something, somewhere, has gone terribly wrong.

Emerging from your bed, your hair a tousled bird’s nest, you scan the room, finding the familiar unchanged. In the bathroom, the routine of brushing your teeth provides a momentary distraction as foam swells in your mouth, only to be expelled and washed away. The warm shower cascades over you, but an indefinable unease persists. Hastily drying off, you return to your room, donning a shirt and pants with urgency. Boots secured, hat in hand, you bound down the stairs, a sense of urgency propelling each step.

Entering the kitchen, a picture of concern greets you — Jungkook, your sister, Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin all wear furrowed brows, leaving you bewildered as to the unfolding situation.

“What’s happened?” You urgently inquire, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and foreboding, a silent acknowledgment that your unsettling intuition might have been onto something significant.

“The herd of wild horses were here last night,” Jungkook informs, a flicker of annoyance crossing his gaze as it shifts from your sister to you.

“Half of the horses are missing,” she exclaims, her voice tinged with frustration, a deep sigh escaping her. You stand there, gaping at them, a sinking feeling settling in. Half of the horses gone? The implications of this revelation weigh heavily on your mind, leaving you bewildered and searching for answers.

“How in the world are half of the horses missing?” you demand, furrowing your brows in disbelief. Nausea churns in your stomach as you contemplate which horses might be gone, a sense of urgency and worry gripping your every thought.

In a calm voice, Ha-rin explains, “It was the stallion. He kicked down the fence, and the horses bolted…”

You nod solemnly. Yoongi’s cautionary words about the troublesome stallion echo in your mind.

Your voice trembles with fear as you ask, “Which paddock?”

Jessi’s voice drops, “The East paddock,” she says, her anger seeping into every word as she sinks into a chair.

Realization crashes over you like a tidal wave. After stalling Mikrokosmos for the night, you released her into that same East paddock for some freedom—whatever freedom a fenced enclosure could offer. Oh, no. Could Mikrokosmos be among the missing horses?

“Mikrokosmos?” The word escapes your lips, a desperate plea wrapped in the echo of your worst fears. You don’t need them to confirm it; the sinking weight in your chest tells you everything. The truth is etched across their faces, mirroring the dread that’s settled in your bones since you woke up.

Fury courses through Jessi’s words as she spits out the painful truth, “She’s gone too, along with some of the other mares.” Her hand crashes down on the table, a symphony of anger and frustration. Jungkook steps in, his calming touch a feeble attempt to soothe the storm unleashed.

Hatred drips from Jessi’s words like venom as she rages, “That’s why I hate those damn wild animals! Always stealing our horses. That stallion probably wanted Mikrokosmos back…” Her words pierce the air, causing an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Is she implying this is somehow your fault?

You begin to protest, “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” but Jessi dismisses your words with a quick and dismissive wave.

“I don’t think you did. I’m not blaming you. I’m just furious at that wretched stallion,” she explains, her anger palpable and raw, but there’s a softer edge to her words too.

It’s a relief to know she doesn’t pin this on you, that you’re not burdened with the blame. A soft sigh escapes your lips.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You inquire, scanning the faces in the crowded kitchen, a sense of urgency in your voice.

“We need to mend that fence, Jungkook, can we count on you for help?” Your sister implores, turning to him with a hopeful expression. He responds with a firm nod and a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Feel free to track down the wild horses and check if you can locate them. Unfortunately, we’re short-handed today,” your sister suggests, rising from her seat and gazing out the window.

“No worries. I’ll head over to Yoongi and see if he can spare some time to join me,” you assure them with a gentle smile. Beneath the surface, a mix of sadness and frustration bubbles as you long for Mikrokosmos to return.

With determined steps, you rush out of the house and bound up to the stables, the urgency echoing in your every movement. In the quiet embrace of the stable, Marshmallow awaits, his presence a comforting balm to your racing thoughts. Swiftly, you open the door, embracing him in a soft hug before gearing him up with a bridle and saddle. Together, you emerge from the barn, and with a decisive leap, you saddle up, urging Marshmallow into a gallop, heading towards the Bell ranch with determination in your heart.

The wind tenderly weaves through your hair once more, a melancholic symphony echoing the turbulence within. Fueled by a potent mix of sorrow and frustration, your heart clenches with a resolute desire to reclaim what’s rightfully yours. Your grip tightens around the reins, a silent vow etched in your clenched fists, urging Marshmallow to race faster, the earth stirs in a tumultuous dance beneath his thundering hooves.

The pen materializes on the horizon, and there, amidst the rhythmic ballet of wild horses, you spy Yoongi immersed in his labor. Urging Marshmallow to a thunderous gallop, you charge towards the pen. With an abrupt tug on the reins, the air fills with the gritty harmony of skidding hooves as Marshmallow halts, an abrupt punctuation that seizes Yoongi’s attention. Descending from Marshmallow, you plant your feet on the ground with a flourish, the dust settling around you like a curtain call.

“What’s wrong?” He queries, a flicker of concern lighting up his features, as your uncharacteristic entrance sends ripples of tension through the air.

“The damn stallion,” you seethe, your breaths punctuated with fury, “he’s run off with Mikrokosmos.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, but without hesitation, he declares, “I’ll help you search for her.” You nod in gratitude as he leads his brown horse out of the pen, and you guide Marshmallow to the stables, anticipation coursing through both of you.

Prepared and determined, you and Yoongi lead your horses by the reins out to the yard, a shared sense of urgency fueling your quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Yoongi gathers the reins in his hand and directs your focus to the task at hand, “We’ll start looking at the Eastern paddock, okay?” Just as the urgency builds, Jimin emerges from his house, adding an unexpected twist to the unfolding events. You shoot him a questioning look as he stands before you, curiosity and apprehension blending in your gaze.

“What are you up to?” Jimin questions, catching both you and Yoongi off guard. The unexpectedness of his inquiry leaves you standing there, dumbfounded, your shared silence reflecting the tension that lingers between you and Jimin.

“The wild stallion snatched Mikrokosmos last night; we’re going to search for her,” Yoongi explains, his voice filled with urgency, his movements swift as he places his foot in the stirrup and gracefully swings his body over the horse’s back. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and you can feel the collective determination to retrieve your horse cutting through the morning air.

“I can help,” Jimin offers, his voice carrying a light and airy tone that catches you off guard. You stare at him, momentarily questioning your senses—did he really just say that? The unexpected offer hangs in the air, and you’re left wondering what might be going on in his mind.

Yoongi and you both fixate on him, and Jimin responds with a soft chuckle, the contours of his chest subtly moving beneath his shirt.

“I can assist. That way, Yoongi can focus on his tasks,” he suggests, approaching Yoongi and motioning for him to dismount so they can swap positions. Yoongi glances at you, seeking approval for the change. Meanwhile, you continue to stare blankly at both Yoongi and Jimin. The situation feels oddly surreal—Jimin offering to help you search for your horse, especially considering the tense silence since the heated exchange at the gala. This ride might just turn out to be the most awkward one of your life.

“Sure,” Yoongi concedes, dismounting from the horse. He hands the reins to Jimin, who skillfully collects them in his hands. With a swift motion, Jimin places his boot in the stirrup and swings his body over the horse, mirroring Yoongi’s earlier move.

Silent as a shadow, you remain grounded, words held captive within the walls of your thoughts.

With a subtle tug on the reins, Jimin redirects the horse, casting a teasing glance your way, “Are you coming or what?”

Jimin’s playful remark snaps you back to the present, and without a second thought, you slip your foot into the stirrup, effortlessly swinging your leg over Marshmallow’s back.

You trail behind Jimin, bidding farewell to Yoongi, who lingers with a knowing smile. Silently cursing him for abandoning you in the company of Jimin, you brace for the imminent awkwardness. Despite the uncertainty, the urgency of finding Mikrokosmos eclipses any reservations—you’re grateful for any help that might lead to her return.

Jimin confidently guides his horse, setting the pace as you both return to your ranch. The eastern paddock looms ahead, where Jungkook and Jessi ardently mend the broken fence. Their curious gazes lock onto you, expecting Yoongi but finding Jimin at your side instead.

Venturing deeper into the forest, the towering trees cast a verdant embrace around you. Silence hangs heavy between you and Jimin, a palpable tension that begs to be shattered. It dawns on you that speaking up might be the only way to dispel this awkward atmosphere before it becomes a permanent fixture.

Amidst the rustling leaves and dappled sunlight, you finally muster the courage to break the awkward silence. “I’ve been meaning to say, I’m sincerely sorry about the gala. I hope my words didn’t cross a line with you or upset Deiji too much,” you confess, your gaze sweeping through the foliage in search of any sign of the elusive wild horses.

His laughter dances through the air, a warm melody amid the rustling leaves. “It’s fine. Did it feel good getting off your chest?”

A subtle blush graces your cheeks, and you admit, “It did. I’m still sorry, though. Sorry that your girlfriend had to hear that, and for pointing at her like that.”

You release a soft sigh, reminiscing about the regrettable way you conducted yourself.

He laughs again, the sound echoing like sweet melodies in your ears, yet the mystery behind his continuous laughter leaves you utterly perplexed.

“She did not like it,” he starts, weaving his words with the rustling leaves as you venture into uncharted territory beneath the expansive canopy of a towering, ancient tree.

“I deeply regret my words and actions,” you offer in earnest, the weight of remorse evident in your voice.

“It’s fine. We actually broke up,” his words hang in the air, a revelation that jolts you, and you swivel your head towards him so swiftly you fear a case of emotional whiplash.

Your words tumble out rapidly, laced with uncertainty, as you press him for answers, “You broke up? Why?” The shifting dynamics between you two send your heart racing, and the reins in your sweaty palms seem to tighten with anticipation.

In a hushed tone, he reveals, “She was tired of being compared to you.”

His voice carries a soft, steady cadence, devoid of anger, as though he’s entrusted you with a profound secret. He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, revealing his slightly crooked teeth. His eyes disappear behind lowered eyelids as he adds, “She isn’t you.”

A suspended moment, as if time itself hesitates, your heart momentarily halts its rhythmic dance within your chest. Breath catches, and for a beat, you’re left in breathless suspension—did he truly utter those words? The weight of his revelation seeps into your weary frame, and a blossoming warmth unfurls within your chest. The air lightens, the sun bestows its gentle touch on your skin, and you find yourself smiling at him, words caught in the surge of emotions.

“I also had a conversation with Yoongi,” he reveals, and you find yourself gaping in astonishment. The horses have settled into a leisurely walk, a welcome reprieve as you grapple with the influx of information, making it nearly impossible to focus on the ride.

“He mentioned the kiss,” he confesses, and you detect a glimmer of pain in his eyes. Yet, it doesn’t weigh as heavily as it once did; there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor as he continues, “Yoongi explained that he’s gay, and that the kiss was merely a friendly gesture.”

You nod, each word he utters peeling away layers of weight from your shoulders. It’s precisely the message you’ve been struggling to convey all along. However, you hesitated to betray Yoongi’s confidence by revealing it. Yet, confessing to Hoseok about Yoongi’s feelings for him seemed to work wonders, paving the way for their upcoming date.

“That’s what I desperately wanted to convey that day, you know... but you slammed the door shut in my face,” you confess, a tinge of sorrow sweeping over your heart at the memory of the pain etched on Jimin’s face that day. While you comprehend the source of his hurt and anger, the lingering confusion remains about why he refused to engage in conversation or hear your side of the story.

“I’m sorry. I was just so hurt at the time. Later, when I noticed how close you were to Yoongi, I jumped to conclusions and assumed you were dating him,” he chuckles, the sound carrying a tinge of sadness as he reminisces about the past. “Fortunately, he clarified things for me, assuring me that you two are just friends and always have been.”

“That’s right. We’re just best friends. Honestly, he’s like the annoying brother I never asked for,” you chuckle, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Yet, an indescribable sensation begins to bloom within your chest, a mix of warmth and tingles, leaving you intrigued by its unfamiliar presence.

“I’m so sorry. I really should have talked to you and listened. I’m so sorry.” As Jimin utters his apology, his voice echoes with remorse, a melody of regret that resonates within you. It’s a bittersweet symphony, soothing to finally hear, yet you ponder the missed opportunities for dialogue that could have averted the storm unleashed by this stupid mistake and now your recent outburst. The apology, though overdue, forms a bridge between you, and you find solace in the fact that, at last, you stand on the same side of understanding.

“I had hoped for you to listen back then as well. But, let’s leave the echoes of the past behind, shall we?” Your suggestion carries the weight of anticipation, a sense of hopeful exploration into uncharted territories. He nods in agreement, yet a palpable silence, thick with the unsaid, envelops you both. The journey continues in quietude, but within that stillness, you sense the unspoken words echoing in the lingering gaze of his brown eyes, a silent conversation that paints the canvas of possibility.

As twilight descends and the hours in the saddle accumulate, your fatigue is etched into the soreness of your seat. The weariness must surely weigh on Jimin too, his body silently protesting the prolonged ride. Amidst the encroaching darkness, Mikrokosmos remains elusive, a mystery yet to unfold, and the elusive presence of the wild horses eludes your diligent search.

Frustration settles over you like a heavy cloak, and an audible sigh escapes your lips, carrying the weight of your disappointment. Just as the gloom threatens to deepen, a rebellious rumble emanates from your stomach, capturing Jimin’s attention and coaxing a playful laugh from him.

“Hungry?” His question, a beacon of concern, draws a nod from you, and you respond by absently rubbing your stomach as if coaxing it to silence the persistent growls of hunger.

As the undeniable pangs of hunger echo through your stomach, you admit with a rueful tone, “I forgot to eat before we left,” the regret audible in your voice.

In a gentle yet scolding tone, he remarks, “That’s not good, you know. It’s important to eat.” Leaning towards you, he suggests, “I think we should call it a day and head back. It’s getting late anyway.”

As you nod, a flicker of disappointment crosses your face. The elusive search for Mikrokosmos remains unfulfilled today. Yet, a spark of hope ignites within you as you remind yourself, there’s always tomorrow, right?

“Then you can get something to eat, a good night’s sleep and then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can continue the search?” His soft smile and warm, glowing brown eyes captivate you, quickening your heartbeat. With a hopeful nod, you sense something stirring deep within your stomach — a sensation that goes beyond hunger, something akin to the birth of hope.

The rhythmic tapping on your door pulls you from slumber, and you respond with a drowsy yet receptive, “Yes?”

You emit a groan of protest as the door inches open, revealing a fully alert Jimin. Clad in a snug white tee, its slight transparency inadvertently exposing the soft hue of his pink nipples, you chide yourself for letting your gaze linger. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you note his dark blue jeans, strategically torn at the knees, leaving you curious if it’s a deliberate fashion choice or a result of untamed adventures. His hands nonchalantly find refuge in his pockets, drawing your attention to the pronounced veins that traverse his arms, subtly visible in the soft light of dawn.

As you rise from your bed, a sudden awareness floods your mind, recalling the choice of your sleepwear—a camisole paired with shorts that might be deemed too short for comfort. Hastily, you reach for the duvet, intending to conceal a portion of your body, only to inadvertently accentuate the contours of your chest. The fabric presses against your breasts, and you can’t help but notice the subtle shift in his gaze, his eyes lingering on the unintended display of cleavage.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he chuckles, advancing deeper into your room. His gaze sweeps across the array of your personal belongings, lingering on the easel in the corner adorned with a painting bursting with vibrant hues— a stark contrast to your previous, darker works. Despite your eye roll, you pull yourself out of bed, allowing the duvet to cascade from your body. In that moment, you sense his eyes tracing every contour of your nearly naked form.

“Just a minute,” you reply, swiftly retrieving a t-shirt and pants from your closet, tossing them onto the bed. Jimin’s gaze lingers on you, a subtle intensity that sets your hair on fire, the air thick with an indescribable energy. “Mind if I take a shower first?” you ask, breaking the charged silence.

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “No time for that. Besides, you already smell nice.” His playful demeanor adds a spark to the moment, making you smile in spite of the urgency.

A blush tints your cheeks. Did he just say you smell nice? You did take a bath yesterday after dinner, but you’re not entirely convinced you actually smell nice. Nevertheless, he’s spot on about time slipping away – you can’t afford to lose daylight like you did yesterday.

“Fine,” you hiss, the word escaping through a playful smirk. Chuckling softly, you grab your clothes from the bed and dash out of your room, disappearing into the bathroom.

Returning to your bedroom, you discover Jimin holding a photograph featuring the three of you. His smile reflects the captured moment as you take the frame from his hand. “I found it a few weeks ago. Isn’t it just adorable?” The warmth of nostalgia floods the room, threading through the air as the image triggers shared memories.

A smile graces your face as you gaze at the photograph capturing the innocence of childhood, featuring you, your sister, and Jimin at the tender age of eight. Bright, childish smiles illuminate the image, with chubby cheeks and round faces. You and your sister playfully squish Jimin in the middle, a moment frozen in time that radiates cuteness. Reflecting on it, you marvel at the transformation; once adorable, Jimin now exudes a different allure, an almost dangerous charisma, akin to the allure of sin.

“It was good times,” nostalgia colors his words as a warm smile graces Jimin’s lips. Without a word, he walks past you, hand reaching out to intertwine with yours, a gentle pull guiding you downstairs to the kitchen. In that touch, echoes of good times and cherished memories bridge the gap between past and present.

“Here you go,” Ha-rin offers you a bundle of carefully prepared food, a thoughtful gesture that instantly makes you feel cared for. Simultaneously, Jimin secures water bottles, gearing up for the day’s journey. The barn becomes a hub of activity as his sleek black horse stands poised, laden with sleeping mats and saddlebags filled with provisions. The air buzzes with anticipation as you prepare for the adventure ahead.

“You’re really prepared,” amused by the thorough preparations, you share a light chuckle while heading into the stable to retrieve Marshmallow, your trusted companion for the impending journey.

“Yeah, that way, if we still don’t find her, we can just sleep out there instead of having to ride all the way back and start over again tomorrow.” His practical explanation resonates with you as you prepare Marshmallow, donning him with a bridle and securing the saddle. Anticipating the possibility of an extended search, you fasten saddlebags, graciously accepting the additional supplies from Jimin, ensuring you’re well-equipped for the journey ahead.

His strategic approach resonates, and you nod in agreement, a surge of determination coursing through you as you gear up for the mission to locate Mikrokosmos.

Guiding Marshmallow from the stable into the morning sunlight, you revel in the warmth that has lingered for months. With reins in hand, boots in the stirrups, and a shared determination with Jimin, you swing into the saddle, urging your horses into a brisk trot toward the Eastern paddock.

The silence becomes a tangible presence, weaving an awkward tapestry around you. Armed with the knowledge of Jimin’s recent breakup, a peculiar tension lingers. He’s now within reach, available, and your desire for him simmers beneath the surface. The challenge lies in navigating this uncharted territory, uncertain of how to bridge the gap between longing and action.

After a few hours in the saddle, you take a well-deserved break, replenishing your energy with a quick snack and a sip of water. The brief pause allows you to catch your breath, fortifying yourself before embarking on the ongoing quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Between bites of the delicious sandwiches Ha-rin crafted for you, you cast a concerned glance at Jimin.

“Are you okay?” Your attention focuses, especially on his leg, as you inquire about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures you, as though casually dismissing the likely pain he’s enduring.

“I know that long rides can strain your leg, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard,” you express with concern, your voice softening. The last thing you want is for him to endure any pain because of you.

“It’s okay,” despite his soft smile and dismissal, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s in pain. It reflects in the furrow of his forehead and the way he favors his left leg, dragging his right leg more than usual. Stubborn, you think, as you let him have his way, but deep down, you know he’s masking the discomfort.

As you take a sip of water, you gently probe, “I remember you telling me about your accident, but what was it like for you afterward?”

With a gentle smile, he begins, “As I told you earlier, I underwent surgery after the accident. It lasted for hours, leaving me with numerous scars on my hip. I despise them; they keep reminding me of that day,” his voice resonates with a mix of sadness and lingering anger. “It happened when I was alone, unable to move or feel my legs. My foot was trapped in the stirrup, the horse struggling to rise immediately after the fall.”

Empathy wells up within you as he recounts the harrowing details. It sounds truly dreadful. Reflecting on the first time he mentioned the incident, you realize he held back so many of these distressing details.

As he exhales, a poignant mixture of sadness and defeat tinges his voice. “Finally, the horse got up and ran off, presumably back home. A few hours later, Jungkook found me and took me to the hospital,” he shares, his recollection carrying the weight of a painful memory.

“Learning to walk again was also pretty hard. But I managed,” he confides, a resilient smile lighting up his eyes. In that moment, you find yourself smiling back, realizing the depth of his strength. Despite the pain, he’s willingly embarking on this quest with you—a testament to the extraordinary kindness that defines this man. He is truly too kind for his own good.

“I’m so sorry,” you utter, a genuine ache in your voice, yearning to alleviate even a fraction of the pain etched across his features.

“It’s life, I guess,” he murmurs with a touch of vulnerability, his shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug as he concludes his sandwich, deftly stowing away the remnants into the saddlebags.

“Ready to continue?” He inquires, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. Following suit, you tidy up, brushing away the dirt from your clothes. Grabbing the reins of Marshmallow, you mount him once more. With the sky shifting from orange to purple in the approaching dusk, the urgency propels you to search fervently for Mikrokosmos.

You’re hit with a wave of disappointment as the realization sinks in that Mikrokosmos won’t be found today either. Frustration knots in your stomach, and a heavy sigh escapes, echoing your dejected feelings.

“We will continue tomorrow,” under the star-studded sky, Jimin’s comforting words envelop you like a gentle embrace. The vast expanse of the open land, with trees and mountains on the horizon, hints at the distance you’ve covered—perhaps even farther than the previous day. Tomorrow holds the promise of a new search, a fresh chance to reunite with Mikrokosmos.

“Fine.”

Resigned, you dismount Marshmallow, carefully removing his bridle and saddle, placing them on the ground with a sense of weary determination. Jimin mirrors your actions with his own horse, unfurling sleeping mats that create a makeshift bed beneath the starlit sky. Blankets join the ensemble, and side by side, you both recline, gazing upward. The stars, like distant diamonds, twinkle in the vast canvas of the night sky, creating a breathtaking image of beauty.

As you lay there, surrounded by the gentle rustling of grass and the fragrant whispers of wildflowers, a part of you can’t help but believe that this is the stuff dreams are made of. The soft earth cradles you, a natural mattress beneath the vast expanse of the cosmos, each star above a guardian in the nocturnal symphony orchestrating your descent into slumber.

The night breeze plays a gentle melody around you, and you sense Jimin shifting beside you. Your eyelids flutter open, and you gracefully turn your head to meet his presence in the tranquil darkness.

“You know that brother’s talk…” in the hushed embrace of the nocturnal wilderness, Jimin’s voice resonates like a sacred incantation. He breaks the silence with a low, calm tone, his words weaving through the night’s symphony of your shared breaths, distant crickets, and the flickering dance of fireflies.

His words, like an unexpected gust of wind through the serene night, jolt you awake. Tension grips your body, and a nervous gulp escapes your throat, shattering the fragile cocoon of impending sleep.

His words cut through the tranquil night, each syllable heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. In the dimness, his eyes lock onto yours, revealing a hurt that lingers like a shadow, haunting the depths of his gaze. “It really hurt... seeing you with Jungkook,” he confesses, laying bare the ache that still throbs within him.

As your heart sways with remorse, your hand moves instinctively, bridging the gap between you and Jimin. Gently, your fingers trace the contours of his cheek, a silent apology etched in the tender gesture. “I’m so sorry. Both that it happened and that you had to see it,” your words hang in the night air, a delicate offering of regret that seeks solace in the quiet.

Jimin’s hand intertwines with yours, and his touch becomes a comforting anchor in the obsidian night. “It’s okay. Stuff happens. I just like you so much, it made me really angry,” his words, a vulnerable confession, echoing beneath the starlit canopy.

“I’m sorry. I really like you too. And I didn’t know he was your brother at that time, I’m sorry.” The apology lingers in the night air as you gravitate closer to Jimin. His breath, a gentle caress, plays on your skin. Proximity tightens the space between you until your noses almost touch. A symphony of rapid heartbeats reverberates in the silence.

An electric charge courses through you as Jimin cups your cheek, his gaze penetrating into the depths of your soul, intertwining two fates under the starlit embrace.

A subdued moan escapes your lips as his touch fans the flames within, setting ablaze the desires you’ve long suppressed. It’s that magnetic pull, the sensation lingering each time Jimin’s presence envelops you, a denial unraveling at last. The tension snaps, akin to a taut elastic band reaching its limit. Eternity seems to pass as you lock eyes with him, noses grazing. Inevitably, his plush, inviting lips find yours. Your hands eagerly cup his cheeks, drawing him closer, intensifying the kiss—a convergence of longing and surrender, an electric union that transcends mere touch.

His lips, plush and tender, evoke the sensation of cotton candy—irresistible, almost ethereal.

In this stolen moment, the kiss becomes an endless dance, a rhythmic exchange that could easily stretch into eternity. A dormant ember within you, quiet for far too many moments, now kindles to life. The realization floods your senses, a surge of awareness that travels down to where desire ignites. Your panties dampen, awakening the passion swirling between you and Jimin.

Jimin expertly rolls you over, maintaining the unbroken connection of your lips. As he gracefully assumes the position above, a tantalizing dance ensues. The subtle pressure of his hips against your crotch sends shivers through your being. You can feel his erect cock, concealed beneath denim, pressing fervently against you. In a harmonious rhythm, he grinds down, a symphony of need escaping him, as he moans into your mouth.

You gasp for breath, the air thick with lust, your eyes locking onto Jimin’s, both sets heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, mirroring the intoxication that courses through your veins. It’s a heady sensation, a collision of longing and desire that feels almost surreal but undeniably right. Your fingers find his cheeks once more, a possessive urgency guiding your movements as you draw him down towards you. As your lips meet in a fervent kiss, the hunger between you intensifies, a voracious yearning that’s been building for months. Each brush of your lips against his is a moment suspended in time, where your need is laid bare, and the surreal truth of it all leaves you breathless – a fantasy finally materializing into reality.

Jimin gently pulls away, a glistening strand of saliva lingering between your parted lips like an invisible tether, a tangible testament to the magnetic force pulling you both back. His breath hitches, a raw intensity in his eyes as he utters, “Fuck. I want you so bad.”

He exhales, a tangible wave of frustration emanating from him as he plunges back into another searing kiss. His tongue, a silent plea, prods at the barrier of your lips, and in a breathless agreement, you grant him entry. Tongues entwined, a passionate dance ensues, heightened by the rhythmic grind of your core against his. The ache of desire consumes you, a primal need that has been dormant for what feels like an eternity. It’s a shared hunger, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual longing, as if both of you are starved for each other’s touch.

His hands travel down, tracing the contours of your stomach beneath the fabric of your shirt. A soft, involuntary giggle escapes your lips, betraying the ticklish sensation that dances across your skin. His touch ventures further, slipping beneath the shirt, and you’re met with a surge of anticipation. The warmth of his palms cups your breasts, the delicate barrier of the bra heightening the sensory encounter. A moan escapes into the heated exchange of the kiss, the responsive melody to his skilled touch, as your nipples respond, hardening within the confines of your bra.

You reluctantly part, the air charged with desire, and you confess breathlessly, “I want you so bad too, Jimin.”

Your fingers glide along the contours of his snug shirt, tracing the rhythmic dance of his abdominal muscles beneath the fabric. The aftermath of your prolonged kisses paints his lips a tantalizing shade of red. His tousled, golden locks only add to the captivating disarray of his appearance, a visual symphony that threatens to engulf your senses. Rising with a newfound determination, you assertively push him away, breaking the intoxicating proximity. “I need that shirt off,” you declare, a hunger lingering in your eyes, aching to explore the canvas beneath.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, a silent invitation that he willingly accepts, lifting his arms in a seamless motion to unveil his honey-colored, velvety skin. As your hand grazes over his pectorals, the rhythmic pulse beneath your fingertips resonates with the accelerated beat of his heart—mirroring the anticipation that courses through your own veins. Your gaze traces a tantalizing descent, capturing the sculpted landscape of his face, collarbones, and the inviting expanse of his stomach, where a subtle trail of brown hair beckons you further. The air is charged with desire as your fingers deftly find his belt, unbuckling it, each deliberate motion a step closer to unraveling his dick hiding in his pants.

A throaty moan escapes him, a vulnerable symphony of desire, as you expertly undo his belt. Returning to him, your lips meet in a kiss, the touch soft and tender, like an intimate promise whispered between you two. In the gentle exchange, he tastes like a blend of love and flowers, a heady combination that lingers in the air. Brimming with anticipation, your hands deftly navigate the delicate task of unbuttoning and pulling down his pants, a challenging feat in the confined space of your current sitting position.

Your hand boldly cups his cock, the fabric of his underwear the only barrier between your skin and the pulsating dick beneath. A soft hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure and anticipation, as you sense the subtle twitch, a physical manifestation of the intensity building between you. The desperate yearning within you intensifies, aching for him with every heartbeat, and as you explore the contours of his cock, the undeniable thickness in your grasp fuels the flames of desire, leaving you breathless with need.

Breaking away from the intoxicating exchange of kisses, you lock eyes with his nearly obsidian orbs, the depth of his gaze holding a universe of unspoken desires.

“Can I touch you, Jimin?” you inquire, the words charged with both vulnerability and a raw, palpable need.

His teeth capture his bottom lip, a silent struggle playing out as he releases a frustrated exhale. Finally, with a resolute nod, “Fuck, yeah.”

He raises his hips in anticipation, granting you the freedom to skillfully peel away both his pants and underwear, leaving them discarded somewhere behind you in a forgotten tangle. In this suspended moment, you revel in the sight of him, completely exposed in all his naked glory—an embodiment of your deepest, most intimate fantasies. His beauty surpasses even the vivid images painted by your most explicit dreams. With unabashed admiration, your eyes roam over his form, settling on the scars that grace his hips, perilously close to his crotch. A particularly long one commands attention, stretching from the pinnacle of his hip and tracing a courageous journey downward, almost reaching his knee. Your fingers delicately follow the path of this scar, a silent tribute to the tales etched into his skin.

As your touch navigates the landscape of his scars, you witness the subtle interplay of tension and release in his body, a testament to the vulnerability that accompanies such intimate revelations. His cock responds with a telltale twitch, betraying the electric charge that courses through him in response to your every caress.

Among the prominent, sprawling scar that graces his hip, you notice a constellation of smaller, shorter scars, each telling its own story. With a delicate touch, your fingertips embark on a tender exploration, tracing the intricate map of his history etched into his skin.

Meanwhile, his eyes remain hooded, a veil of pleasure shrouding them, while his head arches backward, supported by his hands resting behind him. The cadence of his breath is a slow, deliberate rhythm, accentuating the intimate atmosphere that envelops you both. His teeth find refuge in his bottom lip once more, a silent testament to the waves of sensation cascading through him at your every touch.

“My scars are ugly, don’t look at them,” he confesses, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability, as if he bears the weight of shame. The realization hits you like a wave—perhaps no one has ever taken the time to remind him that, even adorned with scars, he is undeniably beautiful. Gazing into his eyes, you speak with a gentle resolve, “You are beautiful, and so are your scars.”

With tender determination, your fingers resume their exploration, tracing the intricate paths of his scars. The touch is a reassurance, a gentle affirmation of his worth, and as your fingertips dance along the imprints of his past, a ripple of shivers courses through him. In response, an involuntary twitch emanates from his cock between his legs.

He dismisses your words with a subtle shake of his head, skepticism clouding his expression, but you’re determined to rewrite the narrative etched into his self-perception. He needs to understand the depth of his beauty and uniqueness. Your fingers resume their tender dance, tracing teasingly along the ridges of his scars, each touch carrying the weight of your conviction. “These scars,” you affirm, “they tell your story, a story of resilience and strength. And, my god, they are beautiful, just like you.”

The words hang in the air, a testament to your unwavering belief in the profound beauty etched into the very fabric of his being.

Witnessing the softening of his gaze, a solitary tear breaking free from the confines of his eyes, you seize the poignant moment to plunge back into a kiss with his lips—soft and plush, like a velvet haven. It’s a moment that transcends time, and in those stolen seconds, you realize you could lose yourself in the artistry of his lips for an eternity.

Heaving with the weight of shared intimacy, his breaths resonate with depth and intensity. As he withdraws, the shadows of his eyes glisten with unshed tears in the night. With a voice that trembles with sincerity, he utters, “Thank you,” a phrase that echoes with layers of gratitude and vulnerability.

Gazing into his eyes, you observe a vulnerability that renders him utterly exposed, laid bare before you. In the depth of his gaze, a profound mixture of emotions surfaces, the hues of desire and longing mingling with the rich brown of his eyes. Embracing him, you pull him into the sanctuary of a hug, your lips brushing against his ear as you murmur, “I’ll keep telling you forever, because I feel like you need to hear it.”

Gently trailing your hand down the terrain of his stomach, your fingertips navigate the uncharted territory until they encounter his neglected cock. The moment your touch cradles him, a guttural groan, steeped in the heady brew of desire, escapes him, echoing in the charged air around you. Your fingers embark on a careful exploration, appreciating the girth and thickness of his dick, veins almost popping out of the poor thing. The flushed redness of the head and a delicate sheen of precum only intensify the allure. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lower yourself. Your lips encircle the engorged head, and in response, a deep, primal moan reverberates from him, resonating with the harmonious dance between pleasure and need that binds you together.

Reclining amidst the soft embrace of grass and wildflowers, you have somehow trailed off your sleeping mats, but you don’t care. Your tongue embarks on an intricate exploration, tracing a sinuous path along his cock, each lick an artful dance that circles around him with an unspoken promise of ecstasy. You’re drooling, and your saliva runs down your cheeks, down his cock and down to his balls.

His dick fills your mouth with a perfect fullness, a tangible overflow of desire. The parts that don’t fit in your mouth are skillfully tended to by your left hand, ensuring no inch of him is left untouched. His legs, betraying the intensity of the sensations, exhibit a subtle yet enticing twitch as you move rhythmically, a symphony of pleasure in every rise and fall.

Your devoted attention centers on his frenulum, a delicate dance of your tongue that elicits the softest, most melodic moan you’ve ever been privy to. The sound, a harmonious melody that resonates like a sweet lullaby, fuels your determination to continue this enraptured dance, even as your eyes threaten to mist with water. The need for air tugs at the edge of your consciousness, yet the ethereal music of his moans compels you to keep sucking.

The air is punctuated by squelching sounds, an audible testament to the fervor with which you suck him, utilizing every ounce of your skill. His hand, a gentle guide, finds solace in the maze of your hair, fingers intertwining as you diligently navigate the rhythmic ascent and descent along his pulsating dick. Sensing the subtle tension beneath your touch, you discern the hastened cadence of his breath, a telltale sign that he might be close.

