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silverzoomies · 3 months

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Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: holding out for a hero

link to chapter 1: here

warnings: shameless smut, porn with (slight) plot, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk, kissing, risky sex, teasing, play fighting

word count: 5568

a/n: took me months to get this one done, but it's finally here !! hope it was worth the wait. i'm so freakin' nervous about it, i think i'll explode. thanks for bein' so patient !!💗again, if any russian dialogue needs correcting, lemme know please !! thank you !!

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Peter didn’t want his best pal thinking he’s a total horndog or anything. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of restraint. Sometimes. But this raging hard-on couldn’t wait.

And he promised he’d keep you warm, didn’t he? Like you said over the phone…it was cold out today. For all Peter knew, you were freezing your nips off. Alone in bed without a buddy. What kinda selfless superhero would he be - if he didn’t come to your aid when you obviously needed him most?

On the other end of the phone line, emptiness droned for seconds too long. You didn’t get a moment to marvel in the afterglow of orgasmic delight. Instead, anxiety boiled fiercely in the pit of your belly. Between your quivering legs, your own heat left you aching for something more. You sat up quickly in bed. Under the familiar weight of Peter’s jacket, your body burned like hellfire.

Carding your fingers through your bedhead, catching soft hairs under your nails; you spoke into the receiver.

“Peter?” Your voice wavered. More seconds passed in buzzing silence. You waited a moment longer. But only empty static answered your pleas, “Listen, dude, I’m really sorry if I made things awkwa-”

Dammit all. Peter meant to show up a lot sooner.

But he needed to dress himself first, of course. Since he couldn’t exactly go for a quick run across the sea in his boxers. Peter then found the Sokovian pop-up shop that sold your favorite Turkish delights - unfortunately - moved somewhere else. Bummer. Just his luck. Searching for the shop added an extra half-second to Peter’s spontaneous trip.

Which wouldn’t be all that bad. If not for the embarrassing fact that he tripped on his way back.

Into the ocean.

Yeah. By some impossible feat - a record breaking level of stupidity, Peter wiped out. He fell below water and made friends with a colossal tuna fish in the process. Somehow, he spared the Turkish delights any damage. And bidding his newfound, fishy pal farewell, Peter rushed home. Reeking of the ocean, he showered and threw on some fresh clothes.

After a century and a half, he arrived at your window. Realistically, the trip took only twenty seconds tops. And sure - maybe speeding around the globe in only twenty ticks might seem fast to…well…literally anyone else. But to Peter? Quicksilver himself?

C'mon…that's slow on a slow day.

A strong whoosh of wind swept your window, followed by a loud rattle. As if a ginormous bird flew head first into the glass. You parted your lips to scream. But if this were a race - your shriek vs Quicksilver speed - Peter had you beat by a thousand microseconds.

Time moved at a crawl all around him. Slipping in through the window, he stopped at the foot of your bed with a small box tucked under his arm. Whistling along to the tune in his earphones, he tilted his head to the side. Peter's lethargic gaze took a venturous journey across the length of your body. Up and down. Shamelessly. Several times over.

Okay, maybe about thirty four times. But who's counting?

Whoa, baby. Talk about a sight to behold. Curvaceous. So smooth. Nestled in your birthday suit post orgasm. Never before seen by the likes of a certain, silver comrade.

Peter's whistling veered off into stunned silence.

You. Buck naked. In his jacket. After a naughty jam session over the phone. He might need to go a few rounds in the madhouse.

Your pretty legs were stretched out, as you laid all cozy-like in bed. His heavy jacket draped your frame. Swallowing you in its heat, the silver garment kept your tits hidden from view. Even now, those beauties remained a mystery. The suspense made his crotch feel hot. Dragging his eyes down your tummy, Peter stopped at the dip between your legs.

Au naturel.

Sometime during his ocean getaway; he lost the boner that led him to you in the first place. But now, naturally, his dick twitched to hardness. Peter's coffee bean eyes widened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Jeez…c'mon, guy! Just cool your jets. Take it easy.

He drew in a slow breath. Peter climbed over top of you as time finally caught up with him. With a knee resting between your legs, he loomed from above and clamped a hand over your mouth. Your scream ate his dust in a race against time, muffled under his palm.

His sudden appearance brought along a cool breeze. Chilly air welcomed its bite into your room. With only his jacket to keep you warm, you shivered. Aha! Just as he thought. You were freezing your nips off. Good thing Peter had the foresight to come by and help you out. Lest you freeze to death.

And wouldn't that put a damper on this unexpectedly great day? Your safety was of uber importance. Most definitely the primo reason for his visit. Even if the stiff tent in his jeans told a different story.

Peter's familiar eyes glistened, pupils blown with lustful anticipation. Silver strands of his hair fell over his brows. He kept his hand sealed over your mouth. Bringing his other hand up, he made a frantic shushing gesture. You furrowed your brows, yelping a muffled - Peebur??

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Shhhhh! It's cool, babe! It's…look, it's just me.” He whispered.

Pulling his hand from your mouth, Peter sat upright over your legs. His denim-clad knee nudged the drapery of your sex. Its heat was impossible to miss. But he forced himself to focus on your cute face instead.

“S'up. Uh, how's it goin’? Wow. Phew. Some wicked hot phone call that was, amiright?” Peter sheepishly chuckled.

“You little-” You playfully swatted him, smacking Peter on the arm.

Feelin’ feisty today, are we? The shock of his BNE must've unlocked some hidden strength inside you. After a few weak blows, one of your hits landed with accidental force. Peter winced, rubbing his arm as he hissed through his teeth.

“Ow!? Jeez! Touchy touchy!” He complained, holding his whisper, “Расслабься (relax)! Take it easy, babe!”

“Sorry! I'm sorry! But you scared the shit out of me! I almost peed myself!”

You leered your pretty eyes up at him. He cheesed a grin, leaning over you on all fours. Peter teased your pussy with his knee, barely inching forward. Your lingering arousal stained the denim there. A husky laugh bubbled low in his throat.

“Ohhhhh…is that why you're so wet?”

You squealed and smacked him on the arm again. Okay. He deserved that one, for sure. Peter almost felt bad for making you shit bricks. Still, he couldn't help but laugh. The scrunchy look of frustration on your face made him snort. He covered his mouth to conceal it, but his dimples ultimately gave him away.

“Don't laugh at me! I thought some creep broke in or something!” You huffed.

“I'm sorry! I just can't take you seriously when you're lookin’ pissed off like that. It's…it's cute, okay?"

“You're such a jackass.”

Peter hummed, lips pursed and contemplative.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He shrugged, pulling a pink box from behind his back. A silver string decorated the box, tied in a sloppy bow. Grinning, Peter let his eyes fall half lidded. He slowly blinked. Even with his libido cranked up to eleven, he appeared unfazed as ever. Characteristically aloof.

“But this jackass brought you Turkish delights…so…”

For a fraction of a second, an electrifying flash sparkled in your gaze.

You rolled your eyes promptly after, “You’re sweet. But my family’s home.” You warned. Peter frowned, tipping his head back with an indignant groan, “Peter, I’m serious! We really can’t-”

He tore open the box, pushing a powdery candy past your lips. The sweet treat melted over your tongue and coated your taste buds in its fragrance. A joyous smile reclaimed your lips. Totally worth Peter’s accidental, oceanic wipe out. He chuckled again, popping a candy into his mouth before tossing the box away somewhere.

“Fiiiinnnnnne. I guess you found my only weakness. That’s heavenly.” Your voice stayed hushed as you spoke. Peter’s eyes flicked down to your lips, drawn to the pinch of powdered sugar left there, “But I’m not kidding, dude. If anyone catches you like this-”

Burdened with speedster impatience, Peter cut you off again. This time, not with a heavenly treat - but with an unexpected kiss. It happened on impulse, so careless and without a lick of hesitation. You squeaked into his lips, your eyes widening and quickly fluttering shut. Peter’s lips curved against yours in a victory smirk, the moment he realized you gave in.

The natural chemistry between you both flickered, igniting like a hot spark. That is, if the spark were an awkward display of experimental nuzzling. Magnetized to your soft lips, he almost fought the urge to part. His nose brushed your skin as he went for your neck. Peter covered your flesh in mouthy smooches. And when he got a little too greedy, he nibbled instead.

“Mmmmm…d’ywanna…y’know…” Peter rolled his hips into yours, nudging you with his bulge. Raising his head from your neck with a sloppy sound, his silver brows darted up and down - up and down. Playfully allusive. The tips of his fingers drew light lines down your belly, “‘Cuz I was really into the way you were talkin’ back there. All that freaky stuff you said about my fingers. And my speed. And my, uh…”

What a supreme understatement. Apparently, you were capable of spouting some outrageously juicy stuff. Even Peter didn't have the nutsack to repeat those words out loud.

“Peter…”

“Please? C'mon, I can be sooo quick about it, babe. You know me! Speed's the name of the game.”

Whatever happened to that frisky courage you had before? You weren't getting cold feet on him already, were you?

Your tiny hands rested on his broad shoulders, fingers curling into his grey flannel. Shifting your gaze bashfully, you chewed your lip. In reality, you didn't expect Peter to show up like this unprompted. Especially not with your family at home. There was a strong chance they'd catch you two in the act any moment. And the prospect of that freaked you out way more than banging your bestie.

Best case scenario; he would've been patient enough to wait for you. You'd drive to his place and meet him in his (mom's) basement. Where he'd quickly fuck your brains out to the tune of whatever song he left playing. You'd play some Mario Kart afterwards. And thanks to his ravenous libido, he'd drill you dumb again. And later, maybe even a third time.

Of course, the fact that you expected Peter Maximoff to be patient at all was entirely your fault. Right after you got him horny on the promise of pussy? Nah. Hindsight's twenty/twenty when your best friend's a hot-blooded speedster.

Since you took too long to give him an answer, Peter’s attention fixed elsewhere. He let his eyes dance all across your body again. Scanning every inch of smooth, visible skin and following silver creases in the jacket you wore. Until something lying by your side caught his eye. A small, bundled up wad of baby pink cloth.

Oh, helllllooooooooo. What’s this?

You were struck with a beat of realization, but had no time to react. Peter plucked your panties into his grasp. And judging by the mortified look on your face, followed by a petrified peep - yeah, he totally scored. Big time. What a steal! Your damp panties dangled from his fingers, and Peter’s brows rose under his bangs.

“Dude, wait! I can explain-”

“Ah. Black lace, huh?” He smirked.

Ты маленькая грязная лгунья (You dirty little liar)! Your panties looked nothing like you described over the phone. Baby pink. Lined with girly frills. Peppered in a pattern of cutesy, rubber duckies. Kind of adorable, in truth. But majorly humiliating for you. Peter’s grin turned even more impish, highlighting his dimples yet again. He snickered, waving the evidence of your naughty deception in front of you. Teasingly, he nudged his knee closer into your sex, making your breath hitch.

“L-Listen, in my defense, I didn’t think you’d find rubber duckies all that sexy.” You clarified, like a total lame-O.

Without thinking, he brought your panties to his nose. Peter’s hooded eyes fluttered and rolled back. He hummed something like a low growl. All devilish and, as per usual, carrying zero shame.

The apples of your cheeks burned exceptionally hotter, “Seriously?” You mumbled through a barely audible exhale of breath.

Nope. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“And to think, I was totally honest with you about my Star Wars socks.” Peter clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “Were you pullin’ my leg when you said they were hot? You deceiver. You’re really breakin’ my heart, y’know?”

Adorable, the way you crossed your arms and puffed your cheeks. You blinked, and your panties vanished out of thin air. Almost like a magic trick. And if you thought Peter tossed them away, you were naive for assuming so. But, hey…would you mind at all? If you knew he stuffed them into his back pocket for safe keeping?

No? Cool. Finders keepers.

“Noooo! I wasn’t lying. They were totally hot. Actually…I couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you’d look in them.” You teased, obviously full of shit. Peter rolled his eyes. But as you giggled and tilted your head down; you flitted your lashes and gave him a babydoll look. With the addition of a tempting lip bite, no less, “Wanna take those pants off and show me? You said you’d be quick, right?”

There it was. Your freaky confidence made a brief, cameo appearance. Peter's blood took a downward jump at light speed. His dick pulsed eagerly in his boxers. Flirty passes coming from you seemed to rewire his brain chemistry in a big way. He knitted his lips to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can’t.”

“Awww…why not, huh? Are you embarrassed? You know you don't have to be. Not around me.” You cooed, and the sweet, caring nature of your voice made him blush.

“Nah. I know. It’s not that. It's just…they kinda got soaked?”

“They got…what? How does that even happen?”

Cradling his face in your palm, you urged him to meet your eyes. To tell you the ridiculous story he hadn't planned on telling you until, well…after you both boned. The sweet scent of your pussy on your fingers kept him distracted. An instinctive shudder raced through his body. Peter pressed a kiss to your palm once, twice, thrice. Just for good measure.

His cheeks pinkened further, “Eh, I might've wiped out on the way here. Took a quick swim in the Atlantic. I met a super sized tuna fish and everything. Called him Quint. You've seen Jaws, right?”

What the hell was he on about now?? Peter caught himself before he got any further off track.

“Uh, anyways, whatevs. No biggie. At least it wasn't a jumbo sized shark ‘er anything. Pffbbttt.”

“So, you're telling me…you were so eager to get laid; you tripped on water? You big doofus.”

You snickered so hard, you snorted. Cute. Peter sighed. Grinning crookedly, he brought his hand to yours over his cheek. He guided your hand lower and took you on a short journey. The destination? Boner city. You felt his thick bulge in your tiny palm. Trailing a few teasing nibbles up your neck, Peter's heated chuckles turned your skin to gooseflesh.

“Har. Har. Har. Laugh it up, why don't you? Lil miss rubber duckies.”

Peter rolled his hips down into your hand, once more alluding to his pent-up frustration. You’d taken so long to give him the green light; Peter could’ve raced overseas again, nearly drowned, and returned - ten times over. Again, you parted your lips to (probably) protest. And again, Peter cut you off with another feverish kiss. His sizable hands pulled your legs further apart. You mewled softly against his lips, as his knee kept teasing your cunt.

“Доверься мне (Trust me). D’you trust me?” He mumbled.

You answered with even sloppier tongue action, catching him off guard. Peter never thought he’d kiss your velvet lips like this. Relishing every second. Your nails scraped the back of his neck, triggering something primal inside him. With your other hand, you felt his dick twitch in his jeans. He trembled, whining into your mouth and pushing himself closer. His kisses delved deeper, his tongue catching the flavor of that Turkish delight.

“Ты такой сладкий (You’re so sweet)...”

“Ohmygod.” You whined. Whispers of breathy moans laced through your kisses like threads, “I’m sorry, but that’s so hot. Keep talking like that? Please?”

As you giggled, looking a little shy; Peter laughed. While your kisses were more of a soft and delicate variety; his were firm, but quick. Anticipating the next several, before they even happened.

“Is it? You really think so? Mmm…dunno if I believe you. Обманщик (Deceiver). You lyin’ again? ‘Cuz if you are...I have ways of findin' out…”

His big hands wandered, moving in a rush. As much as he wanted to spend the next eternity blowing your mind with righteous foreplay; Peter needed to speed things along. He kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin - because for some reason, with you, he was just so...bitey. Further down, he parted the jacket you wore, revealing your tits in full. Perfect and supple. Outrageously bitchin’. Even prettier than whatever he imagined over the phone.

“Наконец (Finally)...” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

Peter squeezed the fullness of your breasts in his hands, thumbs rolling your nipples. His swollen lips enveloped one of your tits like a hungry man starved. Carelessly swirling his tongue, he sucked your stiff nub hard. A boob-induced haze clouded his prior sense of urgency. You ran a hand through his hair and tugged him back with a gentle jerk. Peter’s voice broke in a low whine. His tongue chased your poor, sore nipple again.

“Подожди (Wait)! Waiiit…’m not done…” He buried his face lazily between your breasts and took a moment to inhale. Before motorboating your rockin’ titties. Peter groaned like he’d never get enough. As he pulled back, he giggled like a dork, “Hohhh…I seriously think I might be in love with these things.”

Exchanging hot breaths and hushed chuckles, you both explored each other's bodies with your hands. Peter’s sneakers scraped the sheets of your bed, knocking your blankets to the floor. While you took initiative with his zipper, his fingers trailed under your navel. The tips of his digits teased your pretty slit. At last. Peter felt for himself, how much of a soaked mess you were over his two-tongued dirty talk.

“Fuuuck, you weren't messin’ with me, were you, принцесса (princess)?”

Parting your slick lips, he sank two digits into your quivering heat. Your plush pussy welcomed his fingers with sweltering tears of gratitude. Wet as fuuuuuuck. His fat thumb teased your clit. Expertly fondling your helpless, little bud. You froze just as you pulled his jeans apart. A dangerous squeal threatened to echo through your room. But you swallowed it, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Черт возьми (Damn it)...sucks I gotta rush this…” Peter huffed, plunging his digits deeper, “Really wanna take my time for once…”

You blindly felt for his bulge with clumsy hands. After giving his hard-on a loving squeeze, you tugged the front of his boxers down. As soon as his leaky cock bobbed in the open, you grabbed and held on tight. A quick glance downward, and you admired the shape and size of him. Girthy in your palm. Smooth, veiny, and pulsing as you tugged him.

And while you may have told a few little, white lies over the phone. Peter most definitely didn't. His thick cock turned an almost lilac hue at the head, the more you teased him. Peter shivered, bunching his shoulders and arching his back. You stroked him for a beat more. Until he guided you elsewhere, lining his dick where you both urgently wanted him to be. Barely nudging his tip into your weepy slit, he flitted his hooded gaze up to meet yours.

“You good? ‘M not gonna hold back, if you-”

The carefree banter between the two of you never ceased. Despite any nervousness, you gave him a coy smile. Lips pouty and eyes lookin' lusty. You ghosted his lips with a teasing whisper.

"Peter, babe, Please. You are soooooo slow. Just go for it, yeah? You need me to beg?"

His eyes widened, and he cheesed another goofy grin, "Actually, yeah, that'd be awesome."

Giggling sweetly, you swallowed your nerves, finding that courage buried deep within.

"Come on, Quickie. Fuck me, please?"

Peter felt his dick spasm, leaking from the tip, spilling over your pearly clit.

“Shhhhh. Relaaax. I got this, babe. I got it. Just…”

His eyes dropped to your cunt, watching as he sheathed his needy cock in your fluttery slit. Peter's mouth fell open, brows curling inward. He bottomed out with a generous swing of his hips, and your snug, sticky heat made way for his visit. But not without the tiniest hint of resistance.

Breathlessly, he mumbled, “...just…oh…oh, you're tighter than I…thought…fuck. That's...”

Steamy gasps filtered your room, replacing erotic moans that didn’t dare slip. Sharing endless kisses, the two of you bumped noses and whirled your tongues. Making the most fun you could out of so little time. And as teasing playfulness intensified, consuming you both in awesome exhilaration; neither one of you could resist getting handsy. Touching all over. Squeezing. Feeling everything that was way out of bounds just a few hours prior. Peter rocked in and out of you fast enough to make your bed knock against the wall.

“Not too fast! Not too-” You mewled, your hands rubbing his shoulders, nails clawing down his chest over his shirt, "Fuck, the bed. Don't-"

“Shhh. Shhhh. Okay, baby. I gotcha. I-” Peter snickered, his troublemaker giggles quickly obscured by winded moans, “Ебать (Fuck)…” He whined, slowing the motion of his thrusts. Soaking in the fuzzy sensation of your spongy, wet heat cuddling his cock, “Ощущается так хорошо (Feels so good).”

Burying his reddened face in your titties, he squeezed one of those beauties in his hand. Watching in a trance, as they bounced in time with every push and drag of his cock. A lil too enthralled, Peter got ahead of even himself. He recklessly rolled you over. Hoping to see your tits go jiggle jiggle jiggle from another perspective. Until…

Peter brought you down to the floor with him by accident. Oof, he was all kinds of clumsy today, huh? Landing flat on his back with a thunderous thud, he sat up on his elbows. He gaped up at you with a dazed look, ogling the way your tits bunched and squished over his chest. Nipples so perky and brushing his shirt fabric. Oh, yeah. He was hella smitten with those puppies.

“Shit!” You cursed under your breath.

Peter blinked himself out of his second booby haze of the evening. On quivering knees, you tried to find your balance. After you both took a rough tumble to the floor, his cock unsheathed itself from your cozy heat. Throbbing and slick, Peter’s dick bounced. Eager to fuck you senseless again.

“Простите (sorry)! Sorry! You okay, babe?” Peter whispered, settling his warm palms over your ass.

An ass which he hadn’t taken the time to really feel yet. And no surprise, your plump cheeks were just as bodacious as the rest of you. He palmed and squeezed them, getting his fill while he still had the chance.

“I’m okay! Are you?” You chewed your lip again, tilting your head to the side. Giving Peter that same kittenish, doe-like look, ‘M gonna get in sooooo much trouble because of you, Pietro.”

Well…when you said it like that; slurred and giggly, drunk on the filthy thrill of everything so him. Peter chose to ignore whatever risks seemed to weigh on the back of your mind. Rolling the two of you over once more, he held his dick by the shaft and slipped inside your cunt. That familiar, comfy warmth welcomed him in again. He whispered your name, embellished with his natural accent.

And just as Peter set course to give you a good drilling; at your door, the knob jiggled. Pulling you out of euphoric stasis instantaneously. The two of you stilled, eyes wide, glancing between each other and to the door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Upon finding your door locked, mystery whoever on the other side knocked instead.

“Hey, are you alright? What was that noise I heard? Did you fall?” Mystery voice called from the void.

And what a golden - or silver, rather - opportunity they presented. Peter blinked, leering intensely down at your stunned face. His eyes gleamed mischievous lust. Within the embrace of your luscious walls, his cock twitched with interest. The length pulsed upward into pillowy heat.

A subtle nod to a fun, little scheme he quickly cooked up.

But he needed something to drown out the soon-to-be sound of speedy hanky panky. With a careful movement, Peter brought a hand to the Walkman clipped loosely on his jeans. Having memorized the buttons, he knew how to work it by muscle memory.

Loosening the earphone jack, his thick fingers clicked - a button here, a button there. And voilà. Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero began to play. Ah, yeah. The good ol' Footloose soundtrack. He'd now dub it the soundtrack to your first, shared romp together. Which was kinda fitting. Before he showed up, you were technically holdin' out for a hero. Your eyes flicked to the source of the music, then back up to him. You gave him a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ kinda look.

Peter bit his lip, the corners of his grin curling into a diabolical smirk. As your brows knitted in suspicion; he rolled his hips sloooooowly back. You shook your head silently. Retracting his cock halfway, he took less than a millisecond to launch his hardness into your cervix. The motion knocked the wind from your chest. Covering your mouth, head thrown back; you scratched your nails into the carpet.

He arched a brow. One of his hands darted to your wrist, tugging in an attempt to unseal your mouth. Even with his dick buried deep in your insides, weakening your defenses; you fought back. You jerked away, which only encouraged him more. Peter bit his tongue to hold back a snicker. A few feisty slaps on your end, and you both fell into a play fighting frenzy. Your overstimulated cunt rippled around his dick, as he pinned your wrists to the floor.

Mystery voice called your name again. Their tone reflected growing concern for you. But you couldn't make out what they said over Bonnie Tyler amped up to high volume. Peter’s gaze stayed hard locked on yours. Picking up speed, pounding into you raw and rolling his cock so deep; he knitted his brows and nodded towards the door. As if to say - go on, say something already.

“I-I’m fine! I just…yeah, I, uh…I fell out of bed!” You yelled over the music. Your voice hitched, squeaking at the tailend. A scorching surge of ecstasy burst through your core. Continuously building, as Quicksilver focused entirely on rearranging your insides. It seemed impossible, but you managed to choke out, “I’m oh-...okay now!”

“You fell? Are you sure you’re alright?” Ебена мать (Holy shit). Mystery voice refused to step down. They raised their tone to a high enough octave, you finally heard. The doorknob jiggled again, “I thought you said you were going somewhere tonight?”

“I-I am! I was!” You swallowed your whimpers, steadily losing your composure.

Growing hazier with every bold, speedy thrust; you raised your legs and locked them in a vice grip around him. Now, Peter had free reign to pound your tight channel at whatever speed struck his fancy. He knew after this - no man you slept with would ever dream of matching his god-given talent.

Hot white pulses of mind-altering pleasure rattled through your bones. Blocking out the sensation of rug burn itching your lower back. Your wrists tingled like pins and needles under Peter’s hold. At the corners of your glossy eyes, excessive pleasure made your tears drip in clots. Peter leaned in, muttering soft praises in your ear, broken only by his own whimpers.

“Хорошая девочка. Это моя хорошая девочка (Good girl. That’s my good girl). Это слишком быстро? Слишком быстро для тебя? Хочешь, чтобы я замедлился (Is this too fast? Too fast for you? Do you want me to slow down)?”

You responded with a tightly wound, whispery little “Fuuuuuuuck!”

And mystery voice. Bless their innocent soul. They still hadn't left you to your business. It took all the willpower left simmering inside you, to finally muster the brain cell to respond.

“I have to-” A high-pitched hiccup in your breath cut you off. Another, more kittenish squeal threatened to tumble from your lips unprompted, “Hold on! I have to get dressed! I’ll be out in a sec!”

By now, you couldn’t fathom where your pleasure was even coming from. Peter made quite the first impression in the bedroom, drilling your poor pussy to numbness. A powerful wave of blissful vibrations erupted from…somewhere. It ripped through your insides like the speediest of shockwaves. Freeing your tired wrists, Peter lifted your hips. His desperate, horny instincts then took over.

The last wave of your orgasm compressed your walls, locking his dick in a slippery death grip. As you shuddered around him, making a beautiful, sticky mess of his spent hardness; he pulled out.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, his dumb sex brain told him: Dude, cum on those titties. Which he did. Acting fast, he grabbed the thick base of his cock and stroked 'til he burst.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh sh-" He moaned.

With a look of lazy, fucked out awe on your face; you watched your bestie's ruddy dick pulsate. Generously decorating your soft tits in heated, white jets - along with the jacket you wore.

His jacket. And not just any old jacket. But one of his favorite jackets.

“Ебать! Ебать (Fuck! Fuck)!” He panted, swiping fresh cum - Eugh...yuck - from the jacket. His face scrunched in a grimace, “Awwww, man! Goddammit. Figures.”

Sometime later (only three minutes), you laid lazily on your back next to your bestest pal in the whole world; staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating your ceiling. Outside, the evening already drove the sun into darkness. With only a sliver of orange light left in the distance, beyond your open window.

Peter already did the work, taking care of himself and speedily cleaning you up. An overall, blissful numbness pooled in your veins. You sleepily blinked, watching the stars on the ceiling quickly morph into...Peter's face? The confused expression overtaking your features seemed to put things into perspective for him. Like...shit...he really did a number on you, huh?

"You're still comin' over tonight, right?" He asked, prodding your cheek with his pointer finger, "Riiiight? I got a Gameboy waitin' for us and everything, dude."

Your lips slowly parted. But before you could mutter a single, breathless word; Peter delicately patted your cheek. In a blink, he stood to his feet and straightened himself out. Bringing his goggles down over his eyes, shimmying them into place; he threw you a casual salute.

"Awesome possum. Meetcha there."

He vanished out the window, leaving you to lie there on the floor. Naked as the day you were born, albeit bundled up in his jacket. Another thirty seconds passed in post sex-with-a-speedster bliss.

And then, a shrill ringing dragged you back down to reality. You winced, narrowing your eyes and steadily pushing yourself to your knees. Loose, noodly limbs fumbled for the handset to your phone. It took you a few tries, scrambling to get a hold of it. Clearing your throat, you pressed the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"You ready yet?" Peter asked.

He lazed on the sofa in his (mom's) basement, his Garfield phone resting in his lap like a kitten having a catnap. The vibrant, orange cord curled around his finger as he absentmindedly toyed with it. Dawning a cheeky, dimple grin, Peter popped a candy into his mouth. He bounced a leg in rapid beats.

"You're kidding, right?" You chuckled, mussing your hair, completely overspent.

"Uh, no? Hurry up, will you? Don't forget my jacket. I gotta toss it in the wash. And, oh!" Peter chewed just a touch louder, smacking his lips, "Took your Turkish delights, by the by. So, if you want 'em...eh? Ehhh?" He wiggled his brows.

