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casuallyimagining · 4 months

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Family. Duty. Self. || myg

Less of Them - One: Family. Duty. Self.

NSFW. minors dni Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 9,968

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: weaponry (swords), language; nsfw: awkward first-time, hand-job, fingering, unprotected sex

Notes: Thanks to @oddinary4bts for really coming in clutch and helping with the smut and to both her and @daechwitatamic for encouraging me to make it more sad.

The book mc is reading at the beginning is Wurthering Heights.

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind.

The clank of metal against metal grates against your ears and jolts you out of your book. It’s a nice day, and you had some free time; you thought that maybe it would be nice to read outside for a change. But now, you aren’t sure that was the greatest idea you’d ever had.

…shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully-

The soft thump of a dulled blade hitting the softness of a body and an exasperated curse again draws you away.

“Again,” a gruff voice commands, and there’s the clink of metal clashing briefly.

Another voice groans. “This is pointless.”

“Your father told me to teach you how to fight,” the first voice says. “Again.”

You roll your eyes. They’d been at this for a week now. You were starting to believe that maybe it was pointless.

It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whose existence I had never previously-

Metal against metal once again, and then the clatter of a sword falling into the dirt. A frustrated sigh.

I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me-

A soft thud, then, “Shit.”

I bowed and waited, thinking-

The shriek of metal on metal, then the clatter of a sword hitting the dirt. “Shit!”

I bowed and-

“Take a break,” the gruff voice says, and the second voice grumbles something in response. “Don’t go far. We have more work to do.”

You try to go back to your book, you really do. But then a body plops down under the tree beside you. Ever so gently, the book is taken from your hands. He keeps a finger in the pages to mark where you’d left off, but he turns the book to inspect the cover and the spine. He hums. It’s his book.

“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you chide once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”

“Your father wants him trained.”

“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”

At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”

“Even I’m better than he is.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and nudge him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.

He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.

“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.

“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”

You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had gone in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.

As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.

“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”

He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”

You smile. That hadn’t really been your goal, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”

He kisses you then, properly this time, firm hands on the small of your back, holding you against his body. He’s warm and soft and solid, and you can smell a hint of the cologne you’d bought him for his last birthday. His kiss is slow, almost lazy, but there’s a greed in it, like he could keep at this forever if you’d let him.

You’re tempted to let him.

You slide your hand up his chest to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You give a gentle tug, and he lets out a low whine.

“Don’t tease, my lady,” he mumbles darkly, pulling away just far enough to kiss up your jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”

You never get the chance to respond. Namjoon calls your name, his voice floating down from the walkway that overlooks the courtyard. Immediately, Yoongi jumps away from you. Your relationship is no secret, but he’s always been shy, and you’ve long grown used to his fleeing any time anyone sneaks up on you.

Namjoon calls for you again, this time, his voice is closer, and when you turn, you can see he’s running down the stairs. He pauses momentarily, catching his breath for just a second before blurting out, “Father is looking for you. He’s received some official-looking letter and asked me to come fetch you.”

You hum and nod. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be along soon.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d better come now.”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi, who stands now just off to the side. His cheeks and ears are tinged ever so slightly pink, and he busies himself with inspecting one of the practice blades. He must feel you looking at him, because his dark eyes connect with yours. You shoot him a look that you hope conveys an apology. He nods toward the keep silently before picking up the discarded sword and wandering off in the direction of the armory.

“Lead the way,” you tell your brother, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.

You follow him out of the yard, up the stairs onto the walkway and into the keep. Evening is starting to fall, and the attendants already have the sconces lit in the halls to stave off the darkness. You pass some of them as you go, and they nod respectfully–more to you than to Namjoon, but he’s younger and has never really cared about being deferred to in the way that you are.

He leads you to your father’s study, and when you enter, you’re shocked at how full it is. You’ve always loved this room, filled to the brim with the finely crafted furniture made by the people of the forest town. Blackwood trees are known to have a delicate, earthy aroma long after they’ve been felled, so the study has always smelled as warm and inviting as it felt. Now, though, with the number of eyes that dart in your direction when the door opens, you’re uncomfortable.

The five of them sit at the heavy, ebony round table in the center of the room. Your father sits with his back to the window, his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed, papers strewn about in front of him. To his left sits your step-mother, a rare good day for her. She looks grim, but you get the sense that the pain she’s feeling may not be just her own. Namjoon takes a seat to her right. To your father’s left sits Jaesung, your father’s advisor and head of the armory for as long as you can remember. The look on his face is neutral, but you can see an anger behind his eyes. In nearly 30 years, you’ve never seen Jaesung angry. Beside him sits Seokjin, your elder step-brother, a fidgeting ball of nerves.

“Come,” your father says gently, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

You can feel a chill as you pass them all. Your step-mother, paralyzed by an unknown pain. Jaesung, poised for a war you don’t yet understand. And Seokjin, who refuses to look at you, even as you sit down beside him.

It all makes you nervous.

Your father stands, the chair pushing out behind him as he leans forward, passing you the papers in front of him. It’s a letter, the wax seal on the envelope indicating it was sent from the Ironhold.

A letter from the king, you muse. What could he possibly want?

It’s no secret that there’s little love between your family–the Lins of Castle Blackwood–and the Chois in the Crownlands. The Chois have sat on the throne of Cotaria for hundreds of years, and the seat of the Crownlands for hundreds of years before that, and their customs have been around for just as long. They don’t like how your father rules the Westerlands, but there isn’t much they can do about it. The Lin family is far older and has had far longer to build ties, and you contribute more to the Crown’s stores than the Chois would care to admit.

Your gaze falls to the letter in your hands, reading but not comprehending what it says. You fixate on certain words. Duty. King. Auspicious. Marriage. But no matter how many times you read it, no matter how long you stare at the neatly printed words in front of you, they don’t make sense.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t like how long it’s been since someone’s said something, don’t like how they watch you. Your mouth is dry, and it feels like you’ve tried to swallow a rock.

“This is real?” you manage, swallowing hard. When did your hands start shaking?

“I’m afraid so,” your father responds. His voice is soft, measured.

“And?”

“We did not ask for this.”

“And yet here we are.”

He sighs. “And yet here we are.”

You close your fist around the paper, crumpling it. Beside you, Seokjin jumps, startled. For the briefest of moments, you close your eyes.

Marriage to the king. A man you’d met once three years ago at his father’s funeral. He’d been miserable then, a spoiled brat too accustomed to getting his own way. You’d dreaded the funeral, dreaded being forced to interact with the young king, dreaded having to be pleasant to him. But you’d plastered on a smile and endured the funeral and feast. And now he wanted to take you away from your home, your family.

Your Yoongi.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to your father’s study. You can’t think of him right now. “This,” you lift your fist, the letter still clutched tightly within. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice,” Namjoon blurts, immediately shrinking back into his chair.

Your father hums. “You can decline. Your brother is right.”

“Jaesung?” The man’s eyes snap to yours, and you’re struck by how similar they are to his son’s–dark, cat-like, ever-observant. “If I say no…?”

He takes a moment, his head bobbing back and forth as he weighs the options. “Chances of retaliation are high, yes.”

“We would weather it,” your father says. “Our family has endured far worse.”

“And if they strip us of our titles? Take away our home?” You toss the letter into the center of the table. “Either way, we lose.”

“So just tell him to fuck off,” Namjoon says. Your step-mother frowns, and immediately, he wilts under her gaze. “Sorry, mother. But you understand what I mean. If both options are bad, pick the best worst choice.”

You glance up, above your father, above the window behind him. The family crest hangs there, centered on the wall. A sea of blue with green chevron, golden thistle in the foreground. The Lin family words are engraved into the bottom: Loyalty does not yield.

Loyalty. It’s been ingrained in you since birth. To family, duty, self. All three in tandem. Now, though, they’re pitted against each other. Your family against your own desires. Your desires against your duty. An impossible choice.

You make eye contact with your father across the table. He nods almost imperceptibly and sighs.

“The steward arrives tomorrow?” you ask softly.

Jaesung nods. “Letter said they would arrive the day after it did.”

“Okay.”

There’s precious little to discuss after that. Jaesung is the first to go, the war in his eyes more fierce than when you’d entered. He doesn’t look at you as he goes. Your stepmother leaves shortly after, walking around the table to you. Her hands find your shoulders, skin cold against yours. She gives a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of your head.

When she’s gone and the door is closed behind her, Namjoon erupts. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right?” he asks. It’s directed toward your father. “They would never dream of doing this to any of the other old families.”

Seokjin sighs. “They couldn’t.” His voice is soft, but holds all the authority of older brother.

Ever insightful, your step-brother is right. The Lin family is the only one of the old families that allows for a female heir, and even then, your father had only married Seokjin and Namjoon’s mother after his first wife–your mother–had died. You’d been here first. In your father’s mind, you were the clear heir. It helps that Seokjin, older than you by one year, has never shown much interest in leading, and between you and Namjoon, you have always been more eager to learn everything. But because all of the other heirs of the old families are male, they will never be put in this position.

You stand. Your head hurts, and so does your heart. You don’t look at your father as you leave the study, too afraid of what you might see.

You’d intended to go to your chambers, but when you get to the staircase, instead of going up, you go down. Yoongi’s chamber is at the end of this wing of the castle, closest to the outer wall and the library tower. Over the years, you’ve probably spent just as much time there as you have in your own chambers. But this is the first time you’ve felt nervous standing at his door.

You knock. You almost never knock, but it feels weird barging in right now, when you’re standing on the precipice of a future so far in the opposite direction of what you’d been imagining. The door opens, and there he is, leaning casually against the heavy, blackwood door. You must be some sort of sight, because almost immediately, he frowns, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Jagi?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

It’s all it takes. You surge forward, hands coming up to cup his face gently. It’s easy to fall into him, easy to lose yourself in his kiss. He lets you push him back into his room, shutting and locking the door behind you in one easy motion.

He laughs a little as you kiss up his jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You don’t answer. Right now, you just want to lose yourself in him. The room is not large, and you’re able to push him toward the bed in only a few steps. He pauses when his legs hit the edge of the goose feather mattress. Gently, you push and he falls backward, his hands on your waist pulling you down with him.

You hover over him for a moment, just holding his gaze, losing yourself in the dark eyes you’ve come to love so much. You wonder if he’s able to read the distress in your eyes–maybe he is, because he pulls you down in a kiss that leaves your mind spinning, as his hands tighten on your waist ever so slightly.

His tongue hesitantly darts out to meet your lips, and surprised, you pull away to meet his gaze again. His cheeks are slightly flushed pink, and his lips glisten prettily in the light of the sconce on the wall.

You survey his features carefully, feeling your own cheeks turning red as you realize that you don’t want to stop. Not tonight. You want to be able to feel him at least once before you have to go. You bend down again to capture his lips in a languid kiss, welcoming his tongue against your own the moment he does it again.

You gently move your hands up his frame, burying them in his soft hair as he wraps his arms around you to pull you flush against him. You have half a thought that you’ll crush him, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue awkwardly swipes at yours again, earning a breathy sound from you that you’ve never made before.

It startles both you and him, and you pull away from the kiss once more, meeting his gaze.

“What was that?” he asks, the flush on his cheeks having deepened from the prolonged kiss.

You find you can’t look at his eyes anymore, your own gaze sliding away. You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know.”

He kisses your jaw to gain your attention again, but your eyes stubbornly stay away. That is, until he says, “It was cute.”

Your gaze shoots back to his. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me again,” he asks, and there’s something new in his tone. A desire you’ve never really seen, or maybe it’s just manifesting differently this time around.

Maybe he can feel the sense of urgency in the moment. But he doesn’t question you, just welcomes your lips against his the moment you kiss him again, unable to resist the pull of his gravity.

His hands move down your back, and hesitantly, he grazes his fingers over the curve of your ass, barely even touching. You feel electrified, like lightning is coursing through your bloodstream, and you bite on his bottom lip.

He grunts. He grunts and you know that there is no way you’ll stop now. Not when you sit back on his lap, hands resting on his chest to hold you up. Even through his linen shirt, you feel his heart beating wildly, echoing your own.

And right where you’re perched, you feel the hint of his arousal, matching the arousal that’s slowly warming up your core.

You’ve touched each other before. It was awkward, neither of you really knew what you were doing, and you’d stopped, too afraid to get caught, too afraid of the consequences.

Tonight though? You want to feel his skin on yours, want his warm breath to mingle with your own while you lay with him. So you grab his tunic, pushing it up until it reveals a small sliver of pale skin on his lower stomach. You look at it, admire it as if it’s art, and then you meet Yoongi’s gaze again.

“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers shaking even though your voice holds firm.

He nods, sitting up so that he can remove the shirt. It brings him close to your face, and you can’t resist but kiss him again, molding your lips to his like it was always meant to be.

But not anymore.

You push the thought away, wanting to focus on Yoongi, on this moment with him. You want to commit it to memory, to remember every plane of his body as he finally, slowly takes his shirt off, revealing more of his sculpted frame.

Being a knight has its advantages. And they show in the powerful build of Yoongi’s body, even though he’s a little more on the lean side. You gently rest on your hands on his chest, before gently caressing down, reveling in the feel of his warm skin under your fingers and palms.

He watches you, lips slightly parted, until your fingers graze the hem of his pants. But then he stops you, grabbing your hands in his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs when your eyes meet his. “You really want to do this?”

You nod, breathing out a soft, “Yes.” You nod again, though your cheeks burn. “Yes, I want it. All of it.”

He gulps, eyes darting to your lips before going back to your gaze. “Can I take your corset off?”

The question sends your heart into overdrive, yet you agree, guiding his hands to the knot at the top of the corset. You notice his fingers shaking as he slowly starts untying it, much like your own fingers are trembling, and you let out a small chuckle.

It’s unexpected, and a little awkward, yet it feels right in this moment with him. He laughs lightly as he struggles, a sound that makes you feel like you could soar in the sky beside the ravens and falcons of the Blackwood.

Maybe, if you could fly, you’d never have to go to the Ironhold.

Again, you push the thought away to focus on Yoongi’s fingers as they struggle with the laces. He curses under his breath, which makes you chuckle again.

“Let me help,” you tell him, and he begrudgingly lets you take the lead, the tip of his ears red.

You’re much more efficient, and soon enough, you’re able to undo the lacing and take off the stupid garmetn, leaving you in just your linen tunic. Yoongi runs his hands up your sides, dragging the fabric of your shirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat when he slides his hands under the fabric.

His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, and he brings his hands up until he’s able to grab your breasts, squeezing lightly. He grunts softly again, and you feel something twitch under your lap.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t look at you, just keeps staring at the spot where his hands cover your breasts, hidden beneath your shirt. You take that as a cue to pull the fabric off, and you throw it to the side, to meet his own shirt where it fell to the floor.

Yoongi stares at your chest, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, and his breathing is quicker than usual, as if he’s been sparring for a while. It makes you feel powerful to know that you’re the one with this effect on him, and you smile down at him when he finally meets your gaze again.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says again, as if in awe.

You blush at the compliment, leaning down so that you can kiss him again. To your surprise, his hands leave your breasts to rest flat on your back, and you almost screech when he spins you around, until he’s lying on top of you.

As he’s hovering over you, Yoongi stares down at you, chest moving fast from his quick inhales and exhales.

“Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes at the look on your face.

You chuckle shyly. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I like taking you by surprise. Doesn’t happen often.”

You melt for him. Like the last snow under the spring sun, you melt for him. Your hand grip his biceps as he looks down at your perked nipples, and you feel like molten ore as he then traces his lips along your neck, down down down until he reaches the top of your breast.

He kisses there, once, before going lower, flicking your nipple with his tongue. When your hands wrap around his shoulders, he does it again, a little harder.

“Yoongi…”

His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks hard. You squirm at the foreign sensation, and Yoongi quickly meets your gaze, apologies written in his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you immediately reassure him. “It just feels… strange.”

He nods once, and then looks at your nipple, now shimmering with his saliva. “Do you want me to do it again?”

You grab his face, pulling him up to kiss you instead. He doesn’t resist, and he sighs against your mouth as you run your hands through his hair.

Yoongi is gentle. He always has been, but tonight he’s even more so, taking his time to take off your pants once you part from the kiss. He realizes that you’re still wearing your boots when your pants are around your calves, and he curses under his breath as he unties them and slides them off, while you laugh awkwardly, hiding your face behind your hands.

When he finally manages to take all of your clothes off, you look at him from behind your fingers, admiring how his eyes darken as he looks down at your pussy. You instinctively want to hide, to close your thighs together, and he quickly says, “Don’t… it’s…” he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.”

Your hands fall away from your face, and you hold his gaze longingly, hoping that tonight will never end. That somewhere along the line, you’ll be able to stop time, so that you can dwell in an eternity of lying here with him.

But fantasies like that are works of fiction, and you can’t alter time. So when he stands to take off his own clothes, you quickly sit on the edge of the bed, helping him with his belt even though your hands feel clumsier than they usually are. Maybe because of the nerves wracking through you–it’s hard to tell, and you frankly don’t care.

Because this is Yoongi. Your Yoongi. You want this to be with him, a memory to treasure forever once you’re gone.

A few seconds later, Yoongi is out of his clothes too, and you think your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him.

You’ve never seen him fully naked like this. You’ve touched him, hands sliding in his pants to wrap around his length while you kissed. But you’ve never seen him, standing proud and tall and leaking precum just inches from your face.

It’s sinful, and you look up to meet his gaze as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping quickly.

He winces, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Not so fast,” he tells you gently.

You slow down, biting your lower lip, and then your eyes fall down the pretty expanse of his body until you’re watching what you’re doing so that you can do it properly.

Or at least, what you assume is proper.

Yoongi grunts softly as you jerk him off, hips thrusting forward instinctively once in a while. Something wet is pooling between your legs, and all you can do is look at him, at the tip leaking with precum. He’s rock hard under your fingers, rigid veins and velvety soft skin, and it makes your heart race in your chest with every swift motion of your wrist.

“Stop,” Yoongi lets out, sounding out of breath. “Or I… I won’t be able to do more.”

You let go of him, hand sheepishly falling in your lap. Yoongi sits next to you, and he gently pulls you closer. This kiss is softer, slowly, born of the love between you and him.

He pushes you down until you’re lying on the bed again and climbs on top of you. You spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist, which leads to the head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

You let out a soft moan that has him pull away.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You laugh. “No, you’ve barely touched me yet.”

He seems conflicted for a while, brows furrowing. “Should I touch you first?”

“I don’t… know,” you admit.

You both exchange a look, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow before finally deciding for the two of you, kneeling between your legs. His eyes drop to your pussy once more, and he hesitantly brings a hand to the apex of your thighs. You stiffen, waiting for his touch, and the moment one of his fingers slides between your folds, a volcano erupts inside of you.

He slowly pushes in, stopping at the first knuckle to gauge your reaction. When you don’t give any sign of discomfort, he finishes pushing in, until most of his finger is swallowed by you.

“It’s so tight,” he says, but there’s barely any lust behind it. Just curiosity, which makes you laugh. He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you. And then he starts moving his finger again. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” you admit. “Good?”

Though you say it like a question, he nods. And he keeps at it for a while, slowly fingering you. The sensation is new but not unpleasant, the slow drag of his finger against your walls, the slight arch of it as he pushes in and out. It makes you want more, and you blindly grope for his cock, though your hand falls short and lands on his thigh instead.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“I think I want you.”