You surface from the intoxicating depths of his crotch, parting from his cock to catch a breath of much-needed air. In that fleeting moment, as your eyes lock with his, you’re ensnared by the sinful intensity of his gaze. It’s a look so profoundly wicked, so enticingly feral, that you sense the very essence of your being might either melt into a puddle or evaporate into the charged air.

Pooling a teasing amount of saliva in your mouth, you audaciously release it onto his dick, eliciting a surprised yet lustful chuckle from him. As your mouth envelops him once more, you revel in the tangible connection, savoring the unique sensation he offers. Yet, the sensation also sparks a cascade of anticipatory thoughts, your mind drifting to what it will feel like with his cock deep inside your pussy, and you feel it clench pathetically around nothing. Oh, god, you’re so wet already, it’s like a waterslide in your panties.

In rhythmic harmony with your measured breaths through flared nostrils, you descend along the full length of his dick. The audible moans that escape him blend with the sensation of his fingers tensing in your hair, creating a symphony of pleasure. Gradually, you sense him responding, pushing up into the warmth of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, each controlled thrust an exquisite dance. You relax your jaw and let him thrust into your warm walls. It’s slow and tender, like he’s very mindful not to hurt you.

In a breathless maneuver, you inhale deeply, creating a vacuum of anticipation as you envelop him in the suction of your mouth. A subtle, resonant hum reverberates against his pulsating dick, a seductive melody that prompts a tantalizing twitch within him. His fingers assertively tug at your hair, commanding a release that you give in to. With a sensation-laden pop, you surface from his cock, leaving an electrifying echo of desire lingering in the charged air.

“It’s so fucking good. But you have to stop. I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he pants, his voice a raw fusion of vulnerability and urgent need. As he leans up, the desperation in his tone intensifies, “I want to come inside you.”

You might as well be surrendering to the abyss, for the power this man holds over you is staggering. The softness in his eyes is laced with an intoxicating lust, and the sly smirk he graces you with sends an electric current straight to your pussy. The dampness between your thighs becomes an undeniable testament to the effect he has on you, as his mere expression ignites a storm of arousal, leaving you helplessly entrapped in the spell he effortlessly casts.

With a firm yet gentle pull, he elevates you into a seated position, an unspoken desire lingering in the air. Urgently, he tugs at your shirt, mirroring the unveiling you orchestrated for him. As the fabric succumbs to gravity, revealing your form, he takes a moment to appreciate the canvas before him. His fingers trace a tantalizing path from your collarbones, across the curve of your breasts, and down to the waistband of your pants. Eyes locked with yours, he skillfully unzips your trousers, teasingly patting your ass before lifting them and guiding the denim down your legs.

The night air caresses your bare skin, its touch not a chill, but a soothing embrace. Despite the darkness that cloaks the surroundings, the lingering warmth from the day creates an intimate ambiance, allowing the freedom of being naked outside to feel not only acceptable but almost cocooned in a sensual comfort.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping between your open legs, a single finger delicately tracing the contours of your pussy, “You’re soaked.”

You bite down on your lip, a flutter of lust coursing through you, as his finger skims the exterior of your panties, causing them to uncomfortably adhere to the contours of your folds. The urgency intensifies, a palpable desire radiating from your core, a silent plea echoing in your mind—you need them off, and you need it now.

“No need to silence yourself; it’s just us beneath the open sky,” he gently reminds you. With his reassuring words, you liberate your teeth from the captivity of your lips, allowing the unabashed moans of pleasure to cascade freely from your mouth, blending with the nocturnal symphony surrounding the two of you.

His fingers dance over your clit through the fabric of your panties, coaxing a guttural groan from the depths of your stomach. The subtle tremor of your thighs betrays the exquisite intensity of the sensation, a response that echoes through the sultry night air like a secret shared only between you two.

A smug smirk graces his lips, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to unfold, as his hands maneuver deftly up and behind your back, skillfully releasing the constraints of your bra. It cascades down to your lap, unveiling your liberated tits that eagerly spring forth. His hands, warm and purposeful, eagerly grope the newly revealed treasures, gently massaging your boobs.

Diving in with hunger, he presses kisses atop them, an unhurried descent leading him further down and to the left. His plush lips encircle a pert nipple, initiating a sensory dance that sends ripples of ecstasy through you.

“Fuck,” escapes your lips in a resonant moan, a symphony of pleasure commencing as he avidly sucks at one nipple while his fingers skillfully engage with the other. The sensation is beyond exquisite, a tidal wave of arousal surging through you. A fleeting realization of your panties still sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Yet, the relentless attention he bestows upon your breasts holds you captive, rendering you powerless to do anything but surrender to the intoxicating pleasure.

And take it you do, as his tongue deftly laps at your nipple, each stroke a rhythmic dance that occasionally escalates into a teasing bite, sending electric sparks that illuminate your vision with stars. Simultaneously, his fingers tug at the other nipple, orchestrating a symphony of pleasure that resonates through your body. As his exploration continues, you feel the warmth of his saliva tracing a tantalizing path down your breasts, descending over your stomach like a sensual cascade. The molten trail reaches the brink of your panties, a frustrating barrier to the carnal desire that courses through you.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your left nipple, ascending to your mouth for a kiss that’s both needy and all-consuming, as if he can’t satiate his hunger for you. The fervor in his lips translates into an intense connection, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Descending once again, his focus shifts to the other nipple, where he wraps his lips around it, initiating a dance of sucking and biting that elicits unrestrained moans from deep within you. Simultaneously, his fingers weave an intricate symphony on the previous touched nipple, propelling you into a realm of uncharted pleasure. The crescendo builds, and you moan unabashedly, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, the anticipation of release hanging in the charged air.

He persists in his relentless assault, biting and pulling with an intensity that coils a spring deep within your stomach. As the tension reaches its zenith, the spring snaps, unleashing a torrent of arousal that surges through you, adhering to your panties in a sticky testament to the powerful release. The realization hits like a thunderbolt – you just came without the direct touch on your clit. The sheer amazement washes over you, compounded by the rhythmic pants for air, transforming the aftermath into a heady cocktail of astonishment and unbridled ecstasy.

He relinquishes his hold on your breasts, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as if savoring a delectable feast. With a hungry gaze, he looks at you, and you can almost feel the intensity of his desire – as if he’s contemplating devouring you whole.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a prelude to a ravenous declaration, “I want to taste your pussy too.” The words hang in the air, charged with a primal hunger that echoes the undeniable craving between you.

Your pussy continues to pulsate, a rhythmic echo of the recent orgasm, its clenching sensation persisting even in the absence of direct touch. Biting your lip, you nod your head in silent agreement. The desire intensifies, a relentless ache for the magic of his lips and the dance of his tongue on your pussy.

His fingers trace a tantalizing path to your hips, teasingly tugging at the edge of your panties. With deliberate intent, he pulls them off, a gentle yet purposeful maneuver that leaves your arousal adhering to the fabric, forming a glistening string of liquid in its wake.

His gaze lowers between your legs, and he licks his lips with a deliberate slowness, an anticipation building with every inch he descends towards the place you ache for his touch. But just before he immerses himself in your pussy, he looks up, locking eyes with you. In that fleeting moment, he bestows upon you the softest look, so angelic and innocent, creating a deceptive contrast to the sinful delights you know he’s about to unleash upon you.

As the first tantalizing touch of his tongue graces your folds, an instantaneous moan escapes your lips, and a kaleidoscope of stars seems to burst behind your closed eyelids. His tongue skillfully dances across your lips, a deliberate sweep that not only dissipates the lingering echoes of the previous orgasm but also revels in the unique taste of your essence.

His tongue, a sinful indulgence, possesses a length that seems to explore the depths of your walls with deliberate precision. The unhurried entrance sends shivers through your core, each languid movement a seductive dance that unfurls the layers of pleasure.

He fervently licks at your folds, savoring every essence, his tongue a relentless tide that laps up the intoxicating cascade of your juices. As you lean back on your arms, the anticipation of a new orgasm steadily builds within the depths of your stomach. Suddenly, a finger makes contact with your clit, and a moan of desire escapes your lips. Panting and gasping, your naked chest rises and falls above him, caught in the rhythm of a primal dance, as he devours you with the hunger of a man starved.

His skillful touch initiates a hypnotic dance, tracing sensuous circles around your clit.

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m—” you begin to say amidst breathy pants, and suddenly, a new sensation courses down your ass. The realization hits— it’s one of his slickened fingers, probing at the hole there.

Gradually, he eases his finger inside, and an involuntary clenching reaction coupled with erratic breaths engulf you. Thoughts scatter, the intensity of this entirely new sensation overwhelming your senses. It’s foreign, yet undeniably not unpleasant; in fact, it’s oddly good, a revelation that surprises you. As his finger delves a bit deeper, you feel the subtle stretch, accompanied by a moan that weaves into the midnight air.

“You said I should stick it up my ass. How does it feel with my finger up yours?” he taunts, his voice laced with a provocative edge that sends a shiver down your spine. As you clench around his invading finger, a surge of arousal releases a trickle of liquid from your pussy. The sensation is overwhelming, igniting a primal heat that consumes you entirely. Fuck, why is this so hot?

With deliberate tenderness, he eases his finger into your hole, maintaining a steady rhythm that tantalizingly grazes the threshold of previous depths. The sensation is nothing short of exquisite, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through every fiber of your being. But as quickly as the euphoria engulfs you, he withdraws his finger, leaving you to groan in a poignant emptiness that echoes through the night air.

He lifts his head, locking eyes with you, his gaze penetrating the depths of your blown-out eyes. “You liked that, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that reverberates with a potent mixture of satisfaction and desire. The intensity of his stare ignites a fire within you, each word laden with the weight of pleasure and unspoken longing.

You bite your lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation passing through your mind as you contemplate the truth. But the honesty between you is palpable, a silent understanding that binds you together in this intimate moment. “I did,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of undeniable desire, a raw admission that lays bare the depths of your longing.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckles, the sound reverberating through the night like a whispered promise. With a hunger that borders on desperation, he kisses you again, his lips consuming yours in a full embrace that tastes of your essence. It’s a kiss that’s wet and sloppy, needy and unapologetic, yet every sensation only serves to deepen the flames between you. And as you savor the taste of his lips against yours, you’re reminded of the intoxicating allure that drew you to him in the first place, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing moment.

He returns to your pussy with a hunger that borders on obsession, his lips eagerly tasting every inch of you while his skilled fingers tease your clit with a maddening precision. His tongue, devilishly good, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, compelling you to arch your back and press your core deeper into his face. The sight of his glistening cheeks, adorned with your essence, ignites a primal urge within you, a visceral desire to consume and be consumed in return. With his head between your legs, he becomes a vision of untamed passion, his devotion to your pleasure evident in every caress and every lingering kiss.

With the skill of a master, he works his fingers over your clit in a mesmerizing dance, tracing circles that send sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins. His touch is both gentle and assertive, at times pulling on your sensitive nub, eliciting a chorus of moans that echo in the heated air around you. Each movement sets your body ablaze with a searing intensity, every sensation heightening your arousal until you feel like you’re consumed by a blazing inferno of desire.

As he continues his relentless assault on your senses, you feel the coil of desire winding tighter and tighter, on the verge of unraveling at any moment. The dual sensation of his sucking at your clit while his finger expertly rubs it pushes you over the edge, and with a primal cry, the coil inside you finally snaps.

A powerful wave of liquid cascades over his face, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. Gasping for air, your vision momentarily blurs, spots dancing before your eyes as the intensity of the moment washes over you. You feel the liquid trickling down your folds, leaving a trail of evidence on the grass or flowers beneath you.

As Jimin continues to lick and coax you through the euphoric waves of your orgasm, you ride out the intense sensations until you gently tug on his blonde hair, a silent signal that it’s becoming too much to bear. Sensing your need, he obediently returns, his lips meeting yours in a modest kiss that speaks volumes of his reverence for you.

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his words laced with genuine admiration and a hint of awe, leaving you with a lingering warmth.

For some inexplicable reason, a blush graces your cheeks, a subtle yet undeniable testament to the torrent of emotions swirling within you. It’s a curious juxtaposition, considering the uninhibited pleasures you’ve shared thus far. Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of desire, there’s a deeper sensation stirring within you—a profound sense of being utterly and unequivocally full, not just of passion, but of an overwhelming and boundless love.

“Can I make love to you?” he asks, his voice a tender whisper that reverberates through the charged air between you. As his eyes search yours, a silent plea etched into their depths, his breath washes over your face, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of him—sweet and musky, a heady blend that envelops you in a cocoon of desire and longing.

“God, yes!” you moan fervently, your voice a breathless plea that echoes in the heated space between you. With an instinctual urgency, you open your legs wider, a silent invitation that beckons him closer, drawing him into the intimate embrace of your pussy with an irresistible pull.

He lays you down gently on a fragrant bed of bluebonnets, their sweet, flowery scent wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, infusing the night air with a delicate fragrance that speaks of love and serenity. As you pant softly, your eyes drink in the sight of Jimin poised above you, a vision of strength and vulnerability intertwined. His scars, a testament to his journey, only add to his allure, while his tender gaze holds you in a spellbinding trance. With deliberate movements, he hovers closer, his hand stroking his dick.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He asks, a note of realization creeping into his voice as he acknowledges the crucial detail he nearly overlooked.

You shake your head, a sense of disappointment washing over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Despite the nagging concern for safety, your desire burns fiercely, eclipsing rational thought with an unyielding craving for closeness.

“No, I don’t. I’m on the pill and I’m clean, are you?” You inquire, your voice laced with a mixture of longing and urgency, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

He chuckles softly, the sound a mixture of amusement and apprehension. “Yeah, I usually always wear protection too, but I really didn’t plan on this happening tonight,” he admits, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “You’re okay without it?” He asks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, his concern for your well-being evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m good, just fuck me, Jimin,” you pant, your voice trembling with a raw mixture of desire and urgency. With a fervent desperation, you spread your legs even wider, your glistening pussy shimmering in the moonlight, a beacon of temptation that beckons him closer. The sight leaves him licking his lips in unadulterated lust, his gaze fixated on you with a hunger that mirrors your own.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he strokes his dick once more, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. Aligning himself with your eager entrance, he begins to push his cock into your welcoming embrace, each inch a tantalizing reminder of the intimacy you’re about to share.

As he enters you, a surge of sensation washes over you, and you’re struck by the realization that he’s thicker than you anticipated. A fleeting moment of panic flits through your mind as you remember that he didn’t stretch you beforehand, but to your surprise, the slickness of your arousal makes the slide effortless. There’s no discomfort, only a delicious feeling of fullness that leaves you breathless with pleasure.

He reaches the deepest recesses of your being, his balls grazing your folds, and a primal moan escapes your lips as he ignites a firestorm of sensation within you.

Every inch of him stretches you to your limits, leaving you feeling gloriously full and alive with desire. With each withdrawal, a shiver races down your spine, only to be replaced by an electrifying jolt of pleasure as he thrusts back in.

The intensity of it all is overwhelming, sending you spiraling into a frenzy of ecstasy that surpasses even your most vivid fantasies. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined, and yet, so much more—so much better than your wildest wettest dreams.

You revel in the sensation of his dick twitching inside your pussy, a primal confirmation of his arousal that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. With each powerful thrust, the simplicity of the missionary position becomes a conduit for profound intimacy, every movement drawing you closer together in a passionate dance of desire. You’re soaking wet, to be honest, you’re dripping. His cock feels like a revelation, igniting flames of ecstasy that consume you wholly, leaving you utterly lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion.

His hands, initially anchored on either side of your hips, move across your trembling form. Each caress leaves a trail of tingling sensations in its wake, electrifying your senses with a fervent urgency. As his fingers glide over your curves, they pause upon the soft swell of your breasts, lingering there with an almost reverent touch. With a gentle tug on your nipple, he elicits a fervent moan of pure pleasure from your lips, each sensation unraveling you further in the throes of unabashed ecstasy.

As he continues to thrust deeply into you, his fingers teasing your sensitive nipple, you find yourself drawn to the raw intensity etched across his features. His expression, a captivating blend of desire and longing, captivates your gaze, his furrowed brow a testament to the depth of his passion. His eyes, wide and dilated with arousal, hold you in their hypnotic gaze, each glance igniting flames of longing within your core. His plush, red lips beckon to you with an irresistible allure, stirring an overwhelming urge to taste him once more, to lose yourself in him.

“Kiss,” you pant, your voice a desperate plea that hangs heavy in the air, and he chuckles softly at your fervent request. Without hesitation, he leans down to meet your lips, his kiss a fiery collision of passion and need, even as he continues to drive his dick into your heated depths with unwavering intensity.

Each brush of his lips against yours sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

“Fuck, you’re amazing babe,” he groans, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and desire, as he drives himself into you with a fervent urgency tempered by tender affection. Each powerful thrust is a testament to his adoration, his movements a symphony of passion and intimacy that leave you breathless with longing.

“Jimin, I—” you gasp, the words caught in your throat as he delves deeper into your depths, a surge of pleasure coursing through you as he gathers your legs and presses them against his shoulders, driving himself even further into your pussy.

Your gasping, overwhelmed by the depth of sensation as he plunges into you, exploring places you never knew existed, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every fiber of your being. It’s as if he’s reaching parts of you that have long remained dormant, his every movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy cascading through your body, leaving you teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

When he delivers a particularly powerful thrust, you surrender to the overwhelming wave of emotions coursing through you, your heart soaring as you release the words that have been simmering within, “I love you.”

With a husky grunt, he responds, his voice a low rumble filled with an undeniable tenderness, “I know, babe.”

Gazing at him through a veil of desire, your breath ragged with anticipation, you press him for clarity, your voice trembling with curiosity, “What do you mean, you know?”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he withdraws completely, leaving you with a sense of emptiness that mirrors the sudden absence of his presence within you. “You told me at the gala,” he explains, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and fond remembrance, casting a glow of warmth over the memory.

Your expression morphs into a puzzled question mark once more, prompting another bout of laughter from him as he teasingly teases at your entrance once more.

“When you told me you hated me, you also said you love me,” he reveals, his voice laced with a mixture of humor and desire, before driving his dick back into you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, your cries of pleasure echoing in the night, mingling with the sounds of nature around you. You’re almost afraid you might startle the horses with all your noises.

“Fuck, I did?” you gasp incredulously, your voice tinged with disbelief and arousal, feeling the powerful grip of your pussy tightening around his cock, as if it’s instinctively pulling him deeper, craving the connection with an intensity that matches your own desire.

“Yeah. It was actually really hot. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re mad?” He leans down, gently pressing your thighs against your stomach, drawing you into an intimate embrace as he lowers his lips to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I love you too.”

You’re consumed by a surge of sensation, questioning whether he’s grown larger or you’ve become tighter, the intense throbbing and twitching of his dick inside you driving you to the brink of madness. Every nerve in your body is alight, ablaze with desire, leaving you gasping for breath as if on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

As he ascends, his hand resumes its gentle ministrations on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. The intensity is overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of release once more. Every fiber of your being is electrified, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You feel like you could come at any moment now.

Despite the exhaustion that blankets your body with the way that he fucks you, you’re enveloped in a whirlwind of love and desire that leaves you feeling utterly spent yet infinitely fulfilled.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You cry out, the sensation of him delving so deep sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through every nerve ending, igniting a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave you seeing stars and unraveling at the seams.

“That’s it, babe. You’re taking me so well,” he pants, his voice thick with desire and need, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own breathless gasps. “I’m almost there. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you moan, elongating the word as if savoring its taste, your voice a symphony of pleasure and desire. Every nerve in your body ignites with a fiery intensity, fueled by the intoxicating sensations Jimin evokes. His touch, his presence, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a blissful surge that consumes your very being.

As Jimin’s pace intensifies on your clit, perfectly synchronized with the depth of his thrusts, you surrender to the torrent of sensations cascading through your body.

Every touch, every movement, sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a culmination of the emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface for months. With each exquisite moment, you release the pent-up tension, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw, unbridled passion between you and Jimin— you simply let go.

“Jimin!” The cry tears from your lips like a primal invocation as you spiral into your third orgasm, a deluge of ecstasy flooding around his throbbing cock.

You’re left panting, a disheveled portrait of desire, as your core tightens around him, pulsing with each wave of release, coating his dick in a glistening sheen of your arousal.

“Fuck!” His voice is a raw mix of frustration and longing, his body trembling as your insatiable pussy seems to draw him deeper into your depths, culminating in a primal moan of your name as he spills his essence inside you.

You’re both left breathless, your bodies suffused with a warmth that courses through every inch of your skin, igniting a tingling sensation that dances along your nerves. It’s not just the aftermath of passion; it’s a shared ecstasy that leaves you both on the brink of shivering, though not from the chill of the night air.

As you ride out the waves of your climax, he continues to thrust inside you, his warmth flooding your depths, and you revel in the raw intimacy of it all. Even as his dick gradually softens, he remains nestled within you, both of you panting for air.

Droplets of sweat trickle down from his forehead, teasing your breasts with their warm caress. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, he still radiates a captivating allure that leaves you breathless.

You feel the warmth of his semen trickling out of your pussy, tracing a tantalizing path down to your ass, leaving you feeling both sticky and sweaty.

You gently lower your legs from his shoulders, allowing them to find solid ground beside him. Gasping for air, a wide grin spreads across your face, punctuated by playful giggles. Jimin leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that elicits a soft moan from you. Breaking away, he grins, revealing his endearingly crooked teeth—a sight that never fails to warm your heart. Damn, you love this man.

You lose track of time with him nestled on top of you, his warmth enveloping you as he remains inside your pussy. The gentle thud of his beating heart against your chest creates a soothing rhythm, one that seems to sync perfectly with your own.

In that moment, entwined together, it feels like your souls are dancing to the same beautiful melody.

As he withdraws from you, he gracefully shifts onto his side, beckoning you to join him on his sleeping mat. You comply eagerly, settling yourself beside him, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. With a tender gesture, he draws both blankets over your entwined forms, cocooning you both in a comforting embrace against the night’s chill.

Entwined in each other’s arms, you drift into slumber, lulled by the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby in the stillness of the night. With your head nestled against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment. Your fingertips trace delicate patterns on his pectorals. As you lie there, embraced by the tender embrace of nature, the symphony of the wilderness envelops you, a melodic harmony of chirping crickets and dancing fireflies. Above, the celestial canopy twinkles with a myriad of stars, casting a celestial glow upon your sanctuary, a sanctuary where time stands still and love knows no bounds.

As the first light of dawn paints patterns of gold through the foliage, coaxing you from slumber, you awaken beside Jimin, cocooned in the warmth of his presence. Stretching languidly, you feel the gentle weight of his body beside you, a comforting anchor in the hazy morning. Nestling closer to him, you bury your face into the curve of his chest, savoring the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you greet the new day softly, your voice a whispered melody against the tranquil stillness, “Morning.”

He stirs beneath you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, a sound that resonates deep within your core. His gentle touch traces the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your skin, igniting a familiar heat within you. The memory of last night dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing and tantalizing, as his fingers linger on the curve of your ass, coaxing your body to life with every caress.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” His voice, warm and inviting, rouses you from the haze of sleep, like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. You blink away the remnants of dreams, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. His laughter, a melody of morning, dances in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. As he opens his eyes, you find yourself captured by the depth of his gaze, a silent exchange of morning greetings between two souls entwined in the quiet serenity of dawn.

“Amazing,” you exhale the word against his chest, the warmth of your breath mingling with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Soft kisses pepper his skin, each one a testament to the tenderness between you, yet there’s a playful edge as your teeth graze his flesh, drawing forth a soft chuckle from him, like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of affection.

He moves with a fluid grace, rolling you over and settling above you as the weight of his presence envelops you once more. His lips meet yours in a gentle caress, carrying the essence of dawn itself, a blend of morning flowers and the earthy musk of the forest. You inhale deeply, savoring his scent as it ignites a primal longing within you, tightening your core with desire. With a soft moan, you surrender to his kiss, your hands pulling him closer, as if trying to meld your beings together in a timeless embrace, unable to quench the thirst for his lips.

You sense the subtle twitch of his cock against your crotch. The warmth of his skin against yours reignites the embers of desire, and you become acutely aware of your nakedness, a lingering sensation from your passionate sex last night, that you still feel wet from. The memory of his touch lingers, and your body responds instinctively, still tingling with the echoes of pleasure. As your mind drifts, envisioning how easy it would be for him to slip right into your walls again, a shiver courses through you, your breath catching at the mere thought, while your core instinctively clenches, yearning for his familiar touch.

“Are you okay, babe?” Concern colors Jimin’s voice as he notices the faint furrow of frustration on your brow.

You offer him a soft smile, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheeks with affectionate tenderness. “I’m absolutely wonderful, Jimin,” you confess, your voice laced with longing and a hint of playful desire. “I just miss you and I want you inside of me again already.”

“Oh, yeah?” His teasing tone sends a shiver down your spine as he playfully grinds his cock against your drenched pussy. You gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by the flood of arousal coursing through your veins. How could you still be so wet, so ready for him, even after everything?

It’s like your body has a mind of its own, craving his touch with an insatiable hunger.

His dick presses against you, throbbing with anticipation, and as he eases his fully erect cock between your slick folds, a rush of pleasure surges through you, igniting every nerve ending. Your moans escape in soft gasps, lost in the bliss of his touch, as you feel the heat of his dick melding perfectly with your own.

Each movement of his cock inside you feels like a divine symphony, a perfect rhythm that resonates through your entire being. With each deep thrust, he fills you so completely, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breasts sway in tandem with his movements, a visual testament to the intense pleasure he’s giving you, each pull and thrust sending you spiraling into euphoria.

As your hands find their way to his back, you grip onto him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed, the intensity of pleasure coursing through you like electricity. Then, as you tilt your head to the side, your eyes catch a glimpse of it— Mikrokosmos.

“Jimin-ah!” You pant urgently, your voice breaking the rhythm of your thrusts. When he catches sight of your startled expression, he halts his movements, his gaze instantly flooded with concern.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His voice carries genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“It’s Mikrokosmos!” You exclaim, a mixture of awe and urgency in your voice as you tear your gaze away from Jimin to focus on the majestic sight. Sensing the shift in your demeanor, Jimin withdraws from your folds and joins you, his eyes following your gaze to where your black horse grazes lazily nearby.

You rise to your feet, embarking on a quest for your scattered garments, your fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties, eliciting a frustrated groan. Resolving to not put them on, you swiftly opt for your pants, slipping into them with haste. With determination, you locate your bra and shirt, swiftly adorning yourself in a flurry of movements. Meanwhile, Jimin is engaged in a similar pursuit, his efforts mirroring yours as he hastily dons his own attire.

Amidst the shared chaos of dressing, your laughter fills the air, a delightful symphony blending with the rustle of fabric and the gentle morning breeze.

As you don your attire with practiced efficiency, you slide your boots on, the leather molding comfortably around your feet. With deliberate steps, you approach Mikrokosmos, the ground yielding softly beneath your weight. Jimin shadows your movements, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the morning serenity. Each stride brings you closer to the majestic creature, your heart echoing the rhythm of hoofbeats as you draw near.

“Come here, girl,” you murmur, your hand extended like an open invitation. Mikrokosmos raises her head, her gaze fixated on you, a mysterious glint dancing in her eyes, elusive yet captivating.

With measured steps, she saunters toward you, a graceful dance of trust unfolding with each stride. As her velvety muzzle meets your outstretched hand, a surge of warmth envelops you, a sense of belonging washing over your soul. With a gentle whinny, she nuzzles against your palm, a silent affirmation of the bond between kindred spirits. “Good girl,” you whisper, your voice a tender melody amidst the tranquil embrace of nature.

You pivot slowly, no halter, no rope, no nothing, your gaze fixed ahead with quiet determination, “Let’s go home.”

Mikrokosmos follows your lead with unwavering trust, her hoofbeats falling into rhythm with your purposeful strides. Jimin’s eyes reflect admiration as he watches your natural affinity with the majestic creature. Returning to the other horses, you secure a rope around Mikrokosmos’s head, just in case she should get any ideas of leaving again, before tending to your belongings with practiced efficiency.

You saddle up Marshmallow, feeling the familiar comfort of the leather beneath your hands. Leading Mikrokosmos by the rope, you guide her onto the path, her presence beside you a reassuring anchor amidst the vast expanse of wilderness.

The serendipitous encounter with Mikrokosmos fills you with an indescribable joy, as if destiny itself had intervened to bring you together. With each step, your heart swells with gratitude and happiness, a feeling that courses through your veins like a warm embrace.

As the trail meanders homeward, you turn to Jimin, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Thank you, Jimin,” you whisper, the words carried away on the gentle breeze, a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support.

His warm smile washes over you, and you feel a rush of gratitude for his understanding. “No problem at all. I’m just glad to be here and help,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness that fills your heart. Drawing closer, you intertwine your fingers with his, the simple act weaving a thread of intimacy between you. In that moment, riding side by side, the world fades away, leaving only the comforting embrace of each other’s presence.

His question catches you off guard, but the warmth in his voice draws you in. “Do you remember your fifth birthday?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes, as if unraveling a cherished memory. His lips, so inviting and tender, curve into a smile, inviting you to journey back to that moment in time with him.

You chuckle softly, because you do remember, the memory flooding back like a cherished melody. You recall the innocence of that day, the laughter shared between you and Jimin as you played hide and seek, weaving tales of fantastical adventures. In that moment, surrounded by the whispers of childhood dreams, you realize the depth of your love with Jimin, sensing that perhaps there’s more to your bond than just friendship. It’s a realization that tugs at the strings of your heart, igniting a spark of hope for something more.

“Do you remember when you told me that guys couldn’t be friends with girls, that you’d get boy-lice or something?” he grins, his voice laced with nostalgia as he squeezes your hand gently. You roll your eyes playfully, the memory sparking a smile on your lips, because yes, you remember that too.

“I know I was insufferable back then,” you confess, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you wave off the memory.

“You weren’t. But you were oblivious to the fact that I had feelings for you back then, weren’t you?” He chuckles again, his laughter like a sweet melody that resonates deep within you, leaving you longing for more.

“I honestly didn’t. I just thought you were being a typical boy. But hey, I was five—how was I supposed to grasp the concept of love at that age?” You laugh lightly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reminisce about the innocence of childhood.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding a hint of curiosity, “It doesn’t matter now. But I was wondering…”

You find yourself lost in his hazel brown eyes, their warmth enveloping you, as you’re drawn to his captivating smile. With a soft breath, you respond, “Yes?”

With a tender gaze, he lays his heart bare before you, his words echoing with sincerity and vulnerability. “If you want to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to waste anymore time. I love you and I want us to be together,” he asks, his voice tapering off, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. Yet, you offer him solace, intertwining your fingers with his, leaning into his side, and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, affirming your affection without words.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jimin.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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crithaus · 1 year

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Been seeing so many tweets abt it and I wanna get back on yonder soap box for a second cuz I have my own musings

I had always wondered if Vax would show up when Vex was drowning in Dalen's Closet and then when he didn't I wondered why and mused that barring the above table reasons of this being a game with set rules and Matt can't just deus ex machina their way outta all their scraps, that below table the Deal Vax had already made with RQ for Vex's safety was all the flexing she would allow him to do and then voila Vex comes back anyhow, and I think it's important to note that as Vex was dying Liam slipped out of Derrig's character, something he doesn't do much, and into Vaxbrain ("We had a deal, Matt.") to Express how unhappy he was that Vex was drowning and the deal he'd made was being routed and I think that's proof enough that Vax would if allowed absolutely come down there and rescue his family from any and all scrapes if he was able to,

Now with this latest episode, We saw Otohan bedecked Paragon's Call with RQ's symbols, we know Otohan has the poison that prevents you from being rezzed which is an affront to RQ's domain and position if I've ever heard one, we know the attack on Kiki was on purpose and possibly to get RQ's attention, get her looking and all, and this whole situation with Ludinus is the biggest threat yet faced to all the gods and all their domains,

And that's why she let Vax through the gates this time, just in time to wrest that permadeath dagger away from the heart of the love of his life. I don't think Vax could have been there without the requisite chips falling where they did, without RQ letting him, I think the thought that he busted through all of those gates unprompted and w/o permission is a little disingenuous because Vax would want to do that for any and every one of his family members every day all the time forever, but it makes perfect sense that as the Raven Queen's champion he would be sent down to stop Ludinus from freeing Predathos and it makes perfect sense for Vax to veer off from his official business, to shirk his responsibility and use the opportunity given to go to her, to do such a grand and meaningful gesture for his one true love, and tl sound so unclouded and present while doing so, I mean

This is Vax we're talking about. The guy who looked death (death herself both times y'know, Otohan and her dagger and RQ, two sides of a coin or something) right in the eye, twice, clutching his girls to him and telling that nigh all powerful entity to fuck right off cuz they can't have these girls he loves more than life? Peak Vax behavior. To know he's been watching Keyleth for so long finally seized his moment to help her, and did so with gusto? True love. The purest kind, the Vax-iest kind. Not even death can stop his love for her, for Vex, for Vox Machina.

And I think after this all is over they need to renegotiate the terms of Vax's service so he can stay back past the gates with the rest of his family cuz RQ is a stingy bitch and should have been MUCH laxer with gate-crossing privileges, I mean Vax has more than earned it now

#critical role #critical role spoilers #otohan thull #vax'ildan #c3ep51 #ludinus da'leth #the bells hells #vex'ahlia de rolo #keyleth of the air ashari #the moment was beyond sweet and painful and keyleth deserves so much more than just a glimpse of him but im tired of seeing the #smug 'vax broke past all the gates *only* for her' like kiki is the only person vax cares about like vm is just about romantic love and #it makes me sad cuz vm is about love that transcends all boundaries and borders and he'd do #did and will do again that for all of his loves his and kikis relationship is so much deeper and richer in the whole context of vm rather #than just their romantic partnership

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thelampisaflashlight · 2 months

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Thinking about Dewdrop and Rain tonight, but in a very specific kind of way. Let's go.

-Dew is a chunky skater shoes type of person, whereas Rain is a converse hightops in all kinds of weather type of person.

I don't wholly know how to elaborate on this other than to say that they both would fall into the category of "punk", but on different ends of the spectrum, albeit not too far apart.

Rain gives off more of the classic shy boy with flippy hair who wears t-shirts over long sleeved shirts, but Dew is the "I'm going to wear a shirt that is three sizes too big with tripp pants." sort, ya know?

Skater boy meet sweater paws emo boy kind of energy.

...but transfer that into grow adults without the haze of teenage angst and drama anddd... they'd still dress like that if they could, and sometimes still do.