As you listened to Peter ramble about...whatever the hell; you searched for your panties. Checking the bed, then the floor. They were nowhere to be found. As if they seemingly disappeared, never to be seen again. You sighed, cradling the base of your phone in an arm, the handset nestled between your cheek and shoulder.

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah? What's up, cutie? You headin' out?"

"Dude, where the hell are my panties?"

No answer. Nothing but an off-hook tone, droned on and on.

#hope you guys like bonnie tyler 💗#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #txt

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know.

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”

“What’s there to discuss?”

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.

“You sure?”

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington.

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.”

You’ve never been so short with your friends.

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.

It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”

“Oh, you must see the irony there-”

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.

We really need to just buy a second helmet.

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“What?”

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.

Bastard.

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”

—

You were wrong. They do notice.

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”

Ah, fuck.

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.

Fuck.

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed.

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”

“Is that a good idea?”

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”

“Holy shit.”

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no.

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is.

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.

Well, so much for next time.

You give him a little nod.

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary.

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

And the feeling was mutual.

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”

“I don’t care if you were a dick,�� you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“How’d you know?”

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.

And yeah, you did know what to do.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.

Next time. You have to tell him next time.

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you.

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“

Now. Not later, not next time. Now.

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-”

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.

Loving Eddie is easy.

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.

Finally.

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”

His lips meet yours for good measure.

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #i cannot believe it's over holy shit #holy fucking shit #told y'all the photo would make a reappearance!#im resisting the urge to be so so sappy jesus christ

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years

Text

Where the Heart Is - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Nancy invites you home to Hawkins for Thanksgiving break after you’ve become best friends at Emerson College. When you spend a “friends-giving” at Steve’s house with all of Nancy’s friends, you make a special connection with a certain metal head.

Note: Huge thanks to @gathered-moss and @munsonquinns for their help when I got stuck!

Warnings: language, mentions of not the best family life, mentions of sex, i think that’s it?

Words: 13.8K

[Part 2 | Where The Heart Is masterlist]

“I really appreciate this, Nancy. Your family really didn’t have to do this.”

“Will you stop?” Nancy huffs a laugh.

The airport is crowded. Grandparents flying across the country to see their children and grandchildren, lifelong best friends getting to see each other for the first time in years, and kids like you and Nancy, flying back from college for Thanksgiving break.

The Wheelers were kind enough to invite you to their home for the holiday. Karen had heard about you for months now, Nancy having told her all about the best friend she’s made away at Emerson. When she’d heard that you didn’t have family to spend the break with, she didn’t hesitate to invite you to Hawkins.

Nancy had bumped into you in the laundry room on the third floor of the dorm building you both lived in. You had bonded over how you both disliked your roommates as you separated your warm from your cold clothes. You’ve been close friends ever since. A long hall separated your room from Nancy’s, but you’d often use the other’s space to get away from your respective roommates. Nancy’s roommate was a total slob, while yours was just an all-around inconsiderate person to occupy the same space with.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Steve,” Nancy says as you take the escalator down to the baggage claim level.

“He’s seemed great every time I’ve talked to him,” you say.

“You mean when you’ve stolen the phone out of my hand so you guys can talk about me?” she asks with a smirk.

“Well, you wouldn’t give it to me willingly! But I like him. And I know from the pictures in your room how cute he is.”

Nancy adjusts the duffle bag on her shoulder as you both step off the escalator. You follow her in, what you assume, is the right direction since you’d never been to Indiana before, let alone the Indianapolis airport. A pretty blonde woman smiles in your direction and waves her hands.

“Oh, there’s my mom,” Nancy says. She closes the distance, and her mom pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you!” her mother says. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home. Mrs. Wheeler turns to you and gives you a warm smile. “Hi, dear! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler,” you say as you shake the hand she’s extended to you. “Thank you so much for letting me join your family for Thanksgiving.”

“Please, call me Karen,” she says. “And it’s no trouble at all. We’re glad to have you.”

Luckily, both yours and Nancy’s bags come out quickly on the baggage conveyor belt, and you’re able to get back to the car and on the road for the hour or so journey up to Hawkins. Nancy and her mom chat animatedly in the front seats, bringing you into the conversation every now and then. But you don’t mind just listening to them talk about people and places that you don’t know. Seeing a mother and a daughter get along as well as they do gives you a melancholy feeling. You’re glad Nancy has such a great relationship with her mom, but it makes your heart sink a little that you don’t have that.

“So, who all is going to your thankful friend thing?” Karen asks.

“Friends-giving, Mom,” Nancy says. “It’s all of us.”

“I’m supposed to know who that includes?” Karen says.

“Mike and that gang. Dustin, Will, Lucas, Max, El. Then, Eddie, Robin, and Jonathan,” Nancy says.

“Jonathan?” you can tell by the tone of voice that her mom is surprised that Nancy’s ex is going to an event at her current boyfriend’s house.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve been weird not to invite him,” Nancy says. “He’s back from college too, and Will and El are coming, so we weren’t going to leave their older brother out.”

“That was nice of you guys,” Karen says. Though the comment sounds sincere, you can tell Karen wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Nancy says, picking up on the same edge in her voice that you did.

“Okay, okay,” Karen acquiesces. “Now, Steve is having dinner with us tonight, right?”

“Yes. He and I gotta show the out-of-towner around town this afternoon,” she says, looking over her shoulder at you with a smirk. “Then he’s coming back for dinner.”

“Have you talked to Steve before?” Karen asks, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.

“I have,” you tell her. “He seems great.”

“He is,” Karen agrees as she pulls the car into the driveway of a pretty suburban two story.

You look out the window in awe at the size of the house compared to the small apartment back in New Hampshire that would be called your “home.” Following the Wheeler women out of the car, you pull your suitcase out of the trunk. There’s a high-pitched squeal that comes from behind you and you turn to see a small blonde girl running across the street and flinging herself into Nancy’s arms.

“Holly!” Nancy hugs her little sister so tightly she lifts her off the ground. The girl giggles and squeezes Nancy around the neck until she sets her down.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Holly says. Nancy presses a kiss to the top of her head and tugs on one of her two pigtails.

“Me too,” she tells her. “This is my friend from school I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Holly,” you tell her.

She smiles shyly at you and hides half of her face behind her big sister’s arm.

“Hi,” she says in her meek voice.

“You can go back over and play with Dana,” Nancy tells her. Holly nods before she runs back across the street.

Nancy grabs her suitcase and Karen leads the two of you into the house.

“Where’s Mike?”

“Oh, the boys are having some dragon dungeon thing today at Lucas’s,” Karen says.

“Of course they are,” Nancy says. “What a perfectly good waste of a day off school. Come on, my room is upstairs.”

You both lug your suitcases up to the second floor and into Nancy’s room. As you slip your backpack off your back, you take in the dainty atmosphere the bedroom gives off. The light furniture and collages that adorn the walls make the room feel cozy and safe, a place to escape the world at the end of the day. The Tom Cruise poster makes you chuckle and the lemon fresh scent in the space is calm and inviting.

“Just dump it anywhere,” Nancy says, gesturing to your suitcase.

She sets hers down near the foot of her bed and you lay yours in the corner of the room, careful to make sure it isn’t in the way. There are pictures tacked to the wall above your suitcase and your eyes search the photos, smiling at the fun it seems Nancy is having in them. Some show a young Nancy with missing teeth, standing next to other small girls, all draped in costume jewelry. There are some of Nancy older, with a redhead with thick glasses.

“That’s Barb,” Nancy says from behind you. There’s a catch in her voice, like she’s trying to compose herself. “She was my best friend. She, um, died when we were sophomores.”

“Oh, Nancy.” You turn to face her, your own face in a frown. “I’m so sorry.”

She gives you a sad smile and nods her head.

“That one is Robin right there,” she says, pointing to another picture of two girls in dark green graduation gowns. Their arms are slung around each other and Nancy’s smile is infectious in the shot. The other girl has short dirty blonde hair with blunt bangs, white teeth on full display as she grins at the camera. “You’ll meet her on Friday.”

“It’s really cool that you’ve got such a large group of friends to get together with,” you say. “I can probably think of two people total from high school that I’d visit if I went home.”

“Yeah,” Nancy says with a sigh. “There were a few really rough years here in Hawkins. We all went through a lot together, which I guess brings people together.”

“The earthquake, right?” you ask, turning from the pictures to look back at Nancy. “And before that, there was that fire?”

Nancy nods and walks back towards her bed. “Yep. A lot happened in this little town.”

“Where’s my beautiful girlfriend?”

At the sound of the voice in the hall, Nancy’s mood makes a one-eighty, and her face lights up in delight. A tall, athletic boy swoops in the door and pulls Nancy into his arms. She laughs as he picks her up and spins her around.

“God, I missed you,” he says. He sets her down and cups her face in his large hands, bending down to press his lips to her. She kisses him back for a few moments before she pulls back, remembering you’re in the room as well. Steve follows her gaze to you and smiles in greeting. His smile alone would’ve told you why all the girls at their high school fell for him.

“I’m really hoping you’re Steve,” you say.

“The one and only,” Nancy says.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make out in front of you,” Steve says. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person.

“No, don’t mind me. I’m third wheeling here. Make out to your heart’s content.” Nancy rolls her eyes playfully at you. You step forward, unsure if you should shake Steve’s hand or if that’s too formal. “Nice to see you too, Steve. Nancy was right. You’re even better looking in person.”

Steve smirks as Nancy blushes. Steve saves you from not being sure how to greet him by wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side.

“I knew I liked you,” he says.

“Why do I feel like introducing you two was a huge mistake?” Nancy says, her head dropping forward in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until she meets the rest of the gang. You know how many stories we have to swap?” Steve asks her.

“Please no,” Nancy pleads.

“As someone who was invited into your house as a guest, I feel like it’s only polite to take your side,” you say, and Nancy gives you a cautiously optimistic look. “But, as a guest in Steve’s house on Friday, wouldn’t it be polite to then take his side?”

“I’m going back to Boston,” Nancy says as she stalks out of the room.

You and Steve laugh as you watch her leave. He removes his arm from around you and goes to follow her out the door but turns to you right before he crosses the threshold.

“Are there any guys I should be worried about up there?” He asks the question as if he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s a bit of true worry under his casual tone.

“Are you kidding?” you respond. “She talks about you to anyone who will listen. For hours on end.”

The smile that lights up Steve’s face is priceless, and you wish Nancy could have seen how full of love and admiration his expression was.

“We better follow her before she really does head back to Boston,” Steve says.

Nancy made it seem like your tour of Hawkins would be the most boring thing you’ve ever done. On the contrary, you found the small town quaint and quiet. It was a nice change from bustling Boston or your sketchy downtown living in your town in New Hampshire. The leaves were in crisp autumn colors, some trees shedding their coats for the impending winter. The streets were mostly empty, but every now and then there was someone bundled up in a coat and scarf walking down the sidewalk.

Steve drove you past places central to his and Nancy’s growing up there. The high school and middle school right across from it, the now-closed-for-the-season community pool, even a large white clinical looking building that made Steve and Nancy share a disconcerting knowing look. You couldn’t imagine what the gates and barbed wire fences were needed for in a town like this.

You’d already heard all about Mike from your month’s long friendship with Nancy, but from the way Steve talked about another younger boy, Dustin, you thought that he was Steve’s brother until Nancy told you otherwise. The adoring way they both spoke of him made you look forward to meeting him, though. Steve warned you that Robin could ramble on, but you assured him that you could keep up with the best of the ramblers. Eddie, who Steve begrudgingly called one of his best friends, came up in passing, as did a girl named Max. The way both Steve and Nancy talked about their friends filled you with a longing for something you never knew you wanted. You hadn’t been worried about meeting Nancy’s friends before, but now hearing how close they all were and what a tight knit group they formed, you were a little worried that you wouldn’t be accepted into their circle. You told Nancy as much that night as the two of you were getting ready for bed.

“Trust me, you really don’t have to worry,” Nancy assures you. “The hardest one to win over will probably be Max, but she’s really only about as half as mean as she pretends to be.”

“I’m not sure how comforting that is,” you say.

Nancy slides into the covers on one side of the bed, and you slip in on the other. She clicks the lamp off as you pull the covers up to your chin.

“I’ve never once seen you worried about what people will think of you,” Nancy says. “Not even Ben when you had that massive crush on him.”

“I didn’t have enough time to care what he thought of me before I found out he had a girlfriend,” you tell her.

“I still can’t believe he’s the only guy you’ve even been mildly interested in at school,” Nancy says. “How many others have asked you out? Six? Seven?”

“I didn’t give a shit about any of them,” you say with a laugh. “Most of them were assholes who just wanted to get laid. And the others - which were probably like two of them - I only saw as friends.”

“I mean, I’m not mad about it,” Nancy says. “This way I’m not the only one who isn’t going to the clubs on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“You could still go, you know. Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t go out dancing with friends.”

“I know that,” Nancy answers. “But it would feel weird. All those guys are looking for are hookups, like you said. It’s like a meat market in there.”

“So, you see why I don’t go,” you say.

“But you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says.

“And I don’t want one who I’ll meet when he starts grinding on me from behind at some sleazy, disgusting club.”

“Fair enough,” Nancy says with a sigh.

You turn your head on your pillow so that you’re looking at your friend beside you.

“Do you really think I’m too mean to these guys?”

Nancy frowns at the timidity in your voice.

“You haven’t been mean to any of them. I’ve only ever seen you politely decline. Do I think you should give one of them a try every now and then? Yeah. You never know what you could be missing.”

“I know.” You sigh and turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just haven’t felt anything for any of them. I want to feel something when I look at a guy. Or think about him. But in my mind, the thought of going out with any of them seemed more boring than sitting through ten of Professor Carter’s lectures.”

Nancy chuckles at that.

“Well,” she says. “Damn Ben for having a girlfriend then.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh as you nod along in agreement.

“Damn him.”

It almost seemed impossible to you how conventional and simplistic Thanksgiving was at the Wheeler household. The way that Mike and Holly argued over the remote control, Holly wanting to watch the parade, and Mike - just being a typical annoying big brother, you think - wants to hog the remote to watch what he wants. How the baby of the family gets her way and sits in front of the television, watching the large balloons being escorted down the streets of New York City. That Ted Wheeler falls asleep in his chair before the parade ends and bangs and clinks come from the kitchen as Karen preps for the big dinner. This all only happened in movies, as far as you had been concerned.

Thanksgiving growing up consisted of loud drunk neighbors, the smell of burnt cooking exuding from the apartments around you, and possibly a home cooked dinner of spaghetti if your mom felt like it that year. Normal family traditions were something you never got to experience, and just getting to see them firsthand was enough to make you emotional. Of course, Nancy notices, but she would never say anything. She just tries to include you as much as she can with small, mundane tasks like helping Karen in the kitchen or setting the table with Mike.

Dinner itself was a whole new experience. A family all sitting down together, sharing a meal, and talking to one another while doing so. You could count on one hand the times your mom would talk to you as you both ate frozen dinner entrees that had been heated in the microwave. Karen apologizes more than once about her children bickering back and forth, but you enjoy it more than she could understand. It’s all so odd and appealing to you, this dynamic. A nice suburban house with the white picket fence and family dog barking at the children playing in the yard has always seemed like such a faraway thing that would elude you forever. But seeing it up close and personal, you realize how badly you want this.

After dinner is the first time you really get to spend with Mike, both of you sprawled out in the basement after too much turkey, eyes heavy with sleep from feeling so contented and full. Nancy insisted you had helped plenty and could go downstairs while she finished helping her mom clean up. Mike said he’d show you some of his D&D stuff, which Nancy groaned about and said not to bore you with. But you were honestly intrigued and tried to follow along as Mike explained how the game works. Neither of you could keep focus for long though, both wanting to crash on the comfortable furniture down there as the tryptophan from the turkey kicked in.

Mike tells you about life at Hawkins High, about his friends that you’re meeting tomorrow, and how they’re all considered nerds and geeks. You could relate on some level, as you’d been picked on for not having the best clothes or accessories as you didn’t have as much money as the other families of the students. Nancy comes down to join you and puts some Blondie on the stereo - to Mike’s annoyance - as the three of you let the food comas control your bodies for a while.

Homemade pumpkin and apple pies are served for dessert a few hours later, complete with a scoop of ice cream and a generous helping of whipped cream. The family then all gathered in the living room to watch It’s A Wonderful Life, a tradition Karen tells you that happens every year. She calls it the official end of Thanksgiving and beginning of the Christmas season. You’ve never seen the movie before now, and Nancy notices how happy and relaxed you are as you sit next to Holly on the couch and watch the classic black and white film. Her heart aches as she realizes how she’s taken these holidays for granted her whole life, not thinking about how fortunate she really is.

When you and Nancy get ready for bed that night, bellies full of delicious homemade food and hearts all warm and fuzzy from sharing the things you were thankful for at dinner, she takes a moment to give you a big hug, making sure you realize how thankful she is for you. If it makes you tear up slightly before she pulls away, she can easily pretend not to notice.

Friday afternoon is full of messes and giggles as you and Nancy prepare dishes to bring with you to Steve’s house that evening. Most everyone would be bringing leftovers from their family Thanksgivings the day before, but Nancy knew that once Mike got ahold of the food there wouldn’t be much leftover to bring.

The green bean casserole gets in and out of the oven without issue, but once Mike smells the pumpkin pie you made baking, Nancy has to physically push him out of the kitchen.

“You’re coming later,” Nancy reminds him. “You can eat it then.”

As the two of you get ready for the dinner, you find yourself fidgeting more than normal. The blue sweater you put on is soft and you find yourself rubbing the material through your fingers over and over. The dainty golden heart necklace you wear becomes something to fiddle with as you prepare your makeup. Nancy must notice your nerves, as she offers to do your hair for you.

“Relax,” she tells you as she gives your hair a finishing puff of hairspray. “We’re really all a weird bunch.”

“So, I’ll fit right in,” you say with a small, nervous smirk.

“You really will,” she assures you with a smile.

On the drive to Steve’s house, your nerves somehow dissipate. The ride through the small-town calms you. Seeing children all bundled up and playing with one another in their yards. Neighbors walking their dogs together through the colorful leaves adorning the sidewalks. It’s simple and peaceful, something you’d only ever seen in movies.

The house you pull up to looks larger than the entirety of your apartment building back home. Granted, it’s a small apartment building, but still. The trees surrounding the two-story home give it a sense of mysticism, yet the dark exterior keeps it modern.

There are already a few cars parked out front as Nancy pulls in behind one in the driveway. She kills the engine, and you follow her out of the car and up to the front door. You’ve met Steve, and like him, so there’s no anxiety about seeing him. But you know the other people in there are Nancy’s favorite people in the world, so it puts some unintended pressure on.

Nancy doesn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell, just opens the front door and casually strolls in. It tells a lot about the relationship the two have, and it makes you smile as you follow her over to a small coat closet near the door.

“Hey! Thought I heard your car pulling up.”

Steve smiles as he approaches the two of you. He helps Nancy out of her coat and takes yours as well, maneuvering them onto hangers in the closet. Nancy leans down to unlace her boots, and you bend down to unzip yours.

Voices can be heard coming from the other room, and it sounds like quite a few people are already there. Steve closes the closet door behind you as you struggle with your zipper. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow enter the entryway as you manage to get the zippers down on both of your boots.

“Hey,” you hear Nancy greet the new person in the room.

You stand up straight, ready to kick the unzipped boots off your feet, when you look up and lock eyes with the man standing a few feet in front of you. His dark brown eyes stare right back at you, gazes locked on one another like you’ve both frozen in time. Behind you, Nancy and Steve look at each other from the corner of their eyes, both cracking a smile as you two just continue to stare.

The mysterious boy has a mass of curls that fall to his shoulders, almost as brown as his eyes. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt with a denim vest layered over it, covered in colorful patches. He’s tall and slim, and light glints off the silver rings adorning most of his fingers. One side of his mouth tugs up in a smile, the only motion either of you makes.

“Um,” Steve says once he can’t take it anymore. He steps forward so he’s equidistant between you two. His eyes dart back and forth, not knowing which of you to address first. “Eddie, you remember me telling you about Nancy’s friend?”

Eddie. The name runs through your mind and forces a smile on your lips. It fits him. And suddenly it’s the best name you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, eyes still glued to you.

“And this is Eddie,” Nancy says as she comes up beside you. She places her hand on your arm and nods her head at the curly haired boy. “One of my friends from high school.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you manage to get out.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Nancy says, tugging on your arm gently. “We can all talk in there.” She notices you haven’t finished taking your shoes off yet and knocks her knee against yours to get your attention. Steve joins in her attempts to help break you and Eddie out of your trance and puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a light shove in the direction of the living room.

Reluctantly, your eyes break contact with his as you look down to step out of your shoes. Nancy nudges them over alongside hers before guiding you along behind Steve and Eddie.

The spell that had come over you is broken as loud and rambunctious younger teens shout at one another, some hanging off couches, some sprawled out on the floor, and some moving from place to place. You spot Mike on a couch, arm around who you assume is his girlfriend, as he went to spend time with her earlier in the day.

Your eyes search for Eddie, but you’re startled by a girl coming up to you and giving you a big, toothy grin.

“Hi! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“Robin,” Nancy says with a laugh. “Don’t scare her.”

“Sorry,” Robin says with an apologetic wince.

“No, it’s okay,” you assure her. “Just a lot of new people.”

“Mike, we forgot the food in the car,” Nancy calls to her brother. “Can you go get it?”

“What? Why me?”

“Oh, come on,” another boy says as he hits Mike on the chest.

“Thank you, Will,” Nancy says pointedly.

“So that’s Will,” Robin tells you as the boy walks by. He gives you a kind smile and a wave before he ducks out of the room, Mike right behind him. “That’s El, Mike’s girlfriend. She’s sitting next to Jonathan. And the ones arguing over there are Dustin, Lucas, and Max.”

“Who is who?” you ask, looking at the three kids bickering with one another.

“Dustin’s in the hat,” Nancy says.

“Ginger is Max,” Robin adds.

“Tall one is Lucas,” Nancy finishes.

“Remember all that?” Robin asks.

“Maybe,” you say with a chuckle. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“How do you like Hawkins?” Robin asks.

“It’s cute,” you tell her. “Much different than Boston.”

“Oh yeah,” Nancy agrees.

“Here.” Mike stalks into the room and shoves the container holding the green bean casserole at his sister.

“Such a gentleman,” Robin says.

Nancy accepts the dish from him with an eye roll. Will walks in with the pumpkin pie and you take it from him with a thank you. Nancy leads you into the kitchen and balances the casserole in one hand while opening the oven with the other. She slides it in to heat it up, making room for it next to the other dishes inside.

“You can just put the pie in the fridge,” she tells you.

The refrigerator is fairly full, but you manage to find a place to fit the tin in. Nancy comes over and yanks a bottle out of a cabinet next to the fridge.

“Want a glass?” She holds up the wine bottle to show you as she grabs two glasses.

“Sure,” you say.

Nancy pops the cork out with ease and pours a serving for each of you. The red wine flows like life’s blood and you can practically taste the dry fruitiness already. She hands you a glass and you clink them together before taking a swig.

“Oh,” Nancy says as she lowers the glass from her mouth. “I forgot to ask Steve something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She sets her glass down as you nod at her. Left alone, you lean back against the counter and take another sip of your wine. It’s a large, white kitchen, decorated in an array of plaid and checkered patterns. There are so many cabinets and shelves you can’t imagine what they all hold.

“Hey, Nance, where can I - oh.” Eddie stops short in the entryway when he sees you standing there alone. A smile lights up his face and you blush at the sight. “You are not Nancy.”

“I am not,” you concur.

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and sidles up next to you. Arms crossing over his chest, he leans against the counter next to you.

“Welcome to the circus,” Eddie says, gesturing to the next room where you can still hear a cacophony of young voices going back and forth.

“It’s cool that you all keep in touch after high school,” you say. “I could tell you where maybe five people are that I went to school with. The rest? I couldn’t give a damn.”

“I feel that way about most of our school,” Eddie says. “These are the few good ones. Course, the kids are still in school. Robin’s going to Hawkins Community College and Steve and I are just working stiffs now.”

“What do you do?” you ask, taking another sip of your wine.

“Work at a garage downtown,” he tells you. “Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills.”

“I know all about that,” you say. “I work at a coffee shop. I come home smelling like hot chocolate every day.”

“There are worse things to smell like,” Eddie says with a smile. “Once I got gasoline on my shoes and I swear, I smelled like it for a week, no matter how much I showered.”

The image of Eddie in the shower invades your thoughts and you take another gulp of wine to hide the flush on your cheeks. The urge to drop your eyes down to his arms and chest is appealing, but you manage to restrain yourself.

“You keep drinking that quickly and your blush is only going to get worse.”

The way you choke on your wine makes you fear that some of it is going to shoot out of your nose. With your hand over your mouth and nose, you cough as some of the wine goes down the wrong way. Eddie reaches over to pat your back a few times, only adding to the heat on your face. You notice he’s smiling at you, but it’s not in a mocking or patronizing way. It’s as if he thinks you’re cute and the thought makes your head buzz more than the wine.

“You okay?” he asks.

“M’good,” you squeak out through a cough.

“Want some water?”

All you can do is nod in response. Eddie turns to grab a cup from a cabinet next to the sink and fills it up halfway. You take it without looking him in the eye and take a couple of swigs.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, throat recovering from the burn. The accursed dirty mind you have makes you think there’s a way I’d like him to make my throat burn.

“Good,” he says.

He opens his mouth to speak again when Nancy comes back into the kitchen. Her eyes go from you, to Eddie, back to you again. She raises an eyebrow and you’re unsure if it’s because of your red face, Eddie’s smirk, or if she can feel the tension in the air.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” Eddie tells her at the same time that you say, “Yep.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press any further.

“Eddie!”

A shorter boy with dark curly hair tucked under a blue and red baseball cap walks into the kitchen, head swiveling to find his friend.

“Right here,” Eddie says.

“There you are,” Dustin, if you recall correctly, says. “Will you come tell Lucas that he’s an idiot?”

“Um, hello,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “Manners, dude.”

“Oh, shit,” Dustin says with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Dustin.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “You’re the one who Steve’s adopted, right?”

Dustin’s laughter rings out in the kitchen.

“Sometimes it feels like the other way around, but yeah,” he says.

“Steve and Eddie share custody now,” Nancy says.

“Don’t make me his co-parent,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Steve pops his head in the kitchen and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, you guys.” He walks over and slings his arm over Nancy’s shoulders. “Leave me with them out there.”

“Isn’t Robin out there?” Nancy asks.

“She joined the argument, whatever it’s about!”

“Lucas is saying that in Star Wars-.”

“Nope,” Steve says, cutting Dustin off. “I don’t want to hear about your little nerd wars.”

“Come on,” Dustin whines. “You liked Return of the Jedi.”

“No, he liked Leia in the gold bikini,” Nancy corrects.

“The one with the teddy bear things?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, the Ewoks,” you say.

All heads turn to you and a grin grows on Dustin’s face.

“I didn’t know you liked Star Wars,” Nancy says.

“All we ever do is talk, how did this never come up?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Are you a nerd?” Eddie smirks at you and pokes your arm.

“A little,” you say with a shrug.

“Read The Hobbit?” Eddie asks.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Nancy’s head and turns to head out of the kitchen. The oven timer dings though, and Steve stops in his tracks.

“Dinner’s ready, Dad,” Dustin says.

“Shut up. Go tell the others to sit at the table.”

“Wait,” Nancy says, and everyone stares at her. “Um, I mean, Dustin and I will get the others. You guys help Steve get the food out.”

“Okay,” Dustin drawls, narrowing his eyes at Nancy.

She nudges Dustin out of the kitchen ahead of her as Steve yanks the oven door open, letting the heat and savory scents of the food waft out into the air. It’s a mishmash of dishes as Steve pulls them out one by one, setting them on the counters around him.

“Okay,” Steve says. He closes the oven and turns it off. Putting his hands on his hips, he spins around and looks at the different foods. “We’ve got vegetables, we’ve got turkey, potatoes, breads.”

“Cranberries?” Eddie asks.

Steve snaps his fingers and nods. “In the fridge.”

“I’ve got it,” you say.

