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cupidsdolll · 10 months ago

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For Whatever It’s Worth I Love You (Ain’t That the Worst Thing You Ever Heard?)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; best friend!Harry x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; best friends forever or whatever the saying is. how bittersweet it is to love someone that you can’t have how you want.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 8.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; angst, drinking, one mention of a sexual encounter, foul language, use of Y/N. date with a college guy who only wants sex and is obvious about it.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did link a playlist in another post, but here it is. this fic is something personal to me so not everyone will relate but if you’ve ever been in love with your best friend, this is for you. you don’t have to listen to the playlist while reading but a few deserve a honorable mention that i feel accurately describe the feelings throughout.

yours - conan gray, it’s nice to have a friend - taylor swift, falling for u - peachy! ft mxmtoon, heather - conan gray, people watching - conan gray.

— — —

Y/N and Harry were friends. They were the absolute best of friends if anyone asked. They grew up near one another but she tended to shy away from him in their early days. During their elementary years, she observed him from a distance. Him and his seemingly always put together outfits, the way he would snicker in class whenever the teacher mentioned anything remotely funny (it never was to the little girl.) She watched as he sometimes decided he wanted to take notes and would write everything down as fast as he could.

She watched as he grew a small circle of friends and would go around the school playing pranks, placing fake bugs inside lockers or on the teachers desk. She couldn’t help but to be curious of the boy as time went, something about him intrigued her. Years go by and eventually Y/N grew the courage to approach the young boy. She was still hesitant, nervous really, she didn't know what to say to him in any sense. But her legs carried her to him, her mind runs a mile a minute the closer she gets to him. She was bound to make a fool of herself, she just couldn’t stop.

Her feet stopped, she stood right in front of him and he’s yet to notice her, too deep into whatever conversation he’s having with his friend to notice the scared girl. She can’t help her gaze from roaming over his face, the soft cheeks and pretty green eyes, his pink lips and long eyelashes. His hair has gotten quite curly over the years, it’s honestly her favorite feature of his. She wishes she could look at him this close every day, just admire him without any fear or doubt and oh- he’s staring at her. When did he stop talking to his friend? Her eyes drop to his lips and they’re moving.. he’s talking to her, oh god he’s talking to her. This is it, she’s gonna make an utter and absolute fool of herself and he’s never going to talk to her again.

“Uh hello? Did y’need something?” He asks and she just stares blankly. She can’t force her brain to say something, anything please.

“Uh- well.. jeez. You see.. I just,” is all that comes out of her mouth when she finally decides to open it. She can feel heat rising to her cheeks, the embarrassment warming her and making her want to hide in her room until the end of time.

Harry’s just staring at her, his lips pulled up into an amused smirk of some sort and she can't help the shame that fills her.

“Go on then, I don't have all day.“ He says with amusement laced in his tone and she nearly melts. She couldn’t think he could get any better but his accent is heavenly. It’s smooth and soft and she wishes she could listen to it all day- no she doesn’t. That’s irrational and oh, he’s still looking at her. She needs to say something, she begs her mind to come up with anything at this point.

“You’re pretty.” His face immediately morphs into a look of disbelief as he shakes his head gently.

“Well thanks I guess.” He laughs gently before looking back at her.

“I don’t think pretty is a term meant for me, maybe for you though.” He smiles gently at her and she swears her heart skips three beats. Her skin flushes with heat at the compliment he gives her, and she can’t help but to smile shyly at the curly haired boy.

“Oh, um thank you.” She can’t help but to giggle and he watches her with a curious gaze.

“What’s your name then?” He asks her and she tells him, he compliments her name and says his own.

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” They smile at each other and he invites her to sit with him and his friends.

Just like that, a new friendship begins to bloom between the children. They stay by each other’s side through the years, becoming the best of friends in the seventh grade over their shared disgust for dissecting frogs. Their faces screw up and they just keep complaining about how gross it feels and how they hate the sliminess of the skin. It’s hard to imagine that anything could break them apart, they’re too similar. They’re too close, their friendship is far too strong.

— — —

When high school came around, you never got one without the other. The pair were always attached at the hip. Some students thought the two were dating, and Harry always shot them down by saying she’s just a really close friend, they’re just friends, they couldn’t date. Y/N kept her mouth shut, always had to swallow the big lump that formed in her throat whenever the topic came up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny it, or she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from admitting her feelings.

She’s not sure when she started catching feelings for Harry exactly. There’s many moments where it could be possible. It could’ve been all those nights they share a bed, they’re close enough and their parents figured nothing bad will happen. If they were to sneak around, they would’ve done it already. Harry will be over at Y/N’s house, either studying or just hanging out with her and they’ll stay up too late and Anne wouldn’t want to come and pick him up so Harry will pick an outfit or steal some of her bigger clothes to wear (she likes to wear oversized clothing when she’s going to sleep, they’re the only clothes that’ll fit him.) The first night was awkward to say the least, she didn’t own a sleeping bag and wanted him to stay with her. They thought of piling some blankets on the floor, but he said it’d be too uncomfortable and would hurt his back. He offered to sleep on the couch but she fussed and said it wouldn’t be a proper sleepover if they weren’t in the same room.

The last offer was said with hesitation, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned red and he stared at the floor with a bashful smile.

“We could, maybe if you’re comfortable with it of course, maybe share a bed? We don’t have to. I’m sure your mom could figure something out-” She’s embarrassed at how fast she answers the boy, her skin warmed and shy eyes.

“Yeah! That works.” And just like that, the first initial problem is solved. They lay relatively stiffly in their own sides of the bed, a line of pillows lay in between them acting as a protective barrier, the moonlight filtering through her bedroom window and resting on his face. Casting a soft white hue onto his face, making him look even softer and she can’t help but to keep sneaking glances at her best friend. She doesn’t want to just stare and ogle, she doesn’t want to make this even more awkward for the two of them, so she settles for quick glances. They talk about anything and everything, whatever they learned in class or Harry’s newest favorite song, her current book she’s reading or some gossip one of them overheard.

Time passes, and Y/N can hear his breathing even out. She watches as his chest rises and falls slower signaling the young boy is sleeping. She then turns on her side, slowly and quietly as she pays attention to how much sound she’s making, her gaze landing on the sleeping boy. This should be, this is weird. She shouldn’t be watching him, but she can’t help it. Her eyes roam over his face once more, this time unashamed and more slowly, she wants to memorize every single detail.

She takes in the way his lashes fan his cheeks, she’s always been jealous of how long his eyelashes are. There’s no point in him having them if he doesn’t put them to good use. His eyelids flutter ever so often as he sleeps, his nose and his lips. They’re soft and pink, pillowy as if they’re made from the softest fabric. They’re inviting, but she shouldn’t be thinking like that. They’re best friends, best friends don’t kiss. They don’t think about cuddling up to them, they don’t do what she does.

Besides it’s normal for a young girl to develop a small crush on her best friend, it happens to everyone. At least that’s what her mom had told her weeks after the bed sharing experience.

— — —

She manages to bottle up those measly feelings for him, she doesn’t want to ruin anything and lose him. Years pass and now the two are in college. Freshman, the jokes of the school, the perfect targets for all of the upperclassmen. Y/N and Harry are still as close as ever, in fact some may say they’ve gotten closer. Harry’s always there to protect her from anyone who tries to pick on her, to lend a hand when she needs a study partner. Y/N’s there to support his dreams, to embrace him after a long day, to listen to him ramble about anything and everything.

The two would usually spend their nights sitting side by side as they help the other study, listening to the newest music on their phones, or just chatting happily with each other. The silence that settled over them sometimes never felt uncomfortable in any way, anything that had to do with Harry was warm. It was happy, filled with care and cozy, constantly feeling like she was enveloped in a warm hug. It was always a comforting moment whenever she’s around him, never awkward in any way or a silence so deafening that makes her feel the need to ramble about anything just to fill the silence.

True enough, college was stressful for the girl. She was known to overwork herself and to stack more and more things onto her imaginary plate. A stack so high that she can’t see over or around, and the weight of it only gets heavier as time passes by. It’s not something she can help though, she’s always been one to want to overachieve her own dreams and goals — even if said goals were highly unattainable and unrealistic — but she always had Harry to help her. She’d tack on classes that she may or may not need to take but she thinks it will be easier to take all the classes just in case.

She makes frequent stops to her teacher’s office to ask for help or to check her work (she’s sure the teachers are sick of her at this point), she’s constantly working on homework and studying for her exams and any tests she may have. It’s safe to say Y/N is as good a student as one can get, and she takes great pride in that! As much time as she spends in her dorm room or in the library with her face glued into text books, she makes sure to set time aside to spend time with her best friend.

She always makes time for him, how could she not when he’s the best part of her day? They’ll meet up in the library for an impromptu study session that usually ends up with their studies forgotten as they talk about whatever comes to mind, him sitting beside her on her bed because she doesn’t like visiting the boy’s dormitories simply because they’re loud and the majority of the time it smells unpleasant, or they’ll stroll around the campus because she loves being in nature. They’ll talk about how their classes are doing (hers are good but overwhelming and loud, his are good as well and he quite enjoys them,) or they’ll talk about potential crushes they have.

It usually always just results in Harry talking about whatever girl he thought was pretty as Y/N nodded along. She never had anything to contribute, she never had any crushes other than him and didn’t feel the need to add anything to the conversation. She was always too jealous, too upset to say anything anyways. She wished it was her. She hoped that she could hold his hand and kiss him whenever she wanted, wanted to play with his hair and cuddle up to him whenever she wanted, wanted to show him off and announce to the world that he was hers.

It was silly, she knew that, which was why she never said anything about her feelings. She couldn’t have him the way she wanted him, they were always just gonna be best friends. She was okay with that, to a point, she was glad to have him in her life just the same. She wouldn’t tell him in fear of losing him. She couldn’t bear the thought of not being in his life, to not traveling to his place and hanging out with his family, to not have that one person who meant everything and anything to her.

So she pined, she yearned from a distance while still encouraging him to go on dates. Which is exactly what she’s doing now, sat on his bed with a sad smile as he told her about the current girl he’s interested in.

“No, you don’t understand. She’s so smart, always one of the first to raise her hand, she could honestly give you a run for your money. She always looks so pretty, it’s like she never has bad days. She even volunteers on the weekends!” He goes on and on, not realizing the sadness etched on his friend's face, he never noticed it as he rambled about whatever girl he was interested in.

Y/N nodded along, halfway listening as she felt the small ping of hurt begin to bloom in her chest. She wishes she could be all the way happy for Harry. She hates that she gets jealous of all the girls, she just can’t help it. She wishes she had a chance.

“Why don’t you ask her out then, Harry?” Her voice is quiet, scared of it coming out as shaky as she feels.

“I don’t even know if she likes me! I’d hate to ask her out just to get rejected.” He says as he paces, a habit he does when he’s nervous.

“You won’t know if you try, or you could just try talking to her normally and see how it goes from there.” She says and he nods, a big smile on his face (one she wishes he would give to her) as he thinks it over.

She hates these moments if she’s being honest, it always leads to the same outcome. He’ll listen to her advice, he and whatever girl he’s interested in will start talking, they’ll realize they’re compatible and start hanging out more, he’ll bring her around to meet Y/N and then something happens and they break up. She wishes he would stop, at least for a while, and go back to give all of his attention to her.

— — —

They’re now juniors in college and the two are still relatively close friends. Harry will walk her to class if his own is close enough, they eat lunch together when their schedules line up, Harry still takes her to and from school every day (unless something came up with his soccer schedule.) Harry did get into the party scene though, and Y/N thinks this is where it all got complicated. He would go to parties thrown on the campus and when he first started going, Harry would invite Y/N to come with him and the girl always said no.

Partying wasn’t her thing, she didn't find the whole appeal of it all. Going to someone’s dorm room or house, either way the space is entirely too crowded for her, the smell of cigarettes and weed fill the air and songs she’ll never enjoy blasts through whatever speakers they have. The drinks are usually not that bad after she’s had a couple before heading in, but she doesn’t necessarily like to drink anyways.

This was where her and Harry had begun to drift in a way, Harry enjoyed partying. He enjoyed it a lot, the thrill, and once he had gotten a couple of tattoos and grew his hair out he became quite the ladies man.

He would go on about whatever party was going on, to her it seemed there was a party every week. She didn’t understand why these people aren’t studying and making the most of their time, but she realizes that not everyone’s like her. It was very rare for her to accompany Harry to a party, but when she did, she made him promise to stay by her side as much as he could. He agreed, because why wouldn’t he, and tried to get to enjoy herself as much as she could.

Tonight’s a party, she couldn’t believe someone is throwing a party on a Thursday night, she would be cozied up in her bed with her textbooks laid across as she wrote down notes. Harry had convinced her to come with him, and told her it was going to be a small party and said they were having a pick a music DJ so she could even request a couple of her favorite songs! She reluctantly agreed only after Harry gave her the biggest eyes and pout she ever saw. She’s always had a soft spot for him, mainly because he’s never given her a reason not to trust his word and judgment.

So she sighed as she ushered him out, playfully swatting his butt with whatever she was able to grab and shooed him.

“Go on then, get ready! This better be good otherwise I’m shaving your head while you sleep.” She said with a soft smile on her lips, they both knew she would never do so simply because she enjoyed running her hands through his hair. He shook his head and laughed at her fondly as he allowed her to push him to the door. He then left her dorm with a smile on his lips to get ready for said party, one of his main priorities is to make his best friend begin to like parties so they could go together.

A while later, they’re standing against one another, a plastic solo cup in each of their hands in a somewhat crowded house. Harry was right, it was smaller than the normal party, there’s more room to walk around without the fear of bumping into someone and causing a scene. The music vibrates through the floors and fills the space, the air is stuffy and filled with the smell of weed. There’s so much happening all at once, and Y/N’s glad she doesn’t get overstimulated easily otherwise she’d have to leave.

Y/N sips on her drink, taking just the smallest of drinks simply because whatever Harry gave her smells and tastes bad, burning her throat and leaving a bad aftertaste on her tongue with every drink. Her eyes roam over the kitchen but they always manage to land on Harry. He’s so pretty, and just happy. He looks like he belongs here, long sleeve black shirt partially open, a black tie barely even tied around his neck, a pair of black jeans and a pair of white tennis shoes. He’s let his hair down instead of his usual man bun, and Y/N swears every girl has their eyes trained on him. She doesn’t blame them honestly, she just wishes she wasn’t there to watch as her best friend checks the girls out as well.

It fuels a bubbling in her stomach, a queasy feeling that won’t go away. It’s a feeling she’s grown used to, being friends with Harry always led to her feeling envious of the girls he talked to. She wishes she could just accept the fact that they’ll never be together how she wants them to be, accept the fact that they’ll always just be best friends. She knows that she could treat him better than they can, she knows all the small things they’ll never know. She knows how to make him happy, how to comfort him, knows all of his secrets and ticks and cues.

She hates the painful feeling that resides in her chest, near her heart every time this happens. The horrible feeling of rejection that makes her hate the friendship they have, hates the fact that they’re so close and it’ll never go any further than that. She sighs and takes a bigger sip of her drink, her face screwing up in disgust at the bitter taste left on her tongue. She hopes he’s too busy checking out every girl at the party to notice her discomfort, but of course he has some kind of senses that ties to her as he wraps an arm softly around her shoulders.

He gives her a soft squeeze as he leans down to whisper in her ear, only to make sure she can hear him over the bass of the song.

“Y’okay?” She can’t help the shiver that runs through her at the feeling of his breath fanning across her neck. She only nods her head meekly, she doesn’t trust her voice enough to speak for her. He chuckles and squeezes her shoulder once more before pulling away and Y/N can only sigh quietly at the lack of contact and warmth. It’s moments like these where she wishes she’s back at home, cuddles next to Harry as they do whatever. The music’s getting too loud, she’s getting warmer and her drink doesn’t taste good, that can only mean she’s getting overwhelmed.

They stay alongside each other at the party, her wrapped in his arms as time goes on. She wishes he would say they can leave, but she’s unsure how long they’ve been here and she won’t be the reason Harry leaves a party early. Harry mutters in her ear something about getting another drink and she’s sure he asked if she wanted something different. She nods her head softly and turns her head, her eyes staring into his pretty emerald eyes and she smiles at him before asking if there’s something there that doesn’t taste so bitter and he can only laugh at her. She swears his eyes look so pretty in this light, pupils slightly dilated and the green of his eyes shine in the lighting above the two of them. They stare at each other for what seems like ages, not that Y/N’s complaining any, before Harry pulls back and tells her that he’ll be right back with the drinks and she nods in response. She watches him as he makes his way through the crowd, more than likely saying excuse me and apologizing if he even brushes past someone on his journey because he’s just that polite.

— — —

Y/N hates parties. She’s mentioned this to Harry several times and he’s so persistent on changing her mind, only to be left disappointed by her response the next day or through a text. They always smell bad, it’s hot, there’s no personal space and she just absolutely despises watching Harry get hit on by every girl in the vicinity. She gets it, he’s good looking, funny and an absolute gentleman which is not something she can say applies to any other boy on campus. Harry’s a rare gem and she wishes she could keep him for herself, but alas they’re just friends. That’s all they’ll ever be.

She hates when they go to parties and he leaves her, usually letting her know but sometimes he’s dragged away and never comes back until he’s drunk. Another reason she hates parties is how he acts when he’s drunk. She turns into a babysitter, making sure he’s careful not to throw up on himself, bump into some guy who had too much to drink and wants a fight, and has to drive them home when she doesn’t even like driving. Not to mention, she hates how affectionate he becomes. He’s always cuddling up to her, holding her hand and calling her all sorts of sweet pet names.

She thinks that’s the worst part, because not only does it fill her heart and make it swell, but it also causes her to be the target of all of the nasty glares from the girls at the party. That’s exactly what’s happening right now, he’s managed to bring her to yet another party even though she all but begged and pleaded not to come along. It was bigger, louder, and plain annoying. She just wanted to stay in bed, cozied up underneath her softest blanket with a book and her favorite songs. Harry insisted yet again that she’ll have fun, and it shouldn’t be too big. Insisted that they wouldn’t be there very long, and that was two hours ago. Y/N’s head hurts, her back and feet hurt as well and she doesn’t know any of the songs playing through the speaker. She’s just having a miserable time meanwhile Harry’s having the time of his life, she’s lost count of how many drinks he’s already had including the one currently in his hand. She knows it’s enough to get him to loosen up, to not care about the way he’s pressed against her, one tattooed arm wrapped around her waist and his breath fanning the side of her neck as he sings along to whatever song is blasting through.

They rock gently together as if it’s not an upbeat pop song, lost in his own drunken world and she just wants to go home.

“Honey, you’re just the sweetest thing. Y’know that?” His voice all but oozed into her bloodstream, warming her skin and making her fight back a smile.

“And you’re drunk, I think we should go home Harry.”’She says, hoping he listens and tells her to take them home. Instead he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and squeezes her.

“Don’t wanna leave yet, m’having fun with you.” She can’t help the smile that tugs on her lips at his words.

“I know but we could have so much more fun at home in our pj’s. Doesn’t that sound nice, Harry?” He only hums and squeezes her tighter.

“M’having fun with you baby. S’nice seeing you all pretty. Look so pretty every day.” She can’t help the heat that rushes to her cheeks at his words, the main reason she doesn’t like attending parties with him.

He’s so cuddly and loving, the line they’ve made blurs whenever he’s drunk and makes it hard to differentiate between just friendship or something more. She knows he doesn’t mean any of it though, at least not in the way she hopes he means it. She can feel the nasty glares from all of the other girls, knowing they’re wishing to be her in shoes. Who wouldn’t want to be wrapped in Harry’s arms with him whispering in your ear and a goofy looking smile on his lips?

“Thank you, Harry. We can still have fun at home, I won’t change so I can still be all pretty for you and it’ll just be the two of us. I’m sorry, I wanna go home, Har. It’s getting to be too much.” She says just loud enough for him to hear, her eyes scanning the crowd. He sighs before kissing her neck ever so gently, a kiss so feathery soft that if she weren’t so sober she wouldn’t even feel it.

“Fine, let’s go home then baby. Don’t want my girl to be overwhelmed.” He says before unwrapping her from his embrace only to intertwine their hands together as he leads her to the exit. She’s grateful that he’s taking charge, her brain repeating the same three words over and over again.

My girl, my girl, MY girl, my GIRL, MY GIRL.

Those two words do something to her brain, sending her spiraling into the delusion she only entertains late at night when she’s alone in her bed. The fantasy that they’ve been together for a couple months, every drunken interaction always ends with a kiss and then cuddling in the bed. She follows him outside and to their, his car and he opens the door to the drivers side for her and walks around to the passenger side. She stands by the door, making sure he can get in the car without hurting himself and he huffs, reminding her of when they were kids.

“I can get in the car by myself, love. No need to fret over me.” His accent is deeper because of the alcohol and Y/N can only sigh and roll her eyes affectionately.

“I know H, just don’t want you to hurt yourself is all.” She says softly as she pulls the seatbelt around him.

“Always so sweet for me, baby. Thank you.” He smiles at her, a dopey expression on his face and she can only smile at him in return. She closes the door gently and walks to the other side, getting into the car and starting it, immediately turning on the radio in hopes it’ll distract him from seeing the tears roll down her face.

— — —

If there’s one thing Y/N hates is going on dates. Especially if they’re dates she doesn’t necessarily want to be on, just like the one she’s on now. Harry had insisted that he takes up the majority of the time (he does) and that she needs to go out more, (she doesn’t want to) so she reluctantly agreed to go on this stupid date. She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early just in case and to prepare herself, waited for ten extra minutes for him to decide to show up smelling strongly of some cheap cologne and cigarettes. Once they were seated, things stayed somewhat relaxed as they made small talk and got to know each other; he had made some remarks she didn’t necessarily agree with but she stayed quiet.

When it came time to order, there was a certain look on his eyes when she ordered. One that felt almost as if he was… judging her? He stayed quiet otherwise though, didn’t let his disgust be known verbally and she’s thankful for that. She’s sure they’ve been at the restaurant for about thirty minutes, give or take, but this is the longest she’s been out with a guy who isn’t Harry. That has to mean something, right? Sure the conversation could be better, maybe he could talk more and maybe seem a little more interested in what she has to say, but she can’t complain too much.

She can’t help but to wonder what Harry is doing right now, probably either sleep or playing on his game system. He might be on a date as well which could explain why he was soo insistent on getting her to go on this date, but she refuses to think that’s why. She’s bored and she misses him. She always misses him though, she’s gotten so used to basically being attached at the hip with him that it feels like years whenever they’re apart (even if it’s only a couple of hours, she’s just dramatic as Harry would say.)

“So are you and Harry together, or…” The guy asks and Y/N shakes her head quickly.

“Oh.. uh no! We’re not together.” He squints his eyes at her like he doesn’t believe her, and honestly she doesn’t blame him.

“So are you guys just screwing around?” Y/N laughs, a sound in between a snort and a scoff bubbles from her lips and her date only to stare at her in confusion.

She’s heard plenty of rumors regarding her and Harry’s friendship, that they’re dating or maybe siblings, one even said she’s secretly someone famous and he’s just her bodyguard. She laughed at that one and when she told Harry he simply smiled at her and said it’s only true; she’s his princess and he vowed to protect her from any and all harm and she smacked his shoulder with a dopey smile on her lips. But to hear that people think that they’re just sleeping around with each other is new, well at least to hear it. She won’t deny the fact that sometimes late at night she’ll daydream scenarios where the two are happily together doing all the couple-y stuff but sometimes those daydreams tend to wander and turn into something filthy.

Dreams of him whispering in her ear, praising her as he rocks against her. Dreams of him maybe catching her reading her smut books and recreating them together, trying new things and exploring each other’s bodies.. She shakes her head, thankful that she can play it off as her denying the rumor.

“No, no! We’re just friends, best friends actually.” She says and laughs gently, hoping her voice doesn’t crack. He stares at her a little while longer before his gaze begins lower and he clears his throat, she knows where this is going. This happens all the time on her dates.

“Well I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.” He smirks afterwards and Y/N has to hold herself back from screwing her face up in disgust.

This is usually the part where she’ll excuse herself or the date begins to head downwards, leaving her with disappointment and the small hole in her chest she’s holding out for the small chance of Harry returning her feelings begins to ache. She clears her throat in response and begins to fidget in her seat.

“Uh, yeah sure. Anyways, are you enjoying your food?” She asks in hope that it’ll detour the conversation back into safer topics.

“I mean.. it’s alright. You look gorgeous, that dress really fits you. Are you enjoying your food?” He asks as he brings his fork to his mouth and the girl has to refrain from frowning at her date.

It’s safe to say that she misses her best friend, misses being cuddled up next to him and the two of them talking about anything and everything. She misses how comfortable they are, she misses his voice, his hugs.

“Yeah, I’m enjoying it so far.” She says, her voice sounding disappointed that once more her date is turning into all of her previous ones.

“I was wondering if maybe I could stay over a little after this is done. I’d love to get to know you more.” She sighs softly before answering him.

“No, I’m sorry. If you excuse me, I'm just gonna go ahead and go. It was nice meeting you, and this should be enough to cover my half.” She says as she puts a couple bills on the table in front of him, she’s sure that it’s more than enough to pay for her meal and she should stick around to get her change; she just wants to leave though, to get away from him and back to her comfort. She immediately heads to the door, her eyes beginning to well up with tears as she walks to her car. The disappointment stinging her heart yet again at the ending of another unsuccessful date.

— — —

Y/N’s managed to find herself at another party but this time Harry’s not glued to her side, he’s gotten dragged off by one of his friends. She’s not sure where he went or how long he’s been gone but she is having a much better time than she usually is. She thinks drinking a little bit before she goes helps, being in the comforting embrace of just her and Harry as they take a couple of shots helps her loosen up.

So she stands in the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the crowd as she attempts to find Harry and her body swaying the music. She nurses a red solo cup filled with some alcohol that tastes better than whatever she had the last time, it doesn’t burn her throat whenever she takes a sip of it and it flows down quite nicely if you ask her. Her body feels loose and overall she feels happy, she doesn’t find herself worrying about anything or overthinking.

A few people bump into her while she stands but she doesn’t mind that much, simply apologizing to them as she steps out of the way. The music is something pleasant and she thinks she maybe knows this song as it plays through the speakers, she finds herself mouthing along to the words as she makes her way through the crowd. She’s sure Harry couldn’t have gotten too far, she just wants to tell him about whatever drink she has and tell him how much she likes it. She just wants to see him. She stumbles as she walks hinting at the fact that she might have had a little too much to drink, bumping into a few people as she passes through. It’s nice to not have to be the one that’s sober like she usually is, although she hopes Harry kept his promise and stayed sober in his role as the designated driver. It’s nice to be able to let loose and honestly, she understands a little why Harry likes to go to these things.

As she passes through the crowd with a content smile on her face, she makes sure to ask a few people if they’ve seen her best friend. Some tell her the last place they’ve seen him while others haven’t seen him, she thanks them all the same with a smile on her face. She continues passing through the crowd until she finds a little glimpse of an opening in the crowd, the people slowly beginning to thin out and the music grows softer. When she makes it all the way through she sees Harry leaning against a wall, one hand nervously fidgeting with his hair and the other wrapped around his phone tightly.

He bites at his bottom lip nervously and she just wants to coo at him, kiss him and hug him forever.

“What’s a matter?” She asks as she steps closer to the boy, and his face immediately lights up and all of the tension seems to melt away.

“Couldn’t find you, honey. I went to the kitchen and you weren’t there, I tried to call you and you didn’t answer. I thought you… I was scared.” He says as he wraps her tight in his arms. She doesn’t try to say anything, she knows how he gets whenever he’s nervous and assuming the worst happened, allows him to take in the moment and to calm him down. They rock gently, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes her scent in.

He pulls away a couple minutes later and they stare at each other, his brow furrowed and lips slicked with spit, jade irises shining under the lights and filled with relief and care. Y/N doesn’t know what came over her, what led her to do what she’s about to do but her in the future better be prepared and absolutely angry at herself for drinking so much. She slowly begins to lean forward, tilt her head and pucker her lips subtly. Of course, Harry doesn’t think much of it or doesn’t care when their lips meet.

Slow and tender, she doesn’t bother to move her lips. She’s content with a peck, doesn't need to be greedy. He just looked so pretty that she couldn’t help herself. Harry’s arms are tight around her, keeping her close to him as if she planned on walking away again. She pulls away with a soft click and she licks her own lips, a goofy smile on her face as she stares at him.

“‘M so lucky.” She says, her words kinda slowed and all Harry can do is stare in shock at the girl.

He’s unsure what to do now although he knows the responsible thing to do is to take her home, get her changed and tucked into bed where there definitely won’t be anymore kisses and she’ll be safe and sound. He just stares at her, her eyes unfocused and her eyelashes wet as she stares back. The music blares but to them it’s simply background music, the two of them seemingly secluded away in their own personal bubble. It’s usually how it always is though, wherever they go but it always happens at these parties Harry drags her to, they’ll isolate themselves somewhere in a corner and just chat away until Harry decides to mingle with the other party goers. Harry thinks she’s pretty like this, well he usually always thinks she’s pretty. He likes to see her dress up though, which is why he invites her to so many of these parties, likes knowing all of the girls there envy Y/N because she’s his best friend.

A couple minutes go by, hours maybe but Harry doubts it, and Harry decides to take a couple steps back and rubs his hands down her arms to interlace their fingers together.

“Hey, love bug. You ready to go home?” He asks gently, wary of the fact that she could be more emotional and isn’t thinking straight in the first place for her to kiss him. The girl simply nods her head and allows the boy to lead her through the party crowd and outside, while Harry makes sure she doesn’t bump into any cars on the way to his own car. The breeze is soft and warm, gently caressing their cheeks as it passes through. The sun is filtering through the clouds, landing on Y/N’s face as they walk.

It doesn’t take very long to reach his car because he almost always parks as close to the entrance to make it easier for the other to escort them to the car when they’re drunk. It usually always ends up being Harry, so it feels weird in a way to have the roles reversed, to have him being the one taking care of her. He unlocks the car when they get close enough, his arm wrapped securely around the drunken girl just in case she stumbles. He listens as she rambles about something he can’t make out, her words slurring together due to excitement and her being drunk. A quality of hers that he’s always found endearing, so he lets her ramble of course, humming along to show he’s listening and only occasionally adding his own input when asked and he’s able to make out what she’s doing.

He opens the door for her, getting her all settled in and closing the door behind him, walking around to the driver’s side and starting the car. Once he starts driving, the radio stays off and the windows down to let in the breeze, Harry tries his best to ignore the feeling of her eyes on him.

— — —

Two weeks have passed since the drunken kiss incident and neither of them have really said much about it. Harry brought it up to her a couple days later and she only laughed and said it’s okay, everyone does stupid stuff when they’re drunk. Nothing has changed between the two necessarily, maybe Harry’s been going out of his way to walk her to her class and yeah maybe they have to be touching in any way. Whether it be holding hands like how they used to do, kisses on the forehead and cheeks, or their arms slung across the other waist or shoulders.

So he assumes that there’s nothing else to make of it, it’s not a big deal and honestly if it hasn’t affected their friendship, then he doesn’t mind ignoring it. He has noticed that she’s been the one to initiate the physical touch now, more open about it whereas before she shied away from it in hopes to not upset any of the girls in school. She doesn’t swat at his chest whenever he calls her the exaggerated pet names he used purposely to annoy her, she even said a few of them back. Sure, sometimes he’ll catch her looking at him with eyes all gooey late at night but that must be because she hasn’t had enough sleep.

They’re still the same two best friends like before, just a smidge different but it’s not a bad difference. Y/N thinks she could be okay with the way they are now, living in her own little imagination where they’re more than friends.

Which is why Y/N’s confused whenever Harry knocks on her door early in the morning. Ten in the morning isn’t super early but it’s definitely earlier than she’d like to be awake on a day where she has absolutely nothing else to do. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she gets out of bed and throws on some clothes as she makes her way to the door of her dorm. When she opens it, she sees Harry and a beautiful brunette by his side. She looks familiar to the girl, maybe they’ve shared a class before but all in all Y/N’s confused. Harry usually doesn’t stop by without letting her know (not that it mattered, he was over all the time it seemed) and definitely never brought another girl by.

“Harry? What’s going on?” Y/N asks, a yawn escaping her mouth afterwards and the other girl just smiles at Harry.

“Y/N, this is my girlfriend Liv. Liv, this is my best friend Y/N.” Harry says as he points at the girls, introducing them.

Y/N knows the respectful and proper thing to do is to greet her and welcome them into her to get to know one another, but she can’t wrap her brain around it all. She stares at them, more at the girl than Harry. She can’t bring herself to look at him without wanting to cry, she watches as Liv leans forward to give her a hug and tells her how it’s so great to finally meet her and then Y/N’s slamming the door in their face. She stares at the now closed door and hurries to lock it, she’s sure Harry will just open the door even though deep down she knows he won’t do that unless told otherwise that he can.