-For no reason whatsoever, I think Dew could name almost every Sanrio character correctly, but somehow forgets what Hello Kitty's name is.

He called her "Goodbye Doggy" once, but that was on purpose to baffle the others.

On the topic of Sanrio characters, Rain forgot the names of the Star Twins one time and Dew got offended like, "YOU DON'T KNOW KIKI AND LALA???" sources say he did this purely to pick a fight.

-Dew is either the "I carry everything I own in my pockets." type of person or the person who carries a backpack everywhere, because you never know when you're going to need -insert anything really- in your day to day life.

Rain is a "I will bring a bag if it matches my outfit." person or "Someone else will carry my things for me." person.

Dew carries it... and like forty other bits and bobs including, but not limited to, any other bullshit the other ghouls have left behind.

And lastly;

-Dew has kits, but nobody really knows he does, because he doesn't really bring them around the other ghouls a lot, not because he doesn't trust them/think they'd be good influences on them, but because his kits would probably be bored out of their minds in a room full of adults.

He's very good at keeping them out of the public eye, and wants them to live normal lives.

He's a good dad, despite others assuming he can't take care of himself at times, let alone a couple of tiny ghouls.

Rain doesn't have kits, but he does have a betta fish named Frank.

Frank is a dick.

Rain loves him.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

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munsons-maiden · 2 years

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𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

First of all, thank you so much for all the support on this series so far; all the lovely comments and reblogs and asks are making my days and I'm so happy about every single one of them🖤 I think this is the chapter I'm proudest of so far. I hope you enjoy! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

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

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut, it turned into a fix it fic for ST4

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

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | ~1 hour

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (only read if you’re 18+ years old! virgin!Eddie x virgin!reader), unprotected sex (please stay safe in real life!), mentions of attempted assault, canon-typical gore & violence, blood, mentions of spiders

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

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

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ▹ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ▹𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏

[Tuesday, March 25th, 1986. NOW.]

Eddie Munson had always believed in fairy tales.

At first, it had simply been because his old man had taught him to believe in them. Magic potions from silver flasks that smelled like acid and made Eddie scrunch his nose, pixie dust his dad had sold in little plastic bags, the same glittering powder which had carried his mum to Neverland before he’d ever had the chance to remember more of her than the lavender-and-rosemary scent of her dark curls or the tune of her song when she’d hummed. Treasure hunts.

Growing up, though, Eddie had come to the painful realization that it were the magic potions which made his dad so angry at times, that treasure hunts weren’t treasure hunts when the treasure actually belonged to someone else already, and that pixie dust didn’t carry anyone anywhere except six feet under – and the fairy tales had lost their glitter and magic.

Until an old book had resurfaced, a single thread tying him to his mother – and his love for stories had been rekindled by the words on its worn-out, yellowed pages.

His old man had taught Eddie that not all was gold that glittered.

The Lord Of The Rings had taught him that magic existed – between the pages of a book, and in the colorful world of one’s own mind.

And the girl resting in his bed in front of him, motionless but for the steady rise and fall of her chest, had taught Eddie that true love, the one he’d believed only to exist in stories, did exist – at the price of broken hearts.

But that was okay, fine by him, as long as her heart was beating and her chest rising and falling with each breath, Eddie could deal with the pain of a broken heart. That’s what today had taught him. Nothing could be more painful than the though of you being just…gone.

The tinkling melody of his guitar filled the air of his Rightside Up bedroom, the strings now biting his fingertips with every stroke, but Eddie kept playing because for one, he was still scared senseless Vecna would still get you, and he feared he’d climb his walls with nerves as soon as he put the guitar away.

So music it was.

Who would have thought that Sleeping Beauty would be snoozing off her own curse in his bed one day, he added in his mind as he watched you, the gentle flutter of your eyelids, your beautiful features serene.

Just like all those Saturdays you’d napped in his bed while he’d played his guitar for you. The song remains the same.

And the irony of this song of all songs being the one to break Vecna’s curse wasn’t lost on Eddie while his restless mind filled in the lyrics to the melody for what might have been the hundredth time. Someday, love will find you…true love won’t desert you…

If only a true love’s kiss held any power in reality as well.

There were a few tiny white particles left which had caught in the strands of your hair – ashes from the fire, or spores from that strange dark mirror realm he couldn’t tell – but Eddie didn’t dare to reach out and brush them away.

He would play his guitar until his goddamn fingers fell off.

The words you’d sobbed right before unconsciousness had claimed you were playing in his mind on repeat, over and over again as he was trying to make sense of them, of the flames blooming around you like wildflowers in a meadow. His thoughts felt like a ball of wool ensnaring his as he kept trying to disentangle the damn yarn.

“I don’t think you have to keep playing,” Wheeler’s soft voice ripped through the daze in Eddie’s mind, making him start a little before she sat down at the edge of the bed to glance at you. “If you want to catch some sleep, I’ll stay and watch her.”

“’m fine,” Eddie replied, wincing a little at the pain in his throat, the lingering acidic taste of smoke. He’d never been this hoarse in his life, not even after that one gig at the Hideout on a Saturday where Corroded Coffin had played for four hours straight and he’d felt like dying afterwards.

“Thank you,” Wheeler murmured now, her voice strained with the unshed tears in her eyes as they locked on his. “For saving her.”

“All I did was play guitar.”

“That’s not what I meant. After last summer…” She drifted off, the words hanging in the air, and Eddie’s fingers stilled on the strings when Wheeler went on, “She slipped away from us, after Starcourt. She never told us what exactly he made her do, but –“

“Wait. Wait, did – what do you mean, made her do?”

There was a beat of silence as he watched Nancy Wheeler’s face go from confusion to wide-eyed realization. “She didn’t tell you.”

Eddie tilted his head, already feeling his heart sink. “Tell me what?”

“Last year…the Mind Flayer got her. She was one of the Flayed. The only one who made it out alive.”

***

You were floating.

Adrift on a sea of darkness, like a tiny white particle in air of a dead mirror world, carried by the tune of a song.

Peaceful.

Numb.

There was only darkness…and a scent.

Of leather and soap, sweat and…chocolate, mingling with the faint traces of cigarette smoke, a mix that shouldn’t have smelled good but did, intoxicating and so beautifully familiar as it immersed you.

You loved that scent.

It smelled like Saturday afternoons and happiness, of kisses shared beneath a sea of stars.

Of happiness.

Of home.

For a few fleeting moments, you just kept drifting on this melody of calmness, the soft, tinkling tunes floating alongside you on the breeze.

And when the darkness started to fray at the edges, unravelling like a spool of yarn – you realized this tinkling melody immersing you was real, as familiar as the instrument it belonged to.

A guitar.

It all came rushing back to you.

Vecna. The vision. Eddie, alive, playing his guitar and singing for you to break the curse Vecna, Henry Creel, had put you under.

Eddie.

The rest of your senses snapped back to life one by one, like a row of light switches being flipped.

Your eyes fluttered open.

There were band posters plastering the walls, every letter and detail of them engraved in your mind from all the weekend afternoons you’d spent in this room, on this very bed someone had tucked you into.

Eddie’s bed.

And when you turned your head with a soft rustle of the pillow underneath, your eyes fell on the lonely figure sitting on a kitchen chair beside the bed, one knee tucked up, foot placed on the edge of the seat, dark curls falling over his shoulders as his fingers plucked the strings of the Warlock guitar in his hands to fill the air of the small space with a melody, your brain adding in the lyrics you knew by heart, just like you did the mixtape it was on.

Here we stand,

Worlds apart

Hearts broken in two

Two

Two…

“Eddie.” Your voice sounded as if you’d swallowed glass – just like your throat felt – but at the soft sound of it, Eddie’s head snapped up, his hands falling away from the guitar in his lap.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, rubbing his face with a soot-stained, trembling hand, “You scared the shit outta me, monster slayer.”

His voice was as hoarse as yours when he murmured the words.

There were tears shimmering in his eyes.

His beautiful umber eyes.

No eerie white robbing the color from his irises, no snapped neck stealing the life from them, no blood streaming down his cheeks.

Vecna hadn’t gotten him. Eddie was alive.

And he looked horrible. As if he’d gone through Hell and back – and the horrified realization hit you that he had.

Ashes and soot were smeared all over his face, the color matching the black of the bruises blooming on his jaw, on his temple and beneath the gash in his eyebrow you’d stitched with the fish hook what felt like a lifetime ago yet had only been hours.

You slowly sat up in his bed, the sheets falling away from your chest. “How long -?”

“Six hours,” he replied, his voice so croaky that it must have been hurting him to speak.

“Have you –“ The lump forming in your throat cut you off as you weakly nodded at his guitar, and a frayed little smile tugged at his lips as he finished, “Been playing guitar all the time? Yup. I mean, the Walkman didn’t help, so…yeah.” The half-smile grew into a timid little smirk laced with mischief when he added, “I’m gonna blame it on you if I ever get sick of The Journey.”

Love, overwhelming love, flooded you at the thought that Eddie had been by your side, playing for you, despite the bone-deep exhaustion shining in his umber eyes as he watched you tentatively now.

Your gaze flitted to the closed door of his bedroom.

You could still feel it; the call of the gate behind this door.

“How are you feelin’?”, Eddie asked softly, placing the Warlock guitar on the ground beside his chair before he grabbed something from the floor to hold it out for you.

It was a bottle of Yoo-Hoo.

“You-hoo should drink,” he said softly – and the sweet gesture, the old joke…it broke the last of your self-control.

You didn’t manage to muster a reply.

The tears started falling while a lonely, choked sob ripped from you, making pain flare in your body to make you curl up on yourself, knees tucked against your chest and arms wrapped around your shins as you let your head fall, as if making yourself small would somehow keep you from falling apart.

All your secrets, those ugly, ugly secrets you’d kept from Eddie…like Vecna’s creepers, they’d been festering, spreading beneath the surface, carving stains of rot to eat away at you, tarnish and choke and throttle until they were done with you, moving on to claim Eddie next, and the rest of your friends. The rest of Hawkins.

By opening that door, you’d sentenced them all to death.

And by rousing Vecna’s anger, you’d sentenced Eddie to a fate even far crueler than death.

“Hey,” Eddie cooed, the mattress dipping as he sat beside you, one leather-clad arm wrapping around you. His tone took on a desperate, light-hearted note as he tried, “You don’t have to drink the Yoo-Hoo, monster slayer. Pretty sure I got a can of Sprite left somewhere, too.”

His attempt to cheer you up, so utterly Eddie, always trying to set you at ease, made the tears only fall harder, the sobs rip through you with fresh force as Vecna’s words echoed in your head.

“Do you truly think your songbird would be singing for you if he knew the truth?”

Yes. Yes, Eddie would have. The boy who’d chosen kindness and compassion when anger and hostility would have been the easy way throughout all the bullying he’d had to endure in his life, all the scorn and mockery and judgement he was still facing simply for being different…you knew it without a doubt that he would have saved you, no matter what.

Eddie had been saving you from the moment he’d ripped Jason off of you that night in the woods, had saved you again from the clutches of another monster despite the cruel things you’d said, the way you’d so thoroughly broken his heart.

Your songbird, struggling in the razor-sharp claws of a cat without even knowing it. And whatever you’d done to anger Vecna…Eddie would be the one to pay the price.

You curled up against him, face pressed into the fabric of his Hellfire shirt right below his collarbone as you wept.

“It’s my fault.” You barely managed to choke out the words between your sobs. “It’s my fault, Eddie. I let him in. I let him in –“

“Ssssh, I know,” Eddie soothed, “I know. You told me – us –“

They rushed back to you, slivers of memories. Shouts amidst the smoke, Nancy, Steve and Eddie calling out your name, your own confession nearly suffocated by the roar of the fire.

“Four gates. Four killings. He’ll tear down the barrier. Hawkins will fall. I opened the door. I let him in.”

He knew. They all knew, now.

And still…Eddie was here, holding you in his arms as you wept.

“It’s okay, monster slayer,” he cooed, “I promise it’s gonna be okay again.”

You shifted, burying your face at the crook of his neck as all the pain, all the pent-up guilt and shame of those past months and the past few hours ever since that revelation of Max’s painting at Skull Rock spilled free like the flood from a dam thoroughly broken.

Eddie held you in his arms, the warmth of his body seeping through the soot-stained fabric of his Hellfire shirt, the scent of smoke and sweat and the water of Lover’s Lake which still clung to him wrapping around you while the echo of his steady heartbeat mingled with the frail sounds of your sobs in your ears and the tips of his curls tickled the side of your face as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Eddie soothed, his voice raw and raspy from the smoke while his fingers drew lazy, soothing circles on your back and your tears kept soaking the collar of his Hellfire shirt.

He was here. The first one of your ugly secrets out in the open, and Eddie was still here. Holding you with such gentleness, as if he’d never let you go.

“It’s not,” you sobbed. “I opened the door for him, Eddie. It’s my fault. Chrissy and Fred and Patrick and Max and you –“

“The good thing about doors”, Eddie said softly, the vibration of his voice travelling through you as you kept your face pressed to the crook of his neck, “Is that they can be closed and locked again.”

“I’m like him. I’m –“

“No.” The gentle vehemence of Eddie’s voice took you off guard as he cut you off, “Listen, we’ve all done shit, ‘kay? Like, Harrington’s been a total douche. I’m selling drugs, for Christ’s sake, and I recently found out that Henderson secretly raised a whole goddamn Demogorgon. And I know you didn’t just, I dunno, rip open some door between worlds and invite Vecna over for tea and biscuits and shit, so however he got you to do it, we’ll find a way to un-do it. We’ll –“

“You don’t know anything about me, Eddie,” you whispered. You knew they’d hurt him, those same words you’d spat at him that November night – but the truth hurt. And it was time for Eddie to finally learn it.

All of it.

You expected for him to pull away, but the protective shield of his arms around you stayed as he breathed, “Yeah, you keep saying that. And I know it’s not true –“

“It is,” you cut him off, voice conquering the sobs still clawing at your insides.

And then it was you pulled away. Out of Eddie’s arms, wiping at the tears with the back of your hand as you scooted farther away from him, because you wouldn’t be able to stomach him pulling away as soon as you’d spilled the final secret.

But you’d made a decision. Had made it back when you’d still been in Vecna’s grasp, and it was a decision you should have made way sooner. Eddie deserved the truth.

It would snuff out everything he still felt for you, all the sparks your cruel words that November night hadn’t been able to suffocate despite all your best efforts. It would set him free.

How stupid you’d been then, to try and keep him away with a lie of indifference when all you’d have needed to do to drive him away from you forever would have been to tell the truth about those two days in summer.

“I did things, Eddie. Horrible things,” you uttered on a choked whimper, forcing out the words before cowardice could take the wheel. “Last summer –“

“I know what happened,” Eddie said softly. “I know that son of a bitch got you. Wheeler told me everything, when you were knocked out. But whatever he made you do, that wasn’t you.”

This trust, Eddie’s unshakable trust in you after all the hurt you’d caused him, was a dagger twisted in your chest all over again.

His beautiful eyes were pleading, shining with such warmth and compassion and tenderness as he watched you tuck your legs against your chest while he stayed at the edge of the mattress, once again cautious to give you space.

For a few selfish heartbeats, you allowed yourself to relish this expression in Eddie’s umber gaze as he watched you, waited for you to go on.

You memorized the exact shade of his irises, like sunlight falling through a glass of rich dark whiskey, memorized the tenderness in his gaze which felt like the first gentle rays of the spring sun caressing your skin after a freezing dark winter.

Memorized all of it, because once the next words had left your lips…it would be snuffed out like the flame of a candle by a storm.

You couldn’t bear to witness when that happened.

Suppressing the sobs, you squeezed your eyes shut.

Your voice was raw and strained, like ice covering a lake, ready to give in and crack at the slightest bit of pressure as you whispered, “Do you remember what I told you about becoming a cheerleader?”

It had been the most beautiful day in October, golden rays of the autumn sun spilling through the foliage of the clearing to paint streaks of chocolate and caramel into Eddie’s curls as he’d sat beside you on the top of the picnic table, the woods behind the sports field having become the twilight zone of your high school lives, the bridge between your worlds. The freak, and – no matter whether branded a slut or not – the cheerleader.

The not-so-good-anymore girl and the good-for-nothing boy.

Minutes later, he’d twirled you to the tunes of I Remember You floating from the headphones of his Walkman, right before that almost-kiss.

“I remember everything,” Eddie’s soft voice tore you out of the memory and back into the reality of the present, of the secret you were going to spill and everything the truth entailed.

“You know, when I joined the cheer squad back in sophomore year, I did it because I thought it’d keep me safe from bullies. Middle school wasn’t…a good place for me.”

“What did they do?”, Eddie had asked.

“I guess it wasn’t anything special. They did what all bullies do. Under the lead of Stacy Campbell.”

“Wait…Wasn’t she…?”

“One of the people who died in the fire at Starcourt. Yes.”

You’d never told him about the day Stacy and her minions had locked you in that supply closet, the hours spent sobbing in the dark. It didn’t matter, anyway – nothing Stacy had done to you had warranted what you’d done to her years later.

“Stacy Campbell,” you whispered. “She made my life living hell. For three years. Every day.” You swallowed against the tears, staying in the safe darkness of your closed eyes. “He made me choose his next victim. I chose her.”

The images were vivid in your mind. The Mind Flayer – Vecna – guiding your hand to grab her blonde ponytail, slam her head against the wall of the shower before she even had a chance to scream. Blood had run down the side of her face, leaving a stain on the tiles, on the blue fabric of her swimsuit. You remembered how you’d thrashed in the confines of the shadow which had locked you in your own mind, had pleaded for him to stop. You hadn’t wanted to do it. She’d been unconscious right away, unmoving when Heather had helped you tie her up with jump ropes and put her into Billy Hargrove’s Camaro while, locked away inside your own head, you’d screamed and screamed and screamed, cries for help nobody would ever hear; a battle lost before it had even begun.

“He made me bring her to him. To the old steel mill where he kept hiding. Building his…his army.”

“I’m only making you do what you always wanted to, little one.”

He’d shown them to you, all the memories of Stacy’s cruelties. The day she’d locked you in that closet, crushed your fingers in the door when you’d tried to escape. The utter helplessness, and the rage you’d felt that day for the first time, something in you breaking to release it.

A lonely sob ripped from you, momentarily stealing your next words as Eddie croaked, “You were possessed –“

“Don’t,” you whispered. You couldn’t stomach this unwavering gentleness in Eddie’s tone, still feeling the warmth of his gaze on you beyond your closed eyes, despite the ugly things you kept telling him. Not for much longer. “It felt good, Eddie. It…it felt good.”

It was as if your insides had turned into those bats, hacking and clawing at you from within as you desperately tried to stifle your sobs to get the next words out. “To make her pay. To see her screaming and terrified for once while I was the one in power. That was me. Not him. All me.”

The words, your tone dripping with the disgust and contempt you felt for yourself, rang through the heavy silence of Eddie’s bedroom, each one of them a thunderclap, too loud when they were barely more than the ghost of a whisper.

And all those clawed, fanged sobs finally ripped out of you, their force making you keel over.

Pain rippled through your body as the sobs shook you, tearing you to pieces while you pressed your face against your knees and waited. For the rustle of fabric telling you Eddie was rising from his place at the edge of the mattress, for his footsteps to retreat as he left and for the words his twin in Vecna’s trance had thrown at you.

All this time…it’s been you. All this goddamn time I’ve been running from monsters when the monster I should’ve run from was beside me all along.

A heartbeat passed.

Two.

There was the rustle of leather you’d been dreading to hear, a shift on the mattress – before Eddie’s hand took yours, gently prying it away from your legs to lace his fingers with yours. The touch of his warm skin against yours made the swarm of butterflies in your belly fly like a burst of confetti, bewilderment and shock warring in your chest as you felt him kneel in front of you on the bed.

And with a voice that hadn’t lost any of its tenderness, Eddie murmured, “Y/N. Please…look at me.”

It was strange, to hear him use your name instead of the nickname you’d come to love so much, lending weight to his plea.

Slowly lifting your head, you heeded it.

Beneath the blur of your tears, your eyes locked on Eddie’s, your heart thundering painfully against the confines of your ribcage with fear of what you might find in those umber eyes – and desperate, overpowering hope.

Eddie’s eyes were swimming with his own tears which had started running down his face, through the ashes still smeared across his cheeks.

And within…warmth. Of a sunny summer’s day.

The calloused pad of Eddie’s thumb flicked over the inside of your wrist in a soothing motion, just like he’d done at Skull Rock only hours ago, the touch fleeting and light and as innocent as the brush of a feather.

“I need you to listen to me now, ‘kay?”, Eddie murmured. “He made you do this shit. None of that was your fault, do you hear me? None of it.” He let go of your hand, both of his slowly rising to settle on the sides of your face, his thumbs catching the tears which kept running down your cheeks, the gesture filled with a tenderness that made your heart squeeze in your chest while his eyes held yours with an intensity nearly tangible in the small space between the two of you. “This son of a bitch has been targeting you for months. He…” Eddie trailed off, his eyes squeezing shut as he shook his head, and you realized that the pain in Eddie’s was for you.

For what Vecna had done to you.

“I know that,” you whimpered. “But I enjoyed it, Eddie.” Your voice had reached its breaking point. He needed to listen –

“And I understand that,” Eddie pressed, despair lacing his tone. “I understand it. Shit, you need to cut yourself some slack,” Eddie breathed, his hands still resting on your cheeks, his eyes swirling with a maelstrom of emotions.

Your eyes fluttered close, his words sinking in, meeting the echo of Vecna’s.

“We are alike, little thief. And you know it.”

“He said I’m like him,” you whispered. “Vecna. He said that’s why he chose me to open the door for him.”

“He’s lying.”

“What if he’s not?” It came out as another strangled cry. “How do you know he’s lying, Eddie? When he left, something stayed behind. And it keeps spreading. Like…like rot.”

A frail sob ripped from you as you barely managed to choke out the next words. “It keeps spreading. I can feel the gate. I feel it and there’s a part of me that wants to go through. That feels like…homesick for this place. I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared and I can’t run because what I’m scared of most is me. So how can you know that he’s lying?”

With a gentle caress, Eddie caught more of your tears, swiping them away as you opened your eyes to meet his again, your body melting into his soothing touch.

“Because he can use your shame against you,” Eddie said softly. “If you were like him, you wouldn’t be ashamed of these feelings. Shit, you wouldn’t care if you were good. The fact that this fucker can use this fear of being like him against you proves that you will never be like him. Wanting to hurt those who hurt us doesn’t make us monsters. It makes us human. And feeling guilt and shame for the part that wants revenge? That’s what makes us good, rather than evil. ‘Cause I bet my ass that fucker never felt a single ounce of guilt.”

He paused watching you, his eyes scanning yours as he waited for his words to sink in, before he added, so infinitely gentle, “And if you don’t trust yourself, trust your family of monster hunters right across the lawn at the Mayfields’, currently losing their shit because they’re so worried about you. They heard everything you said before you fainted. About the door. And not a single one of them, me included, believed that you could be some monster in disguise. Not for a single second. Trust me, okay? Because I know you. You keep repeating that I don’t, but I do, monster slayer. You are not like Vecna. And you’re not alone in this, either.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move – caught in the beautiful spell of Eddie’s gaze, this fierce trust he still held in you.

And you realized nothing had changed.

You’d finally told him all those things you’d been so sure would drive him away – and Eddie was still here. He’d stayed.

And this time, the tug you felt wasn’t that dark and twisted pull towards the gate beyond the door, but the gentle draw towards this beautiful young man whose song had saved you long before you’d even realized you’d needed saving.

Whose eyes had never lost their warmth for you despite all your ugly truths laid bare, whose trust in you had never faltered even when you’d lost yours. The boy who had been ready to walk into death alongside you because he hadn’t wanted to give up on you.

Your songbird.

And in this moment, you realized that it wasn’t the song Eddie played for you. The only thing which had mattered was that Eddie had been the one to sing it for you.

“We’re gonna make it right again.” His eyes were flashing with fierceness. “We’re gonna shut that door in this son of a bitch’s face and throw away the goddamn key.”

If you told him now that Vecna wanted to kill him, he would still stay.

There was no doubt about it now.

Eddie would stay. And if he stayed…he would die.

Your heart sank again, a stone dropped into a bottomless well.

“He will kill you,” you whispered, “He’ll kill you, Eddie.”

“You know what a guy wants to hear.”

“How are you not freaking out?”, you breathed, utterly bewildered.

Eddie’s thumb grazed your cheek in another fleeting caress as a mirthless chuckle bubbled from his lips. “Oh, no, I am. I’m, uh, freaking out but I’ve kinda been in the middle of a pretty long mental breakdown ever since this son of a bitch framed my sorry ass for triple murder and the town wants to see me burn at the stake. Shit.” He paused, taking a trembling breath. “But…I nearly lost you. And everything else kinda pales against the possibility that I could have. That you could have been gone. ‘cause I…”

His voice broke as he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands falling from your face to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head as if that could somehow chase the thought away. “I can deal with whatever shit is thrown my way. As long as you’re still there.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, the wave of fresh tears already brimming in your eyes.

“We’ll figure this out, ‘kay?”

“How?”, you whispered.

“Together.” A timid little smile played on Eddie’s lips. “As a team. The cheerleader and the freak, remember?”

An echo of the words he’d said when the two of you had skipped classes and Eddie had taken you for a hike around Lover’s Lake to escape the relentless bullying Jason’s lies had triggered.

They made your heart squeeze in your chest – with love and longing.

And to your surprise…you believed them. For this beautiful moment, you believed that everything would be okay, because Eddie was here.

“The slut and the freak,” you corrected with a whisper, and Eddie’s smile widened.

“You always tend to forget they upgraded me. It’s the perv and the slut.”

For a heartbeat, you beamed at each other, your heart racing in your chest and giddy warmth surging through your veins, before Eddie’s expression grew serious again. “Alright. So, uh. Before we start…anything else I should. You know. Know?”

You bit your lip. “I burned down the boathouse.”

Eddie gave a curt little nod, before you added, “And I’m about ninety-nine percent certain I burned down the townhouse as well.”

Another nod from Eddie. “Yeah, you nearly burned down my Upside Down trailer as well.”

“Does it freak you out?”

“Uh, I mean, after the past few days? You know you could have told me, right? I mean, you basically told me months ago, ‘cause arson was on your impressive list of crimes against the law but, uh, to be honest I’d thought that involved a bit of good old gasoline and some matches and not, you know…your mind. And even though you accidentally nearly barbecued us, I think it’s very metal. Very Stephen King of you.”

A giggle bubbled from your lips, genuine and so utterly relieved.

Eddie was doing what he’d done for you so many times before. Making you laugh; taking the sharp edge of things and setting you at ease like nobody else could.

“Is that how you fought the monsters?”

“No. I found out about it…yesterday.” It felt like a lifetime ago that Jason and his cronies had found Eddie at Rick’s, threatening to break his bones with the crowbars in their hands and hatred in their hearts. But the fresh bruises marring Eddie’s face, peeking out beneath the soot and ashes smeared there, begged to differ. And so did the cut you’d freshly mended with that fish hook. “At the boathouse,” you added quietly.

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait – that never happened before? Like, no accidental flambés? You just set a jock on fire for the first time?”

You nodded, and Eddie let out a little chuckle. “Good. Else I would’ve been a bit pissed that you didn’t burn down the school before O’Donnell’s midterm projects were due to buy more time.”

The way he drawled out the words made your smile widen, before another thought fought itself to the forefront of your mind and the smile slipped. “If they know I let him in…are they –“

“Mad? Shit, no. No, they’re scared out of their mind for you. They’re mad at that fucker, but not at you.”

The relief which flooded you at Eddie’s words was so overwhelming that it robbed your words as you gave him a nod, swallowing back a fresh wave of tears – and with a timid little smile, Eddie tilted his head. “So, uh. Should I start calling you Firestarter now? Is that –“

“No! No. I’m…I’m your- I’m monster slayer.”

There was relief and something else flashing in Eddie’s eyes as they flitted down to your lips now, lingering there for long enough to dissipate any doubt that you were imagining it. It made the butterflies in your chest go haywire.

And for a split second…there was this wild, desperately hopeful feeling that he’d kiss you.

Just like he’d done at Skull Rock.

It was hovering in the air between you, the memory of this stolen, fleeting kiss in the veil of night and the woods, the ghost of it still prickling on your lips to make you wonder if it felt the same for him.

There was this draw pulling you towards Eddie; a light-filled, beautiful twin to the dark and twisted urge to go through the gate…a gravity keeping you close to him like a comet in its orbit around the sun so it wouldn’t get lost in space.

He didn’t kiss you.

Instead, his expression grew serious once more before he announced quietly, “If, uh – if we wanna figure this shit out…you need to tell me what he showed you. In every trance. Every…every dream. What he said. Things that could be important. How exactly he got you to…open the door.”

“What did Nance tell you already? About…about Starcourt.”

“Everything,” Eddie said gently.

You nodded, swallowing as your gaze locked on the faded pattern of flowers on the bedsheets. “At first, there were just the nightmares. Then came the headaches. Nosebleeds. And then…the hallucinations started.” You paused, mind going back to the first time it had happened. “At first, they were…I don’t know. Contained. I would look into a mirror, and he’d be there. In my…in my eyes. Black creepers underneath my skin. And then that night last November, when we…” You trailed off, heat flaring in your cheeks. “There was this door. With a window of stained glass. A bouquet of red roses.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide – and you could see his thoughts racing, trying to connect the dots to answer all the questions you’d left him with that night.

In the past days since Eddie had been forced on the run, neither of you had broached the subject, both of you dancing around the matter – and it had been easy not to come too close. Because Eddie had been too timid, and probably too hurt and scared. And you hadn’t dared.

But now that everything else was out in the open, and only that fateful night left to discuss…the situation had shifted. You weren’t dancing on solid ground anymore; you were dancing over a tightrope. And beneath, a glaring abyss. You couldn’t give him hope.

And you still hadn’t told Eddie that he carried Vecna’s mark, as well. That Vecna wanted him dead because of you and now, after everything, there was no doubt Eddie would stay. Which mean he would walk into certain death. And that was what you needed to prevent. If only you knew how.

You waited for him to broach the subject, to start asking questions about that night you weren’t yet ready to answer as long as you hadn’t figured out a way to keep him out of Vecna’s clawed grasp – but Eddie didn’t. He was giving you time, always so considerate when asking questions would have been his every right after all the things you’d spat at him that night.

Once again, your heart squeezed in your chest as you held his gaze.

“I didn’t know it was the front door of Creel house. I only realized it when I saw it in Max’s painting, back at Skull Rock yesterday.”

“What else did you see?”, Eddie asked cautiously.

I saw you die. Eaten alive by a swarm of monstrous bats long before I knew these things even existed.

“There was someone behind that door. A disfigured hand…A claw. The thing wanted to be let in. And then, there was this…this pull.” A shudder ran through you, the pulse of the gate beyond the bedroom door laced with yours, like a second heartbeat hammering in your ears alongside your own. Like the yank of a leash. “It – he wanted me to open the door. I didn’t. And ever since that night, I’ve seen this door. Every night. In every dream. Until I opened it.”

“Why? What changed?”

You finally glanced back up at him.

You. He used you to trick me. Put you behind that door and made you scream for help because he knew I’d do everything for you. Everything.

“There was someone else behind that door. Screaming for help.”

“Who?”

“You.” You fiddled with the corner of the bedsheets. “I didn’t think. I just ran and opened it and when I woke up, I thought it had just been another nightmare.”

“They never stopped.”

“No,” you breathed. “After…” After that November night when I broke both our hearts. “They got worse.”

There was the softest rustle of leather when Eddie shuffled closer, and his fingers gently laced with yours again on the faded bedsheets – cautiously, giving you the chance to pull away.

“Is that…is that okay?”, he asked, and you gave him a soft nod.

“Yeah.”

It was more than okay. The touch made your skin tingle and sent sparks zapping along your nerves while your eyes flew open to meet Eddie’s.

For a few beautiful moments, you stayed like this, your hands entwined on the sheets, gazing at each other with this flurry of unspoken words in the space between you, your heart racing in your chest with such fervor that you were sure it would leap out of your chest and right into Eddie’s palm.

He still looked at you like this. Like you were the only thing that mattered. Like the world around him blurred when he was with you, just like yours did when you were with him.

There was something timid in the way he watched you now, something anxious in his eyes as he took a breath, opened his mouth –

With a resounding bang, the door flew open, making both of you start as Eddie let go of your hand and whirled around to the door as your head snapped up, but before you could get a single word out, you were tackled into a ferocious embrace that nearly knocked you off Eddie’s bed.

“You’re awake,” Nancy whispered, her hug squeezing the air out of you, her curls tickling your nose, “You’re alive.”

“Not much longer,” Robin’s voice chimed up somewhere from the door, “If you keep throttling her like that, Nance.”

A second pair of arms wrapped around you as Robin plopped down on the bed beside you to join the hug, and over Nancy’s shoulder, your gaze locked on Eddie, who’d scooted to the edge of the mattress to make room for your friends to squeeze in beside you.

Robin was the first one to let go.

“How do you feel?”, she asked, letting herself fall backwards and bumping into Eddie behind her in the process, “Like, do you feel like setting something on fire again? Because the one fire extinguisher we had is empty now so I guess if you set this trailer on fire, there’s nothing we can do.”

“It’s not like there’s a goddamn gate to another dimension in my living room already,” Eddie deadpanned, “But if you do, gimme a shoutout first so I can save my guitars.”

“By the way, the kids are still at the Mayfield’s trailer,” a third voice sounded from the doorway, and you met Steve’s relieved grin, “Fast asleep, and Lucas is watching out for Max so we got a while before Henderson realizes we’re making theories without –“

“You’re discussing stuff without me?!”, a voice chimed up from the door while Dustin squeezed himself past Steve through the door, before his blue eyes met yours and a relieved smile won over the annoyance as he said, “We thought we were losing you.”

The way he said it made fierce, protective affection for the boy warm your heart.

It was easy to forget that, when Will and Barb had gone missing three years ago and everything had started, Dustin and the rest of the party had been kids. Middle schoolers. And while Nancy and you had at least been teens at the time, Vecna had robbed Dustin, Will and the rest of them of a part of their childhood. When they should have stayed up all night playing D&D and telling each other horror stories, they’d been sucked into a deadly game with actual monsters and real deaths.

“Come here,” you smiled, patting the mattress between you and Eddie, “We could use your genius, Henderson.”

“At least one of you appreciates my skills,” the boy grinned with a glance at Steve, who muttered, “Yeah, feed his ego, will you.”