Steve loads up Eddie’s arms with food before piling himself up. You scoop up the dishes that are left and follow the guys into the dining room. Nancy and Dustin had called everyone in to eat, and most of the seats are already taken. All that’s left are the seat at the head of the table, for Steve, and two seats situated between Nancy and Will. The way Nancy avoids your eyes as you set the food down on the table tells you that the two chairs left for you and Eddie aren't just a coincidence.

Eddie makes no secret of his happiness that you’re sitting near one another as he grins brightly and pulls out your chair for you. You slip into it and meet Nancy’s too-innocent eyes as Eddie sits down next to you. If Steve’s wise to the setup, he shows no hint of it while he cuts pieces of turkey to be sent around the table.

“Stuffing?” Eddie offers.

“Yes, please.”

He doles some out on your plate before serving himself, tongue peeking out of his lips the whole time. Bowls are handed across the table, plates passed back and forth from one friend to another, but eventually everyone is settled with their full plate in front of them.

The girl named Max sits across from you and she glances up at you between bites of turkey. You give her a smile that she tentatively returns.

“Well, damn,” Eddie says from next to you. “I knew Red for over a month before I got a smile out of her.”

Max scowls at him as she shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“I have a good sense about people,” she says once she’s swallowed her food. “I like her. I was never sure about you. Still not.”

“Hardy har,” Eddie answers but Max cracks a smile at him.

“Should we do that thing?” Robin asks the whole table. Everyone turns to her, most brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ah yes, Robin,” Steve says. “That thing.”

“You know,” Robin says. She gesticulates with her hands, crumbs of stuffing flying off her fork in the process. “Where we say what we’re thankful for.”

Mike and Lucas groan in tandem as Dustin drops his head into his hands.

“We’re not eighty years old, Robin,” Steve says.

“Oh, come on,” Robin says. She looks pleadingly at everyone, widening her eyes and jutting out her bottom lip.

“Why not?” El asks.

You notice everyone seems to have a harder time saying no to El than they do Robin, and Steve shrugs in reluctant agreement.

“I’ll start,” Robin says, unsurprisingly. “I’m thankful that Steve got promoted to manager at Family video.”

“Why are you thankful for that?” Mike asks.

“Because it means Keith doesn’t work there anymore,” Steve says. “And she won’t get in as much trouble if she clocks in late.”

“Still thankful,” Robin says with a shrug. She leans back in her seat and nods at Jonathan next to her.

“Oh, um,” Jonathan says, shifting in his chair. He looks uncomfortable with all the attention on him. “I’m, uh, I guess I’m thankful that we moved back to Hawkins.”

The game goes around the table until it gets to Eddie.

“Shit, there’s a lot I’m thankful for this year,” Eddie says with a chuckle. There are some murmurs of laughter in agreement around the table and you feel like an outsider for the first time tonight, not being in on some joke or knowledge. Eddie quickly takes notice of this and licks his lips. “I think I’ll go with two things, though. One, finally graduating.” Dustin and the other younger boys break into applause at this, which Eddie halts by waving a dismissive hand at them. “Two, I’m thankful Nancy brought this lovely lady over for dinner.”

Eddie turns to look at you, his smirk and statement making you blush yet again. You weren’t someone who blushed easily, and somehow this adorable metal head had managed to make it happen twice within a single hour.

“Well, you stole my answer,” you tell him with a shy smile.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you. He rests his arm along the back of your chair and leans just slightly into your space.

“Yeah,” you affirm.

You miss the way Max’s eyes go to Nancy, who is grinning at the pair of you, then move to Steve, who shrugs at the redhead and rolls his eyes as if saying what’re you gonna do?

“You’ll just have to give another one then,” Eddie says.

He watches you as you squint one eye closed and pucker your lips together as you think. With your gaze not solely locked on him, you don’t see the way his eyes dart down to your lips. But Nancy does.

“Can I just say I’m thankful for Nancy in general, then? Because I wouldn’t have been able to stand being at school without her. And she was kind enough to bring me home with her to meet her family and all of you.”

There’s a collective “aww” around the table as Nancy leans over and wraps an arm around you, leaning her head against yours.

“Well, I’m thankful you decided to do your laundry in the middle of the night just like I did. Or this might’ve never happened,” Nancy says. “And I’m thankful for being able to make long distance with Steve work so well.”

A smile lights up Steve’s face and you’re struck again with how cute these two are with one another.

“You’re the last one to go, Stevie,” Robin says. “Lay it on us.”

“Well, I’d be in complete trouble if I didn’t say Nancy, right?” he asks, throwing a wink and smirk her way. “I’m just kidding. Well, not about Nancy, about being in trouble for it. Because I am thankful for Nancy.”

“Anticlimactic,” Robin says with a sigh.

“Are we done?” Max asks. “Please?”

“Yeah, that only took up the whole dinner,” Mike adds.

“Oh, please,” Nancy calls down the table to her little brother. “Like you actually paid attention to what a single person said.”

Eddie leans into whisper in your ear. “I’d say we’re not always this crazy, but that’d be a lie.”

“Are you kidding? I would love to have a group of friends like this,” you tell him. “The crazier the better.”

“Oh, well then you’re definitely in the right spot,” he tells you.

Steve begins to gather empty plates from the table, and Eddie is right behind him, sliding yours on top of his as he stands up.

Nancy shoos you from the kitchen, saying that you aren’t allowed to help clean because you’re their special guest. So, you find your way back into Steve’s living room, where those who aren’t helping to clean are spread out around the room, either talking or listening to the music that Eddie’s turned on the radio.

“Queen, hmm?” you say as you walk over to stand near him.

“Yeah, I figured they’re a band everyone would be happy with,” he says as Killer Queen begins over the speakers. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but they’re pretty good.”

“And who on earth could you possibly hold in higher regard than Queen?”

“Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden,” Eddie starts, but you cut him off.

“So, basically any metal band?”

“Pretty much,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips. “Best type of music, if you ask me. But I do also like Queen.”

“Good,” you say. You plop down on the nearest empty couch and Eddie follows to sit right alongside you.

“I’m guessing Queen is your favorite?” he asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

“They are,” you tell him. “Freddie Mercury has one of the greatest voices of all time.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Eddie says. “Who else do you like?”

“A lot, actually. From Queen, to Beatles, to Elvis, to Madonna, to Black Sabbath, to showtunes.”

“Showtunes, huh?” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I will take no disrespect of Stephen Sondheim,” you warn him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “Mostly because I have no idea who that is.”

You laugh and the sound brings a light to Eddie’s eyes. They crinkle in the corners as he looks at you and it’s enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

Across the room, unbeknownst to you and Eddie off in your own little world, Nancy and Steve walk back into the living room.

“Damn, she and Munson are really hitting it off, aren’t they?” Steve asks, making Nancy giddy with happiness.

“Steve, you don’t get it,” she tells him.

“I know. I never thought I’d see a girl take such a shine to Munson so quickly.”

“No,” Nancy says with a shake of her head. She watches the two of you converse on the couch, him laughing at something you said, before she grabs Steve’s arm and pulls him to the side of the room.

“There have been like, at least twelve guys who have asked her on dates back at school,” Nancy tells him. “Out of those, she probably agreed to three. And from those three dates, I think she had a second date with one of them. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna need more context clues to get me where you want me to go,” Steve says, shrugging in confusion.

“I’ve never seen her actually be interested in a guy. Well, one, but he had a girlfriend, so it didn’t last long. She’s told me besides her one boyfriend in high school, she’s never clicked with or had real feelings for anyone before. But this!” She gestures to you and Eddie in your own little bubble on the couch. “It’s huge! You don’t know her like I do, but trust me, this is huge.”

“Okay,” Steve says, getting the hang of it. “And what about Eddie?”

“I’ve never actually seen him have a crush on someone before. Have you?”

Steve shakes his head and holds his arms out to the sides helplessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to a girl that’s not in this room,” he says.

“I think he likes her,” Nancy says with a grin that could only be called devious.

“Hold on, Yente,” Steve says, startling Nancy.

“Was that really a Fiddler on the Roof reference?” she asks.

“I manage a video store. Pretty sure I’ve seen every video in there at least twice. So, yeah. But you’ve got to slow your roll on the matchmaking. She’s going back to Boston with you in two days.”

Nancy sighs and folds her arms over her chest.

“I know,” she admits sadly. “But they’re so cute.”

Steve rests his hands on Nancy’s shoulders and gives them a small massage.

“They are,” he agrees. “I don’t think Eddie would mind if you spent the rest of the semester talking him up to her, though.”

It feels like you’ve only been talking to Eddie for ten minutes, but when the whines from Mike and Max come that they’re hungry and want dessert, it shocks you to find out that it’s been hours since you’d all finished dinner.

Dessert goes much quicker than dinner, and with more efficiency. There was the pumpkin pie that you and Nancy had made, an apple pie that Will and El had baked, some cookies Max made, and cupcakes that Robin says she picked up on clearance on the drive over. Everyone wants to sample a bit of everything, but it’s hard since you’d all had a hardy meal just hours ago. Once you’re one vanilla cupcake and a slice of pumpkin pie deep, Eddie offers to split a piece of apple pie with you. He smothers it in whipped cream and hands you a second fork so the two of you can dig in together. You laugh when Eddie uses his pinky finger to put a dab of a glob of whipped cream on the tip of your nose. You go cross-eyed trying to look at it - which makes Eddie laugh - and try to stretch your tongue up as high as it would go to clean it off. You’re unable to do it though, so settle for wiping it off using your hand with a sigh.

Though you don’t have the room left, you swipe one of the last of Max’s cookies so you can have officially tried one of everything. After your first delicious bite though, you realize there’s no way you’ll be able to finish it. You slump back in your seat with a groan, the waistband on your pants threatening to suffocate you. Tilting your head to the side, you see Eddie in an almost identical position. He eyes the cookie in your hand and opens his mouth.

“Really?” you ask with a laugh.

He just nods, keeping his mouth open. You feed him the rest of your half-eaten cookie. He licks over his lips as he finishes it, then let’s out a groan to match your previous one.

No one feels the urge to talk or move from the table as you’ve all been re-stuffed. The music that’s still playing on the stereo in the living room drifts in over the silence of the dining room, and you smile to yourself as one of your favorite Billy Joel songs plays. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, the silence not awkward, just content as everyone basks in their food comas.

Dustin is the first one to break the silence, which seems to surprise no one.

“We’ve got to do the secret Santa,” he says.

“Shit, where’s the hat with the names in it?” Steve asks, slumped down in his chair.

“I think I saw it in the living room,” Will says. He forces his way out of his seat with a strained groan, and shuffles into the other room. He returns holding an upside-down Santa Claus hat that rustles when he shakes it.

“Oh, um am I..?” you trail off, looking at Nancy.

She nods. “I put your name in there. I figured you could always ship your gift and your gift can get shipped to you if you’re not here for Christmas.”

You haven’t even thought about what your plans would be for Christmas this year. It wasn’t usually a pleasant time of the year for you and college had distracted you from the fact that you’d have to be at home for the holiday. It sounded about as appealing as walking back to Boston from Hawkins, butt naked.

Will sits down with the hat and places it on the table in front of him.

“Should I start?” he asks.

“Might as well,” Dustin says. “Remember the rules. You can’t pick your own name. And you can’t pick a sibling because you’ll probably be forced to buy them something anyway. Oh! Also, no couples,” Dustin says, eyeing Steve and Nancy before Max and Lucas. “We all know you’ll be buying each other things too.”

“We got it, Henderson,” Steve says. He gestures to Will. “Let’s get it going.”

Will draws the first name and smiles to himself. He’s careful not to look at anyone around the table as he slips the small piece of paper in his pocket. He slides the hat over to El, who in turn draws hers. She frowns when she sees the name and replaces it to pick another one. The hat travels along the table, with Mike also having to select a second name, and ends up at Nancy. She selects her rolled up paper and holds it close to her chest so she can read it. She chuckles and holds the paper in her lap as she slides the hat over to you. You reach in and pull out the first scrap of paper your hand touches. Copying Nancy’s movements of holding the paper close, you take a look at who you’ve drawn. “Max” the paper reads. Nodding to yourself, you slide the hat down to Eddie, who has the final pull from the hat.

“Good thing I don’t have the sibling or girlfriend option here since I’m drawing the last one,” Eddie says as he sticks his hand inside. “As long as it’s not me, we’re good.” He peeks inside the little white paper before folding it up and putting it in his jacket pocket. “Not me. We’re good.”

Dessert is also an easier clean up, so Nancy lets you help this time around. It only takes a few minutes, then you’re strolling back into the living room, where your hand is quickly picked up by someone coming up alongside you.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a smile, as if it’s been a while since the two of you spoke.

“Hi yourself,” you respond as you adjust your hand in Eddie’s grip. His hand is strong and warm, and you can feel the gentle rub of calluses. He leads you over to a different part of the living room than where you were before. There’s a small nook towards the back of the room, where someone could sit and look out of a pale stained-glass window into the backyard. Today was so cold though, that the window was frosted over, giving a romantic feel to the small area.

Eddie sits down on the cushioned seat and pulls you down right along next to him. You’re sitting hip to hip, knee to knee and he still hasn’t let go of your hand. The colder air closer to the window is all the excuse you need to lean into Eddie’s side. He also takes the chill in the air as an excuse to wrap his arm around you, tucking you even further against him. You let your cheek rest against his shoulder, and it doesn’t take long until Eddie rests his head against your own. The silence is companionable as Eddie rubs his hand up and down your arm.

After a few minutes of sitting this way together, Eddie dips his head down to press his lips close enough to your ear that you can feel them brush your skin as he whispers to you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, eyes staying closed. From his angle he can’t see the smile you’re fighting to keep off your face.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Moisture instantly gathers behind your closed eyes at his words. You blink a few times to expel them before you tilt your head up to look at him face to face.

“Is that so?” you whisper back.

“Cross my heart,” he replies.

This time the smile doesn’t stay off your face, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re an incorrigible flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“How can I not be? Usually, I’d have to take the time to psych myself up to flirt if I had just seen you around town. But no time for that when you’re leaving soon.”

He pouts adorably at the way his words cause a frown on your face.

“Nancy did tell you that you guys have to go back, right? Or was this really a kidnapping ploy all along?”

You giggle and it brightens Eddie’s whole face. It also gives him the courage to lean down and press his lips softly against yours. You gasp into the kiss, not expecting it, but quickly compose yourself enough to kiss him back. He pulls away just a little and it gives you the opportunity to sit up straighter, giving the two of you a better angle for your next kiss. He delves in and cradles the back of your head with his hand, the other snaking around your waist. One of your hands cups Eddie’s cheek as you kiss him and the other rests firmly on his chest.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your top lip and you don’t hesitate in opening your mouth to him. His arm around your waist pulls you impossibly closer to him until you’re half on his lap, the kiss getting deeper by the moment. In many ways, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. Not only is Eddie a talented kisser, but you can feel the emotions behind the kiss as well. Eddie slides his hand from the back of your head to cup your jaw, tilting his head to kiss you at a slightly different angle. There’s longing there, it’s melancholy and addictive. He tastes like the pie you shared mixed with cigarettes and taste that could only be explained as Eddie.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, bunching the black material into your hand. The hand that was on his jaw has snaked around to bury itself in the curls at the base of Eddie’s neck. He manages to maneuver both of you so he’s lounging back against the cushions of the seat, and you’re on top of him, chest pressed to chest, and legs tangling together as you let out a soft moan against Eddie’s mouth.

The sound only encourages him, his kisses becoming more impassioned and messier. Not that you mind. You’d be happy if he spit in your mouth, but you figured that wasn’t something he needed to know on day one.

Sense of time is all but gone and you’re only reminded that there are other people in the room - albeit on the other side of it, with you two not directly in view of them - until someone, by the sound of it, Robin, starts speaking at a volume way too high for indoors. She starts to babble on and on, voice raising with every statement she makes. Both you and Eddie find it amusing, as you pull away from one another’s mouths with small laughs commingling in your shared breath.

Eddie reaches up and tucks a piece of hair that’s hanging in your face behind your ear.

“In case you haven’t realized,” Eddie says softly, keeping you two in your own private moment. “I really like you.”

“Well,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “In that case, I hope you’ve noticed that I really like you too.”

The grin on his face makes your labored breaths even quicker as his eyes gaze into yours. You rest your forehead against his and let your eyes fall closed.

“Can I see you again before you leave?” Eddie whispers.

Leaving now sounds like the worst possible thing you could endure. Boston is a great city, and you love almost every aspect of it. The food, the sports, the people, the weather. But it doesn’t have Eddie.

“Yes,” you answer him. “We leave Sunday afternoon. Steve is taking Nancy and I out for breakfast before he takes us to the airport. Would you maybe want to come?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

Loud clapping hands come up behind you and the quiet intimate moment you’ve been having with Eddie dissolves around you.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Robin says. “Time to get a room. Preferably the guest room at the Wheeler house.”

“We don’t have a guest room,” Nancy says. “She’s bunking with me.”

“Sorry, Eddie,” Robin says. “That means there’s no room for you on that bed.”

As everyone says goodbye for the night, you stand a little off to the side. Sure, you’d become one of the gang over the course of the evening, but that still couldn’t touch all the history and familiarity that the others had with one another. You get hugs from most everyone, including an unexpectedly tight one from Max. Will tells you repeatedly that it was so nice to meet you and you understand why Nancy was so excited to be with this group of people. They’re all kind, caring, and most obviously of all, they’re all so dedicated and loyal to one another.

Steve gives you a hug that’s just as tight as he’s given everyone else, and it could bring tears to your eyes how included you feel. You take a deep breath before you give you your final goodbye of the night. Eddie wraps you in his arms and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. His arms feel so secure around you and the warmth that you feel when you nuzzle your head into his neck is enough to make your heart burst.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asks.

“Soon,” you confirm.

He presses another kiss to your lips before reluctantly letting go.

Mike is crashing at Lucas’s tonight, so it’s just you and Nancy on the drive home. Nancy has barely shut the driver’s side door before she’s turning to you with the look of a cat that’s about to pounce.

“I have never seen you like that!” she gushes at you.

You shrug, glad for the dark night outside to hide your reddened face. She starts the car and pulls out of Steve’s driveway, but the conversation isn’t over.

“You guys were so cute,” Nancy says. “You like him?”

Looking out the passenger window at the dark trees that go past, you smile so Nancy can’t see it.

“I really like him,” you admit.

Nancy coos over your admission as she pulls out onto the main road in Hawkins.

“I could tell!” Nancy gloats. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

“You weren’t very subtle at all, forcing me to sit next to him at dinner,” you tell her.

“Are you complaining?” she asks.

“No,” you admit bashfully.

“I didn’t think so.”

“I asked him if he wanted to come with us to breakfast with Steve on Sunday. Is that okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” she assures you. “He’s a great guy, really.”

Nancy pulls her car into the driveway and you both enter the house quietly; Holly and her parents having already gone to bed. You gather your pajamas out of your suitcase and tell Nancy you’re going to take a shower when the shrill ringing of the phone on her nightstand makes both of you jump. She quickly grabs the receiver before the noise can wake anyone in the house up.

“Who the hell,” she mumbles to herself as she looks at the clock, reading almost one in the morning. “Hello?” she asks. There’s a pause and Nancy rolls her eyes as she listens. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You giggle quietly to yourself as you watch her become exasperated. Clothes clutched to your chest, you gesture down the hall to let her know you’re headed to the bathroom. She nods at you as she listens to the person on the other line.

The hot shower invigorates your skin that had grown dry in the cold autumn air. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you let the warm water run down your skin, relishing in the relaxation and calming aroma of the minty shampoo. As your fingers work through your hair, you recall the feeling of Eddie’s hair in your hands. The soft curls at the base of his neck you toyed with as you kissed. Thoughts begin to churn in your mind of Eddie joining you in the shower, but you don’t want to turn this into a cold shower, so you try not to let your mind wander down that path.

Using the towel to wring the excess water from your hair, you make your way back to Nancy’s room in your pajamas. The oversized t-shirt and plaid bottoms were so comfortable that you could hardly wait to curl up in bed. But when you walk into her room, Nancy hasn’t pulled the blankets down or even changed into her own pajamas. She’s changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so comfy clothes, but not ones for sleep.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Guess who was on the phone?”

You’re about to admit that you have no clue, but with the way she raises an eyebrow at you, you think you get the idea.

“He didn’t,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, he did. Wanted to know if he could come over,” she tells you.

“What?” you ask, just as there’s a knock on Nancy’s window. It startles you, but Nancy seems to have been expecting it.

“Your Romeo,” Nancy says, her head nodding to the window as she goes over to open it. She slides the glass up and Eddie stumbles in, landing clumsily as he trips over one of his own boots. Nancy shakes her head at him, and he spins around to face you, eyes instantly lighting up and an infectious smile curling his lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, the cold air sticking to his leather jacket making you shiver.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair as he presses kisses to the top of your head. He quickly sheds the jacket, not wanting to make you cold, then retakes you in his arms, the warmth of his red flannel giving you the intended warm effect.

“You saw me an hour ago.” Your face is smooshed up against his chest, but he understands you anyway.

“I know. An hour,” he says. “And you’re leaving soon so I wanted to spend all the time with you I could.”

“He gave me the same speech,” Nancy says from behind him. “He’s lucky I’m a romantic and caved.”

You peek around Eddie to give her a grateful smile, which she returns with a wink.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says. “But I will be back.” She gives a pointed look to Eddie as she heads out the door, closing it behind her.

You hop onto Nancy’s bed and open your arms for him, which he happily falls into. He climbs on the other side of you, kicking his boots off as he goes, and tucks you against his side.

“I like your pajamas,” he says. “They’re cute.”

Burying your face in his chest, you nuzzle your nose against his sternum.

“Didn’t expect company, so I dressed for warmth,” you say.

“Cold?” he asks, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

“Not really,” you say. “But keep holding me like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

You tilt your neck up, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. His hand rubs up and down your side and your body fills with a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Can I ask you something?” you whisper against his skin.

“Anything,” he answers.

“What did you mean before?” Your fingers play with the hem of his flannel as you run the tip of your nose up to behind his ear. “At dinner. When you said there’s a lot for you to be thankful for this year.”

His body shifts underneath you and you pull back to look at him. He avoids your eyes as he adjusts his grip around your waist. You rub your hand over his chest, leaning down to press a kiss against his collarbone.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say, sensing his mood change. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. He lets out a sigh and presses his lips against your forehead. “It’s just a long, shitty story.”

“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen,” you assure him.

This makes him smile and he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Okay,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m going to start off by saying I’m innocent though, okay? Just to preface this fucked up tale.”

You nod even though your brow scrunches up in concern. Not that you don’t believe him, but it hurts to hear that he was wrongly accused of something.

“There was this girl at school,” he starts. “Her name was Chrissy. She was a cheerleader, queen of the school. One day she asked to talk to me, which was weird in itself.”

The frown on your face is involuntary as you picture - what you can only assume is a pretty - cheerleader all over Eddie. He notices the look and runs his thumb over your pinched forehead as he lets out a soft laugh.

“Aw, are you jealous, baby? Don’t be. It was nothing like that. I mean, in complete honesty I did have a crush on her in middle school, but that was forever ago.” He presses a kiss to your now relaxed forehead before continuing on. “I used to sell drugs at school, and she wanted some pot. So, I told her when and where I’d meet her for the deal. When the time came, she was all jumpy and seemed paranoid. I tried to calm her, and it worked a bit, but she ended up asking if I had anything stronger. I didn’t with me, because I wasn’t stupid to be busted on school grounds with anything harder than weed. There was a basketball game that night and I had a hellfire meeting - you know, the D&D club I told you about after dinner. Anyway, so I told her I’d take her back to my place afterwards and I’d get her something then.” Eddie chuckles as he feels you tense up in his arms at his last statement. He presses soft and sweet kisses down the side of your face. “Can I just say that I love how you’ve only known me for a few hours and are already jealous at the thought of another girl alone with me?”

You huff playfully and hide your face in his neck. It only causes him to laugh again, and he moves his hand up and down your back reassuringly. He lets out a sigh though, as he goes on to continue his story.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says.

Nancy pushes open the door then and both of you look up as she enters. She gives you a small smile as she creeps back into the room, shutting the door again behind her.

“I’m just telling her about Chrissy,” Eddie explains.

“Oh?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows so high that they meet her wet bangs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it.”

He shrugs and squeezes you in his arms.

“Just going over the important parts anyway,” he says, and a look is shared between them that escapes your notice.

Nancy nods and climbs up on the bed, resting back against her footboard and tucking her legs up underneath her. Eddie continues his story, Nancy interjecting in places that Eddie wasn’t present for, like their friends trying to find where Eddie was hiding. She talks about how she spoke with Eddie’s uncle and how after that moment she had no lingering thoughts whatsoever that Eddie could have murdered their classmate.

“Wait, I’m a little confused,” you say when they’ve finished their story. “So, you guys went to find who the real killer was, Eddie, you got hurt, and Nancy, you knocked the guy out of a window? But he escaped? Then how were you cleared?”

“Um, there wasn’t enough evidence,” Nancy says. She clears her throat before continuing. “They eventually caught the real killer, but we have a friend in the police station. El’s dad, actually. He was able to take a harder look and proved that Eddie couldn’t have done it.”

“So, I was cleared. And healed, thankfully. If Dustin hadn’t gotten my ass to the hospital so quickly, I wouldn’t have made it.”

You squeeze Eddie in your arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, you meant that you were thankful you were okay and that you were cleared?” you ask, bringing it all back to your original question.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “And thankful I had these friends around me to help me out.”

“That’s so scary,” you say. Eddie and Nancy share a look above your head, knowing you don’t know the half of how scary it all actually was.

“But it’s over,” Eddie says as he lays his head on top of yours. Your fingers tighten in his shirt and Eddie feels like he could cry from the relief that rushes through him at the gesture. He hadn’t realized how terrified he was that you would think badly of him after the story, or even worse, think he truly was guilty. His body relaxes against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder, leaving him smiling against your hair.

You bring your hand up to your mouth to cover a yawn and Eddie looks at the clock on Nancy’s nightstand. “Shit, I guess I should let you guys get some sleep. The sun’ll be up any minute now.”

He slips out of your arms and off the bed. You follow behind him as he makes his way over to the window.

“Thanks for letting me come over, Nance.”

She nods her head at him as she slips under the covers. “Don’t make a habit of it,” she says with a playful smile.

He gives her a salute before looking back at you. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them up to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you agree as you raise up on your toes to press your lips against his.

Eddie kisses you softly, letting go of your hands so one can cup your cheek while the other pulls your body closer to his. Too soon, he pulls away and opens Nancy’s window. The frigid air blows in and you pick Eddie’s leather jacket up off the floor, handing it back to him. He slips it on and presses one last kiss to your lips before he ducks outside.

“Bye, beautiful,” he says.

“Bye.” You smile at him as he closes the window behind him and scoots down the slope of the Wheeler’s roof.

Saturday it was planned for the Wheeler family to take a trip a few towns over where there was a big holiday festival happening. The whole town was decked out in red and green, and the chill in the air added to the festive spirit. Mike was initially grumpy about being picked up from hanging out with his friends to spending time with his family, but he ended up happy he came after a video game that he desperately wanted was on sale at the local mall. You and Nancy shopped for some new clothes there as well, and you joined the family for lunch at a cute diner right in the mall’s parking lot. From there, you all visited the outdoor skating rink where you taught Holly how to skate, and she ended up being able to skate faster than either of her older siblings.

Once the sun went down, you grabbed some hot chocolates to go and headed back to Hawkins for a family movie night tucked up in the house. Holly fell asleep before the end of the second movie, her hand clutched in Nancy’s and her head on your shoulder. Mr. Wheeler carried her to bed and Mike broke out a box of gingerbread cookies that Karen had tried to hide from him in the back of the pantry.

It was a fun day, but Eddie had been on your mind for the entirety of it. You pictured modeling the clothes that you had bought for him, or him holding your hand as you skated around the rink. When you and Nancy headed up to bed, she joked that there would be no middle of the night visitors tonight, and you both fell asleep quickly.

Sunday morning you were brimming with excitement to see Eddie, but your heart melted at the tears Karen and Holly shed as they hugged Nancy goodbye. They’d see her in a few weeks for Christmas, but it just showed how much they loved her. Each member of the family hugged you goodbye, even Mike seeming heartfelt as he did so. You’d miss being around this domestic type of setting. The nuclear family wasn’t something you were terribly accustomed to, but you had enjoyed every moment of it.