He stops moving his finger, before pulling it out to return to his previous position. Suddenly bold, Yoongi holds the base of his cock so that he can rub it on your pussy, and his lips parted as he looks down at you.

You moan softly, and he watches you for a moment, never pushing in. Once again, he asks, “You’re sure?”

You nod. “Please.”

It doesn’t take him more to push in, slowly. It hurts, and your face contorts in pain, which makes him stop between your legs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, about to pull out.

“No, it’s…” You wrap your legs so tight around him that he can’t move. “They say it’s supposed to hurt. At first.”

“Oh?”

You shrug. You’d heard the handmaids gossiping, and after a while, you’d just accepted it as fact.

He nods once, before gently caressing your thighs. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“I promise,” you whisper.

And though it really does hurt, you don’t stop him as he finishes pushing all the way in, stilling when he’s fully sheathed within you. There, he stops, leaning down so that he can kiss you again, his tongue dancing languidly with yours. You hold him close, bask in the feel of the weight of him on you as his hand finds your hip, his thumb caressing circles into your skin.

It takes a moment, but the pain slowly lessens until it turns into a numb sensation that you can almost entirely ignore. You nod. “I’m ready.”

He moves from your mouth to your neck, and he says against your skin, “I don’t know what to do.”

You hold him tighter. “Just move. I want to feel you.”

He nods, and then he pulls almost all the way out, before pushing in again. It still hurts, but when he does it again the pain is less, and by the tenth time you barely feel it anymore.

You kiss his shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck before he decides to suck on it, and the sensation makes you moan again, your arms tightening around you.

“Jagi…”

“Yoongi,” you breathe out like an echo.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to last long,” he admits. “You feel… like silk.”

You nod. “It’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder again, before adding, “Do you think you can go faster?”

He stops moving for a time, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes are filled with intensity, with lust, passion and love for you. He kisses you gently, thumb brushing against your cheek, and then he increases his rhythm.

Your words seem to unleash him, because the second you let out a small moan again, Yoongi starts going even faster, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. Even though it feels strange, you let him do it, keep holding him close, and soon enough, pleasure starts to vibrate in you, ignited by every deep thrust.

It’s a little rough, a little clumsy, but Yoongi’s pace doesn’t falter. He grunts in your ear, and you instinctively dig your nails in the skin of his back.

That’s when he loses it. He stills deep inside of you, moaning softly, and you feel his cock twitch as he releases. You hold him through his high, gently caressing his back even though he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat–you don’t care about it. It’s him, and you think you love all of him.

You breathe in and out, slowly, as he’s still deep inside of you. When he turns his head towards you, you kiss him deeply, trying to pour all the love in your heart into the act, trying to let him know that forever and always, he’s the one that you’ll love.

Eventually, the kiss ends, the need for breath overcomes it, and Yoongi lies next to you. When he pulls out of you, you feel his warm seed dripping out, and you blush at the feeling, at the dirtiness of it, though you don’t think there’s anything purer than what just happened between you and him. So you put your head on his chest, molding yourself into his side, content just to lay with him.

It’s quiet, your mingled breathing and the sound of his heart under your ear the only noises in the room. You try to concentrate on everything, to commit it to memory. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the stillness of everything. It’s electric, the way his fingers slowly ghost up and down your bare arm. He presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you have to force yourself to stay here, in this moment.

You aren’t sure what prompts it, but his arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” he hums, tilting his head so that he can better see your face. “Are you okay?”

Until this moment, you’d been doing well, keeping yourself together as your world shatters around you. But the concern in Yoongi’s voice, it breaks you. You don’t respond to him, merely bury your face in the bare skin of his shoulder and try to stitch yourself back together somehow.

For the two years you’d been together, when you pictured your future, it was this–it was him. You’d loved Yoongi for as long as you’d known what love was. Probably longer. He’d been your best friend, your staunchest rival, your biggest supporter. You’d spent more nights than you’d care to admit sitting on one of the castle balconies and complaining to him about your brothers, and you’d listened as he’d lamented the rigidity of his father. Losing him, being forced to walk away, it feels a little like you’re losing a part of yourself. The part that feels safe, the part that feels loved, the part that could take on anything so long as he’s there with you.

He holds you close as you fall apart, the only thing keeping you from entirely shattering. He’s basically silent, and you can’t help but think that he must be so confused, which only serves to crush you more.

“I’m sorry,” you manage finally, wiping your tears.

“What’s wrong, jagi?” Yoongi asks softly. “You’re worrying me.”

You sigh. “I have been given an impossible choice.”

He hums sympathetically. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

His confidence almost spirals you back off the edge you’ve barely clawed yourself away from. But instead of breaking again, you reach up to cup his face. In the silence, you study him, trying to memorize all of him–soft, round cheeks; button nose; dark, feline eyes. He’s handsome in a gentle sort of way. Skilled in swordplay, with a mind to match.

“Not this time, I don’t think.” Where to start? Because you should start. You owe him that, at least, after appearing at his door, bedding him, and then dissolving into tears almost immediately after. “That letter father got earlier? It came from the Ironhold. As it happens, our darling king is looking to find himself a wife.”

He blanches, a frown immediately replacing the concern on his face. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

For the briefest of moments, he deflates, his head sinking deep into his silk and feather pillow. But then his arms snake firmly around you and he pulls you impossibly closer. He kisses the top of your head before nuzzling into your hair. You feel him breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment before he slowly exhales.

“I wish there was a way to get out of this,” you mumble into his chest. “But even your father said-”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I love you,” you say desperately. You know he knows, but you need to say it.

“We’ll get through it,” he says again. “Somehow.”

You don’t sleep. You’re pretty sure that Yoongi doesn’t either. You can’t bring yourself to miss a minute, so you lay there, skin on skin, listening to his breathing and watching the moon out the window. The night is slow, but not nearly slow enough, and eventually, the sky begins to lighten.

“I should go pack,” you mumble softly, snuggling into him more.

His arm tightens around you as he hums. “Want help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’m not ready to let you go just yet. And if that means I have to help you pack, then I help you pack.”

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest so that you can look at him. “I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to bring.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He sounds so confident, but looking at him, you can tell it’s a front. His eyes have lost the sparkle they normally have, and the smile he’s wearing doesn’t go beyond his lips.

You stall for a few more moments, but force yourself to get up. He helps you find your clothes and you dress quickly before sneaking out into the hall. It’s still early, almost no one should be up yet, but you have to pass both Seokjin and Namjoon’s rooms to get to your own, and Namjoon is known for keeping strange hours.

Thankfully, this is not the first time you’ve made this journey, and you know just how to move to avoid making noise. You manage to unlatch the door to your chambers with only the slightest of sounds, and you and Yoongi sneak in. He helps you light the wall sconces and a few candles, and as your room lights up, you sigh.

You suppose you should pack on the lighter side. The king’s letter hadn’t said… anything, really, about what awaits you in the Ironhold, but you suspect that whatever you bring won’t be good enough.

Yoongi helps you fill a trunk with clothes. Or rather, he handles everything, barely letting you do any of it. He folds each garment carefully, like it’s made of glass, choosing his favorite garments like a sommelier chooses wine. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but there’s a cloud over his eyes, and you know he’s lost in thought.

You leave him to it, figure that maybe this is something he needs to do, and busy yourself with gathering other things you want to take. A few books. A figurine of a duck your father had bought for you for your birthday as a child. Your favorite blanket. A drawing that one of the artists in town had done of your family–your father, your step-mother, Seokjin, Namjoon, and you. There’s one of you and Yoongi, too, that you tuck into one of your more boring books.

You aren’t quite sure when it happens, but you look up, and suddenly, it’s light out. A knock at your door pulls you out of the trance of going through your belongings. Yoongi’s closer, and he reaches out to open it before you can even say anything.

It’s Seokjin.

He stands there, looking a little sheepish, clutching a burlap bag. You aren’t sure if he’s nervous because Yoongi opened the door, or if he’s nervous just being there in general.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you–am I interrupting something?”

You exchange a quick look with Yoongi, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he says to you. And when you nod, he leaves you and Seokjin alone.

For a few brief moments, it’s quiet. Seokjin wanders silently and mindlessly around your room, looking at your desk, a shelf, your bedside table. But then he sighs, and a pained look crosses his face.

“What have we done to get here?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like he doesn’t want to talk too loudly.

You shrug helplessly. “I wish I knew.”

“There’s one good thing to come of it, I suppose.” He sighs once again, and this time, it’s dramatic. “Now you’ll finally have a reason to be a royal pain in the ass.”

In any other situation, you may have laughed. The two of you aren’t strangers by any means, but you’ve always been closer with Namjoon. Seokjin has always been far more interested in the artisans in the forest town than what goes on in the castle. You wouldn’t begrudge him anything, but you also annoy the everloving hell out of each other.

True siblings, your father had once proudly declared. You hadn’t always been quite as confident as he was, but the fact that Seokjin is here now… well, maybe you’re closer than you’d thought.

“I uh…” he starts awkwardly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his neck. “Got you something to take with you.” He lifts up the bag, gesturing with it slightly before handing it to you.

Confused, you take it. The handle of the bag is rough, the burlap tightly woven for strength even though the contents aren’t particularly heavy. Looking in the bag, you pull out a box that’s about the width and length of a book. It’s made of blackwood, the inky black surface polished into glass. There’s a seam that splits it in half, and two golden hinges on the left side. The front of the box is engraved, a gilded thistle stands resolute against the darkness. You slide open the latch on the side and open it. The box is empty, but there’s enough room to store things.

“It’s very pretty,” you tell him, closing the box gently and slipping the latch back into place.

Gently, Seokjin takes the box out of your hands, and with both thumbs, pushes the leaves on either side of the thistle stem. There’s a quiet sound of sliding wood, and when he opens the box again, a panel inside has been moved, and suddenly, there’s more room. He closes the lid, presses the flower of the thistle, and the sliding happens again.

He pushes the box back into your hands, his eyes not leaving yours. You have questions, but the intensity of his gaze says enough.

“How?” you ask finally. You doubt he just had this lying around.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I asked Haejeon to put a rush on it.”

You nod. Haejeon is one of the artisans in the forest town outside the castle walls. He makes games and trinkets. Your father has hired him many times to carve and build small ornaments out of blackwood, and he’s old enough to be your uncle, but when you were kids, he’d given Seokjin a puzzle box to play with, and ever since, your step-brother has been practically stuck to the man’s hip. Over the years, as Seokjin has gotten more and more interested in the creators and builders and artists, Haejeon has taken him under his wing in a way, offering guidance and friendship outside of the castle.

“Thank him for me. Tell him it’s beautiful.” You hope to God you won’t have reason to use the secret compartment.

A noise outside the door draws your attention, and for a brief moment, Seokjin stares at the dark wood. But then he nods. “Probably Yoongi,” he says lightly. But when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll let you kids get back to it.”

But when he opens the door, it’s Namjoon that’s standing there. He’s still in his nightshirt, and a pair of warm, woolen pants hang a little crooked on his muscular legs.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up,” he says from the doorway, looking completely past Seokjin. You motion for him to enter, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay long, I’m sure you still have plenty to do.”

“Namjoon,” you scold, barely any bite in your tone. Easily, he gives in, taking a few tentative steps into the room.

“I brought you this.” He holds out a book in your direction.

It’s bound in plain leather, and is neither particularly large nor particularly small. The pages are old and yellowed. The front cover is entirely non-descript, the only real identifying feature to the outside simply the word ‘Lin’ stamped on the spine.

You open it, and immediately you recognize it as one of the handful of tomes from Castle Blackwood’s library that details your family history. Its handwritten pages go back thousands of years, back to when Seinal Lin first settled the Westerlands.

“I thought that maybe you’d want it. To tell them about us.”

He doesn’t have to say who he means. If this turns out the way most royal weddings do, you aren’t sure when you’ll see your family again. These people who have been your life and your heart for over two decades will more than likely be strangers to any children you may have. This history that Namjoon has given you is more than just a book. It’s a reminder of who you are. It’s a lifeline.

Suddenly, you feel like you’re breaking apart again, but you fight it off, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug. He makes a noise of surprise but after a second, his arms tighten around you. You stand there for a moment, unwilling to pull away, and soon, you feel another body press against your side. Seokjin’s arms wrap around you both, and now you couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to.

As quick as it came, the moment passes.

“We should let you get back to it,” Namjoon says softly, a hand still on your arm.

They both nod solemnly, and then, just like that, you’re alone.

The silence is unbearable, the soft crackling of the wall sconces deafening as you’re left alone with your thoughts. Thanks to Yoongi’s earlier efforts, your things are packed, so there isn’t much left to do. You pull out your desk chair and sit, picking up your quill and twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swirl in your mind, and you pick up a piece of parchment.

Once you start writing, you can’t stop, and the words flow out of you as quick as you can write them down. You’re mid-word when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurry to finish and sand the ink.

“Come in,” you call, blowing across the page to get rid of the sand and excess ink.

You have the parchment folded by the time the door opens. Your suspicions are confirmed when a dark head of hair pokes in. Yoongi. He enters slowly, almost silently, and sits on the edge of your bed, watching curiously as you hold a dark green wax stick, melting it with the flame of a candle. You press your seal into the warm wax, removing it quickly before it can stick. The thistle stamp glistens in the candlelight, the wax still soft. You leave it to dry and turn your attention to Yoongi.

His gaze follows your every move, dark eyes soft with fondness. You pretend not to see the redness and puffiness that accompanies it. Silently, he reaches out, catching your hand in his own to tug you toward him. His arms hook around your legs, keeping you close.

“Father asked me to tell you they’re close,” he says softly, a pained look crossing his face briefly. “Word was sent from the first guard post.”

You hum and nod, running your hands through his hair. He’s changed his clothes, but his hair’s still a little tousled from your earlier romp. There’s still some time–the first guard post is at the bottom of the mountain, where the forest is still a thin stand of trees–but suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It hadn’t felt real, not really, but now… You push his hair back off his forehead once again and swallow thickly in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“I love you.” It just kind of bubbles to the surface, quiet but necessary.

He squeezes the back of your thigh, a soft, “I love you more,” on his lips. After another moment, he releases you. “You should change,” he says quietly, standing.

He’s almost to the door when you stop him. “Stay.” You aren’t sure why you say it, but he freezes in place. “Please,” you add. And, after a brief moment of consideration, he nods.

You dress quickly, pulling on a pair of trousers and a new tunic, barely checking to make sure they match. Yoongi helps you with your corset, his deft fingers having no trouble with the laces this time round. When he’s done, you pull him close, wrap your arms around him tightly.

You are determined to not let go of him until you have to.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back away from you ever so slightly. Your hands stay around his waist, but he brings his hands between you to tug at the ring on his littlest finger. Carefully, he pulls your hand away and places the ring in your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“What-?”

“Take this,” he says, squeezing your fist.

You inspect the ring. It’s funny, you’ve seen it before–you’ve played with his hands countless times, looked at it while it was on his finger–but it’s like this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. It’s silver, the flat face of it etched with a shield, a sword standing at attention in its center. On either side of the ring’s face, thistle flowers bloom along the band.

“Yoongi,” you protest. You don’t want to take his signet ring. It’s the crest of the Min family, the ring serves as a seal to press into wax. He needs it.

He insists. “Keep it. Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. To remember.”

“As if I could forget.”

Yoongi smiles at that, a soft, somber smile that curves his lips but doesn’t meet his eyes.

The quiet that settles is interrupted rather rudely by the door opening. A head of dark hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer in at you. It’s Jaesung.

“Lord John asked me to fetch you both,” he says, and you can sense the anger barely concealed in his voice. “They’ll be here soon.”

Yoongi nods, but you can feel him let out a sigh.

“Shall I grab your trunk?” Jaesung asks, gesturing to the now full case behind you. It’s probably heavy, but you nod anyway. You’ve seen him lift heavier before, and you trust him to know his limits. You pick up Seokjin’s box and press the leaves, slipping Yoongi’s ring into the compartment before shutting it back up and stashing the whole thing in your trunk.

Yoongi trails behind you, his fingers grasped loosely in your own as you slowly and begrudgingly make your way through the castle. The wall sconces have been extinguished and the shutters have been thrown open, bathing the stone hallways in morning light. Instead of taking the back stairs you did last night–the ones which go past Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s chambers down to Yoongi’s–you follow the plush carpet down the hall to the grand stairs. They curve around the main hall, criss-crossing from front to back.

You pause at the first landing, just above the grand entrance. Yoongi stops almost immediately, his head falling to one side in confusion.

“Take this,” you say softly, handing him the letter from earlier.

“But-”

“Take it,” you insist, pressing it into his chest. “Don’t read it now. Give it a day or two. Please.”

Your eyes meet his, and silently, you plead with him. For a moment, he stands firm, his grip on your wrist tight. But then he relents, shoulders sagging, and nods. “Fine,” he says, taking the letter from your grasp and stuffing it into his pocket.

The heavy blackwood main doors of the castle are at least double your height, and they stand wide-open now. Your father and step-mother are in the courtyard, you can see them out by the centuries-old blackwood tree that stands sentinel in front of the castle. You’d spent many days of your childhood climbing its thick boughs, throwing seeds down to pelt Namjoon as he sat in the shade and read. Usually, the courtyard is bustling with people–from the castle, from the forest town, visitors–but now, aside from your father and step-mother, it’s completely empty.

“Stop pacing, love,” your step-mother says. She sits in a chair just to the left of the sentinel tree. She must not be feeling as well today. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I fear it’s too late for that, Sara, my dear” your father mumbles. And when he looks up, he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Ah.” He outstretches an arm, beckoning you forward.

When you’re close enough, your step-mother grabs your free hand, enveloping it in her own. Her hands are cold, and there’s no real strength to her grip. Yoongi stands close behind you, his chest practically touching your back as you hold the gaze of your step-mother.

“Brave girl,” she says softly.

“The towers sent word ahead of time. The envoy is in a hurry to get back to the Ironhold,” your father tells you. He’s stopped his pacing and now stands beside your step-mother’s chair. “We wanted to have time to say goodbye.”

You frown. Already, the king is not making a good impression on you. Between the sudden letter and the incoming envoy that feels more like an abduction than a transport, you’re certain that this is the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. And yet, as you look back and forth between your father and step-mother, as you hold Yoongi’s hand, you know it’s probably also–unfortunately–the right one.

Your father comes forward, his big hands cupping your cheeks. “You are smart,” he tells you, voice low. “You are strong. You are kind. Give ‘em hell.” He kisses your forehead and lets you go, turning almost immediately and walking toward the castle entrance to watch the road. You don’t miss the glisten in his eyes.

Your step-mother pats your hand. “I don’t think he will ever let this go. The Ironhold may say they’re doing this for the good of our two families, but…” She sighs. “I fear they’ve made an enemy out of the west.” She meets your gaze again, honeyed dark eyes big and sad. “Don’t let them dull you.”

Carefully, she reaches up and unpins a brooch from the front of her dress. It’s beautiful–you’ve admired it since you were a kid. A mother-of-pearl thistle blossom inset into an oval of ebony blackwood. She stands, a little unsteadily at first, and you reach out to help her gain her balance. Without looking up, she pins the brooch to your tunic, right over your heart.

You hear the hoofbeats before you see the envoy, the clattering of a carriage and several horses enough to draw anyone’s attention. Jaesung arrives just in time; he and Namjoon place your trunk just under the tree beside your step-mother’s chair. Like a spectre, Seokjin appears to your left. They all huddle closer when the first horse appears at the gates.