Usually, he talks to her about the girls he’s interested in, asks her if it’s okay to bring them over and gives her plenty of time to have her - unknown to him - breakdowns and prepare herself for this moment. She’s not sure when this happened or why he didn’t talk to her about it first, the only thing she’s sure of is the absolute heartache she feels right now. The painful jab in her heart with every beat, the feeling of her stomach falling. The pain that’s beginning to bloom in her head and the feeling of her knees hitting the floor, hard enough to leave a bruise but she can’t bring herself to care about that at the moment.

The immediate sting in her eyes as tears well up and fall from her eyes, the betrayal, the jealousy tearing its way up. The heartache overall is one she’s felt in smaller amounts as she listens to Harry talk about whichever girl he’s interested in asking out, but this.. this is something completely different. It’s intense, it burns and she can’t breathe. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, beating faster than normal.

She lets out loud sobs, cries she should be embarrassed of but at this moment she can’t bring herself to care. She’s grateful her roommates aren’t here, they kept telling her it’s not worth it to stay best friends with Harry due to how much she liked him. She constantly argued that she knew what she was doing, she could handle her own if something like this happened. She should’ve listened to them, would she have stopped being friends with Harry? She doesn’t think so, might’ve been distant to allow her feelings to dwindle back down.

She’s not sure how long she stayed on the floor as tears streamed down her face when her phone rings. She grabs it and stares at the screen, Harry’s name flashing across the screen and she just sighs as she turns the ringer off and sets the phone on the couch. She can’t talk to him right now. She stares at the floor, memories of their friendship flicking in and out, the memory of their kiss haunts her, she feels stupid. She hoped they were moving towards a relationship, how silly of her to think they could ever be more than just friends.

After a couple hours, she manages to pull herself from the floor and begins to make her way to her bed. Her safe haven, she can wrap herself in her softest blanket and read her silly little romance books or watch her favorite movie, where she can wallow in her own self pity. There’s a knock on the door, whoever’s on the other side knocks one, two, three times before it goes silent. She hopes they’ll go away, her roommates have a key so it can’t be someone she has to open the door for.

“Y/N. It’s me, Harry. I don’t know what I did that upset you so much, she’s gone. It’s just me. Please open the door, let’s talk about this.” He says, somewhat muffled but she can still hear how his voice is watery and shaky, can hear the pain in his voice and she just sniffles as she walks towards the door.

“There’s… nothing to talk about. Go home.” Her voice is just a reflection on how she feels right now, she’s sure he can hear it from the other side.

“Yes there is, Y/N. You slammed the door, the look on your face… I don’t know what all that was about but you looked so hurt. I want to know what happened.” He says and she just frowns.

He’s never paid attention to how her face looked before so why does it matter, she opens the door and stares at him. Fresh tears welling up in the girls’ eyes and she swears she can feel her heart breaking even more. He looks just about how she thinks she looks. His eyes full of tears and eyelashes all clumped together, red cheeks stained with tears and his skin flushed. His lips are wet and he can’t stop pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You happened, Harry. I tried, God I tried so hard to get over it. But I can’t. I’m so in love with you it hurts. It hurts to hear you talk about the girls you like knowing it’s not me, hurts hearing all the girls gossip about you and the things you do for them. It hurts when you’re drunk and treating me like I’m yours, calling me all these sweet fucking pet names and holding me close to you. It hurts that we act like we’re together and we just aren’t, we’ll never be. I love you so much that I’m just hurting myself in the process. I’m so scared to lose you that I tell myself that just being your friend is okay. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you” A sob interrupts her, a wet choking sound and she sighs.

“I can’t just keep hoping and praying that something will happen and we’ll finally be together, it hurts too much. I’m so lucky to have you in my life and be your friend, but I don’t know if I can handle just being your friend. I can’t handle hoping that I’ll get my chance. I’m tired of waiting for something that’ll never happen. I’m not cutting you out because I don’t want to lose you, I just need some time alone. I need to get over you and learn how to be okay with just being your friend and nothing more.” She says through her tears and immediately she’s wrapped in a strong hug, his scent filling her nose and she cries even harder.

“I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you and didn’t see it. Take as much time as you need honey, I’ll be waiting for you always.”

“Okay, thank you.” She says as she pulls away and he nods, a sad smile on his face that she wishes wasn’t because of her.

“I love you.” He says before she shuts the door once more, the wall of their friendship being built slowly.

‘I love you’ she thinks is just the worst thing she’s ever heard, just a painful reminder that the love they share has never been on the same page, just another shatter of her already broken heart.

You can’t have love without the pain, and she’s the definition of just how much love can truly hurt you.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles #harry edward styles #harry styles angst #best friend!harry #my writing

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queenimmadolla · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀

(eddie munson x secret admirer!reader)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • eddie edit �� @fefemunson! • ao3

Summary: After four long years of pining, it’s high time you tell your crush you like him and quite possibly your last chance to, luckily there’s no better time for love confessions than Valentine’s Day. If only you hadn’t chosen to do so anonymously, because you’re pretty sure Eddie Munson is hoping his secret admirer is someone else.

Warnings: pining, angst, misunderstandings, very brief (blink and you miss it) descriptions of oncoming panic attack (doesn't happen), Heather Holloway being a sweetie, and a whole lot of fluff

authors note: no, you're not imagining things. i'm reposting a story i already have up. unfortunately, i seem to have an anti who has been flagging anything of mine that gains traction as content that it is not so it's hidden to those who don't have the settings on (most people) and goes to die away, never to be interacted with again. they're attempting to do the same to Magical Mysteria, as they had the original flagged and, therefore, hidden. because everyone seemed to really relate to reader and enjoyed reading this particular fic, i've decided to give that anti the finger, so here's a repost.

word count: 10k

You stood posted by a row of lockers, peaking around the corner of the hall to watch as the longtime object of your affections laughed at something one of his friends said.

“Are you stalking him again?”

You jumped, clutching your biology book to your chest as you swiveled around to face Heather, your best friend.

“Geez!” You hissed out, voice low as you checked to make sure you hadn’t attracted his attention.

But it’s you, so of course you hadn’t. Eddie was still leaning up against his locker and chatting away, face framed by the mane he called his hair. His curls were defined much more than usual—clearly he’d washed his hair before school which meant he must have been up early. Why did you know that????

“I’m not stalking him,” you grumbled and Heather giggled. “I’m just observing him.”

“Well, stop observing him and go talk to him.” She nudged your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna—,” You answered with false bravado that soon wavered, “. . . eventually. Look, I have a plan. Okay, today is a new day, Valentine’s Day and the perfect day for romance. No more watching from the sidelines─”

Heather coughed out a stalking, followed by another cough, all of which you ignored.

“No more quietly pining, I’m telling him how I feel.”

Heather raised her eyebrows, tongue clicking.

“Let me get this straight, you’re not only going to actually exchange words with him, you’re actually going to tell Eddie Munson about your feelings?”

Your heart fluttered just at the mention of him.

Edward Wayne Munson. Eddie.

You’d had a crush on him since your freshman year of high school, and contrary to your best friend’s earlier statement, you had exchanged words with him already. Sorta. Basically.

Freshman year you’d ate shit in the hallway, tripping over literally nothing and all your belongings had scattered, he’d stopped walking to help you pick your things up before he was off again. It wasn’t much conversation, but he did say something about those invisible rocks people left lying around.

Then your sophomore year, he’d sat behind you with his club at the school’s mandatory pep rally. One of his friends had accidentally jostled you and Heather a little too roughly when he was finding his seat and Eddie had apologized on his behalf.

Then last year he’d held the cafeteria door open for you and your friends when you slipped in. That time, you’d been the one to thank him and he had said you’re welcome. Almost unprompted!

So, yeah. Maybe you were a little delusional, it didn’t matter though. What mattered was you were running out of time.

Somehow, Eddie had managed to fail the past two years, allowing you to catch up to him but that meant you were now a senior as well. You’d let the other chances to approach him pass you by because you were too scared of rejection, this was your last chance.

The college acceptance letter you’d received at the start of the week also spurred your bravery, if he rejected you, you only had a few months left until you were on your way to California, there’d be all those states between the two of you.

You had nothing to lose, so today was gonna be the day.

“Yes,” you took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as the determination sank deep into your bones. “I’m gonna tell him.”

“How are you gonna do that?” She cocked her head, the curls of her side ponytail bouncing.

“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” You grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to your partially opened locker. You pulled the door open fully to reveal a bouquet of roses, set on top of your books.

Her face wrinkled up in confusion, “You bought yourself flowers again?”

“No.” You glared at her, a hand scratching your head as you hissed out through gritted teeth, “And we promised not to bring that up anymore—these are for Eddie.”

Heather perked up at that, a hand resting over her chest as she fawned, “Dude, that is so cute! When are you gonna give them to him?”

“That’s the thing, I’m not actually going to give them to him directly. I need your help. You’ve got history with him, yeah?”

You already knew she did so it didn’t surprise you when she nodded. You slipped one rose from the bouquet and handed it to her.

“Can you leave this on his desk?”

“Sure! Wow, I can’t believe I get to be part of your love story,” she marveled, twirling the stem between her fingertips.

God, you hoped it’d be a love story and not a tragedy.

“And these are for you.” You pulled out a smaller bouquet of pink roses, and Heather just about burst into tears.

The two of you had been best friends since middle school, and often spent your free time watching corny teen movies, usually living through the main characters of the romance ones. You’d had a couple of almost-boyfriends, in the end you hadn’t been interested in them enough to accept when they’d try to make it official. And Heather simply hadn’t caught the eye of anyone, which was ridiculous to you considering how pretty and nice she was, so you were usually her valentine on Valentine’s Day. This was the first time you actually got her flowers instead of a bunch of chocolates to eat the night away, you’d figured she deserved them.

She’d had a crush on Steve Harrington, but he hadn’t noticed her and ended up dating and getting dumped by Nancy Wheeler. Then he’d dated every other girl except her. You feared your non-existent relationship with Eddie might go the same way.

“Dude,” Heather yanked you in for a hug, squeezing you to the point you thought your ribs might be bruised.

“Uhm. Heather. Ow.”

“Oh, sorry.” She released you, holding you by your shoulders, “Okay, so I just give it to him?”

“No, no, no, no, no. There will be no interactions. Just leave it on his desk.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You were about to reply when the first bell cut you off and threw you into a panic, nudging Heather in the direction of the classroom so she could beat Eddie there. Heather took off running once she realized the reason for your worry, only you both failed to remember Eddie was late to everything.

You reluctantly made your way to your first period, plagued by thoughts of Eddie’s reaction to the first rose.

Would he like it? Oh, you hoped he liked it.

What if he thought it was some prank? What if he threw it away? Would he do the same to the rest?

Oh, well. There was no backing out now.

Your carefully thought out plan was put into action. You’d made sure to play sick the last 15 minutes of every class to get an excuse note to the nurse, only you didn’t go to the nurse. Instead, you ran around leaving a rose in Eddie’s various hang outs. One at the creepy old bench you knew he did business at. Two roses with the stems placed through the slits of his locker, three on his windshield wipers, one of the younger students in your art class was in Hellfire with him and after swearing him to secrecy, Will had promised to deliver three to Eddie personally, without revealing your identity.

During lunch, you found yourself behind the stage of the cafeteria, in part of the drama department. It’s where Hellfire took place.

You’d been there a handful of times, only when your curiosity for the metalhead got a little too overwhelming for you and you wanted to feel closer to him without having to face him. It was only ever set up on Fridays, the day Eddie got to school early enough to do so.

You made your way over to sit in the chair closest to his throne, casting it a couple of nervous glances.

This would be where you left the last rose, so of course, everything about the set up, the throne had to look daunting to you now; a representation of how you were seeing Eddie as your confession grew nearer. If things didn’t go as planned, it’d be the last time you could come here.

The thought made your stomach hurt, a large void beginning to form there.

The last rose was much too personal to leave just anywhere, where someone without a key to the room would find it. No one but the Hellfire club would occupy this area today. Attached to the rose with a ribbon was a note with a simple message that meant more to you than you cared to admit. You’d written it when you first came up with your plan at the start of the week and had been debating on whether or not to sign your name since then.

The answer should’ve been obvious, right? This whole thing was to let Eddie know how you felt about him, and your romantic intentions were clear with the red roses. This note would finish implying the rest. And if you wanted Eddie to know it was you who admired him, you just had to write your name.

Yeah, simple as that.

You clicked the pen in your grasp, placing it just over the paper.

You wavered, licking your lips as you tried to convince yourself to just own your goddamn name. That’s all you had to do. Write on the paper.

Just write on the paper.

Your hand was beginning to shake, and with a heavy heart, you realized your name wouldn’t be going on this note.

You weren’t brave enough for that. You set your purple pen down, staring down at the words written in pink ink before you rolled the paper up, making sure the ribbon was secured (you’d used a hole puncher to slip the ribbon through) and left it on the seat of the throne before scurrying out of the room as fast as you could.

—

Eddie was at a loss, completely stupefied.

When he’d arrived at his history class, after having mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of boredom he’d face, he was surprised to find a single rose on his desk. By surprised, he meant incredibly suspicious. A glance around the room confirmed he wasn’t being watched, everyone was gossiping about Emmy Switcher’s upcoming party, so he’d settled into his seat and marveled at it.

Eddie wasn’t one to ever really get things on Valentine’s Day, not counting the mandatory valentine’s cards in elementary and middle school. The last time he’d gotten a card was his first senior year, and it had been a prank by a couple of girls on the softball team and their boyfriends. Embarrassed the shit out of him. The following Valentine’s Day he’d faked being sick to avoid falling victim again—god, he craved affection so much it made him pathetic enough to still hope for something gross and cheesy to happen to him.

A rose was harmless though, right? Unless it was poisoned or something. Eddie lifted it to his nose, but all he could pick up was the seductive floral scent and when he didn’t immediately pass out from chloroform, he figured it was just a rose.

He glanced around again in vain, hoping someone would somehow stick out and when no one did, he held it in his grasp, rough fingertips stroking over the soft petals for the duration of the class.

He’d been stunned when he arrived at his locker to find two roses hanging out of it. A few people were staring at him as he carefully pulled them from their place, but they looked more curious rather than shy or mischievous. He had a feeling whoever was leaving the roses for him wasn’t around.

He refused to leave them in his locker, the stems clutched in his hand as he went about his day and found more. Eddie was more than proud to display them, somewhat smug at the attention they were garnishing him.

Yeah, fuckers. Someone finally liked him. Eat shit.

He’d spent his English class convincing himself he’d never find out exactly who this someone was. He was pretty fucking stressed after that. He tried to come up with a roster of sorts, girls he thought might be interested in him enough to maybe leave him pretty flowers and woo him right out of his Reeboks.

He’d only been able to come up with four—impressive—but his first pick he was quick to scribble out. He hadn’t had a decent interaction with her and he figured it was creepy of him to put her at the top of the list all because of his wishful thinking.

The second girl listed was possible, maybe. Chrissy Cunningham. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember since she was always nice to him. She’d dumped Jason a couple of months ago and he’d been dealing to her for a short amount of time, but she seemed pretty flirty to him. Although, flattery did work on him.

The third name made him nervous, and not in a good way. Tina Sawyer. They’d both got pretty drunk at her Halloween party and hooked up in her bathroom but she avoided him like the plague afterwards, obviously embarrassed about interacting with him, which was typical for the lot of Hawkins.

He’d been sure it was a drunken mistake but sometimes, he’d catch her staring at him, and she didn’t look all that disgusted with him.

The last name on the short list was that of Tammy Thompson. She had made her interest in Eddie pretty clear his junior year, always trying to sit behind him in classes so she could play with his hair. Unfortunately Tammy was very, for the lack of better words, aggressive with her affections. He’d made out with her once and it had been sloppy and messy in the most unattractive of ways. It was like tonguing a dog.. Then he remembered she’d actually been able to graduate, unlike him, so he was spared.

By lunch, Eddie was ready to try to figure out who his secret admirer was. Out of the two remaining girls on his list, he was leaning more towards Chrissy, who he felt wouldn’t be ashamed to hold his hand in public.

He and his lunchbox full of drugs—and some snacks—made their way to the Hellfire lunch table where he spent a significant amount of time studying the two girls.

“Uh, are you okay, Eddie?”

Eddie glanced up at the concerned face of Will Byers, who’d arrived much later than the rest of the guys and Stephanie, one of the two girls in Hellfire. The question drew the attention of the rest of the table and Eddie internally sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine—what are those?” Eddie asked, eyes honed in on the roses resting on Will’s tray.

The younger teen handed them over, “A girl told me to give you these.”

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat, “You know who she is?”

Will nodded and before Eddie could demand a name, he rushed, “I’ve been sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie scowled, carefully setting aside his roses so they wouldn’t be involved in his annoyance.

“Byers, I’m gonna level with you. I’ve been in this miserable prison for six long years. While I’ve had my fair share of hookups, I have not ever had a girl like me enough to leave me roses and do cute shit before. And I fear I never will again. That’s why I’m actually gonna need you to tell me who it is so I can have a girlfriend by the end of what is supposed to be the most god awful romantic day of the year. ‘Kay?”

Eddie’s eyebrows dart up, face set in an intimidating glower but Will remembers how scared you looked when you trusted him with this task. He also knows, very well, how it feels to love someone without them ever knowing because you fear what their response will be. He’d also seen Eddie eyeing both Chrissy and Tina.

Will knew what it was like to have that special person interested in someone else, too. So, he’d protect your secret.

“I swore.”

Eddie groaned, head dipping forward in a brief moment of defeat before he slammed his fist on the table, making the other occupants jump.

“Whatever, I’ll find her myself.” Just as Eddie stands, an idea occurs to him. Will said he wouldn’t tell him who it was, but the youngest Byers hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell him who it wasn’t, “Is it Tina?”

Will shakes his head, nose wrinkling. Nothing against her, she just wasn’t the nicest to him or his friends. Not the meanest, still.

Eddie breathes out a sigh, mumbling an oh, thank god as he makes his way to the cafeteria doors. That only left one possibility, and he was due to meet up with her in just five minutes. He couldn’t fight the grin off his face.

──

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, having witnessed everything transpire at the Hellfire table.

You’d selected your lunch table four years ago because of the perfect view of Eddie it provided you, but right then it was killing you. You’d ruined your manicure, picking aggressively at the polish as you watched Will and Eddie, breathing out a sigh of relief when it looked like Will hadn’t revealed your identity.

Eddie hadn’t seemed too happy about that.

Then he stormed out and you fought very hard with yourself to not follow after him because then Heather would be right and you’d be a stalker.

“Regret it yet?” Heather asked after she’d swallowed a bite of her sandwich.

“No.” You sorta lied. Yeah, you kind of regretted it but at the same time, knowing Eddie wouldn’t have to let you down gently made you less anxious. Besides, it wasn’t like you could just climb up the stage and duck past the curtain leading to the hellfire room without one of it’s members spotting you from their table. They’d tell Eddie in a heartbeat, especially if they found out the last rose and that damn note was there.

“Sure,” Heather drawled, glancing over her shoulder as you picked at your food, appetite suddenly gone.

Maybe you really should have written your name on that love note.

“Well, I hope you mean it, because Dream Girl is on her way to meet Ice Cream.” Your head snapped up at the mention of Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie’s code names you’d given them so both you and Heather were free to talk without either of them suspecting anything. You referred to Chrissy as Dream Girl because you’d known all about Eddie’s crush on her (while Heather had been depressed about Steve and Nancy, you’d eaten your weight in ice cream over Eddie and Chrissy’s more than friendly interactions with each other, which had nothing to do with Eddie’s code name—he was ‘ice cream’ because you wanted to lick him all over).

Sure enough, you looked over Heather’s shoulder, following her gaze to see Chrissy bidding her friends goodbye before she walked right out of the doors Eddie had pushed past minutes ago and as you watched her exit through the double doors, something inside you withers and dies a bit.

You knew Eddie sold to her (gave her a discount because she was pretty and because of their flirting, hearing him say that made you want to drive a knife right through your chest), you and Heather had followed them out a couple of times which is how you were both aware of the flirtationship.

After the first time you’d spied on them, the two of you had gone back to your home where Heather held a mock funeral for you. Now, you wished it had been a real one because you were sure Eddie had not only loved your roses, he also assumed they were from Chrissy. They would send him right into her arms at that shitty ass bench. And when he’d get a hold of the love note, well, you’d be the reason behind why Eddie and Chrissy would be hand in hand come Monday, canoodling by their lockers and kissing like no one else was watching. All the things Eddie should have been doing with you.

You should have signed your name on the fucking note.

─

Eddie had paced a pathway, disturbing the mounds of fallen leaves surrounding the picnic table.

His stuff, another rose he’d found waiting for him included, was on the table and he’d taken off his jacket, despite the chill of the February air. He was working himself up in his head, overheating in the process.

“Eddie?”

His head shot around, grinning as Chrissy—who apparently left him roses—approached him, face broken out in a smile.

“Hey, Chris.” Eddie’s heart was racing a mile a minute, palms sweaty as he rested them over his hips, then quickly realized he looked stupid so he crossed them instead.

She laughed at his nerves with absolutely no malice and they sat down at the bench, getting down to business. She’d been about to hand him a twenty dollar bill after he slid her the ziploc bag of nugs, but he held up his hand.

“On the house.”

“Eddie, it’s always on the house. I feel bad.”

“Then stop.” He emphasized the demand with bulging eyes, smirking when she giggled. She had to like him, right?

Eddie tried to be discreet about it, plucking one of the roses from his growing pile. He played with the stem, even sniffed the petals again in hopes she’d comment about it, maybe look a little excited about it or just give him any sort of reaction to indicate it had been her.

Chrissy was too busy moving things aside in her backpack to make room for the baggy. When she finally did look back up, she smiled, but gave no hint she was even familiar with them.

“Ooh, pretty flowers. Where’d you get those?”

Was she playing coy?

“Uh, someone’s been leaving them for me all around school.” Was it you?

Chrissy’s face lit up and Eddie thought it was finally the moment of truth.

“That’s so sweet! Do you know who it is? Or is it like a secret admirer sort of deal?”

Evidently, not the moment of truth. She had to be toying with him, trying to prolong the reveal. Because if it wasn’t her, he was out of ideas. And he really, really didn’t want to be out of ideas. Not when there was someone out there, maybe thinking about him.

“I actually have no idea who it is,” he sighed out, hoping, if it was her, she’d just put him out of his damn misery already.

Chrissy glanced down at the table and Eddie perked up. Nerves? Was she finally gonna come out with it?

“It wasn’t me, Eddie…but, I wish it had been.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, mouth dropped open a little as his eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

Okay. Hadn’t been expecting that. He was expecting a yes it was me or a no it wasn’t me but not Chrissy confirming it hadn’t been her while also telling him she liked him.

“So, you haven’t been leaving them for me?”

Chrissy shook her head and reached across the table to place her smaller hand over his, palm warm against his skin. Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut as he groaned, head falling forward to rest against the table.

“Eddie?” Chrissy asked, concern lacing her voice.

He let out a very long sigh, a little miffed at how messy this whole thing had gotten. Now, there was his, Chrissy’s and someone else’s feelings in the mix. Christ.

“‘M’sorry, Chrissy.” Eddie sat up straight, face grim as he slowly pulled his hand out from underneath hers. “You’re great, fantastic, actually. You’re really nice and really pretty, but… I’ve been going crazy all day, trying to figure out who’s behind these.”

He gestures to the roses at his side, the sight of them filling him with an intense wave of longing.

“It’s been like years since I’ve gotten anything with real meaning behind it for any occasion—” he wasn’t counting the hellfire club or Wayne, referring to romantic intentions—“let alone Valentine’s Day, and someone in this school seems to be thinking about me.”

Eddie thought about what it must have taken to do something like this, it may have seemed like a trivial thought, something simple to others. He knew it wasn’t. He had no idea who it was, but he put himself in their position. They had to know enough about him to know his schedule, where he spent time, and then make the time to leave them in those spots just before he got there.

He’d spent the time waiting for Chrissy considering the anonymity of it. On the chance it wasn’t her, there was someone else in the school who was too afraid to approach him directly. He’d thought it might be out of fear of being seen with him, seen doing anything remotely romantic with him. Then, why even bother? They had to be afraid of his reaction, it’s what he would be nervous about if the positions were flipped.

And god, he’d never felt more alive before, more seen and all it took was a couple of roses. He felt like those fawning girls in John Hughes movies.

“Before today, I never would have approached you about this, you know? I know we flirt, but I never would have been brave enough to cross that line.” He admitted, looking into her shiny blue eyes. Aw, man. Eddie hated making girls cry but it was true, he would have been waiting for her to make a move, or for Tina to make a move. Any of his past hookups, really. He’d have been with any of them—having craved affection and everything that came with it so bad—if they had just been the ones to initiate things on a more permanent basis.

He would have. Past tense. They could all form a conga line and confess their undying love for him but, unless they were the one who left him the roses—the one who made him brave enough to actually go around confronting people in an attempt to seek her out—he’d let them down.

“She made me brave, makes me feel really wanted and I don't even know who she is. It’s not you, it’s just─”

“I’m not her.” Chrissy finished for him, wiping under one of her eyes. “It’s alright, Eddie. I mean, I’m obviously a little sad, but it’s not your fault or hers. I do hope you find her, though. She’d be lucky to have you.”

She gave Eddie a sad smile, making him feel even guiltier but it’d be pretty shitty of him to try to be with her when he’d be thinking of someone else.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” Eddie stood up and gathered his things. It was clear she was upset and would probably need some time to gather herself, he didn’t want to force her to leave first or linger around and make it awkward.

He left her with a small, parting smile, relieved that he hadn’t charged her. Would have felt like a douchebag to make her pay for weed and turn her down in the span of five minutes when she’d been nothing but pleasant to him.

Eddie shook it off, determination setting in once more. Sure, he was back to the drawing board, but if all else failed, he could corner young Byers again until he finally gave him a name.

He’d come up with a pretty good list of ways he could force Will to give up the name by the time school let out and he got to the Hellfire room.

It wasn’t until he set his little bouquet and the lunchbox down (he didn’t bother with backpacks, just shoved whatever he needed in his pants pockets or the box), walking around the throne in a circle like some fucking animal because he was so restless, that he saw the rose.

The flash of white had caught his eyes and he dove down to grab it, trying to be as careful with pulling the piece of paper away from the stem of the rose, only he realized whoever left it had hole punched the thing together so he ripped the ribbon with his teeth rather than rip the note.

The ribbon was stuffed into his back pocket as he eagerly sat himself down, rose clutched in one hand and the note in his other.

Eddie,

Please excuse my lack of eloquence in this note and also in our real life encounters.

Eddie felt a shiver of excitement wash over his skin, cheeks a bright shade of pink at the confirmation he’d indeed interacted with his secret admirer before. Fuck, she’d talked to him! It made her feel even more real.

She was a real person, someone he could probably hold hands with and kiss. Unless, this was done in a purely platonic way which would be a little fucked up. Red roses to be friends? C’mon. He read on.

I hoped you liked the flowers. I was actually debating on getting you different ones, something a little more personalized to you, but I ended up going with roses because, well, they convey romance better.

Eddie leaned over the arm of the throne, sagging back as he allowed himself to completely collapse with relief. Just for a few seconds, then his eyes were glued to the pink penmanship.

I’m trying really hard not to sound creepy because I’m totally not creepy and I know what you're thinking, ‘that’s what a creep would say’ but I swear I’m not, I just. I admire you. A lot. I have for so, so long. I admire the way you keep going, even when things are absolute shit for you, I like how you watch out for the underclassmen that come in and don’t really have anywhere to go. I like the way you dress, how pretty your hair is (even when it’s frizzy which is so unfair), how passionate you get with your rants (even though sometimes you’re an asshole about it).

And I like your laugh I LOVE your laugh. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had what feels like the worst fucking day of my life and I’m ready to breakdown and cry and scream, but I don’t. Because I can hear you laugh your ass off at something one of your friends said in the cafeteria, by your locker or even when you’re just walking past me. And I wish I was there, laughing alongside you or making you laugh. I don’t know how your laughter makes me feel better, it just does. I get all smiley and I feel warm inside and I want to give you a hug for it, for making me feel better without even trying.

But I can’t. You kind of scare me. Not in the mean, scary way, I’m just not sure you’ll like me. Or that it’ll go anywhere, or even if it should.

You’re so confident, Eddie. And you’re stupid attractive (you are, and I’m sure you’re aware but I’ll go ahead and tell you I’m also physically attracted to you) and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t contain it anymore and I don’t really want to. We only have a couple of months before we’re out of here (I have a feeling this is gonna be your year, you’ll be free of this sentence, too), and I don’t want to have any regrets. The only way I’d ever regret you is by not telling you how I feel.

So, here I am, Eddie Munson. Never thought I’d ever be confessing like this, but for the first time in my life, I feel brave. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Eddie. I’ll be running around— dodging teachers and detention write ups— like Rocky in his training montages to get these roses to you because you deserve your flowers and I’d be delighted to give them to you today, and every single Valentine’s Day after. Actually, I want to give you even more than that. If you’ll have me.

Love,

What the fuck?

Eddie hastily searched the bottom portion of the back side of the paper, where the note ended for a signature, a name, initials, something but that’s where it ended.

There was no name.

“NO! FUCK! NO! No, no, no, no, NO! I’ll have you, take me, just tell me who you are!” Eddie groaned out, note dropped into his lap so he could clench the roots of his hair with both fists as he doubled over.

This had to be a nightmare. It was the only reasonable explanation for someone to say all those wonderfuckingful things, just for them to disappear.

His heart hurt and he blinked frantically to ward off the onslaught of water and sniffed to deter the tingle in his nose.

The unmistakable sound of his own little rat pack making their way towards the room wasn’t enough to get him to pull himself together.

“Eddie, dude, are you okay?”

Eddie recalled his final option, head shooting to glance around at their faces in search of one in particular.

“Byers. Where’s Byers?”

“His mom picked him up after lunch, wasn’t feeling good,” Mike informed him, completely unaware his grand Valentine’s gesture for Jane had been the cause of his sudden illness.

It was the final straw for Eddie, he snatched the lunchbox and flowers and grumbled out, “Sessions canceled.”

He must have looked pissed as none of them protested, probably having something to do with most of them having dates afterwards.

He almost made it out of the room when Gareth called him back, holding up a purple pen he’d found on the table and figured Eddie was about to forget.

“Is this yours?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No.” Then he walked out.

Before promptly storming back in, swiping the pen out of Gareth’s meaty hands. Eddie clicked the pen and scribbled furiously over the side of his fist until the ink finally ran. It wasn’t purple. The ink filler was pink.

His secret admirer’s pen.

“What a cruel parting gift,” he sighed, shoving the pen in his pocket before making his exit. Again.

The really sad thing was Eddie couldn’t even sink into depression in the peace of his room. Emmy Switcher had approached Rick about wanting some herbal refreshments at her party and since he was still under house arrest (how Rick managed to deal and supply in his circumstances baffled him) the job fell upon Eddie. He’d driven to Rick’s restocked, then hit the party.

It was a horn fest, couples everywhere he looked. All heart-eyed and attached at the tongue. It was disgusting.

Eddie was pouting, quietly fuming that it wasn’t him and his secret admirer making out or cuddling or doing something equally romantic but noooooo. Just had to take the ‘secret’ aspect to its extreme.

He banished himself to a dark corner, only interacting with people when approached for drugs or weed. He’d caught sight of Chrissy and it had looked like she wanted to come over but he’d purposely shifted his gaze. Despite the gaping hole left where his heart was, it wasn’t Chrissy or Tina, or the girl in the upstairs restroom, who’d thrown herself at him when he’d been searching for a free bathroom to piss in, that he wanted. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to rebound.

Which was kind of crazy considering he hadn’t even been in a relationship, hadn’t been dumped. He wanted everything in that note, especially the promise of more and only with its author.

Now, Eddie hadn’t been in love before. Some serious lust and want, yeah, however, reading that note made him feel like he was falling a little bit in love and he wanted, very badly, to dive headfirst the rest of the way. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Once he’d sold out the rest of Rick’s inventory, he stole a beer and headed for the front door.

Once outside, Eddie took a minute to breathe. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until he was no longer engulfed by the claustrophobic displays of affection.

He trudged down the pathway and paused when he saw the figure of a girl sitting on the lawn. Her head was directed down towards the ground and she was most definitely not wearing the right clothes for the outside weather.

Eddie cursed under his breath, plans to immediately drive home and get crossed put on hold as he walked over, noting the dew already coating the grass.

“Hey, you okay?”