“Steve, not to be rude but we all know that I’m the brain of this party. And you’re the –“

“Dick,” Eddie finished with a nod, earning a glower from Steve and a snicker from Robin as you contemplated, “I’d say he’s the hair.”

“Fist,” Dustin grinned, plopping down on the mattress between Eddie and you, “I wanted to say fist.”

“To be the fist,” Robin crooned, “You’ll have to have won at least one fight.”

“Ha! I did!”, Steve called out, pointing at Robin, “I knocked out that Russian last year.” His gaze briefly flitted to Nancy, who’d been watching the banter with quiet amusement, and a soft smile curved her lips when her gaze met Steve’s, before she noticed you watching her and quickly glanced away again.

“There. I’m the fist”, Steve nodded.

“They drugged us about five seconds afterwards.”

“It doesn’t matter, Robin. I knocked him out cold. I won the fight.”

“And lost a tooth.”

“What’s that smell?”, Dustin asked, wrinkling his nose.

“That’s me,” Eddie said drily.

“You stink.”

“Yeah? I’ve been hunted by a mob, plunged into a cold lake two times, ran for my life, got trapped in another dimension which’s gate is eating my goddamn living room ceiling, and I nearly got burned into a crisp; all in a single night. If I stink, Henderson,” Eddie said good-naturedly, giving the boy a playful slap on the back of his head, “It’s my goddamn right.”

Dustin snickered, righting his cap again as he turned his head to give you one of his wide, infectious Dustin-Henderson-grins. “You should have seen him play. It was metal. Right in the middle of a fucking –“

“Language!”, Steve interjected with the mild annoyance of an overworked dad over the dinner table before he gave Eddie another glower. “He got that from you. You’re teaching him swear words, man. Not cool.”

Eddie opened his mouth for a clapback, but was cut off by Dustin who added, “There was fire everywhere. And Eddie just kept playing and singing while you were pulled to the ceiling and it was scary. So metal.”

The gleam in the boy’s blue eyes made you smile and Steve’s expression turned a little gloomy while Eddie’s gaze met yours, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks beneath the soot and bruises, just as Dustin added, “And Eddie told you –“

“That’s enough, big boy,” Eddie interjected with a playful shove against Dustin’s shoulder that wouldn’t match the pained expression in Eddie’s face, just as Nancy cleared her throat, making you start a little, before you noticed the look passing between Nancy and Robin.

“Told me what?”

“You should really drink something,” Eddie said, grabbing the still unopened bottle of Yoo-Hoo he’d discarded on the mattress, and you took it with a flinch.

“Ew, Yoo-Hoo?” Robin scrunched her nose. “That stuff tastes horrible. Like, that’s not even real chocolate in there. The girl just got Vecna’d, cut her some slack before making her drink that. I mean, who even puts chocolate into water? It’s gross.”

“Thank you!”, you exclaimed.

Eddie gave Robin an incredulous stare. “You all really lack taste.”

Steve tilted his head. “Can I get a bottle of that as w-“

“No,” Eddie quipped.

“Wow. Your customer service sucks. Now I know why you sell drugs instead of ice cream,” Steve deadpanned, and Eddie threw him a before he drawled, “We can’t all hop around in little sailor’s hats, Harrington.”

“Aw, don’t worry dingus, nobody wore it better,” Robin chimed in.

Steve gave her an exaggerated glare. “You, too, Robin? Seriously?”

“It was a very cute little hat,” Dustin grinned.

“Thank you, Henderson,” Steve quipped.

And with warmth in your heart, you realized what they were doing.

That this easy banter was their way of telling you it was okay.

There was a sudden lump in your throat.

They all looked so tired. Soot was smeared all over their faces and clothes, telling you in those six hours when you’d been knocked out, neither of them had had a chance or the mood to clean themselves up as they waited for you to wake, and Steve was still clad in only his pants and Eddie’s denim vest, the bandages wrapped around his abdomen smeared with grime and stained with blood seeping through the fabric.

“What happened in the Upside Down?”, you asked quietly, nodding at the makeshift-bandages.

“Bats,” Steve replied darkly.

And your heart ceased its next beat, your blood freezing in your veins.

“Obviously not normal bats, but killer bats. Upside Down bats.”

“Demobats,” Dustin corrected.

“These little bitches ripped a few pounds of flesh out of me while trying to strangle me to death but we got rid of them.”

“They’re guarding the gates,” Nancy added, “That’s why we were stuck there for a while. We couldn’t go back through –“

“Thought Watergate.”

“Through Watergate, yes.”

Their voices blurred into static, drowned out by the thundering of your heart in your own ears; too fast, to forceful, too loud.

They were real.

Not just some creatures from a nightmare used to terrorize you.

The voices of your friends slipped away, far away, as the memories of four months of nightmares returned full-force, of all the things you’d seen on the roof that November night. The images that had made you break Eddie’s heart.

Wings and talons and teeth pouncing down from the bleeding crimson skies, their shrieks filling the air like a chorus of distorted voices as it mingled with another scream, filled with agony and so horribly, horribly familiar because it was Eddie’s scream, from amidst the storm of these monstrous creatures.

These creatures were real. They existed in this dark mirror place, outside of the realm of your nightmares and hallucinations…and Eddie had met them already. Had fought them…

Too close. He’d gotten far too close already, like Icarus to the sun, the first blazing rays already burning away the tips of his wings.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice made you snap out of your thoughts, your eyes locking on his in a wave of fresh panic.

He’d left his spot on the bed to kneel in front of you on the carpet, slowly taking the bottle of Yoo-Hoo from you to place it on the ground beside him as his eyes held yours, and Nancy’s arm wrapped around your shoulder.

Eddie needed to go. Far, far away from Hawkins, and from you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could voice all these things, Robin said, “Wait, what are we calling him now, by the way? Vecna? Henry? One? The Mind Flayer?”

“Henry,” Nancy stated just as Dustin and Eddie replied, “Vecna.”

“We’re going to call him Henry”, Nancy said, “Because that’s his name. He’s still human.”

“Ish,” Robin added.

“I’m not so sure,” you whispered, the image of Vecna’s rotting flesh, his spidery, disfigured claws reaching for you engraved in your mind. “He didn’t look human anymore. Not like a living person.”

Nancy bit her lip. “Calling him anything else will only make us fear him more.”

“I dunno about you,” Eddie deadpanned, “But the evil eldritch undead being from a parallel dimension with the power to kill people in their dreams as he sees fit doesn’t exactly, um. Lose its thrill just because the dude’s name is Henry.”

“Thank you for the input, Kate Bush,” Steve quipped, earning another cheeky smirk from Eddie as he nodded at the flash of Steve’s bare chest peeking out from beneath the denim vest while he quipped, “Is there a reason you still look like the love child of a Chippendale and a final girl, Harrington?”

The look passing between the two of them had lost its edge though, the bickering having simmered down to something akin of a good-natured banter that made you wonder what had happened to melt the ice which had frozen the air between Eddie and Steve only hours ago. You guessed running from monsters together did work actual miracles even on the most strained of relationships.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who looks like the chimney sweeper from Mary Poppins,” Steve quipped with an answering nod Eddie’s ash-smeared face, the soot darkening the fabric of his Hellfire shirt beneath the leather jacket, the scattering of ashes and residual spores from the Upside Down still caught in his messy curls.

“Guys, we need to focus,” Nancy interrupted.

“She’s right,” you said quietly, fidgeting with a loose thread in Eddie’s worn-out bedsheets. “Time’s running out.”

Eddie’s time.

“That’s the positive spin I was hoping for,” Steve quipped.

“Tell us,” Robin said softly. “”hat happened with the door you opened, I mean. What Vecna showed you.”

And with a steadying breath, you told them what you’d told Eddie.

About the nightmares, how Vecna had tricked you to open the door with the stained-glass roses to save Eddie. About the draw to the gates, the Upside Down calling out for you and this dark wish to heed its call.

You told them of the house on the Hill and the little boy who’d been Henry Creel, of the horrors beyond the door with the stained-glass roses, of Vecna’s collection of tortured souls and everything he’d shown you; little Henry’s past and the slaughter of his family. How Brenner had found him and the birth of Hawkins lab, of the massacre and brave little El, banishing Henry to the place now known as the Upside Down; the way this mirror realm had warped and twisted his body until his appearance matched the rot in his heart.

“And they were…they were all there?”, Robin whispered when you’d finished, breaking the rattled silence which had settled over Eddie’s bedroom. “Like, their souls?”

You swallowed, eyes closed as you gave a curt nod. “Yeah. Their souls, their consciousness…whatever you may call it. As mutilated as their…their bodies.”

“How many times did the clock in the sky chime?”, Dustin inquired.

It took a moment for you to realize Dustin’s question had been addressed at you, and another few seconds to retract the events in your mind before you whispered, “Four.”

“Are you sure?”

“I won’t forget a single second of this nightmare, Dustin. Four chimes.”

“Why is that even important?”, Steve questioned. “We know that creep has a weird relationship to clocks. Did he, by any chance, tell you why?”

“It scares him. Time scares him, I think.”

Your eyes found Eddie’s. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the bed, fidgeting with the little chain on the sleeve of his leather-jacket as he watched you. The expression in his umber eyes had dimmed, the smile which had played on his lips faded. He was watching you closely, the concern for you shining in his eyes overwhelming in its intensity.

“Four times,” Dustin echoed. “Max counted four chimes as well.”

“Four chimes make an hour,” Nancy contemplated.

“But what happens then?”, Robin pressed, panic making her voice tremble. “Do we know what happens after the fourth chime? Like, is he telling us that time’s running out?”

“The glass of the clock burst at the fourth chime,” you added quietly, your gaze firmly locked with Eddie’s. Your tether. The lighthouse’s guiding beam amidst the storm.

“What else did he show you?”, Robin pressed.

“Monsters. Spilling into Hawkins. An army of them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathed, his voice shaking as hard as the hand he rubbed over his face, wincing as he grazed the freshly mended gash on his eyebrow, “Jesus H –“

“The gates,” Nancy breathed. “We know he’s killing people to open the gates. But why does he need more gates?”

“To send more…to send more monsters,” Robin guessed. “Through the gates. So Eleven can’t lock him out again.”

Eddie was still raking a trembling hand through his hair, sending a soft flurry of ashes and spores falling from his dark curls to the carpet as he shook his head, muted with his panic.

And he didn’t even know yet that Vecna was personally targeting him.

“But to get a whole army of monsters into Hawkins, he’ll need a lot of gates,” Steve assessed from his place by the window. “Like, a lot –“

“Fuck.”

All eyes locked on Dustin, who’d jumped up from the bed. His gaze was frantic as he breathed, “What if that’s what it is. He wants to attack but one gate isn’t enough, and that’s why he needs four gates. And if one killing opens one gate…”

“He’s one killing away from achieving his goal,” Nancy finished darkly.

“No. Four is still not enough,” Steve protested, “For a whole monster creepy-crawly army –“

“No,” Dustin called out, wringing his hands as if he were about to strangle you all with his frustration, “LISTEN to me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Dude,” Steve muttered. “We are listening. You’re just not making sense –“

“Jenga,” Dustin cut him off, nearly shouting the word.

“Game night,” Robin quipped. “I don’t think we got time for that, Henderson. Though I’m more of a Monopoly kind of –“

“JENGA! IT’S LIKE JENGA!”

There was a beat of silence as all of you stared at Dustin, who’d started to pace frantically.

“Okay, big boy,” Eddie said, “Maybe you, uh, should –“

“The tower. The – there is a wall between worlds,” Dustin interrupted, waving his hands, “Picture it like a Jenga tower. You pull away one block, and the tower still stands. You pull away two, it might start swaying a little but it still stands. You –“

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed.

“You pull away four,” Nancy said quietly. “And the tower collapses.”

“He’s been telling us his plan all along. We just never listened closely enough.”

“The earthquake,” you breathed.

“There have been more when we were in the Upside Down. Two more. Makes three earthquakes in total.”

“When the barrier between dimensions is gone, he won’t need any more gates. When there’s no wall, you don’t need to open doors to get on the other side. And when he kills his fourth victim, opens the fourth gate, it will make the Jenga tower – it will make the wall between dimensions collapse,” Dustin went on.

“Jesus fucking Christ –“ Eddie breathed, burying his face in his hands.

You waited for the realization to hit you like a punch to the gut, for terror to grip you – but you were only tired. So incredibly tired of fighting and panicking. And even with everything at stake, nothing could compare to the horror of losing Eddie. Of Vecna making true of his threat. His promise.

“Okay, we need a plan,” Nancy said as Dustin plopped down on the rug beside Eddie. “We need to kill Vecna before he can kill his fourth victim. Go back to the Upside Down –“

“No,” Eddie said vehemently, “Nope. No way.”

“We don’t even know if we can kill him,” Dustin threw in. “And before we can come up with a plan –“

“We need to figure out what’s wrong with me,” you said quietly, your voice as dark as the feeling in your chest.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah,” Robin agreed.

At the sound of your voice, Eddie let his hands fall away from his face, glancing up at you as your friends started talking, all at once, their chorus of voices too loud as it mixed with the threat of Vecna’s voice playing in your head on repeat, a broken record.

I’ll take your songbird.

It was too much. Too much to grasp, and before you did anything else, you needed to get Eddie away, somewhere far away where not even Vecna could ever find him, and you needed to talk to Eddie alone to tell him that, make him understand –

“Stop!”, Eddie’s sudden voice rose over the noise, effectively cutting them off as all pairs of eyes locked on him, all of them surprised by his sudden vehemence save for Dustin.

“That’s not how you plan things,” he said. “Not at all. It’s chaos.”

Steve let his gaze roam over the mess in Eddie’s room, the assortment of clothes and music tapes and paper full of scrawled chords and doodles and books strewn over every surface, before he assessed, “Talk about chaos.”

Eddie rose to his feet, fierce determination replacing the utter terror which had been reigning over his expression in the past few minutes, the change like a light switch being flipped when he shifted into Dungeon Master mode.

“We can’t come up with a plan to defeat him if we still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Steve scoffed. “We do know. The dude is a psychopathic maniac with superpowers who wants world dominion after a little girl whipped his ass and banished him.”

“And what then, Harrington?,” Eddie drawled darkly, “Punch him in the face? As far as I heard, you couldn’t even do that with Billy Hargrove. What do you wanna do, send the little redhead in to sedate Vecna?”

“Shoot him,” Nancy said, her voice dark and even.

Eddie raked a hand through his curls – in exasperation this time, instead of panic.

Robin huffed. “I’m equally amazed and scared that your solution for every problem is a shotgun, Nance. And deeply impressed. But in this case, I’d like to hear what Eddie has to say.”

“While going in back in there to try and kill him right away might be noble and heroic,” Eddie assessed with a wave at the gate casting its eerie glow through his open bedroom door, “It’s stupid as Hell. There are moments for heroism. This one’s not one of them. There are too many questions we need to answer first.”

“Dude, this isn’t a game of D&D,” Steve muttered.

Eddie tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I am aware, Steve.” He drawled out the name in this lilting way he sometimes spoke with, before he added, “Because if you die at the D&D table, you’ll be gone for the rest of the campaign. If you die at Vecna’s gaming table, you’ll be gone forever. So if you plan ahead during a game of D&D, shouldn’t you do the same thing when your actual life is at stake?”

“He’s right,” Dustin said, and Robin nodded in vehement agreement.

When Eddie looked at you, there was a flash of determination in his gaze, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

Together. As a team.

Without another word, Eddie grabbed something from his nightstand before he plopped down on the carpet in front of you again, placing the thing on the rug.

It was a black notebook.

“What’s that?”, Steve inquired, sounding a little suspicious.

Not batting an eye, Eddie replied, “Oh, just. You know. My satanic bible.”

There was a beat of silence before you snickered, and the sound put the widest beam on Eddie’s lips to make your heart soar in your chest, as the two of you stared at each other – until the moment was broken by Dustin’s giggle and the sound of Steve clearing his throat. Eddie opened the notebook and started to flip through the pages.

They were filled with notes and doodles, with the most intricate drawings of monsters and dice as Dustin let out an ecstatic squeal before he jumped off the bed to sit beside Eddie, the marvel in the boy’s eyes that of a child at Christmas morning.

“That’s your campaign notebook,” you breathed.

“He never lets anyone see his campaign notebook,” Dustin breathed in awe, reaching out to touch the booklet, but Eddie gently swatted his hand away.

“Only for Dungeon Masters,” he admonished half-heartedly as he kept flipping through the pages, “You’re not a Dungeon Master, Henderson.”

“Hurry up, man,” Steve muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he threw Eddie’s back an annoyed glance, “We don’t have all night.”

Eddie stopped at an empty page, ringed hand smoothing out the page before he grabbed the pen clipped to the back cover.

“You might be the slayer of monsters,” Eddie drawled with a grin up at you, drawing out the words to a musical lilt, “But I’m used to making them dance like little puppets on my strings.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand in the air before he glanced back down at the page. “Okay, so. Uh, we got your superpowers, obviously.”

The pen flew over the page as Eddie doodled a little flame into the left corner.

“Then we got Vecna slash the Mind Flayer slash – yeah, you know.”

“Henry,” Nancy corrected pointedly.

“Henry,” Eddie echoed with a nod.

Silence fell over the group, filled only by the soft scratch of the pen on the paper, the persistent call of the gate only you could hear, its force weakened as you watched Eddie.

With growing fascination, you watched the movement of his hand while he guided the pen across the page with skilled, quick strokes, the rings on his hand glinting to trigger the memory of how it had felt, the brush of their smooth metal on your skin when Eddie’s calloused hands had wandered over your body, sending you into ecstasy.

Even with the exhaustion carving shadows underneath his eyes, the bruises nearly as black as the soot still smeared across his pale features, Eddie was beautiful. One of his hands shot up to card fingers through the curls of his bangs falling into his face, the little chain on his leather jacket’s sleeve tinkling softly with the motion, and while he kept drawing with his other hand, he poked out his tongue like he always did when he focused on something. It was so him, that the surge of love flooding you momentarily stole your breath away.

“Henry…and the Upside Down” Eddie muttered, ripping you from your silent reverie, and your eyes quickly flitted down to the finished doodle of a crowned skull, looking more like the design for an actual tattoo than a quick doodle. He was truly skilled.

His head lifted as he glanced up at you, a soft smile playing on his lips when he said, “And we got you.” He added a little sword in the opposite corner of the page. It made you smile.

“Since when did you know you could do the fire-thing, by the way?”, Robin interjected.

“Since yesterday.”

“When you burned down the townhall?”

“Nope. When I burned down the boathouse.”

“Actually,” Eddie grinned, “She didn’t burn down the boathouse, she set Chance on fire.”

“Dude,” Steve commented.

“You’re a superhero,” Dustin exclaimed. “Like El.”

“I’m not.”

“It’s pretty fucking awesome,” Robin smirked, “To set fire with your mind. On our next movie night, we could make smores without ever having to make a fire.”

“There won’t be any next movie night,” Steve said grimly, “If we don’t hurry.”

“Can you move objects as well? Like El?”, Dustin asked, excitement widening his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t. It’s only fire, as far as I can tell.”

“If you only know since yesterday, maybe you can do more.”

“I’m sure I can’t.”

“Dustin’s got a point,” Nancy said, “If you’ve only known since yesterday –“

“I’m not like El, okay?!” They fell quiet, watching you as you took a deep breath, before you repeated, calmer this time, “I’m not like El. I don’t know where this is coming from but I know I’m not like El.”

“Henry is like El,” Nancy mused.

“But what do we even know about superpowers?”, Robin inquired, narrowing her eyes on the doodles in Eddie’s notebook. He was tapping the pen against the page, chewing his bottom lip as he narrowed his eyes on the drawing of the flame. You could basically see the wheels churning in his mind.

“We know El has been born with her powers,” Dustin said. “And so has Henry.”

“So does it work, like, I dunno, the Force?”, Eddie wondered, giving Dustin a thoughtful glance.

“What’s the Force? What’s he talking about?”

Robin groaned. “Steve! Star Wars?”

“Dude, how are you even working at a video store?”, Eddie wondered, throwing Steve a glance over his shoulder.

“It’s honest work,” Steve quipped, “Opposed to selling drugs.”

“It’s not that honest if you keep recommending movies you haven’t even watched,” Eddie retorted with a drawl.

“It’s the one with the teddy bears,” Robin groaned, and Steve’s face lit up as he nodded in recognition.

Nancy sighed. “Can we focus?”

“The ability to control the Force,” Eddie said slowly, as if talking to a child, “Is something you’re born with.”

“And since El and Henry have been born with their powers, and we don’t know anyone who somehow acquired them,” Nancy deduced, “It’s safe to assume you were born with them.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you think I would have known sooner if I was?”

“Maybe you didn’t notice,” Eddie wondered.

“I’m pretty sure I would have noticed things randomly going up in flames around me.”

“Okay, then…what triggered it?”, Dustin wanted to know, leaning forward.

“Panic.” For Eddie. It had always been your panic for Eddie to trigger this strange power.

Robin snorted. “It’s safe to say you weren’t born with it, then. I guess in those three years of Upside Down business, you’d have noticed if your panic had set something on fire.”

“We could put it to the test,” Dustin proposed.

Steve scoffed. “Okay so what, we’ll just, like, hold her at gun point? Is that your plan, Henderson? That won’t work. She knows we’d never hurt her.”

“It was never panic for myself,” you corrected quietly, cheeks burning. “The first time, it was when Jason and his friends locked me up at the townhall after they found out about Eddie hiding at Rick’s. The second time was at the boathouse, when they…when Jason wanted to hurt Eddie. And the third was in my trance.”

“What did he show you?”, Robin asked quietly.

There it was again, this horrible image which had burned itself into your mind like the letters set into a tombstone, the newest addition to your own collection of horrors. Eddie’s eyes, the white of freshly fallen snow, tears of blood running down his cheeks.

“Eddie’s death,” you whispered.

There was a beat of silence, before Steve quipped, “Wait, so we’re gonna need to hold Eddie at gun point? Because yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay, we’ll – stop. Nobody is going to be held at gunpoint,” Nancy interjected, earning her a raised eyebrow from Robin who commented, “Says Miss Gunpoint.”

“You held me at gunpoint,” Steve protested with a flirtatious little smirk at Nancy, “But you won’t hold him at gunpoint?”

“You were acting like a jerk,” Nancy replied softly, the barely suppressed smile on her lips as telling as the beet-red blush on her cheeks before Robin interjected, “Have you seen Eddie’s huge brown doe eyes? We can’t hold him at gunpoint even if we wanted to. That would be like threatening Bambi.”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Eddie, whose eyes were wide as he stared at you, their intensity making your skin prickle, a flurry of unspoken questions swirling in the umber of his eyes alongside all the emotions shining there – but the moment was broken when Dustin called out, “Will! Will got powers”, making Eddie start a little with the sudden exclamation.

“He can feel the Mind Flayer. Vecna.”

“Henry.”

“The point is,” Dustin went on, ignoring Nancy, “He can feel him.”

“That’s a connection, not a superpower,” Nancy protested. “It can be used as a superpower, but it definitely doesn’t count as one.”

“’kay, let’s focus on connections then,” Eddie said slowly, before his gaze met yours and his voice took on a gentle hue. “Do you still feel it?” It was a softspoken question, his tone timid as if he were worried to distress you. “The gate, I mean.”

You gave him a slow nod, before you whispered, “All the time.”

You could feel Dustin’s blue eyes on you as he inquired, “What does it feel like?”

“Alive.”

Eddie furrowed his brow, tilting his head as he waited for you to go on.

“It’s…it’s like a heartbeat. Not the gate in itself, it’s more…it’s more where it leads.”

“The Upside Down.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence as Eddie nodded, and you went on, “As far as I can tell, Will never wanted to go back to that place.”

“He didn’t,” Dustin agreed. “He was scared of it.”

“I don’t think speculation will lead us anywhere,” Nancy groaned.

Robin patted her back. “We’re in the brainstorming phase.”

“We’ll never move out of the brainstorming phase at this rate,” Steve quipped. “We’ll be stuck in the brainstorming phase when Vec- Henry sends his monsters.”

“No, sorry. I can’t do that,” Robin muttered, “I can’t call this guy Henry. It’s…he’s Vecna now. I’m going to call him Vecna.

Dustin glanced up at you. “Do you have any idea why Vecna needed you to open the door?”

“I didn’t even know I was opening a door for Vecna when I did it,” you said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

“But why?”, Dustin wondered, “Why did he need someone to open the door, and why did he choose you?”

“He chose me because El and Will were already too far away, in Lenora. He said it himself. And I guess he needed someone who at least had a connection to him. And since I was…I was flayed…”

“Your connection to him is the same as Will’s,” Dustin said.

You nodded.

“I’m confused,” Steve announced.

“You always are,” Dustin retorted.

“I get that he needs an open gate to come into our Hawkins,” Steve said, giving Dustin an indignant glower, “But – physical gates. What did you open? Where?”

“That’s actually a good question, dingus.”

“Thank you, Robin,” Steve retorted indignantly. “I’m just saying, why did he even manage to target you in the first place, because I was pretty sure as long as he was locked on the other side, he was powerless.”

There was a beat of silence before Dustin muttered, “Shit. I never thought about that.”

“What else did he tell you, monster slayer?”, Eddie asked softly, tilting his head a little as he caught your gaze.

It was only then that you noticed what had escaped you before, because you’d hardly ever been anything but alone with Eddie. But now that the others were around for longer, you realized that, while he was charming and kind and sweet with everyone, this special kind of softness in his voice, his eyes…it was meant for only you.

You closed your eyes.

“When I’m done with you, when I have taken back what is mine, what you stole from me – I will take your songbird.”

Your blood froze with the realization of the glaringly obvious variable which had slipped your notice.

“Little Thief,” you whispered, realization barreling through you with such force that you jolted from the bed as it hit you. You needed to move. “Oh my god. He kept calling me Little Thief. He said I stole something from him.”

“Stole,” Eddie repeated slowly.

“I thought he meant his victory. We all stole his victory from him. We stopped him, and I thought he was angry with me because he was angry with all of us but…” You trailed off, pressing the heels of your hands over your eyes, watching the pattern of tiny white dots dance through the darkness of your closed eyes as your mind was going a mile a minute.

“What if he meant something else?”, you whispered, eyes flying open to look at Eddie.

You could feel it, passing like a spark; the idea flashing in Eddie eyes as he froze mid movement when realization hit you like a truck, the final missing piece of the puzzle falling into place.

“You stole something from me. Something valuable. And before I take it back…I’ll steal the most precious thing from you, little thief.”

“The most precious thing,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a susurration in the air as you echoed Vecna’s words, “He told me I stole the most precious thing from him.”

“Monster slayer,” Eddie’s soft voice made your head snap up. He’d risen from his spot on the ground, standing in front of you now as his umber eyes scanned your face, his dark curls standing on edge from all of his nervous raking-through them, his eyes wide, realization taking root in his mind. He looked breathless, as if he’d run a marathon. “What you said to me earlier. About something…something staying behind. Do you remember the moment he left, last summer?”

[Thursday, July 4th, 1985. THEN. THE BATTLE OF STARCOURT.]

The world had descended into flames and agony, the heat on your skin unbearable, the cacophony of voices blurring around you as you screamed, as this thing inside your head screamed.

All you wanted was for it to stop. Stop stop stop stop STOP “STOP STOP STOP STOP STOOOOOP!”

“Higher.”

“It’s killing her!”

“That means it’s working.” The boy’s voice was barely audible over the noise of your tormented, broken screams.

“LET GO! LET ME GO! LETMEGOOOO!”

“Scratch out their eyes,” The thing in your head commanded. “Tear the skin from their bones, rip out their hearts –“

There were horrible images in your head.

NO.

And something happened.

The creepers around your mind…they started to loosen.

Their chokehold around that dying spark that was left of you was fading as if these vines of shadow were hurting.

As the heat was burning it away.

Scorching it, melting it.

And that ember which was left of you flared to life with hatred for this writhing, creeping shadow which had locked you up in your own mind and had forced you to do its evil bidding.

It had taken something from you. Something you would never get back.

Now it was your turn to take something in return.

There was a girl’s angry scream lacing with your own in the scorching air as an invisible force ripped the darkness out of you – and you lashed out at this vile, dark shadow in your head, making it screech and hiss and writhe in your mind’s grip.

You wanted to hurt it like it had hurt you, tearing and ripping at it as it was forced out of you, black mist rising from your lips as the contorted scream of this thing turned into your own.

The pillar of black smoke bursting from your lips and into the air with a shrill noise, like nails on a chalkboard, burned itself into your memory as someone loosened the ropes around your wrists, a pair of arms pulling you backwards, and a familiar voice soothed, strained with the sob she was holding back, “We got you. It’s gone. He’s gone – right?”

“Yes,” El replied, the back of her hand swiping at the blood which was drip-dropping from her nose. “Gone.”

And this time when the darkness crept in at the edges, it was a peaceful one.

Of exhaustion and relief, as your quiet sobs stole your voice, and the darkness stole your sobs.

Yes, the monster was gone.

But it had left something behind, something you’d ripped away from it.

A sliver of a shadow, a dark fingerprint on your soul. A stain, black like tar, soaking through the fabric of your very essence.

Spreading.

[Monday, March 25th, 1986. NOW.]

It crashed over you like an icy wave, knocking you off your feet and making you sink to the floor, slowly, as Eddie’s hands shot out to grasp your elbows, holding you as he slowly knelt in front of you.

The memory had been buried underneath all the pain of this moment, a thousand razor-sharp blades ripping your body and mind to shreds as they’d burned the black smoke out of you.

As you’d lashed out at this twisted, evil thing in fury and hatred.

Something had stayed behind.

You did this to yourself, Vecna had said. Because you had.

“I wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me,” you whispered, eyes locked on Eddie’s, concern and bewildered realization brimming in them. “When he left, I…I think I lashed out. And something…ripped away. From him.”

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Robin’s whisper filled the stunned silence.

And with this one missing piece, the whole puzzle came together, all the lose pieces falling into place.

“You stole some of his powers,” Eddie breathed, an incredulous laugh bubbling from his lips, “Jesus Christ, you stole some of his goddamn powers, monster slayer. That’s the most badass shit ever.”

“And when I’m done with you, taken back what is mine – I’ll take your songbird.”

Vecna’s words, playing on repeat in your head, drowning out the chaos which had erupted at the realization, your friends talking all at once, their words blurring to background noise.

“Hey, you okay?”, Eddie murmured, the smile slipping at the sight of whatever it was that was shining in your eyes.

No. Things were as far from okay as they could get.

Misinterpreting your terror for being overwhelmed, Eddie shouted, “Stop!” – and to your surprise, the others obliged again, the havoc dying down at once to make room for another crestfallen silence.

“That’s why I can feel the gates,” you breathed. “That’s why part of me wants to go there.”

Amidst all the panic, there was a wave of temporary relief flooding you, because…there wasn’t something fundamentally wrong with you. This part of you that wanted to go to the Upside Down, that purred at the sensation of the dark pulse of the gates thrumming through your blood, this homesickness you were feeling for this horrible mirror realm…this, at least, wasn’t you…was it? Did it belong to you now?

“What does that mean about the gates?”, Dustin blurted, and Eddie stretched to grab his notebook from where he’d discarded it on the floor, the hem of his Hellfire shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his stomach, revealing a glimpse at the path of his happy trail dipping below the waistband of his ripped jeans –

Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with you.

At least the tug in your chest at the brief glimpse of Eddie’s happy trail wasn’t whatever part you’d ripped away from Vecna’s power but your own damn mind.

Silver linings.

You rose on shaky legs to place yourself back on the mattress, between Robin and Nance, watching as Eddie grabbed the pen Dustin extended for him.

“’kay, let’s sum this up. Monster slayer stole a part of Vecna’s power –“ he connected the doodle of the flame with Vecna’s skull, and then your sword, “Which means that part of his power is the bridge between you and him.” Another line, this one to connect the sword with the doodle of the skull to form a triangle. “That’s why he’s been able to target you.”

“Which leaves the connection to the gates,” Dustin added, watching as Eddie drew a door into the middle of the triangle.

“So he needed Y/N to open a door for him,” Nancy summed up, “Because…why?”

Eddie looked up from the notebook, gaze flitting between all of you as he said, “You said when the gates closed, his uh, hosts always died. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Only that Y/N wasn’t a host. The part she stole from him – that wasn’t possession, because she made it her own by ripping it off of him when he left.”

“Are you trying to say –“

“It’s hers now.” Eddie’s eyes found yours. “It belongs to you more than to him, but – it’s like a bridge between the two of you. A living part of him remaining here –“ he tapped the pen at the sword symbol, “While the rest of him is in the Upside Down. It’s…it’s like –“

“A relay!” Dustin called out, and when there was silence as all of you stared at him, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Really? A relay? Never heard of that?”

“Just explain it then, Dustin,” Nancy replied with equal exasperation.

“Fine. It enhances RT signals. Think of Vecna as an RT unit. He’s in the Upside Down, and his signals can’t reach our Rightside Up Hawkins because the wall between worlds is too thick for them to pass through and he’s too far away. But if there’s a relay on the other side to enhance the signal, it will be strong enough.”

“So I’m his relay,” you breathed as Eddie added, “That’s how he managed to target Max and the others. The part of him you stole enhanced his signal.”

“Exactly,” Dustin nodded, his happy little grin a little out of place as scientific enthusiasm got the better of him.

“That’s what the door was,” you breathed. “Not an actual gate, but a connection between us. And by opening it, I became his relay.”

“Exactly!”

“Dustin, you’re aware we’re still talking about murder and not a science fair, right?”, Steve admonished, sounding a little like Ted Wheeler.

Eddie’s eyes met yours. “And with every victim he killed…”

“…more gates opened,” you finished.

He nodded. “And that’s why your powers only acted up two days ago. They’re still connected to the Upside Down, to their origin.”

“Which means if the gates closed, I couldn’t set things on fire anymore.”

“Holy fuck,” Dustin breathed. “We cracked the code.”

“I’m getting a migraine,” Steve murmured.

“Steve didn’t crack shit,” Robin chuckled.

“Wait,” Dustin spluttered, “Wait, does that mean you could tap into the hivemind?”

“In my trance, I could,” you said slowly, “But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“We still need to see whether we can train you.”

“Train me? When? Vecna is going to trigger the apocalypse in what could be hours, I don’t have time to become a Jedi.”

“A what? What’s that?”

“Star Wars,” Robin and Eddie admonished once more, and this time, the glare Steve threw Eddie was murderous. “You know, I’m not being a bitch about you obviously having no clue about basketball, Munson.”

“Okay,” Nancy announced, rising from her place on the bed to walk to the window, “With everything we know now, the basics of the plan still stand.”