It’s not really that large of a traveling party–two men on horseback, a carriage with its driver, and a supply wagon–but the sight of it has your stomach churning all the same. You’re glad you didn’t take time for breakfast, or you might actually be sick. Yoongi presses closer, your entwined hands hidden behind your back.

One of the riders dismounts–you assume the steward–and approaches your father. They shake hands, and you can see the man’s gaze flick to you as they talk. Yoongi squeezes your hand. After a moment, they come closer. Your father’s face is grave, almost ashen, as he gestures for you.

The whole exchange is silent. You dare not look at Yoongi, too afraid that if you do, you’ll falter or worse. But as you step forward, he refuses to let go of your hand. Only until you’re physically too far away does he loosen his grip, and as soon as his fingers are out of your grasp, you miss him.

Your trunk gets moved to the carriage. The steward shakes your father’s hand again. Namjoon hugs you. Seokjin kisses your forehead. You’re passed around your father and step-mother and Jaesung. You refuse to look at Yoongi. And then it’s over. And you have nothing left to do but get in the carriage.

The inside of the carriage looks lavish, with soft velvet covering the bench and luxurious curtains covering the windows. But when you actually get in, the bench is hard, and the fabric over the windows leaves the carriage dark and confining. It’s impossible to see out, but you do your best, pulling the fabric away from the window and shoving your face against the wood of the wall.

They stand there, everyone you hold close, clumped together. The carriage jolts forward, and even though they can’t see you, you wave. Yoongi is the only one that lifts his hand, and you hold his gaze until the carriage enters the forest town and you can no longer see him.

Your heart hurts, and somewhere, deep inside your soul, you feel something breaking.

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your support means a whole lot, especially now when I'm low on energy and time. grad school is hell, but I wanted to post this to give us both some joy. please let me know your thoughts. I hope to finish this sometime this century, so please look forward to the next two parts!

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader

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nothomegal · 3 months

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HIII I MISS YOU :(( straight to the point, I need a yandere pyramid head fic!!

I´m sorry for the disappearance ;v; Can't post much due my studies.

Anyways, I ADORE your suggestion! And boy if our little (Y/N) is going to have a rough time with a yandere creature like Pyramid Head ._.)

Welp, let's start the story!

"Innocent lamb"

(Yandere!Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: the entity's realm was hell for some, heaven for others, and an inconvenience for the rest... But when one of the creatures encountered you, he made it everyone's problem, even the entity's that brough him there in the first place. But he meant no harm to you. He likes you. He wants you. He needs you. And he wͦ̀ͯi̸ll̩ͩ have Y̛̗̰͇͚͓͈̣͕̰͓̗͛ͤ̀̇̍ͥ͒̓͝Ơ̵̔_̰̅U̵̷̡̧̡̨͖̟̹͙̙͓̥̗̫̣̙͉͕͉̣̬̇ͭ͗̉͂̅̍͗̇̇́́̈͟͞

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, violence and violent acts, quite angst(y) mood in general, (understandably) terrified reader darling :(.

Word count: 4.2k

The moment they entered the trial, all four survivors knew right away who the killer was. Either its the dread they all felt as soon as their feet made contact with the ground that gave it away, or the fact that the entity had placed all of them in the same spot next to two generators just to have any chances to make it out alive.

But they know it's in vain, they know they're doomed for a long long death by bleeding out.

They know it... Because (Y/N) is with them.

Said survivor had to bite their lip to avoid crying, as guilt and terror embraced them. Just because the monster had this unholy obsession with them it didn't mean they were okay with it, if anything it scared them more.

He, Pyramid Head, the Executioner... Or however you want to nickname him, is said to be one of the most powerful creatures the entity had the pleasure to bring, so powerful in fact that the spider-like being had to make a deal to bring him.

So it's not surprising that they are absolutely horrified, but who wouldn't? This monster, an embodiment of pain and punishment, almost a god, has been hunting them relentlessly ever since he laid his gaze or... Helmet? On them.

At first it was all jokes and gags;

'Aww look, (Y/N) has a boyfriend!'

'Watch out, here comes your crush (Y/N)!'

'Uh-oh, the triangle man seems jealous, look how pissed he is at Nea for healing you!'.

But the jokes stopped when it got clear how truly messed up and sinister said 'crush' is.

They still remember it, it was a regular match against that one masked knife wielding guy that runs a lot, he's called 'Legion' they think. The trial was going relatively well, just like many previous ones. Until it suddenly got an 180° turn when one of the walls to the realm was literally destroyed by a hulking mass of muscle and a giant knife. To say both (Y/N) and the killer nearly had a cardiac arrest was an understatement, things got so ugly that the entity had to intervene and cut the trial short.

That incident could be a fuel for a new wave of jokes, could... If it didn't happen again. And that next time was even worse, the beast nearly made his way into the survivor side of the realm, somehow bursting through the barrier the entity had created to keep the survivors separated from the killers to avoid any pity fights after trials.

Ever since that event, Pyramid Head was strictly kept in 'his' realm, aka Midwich Elementary School.

Sometimes, after escaping through the gates and running back into the camp through the fog, (Y/N) could swear they can hear the monster roar in the distance. Loud, distorted and fierce howls resonating somewhere behind the dense fog, as if the creature was desperately trying to yell out their name. Either to let them know how badly he wants them or a promise to break free and get them... Both possibilities giving them chills.

The entity of course wasn't okay with this, it was pissed! But it also could do so little... The great deal now had turned into a major curse. If the deal is broken, the Executioner won't hesitate to damage the realm to get what he wants. But if it remains, the monster will find new ways to bend the rules and make it everyone's problem.

Why the entity doesn't just give (Y/N) to the beast or gets rid of them ones for all? No one really has the answer. Some think it's due the entity's pride, or the possibility of the executioner going ballistic. For now, it's more of a silent (and petty) battle between two stubborn beings, each of them refusing to back away from their goal.

Goal. The entity's goal, though still confusing, is more or less clear; force people and creatures to play these twisted games and feed on those who get sacrificed. But the executioner's goal? It's straight up a mystery. (Y/N) know it has something to do with them, but... Why them exactly? Why not Cheryl? Didn't she come from the same place as that beast? What the monster even wants them for?

What will he do when he finally gets his hands on them? Wh-

A rough shake snapped (Y/N) out of their internal break down.

They blink a couple of times, tears of fear nearly sliding down their cheeks as their body shivers. They were scared, more than the other three survivors combined.

The survivor holding them by their shoulders, David, sighs when he finally notices them react.

—"Look, I know you're scared..."— he starts talking, his voice surprisingly calm.

—"I'm-... I- I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry-..."— you choke out in a weak wobbly voice, guilt eating you from inside.

—"No no. Just listen for a sec. I... Well, we all can tell that you aren't enjoying it neither. So, let's not break down into a soap opera, okay? Don’t think of this as hopeless match, but as another chance to woop that asshole's ass and escape."—

—"And also leave him empty handed!"— Feng announces from her place while already working on a generator.

—"Yeah, screw that triangular piece of shit! Let's try out Dwight's strategy this time. You remember it, do you?"— he asks you, not letting go of your shoulders yet.

The surprisingly positive and reassuring words of their teammates towards them really soothed and even cheered (Y/N) a bit. With a small smile they quickly wipe their eyes before nodding.

—"Good, see? We're already starting on a good note!"— he lets go to then pat your back, basically pushing you forward. —"Now go help with a gen before putting the 'plan' into work."—

Though the push hurt a bit, (Y/N) didn't care at all about the pain, too focused on keepings all the negative and pessimistic thoughts away.

For the first minute and a half everything was going well, (Y/N) and Feng were working on one generator while David and Jonah were working on the other one. The four of them were dead silent, straining their ears for any of the sounds the creature makes, such as heavy footsteps, the scraping of his gigantic knife or their own heartbeat. Weirdly enough, everything was calm... Too calm.

(Y/N) nearly choked with air when a cold chill ran through their spine.

Spine Chill. The beast... Is watching them.

They attempt to subtly alert Feng by carefully tapping her leg, but as soon as their fingertips touched the other girl’s skin, their heartbeat started to get louder and louder, until…

—“WATCH OUT!”—

(Y/N) exclaimed as they pushed Feng, just in time to dodge a bunch of sharp and rusted metal pieces coming out the ground.

—“Holy-...”— she mutters.

Now that the monster is here, the four survivors decided to put in action the mentioned strategy.

They all let go of the generators and run away in different directions, (Y/N) being the most desperate while running since they know exactly who the beast is targeting.

His pattern is always the same; chase after until sending them into a cage to then down all of their teammates and then come straight back to all caged and helpless (Y/N) and then… Stare or touch them until the others bleed out or the entity has enough.

The difference in the current case, is that (Y/N) is not playing just cat and mouse. In fact, chasing them is the worst the killer can do. All of their abilities are chase oriented, another teammate lurking around has all the boon ones, while the last two have all is needed to rush through the generators. If everything works out, the monster will get himself in a situation where he's be forced to leave (Y/N) alone.

The chase was intense, at least for (Y/N). Despite never catching a clear view of the Executioner, they could feel him close behind, following them methodically like a wild animal on a hunt, waiting for the right moment to strike while keeping up the tension.

It was hard to maintain the focus, every single hallways in The Game looked the exact same. Did they vaulted that window already? Didn't they pre-dropped that palled over there? Did Feng placed it up again? Are the other two working on the generators? Have they taken this left path before?

So many questions where swarming their mind as their legs kept carrying them on, only momentarily relaxing when two generators finally made that distinguish noise.

Two done! Tree left.

A breathless laugh escaped from them. Great! This is already going better than all of their previous encounters with the Executioner, which would always end with the first generator barely reaching 30%.

However, their smile was quickly swept when they realized they no longer hear their heartbeat or thundering footsteps tailing behind. It was silent, dead silent, with no other sounds that their own breathing.

A wave of anxiety flushed through (Y/N) like a tsunami wave and started to drag and drown them deeper into their own worries.

What the?... Okay, this was not part of the plan. The Executioner had never left the chase with them, never. So the fact that he finally did, and apparently a while ago, made them shake.

With nothing else to do, they gather the courage to start moving again. Where? Somewhere! Anywhere but to stay in place and be an easy target to the beast that so desperately wants them.

They keep running, stopping only for a brief moment before turning a corner, making sure they don't hear any muffled breathing that at times resembled growls. They learned the hard way with the Shape that some killers like to wait around corners, and they don't want to commit the same mistake right now.

Their heart jerked when they heard a scream resonate from their left, and a faint reddish aura in the shape of a human gleamed for a second before disappearing.

David is down.

And it seems like he's not getting picked up, which could either mean that the monster is setting up a trap or chasing someone else. Whichever the case is, they shouldn't go-

They hear a bunch of footsteps come their way, and in a set of panic they crouch behind a bunch of boxes, silently praying that their disguise is mildly good.

They can't see much from their spot, but they can clearly recognize the shape of Jonah running away from something massive.

As soon as the two figures passed by, (Y/N) gets up and takes off running towards David to check on him.

After some wondering around the labyrinth-like place, they finally reach their injured teammate, who was still on the ground and groaning from pain.

—"{David!}"— you whisper-yell as you start running towards him.

He weakly lifts his head just enough to see them. When he recognized who it is, he starts to frantically shake his head.

—"NO! GET THE FUCK OUT!"—

Huh? What-

As (Y/N) is about to reach David, a path of sharp metal pieces and razor wires had emerged right in front of them, just when they're about to make contact with the floor again, making in impossible to dodge.

The second their leg got tangled into the sharp metallic mess, everything went too fast. They don't even have time to pull away as something sliced them on their side, sending them directly on the ground.

They send a guilty and ashamed glance to David, who had an frustrated expression.

—"{Sorry...}"— you mouth.

(Y/N) has no chance to see David's answer as a massive hand suddenly curled around their throat and forced them to look away from the other man.

Their eyes wide at the sight of the beast menacingly hovering over their helpless form, holding their body in place between him and the ground. The muscles of his extended arm were tense, his breathing heavy, almost like he's holding back the anger and displeasure caused by them giving attention to someone else.

Their heart skipped beats, their breath uneven, their eyes watered as they tightly closed them, not wanting to witness whatever this thing was about to do. They can feel the warmth coming from his body, his breathing slowly stabilizing, as if staring at them and watching them slowly submit was enough to calm the monster. Ironically, it did the complete opposite to (Y/N), as their own heartbeat raised from the anxiety of having to face the unknown, attempt to predict the unpredictable and prepare to witness another massacre unfold around them at any second... Just to then end up caged and at the mercy of this-

—"LEAVE THEM ALONE ASSHOLE!"— David angrily yells from his place, struggling and trying to stand up. —"You're fucking terrifying, of course they don't want to look at you!"—

They can feel Pyramid Head's hand tense and start shaking, his fingers twitching and pressing further into their skin. (Y/N) was beyond terrified now, just a little bit of pressure and the creature could crush their throat like a cardboard tube.

David, though clearly using all of his strength, ended up falling back on the ground, as if some invisible weigh is actively pushing him down.

—“You freak! Absolute sick fuck! Let them go already!”—

As the waterfall of profanities continues, (Y/N) slowly places their hands around the monster’s wrist to attempt to push his hand away, unfortunately he didn’t budge at all.

Suddenly, David’s stops screaming and the very next second (Y/N) feels something warm and slippery press against their cheek.

They jerk in place at the uncanny sensation and shoot open their eyes, a breathless gasp escaping them at the sight of a… Wh-What even is that? A freaking tentacle? A tongue?…

The dark pink muscle wiggles in front of their face for a moment before licking another stride, wiping some of their tears and blood in the process, making (Y/N) shiver in discomfort.

They shoot a confused glance to David, desperately wanting to know if he’s witnessing this too. The man had an expression of pure ‘what the fuck’; eyes narrowed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly gaping.

This eye contact was brief though. (Y/N) got startled for a loud growl that reverbed from the beast's chest and helmet. The hand finally leaves their throat as the beast stands up to his full height and starts making his way to David, leaving them alone, as well as his knife?

(Y/N) throws their teammate a scared look, but David responds with a forced smirk.

—"Ah, now you decide to drag your big ass towards me."— he mutters through gritted teeth.

The monster seem to not react to his taunts. With each step that he takes towards David, his mask of confidence seems to crack.

Nevertheless, the man didn’t back out from his insults, he never does.

—“What’s wrong? Why so pissy, huh?! Jealous that (Y/N) prefers us?!”—

Saying their name was a sore spot to hit, and the way Pyramid Head reacted confirmed that.

The monster roughly grabs David by the neck, completely ignoring the fact that he’s not even holding his weapon. Instead he uses his bare hands to silence him.

Nasty, wet and crunchy sounds resonated through the room and hallways as the creature began to tear the man’s body limb by limb, piece by peace, unbothered by the pained screams of his victim or the low groan of displeasure that resonated from above for again not playing by the rules.

(Y/N) froze in horror at the sight in front of them. Blood, chunks of flesh and bone pieces where flying everywhere, never before they’ve witnessed this type of gore, not even during the ‘mori’.

Though it felt like the massacre lasted hours, it was actually second. The monster threw the whatever remaining he had in his hands and slowly turned back to (Y/N), who was still frozen and unable to look away from what was left from David. They know they will meet again in the fire camp, in one piece and alive, but god they felt sick...

Their shock breaks only when the thundering footsteps began to resonate again, shaking the ground underneath them with each the creature took. He grew closer, and closer, with them being able to do absolutely nothing aside from attempting to crawl away.

But that pity attempt was stopped when the same sharp wires and rusty metal pieces emerged from the ground and wrapped around their body, pulling them slowly underneath and sinking them further into the ground. And before they realize it, their body is already trapped in that rotten metallic cage.

Cold metal spikes just inches away from their flesh, so close to penetrate their skin, a wrong move and they would undoubtedly get hurt. But even if they wanted to move, they couldn't really. The space in the structure was small, claustrophobic even, each spike perfectly adjusted to keep their form in place. In some twisted way, it felt like a hug, a very cold, unwelcoming and unnerving hug.

They flinch when they hear a scream resonate from somewhere, which was cut by a loud slam.

Feng was caught.

It seems like the Executioner didn't bother to down her, rather getting rid of her directly, most likely because he's aware that Jonah is not keen of going for rescues...

And speaking of the man, there is his aura flashing before (Y/N)'s eyes as his body fell on the floor.

He's down... Which means that-

Before they even finish their conclusion, the tall figure of the monster appeared. Just by looking at them his behavior seemed to change; movements more erratic and pace uneven, almost like he's hypnotized.

He makes his way to them, slowly, as if purposely building up the tension.

(Y/N) wanted to look away or close their eyes, but whenever they did so the cage felt painfully small. It hurt, literally, so they stare at that beast grow closer with wide shaky eyes that struggled to keep their focus on him. This is something Pyramid Head was always good at, he could always make you fear, even the toughest bravest ones would inevitably succumb to the terror his presence brings.

Ones in front of them, the creature stops in place and simply stares, like he always did.

(Y/N), though still scared, was a tiny bit relieved that this is what the rest of the trial would be; them being pinned like a butterfly with the monster observing.

It would be just that.

Just this bizarre staring contest.

...Right?

WRONG.

The creature suddenly let go of his weapon and grabs the edges of the cage with both hands quite violently.

Now the little hope and comfort (Y/N) had was thrown out the window, as now they realize they no longer have any idea of what will happen next.

And by what it looks like, the entity is not planning to intervene, as if curious itself to see what will happen next.

Pyramid Head remains like this, his big hands tightly squeezing the imperfect metal bars, bending them slightly and making the already miserable looking material groan from the pressure he was applying.

It looked like he wanted to destroy that cage, rip it apart and get to them, but didn't do it by holding himself back... Why? What's even the point of this build up? What's even the point in wanting them?!

—"{Wh-...Why?...}"— you choke out in a very quiet voice. —"{Why a-are you d-... doing this?...}"—

(Y/N) knows is stupid to ask, Pyramid Head can't even speak! But they can't help themselves, they're too scared, their anxiety is unbearable and their thoughts are too out of control. They need answers, anything that could even hint for a possible explanation of the killer's intentions.

They began to second guess their decision to speak when the creature froze in place, even his breath was now inaudible. This was the first time (Y/N) spoke directly to the monster, but they didn't expect him to react at this fact, not like this, or at all.

But he did, he did acknowledged that little detail, and he will make sure they acknowledge it too.

The creature soon moves again, by slowly leaning closer and slightly tilting his head to the side, almost like trying to get a better look at them.

His breathing got heavier, low huffs and growls resonating from that metallic helmet of his. It really looked like he was actively holding back some major urge or desire, but what it is?

(Y/N) wanted to ask again, but decided against it as there is little Pyramid Head could do to answer, and even if he could, why should he? Maybe it's more amusing to him to see them helplessly wondering in the dark and unable to comprehend what's going on.

Or maybe, there is simply nothing to explain?... Maybe he does what he does just because? Human mind is way too used to seek for reasons and explanations for anything and everything, often forgetting that sometimes the answer is way too simple or straight up null, could that be the case?

The same groan coming from the cage bars pulled (Y/N) out of their thoughts. They forget how to breathe at the sight of the structure slowly collapsing as the monster starts to rip the bars with his raw strength.