─

Drinking your sorrows away probably wasn’t the best idea, considering how much of a lightweight you were.

Originally, you’d wanted to lock yourself away in your room for the night—and probably the rest of the weekend as well as maybe the next school week; nothing wrong with playing sick to avoid facing reality and your problems─to cry and pass out. Heather, on the other hand, had plans for you. She’d dolled you up, having to force you to wash your face and re-do your makeup once when you had started crying—put you in a cute outfit and dragged you to Emmy Switcher’s party.

You knew her intentions were pure—as pure as underage drinking could be—but she knew her mistake when the party started to couple up. You’d been approached multiple times and she’d try to encourage you to go for the decent acting ones, you just hadn’t wanted to. When Chrissy Cunningham showed up, you’d gone for shots of the hard liquor (over the sink of course in case you gagged it up, which you did a decent amount of), sure that Eddie would soon follow and you’d be forced to witness their affection.

Obviously, you ended up shitfaced and somehow lost track of Heather. Or maybe she lost track of you. You’d very briefly attempted to find her, accidentally spotted Chrissy, now making eyes at Eddie who’d shown up, and you’d promptly headed outside, eager for some fresh air and an escape from the madhouse. The high alcohol level in your blood kept you from feeling how chilly it really was and you settled into the grass, twirling strands of it around your fingers.

You weren’t sure how long you were out there when someone approached you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You looked up, ready to ask them to just leave you when you locked eyes with Eddie Munson. Most of the liquid courage coursing through your veins evaporated, you couldn’t look at him for long, gaze moving back to the grass. What a way to start sobering up.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cause,” Eddie sat down next to you, one leg crossed and his other, knee up with his arm resting over it. His unopened beer was at his side, “You’re outside, alone, in the cold and you look pretty fucking sad.”

You scoffed, fingers still playing with the strands of grass as you tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make you seem pathetic. In that time, Eddie took you in.

He knew you, he’d seen you around school and you were nice enough to greet him. Pleasantries in passing. Pretty Hallway Girl, as you’d been dubbed—though never referred to as—until he knew your name. It had been the first one he had jotted down on his list for his secret admirer’s identity, of course he realized with your lack of interactions, it wasn’t likely. He entertained the idea of dating you often, you’d just never shown any real interest in him. Eddie thought about it a lot. Anytime he caught sight of you, really. Your pretty face didn’t make it easy for him to stop. He was a really, really big sucker for your eyes and that smile you’d give him during those brief interactions; like the two of you had some sort of secret between each other. Warmed him up inside.

And here you were, all sad at a party. He didn’t really mind not getting crossed if it meant he got to comfort you, keep you company.

“I’m just drunk,” you finally blurted out, unable to come up with anything else, “And bummed.”

Try devastated.

“You look it,” he joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“You don’t look that much better.” You shot back.

“That’s fair,” he sighed, breath visible in the night air as he tilted his head back. “I’m pretty bummed, myself.”

You really didn’t want to ask, figuring he’d already had some sort of lover’s quarrel with Chrissy and you didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

But you were an idiot, so you asked, “Why are you bummed?”

You watched him dig around the pockets of his leather jacket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out of the pack, clenching it in between his teeth as he shoved the pack back into the pocket before he shrugged off the jacket entirely—denim vest included—putting it around your shoulders.

It caught you off guard but you were grateful, your body having decided to become once more susceptible to the chill of the air and dewy grass. Eddie must have been a freaking space heater because the lining inside was blissfully warm.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, shimmying around in it until you could slip your arms into the long sleeves of it, your fingers barely poking past the hem.

“You’re welcome,” he shrugged, flicking the lighter to life as he lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a drag, he answered you.

“Love,” Eddie blew out along with a wispy plume of smoke, “Didn’t expect it to be so complicated.”

You wanted to mime the action of staking yourself in the heart. Of course he was in love with her. She was wonderful! And on top of that, he thought she’d been the one leaving him roses! Had he read the note? Assumed it was her, too? DUH! You were definitely playing sick next week.

“Yeah, well. Join the club,” you grumbled, hugging his jacket around you. It was as close as you were ever gonna get to actually hugging him.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hoping to school his disappointment. While he wasn’t looking for anyone else tonight, it was still displeasing to hear you were taken but of course you were. He couldn’t imagine you dating sporadically, you seemed much too wonderful for someone to even consider giving you up. No, he was gonna hurt himself with ideas involving you and a high school sweetheart stemming back to your freshman days, probably.

“Ah, I see. Is he here?”

You froze for a moment, “Uhm, yeah. He is.”

“Then why come? Or did it happen in there?” He jabbed a thumb behind him, gesturing to the party inside.

“No, it didn’t happen tonight, it was earlier. In the day. I didn’t really want to come but my best friend dragged me out here. I thought I was doing good, apparently not ‘cause here I am. I’m mostly bummed because of myself, though. I didn’t follow through on something I sort of promised myself and I messed everything up. For me. Not for him. I think he’s pretty happy, so I don’t want to ruin that. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie could tell you meant it, you were vague as hell but whatever you’d done, however it ended, you genuinely seemed to want your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) to be happy. He hoped it wasn’t something you had to cave into for one of those meatheads. You deserved better than those jerks.

“That’s pretty selfless of you if you ask me,” Eddie raised the cigarette to his lips, admiring you.

“Eh, I guess. I fully plan on punishing myself for it, though. Really make sure to rub the salt in there, you know?” You finally turned to grin at him, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Eddie thought about how he couldn’t just stop going to school so he could avoid having to look at all the faces in the crowds and wonder if his admirer is one of them.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.”

Sweetheart. He really was trying to kill you.

“Eddie, get your ass in there and make up with her.” You lightly slapped his arm and jabbed your finger in the direction of the house. You were not about to let your sacrifice be in vain and he’d better stop unknowingly torturing you like this.

“I can’t!” He laughed, amused with your sudden bossy attitude.

“Why not?” You whined, eager to just get him away from you. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t being fair.

“Because I have no idea who she is.”

Once again you froze, eyes widening. Luckily for you, Eddie didn’t look too much into your reaction. He figured most people would be surprised over him nursing a heartbreak from someone he didn’t quite actually know, or was aware that he knew.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem as uninterested as possible as you played with the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Fuck it. Someone left me roses all around the school and this really amazing love note.” For a moment, Eddie entertained the idea of trying to convey exactly what it meant to him, then he thought better of it. He’d either seem crazy, desperate or like some pathetic guy in love (which, he kind of was on the cusp of), “Pretty sure it was a girl.”

Not a single dude in the high school was romantic enough to pull it off, maybe leave him an entire bouquet, but not expand upon it like she had.

Eddie licked his lips, raising the cigarette to them once more and ready to admit that he had no fucking clue who she was, but he figured he might as well make one last rally.

“Wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

“Not me,” you lied flawlessly, with a gentle shake of your head. “Sorry, Eddie.”

Sorry I’m a big liar because HOLY FUCKING SHIT, wasn’t expecting that.

“I figured. Still had to try, your boyfriend probably would have kicked my ass, though.” Yeah, Eddie hated Valentine’s Day.

He stubbed the cigarette out into the wet grass, and laid the rest of the way down, hands covering his eyes as the back of his head met the ground.

You frowned down at him.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Hello.

Eddie peaked at you through his fingers, “No?”

You shook your head and as Eddie moved to push himself back up, he yelped.

He shifted onto his side, digging around his pocket for whatever it was that stabbed him.

“Ouch,” He hissed, yanking the purple pen out. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch.”

Your eyes squinted at it in suspicion.

“Is that my pen?”

“Huh?”

“My favorite—and pricey—pen. I lost it at school today.” In fact, you were sure you had and you were sure that was your pen. You’d broken off the clip of it by accident and you recognized the large crack in the body of it, having once given into an intrusive thought regarding whether or not you had the strength to break it while you were bored in class. You did have the strength and luckily for you, it still worked.

When Eddie made no move to give your pen back, you figured he didn’t believe you so you added, “The ink is pink, right?”

Eddie continued to stare at you, mouth slightly parted in awe, and you suddenly felt very nervous, glancing behind you to see if there was something that caught his attention but all you could see were the empty lawns.

“What?”

He finally blinked, licking his lips again.

“You’re a really good liar.”

“What?” You repeated, this time your question was laced more so with confusion than panic. He was right, but why was he saying that?

His lips slowly parted up at the corners until he was grinning at you so wide, his dimples were showing and you could feel your heart beating wildly against your rib cage, as if it was trying to break free to fly right over to him.

“This is your pen?”

“Yes!” Is that what his happiness was about? That he was holding your prized pen hostage?

“This is your pen?” You could tell he was having fun at your expense now, getting more giddy by the minute.

“Yes!” You laughed out, his joy contagious even if he was teasing you with your own belongings. “That is my pen. Give me my pen!”

He clicked it closed with his thumb, “I found it where we hold Hellfire sessions, same pen that was used to write my love note.”

And just like that, your heartbeat seemed to stop all together, smile dropping instantly as you wished a giant hole could form in the ground below you and swallow you up.

“That’s not my pen,” you denied, shrugging off his jacket as you quickly rose to your feet. “I gotta go, bye, Eddie.”

When you saw him starting to hastily rise, you bolted, literally running back into the house to try to find Heather and get the hell out of there.

You heard Eddie frantically calling your name but you didn’t stop, forcing your way through the bodies as you desperately searched for your best friend.

Luck was finally on your side because you were soon smashed into her back by a passing group.

“Whoa,” she laughed, turning to steady you, “There you are, I’ve been searching for you everywh—hey, what’s wrong?”

You were sure she must have noticed the panic on your face, eyes shiny with tears you refused to let fall in public.

“I wanna go home, we have to leave.” You grabbed her hand, pulling her into a secluded corner as your head darted in the direction of the front door. You wanted to make a run for it but you feared running into Eddie on the way.

“What happened?” Heather asked, voice initially soft before hardening as her protective nature came out, “Did someone do something?”

You shook your head, chest heaving with your breaths. You were so close to having a panic attack.

“Eddie. He knows. He knows, Heather.” And because she was your best friend, she understood, mouth and eyes going wide.

“Holy crap. Wait—isn’t this what you wanted?”

“No—yes—I don’t know! I can’t face him!” There was a reason you hadn’t written your name down on the note, regardless of how badly you wanted to. You were just scared.

“Why not?” She bent down, leaned in closer to hear you. This girl and her twenty questions.

“It doesn’t matter, he didn’t want it to be me, anyways. He would’ve asked earlier, and he only did it now because of that stupid pen!” You should have kept your mouth shut and just gone to buy another over the weekend, “Can we just please get out of here? We can try the side gate in the backyard.”

“Is Eddie looking for you?”

“Yes, that’s why we have to leave!” Whatever Eddie had to say, you didn’t want to hear it. Yeah, maybe he could want you but if he didn’t, was searching for you to let you down gently you’d be heartbroken.

“He knows and you don’t think he wanted it to be you?”

“Yes!”

“Then why would he be looking for you?”

You refused to answer her, pushing her towards the back door instead. She went willingly for a few steps, then Heather stopped and you bumped into her back again as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

“I think it's too late for that.” She pointed at something behind you and you followed her finger.

Eddie was standing on top of the kitchen table a bunch of guys had carried into the living room to play beer pong on, eyes searching the room with his lips set in a frown.

He was attracting attention, a multitude of heads turning to peer up at him in curiosity.

Oh, god. He was looking for you, you were probably going to get rejected at a fucking Valentine’s Day party in some stranger’s living room.

Eddie must have caught the attention of someone near the sound system because the volume of the music was lowered and you could hear everyone muttering amongst themselves, asking what had happened to the music before they noticed Eddie.

He glanced around, not even a little nervous at the amount of people staring at him. He hadn’t planned on making a huge show of it, figured they were all too drunk to pay him any attention, luckily he was used to being a spectacle.

Eddie used it to his advantage, calling out your full name.

The crowd muttered, everyone looking at each other in confusion or maybe trying to catch sight of you.

It wasn’t long before someone recognized you, head turning in your direction, followed by many more—a domino effect—until just about everyone was staring at you, including Eddie.

He hopped off the table and made his way towards you, crowd parting to allow him. Heather slipped her hand into yours at your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze before she too stepped away, leaving you to finally face Eddie.

Eddie didn’t look at anyone else, gaze trained solely on you.

“Hi, again.”

You blinked, unable to keep yourself from glancing at the crowd around you, curious—nosey—to see what would happen next.

Guess you were going to have to finally face reality, no more running. You didn’t think you could break through the crowd, anyways.

“Hi,” you whispered but you knew Eddie had heard you, his lips pursed into a smile, eyes lighting up when you didn’t shut down.

“You ran away before I could tell you how I feel.” Eddie took another step, pretty much invading your personal space but he was desperate to be close to you and maybe body block you in case you tried to flee. He didn’t want you to run away again, to disappear like he feared you had when you hadn’t left your name on the note.

“It’s only fair, right? Since I know?”

You nodded again, the drum of your heartbeat loud in your ears. You were surprised you could hear Eddie over it.

Eddie stared down at you, lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t look upset or frustrated. It looked like he was thinking about something.

Little did you know he was reciting the note in his head to give him some courage, he’d memorized it.

He didn’t leave you waiting for long.

“I admire you. A lot.” Your breath hitched as the words you’d jotted down were repeated to you, “So much that I want to stand on expensive looking, antique tables and crash parties for you. I like the way you get animated when you talk, the way you give into your intrusive thoughts at the most random of times—yeah, I saw you trying to see if your finger fit in the pencil sharpener in the library once—I like how kind you are, even when people don’t deserve it.

“I like how you’ve never made me feel ostracized, never made anybody feel like that and I like how dramatic you are—storming off, making an exit, falling flat on your face in hallways then staying there like a dead body before you decide to reanimate again once you’re done being embarrassed. I like how you beat up your locker when it won’t open and then you give it a couple of pats to apologize once it finally does.”

Eddie chuckled at those particular memories, having been thoroughly amused when watching you and you feel your face get hot at being the cause of his cute laugh.

“And I really like your face, your pretty eyes, all of this,” Eddie gestured to you, to all of you from head to toe, “… you’re beautiful. Although, I gotta say, you drove me really fucking crazy today. Made me feel emotions I didn’t know I was capable of feeling and you scared the shit out of me when I thought I’d never get to know who the person I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with is.”

Okay, maybe you didn’t want the ground to swallow you whole.

“I know we only have a couple of months left of school and you’re probably going off to continue being amazing at some college in some big city a million miles away—‘cause that’s my luck—but I’m willing to work with that. I want to drive those million miles to give you flowers and hold your hand, kiss you, listen to you complain about your bad days, hear you brag about your good ones, kill all the bugs you’re afraid of—even though some of them freak me out, you make me feel brave, too—and just be all around disgustingly domestic with you.

“And yes, that includes all the not so fun domestic stuff like fights—which we’ll get over, I’ll do just about anything, even cave first, if you give me those big, coy eyes of yours—and taxes. I want to do it all with you. If you’ll have me.” Eddie ended, eyes wide and just a little out of breath.

There it was. He’d thrown it all out there, everything he wanted to offer (because he wanted to give you everything, even though it kind of terrified him).

And you—you were just staring at him, left to gape at him since you’d expected… well, you hadn’t really known what to expect since you usually ran from the consequences—be they good or bad—of your actions.

He wanted to be with you. Holy crap, Eddie Munson wanted to be your boyfriend. Wanted to do boyfriend things like visit you at college and hold your hand. You’d thought, the whole time, it had just been you observing him. You never thought he’d be observing you, too. It all sounded too good to be true, you couldn’t really think, couldn’t really form words.

You didn’t have to, Eddie grew anxious, maybe even a little impatient despite having decided the moment you’d run away from him in the front yard that he’d chase after you for as long as it took him to get you to give him a chance.

He found himself blurting out his strongest desire, “Can I kiss you?”

This was it, you were faced with another opportunity, and this one was the actual last opportunity you had to tell him how you feel, without any anonymity. No more hiding, no more running.

“Yeah,” you breathed out and he was on you before you’d even finished saying that singular word, his surprisingly soft lips pressing desperately against yours as his hands moved to frame your face, one of his thumbs stroking along your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as you returned the kiss and just like that, what he intended to be a simple but firm kiss, turned into your lips moving against each other, a little wet and enough to have Eddie want to pop his leg up like in the fucking movies.

The only reason he kept himself from introducing his tongue to yours like he so badly wanted to was the sounds of encouragement around him; cheering and hollering. You broke away, having also heard your peers whooping and wolf whistling, to hide your face in his chest, bashfulness returning full force.

Eddie laughed and kissed the top of your head, unable to contain his grin and joy. He definitely wasn’t used to this, more accustomed to jeering, not cheering. A couple of people even clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know what, I think they’re rooting for us, sweetheart.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him, offering a small, pleased smile of your own.

“They’re not the only ones.”

Well, he had to give you some tongue for that one. The cheering and sounds of excitement got louder as he did.

— You hadn’t walked into school hand in hand with Eddie when Monday came around—though you’d spent pretty much the entire weekend with him, driving around town, lounging around your room (he’d come in through your window) and making out—he hadn’t mentioned anything about meeting up in the parking lot and you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you wanted to see him, you appreciated the extra time to calm your excited nerves before you did.

Heather ran up to you the second you made it to your locker, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“I still can’t believe it. It didn’t even happen to me and I’m pinching myself because of how romantic it was!”

“Imagine how I feel,” You were all smiles as you turned the combination for your locker. But of course, since it was openly known as one of, if not, the shittiest of lockers in the school—having belonged to several wrestlers and football players before you, who’d evidently cared for it on the rough side—it didn't budge when you tugged at it.

You wouldn’t miss it when you graduated.

With a sigh, you pulled the straps of your backpack off of your shoulders and handed it to Heather. Then, you yanked aggressively at the small locker handle. It was your routine though, so you knew it wouldn’t open then, either. It was only when you slammed your fist against it, after all the yanking, that it opened.

Roses immediately flooded out of it, piling onto the ground at your feet. You and Heather watched with open mouths, glancing at passersby, who also looked on in surprise, until your stuffed locker finally finished its floral avalanche.

“Like ‘em?”

You jumped up, and then internally scolded yourself for almost trampling a couple of your flowers. You carefully twisted around to face Eddie, who was leaning back against the row of lockers behind you, smug smirk on his handsome face.

“Yeah, what are all of these for?” You asked, still marveling at them as he pushed himself off the lockers to wrap his arms around your middle and press a kiss to the side of your head.

“I realized I never got to ask you to be my Valentine or give you flowers. So, I bought some Saturday morning,” They were on sale so he’d gone purposely overboard, “used my uncle’s collection of mugs as vases to keep them alive, then woke up at the asscrack of dawn this morning to get here before you did. I probably broke your locker even more, by the way. So, be my Valentine?”

“I’m pretty sure it was part of the terms and agreements of our relationship, but yes. I’ll be your Valentine.”

Eddie closed your locker for you, pressing his weight against it to make sure it was secure and no more roses would escape before he scooped up the ones that had fallen out, arranging them into a large bouquet which he handed to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

You hummed happily against his lips, nose wrinkling in glee when you felt him smile.

Eddie let out a content sigh when you parted before glancing to his side at your gawking best friend.

“Hey, Heather.” Eddie wasn’t at all bothered by the audience. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks! They’re new. You done sucking face?”

“For now,” he promised, then turned his attention back to you. “I’ll see you later, beautiful. I’ve got a test to barely pass. Gotta make sure I walk that stage with you.”

Eddie pinched your cheek, pressed another kiss to your forehead and rushed off down the hall. You’d barely locked eyes with Heather when Eddie came running back, taking your face in his hands as he muttered something about one more and gave you a kiss that had you a little shaky on your feet.

‘One more’ actually turned out to mean a couple more pecks before he really forced himself away, blowing you a kiss just as he disappeared around the corner.

“He’s whipped,” Heather stated.

“Pretty sure I’m falling in love with him.”

“That’s appropriate.” You both nodded before you turned to face your closed locker, arms full of sweet smelling roses.

“. . . You still need to get your books, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Heather slid her arms through the straps of your backpack, over her front, so she could hold your flowers for you as you prepared to battle your locker again. It was totally worth it.

─

Eddie never ended up giving you your pen back, it’s the one he used to write love letters to you while you were away at college.

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lodeddiperactivate · 1 year ago

Text

I hate you more! | Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Author's note: So not sure if people still read Rodrick Heffley fics but I had this idea (and could not find something similar that's already written) where the reader decides to sabotage Rodrick from getting it on with Heather. Reader is at the top of the highschool food chain and is friends with Heather, but hates Rodrick so she sabotages him. A classic enemies to lovers!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You feel like you've been living a double life. You get straight As because, well, your allowance is tied to your grades. But what most people don't know is that you typically sneak out at night to hang with your boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. You smoke, you party, you skip town without your parents ever knowing. But during the day, you looked like someone who goes to church every Sunday. In fact, you're quite impressed at how you're handling this double life. You learned, at a young age, that all there is to life is observing the people around you, and using those observations to your advantage.

Well, you thought to yourself, it's time to test these theories all over again as you move into a new town, new school, new classmates, and new friends. Unfortunately for you, your new neighbor doesn't seem to grasp the idea of a nice and quiet Sunday morning. You decided to pay them a visit, and maybe remind them that their garage isn't soundproof enough for the noise coming out of it.

You walked up to the door and gave 3 loud and firm knocks, waited a couple of seconds until you hear footsteps.

You expect the mom to open the door, which is why you brought cookies as a means to be a good new neighbor but you were greeted by a tall and dark-haired guy with eyeliner. He eyed you up and down in frustration before landing his gaze on the plate of cookies in your hand.

"What do you want?"

You forced yourself to be civil. "I just came here to give you cookies. We just moved in next door when I heard this sound coming from-"

"Yeah yeah, thanks for the cookies!" And with that, he slammed the door in your face. The audacity! You scoffed and started to walk away. The noise had not died down, and you walked away not believing how rude and ill-mannered your new neighbor was. God, if it means hearing this noise every weekend, you might beg your parents to move again.

First day of school. You were pretty confident with your social skills so highschool is a cake walk for you. Living a double life means you ought to know how to act in certain situations.

First period. You were introduced to the whole class. Your introduction was amazing. Everybody loved you. You had come into that room, dressed to impressed, and you even cracked a joke that made everyone laugh. Well, everyone except for your neighbor who's in all of your classes by the way. He was too busy talking about his band to basically anyone who's not deaf. What's worst is that you're sitting behind him.

Because of your peak social skills, you were sitting with Heather that day for lunch and apparently, they're at the top of the highschool food chain so that works for you too. You also learned that your neighbor, Rodrick, obviously had a crush on Heather. Since you sit behind him, and Heather sits beside him, you have observed all of the tell-tale signs that he's desperately in love with her. You smirked at the idea, and the endless possibilities of making his life a living hell.

School bell rang and everyone hurriedly packed their belongings. Heather asked if you wanted to go to the mall. You agreed and she told you to meet her upfront. Rodrick obviously heard this, and based from his expression, he was surprised that Heather and you are that close already. When everyone had left the room, you called out to Rodrick to set your plans of destroying his life in motion.

"Hey"

"Heyyy," he asked, curious why you were talking to him after he slammed the door in your face. He decided that it would be nice to at least be on your good side since you're friends with Heather so he started with an apology, "Listen, about what happened, I'm sorry but Sunday is the only time I can practice with my band. It's hard work, you know."

You smirked at his half-ass apology but mostly because you can see right through him, but you had a mission, "Oh don't worry about it! Actually, I wanted to tell you that Heather has a message for you."

As soon as you mentioned Heather's name, it was like something inside him had turned on. "Yes?"

"She's too shy to tell you this herself but she kinda has a crush on you. But she can't be too obvious because you know, in dating, guys make the first move, right?"

"Yeah," he said trying to comprehend every word you just uttered.

"Yes, so she doesn't want to go out with someone who did not officially ask her out. You know?"

"Yeah!" He said again as if he had solved a puzzle in his head.

"Okay, so tomorrow at lunch, why don't you "officially" ask her out?"

"Yeah?"

Jesus. You couldn't comprehend how slow this moron is in front of you. You were practically spoon-feeding him. You decided to repeat what you said just to make sure he gets it.

"Tomorrow. At lunch. Ask Heather out?"

"Yes. Okay, I can do that." He said trying to hype himself up.

You walked away feeling good about your plan when you decided to add one final touch to it. You looked back and called out to Rodrick.

"Oh, and don't forget, Heather looooves grand gestures!"

#diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick heffley fluff #rodrick heffley x you #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #loaded diper #devon bostick #I hate you more

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toooster · 10 days ago

Note

Hello! I’m new to your account, can I possibly get a run down of everything?

Hi love!! Welcome to my account! Ofc you can!

(Everything below the cut)

About me: I’m patch, I’m a minor! I’m on this app more than anything, I love music, coloring, and movies! More than anything I love Christmas! I’m a writer (who I write for/masterlist in intro along with all my other information!)

About my amazing moots!

@elysianwayy77 was my first ever mutual and (I believe) one of the first people I interacted with! She is really kind and extremely welcoming! If you’re interested in Grayson Hawthorne (not to sure what he exactly is apart of😭🫶) her blog is a great place to look.

@sparklyjellyfishheartz is also extremely kind and welcoming! She has one of the cutest blogs I think I’ve ever seen, if you’re interested in just girl blogging then she’s definitely a good one!

@333sturns is such an amazing writer, like one of the best I’ve come across!! She is such a kind person as well, if you like the sturniolo’s and want to read fics about them I’d definitely recommend the lovely Alexa!

@your-average-toast-enjoyer has such a welcoming vibe, I initially stumbled onto her blog because of frogs (wether or not they were a fandom lmao) and she’s welcomed me ever since. If you like x-men, Taylor swift, frogs of course, or relatable repost then her blog is the best to follow!

@feynightlight truly is the best blog to go to to find amazing fics. Her blog is where you’ll find the absolute best Bucky Barnes fics!

@soft-likethesunset is the most welcoming blog ever! It doesn’t matter who you are or what you like she’ll welcome you, she is such a kind and amazing human being! She post anything and everything, her blog is basically a party 24/7!

@theodditylacey is my favorite blog. I could sit here and scroll through her blog for HOURS. She has the cutest outfits, the best music taste, she’s an amazing writer, and her market is adorable and so well done! Lacey is someone you could sit there and talk to hours with, she’s well educated and so so so kind. Absolutely one of my favorite blogs.

@iloveyapping they are literally so funny! They’re blog post about so much, like pjo, the marauders, and VLD (even tho they don’t post about it much!) They are so kind and have the warmest heart.

@cassioxpeiaxmgg oml don’t even get me started on her, anything she post I’m guaranteed to laugh my ass off at it. If you like criminal minds AND Matthew gray gubler go check out her account! She’s also hilarious and super kind!

@dazedanddainty I adore Daisy so much, such a kind soul and person. There’s been countless times where I’ve just gone on her blog to rant about stupid things but she always listens! Her blog is so relatable!

@naturalbornluvr literally the most relatable blog you’ll ever come across. I have no other words to explain adoria except relatable 😭🫶

@justafanbutcurious also has insanely good music taste! We don’t interact much but from what I can tell they are super sweet!!

@hxress23 is the sweetest person ever, such a kind soul and so welcoming. Her, lacey, Liz, and Daisy have the most welcoming personalities and are such genuine people.

@loveinalocket is currently partially active but she is so sweet and has the cutest themes ever!

@starlightt-love and k don’t interact often but she seems like such a sweetie from what I’ve seen on other peoples blogs!!

@forestgromlin is so sweet! They are extremely kind and welcoming (I know I’ve said it about everyone but it’s true!!)

@whispered-winds is so sweet and kind, her vibe is just so good and perfect. Like there are not better words to describe her!!

@myhyperfixationisbooks is also so sweet, ever since we’ve been mutuals she’s been so incredibly kind and welcoming!

@stars-over-ice-cream is super sweet as well! She post about Sabrina Carpenter, and she reblogs amazing things!

@auntiejohn is so so kind and her blog is such a safe space!

@wish-i-were-heather and I haven’t interacted much if at all but they seem so so kind and welcoming!

@glxsyymads I saved the best one for last! Maddie is so kind and sweet, she goes out of her way to make you feel welcomed. She has such a sweet vibe and is really funny. It makes my day a little brighter when I see she’s interacted with me or my post, or she’s answered my asks!

That’s most of my moots I believe! My blog is welcomed to anyone and everyone! I believe everyone deserves a place to be themselves so welcome to my corner of the internet.

#toooster #patch yaps #patches moots!#welcome!!

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steddieficrec · 8 months ago

Note

do u have any recs for fics where eddie accidently comes out to steve or steve accidently finds out and eddie panic’s thinking steve is gonna hate him but steve obvs doesnt

This took forever I know! But I wanted to actually make a list and ended up finding new ones that I love and some re-reads. I hope you enjoy it.

Pretty, Pretty Boys by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 4,097 I Teen)

Steve knows that Eddie is gay, what he doesn't expect is to hear so many details about the guys that the metalhead has hooked up with or is interested in approaching. He also doesn't expect to feel so bothered—so annoyed and uncomfortable about it.

Or, 5 times Steve was unhappy about Eddie being with or talking about another guy. 1 time Eddie was unhappy about Steve doing the same (but didn’t need to be).

Questions & Answers by starsdontsleep

(1/1 I 6,781 I Mature)

Steve doesn’t have a problem with Eddie being gay, but he does have questions which end up leading to practical demonstrations.

smoking guns (hot to the touch) by fivecenturiesverse

(1/1 I 7,590 I Teen)

Sure, they've saved the world, but the best part of that really is that it doesn't end there and in a town where everyone thinks he murdered a girl, he's at least got Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. It's really not his fault he accidentally starts living at Steve's house, he was invited, after all. There's a mystery too, about Barbara Holland and Steve's pool.

“Your boner is digging into me,” says Robin, and Steve snorts a tired sort of laugh. “I don’t have a —” “You do, I can feel it. Gross.” “Okay, but it’s only a little one,” he says in a small voice which sounds like he’s impersonating someone. “Are you ever going to let that go? I peed a little bit when the Russians got the torture devices out, okay?” She sounds amused, though. Eddie jolts. “Russian torture devices?” Robin carries on like she didn’t hear him but Steve catches his eye and he’s grinning. “How do you even have a boner dude? You were definitely having a nightmare I know your twitching means a nightmare… Did you have a boner over Vecna?”

Dirty Words by morningberries

(1/1 I 10,207 I Explicit)

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

Turn Your Back on Mother Nature by gr0gu

(4/4 I 16,996 I Teen)

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Steve was supposed to work with Robin at the Family Video, flirt with the many many girls who came to browse the expansive selection of VHSes, go on some dates, and hopefully find The One.

It was supposed to be a notably upside-down free year.

And, hey, for what it's worth? He wasn't supposed to be pinned down on a mattress by Eddie Munson either.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to be enjoying it.

But that's getting a bit ahead of things

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy

(10/10 I 17,999 I Mature)

“It’s a gift, so you gotta listen to the whole thing, okay? I think-- I think it’s got what it takes.”

There’s an art to making a mixtape - and Steve Harrington has decidedly ignored all semblance of art in creating a mixtape for Eddie Munson. Too bad Eddie’s fascinated with how impressively terrible his song choices are.

took you for a working boy by pukner

(6/6 I 46,823 I Mature)

"Do you--Harrington, do you know other gay people?" "One," Steve says, and then, after a moment, "and a half." "And a half?" Eddie boggles at him, "What does that mean?" "He's figuring it out!" says Steve, defensively, "Taking his time, y'know? Whatever, the point is. It's cool you're gay, man."

Eddie comes out to Steve, and Steve's heartbroken about it for some reason. Eddie thinks Steve's dating Robin. Everyone else thinks Steve and Eddie have been dating this whole time. Robin doesn't get paid enough for this shit.

Also, Hawkins has been cracked open like a badly-baked cake, and everyone's settled into the most mundane apocalypse possible. Eddie Munson starts a radio programme about it.

Meanwhile, Steve gets his nails painted, and outsources a crisis he isn't having.

start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket

(10/10 I 85,554 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

No, wait. That’s not right. That’s Hitchhiker's Guide. Or was it Restaurant at the End of the Universe? Whatever, not important.

Eddie Munson died on March 27th, 1986.

Except…he didn’t. He couldn’t have. Because Eddie Munson is currently arguing with himself in his fucking head about sci-fi quotes, which doesn’t feel especially like something that a dead person would have the capacity to do.

The bats had killed him. There had been pain, and the sick sensation of tearing flesh. He’d had to swallow past a mouthful of his own blood to tell Henderson he loved him. Surely those were symptoms of imminent death.

And yet.

On April 1st, 1986, Eddie Munson opens his eyes in a dim hospital room. There’s a gasp from his left, and he tries to turn his head towards the source.