The doorbell eventually rings, and Steve is ready and waiting there to help you and Nancy get your bags in the car. You notice a certain someone with a curly mop of hair in the passenger seat and a grin splits your face as Eddie climbs out of the car. He scoops you up in his arms and hugs you tightly before assisting Steve with the bags. The guys take you to a cute quaint restaurant on the way to the airport, and Eddie refuses to let go of your hand the moment you both step out of the car. You look through the menu with one hand, not moving your laced fingers from his grip. It proves hard to eat though, with only one hand, so you begrudgingly let go of each other.

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” Steve asks you as he swallows a bite of his blueberry pancakes.

“Probably nothing,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll probably end up driving back to New Hampshire to my mom’s place, but I don’t even know if she’ll be there. Hopefully I’ll get to see my niece, though. She’s my favorite person in the world.”

“How old is she?” Eddie asks.

“Almost eight,” you tell him. “Her and my sister live like an hour away from us.”

“I’m sure she’d love to see you,” Nancy says. She knows the shared love you and the little girl have for one another.

Eddie steals a piece of bacon off your plate and your jaw drops open.

“Excuse you,” you say. “I’m going to need a bite of waffle as repayment, thank you very much.”

Eddie happily obliges and holds up a piece of his waffle speared on his fork to your lips. You bite it off and hum appreciatively as you chew it.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Steve says as he watches the pair of you. “It’s almost insane how you just met.”

It doesn’t seem like you had just met, though. The way you clicked with him so instantaneously was something you’ve never experienced before, and you know Eddie hasn’t either. You moved so naturally with one another it was as if you’d grown up together. Fate wasn’t something you particularly subscribed to, but it was hard to think of this thing with Eddie as anything else. How many things needed to line up just right so you would meet him?

Breakfast doesn’t last long enough, and you feel yourself dragging back to the car when it’s time for the final leg of the journey to the airport. Eddie sits in the backseat with you this time and you rest your backpack in his lap as you rummage through it, looking for a pen. Once you succeed, you pull out a scrap of paper and start scribbling on it.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him. He takes it from you, and you slide the backpack off his lap. “The top one is the number to my dorm room. I have a bitchy roommate, so I apologize in advance if she ever answers when you call. The number underneath it is for my apartment in New Hampshire. I won’t be there until Christmas break, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway.”

Eddie grins as he looks at the paper. He folds it carefully, like it’s a precious artifact and not a scrap from a homework assignment you had earlier in the semester.

“She hides from her roommate in my room, too,” Nancy adds with a smirk. “So, if she’s not in her room, get the number to mine from Steve. But not at one in the morning!”

Steve raises his eyebrows at the look Nancy gives Eddie over her shoulder.

“Wait, what?” he asks.

“You’re not the only one to scale my house anymore,” she tells him.

“You did what?” Steve looks at Eddie in the rear-view mirror with an incredulous expression.

Eddie shrugs innocently as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I had full permission,” he tells Steve.

Steve parks his car along the curb at the airport and none of you are eager to get out. People bustle outside, lugging suitcases here and there, saying tearful goodbyes to loved ones, or rushing to catch a flight they’re running late for. You never thought you’d feel so sad returning to school. You had looked forward to escaping there from home for as long as you could remember that it seemed odd to have a place you’d rather be.

Nancy’s the first one to break the seal, pushing her door open, the rest of you following her lead. Eddie unloads your bags from the trunk and Nancy slings her duffle bag over her shoulder as you slip on your backpack. Steve hugs you goodbye first, and you thank him for the ride and for having you over the other night. He assures you it was his pleasure, and it doesn’t just seem like a polite response; it seems like he means it. Nancy hugs Eddie goodbye as well, before launching herself in her boyfriend’s arms.

“Shit, I’m going to miss you,” Eddie says. His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you flush up against him.

“Me too,” you say, placing your hands on his chest.

“I don’t think I’ll give you much of a chance to miss me,” he says. “You’re going to get sick of me calling.”

“I can guarantee you that won’t happen,” you say with a smile.

“You underestimate me,” Eddie says, making you laugh. “Fuck, I love your laugh.”

You blush under his gaze, amazed at how he can make it happen so easily. He presses his lips firmly against yours and your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands snake up the back of your coat and it takes all your willpower not to say, “screw school” and get back in the car with him.

Reluctantly needing air, you both pull back and Eddie rests his forehead against your own.

“I’m really glad I met you,” you tell him quietly.

“So am I,” he says. “Have a safe flight, okay?”

You nod and press one last kiss to his lips. You try to memorize the way they feel against your own and how his callused hands feel over your shirt. The scent of cigarettes is not something you ever would have thought you’d enjoy, but now you never want to be without it surrounding you.

“Bye, beautiful.”

The pressure behind your eyes starts and you feel silly for getting so emotional over leaving someone you only met two days ago. No one has ever made you feel the way Eddie does though, so you allow yourself the grace to just feel what you’re feeling.

“Bye, handsome.”

Pulling out of his arms, you pick up your suitcase and head towards the building with Nancy. Both of you stop right as you're about to enter and give one last wave to the guys. Steve blows Nancy a kiss and Eddie winks at you as he waves in return.

With a deep breath, you hike your backpack up higher on your back and follow Nancy into the airport.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #WTHI

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httpiastri · 1 year

Text

beautiful – op81

genre: sweet sweet smut

pairing: female reader x oscar piastri

warnings: wellll it's smut so..... not much else, it's pretty soft so nothing rlly in need of a warning i think. almost a liiittle praise kink hiding in there but not exactly a warning ahah

requested?: um no not really BUT this ask from when this blog was still new has been on my mind ever since i got it....

author's note: this fic is basically just me calling oscar beautiful a thousand times..... second time ever writing smut and it's just as weird as the first time lmao! but i did enjoy writing it. this is protected sex because !! don't forget to be safe when yall have sex !!! and consent is sexy. hope you enjoy this <3 (and again, it's 5am so yes it was proofread but i probably missed something... soz)

f1 masterlist

18+ content below! minors, do not interact!! thanks

oscar is always beautiful.

when he stood on the podium yesterday, for the first time in his formula one career, he was gorgeous. when he came down to hug his family, you included, the smile on his lips was irresistible. and when he danced with you in some random club, his features reminded you of the ones of a god.

he had been teasing you all night. the fleeting touches and quick kisses he gave you held a promise; you would be back in your hotel room soon, just you and him, and he would take good care of you.

you had helped each other get undressed, drunken giggles shared between you as it had taken him a few moments to figure out the zipper of your dress. but the exact moment his head had hit the pillows, he had been out like a light. you swore you had only turned away for a second to take off your earrings, but when you had looked back at him, he had already been snoring.

even then, he was beautiful. but the maybe one moment you enjoy watching him the most is times like these. when the rays of the soft morning sun light up his features, his face basking in the rays. his chest rises and sinks in a steady rhythm, mouth barely open as he takes his sleepy breaths. with his messy, long fringe spread over his forehead, strands of hair tickling his round cheeks.

when he looks so pure, innocent, untouched, like he’s never had a worry in his entire life. so far away in dreamland, this world long forgotten.

but he loves coming back to this world. dreaming is nice, but when he opens his eyes and they land on the beautiful angel next to him, he feels like he has stepped into yet another dream.

his arms are draped around your waist, keeping you close as one of your hands land on his cheek. you smile when his eyes flutter closed again. “morning,” you hum, letting your thumb stroke across his skin. your finger follows his birth marks, the ones you could draw out blindfolded, the ones you know like the constellations you memorized in fifth grade.

oscar is always beautiful, but like this, he's perfect.

he doesn't answer, instead opting to trail one of his hands along the side of your body. the hand finds the hem of your thin shirt and dips inside it, letting the tips of his fingers swipe up and down your skin, against the sensitive area right below your chest, further down to your hips. he notices now that you aren't wearing any underwear, and the realization brings a grin to his lips.

he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he drags his thumb along the inside of your thigh. his mouth moves down to your neck, trailing pecks and licks and bites on it's journey across your body. no piece of skin remains untouched or unkissed; oscar would kiss every inch of your soul if he could.

his head ducks under the blanket to reach your stomach, his hand coming up to push your hip softly. you take the hint and lie down fully on your back, a low sigh leaving your lips as he climbs on top of you. he's still hiding under the blanket so you're surprised when his lips meet the front of your thigh, your legs squeezing together in reaction. his voice is raspy when it leaves his throat, vocal cords still cold after a long night's sleep. "i want to taste you. open up, please."

your legs fall open easily; you're always open to letting oscar do what he wants. a jolt of electricity shoots through your body as he presses his lips to your clit. one of your hands come down to rake through his hair as his tongue drags along your folds and you feel way too sensitive already. his name falls from your lips when he starts sucking on your clit, but it's the feeling of his fingers entering you that takes over your mind completely. you can't think of anything other than how his digits are pumping you, how his tongue works wonders against you, and how you're so close already.

your hand in his hair tightens when you reach your high, your legs shaking and your heart hammering in your chest. he lets you try to catch your breath for a few moments, but then he pulls the covers down his body, appearing from below them as if in a round of peek-a-boo. even as you're breathless, coming down from an orgasm after being eaten out, you somehow have the energy to laugh at your lover. he's so dorky, so darling,

so beautiful.

even when his hair is a mess, even when he's newly awake, even with traces of you on his lips.

the hand leaves his hair, coming down to cup his cheek and pull him up towards your face. he hovers above you, bringing his fingers up to let his tongue clean them from your juices. you usher him down to you, desperate to let your lips meet his for the first time in so many hours. when his lips finally lock with yours, a pleasured sound escapes your mouth. you don't even mind the taste of yourself on his lips, because the taste of him takes over, flooding your senses.

it's hungry, but not at all rushed; it's sensual in a way that only mornings with him can be.

oscar doesn't break the kiss when his hand rummages over the bedside table, desperately searching for something. he lets out a frustrated groan when he has to pull away because he can't find it, and you giggle at the sound. in just a moment, he has leaned back down to capture your lips again, this time with a condom in his hand. he wants, needs, to be connected to you constantly, so his lips are still attached to yours as he pulls off the wrapper and rolls the condom down his length. he positions himself by your entrance and unwillingly pulls away. "are you okay with this?" he asks, letting one hand hold your waist as the other smooths down your arm. when it reaches your hand, he takes it in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. "it's more than okay."

he pushes into you and your eyes roll back as your hand squeezes his again, this time involuntarily. he fills you up to the brim, a perfect fit; the stretch is just right, not too much and not too little. he gives you some time to get used to it before he starts to move, the strength in his thrusts rising bit for bit. a moan escapes your mouth when he hits one specific spot and he grins, leaning down to press his lips right below your ear. "my sweet girl," he whispers, tracing his kisses down the side of your neck.

his thumb strokes against the back of your hand as his other hand moves down between your legs. two of his fingers come to rub your clit as he continues pushing into you. "oscar..." you sigh, instantly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. "it's... god, it's too much..."

he slows his actions, though he doesn't entirely stop, as he speaks up. "i know you can take it." he pulls his head away from your neck to look at you, and-

oscar thinks you look so beautiful.

with your hair splayed over your pillow, with your flushed cheeks, with your rosy lips slightly parted and gasping for air as you chase your high. he can't think of anything more perfect than you, and sharing this moment with you is a true blessing to him.

your breath grows heavier as you get closer, and you hang your free arm around his neck, helping him kiss you yet again. he swallows your sweet sounds that become more frequent as you approach your climax, picking up the speed of his fingers again. "that's my girl," he mumbles against your lips. "taking me so well... you're so good."

your sweet noises fill the room as you both come undone together, bodies vibrating against each other's as he rides out your highs. he collapses right next to you, one hand still holding onto your hand as the other drags you into his side. you both take a few moments to breathe, before oscar pushes a few strands of hair away behind your ear. he can't help but smile again. "you're beautiful."

"so are you."

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jackpiastri · 1 year

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helping hands – op81

oscar is sore from the race, and you'd do anything to help him feel better.

pairing: gender neutral reader x oscar piastri

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: okay soooo today in an interview after the race, oscar was asked if the race was physical – and he answered "my neck's feeling it". and as you may know by now, i do very very much love his neck. so i thought to myself ".....i volunteer to give him a lil massage 🤭", and then this happened. shoutout to my love arms anon, this one's to us neck lovers (and all of you who we've managed to turn into fans of oscar's neck on our journey) <3

and again, this is not my actual blog. check out @httpiastri for more stuff :)

f1 masterlist

you’re standing in the hotel bathroom, wrapping yourself in a fluffy bathrobe after a long shower, when you hear his voice from the other room.

"can you come here for a second?"

the bedroom is dark when you step into it, the low light from the lamp on your bedside table being the only thing illuminating your lover. oscar is lying on his stomach on the bed, his face pushed deep into a pillow. his back rises and lowers with his breaths, the muscles of his upper body peeking out from the duvet covering his bottom half.

"what’s up?" you ask, sitting down next to him on the bed.

he shuffles a little and soon, his head is sideways on the pillows, eyes looking up at you. "my neck is killing me."

"i don’t think that position is making it better, love."

he lets out a groan, which is then followed by a moment of silence as you wait for him to say something. you let one of your hands drag along his shoulder blades, almost as if to help him speak, and his eyes close from the sensation. "could you help me out?"

your heart softens at the question. "of course." you move a little closer, your hand moving through his newly washed hair as if to tell him that you want him to look down again. once his head is in place, you move one of your legs over his body, settling right above his hips.

your hands slide along his back before reaching his neck. you dig your thumbs along the base of it, going all the way up to the back of his head before moving down again. it's soft at first, but your touches grow firmer as time passes, wanting to force his muscles to relax. you feel oscar easing up under your fingers and he hums, letting go of all stress and pressure of the weekend.

there's something so sweet, yet so sensual, about moments like this with him. the way the room is so still and quiet, except for the low sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth; the way his skin feels under your hands, soft and warm; the way your heart flutters when you remember that no one else gets him like this, only you.

there's something about it that makes you feel so connected to him – and he feels the exact same way about you.

your hands move down right below his neck, and then along to his shoulders, working on the little knots hiding under his well-defined muscles. he lets out a muffled sigh when you press on one specific spot and you smile to yourself.

this is far from the first time he’s asked you to give him some massage after a rough race; the amount of strain his body is put through during a race is obviously very high, so you are always happy to help him out. you would gladly massage him until your hands gave out, but he'd always stop you before they even started to get a little sore. just like now.

as your hands drape along the sides of his spine, he turns his head to the side again. his eyes are still shut, seemingly deep in pleasure even when your hands stop moving. "you are the best, you know?" he says, a slight smile taking over his lips. "thank you."

"you are the best," you counter. "otherwise i wouldn't be doing this."

you can feel the chuckle vibrating through his body before you hear it, and you can't help but grin back at him. he pushes himself up to rest on his elbows and he looks back at you before patting the space next to him on the bed. you climb off his frame, leaning down to lie in the same position as him.

his hand smooths over your cheek, pulling you forward to press your lips onto his. his fingers move down the side of your neck, under your robe, caressing your skin much like you'd done to him just moments before. it's another way for him to thank you.

he's so good to you, so sweet, so perfect – and you are so in love with him.

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sweet-s0rr0w · 11 months

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Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues!

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride.

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

#drarry #fic recs #vintage drarry fics #loved putting this together #blast from the past

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sorryimananti-romantic · 9 months

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Siren

siren!yeosang x sirenhunter!reader

enemies to lovers au but with crack

genres and warnings: fluff, angst, violence warning, sorcerer san and sirenhunter jongho as side characters

word count: 27.8k (idky im still incapable of making shorter fics)

synopsis: yeosang is a siren and you're a siren-hunter. he may have lost his voice and you may be immune to a siren's call, but he has you bewitched anyway. on your journey together to find the sirens who killed your parents and took his voice, you make new friends, find yourself cursed and turning into a siren, and fall for yeosang. he proves time and time again that he's not the monster you thought all sirens to be as he helps you come to terms with yourself and find the person who cursed you.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (we fought over who writes a sea au first. now i'm traumatised and she learnt her lesson) (also firing you bc you 🔫 didn't proofread this)

You couldn’t help but wonder just what was different about this part of the ocean because the sound of the waves crashing loudly was strangely calming. Maybe it was the lack of travellers or sailors here- after all, this area was considered remote. Maybe the humans had not polluted this part yet. Humans always left a trail behind them, and you couldn’t really spot any traces here.

Or maybe a kind soul was taking care of this place. As you walked with bare feet on the sand, long having ditched your sandals, the waves occasionally flowing to wash your feet, you noticed a few cabins and cottages in the distance-- someone must be living here. Maybe they knew how to treasure the land they dwelled on, the sea that they sailed in. You smiled to yourself, looking up at the sky, a lot clearer here than where you were coming from. The stars were more visible too, almost looking as if they were near- like all you had to do was jump to grab them. Even the wind smelt cleaner, containing traces of salt and mud, and-

Food. Your stomach rumbled at the thought and you rubbed it as if that would provide it any comfort. You haven't had a nice meal for a while now. You held the strap of your bag tighter in an attempt to distract yourself, glancing at your right and noticing a person walking along the shore lazily as if they had no worry in the world. You reckoned the person must be a resident here and decided to approach them, hoping to find a room for the night and a hot meal if you were lucky.

You jogged towards the person and when he turned, you said hi. “I was wondering if there are rooms available for the night? I’m leaving at the crack of dawn- I need to catch the first boat.”

“The first boat won’t leave until mid-afternoon,” he said and you involuntarily raised a brow at how different his voice sounded from his appearance- it was too much to process immediately. “As for a room… you can usually find them in town, but it’s far too late, isn’t it? And you look tired enough.”

You scanned him and you couldn’t help but notice just how beautiful he looked. There was no other way to explain his appearance- it was like he was crafted with special care. You frowned a bit, not detecting anything odd about him- was he human then? “Mid-afternoon, huh?” You looked around. “Might put a tent somewhere here then-”

“I can offer you a meal and a room… if you’d like,” he sounded cautious, scanning you again. “You shouldn’t be out alone at this hour-”

“I can take care of myself, thank you for the offer-”

“No, you really shouldn’t be out alone- not here,” he glanced at the sea and you understood. “You never know what creatures prowl in the dark.”

You realised he was right- a lack of humans meant more room for other creatures. Your stomach growled again at the thought of a meal and he looked pointedly at you. “You can find a room in town too after you eat something because I can hear your stomach loud and clear-”

“Alright,” you laughed awkwardly. “Thank you. Please, after you.”

He passed a warm smile and you followed him, glancing at the cottage he pointed to- it looked quite homey. You reckoned that if he didn’t find anything odd about the bow and arrows hanging at your back, he didn’t really have any qualms about inviting you to his cottage. You commented on how pretty it was and he thanked you, guiding you inside the warm living room and asking you to wait while he heated up the cinnamon rolls he had baked earlier. You dropped your stuff in a corner and looked around.

“Are you a sailor too?” You asked, noticing the compasses and scrolls on the fireplace mantel.

“Not my occupation but I do travel around,” he said. “You don’t mind fish stew, do you?”

“Nope,” you observed the strange wall hangings- you had travelled around the continent for years but you had never seen such ornaments- beads, pearls, shells and plants intertwined in an intricate pattern. “Where did you get these?”

“I made them,” he started setting the table, motioning for you to join him. “I learned from an elder a while ago.”

You made an impressed face and sat across from him, taking in his otherworldly features again now that you could actually see him clearly. He had highlights in his hair, perhaps from the sun, and you noticed a red mark on his temple. You thanked him for the meal before digging in.

“So what’s your name?” You asked.

“Yeosang,” he said. “And you are?”

You told him your name. “Do you travel around a lot?”

He nodded. “I have, uh… relatives who are scattered across the sea. I sometimes go to visit them. What brought you here, though? We don’t get a lot of visitors here.”

“I have someone I need to find too.”

“Family?”

“Nah, they’re long gone,” you told him. “Just… some people I’ve been trying to find for a while. They know about my family. Must be on one of the islands around somewhere.”

“I hope you find them,” he pursed his lips. “It must be lonely travelling alone all the time.”

“Yeah, but I make friends everywhere,” you chuckled. “Going back to them is nice.”

“Do you know anyone around here then? Propus is a small town.”

“Not really,” you told him, finishing eating and he poured you water. “I just arrived here an hour ago and walked around trying to find a room, but…”

“My offer stands,” he passed you the cinnamon rolls. You narrowed your eyes.

“Feels like you’re bribing me- is there anything you’d like in return?”

He laughed out loud and you couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful he sounded- he seemed less and less human with every passing second, even though you couldn’t find any characteristic feature that could indicate he might be someone else- a merman, perhaps? But they didn’t live on land- he looked human. A sorcerer then? “Nothing. I might put a board outside and call it an inn now. I just like having visitors- they always leave something behind, don’t they?”

“Like what?”

“A memory, a lesson,” he shrugged.

“You’re strange,” you told him. “Well, I think your business might run well. You make excellent food.”

He smiled shyly at that. You sighed deeply. “And I’m far too tired so a room sounds nice. I’ll pay you in the morning, though.”

“No, it’s okay-”

“Please, I wouldn’t want to be a burden,” you got up, gathering the dishes. “Consider me the first guest of your business.”

He grinned at that, turning to place the dishes in the sink and you noticed a strange glow on his temple, right where the red mark was. “Is that… a birthmark?”

“Ah, this?” He pointed at his temple. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve always had it.”

“It’s pretty,” you told him, gathering your stuff and he guided you upstairs to an empty room with a bed and a dresser.

“You can relax and get some sleep- the boats start sailing in the afternoon.”

“Got you,” you said. “I’ll wait for you- I hope you won’t mind guiding me to the nearest weapons shop in the morning? I need to restock the arrows.”

“Of course,” he glanced at the weapons by your bedside. “You’re not a pirate, are you?”

You laughed. “Just a lone traveller- I should protect myself.”

“Good,” he gave you a thumbs-up, saying goodnight before closing the door behind him and leaving. You relaxed, glad that you found a welcoming person tonight. Years of travelling made you good at finding such people.

You quickly washed up and prepared to sleep, stuffing your old clothes in the bag and wondering if you should do some laundry while you were here. You opened the window, the waves and air producing an odd harmony as they clashed-

No.

It wasn’t the sound of the air or the melody of the ocean. It sounded like the call of a siren.

But a siren so close to land? It wasn’t possible.

You took a deep breath, your instincts taking the better of you as you grabbed your bow and quiver, opening the door and halting again- it had to be the song of a siren, but it was being hummed very lightly, and…

It didn’t sound like it was coming from outside.

Not trusting your own senses, you went back inside your room towards the window, peeking out and finding no one in the vicinity. You couldn't locate the source or the distance, so you decided to go downstairs after hiding one of your daggers in your sleeves. You treaded lightly down the stairs, pausing when you found the front door open-

And Yeosang outside, looking absolutely ethereal while he hummed that song.

The song of the sirens.

It didn’t make any sense- sirens couldn’t leave the sea. Sirens had evolved over the years, appearing almost human-like, yes, but… Yeosang wasn’t a siren, was he? He didn’t look anything like a siren. He didn’t sound like a siren- yes, he was singing the song of the sirens that you recognised but it wasn’t luring you. You were immune to the songs but even then, being in the vicinity of sirens would always cloud your mind, but this time…

You were very well in your own senses.

You gripped the dagger tighter, watching Yeosang hum the song as he knitted, his fingers working with expertise. You stepped closer, not daring to breathe any louder, but his shoulders suddenly stiffened as he paused.

“For someone who hunts… your stealth could improve.”

You remained where you were. “What are you?”

He continued knitting and you watched him break the thread with his teeth before he turned to face you, not even flinching at the sight of your dagger. “What are you? Why are you going around the sea with only bows and arrows? Humans belong on the land, not the sea.”

“How do you know the call of the sirens?”

“And how would you know what the call of the siren sounds like?” He narrowed his eyes and now that the moonlight hit the side of his face, the red ‘birthmark’ glowed- no, reflected the moonlight like scales-

The scales- the skin of a siren.

Before you knew it, your dagger was flying out of your hand, aimed for this forehead. He dodged it as if he had seen it coming, the dagger landing on the floor with a clang and he glared at you. “I will pretend that didn’t just happen.”

You were already aiming your arrow at him. “You’re a siren.”

“Come on,” he raised his hands in the air. “Do I really look like one? Or sound like one?”

You didn’t respond, waiting for him to make one wrong move, positive he couldn’t deflect these enchanted arrows that would always meet their target. He turned back, gathering his stuff as if an arrow pointed towards his heart didn’t bother him at all. “You’re not singing anymore.”

“If I was really a siren, my song would have lured you. You wouldn’t be standing here with an arrow aimed at me, miss. You must know that- you seem to know a lot about sirens.”

“Of course I know. I’m a siren-hunter, after all.”

This time, he froze for a good few seconds and you expected to see surprise on his face but instead, when he turned, his eyes were filled with curiosity. “Siren-hunter, you said? You’re not the infamous reaper, are you? You must be the marauder”

“And?”

He smirked dangerously. “There is a way you can pay me back for letting you stay the night here- and ignoring that disrespect,” he told you. “You see, I need to hunt some sirens too.”

“But you’re a siren-”

“And? Can’t a siren hunt another siren?”

You finally lowered your bow. “Are you really a siren?”

“I was, once,” his eyes glinted. “I’m more human now. They took my voice.”

You gulped. “They took your voice? How can they do that? Is that even possible?”

“It is, apparently,” he sank down in his chair as if disappointed. “I’ve been outcasted.”

“But why would they do that to their own kind?” You scoffed. “Aren’t you sirens a very tight-knit community or something?”

“They are, until one of them does something they weren’t supposed to do,” he sounded grim. “Not all sirens wish to eat humans, you see? Maybe I like chicken better.”

You groaned out loud. “You’re not making any sense- ” you took a seat in front of him, the arrow still lodged in the bow. “Just answer me- you’re a siren but you’re…”

“I am a siren, but I cannot lure humans anymore,” he admitted. “I never wanted to do that anyway. They took my voice because I didn’t act like a ‘normal’ siren.”

“Damn,” you muttered. “And you want to hunt some sirens? The ones that took your voice?”

“Yes,” he nodded firmly. “I could have gone on my own, but I had a feeling… that I should wait. Wait for someone like you to come.”

“How did you know I was a siren-hunter?”

“I wasn’t sure at first- I thought you were a fanatic or something, until I sang and you came armed to the teeth,” he tsk-ed. “Is that how you treat someone who gives you shelter?”

You ignored that, scanning him once again- there was a reason why he looked too beautiful to be a human after all. “What do I get out of our deal?”

“You mentioned something about finding someone, didn’t you?” Yeosang hooked one leg over the other, appearing extremely interested in your story. “There’s no relatives out there, isn’t that so? You must be hunting the sirens who killed someone you loved.”

“It’s obvious, huh?” You looked away from his tantalising gaze. “You’ll help me locate those sirens and in return, you want me to help you hunt your sirens. How do I know you won’t turn on me?”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” He looked pointedly at your bow. “I can fight just as good as you. I cannot lure you, I cannot eat you- but to be fair, I wouldn’t have eaten you even if I was a siren. You don’t look appetising.”

You gaped at the siren- the man in front of you. Unbelievable.

“Just because I agree and we might strike a deal,” you said and got up, lowering your bow and he got up as well, waiting to hear the rest, “doesn’t mean I trust you, okay?”

“Likewise, human,” he said and you almost felt as if he were looking down on you. You glared at him for a few moments, wondering what to do.

“You’re still taking me to the weapons shop tomorrow, by the way. As a siren, you must know which arrows hurt the most.”

Yeosang smirked. “You should get something for close combat too. You never know when you might find a siren in your proximity,” he stepped closer and you tightened the grip on your bow. “The call of sirens might not work on you but you never know when your incantations slip.”

You raised a brow in question but he simply passed you, purposely bumping his shoulder with yours and you watched him disappear in his room before going up with heavy steps to your own room, wondering if you had really made the right decision. Could you trust a siren?

Just what had you signed up for?

—------------------------------

“You know, for a siren, you’re awfully unaware of your surroundings,” you commented as you watched Yeosang trip on a rock for the second time on your way to the weapons shop in the town. Yeosang glared at you.

“If you can’t tell already, sirens aren’t meant for the land.”

“You seemed to be doing awfully well though,” you muttered. “Almost believed you were just a loner with a cottage on the beach with a thing for baking.”