A scared yelp escaped them as they try to back further into the cage as much as they can, ignoring the sharp edges that scratched or pierced their body. They barely felt pain, none at all actually, the adrenaline and basic survival instincts keeping their body resilient and ready to run. The sad part is, is that there is nowhere to run, nothing to do. It's sweet that their body tries so desperately to keep their hopes up and reassure their survival, but their mind is more than aware of the cold desolated reality...

The front part of the cage was eventually ripped off and thrown against the floor violently. (Y/N) can only cover their eyes with their hands and quietly sob as they wait for whatever the monster had planned to do next.

Even when no further actions are made, they refuse to look. They no longer want to face this thing, they no longer want to suffer this torment. Regardless if they believed in any religion or no, they mutter silent prayers under their breath, but not no save them, but to make it end and to know how sorry they are for any evil or harm they've did in their life that leaded to such tragic conclusion.

But this is where the catch is... They've committed none. At least from the Executioner's perspective.

Despite their whispers being so silent to a non-existent point, Pyramid Head heard them loud and clear. And the more he heard their voice, the more he felt the inside of his chest burn and the desire for them grow even more. (Y/N) is not perfect, they're human after all, and all humans have their fair share of flaws and defects... But unlike the rest, (Y/N) has the ability to acknowledge said imperfections and genuinely try to make up for them, to fix them... Regardless if they get something in return or not.

This, this is the true purity in a human being. An innocence and kindness so genuine that it would be a sin not to worship and protect... And who is a best fit to take care of it other than the fearsome Pyramid Head?

(Y/N)... So pure... So innocent... So kind... He must keep them save.

He must keep them...

He wants them...

W̴͕̳͈͔̭̝͠ͅ a̶̩̰̲̎̓͊̈̓̕ ǹ̴̢͇̬̘̗̯̜̍̋͊͠͝͠ ṭ̶͇̃̔͝ s̶̭̩͔̹̝̼̅̍̆̉͌͝

As the monster is about to reach them, a spider like legs burst out through the floor and wrap themselves around (Y/N).

The trial... Is over.

And while the absolutely livid roar gets overshadowed by the groans of the entity as the black fog surrounds the whole place. (Y/N) only keeps quietly sobbing as they cling to the spider leg sticking out of their chest. And though they knew the entity is the main responsible of their current torment, they were too overwhelmed with emotions to properly process their actions.

Surprisingly, the spider-like being didn't disappear right away, probably feeling pity for their situation and allowing them to cry for a brief moment, most likely to compensate this unplanned mess they have to deal with.

To everyone's surprise in the camp, when (Y/N) finally arrived they where unconscious, either passed out after such emotional roller coaster or the entity wants them take some genuine rest. Whatever the case it, it didn't matter, what matters is that their fellow friend is back save and sound, right?

As one of the survivors decided to take them closer to the bonfire for warmth and comfort, they could swear they heard some weird noises from afar.

It resembled a demonic cry filler with rage, so distant yet menacing. Everyone instinctively shivered.

And though (Y/N) successfully 'survived' yet another trial with the executioner, almost everyone had the gut feeling that the next encounter they have with the beast, it will not end good...

They all take a glance at their still unconscious form.

Poor (Y/N)...

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #nothomegal oneshot #pyramid head #pyramid head fic #pyramid head x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #gn reader #dbd fanfic #dark romance #dbd x reader

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havecourage-darling · 1 year

Text

Employee of the Month // Eddie Munson

Prompt: enemies-to-lovers, “the employee of the month gets a free dinner to a fancy restaurant and you both fight to win it until it goes too far and oh shit, I think I love you but everything is falling apart.”

wc: 24K (don't even ask)

tags: miscommunication, cursing, misunderstandings, idiots in love being idiots in love, female reader

Masterlist

YOU groaned the second you walked into the store and heard the sounds of Nightmare on Elm Street playing on the television. “Isn’t it my turn to pick the movie?” You asked, walking past the counter and into the back. Precariously balancing your coffee and breakfast sandwich on the ledge of the lockers, you started pulling your jacket off.

“Well, if you arrived on time, your Grace, you’d have been able to,” Eddie’s grating voice filtered in through the swinging door.

Gritting your teeth, you closed your eyes and counted to ten. It’s illegal to murder. You’d go to jail. Your mother would cry if you went to trial. His body would be too heavy to drag into a ditch. The blood would stain your favorite shoes. Dustin would never forgive you. You hadn’t helped stitch his body back together only to turn around and kill him now.

“I am on time, shithead, you’re just always early,” you hissed.

“It’s been literal seconds and you two are already fighting?” Robin groaned from where she had her face buried into her elbow at the counter. You shrugged on your vest, put your backpack into the locker and slammed it shut.

“He started it,” you said defensively.

Eddie turned, hair flipping like he was some goddamn heroine in a movie, and shot you an incredulous look. “Did you not just come in, metaphorical guns blazing?”

“It’s my turn to pick the movie!” You insisted. And it was. You always picked the movie on Mondays. Always.

His brows furrowed, as if confused by your genuine anger. “Then pick the movie! The TV has an eject button or did you need me to help you learn how to use it?”

A small ember lit in your chest like it always did when you were around his infuriating presence. “Need I remind you that I’ve worked here longer than you have, Munson?” You huffed, grabbing an armful of the returns without looking and walking around the store. “Some of us graduated the first time around.”

Eddie snorted, the barb falling short. “You’ll need to find a new insult, Lightning.”

The condescending tone rung throughout the air. “Do not call me that,” you hissed, whipping your head around to glare at him.

He held up his hands and didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “I didn’t give you the nickname Superstar.”

You hated it when he called you that. It always sounded so patronizing. “Have I ever told you how much I hate you?” You grumbled, making sure to clip his shoulder with your own as you passed him.

“On a daily basis,” he retorted, whirling his arms in the air to keep his balance.

Steve sighed as he walked in and saw you both glaring at each other. “It’s been less than an hour, how are you both already arguing?”

“He started it,” you grumbled again, turning around and started to shelve the returns.

“He started it,” Eddie mimicked, yelping when Robin smacked him. You started in the far back left-hand corner and did what you always did when you were on shift with Eddie – you ignored him.

A half hour into shelving, and only midway through your coffee, you heard Steve groan loudly. Robin’s head popped out from the aisle behind you and she sighed. “Keith incoming,” she alerted you all, everyone rolling their eyes. “Oh shit, he’s coming with a suit.”

“What?” You asked, hurrying around the corner to join her. Catching sight of the senior supervisor, one of the execs in suits who show up once a few months – if that – you frowned. “You think we’re being shut down?”

“I hope not, this place is a shithole but it’s a paycheck,” Eddie grumbled, starting up the computer and pretending to look busy.

“Good morning, everyone,” Keith said, uncharacteristically polite as the entrance door swung open.

Hiding a laugh behind a cough, Robin and you nodded. Keith looked like a small child who’d gotten dressed in his parent’s working clothes.

“We’ll be in my office,” Keith said through his teeth, shooting you all a look as the suit disappeared through the door.

Robin turned to you instantly. “Oh shit, do you think we’re actually getting closed down?”

“Honestly, at this point, that job down at the grocery store is looking more appealing,” you sighed.

Steve, on the other hand, sputtered. “I don’t! This might be a shit job but I still need the money,” he huffed. “Driving you people around is expensive.”

Robin rolled her eyes and you shot him a look. “I drive the other half of your kids, so don’t even look at me.”

“They’re not my kids!”

“Well, they became mine through you so, what’s that say?” You asked, joining him behind the counter.

“That you and Robin wouldn’t leave well enough alone at the mall,” Steve huffed.

Robin whipped her head around. “If it wasn’t for us, you and Henderson wouldn’t have cracked the code!”

“I took a punch for you,” you said, elbowing him.

Steve shook his head but you saw the smile building. Much like Robin’s entrance into the party, you’d been hired at Scoops Ahoy when Starcourt opened as a part-time employee. Also, like Robin, you’d been hesitant to trust the self-proclaimed reformed Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. You’d known Robin, your next-door neighbor, for years. Despite the suspicion, you’d become pretty close friends. There was something about surviving a near apocalypse that bonded you all together. Especially considering his band of kids had welcomed you in with open arms.

“Demobats ate chunks of my skin off, you aren’t special,” said Eddie, tone – once again – grating on your skull.

Grinding your teeth, you ignored Steve’s pointed look and did what you did second best – shot him a withering glare and pretended he didn’t exist.

Unfortunately, your newfound friendships had led you back to Eddie Munson a few months ago. Despite fighting off those demented demobats with him in the Upside Down, and the way your heart had dropped to your feet when you fought to save his life, your distrust for him had only deepened.

“You both have to get over it eventually,” Steve grumbled under his breath. You reached out, quickly, and pinched his bicep. He yelped, brown eyes widening pitifully, and you glared at him.

Eddie and you hadn’t always had this…animosity. Steve had managed to break you down eventually, pulling the reason why from you after a summer party when you’d gotten plastered.

You had never thought of yourself as a spiteful person, but some things weren’t easy to get over. And what Eddie Munson had done to you was one of them. The worst part, was him acting like it had been your fault. That dumb, big-eyed, stupid son of a –

“Nice to see you all,” the suit said, coming out Keith’s office suddenly. You all mumbled incoherently, straightening when Keith glared, and watched as they walked out.

Not five minutes later, Keith sauntered back in with a smug look on his face. “Apparently, we’re the best performing Family Video in all of North Indiana.”

“Cool,” Eddie said, the nerd actually looked interested. You’d already known the store was doing better – considering Family Video was the only video store around for miles after the earthquake. The three of you had struggled enough to warrant bringing Munson into the mix.

“What does that mean?” Robin asked, always voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

Keith snorted. “That means, ducklings, we get to reap some perks.”

“Perks?” Steve asked, eyes brightening. Keith ignored him and turned to the rest of you.

“For starters, the suits are instating a best employee of the month,” he said, “excluding me of course because it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

You coughed, putting a hand up to your chest to really sell it, and attempted to hide your laughter within the sound.

“And what do we get if we win?” Eddie asked.

Would Family Video shell anything out? You wondered. They barely managed to replace your vest for free after you’d shredded it to shit from your adventures during spring break.

Keith leaned in, failing spectacularly at building tension, and smiled. You only just barely refrained from flinching back at the sight. “Get this, the first employee of the month gets a free dinner to Osteria da Fortuna. I get a free dinner obviously, because I’m the senior manager…”

His voice trailed off in your mind, your eyes widening and back straightened. Osteria? The fancy ass Italian restaurant downtown? Holy shit, you’d been dying to go there ever since Heather went with her boyfriend and told you about the desserts. She’d said it was the best tiramisu she’d ever tasted in her life.

By the time you’d snapped out of your daydream buffet, Keith had gone into his office again.

“Oh my God, I need that dinner. It’s the only thing that’ll help recover this month – shit, this year,” you said to Robin, her eyes softening. She’d been well aware of how shitty your life had been of late. “I’ve always wanted to go there!”

“Uh, everyone wants to go there, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice patronizing, “it’s the best restaurant for miles.”

You glared at him but he did what he did best, continue to annoy you.

“Besides, we’ve all had a shitty year.” He flipped his stupid hair again and you clenched your hands. Why did he always have to twist your words around? You hadn’t meant that yours had been worse than anyone else’s. You were well aware of how shit of a spring break ’86 had been for a lot of you.

“How no one has ever choked you is a mystery to me,” you said, matter of fact. A brief image of your hands around his neck made you smirk.

Eddie turned to glance at you over his shoulder. “I won’t say no if you’re offering Princess,” he winked.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage. Ignoring his jab, and the sudden rage in your chest, you walked into the breakroom to grab your cold breakfast sandwich. Heating it up in the tiny microwave you grabbed your bottle of water before stalking out again.

Keith leaned against the counter, reprimanding Steve about something, and his nose twitched. Eyes drawing towards you, they narrowed and you felt nervous. Shit. Keith had never cared when you ate and worked but you definitely didn’t want to piss him off as you started the race towards that dinner.

“Holy shit I haven’t eaten since last night I’m starving,” Keith said instead of admonishing you.

The idea popped in your head and before you could think twice, you offered Keith the wrapped breakfast sandwich. “Do you want it? I’m not that hungry,” you said, begging your growling stomach to stay quiet for a while.

You saw the appreciative glint in Keith’s eyes when he took his first bite – and by the scowl on Eddie’s face, he had too.

“Thanks Lightning, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, “you always were my favorite. I’ll be back later losers.”

With a flurry, Keith was out the door and the only noise for a few moments was Freddy Kreuger killing Glen. Then, your stomach roared to life.

“Not hungry?” Eddie echoed flatly.

Robin, however, stepped in before you could start another fight. “Well played you, well played,” she said, offering you a high five.

“If I give you my entire paycheck, will you take me with you when you win?” Steve asked, eyes pleading. It didn’t take a genius to know there was no way Keith was choosing Steve.

“As if,” Robin snorted, “she’s taking me.”

You watched them bicker amicably, laughing when Steve gaped at Robin after a low blow and barely registered Eddie next to you.

“I’m gonna win the dinner,” he said, nonchalantly.

Eyes darting up to his, ignoring his cologne wafting over to you, you glared at him. “Whatever, Munson.” Jesus, is that all you could come up with? What the fuck was in that cologne?

Eddie, however, just smiled. “Let the games begin.”

Where the hell was everyone? You mused, walking into an open, but empty, store. Considering the schedule posted yesterday – Eddie, Robin, and you were set to open today.

Spinning your keys on your finger, you walked back into the locker room and tossed your stuff inside. Pulling your vest out, you shrugged it on and went to fill up your water. Once you were by the cooler you realized the back door was propped open.

What the?

You quietly stepped forward, eyes darting around looking for who was out there when you heard Keith’s voice.

“Dude, are you sure?” Keith asked, voice tinged with excitement.

Eddie’s soft voice filtered in through the crack. “Absolutely. I had extras and you know we’re cool right? I thought – why not ask Keith if he wants to take them off my hands.” Narrowing your eyes, you crossed your arms. You knew that tone – that was Eddie’s ‘I’m a bad liar but no one can tell,’ tone.

Keith stepped into view and you watched him take the Ziploc bag from Eddie’s hand. You bit your cheek to keep from cursing.

Joints.

Of course Eddie was going to start sucking up too. Because there’s no way he couldn’t let you have this – why would he? He’s been a pain in your ass from the start. What the hell could you give Keith that one upped free weed? Fuck, you needed to get creative.

There was no way in hell you were letting Munson win this fucking dinner. At this point, it was a matter of pride.

Scrambling to the front of the store, you started your morning to-do list with fervor. Robin stumbled in, looking still half asleep, she motioned to the back and you barely nodded in her direction.

A few minutes later, Eddie sauntered out. Grinding your teeth, you shifted your shoulders away from him so you didn’t have to look at him directly.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop you know,” Eddie said eventually, hopping onto the counter to your left.

You felt a flash of embarrassment at being caught but you carefully stomped it down. Without flinching, or hesitation, you lifted your eyes to his and quirked your brow. Leaning in slowly, you watched his eyes widen and his mouth part. You waited a moment to speak, eyes drawn to the way you were sure his brown ones had flashed down to your own mouth. Just a little closer, the tiny – stupidly intrusive - voice in your head echoed.

Blinking away the thought, you smirked. “It’s illegal to sell drugs, you know,” you said. Eddie gaped at you, clearly not expecting that, and huffed a moment too late.

Swiveling in your chair you turned to the computer, indicating that you were done speaking and you’d taken it as a win.

Not one to ever let you have the last word, “It wasn’t a sale, it was a gift,” he said.

You hummed, just as petty. “I’m sure Hopper would love to hear that explanation,” you said agreeably. Everyone knew that after El and Joyce, you were Hopper’s favorite.

Eddie grumbled and slinked off towards the returns. Internally pumping your fist, your win was quickly extinguished when Keith came out. “Alright I’m off until tomorrow. Don’t forget to tell Harrington to make sure the box is shut this time,” Keith said, with a weird grin on his face, and turned to Eddie. “Thanks again man, I really appreciate it.” He winked and you had to practically bite a crater into your bottom lip to keep from gagging.

“No worries,” Eddie said, smug expression radiating from the back. You could hear his stupid unsaid words. Your turn, Lightning.

You scowled. God, even imaginary him was unbearable.

“What the fuck?” You muttered to yourself as you opened up the store. “Where the hell is everyone?”

This time, the entire store was dark. You went around quickly flipping the lights on and checked the time. I’m on time, you thought, checking the backrooms. Your morning shift was scheduled as it usually was, an hour after opening, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

Shit – that never happened. Eddie was always on time.

For a brief second, you wondered if something had happened to him. Anxious fingers already reaching for the phone, you realized you didn’t know his number. Keith would have it, right? Were you ever allowed to look at employee records? Where the hell did Keith keep employee information anyway? Spiraling, you glanced around you one more time like you’d accidentally missed him in the store.

Calm down, you told yourself, Eddie was probably just lazing around like he usually did.

He’s never been late to work, your mind reminded you, especially not your Tuesday morning shifts. Tuesdays were Steve’s day off – Robin always joined you after school at 4PM and helped you close. The both of you would bicker the entire morning about his movie pick, argue about who was shelving returns faster, and usually eventually draw a tentative truce with the shitty coffee from the kitchen.

Despite your vow to never say it out loud – you knew Eddie took work seriously. He was a massive asshole but he was weirdly earnest about this stupid video store. Yanking the phone to your ear, you dialed a number you did know quickly.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered.

Without preamble, and with a pitch high enough to rival Robin’s, your words stumbled out your mouth. “Steve, I need you to call Eddie. It’s ten thirty and I just came in and had to open the store and he’s always here on time Steve. Always. It’s the most annoying fucking thing on the planet how punctual he is. Something had to have happened on the road or like, I don’t know but-”

“-wait, wait, I just woke up, what are you talking about?”

Annoyance surged through you. “Eddie didn’t show up for his shift!” You hissed into the phone.

“Shit, really?” Steve asked a little shocked despite the sleep clinging to his voice.

“Yes, really! I had to open the store when I showed up a few minutes ago.”

Steve suddenly went quiet. “Fuuuuck,” he said, now sounding completely awake, “is today Tuesday?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck, I totally forgot,” Steve groaned, “Munson asked me to cover his shift.”

You chose to actively ignore the relief that bloomed in your chest. “Jesus Christ Steve,” you sighed, the worry draining out of you and making you feel lightheaded.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry! I can be there in like five minutes-” a loud crashing sound made you wince and lean away from the receiver. “Ouch,” Steve groaned pathetically.

Biting back your laughter you shook your head. Steve Harrington was undoubtedly, not a morning person. “Hey, it’s fine. Tuesday mornings aren’t exactly rush hour over here. Take the morning off, I’ll be fine until the afternoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Harrington, I’m sure. I owe you one anyway,” you rubbed a hand down your face, suddenly exhausted.

“Thanks dude, I’ll be down in a few hours, I’ll bring you coffee,” Steve said gratefully.

“From the good place!”

Steve laughed but promised to bring you the largest cup of coffee they had.

The morning, predictably, was slow. You spent the first half of it shelving returns and the second half of it assisting the odd customer that made their way by. Right as the latest man walked out the door, you caught sight of Keith leaning against his car. Groaning, you straightened and tried to look like you weren’t bored out of your mind.