“Easy there, kid. They’ve got you trussed up pretty good.”

Eddie doesn’t need to see him. He’d know that voice anywhere, in any universe, hell dimension or otherwise.

“Uncle Wayne?”

A story about the families we find and the love that finds us.

Steady as He Goes by StrangerThings1975

(14/14 I 86,759 I Explicit)

Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

#stranger things #steddie #fic recs #steddie fic #coming out

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years ago

Text

The More You Give ❧ (Part VI)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, discussions of anxiety, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, protected P in V sex.

Word Count | ~16,400

A/N | Oh you won't be able to move for all the fluff. Cheeky shout-out to @heydreamchild for this post which made me lose my mind in the tags and think about Eddie's relationship with Wayne's mug collection.

Taglist (please don't ask to be tagged if you won't interact with the fic)

Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You screw your eyes shut instead of watching the ping pong ball continue its high arch over the remaining cups on the other side of the table. You hear it hit the floor, the barely suppressed scoff across from you at another missed shot.

Your cheeks are burning, have been since you started this game. You open an eye to find May smiling at you encouragingly as she lines herself up for her turn. She’s more practised than you. Invited to more of these parties, asked to play more of these games. The ball flies from her hand and lands with a gentle splash in one of the three remaining cups in front of you, her expression now tinged with satisfaction. You can’t blame her, you’d look the same if you were good at any of this. You fish the ball out and sip the lukewarm beer for a second before forcing the rest of it down just to get this turn over with.

“Sorry,” you murmur, handing the ball to your partner and stepping aside to let him take his turn. Safely at the corner of the table, you glance quickly at the clock on the other side of the room. It reads 11:03pm, and you wonder if you could negotiate heading home by eleven thirty.

Not likely.

When you’d walked through the door, shoulders pressed between both your friends, you had yourself convinced that you would have a good time tonight. Tipsy from the white wine your mom let you drink under her supervision, warm with joy from an early evening spent with May and Heather in your room. It’s your favourite part of going out; the hour or two before. When it’s just the three of you, with nobody else to perform for, you fit right back together as you always did. Swapping gossip, exchanging compliments. Painting Heather’s nails a soft pink, her steady hands painting yours in return. You worked on May’s make up, smiled shyly into the mirror when she set your hair up the way you like it and told you with a pout how jealous she is of its texture.

You listened to Heather, gentle and happy at seeing her boyfriend, at the flowers he’d brought her. You spoke to May about the film you should rent for your next movie night; a comedy with popcorn or a weepy chick flick with chocolate. You’d watched from your bed, grinning and heartsore while May leaned into Heather’s shoulder, serenading her while she applied her lipstick. Heather rolled her eyes fondly as May crooned into her ear, “I can’t fight this feeling anymore!”

Later, head truly fuzzy from paint stripper vodka and lemonade, you’d screamed all the words to Power of Love with them. Hands in the air, hips swaying, content in the knowledge that, if everyone in the house has drank as much as you, none of them will care to remember how you danced and sang tonight. It was exactly as you wanted it to always be. With your friends, believing entirely, at least in the moment, that you still put each other first. That you were friends now not just because you used to be.

Only, Heather’s boyfriend had appeared like a grey cloud in the blue sky of your evening. Before you knew it, she was settled under his arm on a couch at the other side of the room, sipping light beer and talking with the friends he’d brought back from college for the weekend. All boys you can’t stand, and know May can’t stand either. The last time you saw them, when May had told them proudly that you were well on your way to NYU to study Comparative Literature, you’d watched two of them make eye contact, sniggering with each other into their beer. You weren’t proud of yourself for adding that you still might do Chemistry, not that it had helped much.

Soon after, May was called over by some cheer friends. She’d grasped your hand and pulled you along with her, both a blessing and a curse that she refuses to leave you out. Lacking some of your usual self-consciousness, both from your continual sips at your drink and the fact that Caroline, blessedly, hadn’t shown up, you’d managed a brief, fairly friendly chat with Tracy about whether she was wearing too much blush (she was) followed by how well the basketball team will do this year (hell if you know).

Then, when Josh, a boy May has had a simmering crush on since you were freshmen, invited her over to play beer pong, you let her pull you with her again. And here you are, paired with this boy in green and white. Ethan flashes his white toothed smile every time you miss a shot on account of your shaking hands. A charming smile that tells you how girls might get into trouble on his account; girls like Caroline, girls like Erin. You wonder if it was that smile that made Erin follow him upstairs that night, that made Caroline fall back into his arms with little complaint, all the blame placed elsewhere.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing the top of your arm before turning his attention to the table. May smiles at you again as Josh chugs beer down in a quick gulp, sending you all the signs of gratitude that make you feel guilty for thinking almost exclusively about the ways you could leave soon.

When it’s your turn again, you take stock of the cups across from you. Two on your side, four on theirs, so with any luck this is your last turn. You watch the ball just brush the opposite rim of one of the cups, before bouncing lamely to the table. “Okay, that one was close.” Ethan says kindly, elbowing you.

“Nah, her head’s in the clouds,” Josh says with a smirk, catching the ball and bouncing it a couple times off the table. “Too busy thinking about…Munson, right? Would not have thought that was your type, but uh, I guess that explains why you wouldn’t let Andy-”

“Leave her alone, Josh,” May cuts in, leaning away from him with a scowl. You feel a rush around your ears, your heart in your throat. You like to forget this fact, but sometimes you’re reminded of it like seeing it written in bright red neon. Just about everybody knows what happened between you and Andy to varying degrees of detail, and they can all use it against you whenever they want.

“It’s not that serious,” he says, the following laugh more defensive when May rolls her eyes. “You are dating the freak, right?”

Your toes curl. “Don’t call him that.”

“C’mon, man,” Ethan sighs. “You’re killing the mood.”

“It’s dead and buried,” May corrects, face set in that brilliant frown that gets your heart pumping when it’s directed at you.

Josh glances between the three of you, landing particularly on May and her crossed arms. He looks to Ethan again for support, throws his hands up when he finds none there. “Fine,” he says, smacking his teeth. “‘S boring playing girls anyway.”

He bounces the ball across the table to Ethan, and stalks off with his shoulders sagging. May’s face softens when she comes over to you, your chest warm at her concern. “You okay?”

“Mm. Thank you.”

She pouts, swaying a little. “Why are guys such jerks?”

“Um, I’m right here,” Ethan laughs, chucking the ball back and forth between his hands. There’s that smile again, easy and sharp and clean. You think of Erin, dragged through mud.

“Thanks,” you mumble, barely glancing at him.

“No problem. He’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”

If you were braver, you’d say he’s an idiot sober, too.

“Looks like we need to even the teams up,” May says brightly.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer, the only relief from the situation that this may give you a chance to escape for a brief moment. “I wanna get some water. You guys can keep playing.”

“You sure?” She asks, leaning in so it really is just the two of you, giving you a hit of tuberose and orange blossom, the same perfume she’s worn since your first high school party in ‘83. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing her arm gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”

The air is fresher the second you’re in the hallway, without the clutch of warm bodies forcing you to mutter ‘excuse me’ enough that the words lose all meaning. The damp heat picks up again in the kitchen, smaller groups standing around with cups in their hands, some swaying to the distant music. You glance at the sink, find a couple crowded in front of it, their eyes intent on eachother. Even your slightly fuzzy mind decides against trying to navigate around them in search of water.

“Hey, Ringwald.” It takes a good couple of seconds for you to register that the greeting might be for you. It requires a tap on the shoulder, Erin’s half there smile directed your way. She holds up a cup. “Want some?”

You glance into it, find clear liquid that gets your hopes up. “Water?”

She snorts. “I know I’m pretty badass, but six shots of vodka in one cup is a little much. Even for me.”

You take it gratefully, screaming at your tipsy brain to remember not to drink too much of someone else’s water. A couple gulps and you hand it back to her, surprised at how much you needed it, throat a little scratchy from singing earlier before your joy left with Heather.

“So, uh, how are you?”

You nod, giving her a close lipped smile. “Yeah, fine. How are you?”

Erin tilts her head, her right eye narrowing. “No, I mean, like really how are you?” She waves her cup around, as if gesturing to the entire house. “Seems like you and May are friends again, I guess.”

“We were always friends,” you assure, heart panging. “She was just,” you search for it, unprepared for this conversation. Where you normally would avoid answering altogether, your cottoned up mind combined with the earnest desperation to defend your friend ends in a rambling answer. “I didn’t tell her the right way, you know? She was hurt, finding out from somebody else about, you know, Eddie and I. But we talked it all out and she’s forgiven me.”

“Forgiven…you?”

“For not telling her myself.”

Erin taps a finger on her cup, considering you. “That’s what she was angry about?”

Your mouth opens, thoughts tangling. “Um, I mean, among other things,” you rush, giving her a reassuring smile. “But everything’s fine now.”

“Okay,” she says, that half smile returning. “Glad to hear it, Ringwald.”

“I, um,” you step a little closer, forcing yourself to look right into her eyes. “I did want to say thank you for that actually. I just-” You just worried endlessly about approaching her, how you would even thank her for preventing you from being quizzed about your sex life in front of an entire group. You shrug, and luckily Erin seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You shouldn’t have had to explain yourself in the first place. But those girls are pretty vicious when they smell blood.”

You’re struck with a pity for her you know she’d probably hate you feeling. You try to remember what she was like before her entire friend group turned on her, before she was taken in by that sharp smile. She still had the sarcastic wit, you’re sure. But without the undertone of anger that comes along every other sentence; less bite. Erin has always been confident, but now she carries herself like somebody full of righteous indignation and nowhere to put it.

“You can have the rest of this,” she says, handing you the water and looking away like she’s read your whole thought process and wants out of the conversation quick. “Those six shots actually sound kind of appealing now.”

“Okay, well, see you later?”

She gives you a little thumbs up as she passes. You watch her elbow past the couple at the sink to reach the bottles and cups piled beside it. Already feeling more sober than you had when you walked in, you finish the cool water, resisting the temptation to start playing with the material of your skirt.

“Hey, uh…hey.” You look over at Neil from your Physics class, recognising the sound of somebody trying and failing to remember your name. “Could you talk to Munson for me? Tell him I’m good for the money, it’s just that it’s another week before I get paid.”

You blink. The information takes a second to move from your ears to your brain, longer to process their whole meaning. You feel a flutter in your chest; something like excitement, something like relief. “Eddie’s here?”

“Yeah, and he’s making a really big deal out of twenty dollars, you know?”

You look over his shoulder as if Eddie might be standing out in the hallway, finding only the empty doorway. “Where is he?”

“Uh, he was by the stereo I think? So, you’ll talk to him?”

“Um, sure,” you mumble, pressing past him to walk down the hall back into the living room. There’s May, laughing as Ethan tips his head back to drink, the table laden with a new set of cups. On the other side of the room, Heather, nodding at something and looking serious as ever.

And then you catch him; a head of messy curls, denim on leather, the cut out t-shirt you know Eddie sewed on himself by hand. He’s standing right next to the stereo, sorting through records. His curls shift with a shake of his head and you just know his expression is dismayed, truly disappointed in the collection. To his side, a group of boys is searching their pockets, failing to hide their efforts to pool money together.

Eddie’s presence pulls at you, an invisible but physical tug, and before you know it you’re crossing the room towards him. He jumps a little when you rest your palm on his back, his hand flying to his wallet chain. Then his brown eyes land on you, and you feel the unique joy of watching Eddie realising it’s you. His expression turns in an instant from guarded to happiness. Round eyes look you up and down once in surprise to confirm it’s you, once again in appreciation. He leans right into you, smile a little wolfish. “Well, hey. What brings you to my darkened corner, sweet thing?”

What can you say to that? That in the six, seven hours since you’ve seen him, you’ve felt the lack of his presence? That you’ve spent the last hour in particular wishing you’d never come here, wondering why you didn’t go home with him instead?

“Was surprised to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, gesturing with his head to the boys behind him. “My services were required, you see.” His eyes track down again, zeroing in at the place on your legs where your dress ends, the fishnet tights wrapped around your thighs. “You look, uh,” he clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word. “Shit. I mean, fuck. You look good.”

Your cheeks warm. You turn to the side a touch, pressing your knees together. “Thank you.”

“I um, really like these.” His hand teases the hem of your dress, thumb brushing across the string of your tights. Eddie’s fingers are a warm sting that has your breath catching, your body aching to be closer to him, to more of his heat.

“Munson?” Sounds from behind him, and the spell is broken. Eddie jumps again, hand parting from your skin like he’d touched a hot stove. His hair flies around him as he turns, face becoming impassive again.

“Gentlemen,” he says, standing in front of you. “Managed to pool your allowances?”

“Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie’s head tilts. “For future reference, save the shit talk till after you have the product in your hand. Unless you wanna add another ten percent for the ounce-”

“No, it’s fine,” another says, elbowing his friend. “It’s all there.”

Eddie sighs, taking the collection of rumpled bills from his hand. You watch him stand in front of the antsy boys, counting each note twice over just to watch them squirm. “Mm. Looks like it’s all here.” He brings his wallet from his back pocket, attached to his jeans by a chain, and tucks the money inside. Then, after glancing around him quickly, Eddie’s right hand disappears into the front of his pants.

“Kept it warm for you, boys,” he cackles, pulling out a plastic baggy filled with green clumps and hurling it towards them.

In the next second, he’s grabbed your hand and is pulling you through the crowd to the sound of, “Munson, you prick!” from behind you. You can hear Eddie’s almost manic giggling over the music, your heart pounding from speeding after him and the fear of the chance at being followed by five boys, all half drunk and furious.

Eddie’s hand remains tight around yours until the cool air out the front door hits your heated skin, finally slowing to catch his breath, still chuckling to himself. You watch him, wide eyed, as he leans back against the front wall, head falling back and then forward to look at you. His eyes flash, his face tells you he’s proud.

“Why did you do that?”

His laughter stops when he spies the serious look on your face, your hands fiddling with your skirt. “Ah, shit. Sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t plan for you to be around but there wasn’t much I could do, sweet thing. It was already down there, y’know?”

“That’s not what I- Why would you aggravate them like that, Eddie?”

Something a little cold comes over his face then. “Satisfaction, pure and simple,” he answers. “The only kind I can get out of guys like that.”

“But, if you didn’t speak to them like that-”

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “If I didn’t speak to them like that- Hell, if I gave them that weed for free, got on my knees and asked for an ounce of kindness, come Monday they’re still gonna throw me, or Jeff, or any of the guys from Hellfire into a locker,” he tells you, voice a plea for you to understand. “Or call me a freak, or lock one of the freshmen, who still barely know their way around the building, in a supply closet for an hour.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with me aggravating them or not, okay? It's not about how nice I am, or how I talk to them - it's about this," he stresses grabbing his long hair, then his shirt. "And this. And D&D and the fucking trailer and my piece of shit father. No amount of sweet talk will fix it cause they don't want me to be nice; they want me to change. And I can’t do that, okay? More importantly, I won’t do that.”

Everything he says makes your chest hurt.

It makes sense, that this is how Eddie Munson thinks. Since your first stumbled word, you’ve been hiding yourself away, blending into the crowd to avoid all the pain that comes with being singled out. But him? Eddie has no interest in curling in on himself, shrinking his personality to fit in. Everything he says, every move he makes, is unapologetic. As true to himself as that shirt.

But it hurts to think that something so unnatural to you could be right. For all your good will, all your work and staying under the radar, it hasn't saved you. Your need to keep quiet only led to Caroline’s harshness, the laughter from the cheer girls. Your desperation to avoid judgement only opened all the right doors for Andy to hurt you the way he did, for everyone around you to know exactly how. All your complacency, all your acquiescence, none of it kept your friends nearly as close as you’d wanted them.

You swallow, catch Eddie’s eyes, and whisper in earnest. “I don’t want you to change.”

You could cry at the relief in his face, the fast blinking that vanishes the shine in his eyes. His head tilts. “No?”

You shake your head vehemently, wishing he would hold your hand again so you could play with his fingers. He pushes himself off the wall and leans into your space, hair falling towards you. You look between his eyes and his collar, debating hiding your face there.

“Not even my driving?”

“Okay,” you answer, watching his dimples press into his face. “Maybe I’d like you to change one thing.”

“I knew it!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up. “Sweet girls like you are only ever after one thing. You wanna fix me, huh?”

“No,” you whisper, smiling to the side. “Just, gently improve your interest in speed limits?”

“Yeah? And what about my proclivity for pineapple and olive pizza?”

You chew the inside of your lip, suppressing giggles. “I think, given time, I can learn to live with it.” You feel a buzz of pride at Eddie’s laugh, the crinkle around his eyes he gets when he’s really, truly happy. “I do mean it, Eddie. I like you exactly as you are. More-” You take a breath. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

Eddie’s hand finds yours again, your fingers curling into his, your knuckles at his palm.

“Like me enough to come home with me?”

You want to. Desperately. The relief you felt at seeing him, your whole body telling you that you’d rather spend an evening with Eddie than here, navigating social circles you’ll never really be a part of.

“I have to tell my friends first,” you say, watching Eddie nod.

“Sure thing. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Your gaze travels between his eyes and his collar again, stalling your departure. You want a kiss. Want to kiss him all the time, even for a short goodbye. Eddie, sensing your hesitance to leave, narrows his eyes a little like he's trying to work you out. He catches your eyes dart to his lips, and they curve.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to you. It’s a perfect, innocent little thing. But you like it, like the domesticity you’re learning with Eddie. You want kisses goodbye and hello, his hand in yours in the car. You want elbows meeting sides while cooking together, waking up in the middle of the night just to hear Eddie breathing before you fall away again, catching sight of each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth in the morning. You want your daily life, with Eddie in it, with all the things he adds just by way of existing.

You give him another quick peck, face hot, and run into the house before your mouth asks him to leave with you now and never come back.

You find May in the kitchen, huddled together with a couple of the cheer girls as well as Ethan. She waves brightly when she catches sight of you, gesturing you over. “Hi!” She calls, hair mussed, clearly having continued to drink since you parted. “Where did you go?”

“Um, I was thinking I might go home,” you say, fiddling with your skirt. “M’tired.”

“Oh, are Heather and Patrick leaving too?”

“No, no. I ran into Eddie. He’s gonna give me a ride home.”

You brace yourself, the back of your neck prickling with tension. You watch the expression on May’s face shift from confusion, not to anger or disappointment, but amusement.

“Ohh-kay, you’re tired,” she laughs, shaking her head. You make a noise in embarrassment, checking to see if the rest of the group are listening in and she grins at you, pulling you into a quick, floral smelling, hug. “Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You give her a squeeze back, chest warm. “Yeah, later.”

You give a half hearted wave to everyone else, navigating your way to the living room. Heather is where she has been all evening, under Patrick’s arm. “Hey,” you say, avoiding eye contact with the boys around her. “I’m gonna head.”

“Already?” Heather pouts. A quick throb or annoyance rises and falls, your anger that she wouldn't have noticed either way reasoned with the fact that it was your decision not to spend any time with this group.

“Yeah, I’m tired.”

“I thought I was giving you a ride?” Patrick asks, leaning over.

"No, Eddie's gonna take me home."

There’s a moment of quiet, information sinking in before Patrick's face displays a shocked frown. "Eddie? Munson? You're getting in that scrap heap he calls a van?"

You look from him to Heather, spy the clear guilt on her face when you say, "He's my boyfriend. Heather didn't tell you?"

“She most certainly did not- when the fuck-”

“I’m sure she can fill you in,” you say, voice edging towards breaking, thinking about her encouragement, her fingers on the cross around her neck. Heather's mouth opens, her hand coming to that very pendant, and you shake your head. "Bye."

She calls your name behind you, but doesn't come after you when you leave.

Eddie is waiting for you still, balancing a seat on the porch rail and smoking when you emerge. A dimple presses into his face when he flicks the cigarette away and slides down. “All good?”

You grab his hand, bury your face into his shoulder to lean on him a little. Breathe in leather and drugstore shampoo - Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - until your heart stops throbbing painfully.

“All good,” you mumble, turning your head to look at him from his shoulder. “Home?”

You realise how tired you are when you are settled in Eddie’s van, your eyes and limbs heavy. You half want to curl up in the soft seat and drift, but get taken in by watching Eddie as he drives. His fingers following the guitar licks of his music on the steering wheel, his hair shifting when he rocks his head forward. The way he glances at you when he turns, catches you staring and grins to himself every time.

"You know, I didn’t really have you down as someone who’d be into paaarties,” he says, eyes wide with his mocking tone. He glances at you again, at your worn out state, and half closes an eye. “And I gotta say, you don't seem like you were having a good time."

You think about that for a minute, wondering how best to explain your complicated relationship with social events. “I like dancing with my friends,” you start with a shrug. “And getting ready.” You lean your head back. “It’s like the only time the three of us are together anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, glancing over at you. “Why’s that?”

Why is that? You’ve wondered it yourself. It felt like, suddenly, though maybe it happened very slowly without you realising, whatever delicate thread held you together started to strain as you moved in different directions. Or, as they did; leaving you lonely in the place you used to share. Waiting for them to visit, when it suits them.

They changed. You stayed the same.

Only, you must have changed a little. You replay that last moment with Heather tonight in your head, wondering if you’ve ever shown her your hurt, your anger. Six months ago, you doubt you’d even have left at all. It’s more likely that you would have stayed, wishing to be anywhere else, until they wanted to leave.

Eddie looks over at you following your long silence, adopts the soft, encouraging smile he gives you to show you he’ll wait for your answer, regardless of the reasons it’s taking you so long to find it. You get an inkling, then, of why you’ve changed, if only a little.

“We’re all just…different than we were,” you say finally.

“People change, I guess,” Eddie nods. “For better or worse.”

You think you might be better.

Exhaustion takes over when you cross the comforting threshold into Eddie’s home; the familiar smell and warmth of it sending a message across your body that you can relax now. You clean your teeth with the brush Eddie presented you with the first time you stayed over, scrub at your face with warm water until all that’s left are panda eyes you don’t have the fortitude to deal with. When Eddie takes his turn in the bathroom, you search through the little drawer he’d cleaned out for you to find soft cotton pyjamas that have your eyes drifting the second you have them on.

When Eddie returns, you’re standing in the middle of the room fiddling with your hands, still a little worried about the assumption of getting into his bed when he’s not there.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he says, holding the covers open for you and tucking them over your shoulder when you’re settled on the good pillow, the one he insists you take every time. You watch, heart sore, as Eddie removes every one of his rings, counting the little metallic clanks as he drops them on the table. Then goes his bracelet, his watch and his wallet chain. You stare shamelessly as he pulls his shirt over his head, soft hair following the collar up, up, up, and dropping down again in a curly mass around his pale shoulders as the fabric pulls away. You hear the distinct clink of his belt, curl your knees up at the heat the sound sends through your core. Eddie wiggles his hips a little as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them ungracefully, kicking them off his heels. He stands before you in his blue plaid boxers, all pale tattooed skin.

“You’ve been staring at me all evenin’,” he says, approaching you, dropping down in a squat so his face is right by yours.

You can’t argue, but find yourself fiddling with the duvet, pulling it up to your cheek and half hiding in it to mumble into the polyester. “I like looking at you.”

“Yeah? Well, looking’s free. Usually touching would cost you,” he says, reaching out with a finger to pull the cover down from your face and leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “But, uh, just between you and I, sweet thing, you can touch for free, too.” Your toes curl, glancing quickly at Eddie’s pink mouth, watching his lips tilt. “Need some of my services just now?”

“Yeah,”

He hums, his big hand capturing your cheek to tilt your face to his. Eddie’s kisses are gentle and warm. You taste dried toothpaste on his lips, the lasting smoke in his breath from that final cigarette. Then, when your kisses have turned too sleepy to last, just soft presses to his bottom lip, he climbs into the other side of the bed and reaches out for you, fingers wiggling. You tuck yourself into his side, and fall asleep quick.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You drift to waking, gently pulled from sleep by sunshine peeking through cheap blinds and the distant sound of a barking dog. You are comfortably cozy under the sheets. Even having shifted to either side of the bed in the night, no longer tangled, you can feel the heat of Eddie at your back.

You half snooze for a long time, eyes drifting open to take in the contents of the room. The amps and the Corroded Coffin wall hanging, a closet slightly more full than the first time you were here, a floor still messy but less littered with piles of half clean half dirty laundry. Eddie’s acoustic guitar, his writing overtop in white, THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS.

You close your eyes again. The next time they open, the room is brighter. Turning ungracefully, you come face to face with Eddie, and huff a soft laugh through your nose. Eddie’s hair in the morning is a beast, pressed to either side of his face from his tossing against the pillow. Some locks frizzed to the point of dullness, some still set in loose curls; both types tossed over the front of his face. Reaching out, you tuck each lock back until you can see him properly, every pretty feature of his face.

You consider trying to wake him, but find yourself simply shuffling closer, tucking yourself into him, nose at his neck. Eddie hums, one arm coming up instinctively to settle over your half asleep body.

You finally jump awake to the sound of the front door falling closed in a swinging slam. Eddie blinks opposite you, fully registering the noise and your presence together. He hums, closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide to yawn so loud he might as well have screamed.

“Coffee, boy!?” Wayne calls as Eddie stretches and cracks his pale limbs. He glances at you in question.

You chew the inside of your lip. “Should he know I’m here?”

Eddie takes this in for a second, then smiles. “I mean, he’s about to, either way.”

Regret at not having asked Eddie to set an alarm rids all the warm cosiness of the scene. Your face feels hot already at the thought of facing Wayne on a Saturday morning having clearly slept in this bed. “He’ll- he’ll think we-”

Recognition dawns on Eddie’s face, and he shakes his head quickly. “He won’t think anything, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning in till he’s put himself in your eyeline. Eddie’s expression is earnest until it shifts into an amused smile. “I’ll even tell him you slept on the floor to preserve my innocence. Score you some points with the old man.”

Eddie’s sleepy laughter has some of the tightness in your chest abating. The sight of his eyes crinkling at the sides, dimples digging into his cheeks, is a treat you don’t usually get so early.

“What time is it?” You ask, realising it may not be early at all if Wayne’s back. Eddie grabs his watch from the bedside table, blinks away residual blurriness.

“Nine thirty.”

Later than you’ve slept since school started back up, yet even now, the thought of curling back up in Eddie’s arms and snoozing for a little longer is an attractive prospect you’re seriously considering.

“I heard your caterwaul of a yawn, boy! How many coffee’s am I making!?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. You nod. He calls back. “Three! If you can count that high!”

The sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling oil mix with Eddie’s soft grunts as he gets himself dressed, jumping up and down to pull his jeans over his feet and searching through the closet for a t-shirt adorned with three angels, all smoking.

He takes you in when he’s put his rings on, no doubt almost as messy haired as him, watching him from his bed. Brown eyes bright, Eddie leans in to give you a soft kiss.

“Morning, sweet thing,” he says. His hand cups your cheek, letting you press into his wide palm. “Take your time, mm? I’ll assure Wayne my innocence remains intact.”

Your nose scrunches at his teasing, even as you turn to press a quick kiss to the centre of his hand. Eddie rubs a thumb under your eye, then shuffles out his door. Immediately, the noise of clinking plates is smothered by the exchange of familiar jabs and teases between the uncle and nephew.

The days you’ve spent here have made you realise how special their relationship is. Not something less than father and son, but in fact something more. Wayne looks upon Eddie with the exasperated fondness of a dad, but reserves the true judgement they can be prone to. No passive aggressive comments about Eddie’s track record at school, nor questions about the way he dresses, despite the bookmarked King James bible that sits on the coffee table. He’s ruffled Eddie’s hair kindly every time he’s been here while you were doing homework, hung his latest C- graded test up on the fridge. Eddie told you Wayne bought him that acoustic guitar when he was thirteen, saved up for months to take him to a real music shop in Indianapolis and let him pick one out.

You can see, even, the parts of Wayne that have filtered straight down to Eddie. Their humour overlaps, the way they can banter back and forth with each other, never crossing the line into hurt. Though, where Eddie can’t help but grin at a good joke, Wayne remains deadpan through every jibe.

Wayne, when he gets talking, can spin a yarn the same way Eddie can. Stories about his nights at the factory, his old job driving trucks across the country, his youth, told not in a long ramble, but structured perfectly to have you on the edge of your seat.

You know now that Eddie’s kindness, the way he treats you, was a gift from Wayne. His genuine interest in your life, your plans. His continual, earnest offer of food from his fridge every time he sees you. When your mom made a lasagne for you to take in thanks for all the evenings you’ve spent here, Wayne didn’t send the dish with Eddie to school, but drove to your house with it cleaned to a shine to hand it back and thank her personally. Soon after, Eddie let it slip that the daisies he brought you for your first date were bought at Wayne’s insistence.

You’d wondered, that day at the lake, how a boy treated like Eddie is treated could be so bright and kind.

Wayne was the answer.

So you should be braver, emerging from Eddie’s room in that big hoodie of his he’d been lending you on and off and shorts you’d left here the last time you stayed over, no doubt still sporting panda eyes from last night. But you find yourself making use of the long sleeves, fidgeting with your fingers against the fabric.

Eddie’s in the midst of getting his wrist thwacked with a spatula for attempting to steal a streak of bacon as Wayne transferred them from pan to plate. Gasping, he holds his hand in the air and lets his wrist fall limp. “I- I can’t feel my fingers!”

Wayne silently watches Eddie flop his hand back and forth, only a slight crinkle at his eyes suggesting he finds anything his nephew is doing at all amusing. When he catches sight of you, his gaze barely flickers from your messy hair to Eddie’s hoodie. “Mornin’,” he says, turning his back to a still howling Eddie to shake the pan. “Eggs? Bacon?”

The temptation to refuse, to be polite and pretend you don’t want anything from him prickles at the back of your mind. Only, experience has taught you he’ll only plate you up something anyway. There for you if you change your mind, something both he and Eddie say frequently.

“Please,” you nod.

“You gonna set the table, Eddie?”

“How can I?” Eddie cries, wrapping his other hand around the injured arm and holding it up as if the ailment has moved all the way to his elbow. “With this!?”

Wanting to make yourself useful, you venture into the cutlery drawer yourself, giggling as Eddie shakes his limp hand at you, before pulling up the fold out table at the other side of the kitchen. “You’re on coffee duty then, Ed.”

Eddie gives up the routine at the prospect of picking out mugs, his eyes shining. It’s an activity he seems to enjoy deeply; shuffling over to the expansive collection and perusing them like he doesn’t already know exactly who’s getting what.

Eddie likes to give Wayne a novelty Garfield mug, something about the quiet, serious man drinking from the head of the large orange cat tickling him. For himself, a black mug with THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE printed in white letters around a cartoon duck. For a while, he has been trying out different mugs for you, showing the best of Wayne’s extensive collection. But he’s settled on a white NASA mug Wayne picked up on a trip to Houston. “For my smart girl,” he’d said the first time he handed it to you, expression all fondness and pride.

Eating together is becoming familiar to you now. Wayne has picked up on your tendency to keep quiet the same way Eddie did, sometimes asking you questions but generally letting you decide when you want to speak without much prying.

“You two got plans?” He asks, glancing briefly at you then turning to Eddie when you look unsure.

“Uh, nothing solid,” Eddie says, focused on the construction of an increasingly complex breakfast sandwich. “But I was thinking about heading to Greenfield to pick up an album. I had loan of Accept’s newest record from Jeff before he remembered I had it.” His tongue peeks out at his concentration, topping the egg, bacon, hashbrown and tomato with a final piece of toast. “Didn’t think three months was too long to keep it. I mean, what’s an album between friends?”

You watch in near fascination as he manages to keep it all in tact through a large bite. He chews slowly, and swallows. “I’d welcome a road trip buddy if you’d be so inclined, Princess.”

Your face warms at the name used in front of Wayne, but you nod.

“There’s a good bookshop, too,” he says, clearly holding himself back from taking another significant bite. “S’where I got my copy of Orpheus.” He must see something, excitement probably, move across your face, because next Eddie is flashing a pleased smile. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

When you’re all finished, dishes washed by you at your gentle insistence, face scrubbed further with luke warm water from the tap and hair finger combed through, you leave a yawning Wayne to his fold out.

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The shop, located two towns over from Hawkins, smells like the music room at your first school. The memory hits you as soon as you walk through the door; standing in three lines and belting out an off tune Amazing Grace with another thirty kids. Playing with claves and tambourines. Eddie seems in his element here, directing you through display shelves of pop and country records around a corner to the back where his kind of music is kept. “Course, some albums I just use the cassette,” he tells you, rifling through a couple of records. You look around the section yourself, counting up the albums you recognise from Eddie’s desk, his glove compartment. “But when I love an album I kinda have to get it on vinyl, you know?”