“Gotta lure the humans somehow-”

Before you knew it, you were clutching his collar and the tip of your dagger was digging into the crook of his neck. Yeosang laughed loudly, making the passersby frown at your exchange. “Relax. I haven’t eaten a human in decades.”

“Not helping,” you practically growled, pushing him away before continuing walking. Yeosang didn’t seem offended- his cocky smile only grew wider as he tried to match his pace with yours. You narrowed his eyes at him- what he said sounded like the truth, but just what exactly did he do for the sirens to take his voice and make him turn to the land and live as a human, among humans? Why did the townspeople greet him with smiles and offer him their food? Had he somehow charmed them?

Yeosang spotted you standing awkwardly by the pillar of the shop in the corner while he helped an old woman carry some bags into her shop. The woman patted his arm and Yeosang bowed, politely refusing the fruits she offered as a token of gratitude. Yeosang jogged back to you and pointed towards the north where the weapons shop was located.

“What are you, some philanthropist?” You scoffed. “Charmed your way into the town, haven’t you?”

“No one can resist my charms even when I’m human,” he simply said. “Admit it. You were bewitched into staying the night too. No amount of incantations and spells could have made you resist my natural- “

“Okay, that’s enough,” you warned, wondering if that was the truth and then scolding yourself internally for doubting yourself- you only accepted his offer because he seemed like an okay person. You trusted your gut-

How did your gut not warn you of his nature?

“Are you like… a human now?” You asked him. “I mean… you don’t look like a siren even in your appearance.”

“The longer I live without activating my siren powers, the more human I will become,” he said. “And it’s not just my appearance. I will eventually lose my powers too.”

“Just how long have you been living as a human then?”

“Long enough to age,” he muttered, walking ahead of you and asking you to wait while he checked if the weapons shop was open. “Come inside- and please be civil. I have a reputation to maintain.”

You made a face, the question you had been wanting to ask at the tip of your tongue. You swallowed it though and entered with a smile, greeting the owner with a bow.

“Young miss, what are you looking for?”

You extracted an arrow from the quiver- the one you had gotten from the person who put the spell on you and made you immune to the sirens’ song. The man examined the carving on the arrow and made an impressed face. “This is a rare one. Where did you get that?”

“It was a gift,” you told him and Yeosang looked suspiciously at you. “An arrow like this is very hard to find on this continent, isn’t that so?”

“The ebony wood used to make this arrow is very rare,” the man returned your arrow. “And unfortunately, that tree does not grow in this continent. You will have better luck finding objects made of this wood at the place where its trees grow.”

“But it’s very difficult to cross the sea,” you looked pointedly at Yeosang who pretended to be interested in the ceiling.

“You seem like a person who could cross the sea,” the man smiled knowingly. “Anything else you might need?”

“Well, Yeosang? What weapon do you suggest I should get for close combat?”

Yeosang coughed a bit before glaring at you and asking the owner, “Can we have a look at the longswords?”

About an hour later, with a surprisingly cooperative yet still cocky Yeosang, you were having lunch at a pub in the heart of the town. The atmosphere was lively with sailors eating their fill before they prepared to take off and Yeosang ordered a bunch of food-

“Don’t think I’m doing you a favour here. I want to eat. You can have a little if you want to.”

You rolled your eyes- you still weren’t sure what Yeosang’s approach towards you was supposed to be- did he hate you or did he simply not care, purposely riling you up whenever he could? You glanced at the longsword now resting next to the wall- Yeosang and the owner had helped you find the perfect weight you could carry and the blade was sleek, the hilt firm in your grip. It was perfect for you.

“I wonder if your blood will be the first to taint my sword.”

Yeosang almost choked on his soup. “All my help for nothing, huh?”

“Why would you even help a siren-hunter find the perfect weapon to kill sirens?” You asked. “Do you really hate them that much?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong- we’re only hunting a selective few,” he reminded you of your deal. “You’ll help me find the ones who took my voice, and I’ll help you find the ones you’re after. We’re not going on a killing spree. Besides, the existence of sirens is essential for natural selection and maintaining a balance in the ecosystem-”

“Stop quoting school books to me,” you scoffed. “What if some random siren comes after me?”

“I’ll protect you,” he said, “so you don’t need to worry about that. Remember- we accomplish our goal first before you resume your stupid siren-hunter job-”

Your heart may have fluttered for a second but he continued, “-which, I must point out, makes no sense. Why would you go around targeting all of the siren community? Why did you become a siren-hunter?”

“Why do you sirens go around hunting humans then?” You countered. “Humans only wish to sail the sea freely.”

“And sirens only wish to live without their homes being polluted. So do the merpeople. You don’t seem to hold a grudge against them. Aren’t they more frequently killing humans than sirens?”

“Everyone is killing everyone,” you sighed deeply. “I don’t go around killing sirens just because I’m immune to the call of the sirens now. I only protect myself while I try to find the ones who… the ones who killed my family.”

Yeosang didn’t respond to that, putting some kimchi on your rice bowl and you chuckled lightly at that. “An eye for an eye, huh?”

“Why do you want to kill the sirens who took your voice?”

“Because even if I do not wish to use it, they stole a part of me.”

“Do you wish to become a siren again?” You wondered out loud. “Getting your voice back will make you a siren, won’t it?”

“I am a siren, sweetheart. I still am. And you should be glad you’re immune to the song of the sirens because if you weren’t and you heard me humming last night? I’m not sure we would be here right now.”

You gulped at his confession. “So you can still lure humans?”

“I haven’t tested it, but one time, someone accidentally heard me hum a song- after I lost my voice,” he admitted. “I thought it didn’t affect them. They appeared normal enough to me. But the next day… I learned that they drowned themself. I stopped singing after that.”

“If you knew that… why did you sing last night, knowing I could hear you?”

“Because I recognised that arrow,” he pointed at your quiver, the arrow you had shown the owner at the weapons shop. “The ebony wood is fatal to sirens. I knew who you were instantly, I was just praying you weren’t the sadistic siren-hunter of the two.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Do you realise what would have happened if I turned out to be the ‘sadistic’ siren-hunter- the reaper- who I’m sure every siren has heard of? Who has terrorised every creature in the sea, not just sirens?”

“Well… I didn’t think that far,” Yeosang shrugged. “And I don’t think planning that far would have mattered anyway-”

“You’re kidding,” you laughed in disbelief. “You risked your life and hummed like an idiot hoping I would be the nicer siren-hunter of the two?”

“Honestly, you don’t look like a siren-hunter at all,” Yeosang pointed out. “So of course I took my chance.”

You shook your head in disbelief, finishing your food and splitting the bill because you told him you did not want him to have any more ideas about you- you also told him you were debating calling off the deal because you weren’t sure you could ever find your sirens when he was this reckless. He only laughed it off and you both went back to his cottage, packing your bags and preparing to leave.

“What weapons do you possess to guard yourself?” You asked Yeosang, noticing a lack of weapons on him. “Did you hide your daggers in your bag or something? Because you won’t have time to get anything out of the bag if you come across the better siren-hunter out of us two- or what if I decide to attack you in the middle of the night, huh? Are you taking me easy-”

“Stop rambling,” Yeosang scolded, waving at a man standing near a ship by the docks. “It’s only going to be the two of us, right? No sailor?”

“I’m sure we both can manage,” you said and he nodded, asking you to wait while he went to talk to the sailor. He returned with a smug face, pointing at a-

“There’s no way I’m sailing in that piece of trash-”

“How dare you call my boat a piece of trash-”

“It’ll attract too much attention!” You almost shouted. “And honestly? It looks like it will fall apart at any moment.”

You weren’t wrong. The boat had odd planks nailed to it at multiple spots and the reason you realised it was Yeosang’s personal boat was because of the familiar hangings on the boat. It was spacious enough for only the two of you and you weren’t sure it could withstand a still sea let alone crashing waves. You turned towards Yeosang, “Listen to me. We’re travelling in the sea, okay? You might be able to breathe underwater and swim like a fish but I’m human.”

“Alright,” Yeosang groaned. “I hear you. Let’s just begin on this boat- we’re travelling along the continent for now, yeah? The moment we feel this boat is about to give in, we can dock wherever we are and find someone to travel with.”

“Or we could ask someone here-”

“I said it before- I have a reputation and a life here and I will not let you tarnish it.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I will use you as a boat if your boat decides to dismantle in the middle of the sea.”

Yeosang muttered something under his breath that you chose to ignore and you hopped on the boat after him, fearing this would be your last trip in the sea- you probably wouldn’t even make it very far. With a groan, you grabbed one of the oars and the two of you started rowing your boat away from the docks and you both made a bet on how far you could make it.

You only made it to the neighbouring city of Alhena which you would be bordering as you sailed further around the continent. For now, the two of you needed a place to stay after having rowed and complained incessantly for more than half a day. Yeosang asked if you had ever been to Alhena and you told him you had been everywhere, which was true.

“How come you never found your sirens then?” He asked when you settled down at an inn for dinner, having dumped your bags in your separate rooms. “Where did you lose your family?”

You rested your elbows on the table, sighing deeply. “Near Mesarthim Island. We were on the way there from Denebola.”

“Ah, the island,” Yeosang stuffed his mouth with chicken, lost in thought. “I used to live there once.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “As a siren?”

“In the sea, yes,” Yeosang nodded, raising his brows as he looked at the chicken on his plate. “You should try this- it’s amazing.”

You obeyed, nodding along as you ate the chicken, wondering what it meant if Yeosang used to live near Mesarthim too- you had been siren hunting for four years now and you knew that there was only one spot around Mesarthim that hosted sirens- unless something had changed very recently. But if Yeosang was one of the sirens there…

That could only mean he was somehow involved in that attack that killed your parents, or he was related to the sirens that did.

And him helping you find those sirens… this could be a trap.

You finished your food quietly, nodding along to whatever Yeosang had to say before going to your room and counting your arrows. You pursed your lips- you had to get more ebony arrows before you would finally go to kill those sirens.

But for now, you had one, and if Yeosang dared to try anything…

Would you kill him and risk losing the arrow? Risk losing perhaps your only tool of revenge?

If Yeosang noticed the change in your demeanour the next morning, he didn’t comment on it, which made you even more suspicious. You told him you were going to the docks to find someone with a better boat and he said he would join you soon- he had some business in the market. You debated following him and keeping an eye on him but you figured you should solve the bigger problem first.

The docks in Alhena were much livelier than the docks in Mebsuta- a variety of boats, yachts and ships were lined across the docks and the harbour in the distance. You decided a sturdy boat would do- a small but enchanted boat would be your best find. Something that could withstand the storm and the harsh waves…

You spotted a man not far from you dragging some ropes, his get-up screaming sailor, yet there was something different about him. As if having sensed someone staring at him, he turned and passed you a smile. “Looking for a ride?”

You noticed the ink on his neck hidden by the scarf wound around it. “Where are you sailing to?”

“Wherever the waves take me,” he threw the ropes on his boat- the boat looked okay too. “Where are you headed to?”

“Sheratan,” you told him- the city closest to Mesarthim Island.

“You’re travelling a long way,” he scanned you. “Are you alone?”

“I have someone with me,” you said and he considered. While you negotiated the price, you scanned his broad figure and recognised the mark on his neck as the one that sorcerers wore and wondered if it was a good idea to bring a sorcerer into the equation- you were already dealing with a siren-

“Yes, I’m a sorcerer,” he laughed when he noticed your gaze stuck on his neck. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” you assured him. “My experience with sorcerers has been… good.”

“Glad to hear,” he offered his hand and you shook it, calling it a deal. “My name is San. Our stop is Sheratan, but if you’d like to travel after, I can offer you my boat. My life is on the sea.”

“I like that,” you grinned. “I’m y/n. And…” you noticed the familiar figure approaching you. “That’s Yeosang. Don’t mind him, he’s a bit… odd.”

“Ah…” San frowned as Yeosang drew nearer. “He’s not human.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not what makes him odd,” you told him and he shrugged, hopping on the boat and telling you he was ready whenever you were.

“That’s a… good ride you got,” Yeosang said, hands on his hips as he took in the boat- spacious enough for three with a cabin.

“Admit it, it’s better than yours. Far better,” you scoffed.

“Mine was prettier,” he muttered, raising the bags in his hands. “I got us some food.”

“That’s a lot of food,” you took in the sheer number of bags in his hands. “I thought you were going to uh… catch fish on our way there? You can fish, right? Don’t you sirens have claws or something?”

Yeosang glared at you. “If I grow some back when we’re in the middle of the sea… you’ll know.”

You pretended to be scared before jumping on the boat and taking the bags from him, storing them in the cabin. Yeosang went to talk to the sorcerer and you noticed them discussing sailing strategies. You figured as a siren, he probably knew more about the sea than any sailor out there, though it must have been a while since he last navigated the seas. You wondered if he would start to look more like a siren as you stayed longer in the sea-

Could you stomach the sight of him as a siren? Sirens were, after all, the product of your nightmares.

“We’re steering west to avoid the Mesarthim coast,” Yeosang let you know, tossing an apple which you caught, lying back on the bags you had shaped as a couch. “It shouldn’t take too long given the weather remains clear.”

“And what exactly can we expect while on our journey?” You asked. You had sailed around your continent by yourself, yes, but you had never travelled across the ocean.

“Sirens, of course, and then the merpeople… water dragons if we’re unlucky. Pirates maybe. You’ll be surprised to hear that sirens aren’t the worst of these.”

You reluctantly agreed- the pirates were the ones you should avoid at all costs. You thought that it was ironic that you had to worry more about humans than the other sea creatures. San appeared out of the cockpit and said, “Our journey begins now. It shouldn’t take us more than four days to cross the ocean given that we don’t encounter, uh, any unexpected guests,” he looked pointedly at Yeosang who you were sure didn’t get the message. “Shall we begin?”

“Aye, Captain,” you saluted and San chuckled at that, disappearing back inside. Yeosang began to set up his space at the bow of the boat, arranging bags as pillows to rest against. You opted to watch the sorcerer instead, who was currently muttering something under his breath as he ran two fingers along the wheel, probably an incantation for the boat to stay on track. You had seen that before so satisfied, you began setting up your own corner, not much you could use to set camp unlike a certain someone-

“It’s only four days,” you couldn’t hold back. Yeosang looked like he had brought everything of importance from home, which was a bit too much.

“Yes, but I’m finally home,” Yeosang replied, his skin glowing at the temple with an almost blue sheen. “You won’t understand.”

You didn’t want to, so you only shrugged and let him do his thing. The sea… was it your home? For about a decade now, ever since your parent’s deaths, you practically lived on the sea. Sure, the land was where your ‘home’ was but you had always preferred the sea, even before the creatures of the sea stole a part of you.

You shut your eyes though you knew you couldn’t sleep right now. You simply let the sound of the waves and the gentle rocking lull you into a different headspace where there were no worries. Perhaps, that was what you liked so much about the sea- here, without anything holding you back, you could dream of what could have been or what could be. At this moment, you had no concerns, no worries, no expectations until you would reach land. Right now… you were free.

The sound of shuffling made you open one eye and you were a bit surprised to see it was almost dark. San looked at you for permission before sitting next to you.

“So… is our siren going to catch dinner for us or what?”

“I can hear you,” Yeosang mumbled and you snorted- was he trying to sleep or was he just pretending, like you?

“This siren is a good-for-nothing,” you whispered, making the sailor smile. “But it looks like he looted the market before settling here, so shall we prepare dinner?”

San agreed and the two of you went to search through the shopping bags, finding an odd variety of ingredients but still managing to make a decent meal of bread, fruits and nuts, and soup from the inn that San helped heat up. Yeosang looked proudly at the spread and you scoffed.

“You look pleased,” you commented. “Must thank you for the dinner. I thought I was going to get to eat some seafood thanks to you, but… I guess I’ll have to wait until I reach land.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to wait until land to eat some humans though,” Yeosang’s eyes glinted and San coughed to interrupt.

“So, how did a… siren? And a human? End up together in my boat?” San sounded unsure of what you two were, and for right reasons. “I kind of doubt you’re human.”

You frowned. “I am. I’m the marauder. You must have heard about me if you travel a lot.”

“The siren-hunter on an endless journey. I suspected,” he nodded. “I’m just wondering why a human would travel with a siren willingly. If… Yeosang really is a siren, though he doesn’t look or sound like one.”

“He's a siren,” you confirmed, glancing at Yeosang. “He just… got used to pretending that he’s human.”

“For your information,” Yeosang began. “I’ve always been like this. You think what sirens do all day is wait by the rocks for a human and sing?”

“That’s unfortunately what we’ve heard,” San looked amused, “but I’m willing to learn more.”

Yeosang looked disappointed. “You’re humans. You can never know the extent of what the ocean contains. The sirens are devoted to exploring more of the ocean and clearing it of potential threats-” Yeosang looked pointedly at you. “You humans think you’re the only one who does the work around here.”

“Yes, we’ve heard all about the ‘ecosystem’ too,” you retorted. “If the sirens and merpeople could leave the humans alone, maybe we wouldn’t think we’re the only ones doing the work around here. Sirens don’t have to eat humans to live.”

Yeosang smirked faintly and you wondered what he was hiding- or if he was doing that on purpose. He turned his attention to San. “It’s been a while that I’ve been on sea, so what can we expect on our way to Sheratan?”

“I’ll try to steer us as further away from the Mesarthim territory as I can, because that’s the problematic area,” San began and you nodded- you had heard enough tales about the abundance of wild sea creatures there who left no chance to hunt humans. “If you’re a siren, you can probably sense the presence of a threat better than the two of us, so I’ll have to depend on you a little.”

“And if he doesn’t warn us, we’ll just throw him into the sea. He can swim to Sheratan then,” you concluded and San stifled his smile as Yeosang rolled his eyes.

“And if you don’t behave, I’ll gladly hand you over to the pirates because I have a feeling that we will encounter them. Can you believe it?” Yeosang pointed at you as he looked at San. “I offered her shelter in my house and this is how she treats me.”

“His kind killed my family,” you told San.

“Humans are after sorcerers all the time, but we don’t hold grudges,” San shrugged and Yeosang clapped in approval. “But how did you survive if sirens attacked your family?”

“I don’t really remember,” you admitted. You knew you chose to forget some parts of it- it wasn’t the best memory after all. Sometimes, you tried to recall the events of that night but you could never see past the way one of the sirens locked eyes with you as it sank its teeth into your mother’s neck-

“That’s okay,” San started clearing the table, noticing how you zoned out for a moment. “If you’re only targeting the sirens who killed your family, that’s fine. But don’t be surprised if the siren community decides to target you.”

“I’m already targeted. They remember me,” you told them and even Yeosang looked surprised. “The last thing I remember from that night is one of the sirens telling me that they would wait for me. That they would never forget me. There’s a reason I couldn’t let it go and live like a normal human,” you got up, brushing your clothes. “If they’re after me… I can return the favour.”

You took the dishes from San and went towards the kitchen, leaving Yeosang staring at your figure, a faint realisation scratching at his brain, dots starting to connect.

It was too much of a coincidence, he thought. The last words that you heard from that siren…

He remembered them.

—-----------------------------

Yeosang was realising that there was far more to your story than you were letting them know. He was confused after your statement from a couple nights ago when you said the sirens were already targeting you, and he wondered if you believed that because it was the last words you heard from the siren or if they were actually after you, because if that was the case…

That meant trouble. If a siren spotted him with a human, much less a siren-hunter? Yeosang already had a bad reputation among the sirens.

And then there was the matter of you and Yeosang unintentionally, coincidentally targeting the same sirens. He thought about it all night and he was almost sure it had been his family who killed yours. Because he had been there. He had witnessed all of it.

And he couldn’t let you know.

It was good- you were going to kill two birds with one stone. He just hoped you wouldn’t have to find out about him being one of the sirens present when your parents were killed. Those very sirens had taken his voice too. If you were out to kill them, so be it. He would help you, but he would have to stay lowkey. If they found out Yeosang himself was helping the infamous siren-hunter…

He shivered at the thought, prompting you to stop your longsword practice and glance at him. “Feeling cold already? We’re miles away from Sheratan.”

It was usually snowing in Sheratan, but that wouldn’t affect him too much. “If sirens felt cold, they wouldn’t be spending their whole lives on the sea.”

“True,” you nodded, swinging your sword once again, testing its weight. “But aren’t you… a little human now?”

“Is cold the only reason humans shiver?” Yeosang wondered. “Maybe I sensed something strange- ah. I did.”

You turned your attention towards him, taking a look around. “What is it?”

“Humans,” Yeosang dropped the ball of yarn he had been playing with, shifting so he could stare into the distance. As if on cue, San popped out of the helm and found you looking through the lens of your telescope.

“Pirates,” you tsk-ed. “Two days and we’re already in trouble.”

“I’ll speed the boat away as much as I can,” San announced. “Pirates usually have a few sorcerers on board too so I don’t think we can really avoid an encounter at this point… we might have to negotiate.”

“Can we offer him in case they want something?” You pointed at Yeosang who looked amused.

“Good luck finding your sirens after I’m gone,” he simply said and you made a face, knowing it was the truth.

“Shit, I gotta protect you then,” you muttered. “The pirates will think you’re the treasure if they find a siren without its voice.”

“Ah, how the tables have turned,” Yeosang got up to join you, taking the telescope and trying to get an idea of how much time he had to plan something. “Well, lucky for you, I can still breathe underwater. As soon as they’re in your vision, let me know and I’ll just dive into the sea. You both can negotiate on your own then.”

“And if we find ourselves in trouble?”

“Then you know that I haven’t lost my voice completely,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, making you shiver this time. “Cold?”

You pushed Yeosang away, wondering how immune you really were to the song of the sirens if his normal voice was making you react this much. Yeosang laughed to himself as he went to hide his belongings in the secret compartment of the boat. You stationed yourself at the bow, waiting for the pirate ship to become visible through the fog. The boat sped and started sailing further north-east but the ship was becoming more visible with each passing second and Yeosang started taking off the layers of clothing-

“Woah, woah,” you fanned yourself, unable to hide the heat creeping up your cheeks as you got a peek at his sculpted body- there was no way you were going to drool for a siren. “A little shame would do you no harm.”

Yeosang tsk-ed. “I would like to come back to dry clothes, thank you very much,” he bundled his clothes, thankfully keeping the pants on, tossing them to you with a wink. “Be back soon.”

With that, he dived into the sea and you watched him disappear into the dark depths of the ocean. When your heart rate steadied a bit (you made a mental note to think about why your heart couldn’t handle a half-naked siren), you stuffed his clothes in your bag and went inside the cockpit, taking control of the boat while San went outside to deal with the pirates who were now in your vision.

You could hear the low rumbling of their laughter as a few of them jumped on your boat, passing you sleazy looks. You ignored them, slowing the boat as instructed by San.

“Fancy seeing you here, Choi San,” one of them said. You wondered if he was an acquaintance but San didn’t look too pleased to see them. Maybe they had met in a similar encounter before. “You’ve got a guest, it seems. Only one?”

“Only her,” San said. “We’re going to Sheratan. What about you?”

“Sailing around the continent,” the man adjusted his sword hanging by his side. “Anything of interest you heard or seen lately?”

“Nothing much,” San took a deep breath, appearing very casual. “Just got some food and found someone who needed to travel.”

“I see,” he walked around slowly, observing his surroundings while what you assumed were his lackeys snickered, stealing some apples from the basket in the corner. “We have someone on board who needs to go to Sheratan too. Perhaps… you could do us a favour and rid us off him. We’re getting tired of his lamenting.”

“Oh?” San looked as surprised as he sounded. “That’s new. Don’t you kill anyone who annoys you?”

You wondered who the man was- he sent a dark glare in San’s direction and he tensed. “This one we can’t kill. Man’s the siren-hunter we’ve heard so much about. I bet he could give the sirens a run for their money with his songs.”

Your heart sank to your feet and as if on cue, you spotted the familiar figure of the only other siren-hunter alive, dangling by the edge. The man didn’t ask for permission- he shouted at the siren-hunter to get his stuff and get his ass down on your boat. You looked at San helplessly but his face gave away nothing, even though he appeared tense.

When you heard a low thud, you finally stepped out of the helm and nodded at the man you assumed must be the captain or the mate, catching the attention of the siren-hunter-

“Oh, y/n. What a coincidence. She’s the siren-hunter I told you about- the marauder. Really skilled- could shoot you all dead by the next second.”

“Jongho,” you greeted. Choi Jongho, the one siren-hunter that every sea creature feared- siren or not. The reaper who spared none. “You’re exaggerating.”

Jongho only grinned. “I hope you don’t mind my company- I really need to get to Sheratan. Urgent business- I was lucky to have found someone going in that direction,” he pointed towards the man who looked surprised to find himself in the company of not one but two siren-hunters. “And it seems I’m luckier to have found you.”

“Of course,” you smiled, the approval tasting bitter in your tongue. There was no way he would let Yeosang live. You contemplated proving Jongho’s point and killing everyone in your vicinity including him. “We should reach our destination in two days.”

“Perfect,” Jongho clapped, tossing his bag elsewhere and shaking hands with the man. “It’s been a pleasure, Captain. I hope we can cross paths again on the sea.”

He passed a weak smile, obviously not having found Jongho’s company as pleasing, and after thanking San telling him he owed him one, he went back to his ship and steered it away from your boat. San whistled. “The Captain is in my debt. Never in my lifetime have I thought I would see this day.”

“You’ll have to thank me,” Jongho said, laughing. “I gave him a hard time. He wanted to get rid of me so bad. The only thing keeping him from throwing me off board was the fact that I just saved them from a group of sirens.”

“Really?” You frowned. “Not around Mesarthim, were they?”

“No, why?”

“Because they’re mine to kill,” you muttered. “Remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Jongho nodded enthusiastically. “My offer is still on the table. You can ask me if you want some help.”

You bit your lips, looking at San and silently holding a conversation with him. San shrugged as if to say that there was no other choice.

And there was no other choice, really. You would have to tell Jongho about Yeosang.

But the thing about Jongho was… he hated sirens. He himself had survived the sirens by singing back to them and driving them crazy, was what you had heard though you never asked him if that was true. And then he had made it his life’s mission to hunt sirens- he learned to be immune. He was the ultimate weapon against sirens.

Why would he ever spare Yeosang? He would kill him first and think later. He would tell you you didn’t need Yeosang- yes, Jongho was kind and a good friend, but he was also scary and powerful-

You heard the splash of waves around your boat and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself for-

“Oh… we have company.”

Jongho turned towards the source, frowning when he saw Yeosang, his wet hair thankfully hiding the mark on his temple that would have given his identity away instantly. “And who are you?”

“San, can you tell him to disappear for a few minutes?” You finally sighed and San nodded eagerly, filling him in and putting his hand on his head, practically dunking him back in the sea while a confused Jongho watched the scene unfold in front of his eyes.

“Is he trying to kill him or what?” Jongho turned to you.

You scanned him once- he was wearing a jacket which meant he must be hiding daggers on his upper body. There were no visible weapons otherwise. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Shoot.”

You took a deep breath again, deeming Yeosang safe. “That man… he is um… a siren but a human, if you will-

And immediately, Jongho was reaching for his inside pocket and you grabbed his arm- “No, listen! Please hear me out first before you decide to kill him.”

Jongho wasn’t having any of it. “You had a siren on board? You’re supposed to be a siren-hunter, y/n.”

“I still am,” you glared at him. “That man- Yeosang- he is a siren, yes, but he no longer has his voice. Do you understand what that means?”

That finally made Jongho take his hand out of his pocket, clutching a dagger. “No.”

“Apparently he lost his voice a few years ago, which means he’s not a siren anymore. Oh, and he lives on land now. He’s practically human. He wasn’t a normal siren anyway- he prefers chicken over humans-”

“I’ll do the explaining,” Yeosang peeked out from the other edge of the boat, dodging the dagger Jongho aimed at his head with ease. He appeared out of the water, soaking wet, and proceeded to enter the boat and search through his bags-

Only to take out a towel and rub it over his head.

You groaned loudly- you wondered sometimes if Yeosang had a death wish. He was far too reckless to be normal. Jongho looked confused as well and you took the chance to steer him to the nearest chair, making him sit and then ordering Yeosang to sit in front of him.

“We talk like civil human beings-”

“He’s a siren, though,” Jongho finally noticed Yeosang’s scaly skin on his temple. “I’m not having a conversation with a siren.”