Right as he started towards the store, you watched him chuck the butt of a joint towards the side. Keith had a dumb smile on his face and yesterday’s interaction slammed into you. Scowling, you smacked the enter button on the keyboard a bit too hard.

“Morning,” Keith drawled, the scent of weed wafting over to you. Grinding your molars, you could practically see the dinner slipping from your fingers.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying and failing to sound upbeat.

“Where’s Munson? I need to thank him again for – a favor he did me,” Keith ended lamely.

You opened your mouth to let him know what had happened but you hesitated. Shit. As of last year, the suits had established a new rule about swapping shifts. They all needed the manager’s approval. If Keith was here asking for Eddie, he hadn’t approved the swap. Steve was on thin ice considering the rule was put in place because of him.

An idea sprouted in the back of your mind and you chewed on your bottom lip. Was it too far? Eddie’s smug expression taunted you for a moment before you shook your head.

“I don’t know actually, he hasn’t called and wasn’t here when I came in,” you said, making an exaggerated notion of checking your watch. Gasping a little dramatically, you put a hand up to your chest. “Oh wow, I hadn’t even realized he’s two hours late! I’ve just been so busy here with customers,” you added, smiling dutifully and completely ignoring the empty store.

A small frown formed on Keith’s face but he shot you an appraising look before nodding. “Good job, thanks for keeping us in shipshape. You’ve always been reliable.”

Shipshape? You cringed at his wide, and weirdly sincere looking smile, before offering a weak one yourself. “Yes sir.”

Yes sir? Jesus you were laying it on thick.

Keith preened at the term and sauntered out the store without another word.

You really should’ve known better than to assume Eddie wasn’t going to try and get back at you.

“Are you fucking kidding me Munson?” You screamed, kicking the front door open so hard that the frame rattled.

Eddie stood behind the counter, eyes glinting, and you could practically feel his skin underneath your hands as you smothered him with a plastic bag. Smug fucker.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget to see the change in schedule?” He asked with his stupid smirk on his face. Seeing red, you had a brief moment where you considered launching forward to actually kill him.

Picking a happy medium, you picked up a nearby box of Twizzlers, you launched it at his head and he ducked, shooting you an incredulous look. “I just got yelled at for thirty minutes by Keith,” you said, launching another box of candy. “I didn’t give you a fake schedule making you miss your shift, Eddie. You’re the one who swapped without telling anyone.”

“I told Steve! Who told you!” Eddie argued, eyes flashing.

Putting your hands on your hips you shot him a glare. “Yeah, which is still not allowed!”

“Oh,” Eddie said, his tone dripping with incredulity. He huffed and stomped over to you. “Get off your pedestal, Lightning, don’t act like you give a shit about store rules.”

Stepping closer, you felt your arms brush as you poked his shoulder. “I’m not saying I do, but what did you want me to do? Get you both in trouble?”

“Not lie would be a good start!” Eddie shouted, poking back at you. God, he was infuriating. And why the hell did he always smell so good? “You saw an opportunity and you went for it! I was just evening out the playing field.”

You laughed incredulously. The audacity of this idiot. “Right, and you giving him your weed was what? You being kind?”

Sputtering for a second, you crossed your arms to avoid the visceral instinct to smack him.

“Whatever, the point is we’re even now!”

Even? How the hell were you even? “Munson if you think we’re even, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

At that, he raised his brow. His eyes darted over your face, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips. “Yeah? Alright then Superstar, you want a war?”

“Bring it on,” you hissed, stomping off into the backroom.

Flipping the sign on the door around to closed, you sighed in relief when the last customer drove off.

“I’m going to go change!” Robin called out, disappearing into the backroom. Steve already had his Westley costume on, black mask and all.

With a twirl and outstretched arms, he asked you what you thought. “You look great Steve,” you said with a smile. “Is Robin Buttercup?”

Steve snorted. “No, that really wouldn’t help the dating rumors. She’s wearing something with Vickie I think,” he said. “Nina is going in the red outfit.”

A soft knock to the front door had you both scowling and you walked up to the glass intending to wave away whoever it was. “Oh, it’s Nance!” You called out. She beamed at you as you opened the door and handed you a small bag. “Ugh, thank you. You’re a life saver!”

“Of course!” She grinned, her Grease costume looking great. “Jonathan’s in the car.”

You waved towards his car and smiled when he waved back. “What are you supposed to be?” Eddie’s voice behind you practically echoed. Steve started his explanation and you rolled your eyes when you saw that he was dressed like Tommy Lee. Predictable.

“So, how’s that going?” Nancy whispered, nodding towards Eddie.

“It’s fine,” you said, avoiding her eyes and shifting your weight to your other foot.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed at him, her loyalty coming off her in waves. “It’s okay, really,” you assured her, “we have an unspoken pact not to bring it up. It makes everything easier. Besides, we all basically went to war against Vecna together.”

“Yeah,” she said, hand going up to play with her hair, “have you…told anyone else about what happened?”

Glancing back at Eddie, your eyes darted down to the bag in your hands and you shook your head. “Only Steve.”

“Why-”

“It’s mortifying, Nance. He’s made how he feels about me abundantly clear,” you said, gritting your teeth and trying to ignore the old hurt that bloomed in your chest. “I’m going to go change before we’re late, okay?”

Slipping past everyone, you found Robin messing with her hair.

“Vickie isn’t going to know what hit her,” you said, smiling when her anxious hands stilled.

“Really? I don’t look stupid?”

“Definitely not,” you assured her. “Help me into this?”

Robin grinned as you quickly changed. The one piece was easy enough to slip into. “You’re going to blow Blake’s socks off,” she said, helping you tie the back of your costume as you pulled the wrist pieces into place.

You shivered a little as you pulled the pantyhose up higher, the cool air quickly causing you to break out into goosebumps. “Remind me why we chose this again?” You asked, already shivering a little. You’d all been invited to Halloween Party by a mutual friend of yours – costumes required. It’d been a stroke of good luck that you had all been scheduled for today’s closing shift. You were actually pretty sure that Keith was still locked in his office after his impromptu visit this afternoon.

“Because Jenna’s house is going to be really hot and you said you’d rather be cold than sweating,” she reminded you, “besides, Blake said he was dressing up as Batman, right?”

You nodded, wiggling into your red boots and wincing when the zipper caught your skin.

“Maybe you’ll win the costume contest,” Robin waggled her brows and you knew she was thinking of the bottle of tequila Jenna had promised to the winners.

Blake, one of your neighbors, had asked if you had any plans for Halloween last week. He was quiet, sweet, and had eyes so blue they almost looked violet. So, you’d taken the chance and invited him along to the party. Checking the time, you winced. “Shit, he’s going to be here soon,” you pulled at the bust one more time before turning around to face Robin. “How do I look?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “Whoa, holy boobies,” she said, hand going up to your chest. You swatted her hand away and rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to assume that’s a good thing,” you laughed when she grinned mischievously. “What?”

“Oh, this night will be fun,” she said, adjusting her cape motioning towards the front door. “Please, Princess Diana of Themyscira, you first.”

Grabbing your hoodie and bag, you made sure to double check that the back doors were locked and shut off the lights. You had barely stepped out when you heard a choking sound. Glancing up, you saw everyone’s eyes on you. Feeling a little self-conscious under the attention, you froze.

“I told you,” Robin said quietly and you barely resisted the urge to turn and swat at her. Your eyes, of their own traitorous volition, shifted to Eddie. His eyes were wide, a little awed, and were trailing down your body. You couldn’t help but smirk when you realized he was checking you out.

“Holy shit, you look great,” Steve said, drawing your attention away from Eddie’s expression, his eyes on the rope you’d attached to the belt, “I’m glad the belt worked out!”

“Thanks,” you said, remembering how Steve had helped you spray paint it gold, “I owe you one.”

Everyone talked amongst themselves, double checking that they had everything before leaving. Feeling someone’s eyes on you again, you glanced up to see Eddie standing a few feet from you. “You look good,” Eddie said, his voice soft, “the costume looks just like her.”

Fighting the pleased, slightly giddy, smile that wanted to break out into your face at his compliment, you shot him a small smile instead. “Thanks, Steve and Robin helped me pick it out,” you said, eyes darting down to his chest and only now realizing that he was shirtless underneath his vest. Suddenly, you felt your mouth dry up and you crossed your arms to keep from coughing. “Uh, your costume is pretty good too.”

“Thanks,” he said, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, “Dustin and Steve helped me paint on his tattoos.”

You couldn’t help it, your eyes glanced down at the new tattoo across his stomach. “Did Tommy Lee have a demon tattooed onto his chest?” You asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “It looks really well drawn.”

“That’s uh,” you watched, transfixed, as his Adam’s apple bobbed the closer you got, “my real tattoo actually.” His eyes caught yours and the both of you froze, having gotten much closer than you realized. For a brief, insignificant moment, you couldn’t help but think how much nicer brown was than blue.

“What the hell is going on?” Keith’s voice silenced the rest of your group.

Stepping forward, you automatically went on damage control before Steve or Robin sputtered out something that got you all more in trouble. “We’re just leaving, Keith,” you assured him, “I double checked the back and made sure everything was locked and cleaned.”

You continued to prattle on about your closing checklist, including a few admin tasks that needed his sign off on that you’d left on his desk for next week. Glancing up at him, hoping you’d saved your asses from a reprimand, you realized Keith wasn’t listening. His eyes were south of your face and you barely resisted the urge to gag on sight.

You need this job. You all need this job. Don’t break his nose, don’t do it. If you punch him, you’ll all but hand Eddie that free dinner. You’d probably break your hand. Hopper might be called. Inhale. Exhale.

Fucking pervert, your mind screamed one last time before you buried the thought and your discomfort. Using his distraction to your advantage, you crossed your arms and motioned to the front lights. “Are you okay to close the front on your own?”

At Robin’s cough, he sputtered back to life. A splotchy, disgusting, blush rose on his face and you fought the need to snap. “Of course,” Keith answered eventually, his leering grin making you immediately uncomfortable. “You always think of everything, good job. I’ll take a look at those forms on Tuesday.”

Nodding, you took a few steps back before being stopped by Keith’s voice. “You look good, by the way.”

Spine stiffening, you forced your customer service smile onto your face before nodding. “Thanks, have a good night?” Your voice sounds so fake you knew your friends could feel it radiate off of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, gawking at you one last time before disappearing back into his office.

You spun around, ready to smile triumphantly at your friends for avoiding the lecture, when you’re thrown off by Eddie’s sour expression. What the hell crawled up his ass?

“God, I feel like I need a shower,” Nancy said, gagging. Robin and Steve shot you grateful looks, knowing that you’d taken one for the team.

The sound of the front door opening again caught everyone’s attention, your eyes all turning towards a sheepish Jonathan. “Sorry, just wanted to let you know Blake just pulled up.”

You rushed forward, looking out into the parking lot and seeing the familiar red car parked by the front doors. Smiling, you ran a nervous hand down your hair before turning to your friends.

“Meet you guys there? I think Blake wants to stop by for some burgers first,” you said, not able to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Robin rolled her eyes and pushed you towards the doors. “Yes, we’ll be fine. We’ll see you at the party, go say hi to your date, I’m sure his eyes will fall out his head when he sees you. Just like Keith’s did.” You shot her a glare and she laughed like the bully she was.

“Low blow Buckley, low blow.” You pulled the hoodie on and shot everyone one last wave before pushing the front door open.

Seeing you, Blake stumbled out his car. He was dressed as Batman, with a beaming smile, and you waved excitedly. You ran out to meet him but before you got too far, you heard Eddie grumble: “Who the hell is Blake?”

“Good morning,” Eddie said as he walked in, the bell above the door slamming against your skull. God, why the hell had you listened to Steve about the tequila last night.

Robin groaned next to you, her body slumped over and her hands on her head. “Please stop screaming.”

You caught a flash of amusement on Eddie’s face before he disappeared through the back. “This is your fault,” you mumbled to Robin, who grunted.

“Keith said that we were scheduled to have a half-day! How was I supposed to know that his idea of opening the store late the day after Halloween was going to be only two hours later?” Robin said, her skin turning green, her eyes closing as she gulped audibly.

Hands coming out to smack against her, you pointed her in the direction of the bathroom. “Don’t, please, if I hear you then I’ll start,” you said. Robin sped off towards the employee bathroom and you dropped your head back into your arms.

“Someone clearly enjoyed the party,” Eddie’s voice echoed in the quiet front room. Wincing, you turned to him and glared. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t need to sound so smug about it.

Eddie raised his brows, as if reading your thoughts, and you huffed. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you today,” you informed him, willing the two Tylenol you’d taken earlier to start working.

“That’s a first,” Eddie muttered, puttering around the store. “So, you seemed to have fun with Blake.”

The tone of disdain in his voice made you blink at him. From your, admittedly patchy memory – Blake had managed to get along with everyone. He was like the human version of a puppy; he made friends with everyone wherever he went.

You opened your mouth to defend him when a loud voice greeted you both. Fighting the urge to grab at your head, you pulled energy from deep – deep – within your reserves and smiled up at Keith. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and two different colored gloves on. “Good morning, Keith,” you greeted warily. He never came in on holidays or the day after, having a Keith sighting twice this week was never good.

“I’m just passing by,” he said, eyes trailing down your body. Confused, you looked down at yourself to make sure you hadn’t accidentally tossed your cookies and hadn’t noticed. Your usual t-shirt and jeans looked in place and you only glanced back up with you heard Eddie scoff. Maybe he was just being normal gross Keith?

Keith reappeared, keys and a folder in his hand, walking back out towards the door. He stopped, eyeing the two of you before his gaze landed on you. Straightening reflexively, your spine cracked as you did. “Your costume yesterday…was really good. It helped – uh, give the store some seasonal cheer.”

Seasonal cheer? You thought, confused. Wasn’t that usually Christmas? Eddie seemed to be thinking the same as you were because his brows dipped.

The poignant silence seemed to echo and Keith cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you’re doing good work and…keep it up.” With another gross smile, he disappeared. Ugh, ew, you groaned.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, encounter already being pushed away by your pounding headache. Another scoff caught your attention and your eyes drew towards the source.

Eddie’s face was turned towards the horror section, his brows furrowed and expression pinched. “Do you have something you’d like to say out loud?” You snipped, not at all in the mood for his emotional whiplash.

“If I had something to say, sweetheart, I’d say it,” Eddie snapped back.

Surprised, you blinked. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Whatever,” you said, the pounding in your head getting worse.

The entire morning went along the same way, Robin dashing to the bathroom, and you barely holding it together up front with Eddie. While you were used to sparring with him, and would admittedly normally find it comforting, this was more than his usual annoyance. He seemed…genuinely angry at you and you couldn’t understand why. To be perfectly honest, the constant nausea from the moment you’d opened your eyes wasn’t really letting you care much about the why as long as he long as he left you alone for two fucking seconds.

Whatever it was, you were tired of it. “I’m taking my break,” you announced, needing space and maybe a coffee now that your stomach had started to settle.

“Uh, no you’re not,” Eddie said, stopping you from moving to the backroom for your wallet. “My break is scheduled before yours.”

How many times had you all taken a break whenever you wanted? Was he really going to be a stickler for this now? “Dude, are you serious right now?” You asked, about two seconds from whining and stomping your foot like a toddler. Holy shit, all you wanted was peace and quiet and a coffee the size of your head.

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms, “remember that time it was my break and I was about to pass out from my hangover but you just left the store-”

This again? You fumed. “I didn’t know you were hungover!” You defended yourself for the millionth time. “If you would’ve asked for help like a normal person instead of sulking, I would’ve gotten you something! Or I would’ve let you go first!”

Robin’s head popped out, eyes squinting, and a frown on her face. “Are you guys serious?”

“Ask him!” You threw your hand out towards him. “He’s the one being an asshole today, I don’t know what the hell I did!”

“Isn’t it obvious? Clearly, you’re taking the cheap shots with your fucking costume with Keith. If his eyes had gone any wider than they would’ve popped out his head,” Eddie fumed.

What? “Are you trying to say that it’s my fault Keith is a pervert?”

“No! I’m saying you’re using it to your advantage!” His words hit like a physical blow.

Robin stepped out, hands out to both of you, eyes sharp in his direction. “Dude, too far.”

Feeling like you’d been punched, and more than mildly wounded at the fact that Eddie clearly thought you were willing to lower yourself so that Keith of all people would notice, you blinked at him. In the silence, and to your utter dismay, Eddie seemed to notice that he’d actually hurt you. The apology in his eyes made you dart yours to the floor.

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t,” you said quickly. The last thing you wanted was an apology, especially from Munson. “I stopped expecting apologies from you a long time ago,” you said, not able to keep the hurt and barb out of your tone.

Eddie cleared his throat. “What the hell does that mean?”

Of course. “Right,” you snorted, hating that you’d peeled at your own scab. What the hell did you need to go through to learn your lesson with him? “I’ll be out back. You’re right, it’s your scheduled break and you can go first.”

“But-”

You made sure the door slammed as you stepped out and fought the pressure you felt behind your eyes.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, you reminded yourself. After grabbing a few tentative swings of your water, you splashed some onto your face and nodded at your reflection. You weren’t going to let Eddie get one over on you again.

When you came out a few minutes later, he was gone and Robin had an inquisitive stare.

“It’s nothing,” you said, not even believing yourself.

“Sure.”

The next time you were on shift with Eddie left you wondering if an alien had inhabited his body and was parading around as him.

“It’s weird, right? That he’s being this polite?” You asked Steve as you both got ready to leave after the morning shift. After your pseudo-fight with Eddie two days ago, he’d been stiffly polite and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Steve rolled his eyes and shot you a knowing look. “What? Do you miss the sexual tension you had during your fights?”

Sputtering, you reached out to smack him and he dodged your hands. “I’m joking!”

“I’ll choke you,” you told him.

Steve winked at you and you huffed, hurrying out towards the back exit like you did after every Thursday afternoon. Instead of your usual sight, you froze when you saw Eddie standing by the dumpster with a cigarette.

“Uh,” you said, taken aback. You thought he’d left the second it hit three considering how quickly he darted out.

“Hey?” Eddie said, making it sound like a question.

With an awkward wave, you cleared your throat and said, “Hey.”

Checking your watch, you realized you still had a few minutes but now you didn’t know what to do. Eddie, clearly feeling the tension, broke the silence. “I’m just, smoking…as the car heats up,” he motioned to his van that he kept parked out back in the employee lot. He’d gotten special permission because the van didn’t fit in the regular parking lot.

“Right,” you said, rubbing your hands together for warmth. You pulled your beanie tighter against your head and chewed on your bottom lip.

“What, uh, why do you always come out here after your shifts Thursday?”

Not able to help your smile, you saw his eyes light up with interest. Before you could answer, you heard the telltale sign of a gate being opened. With your hand, you motioned for him to follow you as you rounded the corner to the building.

As always, there was a big, furry, dopey, smile waiting for you. From this angle, you could see his golden tail wagging happily at the sight of you.

“Thought he was gonna cry when he didn’t see you,” Maggie, the owner of the bookstore and the adorable golden retriever who was currently jumping in excitement at the sight of you.

Reaching over the fence, you scratched at his ears and chin. “Hey Fitz, who’s a good boy?” Fitz leaned his big head into your palms and you looked over your shoulder at Eddie. The sight of his wide smile smacked into your chest so intensely you felt off balance. Gripping the fence, you waved for him to come over.