“Yup. The plan,” Eddie echoed, flipping the notebook shut with a soft clap as you furrowed your brow.

“It’s easy,” Dustin explained, turning to you. “Before you went unconscious, you told us that Vecna is Henry is One so he’s human, he’s like El.”

“Just in the grown-up evil child-murdering psychopath version,” Robin added helpfully.

“Which means when he uses his powers, he goes into a trance-like state. He has to enter the Void. Like El. Which makes him vulnerable.”

“And killable,” Steve threw in.

“And killable,” Dustin agreed.

“The killable part is the most important,” Robin added.

Nancy turned away from the window, her gaze finding yours, “So the plan is simple. Max will ditch Kate Bush and make herself vulnerable, baiting him.”

Your mind was reeling.

“She what?! You can’t –“

“We already discussed that,” Dustin interrupted.

“The little redhead won’t take no for an answer,” Eddie mused darkly.

Nancy went on, “And when he’s in the Void to get to Max, we’ll draw the bats away from his lair and kill him.”

“Like sleeping Dracula in his coffin,” Dustin grinned. “And we’ll drive the stake right through his heart.”

“Wait,” you breathed, “The bats. How –“

“I’ll divert them,” Eddie said, giving you a proud little smirk, “With my guitar. Lure them away long enough for team Stab Dracula to succeed. No more running. I’m done being Eddie The Banished. Time to become Eddie The Brave.”

“No.” It came out as a hollow whisper – but Eddie’s timid little smile vanished as if you’d slapped him.

You felt frozen. As if your blood had turned to ice as shock and panic and terror flooded you in a tidal wave, pulling you under, robbing the air from you and making your heart race with the despair of the forlorn as Eddie’s death cries, the soundtrack of your nightmares, rang through your mind, loud as a bell.

I’m going to take your songbird.

And your songbird was about to present himself to the cat on a silver platter.

“No,” you breathed, repeating the word, “No, you can’t do that.”

The hurt in Eddie’s eyes throttled your words of explanation as despair clawed its way up your throat.

“You think I can’t be the diversion ‘cause I haven’t slain a monster before?”, Eddie challenged quietly.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It sounded pretty much exactly like you thought it.”

“It kinda did,” Steve said quietly.

“It’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, I mean, he’s the diversion,” Steve interjected, raising his hands, “It’s not like he’s going in there with us, I’m sure he’ll handle it.”

You knew Steve well enough to tell he hadn’t been thinking about the impact of his words, focused on soothing your own terror – but you could see those words had struck home with Eddie. You remembered all the times he’d scolded himself for running away when Chrissy had died, the shame he felt about leaving her there even though there had been nothing he could’ve done to help –

“I fought those things before,” Eddie said quietly, averting his gaze from you – and that was the worst. “A few hours ago.”

“Well, four of them,” Robin added with a little wince, “Not, like, the swarm of hundreds you’ll be running from once they get to you.”

You could feel the bile rising in your throat, the culmination of images, one crueler than the other, was pelting down on you with the force of a hailstorm. You were going to be sick. You were –

“Please don’t. You can’t do that,” you choked out, and the betrayal in Eddie’s eyes when they finally met yours again was a knife through your heart. “Eddie –“

“So, uh, what else should I do? Stay on the playground with eleven-years-old Erica Sinclair?”

“Leave. You’re wanted for murder. Leave Hawkins and –“

Even Steve scrunched his nose in a muted wince as you blurted the words, panic stealing every sense and filter because you needed to keep him safe, needed to keep him away from the Upside Down and Vecna and his killer bats.

“I’m done running.” Eddie’s voice wasn’t harsh, or sharp. Just determined. As if he wanted to prove himself.

“Okay,” Nancy interrupted, her voice a little too loud, a little too high-pitched, “I think we’re all tired and done for today.”

“Done?”, Dustin echoed, “We need to fight!”

“And to do that, we need to have some rest and prepare ourselves.”

Dustin deflated a little at Nancy’s tone.

“You know, that’s the exact same mistake you keep making when playing D&D,” Eddie said softly, climbing back to his feet and discarding the notebook on the bed beside you before he gave Dustin a playful shove on the head, “Always charging ahead no matter the consequences ‘cause you’re so goddamn impatient.”

It sounded good-natured – and it sounded worried.

Dustin glanced up at Eddie, and the admiration in the boy’s eyes warmed your heart, though the feeling subsided as you saw the strange expression in Eddie’s eyes when he sat on the bed beside you. He didn’t look angry or even hurt – he looked curious.

“Are you having a book club session over here or why are you taking so long?”, a voice chimed up from the door.

“Erica,” Nancy said, “Wait, is everything okay with Max?”

“She’s asleep,” the girl retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest with her usual not-taking-any-bullshit-expression. “So?”

“We cracked the code,” Dustin grinned.

“Okay, so when we actually want a bit of rest before tomorrow…”, Nancy began, and Robin was quick to fill in her pause, a smirk on her lips, “I guess we’ll need to guard the gate.”

Eddie eyes widened. “Do you think anything will try to…get through tonight? Like, like the bats or shit?”

Eyebrows raised, Dustin said, “I don’t think we need to – “

“Guard it all together,” Nancy cut him off.

Robin’s smirk widened. “Definitely not, good point, Henderson.”

“That’s not –“

“We’ll split the night shift into teams so the rest will catch up on sleep in the meantime, and a shower.” Robin angled her head to sniff at her shoulder, scrunching her nose. “Because we stink.”

“Yes, you do,” Erica added helpfully.

“Yeah?”, Steve muttered, “You go through a lake to another dimension and run from monsters that want you as their starter course and we’ll see how good you’ll smell.”

Erica gave him a side-eye. “And are you gonna be whining about that for the rest of the night like a crybaby, Steve? ‘Cause then I’d like to not be teamed up with you. Are we done chit-chatting teams now or is this a damn game night?”

“Okay,” Nancy breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Just…let’s not make a big deal of it. The kids will stay at Max’s and the grown-ups will guard the gate in three-hour-shifts. Y/N and Eddie, you can take the first shift.”

You met Eddie’s gaze, shining with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint yet, and that frizzy, bubbly giddiness returned to your chest full-force at the thought of being alone with Eddie again. And relief, because three hours hopefully would be enough to convince him to leave and save himself.

“Robin, we’ll take the second one,” Nancy went on, “And Steve can watch the kids over at –“

“No,” Steve interrupted, “I’m not playing babysitter again.”

“We’re not babies,” Erica shot back, “I’m eleven.”

“Good,” Steve exclaimed, running a hand through his hair before he plopped down on the bed. Right between you and Eddie, half-sitting on Eddie’s lap who scooted farther to the side to make room with an annoyed mutter of, “Great. Thanks, dude,” which Steve commented with, “Well where am I supposed to sit, on the ground?”

“Well, right now you’re sitting on my lap.”

“Well, you could scoot over and make room for one more. It’s a big bed.”

Eddie quipped, “Are we back to the problem how many people plus your ego will fit?”

“I’ll be joining Y/N and Eddie,” Steve announced, wiggling a little in his new seat between the two of you, forcing Eddie to scoot away even farther to begrudgingly make room, “Guarding the gate. It’ll be fun.”

“Which gate will you be guarding?” Robin asked with a sardonic smirk.

Her words set your cheeks ablaze, and you found yourself glad for now that Steve had placed himself between Eddie and you.

Louder, with a shit-eating grin on her face, Robin drawled, “Actually, dingus, somebody’s gotta watch the kids and I figured it was my turn. I’d have proposed you and Nance could team up so you wouldn’t have to babysit for once.”

The glance Robin gave you wasn’t as subtle as she might have thought.

Nancy’s eyes screamed murder at Robin before they caught Steve’s, and in the periphery of your vision, you could see Eddie trying to catch your gaze while you were having a hard time ignoring those big brown eyes because your face still felt as if it would go up in flames any second now.

But once again, the draw to Eddie was stronger, robbing every last ounce of your self-restraint. When you raised your head and turned to look at him, he asked, “You okay with this? If you wanna go join the party over at red’s trailer and get some rest –“

“No,” you replied quickly, just as Robin announced, “Monster slayer here slept through the past six hours, I’m pretty sure she’s the most well-rested one of us all.”

“Good,” Nancy announced, striding out of Eddie’s room, “Let’s go over to Max’s, then, and have some rest.” With a glance at you and Eddie, she added, “Thanks for taking the first shift, you two. See you in three hours.”

Three hours alone with Eddie.

Three hours to tell him the final truth about Vecna’s plot of revenge and talk him out of this stupid plan.

While Robin threw you another not-so-subtle wink, Steve looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to feel annoyed by the thought of Eddie and you being left alone for three hours, or giddy at the prospect of spending the same amount alone with Nancy, and the resulting expression in his face would have been almost comical, hadn’t your own nerves turned into a jangled mess.

You wanted to be alone with Eddie, so much so that it felt like a painful eternity as everyone made their way to the trailer’s front door – but you knew that this time, there wouldn’t be any more stolen kisses like the one at Skull Rock, in blissful ignorance of everything else that had happened.

Fiddling with the hem of your sweatshirt, you watched as Erica, Robin and Steve stepped into the sunset outside, painting the sky above the Forest Hills trailer park in shades of vibrant oranges and crimson that reminded you of the skies in Vecna’s lair, sending chills down your spine.

Nancy was the last one to exit the trailer.

Her hand on the doorhandle, she turned around, throwing you a meaningful glance over her shoulder.

You knew she was thinking about the things she’d said to your earlier at the shore of Lover’s Lake.

“To find someone who makes you so happy, despite everything else going up in flames…some people wait a whole lifetime for this kind of thing and yet never find it. So if you found that with Eddie…you should hold on to him for dear life.”

The tiniest of knowing smiles was tugging at the corners of her mouth when she walked away, pulling the front door shut behind her.

The soft click of it was too loud in the sudden heavy silence.

And you were alone with Eddie.

And the gate.

It was gaping right above your heads, stretching between you; the rip between worlds.

The echo of its dark pulse vibrated through your bones. Come see me. Come join me. Come home, its dark whisper echoed alongside every beat – but Eddie’s presence behind you held so much more power, sending your mind into overdrive as you were reeling with nerves, catapulted back into a glittering November night which had started with hope and happiness, and had ended in shards and tears and heartbreak, right in the very spots you were standing right now.

Which cruel irony, to have said and done all those things that night in order to keep Eddie far away from the Upside Down and its horrors, only for it to have sucked him right into the middle of this whole mess. All this pain to keep him out of harm’s way and yet harm had found and followed Eddie Munson like a malignant shadow.

Back to square one.

“So, uh, you hungry?” Eddie’s hesitant voice made you turn around, “I could scour the kitchen for dinner, I’m pretty sure we still got a can of stew somewhere.”

“Yeah.” You scrunched your nose a little at the stench lingering in your hair, on your skin, every thread of fabric in your soot-stained sweatshirt; a mix of lake water, sweat and smoke. “Or maybe I should take a shower first.”

Eddie let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“Yup. Sinclair’s right, we reek.”

“You more than me, though,” you teased softly, and a playful little smirk lingered on Eddie’s lips when he retorted, “Yeah. Took a hike through a realm with lots of nasty shit.”

“Together with Steve The Hair Harrington.”

Eddie’s grin widened. “I specifically meant Harrington. But, uh, monsters were there, as well, as you know. I’m allowed to stink.”

“You are.”

“Entitled to it, if you will.”

“The most metal smell,” you agreed.

Eddie snorted. “That’s the smell of several mental breakdowns, but since Max told me what the two of you’ve been up to in the meantime, I’d wager the cops were having a harder time than I did.”

At his words, you laughed.

The sound had grown as foreign to you as the feeling which had caused it.

The last time you’d laughed, genuinely laughed, had been that November night before everything had fallen to pieces.

At the sound of it, Eddie’s mischievous smirk fused into a full-blown beam, as radiant as the spring sun, before he said softly, “I missed that so much, monster slayer, you’ve noooo idea. Your…your laugh. I’m glad you didn’t lose it despite...” He gestured vaguely at the gate.

At his words, giddiness rushed through you to make your pulse flutter and your heart race – but in the beat of silence which followed, Eddie’s smirk faltered again, all the leaden anxiety beneath the light-hearted façade shining through as he glanced down and fiddled with the clasp of his bracelet. “Uh, you got ten minutes.”

At your confused blink, he elaborated, “The shower. There’s, um. Ten minutes of hot water. Then it gets freezing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s…ten minutes is enough.”

Neither of you moved to increase the distance.

The air was laced with all the unspoken words of the past four months and the past few hours, floating in the air between the two of you like the particles in the Upside Down, a strange kind of static sizzling in the air while the kiss you’d shared at Skull Rock hung over the two of you like a ghost haunting an abandoned mansion.

Your gaze left his eyes to travel to the gash on his eyebrow peeking out from the soot and the curls of his bangs.

“We should clean that cut,” you said softly.

“Should I grab my uncle’s whiskey?”, Eddie chuckled softly.

You snickered. “I think soap will do just fine this time.”

“You’re a sadist.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Same thing,” Eddie smirked as you walked past him into the trailer’s tiny bathroom, gesturing for him to follow you.

You felt light-headed – and light-hearted, realizing now that all the secrets which had been weighing down your heart, locked up there and hidden from Eddie…you’d set them free. Had opened the door to their cage and let them go, and the feeling of relief that stayed behind, of knowing that nothing had changed in the way Eddie was looking at you, filled you with the feeling of floating like a feather, after you’d been drowning in them for so long.

It had felt like resurfacing from a freezing lake, right after oxygen would have run out and your lungs filled with water to suffocate and drown you in those depths.

Eddie flipped on the lonely lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling before he plopped down on the edge of the bathtub as you proceeded to soak a towel under the tap, heart already speeding at the prospect of having an excuse to be close to him again.

The memory of Eddie’s arms wrapped around you while you’d sobbed only an hour ago, the way he’d painted soothing patterns on your back while resting his chin on the crown of your head, not caring that you were soaking the collar of his Hellfire shirt with snot and tears…you shook it off, focusing on spreading soap on the sodden towel before you turned to Eddie.

“Can you –“ you began, but Eddie already raked his fingers through the curls of his bangs, brushing them away from the cut, and the towel raised in your hand, you stepped closer, coming to stand between his legs.

“If you tell me this is gonna burn, I’ll make an unapologetic fire-joke,” Eddie warned with a soft little grin, his eyes timid as he followed your movement, closing his eyes before the edge of the sodden towel could graze the cut.

His pained little grimace at the contact made your heart bleed for him all over again – and your anger at Jason and his cronies flare before you pushed it back down.

While you softly dabbed the towel at the mended gash to clean the soot from the seams of the wound, Eddie said quietly, “Robin, um…told me about the townhall meeting.”

There was a beat of shaken silence. “Did she.”

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t do any good,” you said quietly, watching a droplet of soapy water slowly run down Eddie’s temple, collecting some of the ashes smeared at the corner of his eye before you caught it with the towel, and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open to meet your own.

In the dim bathroom light, the beautiful umber shade of his irises seemed even darker as he scanned your face.

“It was brave of you,” Eddie murmured. “To tell them about Jason.”

You swallowed against the sudden lump in your throat, at a loss for words.

I did it for you, you wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in your throat.

“You know, you look a little like a chimney sweeper, too,” Eddie changed the topic with a tilt of his head, the ghost of a soft smile playing on his lips as he rose from the edge of the bathtub.

A quick glance in the mirror above the sink proved him right.

Your face was a soot-stained as Eddie, a few lost flakes of ashes or spores clinging to your own hair just like they did with Eddie’s, your eyes bloodshot from all the crying.

Eddie’s gaze met yours in the mirror before he glanced down, and with a tentative motion, he raised his hands to place them over your own, still clutching the towel.

The touch of his rough palm against the back of your hand made your skin tingle in the best of ways, and your breath hitched in your throat as Eddie’s other hand gently pried your fingers open to take the towel from you as he murmured, “Your turn?”

It was a question more than a statement, and his gaze was searching as it held yours.

You gave him a nod, and Eddie reached around you to pat the empty space on the bathroom drawer beside the sink, gesturing for you to sit down, and with the swarm of butterflies going haywire, you obliged, pushing yourself up to sit on the wooden surface while you watched Eddie wash his hands over the sink, scrubbing away the soot from his fingers before he grabbed a fresh towel from the drawer beneath.

There was a beat of companionable silence, filled only by the low gushing sound of water and the soft tinkle of the chain on the sleeve of Eddie’s leather jacket against the porcelain edge of the sink as he held the towel under the tap, waiting for the fabric to soak.

“’kay,” he murmured, stepping towards you, the towel raised in one hand, brushing an exceedingly unruly curl away from his face. You parted your legs so he could position himself between your knees, and your heart did a backflip in your chest only the most skilled cheerleader would have been able to master when Eddie gave you another timid little smile.

A whole choreography of somersaults followed when he leaned closer, close enough for his breath to fan across your lips, and you couldn’t tear eyes from him as Eddie’s fingertips gently grazed the side of your face to brush away a few stray strands, before slowly tilting your head a little upwards.

The touch was a tender twin to Jason’s violent one, you realized. Where Jason’s fingers had dug into your skin hard enough to hurt when he’d forced you to look at him at the boathouse, the touch of Eddie’s fingertips on your jaw was as gentle and light as the brush of a feather, giving you the chance to shove him away any time.

For the ephemeral span of a heartbeat, Eddie’s dark gaze flitted down to rest on your lips, the kiss you’d shared at Skull Rock in the veil of the spring night only hours ago hovering between the two of you like a ghost in a haunted mansion, present in the slim space between you, mingling with your breaths – and for the beautiful span of that moment, you waited for Eddie to kiss you again.

For his soft lips to brush against yours, steal your breath away again – but he didn’t.

Instead, he started cleaning the soot from your right cheek, the wet towel brushing over your skin in gentle motions, and your eyes fluttered closed.

For a few moments, you let yourself be immersed in the peaceful quiet which settled over the two of you, filled only by the steady sounds of your breaths as you relished the sensation of the warm towel against your skin, the proximity to Eddie, standing between your legs. So close that you could smell the sweat and the smoke on him, the faint traces of Lover’s Lake clinging to his hair, his skin, the stained fabric of his once-white Hellfire club shirt.

It would have been easier to just slap some cold water into your face over the sink and be done with it – and the fact that Eddie had offered to clean you up, and the way he was doing it in the most gentle way, the strokes of the towel on your cheeks and the sides of your face like caresses, harbored a whole new kind of intimacy. Unlike the kisses you’d shared and the things you’d done on the roof of his trailer, but just as beautiful.

When Eddie traced your jaw with the towel, you angled your head a little further to give him better access – and winced as he brushed over the spot below your chin, making Eddie pull away.

“Did that hurt?”

“A little,” you said, eyes fluttering open as Eddie’s gaze wandered down to that spot on your jaw, his fingertips grazing your skin while confusion was replaced by something sterner you’d only seen once before in his eyes, in the night you’d met. When he’d ripped Jason away from you. Anger.

And you realized that Jason’s forceful grip must have left a bruise.

“I never wanted to actually punch someone,” Eddie said darkly, “But if I ever meet that son of a bitch again, I think I’ll break his fucking nose. In case you didn’t wanna do it yourself.”

“He would have broken every bone in your body but you draw the line at giving me bruise?”, you asked, not exactly sure whether you’d meant to be gloomy or teasing.

Eddie’s expression was one of grim determination. “Yeah. I do.”

The cold shard of anger melting from his eyes again when they met yours, he raised the towel once more to continue cleaning your other cheek.

For a moment, you just watched him, utterly caught up in the way his dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks when he blinked, the focus as he wiped the ashes from your face while there was still soot on his own, covering the smattering of bruises.

Beyond the bathroom, you could still feel the thrumming pulse of the gate – but the vibration had lost its edge, the call its urge. Because with Eddie only inches away from you…the draw towards him was so much stronger. Sunlight cutting through the coldest night.

And before your eyes could stray down to his lips, so damn close to yours, you blurted, “What else did Robin tell you?”

Eddie chuckled, his breath ghosting over your lips, making them prickle. “Oh, uh. Just that you’re nosy.” The soft tease in his voice, the lilt in his tone a familiar melody, didn’t help calm down your racing pulse. Our your racing mind. “And that I’m a dufus.”

You snickered. “Yeah, that sounds like Robin. What else?”

There was a tiny beat of silence before Eddie replied slowly, “She, uh…she told me you knew I was innocent right from the start. That you were the one who insisted on searching for me.”

“And I found you.”

He let out another low chuckle. “You hit me with your car.”

“Which counts as finding you,” you snickered.

There was a beat of silence, the words drifting through the slim space between the two of you, a shared smile growing stern before Eddie added with the softest murmur, “She also told me to fight.”

“Honor and glory?”, you teased softly.

“I always thought honor and glory were incredibly overrated, outside of D&D.”

“Then what else would there be worth fighting for?”

“Well, uh. A princess, maybe,” Eddie said slowly, and your heart ceased its next beat, the seconds ticking by as he waited for your reply.

“And would you? Fight for a princess?”

“I’m not a knight in shining armor, remember?”, Eddie said softly, “So, no. I don’t care about princesses.”

There was a deep, desperate, sinking feeling in your chest, spreading like black ink in water – before Eddie added softly, “Though there’s…uh. There’s someone I’d fight for, though.”

“There is?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed. “Shit. There’s this weird girl who puked all over my shoes. And then proceeded to turn me into the most miserable drug dealer in Indiana.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting Eddie’s as he murmured, “Though that’s okay ‘cause I always wanted to be more than just her dealer, anyways. Like…a dude she dances with in the woods. Or a dude she dances with in the woods. Or even…even a distraction.”

You swallowed against the tears as Eddie averted his gaze for a moment.

“Or a hero, for that matter,” he added on a breath, before his lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “A girl I’d follow into Mordor when the Shire is burning and who still has no goddamn clue what that even means ‘cause she didn’t read the goddamn books.” Eddie’s eyes were glittering with barely suppressed tears as they found yours again and he whispered, “Though I don’t think she even needs a hero ‘cause she slays monsters in her free time. Pretty badass, huh?”

“Yeah.” It came out as a susurration, your voice breaking beneath the tidal wave of emotions, of love, so much love, for the songbird with the dark curls and the dark eyes and the heart of gold beneath the leather and denim and tattoos.

“Who believed in your innocence,” Eddie added on a final breath, “Even when the rest of the world came at you with torches and pitchforks.”

Even though she broke my heart into as many pieces as there are stars in the November night sky. He didn’t need to voice those words – they were evident in the expression swirling in his umber eyes as he watched you tentatively, waited for your reply.

“You were never just a distraction, Eddie.” It came out as a broken whisper, filling the slim space between the two of you, the tip of his nose nearly brushing yours.

He swallowed back the lump in his own throat before he croaked, “Then what was I?”

A maybe. An almost. The most beautiful what-if, because you knew, with all your heart, that Eddie Munson was your Forever if you let him.

But nothing had changed since that November night.

If anything, you now had confirmation about your greatest fear becoming reality.

You’d seen how Eddie’s story would find its cruel final chapter.

Some stories weren’t written to have a happy ending, no matter what you’d trade for the chance to grab the pen and rewrite the stars mapping Eddie’s path – but you could send him on another one.

Leading far, far away from Hawkins. And from you.

And when, if, the plan succeeded and Vecna was defeated and Eddie safe…maybe he would still want to be with you then.

But until then, he needed to stay away.

“You can’t go back in there tomorrow,” you breathed, your voice having reached its breaking point while your words made something dim in his Eddie’s umber eyes, a light you’d seen shattering within them once before already. “He’ll kill you.”

“He might.”

“Listen to me,” you pleaded softly, “I know you believe you have to prove that you’re not a coward, but you don’t. You don’t need to prove you’re a hero. You already are one, Eddie.”

“That’s what you think this is about?”, Eddie said softly. “That I’m trying to prove something? Shit, I’m no hero, I know that. The only time I’ve ever been brave was back in there ‘cause I can’t…” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as the first lonely tear rolled down his cheek, leaving a glittering track in its wake as it smeared the ashes on his cheeks before he shook his head, his trembling left hand shooting up to rake his fingers through his curls, the metal of his rings catching the dim light. “Shit,” he whispered, “This…this son of a bitch hurt you. He’s been hurting you, again and again, and he won’t stop until he’s stopped, and that’s why I’ll go back in there tomorrow to divert these nasty things. Not to prove anything. But to make sure Wheeler puts that goddamn bullet through his heart so he’ll never, ever lay his fucking hand on you again.”

His words rang in the air between the two of you, your heart racing so fast that you feared it might burst from your ribs any second now.

“He wants you, Eddie. Vecna wants to hurt you. That night when he showed me the door for the first time, on the roof…He showed me something else, too.” You swallowed against the lump in your throat which threatened to throttle you before you could get the words out, and your hands folded over his, trembling one, clinging to the towel as if it were a lifeline.

The tears were falling down your own cheeks now in hot rivulets. “He showed me the bats. They were…it was a whole swarm. Hundreds of these things, hailing down on you and…and you screamed –“ For the span of a trembling inhale, you squeezed your eyes shut against the onslaught of images. “I thought if I let you go and made sure you stayed far away from me, you’d be safe. I didn’t know it was Vecna, back then. All I knew was there was something on the other side, watching you. Wanting to kill you.”

Your voice broke at the word, shattering into tiny little pieces.

When your eyes fluttered open, Eddie’s eyes, those beautiful umber eyes, were wide, his chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths as he stared at you with tear-soaked shock and…hope.

Seconds ticked by as you watched him grasp what you’d just told him, the words hovering in the air between the two of you like the spores in the Upside Down, mingling with the cruel echo of Vecna’s voice in your head.

“And when I’m done with you, taken back what is mine – I’ll take your songbird. I’ll break him, bone by bone. And when I’m done, I’ll shatter his mind the way you shattered his heart, little thief. And maybe then…I’ll put him out of his misery.”

“I stole the most precious thing from him,” you whispered. “And he wants to punish me for that by taking the most precious thing from me.”

The sob which had been clawing at you broke free like a bird from its cage, momentarily rendering you speechless as your hands fell away from Eddie’s to clasp in your lap.

“That night last year on the roof,” you said, swallowing against the lump which was strangling the words with the sheer force of your emotions as the truth of that night was set free.

There was hope, so much hope, glittering in Eddie’s umber gaze while he waited for you to go on.

“Just…I want this to…count,” Eddie had told you that night in-between kisses, a smattering of stars forming a silver crown around his wild curls, “I want this to mean as much to you as it means to me.”

“It counted,” you whispered. “All of it. It meant…it meant everything, Eddie.”

“You wanted to save me,” he choked.

“That’s all I ever wanted. That’s why you need to leave. Please. Because if you come with us tomorrow…he’ll kill you. I can deal with seeing it happen every single fucking night as long as I can open my eyes and realize it wasn’t real and you’re still there. But I can’t…”

With the sobs ripping through you harder now to cut you off, you buried your face in your hands, all those horrible images coming alive in your mind again. Of those bats and Eddie’s death cry, his blood coating your hands and the light snuffed out of his beautiful dark eyes.

The sensation of Eddie’s hands folding over yours, gently prying them away from your face to make you look at him, sent a shockwave through you, intensifying when Eddie’s gaze met yours.

All the warmth, all the tenderness and adoration for you were shining in his tear-filled eyes, the emotions blazing there as clear and bright as the neon letters on a billboard ad. Eddie was still looking at you the way he always had, the way he’d looked at you when you’d been underneath him that night.

The despair in his eyes, the wild hope, the bewilderment and heartbreak and devotion stole the breath from your lungs.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered. “I always have, and I always will. And I can handle whatever Vecna’s got in store for me as long as I know you’re safe and that’s why I need you to leave tonight.”

The words floated into the tiny space between the two of you, mingling with your breaths as for a heartbeat, Eddie just stared at you, his own tears streaming down his face now to mingle with the ashes and grime.

And finally…Eddie kissed you.

It was funny, how Vecna, a god of his own making, was so scared of time, so set on freezing it yet still not powerful enough to achieve this goal – when Eddie was holding the power to stop time in a single, featherlight brush of his lips against yours.

And this time when Eddie kissed you, there were no more secrets between the two of you, no more hiding. This time, he kissed you, all of you, all the light and the dark and the grey spaces in between.

A soft sigh spilled from your lips into the kiss, a breath you’d never even known you’d been holding – and the delicate brush of Eddie’s lips turned ravenous.

Where the kisses you’d shared beneath the November night sky had been hesitant at first, clumsy and timid, with Eddie holding back, so scared to hurt you, with your own residual terror from Vecna’s first vision settled in your bones…there was nothing hesitant, nothing timid about this kiss now.

It was fierce and desperate and so utterly tender all at the same time when Eddie’s lips moved against yours, making all the pandemonium and horror of those past days, months, fade into sweet oblivion.

A kiss to stop the world from spinning and make your heart sing a tune solely meant for Eddie while his hands found their way up to gently cradle your face and angle your head to deepen the kiss. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer to where you were still sitting on the drawer as your hands snaked up the fabric of his Hellfire shirt to lock them at the nape of his neck, burying your fingers in his soft curls to make him arch into the touch with a breathless little moan that made heat flare through your body in response.

Eddie tasted of the salt of your tears mingling with his, of ashes and smoke, the waters of Lover’s Lake and sweat and him, and you’d never get enough of it. The passion of Eddie’s kisses ignited sparks in your chest, in your belly, spreading along your nerves like the sizzling glimmer travelling along a fuse as you pressed closer, the calloused pads of his thumbs brushing over your temples in a smooth caress to catch the tears that were still streaming down your face. Of relief, and love – and fear, the festering fear that Vecna would make true of his promise and take Eddie.

Tell me this is real, each of Eddie’s feverish kisses seemed to beg as one of his hands wandered down over the column of your throat, the pad of his thumb gently grazing the point of your racing pulse while his teeth grazed your bottom lip, Tell me you mean it.

I love you, you answering sigh told him as you pressed closer, the grasp in his curls tightening as you opened your lips to taste him. I love you. I’m sorry. And I love you.

Not in your wildest dreams had you dared to imagine this, right now – Eddie knowing all the darkest parts of you and still kissing you with such devotion and tenderness, his feelings for you unwavering, infusing each of his kisses with all the love and loss and heartbreak of those past weeks and months.

It was so easy, to start again where things had ended that November night.

As easy as breathing.

As easy as it had been to fall in love with Eddie Munson in the first place.

And you knew, with all your masks stripped, all your walls torn down and secrets on display, you didn’t want to waste a single second more.

Slowly, you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he chased your kiss before his eyes fluttered open and deep, rich chocolate met your gaze with an intensity that could have knocked you to the ground hadn’t you already been seated.

Unspoken understanding passed between the two of you as you decided you wanted to strip yourself in every way possible for him. And after all the truths Eddie had learned about you today, letting your clothes follow suit felt only right.

Your eyes never leaving Eddie’s, you reached down to grab the hem of your sweatshirt, the fabric sticky with sweat and lake water as you slowly pulled it over your head, watching Eddie’s eyes widen a little as he swallowed when you let the clothing fall to the tiled floor.

The air of the tiny bathroom was cool as it brushed over the bare skin of your arms, your chest; with only your bra left to cover you now.

Eddie’s hands found their way to your waist, warm palms settling on your skin to pull you closer for more of those intoxicating kisses that left your mind dizzy and put the sun in your chest and a smile on your lips, turned every beat of your racing heart into a love song written for Eddie, the movement of your lips against his the lyrics only he could understand.

When Eddie slowly let his rough palms wander up your sides, the pleasure of his touch made you arch your back to pressing closer against him, and your own hands roamed over his chest, dipping underneath the lapels of his leather jacket, wandering up to his shoulders –

The jacket was gone in a heartbeat, falling to the floor as Eddie shrugged it off to answer your unspoken question, and your hands found the hem of his Hellfire Club shirt, the gentle tug on the fabric another unspoken plea he heeded without hesitation, momentarily breaking the kiss before the shirt joined the rest of the clothes on the floor, the grimacing red demon face grinning back at you from the heap of fabric.

There was heat flaring in your chest, in your whole body, as you looked at Eddie now.

His hair was ruffled where your fingertips had raked through the curls, sticky with grime and sweat, a few stray strands of his bangs standing on edge from pulling the shirt over his head, and you took a few heartbeats to just stare at him in all his glory, his chest bare and the rest of his tattoos on full display. A spider right below his collarbone, and a demon face on his chest above his heart – before a painful wince escaped you as your eyes roamed down to the bruise on his ribs where Andy Warren had hit him with the crowbar only hours ago, momentarily stealing the spotlight.

“Does it still hurt?” A dumb question.

“Shit, yeah,” Eddie chuckled softly, “But I really couldn’t care less about that right now.”

With a smile, you shuffled a little closer to the edge of the drawer, your fingertips tracing the outline of the spider, wandering down to the demon’s grimace and farther, following the soft outlines of his ribs to his stomach, fingertips wandering over the trail of the v-lines dipping from the lines leading to the button of his ripped jeans as you watched with avid fascination how his breath hitched beneath the caress of your fingertips, the touch light as the brush of a feather as you let it wander down the dark dusting of his happy trail to the spot where it dipped below the waistband of his pants.

“Does that tickle?”, you asked softly, and Eddie snickered.

“Among, uh…other things.”

“Any more tattoos I don’t know of?”, you teased, meeting Eddie’s gaze, burning yet timid as it rested on you with an intensity as palpable as a caress, making your skin burn in the best of ways, tiny flames licking at your skin.

His smile was playful when he replied, “You’re gonna have to look for yourself. If – if you want,” he added quickly, looking as flustered as you felt in this new situation.

You slowly jumped down from the drawer and reached down to undo the button of your jeans before you peeled the sticky fabric off of yourself underneath Eddie’s burning gaze – and when the jeans were gone and you were bare before him save for your underwear, the way he was looking at you, as if you were the most beautiful girl in the whole world…it made sparks explode in your chest to rival every Fourth Of July Firework.

Still smiling, you chewed your bottom lip before you turned around, your back to him, looking at him in the mirror. “Help me with my bra?”

“You sure?”, Eddie asked softly, and you gave a timid little nod.

“Yeah. Never been surer, actually.”

Through the mirror, Eddie gave you the sweetest smile before his eyes flitted down to the clasp on your back, curls falling into his face and his long dark lashes casting shadows across his soot-stained cheeks.

He truly was beautiful.

Before you could voice the thought, though, the brush of Eddie’s fingertips over your back robbed your words at the sensations travelling through your nerves.