You turned to San for help who looked like he was enjoying this way too much. You stepped between the two glaring at each other with folded arms. “This is my mission, and I am not going to let a stupid, sorry excuse of a siren and a thick-headed siren-hunter ruining it, is that clear?”

Jongho scoffed but nodded. “Let’s hear you then.”

“Yeosang,” you said, going to stand behind him, putting your hands on his bare shoulders for emphasis and finding them surprisingly warm. “Is a harmless siren. He is… a vegetarian in terms of sirens, if you may.”

Yeosang snorted at that but you slapped his shoulder and continued. “He is going to help me pinpoint the specific group of sirens that I need to hunt. Only he can do that. You don’t have to kill him, Jongho. He is on his way to become a siren-hunter too.”

Jongho looked impressed. “What grudge do you hold?”

“They took my voice, and it does not belong to them. It is mine, even if I choose not to use it,” Yeosang said and you felt satisfied to hear his stern tone. “I can still sing, but it’s not the same. Also, she’s right. I don’t enjoy humans too much. Never did.”

“Now, Jongho,” you went to stand behind him, threateningly rubbing his shoulders. “You are not going to kill my guest. I will kill him myself if such a need arises. You can either join me on my mission or we can drop you off at Sheratan on the condition that you don’t tell a soul about Yeosang.”

“I would join you, though I wouldn’t have told anyone anyway,” he looked pointedly at Yeosang. “But I do not like being in the company of a siren.”

“Neither do I,” you told him. “But let’s tolerate him until our mission is over, please? You can kill him later.”

Yeosang tsk-ed. “So much for helping you. Humans,” he spat, picking his towel and spreading it on the clothesline, wearing his shirt back.

“Are you sure he’s a siren?” Jongho asked as he watched him set his little camp back. “I would believe you if you tell me he’s just a human.”

You finally relaxed, smiling. “I don’t know what his deal is, but… he’s an odd one, for sure. Don’t kill him, okay?”

“Okay,” Jongho shrugged. “Don’t expect us to get along though.”

—-----------------------------

You weren’t sure how, within a day, it came to the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, but Jongho was choking Yeosang as he threatened to throw him into the sea. For a split second, you wondered if you needed to remind Jongho that being in the sea would only help Yeosang, but then… Jongho probably knew.

“Say sorry,” Jongho’s voice was dangerously low. You scanned your surroundings, finding nothing odd except for San simply watching the two without doing anything about it. It hadn’t been too long with San but you found that he was someone who enjoyed chaos unfolding in front of him. He wouldn’t be one to step in and stop them, so you decided to do the deed.

“Not one moment of peace,” you muttered, starting towards them, Yeosang struggling to laugh. You scoffed to yourself- you needed to scold Yeosang for the lack of regard for his own life. Jongho repeated his order to Yeosang before you could reach them and do something about it, and Yeosang tapped Jongho’s shoulder.

“...Okay, I’m sorry!” Yeosang struggled to breathe and you paused- you weren’t sure if Yeosang’s lack of breath was due to Jongho restricting his air intake or because he couldn’t stop laughing.

Jongho let him go and Yeosang almost fell face-first into the sea. He laughed to himself while Jongho brushed his clothes, smirking. You put your hands over your hips, shooting a glare in the siren-hunter’s direction.

“What the hell was that?” You asked.

Before Jongho could answer, Yeosang called, “I was wrong, I admit it.”

Your brows rose in surprise- Yeosang admitting his mistake? Was it a good decision to bring Jongho on board after all-

“I was wrong,” Yeosang scoffed. “You’re not cute, Jongho. You’re very cute, actually-”

Jongho whipped around to throw a dagger in his direction and Yeosang nearly got struck, too busy laughing to properly avoid his death. San pumped the siren further, urging him to run for his life if he wanted to see tomorrow and you, arms limp by your sides and jaw hanging open, watched the siren-hunter chase the siren like a cat would chase a mouse.

It wasn’t until San put a finger below your chin and shut your mouth that you realised you had been zoning out. You looked at San in disbelief. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”

San stifled a grin. “Unfortunately… you’re not.”

“When did they get so… chummy?” You watched Jongho intently listen to Yeosang explain why he thought Jongho was cute and you wondered if Yeosang had sung and bewitched Jongho somehow.

“I have no idea,” San finally laughed, finding the situation both hilarious and unbelievable. “But far better than having them at each other’s throats, right?”

San was right and you suddenly saw Yeosang in a newfound light- or perhaps you had been ignoring this fact on purpose. The fact that Yeosang didn’t have to use his voice to captivate people- there was just something about him, and heck, he wasn’t even fully siren. He was very human but he was unconsciously drawing people to him. Jongho was not the kind of person you could crack and yet here he was, the reaper now laughing with a siren over something they found funny.

“I distinctly remember you insisting you would never get along with a siren,” you joined the two in Yeosang’s little corner, slumping down in front of them. “I’m really confused right now.”

“It was only a matter of time,” Yeosang said cheekily and Jongho rolled his eyes in response, though he couldn’t stifle his smile. He was kind of bad at hiding his feelings.

“I figured I’d get to know the enemy better by getting close,” he shrugged and you scoffed.

“And? Have you learned something?”

“He’s an odd one,” Jongho turned towards you, finally finding the opportunity to talk about that fact out loud, waiting for San to settle down too before he continued. “Sure, he doesn’t like to eat humans, which is strange enough for a siren, but… look at this?”

San chuckled at the way Jongho pointed at all the crocheting Yeosang had been doing ever since getting on the boat. “Apparently sirens have hobbies too, Jongho. You find that strange?”

“A siren’s gotta do something to pass his time,” Yeosang pouted, shoving the in-progress crochet out of Jongho’s probing gaze. “I was making hats for you all. Should I not?”

You put a hand on your heart, touched. “You were?”

“Not for you,” Yeosang stuck his tongue out. “For San. He’s been kind to me. And for Jongho because I don’t want him to kill me yet.”

San bowed in thanks and you made a sour face. “Why not for me? I like hats too.”

“You’re just using me to kill me later,” Yeosang sighed dramatically.

“I might change my mind if you make me one,” you offered but Yeosang wasn’t buying it and you looked to San for help who waved a hand at Yeosang.

“You shouldn’t leave someone out. We’re in this together.”

“Yes, and I saved you last night,” you pointed out. “If those pirates saw you or if I didn’t negotiate with Jongho, you would have been long dead.”

Yeosang locked eyes with you. “You sure about that?”

You leaned in, “I’m sure. And this tactic doesn’t work on me, Yeosang. I see right through you. You can act tough all you want.”

Yeosang whistled in approval. “No hats for you.”

You told him that he could keep his damned hats for himself. And to prove his point further, as soon as you reached the shore of Sheratan the next day, you spotted an old lady selling knitted clothes and you took the chance to buy a black hat for yourself- even though it was expensive. You told yourself it wasn’t just out of spite but also because it was extremely windy and cold here.

Yeosang was quite amused at the sight of you and couldn’t help but comment on it. “Jealous?”

“Please, if you were human, you’d know it’s a necessity at this point,” you clenched your jaw to prevent the chattering of your teeth. “Quite rude of you to not make me one.”

“I got something better for you, but you weren’t nice enough to ask for it,” Yeosang tsk-ed and you frowned, turning to him. He unzipped the bag hanging by his shoulder and produced a black muffler just like the one he was wearing and to your surprise, proceeded to wrap it around your neck.

“I don’t hate you, y/n,” he tucked the ends under your jacket and you thought you could hear familiar snickers from behind you but you were too busy gaping at the siren to care. “Even though you hunt my people… I don’t hate you. I understand your reasons. I just hope you understand mine,” he said, taking a step back to admire how his creation looked on you.

“...Thank you, Yeosang,” you finally glanced down, admiring the muffler. “And you must understand that I have a hard time being around you. I may warm up to you but at the end of the day, I can’t deny who you really are.”

“And that’s okay,” he nodded. “You look stupid in that hat by the way.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed immediately in response, glad he wasn’t making it awkward. “You’re just mad it’s not your hat I’m wearing.”

“You’re making it sound like I wanted you to wear something I made,” Yeosang pretended to throw up. “I only gave you that muffler because I couldn’t tolerate the sound of your teeth chattering. And because I don’t want you to freeze to death before you get me my voice back.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” you teased, having picked that name from Jongho. Coming from Jongho, Yeosang didn’t seem to care but now he looked almost offended. Before he could retort, San finally decided to remind you all why you were here.

“Are we having lunch first or do we get straight to business?”

After a majority vote for lunch first, you dined at a local restaurant that had some amazing side dishes. San knew the area quite well and he told you that to find your ebony arrows, you would need to travel deeper into the town and get to the other side where there was a specific area designated for the growth of rare plants maintained by sorcerers.

“So these ebony trees, why are they so scarce around the world?” Jongho asked.

“They didn’t use to be,” San told him as if letting him in on a secret. “Sorcerers are to blame. They had to make a living somehow, so they went around destroying some of the rarest plants around the world just to build a greenhouse here and become the only providers.”

“I did not know that,” you frowned.

“It happened about a century ago, and you won’t find this in the books,” San winked. “I saw your arrows earlier, by the way. The ebony one seems to have some sort of a spell on it?”

“A single graze and the siren dies,” you told him and he whistled. “I had a sorcerer help me with that.”

“That’s a strange spell,” San shook his head in thought. “Are you sure that’s the spell on it?”

“I have no reason to doubt it,” you shrugged. “I’ve heard about similar spells so this must be it.”

“It just feels strange, but maybe it’s because of the medium- the ebony…” San decided to let it go. “Shall we get the horses now?”

—------------------------

“I don’t know, y/n,” San told you, shaking his head in denial. “It just doesn’t feel right. Why can’t you use the arrows we got from Sheratan? I’m pretty sure your aim is good enough.”

“I only have one shot at this, quite literally, San,” you told him, referring to your old ebony arrow. You had three more from your visit to Sheratan. “I can’t risk losing the other arrows too.”

“Maybe you should.” Yeosang butted in, and you rolled your eyes. “What if you miss and kill someone you’re not meant to kill?”

“One less siren to worry about then,” you muttered.

“What if you accidentally graze yourself?”

“If I was that clumsy, I would have died three years ago, Yeosang,” you laughed a little. “Thanks for worrying about my wellbeing.”

“I’m not worrying about your wellbeing,” Yeosang began but when your smirk grew, he simply waved his hands in defeat and sank down in his corner.

You turned to San once again. “You’re a sorcerer, and I trust you, San. What feels so weird about that arrow?”

“The magic has a dark element about it, and I can’t tell if that’s all there is or if it’s the surface of something deeper,” San sighed deeply. “What I mean is that it could have been tampered with or it isn’t what the sorcerer told you it is. There’s no way I can test it either. Maybe just avoid the arrow if you can?”

“Alright,” you nodded. “Maybe I should have listened to you and got the arrow cross-examined when you insisted back in Sheratan.”

“That’s okay, just use the simple arrows,” San felt relieved and you smiled at him, watching him join Jongho.

San had first brought this up when you showed the arrows to the sorcerers in the greenhouse in Sheratan. They had confirmed that the arrow was of the ebony wood that grew right there, and had inquired about the spell on it. You had told them about the sorcerer who went by the name of the Wanderer. The sorcerers looked at each other after hearing that and upon asking, they told you that your sorcerer didn’t have a good reputation around here. You figured if a sorcerer was indirectly targeting sirens through you, he definitely wouldn’t have the best reputation. But after leaving, San had asked about the details of how you met him.

“I met him three years ago while going through a tough spot sailing on my own,” you told him. “I almost drowned but he spotted me and helped me. When he learned who I was, he was very intrigued and offered me the arrow.”

“Just like that?” San found it strange.

“He had a grudge with some sirens too, but he thought he could never get revenge so he decided to forget or something. And I was not going to miss the opportunity when there was a free ebony arrow right in front of me.”

You could tell why San felt conflicted so you picked that arrow out of the quiver and gave it to San. “Keep it safe.”

San smiled and went inside the cockpit and you felt the burning gaze of a certain someone. “What?”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up the arrow now that we’re so close to Mesarthim,” Yeosang said and you turned to him.

“Ebony arrows are fatal to sirens, and I have three of them. Three are enough,” you said. “Besides, if I need to kill you, I’ll still have that arrow, damned be the consequences.”

Yeosang scoffed in amusement. “You think those sirens will let you be after you kill them? You think there will only be a few of them?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you lived there, but you’ve been suspiciously quiet since letting out that information. And now you’re warning me? When we’re right around the corner?” You pointed towards the ominous dark cloud in the sky- the telltale signs of a storm that seemed to be a constant surrounding Mesarthim Island. Jongho, who had been sitting on the edge with his legs dangling, raised a brow at you both.

“I don’t think you need my warning,” Yeosang folded his arms. “You know what it’s like there. You’ve hunted sirens. I haven’t been to that area in about a decade. But if you think you’ll just go trespassing in and killing a few of them and return? You’re wrong.”

“And that’s what he’s here for,” you pointed at Jongho. “And aren’t these the very sirens you want to hunt as well?”

Jongho muttered something like ‘interesting’ while Yeosang gaped at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“Like I said, you’ve been awfully quiet, which must mean the sirens who took your voice are also there. I don’t know how many sirens live there or if we’re hunting the same ones, but first, you’re helping me kill my sirens, and then we help you. I hope you haven’t forgotten the deal.”

“I haven’t,” Yeosang’s voice was low. “You might not have to help me at all.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, a loud thunder sounded making you jump a little. Tiny droplets started to fall as the boat rocked unevenly with the rough waves and you began wrapping a scarf around your head so your hair wouldn’t get in the way. Jongho checked the weapons he had docked up on again and you peeked inside to see San struggling to steer the ship. You turned to Yeosang. “I think it’s about time you hide. And remember to wear earplugs unless you want to get killed by Jongho.”

“I’m kind of loud,” Jongho grinned. “So I can’t guarantee you won’t get bewitched by me.”

“I still don’t get why everyone thinks it’s totally normal that a human can bewitch sirens,” Yeosang muttered under his breath as he started covering his head and face- he couldn’t be spotted by the sirens here. “Remember to signal me if you need me.”

“Got it,” Jongho said and Yeosang went towards the other corner. You walked to stand next to Jongho, now spotting the faint outskirts of the island through the fog.

“I think there’s something Yeosang is not telling me, and it might be related to my parent’s death,” you whispered and Jongho looked at you in surprise. “Either he knows something about it or…”

“I don’t know, y/n,” he pursed his lips. “Why would he bring you here willingly then? Ulterior motive?”

“He does need his voice back. This could be a trap.”

“Good thing you have me then, eh?” Jongho smirked and you rolled your eyes but you knew that was true. “I won’t butt in until you tell me to, so stay safe, okay? No hasty moves.”

“No hasty moves,” you confirmed and stationed yourself on the edge of the boat, waiting.

The fog only grew thicker and though you had better hearing now, you were wondering if you would ever hear the sirens since the waves were too loud- along with the beating of your heart.

You were finally here. After eleven years, you were here to avenge your parents. Everything about this moment was familiar and nostalgic in an upsetting way. It had been stormy just like today. You had huddled next to your parents who looked worried along with the few other people on the boat. The sailor had been having a hard time steering it away from the red zone.

You shivered when you recalled the moment everyone fell silent and started listening to the sirens. That was your last intact memory before everything got muddled. You took a deep breath, fisting the daggers that hung by your hips, the longsword and quiver hanging on your back, bow on your shoulder. San started steering towards the red zone with his ears safely plugged despite the spell he had put on himself to not get lured by the sirens.

This had to end well.

Right then, you heard the faint humming of a siren and you looked through your binoculars, clicking your tongue in disappointment- the fog was far too thick today and the rain was only getting worse. You reminded Jongho to stay alert and only kill if necessary and then you loaded one of the ebony arrows, waiting to spot the faces of the sirens that had been the product of your nightmares.

You could hear the low humming but this one was different- they were not trying to lure you. You looked at Jongho for confirmation and he nodded. You glanced at Yeosang who was huddled in the corner, looking surprised. You inched closer to him, asking him what was up with the sirens.

“They’re not luring you,” he whispered. “They’re sending a warning call and alerting the others. They recognise us.”

“What do you reckon we should do?”

“I think it’s better if I stop hiding once they confirm they know I’m here, and then I can help you out.”

“I don’t trust you though,” you told him.

“I don’t trust you to hand me over to the sirens who will gladly kill me, but here we are,” he locked eyes with you and for a moment, your heart twitched in sympathy. The humming started to grow louder and harmonious.

“You still haven’t told me why they want to kill you,” you loaded your arrow back, aiming in the direction of the humming.

And just like that, the humming stopped entirely, an eerie silence taking over. You looked through your binoculars and found the faint figures standing still on the numerous rocks bordering the island until one of them spoke.

“One who betrays his blood has no right to return, much less with the enemy. How dare you?”

For a second, you wondered if all your spells had worn off in that moment- the sharp voice sounded inside you. It shook you to your core, and you realised then that Yeosang was right- he really had lost his voice.

Yeosang looked at you as if to say his point was proven, and then he removed the scarf from his face. “You could say I brought a gift… dear old sister.”

You almost lost your footing when you heard that and as the boat drew closer to the rocks, you finally saw a glimpse of the owner of that voice. Your limbs felt limp as recognition settled in and you struggled to breathe-

The face of the siren who killed your mother.

“Shoot, y/n.”

You slowly turned to Yeosang who was now beside you, glaring at who he had called his sister. There was no way… right? There was no way-

You let out a whimper and hastily covered your ears as the siren screamed- perhaps, you should have used those earplugs too. Yeosang tsk-ed painfully and yelled at San to stick to the current route, extracting a dagger from your belt and throwing it with full force at the siren, effectively silencing her as she dodged it and snarled at him, whistling loudly and alerting the other sirens.

“Get a grip, y/n. It’s gonna get messier than I thought,” Yeosang muttered, helping you up and brushing away the stray hair from your face, cupping it for good measure. “This is it, okay? You and I have the same enemy- I’ll explain later, but for now, let’s get rid of them. Okay?”

You nodded, unable to answer verbally and he went to the cockpit to borrow some weapons. You looked at Jongho who was clutching his daggers, waiting for your signal to sing, but he would have to wait a bit more.

You had some unfinished business with a few sirens.

“Yeosang,” you called when he came out with his own bow and arrows. “That siren is the one I’m after- but that’s not the only one. There were more.”

“I understand,” Yeosang aimed an arrow at his sister. “They’ll be right behind her. I’ll take the left and you take the right.”

Thus, the battle began. You kept the simple wooden arrows for the other sirens, the two of you shooting in succession. Jongho kept your backs safe as San dived right into the siren territory and it looked like the sirens had figured out that none of you would give in to their songs- you were spotting glints of silver from the corner of your eyes so you started scanning the crowd of sirens until you spotted another familiar face.

“I’ve found him,” you told Yeosang, motioning towards the male siren with its familiar long blonde hair. “That one killed my father.”

“He has a thing for men,” Yeosang rolled his eyes. “Sorry to tell you that he’s my cousin, of sorts.”

“I’ll deal with you later,” you muttered angrily, extracting one of the three ebony arrows. “I’m going for him.”

You aimed for the siren’s chest and just as the siren met eyes with you having swum from the island to the rocks, you shut your eyes for a second, saying a silent prayer, ignoring the harsh wind and rain, and dismissing the wailing of the sirens.

For you, dad.

You let the arrow loose and when it hit home, you let yourself rejoice for only a second. And then the siren fell on its knees and the other sirens dived into the sea, swimming towards your boat.

“Fuck,” you called Jongho to get back to the centre of the boat. “Yeosang! We’re covering Jongho until we cannot take it anymore.”

“Got it!” He yelled over the storm, getting closer and stealing a few arrows from your quiver. “I’m taking this ebony arrow.”

“Be my guest,” you couldn’t help but share a grin with him. The boat rocked dangerously and San appeared out of the cockpit, his eyes almost glowing.

“The boat will remain as stable as it can, I’ll make sure the sirens don’t mess with my property.”

You made an impressed face and then you heard a splash, a siren climbing on the boat. You immediately sent an arrow for its head which it dodged but Yeosang was quick to redeem you. Two other sirens started climbing from opposite ends and while you shot at them, a few others appeared until it became a cycle of shooting at them while they tried to get nearer. San had some sort of spell going on where phantom hands were throwing the sirens away from the cockpit and Jongho sent dagger after dagger with impeccable aim.

“Y/n, you need to know when to stop, okay? I’m not going to wait for your signal if I think we’re in danger,” Jongho reminded you.

“That one,” you pointed at Yeosang’s sister, still on the rocks watching with an evil smirk on her face, “That one I’ll kill with my own hands, and then we can do whatever.”

The siren seemed to get that message and it dived into the sea. You loaded the last ebony arrow, waiting to spot her but-

Yeosang hissed in pain as a siren raked its nails across his chest and you jerked in surprise- when did the sirens get this close? You instinctively let the arrow loose and killed that siren, turning to assess the damage. Yeosang seemed pale but he shook it off.

“Where’s your ebony arrow?”

“One of the sirens almost killed you with your own arrow,” he explained. “I got to her first.”

You shook your head. “I’ll take care of the rest, get back. Your sister might kill you before I get the chance.”

“No, they’re too much,” he shot an arrow at another siren who got too close. You unsheathed the longsword.

“It’s about time I put this to practice,” you told him and taking a deep breath, you started going after the sirens one by one. They were quick to match your pace with their long and sharp nails which were weapons enough. You slashed their scaly skins, glad it wasn’t sunny here because their glow would have blinded your naked eyes. You managed to get a few of them with only a few scratches and when you took a break, you spotted your target about to take out San who was now in the cockpit steering the boat away from the island-

“Jongho, get her!” You shouted and Jongho sent two daggers for the siren who dodged them, disappearing from your sight. You circled around that enclosed space with your bloody sword stretched out, hearing your own heartbeat in your ears-

And your heart sank in the worst way when you spotted your target with one of your ebony arrows going after Yeosang. You sent a dagger for her which wedged in her shoulder and she let out a cry of pain, alerting Yeosang but she didn’t let it hold her back- she almost jumped on top of Yeosang and they clawed at each other until she overpowered him, seizing him with the tip of the arrow resting on his chest, ready to be lodged in his heart if any of you made the wrong move. You paused in your tracks as she looked at you threateningly, assessing the damage.

“So many of us killed by your hands, brother dearest,” her melodic voice rang. “What would mother think?”

“Bet she would love this sight,” Yeosang was still in her grasp.

“And what would your mother think?” The siren asked you and your blood ran cold. “What would she think when she learns you’re lowering your weapons to save a siren?”

You looked at Jongho who shook his head- you were compromised. If he started singing now, Yeosang could get hurt. You turned to look at San who was glaring at the siren. He met your eyes and signalled at his side-

The ebony arrow you received from the sorcerer. You still had that.

You tried not to let it show as you looked back at the siren- she must be thinking you were defenceless now. “Let him go and we can have a fair fight,” you tried.

“I don’t want to,” she shook her head, her black locks flowing behind her. Everything about her was as beautiful as Yeosang, if not more, but Yeosang didn’t share the horridness a siren had. “And you,” she looked at her brother. “Did you know that killing me means you might not get your voice back?”

“I’d kill you anyway, I’m very tempted to,” Yeosang muttered and she scoffed, digging the arrow into his chest until he winced in pain. You bit your lip, sheathing your sword and clutching your bow.

“Let him go,” Jongho tried. “I could make all of you go mad right now. You might have heard of me- the reaper, your kind calls me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you. Didn’t expect you to look so… human,” she scanned him. “But you should know that your singing won’t work on me. I possess more than one voice, after all.”

You knew then- Yeosang's sister must have been one of the people who took his voice, which meant she was dangerous. Killing her meant that there was a chance Yeosang wouldn’t get his voice back, but…

You had to save Yeosang. There was no other option.

As if Yeosang could hear you, he nodded subtly. He could probably see San slowly creeping near you. While Jongho distracted the siren, San threw the arrow towards you and you caught it, immediately loading it in your bow and aiming it for the siren’s head- and all hell broke loose.

The sirens who had been waiting for orders went after you and Jongho. San used his phantom hands to keep them away and while Yeosang’s sister watched in surprise, you let the arrow loose before she could hurt him.

One graze, and the siren would be dead. All you needed was for the arrow to graze the siren. Yeosang pushed his sister with all his might so she would stay in place and between her attempts to dodge it, the arrow grazed her cheekbone, drawing blood and clattering loudly on the ground- you wondered if the clatter was louder than the thunder booming in the sky. Before you could react further, Yeosang snatched the arrow from her hand and stabbed her heart.

“This is for taking what does not belong to you,” he practically growled, watching his sister fall on her knees, blood spilling from her mouth so dark that it looked black.

“You… you’re killing your own?”

“You almost killed me- a decade ago and today,” Yeosang pulled the arrow out of her body, making her fall on the ground. The other sirens stood watching, unsure how to respond especially after Jongho revealed his identity. “My voice belongs to me, even if I never use it. Even if I never kill a human with it. You all,” Yeosang locked eyes with every siren on the boat. “Take her back. Let her rest with our parents. And let this be a reminder to all of you to not mess with one of your own.”

The sirens looked scared of Yeosang and you wondered who he really was. Why were they obeying him and not killing him? You and San stood side by side, watching the sirens help each other and hiss at you both for hurting them, none of them daring to sing or attack you. Yeosang sat beside his sister with both the arrows, waiting for her suffering to stop and when her body fell limp, he shut her eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He took off her necklace and pocketed it before asking the sirens to take her.

Even the storm seemed to have calmed a bit as the sirens left, silence filling the boat until Jongho looked at Yeosang. “You… you need to answer a lot of questions.”

Yeosang nodded slowly, turning to face you and stumbling in the process. You shook your head, going to him and helping him stay upright. “You’re hurt, you fool. You need to sit down and let me see it.”

He nodded, letting you help him to his corner and you sat him down, looking behind you to see Jongho collecting the weapons and San steering the boat away from the wretched island. You took a deep breath, turning back to Yeosang who was staring at you intently, making you blink in surprise.

“I’m going to, uh, unbutton your shirt- it’s already tattered anyway,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Stop staring at me while I do my work.”

“Not how I imagined you would undress me,” Yeosang said in a low voice so only you would hear. “That’s all I’ll say.”

You shut your eyes in mild annoyance. “Not the time to make jokes, siren. You’re hurt quite badly,” you assessed the several claw marks on his chest. “Don’t you have healing powers or something?”

“They’re quite slow now since I stopped acting like a siren,” he admitted. “But I’ll heal- just get me the potion in my bag, there,” he pointed at his bag and you nodded, opening the zip and finding several vials.

“Which one exactly?” You frowned. “Did you bring the whole cabinet with you or something?”

“The one with the purple cap,” Yeosang groaned in pain as he shifted. You tossed the bottle to him, going to your own bag to get your first aid kit and flipping Jongho who wiggled his brows at your concerned face. You settled down next to him and took out a bottle of alcohol.

“I don’t know how your body heals, but I’ll do it the traditional way. Don’t want you getting infected now that you finally got your voice back, do we?” You looked at him. “How would you know you got it back?”

“When her spirit leaves her entirely, that’s when the magic will work,” he told you. You started cleaning his wounds and he clenched his jaw in pain.

“Did you know all this time that it was your family that killed mine?”

“Are you really going to get answers like this?” Yeosang hissed in pain when you pressed purposefully on his wound.

“I think now’s a good time, Yeosang,” you tried not to sound amused. “On a serious note… did you know?”

“I didn’t connect the dots until you told me what my sister said to you right before sparing you,” he admitted. “My sister has always been rogue. We were not raised like this- yes, we hunted humans but she broke a lot of rules,” he took a breather while you continued cleaning his wounds. “And she broke a big rule when she decided to declare me an outcast and took my voice. I would have hunted her down one day. People like her really shouldn’t be in charge of the community.”

“Can’t say I feel sorry for her,” you muttered, starting to bandage the slashes on his chest. “Now, when are you going to tell me where you were when they killed my parents?”

Yeosang fell silent and he waited until you finished bandaging him. “When you overcome the trauma and your memories return to you… you’ll know where I was.”