Fitz, sensing another potential hand for head scratches, let his tongue loll out and tilted his head in a desperate attempt to look cuter. Your heart melted at the sight and Eddie’s soft murmurs didn’t help. After a few minutes, and a lot of attention, Fitz jumped off the fence and you waved to Maggie before pulling Eddie back towards Family Video.

“The shift change today always coincides with Mags letting Fitz out for a bathroom break. It’s nice, to see them before I leave,” you shrugged, “Fitz is always happy to see me.”

“Yeah, dogs are great,” he said, “especially big ones with dopey smiles.”

You thought of Maggie’s other dog, her shy little elderly chihuahua and you grinned. “The small ones are cute too.”

“It’s definitely a blanket understanding that dogs are all great,” Eddie said, smiling.

Wait a fucking second, were you getting along with Eddie Munson? As if realizing the same thing, Eddie’s hand came up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m gonna go-”

“-yeah, me too, uh, bye,” you said, not letting him finish and darting back inside.

Still a little dazed by the weird, almost normal, conversation – you didn’t realize Steve is practically drooling until Robin turned to shoot you a desperate look.

“What now?” You sighed, picking your bag up.

“One of Harrington’s crushes is here,” Robin said, “he flirted, she responded, they’re going out for coffee, and he’s acting like an idiot over, what number is she again?”

“Number three, Robin, three,” he hissed.

Scrunching your nose, you turned to slap Steve in the head. “What the hell is wrong with you, are you rating girls on a scale?”

“Ouch!” Steve hissed, turning to try and discretely check to see if the blonde had noticed. “I am not rating them on a scale, they’re numbered by how often they come in. Three is three times a week!”

Oh. “Woops, thought you were being a weirdo again.”

“I’ve had considerable growth, I’ll have you know,” he said.

Robin snorted and Steve shot her a wounded look. He then turned his big brown eyes to you. “So, remember how you usually catch a ride with me today because your dad uses your car?”

With a big, dramatic, sigh you pretended to think about it. “What you’re saying is, you’d ditch your friend for a girl? Your best friend who fought Russians and Vecna with you?”

Steve’s eyes turned down, a little sheepish, and he shook his head. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do that to you. Let me go tell her-”

“Oh my God,” you shoved his shoulder, “you really do love me Harrington. I’m messing with you, go have fun. I’ll catch a ride with Robin when her mom comes by. I’m literally her neighbor.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, the light flush returning to his face.

You laughed and pointed to the door. “Go on Romeo, have fun.”

“I owe you one dude, you’re the best!” He said, straightening his jacket before running a nervous hand through his hair. Robin elbowed you and you grinned as he walked out but managed to slip on a pile of wet leaves. He recovered before she noticed but both of you couldn’t help but snort along with Robin.

She turned to you and leaned onto the counter. “You sure you want to wait? I’m on until closing.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the low sun. While you loved the fall, you definitely weren’t keen on walking home in the dark – not after what you’d seen. Robin knew – shit, you all knew – and usually was your buddy in the system Dustin rigorously implemented. “I’ll grab a late lunch at the coffee shop and be back in an hour? Want anything?”

“Can you grab me a coffee?” She asked, eyes widening as she plead.

You grinned and squeezed her elbow before pushing the door open. “Be back soon!”

The second cup of hot coffee had quickly gone lukewarm while you walked back towards Family Video two hours later. The sidewalk was littered with fallen leaves and you stepped towards a particularly crunchy pile of leaves when you heard it.

“Lightning?” The voice called out while your foot was mid-air.

“Jesus Christ,” you clutched your chest, pulling your headphones off. Eddie looked mildly amused, head leaning out his van.

“You can call me Eddie, no need to be formal,” he said. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to chuck a fistful of leaves at him.

“Do you make it a habit of driving up to girls in the dark?” You asked, gazing at him. Eddie rolled his eyes and you realized. “Also, stop calling me that.”

“I’m not the one that gave you the nickname!” He said, like he always did.

You fought the urge to leave him there, not wanting to be the first to ruin the precarious peace you had. He wasn’t wrong – but it wasn’t about the nickname per say, it was the tone he used to say it. Kicking the leaves by your foot, the memory of your high school coach floated to the surface. He was kind, intense, but a huge believer of everyone on the girls’ soccer team. He’d been offered the chance to coach the boys’ varsity team but had stuck with the girls.

He'd dubbed you Lightning as a freshman, claiming that you’d win a scholarship to college with how fast you could run the field. The moniker stuck.

Eddie shifted, eyes going over your shoulder towards the store. “Why the hell are you still hanging around here? Our shift ended two hours ago. Keith isn’t around to kiss his ass,” he said, fiddling with a cigarette.

“Pot, kettle,” you said with a snort. You motioned to the store. “Robin is on until closing. Harrington had a date and I don’t have a ride. Why the hell are you still hanging around here?”

“Was at the arcade with the kids. What about you? Your legs broken?” He asked, his stupid tone rubbing you the wrong way.

You glared at him. “My house is like an hour walk away and it’s freezing outside. I’d rather not freeze to death walking in the dark by the forest.”

“Scared?” He teased, and you could see a faint smile building.

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, eyes falling to the visible scars on Eddie’s hands. You knew what hid in the shadows in Hawkins. You weren’t risking shit.

Clearly not expecting your honesty, he blinked at you. After an awkward moment, he nodded. “Alright, hop in.”

“With you?” You said eyeing his car.

Eddie rolled his eyes at you and you saw hurt flash across his face. “I know it’s not a sports car like you’re used to but-”

You held up a hand. “I drive my dad’s old car, Munson. Steve is the one with the BMW. I wasn’t doubting your car, I was doubting your driving skills.”

The defensiveness melted off to give way for comical indignation. “How dare you?” He asked.

Weighing your options, you sighed. You were pretty hungry and hadn’t wanted to spend so much money on food in the café when you knew you had perfectly good leftover pizza at home. Besides, you’d woken up early and desperately just wanted to shower and get out of your jeans. “Alright,” you said reluctantly and Eddie snorted.

“Don’t sound too excited there Lightning,” he said.

Ignoring him, you motioned to the store. “Just let me go tell Robin.” Without waiting for a response, you jogged up to the door and empty storefront. “Hey, Munson’s giving me a ride home. See you tomorrow?”

Ignoring her wiggling brows, you waved off her teasing jabs and jogged back to his van. Pulling yourself into the passenger seat, Eddie had closed his window and blasted the heating.

“Heating takes a minute to get going, you want a blanket? I’ve got some in the back,” he asked, cheeks a little flushed.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, tucking your hands under your thighs. “Thanks.”

As he nodded, pulling away from the curb, you were struck by the scent that enveloped you. It was a mix of smoke, laundry detergent, and something woodsy. Inhaling deeply, you hated how much you seemed to chase after it.

Shit, you thought, the scent was going to sink into your clothes and it’d drive you insane every time you wore this jacket. You vehemently tried to ignore the reasoning behind why it’d drive you up a wall. Nope, not touching that one with a ten-foot pole. You buried that part of you back into the dirt where it belonged.

Clearly uncomfortable with your sudden silence, Eddie hurried to put on music. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie said, oddly earnest. He tossed a few wrappers into the back and you reached out to stop his fumbling.

“Seriously, it’s fine, my car looks the same. Well, not exactly the same but I’ve been there. I’m not…” you trailed off as Eddie headed towards the direction you’d pointed.

Eddie glanced at you, hands on the wheel. “You’re not?”

“I’m not that type of person,” you muttered, your fingers burning where they’d touched his, and stared at the window, “I wouldn’t make fun of your car.”

“Oh.”

The radio station announced a change in song and by the first few chords you’d already started bobbing your head along to the music. Your brother had been playing this non-stop all month and it’d grown on you.

She's got a smile that it seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky

You hummed along and watched the trees flash by. Eddie cleared his throat mid-chorus and you startled. “Uh, I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You asked, shooting him a suspicious glare. “Is this the part where you murder me and toss my body in the woods? I helped clear your name Munson. I hauled your unconscious ass through a hole in the roof of your trailer.”

Eddie, surprising you both, laughed. You blinked, unaware you were even capable of making Eddie laugh and stared at him a little disbelieving.

“No, I’m not the smartest kid in this town but even I’m not dumb enough to think I can take you on,” he said.

You grinned, feeling a little pleased at the compliment and nodded. “I’m glad you recognize my superiority.”

Snorting, Eddie shook his head and sighed. “No, I meant, about the comment I made about – about the implication that you’d dress a certain way to gain Keith’s favor.”

Completely floored at the fact that Eddie fucking Munson was actually acknowledging that he’d crossed a line and apologizing for it, you nodded dumbly. “It’s okay,” you heard yourself say faintly.

“It’s not,” he insisted, eyes a little too sincere for you as he looked over at you while at the red light. “It was uncalled for and I was annoyed you’d…gotten one over on me. It was immature and shitty and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Besides, no one wants Keith’s attention that badly. No one.”

It was quiet for a few before you broke it with a small smile. “I didn’t know you were capable of emotional maturity.”

The tension snapped when Eddie registered what you’d said with a scoff. “Ha, ha,” he said dryly.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, looking at the familiar houses as you drove past, “I appreciate it.”

Eddie nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tight. You itched to ask him something, anything, but the awkward silence had descended again.

It became suffocating the longer you sat silently but you didn’t have it in you to say anything. You thought of the tentative truce you had for the past few days, and his apology, and something soft unfurled in your chest.

Whoa, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine

Whoa, oh, oh, oh

Sweet love of mine

The music curled around you, eyes peeking at him discretely and you couldn’t help but smile at how he mouthed the words to the music. Suddenly, an old memory steamrolled you, bubbling up unbidden.

You were so excited, you couldn’t believe you’d found the dress you wanted at such a discount – and it was the last one – in your size! Anne said it was definitely a sign. You carefully applied your mascara and the last bit of hairspray into your hair.

“Do I look dumb? I don’t want him to think I’m trying too hard,” you said, nervous beyond belief.

Anne beamed at you; eyes soft. “You look beautiful and trust me, he won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you.”

The guitar solo broke you from the memory. Oh, you were here.

“The blue one at the end?” He asked. “Robin’s is the yellow one, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice coming out too shaky.

Eddie shot you a confused look but your eyes darted down to your bag at your feet.

While you’d never admit it out loud - your attraction to Eddie had never fully been stomped out but…as you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, you couldn’t help but remember.

The memory of that night slithered back to the front of your mind and your nails dug into your palms. The feeling of your dress under your fingers, the smell of hairspray, and the memory of the butterflies in your stomach.

Eddie came to a stop and you jumped out like you were a bat out of hell. Inhaling deeply, you felt your clammy hands unclench as clean air filled your lungs.

“Thanks for the ride, I owe you one,” you said, not bothering to look back.

Eddie’s confused voice followed you as you slammed the door behind you. “Oh, uh, sure-”

You jogged towards your front door, quickly shutting it and dropping your bag onto the floor. Eddie Munson was not to be trusted, you reminded yourself, watching through the blinds as he idled in your driveway before pulling out. No matter how nice he smelled or how deceptively beautiful his stupid eyes were. Those had been the same things that had pulled you in before and he – he’d…

Wiping your face with the back of your wrist, you ripped the dress off your body and climbed into your bed. Crying until your chest hurt from heaving, you still couldn’t help but wonder how you’d read him so wrong.

That’s what you’d gotten for trusting Eddie Munson and no matter what truce or bond you had, you weren’t making that mistake twice.

You had spent the entire night replaying the painful memories in your head like some sick twisted version of your own personal hell. So, when you woke up bleary eyed and cranky for your shift the next morning, you weren’t totally surprised.

“Good morning,” Eddie said, early as always, when you walked in.

Grumpy at having to work the morning shift on little to no sleep – thanks to him no less – you grumbled incoherently. A ghost of a smile flashed across Eddie’s face before he handed you a to-go cup.

Narrowing your eyes at it, you watched as his lips twitched before he wiggled the cup at you again. “It’s not poisoned, I swear. I got it from the coffee shop two streets down.”

“Oh,” you said, realizing you did know the design on the sleeve. You took it from him and sipped it cautiously. “That’s my favorite coffee shop, the baristas are so nice.”

“I know,” he said, ears turning red as he whirled around.

You blinked at him, confused. “Thanks,” you said, not sure if it was a statement or question.

He waved his hand in the air and you tossed your things into your locker. Coming back out, you hopped onto the counter and watched Eddie reshelve as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Suddenly, you realized he had put on The Breakfast Club – one of your favorites. Hadn’t he given you shit for how many times you liked to watch it?

Your eyes darted towards him to find him already watching you. “What?” He asked, startled at your sudden attention.

“Interesting movie choice,” you said, shrugging.

Eddie’s molten eyes seared you as his mouth curved into something resembling a sheepish smile. “It’s a good movie,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip.

The quiet of the store, the one only a Friday morning could conjure, echoed loudly. You both blinked at each other, unsure. You did know, however, that he was extending a metaphorical olive branch. And you didn’t want to be the asshole that rejected that. No matter how much you didn’t trust him.

“It is a good movie,” you agreed, taking a swig of your coffee and realizing that Eddie had gotten your coffee order correctly. How did he know how you liked your coffee?

Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Let me guess, you’re Molly Ringwald.”

You snorted so hard, you almost felt coffee come out your nose. Thumping your chest, you coughed until it cleared. “Dude, what the hell?”

Eddie looked bewildered.

“I wish I was Molly,” you said, looking up at the television again. “I’m definitely Brian.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you said, waving him off. “Mr. Bateman’s AP Chem lab is the reason I lost the full ride to Indie State. The only reason I kept some of it was because of the soccer scout. My mom didn’t care, she’s happy I was top of the class but, whatever. Mr. Bateman can fucking suck it.” Alright, maybe you were still a little bitter about it.

Eddie’s contemplative silence only made you more nervous.

“That’s why I’m in this shithole,” you added, picking at the coffee cup cover. “I can’t afford college yet; I’ve got money from the grants I did get – and my soccer scholarship but…I still needed some more. My mom said she’d get it somehow but, I barely see her enough as it is.”

“I didn’t know,” Eddie said quietly.

You looked at him over your shoulder and shrugged. “I know you didn’t. That’s why I like to remind you that your trailer park and my neighborhood are only a few blocks apart. I didn’t grow up like Steve. I don’t know what image you have of me but, just because I hung out with cheerleaders and jocks at the end of high school didn’t mean I had the money they did.”

Before Eddie could say anything else, you switched the subject. No matter how nice he was being, you’d learned the hard way that Eddie Munson had two sides and could flip between them with enough speed to give you whiplash.

“Let me guess, you’re Bender,” you asked, grabbing the next stack of tapes. You needed to do something or you were going to end up biting off all your nails.

Eddie sighed. “I’d like to prove you wrong and tell you definitely not but, yeah – we’re just a cliché in the end huh?”

There was something about the way he’d said it, numb – like a bunch of people had told him he wouldn’t amount to anything until he’d started to believe it himself. A flash of Bender’s face while Vernon yelled at him crossed your mind. A surprising wave of protectiveness surged in you.

“No, Eddie,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. You let your eyes roam around his wild hair, curls jutting out like they had a mind of their own, his Metallica long sleeve t-shirt was faded and looked incredibly soft underneath his Family Video vest. Why couldn’t you just let the idea of him go? A pang of old hurt shot through you. Your eyes fell back to his and you felt your stomach summersault at the look in them. “You are anything but a cliché.”

The smile that grew on Eddie’s face reminded you of a gar den. It was warm and welcoming as it split his face nearly in two. After a moment, you turned back to the computer, hands clammy, and tried hard not to focus on the new comfortable silence that had settled.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at how much you’d revealed with your answer but also wondered if that had been the metaphorical white flag to finally wave between you two. Either way, later on in the day when Robin skidded into the store, she shrieked.

“Did you finally kill Munson? I knew you’d crack one day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s too quiet in here! Where’d you hide the body? Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t want to accidentally sell you out.”

Eddie walked through the swinging doors and smiled when he saw Robin. “Oh, hey, I didn’t hear the bell. How was your midterm?”

Ignoring his question, Robin looked between you two nervously. “I don’t know what’s worse, the bickering or the truce.”

Eddie leaned onto the counter and you used every ounce of willpower you had not to dart your eyes towards the exposed sliver of skin at his waist. “What’s she talking about?” Eddie asked, eyes sparkling with humor.

You eyed him, the small voice that usually warned you away from him mysteriously quiet. After a beat too long, you offered up your own white flag. “I don’t know,” you said, playing along, “you know how she is.” Surprise and relief flashed across Eddie’s face before melting into a small smirk.

People could change, you’d seen it in Steve. And while it didn’t change your opinion about the past, and what’d he’d done – you didn’t need to fight him for the rest of your lives.

Robin’s eyes almost bugged out her head. “No, no, no you can’t gang up on me! Where’s Harrington when you need him?”

Wincing as the group on stage screamed their goodbyes, you sipped your beer and wondered if you’d taken the metaphorical flag waving a bit too far.

It was a combination of Eddie’s complete one-eighty change in personality, the hopeful look in his stupid Bambi eyes, and Steve answering for you, that landed you in a crowded bar downtown waiting for Corroded Coffin to take the stage as the final act. According to Dustin, their pseudo-manager, it was a huge night for them. They were the main band, and had managed to get a full house.

“Hey everyone,” a voice echoed and your eyes shot up to the stage.

Dustin shushed everyone, Nancy and Robin sharing an eye roll – and you muffling your laugh – as he stared up at the band.

“We want to thank everyone for coming out,” Eddie said, looking completely at home up on the stage. You couldn’t help but be a little…well, shocked. He’d transformed completely as he strummed his guitar, his head banging as he made the stage his home.

It was clear now, compared to the other bands, why Corroded Coffin was the main attraction. They played well off each other, the other three members balancing out Eddie’s energy and ramping it up when they needed to.

“Now, I know you guys are here for the classics but we did get one request and I promised him I’d play it before the end of the night. So, Harrington, this one’s for you,” Eddie said with a wink.

Your group turned to gaze at Steve who grinned. At the sight of all the stares, Steve grinned sheepishly. “We made a bet last week at the store. If he lost, he had to play a pop cover,” Steve said, grinning victoriously. Despite the shift, the crowd still ate it up.

Steve pulled your hand up to his and twirled you around. Shrieking at the sudden, unexpected, movement, you laughed when Steve herded you onto the dance floor. His head bopped, one arm around yours and you jumped along to the tempo. Nancy and Jonathan joined you both, in their own world, and you opened your arms to beckon Robin over.

Soon, the set came to an end and Steve had led the group back over to the bar. A little out of breath, and sweaty, you ordered another beer and pressed the cool bottle to your cheek. “Damn Harrington, you’ve got moves,” you said, impressed.

Steve winked at you and for a brief moment you could see what girls saw in him. Robin, however, just rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. “Oh, look, it’s Eddie!” She waved, greeting him with a hug. Your little group cheered for them, offering up their congratulations. Feeling a little awkward, the peace between you two still too new, you focused on getting your pulse back to normal.

“So, I saw you dancing,” Eddie said, sliding into the bar stool next to yours.

Biting back a smile, you shrugged. “You weren’t atrocious,” you said nonchalantly.

Eddie, recognizing the compliment hidden underneath, threw his head back and laughed. “High praise from you, Lightning.” The echoes of his laughter flittered around you.