Your heart skipped its next beat as slowly, relishing each fleeting second, Eddie leaned closer to press the softest of kisses to the nape of your neck, testing the waters as his hands slowly roamed down your sides – and at the bliss-filled little shiver his kiss elicited, your hands shooting out to grab the edge of the sink, Eddie murmured, “Tell me if you want me to stop, ‘kay?”

“Hell no,” you whispered, arching your head a little as Eddie chuckled, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck before he placed a second kiss to that spot to steal a gasp from your lips.

It spurred him on – and in the mirror, you watched as Eddie trailed a path of slow, lingering kisses down your spine, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his lips, the sensations racing through your body to stir heat in your core while his fingertips worked to undo the clasp your bra.

And when the garment fell to the floor, leaving you bare before him, Eddie gently spun you around, his hands settling on his waist as he took you in, and you slowly rid yourself of your panties, letting them fall to the tiles and stepping out of them before you raised your head to meet his gaze once more.

The heat of his umber gaze made your bare skin tingle as a sudden bout of insecurity hacked its claws into you – but upon the expression in Eddie’s eyes, brimming with so much warmth and affection and awe as he took you in, every residual kernel of insecurity was dissipated like mist in the rays of the morning sun.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Eddie breathed, the rasp in his voice betraying his arousal as much as the impressive bulge in his pants, “Shit. I feel like I’ll drop dead every second now.” The timidness in the smile on his soft lips mirrored your own, an unspoken question hovering in the slim space between the two of you.

Still so sweet and considerate, still waiting for your permission to touch you even when you were naked in front of him.

“If you faint,” you warned with a soft smile, “I’ll have to take that shower alone. And I really wanted to share those ten minutes of hot water with you, Eddie.”

The smile turned into a radiant grin. “I better not faint, then, huh?”

“You better not,” you agreed with a murmur as you stepped closer, watching Eddie’s lashes flutter as you gently let your hands roam down his belly, fingertips following the soft line of his happy trail for a second time as you listened to the soft hitch of his breath, felt his muscles twitch beneath your caress, before your fingertips found the clasp of his belt, and your lips found his for another searing kiss.

You could feel how Eddie kept restraining himself, holding back to let you set the pace, keep you in control as you worked to open his belt, the button of his ripped jeans, before your thumbs hooked into the waistband to rid him of the pants and boxers all at once, Eddie’s hands coming up to help with the task at hand.

And just like that, he was naked as well, save for the rings on his fingers, the bracelet on his wrist and the guitar pick on the necklace around his neck.

Now it felt as if you’d faint before he could because the sight of Eddie, utterly naked, was definitely one to behold.

“Like what you see?”, Eddie teased softly, and his shyness, so opposed to his usual confident self, made giddiness bubble in your chest.

“Hell yes.” Meeting his eyes, there was a beat of silence as you just took each other in. Stripped of every layer, allowing yourselves to be as vulnerable as humanly possible in every way there was.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie murmured. “I…I mean it. In…not just hot. Like, you’re hot. So damn hot. But you’re so fucking beautiful, monster slayer.”

The heat in your cheeks was one of utter fluster as you reciprocated his shy smile, taking his hands in yours.

“So are you, Eddie Munson.”

There was relief shining in his dark eyes upon your words, and you wondered how many times he’d doubted that.

For a heartbeat, you remembered the cruel words people had uttered about Eddie that day in the cafeteria when Jason had started spreading his lies about the two of you.

“Did you hear what Jason said she let that freak do?”

“Gross.”

“Maybe the freak’s got some hidden talents underneath these ugly clothes.”

“Wouldn’t ever be enough to make up for his ugly face.”

“I mean it,” you said fiercely. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Eddie. And…” you smiled, “I’m relieved I can finally ogle you in peace because it was getting really hard not to openly stare at you at all times –“

You were cut off when Eddie’s lips crashed on yours again, the words morphing into a happy little sigh spilling into the kiss while together, you tumbled into the bathtub-turned-shower, the curtain tinkling softly as it brushed your side before your spine met the tiled wall, your hands coming up to cradle Eddie’s cheeks and pull him closer to deepen the kiss while one of his hands left its place on your waist to turn on the water.

You let out a pleased little gasp as the warm spray pelted down on your bare skin, droplets of water running down your body and soaking your hair and washing away all the grime and sweat as Eddie kept kissing you with a fierceness and reverence that sent your senses spinning and chased everything else from your mind but the feeling of Eddie, of his bare skin pressed against yours, every movement of his muscles, every hitching breath and soft gasp and stroke of his tongue dancing over yours as your hands roamed over his body, mapping out every line and every inch of his skin while he did the same with you, building that glowing, throbbing ache for him between your legs and stealing your breath with every caress underneath the warm spray of the shower.

When you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. And how much longer you’d have until the water would turn freezing.

Eddie reciprocated your wide smile with a radiant one of his own as you watched him.

Admired him.

He was as soaked as you were, his curls black in their sodden state, his bangs falling into his eyes in waves as the water pelting down on the two of you still wasn’t enough to wash away the grime and soot from his face. You’d happily take over this task.

You reached out to grab the bar of soap from the little tray behind him.

“Want me to…?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, his voice breathless as it laced with the noise of the water, and you gestured for him to sit down at the edge of the tub, coating your hands in soap while you stepped closer, positioning yourself between his legs.

“Close your eyes.”

Eddie heeded the soft-spoken command, his eyes fluttering close.

For a heartbeat, you couldn’t help but watch him, admire his long lashes, watch the water run down his beautiful face in soft rivulets, before you set to work.

Your fingertips drew gentle, soapy circles over his right cheek, starting with the side of his face that was unmarred by bruises, and Eddie’s eyelids fluttered softly as he leaned into your caresses as if he’d been as starved for your touch as you’d been for his.

Throat constricting with emotion, with love and affection for Eddie, your songbird, you washed away the ashes from his face, watching the streaks of grime vanish from his skin as you moved on towards the other side of his face, careful to keep the touch of your fingertips light as you cleaned away the grime from his bruises.

And when you were done, you leaned closer, placing the softest of kisses on his brow, right beside the cut, Eddie’s hands coming up to gently settle on your hips while you moved on, placing a second kiss to the bruise on his temple, and a third one on his jaw, right above the darkest of the bruises, Eddie’s soft sigh mingling with the sound of the pelting water.

“Hair?”, you inquired softly, and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open as he gave you one of his playful signature grins before he drawled, “I’m not sure yet whether you dragged me in here because I was stinky or because you wanted to grope me, monster slayer.”

“Both,” you giggled.

“I’ll gladly return the favor.”

You grabbed the bar of soap once more, watching the foam coat your palms before you moved to rake your fingers through his hair, drawing slow, soothing circles on his scalp that coaxed a relieved moan from Eddie’s lips; a sound that went straight to your core, to the ache already building there with every second, every touch, every kiss – but for now, you wanted to relish the innocence of the gesture, of cleaning each other up, the intimacy of it all that wasn’t tied to sex.

“Good?”, you grinned, watching the serene little smile spreading on Eddie’s soft lips as he relished the sensation of your fingertips working the soap into his sodden curls, his eyes closed with bliss while he leaned into the touch of your fingertips.

“If I could purr, I would.”

You watched the water running from his hair slowly turn from a dark grey to clear, a few residual flakes of ashes, or spores, washed away to vanish down the drain.

“I feel like you carried the whole Upside Down in your hair.”

“The way it felt, I wouldn’t be surprised if a Demogorgon or two were still in there as well,” Eddie chuckled, and you joined him in.

With easy silence settling over the two of you once more, filled only by the sound of the water, you moved on to the rest of his body, spreading the foam, fingertips tracing the outlines of his on his chest before you moved on to his arms and down his stomach, breaking your movements to place gentle kisses on his skin that made his breath catch and drew the softest of blissful hums from his throat as Eddie melted into your touches until the last remnants of sweat and grime had been washed down the drain.

“Okay, done,” you said softly, “Squeaky clean.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie uttered on a playful croon, making you laugh as he stood up again, gently taking the bar of soap from where you’d placed it on the edge of the tub.

“Your turn?”, he inquired softly, raising the soap as he blinked back at you through the curtain of his sodden bangs and the droplets of water falling from the showerhead above, and you gave him a happy nod.

“I need to hear it, monster slayer,” Eddie said softly.

“Yes,” you breathed, and Eddie leaned in to place to sweetest of kisses on the tip of your nose before he gestured for you to turn. You obliged happily, angling your head a little – and a sigh spilled from your lips as Eddie’s fingertips found their way into your wet hair, massaging the soap into your scalp with smooth movements that made you feel like you could melt any second with the gentleness of the motion, the calming sensations cascading over you as the soapy foam ran down your body.

Your eyes closed, you leaned into Eddie’s touches, feeling the smile tug on your lips and the pleasant shivers racing along your body as Eddie’s hands wandered down to the nape of your neck, along your arms, spreading more soap in slow circles over your skin like you’d done for him, gently washing away the sweat and the stench of smoke and Lover’s Lake which had been clinging to you.

And with the grime and sweat he softly cleared from your skin, vanishing down the drain along the bubbles of soap…it felt like the stain you’d been carrying on your soul, the mark you feared Vecna and the Upside Down had left there to fester, rot spreading with every lie and every ugly secret, was washed off by Eddie’s loving touches, the sensation of his hands wandering over every inch of your body to make your nerves come alive beneath his palms, your mind going haywire as the world around you blurred and each and every one of your senses, of your cells, honed in on Eddie.

Your eyes still closed, you followed Eddie’s lead when he gently twirled you until he was in front of you again, his calloused hands wandering over your body in the softest caresses.

And just when you thought you couldn’t wait a single second longer until he kissed you again, he did.

The softest moan bubbled from your lips and into the kiss as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, having memorized your reaction from that November night – and Eddie’s caresses lost their innocence as he gently caged you against the tiles, his hardened length pressing against your sodden skin to make need flare between your legs.

“That okay?”, he breathed into the kiss, and in your blissed-out daze, it took a moment for you to realize what he meant, that he was scared he could somehow make you feel caught because the position was so similar to the one he’d found Jason in, that night in the woods.

You pulled away from the kiss, your hands cupping Eddie’s cheeks. “I will never, ever feel uncomfortable with you, Eddie,” you whispered. “I want this. Every touch. Every kiss. Okay? As long as you want it too, I’m way more than just okay with everything you do.”

His eyes scanned yours underneath the spray, before he nodded.

And with a trembling breath, shyness taking the wheel for a fleeting heartbeat, you asked, “Can I…touch you?”

It took a moment for the confusion in Eddie’s gaze to clear, before he breathed, “God, yes. If you wanna –“

Your kiss stole the rest of the sentence, because there was nothing you wanted more than to touch him, and his words morphed into a sinful sound that went straight into the heat searing between your own legs as your fingers gently wrapped around his impressive length, one of his hands shooting out to splay on the tiles beside your head to steady himself.

The reaction chased away any residual insecurities, because if that was the sound you could draw from him with a simple touch, you wondered…

Eddie’s groan vibrated through your own body as your thumb gently flicked over his tip, spurning you on and stoking the ravenous need for him in your core as you slowly started to stroke him, the blissful noises tumbling from his throat enough to make you go crazy with want.

Your own moan mingled with his as Eddie’s other hand roamed down your side, wandering towards the inside of your thigh, teasing – before his fingertips found that throbbing spot at the apex of your thighs, and you felt like your knees would give in any second now as he started circling the sensitive bud of your clit, so achingly slowly, just as he’d done that night beneath the stars.

Your blood seemed to turn into liquid flames at the sensations Eddie’s touch sent cascading through your body.

You moved your hips, chasing the friction of Eddie’s fingertips as he continued to draw lazy circles over your wet folds, sending you into ecstasy, and at the sounds tumbling from your throat as your fingers clawed at his back to pull him closer beneath the spray, you could feel Eddie’s soft smile against your lips.

And still, he wasn’t close enough. You needed more, more of him –

A shriek ripped from you as you nearly jumped into Eddie’s arms, your body going numb with the shock of the sudden cold of the spray which had turned icy in the matter of a second, and Eddie’s string of curses filled the tiny space as he blindly fumbled for the shower tap behind you to shut off the freezing water before he succeeded.

For a shaken heartbeat, you stared at each other, both of you shivering, before a breathless little laugh tumbled from your throat and Eddie jumped out of the tub to grab a towel from the drawer beneath the sink, returning to wrap it around your shoulders before, with the sweetest of smiles, Eddie used the towel’s edges to gently swipe the water from your cheeks before he took your hand to help you climb out of the tub.

“Where were we?”, he breathed, inching closer, and you tilted your head before you teased, “Can’t remember.”

“We should definitely retract our steps, then,” he smiled, raising your hand to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles, “Just to be sure.”

You didn’t remember much of the way from the bathroom to Eddie’s bedroom, didn’t remember how he’d half-heartedly slammed the door shut as you’d tumbled through, the towel falling away from your body as Eddie walked you backwards until the backs of your knees bumped against the frame of his bed and, your hands buried in his sodden curls, you let yourself sink backwards onto the mattress, pulling Eddie down with you, not once breaking the feverish kiss as he situated himself between your legs, elbows resting on the sides of your head and the guitar pick dangling from the little chain around his neck softly grazing the spot below your collarbone.

You rolled your hips against his, and the sensation of his tip grazing against your folds, slick with your arousal, stole the loveliest groan from Eddie’s lips to mingle with your own.

With a soft smile, Eddie began to trail heated kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, over the bruises Jason had left on your skin, the touch of Eddie’s lips featherlight so he wouldn’t hurt you before he reached the spot below your ear, and his kisses grew ravenous again.

You realized what had been in front of you all along. That before you’d even learned that the monster placing horrors into your dreams and mirrors and mind was called Vecna, Eddie had been your saving song to keep each and every single one of your demons at bay.

The tune of his laugh, the music of his lilting voice when he talked, the melody he made your heart sing whenever you thought about him.

Eddie Munson had always been the bane of Vecna’s power over you.

“I need you,” you breathed, and Eddie paused his kisses to glance down at you, eyes glittering with a kaleidoscope of emotions, the darkness of his dilated pupils encased by the rings of his umber irises beneath the drying curls of his bangs.

“You sure?”, he breathed softly, water dripping from his sodden curls onto your own wet skin like the droplets of a gentle summer rain.

You nodded. “Yes. I want you. And if…” You swallowed, fresh tears threatening to choke you once more, “With tomorrow…”

“I don’t want you to want this because you fear it’s the last chance,” Eddie crooned, his breath fanning across your cheeks. “I want you to want this because, well, you want this. Not for some one-last-night-we-gotta-make-it-count-stuff.” He paused, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your brow before he whispered, “It counts no matter what we do or how far we take this. It always counts ‘cause we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

You smiled at the tenderness in his gaze, the devotion in his umber eyes as if he still couldn’t fathom that you were here, bare beneath him, gazing up at him with all the love that made your heart feel like it would burst with happiness any second.

“You’re still the first, by the way,” Eddie said softly. “The only. There’s…there hasn’t been anyone else.”

His words made your heart soar in your chest like a kite in the summer breeze.

“For me neither,” you whispered. “It’s only ever been you.”

Eddie’s smile widened. “For the record, it wouldn’t change a single thing about how I feel for you, but it does spare me a very large amount of seething, raging jealousy to know you didn’t resort to sex-drugs-and-rock-‘n-roll to…uh. Soothe your aching heart.”

“No way,” you smiled. “I only want you. As for the rest…” your smile turned teasing, “Where should I have gotten the drugs without you? You’re my not-drug dealer of choice. And I feel like I’m more into…you know. Metal, instead of rock ‘n roll.”

Eddie chuckled softly, before his lips met yours again in the sweetest of kisses as he shifted to align himself with your entrance, his soaked curls tickling the skin on your collarbone before he pulled back to gaze down at you, eyes dark and brimming with warmth as he watched you, scanning your face for the slightest sign of unease or doubt he would never find because there was nothing you’d ever wanted more than this, to be with him. To give him your all – body, soul, heart. Everything you had to give.

Your hands locked at the nape of his neck as he leaned onto one elbow, his other hand free to caress your cheek.

“I love you, monster slayer,” Eddie whispered, the tears brimming in his eyes mirroring those which stung in your own.

Of joy, this time. Of gratefulness, for what you’d both thought lost returning to you at last only to realize it had never been gone in the first place.

He’d never told you those three words before, but he didn’t need to. They were evident right now, in the look in Eddie’s eyes as he gazed down at you, making sure you were okay just like he’d done all those months ago on the roof beneath the stars.

They were evident in the sacrifice he’d been ready to bring tonight, and they’d been evident long before, in each of his smiles, every kind word, every little way he’d been there to collect the shards of last summer and mend them back together.

No, Eddie Munson had never needed to say those three words – but hearing him say them now was still the most beautiful thing in the word.

“I love you, too,” you breathed.

With his eyes never leaving yours, Eddie moved, burying himself in your throbbing heat, slowly, as careful as if he still feared he might hurt you, and the air was knocked from your lungs with a sharp exhale as your velvet walls stretched around him and your bodies melted together.

Breathing in each other, gazes locked and overflowing with so much love, it was as if you could feel the glowing thread connecting your soul with his, like the same green ribbon of silk which had led you back to him alongside the tune of his song. Out of the nightmare and back into his waiting arms, catching your fall just like he’d always done.

There were no words to ever express how much you loved Eddie Munson.

And there were no words needed – because you could see it in his eyes that Eddie understood.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to guide him closer, bury him deeper in your heat as the softest moan spilled from his lips to mingle with your own at the sensation.

“You good?”, Eddie breathed, resting his forehead against yours, voice raspy and dark with his arousal as he was giving you time to adjust to this strange new wonderful feeling of him inside of you.

“Better than good,” you whispered – and with your lips meeting his, you rolled your hips, drawing the most beautiful sound from him…and the most sinful one from yourself as the tip of his cock grazed a perfect spot deep inside your velvet walls.

It was all the reassurance Eddie needed. He began to move, pulling out slowly before he sheathed himself inside of you again, and right before your eyes fluttered close with the overwhelming pleasure of the sensation, you caught a glimpse of the tenderness flooding Eddie’s gaze, the raw emotions for you mirrored in their depths.

The glowing sensation of pleasure bolting through you overpowered the slight sting of pain at the movement, and you realized that no matter how often you’d do this with him, you would never get enough of it. Of Eddie buried inside your throbbing walls, his heartbeat racing against yours in beautiful synchrony and his curls tickling your cheeks as he moved, slowly, so achingly slowly; each measured thrust building this heat in your core and stealing the breath from you, chasing every rational thought from your mind until there was only Eddie, his scent immersing your senses and his slow thrusts driving you into the sweetest oblivion.

You realized why people called it making love.

You could feel Eddie’s love for you in every gentle thrust, in every caress of his calloused fingertips over your cheeks while his own moans mingled with yours in the air around you.

His fingertips brushed over the spot below your ear before they caressed your jaw, gently tilting your head to grant him access to your neck, his teeth nipping and grazing the tender skin above your pulse as you bit back another moan – but hot breath tickling over the wet skin below your ear, Eddie whispered, “No need to hold back, sweetheart. Be as loud as you want to. Those sounds are sweeter than any guitar tune.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. The last remnants of your restraint melted beneath the heat he sent searing through your nerves, setting your body ablaze with bliss.

Your hands roamed over the soft skin of his back, feeling his muscles flex with every thrust as Eddie increased his pace, you own hips snapping up to meet his in perfect synchrony, each movement guiding him deeper into your heat, his tip grazing that spot over and over again while your hands tangled in the soft, soaked curls at the nape of his neck, tugging just the way you knew he loved – and the reward was a sound that went straight into your core, making you clench around him.

“God, you feel so good,” Eddie rasped, his voice strained with need when his hand left your jaw to roam down the column of your throat, trailing over your breasts and farther down, “So, so good.”

Your reply turned into another broken groan before you could utter any words when Eddie’s fingertips slid into the space between your bodies to graze the swollen bud of your clit, making bliss sear along your nerves until your entire body was alight with the sensation, the pleasure Eddie kept building in your core with every quickening thrust, growing more urgent with each roll of your hips to meet his, every caress of his fingertips over the nub of your clit until you felt you might go crazy with the need for more, more of him, his touches, his wanton moans lacing in the air with your own to form a beautiful duet – and with a final thrust, hitting that sweet, sweet spot deep inside of you just perfect, Eddie’s name ripped from you in a broken cry as bliss cascaded over you. A glowing tidal wave, washing over every nerve and every cell of your body, every fibre of your being as you came undone beneath him, his soft murmurs guiding you through your orgasm.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, the pace of his thrusts faltering as his own climax drew closer, his fingertips still dancing over your clit, the touch of the calloused pads of his fingertips the most perfect contrast to your own soaked skin – soaked with the water of the shower still clinging to you, with sweat and the arousal pooling between your legs. “I love you so fucking much.”

And his forehead falling against yours, Eddie’s orgasm washed over him with the sound of your name like the lyrics of a song on his lips. It was the most beautiful one you’d ever heard.

His eyes closed with bliss and his soft, plush lips parted with a soft groan, the sight was so beautiful you wanted it tattooed in your memories as your hands left his curls to settle on the sides of his face, careful not to graze the dark bruises blooming there as he rode out his climax, his fingertips still coaxing wave after wave of white-hot bliss from your body as they swirled over your clit, spreading your arousal.

And when you felt him spill himself inside of you, the sensation was enough to send you over the edge for a second time, this one more gentle – a wave carrying you rather than crashing over you yet just as intense, robbing every last ounce of strength from your muscles as it washed over you with the sweetest release, his hands shooting up to lace his fingers with your own above your head as the pace of his thrusts faltered.

For a few heartbeats, the two of you stayed like this, trying to catch your breaths, caught in the hazy afterglow of passion numbing your minds and ensnaring your senses, Eddie’s curls tickling your sweat-soaked skin, before Eddie rolled off you, gently pulling you with him, against his chest, the echo of his heartbeat thundering against your ear as you caught your breaths.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie let out a breathless laugh, bewildered and amazed all at the same time, “That was…holy shit.”

“This…this was…” You trailed off, at a loss for words, still caught in the daze of your second orgasm.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, “Better than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Did you?”, you drawled playfully, still breathless as you placed your chin on his rapidly rising and falling chest to glance at him, “Imagine something the likes?”

Eddie’s answering smile was as radiant as a supernova, his voice genuine as he rasped, “Only with you, monster slayer.”

And for those beautiful moments, your happiness, the euphoria of being back in Eddie’s arms, right where you belonged with his heartbeat against yours, chased the way the thoughts of Vecna and his monsters and his threat hanging over you like crimson thunderclouds.

There would be time to prepare for what was to come next.

One final battle.

One last time of rolling the dice fate had handed the two of you, hoping for that critical hit to save what you loved most.

To save your songbird.

And save him, you would. No matter the price, you were ready to pay it. Tomorrow.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

--------

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things eddie #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #joe quinn

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that-ari-blogger · 2 months

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A New Face (Separate Tides)

During its second season, The Owl House had hit its stride and wasn't slowing down. This is my favourite season, and that isn't an unpopular sentiment.

Separate Tides is the opening episode of this season, so it needs to recap the previous goings on and themes in a cohesive way for new viewers, and take the series in a different direction that stays loyal to those themes and plotlines. I think this episode does that well.

But this isn't a summary blog, this is a blog where I find something needlessly specific and gush about the implications of that something.

So... The Golden Guard is so ****ing cool.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House, The Harry Potter Series)

I've mentioned in the past that The Owl House uses archetypal storytelling to a truly masterful degree. It takes tropes and meets them on a superficial level, then twists them in a way that adds depth and makes the series unique.

For example, the series is directly drawing inspiration from the works of Robert Galbraith, with Willow being the bullied kid with a passion for herbology, and Amity being the school bully who definitely has a crush on the main character. Both take the archetype and shake it up a bit, as is the way with parody, but the baseline is there.

This leans into the themes of being your own person rather nicely, as it makes the deviations from the archetype more important.

I took great pains to point out that Luz is the only character who doesn't fit the mould at all. She has no analogue and is her own person completely. She has nothing to restrict her.

However, leaves the analogue for the actual protagonist of Galbraith's books. Obviously, not every character from the series is parodied, but the chosen one main character seems like a weird one to miss out on.

I would argue that Mr Potter does have an analogue, Hunter Whittebane (Or Hunter Noceda or Hunter Demonne or even Hunter Clawthorn. Whichever name you prefer, its the same guy).

He is a child soldier, raised by his uncle and manipulated into giving his life away for the cause by an old wizard. He bears a scar on his face, and is technically half witch, half human.

Although we don't actually see any of that in Separate Tides. Instead, we are introduced to the Golden Guard, a character who is suave and cool and confident.

The first time we actually see this character is in the final scene of the previous season.

"Worry not, Kiki. We'll be keeping an eye on the inhabitants of the Owl House."

The Golden Guard is a goon, an elite goon, but a goon none the less. He is simply a character whom Belos turns to in order to get the job done.

But, I find the use of vernacular here interesting. Belos doesn't refer to the Golden Guard with any name, or even as a separate entity from himself. Not "he will be watching them" or "this is the Golden Guard, I trust him to get the job done". This character is referred to as "we". He and Belos are connected. This character is simply Belos' eye.

Then, in Separate Tides, it is established that, when Lilith fell from grace, she was replaced by the Golden Guard.

"He always got special treatment because he was the genius teen prodigy. But he's really just a brat."

So, this is a child, but a gifted child. Lilith is dismissive here, but not of the Golden Guard's skill, just his personality. This is someone for whom things come naturally, allegedly, and who has never had to work for his abilities. Allegedly.

"Unfortunately, you won't have the chance."

The Golden Guard's first line is just cool. He is calm and collected. He is in control. And he has just easily captured one of the protagonists.

I also love the little fact that he has spent the entirety of this voyage in a dimly lit room, eating crackers. The room has nothing to do in it except books. So, he was definitely just sitting there, reading, and had to improvise when King burst into the room. He's a bookworm with an ability to think on the spot.

I'm saying this guy would definitely play Pathfinder or D&D if he was given a chance.

Anyway, the Golden Guard's actual introduction comes fourteen minutes into the episode, and it immediately sets this guy up as a threat. He's martially competent, magically adept, and fully in his element. This is a character who revels in control, just like the Emperor.

And that link to Belos is interesting. Because forgive me for asking, why would an Emperor's elite goon be a child? As in, there has to be a connection to Belos beyond what meets the eye for the Golden Guard to be anywhere near where he is.

We don't get told that here, but we do see that this character's skillset is kinda similar to Belos', in theory. He's commanding, and he gets people to do what he wants. But in practice, this isn't Belos at all. This is someone trying very hard to be like Belos, but coming at it from a different angle.

I do, however, think that the Golden Guard's greatest strength as a goon is revealed subtly in this scene.

"The Emperor ordered me to slay one. I'm just following orders."

We've seen through Lilith in the previous season that Belos covets blind loyalty, and that is what the Golden Guard offers him. He doesn't know or care why the Emperor does what he does, he just follows orders.

Essentially, the Golden Guard is a traditional Disney villain at this point. He is fun, bisexual, charismatic, and a physical threat. The Golden Guard we get introduced to is enjoyable to watch, and it sounds like Zeno Robinson is having a blast voicing him.

However, there is one element of the Golden Guard that we get introduced to in this episode that might fly under the radar. The Owl House is no stranger to masks, and people putting on a show to get the job done, but when we are first shown the Golden Guard in this episode, he is taking it off.

The intro sequence of this season features three characters who are under Belos' command. Lilith, The Golden Guard, and Kikimora. It then unmasks them, with Lilith becoming apologetic, and Kikimora becoming more aggressive. But the Golden Guard sits between them, removing his own mask to reveal... a single purple eye.

The eye is the window to the soul, of course. But there is something to the manner in which this is happening. Kikimora has been angered to the point of lashing out, and Lilith has been brought low with remorse. The Golden Guard, however, is lowering his own mask and staring directly at you with an air of "I'm doing this of my own accord. I see you, you see me, your move."

I wonder if agency is going to be a theme with this character.

Final Thoughts

I love Hunter so much it is obscene, and there is a ton of ambiguity about him right from the bat. What is his stake in this? Who actually is he? And why does he have a purple eye?

As for the rest of this episode, Luz's guilt is starting to be expressed. In my opinion that is for the first time, but I have heard it said that this isn't a new character trait for her.

And Lilith... *sighs* There is a sentiment online as to the expedience of Lilith's redemption arc. Some people like it, others think she should have been "punished" more, and I would like to take a third rout.

I don't believe in punitive justice for fictional characters, and I certainly don't believe in telling writers how they should write. I do, however, think that it could have been slightly more interesting if the consequences of cursing Eda were explored more psychologically.

In any case, however, the series we got is the series we got, and I think it is perfectly fine, if not better, as it is. I don't see a point in getting angry online over what could have been.

Next week, I am looking as Escaping Expulsion and boy, do I have thoughts about Odalia Blight. So, stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...?#toh #the owl house #the owl house hunter #toh hunter #toh golden guard #the owl house golden guard #We need to see more of Eda in Bloodborne cosplay

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smallestapplin · 4 months

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[ Chatting ]

slides into frame

hi yo wassup here is idea that's been plaguing my brain since finishing the dlcs and only 2 other bimbettes people would be interested

ok so kieran is baby boy who got done so dirty by the writing so he's my son now

poor lad realized he wasn't the protag in this game and didn't have a chance of being the best or anything special (compared to the player character)

walks up to husbando Blue holding Kieran in front of me by his armpits like a cat

"husband, dear, babe, honeybee, partner of my life, this is our son now. he just went through rival syndrome real bad plz help him you're the expert on this 🥺"

was thinking about that one pokemon masters event where all the rival characters were together for something and Blue had to get uhhh Bede to calm tf down by asserting himself as the Top Dog™

him do that but gentler for poor Kiki. he needs therapy and good nice healthy people to hang around ASAP

∾ 【 Rouge Anon 】

This has me sobbing.

You know damn well that Blue sees how Kieran is acting and thinks "oh by Arceus he acts just like me when I was his age-"

Blue can relate to Kieran, and know how to connect with him on that, he can help ground him and be a shoulder to cry on for the kid.

He can also give Kieran sound advice on how he can work through it all, because he shouldn't define himself by such things when he's such a good kid.

Blue knows better than anyone.

Just don't be surprised when Blue comes back to you like "We have a son now, this is Kieran and he's my special little dude.

Him, you, Red, and Leaf make great role models too, and can help Kieran a lot better as you four have more experience with these things.

Helping him can be a bit challenging, but he tries so hard to make you and Blue especially proud of him.

Kieran sobs when you and Blue shake his shoulder and laugh.

"I'm so proud of you! You're getting better and better each day."

He's then clinging to you, ugly crying as he tries to speak but nothing but choked sobs can come out.

This is your little found family.

#rouge anon #YOU GIVE ME THE BEST SHIT 😩😩😩😩#spoilers #pokemon spoilers #pokemon dlc spoilers #scarvio spoilers #pokemon scarvio spoilers #pokemon blue x reader #found family #pokemon kieran #this is our son now

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p-antomime · 2 years

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KIKI MY LOVE ❤❤! What's ur thoughts about atepdad!Osamu and Uncle!Atsumu?

nonnie you're a one, and i have a few thoughts about they both so, listen, listen carefully.

୧ : tw.: stepcest, hints of voyeurism, breeding!kink, threesome, age gap.

oh, stepdad!osamu & uncle!atsumu.

osamu would be very affectionate and would even try to be a "father" in the sense of providing security and being present even for some things that were very silly to him, but for you would be very important — he could tell how important they were by the way your eyes sparkled and a wide smile appeared on your face when you talked about them. however, osamu wouldn't know how to handle the day that you would meet his brother because he thought that atsumu would still be a little immature, even though he was much older than before, and this would result in: a family lunch in which osamu felt the need to stare and analyze the way his brother acted, just to make sure that you were comfortable, that his brother wouldn't talk or do something impertinent.

or he, your stepfather, thought so. until he felt strangely uncomfortable with the way atsumu took too long for his liking in the goodbye hug you exchanged at the door of the house.

after that day, stepdad!osamu has become a little more secretive about the boys in your life. crush at college? osamu wants his name and wants to know what he does for a living. crush at the bus or the subway? osamu wants to know, too, and will pray to god that you don't run into him more often when you come home from college. someone who has picked up your phone on the street? osamu will walk out with you more often, with his arm around your shoulders, so that everyone think you are just a couple with a bit of an age difference.

before you could even realize it properly, stepdad!osamu would be running his eyes down your exposed thighs through your pajama shorts for seconds too long. and in almost every shower his hand would be around his cock pumping it not only while he fantasizes about your palm there, but also imagines how much tighter your pussy would be. he needed the real thing, as time went by his hand wouldn't be enough and neither would any other woman's holes.

he just didn't know that your favorite uncle texted you almost every day, atsumu liked you. not like osamu did, yet, but did! he would constantly be walking around the city and when he found something you liked, he would think about buying it for you and would definitely deliver the gift as soon as possible.

and then atsumu would find himself needing to put out of his mind your smile & face when he was alone, at night, under the sheets.

while it was a torture for your uncle to spend days trying to control himself and convince himself that it was no big deal, it was all too easy for your stepdad to put his hands on you when it was just the two of you alone. it started with just the typical caresses he left on your shoulders every day, it didn't seem like a big deal because you were already used to it, and then osamu started purposely wanting to help you a little more with the housework, coming up behind you and maybe unintentionally letting his cock and pelvis rub against your ass; you could feel it underneath the shorts, even the underwear. you could feel him underneath all of that, but you didn't allow yourself to feel him filling you up inside because it was so wrong that you were disgusted with yourself.

and it got worse when your stepfather gave you an adorable smile after whispering that he loved you and leaving a little kiss on your forehead before you went to bed.

it was on one of those nights that he stayed up late without knowing that you had also stayed up late. you intended to get off alone, without help, he intended to slide into your room and fuck you with your face smothered in pillows so as not to make too much noise. and your mistake was to use headphones when your slid a hand into your pajamas to play with your sensitive clit. it was too obvious the skin change between your delicate fingers and his touching your pussy and you didn't even think to close your legs; it was the only sign osamu needed to know that you were a slut for your stepfather and had always been there to be used until your holes were leaking with his thick, sticky cum.

unfortunately, not for you, it turned out to be a routine. osamu would spend the whole day just waiting for night to come so he could eat you out like he hadn't eaten in days, so he could hold you by the waist while fucking you so hard until he left little fingerprints on your skin.

it was on one of these "fun" nights, one when your mother had to stay late at work, that atsumu thought it would be nice to give you one of the gifts he bought during the week — and osamu didn't remember that he had given him a copy of the house keys, in case of an emergency.

and atsumu knew very well how your moans would sound, he had fantasized about them several times. even so, the most obvious choice was to lock the door, go up the stairs in silence and slowly go in search of the ajar door that hid you and your stepdad with fingers knucles-deep inside your pussy, the loud wet sounds of kissing and your entrance being stretched made both of their dicks painfully hard.

the door opened, you immediately tried to pull away from osamu and his brother let out a mocking laugh before he finished entering, closed the door and spoke, "never thought you were the type to ever fuck your stepdaughter, brother."

osamu's eyes fell between his brother's legs and the response came quickly, "you say it as if you weren't the one being so horny over us, atsumu."

you could barely think, your stepfather's fingers kept thrusting and rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you melt and whimper. and atsumu preferred to just move closer in silence, each time getting a better look at the way your tight hole clenched around his brother's digits with no intention of letting them go.