“Do you have to do this?” you asked him, defeated. “Do you have to make me confused? You’re literally related by blood to the sirens who killed my family, and then you take me to them so I can kill them, save my life multiple times-”

“You saved mine too-”

“And won’t tell me what your role was in the attack a decade ago?” You let out an exasperated sigh. “I really start seeing you as a human sometimes. I really think you’re better than the sirens who are monsters in every sense. I don’t think you are a monster, Yeosang, but if you continue to play with my head-”

A sharp ache, almost like a stab, spread through your chest, making you double up and cough loudly while Yeosang’s breath got caught and he struggled to breathe, falling on his side. You could hear the faint sounds of Jongho and San rushing to the two of you and patting your cheek to make you come back to your senses but you gave in to the pull of the pain as everything went black.

—----------------------

“Too strange to be a coincidence.”

“The timing is very off- and the arrow, I swear it glowed for a second. And then she faints just like Yeosang? Yeosang’s getting his voice back, but what is her reason?”

You groaned loudly, stretching your limbs and making them crack in the process, your mouth curving in pain- it felt like every muscle in your body was cramped. Everything started to feel too much as you regained consciousness and you shut your eyes-

The light was too bright. Their whispering was too loud. Their cautious touches on your body were too much.

“Stop,” your cracked voice sounded and you felt a cold hand tap your cheek.

“Open your eyes, y/n. Look at me.”

“Not now,” you tried wiggling away from Yeosang but he put a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from rolling away and after taking a few deep breaths having curled into yourself miserably, you finally opened your eyes.

“Oh dear,” Yeosang looked at Jongho and San who were equally shocked. “You seeing this?”

“What?” You croaked again, getting up with immense effort and motioning at Jongho to pass you the water bottle near him which you gulped hungrily. “What happened? I fainted?”

“Not just fainted,” San began but paused, wondering how to word it. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Honestly? In pain,” you admitted, looking at Yeosang. “What happened to you? Why did you faint- why did we faint together?” You frowned deeply. “Did you do something?”

“Did I look like I could do anything?” He reminded you of the wounds across his chest. “Just to let you know what's going on, your eyes are, uh… glowing. Like a siren’s.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Just tell me I have pretty eyes, Yeosang.”

Jongho snorted and San looked up at the skies for help while Yeosang tried his best not to pass a stinging remark- you were not going to take it well. “Yeah? Don’t believe me? Go look in the mirror.”

“I don’t need to,” you started getting up, almost losing your footing. “How long was I out again?”

“A few hours,” San said, watching you cautiously.

“Must be the relief catching up or something,” you muttered, going towards the edge to look at the fading remnants of the island.

“Jongho, do something,” Yeosang pleaded and Jongho hugged himself.

“I’m scared of her,” he pouted.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you turned, bringing the stool in front of the three and sitting on it, peering down at them. “Tell me what’s going on. San first.”

“When you fainted, the arrow glowed for a moment,” he pursed his lips. “And then you just shivered uncontrollably for the three hours you were out.”

“Must be the spell, right?” You thought. “A single graze killed that siren, it must have something about it that it takes away from the user. Now, Jongho… what is it about my eyes glowing?”

“They just seem… glossier than usual. Like Yeosang’s.”

“So you all are tired too, I get it,” you shook your head. “Or this is an awful, awful prank-”

Yeosang dug a mirror out of his bag and held it in front of you, and your glowing eyes were not the first thing you noticed.

It was the faint purple mark on your temple. You leaned closer to examine it, noticing it looked a lot like scales-

It couldn’t be.

You turned your face and on the other temple- no, wherever the sun hit, your skin reflected an iridescent purple sheen, not too noticeable but there alright. You unwrapped the scarf from around your neck and shifted towards the sun, and sure enough, it was there as well. As a matter of fact, it was everywhere.

Suddenly it was too silent and too loud all at once. This was not the temporary better hearing spell you had, no. This was you hearing the low gurgles of something deep in the ocean. This was you seeing the very distant island and still being able to count the rocks around it- something you couldn’t even have seen with your binoculars. This was you hearing the breath- heartbeats of those on the boat. This was you smelling their anxiety. This was you feeling the hair on your body rise-

You rushed for the edge of the boat and gasped for air, choking on nothing. You could hear the shuffling of your companions but they didn’t come near- they let you have a moment until familiar light steps drew closer.

Yeosang touched your shoulder cautiously. “You’re still burning up- you need to let us do something about it.”

“What is happening to me?” You searched his eyes for answers but found none. “It’s too much, Yeosang, it’s too much-”

“It will be okay,” Yeosang squeezed your arm assuringly. “I think it’s some side effect of the arrow you used- the arrow from the sorcerer. If it doesn’t fade soon… we’ll do something about it, okay? We’ll figure it out-”

Yeosang couldn’t finish his sentence as your eyes rolled back in your head and you fell unconscious, him holding you in his arms just in time to save you from falling painfully down. He looked at the others helplessly- he had never seen something like this happen before. But you…

You, a human, were turning into a siren.

—----------------------

You didn’t know how long you kept lying on your back, watching the starry night sky and blocking the whispers of your companions on the boat. You were too busy replaying everything that had happened in the past few days in your head and you kept coming to the same conclusion.

The arrow. That darned arrow.

Did the Wanderer really take advantage of your vulnerability? Did he see what he needed in you- someone who would hunt a siren for him- and give you that arrow? Did he know about the spell as a sorcerer or did he give it to you because he was too scared to use it himself and find out what it would do to him? And if he knew that using that arrow would somehow turn the user into a siren…

Why would he want you, a siren-hunter, to turn into a siren? Did he have a personal grudge against you? He couldn’t, he had never met you before, had he? Or did he want you to turn into a siren just because he was someone sadistic? But it still made no sense- if he hated sirens like he had claimed he did, he wouldn’t have wanted you to turn into a siren, would he?

You finally got up, looking around- everything was starting to feel different, more heightened. You wondered for a moment if this was what was normal to Yeosang, but you were a human. You couldn’t be a siren. You hunted sirens for a living, for crying out loud. You walked around the boat until you spotted the three huddled in front of the fire, heating themselves up-

And you realised you did not feel cold either. You scoffed internally- you finally got all your questions about sirens answered. The questions you had been asking Yeosang all this time.

Yeosang was the first one to hear you walking towards them and he actually looked worried as he scanned you. “How are you feeling?”

“Angry,” you settled down in front of them. “And hungry.”

“Hangry…” Jongho acknowledged. “Any unusual craving for humans yet?”

“Jongho,” San warned though he was trying to stifle his smile.

“You’ll be the first to know if I do, human,” you muttered and Yeosang looked awfully proud to hear that.

“Really hope you don’t turn into a siren though,” Jongho casually cleaned his dagger, looking at his reflection on the blade. “Otherwise I’d have to kill two of you.”

“I thought we were friends,” Yeosang put his hand on his heart, disappointed.

“I’m not turning into a siren,” you glared at Jongho and Yeosang and they immediately shut up- you were pretty sure you had never been this angry before in front of them. You turned to San. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve steered the boat away from Mesarthim, so we’ll be bordering Sheratan in a few hours.”

“Good, keep it in that direction,” you nodded. “I need answers from a certain sorcerer.”

“I don’t think it’s safe to go alone, especially in this condition,” San scooted closer to get a good look at you. “You were burning up while you were unconscious and I had to use a spell to bring your fever down. There’s no guarantee when it will come back.”

“Thank you, but I will take care of myself,” you smiled reassuringly at him. “You’ve been a lot of help, San, but I think this is where we should part ways.”

“Nope,” San shook his head. “If you’re dealing with a sorcerer, I need to be there. There’s no telling what he will do to you- he probably planned this. This arrow- it has to be a curse.”

Your heart sank. “A curse?”

“No spell can change the nature of who you are- whether human, sorcerer or siren,” he explained. “It would have taken a curse to do that- and if that is the case… you don’t have to be a sorcerer to put a curse on something or someone, right?”

“You mean…” Jongho shifted uncomfortably, “This sorcerer might not have been a sorcerer at all?”

“That is a possibility, because to put a curse, you simply have to have a deep grudge against something or someone. For the curse to be effective, it takes a lot of negative energy. If the Wanderer placed a curse on that arrow himself and gave it to you…”

“That would make another person with a deep personal grudge against sirens,” Yeosang looked at you. “He wouldn’t have been on the boat with you and your parents a decade ago, would he?”

“No,” you said. “I’m sure he was not.”

“There’s a lot to consider here,” Yeosang rubbed his hands as if he finally felt cold. “Whether he had a grudge against the sirens we just killed or a grudge against siren-hunters, which means it could easily have been Jongho who wielded that arrow.”

Jongho grimaced at the possibility. “He must have purposefully searched for us then but found y/n first…”

You shook your head in disappointment. You definitely should not have trusted that sorcerer- or anyone, for that matter. You should have double-checked the spell on the arrow with other sorcerers. You should have trusted San and not used that arrow at all-

“I’m sorry for tossing you that arrow even though I told you not to use it,” San sighed deeply. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I would have done that anyway.”

And only after saying that did you realise that yes. You would have done that anyway, all to save a siren.

All to save Yeosang, who was currently watching you intently and making your heart flutter, something unspoken passing between you two. The whole ordeal had really been a test for you both and you saved each other’s lives without hesitation again and again.

Before Yeosang could say something or Jongho could pass a comment with that devilish smirk on his face, you got up and went to the other end of the boat, sitting on the deck and taking a few deep breaths.

Everything you had planned had come to ruins. You killed the sirens, yes, but at what cost? You were turning into something you hated. And at the same time, you were so confused about Yeosang and his involvement in everything.

While you were unconscious, you had… dreams. You weren’t sure if they were flashbacks of your deeply buried memories or just a figment of your wild imagination, but you were back at Mesarthim, clutching your ears and sobbing while your parents' blood spilled in front of you as the sirens sank their teeth into their bodies. You were screaming as another siren made its way to you, and your scream got louder when a now familiar face stood between you and the monster.

“Not the kids. That is enough already.”

And then your saviour was thrown away with a harsh push and you scrambled to hide yourself amidst the panic, but the sirens could smell your fear. Soon, the boxes you hid behind went flying away and you brought your knees closer to your chest, eyes widening as the siren made one of its own kneel in front of you, face a bloody mess.

“Kill this child, siren. It is who we are.”

You were pretty sure it was Yeosang, and if this was a memory that finally made its way back…

Had it been Yeosang who saved your life that day?

“Stop staring holes into the poor sea,” Yeosang settled down next to you. You glared at him for good measure, taking that chance to scan his face again- he looked very different in that dream/memory but it had to be him. “And stop glaring at me every chance you get.”

“I’m still waiting for your answer,” you told him, looking back at the sea and swinging your legs a little. “

“I think we have more pressing concerns right now,” he scanned your face. “Can you tell me exactly how you feel? Do you feel any… physiological changes?”

“Well, I can hear your heartbeat, for starters, and that is the most unnerving thing,” you finally laughed a little, making him relax as well.

“We learn to ignore it until it becomes the background,” he smiled. “What can you hear?”

You took a deep breath. “Everything. I can hear them talking if I focus, I can hear the creatures in the sea… I could sense your presence, Yeosang. Is this how it feels to be a siren?”

“You’re not a siren yet, don’t worry,” Yeosang patted your back. “But do let me know if you get intense cravings.”

“I can’t tell if this is a joke or not.”

“I won’t tell,” he smiled cheekily. “Well, excellent night vision?”

“Yep,” you confirmed.

“If you’re up for it, we could test some other things, see how far it has progressed. I could tell you how to deal with it-”

“I don’t need to learn how to be a siren, Yeosang,” you raised a brow. “I’m a human. I will remain human, and I will undo whatever has happened.”

“Yes, you're still a siren-hunter,” Yeosang rolled his eyes. “But sweetheart, if you need to hunt that sorcerer, you need to learn how to live with this body and make the best use of it. It’s probably going to benefit you. And once you find him and we break the curse, you can go back to being a human if you hate it so much.”

“I will go back to being a human,” you said. “But… you’re right. I should learn how to stop stumbling every two steps.”

“Did the siren thing make your perspectives broaden as well?” Yeosang wandered out loud and you smacked his arm. “We’ll take it slow, don’t worry.”

“You’re quite pleased that I’m turning into a siren, aren’t you?” Your voice shook and his smirk fell. “You could leave me be. You could watch me suffer, but why are you offering to help me? What do you want from me?”

“I thought it was clear by now that I want nothing from you,” he looked a bit hurt and that made your heart ache as well. “I only want to thank you for helping me out and saving my life today. I want to thank you for helping me get my voice back, and I want to apologise for the unfortunate consequences of it.”

You looked down, trying to sort your thoughts out. “You’re… too human to be a siren.”

“And that is why I was outcasted by my own family,” he said. “Sirens don’t go around saving humans, y/n.”

“It was you that day, wasn’t it?” You finally looked at him, a clear memory back in your head. “I don’t know why I suddenly remember, but it was you. They made you kneel in front of me, ready to kill you if you didn’t kill me.”

“And you saved my life that day,” Yeosang smiled.

You realised you had. Not only today, but about a decade ago too. When he was struggling to breathe and being forced to kill you, you waited for the other sirens to get distracted before passing him the dagger you had been hiding behind you all this time. He had thanked you silently before he told you to close your eyes.

“I killed my people that day,” Yeosang continued. “And I’m glad you managed to escape that day, y/n, or it would have been all for nothing.”

“But they took your voice,” you whispered. “Because of me.”

“And then you found me,” he looked down at your hands which were almost brushing. “You found me…” he dared to brush his fingers against yours and when you didn’t pull your hand away, he intertwined them. “And you saved me again. It took me a while to remember you, but it looked like you had forgotten me, which is why I decided not to tell you again. It’s not the best memory, after all.”

“Well, I still hate you and you’re a siren,” you said though your smile betrayed you.

“And you still reek of human,” Yeosang retorted, his confession oddly comforting. “But I like you anyway.”

You couldn’t meet his gaze anymore so you looked away but you could tell that he was smiling. You simply squeezed his hand in response, which was enough for now. He continued to play with your fingers as he asked, “If things hadn’t gone wrong today, what would you have done? Where would you have gone?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I never thought I’d make it out alive. I owe you all for that.”

“I never thought I’d make it out alive either,” Yeosang stared into the distance. “It was more like a suicide mission because let’s face it- how could I have made it out alive? We barely escaped this time. I just wanted to get back at my sister for a number of things. You won’t believe it, but I’m not the only odd siren out there. There are others who practise restraint simply because once you give in to your carnal desires, siren or human, you turn into a monster.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “So we’ve just been unfortunate this whole time? Coming across sirens that are monsters?”

“Kind of,” Yeosang smiled dejectedly. “The normal ones won’t really be sitting and waiting for humans, would they?”

“Okay, you’ve got a point,” you said. “So were you the odd one out in your community?”

“More like most of us gave in to peer pressure and had no other choice. And if you rebelled… you end up like me.”

“Not a bad place to end up though?”

“It wasn’t always so easy,” Yeosang shivered involuntarily. “Especially when they took your voice. The first few years were miserable but then I learned to live with it. I pass as a human now, don’t I?”

“Hate to admit but you do,” you tsk-ed. “So what next for you?”

Yeosang looked at your joined hands and you suddenly felt conscious. “I think I’ll stick around. At least until we find the person who did this to you, and then I will make them suffer. After that…” he brought your hand to his lips to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles, making your heart somersault. “I’ll see where this road takes me.”

You heard it- the silent promise to help you out and go wherever you want to go. To be with you. You wondered how he, as a siren, was so… beautiful. Not just from the outside, but from within. How he gave and gave without really asking anything in return. How he was still willing to hunt for you even when you had, till now, clearly reminded him again and again that he was a siren but you hated his kind.

He was a siren, but… he was more human than you could ever be.

—-------------------------

“There is no way I’m learning how to breathe underwater,” you insisted for the umpteenth time. “I have experienced breathing underwater. When the water gets into your lungs…”

“That shit hurts,” Jongho agreed, for once siding with you and you silently thanked him.

“Yes, but that’s when you’re human,” Yeosang was losing his calm now. “You need to learn how to breathe underwater so if that damned sorcerer tries drowning you, you won’t kill yourself.”

“I don’t think he’ll get to that,” you scoffed.

“Then you think too highly of yourself,” Yeosang said. “Do not underestimate someone who has the power to turn a human into a siren.”

“And the sorcerer is travelling around, so chances are we catch him while sailing or we find him at some shore,” San quipped. “He’ll definitely try to kill you- because you’re going to try to kill him too.”

You poked your tongue in your cheek, hands on your hips as you thought about it. Truth be told, you may be travelling the oceans most of the time but you were pretty scared of diving into it, especially when you almost drowned a few times in the past too.

A few days ago, when you finally completed your life’s mission and found everything going wrong, you reached Sheratan’s shore and inquired about the Wanderer. Everyone scattered around town, San tagging with you and after a few hours of asking around and a hearty dinner to celebrate making it out alive on that deadly mission, you got on the boat again to border around Sheratan in hopes of finding a lead.

While you travelled, San practised his spells, trying to either recreate something like your curse only in hopes of finding how to undo it in the process, or actually just get to breaking it himself, but so far, all his efforts had been in vain and a few times even backfired at him. He almost got hurt and you had to put Jongho on duty to make sure San wouldn’t end up hurting himself. So he started focusing on location spells and defensive shields.

Jongho could have gotten off at Sheratan since he had intended to go there anyway, but for some reason he decided to tag along until you got back to normal, and you were pretty sure the reason was not only that he was worried about you and wanted you to turn back to human, or because he wanted to kill Yeosang- which was an inside joke now. If you thought about it, he had become so used to travelling alone that perhaps, he was finding a home and a family within your odd group. You were sure about that because when you tried to tease him about it, he threatened to drown you, which made you snicker to yourself. But you had to admit you found the young siren-hunter endearing especially when he forgot who Yeosang was and just listened to his stories and let him tease him with a stifled smile. There was something about Yeosang that no one here could resist.

And that included you. These past few days, he had been making sure you felt okay and helped you live with yourself not only physically but mentally too, because if you looked past your anger, you knew that there was no telling how long you would have to live as a siren or if you could ever go back to being human. He was helping you come to terms with yourself and you were grateful for that, because if you had been alone, you weren’t sure what you would have done to yourself. Now that you knew so much about sirens and started seeing them as people just like you with emotions and feelings and dreams and wishes instead of bloodthirsty monsters… you were okay.

You were okay with Yeosang- you had been for quite a while though. He had never felt like a siren- even now, when he was fully siren, he was the same. He tried singing once when you were in the middle of the ocean- you all were immune anyway. Despite that, when he sang, you thought it was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. It wasn’t hauntingly beautiful like a usual siren’s call, but it was almost dreamy. Even Jongho was in awe as Yeosang sang his heart out after what had to be a decade and your face was wet with tears by the time he ended.

He asked you last night if you felt like singing. You told him you didn’t know the answer to that, because currently you were busy repressing every emotion you felt and focusing solely on the anger you felt towards the sorcerer for violating your entire being. But ever since he asked you that, you couldn’t help thinking about it. So you asked him in the morning.

“Why do sirens sing?”

You knew that the sole purpose of singing wasn’t to lure humans, so you were curious why Yeosang wanted to sing so badly even though he didn’t intend to lure humans.

“So we don’t forget who we are.”

Though it was an ambiguous answer, as you narrowed your eyes at Yeosang who was waiting for you to make a decision, you wondered if he was enjoying your misery-

“No, I’m not enjoying your misery,” Yeosang chuckled. “Please, get in the water.”

“How do you even breathe underwater?” You almost cried. “Do you have some gills that I can’t see? Did I grow gills-”

San and Jongho burst out laughing in the corner and Yeosang put his head in his hands. “I’m not a fish, y/n. You just breathe through your nose- the water won’t get in. Come on,” he outstretched his hands and when you still kept giving him the side-eye, he raised a brow.

“Don’t you trust me?”

You took a deep breath, raising your hands and pausing. “I trust you. But I’m scared.”

“You’ll be okay,” Yeosang gently locked your hands with his and tugged you closer, taking off your cardigan and scarf and throwing them on the deck. “No need for these extra layers. Feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, left in a plain black shirt and pants, similar to his. “At my pace, okay?”

“Of course,” he nodded, stepping into the water first and waiting for you. You glared at him one last time before following-

And clutching onto his arms for support.

“Just so you know, I suck at swimming,” you told him and he laughed.

“We’ll change that- for sirens, swimming is second nature to them,” he told you, trying to unwrap your grip around his arms. “Now, let go of me and you’ll find yourself floating-”

“No-” you drew closer, clutching onto his shoulders, your eyes widening as you looked down. “Can you always see that deep into the sea?”

When Yeosang didn’t answer, you looked at him, blinking in surprise when you realised how close you were, practically hugging him. But you couldn’t care right now- you were far too scared to let go. “Bear with me, please.”

“Okay,” Yeosang nodded. “Now, if you’re feeling a little better, you can let go of me and we can go underwater, okay? There’s nothing to be scared of- I’m with you.”

“Alright, I hold my breath when I go down?”

“If you want to,” he squeezed your waist assuringly, only then realising he was holding you there. Good lord, he thought. “It doesn’t matter, but when you open your eyes and get your bearings, allow yourself to breathe- through your nose, okay?”

“Okay,” your voice sounded small. “Let’s try this?”

Yeosang smiled. “Hold on to the boat and watch me.”

You did as he instructed, staying upright and you watched him dive inside the sea and swim around, all the while breathing through his nose. He waved at you and you laughed at the sight, feeling a bit relaxed.

You could do this.

You let go of the boat and held your breath, diving into the sea and opening your eyes, surprised at how everything was visible. You could see Yeosang waving at you and when you looked down, you could see the fish and other creatures. You smiled and swam closer to him and he put his hands on your shoulders-

“Breathe through your nose.”

You almost inhaled water when you heard his voice inside your head and he smiled cheekily, putting his hands on your shoulders again.

“You really are turning into a siren. Sirens can communicate through touch while underwater. Takes a little practice though. Now, inhale.”

You shook your head, swimming away from him- somehow, you could hold your breath longer now. You saw a few fishes circle around you both and while you were momentarily surprised, you had an awful realisation and you looked up-

You were far too deep in the sea. You felt short of breath and you made the mistake of opening your mouth as if to call Yeosang which just made you panic and you shook frantically, Yeosang quick to reach you and wrap his hands around your waist-

“What’s the matter? Breathe through your nose, quick!”

You shook your head, looking up again, silently communicating that you needed air and you opened your mouth again, panicking- you couldn’t hold on much longer and you were going to drown to death-

“It’s quicker to inhale than to go up for air, please, inhale, y/n! Trust me-”

You smacked his chest as if to curse him for doing this to you but he remained close. When you almost gave up, your human instincts overriding your system, Yeosang decided to help you a little-

He pressed his mouth against yours, transferring his breath to you. Your eyes widened in shock for a few moments until he drew back, equally shocked and slightly amused.

“You’re breathing.”

You shook your head in denial- yes, you breathed for a second there and the water didn’t pass through your nose and burn your lungs, but your fear made you lock that again. Yeosang brought his hands to your face, cupping them and looking at you almost lovingly.

“Just relax, y/n.”

You didn’t know which one of you made the next move but you were pressing your lips against each other again and this time, he wasn’t simply transferring air to you. This time, he was kissing you. You were breathing through your nose and you were kissing him back, your hands fisting his shirt and keeping him close, and you could make the excuse that you couldn’t breathe, but both of you knew this was different. He relaxed himself when he realised you weren’t stopping him and then he let one of his hands cup your jaw and angle you better, the other stopping at the exposed skin below your shirt. Despite wanting to continue kissing you for as long as he could, he slowly started swimming upwards and when you finally ascended up and the cold air hit your face, you broke away from him, breathless.

And for once, he was the same.

You took him in, his dark hair matted all over his face, your bodies still so close to each other, his eyes still glued to your lips. You took in your fill and then you cleared your throat. “Uh… I think I’ll try that another time.”

“Try what?” Yeosang asked and you frowned.

“Breathing underwater, you idiot,” you smacked his shoulder, drawing away from him and when he started laughing, you couldn’t help but join awkwardly. “I panicked, okay?”

“I could tell,” he teased and you splashed water on his face, feeling his gaze as you climbed up the boat, San and Jongho waiting.

“How were your adventures underwater-”

“Shut up,” you muttered, going for a towel, positive your cheeks were flushed. Yeosang followed and you avoided his gaze, going towards where your bag was.

“Are you sure you were only panicking?” Yeosang said in a low voice so only you could hear. You clenched your jaw, glaring at him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you muttered, throwing your towel at him and going inside the cockpit, shutting the door so you could sort your thoughts out by yourself-

You weren’t sure what was worse for you as a siren-hunter. The fact that you were turning into a siren, or the fact that you kissed a siren.

Or the undeniable reality that you had been falling for him for quite a while now.

It was stupid, you thought, to fall in love with a siren. It could never end well. The stories you had heard about sirens and humans falling in love always ended ill-fatedly. You recalled hearing one from an old sorcerer you met in your hometown when you first began your siren-hunting.

“There was once a siren who fell in love with a human.”

“How could a siren love a human?” You asked.

“That’s not what matters, because they have a heart too, they find it when they fall in love,” he said. “What matters is that when a siren loves a human, it gives up everything. It gives up its own life. It forgets who it is but a siren shouldn’t love a human because eventually, a siren will sing. And when it sings, the human gives up everything for it.”

“So did that siren end up singing?”

“That’s what we’ve heard, but we never found out if that’s true,” the sorcerer sighed. “That siren loved his human so very much, but it forgot that sirens are not the only monsters out there. Humans are as monstrous themselves. So when everyone found their secret, what did they do?”

“What?” Your heart sank.

“The humans killed their own while the siren watched,” the sorcerer patted your back. “And the siren lost a part of itself. You are a human, dear. Remember not to become the monster that you hunt.”

You shivered as you recalled the story. You wondered if some part of it was true. And then you wondered if Yeosang felt the same.

Truth be told, you could blame him for being too kind to you, for protecting you, for making your heart flutter with his little actions that he didn’t even give a second thought to. You wondered why he continued to kiss you underwater- did he like you now that you were a siren? Did he like you when you were a human? Or was he simply too touch-starved all these years? Were you starving for love?

How could you fall for a siren-

You heard a knock and you thought it was San but Jongho peeked inside instead. “May I come in?”

“Why are you suddenly asking for permission,” you pouted and he grinned, settling in front of you. “If you’re here to tease me about something, please leave-”

“I wanted to ask you why Yeosang keeps grinning like an idiot. What did you both do underwater?”

You frowned, looking outside from the window and sure enough, Yeosang stood in a corner playing with his ball of yarn and smiling to himself. He almost looked like a kid at that moment and you shook your head. “He might be giggling over how I panicked underwater. I couldn’t really breathe like he thought I would.”

“Really?” Jongho frowned. “Because you were down there for quite a while.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck now. “Sirens must have good lung capacity or something.”

Jongho narrowed his eyes. “You like him, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Who am I talking about?”

“Jongho,” you looked at him. “I know you’re talking about Yeosang. And yes, I don’t want to kill him anymore, but neither do you. We grew on each other, that’s it.”

“Yeah, but you two can’t stop staring at each other whenever you think nobody’s looking,” he grinned. “Look, my thoughts about sirens have changed too ever since I met Yeosang, and now that you’re turning into a siren and might stay that way… you know I won’t hurt you, right?”

“I know,” you smiled.

“We’re closer to finding that sorcerer,” Jongho said. “And it’s going to be dangerous. What I mean is… you can’t be distracted or let the sorcerer get inside your head, okay? You understand what I’m saying, right?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll sort myself out. No more tantrums.”

“Nah, you can continue having these tantrums,” Jongho laughed. “That’s not what I mean. I know I would have holed myself in a corner and cried 24/7 if I was turning into a siren. But you need to understand that we barely escaped last time and this sorcerer is powerful enough to do that to you. In case something happens to one of us…”

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted. “We’ll make it out alive, all of us.”

“I sure hope so, but I’d rather be prepared if I don’t make it out alive, which is why I’m here right now, actually,” Jongho said. “What do you think would be your biggest regret if you don’t make it out alive?”

“I… haven’t thought about that,” you admitted. “What would be yours?”

“Well,” Jongho slumped back. “I think it would be that I wasted all these years continuing hunting sirens, even when I got the ones who killed my family. You’ve just completed your life’s mission too. I think if I make it out alive, I’d like to quit hunting and do something else.”