You don’t, not really. You have your own pile of albums in your room, all plastic rectangles ready for your cassette player or your walkman. Your dad has a collection of country records, your Mom some Joni Mitchell, the Crosby, Stills and Nash records she played constantly when you were a child. Before Eddie started asking you to pick out albums you thought looked good in his room, you hadn’t touched a vinyl since your aunt asked you to put on the White Christmas over the holidays.

Eddie senses your confusion, and shrugs. “I mean, I wanna see the album art for real,” he tells you, finding one as an example. “Not quite as effective at four by three inches, right?” You recognise it immediately as Holy Diver. Eddie has a shirt with this cover on it; a demon standing over a priest splashing in water. He was wearing it that day in the woods, when you ran right up and kissed him. He takes the record from you when you nod, placing it back carefully.

“And there’s albums a stereo just can’t do justice to. They’re useful when I wanna skip songs. But hearing it from start to finish? At the highest quality? It just needs a record. Ah-” He finds the album he came here for and shows you. A blue background, with a chrome, blocky heart shape filled with valves and pumps. "Metal Heart," Eddie explains. "Latest, and best, album by Accept. They're this German heavy metal band? The lead guitarist, Wolf Hoffman?” He sighs wistfully, looking off into the distance. “Man, what I'd do if I got him in a room alone.”

You make an awful snorting sound when you laugh, have to ignore the delight on Eddie’s face lest you burn up entirely. "So,” you start. “Heavy metal is different from regular metal, or is it just another term for it?”

Eddie's face lights up at the question, putting on a refined accent. "Heavy metal, young lady, is a type of metal that encompasses many genres,” he explains, bringing a hand up to add to the role. “For example, one could say all thrash metal is heavy metal, but only a simple fool, would seek to claim that all heavy metal is thrash metal. Do you follow?” His character falls apart at your giggle. “I said metal too many times, huh? Note taken. You wanna listen?"

At your nod, Eddie walks you back round to the front towards a row of glass booths housing record players and headphones. You watch his hands move carefully, treating the record with the same care he uses to hold your hand. When it's in place, he dons the headphones and places the needle, nodding his head until it reaches the start of the particular song he wants you to hear. His hair fans out a little as he removes them, making to place them over your ears until you flinch and he jerks them back.

“A little loud,”

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he says, turning a knob on the record player. “I forgot. Princess ears.” He replaces the headphones, eyebrows raising in question. The volume more manageable now, you nod happily, listening to pulsing guitars build in intensity, joined by thrashing drums and eventually the telltale screeching voice that immediately transports you into Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of his life.

Eddie’s eyes are all soft excitement, shining at you, watching for your reactions.

If you had to make a list of all the things to like about Eddie, his passion would surely sit near the top. The way he fizzes all over to talk about music, and Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings. The way he’s desperate to share his interests with you. Not out of expectation for you to feel exactly the same about any of it, and certainly not with any assumptions that you should understand it already. Just to share, to let you in, to show himself to you.

You wish you were more like him, that way. That you weren’t more comfortable hiding, keeping bits of yourself under lock and key lest their exposure leave the most delicate parts of you open to attack. You try to imagine Eddie using anything like that against you. You remember him leaning across the table to you on your first date, listening to you ramble about wyverns and etymology while your feet tapped your anxiety out onto the floor. He’d thanked you for sharing. Very metal, he’d said.

Three minutes in, and you realise Eddie’s been playing the whole song in his head, because he brings his hands up to follow the chords playing in your ears with an imaginary guitar, hair shaking as he throws his head back and forth. Then he flashes his smile, soft cheeks displaying his dimples and smile lines.

You can’t help it.

You step forward until your feet are patterned with his. You reach out for his sleeve, playing with the chains keeping the left connected across his wrist. Eddie’s still watching you when you tilt your chin, leaning towards him to press your lips to his. Anxiety prickles along your spine, but you know that nobody can see you. Even better, you know that Eddie is between you and the door, hiding you from the world. With the distinctive chains of his jacket in your fingers, his music sounding through your headphones, his lips on yours; everything around you is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Safe, safe, safe.

He pulls away with a huff of breath against your lips, giving you a series of chaste pecks like he isn’t quite ready to stop kissing you entirely despite protesting lungs. Your face burns, but it’s worth it for the way Eddie is staring at you when you finally open your eyes.

“What was that for?” He mouths, gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

You bring your foot up, pressing the top of it to the back of your ankle and sliding it up and down your calf. A braver version of you would say what every part of you is screaming. Instead you shrug, still fiddling with his sleeve. Eddie tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied, but doesn't press you.

"I like this," you tell him as it finishes, removing the headphones.

"Well, that settles it," he answers, sliding the record from the player back into its sleeve. "You're coming home with me."

You watch Eddie navigate the shop like it's a second home. He stops off at the cassettes, rifling through for anything new, anything he might not have heard before. He grabs a couple blank tapes too, looks at you to the side with pink cheeks. "In case I wanna make any more mixtapes."

At the desk, Eddie places everything down carefully while you wait at the empty till. After a good thirty seconds, you start playing with the rings on Eddie's left hand while his other raps against the wooden desk. "Uh, hello? Anybody- ah, shit."

"Munson," says the bespeckled boy who emerges from the back room.

Eddie’s fingers twitch, and you cease your fidgeting to look up at him, find his face pulled taught. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't think you worked on Saturdays anymore."

"Switched to the weekend shift," he answers, stony faced. "That gonna be a problem for you? Surely you’re not still in highschool?"

Eddie frowns, hand twitching again as he sighs. "Listen, man, I'm not looking to argue-"

"Don't know why else you'd show your face. You know your money's no good to me."

Eddie slumps, all the easy happiness pulled from him. He hasn’t looked at you once, and your heart aches.

"I'm buying these," you declare, searching through your bag for your purse. Tissues, no, lipgloss, no, mixtape, no.

They both turn to you. The boy behind the desk takes you in finally, his nose wrinkling. "Oh yeah? You a metal fan?"

"Mm hmm,” you say, voice higher than you’d like.

"Okay, name three Metallica albums."

You glance at Eddie, find him rolling his eyes until you ask. “But Metallica only has two albums, right?"

Eddie’s immediate smile is warmth inducing, causes you to shuffle with shy pride. You thrust out the money in your hand, start gathering up the items again to place in your shopping bag while Eddie grins in the face of the scowling man.

"Whatever,” he says finally. “I don't wanna see you around here again, Munson."

Eddie gives him a little salute, then grabs the bag from you and takes your hand to leave.

"Jesus," he breathes as soon as the bell announcing the doors closure sounds. "You can't talk like that, sweet thing. We're in public. You’ve-" He scratches at the back of his neck. “You’ve really been listening to me talk about it all the time, huh?”

You frown. “Of course, Eddie. I like it,” you answer, tugging his hand to start the walk back to the van. “Who was that?"

Eddie’s smile drops. "Uh, Peter? We actually, kinda used to be friends. I introduced him to all his favourite bands back in the day, you know? Then suddenly he’s the gatekeeper of metal- I mean it’s a fucking joke.” He opens the side door, placing your bag behind the front seat. “S'how I met Gareth, really. Poor kid couldn't name two Dio albums so he gets insulted buying the latest one, what the hell is that? We all have to start somewhere. I mean, when I met that guy he was a U2 fan. Anyway-” he continues, closing the door. “I told him he was being a dick and he got all pissy about it."

You chew your lip. "He acts that way, because you called him a dick?"

Eddie blanches, his head falling back with a quick groan. "Okay, I wanna add a disclaimer that I was sixteen and dumb," he starts. "And he really was being a dick, acting like- like all those guys metalheads are supposed to hate in the first place, and-"

"And?"

"And I hit him. Real gentle. With my fist."

"Eddie,"

"Sweet thing, even you woulda decked him if you'd been there. I swear. And, I just can't fucking stand that shit, you know?"

You do know. Eddie is all gentle touch and soft smiles around you, but something changes in him when he’s witness to injustice. He'd had to miss a date just last week because he had detention, brought about by standing over a sophomore who'd dared to mess with one of the freshmen in Eddie's club. "You make one vague threat about human sacrifice and suddenly everyone's got an opinion on what constitutes bullying," he'd complained later. "If teachers aren’t gonna teach that kid not to be a cunt, why shouldn't I scare it out of him?"

You've heard him call the whole group his little sheep, laughing like he doesn't kind of mean it. Like he doesn't think of them as weird kids he'd gathered together in something of a herd, a pack. Like he doesn't think of himself as their shepherd, as their protector.

"Point is," he says now. "He's the one in the wrong, I swear. Shit. I can't believe he works weekends now."

"Well, I can go in for you."

"Yeah? You can set him straight, my baby metalhead. Fuck- didn't even say thank you. Was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't half fucking hard-" You make a soft noise and Eddie blinks, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. How much was it again?"

You press a toe to the top of your other shoe shyly. "Can't I buy you them?"

"Huh?"

"Like a gift?"

Eddie’s face twists. You thought he was just being a gentleman, when he’d paid sneakily on your first date. You know now that’s only part of it. He likes driving you places but won’t accept gas money, likes making you dinner at his home but won’t let you pay for groceries when you tag along on errands. The only thing he doesn’t get twitchy about is your baking, but that’s because you’re there eating them too. You think this might further influence from Wayne; a certain pride, a refusal to accept anything monetary from you.

"But, sweet thing-"

"Please, Eddie?"

He watches you, conflicting emotions passing along his expression. "Okay. But you’re picking out a book. A real fancy one. I wanna see leather binding yeah? And one of those little ribbons attached, okay?"

Your toes curl, nodding happily. "Okay."

You feel more at home as you walk through a glass door to the smell of old paper and ink.

Joan Baez croons from the record player in the corner. The woman at the register nods as you enter but offers no other greeting. Eddie follows after you when you make a beeline to the poetry section; full of battered, well loved books with cracked spines and fading covers.

You send Eddie a shy look, spine prickling from being watched in what feels like a solitary activity. You rub your thumb at a dusty shelf, wondering how to tell him, when he leans in a little. "Hey, you’ve been taking all my music recommendations. Anything for me to read?”

“Oh,” you say, mind lighting up before dimming at the thought of being too pushy, or recommending something he might hate. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he says, leaning in more until he's all you can see, tilting his head until you’re looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

You chew the inside of your lip. “Mm. Maybe- Have you ever read The Metamorphosis?”

Eddie leans back, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Can’t say I have.”

“I think,” you consider it again. “I think you’d like it. It’s about, well- A man turns into…an insect.” You simmer over the fact you want to share, let yourself believe that Eddie will be as willing as always to hear it. “It was written in German, and the word for what he turns into literally translates to, like, an animal you can’t sacrifice. Like, vermin?” Eddie’s watching you round off this information in a rush, smiling a little. “Kafka, the writer, didn’t want the actual animal to be specific. But sometimes it’s mistranslated and people say he turns into a beetle, or…or a cockroach,” you trail off, cringing at the sound of yourself. “I’m not selling it very well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answers. “Sounds suitably weird. Kafka, you said? I’ll get searching.”

Eddie disappears round the corner, leaving you to comfortable contemplation of the poetry selection. Rilke's entire works, some Wilde, some Shelley. You search for something new and land on a name you've never heard. Drawing it from the shelf, you peer at the cover, a silhouette of a bridge bathed in orange, with the Selected Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva printed above.

You read a couple of the shorter poems, struck by her voice, her imagery. Turning to a random page, see the original Russian on one side, the English translation on the other. The title, asking the question, Where Does Such Tenderness Come From? Your heart pangs in recognition of her feelings as you read, the best part of poetry always finding yourself reflected back at you.

You and your eyelashes - she writes. Longer than anyone’s, as if she knows about the eyes you wish you had the confidence to stare into without respite.

“Found anything?”

You jump, closing the book quickly as if you’d been reading something illicit. Eddie gives you a quick up and down look, keeping his distance until your shoulders drop their tension. “Yes,” you say, turning the book so he can see the cover. “I’d never even heard of her but I like her already.”

“Enough to kick poor Rainer off the top spot?”

You feel that strange warmth that comes with being known, the little reminder of things that Eddie has learned and remembered about you. “Not quite, but I’ll still give her a chance.” You glance down at the book in Eddie’s hands, glad to see he’s grabbed your recommendation. “You like it?”

“Seems weird as fuck,” he confirms matter of factly. “So it’s almost like I’m contractually obliged to read it, you know?”

He pulls the new book gently from your hands, retrieving his chained wallet from his back pocket. "My turn," he says with an unusual seriousness. “You want any others?”

You shake your head, lean up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, surrounded and sheltered as you are by shelves and books. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Nah,” he says, face a soft pink.

Later, when Eddie has followed you perusing shop windows, and you are full up on drive through fries, eaten in the front of Eddie’s van as you listened to his story of negotiating $20 of payment between his entire band for their nights playing at the Hideout, Eddie drives you back, glancing over at you every so often like he wants to say something, but turning his head back to the road every time instead.

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You feel relaxed, content, sitting comfy on the couch outside of Eddie’s trailer. He popped his head in earlier and found Wayne still sleeping, so you settled here to read in companionable silence. You, discovering more of Marina’s voice, drifting back again and again to the one poem that makes your chest full.

Eddie lies with his head resting on your lap, flicking through the short novella. You play with his hair throughout, curling locks around your fingers and stroking his fringe back from his forehead. Occasionally, you glance down at him, taking in his furrowed brow and eyes shining wet at a couple moments.

“Well, that was fucked up!” Eddie cries, snapping the book shut and somehow managing to whisper a yell. “He just dies? And they don’t care?”

You close your book to focus on him, resting it next to you. You let your fingers tangle into his hair, scratching softly. Eddie, even in his indignation, tilts his head towards the satisfying feeling like a cat. “Mm. That’s the point. He was living his life for his family, but they didn’t really care about him.”

“Yeah, but there’s not caring about someone and there’s hurtling fruit at them,” he reasons. “That Kafka guy had issues, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

You crack a shy smile. “I think he’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie’s dimples tease you. “You’re a freak.”

Your stomach flips at the affection in his voice, fingers stilling in his hair for a second before resuming their gentle caress.

It hits you then, watching Eddie's pretty face, that you’re going to be alone with him again through the night, without interruption, and your throat lumps. As if he realises at the same time, Eddie sits up, hair still at angles from your exploring hands. His mouth opens, then closes again, his eyes flicking from your face to your hands where you’ve started fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Forcing yourself to take on his example, you ask, “what are you thinking, Eddie?”

“Big question,” he says. “But uh, I guess, I never thought…I never thought sex was that important, you know? Hell, I lost my virginity in the bathrooms at the Emerson Theatre.” His eyes scrunch closed as soon as he says it, like he regrets letting that particular detail slip right now. When one opens, and finds you smiling at him encouragingly, he sighs with his whole body. “And, I hope you know that it wouldn’t matter to me if you had been with somebody else,” he continues, eyes wide. “Like, at all. But at the same time, I’m happy I’m first, you know? Cause I know I can look after you. I can give you what you deserve. Which, again, technically should be a big fancy bed and linen sheets, but some people have absolutely no patience, so-”

“Eddie,” you groan. But it has no bite. You’re already smiling at him, grabbing at his palm to play with his fingers, heart full.

He clears his throat. “So yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Also seeing you naked, obviously. But that takes up a good 30% of my brain pretty much all the time so it’s not entirely relevant here.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh, watching him clutch his chest in mock hurt.

“I just bared my soul to you!” He cries, watching your giggles incredulously. “Do’st thou mock me? Have you no heart, woman?”

You bury the rest of your laughter in his neck, feeling a kind of dizzy happiness that makes it hard to stop. Eddie’s chest shaking under your cheek tells you that he’s as affected, a hand coming up to stroke at your hair as the mirth fades. Turning to look at where your hands have started up playing with his fingers again, you think about what you want to say.

“Eddie,” you whisper, pulling from his neck, looking between his eyes and his forehead as you search for the bravery he has in spades, the ease to tell him that it always had to be him.

Only, the front door of the trailer opens, revealing a sleepy looking, shirtless, Wayne.

“Oh, Jesus, have some decorum, man!” Eddie yells, covering your eyes with his hand.

“Evenin’, Eddie,” he says, followed by your own name. You wave, blinking to Eddie’s palm. “Get everything you wanted?”

“Yup, sweet girl bought me my very own Metal Heart,” he grins, tapping the album where it sits at his side on the couch as you wrestle his arm away. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I can.” He answers earnestly. “Just makin’ coffee then I’ll hit the road. You want anything?”

"I want you to put some clothes on!"

“No, thank you,” you answer over him, shaking your head and leaning into Eddie’s arm. When Wayne's gone, you glance up, find those soft eyes, those long dark eyelashes. Longer than anyone's.

"What are you thinking?"

You answer honestly. "That you're gonna look after me."

"I will," he nods, sounding almost stern. "As long as you want me to."

You wish it was easy to say, but all you can do is think it.

Always, always, always.

Wayne leaves with a gruff goodbye, a reminder to Eddie that there's left over pasta in the refrigerator. You remember the first time you were here at the same time as Wayne, the almost desperate rush to get into Eddie's room the second he was gone.

Now, you and Eddie stay, settled into one another for a long while after, until the sun has moved from high overhead to just behind the trees in front, turning the scene to a silhouette backlit with orange light. Eddie disappears, comes back with bowls of that pasta. You talk about school, and Eddie's band. He explains more about thrash metal, you tell him your new favourite German word you’d learned only yesterday. When the orange fades to blue-black, Eddie looks over at you.

"Ready?"

You wonder what it means, that despite the increasing thrum of your heart in your chest, you don't even have to think about it. "Yes."

He holds your hand all the way to his room, guiding you through like you don't know how to find his bed at the end. When the door is closed, sheltering you from the world outside, you wrap your arms tight around him, give yourself the comfort of hiding in his collar, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath.

Eddie hums, his hand coming to that space at the back of your neck that eases everything in your body that you’re used to holding tight. “How you feeling, honey?”

“Good,” you mumble. Then, wondering if he can feel the heavy beat of your heart. “Nervous.”

“Okay,” he says, fingers stroking and squeezing at your tender skin. “What are you nervous about? Anything we can fix?”

You let that thought sit. You are still learning how much Eddie means it when he says things like that. Still practising the belief that Eddie wants you to share your worries, carry some of the burden for you. The responsibility of trying to shed the weight, the disappointment of knowing some of it just has to be carried.

You’re resigned to telling him, but finding the exact reason for the nerves twisting your stomach takes its own time. With anyone else, you’d be worried about pain, about what happens if you have to stop. These concerns float away on their own at the feeling of Eddie’s hand stroking at you, his lips pressing kisses at your temple. Then you land on it, and press your face deeper against the softness of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I guess- What should I do?” You ask, voice small. “So it’s good for you, too.”

You feel his sigh from the rise in his chest, the shake of his head from the brush of his hair against your cheek.

“Will you look at me?” He asks, waiting for you to tilt your head to find him. “You want the truth?” You nod, chin still tight to his shirt. Eddie’s eyes narrow a touch, leaning down conspiratorially. “It will feel good for me,” he starts, his free hand rubbing at your waist. “If we can get your pussy all soft, first.” A surprised throb between your legs has you clenching down on nothing, close to whimpering at the gentle roughness of Eddie’s voice. “All soft, and wet enough that I can just slide in, fill you up easy. Making you cum on my cock, sweet thing. That’s what’ll feel good, for me.” Eddie gives you a wolfish grin as he starts walking you backwards towards his bed, raising his eyebrows in question. “Think we can do that?”

It’s easy, then. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm, my good girl,” he says, holding you with the backs of your knees pressed to the side of his mattress, his nose at your temple. “Can I kiss you?”

Even easier. “Yes, Eddie.”

His lips press soft across your cheek and down to your mouth, warm and waiting for him. He's gentle with you, none of the fierceness you've felt in Eddie's kisses more recently. Like he's restraining himself, learning how you like to be touched in the lead up to something new. Your hands find his shoulders, soft cotton of his shirt, and rub at the fabric. His tongue flicks subtly against your bottom lip, but you're already desperate to taste him for real, letting him press deeper without any more prompting.

You feel it at the sound of his laugh, the sudden curve of his lips, the huff of air from his nose against your cheek. The addictive high of showing Eddie how shameless he makes you, the knowledge that he sees you as you are. Not a wallflower here, or a naïve girl. Not an ingénue, to be taken advantage of, or protected from corruption.

With Eddie, you can be as you are. Inexperienced and desperate in equal measure, as nervous as you are sure.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, pulling away only to blink down at you for a couple seconds before he captures your mouth again, tongue pressing to yours, hot and wet. You whine slowly, rising in volume, your fingers clasping at him. "S'alright," he soothes, giving you another press to your pout. His hand rubs at the back of your neck, encouraging you to lean your head into his support, give him space to leave plush kisses down the side of your throat.

"Eddie," you whisper, softer than you'd expected. Not a moan, or even a plea for more. Just to say it, to feel the shape of his name in your mouth again.

"So sweet," Eddie says, voice a wonderful vibration against your sensitive neck. "Sweetest girl I've ever seen- fuck. Can I?" His hands tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod desperately, helping him pull it off over your head. His lips return to your skin the second the material is on the floor, a wet press down to the softness of your chest. You feel his smile, his excited breath. He sucks, pulls at your flesh until it aches and you squirm. “Mm,” he sighs. “Can’t help it. Wanna mark you up-”

Gentle hands peel your bra from your chest, the tenderness vanishing with his tongue finding the pert bud of your nipple, treating the sensitive peak to wet warmth and friction that has your toes curling. The quick scrape of teeth makes you bat at Eddie's shoulder even as your body tilts to follow his mouth when it retreats.

He gives the other similar treatment, groaning when your fingers drift upwards to tug at his hair. Another little squeak at the graze of his teeth and he’s pulling away to look at you. Your heart jumps at the sight of him, hair mussed from burying himself into your skin, face a light pink, lips wet and kissed dark. The way his eyes flick about you, you’re sure you must be in a similar state.

Eddie’s throat bobs. “Wanna sit up on the bed, there?”

You nod, letting him help you up to the mattress and stand between your swinging legs.

“Need to go over something else, before we really get started,” he tells you, walking you back to sit on the bed, legs swinging off the side. Eddie drops to his knees to take your ankle in hand and pull at your laces. He sets your sneakers to the side, pings your socks over after them. He presses tickling kisses up your calves, eyes all bright when you laugh and kick at him slightly.

Once he’s back at your height, his hands move to your waistband, thumbing at the button of your shorts. “You know that any time you wanna stop, you just say, okay? I mean it, sweet thing.” He pops the button, pulls at the zip. When his hands smooth under the denim to your hips, helping pull them down, he continues. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if I’m making this face-” He scrunches his nose up and lets his tongue hang out in a gross approximation of his expression when he cums and you can’t help but cover your eyes at the image. “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not what you look like!”

“That’s right, you’re the expert now, huh? This better?” He asks, stretching his lips flat and crossing his eyes.

“Stoh-op!” You cry, somewhere between giggly and mortified. Eddie’s face settles back into its regular pretty softness, all shining amused eyes and laugh lines.

“That’s exactly what you say to me if you want me to, mm? Or slow down or anything else you want, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Will you,” you swallow, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “Can you keep talking to me? While…”

“You say that like I'm gonna be able to stop talking. Hips up, sweetheart,” he says, helping you lie back so he can pull at your shorts. “Nah,” he breathes, hands disappearing to drag his shirt over his head. “You’ll be sick of my voice by tomorrow.”

Eddie helps you shuffle up the bed, your head falling easy to the good pillow.

“Never,” you tell him, arms opening to pull him in. He finds your mouth again, kisses a little more desperate, already a touch breathless. Your fingers brush at the back of his hair, soft curls between his shoulder blades.

Eddie’s hand dances over the soft skin of your stomach, pulling giggles from you when he hits ticklish spots. His fingers edge at the frilled waistband of your panties, waiting for your hips to tilt towards him to dip inside.

“Oh, honey,” he says with a gentle pout, fingers meeting the hot wet warmth between your legs. “Should’ve told me you were feelin’ desperate.”

Your thighs twitch at the first gentle circle around your clit. Eddie’s thick fingers, the roughness at their ends that catches the sensitive bud so perfectly with each little rub. Already your mind feels light with pleasure, body sinking into the bliss of being touched by Eddie. You’re caught between watching his hand where it disappears, the impression of his knuckles moving under blue cotton, and pulling up the courage to stare back at Eddie as he scans every twitch of your face. He grins at you when you manage to turn to him, licking his lips quickly. The little peek of his tongue, the memory of all the ways it makes you weak for him, has your legs kicking and twitching.

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, eyes flickering to your lips as they open to let out a moan. “Want me to open this pussy up, sweet thing? Get you ready for me?”

You like that, enough that you nod desperately without thinking twice. “Yeah, want- please, Eddie?”

“Jesus,” he huffs a laugh, his fingers easing downwards only to drag slick from your pussy back up to your twitchy clit. “So fucking good, baby. Say please again?”

Your hips tilt up, chasing his hand though he makes no move to deprive you of it. Your whole body feels hot; from his words, his voice, as much as his touch. When you chance a look in Eddie’s eyes, all the warm brown has been swallowed up, leaving his gaze dark and intent on you. You curl your fingers into his shoulder, stare at the pick hanging from his necklace, swaying with the subtle movement of his torso following the pace of his arm. “Please, please, Eddie.”

You make a high noise of protest when his fingers pull away from your bud, shivers running up your spine at Eddie’s patronising coo, the jutting of his plush bottom lip. “Like I said, no patience. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He sighs, pushes at your thighs to catch a glimpse of the dark, sodden material between your legs. “Just gotta get these off you, give me space to work, hm?”

Eddie disappears from your side, moving down the bed to sit between your legs. His fingers hook quick into your waistband to pull your panties down your thighs.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, rubbing the wet cotton between his fingers. “Maybe you can be patient. You been wet all day, pretty?” You watch him lean over, hooking your panties over the headboard.

“Eddie,”

He only flashes you a grin, hand strokes at your thigh, fingers digging into the softness to push your leg back. You feel the sticky split of your cunt as it opens up for him, the wave of cool air against your heat.

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie breathes, dropping down to his front. His wide eyes blink in near fascination, like it’s anything new to him, watching your cunt flex and shine. “You want two?”

You clench down at the thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie hums, nips at the skin of your leg as he drags his fingers through your slick. The first press inside is a good stretch, lacking the edge of pain that comes with three. They sink inside easily with a wet noise that would have you squirming away if you weren’t so fuzzy in the head, so desperate for the pleasure Eddie’s touch promises. The pads of his fingers find the spot at the end of you that he has mapped out, pussy fluttering around his fingers in protest every time they leave to press back in.

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, rubbing his face against your leg. You hum. “You want another?”

“Yeah,” you nod, craving more, wanting everything. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm. Open those legs just a little more, baby- yeah, good girl.”

Eddie gives you one final press of his lips to your thigh as he withdraws his fingers, stroking at you again to gather your slick across all three. You feel the blunt ends of his digits at your entrance, the first push and-

“Oh,” you whine, the familiar ache nothing compared to the euphoria of Eddie’s tongue coming to lap at your sensitive clit. Your hands fly down to his hair, clenching around soft curls as if there’s any possibility he might pull away. He groans, sending a pleasant thrum across your nerves. “Eddie, please.”

Your hips twitch when his fingers meet resistance half way deep, but Eddie stops his approach before you have time to register any discomfort. Clenching tight around his half buried fingers, Eddie lathes his tongue, wide and wet, from where his digits disappear inside to the top of your pussy. Your legs kick again, clit throbbing under his attention. He waits patiently for your body to relax into the pleasure, gently pulling his fingers back before pressing even deeper into your supplicating cunt.

“S’good, Eddie,” you whine, thighs pressing at the sides of his head without your wherewithal. All you know is you can feel him everywhere you need him most. His curls in your hands, tickling the sensitive insides of your legs. His tongue on your clit, gentle sucks that feel like kisses. His fingers filling you, stretching you and rubbing just right at the top wall of your cunt to send tingles along your spine. Ecstasy builds everywhere you can feel him, from a aching twitch between your legs to a wave that passes over your entire body.

Eddie’s name escapes you on repeat without shame. You hear him curse, feel the breath of it against your clit, as you squeeze tight around his fingers, pulsing with each peak of the high.

You finally slump into the mattress again, boneless and tingly. You ignore the wet sound produced by Eddie’s hand leaving your pussy, focusing on how he grins at you as he crawls up your body to settle over you, eyes crinkled at the sides with his satisfaction.

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he laughs, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss to your lips. “Thought your thighs weren’t ever gonna let me up. Started planning a life down there, you know?”

You giggle, but can’t think of anything clever to say back, caught up in the perfect view of Eddie above you. Pink and lightly freckled, lips dark, the entire bottom half of his face shining from looking after you until he drags your slick to his tongue with his thumb. His hair falls forward like a curtain around your faces, tickling your cheeks until you reach up to tuck it back. He leans absent mindedly towards your hand then, enjoying the warmth of your palm.

As you caress Eddie’s face, he gives you a gentle, wide eyed look. “You still wanna?” He asks, a little rushed. “Cause we can stop right here.”

“I want to,” you answer, just above a whisper, but sounding as sure as you ever have done. “If you do.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he hasn’t quite registered the full meaning. Then, as if he’s taken it in, “yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Eddie climbs off the bed, leaning over his bedside table to search through the drawer, hands emerging with a box labelled TROJAN and a bottle of clear liquid. You watch him fumble a little with the box until it opens, and pull out a square wrapper that has your face feeling hot, as if the presence of condoms is any more illicit that how Eddie has been touching you already.

“Look away!” Eddie jokes when he finds your eyes on him as he pulls at his belt. “Gotta keep my modesty in tact.”

You jokingly cover your eyes, hearing his laughter along with the clink of his belt, his zip pulling open. The mattress dips with Eddie’s return, and you peek through your fingers at him before settling your hands at your sides. Your mind fizzes at the sight of Eddie naked, settled on his knees between your thighs. Your eyes trace all the ink that decorates his torso, the softness of his stomach. The patches of dark hair on his chest, between his legs. His cock is a dark pink, swollen enough that the tip kisses his stomach. Eddie drags a hand over it with a soft groan like he’s been tortured by the wait. If he registers your staring, he doesn’t point it out, focusing on tearing open the foil wrapper and pulling a clear condom down over his length with a sigh.

Your fingers pull at wrinkles in the sheets as Eddie squirts some clear gel from the bottle into his palm, dragging his hand over his cock again to spread it. “What- what’s that?”

“Oh, uh, lube?” Eddie says, throwing the bottle down on the mattress with a bounce. “Makes it easier to, like, move I guess.”

“But-” You’d press your knees together if Eddie weren’t settled between them. “I’m wet.”

Eddie’s eyes flash, lips quirking. “You are, huh?”

“Eddie,”

“Mm. I know, sweet thing. But a little extra never hurt, mm?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Okay,” he answers. “I think it’ll be easiest like this, probably?” He drags the spare pillow from his side, tapping your hips gently to place it under you, tilting your body up to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Eddie. S’good.”

“Okay,” he breathes, shuffling forward. With one hand, he strokes gently at your thigh. The other finds your pussy, his thumb playing with clit until you’re feeling pleasured and loose, settled back onto the bed with fluttering eyes. “Still want this, Princess?”

You stare at him, heart sore as you take in his open expression. You can see the evidence of how desperate he must be, how much he wants this. But he looks at you, and you know he meant it when he said you could stop at any time, that he isn’t expecting anything from you, even now.

This body of yours is used to freezing up, follows a routine of tensing and shaking at questions less serious than this. You breathe, swallow, force yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you, Eddie.”

He watches you, searching for your certainty. You smile, a nervous thing, but real, and he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go slow. If it hurts, you say, yeah? Or kick me in the balls - whatever’s easiest.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him, your body feeling loose and relaxed by the time you feel the tip of him catch at your entrance. You make a soft noise at the back of your throat, wanting to watch him but also wanting desperately to keep yourself relaxed and open. You close your eyes, feel the softness of Eddie’s sheets under your fingers.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie murmurs, still circling your clit as the tip of him sinks inside. You feel the aching stretch of him, the pleasant warmth of Eddie’s cock under rubber. He’s saying something, talking to you like he promised, but you’re focused on your breath, on fighting the urge to bear down on him.

He must be a couple inches deep when he stops and pulls back only to press forward again and you think, for a second, you will be able to lay back and take all the pleasure Eddie always gives you, but-

His thumb circles just perfect at your clit and your pussy flutters, the new tightness resisting the slow press of his cock. It’s a sudden, shocking hurt that has your hips flinching to another stab of pain. Before you can help it your body is tensing all over, a soft pained sound escaping your throat.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice rough, and that the squeeze of your pussy must feel good doesn’t even register. You can only think that he must be as frustrated with your body as you are. Not in control, but a witness to it falling back into routine, pulling taught even as Eddie starts hushing softly. The more you tense, the tighter you feel, the pleasant ache of him pushing inside quickly turning to a stinging stretch that has you clenching fists in the sheets, tears springing to your eyes.