“Don’t say I never said anything nice,” you said, teasing back. The electricity between you both yawned awake and you chewed on your cheek. This new development had you avoiding Eddie recently, unsure on how to handle it. Glancing at him, you saw his stare already on you. Not wanting to flinch away like you normally did, you sipped your drink, eyes still on his. You licked at your bottom lip, catching a stray drop of beer and your stomach summersaulted when you saw his eyes follow the movement.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said quietly, almost inaudible under the music blaring from the speakers.

Not knowing what to say, you shrugged. “Technically, you didn’t invite me,” you said, “Steve just pulled me along.”

Eddie’s head reared back, his eyes flying back to yours and he only dropped his shoulders when he realized you were joking. “I’ll invite you personally next time,” he said, knocking his beer bottle with yours.

More than a little surprised, you shot him a look and he just ducked his head to smile. Your heart skipped and you wanted to reach down and beat it back into submission. This wasn’t the time to forget.

“Although, I can do you one better,” he swirled in his stool, his knees bumping into yours and leaving them there. His warmth seeped into your skin, like he was branding you, and you quirked your brow in a last-ditch effort to seem unaffected.

“Do you want to go to an afterparty? Jared, one of the guitarists, lives out by the lake and has a bonfire after. It’s got shitty alcohol but good people,” Eddie added when he saw you scrunch your nose.

Dropping your hand to his, surprising you both, you winced. “Lover’s Lake?” You asked quietly.

Understanding bled into his expression and he shook his head. “Opposite side of town, I promise,” he said, his finger tracing a small circle onto your skin. “I…can’t really go by that lake either now.”

“Are the others going?” You asked, glancing around for a familiar face.

Eddie smiled. “Why? Scared to be alone with the Satan worshippers?”

Not able to help yourself, you snorted. “Eddie, I could sucker punch you into next week without blinking,” you said.

With a dramatic gasp, hands going to his chest, you watched amusedly as Eddie sputtered. “How dare you? I fought demobats for you.”

“I’m still the better fighter,” you said, laughing when he feigned hurt.

“I can’t believe you’d say that completely true fact right to my face,” he said, huffing.

Before you could tease back, a scruffy haired guy popped up by Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie, Mark wants to talk to you. Said something about payment and next week’s schedule.”

Eddie looked almost remorseful but he tapped your arm. “I’ll be right back and then we can all drive out to Jared’s.”

“You’re coming?” The newcomer asked, surprise tinting his expression.

Feeling a little defensive, you felt your shoulders rise and were suddenly almost thrown from your seat when Eddie stood up. His back was to you but you managed to catch his death glare towards his friend. You placed an stumbling, desperate, hand on his hip for balance and Eddie jumped. His eyes dropped to yours and they softened. “Sorry. Lightning, Gareth - Gareth, Lightning. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, lifting your bottle in a semi-salute and Eddie smiled before disappearing into the crowd. Nancy, a little disheveled and out of breath, leaned against you and sighed. “It’s so loud!” She said, a little too loudly for how close to your ear she was. She swayed a little and you knew by the flush in her cheeks that she was tipsy.

“Come on Wheeler, park it,” you said, bumping her into your stool. She beamed at you, pushing hair away from her face.

“Hey, Gareth, right? You played really well.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Completely forgetting Eddie’s bandmate, you glanced at him to find him watching you. Feeling awkward again, you steadied Nancy as she chatted with the bartender. “Um, I know who you are by the way,” you said, shifting your weight. “We were in English and Biology together during junior year.”

Gareth smiled, making him look younger, and you watched him as he became a little flustered. “Yeah, you always helped me out with the pop quizzes.”

Snorting, you glanced at him. “By helping out do you mean letting you and Jeff cheat off me?”

Laughing, he nodded and you grinned. “Not a lot of people would’ve helped,” he said, “but you were always nice to us. You never let Tommy pick on us either.”

“He wasn’t as much of a bully without his leaders,” you said with a scoff, remembering Steve’s old friends. “Besides, he knew from experience not to fuck with me.”

Clearly that had been the only thing Gareth needed to break the ice because conversation flowed easily after. At one-point, mid-sentence, you glanced over at the dance floor and caught sight of Eddie.

Voice drying up, you watched as he wrapped his arms around a girl a good head shorter than him. She leaned back, eyes sparkling in clear adoration, and you felt your stomach drop to your feet. She had long, beautiful, black hair that you knew was something she was born with – hair that nice had to be genetics. Her entire outfit screamed effortless and grunge in a way you’d never in a million years be able to replicate. She looked like the girlfriend of the guitarist of a band, like someone who fit in, you thought, annoyed.

Whoa, where had that come from? You straightened, realizing you’d completely ignored Gareth. His eyes shot you a knowing look. “That’s Mark’s daughter – the owner of the bar. She’s cool-”

“-I’m sure she is. Um, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing towards the exit. The cold November air stung as you took a shuddering breath. You watched it evaporate into the air and you frowned.

What the fuck was in the air in that place? Had you gotten jealous? Over Eddie? You shook your head, leaning against the brick wall and placing a hand to your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself, get it the fuck together.

“Hey.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you whirled around and came face to face with Eddie. He was rubbing his hands together, clearly cold. “You’re shivering,” he said as your mind whirled with an excuse to just drive home.

Before you could tell him you were fine – you hadn’t worn a thick enough coat since you knew you’d be driving to the bar – Eddie had unzipped his hoodie and wrapped it around your shoulders. Clearly, your body was certifiably insane because your arms tucked themselves into the sleeves and latched onto the warmth. Hello? You mind screamed. This is the opposite of getting it together!

“You’ll start to shiver now,” you said, brows furrowing at the sight of his thin long sleeve. Eddie just waved off your concern and tucked his hands into his jean’s pockets. His eyes were wide as you burrowed into his hoodie, his brown ones stuck on your torso. Did he want it back?

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my leather jacket inside,” he said, voice sounding a little strangled, and his eyes darted over your head, “I just came out to see what the hell had you thinking you could pull an Irish goodbye.”

You hadn’t been aware he was watching you. Mind coming up blank, you looked down towards your hands and immediately regretted it. The motion brought your nose closer to the collar and a waft of Eddie’s stupid smell just wrapped around you. “Uh, I was just getting a bit too hot,” you lied, poorly.

“Right,” Eddie said, “so this would be the right moment to tell you Jared’s party is mostly outside?”

Well, fuck.

“Hey Munson!” A group of guys from one of the earlier bands waves towards the road. “We’re gonna go help Jared set up. You coming?”

“Yeah!” He called out waving them off and turning back to you. “I let Harrington know he could leave his car behind in the parking lot but he said he’s giving a Robin a ride. I don’t mind giving anyone a ride. Byers said he’d take the kids home with Wheeler. She’s a little-”

“-drunk already?” You finished for him with a smile. “Nancy is a certified badass in every way but her alcohol tolerance.” Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried your best to ignore the waft of cologne that threatened to pull you under.

Eddie laughed, stupidly pretty eyes trailing down to your torso again. His cheeks flushed and you frowned. “So, you want shotgun?”

And like the complete, and absolute mess that you were, you felt yourself nod. “Sure, can’t let Steve have all the fun.”

There was absolutely no way in hell you were telling anyone how absolutely fucking freezing you were. How the fuck did everyone look warm enough? On the ride over, Eddie had the heating blasting and it still didn’t feel like enough.

As Eddie pulled the van into a spot by a house in the woods, everyone in the back piled out and you groaned internally at the gust of air that came through the open side doors.

“Here,” Eddie said, rummaging around the back and pulling out a purple blanket. He tucked it under his arm and motioned to the fire that had already been started. “It’s much warmer in front of the fire, I promise.”

Not needing to be told twice, you sped over to the empty logs by the fire and plopped down. Curling your arms around you, you let the warmth of the flames sink into your skin. “Jesus that’s good,” you said, extending a hand out towards the fire.

Something soft dropped into your lap and Eddie took a seat on the wooden log next to you. “Here, I’ve got a few blankets in the van if you want another.”

Your fingers were curled into the soft material and you blinked up at him. Eddie Munson had warm fluffy blankets in his van?

“I remember that blanket,” Gareth said as he passed you both on his way towards the food. He wiggled his brows at Eddie who looked like he was turning purple.

Car blankets…ew! “Oh my God, is this your sex blanket? Eddie, did you just offer me your hook up blanket?” You asked, staring at the purple cloth suspiciously.

Clearly not expecting that answer, he choked, eyes wildly turning to you. “No, Jesus, Lightning – no it’s not my fucking sex blanket,” he hissed, voice lowering towards the end.

You took in his mildly offended expression and snorted. “Oh, stop looking like I pissed in your cheerios, you’re telling me you’ve never hooked up with a girl in your van? With all that space?”

Eddie’s cheeks turned suspiciously pink and you couldn’t help but grin. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone on that blanket!” He insisted.

Giving it a tentative sniff, the same Eddie scent drifted out and you deemed it suitable. Wrapping the fleece around your shoulders, you tucked yourself into it and almost cried at how warm you felt. Beaming up at Eddie, you leaned your shoulder onto his. “Thank you, Munson.” Jesus, clearly the cold was interfering with your common sense.

Despite your mind screaming into the void, your heart skipped when he smiled softly. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, eyes on the fire.

“Someone’s a little cold,” a voice said, an enormous man sitting onto the log next to you. For a moment, you swore the ground shook.

“Jared,” Eddie greeted, fist bumping against his. “This is-”

“-I know who you are,” Jared said with a grin and you raised your brow. He laughed, eyes scrunching when he did. “You went to school with my little sister. She was on the junior varsity team.”

A flash of Mariah’s face came to the forefront of your mind and you grinned. Mariah had been a freshman right as you’d graduated. Her determined expression, box braids tied neatly back, and wide smile came to mind.

“No shit, I didn’t know she had a brother,” you straightened, smiling up at the giant. “She’s like five feet worth of anger and determination on the field. I helped coach the JV team my last year.”

Jared smiled, his teeth incredibly straight and white. “Yeah, she idolizes you man. Said she wanted to be just like Lightning,” he said, “she told me how you worked with her after practice to get her drills better. Thanks.”

You waved away his gratitude. “No thanks needed; she’s got a great career ahead of her. She’d get scouted in a second – last I heard she wanted to go to Brown?”

“Yeah,” Jared said, clearly proud, “she got the brains.”

“I’m assuming that means you got the brawn?” You asked. Eddie sputtered, trying and failing to hide his laugh.

Jared, amused, shook his head. “Everyone’s gotta mention it,” he said, “if you ask me what the weather is like up here, I’ll kick you out.”

“No, you won’t,” you said, burrowing back into your blanket and smirking up at the man who clearly adored his sister, “or I’ll tell Mariah and she’ll never let you live it down.”

Jared’s laughter echoed around the trees and illuminated the forest. It was the kind of laughter that you couldn’t help but join in on. “Munson, I like this one. How’d you manage to bag Lightning of all people?”

You opened your mouth to tease Eddie but instead he turned a bright red and said adamantly: “We’re not dating, we work together.”

It took everything in your soul to not let your face show how stung you were at how quickly and fervently he said that. Jesus. Alright, he didn’t want to date you – that was crystal clear. “So, you’re single?” Jared said, wiggling his brows. Having known him for exactly five minutes, you could already tell he was joking.

“Keep playing your cards right and maybe I won’t be,” you teased back.

Jared laughed, utterly delighted, and Eddie huffed. “You wouldn’t want Batman coming after you,” he said.

Completely confused, you turned to him and lowered the blanket. “What?”

“Blake?” Eddie said, tone equally confused.

“Oh,” you said, shaking your head, “he’s just a friend. He’s one of my neighbors – he just broke up with his girlfriend and didn’t want to go to the party alone. He knew I…well, I needed the night out so we decided to go together. Then we won the contest and the tequila…”

Eddie’s face went blank and Jared chuckled. “Sounded like a hell of a party.”

“It was, so was the hangover the next morning,” you said, shivering when a strong gust of wind hit you.

“Well, the weather down there looks cold if your teeth chattering is anything to go by,” Jared said, eyes mischievous. “Hey Eddie, why don’t you give her some of my special blend? It always warms people right up.”

Eddie snorted and you turned to glance at both of them. “Is that euphemism for something? Because I may not be as tall as you but I’m scrappy and I’ll kick both your asses.”

Jared’s laugh boomed again and a few people turned to glance at your curiously. “You’re funny, I really like her Munson,” he said, tone suggestive.

Not wanting to go down that particular road – something told you that an older brother like Jared would be ruthless in teasing – you hopped to your feet. “Come on Munson, let’s get this infamous drink.”

You followed Eddie’s lead towards the tables set up by the lone house near the lake. Glancing around, you watched as a few people smiled at you and greeted each other warmly. You had no idea there was such a big metalhead scene in Indiana.

“They like you,” he said, handing you a red cup filled with what smelled like paint stripper.

“A lot of people finding my presence to be scintillating, not everyone despises me the way you do,” you said, quirking a brow at him, you took a sip and almost spat it out into the dirt. What the- “Holy shit what the fuck is that?”

Eddie laughed, eyes turning towards Jared. “He makes this gross moonshine concoction that he swears is great.”

Not able to scrub the taste from your mouth, you shouted: “Jared this tastes like acetone! If I die from ingesting this shit, I’m haunting your ass!”

Jared and his bandmates laughed, waving away your grievances and you rolled your eyes. “A beer, please, I’ll even take some shitty vodka.”

Snorting, Eddie snapped the cap off your bottle with his keys and handed it to you. It was cold but you instantly swashed it around your mouth, trying to get your nerve endings to return.

“I don’t despise you,” Eddie said after he’d opened himself a beer.

“What?” You asked, practically drooling at your attempts to wash down the moonshine. God, your mouth was on fire. Eddie smiled but handed you the bag of chips he’d swiped from the table. Digging into them with gusto, you looked up at him curiously.

“I said, I don’t despise you,” he echoed quietly, his eyes darting down to his beer bottle. You froze, mid-chew and followed his eyesight. Eddie’s thumb was picking at the label relentlessly, the sticky paper peeling as his nail grated at it.

Hating the light awkwardness that had settled in, you shrugged, bumping his shoulders with your own. “High praise coming from Eddie Munson.” Your eyes flittered around the woods and you stood, nodding towards Jared. “Come on, I need to go give him more shit for that drink. I don’t know if I’ll ever taste anything normally again.”

You took off, Eddie’s footsteps and laughter following close behind.

“Did you know that the Harvest Festival opened last week?” You asked Eddie, words slurring.

Eddie nodded, the movement distracting you. “Yeah, Lightning, you’ve told me like six times tonight. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Have I?” You hiccupped, chest shuddering against your permission. “I really want to go.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Robin said, leaning her entire body weight onto your side. Falling over, you stumbled into someone’s lap.

“Liam!” You said, greeting Eddie’s newest bandmate excitedly. Oh my God, you’d found Liam!

“You did find me, I was sitting right below you though,” Liam said, amused, “you okay?”

Not moving an inch, you stretched towards the fire and nodded. “Yeah, totally!” You realized he’d been mid conversation with a blonde girl and you thrusted your hand out. “Hi!”

Her green eyes crinkled with amusement and she shook your hand. “Nice to meet you again,” she said.

“You’re so pretty,” you told her.

Her cheeks went pink and she ducked her head, her leather jacket rustling with the movement. Robin, who’d ended up sprawled next to you nodded enthusiastically. “So pretty,” she agreed. “I love your fishnet tights.”

“It works really well with the outfit,” you added. “I would date the shit out of you.”

“Me too!” Robin laughed, falling half into you.

The girl, looking pleased and amused, laughed. “Munson, I like your friends. They’re good for my ego,” she said, helping you sit back up onto the log and squeezing your shoulder.

Eddie popped out of nowhere and you squealed. “Eddie!” You wrapped your arms around his and tugged him down towards you. God, he was so warm. “Where’d you come from? Have you met Liam and his pretty girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing lightly, “I have met Liam and Alianna.”

“I missed you,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his shoulder and closing your eyes. The fire had begun to spin and you felt the faintest nausea roll through your belly.

A few soft fingers danced across your cheek and pushed the hair out of your face. Eddie’s big brown eyes swam into your vision, steady and a little amused, and you grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, fingers still at your cheek, “I missed you too.”

“That’s an understatement,” Liam laughed, his eyes on the two of you, and you watched Eddie lean down to punch his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up, she’s drunk,” Eddie hissed.

You weren’t drunk, you thought, you’d barely had a cup of that acetone. “Good,” you said when his eyes were back on yours, “I’m a very miss-able person.”

“You are,” he nodded, eyes darting away from yours and glaring towards the man at your feet. “I was gone for about five minutes and it’s because I needed to grab you two these.” With a flourish, a pair of water bottles appeared from thin air.

Stumbling up to your feet, you felt your eyes widen as you gasped. “Oh my God, you’re magic.”

“Something like that,” Eddie said, helping Robin open hers.

“Where’s Steve?” You gulped down your water and managed to spill a bit onto your chin.

“Right here. Jesus, are you two drunker than when I left fifteen minutes ago? I found a few bags in case they puke on the way home.”

“I drank Liam’s beer,” Robin declared and you cheered, liking the beaming smile she sent your way. “Holy shit. Lightning look!”

Whirling around to follow her finger, Eddie’s hand came up quickly to steady you. Not able to find what Robin was clearing gasping at, you blinked at her. “What?”

“A bunny!”

You clasped your hands in front of your chest and shrieked. “A bunny!?” You loved bunnies! And dogs. And clouds. And snow!

Steve snorted. “I highly doubt-”

“Race you!” You screamed, shaking Eddie’s hand off and darting out into the trees.

Robin’s laughter and heavy footsteps followed you but she’d quickly veered to the left. You hesitated, hearing Eddie and Steve shout out your names.

“Fuck, they’re both fast. I’m closer to Rob – just, go – she can run across the field in a minute, hurry!” Steve’s voice echoed.

You gasped. They wanted to find the bunny first. Grinning, you felt the strength in your legs as you pumped your arms and sped off through the trees. You could see the field in your mind, feel the ball at your feet and the wall of defense you needed to get through before you got the goal.

With a well-practiced kick, a zing of pain shot through your leg when the rock cracked in two against the tree a few feet ahead.

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, hand clamping down painfully tight on your wrist. “You – you run really fast.”

“I’m a center forward,” you said, still jumping up and down a little at your successful goal, “did you see that? I scored!”

Eddie blinked at you. “What the hell are you talking about? Jesus you should’ve stopped after the fourth cup.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Eddie, didn’t you see me score?”

“Of course I did, who’d you score against? The bunny?”

Bunny? “What bunny?” You asked, tilting your head and stumbling when the motion made the world spin.

Eddie’s arm pulled you towards him so your back was to his chest and his arms cradled you.

“It’s dizzy in the woods,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “You have a bunny?”

At your wide-eyed look, Eddie tossed his head back and laughed. “You’re kind of hilarious, you know that?”

Obviously. “Duh.”

“Maybe we should walk back and tell everyone how you scored,” he said gently, tugging you forward.

That was a great idea! You thought, letting Eddie tug you back towards the flickering warm light. “Can you help me take off this jacket?” You asked him, feeling warm.

“Let’s keep it on,” Eddie said quickly, “it’s cold and you could get sick.”

“But I’m hot,” you whined, stomping your foot.

Eddie groaned. “Please? For me?” Ugh, those stupid eyes.

Conceding, you resumed walking and remembered. “Hey, the quarter is almost over,” you said, “the best employee is going to be picked soon.”