“Oh,” you grinned at him. “Someone’s matured.”

“Right,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think you’ll quit hunting as well?”

You found yourself looking out of the window at Yeosang who was now talking to San about something. “I think I might. I don’t know.”

Jongho smiled knowingly. “What do you say? The four of us continue conquering the sea and helping people get past evil sea creatures or humans?”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” you laughed. “We’d be called pirates at this rate.”

“Yeah, our reputation already sucks anyway,” Jongho laughed as well. “But I think we make a really good team.”

You nodded, smiling at the sight of the sorcerer and siren clapping at something they found funny. You really did make a good team, and perhaps, you’d like to continue being that way. “We could find some unexplored island and make it our home. I don’t want to go back to my hometown.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jongho said. “But first… let’s all make it out alive, okay? Let’s stay strong.”

—-------------------------

“What if we get caught trespassing on someone’s private property?” Jongho sounded concerned as he jumped over the wall to get inside the house you had travelled miles to get to.

“I think it’s justifiable considering what the sorcerer did to me,” you said, letting San help you climb up and then you jumped down, Jongho catching you. “I could burn down his whole property.”

“I won’t be surprised if that makes the sorcerer curse you again,” San said as he jumped down effortlessly, dusting his hands off. “I can undo spells like those put around this property, but I can’t undo another curse.”

“Are you sure there’s no alarm here to detect sirens?” Yeosang asked before he jumped down. “Pretty sure he would set one up considering how much he hates sirens.”

“None of you are siren enough to activate one anyway,” San scoffed. “But no. There’s none. I don’t think he ever thought a siren would come parading in his house.”

“Trespassing,” Jongho corrected.

“If you’re so worried about the law, Jongho, maybe you should retire after this mission. We could get you some place by the sea,” you teased. “You could catch fish for a living.”

“Jokes later, we don’t have much time,” San took the lead, unlocking the main door with a swipe of his hands. “Remember not to leave any sort of trace. And try not to make it look obvious that we’re searching his house, will you?”

“Got it,” you all muttered before entering the Wanderer’s house.

While on your journey around Sheratan, you came across the same pirates who had dropped Jongho off and since they were in his debt, they gave you all the information about the Wanderer which was not much but was enough. You had the location of one of his many properties across the continent and you all thought it would be a good idea to search his house for any clues about his real identity or the curse, which was how you ended up here.

“Stick next to me- if any spells have to detect a siren, I’d rather it be me,” Yeosang pushed you behind him, taking the lead. You felt touched and you were just staring at him in disbelief and adoration when he continued, “You can’t even handle one curse. I don’t know how you’ll handle another-”

“Thank you, but I’m good,” you tried overtaking him but he grabbed your arm and locked eyes with you.

“Please. I’d rather it be me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re genuinely worried or if you’re making fun of me.”

“Can’t it be both?” He grinned and you made a face at him, none of you breaking physical contact.

Somehow, you were getting used to Yeosang’s physical touch. Ever since that day when you both kissed underwater, he had been somehow more gentle with you yet he was still the same. You were too afraid to ask what exactly was your relationship with him now, but it definitely had surpassed the boundaries of ‘just friends’ and you hadn’t even acknowledged him as a friend verbally.

He did talk to you about what happened that day. For two days, you did your best to avoid him though you couldn’t do much, being stuck in the same boat as him. On the second night though, he joined you by the deck and asked how you were doing, making small talk until he finally said-

“Are we going to talk about the kiss or are we going to pretend it never happened?”

You pursed your lips and when you didn’t answer for a few moments, your mind racing with too many thoughts, he gently took your hand in his, caressing it.

“I know what I want,” he said. “Do you?”

His gaze was too much. It was overwhelming, but at the same time… you wished he would keep looking at you that way forever. You met his eyes- they were so warm. So full of affection and love.

“Why, Yeosang?”

“Do I need a reason to want you?” He wondered. “Maybe I just like you, y/n. Maybe I just like who you are.”

You scoffed. “I haven’t given you anything. This isn’t me- you can’t possibly like this version of me.”

“Isn’t this you?” He intertwined your hands, holding them up in front of the full moon. “Isn’t it you, afraid to admit you want a siren, just like I was afraid to admit that I want a human?” He shut one eye as if studying the way the moonlight passed through the gaps between your fingers. “Was that not you who spent all her life searching for the sirens who killed her parents to avenge them?” He put your hands down, still staring at the way they fit with each other. “Was that not you who has a heart of gold- who, even when at her worst, saw the human in me and helped me?”

“Stop,” you almost cried, wanting nothing more than to let him hold you. You didn’t look his way again but he kept playing with your hands and waited for you to continue.

“What are you so afraid of, y/n?” He whispered.

“There’s way too much to be afraid of,” you finally lost your patience and looked at him. “Firstly… I’m a human and you’re a siren- and it can’t end well. I don’t know how this could work- but from what I’ve heard, it can’t work-”

“So you do want me,” Yeosang was grinning now and you shook your head in disbelief. Had he not heard a word you said?

“Do you like me more now that I’m almost a siren?” You locked eyes with him and when you saw his smile fall, you knew you had asked the wrong question.

“If that’s what you think, I’m willing to wait for you until you’re human,” he managed to say though he felt his heart had been ripped. “Though, I thought it was obvious even when you were human.”

“No, I’m sorry I asked that,” you admitted. “It’s just… I’m not certain about the future right now. I don’t want to make a promise to you that I cannot keep- not when I’m in this state. I may have gotten used to it thanks to your help but that does not mean I like it.”

“But… you do like me?” Yeosang asked and in that moment, he looked so vulnerable that something in you broke. All the walls you had built to guard your hesitation, fear, and the stupid second thoughts came crashing down and you almost whimpered with the sheer ache in your heart as you slid closer to him, cupping his face in your hands.

“I want you,” you told him, watching the uncertainty on his face fade away. “I don’t know what song you’ve sung but despite you not having your siren voice and despite my immunity to a siren’s song… I’m bewitched and I want you so bad.”

That was all Yeosang needed and he put one arm around your waist to tug you closer until you were flush against him. You joined your foreheads, simply breathing in the proximity and getting used to it, the brushing of your noses driving you absolutely insane. When your lips brushed, it took everything in you to draw away and look at him, his eyes fluttering open.

“Let me just get that damned sorcerer first,” you said, pecking his lips for good measure and surprising him. “Let me just sort my mess out, and then…”

“And then…” Yeosang smirked, pecking your lips and looking at you- if he meant to drive you insane, it worked because you were kissing him back as if you were on stolen time, trying to draw him closer than ever, his hands every fucking where. This time, he broke away and finished with peppering kisses all over your face.

“You don’t have to be afraid of what’s next, okay?” He said, kissing your cheek. “I’m with you. We’re all with you. You’ll be okay, love.”

You snuggled into his neck and he held you for the rest of the night. And now, here you were, back to being whatever you were. Yeosang led you inside the house and you noticed that there wasn’t much dust inside.

“He’s been here recently,” you commented. “Are we splitting up?”

“Definitely,” Jongho said. “Me and San can cover upstairs.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Yeosang, you should start with the rooms, I’ll do the living room and kitchen.”

Though reluctant to let you go, Yeosang did, understanding the shortage of time. You had your eyes on the shelves where several books, candles, inkpots and other objects were placed. You skimmed through the titles- they were mostly history and fictional. You made a face- perhaps he was a reader. You found it odd, though, that there were no books on spells or magic like a sorcerer should have. The objects there were mostly stationery and you checked a few letters but found nothing strange. Disappointed, you searched the kitchen and the hallways, finding Yeosang there who was also looking lost.

“Found anything?”

“Seems like a normal person so far,” you sighed. “I hope Jongho or San find something. Found any signs of another person living here?”

“None- he seems to be alone. There’s a locked cabinet in there that San should check, though.”

Right then, you heard the two coming downstairs, empty-handed and perhaps as disappointed at you. San said, “For a sorcerer, he sure hates spell books. There’s a library up there but no books on spells or magic.”

“Isn’t that odd?” You asked. “What does a sorcerer usually have in his possession? At least a spell book or some magical items, right?”

“Nothing like that here,” he said.

“There’s a locked cabinet in there- you should check that,” Yeosang led San inside what looked like the master bedroom and San assessed the cabinet.

“There’s no spell on it,” he said, opening it with ease. “And there’s nothing inside. Must be for whenever he actually stops by.”

“I told you it would be a waste,” Jongho looked happy to have proven his point and you glared at him.

“It won’t be a waste,” San assured. “We know that he stopped by here only a few days ago thanks to the mailbox. I checked his study and found that one of his properties is located in the neighbouring town which means if he’s not sailing right now, he must be there. I tried a location spell but I got nothing.”

“Wow, are you a part-time detective or something?” Jongho looked impressed.

“Just observant,” San scoffed. “Unlike you lot.”

Which sparked a heated debate and while you all argued as you exited the room, Yeosang noticed a peculiar painting hanging in the hallway and he paused to examine it. San asked if something about the painting was familiar. You looked at it- it was a gloomy painting of a lone man sitting on a rock with waves crashing around him.

“I’ve seen this place,” Yeosang sounded sure.

“And?” Jongho asked, waiting.

“I’m pretty sure the place in the painting is the caves where the sirens dwell near Fomalhaut. You see the ashen mountains? The only volcanoes on this planet are near Fomalhaut and near Regulus. I’ve been here.”

“And what’s so special about this location?” San asked.

“The most monstrous sirens dwell there- the elders, we call them,” Yeosang looked at San.

“Interesting,” you contemplated his revelation. “But… what’s the problem with this painting specifically?”

“No one who’s human has ever made it out alive after crossing that place, so… how could someone have painted it so accurately? Down to the specific details about the place?”

“What are you saying?” Jongho asked. “Someone told a painter in great detail or…”

“Or someone painted it themselves,” Yeosang touched the painting. “Did any of you see any painting supplies?”

“In the study upstairs, yes,” San said and Yeosang pursed his lips.

“A lack of spells or sorcerer-related items and this painting… why do I have a feeling our sorcerer isn’t a sorcerer at all?”

You felt your heart sink. “What is he then? Human? But you said no human made it out alive-”

“What if he’s a siren, just like me?” Yeosang looked at you, eyes a little wide. “Pretending to be human- if he hasn’t used his voice in a while, he could pass as a normal human. He pretends to be a sorcerer and wanders around- the Wanderer.”

While you stood having major flashbacks about all your meetings with the Wanderer, San asked Yeosang if he was sure but even San felt like it was more plausible than anything so far. Jongho put a hand on your back, rubbing it. “It doesn’t matter if he’s a siren or a sorcerer or whatever. We’ll get him, okay?”

“I know we will,” you smiled weakly. “I just… if he’s a siren, why?”

That was an answer you’d get soon.

—--------------------------

If you were expecting to find the sorcerer in another mansion like the one he owned in the town you came from, you couldn’t have been far from wrong. You didn’t know what exactly you thought you’d find in this town, but…

The sorcerer sitting on the porch of an old hut by the beach was just not it.

You stood looking at him from a distance, the rest looking as confused as you for their own reasons. You, for one, hadn’t expected him to look so ragged.

“That is not a sorcerer,” San shook his head. “He has some incantations done on him, but he is not a sorcerer.”

“You’re right,” Yeosang looked the most surprised out of you all and he met your eyes before he said, “That’s a siren, not a sorcerer.”

“A siren?” Jongho frowned. “Can you sense him, y/n?”

You couldn’t. You asked Yeosang, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen him before, when he was a siren,” Yeosang held your wrist. “I don’t think this is a good time to confront him- we need to strategise-”

The sorcerer- or whoever he was supposed to be- looked right at the group of you with a faint smile on his face as if he had been expecting you. He got up and brushed his clothes before treading almost inhumanely towards you.

“What a sight,” the Wanderer clapped. “I was expecting you, huntress.”

Yeosang pushed you behind him protectively and finally, the Wanderer looked at someone else other than you and something in his face changed- he looked highly amused. “Oh, look who we have here. A siren protecting a human!”

“Who’s turning into a siren herself thanks to you,” Yeosang’s voice sounded so different from anything that you had ever heard and you looked at him in surprise. “What’s the reason behind this curse?”

“A curse, you call,” the Wanderer scanned San. “As a sorcerer, you must know what drives a person to curse someone.”

“Was it something I did?” You finally asked. “Why me? Why am I turning into a siren, of all the things?”

“I just knew there was something about you when I saw you, and I was right!” He looked up at the sky as he laughed, the black strands of his hair falling back, and you resisted the urge to claw at him. “You, a siren-hunter, have a siren wrapped all around your fingers! Now that’s one variable I didn’t predict.”

You scoffed. “That would be an overstatement-”

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Yeosang began, sneering at him. “The siren we’ve heard so much about. The bedtime story of what would happen if you fall in love with a human.”

“Someone clearly didn’t learn,” the Wanderer looked at Yeosang. “And look at what happened. She’s now turning into a siren. Would you still love her if she becomes the monster that you swore not to be?”

That was it. You unsheathed the longsword and pointed at him, its tip almost meeting with the Wanderer’s chin. He glared at you in response. “I’ve had enough of your rambling. I don’t care what happened to you or who you are. You gave me an arrow that saved lives, cursed as it was. Undo it, now. That’s an order.”

His gaze darkened. “Do you really think it’s that easy to reverse a curse that was born after decades of grief? Grief longer than perhaps this siren’s life?” He pointed at Yeosang. “Your best bet is obviously killing me, but I have unfinished business, human. It’s better if you give in to the instinct clawing at your heart. Don’t you think so, siren? You wouldn’t have to worry about the other sirens hunting you down for loving a human like they did to me.”

“You know, for a siren who claims to be harbouring this grudge for what? Decades? Almost a century?” Jongho began and you met eyes with San- Jongho was definitely going to infuriate the siren so you had to act quick. “You sure have been slacking. Perhaps, you do not possess what it takes to get revenge like these two here. Are you sure you’ve got your revenge story right?”

And though the siren may have long given up on who he was, he sure had a few tricks up his sleeve. In a blink, he had produced a dagger and sent it for Jongho who narrowly dodged it and San immediately drew a shield around all of you. However, having pretended to be a sorcerer for so many years, the Wanderer was prepared. His next dagger went right through San’s shield, grazing his shoulder in the process.

“All of you, stay back,” you muttered, fuming with anger. “I’ll deal with him on my own.”

Yeosang wasn’t having any of that though. He loaded an arrow at the siren and let it loose, hitting him in the calf and the Wanderer sent a wave of air in your direction, throwing you both back a good distance, groaning in pain.

“It doesn’t have to end this way, huntress,” he called, tearing a piece from his clothes and quickly wrapping his wound while you recovered. “You can embrace being a siren. Being a human won’t do you any good in the long run.”

“And what would you know about being human,” you spat. “Why target a siren-hunter like this, huh?” You walked away from where Jongho and San were- it looked like the Wanderer hadn’t recognised Jongho yet and that was good. “You could have manifested whatever grudge you had into cursing the sirens who actually wronged you-”

“You don’t understand,” the Wanderer shook his head. “Sirens… They’re not the real monsters. We have laws and I broke one- I deserved my punishment, but humans?”

He looked so broken in that moment that you finally understood. You recalled the story you had heard about the siren who fell in love with a human and realised with a sinking heart that his grudge against humans was well warranted.

“You humans,” he started nearing the shore and Yeosang muttered a curse, dragging San and Jongho behind him as well. “You are the real monsters. And I’ve thought long and good about how I could avenge humans- I can’t just kill them all, can I? You prowl like ants on the land, there’s too many of you. But… you hunt sirens. You hunt us as if we’re the real monsters- you’re the perfect candidate.”

As soon as the Wanderer’s feet touched the waves, he raised his hands and you gaped at the sight of the waves growing louder, reaching new heights- did he intend to drown all of you? “When you become a siren- which you will, make no mistake- you’ll be hunting your own kind- humans.”

As twisted as it was, it made sense but at the same time… “You’re really going to do this?” You asked, while the boys muttered plans to each other. You could stall. “What have I done? I’m not the human who killed the person you loved. You know sirens killed my family too- how is this justifiable?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the Wanderer smirked dangerously, raising his hand up and making a huge wave stand still in the air, making all of you take a few steps back and gasp. “I will kill your little group and make you watch, just like your kind did to me. And when you’re about to drown to death, you will give in to your siren instincts.”

Before you could retort, head spinning because there was no way this was happening, the Wanderer sent the wave crashing down on all of you and you lost your footing, almost getting carried away into the sea but Jongho was quick to grab you.

Jongho helped you up while San sent another magical wave for the siren which turned out to be ineffective. Yeosang slicked his hair back, angry. “It’s not going to work- he’s a centuries-old siren. Our powers might be useless against him.”

“What then?” You asked, shooting arrows after arrows for the siren. “We let him kill us? We run?”

“I could try singing- he doesn’t know who I am yet,” Jongho quipped. “I don’t know if it would work against a centuries-old siren, but…”

“But it’s our best bet,” you nodded. “I wish I had an ebony arrow right now.”

“Uh, I may have something better,” Yeosang patted his chest. “I’m wearing my sister’s necklace made of a water dragon’s tooth- it’s fatal to sirens.”

“Why do you even own it,” you muttered, grateful there was at least something.

“She killed sirens with these- those who went rogue. Almost got killed too,” Yeosang grinned. “We gotta get close to him though-”

The Wanderer sent another wave, this time shaped as pointed arrows and you gawked at it, San grabbing all of you and trying to get you to hide behind the boards or anything. “You guys are not helping me at all, find cover immediately!”

You dragged Yeosang behind a shed- he was too in awe at the siren’s powers to react quicker. San stood his ground though, waving his hands and muttering a spell, this time a visible shield in front of you all and when the siren sent those arrows at you, his shield managed to hold it.

“I’m going inside the hut and I’m going to sing,” Jongho announced. “When I give a cue, you better cover your ears, Yeosang.”

“Got it,” he said. “If the singing works, y/n, I’ll go stab him with the tooth- hey!”

You had snatched the necklace from him and you wound it around your arm. You looked at San. “Please make sure Yeosang covers his ears properly. I can’t risk him trying to cover his ears and stabbing the siren at the same time when he’s a siren himself.”

“No,” Yeosang tried grabbing your arm but you stepped back and hurt flashed his eyes. “There’s no guarantee this tooth won’t be fatal to you too- and there’s no telling if you’re immune to Jongho’s song anymore.”

“There’s not, but I’ll take the chance,” you smiled at him, hiding behind San. “Please restrain him, will you?”

“I could do it for you,” San said while grabbing Yeosang who was currently trying to snatch the necklace from you. “I should do this.”

“But you’re hurt,” you said, looking at the hut- Jongho seemed to be preparing. The Wanderer was currently going deeper in the waves, finally having gotten a break from you trying to shoot at him. “I should be the one to do this.”

“Y/n,” Yeosang shook his head, trying to break free from San’s grasp who understood that it couldn’t be Yeosang, at least, out of all of you. “You could get hurt-”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him though you knew he was right- there was no telling how it was going to go for you. “I’ve got my earplugs so don’t you go shouting for me when I attack him, okay?”

San chuckled at that and Yeosang finally stopped fighting back. “I’ve got earplugs too.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you noticed Jongho’s signal. “You’re staying here.”

Before he could stop you, you walked to Yeosang and asked him to show you his earplugs. When he fished them out, you took them and switched them with yours. “Mine are better- they’ll keep you safe, okay?” You proceeded to put one of them in his ear, and when he held your wrist, pleading with his eyes to let you come along with him, you kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything. I’ll be back, okay? As a human. I’ve got to do this myself.”

Yeosang understood- perhaps, the person cursed had to do the deed themselves to break the curse. You put in the other earplug and asked San to stay safe. And then you put in Yeosang’s earplugs, unsheathed your sword and marched towards the Wanderer. The vengeful siren sent wave after wave of pointed arrows at you but you fought back, gritting your teeth. You noticed the siren mouthing something but you really couldn’t care less- it was enough. You did not spend all those years siren-hunting only to become a siren yourself.

So you raised the sword and pointed it at Jongho, all the while maintaining eye contact with the siren. “Your mistake was thinking that you were not at fault. Because when a siren loves a human, yes, they give it their all, but do you know what happens when a human loves a siren?”

The Wanderer paused, arrows hovering in the air waiting for his command.

“When a human loves a siren… they forget they are mortal. It consumes them. They knowingly risk their short lives to protect that one brief moment of love they shared and they can die happy if they get that one moment,” you breathed, glancing back at Yeosang who was still struggling to break free from San’s grasp- San seemed to have obeyed when you told him a few days ago to magically restrain Yeosang if it came down to that. “Yes, humans wronged you. You should have dealt with those who wronged you instead of targeting another human who fell in love with a siren- just like your human. You really thought repeating history was the best idea?”

The Wanderer reconsidered for the briefest moment but as soon as you saw his gaze turn dark, you knew he was no longer the siren he once was. He had given in to his monstrous instincts and was too far gone. You raised the sword up and you heard the faint but sharp voice of the reaper pierce through the air. It sounded just like a siren’s call but somehow worse, if that was possible. You had heard it once before but this time, you had to actively resist it and it sent a burning sensation through your entire body.

You looked back at Yeosang who seemed okay but started struggling again when he spotted your pained expressions. You shook your head at him and gathered all your strength, you looked up to see the Wanderer entranced by the song.

It was working.

But he was too far away- even the distance of a few feet was seeming overwhelming when you couldn’t even take a single step. You ditched your sword and clutched your ears, taking one step and then another, practically crawling towards the siren-

And he finally reacted- he looked at you but his eyes were glossy. You clutched the tooth in your fist and he shook his head furiously, clutching at his ears but thankfully, Jongho was overpowering him. Once you reached him, you stabbed him in the chest-

Just as he took out his dagger and stabbed you.

You clutched at your own chest- he missed your heart by only a few inches. Now that you weren’t clutching your ears, you fell on your knees, the siren falling on his side as well, the waves washing over you two. He writhed in pain and you took out your earplugs, hearing the hauntingly beautiful call of the siren-hunter. You shut your eyes for a few moments until the siren fell silent and then you welcomed the darkness.

Jongho stopped singing as soon as he saw you both unmoving and he sprinted out of the hut, Yeosang and San following close. San made sure the siren was dead before extracting the tooth that was half-lodged in his chest, and Yeosang held your unmoving figure in your arms.

“She’ll be okay, let’s get her away from the sea,” Jongho said and Yeosang nodded, jaw clenched in anger and relief as he picked you up, moving away from the waves and laying you down on the sand. San followed soon after, assessing the damage.

“I have a healing potion- do you think I should get it?” Yeosang asked worriedly and San shook his head.

“Let’s not mess with her when she’s trapped in a curse- let me get this out first,” he said, extracting the dagger from your chest while Jongho put pressure on your wound. “Let’s hope the curse breaks after helping her heal a little.”

“I should have done something, anything,” Yeosang rubbed his face. “I should have-”

“No, you definitely should not have,” San reprimanded and Jongho agreed. “She’ll be okay even if she remains a siren. You would not have been okay. She protected you, okay? She asked me to protect you.”

“But-”

“Do you know what’s the last thing she said to that siren?” San was smiling. “She told him it was a mistake to target a human who fell in love with a siren.”

“But she-” Yeosang paused, raising his brows, wondering if he heard that right. “She said that?”

“Yes, you fool,” Jongho smacked Yeosang’s arm. “Give her a little credit. She’s not used to sirens being willing to protect her, okay?”

“Might be, a little,” you muttered, wondering if you were dreaming- everything felt cloudy. “He’s protected me far too many times for my own good.”

And when you heard the loud chorus of the boys asking if you were okay, you decided to go back to being unconscious for a little while longer.

—--------------------------

It was finally a sunny day at the sea after days of gloominess.

You took off your jacket, letting the heat soak through your shirt and spread throughout your body like a warm hug. You shut your eyes, smiling to yourself. Everything felt peaceful-

“Oh, so you can break an apple in half with your bare hands and you think you’re strong?” Yeosang scoffed. “I once cracked a siren in half-”

“Well, obviously the parameter is different,” Jongho pointed out. “You’re a siren.”

“I’ve lost most of my siren strength though. Maybe I should try cracking you in half-”

“Oh, try it on San,” Jongho pointed at the sorcerer. “He seems like he would be easy to crack.”

“Hey!” San scooted away. “You’re not doing that to me- hey!”

Yeosang had picked San up in his arms, quite effortlessly, while Jongho stood giggling at the way San tried to squirm out of the siren’s grasp. You would have tried to ignore them were it not for San having finally escaped and the three now running around you as they tried to catch each other. Yeosang almost bumped into you but with a quick apology, he was back to chasing him. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to let it go but when Yeosang tackled San and the two fell with a thud making the boat shake dangerously, you shouted at them.

“Not one moment of peace!” You glared at the three who straightened. “Yeosang, why would you want to crack San in half?”

“Yes, tell him!” San looked down at the siren-

“He’s obviously the easier prey out of the two and we need the sorcerer. I would be going after Jongho- he’s pretty useless save for his singing-”

“You traitor!” Jongho yelled at you and you grinned as Yeosang went after Jongho. San shook his head in amusement, settling down next to you.

“Enjoying the sun?”

“Very much,” you grinned. “What’s our bearings?”

“On track like we’re supposed to,” San exhaled. “I hope we don’t run into trouble again. The last island was enough.”

Now that the four of you were a team, you were travelling the seas in search of a secluded island you could inhabit and call home- it didn’t have to be secluded. The last two islands you chanced upon were unwelcoming to your group and for all the right reasons.

Your group attracted too much attention and nobody liked that.

“Perhaps we’re meant to live on the sea after all,” you sighed wistfully. “Sailing endlessly, a home with each other, one siren, one sorcerer and two hunters. We should search for more crew members then, what say you?”

“It’ll happen if it has to,” San said. “We didn’t search for each other, did we? It just happened.”

“Well, we’re lacking a pirate and mer- wait, is that a boat?”

You calling it a boat was an overstatement- it was more like a raft with a lone man travelling on it. You looked at San, wondering if you had really manifested something. San asked, “Should I check? Seems like a good time to offer our services in exchange for some money.”

“Sure,” you laughed. “Let’s offer the poor guy a ride anyway- I don’t know how he made it this far in the middle of the ocean on a raft- I’m curious.”

“You’ll stay here- San and Jongho can do the talking,” Yeosang slumped next to you now that San and Jongho were steering the boat in the raft’s direction. “We don’t want a replay of how you handled a potential customer last time.”

“Come on,” you turned to him, scratching below his chin. “Just because I offered him our pretty siren in exchange for his longsword which was way prettier than mine, doesn’t mean I would have actually traded you. You know that, right?”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. “Do I? Somehow I still suspect you would have gladly traded me for an object.”

You grinned, kissing his lips for a good moment. “Of course not. I don’t think I can part ways with my longsword.”

“But you will part ways with me, after everything we’ve been through-”

“And I can’t make out with a sword, can I?” You winked at him, watching the siren flush a million shades of red. He pursed his lips, flustered, suddenly finding the ends of your sleeves interesting. You enjoyed passing flirting remarks like that so much- Yeosang was experiencing love for the first time in his long life, though he claimed he wasn’t ‘inexperienced’. You made it your life’s mission to give him a love worthy of legends- something that would overwrite the tragic love story of a siren and a human which was all people knew for centuries now.

“Y/n, Yeosang!” Jongho called. “Our guest claims to have escaped a pirate ship.”

“On a raft? Impressive,” you got up, shaking the man’s hand and assessing his appearance- his red hair looked like it was different shades in the sun. His skin was a little tan and he was wearing a lot of jewellery. “Where do you come from?”

“You might have heard of the White Mask? The pirate crew? I was their firstmate but things happened. I no longer wish to be a part of them so I escaped with what I could.”

“Wow,” you breathed- you were in the company of the legendary firstmate of the White Mask. You had heard a lot about those pirates whom even other pirates feared but you never expected their First Mate to look so… normal. “How can we be of service?”

“I wouldn’t have bothered you all- I can make it to the continent on my own, but when I sensed who you were, I couldn’t resist joining.”

“Sensed?” You frowned. “What are you then?”

“Half mer,” he grinned. “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. I heard you were looking for more crew members?”

You looked at the others who looked slightly amused, a bit shocked, but willing to see if you could have the legend of a pirate joining your crew.

“Well, I sure hope we get along,” you smiled.

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