Eddie pulls out from you, and your chest throbs.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, wanting to close your legs and hide away from him.

Eddie’s warmth doesn’t vanish as you fear. In fact it grows as he leans over you, an arm coming to circle your waist. You feel his free hand at your hair, stroking it back from your face. “Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your cheek. “You’re in that head, mm? C’mon out.”

The tears that had been bubbling under your eyelids spring free when you open them, tracking down your cheeks as Eddie shakes his head. He wipes each of them away with his thumb until they stop coming. “Sweet thing,” he breathes. “It hurt, and you needed to stop. It’s okay.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again and you lean into it, resting your palm at the back of his hand as you sigh. Your fingers weave with his, everything better now that you can touch him, now that you can’t run away into your head away from his voice, so close to you.

“Wanna get dressed? We can watch something, mm?”

You shake your head immediately, feeling determined. “Can we try again?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Eddie.” You assure, hoping he believes you. You rub your cheek into his palm again. “But, can we stay like this?”

There’s a pause as Eddie blinks at you, then his mouth turns up. “Wanna change tactics, huh, Princess?” You nod, watching as he pulls away briefly to help pull the pillow out from under your hips, his hands pressing at your thighs so he can settle properly between them. You whine softly at the feeling of him, still hard and pulsing, between your legs.

Eddie comes back to you with a kiss, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, get your fingers pressed to his warm skin, playing with the ends of his hair.

“Forgot who I was dealing with, didn’t I?” He says, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock drags over your twitchy clit. Your toes curl, the ball of your foot stroking a little at the back of Eddie’s calf as your legs curl round him. “My girl needs to touch me all over, huh?”

Eddie grins down at you, wiggles his hips just to hear you gasp at the friction of your clit, feel the way your digits dig at him, your right hand rubbing at a lock of his hair. Tension pours from your body at the weight of him all over you, the chance to watch Eddie’s joy at touching you, the pleasure he feels in tandem with yours at every roll of his hips..

He kisses you again, then both your cheeks and your nose and chin, peppers them in quick succession across your neck to get you giggly and soft. When he emerges, you watch each other. Eddie’s gaze flicks about your face while you count down the checklist of your favourite features; dimples and quirked lips, wrinkles at the sides of his eyes and laugh lines.

“Again?” He asks, one hand moving from your thigh to grasp his cock between you. You nod, press your digits into Eddie’s shoulder as his tip opens you up.

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes through the first slow thrust, voice clear as day now he’s so close. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pleasant shivers run through you at the praise. When the stretch makes your body pull taught, your fingers press at Eddie’s skin, letting him feel your need to slow. When the sound of his shaking breath, the sight of his eyes fluttering at the tightness of your cunt around him, has you excited and pliant again, your fingers playing at the ends of his hair tell him that he can start moving once more. Eddie pulls back each time before pressing deeper, humming you through each new tender stretch until you feel the wiry hair above his cock tease your clit. Your hips tilt, chasing the delicious rub, and you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, face dropping into your neck to groan. “How’s it feel?”

Your cunt flutters at the strain in his voice. This time, rather than sending warnings across your body at an unpleasant sting, your pussy bearing down aggravates a dull throb. Like pushing on a sore tooth, it’s painful and addictive all at once, clenching down again for the satisfying feeling of Eddie’s cock twitching inside you, the sound of him groaning against your skin.

“Good, Eddie,” you say honestly, fingers stroking through his hair. “Will you- can you move?”

“Yeah- fuck,” he nods into your neck, laughing softly. “Just gimme onnnnne second. Jesus. ‘How do I make it good for you?’ She asks, with heaven between her legs.”

Your body shakes as both of you giggle together, cut off by another whimpering moan from Eddie. “Aw, shit, don’t laugh or I’m really gonna embarrass myself.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with his chin at your collar. His hips pull back, relieving your pussy of the ache until he slides forward again, letting you feel full, the weight and warmth of him inside you. It’s different than his fingers, which map out the best spots and play with them. Eddie’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along all of them at once.

His face is so close by yours, watching desperately for every sign of pleasure, any hint of discomfort. You open your mouth to reassure him, but all that escapes is a soft, pleased sound that makes his hips stutter.

“Feels good?” Eddie gasps, nodding like he wants to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah, s’good,”

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna want this all the time now, yeah? Need your pretty cunt full of me?”

Pleasant tingles of shame dart up your spine, and one of Eddie’s hands slips between your bodies to rub at your clit again.

“Yeah? Say it, sweet thing.” He groans, hips stuttering at a clench of your cunt around him.

“Like being full of you, Eddie,” you whine, fingers tightening in his hair. “Want it all the time.”

“Jesus- Christ, you’re so good,” he breathes, his fingers bullying your sodden clit. The ache of his cock falls away in comparison to the onslaught of stimulation there, leaving only the satisfying resistance to your cunt clenching down, the sweet fullness, the friction against your sensitive walls. “You’re so good, letting me hear you. Your pretty voice- fuck. Just for me. Think you can cum?”

“Uh huh,”

“Yeah? Like this? Just like this?”

You nod desperately, hips twitching towards him. Chasing the rub of his fingers, the feeling of being stretched full when he presses deep, the throb of his cock inside.

“You cumming, sweet thing?” He asks, as if he can’t see the flutter of your eyes, feel your body clasp around him. “Yeah? Holy-”

Your high is a gentle thing, compared to what you felt with Eddie’s fingers and tongue. A quick rise and fall focused at the top of your cunt that shifts quickly into the numbness of overstimulation. The lasting ache is too present for anything more, but it feels like a promise, a hint of how good it can be with Eddie, if you do this with him again.

You feel boneless and tired while he finds his pleasure, staring down at your warm, satisfied face as he groans. You can feel him inside, the twitch of his cock as he groans, the sudden warmth behind rubber.

His body half collapses on yours, sweat slick skin sticking together. You wrap yourself around him, foot stroking at his calf, hands scratching at the back of his scalp while he tries to catch his breath against your neck. You can feel the pound of his heart where your chests press together, know he must feel yours. When they slow in tandem, beating together, you find Eddie’s wide, soft eyes.

“That-” his voice cracks, his throat clears. “Was that okay?” When you nod, offering a tired smile, he strokes some of your hair back. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He says, waiting for you to nod again.

You take a shaky breath as Eddie’s softening cock pulls from you, stealing all the soothing warmth inside and leaving you with a sensitive, fluttering pussy. You whimper softly at the tender feeling. “I know,” he breathes. “I know, sweet girl. Gimme one second.”

Shivers run up your spine when Eddie disappears briefly to deal with the condom, a little prickle of something unpleasant at your neck. You’re only starting to replay everything you just did and said that might be shameful, embarrassing, in your head when he returns. Eddie wipes warm damp cloth between your legs. He smooths away the uncomfortable, cooling stickiness. Predictably, he tosses the cloth over his shoulder to fall back into bed and pull you into his chest. There, with his arms tight around you, his adoring gaze set on you, any shame your mind could convince you to feel falls away. Why would you dwell on it, when you can let yourself feel all the warmth Eddie brings?

You lie together for a few minutes, tracing Eddie’s tattoos. Over and over, you drag your pointer finger over the lines forming CORRODED COFFIN under his ribs, letters on Eddie’s skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur eventually, watching Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. You kiss his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice breaking a little at your immediate nod. “Well, uh, thank you for trusting me, sweetheart.”

You lie together until the sweat on your bodies is cool and sticky. When the first shiver runs up your body, Eddie helps you stand from the bed like he expects you to be walking like a new-born deer. You manage into the bathroom by yourself, emerge washed and clad in cosy pyjamas, his soft hoodie. Eddie takes his turn, and returns to bed with steamed warm pink skin and dripping hair that sprinkles droplets on your face when he shakes it out like a dog.

You drift asleep with Eddie’s breath at your ear, his fingers stroking steady at your waist.

You wake the next morning to that same sunlight through blinds, the same dog barking in the distance. If it weren’t for the new ache between your legs, you might have thought you’d dreamt the entire perfect day, woken up to find it was Saturday again.

You turn yourself over to Eddie’s side, find his long bare back, pale and dusted with freckles. In a second, you’ll curl yourself around him, wrap an arm over his torso so he can wake up feeling something like the way you feel when he holds you.

But now, your rapid pulse pounds in your ears. Even as he sleeps, your body won't allow you to say it, or even whisper it. Your throat closes up with the thought of too much, too soon.

But you ache to do something, to let the feeling out somehow. Caught between your throbbing heart and the worries that have kept you quiet your whole life, you shuffle forward, reach out, and draw eight letters, one after the other, on the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder.

I L O V E Y O U

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Next Part

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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oddinary4bts · 2 years ago

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The Forgotten Spaces | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a cancer joke about eating a burned marshmallow, mentions about Jungkook's injury/scars, alcohol, curses, a hot tub, a game of Truth or Dare; explicit content: hickeys, grinding, fingering, jerking off, big dick!Jungkook, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), choking; angst

☆word count: 15.7k (oop)

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: SMUT IS HERE EVERYONE. I hope you enjoy reading this one!! Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

It’s a strange thing, how when you’ve been working on something for months, the concretisation of it passes so quickly it’s like it never happened. The auditions were like that: you barely remember yesterday. All you remember is the moment you stepped out of the scene, breath ragged, and Jungkook high-fived the whole crew.

You don’t remember listening to the results. You remember the bubbling excitement as the name of the crew wasn’t said until the very last. But you don’t remember hearing the mention you got. The highest of every crew that auditioned from your state.

Because auditions for nationals are also a competition in and of itself. An innerstate competition, and you still can’t believe you got the highest mention of your level. It’s like a dream, and everything has been moving too slow, or too fast, for you to interpret.

Yesterday was a fever dream indeed. And the whole crew knows that it’s thanks to Jungkook. He refuses every congratulation you’ve all offered him, but it’s him. You wouldn’t have gotten the diamond mention without him.

Diamond… a perfect score. You landed a perfect score on your auditions to nationals.

You will get ripped up to pieces at nationals, won’t you? It makes you anxious, but then again, you’re not sure if it’s because you will have to perform at the top of your art in a few months, or because you’re sitting between Jungkook and Heather on the backseat of Hobi’s car.

Probably the latter.

You’re lucky. You were able to rent a cottage an hour and a half outside of the city, next to a small artificial lake. It was previously rented by another group, but they cancelled a few days ago, which let you have the cottage for the whole weekend.

But you don’t think you’re lucky to be sitting between Jungkook and Heather. Though both of them have been dozing off for a while.

You’ve just been clutching your phone for dear life, because Jungkook’s head lolled to the side until he found your shoulder to be a pillow. It’s not that you mind it. You mostly mind the way Jiho’s been looking at you with the biggest shit-eating grin on her lips. She’s already taken pictures, and you’ve been planning her murder for the last fifteen minutes.

[2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: attached photo [2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re so mad lmao [2:38 pm] You: delete this picture immediately or i’ll end ur miserable life [2:38 pm] Jiho❣️: 😘😘😘😘😘 [2:38 pm] You: 😤😤😤😤😤 [2:38 pm] You: and Scottie deciding not to come???? Even worse [2:38 pm] You: he’s a traitor😩 [2:39 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re just mad bc now u and jk are the only single people attending [2:39 pm] You: last i checked heather and bridget weren’t official official🙄

Jiho snorts on the front passenger seat, and Hobi throws her a curious look. She shakes her head to indicate that it’s nothing, and you watch as she types her reply.

[2:40 pm] Jiho❣️: bitch plz😂 [2:40 pm] You: besides u’re gonna share a room with me🥺

Jiho laughs out loud this time, and you wonder if the glare you bore into her profile has any effect at all. She just glances at you, an eyebrow cocked prettily. You know what that means: no. No she won’t be sleeping with you. You’re going to have to sleep on the couch, because couples get the rooms. Lance made that rule, and even though you were desperate to not let it take effect, everyone but Jungkook was against you.

You’re not usually in agreement with Jungkook. But for that you were, and you hoped the others would take it into account. You’re stupid for thinking that they would.

Jungkook sighs in his sleep, readjusting himself until he’s even closer to you. You gulp, glancing at him with a scared look on your features. You want to push him away, but he looks so peaceful you just let him be.

[2:44 pm] You: why is he sleeping on me tho [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: i’d sleep on u too [2:45 pm] You: u can if we share a room👉🏼👈🏼 [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: nice try but no😇

You whine, and Jiho chuckles.

“What’s up with you two?” Hobi asks, and you meet his gaze in the rear view mirror.

Jiho shrugs. “Y/n is just mad that she’s going to sleep on the couch.

“I can let her sleep with you,” Hobi says, ever so the pacifist and kind man that he is.

“Yes!” you burst out.

It gains you a whine from Jungkook and a glare from Heather, before she rests her head back against the window and dozes off again.

“No,” Jiho refuses. “I want my sexy time.”

Hobi burns bright red as you let out, “Ew”.

Jiho winks at you over her shoulder, and then you all fall silent again. The cottage is still at least fifty minutes away, so you steel yourself as Jungkook shifts again. He mumbles in his sleep and you almost let out a startled yelp when his hand moves on your thigh. He’s not holding you, just resting his closed fist on the top of your thigh. But it’s still way too much touching for your comfort, so you push him away.

He frowns but doesn’t wake up, resting his head against the window with a sigh instead. His mouth falls open a little, and you keep a laugh in. He looks stupidly cute like that. It’s a disgusting thought – Jeon Jungkook is anything but cute – but you let it slide for today. Maybe because you can’t bring yourself to care.

You eventually fall asleep, the low music Jiho’s been playing lulling you to sleep. It’s much deserved sleep after all the anxiety of yesterday, and you only wake when the car comes to a full stop, and car doors slam shut.

You wake up with a start, ready to fight whoever made the noises, and you realize you’re alone in the car. With Jungkook, who has a tight-lipped smile on his lips when your gazes meet.

“You drool when you sleep,” he tells you, and you furrow your brow as you wipe your cheek.

Sure enough, you were drooling. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s got a wet spot on his shoulder, and you reckon you woke up with your head rested against something. Something that suspiciously felt like Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Mmh,” you sleepily let out. “Sorry.”

He smiles. Sweetly. It starts with his eyes, as you’ve realized it usually happens when he smiles genuinely. “It’s all good. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You echo his smile, nodding your head once before stretching your arms. It makes you yawn, which in turn makes him laugh. “What?” you ask.

“You slept like thirty minutes and you’re still tired.”

You glare at him. “I’m always tired.”

“Right.”

It’s a weird conversation, and it’s even weirder that you’re still sitting in the car. So you motion towards the door as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and Jungkook has a light tint on his cheeks as he nods and opens the door before stepping out. He stretches when he’s outside, and you scooch out of the car, imitating him as soon as your feet touch the ground.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he laughs.

“Yeah.”

You glance at him, and then your gaze slides to the landscape surrounding you. To the picturesque cottage that looks even better than what you had pictured, all made of logs. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. It’s cozied up in a little forest, and the wind that picked up earlier today still makes the leaves dance. It’s loud, like the sound of waves at sea, but it’s more constant. It doesn’t recede, and it creates a background soundtrack to the summer afternoon. The sun is still high in the sky, shining bright with not even a single cloud in sight. The air smell of the woods, and bugs fly around aimlessly, or following an aim only they know. The car is parked in the shadows, but you still feel the heat, and you’re glad there’s a breeze.

You take it all in with a bright smile on your lips, and it only grows wider when Jiho and Hobi rush out of the cottage.

“This is heaven,” Jiho declares. “I’m never leaving this place.”

“She says that because she saw the hot tub from the balcony,” Hobi says as he motions over his shoulder to the cottage.

It makes you laugh, and it turns into a giggle as Jiho grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. “While you men unpack the car we’re going to take a walk to the lake.”

“How is that fair?” Jungkook complains, but he’s grinning when you meet his gaze over your shoulder. You offer him an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, and he just chuckles before turning towards the car.

Lance’s car is pulling up the dirt road when you turn on the side of the house. You wave at Chaeyeon and him, but they don’t notice you as Jiho only keeps pulling you behind her.

“Look at this!” she says giddily as you walk to the back of the house. “It’s so pretty.”

It really is. The house is nestled right next to a small lake, with a few trees separating the building and the water. There’s a hot tub on the right, and a small rock path that leads to a quay in the water. You notice a fireplace area, though it’s not a circle of rocks like you had imagined, but an actual metal fireplace with a door that’s currently swinging on its hinges in the wind. Logs are piled beside it, just waiting for someone to ignite a fire.

Jiho’s giddiness is contagious, and you find yourself giggling as she pulls you towards the lake. There’s a small shed down by the lake, and a look through the window shows you two kayaks. It makes you even giddier, and you clap your hands before turning towards the quay.

The quay moves as you step on it. Fortunately, the water is not very deep and the lake is relatively calm even with the wind. You’re able to make it to the end of it without it shaking too much, and Jiho closes her eyes as she tilts her head back. “We should come here every weekend.”

You laugh. “As fun as that sounds like, we can’t skip practice every weekend.”

“We can practice here,” she points out, shrugging.

She’s not wrong, so you just smile and nod before imitating her, taking in the sun. But you feel a little bad for those inside that are setting up the house, so it’s not even a minute later when you say, “We should go help the others”.

Jiho whines, and she opens one eye to look at you. You cock an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

You walk back up the little slope until you reach the cottage. When you make it to the front, you see that a third car has arrived: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo and Bridget are all stretching outside of it. Jo notices you and waves happily.

You think it’s funny that she is here. It’s weird to think that even though she isn’t part of the dance crew, she’s still made her way into the friend group. Like Jin, Valeria and Taehyung, you reckon. Though you barely know Jin and Valeria. But you needed more people to rent this cottage, and considering it was the only one available, you didn’t really have a choice.

You move to their group to greet them, and then you help them unpack the car. You also help Lance, who was the one in charge with food and speakers for music. It takes a moment, but soon enough everything is settled. You’re all already hungry though, so you prepare the first meal of the weekend.

Well, you watch Jungkook, Jin, Valeria and Heather prepare it. You’re on washing dishes duty though, but you’ll only do that after you eat.

It’s fun. Cheerful. A little bubble outside of the seriousness of practice and nationals and auditions that you really can’t remember, can you? The light atmosphere is much needed, and you drink as you eat, and drink some more after washing the dishes. Then you all set out to explore outside, and Lance and Jin have a fire running by the time Jungkook figures out how to get the hot tub working. It’s still hot outside though, so you decide to wait before going into the tub, but Bridget, Heather, Chaeyeon and Jo all move to it. You stay with Jiho and the others by the fire, listening to the cracking of the logs as you talk and talk and talk.

There’s laughter. A lot of it. Laughter that turns more drunk as the evening unfolds, and the sun has set by the time you get up from your spot to go pee inside. The girls have come out of the tub, and they’re taking turns in the shower upstairs, so you head to the downstairs bathroom. You’re on the way out when Jo stops you.

She says your name, offering you a bright smile. “Are you in for some shots before we head outside? I’m taking some with the others.”

Sure enough, Chaeyeon, Bridget and Heather all look at you expectantly, and you don’t hesitate even a second before agreeing. You go outside with Jo and Chaeyeon after, as you all laugh when Bridget and Heather say they’ll take a shower together. You figure it’s better to let them have the house for a time, and you all join the rest of the group by the fire.

They’ve started playing some music and singing over it, and you laugh as Hobi belts a tune as if his life depends on it. Jungkook joins him and your eyes widen a little as you hear his voice.

Jungkook can sing. His voice is melodious, clear and full and round. It’s beautiful, the voice of an angel. You feel struck as you watch him, and he bursts out laughing when Hobi messes up the lyrics next to him.

You’ve stopped walking. And Jungkook meets your gaze, offering you a small smile before returning to the action around him. It strikes you, in a weird kind of way. It makes a weird feeling form in your chest, that same feeling you felt last week when you saved his number in your phone.

It’s not a feeling you like. So you push it aside as you join Jiho in her chair, sitting on her lap and stealing the bottle of soju she’s been drinking from. You need more alcohol in your blood, and soon.

It’s night by the time the group moves again. Some of them decide to go to the lake, but you stay by the fire as Valeria and Jin bring marshmallows out. Heather and Bridget never came out after their shower, and you don’t quite feel like going inside to find them.

Instead, you start roasting marshmallows, and soon enough you’re the elected marshmallow roaster, because you’re the only one who’s managed to not make them catch fire. You make some for everyone, before roasting one for yourself.

Since Jungkook has been the one feeding the fire for the last hour, it also makes it so you’re sitting next to him. The conversation is lively around you, but you’ve noticed he’s silent. He’s just staring at the fire, and it casts a dancing glow on his features.

He notices you looking at him, and his features soften as he turns to look at you. And then he bursts out laughing, and you do too as you notice your marshmallow has caught fire.

“Oops,” you mumble.

“I know I’m pretty but you should focus on the job at hand,” he teases you.

You punch him in the shoulder, before blowing on the fire until it dies. “Still edible if you ask me,” you say as you eye the burned thing on the branch you’ve been using since you started roasting marshmallows.

“Oh, clearly,” he agrees. “If you want to get cancer, that is.”

You glare at him, and he only laughs. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Boring,” he answers wisely, face falling serious, though he only manages to keep the serious look for a few seconds before he’s breaking into yet another fit of laughter. One you echo before taking a bite of the marshmallow. You hum in delight, and Jungkook says, “What the fuck was that?”

You have the decency to blush. “What?”

“You’re not really the kind of person that moans when they eat good food?”

“I wasn’t moaning,” you let out outrageously.

It gains everybody’s attention around the fire, and Jungkook laughs at you. You shove him in the shoulder again, but he annoyingly barely moves in his chair.

“Who’s moaning?” Lance asks.

Both you and Jungkook look startled for a time, and you glare at him. “No one, Jeon’s just being a little shit.”

“What’s new?” Jiho jokes, and everyone laughs.

The trio that went to the lake comes back – Taehyung, Jo and Hobi. Jo scans the people around the fire, brows knitting together.

“Where are Bridget and Heather?”

The whole group laughs. “They never came out,” Chaeyeon admits. “I’d advise to not go looking for them.”

Jo snorts. “Oof yeah, that’s a no for me.”

It’s not even that funny, yet everyone laughs as the trio settles around the fireplace. Hobi and Jiho share a chair, and you realize there’s no chair for Jo and Taehyung. You’re about to offer yours when they just sit directly in the grass, giggling like the two idiots in love that they are. They lie down after a few seconds, and Jo points up at the sky.

It makes you look up, and you suddenly feel very small, under the immensity of the night sky. It sobers you up, just a little, and you sit back in the chair to get a good look. You admire the stars and constellations, searching for those you know. It leads to everyone doing so, and it also creates a calmer atmosphere, until half the group is dozing off in their chair.

Someone changed the music to softer tunes, and you really listen to the night sounds now, as the melody entwines with the cracking of the logs. Soon enough, Jin and Valeria decide to go to bed. Jungkook immediately teases the older guy, saying that only elderly people go to bed so early. Jin just throws a marshmallow at Jungkook, who receives it right on the forehead. He looks stunned, and he raises his middle finger at Jin as he just laughs where he’s leading Valeria inside. Chaeyeon and Lance are the next to go, and your gaze trails them until they stop to kiss. You give them privacy then, focusing on the fire instead.

It leaves only you, Jungkook, Jo, Taehyung, Jiho and Hobi by the fire, and you sigh in content as Jungkook throws another log into the fire.

“Last one, I assume?” he lets out.

The group mumbles in agreement.

“We’ll party harder tomorrow,” Jiho promises before yawning.

It makes everyone yawn, and you laugh tired laughs as you watch the flames licking up the log.

“We should set up a beer pong table,” you suggest.

Taehyung seems to spark to life at the idea. “I’m so in for some beer pong.”

“What about a tournament?” Jungkook proposes. “Losers have to jump in the lake.”

Jiho winces. “I hope Hobi’s good because there’s no way in hell I’m jumping in the lake.”

“I got you, babe.”

You notice them exchanging a long look. It’s filled with love, grossly so, and you roll your eyes before settling your gaze on the stars above once more. You let out a happy yelp when a shooting star crosses the sky.

“Oh my God!”

Jo is just as happy as you are. “Oh shit!” she echoes. “We have to make a wish.”

You laugh, nodding your head repeatedly. The four others just look at you curiously, before Jo explains that there was a shooting star.

Everyone’s eyes are back on the night sky in no time, and you reckon you might fall asleep like this.

Stargazing, and wishing that you’ll find your own person soon enough.

Saturday, July 7th

“I’ll kill you.”

Jungkook smiles, and the breeze of the afternoon catches in his hair, making a strand fall in his eyes. He pushes his hair back. “I’d like to see you try.”

Something changed. He knows something changed between the two of you. It’s exciting, in a childish kind of way. He feels young next to you, and he’s been following you around all day, claiming that he wants to avoid the couples. Which is not entirely a lie, but he mostly wants to be around you.

It’s a new feeling. Or almost entirely new, because he felt like that around you once before. The night after he told you about his accident. He’s pushed that away since then, but it seems being here, at this cottage in the middle of nature, brings it out.

He’s been failing at pushing it away since last night, and he reckons he doesn’t even want to try anymore.

You put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. Your hair sways in the wind, and he wants to brush it behind your shoulder. He resists, because he’s pretty sure you’ll bite his head off if he does.

“You’re the one that suggested kayaking.”

He did. But throwing you in the water seems like twice the fun, so he’s been teasing you about it as you stand next to the shed.

“Maybe it was just a trap?” he says, winking at you. He takes a step towards you, and you immediately take a step back.

Jo and Taehyung are sitting on the quay, watching the water and talking in hushed tones. Jungkook feels Jo’s gaze on him, and he resists glancing at her.

He knows what she thinks. She’s made it pretty clear in the last week. Maybe it’s contributed to the softness in him whenever he watches you.

Maybe.

“You’re annoying.”

“But yet you came with me?”

You squint your eyes, shaking your head. “Not with you. I came to kayak.”

“Right.”

“I swear.”

He bursts out laughing, and it’s his turn to shake his head. “Of course, of course.”

“Why are you…” you start before letting out a strangled sound. “I’m going back to the house.”

“No!” he immediately says, a little louder than necessary. This time, both Taehyung and Jo look at you two. “I’m just teasing, let me bring the kayak out.”

He’s blushing. He feels it coming up slowly from deep within his chest, so he quickly turns towards the shed and goes in. A few spiders are hiding in their webs, and he swats one away from the first kayak. He almost hesitates to leave it in just to spook you, but he doesn’t really want to spook you right now. Not when his heart is beating just a little quicker.

He doesn’t know if he likes it. But he’ll roll with it for the rest of the weekend, because he doesn’t think he’ll have the opportunity to do so after that.

He brings out the two kayaks before going back for the paddles, and a moment later he’s helping you to sit in yours, holding your hand while you step in it before sitting. Jo and Taehyung are watching now, barely even talking, and Jungkook can’t wait until you’ve moved away from the quay.

He hates the way the couple has been watching you both. It feels like he’s under pressure, and he knows he doesn’t do well under pressure. Except when it came to dance, but that’s long gone now.

He gets into his own kayak as you’re already starting to move away.

“Bye losers,” you say towards Taehyung and Jo.

“Try not to drown,” Jo replies as she waves you off.

You laugh, a crystal clear laugh that makes Jungkook very aware of how Taehyung is looking at him. He catches his older friend’s gaze, furrowing his brow.

Taehyung glances down at Jungkook’s attire – a pair of pants. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jungkook knows what.

He’s not going to wear shorts. Not when it’d put his scar on display to the whole crew. He hasn’t gotten the courage to tell everyone yet, and he doesn’t want to be forced to explain anything. He just wants to focus on being in the present, because he hasn’t done that in a while.

So he glares at Taehyung, clenching his jaw. Taehyung sighs before looking away. Just like that the moment passes, and Jungkook settles in his kayak before quickly following you.

“Is it a race or something?” he asks as he moves closer.

You look at him over your shoulder, a bright smile on your lips that turns mischievous as soon as your gaze finds his. “It is and you’re losing.”

Now, bringing out his competitive side is a bad idea, but that’s who you are, isn’t it?

Jungkook pushes the paddle in the water harder, accelerating his rhythm. It makes you screech, and you quickly do the same. Your lean arms are nothing against his though, and he’s caught up to you in no time. Unable to resist, he splashes water on you.

“Jungkook!” you scream. “I’m trying not to wet my hair!”

“Oh are you?” He does it again, this time purposefully aiming for your head. You dodge but to no avail.

“I’ll murder you,” you threaten, and you send water flying his way.

He barely gets any on himself, and he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Is that the best you can do?”

It pisses you off. He sees it in the way resolve fills your face, and he’s not surprised he’s thoroughly drenched by the time you finally stop. He’s just accepted defeat and let you splash him as he laughs. You laugh too, and he reckons it’s his favourite thing about you.

The way you laugh when you’re being a brat. It’s endearing.

He’s endeared by you. That’s what the feeling is. He’s been trying to put words on it since last night. Last night it was struck. He was struck as you spoke to him with that soft edge to you. And then it turned to endearment.

He reckons he missed you, while he was hiding from all of the crew because of his accident. He really did. Something about you was missing from his life.

He pushes the thoughts away as you stop splashing him.

“Oops,” you say when he meets your gaze.

His hair is wet, and he puts the paddle down to push it back. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow his motion, and the furrow of your brows before you frustratingly look away.

“I’m debating making you fall in the water,” he teases, pursing his lips before playing with his piercing.

Your gaze widens. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He moves his paddle in the water to get closer to you, and you quickly move away.

“I would definitely dare,” he tells you. “I’m all wet because of you.”

His brows knit together as he realizes what he just said sounded suspicious. Of course you burst out laughing, before saying, “That’s what she said”.

He rolls his head to the back of his head. “Lame.”

“You’re lame,” you counter-back.

It’s like that for the rest of the time you spend on the water. Even though he threatened to throw you in the water many times today, Jungkook doesn’t really want to do it. He likes the peace between the two of you: he’s not going to do something to fuck it up.

You eventually get bored of kayaking, and you switch places with Chaeyeon and Bridget when the two of you return to the quay. Jo and Taehyung have gone back to the house, but Lance, Heather, Jin and Valeria are there, and you sit with them for a while, just talking.

Mindlessly, Jungkook pulls his shirt up to dry his face from the last of the water you splashed on him before getting out of the water.

He realizes his mistake only when the shirt falls back in place, and Lance is watching him with round eyes.

“What’s that scar?”

Jungkook stills. Unmoving, barely even able to breathe. The air is suddenly less warm, and he can almost see the snow again. His heart constricts in his chest, and he just stares back at Lance as if he’s a doe caught in headlights.

“You don’t just ask people why they have scars, Lance,” you grumble.

It surprises Jungkook that you said something. But then again you’re not the type to back down from a fight.

Lance seems startled by the tone of your voice. He frowns as his gaze slides to you. “It was just a question?”

“It could make people uncomfortable?”

Jin is looking at Jungkook. He’s got a careful expression on his features, and he looks between you and Jungkook a couple of times. As if this moment matters, and truthfully it does matter to Jungkook, because you’re bickering with Lance and it entirely shifted the attention away from him.

Jungkook manages to shrug his shoulders at Jin, who offers him a no-bullshit look. Valeria punches him in the arm, and Jin lets out a startled sound that has everyone looking at him.

The moment passes, and it’s dinner time when Lance moves closer to Jungkook, clearly having waited until you aren’t around to actually approach him. Jungkook steels himself for the questioning, but Lance only says, “Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, bro”.

It renders Jungkook speechless, and all he can do is nod his head at Lance. Lance claps him on the shoulder, and he immediately walks away, as if his job here is done.

And maybe it is, and all he wanted to do was prove that he’s Jungkook’s friend. It makes Jungkook appreciate him ten times more, and then he takes a moment to really look at everyone. The girls are all laughing about a story Jin is telling, and Taehyung is just shaking his head in disbelief where he’s grilling the meat for dinner. Lance moves towards Taehyung to offer help, and Jungkook just stays alone for a moment, enjoying the scene.

The sun is setting, the air is warm and the light breeze from today has fallen. But the air is not still, and it smells of the rich soil of the forest, and of the meat Taehyung is grilling. The sky is still void of any clouds, and it’s turned to a rich golden glow from the setting sun.

Jungkook is stricken, once again, by the fact that he is alive. He’s alive and breathing and even though his leg hurts, he’s standing. He’s standing and walking and yes he can’t dance anymore, but there’s so much more to life than dance, isn’t there?

His eyes slide to you as he thinks the thought. You’re looking at Jin with a little smirk, the one he knows you use when you’re judging someone. But you feel his eyes on you and your gaze meets his. The smirk falls into a small, secretive smile, and Jungkook breathes in sharply.