"Can I?"

"Just wait— a second, hold on," osamu spoke curving his fingers once again and hitting your sweetest spot.

you couldn't hold on and in a matter of seconds your body was shaking, your pussy was squirting and making a mess, and your eyes were locked on atsumu's. you could feel how much he wanted to touch you just by the way his eyes were eating you, dripping with desire and need.

Your high took long seconds to disappear and your stepfather pulled you against his body, leaving you leaning against his chest with legs spread and your pussy on display still dripping, "Shh, sweetie, it was good, wasn't it? I could feel you throbbing a lot, needin' a break, hm?"

atsumu knelt exactly between your legs and you tried to close them, to which osamu held them open with one hand and spoke again, "Keep them open for him, yeah? He's goin' to treat you so well, don't you trust your family?"

and all you could do was nod the head in agreement, completely out of breath and with your legs still trembling. your stepdad's brother smiled sideways and planted a kiss on your belly, his fingers ghosting up the inside of your thighs and his eyes glued on yours.

"don't worry, angel, your daddy is here, your uncle 'Tsumu is here, nothing to fear, right?"

atsumu asked rhetorically and immediately, before you or osamu could answer, slid his mouth to eat you out almost as well as he did.

it was a pity that his tasting your sweet pussy didn't last long: neither of those two men was very willing to spend any more time without making you feel a cock from inside, which means that double breeding is coming right the way and the neighbors would think you had got a new boyfriend.

— haikyū masterlist.

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bengiyo · 17 days

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @telomeke and shaded by @lurkingshan.

do you make your bed?

Not usually, but I don't have a partner right now. I find that I'm actually really good at cleanliness when I have people in my space regularly. I am better about taking care of things when I'm doing them for the ease of others.

what's your favourite number?

14, but I couldn't tell you why. I think it has something to do with a girl named Ciara who I sat behind in elementary school.

what is your job?

I fix things for a government agency.

if you could go back to school, would you?

Probably. I didn't really know what I wanted to do when I went to college, and was far too much a mess at the time to study what I really should have. If I could do it and maintain my expenses, I'd retrain for my preferred profession.

can you parallel park?

Yes. I am the gay who drives.

a job you had that would surprise people?

I was paid for over two years to be really good at D&D.

do you think aliens are real?

So... I gotta be honest... I hate this question. This feels as loaded as the "Do you believe in God?" question. We are not aware of the existence of life on other planets, let alone sentient life. There is nothing for me to believe in. Do I hope that there are other intelligent beings out there? Yes. I think it would be really cool to engage in communication with a species that also crawled their way out of the muck and made it to space. I think there's much we could learn from each other about life and the universe itself. But belief is such a loaded term for me as a lapsed Catholic. I do not believe in aliens, but I hope that we'll get to meet some in the future.

can you drive a manual car?

Nope! Never needed to learn.

what's your guilty pleasure?

Hmm... Nothing really anymore?

tattoos?

Nah, I've always worked in the public sector in a way that hasn't made it an advisable choice, and I've rarely cared enough about something to mark my body with it.

favorite color?

Purple most of the time, but my wardrobe would say I'm in my green era.

favorite type of music?

I'm a soft rock 90s kid who embraced a lot of 2000s and later alternative. I've been on a huge synthwave kick lately. However, because I grew up in the 90s and remember the era of radio, I have a deep affection for Soul and R&B, classic rock, and pop.

do you like puzzles?

Yes? But not in a way that makes me yearn for them.

any phobias?

Probably falling, but that seems like a normal one for survival purposes.

favorite childhood sport?

Baseball! I was a shortstop.

do you talk to yourself?

Not often. I don't actually have an internal monologue, so I don't need to talk to myself often to get through it.

what movies do you adore?

This is...so difficult. I'm just going to name a ton of films: Pooh's Grand Adventure: The Search for Christopher Robin, Pacific Rim, Ghost Dog, Master and Commander, The Man From Earth, The Sum of Us, Big Eden, Kill Bill 1 and 2, Knives Out, Muppet Treasure Island, Gattaca, C.R.A.Z.Y., Weekend, First Blood, Robocop, Starship Troopers, Drive My Car, Nine Days, Really Love, Set it Off, Make the Yuletide Gay, Shelter, Pig, Kiki's Delivery Service, The Digimon Movie, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Star Wars IV and V, Isa Pa With Feelings, The Way He Looks... and probably many more.

coffee or tea?

Coffee. Tea does so little for me.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

A train conductor or an astronaut! Trains are so cool, and space is the final frontier! We have to boldly go where no one has gone before!

I'll tag @shortpplfedup, @negrowhat, @chicademartinica, @so-much-yet-to-learn and @happypotato48

#tag game #tag meme #about me

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softness-and-shattering · 1 month

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Ok the latest episode of dungeon meshi is gory as fuck.

Major episode 11 SPOILERS

Given that the episode is dragon part one, I assumed they would fight the dragon, mostly fail, cliffhanger, and the next episode would be defeating it.

I did NOT expect them to kill it, root around its insides, and find Falins fucking bones!!

The foot comes down on Senshi and he immediately vomits blood? Chilchuk knocked out by bricks to the head, Laios loses his leg?! (Nitpick but. If the leg was disconnected what was keeping him from falling out the dragons mouth? Anime rule of cool physics?)

And then. Chilchuk and Senshi is heaps of pain and Laios' leg is just itchy? Its a good joke, but I think there's more. Those heals were too easy after that amount of unprecedented violent gore.

Laios had a btw-line about of the dragon and is mating and then dismissed the thought with no given reason. So I think next episode theres gonna be a second Red dragon. ( Its possible part 2 will be next season, but following more common episode title namings, red dragon 1 and 2 will be the season finale. )

And theres the unanswered question of the whole season, why is the dragon more active, why is the ecosystem of the dungeon off-balance. I think next episode will be our big clue.

Re Falin, its no coinicidence we were introduced to the racist rich guy who assures us that souls dont leave bodies in the dungeon. That was confusing up till the last episode because the characters sure act like death is possible, and we've seen dead people and heard about body-retrieval. Then Namari goes to revivals to ask about Falin and there are bodies stored behind the desk guy. Which puts the pieces together, bodies that can be retrieved are retrieved, and the people can be revived. If someone cares to, and presumably pays for it. Someones gotta pay for retrievals.

Its also no accident that our warm-fuzzy sibling scene before finding Falins skull is about a ghost who is trapped with his body, and Falins intuition/ability with ghost magic. Can she be revived, will she stick around as a ghost, remains to be seen. (Remains.)

As someone who hasnt yet read the manga, Im also curious about long term story. Ive gotten the impression that theres significant story to go, possibly probably they reach the end of the dungeon? But Ive not seen Falin present in any of the art, and for the story to continue they need motivation to keep going.

So Im guessing that Falin ends up as a ghost, or unreviveable, and they have to get to the bottom to find the mad mage, work out what stops people from crossing over post-death (does that include monsters, orcs, humanoid mermaids or fish-oid[???]mermen), and only then can they bring Falin back to life.

That or they revive her and theres some other plot hook, but my guess is what I just described.

(Another silly nitpick, the fire is blocked by the adamantium but the heat isnt a problem until after the fire is done? "WE HAVE TO MAKE SURE TO EXHAUST ALL ITS FUEL" THAT WOULDVE LEFT FALIN BEYOND ALL HOPE!!!!!!)

And its funny re Senshi's knife, ooh its mithril it can cut through anything, well of course! he's used it to cut every single monster theyve eaten! And we never wondered how! Foreshadowing by cookware, its ridiculous and I love it.

Last point is it just me or are...is it Kaka and Kiki? Theyre discount Vex and Vax, right?

#for ppl who dont know me my nitpicks aren't hating on the show #i just have a brain that points out these things and they need expression #its not a negative #theres always gonna be a level of movie magic #its fun to find where that line is of what just needs accepting and whats secret foreshadowing to extrapolate from #also no major spoilers please!#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #mine #review #sort of

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exocynraku · 19 days

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hi! no idea if this has been answered, but have you considered how groups of seals think about queerness as a whole? are there trans seals? how do they perceive gayness or a complete disinterest in sexual relations (and, tying into this-seals who have no desire to have a partner, whether or not it's platonic?) no pressure to respond d: love ur little guys the gene sheet is so cool

Short answer: our human concepts of gayness and transgendism don’t properly/fully apply to caeseal societies because gender is not a concept that exists. It’s just never been invented. sex-based genders (boy and girl), masculinity/felinity and tradtional gender roles don't exist. The only thing that does exist is different ways seals will PERSONNALY refer to themselves (pronoun wise i talk about mostly). I say personally because the pronouns seals use are ALWAYS DIFFERENT! specifically catered to the singular seal! (with the except of it/its which you'll have to read my long answer for if you want to understand that) Our human concepts of asexualism/aromanticism/things akin to that DO exist but play a more prominent role in pods. Hunts are kind of an odd ball, lol. Long answer: caeseals and their relationships with sexuality and gender are a lot more different than ours, mostly because:

caeseals have little to no physical difference between sexes excluding reproducing organs. i'm still debating if i want to add any sort of sex-linked gene(s). this is very unlike most real species of seals but i decided on it mostly because i . Like it more than normal sexual dimorphism? that's sort of it.

with no obvious sexual differences there also isn’t really a concept of ‘masculinity’ or ‘femininity’, and traditional gender roles haven’t been invented.

and this all does play a part in caeseal society. how sexuality and “gender” both work differ between pod and hunt groups !

hunts: with mates being assigned, what we know as traditional romance is pretty much nonexistent. hunt seal romance is more akin to friendly rivalries.

sexual and romantic attraction really isn’t something that cross hunt seals minds. it does occur, but very few will act on them until later in their life (after they’ve mated, when they can do whatever they want). Excluding a distaste towards sex, which they’ll usually act on sometime after getting paired up by killing their partner.

the sex of hunt seals is known by the leader of the hunt. since they are the ones who choose pairings, they need to keep track of everybody to make sure pairings would be able to reproduce.

all hunt seals start their lives being called ‘it’ (it/its). this also works as a catch-all term if you need to refer to a seal you don’t know the gender of.

most hunt seals will eventually stray away from 'it' as they grow. there are many reasons one may, and i couldn't list them all. but, as they stray away, the terms they choose are usually entirely unrelated to their sex. instead, it's usually related to their fighting style!

all seals, no matter the group, attack by biting. but attacking is not all you need to know, especially in hunts. hunts teach all sorts of specialized moves, ranging from defense techniques, knowing your limits & how to use your differences to your advantage, surprise attacks, how to use your surroundings, etc etc. and a lot of seals have somethint they specialize in.

hunt seals use this when choosing how to refer to themselves. have you ever heard of kiki and bouba? how kiki sounds sharp and pointy and bouba sounds soft and round? hunt seals apply the vibes and feelings of different noises (letters) to the vibes and feelings of the thing they specialize in.

a seal who specializes in surprise attacks would go for something short and sudden sounding (ex: t/k/v/j), maybe a noise that'd instil a feeling of dread. (ex: ss/ee)

a seal who specializes in a battering-ram style charges to throw opponents around would want something that starts slower (oo, uu, aa, hh, gg) and ends solid, but not sharp. (d/g/b/m)

etc etc, i could make a million examples. hunt seals who specialize in multiple styles could use multiple pronouns or mix two together. if a hunt seal's style changes over time, so could how they refer to themselves.

what feeling a certain letter evokes does vary SLIGHTLY hunt to hunt, but that doesn't matter, and a hunt seal wouldn't introduce themselves to a seal from a different hunt. they'd just fight each other.

i’ll probably make a guide for what letters hunt seals associate different things to. but that’ll be later

pods: pod culture around relationships is a LOT more complex than hunts and is a bit hard to define. Gender is . still a bit complex but it’s definitely easier to understand than their relationships

similar to hunts, pod seals begin their lives being referred to as it (it/its). but the way pod seals figure out what terms they’ll be referred to as isn’t actually determined by them. as seals grow up, the people around them and the people they’re close to, usually immediate family, will start referring to them in different ways. whatever their family thinks fits them. as time goes on, eventually certain terms will fall off and others will stick. and eventually, usually when they’re about halfway thru their juvenality, one will REALLY stick. that’ll be how this seal refers to themselves.

similar to hunts, these terms are usually made up, but not related to sounds. they’re related to things that the seals family associates with them. usually physical objects/things or ‘vibes’. this is a little hard to explain, but eventually i’ll make an easier guide/make examples.

If a seal for whatever reason doesn’t like the term that’s been decided for them, they can ask for more suggestions/pick a different one their family recommended/make one up themselves/etc. It’s rare for this to happen but it’ll show up every so often.

Pods relationships are open and ‘cheating’ is not a concept that exists in their society. Seals who never end up in relationships with other seals do exist but they’re hard to find. Most seals are able to keep track of who they’re in a relationship with but those who like having lots of partners will occasionally keep lists.

Most seals end up in relationships with those who they grew up with but meeting someone totally new does happen. And when i mean meeting someone new, i mean both from a different pod and inside your OWN pod. This might seem crazy but, i think i’ve mentioned it, pods can get VERY BIG!!!! There is most DEFINITELY a chance there’ll be some seals you don’t meet for a long time or are only acquaintances with.

Pod relationships are pretty complex but CAN be understood if you put a bit of brain into it. The only relationship that’s not hard to figure out are familial relationships as those just work as. That’s my family. That’s not my family. Otherwise, pod seal relationships usually consist of offshoots of platonic, romantic or sexual. (ps: when i say platonic i don’t mean stuff like friends or acquaintances those are their own thing that word just how they do normally in real life) to give a few examples, someone could have a solely romantic relationship with another seal, but be open to romantic or sexual relationships. Someone could like romantic relationships but only with people they don’t know very well. I could quite literally go on forever.

But, when referring to another seal, pod seals will generally say ‘i don’t know that seal/we’re acquaintances/we’re friends’ or ‘we have a relationship/we are partners’ and then expand further or not depending on comfort. I’m not sure if i explained that well (like ive done with most of the stuff in this post putting my thoughts into words is brain melting) but i’ll have to cap it here before i die in some sort of way. But i’ll get around to making nice guides eventually, probably when school stops swamping me (who knows when that’ll be though)

#caeseals #ray talk

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cursedcola · 11 months

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Ok but will you do headcanons for the lovely protag of tears of themis, because if so I would love some cute Hcs of her having a cheerful and loving female s/o who runs a bakery and packs her cute little lunches everyday so she can have the energy she needs to work hard (•̀ᴗ•́)و

and sometimes Rosa (which is the code name we get in the game for our protagonist) gets special sticky pad notes in her lunchbox cheering her on when she’s had a bad day, and I just want some fluffy domestic hcssss

*cradles gently* I just love lesbian girlfriend hcs so much ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

A/N: Omg I'm gonna throw up I love this. It's too cute for my heart...ngl I simp for Rosa more than I do any of the boys. Can we romance ourselves? lol I'd pay Mihoyo to make it happen. TBH I ship Rosa x Kiki a bit since they just seem so much more on the same page with each other than our lovely gentlemen ( love Marius still tho frfr)

Our queen of justice would cherish her girlfriend so much let me tell you

Rosa has a habit of going above and beyond for the people she cares about. She’s normally the giver, and being on the other side of the coin is a whole new life

I can see it now. Every morning on her way to the Themis Law Firm she stops by her girlfriend's bakery. Rosa gets up extra early and brings her a cup of coffee/tea/etc. before the bakery opens.

She just loves to hear the jingle of the doorbell and see you arranging the display case behind the counter. Sometimes she'll pick up an apron and join you if she has extra time. Bonus points if your shop has a theme (like say you have a book café/bakery! And you dress to match the theme. You have a little knee length dress, mary-janes, and a bookish themed apron as the uniform. Maybe one of those cute little neck scarf/choker that you tie into a bow. Rosa would eat that up omg)

The first time she brought you a morning drink Rosa felt like an idiot because - well, duhh. You run a bakery! You sell this stuff! yet it became a bit of a trading deal. Rosa brings you your morning fix before the shop opens, and in exchange you pack her a few goodies.

It's such a ritual that Rosa now has a little thermos collection for you, and you have a lunch pail collection for her. It also gives you both a chance to see each other after work. On her way home (either after a shift or on her way to NYXX) she swings by your shop to drop off the pail and pick up her thermos. A quick goodbye smooch and she is on her way.

Lmao no. If she isn't going to NYXX then normally she stays back to help close the shop. If not then she begrudging leaves. Unfortunately you are not allowed to know about NYXX. It's too dangerous. You're aware that she works alongside Marius, Vyn, Luke, and Artem on the side - but are under the impression that it is for a special government case through Themis. They know about you as well. We love our ally kings. Sometimes you send Rosa off with enough goodies for all five of them when she swings by and can't stay.

Now. You know they all have/had a crush on her at some point. Especially Luke. The boy is a living golden retriever. Not to mention Artem who is just awful at masking. Thankfully your Rose is oblivious as hell, not that you're worried.

All it takes is the scent of one of your new recipes to have Rosa swooning in the palm of your hand. Before you started dating, you both were friends. You saw how she was always on a diet and depriving herself. Those little comments about her appearance making you the loving type of mad. Y'know, the type to passive aggressively eye her and be like "honey you are so beautiful that I have four men trying to steal my gf right now. Do not test me,". Which, of course, you'd only say the first part because that confrontation is not one needed considering the ally kings know their place.

Point being that we don't support that unhealthy diet culture. Big nono. She is going to eat good and she is going to like it.

Anywho. Back on topic. You know they like her and one way you casually tease is with loving treats. Yes, my dear Rose, please take this basket full of freshly baked bread to your meeting. The one with the ribbon on top. Why is it taped down? Oh, no worries my love. Just let one of the boys open it, okay? I have yours specially wrapped in a separate bag.

Meanwhile whichever poor soul opens that bag is going to get hit in the face with one of the sappiest and most suggestive love notes in all of Stellis.

"My lovely flower. Have a great day and be careful on the way home from your meeting! I have missed you so much and cannot wait to have you all to myself tonight. Enjoy the sweets with your friends" *insert a plethora of heart drawings*

Rosa will see them holding the note and simply think that you put it in the wrong bag. It's not abnormal for you to put those heartwarming notes in her lunches, so she apologizes. Vyn knows. They all know.

Dominance asserted, and your cute girlfriend is pleased by your loving note (and a bit embarrassed but it had to be done. Rosa deserves the abundance of affection. Her confidence needs to be boosted and she needs to recognize what a queen she is)

Did I mention that your shop is one of Rosa's favorite places? It's cozy, inviting, and she loves to study for her exams there. Sometimes if she's working on a case she'll claim a table for hours on end. Occasionally she sneaks glances of you working with customers and watches as a break. She'll blush if she gets caught, but it is so worth it.

Sometimes she takes her work breaks there as well. Occasionally you'll see her pop in with Artem, Celeste, Kiki, or perhaps another one of her acquaintances from work like that one Police Capitan. Darius, was it? That one always needs a triple shot of espresso. usually when you see him it means something serious is going down. It warms your heart when she boasts about your shop to them. She'll pick a table and like clockwork you'll come over to have a little chat before they get to work. It's so nice to feel included and to see her in the zone.

Whenever she is on a business trip she'll look for a little something to bring home for your shop too. Typically a decoration piece. Thanks to Rosa you have a little statue-esque tip jar from her trip to the desert, fairy lights above the main counter from a whimsical mountain, flower pots from an island trip, and more. You never question her many excursions because she always brings you home a surprise.

On one final note, your shop is her safe space. Sometimes she comes to your frustrated or nervous. It could be about exams, a particularly bad case...and sometimes she can't tell you. "Government case," she says and you know something really stressful happened. Those ones are the most worrisome. It's hard, being there when she disappears on a case that she can't tell you about. One of the gents are always there with her, but when she comes home in a near-shocked state you can't help but get anxious.

Yet Rosa knows you won't press it. She strolls in, most commonly near closing time, and you just know. You have a sixth sense for it, and without asking flip the shop sign to say 'closed' before preparing her a warm drink. Then you sit with her and let her talk. You don't question when she leaves things out, and let her vent.

You and your shop become like a second home to Rosa. Peace in a city like Stellis that never seems to rest.

#tears of themis #tot #tears of themis x reader #tot x reader #tears of themis Rosa #tears of themis Rosa x reader

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 month

Text

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | seven

🐴Chapter summary: Your heart aches and you feel like you see Jimin everywhere you turn, it feels suffocating. When you suddenly get a call from your sister’s doctor saying that she never made it to her appointment, dread fills your bones. 🐴Chapter title: We Got it Wrong 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: car accident and bleeding from a head wound (I’m sorry 😢), OC is just very sad and angry, there’s a lot of angst and stupidity (thanks to the stupid misunderstanding last chapter), lol. It will get better! But not right now 🥲 And if you feel like you need a reminder where the story is heading, read this spoiler 🫶 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 9.5k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “We Got it Wrong” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: in true ‘McLeod’s Daughters’ style, we open up for all the angst in this chapter! It was tough to write, and it was hard not to cry at the end. It’s more on the sad side, but the sun will shine again— don’t you worry! ☀️

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

“Tears for all the damage Tears for all the joy Out in the dark, alone and lost I’ll try not to destroy Any more of what we had Because we got it wrong” - ‘We Got it Wrong’ by Rebecca Lavelle

Despite the persistent yearning for Jimin that echoes in your heart and mind, the refuge you find in your work with the wild horses becomes a haven for forgetting. In their presence, you master the art of maintaining a clear mind and keeping your emotions in check.

Otherwise, the delicate dance of gaining their trust remains elusive, and your efforts to gentle them might as well be in vain.

But sometimes maintaining a clear mind becomes a challenge, especially when the echoes of Jimin’s laughter reverberate from his house.

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, catching Yoongi’s attention as he glances your way from his perch on the fence.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Yoongi advises, enveloping you in a comforting sideways hug to emphasize his point.

You pout, your bottom lip jutting out, eyes imploring with a softness, “Easy for you to say.”

You sigh once more, a heavy breath escaping, and a profound sense of deflation washes over you. Is this truly the path your life is destined to take?

“He’ll open up to you in due time,” he reassures, and you can’t help but erupt into a manic chuckle, a blend of frustration and disbelief escaping your lips.

“You can’t be serious. It’s been weeks, and he still hasn’t uttered a word to me. I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon,” you express with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

Yoongi relents to your sour mood, descending gracefully from the fence with a resigned sigh, his boots meeting the sand with a soft thud.

Putting your lunch away, you gracefully descend, ready to immerse yourself once more in the comforting distraction of work, hoping to reclaim a few precious hours without the weight of Jimin occupying your mind.

As you stroll alongside Yoongi, you make your way back to the stables, anticipation bubbling within you to witness the progress on the chestnut mare he’s been tirelessly dedicating nearly a month to.

The expansive stable beckons, its generous proportions dwarfing yours, illuminated by a pristine, white light that banishes the garish yellow hues of your own barn. The stalls, noticeably more capacious, could easily accommodate two fully grown horses, prompting an eye roll at the absurd fixation on size—typical men.

With a swift yet gentle command, Yoongi effortlessly guides the mare out of her stall, relying solely on his body language and the cadence of his voice, a testament to the unspoken connection he shares with the spirited creature. “Come.”

His ability to command the horse without the need for a halter or rope leaves you in awe, like witnessing a magician performing an extraordinary feat. As he imparts his tricks to you, you’ve ventured to try them yourself with Mikrokosmos, turning the experience into a magical and exhilarating connection between you and the spirited mare.

Yoongi guiding the brown mare alongside you, you exit the expansive stables and make your way back down to the pens, the rhythmic echo of hooves on the stable floor harmonizing with the subtle sounds of nature surrounding you.

Your gaze shifts to Yoongi, a spark of curiosity brightening your eyes, “Have you thought of a name for her yet?”

A soft chuckle escapes him as you approach the pen, his hand reaching for the gate, “Holly.”

With the gate ajar, Yoongi ushers Holly into the pen with a deliberate calmness. In the center, she stands like a picture of patience, anticipating his gentle approach.

“That’s a cute name,” you remark, a genuine smile playing on your lips as you savor the sweet sound of the horse’s name.

You gracefully ascend, perching on the fence as if it were your throne, offering an unrivaled view of Yoongi’s equine magic.

“What are you gonna do with Holly today?” You inquire with genuine interest, your eyes fixed on the unfolding scene before you. Yoongi approaches Holly with a gentle touch, his hands navigating the contours of the horse like an artist sculpting a masterpiece, eliciting a contented whinny that adds a musical note to the serene atmosphere.

“I’m going to ride her today,” he declares with unwavering assurance, the timbre of his voice resonating with a mix of competence and excitement. As he applies gentle pressure on Holly’s back, the horse remains still, her tail swaying lazily to ward off an annoying insect.

With a graceful ease, Yoongi begins to mount Holly, his movement akin to an acrobat suspended in mid-air, creating a whimsical and amusing spectacle. He’s not fully astride her yet, more like a playful dance over her back, a sight so unique that it tugs at the corners of your lips, tempting a restrained laugh. It’s a display of horsemanship that you’ve never encountered before, leaving you both entertained and captivated.

Holly maintains her poise as Yoongi gracefully hovers on her back, and then, in a seamless motion, he descends to the sandy ground, his landing executed with a finesse that mirrors the effortless connection he shares with the gentle mare.

He recreates the move, elevating himself further on Holly’s back, until he dangles with his head swaying on the opposite side. Your grin widens, and though you’re tempted to burst into laughter, you restrain yourself, not wanting to disturb Holly’s tranquil demeanor.

He glides down once more, approaches her head, and caresses her with a tender touch. The whole interaction exudes a gentle harmony. Returning to her side, he pulls himself up onto her back, effortlessly swinging his leg over her body, finally settling into a comfortable seat.

You’re tempted to applaud, but you resist, not wanting to startle the horse. Yet, your admiration is palpable. This marks Yoongi’s inaugural ride on Holly, a momentous achievement that leaves you thoroughly impressed!

Yoongi stretches over her withers and strokes her neck affectionately, whispering, “Good girl.”

With a subtle click of his tongue and a gentle nudge of his legs, he guides her into a slow walk around the pen, no saddle, bridle, or halter in sight.

Color you thoroughly impressed.

You watch in silent awe as he maneuvers around the pen, his presence commanding such tranquility that you’re hesitant to disrupt the serene atmosphere by uttering even a breath.

In a breathtaking display, Holly transitions from a slow trot to a graceful canter, and Yoongi remains a steady figure atop her back. His legs maintain a gentle connection with her sides, while his hands rest calmly on her withers. A moment of pure trust unfolds as he releases his grip, extending his arms outward, allowing Holly to dance freely in circles within the pen.

Yoongi embodies the essence of liberation, and a yearning grows within you to share a similar bond of freedom with Mikrokosmos. His infectious smile meets your gaze as Holly releases a resounding snort, prompting a heartfelt chuckle to escape your lips.

Allowing Holly to race freely, Yoongi skillfully guides her by exerting a gentle pull on her withers, coaxing her spirited gallop into a graceful deceleration, transforming the wild rhythm into a serene and controlled stroll.

The distant rumble of an approaching car draws your attention away from the serene scene in the pen, and you reluctantly shift your gaze towards the source. To your dismay, Jimin’s girlfriend arrives, her car pulling up with an elegance that seems to mirror her captivating allure. Ugh. Why does she have to look that good? And why does she look so familiar?

You scrutinize the unfolding scene, watching with a mix of bitterness and resentment as she gracefully emerges from her car. Jimin, despite his limp, crosses the distance to warmly embrace her. The sight sends a surge of conflicting emotions through you – your heart tightens, your blood simmers, and your hands involuntarily clench, the tension palpable as your teeth grind together in silent frustration.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, an uncontrollable storm raging within. The intensity of your feelings is staggering – a deep-seated resentment towards Deiji, a lingering hatred for Jimin himself, yet paradoxically, a persistent love that refuses to fade. The turbulence within you paints an intricate mosaic of conflicting emotions, leaving you helplessly caught in the tumultuous crosscurrents of your heart.

As Jimin leans in to bestow a chaste kiss upon her cheek, bitterness seeps through your veins, staining your soul with an ominous shade of black. Above you, an unseen tempest brews, dark clouds of despair hanging heavily, casting a shadow over your heart.

Time, instead of healing, has only fueled the flames of pain, hurt, anger, and sadness within you. Over two weeks have passed since the last encounter with Jimin and his girlfriend, yet the agony persists, as raw and piercing as if it were yesterday. Rather than easing, the passage of time seems to stoke the embers, transforming your emotions into a relentless storm of fury and jealousy that intensifies with each passing day.

Suppressing the bitterness welling up within, you shift your focus back to Yoongi and Holly. Dwelling on Jimin, the man who once went out of his way for you, retrieving you from the city, proves too agonizing for your fragile heart.

The nagging question persists: why won’t he engage in conversation, fight for you, like he did then?

“.... Mikrokosmos?” You snap back to the present, catching the tail end of Yoongi’s question. Offering him an apologetic look, you realize you’ve been lost in your own thoughts, missing every word he carefully uttered.

You pivot to fully engage with Yoongi, deliberately tuning out the sight of the content couple in the background. “I’m sorry, I got lost in my own world. What were you saying?” you inquire with a sheepish smile, noting that Yoongi has dismounted Holly and is now giving her affectionate pats.

Yoongi draws in a breath before repeating himself, his gaze fixed on you. “I asked if you want to work on Mikrokosmos?”

With a released breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you offer him a nod. Working on Mikrokosmos is exactly what you need. As you descend from the fence, Yoongi swings open the gate, leading Holly to a paddock where she joins the other horses, letting you both focus on the task at hand.

You stride purposefully into the stables, the familiar scent of hay and warm wood enveloping you as you approach Mikrokosmos, peacefully resting in her stall.

You swing open the stall door, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet stable. With a warm smile and a voice that echoes genuine affection, you greet Mikrokosmos, “Hi Kosmos.”

Mikrokosmos ambles over, her velvety nose brushing against your outstretched hand, and she playfully nibbles, almost giving it a gentle lick. Your laughter fills the air as you shift to pat her neck. Stepping back, she follows, and you guide her down to the pen. With a practiced motion, you swing the gate open, and as she steps inside, you secure it, sealing the quiet world between you and the rest of the bustling stable.

Perched atop the fence, Yoongi assumes his vantage point, keenly observing your every move with Mikrokosmos, a silent maestro overseeing a harmonious dance between human and horse.

You guide Mikrokosmos around the pen, allowing her to explore the boundaries with curious sniffs and gentle trots. Positioned in the center, your anticipation grows as you await the elusive connection, the ’join up’ that has eluded you thus far. A subtle worry creeps in, questioning if this profound bond will ever materialize between you and the majestic creature.

“Relax and let her come to you,” Yoongi advises from his perch on the fence, a keen awareness of the frustration simmering within you.

Another sigh escapes you, a gentle release that carries your thoughts through your body and spills out through your fingertips. Surrendering to the moment, you embrace the idea that sometimes losing control is the only way to regain it. With a deliberate clearing of your mind and a slow, calming breath, you reassure yourself that everything will indeed be fine.

You surrender to the quietude, closing your eyes as you inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

As you focus on Mikrokosmos with closed eyes, the subtle rustle of something against the fence flares your senses. Internally cursing Yoongi for disrupting your concentration, your heightened hearing captures the gradual crescendo of hoofbeats, a rhythmic melody slowing to a gentle cadence.

The hoofbeats draw nearer, and your heart matches their slow, rhythmic approach. A mysterious sensation caresses your back, creating an anticipation that hangs in the air like a delicate promise.

With a resounding whinny, Mikrokosmos echoes her presence against your back, a triumphant melody of connection. Pride surges through you like a victorious anthem. Overwhelmed with joy, you pivot slowly, locking eyes with your equine companion, and tenderly pat her forehead, sealing the bond that has blossomed between you.

As Mikrokosmos revels in her joined connection with you, a swell of pride, you become aware of Yoongi’s gratified grin. Yet, amidst the shared triumph, your eyes catch another figure— Deiji, leaning casually against the fence, her smile mirroring the prideful moment as an unexpected witness to your accomplishment.

“That was amazing!” Her voice practically squeaks with amazement, prompting an eye roll from you.

She glances between you and Yoongi, her voice carrying a sweet and eager tone as she proposes, “I was wondering if I could assist you with the horses?” Despite her happy demeanor, you can’t quite shake off the underlying discomfort you feel in her presence.

You don’t want her help. Refusing her offer with a swift and almost brusque retort, “No.” The refusal spills from your lips with an unintended edge, its abruptness catching even Yoongi off guard. He arches an eyebrow at your firm response, a smirk playing on his lips as he finds amusement in your conviction.

Undeterred by your rejection, Jimin’s girlfriend gracefully accepts your refusal, her smile unwavering. “Okay. Please let me know if I can help you somehow,” she offers, her kindness contrasting with the tension lingering in the air.

With a hint of sarcasm, you snide at her, the forced smile on your face barely concealing the complex emotions within. You nod in acknowledgement, and as she releases her grip on the fence, she retreats gracefully towards the house, leaving you with a bittersweet taste in the air.

You stand firm in your independence, a resolute desire echoing in your mind — you don’t want assistance, especially not from her.

Yoongi gracefully descends from the fence, his presence blending seamlessly with the rhythmic strokes of your hand against Mikrokosmos, creating a moment where time seems to pause, encapsulating the essence of your shared connection with the wild horses.

“Did you really have to be so rude to her?” Yoongi chuckles beside you, his laughter a dissonant melody to the tension in the air, and you can’t help but mutter a few choice words under your breath, realizing the complexity of your emotions.

You pivot towards him, a tempest of frustration swirling in your gaze. “She is the enemy!”

His laughter persists, revealing the expanse of his gums. You exhale sharply. “I can’t have her clouding my thoughts while I’m trying to find solace in my work.”

He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Nah, I get it. You’re just yearning for that Park dick to fill you up,” he teases, winking playfully.