His heart is beating a little louder, and this time he does push it away. He does try not to think of it, but it’s hard when you look at him like that. With that soft edge he saw yesterday. It fills him with wonder, the same wonder he got from watching the night sky the day before.

You’re like a star in a bleary night. It’s hard to look away from you, and he only does so when Taehyung says the meat is ready. It’s like someone cut the string between you and him, and he almost stumbles forward as he glances to Taehyung.

He gulps, taking a deep, steadying breath before he moves to help Taehyung bring the food to the table. Lance helps too, and the three of them together make quick work of filling everyone’s plate, and Jungkook soon settles down in a chair next to you, right in front of Jo.

Dinner is fun. Cheery, with lots of laughter. Everyone is already a little tipsy from the day-drinking you’ve all done, and Jungkook feels like there’s more than alcohol in his blood this evening. There are feelings, joy and happiness to be here in this moment.

He should live in the moment more often.

“Hey JK,” Jo says, and he raises his eyes from his plate.

His fork is halfway to his mouth when he lets out, “Uh?”

“How is it going with Laura?”

Everything inside of him stills, like it did earlier today with Lance but for a completely different reason this time. He freezes, and he doesn’t miss the way your head immediately snaps towards him at Jo’s question.

Jo has an insufferable smile on her lips, and Jungkook just can’t move.

Laura. She’s a girl from his class that started texting him a few weeks ago. He’s seen her once, just because she said she had questions about her camera and it would be easier if Jungkook answered in person. Laura is a sweet girl. Pretty too, but Jungkook doesn’t know if their talking will lead anywhere. He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to jump headfirst into a relationship.

Especially not as he feels your expectant gaze on his profile.

“Laura?” he repeats.

“Didn’t you go on a date with her?” Jo asks.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a date,” he points out. “She needed help with her new camera.”

About that. Jungkook brought a camera with him this weekend. He’s been taking pictures once in a while, mostly of nature. Because he’s always been more of a landscape photographer. Maybe because landscapes tend to change less than people. They feel unbreakable, immovable, and it’s reassuring in some way.

“That sounds like the lamest start of a porno,” Lance jokes.

Everyone laughs. Everyone but you and Jungkook. Jungkook only shrugs, before saying, “I didn’t sleep with her”.

You scoff next to him. It aggravates him, something you haven’t made him feel in a while now. His brows knit together as he turns his head toward you.

“You want us to believe you didn’t sleep with her?” you let out.

It’s bitter. And you seem to realize it quite at the same time as he does, because you flush red, and you look away from him to glance down at your half-empty plate on the table.

Jungkook’s features relax, and a smile even tugs at the corners of his lips. He knows what Jo is doing. Especially as he sees the knowing smirk on her lips.

She dared him to find a way to make you jealous earlier this week, when he invited her and Taehyung to the cottage. As if making you jealous is a good idea.

He now sees what she meant. Because you’re playing with your food, a look of confusion creased into your features. It’s cute, and it makes the same feeling arise in him.

Everyone starts talking again, but Jungkook feels the weight of Taehyung and Jin’s gazes on him. He avoids them like the plague, focusing on trying to keep his smile in. He doesn’t want to infuriate you by making a comment.

Especially not when you’ve been forced to team up for the beer pong tournament. Which, turns out you’re a lot better than he thought you would be. Than you said you were, because you make it to the final round, getting beaten by Bridget and Heather out of all people. The two girls celebrate to the sounds of everyone whooping and cheering, and Jungkook can’t keep his smile in.

Tonight promises to be quite the party. And it is. With lots of drinking, and Chaeyeon and Lance having to jump into the lake because they were last in the tournament. It’s funny, but it leads to them deciding to go to bed early, saying something about being cold from the lake.

Jungkook knows exactly what they have in mind when he sees them staring at each other the way that they are. Like they’re alone in the universe, and maybe to them they really are.

He’s surprised when the rest of the group starts to follow Chaeyeon and Lance. The night is younger than it was yesterday when it came to an end, but there’s something in the air. It brings the couples closer together, makes them exchange secretive glances and stolen touches. Jungkook finds Taehyung and Jo making out outside of the bathroom when he goes in to pee, and they never come out after that. Jin and Valeria move in not even five minutes later, right before Hobi and Jiho, and it leaves Bridget, Heather and you alone with him outside.

He’s not surprised when the two girls decide to go to sleep too, even though Jungkook has just started the hot tub at Bridget’s request. It leaves him alone with you and the red solo cup in his hand. It’s filled to the brim and, quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t feel tired at all. He feels alive, awake and ready to conquer the world if need be.

You look exactly like that too.

“Wow,” you let out once everyone is gone.

Jungkook feels awkward for half a heartbeat. But then his eyes slide to the house, and he notices Jo in the window. She quickly dips out of his line of sight, which makes him understand exactly what happened.

You’ve been left alone outside on purpose, and Jo’s the one that schemed the whole thing.

“They’re boring,” Jungkook says, though he feels like laughing. He hopes you don’t notice.

“They didn’t even go into the hot tub,” you point out. “What a waste of energy.”

He glances at the tub, and an idea forms in the back of his mind. He doubts you’re going to say yes.

*****

You don’t know why you said yes. Going into a hot tub alone with Jungkook sounds like a very bad idea, and the more you think about it the worse it seems to you. Yet you make your way outside after having put on your black two-piece swimsuit, wrapped in a white towel you fished from the bathroom.

The house was eerily quiet when you and Jungkook went in to change. It is still just as quiet as you get out of the bathroom, and aim for the kitchen to make yourself a glass before you go outside. You notice Jungkook is already out there, testing the temperature of the water. He’s wearing trunks, and he got rid of his t-shirt, discarding it on a chair next to the slowly dying fire. He turns towards the window as you’re pouring a glass, probably to see if you’re coming. It’s not your fault when your eyes dip down to his leg.

Even in the darkness you see the angry knot of skin that runs from below his knee and disappears in his swim trunks. It’s ugly, and your heart stops beating for a few seconds as you see it. Jungkook was right when he told you about his accident the first time – the scar on his leg is far scarier than the one on his stomach.

You wave back at him as he waves, a dumb smile on his lips. You focus on that smile, because you don’t want to be thinking of the scar. Don’t want to be thinking about the pain Jungkook must have endured. The pain he is still enduring to this day.

You’re hesitant when you step outside, though you make sure to bring a glass for him too. He’s still smiling when you arrive, and it only widens when you hand him the red solo cup.

“Thought you might want a refill.”

He tilts his head to the side, winking at you as he grabs the glass. “Always.”

You move towards the tub, ignoring the way you feel his gaze on you. It makes you self-conscious, and you don’t want to peel the towel from around yourself. You reckon you can’t get in the water with it though, so you carefully put your glass down on the side of the tub before taking the towel off, leaving it on the same chair where Jungkook’s shirt is.

“It might be a little hot,” Jungkook warns as you move back to the tub. “I adjusted the temperature a little while I was waiting for you.”

You dip your fingers in the water, shrugging your shoulders. “Seems good enough to me.”

He laughs, and his eyes follow you as you climb into the tub. The water is hot, extremely so, but you’re drunk and the jet of the tub looks far too inviting for you to wait.

“Alright then, guess I’ll get in too.”

You watch as he does so, and your eyes once again fall to his scar. It stretches weirdly as he bends his leg, as if it doesn’t really allow him full movements anymore. It explains why his dancing has turned mechanical now, and why he can’t move the way that he did before.

He’s noticed your gaze on the scar while getting in. You know it, because his features have fallen serious by the time he sits in front of you.

“I know, it’s ugly,” he says, and his eyes get lost in the bubbles in the water.

You remain silent for a time, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. When it does, you finally say, “Nothing about you is ugly”.

It’s smooth, the way you say it. It makes his eyes widen and a laugh bursts from his lips. You don’t even know why you flirted with him – you just had an inkling it’d make him fall back into his usual cocky self.

And of course it does.

“You think I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, before grabbing your red solo cup from where you left it. Jungkook grabs his own, and it takes a few seconds before you’re settled back into your seat. You take a small sip from the glass, letting the rum and coke swirl in your mouth for a second before you swallow.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

He smirks. “Then I’ve got my answer.”

You squint your eyes, fake glaring at him, and it only makes him laugh.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and he takes a sip from his glass. He winces then, before raising his eyebrows. “How strong did you make this?”

“Strong enough to have you shut up?”

“Oh please.” He laughs once more. “You know that won’t make me shut up. As a matter of fact, it’s probably just going to make me talk more.”

You chuckle, shaking your head a little. “My mistake.”

Jungkook really is hot, sitting there. His hair is fluffy around his face – it really is a lot longer than it was before. It curls a little at the ends, making a crown around his head. He’s buff too, and it makes you wonder how he manages to work out at the gym even with his injury. And it’s hard not to let your gaze wander to the tattoos on his shoulders, the ink that goes from his hand up to the top of his arm.

He’s attractive, damn him. You hate it, so you say, “So, Laura uh?”

He holds your gaze, his tongue darting out to play with his piercing for a time. “What about her?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

He’s smirking now, and his eyes dip to where your chest disappears in the water before moving up to your features again. “Why do you want to know?”

You feel hot. Not because of the water, though you reckon it really is hot. No, his gaze is burning you, in a way that makes you feel naked. You don’t know if you like it. But two can play this game Jungkook seems to have chosen.

You shrug your shoulders, wetting your lips before smiling. “Just making conversation, Jeon.”

His gaze has moved to your lips. It stays there as he says, “Seems to me like you got a little jealous earlier”.

You refuse to admit that it was jealousy, when Jo mentioned Laura at dinner time. To you, it was just surprise, and you’ve been repeating it to yourself ever since it happened.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask, brows knitting together as a smile plays on your lips. “You’re nothing to me.”

“Right.” He chuckles, and he drinks from his cup, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m nothing and yet you’re in this hot tub alone with me.”

He’s arrogantly cocky, isn't he? It used to piss you off, but tonight it just makes your blood boil.

“Wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for a hot tub session,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Unfortunate that it had to come with you though.”

He fakes offence. “You offend me.”

You snort, and his features relax into a small smile. There’s a moment of silence, where you find yourself too much of a coward to keep holding his gaze. It’s your turn to let your gaze wander down to the spot where his chest disappears in the water, and you drink from your cup.

“Do you want to play Truth or Dare?” he suggests after almost a minute without any of you speaking.

You chuckle. “Are we twelve?”

He shrugs. “Just thought it could be fun.” He pouts a little, and it really does make him look like he’s twelve. “Unless you’re too much of a coward for it.”

“Me, a coward?” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Truth or Dare, Jeon?”

The cocky smirk reappears. “Truth.”

You don’t know what to ask. At all. Your mind goes empty, until he lets out a laugh that gives you an idea. “What’s the deal with Laura?”

“You really want to know, uh?”

You shrug. “You chose truth, now answer the question.”

He laughs a little, and then plays with his piercing for a few seconds. You watch him do so, eyes falling to his lips.

“We hung out once”, he says.

It’s the same answer as earlier, but you feel like a brat right now. So, you press him by saying, “And that’s it? You’re not going to see her again?”

He ponders for a time, making you wait before he replies, “We’re supposed to go on a date sometime next week”.

You feel like maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question. Because his reply makes you clench your jaw, and you take a sip from your cup to hide it. “Jeon Jungkook on a date? Are you having a fever?”

“She’s nice, just thought I’d give it a try,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s still smirking, and this time it’s knowing.

He knows that the thought of him going on a date with Laura is pissing you off. And you don’t even know why it makes you feel like that. You’re not sure you should be feeling like that when it comes to Jeon Jungkook. He’s barely even a friend.

“Hope it goes well for you,” you say, though it sounds tense.

He shrugs, winking at you. “I’ll let you know.” He pauses for a moment, before asking, “Truth or Dare?”

So the conversation about Laura is over then. And he’s a fool if he thinks you’ll say truth.

“Dare.”

He looks far too happy about your choice. “Chug your glass.”

You frown. “But then I won’t have anything to drink if I don’t want to do some of your dares.”

“Oh, we’re playing adult Truth or Dare? Had I known I wouldn’t have answered your question.” You glare at him, and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Just drink, you can always drink from my glass later.”

Your glare intensifies, if that’s possible, but you still give in. You’re not one to back away from a challenge, and you chug your glass in a few long swigs. Your nose scrunches up as you finish, and you put the cup down.

“Happy?” you let out, and he nods with that same insufferable smirk on his lips. You want to wipe it away, but you don’t really know how. Instead, you only ask him, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

You hate dares. You never know what to suggest. You don’t feel like making him chug his glass, so you cock your head to the side as you survey him, mind reeling for an idea.

“Go get me another glass.”

He’s surprised. So are you, but you think it’s a brilliant idea.

“It’s so far,” he complains, with that same childish pout he used a moment ago. “Can I change for Truth?”

“You’re annoying”, you say, though you don’t really mind.

Something in the way he’s been looking at you makes you want him to stay anyway.

“You’re the one that wants me to go all the way inside.”

You chuckle, before shaking your head. “Alright then, let me find you a truth.” It takes you about half a minute before you come up with an idea. “How many girls have you slept with?”

He snorts. “Wow, straight to the body count I see.” He falls silent again, and his hand plays with the bubbles in the water in front of him.

“So?”

You think he’s blushing. It’s hard to tell in the dim light – indeed, the only light illuminating the scene is the one from next to the door, and the tub’s purple light.

“I’d say…” he trails off, scrunching his nose as he thinks. “Like twenty-five?”

It’s a lot, but not as much as you expected. Jungkook has a fuckboy vibe to him, and you were pretty sure he had at least fifty.

“Only?”

He furrows his brows. “Only?”

“I thought you had more,” you admit, chuckling as you shrug your shoulders.

He sips from his cup. “Sorry to disappoint.” His eyes glint with mischief, and he adds, “Truth or Dare?”

You hesitate, maybe because something in the way his eyes sparkle makes you think he’s got something in mind. You feel it – anticipation is building in you, and some parts of you can already see the outcome before it unfolds. Like a web of possibilities, and the longer he looks at you like that, the more it closes in to the anticipated one.

“Truth.”

He’s silent for a time. His face falls more serious, darker, and he’s so hot sitting there you really have to look away. “If everyone was single here, who would you fuck?”

You refuse to admit his question makes a drop of pure magma roll down your spine, before it moves forward and settles in your core.

“Jiho.” It’s a lie. You both know it, but he lets it slide – for now. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

You hit him with the same question he’s just asked you. His reply is far more cryptic.

“You already know the answer.”

You breathe in shakily, and something tightens inside of you. “Do I?”

His mouth is a little parted, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he takes a sip from the cup. He seems to reconsider it, because he chugs the whole thing before putting it down on the side of the tub.

“Do you?”

It confirms the answer. And you don’t know what to make of it. It scares you, somehow, but makes the fire in your burn brighter.

“Truth or dare?” he asks then, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Dare.”

You don’t even hesitate. You’re afraid he’s going to ask you stuff you don’t know the answer to if you choose truth.

“Why don’t you come sit closer, mmh?”

Still no hesitation from you. You’re like the moth and he the flame – you know it’s a bad idea, but you haven’t looked away from his eyes in too long. You’re in a trance, and you think so is he.

You settle next to him. Far enough not to touch, but close enough for every inch between you to fill with electricity. Not that it wasn’t already before – you are just way more conscious of it now.

“Truth or dare?” you ask, and it’s a little breathless, the way you speak.

“Dare,” he says. His eyes are on your lips now, and all you can do for a time is to observe his features. He’s got a mole under his mouth, and a scar on one of his cheeks. It looks old, and it’s so faded you can barely see it.

You have no dare in mind. You feel like you don’t even have any thoughts. You’re stuck looking at his lips, where your gaze settles as you watch his features. “Uh?” you let out.

He chuckles. It’s deep, manly, and it makes you look up to his eyes. “No idea what to ask?”

“You already chugged your glass.”

“There’s nothing else you want me to do?”

There’s a whole lot you want him to do, but a whole lot you don’t want him to do. It’s confusing, and your heart is beating too loud for you to think straight.

“Is there something you want to do?” you ask.

He’s bold. His hand moves up, his fingers lightly touching the side of your neck. “I could kiss your neck.” They trail down until they find a home on your shoulders. “Or I could massage your shoulders, you seem a little tense.”

You are. You are because there is a war of conflicting emotions in you, and you don’t know which side will win. “Massage my shoulders then.”

He laughs, before making you turn. It’s easier to breathe once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, though the moment his hands start working on your shoulders, you tense up again. “Relax,” he murmurs, adding your name at the end.

“You’re making me anxious,” you admit breathlessly.

He stays silent as he works on your shoulders, for so long you think he won’t talk. But then he says, “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

His hands are big, and his fingers are skilled. In a matter of a few minutes he’s undid every knot in your shoulders, and you find yourself able to breathe. You still don’t want to risk looking at him though.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

Maybe you can be bold too. Maybe you can just focus on every spot where his fingers are digging in your skin. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Dare.”

“Give me a hickey.”

You snort, mostly because it takes you by surprise. “What?”

His hands fall from your shoulders. “You heard me well.”

“Aren’t hickeys bad for you?” you say, though you’ve never really cared about that. You care about it even less when you hear him move in the water.

“I think everything about you is bad for my sanity right now.” He whispers the words directly into your ear, and goosebumps form on your arms.

“Please don’t think this is going to lead anywhere,” you whisper back, right as you tilt your head to the side. You feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, but he straightens before he’s really done anything.

“Then why are you afraid of giving me a hickey?”

It is a challenge, and you don’t back down from challenges. So you turn around, say fuck it, and lean towards his neck until your mouth finds the spot where it connects with his shoulder. You suck, hard, and he hisses as one of his hands moves to your back, as if he wants to pull you closer.

You run your tongue on the spot you’ve sucked, before straightening. He’s got a deep purple mark there now, and you smirk in satisfaction. “Happy now?”

His chest is moving up and down quickly as he breathes. He’s out of breath, and the insufferable smirk is gone now. He seems a little angry, with a crease between his brows. “Yeah.”

You’re about to succumb to insanity. It’s taking a hold of you, choking you up until you say, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answers.

He seems just as conflicted as you. But the web of possibilities from earlier dwindled down until there’s only one left, and both of you know it.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Your heart beats once, and then it stops in your chest. Because you meet him halfway, crashing your mouth on his so hard you think you taste blood. You don’t care: insane people do not care about anything. All you want is to feel his lips against yours, and damn him he’s a good kisser.

It’s intense, languid, and his hands don’t take their time before he’s pulling you on his lap. You straddle him, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, before moving up until you’ve cupped his face. And you hold him in place as you kiss, never once breaking away for air.

You don’t need oxygen when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. All you need are his lips, and he gives you plenty of that. And when his tongue finds yours, you moan in his mouth.

He swallows it like a man starved.

His hands are on your back. Respectfully so, even as he’s devouring your mouth. It frustrates you, because you want more. You want to feel all of him. It makes you grab a handful of his hair, and you pull his head back.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a hot tub.”

It’s the only intelligent thing you could think of.

“We can –“

Your lips are back on his before he finishes his sentence, and you suck on his bottom lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. This time, he grunts in your mouth, and his hands lose their fight against his will not to touch you more. They move down until he’s cupped your ass, and he makes you grind on him.

You moan, and he breaks away from the kiss, just so he can bend down and leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on the column of your throat. You just let your hands loose in his hair and on his shoulders, nails digging in his skin when he decides to suck a hickey on you too.

You grind again then, and you feel the bulge of him press against you.

“We can’t fuck in the tub,” you say, and your voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. It’s lustful, sinfully so, and you’d be embarrassed if he didn’t meet your gaze with his half-lidded eyes.

“We can go in the shower.”

You’ve never been a fan of shower sex, so you say, “As much as that would probably be a good idea, I won’t fuck you in a shower either.”

He’s confused. You can tell by the way he tilts his head to the side. “Where do you want me to fuck you then? In the middle of the living room?”

It makes you chuckle, and an unexpected smile appears on his lips.

“I don’t think we should fuck.”

His grip on your ass tightens as his features turn dark, and he makes you grind on him again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, embarrassingly so, as you let out a breathy moan. “Right,” he says.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He leans forward again, and this time his lips find a spot right over the top of your bikini. He sucks on your skin, and you moan as you grind again.

It’s uncomfortable. Not his lips on you, no, but the water of the tub mixed with the fabric of your swimwear. If you didn’t know how unsanitary it is, you would let him fuck you right then and there. But you don’t want to get an infection.

“Let’s go inside.” This time, one of his hands moves from your ass, trailing up your side until he’s grabbed one of your boobs. “Please.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles against your breast, before straightening.

You kiss him again, just for good measure, and then you push away from him, reluctantly so. You feel his heavy gaze on you as you get out of the tub, and you’ve wrapped yourself in your towel by the time he’s followed you.

You forgot how tall he is. Because as he steps closer to you, towering above you, your mind goes blank again and you just let him crash his lips against yours. He’s holding your face, and his thumbs brush your skin gently before he pulls away. He stays close enough for you to feel his warm breath on you, but far enough so that you can’t reach his lips anymore.

“I need to take a shower,” you murmur.

He nods, and you feel it more than you see it. “Me too.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles lightly, and he straightens to look up at the sky. His hands are still delicately holding your cheeks, and you watch his sharp jawline for a few seconds before he speaks.

“The stars are beautiful.”

You’re not looking at the night sky when you reply, “Yeah”.

He lets you go, then, but his hand falls until he’s grabbed one of yours. His large hand wraps around yours, and you let him do it, heart settling to a calmer beat in your chest.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks.

You stiffen. It feels strange to have him ask that. You almost forgot that he is a dancer too, in his soul, even though his physical body doesn’t permit him to let loose anymore.

“You want to dance?”

He has a soft smile on his lips when he meets your gaze. It’s miles away from the intensity it held just a moment ago, and you can’t help but offer him a smile of your own.

“Yes.”

You don’t want to refuse. Not when it feels like this moment matters. As if you’re about to create a core memory, and maybe you are.

Maybe you are.

The night sky is filled with stars. Distant burning constellations, and they wink at the two of you as Jungkook leads you through a slow dance. His steps are sure tonight, albeit a little mechanical, and his hand on the small of your back feels like a weight anchoring you into the present.

Up above, the stars just shine on and on, endlessly, for eternity. And you feel like eternity. You feel small and big, unimportant yet cataclysmic. He is cataclysmic. He is the start and the end, like the story is weaved into the tapestry of the universe itself.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after you’ve moved in time with him for a little eternity – your little eternity.

His voice is heavy. It holds the weight of the universe, and you reach up to cup his cheek, to anchor him in this moment with you.

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

His eyes are shining. Like the stars above, and the ones you’re starting to see behind his pupils. He hasn’t looked away from you since you started dancing, and you from him. You don’t think you can.

“I forgot how it felt to dance,” he admits.

Though he has danced since the accident. You’ve seen him dance, but maybe his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe his heart is in the moment now, maybe it’s beating in sync with all of your steps.

“How does it feel?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Liberating. Like I’m just one of the stars in the sky up above.”

You don’t know what that feels like. It makes you realize you’ve never truly felt free. Jeon Jungkook looks at peace now, and you can just hope you’ll get to feel like that one day too.

A cool breeze rises around you, and you shiver as it moves on your skin. Jungkook notices, and he dips his head to kiss you again. Softly, gently, and when he pulls away he says, “Let’s go inside, you’re cold”.

You nod your head, even though you never want the moment to end. But nothing lasts in life – not even the stars above. One day they’ll die too, until all that’s left of them is an empty husk of life.

To you, that’s what love has always been like. It hits and leaves nothing of it behind. Maybe that’s why you step away from Jungkook.

“Yes.”

*****

The shower you take is short. Scalding hot, until your skin has turned bright red. Only then are you satisfied, and you step out to dry yourself with a towel. You’re gentle with the towel, and you can still feel Jungkook’s hands on you. Can still feel the weight of his eyes on you.

If you could, you’d leave the cottage now. You’d run while you still can, but you can’t.

You can’t, so you step out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room where you both slept the night before. Where he snored softly until the noises he made were entwined with your dreams.

He’s already sitting on his couch when you arrive. His hair is wet from the shower he took in the downstairs bathroom, right next to the room where Chaeyeon and Lance are sleeping. He’s wearing black joggers and an oversized dark grey t-shirt, and he looks inherently comfortable. As if he’s comfort personified. He pushes his hair back as you come into view, offering you another one of his soft smiles.

You didn’t know Jungkook has softness in him. You feel it now: it’s in the way he looks at you, in the curve of his lips and the openness of his gaze.

“I have an idea,” he says, a little cryptically, and his smile turns mischievous. Childish, playful, and you chuckle.

“What is it?”

“I noticed your couch is tiny,” he says, motioning to said couch. “I thought…” He flushes red, before chuckling.

A blushing Jungkook is not a thing you imagined you would ever see someday.

“You thought?” you press on.

“I thought we could put all the cushions on the ground to make like a bed?”

It feels like you shouldn’t. Like you’re not supposed to be sleeping in the same bed as Jeon Jungkook. Especially not after what just happened outside – both the tub and the dance.

“Sure,” you agree nonetheless. “As long as you don’t steal all the blankets.”

He grins. “I would never.”

It’s cute, and it makes you gaze away.

Jungkook makes quick work of creating a bed for the two of you. You help him to move a coffee table away, and soon enough all the couch cushions form a mattress on the ground. You place the pillows you used last night on one end of it, and you’re sitting down just to test the makeshift bed when Jungkook throws the blankets on top of you.

“Jungkook!” you yelp, though you try to keep it to a minimum level so you won’t wake anyone.

He just laughs, and a few seconds later the room falls into darkness. While you’re disentangling yourself from the blankets, you hear a thump, and Jungkook lets out a series of curses that makes you burst out laughing, probably way too loud.

You don’t care.

“Fuck,” he finishes, and you can barely distinguish his silhouette when you’re free of the blankets.

“What happened?”

“I stubbed my toe,” he hisses through his teeth. “Fuck.”

You just laugh again, before moving until you’re on the side you chose for sleeping. “Just come here.”

“I was trying to,” he grumbles, and it sounds like he is pouting.

You’re starting to know him well enough that you know he is pouting.

Once you’re settled on your side of the bed, lying on your back staring up at the ceiling, Jungkook finally moves towards you. He lies on his side of the cushions, pulling a blanket over him. You both have your own blankets, so sleeping right next to each other doesn’t feel too indecent.

It takes your brain only three seconds before it produces an image of the hot tub, and you’re pretty sure the same thing just happened to Jungkook, because he chuckles lowly.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

You frown in the darkness. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Mmh.”

You turn until you’re facing him. His silhouette is dark against the lighter background behind him, but you can barely make out his form next to you. You see it when he moves though, as he turns to face you too.

“What are you humming about?”

He chuckles. “Do you like cuddling?”

“You’re not going to get me to cuddle you,” you immediately reply, and you sound just as flustered as you feel.

“You grind on me in the hot tub and then you don’t even want to cuddle me? Outrageous.”

You scoff, and if you weren’t in the dark he’d see your cheeks turning scarlet. “We both know where cuddling would lead.”

His voice is husky when he speaks. “You think you can’t resist me?”

It makes the ‘never back down from a challenge’ part of you tickle until you find yourself replying, “I’ll be the big spoon”.

He snorts, but he turns until he’s facing away from you. You hesitate for a time, but you eventually move closer to him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his stomach. You rest your forehead against his back, and you hope he can’t hear the loud beats of your heart.

His body is warm. Comfortably so, and you know you could drift to sleep easily just lying next to him like this.

Why then are you unable to fully close your eyes? Why then do you decide to move closer, until his ass is pressed against you? It makes you gulp, and some wild and foolish part of you wishes you could be under his skin.

You don’t think you could ever be close enough to him to satiate the hunger that’s forming in your core.

Jungkook moves his arm, and a second later he’s wrapping his hand around yours. You let him do it, and you’re surprised when he brings your hand up to press a light kiss on your knuckles.

You wish you were still drunk. Because then you could blame your next words on the alcohol.

“Actually, can you be the big spoon?”

He sounds like he’s smirking when he says, “Yeah, of course”.

A few seconds later the positions are reversed, and Jungkook molds his body to yours, wrapping his tattooed arm around your frame, putting his other one under your head. It fits too well, like it was meant to be, and maybe this moment really was always meant to be.

Maybe you were bound to hate him until you found yourself cuddled up to him in the dead of night at a cottage on the countryside.

“Your hair smells good,” Jungkook says, and he shifts impossibly closer. You feel his lips on your head as he inhales, and the arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against him.

“Thank you,” you answer, breathlessly. Because you are breathless in his arms, you are breathless feeling all of his firm body against all of yours.

Breathless enough so that you shift, and your ass moves against him.

“Uh,” Jungkook lets out. He laughs a little, and his tattooed hand moves up until he’s brushing his thumb on the side of your jaw. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you want me to do?”

He thinks for a time. “What I want you to do and what you want seem to be two completely different things.”

It’s a little somber, the way he says it, and you bite your lip. Because he’s right, sort of. You’re not sure you want to have sex with him. But what started in the hot tub is bound to finish someday, is it not?

“You’re confusing me,” you admit. “You’ve been confusing me all weekend.”

His hand leaves your jaw, and he moves your hair out of the way as he leans. His lips press a tentative kiss on your neck, and your ass immediately shifts against him again.

“So have you,” he declares. “You’ve been confusing me for weeks.”

His revelation only makes you want him even more. And you’ve rarely wanted someone the way your body has been craving for Jungkook. Because that’s what it is: your body has been craving for him since the hot tub. And you’re about to succumb to your desires, aren’t you?

“Jungkook…”

He sucks on your skin, but not hard enough to leave a hickey. It still makes heat pool at your core, and you push your ass back against his dick once more.

“Fuck,” he curses. “We should go to sleep.”

Though this time he grinds against you, and you can feel the start of his erection on your ass.

“Right,” you agree.

And you move against him, earning a grunt from him. He murmurs your name, before saying, “I don’t have any condoms”.

All your nerves set on fire. “I don’t care.”

“We shouldn’t…” His sentence is cut short as you grind again, and he sinks his teeth in the soft skin of your neck. It hurts a little, and you know he’s going to leave another hickey on you as soon as he starts sucking.

Your hand shoots behind you, and you grab the back of his head, fingers getting lost in the strands of his hair. His own hand moves down until it settles on your hip, and he guides your movement against him.

He moves away from your neck, pressing a kiss on your shoulder this time. “We shouldn’t have sex,” he says, completing his previous sentence.

“I know.”

“We’re going to have sex,” he adds.

“I know.”

You circle your hips, and his erection is turning hard by the second. You’re soaking your panties, and you just want more of him. You want to get rid of all the fabric between you two and feel his skin directly against yours.

“Oh, Y/n…” he breathes, and then he’s back to kissing your neck.

No sucking this time, just his tongue drawing circles on your skin as you continue moving your ass against his dick.

“You’re already hard.”

“The hot tub got me real horny.”

It had the same effect on you, and you shiver as he bites at your ear. Gently, not to hurt, especially not as he presses a kiss under your ear next.

“Fuck,” you say.

His breathing is warm against the side of your face, and you decide to dive in. To say fuck it with what you should do and what you want to do. You only have one life to live anyway.

The moment your lips touch feels like a dam broke inside of you. Your tongue meets him halfway between your mouths, and he swallows the moan you let out as his fingers move under your shirt. You’re not wearing a bra, and the moan turns to a hiss as he pinches one of your nipples, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index.

He pulls away from the kiss to say, “Can I take off your shorts?”

Because you’re wearing baby blue PJ shorts. Nothing really attractive, but it has no hindering effect on Jungkook’s desire for you, has it?

“Yes,” you answer and he’s back to kissing you in no time.

His fingers do quick work of the knot holding your shorts in place, and he immediately slides his hand in. He slides it under your panties too, and he starts rubbing circles on your clit right away.

You’re going to go insane. He’s worth going insane for.

You grind on his hand, and he moves lower so he can dip his middle finger and ring finger inside of you, up to the first knuckle, before pulling out and rubbing circles on your clit again. Your slick juice renders you oversensitive, and you buck your hips as he starts a hellish rhythm down there, with just the right pressure.

It’s like he knows his way around your body already.

You try to reach between you, but the way his arm is positioned keeps you from being able to palm him. You whine and it makes him stop his ministrations on your clit.

“Is something wrong?”

“Take off your pants,” you tell him.

“Please?” he taunts you, as if he wants to let you know who’s in control here.

“Please,” you hiss through your teeth, because somehow it infuriates you.

“Good girl,” he praises with his low husky voice.

You’ve never been called a good girl before, and something in the way he says it makes you grind hard against him.

“You like that, uh?” he asks.

“Just take off the fucking pants, Jeon.”

He chuckles but obeys nonetheless. You take off your shorts at the same time, and think about it for half a second before you’re taking your panties off too.

Once you’re both naked from the waist down, you return to the previous cuddling position. Only this time his dick is resting against your ass, and from what you can tell, it really is big.

“Should I finger you to make sure you can take me?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical.

Indeed, he doesn’t wait for you to answer before he plunges two fingers inside of you, arching them to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, shy constellations that add light to the darkness of the cottage. You find purchase on his forearm as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and he reaches deep inside of you. His palm hits your clit every time he pushes all the way in, and you’re starting to see a whole damn galaxy of stars in no time.

But you want to feel him, want to jerk him off while he’s making you feel good too. So you reach behind you, and this time you’re successful. You’re able to wrap your hand around his cock, and you moan at the feeling of the large girth.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You moan, nodding your head. “It’s all for you.”

“Oh, I fucking know it is,” he says.

It’s cocky, but you’re too far gone to give him shit for it.

You start jerking him off, slowly because you can’t really move quicker in this position. He stills bucks his hips, fucking your hand, and he starts moving his fingers even faster, hitting your clit even harder.

“Fuck, please play with my clit,” you beg.

“Can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he says, and he’s back to rubbing circles on your clit.

You clench around nothing as you jerk him off, before you decide to position his dick between your legs. You grind against him, or maybe he makes you grind. You don’t really know. All you can feel is the way his length moves against you. But he never aligns with your entrance, as if he just wants to tease you, and knowing him you’re pretty sure he does.

It stays like this for a while, with him just coating his dick with your slick juice as he keeps rubbing insistent circles on your clit. Your walls clench around nothing, and you whine as he just moves his hips back and forth.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

You just whine again.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He’s infinitely infuriating, isn’t he?

“Yes, I fucking want your dick inside of me.”

This time, when he pulls his hips away from you, he makes sure to align with your entrance before pushing forward. And he pushes forward hard, sheathing all of his dick inside of you. Or all of what fits inside of you, because you’re pretty sure he’s way too big to be able to entirely fit.

The moment he hits the back of your pussy you let out a moan. It’s loud, and you immediately put a hand on your mouth to muffle the next noises you’ll make. You think better of it after a few seconds, and you grab the blanket, rolling it in a messy bundle just so you can press it against your face.

“You feel so fucking tight,” he says, and then he grunts when your walls clench around him. “Just relax, baby.”

“I’m just so close,” you admit.

You don’t know when he stopped rubbing circles on your clit. Only know that he starts again now, and you feel the familiar knot of an orgasm starting to form deep in your core.

“Such a fucking good girl”, he praises. “You’re going to come all over my dick.”

You immediately hide your face in the blanket as you moan, unashamedly loud. And then he starts fucking into you, slow and hard, and you lose it. You lose it as the knot uncoils, snaps inside of you, turning every inch of your body into an oversensitive land of pleasure.

Jungkook fucks you through your high, steadily, never once faltering even as your walls pulse hard against him. His fingers keep on rubbing circles on your clit, and he kisses a spot on your neck that makes goosebumps erupt on all of you. It feels so good you could cry, but your high still just keeps on going. Even though you’re in the dark, your vision is white, blindly so.

You don’t know when your hand found its way to the side of his face, only that once you finally come down you have a handful of his hair in your grip.

“That didn’t take long,” Jungkook teases, whispering the words directly into your ear.

He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever come as hard and quick as you just did.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter.

He has stilled inside of you, and his lips are littering small kisses on your neck. So you feel his smirk against you, and it makes you move. Circling your hips, trying to give him something in return for the orgasm he’s gifted you.

“You’re going to let me come inside of you, mmh?” he asks as you keep on going, a little sloppily from the remnants of your orgasm.

“You think you can come for me?” You’re embarrassingly breathless, still panting because of your high. You take a deep breath as you prop yourself up on an elbow, just so it’s easier to fuck yourself on him.

Jungkooks hums. “I need a little more than that, baby.”

You bite your lips as his tattooed hand finds your breast under your shirt again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Ride me?” he suggests, right as he plants a soft peck on your shoulder.

You moan as he fucks into you hard, unexpectedly. “Anyone could see.”

He whines, but then his hand moves to your hip before he starts pounding into you again. You hide your face in the blanket again, trying to muffle your sounds. Jungkook is not faring a lot better than you, and his grunts send shivers all over you. He doesn’t talk again until he’s slowed down.

“They can already see us.”

He’s not wrong, and you hate it. But you doubt someone will get up at this hour of the night, closer to the morning than to yesterday. He pushes in once more, hard and rough.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he entirely stops moving.

He even pulls out, and you turn to look at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little now, and you can see his features enough to see him wincing in pain.

“Is something wrong?” you immediately ask.

“My leg hurts.”

His three words fall softly in the night, the way a feather falls. It shifts the atmosphere, making your heart ache in your chest.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

“Ride me,” he says, and it sounds begging.

As if he needs it to forget the pain. You don’t think you have it in you to refuse, so you straddle him. Before you sink on his dick, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, hoping to chase the pain away. Your hands hold you up on his shoulders, and his move to your hips, before sliding down until he’s holding your ass in his large palms. He massages the muscles of your ass as you kiss, tongues meeting in a deep and languid dance.

When you’re out of breath, lungs burning for oxygen, you straighten and sit on his dick. You circle your hips, teasing him a little and also making sure that he’s still hard. He is, his dick a rod of steel, and you bite at your lower lip as you grab him with one hand to align him with your entrance. He’s looking through half-lidded eyes as you do so, and his eyes shut as you sink all the way down on him, until his dick reaches your cervix.

His mouth falls open and he moans softly. It’s a pretty sound, meant for your ears only, and it makes you feel powerful. You feel powerful as you move up and down, slowly, feeling every vein of his dick on your walls. You clench as you sink back down, and his hands on your ass tighten their hold for a few seconds before he moves to your hips to guide you.

He makes you go faster, and as if he can’t resist he’s soon fucking up into you.

You put a hand on his cheek, brushing his cheekbone with a thumb. His eyes flutter open and he stills, seeing the look on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I can do the work, don’t hurt your leg,” you tell him. You grab his hands from your hips to move them to your breasts under your shirt. And then you start moving, for real this time, quick and hard. You add a little bit of circling of your hips, just to make sure he stretches you wide.

And he does. Jungkook is huge, and you don’t wonder why he’s so cocky anymore. He’s got the kind of dick to be cocky about.

“Alright then,” Jungkook lets out between two soft moans.

You smirk, but it dies when one of his hands moves from your breast to your neck through the collar of your shirt. You grab his forearm, and your eyes flutter shut as he digs his fingers in your arteries, cutting the blood supply to your brain. It feels good, far more than it should, as all you can feel is his dick in you.

You let out a breathy sound, walls clenching on him again.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so good,” he praises, and he sounds different than he did before.

He’s more out of breath, as if he’s exhausted. And maybe he is, as he’s nearing his orgasm. It only encourages you more, and your nails dig in his forearm, hard enough to mark him.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he releases his hold on your neck. His hand doesn’t move, but it’s now just resting on your throat, and he’s not squeezing anymore.

“Fill me up, JK,” you say. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

“Let me fuck you a little,” he replies. And he pulls you down by the neck, until he’s satisfied with the angle.

You want to say something about his leg but he’s already pounding into you, so hard your face falls in the crook of his neck as your hands get lost in his hair. Your lips meet his skin, and you suck hard, fully intending to leave a mark there. At this point you’re pretty convinced someone’s ought to know you’re fucking anyway, so why not show that he’s yours?

The thought sobers you up. But Jungkook is already coming, so you hold on strong sucking another spot on his neck as he groans and releases ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you. And he comes a lot, painting your insides white. You like it far more than you should.

Another thought to sober you up.

It takes Jungkook a little longer before he finally stops moving, and he lets out a content sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“We should have done this before,” he murmurs.

You try to sit up, but he keeps you from moving. “We shouldn’t have done this.” Even as you’re saying that you press another kiss to his neck. A soft one, just because he tastes too good, and you know the moment is about to come to an end.

“Uh?” he lets out.

His dick is still deep inside of you when you say, “We shouldn’t have fucked”.

He pushes you away now. Not hard, but it’s like your touch burns him and he needs to be away from you.

“Why?”

You sit next to him, and your cheeks burn as you feel his seed spill out of you, only to stain the blanket you previously used to muffle your moans.

“We’re barely even friends,” you point out.

He’s not watching you. His eyes are fixed on an empty spot on the cushionless couch next to which you’re laying. “Okay?”

“It’s just weird, no?”

You reckon you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know why you decided to say it right now either. It’s as if the words just need to get out.

“It’s just sex,” he says, and it sounds a little angry. “People have sex all the time.”

“But not us. You know, I don’t like you like that.”

A big fat lie if you’ve ever said one. You did like having sex with him. You’re just panicking, your fight or flight instinct having been suddenly triggered.

“Chill, Y/n,” he mutters, and he sighs heavily. “We just fucked. We can pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t know what you want. Some part of you wants to take the evening back, but at the same time not. You’re confusing to yourself, and your teeth dig in the tip of your tongue for a moment as you think.

“What would you want to say this is?” you ask after a little too long for the silence to be comfortable.

He finally looks at you. “Nothing, honestly. We just got horny and we’re the only single people here, it was bound to happen.”

Now, his words hurt a little, but you can see the truth behind them. “Right,” you say. “So, just friends?”

He holds your gaze. It’s too dark for you to be able to interpret anything on his features. “Sure.”

You feel bad. Remorseful. And you think about the hot tub, and the fucking too, but also about the dance outside. You reckon your fight or flight was triggered then, you’ve just been ignoring it ever since you came in.

Ever since you got out of the bathroom to see Jungkook and his softness. The softness is gone now, and he looks away from you before sitting up too. He searches around for his pants, and puts them on as you scan the scene for your own clothes.

“Can you…” you start, but he’s already throwing your shorts and panties at you.

He’s pissed. It’s evident now, clear as spring water, and you feel even worse. You didn’t want to upset him. There’s just too much history between you, too much individual history on your part too.

You’ve never been in a relationship. You’ve never been able to even imagine being in a relationship. And it usually leads to scenes like this: the men you sleep with getting upset with you. You don’t blame them, can’t blame them.

But it feels different with Jungkook. Worse, as if you don’t want the outcome to be him being upset with you. You just don’t know anything else, and so you put your clothes on. Even as he gets up to go clean up in the bathroom, muttering that he’ll be right back.

Even as he comes back and settles on the makeshift bed again, his back turned to you. The message is clear then: he doesn’t want to talk to you. You reckon you can always talk to him tomorrow. Can always let the night pass, and with it the fight or flight. It’s not like he’s going to be gone tomorrow, and you won’t be either.

You get up, sighing heavily as you go to the bathroom to clean up too.

Jungkook is dead silent when you come back. If he was asleep, you know he would be snoring softly, as last night showed you. But no, he’s dead silent, as if he’s just ruminating in his corner.

It makes you feel too bad to remain silent.

“Jungkook,” you let out softly, his name barely over a whisper.

“Mmh?” he hums.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He sighs, long and deep, before turning on his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s stupid if he thinks telling you so will make it so you don’t worry. You’re always worrying anyway.

“Okay,” you still say. “It was great though, don’t take me wrong.”

He chuckles, and it’s bitter. “Listen, if you want us to pretend like it never happened, let’s start right now.”

He’s closed off. He was open earlier, a book for you to read. Maybe you’ve ripped the pages away, or maybe you’ve thrown the book off a cliff.

But it’s safer this way. It’s safer to keep Jungkook at an arm’s length. It’s where you keep everyone besides Jiho anyway.

“Okay, sorry,” you apologize. “Good night?”

He sighs once more. “Yeah, good night.” And then he turns away, and it hits you.

You won’t ever be the one to see Jungkook’s softness again.

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.............................. please don't hate me <3 how was this chapter? How was the smut? I hope it hit good haha! Let me know what you thought!

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pumpkinbxtch · 6 months ago

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Helloo I was wondering if I could make a request

Since it's prom season here where I'm at I was wondering if you could do a highschool au prom with Jason Grace (or any other of the PJO boys) where reader(male or gn) Is waiting for someone to ask them out because they don't think anyone will accept their invitation to prom if they ask so they wait patiently for someone to ask them to prom. Days go by still no one has asked the reader out to prom and reader is like sulking in their home sad cause no one asked them out until reader heard a noise coming from outside they check it out and they see Jason outside waiting to ask reader out

Angst to fluff type stuff It would be so nice if you were to fill this request but it's you're choice if you do tyy

wait forever —⁠☆

| highschool au | — jason grace x gn!reader

warnings; language, a bit of angst but turns into fluff. tags; the reader has a crush on jason, jason being oblivious about the reader feelings. a/n; hello! I hope you are very well. This is the first Jason fic omg . I will do it in gn because I usually use the feminine or neutral, I hope you enjoy it and I send you a big greeting from mhmm mars!

Jason was the king of the class. Everyone wanted to talk to him, ask him out, kiss him, or even kill him though those were the jealous few.

Guys like him got tons of invitations to be prom dates, just for the chance to be by his side for one night. But every time, he politely declined – which somehow made it even more painful– I mean, he was handsome, kind, and smart. Whoever ended up with him would be lucky.

And there you were, leaning on your elbows, watching as he gently turned down another girl. This was becoming routine since the prom date had been announced and plastered all over the school. You noticed the girl apologized, and he tried to avoid a hostile rejection. You could almost read his lips saying, “On the contrary, it’s an honor, I’m sorry, blah, blah, blah.” Same words, just another person hearing them from Jason. You laughed to yourself, unsure if it was in humor or despair.

Then you cleared your throat as you saw Jason return to his seat, conveniently in front of you. You guessed that you and Jason weren’t that close because talking excessively during school but rarely outside of it didn’t make you friends.

— If you keep this up, you'll never get a date, Jason — yelled his dark-haired friend, tossing a paper ball at him. Jason examined it with a raised eyebrow.

— Shut up, will you? And really, Leo? Heather B.?— His friend grinned and raised his hands. If you remembered correctly, Heather often teased Leo, and they apparently couldn’t stand each other. But it seemed that was just her way of getting his attention, and it worked. Great, Leo Valdez had a date, and you didn’t.

When Jason finally sat down, he turned to you with a smile that gave you butterflies.

— Do you have a date?

Oh god.

— No — you said, whining with pleading eyes. It would’ve been just as obvious if you got on your knees and started praying out loud that you were the one he wanted to go with. Instead, your classmate pressed his lips together and rested his head on his crossed arms.

— You’ll find someone.

Uh, that was the problem. You looked around, and no one seemed particularly interested in asking you. Your friends had found their dates before you could even suggest going as a group. But honestly, even if that had happened, it wouldn’t have been what you wanted. You wanted to go with someone special, but you were too shy to ask anyone, so you just waited.

—I suppose,— you responded, trying not to sound disappointed, though you knew you couldn’t expect anything from him because he probably had much better and more attractive options than you… oh. Despite your mind’s attempts to calm you down, you found yourself wondering… What if you asked Jason? Would he say no? Of all the people, you’d be the first somewhat close person to ask him.

— Jason — you called out suddenly, a burst of courage surprising you. His bright blue eyes glanced over his shoulder, leaving you speechless. How many had the privilege of his attention? You didn’t know, but you wanted to be the only one. You stumbled over your words, cheeks flushing, but he turned slightly, attentive, until the words left your mouth. Not a hint of mockery on his face. — Never mind.

You mentally slapped yourself, and Jason smiled kindly.

— If you remember what you wanted to say, tell me.

Yeah, asking wasn’t your thing. It was better to wait for someone to ask you. Maybe that Nakamura guy from the other class with whom you had a great conversation about the weather would come to mind. You thought, with a bit of luck, he wouldn’t have a date, and he’d think of you.

So, that’s what you did. But the torment was watching others ask each other in creative ways, flirting to see if there was mutual interest. You witnessed the air fill with the joy and misery of securing a date. Obviously, the proposals for Jason didn’t stop; they increased, making it more painful because he was the guy you wanted to hold your hand at the stupid dance.

As the days passed, your mood worsened, and that Wednesday, you opened your locker with hope and found absolutely nothing. Frustrated, you stuffed your books inside and slammed the door shut with a curse. You might have looked intimidating if Jason hadn’t appeared behind it, making you scream and him laugh. You didn’t understand how some people thought he was stuck-up and serious when the guy was the complete package (you cried internally again).

— What are you doing later? — he asked, twirling the rose in his hand with a raised eyebrow.

— Why? Are you going to tell me all the ways people have asked you to the dance, starting with that rose that some girl must have given you — Jason laughed again and pointed the rose at you so close you could smell its sweet fragrance.

— Boy — he corrected, and you rolled your eyes, but curiosity and anxiety overwhelmed you.

— And you said…?

— No.

You nodded and headed to the cafeteria with him following behind, which you found odd since he was about two heads taller than you.

— Don’t get me wrong. It’s for the same reason I turned down everyone else.

You smiled to show you were listening and stopped abruptly when the dance committee blocked the way with their huge decorations. Totally distracted, Jason bumped into you. If it had been the other way around, it wouldn’t have happened, but he was much heavier, so you ended up wobbling, at risk of falling flat on your face if his large hands hadn’t caught you at the exact moment.

— Sorry, I didn’t see — he swore, holding you tightly by the waist with his chin brushing your ear. His breath against your skin gave you a shiver; you had never been so close to him.

You slowly turned your body while still on tiptoes, and to your surprise, he never let go. Probably, your eyes had stars, and you wore the stupidest smile ever, but Jason didn’t notice because he was focused on not letting you fall on the freshly waxed floor in front of everyone. Because contrary to what you thought, to Jason, you were a dear friend. Now that his eyes met yours, the frustration of not knowing why he felt so different with you compared to his friendships with Leo, Piper, or Annabeth became even more apparent. He could never achieve the same level of closeness with them that he had with you.

— Th-thanks — Nervously, you began to remove his hands from your body, and Jason let go with an apology, noting that maybe you didn’t like physical contact too much while ignoring the fact that some people were watching and whispering, and you were almost melting in his arms.

You gave him an embarrassed smile and watched as the last decorations paraded down the hall. Only two days left, and you still didn’t have a date. Apparently, Jason didn’t see your frown or the pout starting to form on your lips because he carelessly began to pat you on the shoulder with a friendly laugh. But that wasn’t as bad as what he said next.

— Well, if I pushed you against the balloons and streamers again, at least you’d be part of the decorations and prettier than being a wallflower.

And honestly, what the fuck?

You didn’t know if it was the stress of not having a date, the desperation for Jason to notice you, or everything combined with the bad weather outside, but you didn’t have the guts to handle the joke. Because yeah, that’s what it was, and there was no malice in his tone. But you couldn’t do anything more than hum while grimacing. The hallway seemed to transform into the coldest place in the universe and Jason looked at you with slightly wider eyes than usual, noticing your mood change immediately.

— Sorry–

— It’s fine, Jason. I wish I were you to get thousands of proposals. See you later. — You rushed ahead, leaving Jason with his mouth open and a guilty feeling in his chest. He had never seen that side of you.

—Come on, dude! — Leo yelled, slapping the blonde’s back, who was miserably hugging his left sneaker while sitting on the locker room bench. He had worn that long face and slumped shoulders for the next hour. How could he have dared to make you angry before building a better friendship with you?

— I swear, Leo. Their eyes were full of…

— Not that, Jason — interrupted the dark-haired boy with a grimace. Jason raised an eyebrow, expecting something better than a nonsensical scolding, or so he thought. — Seriously, you haven’t realized they’re in love with you?

Jason nearly fell off the bench and bit his tongue. Leo rolled his eyes, exasperated by his friend’s dramatics. If being blind was a definition, Jason embodied it in many ways. Leo took off his glasses.

— Hey!

He cleaned them with the edge of his sports shirt and put them back on Jason.

— Can you see now? Or do I have to tell you that you’re terribly attracted to them, which is why you keep rejecting everyone?

Jason opened his mouth, his cheeks starting to burn, his stomach twisting, and his heart feeling close to a panic attack. Leo nodded wisely.

— My friend, you have the emotional maturity of a toddler.

Jason felt like a creep lurking around your house from the bushes after not seeing you anywhere for the rest of the day. Your sudden announcement of being sick didn’t sit well with him, so he ended up finding out where you lived.

In reality, you were grumbling and pacing around your living room while watching another episode of your favorite show. You reached the part where the main couple finally realized they were in love, and the episodes were filled with romance, so In bad humor, you threw a chip at the TV. The protagonist reminded you of Jason… Jason. UGH.

You smashed a pillow against your face and groaned in embarrassment. You had acted so weird with him that you thought you’d never be able to face him again, and that moment came too soon when his face appeared squished against your living room window, accompanied by a familiar metallic clang. Jason had tripped over the trash, leaving his face imprint on your window.

You wished you could’ve said something better than:

“AHH!”

And Jason wished he could’ve responded with something better than:

“AAAHHH!”

But honestly, neither of you was good at expressing your feelings in front of each other.

You quickly got up to open the door and found the blonde with his hands in his jacket, his breath visible in the cold. It took you several seconds to formulate the first of many questions racing through your mind.

— What are you doing here? — was the first of them, but you hadn’t expected the tone to be so guarded. You still seemed to hold a grudge from the morning, but in reality, you felt worse with yourself.

— I came… I…. — Jason took a breath and walked towards you, illuminated by the porch light with each step until his hair looked like golden thread. — Sorry for what I said. It was really stupid.

— It’s okay, Jason. I wasn’t in a good mood…

— No, please. I should’ve been more considerate…— You frowned, and he took another step, pulling his hands out of his jacket to try and reach yours. The gesture seemed unexpected, but you didn’t do anything to avoid physical contact because, honestly, you’d never do anything to avoid being close to him.

— Jason…

— Please, let me speak. — He held your hands, and for the first time, he was aware of how it felt physically to be with you. He almost felt his body vibrate, his heart leap with excitement, but he still had the hardest part to say. — I don’t have many explanations right now, but I’d like to be your prom date.

The words didn’t have the expected effect because you stepped back.

— If this is just out of pity…

Jason shook his head and reached for you again, this time hugging you. Maybe if he didn’t look directly at you, it would be easier. He hadn’t realized you could make him so nervous.

— Never. You’re the one I’ve been hoping to go with… just forgive me, I have the emotional maturity of a five-year-old, and... I thought you hated me.

You smiled, and Jason took that as a good sign. He pulled back a bit to look at you face-to-face and, with a nervous smile, whispered, “Please.” You had Jason Grace begging you to be his prom date.

— I don’t hate you — you whispered and blushed. — I, uh, like you.

— Thank all the gods that exist! Because I hope you forgive me for what I’m about to say…

Jason smiled widely, cheeks pink, nervously pinching the fabric of your clothes. You raised an eyebrow. Did that mean he liked you too?

— Actually, I kinda forgot to give you a message from one person and maybe it was to ask you out...

You opened your mouth in disbelief.

— Nakamura — you guessed, and Jason nodded, embarrassed, but then he started waving his hands and stuttering.

— But, Please, be my date. I like you too, okay? Who’s Nakamura, anyways? — He almost said it so fast it made you dizzy, but you laughed, the sweetest sound he could’ve heard.

— I thought it would take forever.

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wolfstarhaven · 1 month ago

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hello!!!! as autumn is beginning i have been craving some fall wolfstar fics so i would love recs :) specifically hogwarts era but honestly anything would be perfect

Hi anon🌸 You are so right for craving that! Here you have some fics to read, sitting under your blanket with a cup of tea🍂

Hogwarts era:

As Red As Hearts And Autumn (47k)

By: Rosie_Rues

It's the autumn of Sixth Year, there's a flu epidemic at Hogwarts, and the Blacks want their heir back.

Themes: Hogwarts era; slow burn; friends to lovers; epidemic (I read this during Covid but it was written in 2005 and that felt sort of wild I remember)

Fall, the Season of Love (14k)

By: IngeniumNoctuam

Fall is a surprising season and also, apparently, the season of love. Remus finds himself caught up in this seasonal parasite, despite his best efforts. An argument and a jumble of, mostly drunken, memories ensue.

Or, an ode to fall.

Themes: Hogwarts era; angst; Sirius is a bit cruel (but it’s done so well I promise!); self-esteem issues; happy ending.

Come In From the Cold (8k)

By: goodboylupin (somebetterwords)

The first Hogsmeade weekend of sixth year. Alternatively: In which Sirius frets and works to keep Remus warm, James argues it’s not that cold, Remus wishes the cold brought something more, and Peter just wishes everyone would get their heads out of their asses.

Themes: Hogwarts era; Hogsmeade date; misunderstanding; pining Remus; oblivious Sirius; meddling James; fluff.

Not hogwarts era:

ten reasons (to go to michigan) (59k)

By: greyeyedmonster18

A story of simple pleasures, love, and home.

Themes: muggle!au; adult!wolfstar; strangers to lovers; slow burn; grief; Sirius raises Harry; found family. (Will break your heart and then glue it back together)

Ullswater (31k)

By: eyra

A winter term at The Ullswater Institute: late-night rehearsals, dormitory karaoke, and secrets, kept in the labyrinthine corridors underneath the cavernous, frescoed auditorium.

Themes: muggle!au; university; music; friends to lovers; jealous Sirius; panic attacks; disabled remus; SO well-written. (Also: eyra has written many more autumnal fics!!)

On Edge (7k)

By: wannnabesuper

Every time they meet, Remus gives Sirius a new ridiculous reason for having been on the cliff where they met.

Themes: muggle!au; strangers to lovers; a misty cliffside; first fluff then some angst.

Harmonicas, Hinky-punks, and Heather (24k)

By: mblematic

Sirius and Remus get stranded in Scotland on Order business, and decide to walk to Hogwarts. Featuring the Brontës, a harmonica, a shrinking tent, and some self-discovery.

Themes: post-Hogwarts; first war era; rain; camping; friends to lovers; no angst.

Liebestraum (101k)

By: lunchbucket

“Do you still have a lot of friends in the area, then?”

“None,” Remus answered simply, which felt much easier than explaining at the level of detail that the question actually deserved.

Themes: muggle!au; post-break up; getting back together; slow burn; NYC; classical piano; musicians!wolfstar; adult!wolfstar; angst. (A classic. But if you’ve already read it, I think it’s time for a reread, don’t you?)

Degrees of Intersection (28k)

By: muse_in_absentia

Sometimes it takes two people who are a little broken coming together, not to heal, but to understand that being broken is okay.

Themes: muggle!au; strangers to lovers; writer!sirius; editor!remus; depression; suicidal thoughts and SH (read the tags!!!); angst with a happy ending. (I THINK this is set it autumn - but mainly it’s the angst in this that gives me autumn vibes)

Love,

Elliot🍂

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #r/s #wolfstar rec #autumn #fall

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whumprecs · 9 months ago

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I've been telling friends about one of my favorite shows, Magnificent Seven, from late 90's, which was also probably my first foray into fandom. I don't even know why I or even how I found fanfic back in 1998 - but I did, and I have loved them ever since. But it's not just the show that I love, it is the fandom. Maybe because it was almost all older women, or maybe people were just nicer back then - there were no ship wars. None. Not even a thing. 99% of the fandom is genfic A++++ Found Family, but the ones who did ship characters together Shipped and Let Ship. Nobody bothered anybody. And there were like 7 or 8 widespread AU's that everyone agreed on - there was the OG Old West where the show was set, but then there was the WILDLY popular (to the point I thought THAT was the actual premise for the show, and 10 year old me was very shocked to find it was a western) ATF AU where the characters were federal agents. There was Lil Britches, which had several of the characters are children and the rest are adults, there's Star Trek and Star Wars, and them as private detectives, WWII soldiers, etc. The lists are endless. And none of them are bad.

And almost every single one of them is whumpy as fuck.

So I'm going to recommend my favorites:

The South Wind Series by Beth aka Midge

Replaced by Heather F

Pied Piper by Kelly A

Rough Beginnings by Shawna

The Devil's Bargain by Sue Necessary

Aftermath by BMP

Black and White by Violette

Abandoned by Jean

Ezra, In Between by MAC

Tuesday's Child: Lessons of Grace by Joy K

Run Like Hell by Beth aka Midge

Don't Know From Adam by Jordan Mckenzie

Bearing the Pain by Angela B (crossover with Big Valley)

All Things Considered by Nilah H

I could list pretty much every one I've ever read - I don't actually know that I read an M7 fic I didn't care for. However, almost all of these listed authors have more than one fic (some have a LOT more). So if you like them, more are easier to find. I haven't actually looked to see what's available on Ao3 or even ffn.net - because neither site existed when the fandom was in its heyday and everyone had their own web page for posting.

#magnificent seven #whump rec #fanfiction rec #yo these writers were godsends to 10 year old me #ezra standish #chris larabee #buck wilmington #josiah sanchez #nathan jackson #JD dunne #Vin tanner

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bri-sonat · 2 years ago

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Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes.

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all.

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day.

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned.

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact.

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest.

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to.

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth.

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished.

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three.

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all.

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business.

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne.

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear.

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from.

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen.

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about.

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables.

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive.

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword.

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so.

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t.

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear.

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course.

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished.

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic.

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard.

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know.

———

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness.

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day.

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed.

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance.

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else.

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be.

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less.

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures.

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession.

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste.

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself.

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.”

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Very well. Now, come with me.”

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial.

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke.

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over.

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed.

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was.

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood.

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so.

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way.

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought.

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything.

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by.

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail.

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground.

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight.

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better.

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness.

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back.

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls.

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.”

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.”

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.”

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows.

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.”

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before.

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.”

“Arise.”

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste.

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form.

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close.

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war.

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones.

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters.

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so.

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her.

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything’ but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber.

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him.

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.”

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much.

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side.

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months.

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes.

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about.

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays.

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways.

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?”

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.”

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind.

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way.

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response.

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out.

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.”

“Yes. Anything else?”

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out.

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips.

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face.

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her.

“Dorne, huh?”

———

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning.

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love.

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders.

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her.

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear.

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago.

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town.

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either.

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak.

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood.

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion.

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you.

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman.

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible.

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun.

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on.

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no.

“Yes. Have you?”

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.”

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs.

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form.

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you.

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water.

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning.

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside.

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman.

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him.

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit.

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey.

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea.

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading.

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did.

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight.

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would.

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in.

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts.

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.”

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet.

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her.

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind.

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified.

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight.

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard.

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him.

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else.

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true.

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late.

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt.

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest.

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all.

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud.

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night.

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked.

There was no hiding from her now.

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry.

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around.

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago.

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear.

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her.

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne.

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why.

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh?

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short.

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne.

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections.

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people.

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life.

“Yes.”

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you.

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite.

“About four months...”

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now.

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all?

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone.

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece.

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up.

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.”

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown.

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking.

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan.

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak.

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain.

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away.

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore.

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now.

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days.

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth.

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath.

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep.

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin.

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild.

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered.

“I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding.

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat.

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered.

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips.

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust.

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side.

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths.

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities?

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you.

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.”

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too.

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs.

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.”

“I will.”

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers.

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down.

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position.

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs.

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it.

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so.

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes.

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.”

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her.

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you.

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it.

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like.

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste.

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support.

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it.

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you.

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it.

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do.

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.”

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree.

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though.

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes.

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you.

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did.

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else.

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did.

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way.

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure.

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter.

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time.

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth.

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady.

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage.

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically.

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change.

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots.

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss.

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day.

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through.

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-”

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it.

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas.

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers.

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little.

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity.

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer.

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask.

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one.

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed.

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land.

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing.

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell.

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser.

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent.

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back.

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations.

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her.

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression.

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with.

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters.

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part.

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her.

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing.

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde.

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone.

“You too, M’Lady.”

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure.

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.”

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face.

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back.

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery.

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back.

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon.

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.”

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit.

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck.

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion.

“Two questions are all I’ll need.”

———

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished.

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week.

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave.

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with.

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?”

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?”

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you.

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square.

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company.

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool.

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though.

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning.

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her.

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open.

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors.

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had.

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed.

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it.

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again.

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory.

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date.

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place.

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak.

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time.

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.”

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom.

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership.

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.”

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath.

“Arise.”

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face.

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that.

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room.

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building.

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face.

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak.

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands.

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit.

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself.

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates.

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside.

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go.

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.”

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes.

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you.

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day.

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.”

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least.

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it.

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again.

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.”

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed.

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did.

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent.

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing.

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to.

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket.

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business.

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be.

In Brienne’s arms.

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