Your face heats up, a crimson blush spreading across your cheeks, and you shoot Yoongi an indignant glare. In a hushed tone, laced with irritation, you hiss, “Yoongi!” — wary not to disturb Mikrokosmos with your sudden outburst.

“Are we going on another epic grocery haul?” you tease with a laugh, watching Ara expertly navigate the car towards town. The anticipation builds as you approach, eager to snatch up all the essentials Jessi has meticulously scribbled down on her ever-growing list.

The town unfolds on the horizon, and a surge of excitement bubbles within you. It’s peculiar how a routine grocery trip can evoke such giddiness. Perhaps it’s the prospect of escaping the looming presence of Jimin and Deiji that adds an unexpected thrill to the mundane task.

So far, you’ve become a master of avoiding the couple. If Jimin harbors no desire for conversation, you find yourself questioning the necessity of extending the courtesy to him or his girlfriend.

Admittedly, you’re toeing the line of childish behavior, but damn it, it’s hard to resist. The complexity of your feelings for Jimin unfolds like a tangled web. While you harbor genuine affection, it feels like your chance slipped away, and he’s unwilling to grant you the opportunity to clarify or even listen. You grasp the sting of being picked last, yet you can’t help but wonder – did you fail to convey your feelings clearly enough for Jimin to comprehend?

Damn it, you wish Yoongi never kissed you. Then this wouldn’t be happening.

In a moment of exasperation, a heavy sigh escapes your lips. Despite the internal mandate to banish thoughts of Jimin from your mind, his presence permeates your thoughts once more, defying your attempts at self-control.

Ara skillfully guides the car into a coveted parking spot near the grocery store carts, strategically positioning you for an efficient grocery haul. The convenience of proximity promises a seamless transfer of bags from store to car, sparing you unnecessary hassle in loading up your supplies.

“I’ll go grab a cart,” you declare, pushing the car door handle. Ara, Soo-ah, and Ha-rin follow suit, emerging from the vehicle with shared anticipation for the shopping expedition.

As your fingers inch toward the cart handle, your attention is abruptly drawn to a familiar figure across the street.

Park Jimin.

Jimin and Deiji share a moment across the street, his whispered words causing her to blush and giggle. Even though their conversation is out of earshot, the infectious sound of her laughter echoes in your mind. With a scuff, you finally grasp the handlebar of the cart, but your attention remains fixed on Jimin.

He seems happy, a devilish smile gracing his lips, and you yearn for that happiness to be aimed in your direction. His fingers play through Deiji’s hair in a seductive dance, and the sight of her biting her bottom lip, restraining a moan you presume, ignites a surge of anger within you. Red dots line your vision as Jimin’s hand trails down to the small of her back, and all you can see is an intense shade of red.

“What’s the holdup?” Soo-ah quips from behind, but met with your silence, she traces the direction of your gaze instead.

“Oh no, sweetheart…” she murmurs, her voice tinged with sadness, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. A stifled sniff escapes you, tears threatening at the edge of your waterline.

No, crying is the last thing you want to do now. Hold it in.

Your gaze remains fixated on Jimin’s intimate gestures with Deiji, and a suffocating sensation grips your chest. It’s as if the air has grown thin, and a nauseating wave washes over you, threatening to spill an unsettling mix of emotions.

The other girls gather around you, creating a supportive barrier on either side, momentarily diverting your attention from the magnetic presence of Jimin. Their friendship acts as a shield against the emotional turmoil, offering a brief respite from the intense gravitational pull of Jimin’s figure.

“I just don’t understand,” you mumble, your gaze fixated on the ground, a wave of queasiness washing over you. As you lift your eyes, they inadvertently meet Jimin’s across the road in the parking lot. The irresistible brown orbs lock onto yours, causing your breath to hitch, and your body freezes. His expression is a tumultuous mix of anger and spite, a hurtful glare that pierces through you. A small voice in your mind begins to wonder if this spiteful display is born out of pettiness, and the question lingers – would he truly be so petty?

Your heart clenches, and your hands tighten their grip on the cart’s handlebar. Will this overwhelming ache ever dissipate, or are you destined to carry this horrible feeling forever?

Soo-ah and the rest of the girls guide you away from the cart station, gently urging you into the store. Everything inside becomes a blurry haze. A strange ringing noise echoes in your ears, its origin unclear. Your heart aches with an intensity you’ve never felt, and you start to question if you’re beginning to get sick.

“Can you manage the rest? I’m not feeling well…” Your voice carries a low, deflated tone, and the sensation of your vision spinning intensifies, leaving you dizzy. The unfamiliar feeling bewilders you. The girls nod, concern evident in their eyes, yet they allow you to leave their company.

You navigate your way out of the grocery store at a deliberate pace, locate the car, unlock it, swing the door open, and plop down in the seat. Leaving the door ajar, you take in the fresh air, hoping it might provide some relief.

Exhaling deeply, you sense your heartbeat gradually slowing down, but a nagging question lingers in your mind. Is illness creeping in, or is it the persistent ache in your chest that intensifies every time Jimin comes into view? The unexplained heaviness remains, leaving you searching for answers amid the uneasy beats of your heart.

As the girls return with a brimming cart full of groceries, you muster a wry smile. Once the car is loaded, they encircle you, offering tender hugs that carry warmth and reassurance, their silent promise echoing that, despite the current storm, everything will eventually find its way to calm waters.

You secure the seat belt, and Ha-rin takes the wheel, steering you homeward. Your head finds a resting place against the window, and you gaze out with a distant stare. The scenery, painted in hues of green, blue, and gentle yellows, unfolds like a soothing watercolor, gradually lulling your weary mind into a momentary state of tranquility.

Against the cool window, you surrender to the embrace of sleep, only to find yourself entangled in dreams where deep brown eyes pierce through you with a spiteful glare, carrying the weight of disappointment. Haunted by strands of blonde hair, your heart clenches, and amidst the fragments of slumber, you grapple with the question of how things went so awry between you and Jimin.

Every time you’re working with the wild horses, the world fades away. Jimin’s laughter, and the image of his overly joyful girlfriend, lose their vividness in the company of these majestic creatures. You don’t understand how a person can be so happy, it’s like a mystery you can’t unravel. Maybe it’s because your own mood mirrors the darkness of obsidian, overshadowing any hint of joy.

Perched atop the fence, your gaze follows Yoongi’s skilled hands at work on Holly. Today’s session involves a saddle on her back and a bridle, and you can’t help but marvel at the seamless harmony between them. Holly responds with grace, a testament to Yoongi’s expertise. In this transformative process, she inches closer to the coveted status of a fully trained stock horse, a journey Yoongi confidently assures you she’s on the brink of completing.

Your eyes trace Yoongi’s every move as he guides Holly in a mesmerizing gallop around the pen. The atmosphere is charged with a sense of calm, an unspoken understanding between rider and horse. Holly’s spirit, once untamed, now dances gracefully under Yoongi’s expert guidance, creating a scene that is both captivating and harmonious.

Yoongi’s question slices through your contemplation, catching you off guard like a sudden gust of wind. “Do you want to go for a ride?” His words, a tempting invitation, hang in the air, coaxing you to escape the confines of your thoughts and embrace the freedom that awaits on horseback.

Your eyes widen as his proposition sinks in, but you respond with a subtle nod, your silent agreement carrying the weight of anticipation.

As Holly gradually slows to a trot and then eases into a lazy walk, Yoongi reveals, “This is the final test for Holly.”

With a thoughtful expression, Yoongi shares his plan to test Holly’s adaptability in the wild. Intrigued, he proposes, “Why not venture out and seek the herd of wild horses again?”

It might just be the escape you need from this ranch and its owner, who continues to stir uncomfortable feelings within your now delicate heart.

Jumping off the fence with a renewed sense of purpose, you stride towards the gate. As Yoongi gracefully maneuvers Holly out of the pen, you secure the gate behind you. Your journey continues with determined steps, leading you to where Marshmallow patiently awaits, reins neatly fastened to the fence.

You gently release the reins, your fingers caressing Marshmallow’s neck, eliciting a contented whinny. Placing your foot in the stirrup, you effortlessly swing your leg over his sturdy white frame. The moment you settle into the saddle, a profound sense of belonging washes over you, soothing your restless soul. The inexplicable bond between you and horses never fails to astound you, creating a sanctuary of comfort with every ride.

With a tender smile, your heart lightens, and you delicately urge Marshmallow into a trot by applying subtle pressure with your legs. As you follow Yoongi, the rhythmic beat of hooves creates a symphony that resonates with the newfound tranquility within you.

Embarking on a journey over the rolling hills, the grass beneath remains an enchanting green, bathed in the warmth of lingering summer. A gradual canter carries you through the landscape, your thoughts dissipating, leaving space for the soothing breeze to play with your hair, accompanied by the rhythmic pulse of hooves that mirrors the cadence of your own heart.

Lost in the passage of time, the duration of your ride eludes you, the profound silence between you and Yoongi accentuating the harmony of nature. The mountains, standing proud and towering in the distant horizon, seem to extend warm embraces, enveloping you in a sense of belonging to this picturesque landscape.

As you traverse the landscape, the familiarity of the woods, the serene lake where laughter once echoed with Jessi, and the expansive paddocks that seem to stretch endlessly into the horizon become a poignant backdrop to the rhythm of your horse’s hooves.

The wind tousles your hair, and there’s a fleeting sense that, perhaps, everything is gradually finding its way to being alright.

Lost in the vast expanse, you ride on, the anticipation building within you, wondering if today will be another day the wild horses grace you with their presence. The landscape sprawls before you, an unfamiliar tapestry of nature’s secrets waiting to be unveiled.

As you speak, a soft melancholy smile graces your lips, “I don’t think we’ll see them today, Yoongi.” Despite the disappointment, you hold onto the hope that eluded you, a silent acknowledgment that not everything unfolds as desired—recent events serving as a poignant reminder of life’s unpredictable nature.

“I don’t even know where we are,” you sigh, bringing the horses to a gentle trot. Your gaze sweeps across the expansive landscape, a moment of shared uncertainty between you and Yoongi.

“I know where we are, don’t worry,” Yoongi assures you, confidence lacing his voice as you both come to a full stop before a vast and lush forest.

You release the reins, allowing Marshmallow to lower his head and graze on the lush grass, while Holly follows suit. Holly’s remarkable behavior on this ride surprises you; her wild and untamed nature seamlessly hidden beneath a calm exterior. If it weren’t for her untamed origins, she could easily pass as a seasoned stock horse, blending effortlessly into the peaceful scenery.

While allowing Marshmallow and Holly to graze peacefully, their heads suddenly snap up, ears perked forward in unison, attuned to a sound that hasn’t yet reached your own ears. Then, like a wave crashing over you, the familiar rhythm of hooves pounding against the earth becomes clear – a wild and untamed symphony echoing through the air.

As the herd of wild horses materializes in the distance, a charismatic dark brown stallion commands the front, orchestrating the untamed ballet of freedom. They present a majestic spectacle, embodying the essence of the wild – eyes reflecting untold stories, a blend of soulful wisdom and mischievous spirit. With a profound exhale, you find yourself immersed in a deep appreciation for these creatures and the untamed nature that surrounds you.

Holly stands poised, her gaze locked onto the passing herd, perhaps recognizing the familiar faces of her once-wild family. Despite the untamed energy coursing through the herd, she remains steadfast, mirroring your own stance, both of you immersed in silent observation.

The sight of the wild horses in full gallop is nothing short of breathtaking, and as they surge across the landscape, a surge of emotion tightens your heart in your chest, leaving you captivated by the untamed beauty unfolding before your eyes.

In a hushed and reverent tone, you marvel, “They are so beautiful,” your words barely more than a breath, yet carrying the weight of admiration. A subtle nod from Yoongi acknowledges the shared appreciation of the magnificent spectacle before you.

As your heart swells with longing, a sense of crushing desire envelops you, wishing for the freedom these majestic horses possess—to express your truth and embrace the things you yearn for in life. The ache intensifies, a silent plea echoing in the vast expanse of the open landscape.

Your hands clutch the reins, and a damp sensation draws your attention. Glancing down, you discover small droplets of water clinging to your skin. A subtle sniffle escapes you, and it dawns on you—tears cascade down your cheeks, marking your hands with the tangible evidence of your silent emotional storm.

A constriction tightens your chest, and you draw in a deep breath, hoping to ease the pressure, only to release it in a slow exhale. The rhythm of your breath echoes the emotional turbulence within.

Yoongi’s gaze gently turns in your direction, his expression a silent symphony of understanding. No words escape his lips, yet the warmth of a caring smile lingers, offering a comforting embrace in the quietude between you.

You lift a trembling hand to your face, attempting to quell the rebellious tears that seem to have a life of their own. Your breath quickens, a desperate effort to steady your heart and rein in the tumultuous tide of emotions.

With a tear-streaked face, you turn to Yoongi, your eyes carrying the weight of a profound sadness. “Have you ever loved someone so much, it feels like you’re suffocating?”

Your heart carries the weight of your confession, a mix of both burden and liberation. The unspoken truth finally escapes your lips, echoing in the quiet spaces of your soul. Your feelings for Jimin, profound and unyielding, create a storm within, rendering you incapable of coherent thought, drowning in irrationality and a bitter sea of jealousy.

“Yeah,” he utters with a weighted exhale, the weight of that single syllable hangs thick in the air, a tangible presence in the shared space between you. Compassion wells up within you, not just for him, but for your own tender heart. Silent tears continue their descent, accompanied by a subdued sniffle that punctuates the shared vulnerability in the moment.

“I’m so sorry.”

Grumbling under your breath, you meticulously tend to the veggie garden, methodically extracting weeds and inspecting the plants for any sign of ripe fruit. Kneeling on a plush mat to provide respite for your beleaguered knees, your hands adorned with protective gloves, ensuring that both your hands and fingers remain shielded as you immerse yourself in the nurturing care of the flourishing garden.

Amidst the monotony of this laborious task, you find yourself immersed in the meticulous chore of weeding, the unfortunate bearer of the short straw today. Rows of carrots and potatoes bear witness to your diligent efforts as you navigate through the verdant expanse, determined to extract every intrusive weed that dares encroach upon the fertile soil.

Lost in contemplation, the rhythmic cadence of footsteps stealthily closes in on you, their approach unheard in the sanctuary of your introspective musings.

“Hi, I’m going into town,” your sister’s sudden announcement startles you from your gardening reverie. As you look up, her intent gaze meets yours, a tapestry of confusion woven into your expression.

“Why are you heading into town? Weren’t you supposed to tackle the tax today?” you inquire, your hands continuing their task of pulling stubborn weeds from the soil.

“I have that doctor’s appointment, remember?” Her raised eyebrow prompts a silent scold for forgetting such an important detail.

Panic flickers in your eyes as you abruptly halt your weeding, staring at your sister with genuine concern. “When did you mention the doctor’s appointment? Is everything okay?” Worry lines crease your forehead, a mix of surprise and anxiety clouding your expression.

With a light chuckle, she tries to alleviate your concerns, “Just a routine checkup, no big deal!” Her laughter carries a reassuring tone, and as she waves, the softness in her expression mirrors the warmth that envelops you.

You return her smile, your gaze lingering as she strolls away toward the yard, where the cars patiently wait.

“See you later,” she calls with a wave. From your perch in the veggie garden, you observe her unlocking the car, slipping into the driver’s seat of the pickup truck. The tail lights illuminate briefly, transitioning to brake lights before shifting to the soft glow of white. Jessi maneuvers in reverse, the wheels crunching on the dirt road as she disappears toward town.

As you return to the arduous task of pulling weeds, you find yourself grappling with the relentless tendrils of frustration, a silent curse escaping your lips like a rebellious whisper. Resigned to the fate of having drawn the shortest straw, you navigate through the sea of stubborn greenery, each tug of resistance echoing the monotony of your predicament.

Beneath the blazing midday sun, gratitude washes over you for the protective refuge of your hat, casting a welcomed shadow upon both your face and neck. Yet, despite this shield, beads of perspiration dance down your forehead, a testament to the unexpected physical rigor of the task at hand. The sheer demand of the job dawns upon you, surpassing your initial expectations.

Anticipating the aftermath, you realize the likelihood of waking up tomorrow with sore arms, an inevitability intensified if you neglect the crucial post-labor ritual of stretching your fatigued muscles.

Emerging victorious from your laborious undertaking, you navigate your way into the kitchen, a sanctuary promising respite in the form of an icy glass of water. As the fridge door swings open, a cascade of cool air envelops your sweat-drenched face, offering a fleeting reprieve before you reluctantly seize the chilled jug. Your quest for relief continues as you reach for an overhead cabinet, extracting a glass that promises salvation. The sensation of the glass against your palms is a prelude to the ecstasy that follows as you pour the water, savoring its frosty embrace. With each indulgent gulp, the frigid liquid becomes a balm, soothing the searing heat that has claimed your body in this relentless weather.

Savoring the rejuvenating coolness, you lean leisurely against the countertop, the glass of water a welcome oasis in your hands. Just as the refreshing liquid begins to work its magic, Soo-ah strides into the kitchen, her expression twisted into a weird frown.

Your discerning gaze sweeps over Soo-ah’s form, a subtle intuition whispering that something is amiss, yet the unspoken question lingers on your lips. Before you can voice your inquiry, she breaks the pregnant silence, her words hanging in the air like a cryptic prelude. “Have you seen Jessi?”

A subtle tremor courses through your being as you dismissively shake your head, “She’s in town for a doctor’s appointment.”

A shadow of concern paints Soo-ah’s features as she deftly retrieves her phone from the depths of her pocket, her eyes flicking to the screen with a mixture of urgency and unease. “How long has she been gone?”

A ripple of disquiet snakes its way through you, fueled by Soo-ah’s restive demeanor. Methodically, you rewind the clock in your mind, tallying the hours since Jessi’s presence graced your sight. “About five hours,” you declare, the admission carrying a weight that coils into an unsettling sense of foreboding.

Weariness etches itself deeper into Soo-ah’s countenance, her features now a canvas painted with both fatigue and concern. Your heartbeat quickens, a subtle but undeniable jolt, as the realization takes hold—this is not merely a cause for concern, but an ominous sign that tightens its grip around your heart, intensifying the ominous gravity of the moment.

A sudden, piercing ring shatters the stillness, and your gaze instinctively darts towards the source—a resonating chime from the landline. The air tightens around you, your heartbeat accelerating into a rapid cadence, each breath shallow and tense. A palpable wave of dread courses down your spine, a cold shiver that heralds an impending revelation. Locking eyes with Soo-ah, both of you stand frozen, caught in the ominous limbo between the echoing ring and the unknown that awaits on the other end of the line.

You should pick it up dammit! A stern scolding echoing in your mind, compelling your body into animated motion that seems detached from your own will. With a sense of urgency, you traverse the space to the countertop, your hand stretching out towards the ringing phone. As your fingertips make contact with the cream-colored plastic, a surge of anxiety courses through them, a prelude to the unknown that awaits on the other end. The plastic yields beneath the pressure of your grip, and in the hushed anticipation, you lift the receiver, your voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension.

“Hello, Bora Ranch. How can I help you?”

The voice on the other end of the line weaves a narrative that acts like a chilling undertow, dragging your heart into an abyss of despair. Your hand involuntarily tightens around the phone, a desperate grip as if it were your sole connection to a vanishing lifeline.

The voice on the other end, that of the doctor’s receptionist, cuts through the air, delivering news that lands with a disconcerting weight.

“We’re calling to let you know that Jessi missed her appointment today, and we wanted to know if she wants to reschedule another one?”

You then realize that weird feeling you’ve been having— this isn’t good.

A furrow etches itself onto your brow, the cord winding around your other hand as if trying to anchor you in a moment slipping out of your control. “She hasn’t come home yet. Can I get back to you?”

The words hang in the air, delivered with a voice that quivers with a blend of unease and uncertainty, as you begin to grasp what this means.

The receptionist’s agreement is a somber symphony in your ears before bidding goodbye. With a heart weighed down by the gravity of the call, you delicately place the receiver back in its cradle. As your eyes shift back to Soo-ah, her visage mirrors your own unsettled state, her features etched with a shared tension, a palpable reflection of the worry that swirls between you like an unspoken storm.

A thick silence hangs in the air, pregnant with unspoken fears.

Soo-ah, unable to bear the weight any longer, shatters the tension like fragile glass. “Well, what is it?” Her words cut through the quiet, a desperate plea for answers.

You’re afraid.

Dread coils around your words, a vice grip on your throat as you grapple with the weight of unspoken fears. The hesitation lingers, but the urgency pushes you to break the silence. “Jessi never made it to her appointment…”

You observe the subtle transformation in Soo-ah’s face, a haunting dance between anguish and concern.

“Well, where is she then?” Soo-ah demands, her voice betraying an unsteady cadence that mirrors the delicate balance of the unspoken question hanging in the air, as if the answer hinges on your words. Your gaze reflects uncertainty, exhaling a breath heavy with the weight of the unknown.

“I think something bad has happened to her,” your voice wavers, the admission reluctant and laden with a vulnerability that you wish could be erased. The words, heavy with an unwelcome truth, carry the weight of a foreboding certainty that reverberates deep within your bones—an ominous resonance that refuses to be silenced.

Soo-ah, with her once sun-kissed complexion drains of its warmth, now veering into an eerie, almost gray pallor. A whisper of worry taints her words as she utters, “We should call Jungkook.”

With a solemn nod, you reach for your phone, fingers betraying a subtle tremor as you punch in Jungkook’s number. As you raise the phone to your ear, the weight of the impending conversation echoes in the hollow space between each ring.

Holding your breath, time stretches into an agonizing eternity as you strain to listen to each ring, each heartbeat resonating in the charged stillness. The suspense tightens like a coil around your chest until, finally, a tremulous exhale escapes as Jungkook’s voice breaks the silence.

“This is Kook.”

An instant paralysis grips your vocal cords, a sudden constriction that renders your throat a silent battleground, incapable of surrendering even a solitary word.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s inquiry pierces the heavy silence, his voice carrying a note of concern that seems to reverberate through the unspoken void on the other end of the line.

A glacial stillness descends upon you, an icy grip that renders you immobile.

Words, elusive and stubborn, refuse to surface. Soo-ah’s worried gaze lingers on you, but in a decisive sweep, she snatches the phone from your ear, her move cutting through the stasis like a sudden gust of wind disrupting a frozen landscape.

“Hi, it’s Soo-ah. We need your help,” her voice, a steady prelude to the storm brewing beneath the surface, carries the weight of urgency as she unfolds the crucial details. “Jessi left for a doctor’s appointment, but she never made it, and it’s been five hours now. We’re afraid something has happened… Will you help us search for her?”

The murmur of Jungkook’s response on the other end remains elusive to your ears, but Soo-ah, in a breathy exhale that holds a universe of gratitude, utters a heartfelt, “Thank you.” She returns your lifeline– the phone, with a subtle yet meaningful gesture, restoring it to your hands as if passing the torch for the impending journey into the unknown.

“He’ll be here in 10 minutes to pick you up,” she discloses, the gravity of her concern etching deeper creases onto her forehead.

“What are you gonna do then?” The words burst from you, riding the crest of a wave formed by a potent mix of frustration and worry, their resonance echoing in the room.

“I’m going to stay here… In case she comes home,” she reveals, her commitment to a vigil laden with unspoken hope. But then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, “or if the hospital calls.”

The weight of her last admission sends a sinking feeling through your chest, an acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Understanding settles in, and you offer a solemn nod, bracing yourself for Jungkook’s imminent arrival as the silent countdown to unravel the mystery begins.

Before the sleek silhouette of his black pickup truck materializes, the air is sliced by the cacophony of tires screeching—a desperate symphony of grip and resistance against the unforgiving dirt, an audible testament to the urgency that propels Jungkook towards the yard.

You dash outside, the urgent thud of your footsteps aligning with the accelerating heartbeat of the moment. Jungkook hurtles down the driveway, a kinetic force in his speeding vehicle that screeches to a dramatic halt before you. The window rolls down, revealing a face etched with determination, and he hollers, “Get in.”

Obediently following his command, you seize the door handle, leaping into the truck with a hurried intensity. The door barely has time to shut before Jungkook slams his foot on the accelerator, leaving a swirling cloud of sand in the wake of the roaring vehicle.

Worry etches deep lines into his face, transforming his normally composed features into a tapestry of concern. His lips press into a stern line, and his eyes, laser-sharp, pierce through the windshield, scanning the road ahead. The white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel betrays a tension that courses through him, turning his knuckles into pale anchors of anxiety.

“What the hell happened?” The words slice through the air, dripping with a demanding tone that carries an undertone of a hiss, a viper’s sharpness in each syllable.

Turning toward him, you admit with a meekness that hangs in the air, “I don’t know.” Your voice, a delicate whisper, contrasts with the clenching of your hands over your pants, while your bottom lip falls victim to the anxious bite of nerves. Fuck.

The weight of hope and fear interlaces in your thoughts—desperately wishing Jessi is safe, yet haunted by the gnawing question of why, if she is, hasn’t she reached out?

Jungkook maneuvers the vehicle like a man possessed, hurtling down the lone road that unravels into town with a velocity that borders on recklessness. This is Jessi’s path, the very route she would undoubtedly have traversed.

Your heart orchestrates a frenzied symphony of worry and fear, its rapid tempo matching the breakneck speed at which Jungkook propels the truck forward.

The uneven terrain jolts beneath the truck’s tires, a relentless assault on the vehicle as it hurtles down these rugged, neglected roads. The coarse reality of the battered path becomes starkly apparent with every bone-rattling bump, each pothole a testament to the less-than-ideal conditions.

“Slow down unless you want us to crash!” You warn him in a stern voice as desperation fuels your words and you clutch the handle at the top of the truck, your knuckles turning white as you seek stability amid the turbulent velocity.

He merely huffs, an audible dismissal that betrays the resilience of his determination. It’s evident that your words struggle to penetrate the thick armor of his focus. However, your own concerns take precedence, and the prospect of a car accident looms like an ominous specter in the midst of your search for Jessi.

“Fucking slow down or let me drive!” The urgency in your yell slices through the truck, a desperate ultimatum that demands immediate action. A tangible flinch from Jungkook, beside you, signals the impact of your words. With a reluctant release, he eases his right foot off the gas pedal, and the once-roaring speed of the vehicle unravels into a gradual deceleration.

“Thank you,” you declare with a furious edge, your gratitude tinged with the lingering urgency of the search.

Jungkook skillfully guides the turn with a precise speed, threading the needle between velocity and caution. As the vehicle emerges from the curve, the truth unravels before your eyes.

A sight that sends your heart plummeting, and an unspoken pact of dread settles between you and Jungkook, a bone-chilling silence that engulfs the interior of the truck.

There it is, the all-too-familiar white pickup truck, an unexpected apparition right before you, nestled on the side of the road. It’s not parked; it’s crumbled against a tree.

Jungkook wrenches his truck to a sudden halt, the engine silenced with a precision that echoes the urgency of the moment. In a flash, he bolts out of the car, a whirlwind of determination propelling him towards the scene. You trail closely in his wake, the echoes of your pounding heart reverberating alongside a disorienting ringing in your ears.

You sprint towards the crumpled wreckage, the front of the car wedged against the unforgiving tree. Panic fuels your frantic search for your sister amidst the twisted metal. Jungkook beats you to the driver’s side, and in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse, you tiptoe over his shoulders.

The chilling reality reveals itself—blood stains the window, and Jessi’s head, eyes closed, rests against it in an unsettling image.

Fuck.

“Jessi!” The desperate cry erupts from deep within you, a primal howl behind Jungkook, and you resort to clawing at his back in a futile attempt to let you pass. However, he remains an immovable barrier, unyielding in his protective stance.

His hand extends, a forceful gesture that wards you off, and his demanding tone slices through the charged air, declaring, “No, let me.”

You cease your futile attempt to scratch through the barrier of Jungkook’s back, relinquishing control to his judgment. Your gaze fixates on the unfolding scene as he seizes the door handle, pounding on the window while the fervent echo of your sister’s name reverberates through the stagnant air.

A leaden weight settles upon your heart, dragging it down to depths unknown, and you slump to the unforgiving ground beside the truck. The haunting question hangs in the air, an unspoken fear clawing at your consciousness—could she be dead?

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a poignant manifestation of your helplessness, as you watch the scene unfold. The overwhelming sense of uselessness engulfs you like a suffocating shroud because Jungkook, with his determined insistence, bars you from contributing to the unfolding crisis.

Jungkook channels every ounce of his strength into wrenching the door handle, a Herculean effort that, to your dismay, yields no success. Undeterred, he pivots, striding purposefully around the car to attack the problem from the passenger’s side. The moment of truth arrives as the door finally acquiesces to his relentless determination, swinging open with a sudden release of pent-up tension. Jungkook, caught off guard by the door’s sudden compliance, is propelled backward, almost airborne, a visceral testament to the raw force he exerted in the pursuit of accessing the vehicle’s interior.

With a determined crawl into the cabin, Jungkook bridges the agonizing gap between hope and despair, finally reaching your sister. The urgency in his voice echoes through the air as he commands, “Call an ambulance!”

You rise from the unforgiving ground, a determined surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With swift precision, you extract your phone, fingers dancing with urgency as you dial those three critical numbers.

“Is she alive?” The question hangs in the air, a fragile whisper that dares not disturb the gravity of the moment. Holding your breath, you await his answer, the air thick with the weight of an impending revelation that could reshape the contours of your reality.

“She’s breathing,” Jungkook exhales, his voice carrying the weight of relief, a momentary respite from the tension. You approach the driver’s window, eyes fixed on your sister’s form. The sight of her chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm becomes a visual anchor, a palpable reassurance that she clings to life.

Well, that’s good.

Cradling the phone to your ear, you navigate the urgent conversation, orchestrating a plea for the ambulance to converge on your dire location. The proximity of the ranch intensifies the raw reality—you aren’t that far away. A sinking feeling grips your heart as you grasp the cruel expanse of time she’s endured out here, alone and injured.

Jungkook delicately prods Jessi’s arm, a gesture pregnant with hope, yet the anticipated response remains elusive—a disheartening void that echoes the uncertainty of the situation.

“I know it looks bad, but we shouldn’t move her. It’s best to wait for the paramedics,” Jungkook utters reluctantly from the passenger’s seat.

You acknowledge the truth in his words, but your gaze lingers on Jessi, a silent witness to the vivid evidence of her injuries—blood seeping from her head. The unsettling unknown looms large, a haunting question mark etched across your thoughts—what other wounds might she be concealing beneath the shadows of her stillness?

The wait for the ambulance unfolds like a nightmarish blur until the air is pierced by the sound of a low voice. Both you and Jungkook pivot, your gazes converging on your sister, a crescendo of fear and anticipation reaching its zenith.

Jessi stirs, her murmurs threading through the air, but the coherence of her words eludes understanding. As her eyes tentatively flutter open, a feeble attempt to articulate follows, yet the utterances emerge as a nonsensical cascade, the syllables twisted into a form of gibberish.

“It’s okay. You’ve been in a car accident, and the ambulance is on its way,” Jungkook reassures, his words a tender balm delivered with a gentle caress on your sister’s cheek. Tears shimmer in his eyes, a raw display of his emotional turmoil, as his calloused fingers delicately trace the curve of her cheekbone.

Her head pivots towards you, eyes finally unveiling an unspoken distance, their luster dimmed. A pang reverberates through your chest as you meet her gaze—her eyes, once vibrant, now bear the weight of an unspoken ordeal. The visceral urge to pull her from the confinements of the wreck claws at your heart. Oh, why can’t you just extract her from this damn car, ensuring her safety and whisking away the haunting uncertainty that clings to the moment?

“It’s going to be okay,” Jungkook utters, his voice quivering with a blend of reassurance and uncertainty that reverberates through the air. His attempt at strength is palpable, yet the vulnerability seeps through the cracks as tears cascade down his face.

Yet amidst the chaos, a fervent hope takes root within you, a beacon amid the storm of uncertainty. A silent plea echoes in the depths of your being, transcending mere optimism, as you yearn—truly, desperately, for everything to unfold in a way that defies the ominous shadows cast by the present.

The wail of the ambulance siren pierces the air, heralding the arrival of salvation, and it swiftly aligns next to Jungkook’s car. A flurry of activity ensues as paramedics spill out, each armed with purposeful bags. Amidst the orchestrated urgency, some of them extract a stretcher from the belly of the ambulance.

Jungkook emerges from the car, gracefully ceding the realm to the paramedics, and approaches your side. His arm envelops your trembling frame, a silent reassurance amidst the tumult. No words pass between you as the paramedics meticulously cut the seatbelt, delicately affix a collar around Jessi’s neck, their movements choreographed in a synchronized ballet of urgency.

Within the orchestrated chaos, a paramedic deploys a machine, its mechanical whir echoing through the night, to pry open the driver’s door. Simultaneously, another paramedic stands sentinel, ensuring Jessi remains securely in place, a guardian against the imminent void that will unfold once the door is relinquished.

The scene is gruesomely vivid, and an involuntary welling of tears clouds your vision as the brutal reality sets in. Leaning into Jungkook’s unwavering presence, you find solace in the haven of his steady frame, though your sniffling breaths betray the emotional maelstrom within. As your tears mingle with his on the fabric of your shirt, a silent communion of shared vulnerability takes root.

With meticulous care, the paramedics lift Jessi from the driver’s side, each movement deliberate and measured as they lay her down on the stretcher. The air hangs heavy with collective breath, your own held in a suspended moment of agonizing anticipation. The constriction in your chest intensifies, a sensation of breathlessness seizing you. Seeking an anchor in the chaos, you find Jungkook’s hand, fingers interlocking in a tight, desperate grip—a physical manifestation of the silent plea echoing within as you navigate the precipice of uncertainty.

“We’ll transport her to the hospital in town. You can follow us if you want,” one of the paramedics offers, their words a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. Gratitude courses through you, and you manage a nod of appreciation, though the knot in your throat constricts your ability to voice your thanks.

Your gaze lingers on the departing ambulance, the doors sealing your sister’s fate within its sterile embrace. A quiet sniffle punctuates the lingering echoes of the departure. When you turn to Jungkook, his face bears the marks of tear-streaked sorrow, a testament to the profound love he harbors for your sister. The depth of his emotions mirrors the tumult within you, both bound by an unspoken yearning for everything to be right—for the fractures to heal and the shadows to dissipate in the face of an uncertain journey that now stretches before you.

The ambulance departs, leaving a gritty trail of dirt in its wake, a visual metaphor for the unsettling uncertainty now etched into your reality. Your gaze lingers on the vacated space it once occupied, a void that echoes the fear reverberating within. The future looms before you, an ominous terrain shrouded in ambiguity, and you grapple with the unrelenting questions that cast shadows on the path ahead.

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