“I promise to bring you back some leftovers,” Eddie teased and you grinned.

Thinking on the cake you’d been dreaming of, you nodded. “If you win, bring me some cake okay? Pinky promise?”

Surrounded by Eddie’s laughter and his fingers hooked in yours, the lights from the party still swam in your vision, the ground felt more solid beneath you.

Suddenly, a memory shoved your smile aside and you frowned.

“It was all a joke.”

Eddie wasn’t to be trusted. He’d left you. He broke promises. He wasn’t going to bring you cake.

Upset, you stopped walking and looked to him. “Why?” Because that’s all you’d ever really wanted to know. Why had he done that to you?

“Why what? Why am I half carrying you back to the clearing? Because knowing you, you’d get lost trying to drunkenly run after a bunny in the woods,” he said with a laugh.

“No,” you grunted, pulling your arm out of his. The bubbly feeling in your chest was replaced with a soft, familiar, hurt. It radiated outwards, your skin crawled with it. “Why’d you do that to me? You really…hurt my feelings.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, ducking his head to catch your gaze.

The way he softened his tone, his eyes warm and inviting, lured you in like a moth to a flame. “I hate that I still like the sound of your voice,” you said, annoyed at yourself and scrunching your nose. “You’re so pretty and it’s not fair. In math class I’d stare at you the whole period. Did you know that you stick your tongue out when you concentrate really hard?”

“What?”

“I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to kiss you.”

Looking stunned, Eddie blinked. “Am I?” He asked, looking confused and pleased. “Do you? Exactly how much have you had to drink?”

Ready to tell him all the ways you thought he was beautiful; you were interrupted by Steve’s voice. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?” He panted, out of breath. “I got Robin shoved back into my car. I think it’s best if we just crash at my place, it’s the closest. A few others need rides though.”

“I can drive her to yours,” Eddie offered quickly, hand coming up to your elbow.

Steve shrugged. “I can take her or you can just stay over too.”

Eddie frowned, looking unhappy. You poked at his cheek and giggled when he smiled down at you. “Are you…sure?”

“Dude, I helped keep your skin together while you bled out in her lap. Crashing on my sofa at almost five? in the morning,” Steve groaned and you giggled, “isn’t crossing any lines.”

Eddie turned back to you. “Come on Superstar, we’re going home,” he urged you forward. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.”

“Let’s take some more of the m’shine,” you whispered to Eddie, stumbling over roots. “That stuff is good.”

His laughter echoed in your bones and you smiled up at him. “I’ll make sure to tell Jared you said that.”

Fuck, you groaned, sharp pain digging into your skull and slapping your brain like the little bitch it was. “There go my corneas,” you hissed, clutching at your head.

Where the fuck were you? You glanced around and caught sight of a snoring Robin on the bed next to you. Steve’s house.

Flashes of last night came back to you and you groaned. What in the hell had possessed you to drink a whole ass cup of moonshine? You were going to kill Steve. Just come out with us, what’s the worst that could happen?

It took you about five minutes to talk yourself up to standing. You felt like you had the equilibrium of a baby deer as you darted into the bathroom across the hall. Locking the door and hurrying over to the toilet you realized you’d managed to change into the pajama set you kept in Steve’s guest room. Smiling, a fuzzy memory bubbled up and you remembered laughing so hard you cried when Robin had gotten her head stuck in her sweatpants while trying to change.

A loud whirring sound startled you to attention. As quickly as you could, you splashed your face and brushed your teeth to get the taste of last night’s events out your mouth.

Feeling mildly better, you grimaced when the light from the hallway reawakened your migraine. Squinting your eyes, you tried to stumble towards the noise coming from the kitchen in the hopes that someone was brewing coffee.

You were a few feet away from the swinging door when you heard your name. Freezing in place, you peeked through the circular window and watched Steve hand Eddie a mug.

“I don’t know dude…” Eddie said, “she looked pretty sad but I don’t understand…she said some stuff. I just want to talk to her.”

Steve sighed. “Listen, I promised her I wouldn’t take sides but you have to give her some space. She’s not good at – this wasn’t easy for her. Working with you, you gotta understand that right?”

You winced. What the fuck Steve? What the hell was unclear about ‘don’t speak about this ever?’

“Right…” Eddie said, still sounding unsure.

“I’m not judging you, it was a long time ago now, and people change but, she’s still hurt. She tries to hide it but-”

“She’s hurt?” The indignation in Eddie’s voice confused you. What the hell did he have to be mad about?

You heard Steve’s soft laughter. “Besides, you both looked pretty cozy to me last night. I see the way you look at her. She might be blind to it, but we’re not. Dustin definitely isn’t.”

Eddie sputtered, and you heard the nerves in his tone as he stumbled over his words. The instinct to defend yourself, to deny it, was so strong you had to grab the doorknob to keep you steady. You wanted to hear what Eddie had to say. Blind to what?

“That’s-”

“Dingus!” Robin’s voice cried, “Is that coffee I smell? God my head feels like fucking lead!”

She bumped into you, jarring your heads, and you both groaned at the same time.

“Sorry,” she moaned, “I didn’t hear you come out the bathroom. My brain is pounding.”

You did your best to look like you weren’t just eavesdropping on them and waved away her apologies. Robin shoved the doors and you followed suit.

Steve grinned, his eyes teasing over his mug of coffee and you knew you were going to pay for the shit you’d given him the last time you had to pick up him from a bar.

“So, let’s recap the night, shall we?”

Robin groaned and you stood in silence, sipping at your coffee, taking each teasing jab with a smile or scowl. Eddie’s arm brushed against yours as you sat at the kitchen island next to him and you jumped. He smiled, making room for you, and you mumbled your thanks. The memory of his arms wrapping around you in the woods flashed through your mind and you stiffened. Shit. Had you said anything embarrassing? Just be normal, be cool, you snapped at yourself.

Despite everything, you still felt Eddie’s eyes on you the whole morning.

This was weird. You were being weird.

And yet…you had still shrugged Eddie’s hoodie on over your shoulders this morning. The worn material was soft and warm.

There was absolutely no reason, aside from your clear temporary insanity, for you to be wearing it. In fact, you should’ve returned it to him the next day. But here you were. In your car, panicking about Eddie seeing you in it and scrambling to take it off. You had reached for it that morning without realizing that you had a whole shift with him.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” You muttered to yourself, pulling on your outer coat on and checking your hair.

In your defense, everything between you two seemed to have shifted after that night – after the party. Despite the fact that you couldn’t remember half of the night. Eddie had done a one eighty and spent most of his time being…well…nice to you. You were both still trying to win the dinner but, it was about making yourself look good rather than making Eddie seem lacking.

It’d been a whole five days and you hadn’t had a single homicidal thought once. That had to be a record; something of that caliber had to be documented.

So, because of all this – you’d yet to give back the sweater. He hadn’t asked you for it and you’d possibly taken advantage of that. Last night, you’d had a nightmare about Homecoming and it had been enough of a wake-up call that you’d become resolute in returning it to him today.

While you’d laid down the metaphorical pitchfork, your suspicion still lingered. You couldn’t help it at this point, it was in your nature.

“Hey,” you said, walking into the store.

Eddie whipped his head around to you and smiled. “Good morning, Lightning.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled when he shot you one of his stupid soft smiles. You weren’t sure if it was guilt from hoarding his sweater or a genuine effort at peace, but you pulled out the breakfast muffins you’d baked last night. Coming out to the counter, you hopped into the high chair and placed the second muffin onto the far left.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that the second one is for me?” Eddie’s voice drifted over from the sci-fi section.

“It would be actually, that’s my second helping,” you said, hiding your smile as you turned to check the returns bin.

Eddie gripped his chest and pretended like he’d been shot. “You wound me, m’lady.”

With a light laugh, you shook your head and waved to the muffin. “You never eat breakfast and I made too many of them…”

His brown eyes softened, his hand coming out to cradle the baked good in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m finally worthy of a Lightning Special.”

Quirking a brow, you watched him take a big bite. He moaned around the food, your heart tripping over itself, and shook his head. “What the hell is a Lightning Special?”

“It’s what I call whatever you’d cooked. You’d always bring Steve or Robin some extras and I’d never admit it, but they always smelled amazing.”

“I would’ve given you some if you’d asked,” you mumbled, smirking when he shot you a disbelieving look. “I don’t know why you’ve got this idea I’m a gremlin or something. I’d like to think most people think I’m polite.”

Eddie snorted and you crumpled up your napkin to chuck at him. “Eddie! Fine, see if I ever bring you something else.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, rolling his eyes when you crossed your arms. With a dramatic flourish unique to Eddie, he walked over to your chair, bowed, and pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m so sorry your highness, can you ever forgive me?”

“Buy me a coffee on break and I’ll think about it.”

With a wide grin, he snapped his fingers. “Done!”

You hopped off the chair, your stupid vest getting stuck on the arm, and stumbled forward. Eddie’s hands steadied your arms and the both of you froze. Noses a few inches apart, you blinked up at him. “I-I’m stuck,” you stuttered, wincing when you heard your own voice. Mistaking your wince for pain, Eddie’s hand darted to the garment and freed you.

“Thanks,” you said, not able to look at him in the eye. Both of you awkwardly took a few steps back – Eddie’s hand coming up to the back of his neck.

“Right, yeah, no problem,” he stammered, walking back to the discarded muffin.

Not wanting the awkwardness to linger, shit – maybe you had gotten used to the ceasefire, you reached for his forearm and were struck by how warm he was. “I promise to bring you some of the baked stuff when I make them,” you said. Eddie’s eyes softened and you watched as they dipped, for a millisecond, down to your lips. Suddenly, it felt too hard to inhale properly.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said eventually.

The bell on the door rang and you both jumped apart. “Hi, welcome to Family Video,” you both said, a touch too loud. Amused, you shot him a look that he laughed at.

“Hi! I’m looking for Eddie – oh, hey Eddie,” a soft voice said. You glanced up and realized you faintly recognized the girl standing by the doors.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed and you blinked, surprised. The girl he was dancing with at the Hideout, your mind supplied. You watched her tuck a strand of inky shiny black hair behind her ear and you fought the urge to scowl.

Without any prodding, you pointed to Keith’s office. “Oh, I totally forgot I need something from there, right now,” you said, ushering yourself into his office before anyone could say anything.

Unsure of what to do, and definitely not wanting to touch anything, you sat on the edge of the chairs by his desk. God, Keith really needed to clean this room. Ew, was that a moldy sandwich?

Keeping the door ajar, you tried your best not to listen in but your mind wouldn’t shut off.

“Gareth said you wouldn’t mind, I swear I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate,” she said, her voice too soft for you to hear anything after.

Eddie’s mumbled something. “-I owe you one.”

“Thank you so much! Can you pick me up around eight? I’ll wear the blue dress from the bar.”

“It’s a date.”

A date? Your heart stilled. Of course they were dating – she looked like his perfect match. Trying your best to ignore the sudden pressure in your chest, you looked around for something you could use as an excuse.

The bell to the front rang again and you shot up to your feet, anxiety ricocheting. Grabbing the first thing you saw, an empty folder on Keith’s desk, you walked out with your eyes on the ground.

“Oh, you just missed Clara,” Eddie said, “you met her at the bar last week.”

“Yeah?” You said, disinterested.

“She said to tell you that she’ll sell you her kidney if you give her the recipe for the muffins,” he said, smile growing.

Your eyes, however, darted to the muffin wrapper crumpled up on the counter. He’d given it to her? The knot in your throat grew and you nodded. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed and you just turned to the shelves. “Hot date?” You asked, like the masochist you were.

“You overheard?” Eddie asked with an anxious smile. Jesus, you cringed internally, did he need to be so in your face about it? “I’m a little nervous to go but, you know, at least this time I know I won’t be stood up. It’s all a joke anyway.”

Your blood froze. “What’d you just say?”

The front door rang again, Robin’s face coming into your peripheral as she yawned. “Hey guys,” she said, eyeing your clenched hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you really just say that to me?” You asked, a little disbelieving.

“Say what? That I might not be stood up?” He asked, confused.

It was getting hard to breathe, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest. You really couldn’t believe it - Eddie could be mean, rude, loud - but he was never cruel. You both had an unspoken rule never to talk about it, and he broke it.

Not able to keep the words down, they spilled out with vengeance. “Wow, you’re going to throw Homecoming back at my face now? After all this time?”

Eddie’s face morphed into confusion. “Homecoming? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Right,” you snorted, the painful memories floating to the surface. “I can’t believe I thought you’d changed. That you were actually going to be nice to me.”

“I am nice to you! What the fuck is going on?” He hissed.

Robin stepped up between you both, her hand coming up to you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“He’s what’s wrong!” You blurted out, the tension of the last few weeks spilling out. “You know what you did to me – I thought we agreed never to talk about it. Wasn’t it embarrassing enough?”

“What I did to you?” Eddie half-shouted.

Robin shot him a hard look. “Everyone, let’s calm down for a second-”

“Good morning,” Keith’s voice boomed in the empty store. Steve walked in behind him, brows raised, as he caught onto the tension in the air.

Oblivious, Keith strode towards his office. “I just need to grab something I left. I will let you both know -- I’ve submitted my notes to the senior supervisor and we should have our first employee of the month by tomorrow!”

Feeling like you were underwater, you grounded yourself with Robin’s touch. “Hey, look at me, what happened? What did Eddie do?”

“Nothing! I’m the one who looked like an idiot that day!” Eddie hissed.

You stepped back, as if he’d struck you, and you realized Steve’s expression had turned thunderous.

“Hey, dude, that was uncalled for. I thought we talked about this,” he said, moving to stand by your side.

“Talk about what?” Robin asked again.

“Ask him,” you said, pointing to Eddie. Turning to the back room, you scrambled to get your things, tears making your vision swim.

As you stalked back out, you saw Robin holding Steve back by the arm. Bypassing them both, you turned to Eddie, anger coming off you in waves. “I can’t believe you,” you snapped at him, “you - you can’t just joke about that night. Wasn’t it enough that you just fucking left me there? You knew how much I liked you. I can’t do this anymore. Hey Keith? I don’t want the dinner. Eddie and his date deserve it.”

Without looking back, you slammed the door open and all but peeled out the parking lot. The grip on your steering wheel was so tight you were sure you’d have bruises. As you made you way home, you let your mind wander back to that night.

“Just go ask him!” Anne urged you, her eyes sparkling. “Look, he’s alone right now!”

Your fingers fluttered nervously around the hem of your shirt. “But what if he laughs at me?”

“He won’t!”

“You don’t know that!”

Anne huffed exaggeratedly. “Oh my God, just go ask him!” She shoved you into the room and darted away like the traitor she was.

Eddie looked up, surprised at the sound of someone else in the room. When he saw it was you, his smile bloomed. Your stomach fluttered, anxiety doubling. You’d only recently started talking to each other, after your biology project together last semester.

“Hey you,” Eddie said, dropping the papers in his hand onto the table. “What are you doing here?”

Sputtering, you stumbled over your words. “Hi. I – uh-”

“Are you joining the dnd club?” Eddie asked incredulously.

“No – hey, wait why’d you say it like that?” You crossed your arms, nervousness forgotten for a moment.

Eddie’s hands shot up, brows smoothing. “I didn’t say it like anything!”

“I could be here for dnd,” you insisted, not sure why you felt so indignant about it.

“Are you?” Eddie asked after a beat.

Clearing your throat, you tried to hide your embarrassment. “Well, no…”

“I knew it!” He said, grinning smugly. “What can I do for you fair maiden?”

You watched Eddie go back to setting up for his campaign. Glancing at the time, you realized if you were going to ask him – you had to ask him now. Before any of his friends showed up. Besides, if he rejected you then you had all weekend to sulk about it.

“Um, are you going to the Homecoming dance?”

Eddie snorted and your heart sunk. “It’s Sadie Hawkins this year. Who’s going to ask me?” He said, completely unselfconsciously.

“Oh.”

His eyes turned towards yours and he blinked, surprised by what he found. “Are you...wait, are you asking if I’m going or asking if I’ll go with you?”

“I-I…” You wrung your hands together, anxiety bubbling. Maybe you should just leave…you could lie and tell Anne that he said he wasn’t going. Surely the girls wouldn’t force you to try again.

Something shifted in Eddie’s gaze and you suddenly felt a surge of courage in your chest. Squaring your shoulders, you nodded to yourself.

“Eddie Munson,” you said, “will you go to the Homecoming dance with me?”

After a beat of silence, Eddie’s blank expression morphed into a wide smile. “Really?”

“I…I really like you,” you admitted, mortification softening at the sight of his grin growing even wider. “I’d like to go with you. If you want to go with me.”

Eddie blinked.

“Eddie?” You asked, stepping closer when he didn’t answer.

He jolted, as if he’d been shocked and bobbled his head furiously. “Oh, yeah – definitely, like fucking absolutely.”

You brought your hand up to hide your laughter at his half-screamed reply. “Okay, um, cool,” you said, scuffing your cleats onto the linoleum floor.

“Do you wanna meet in the parking lot?” You asked. “Before the dance?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, still staring at you a little incredulously. You smiled at him and watched as the red flush traveled down his neck.

“Okay, um, so I’ll see you later?” You asked as you heard faint footsteps coming towards the room.

Eddie straightened. “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.”

With a grin, you waved awkwardly and darted out the room. Before you could fully let the door close, you heard Eddie’s loud ‘yessss!’

Not able to keep in your laugh, you rushed over to the doors and saw Anne leaning against the frame.

“So?” She asked, perking up.

Grinning, you threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “I owe you a milkshake.”

Anne squealed and you laughed, following her towards your bikes.

“I don’t understand, you talked to him two days ago right?” Anne asked, her hands fluttering nervously. Her date, Mark, looked just as anxious. The dance had started an hour ago and upon not seeing you inside, Anne had come looking for you.

“Yeah,” you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He kissed me on the cheek and said he couldn’t wait. I told him what color my dress was going to be – h-he said his uncle told him that was important.”

“Maybe something happened,” Mark added, eyes wide. “Like an emergency?”

Not having thought of that, you straightened. Anne’s hand almost knocked you in the face as she pointed towards a couple walking towards the doors. “That’s his friend, right? The one he plays with? Go ask him! Aw shit, I forgot my bag on the table. I’ll be right back.”

You whirled around to look at where she’d pointed and hurried over to him. His date, a pretty girl in red, tugged on his hand as you made your way over.

“Hi, um, Jeff right?”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, eyes glaring. “What do you want? He’s not here.”

Confused, you took a few steps back. “I know – I wanted to ask you if you knew where he was? I’ve been waiting-”

“He knows, okay?” Jeff said with a sneer. “He knows what you did.”

“What I did?” You asked, not sure what he was talking about. Jeff’s eyes drifted over your shoulder to where Mark stood at a distance.

Jeff’s eyes hardened. “It was all a joke – a stupid joke. I can’t believe you even showed up.”

Your heart plummeted to your feet. A joke? He’d accepted as a joke? But Eddie…he couldn’t have…

“Go back to your real date and do us a favor and stay away,” Jeff warned, walking past you and heading inside.

Frozen to the spot, you felt the tears spill over as a hand wrapped around your wrist. Anne’s frown swam into your blurry vision and she shook you. “What happened? Mark, what happened? What’d he say?”

“I need to call…I need to call your sister. Would she come pick me up?”

“Jesse? Yeah, she would. But what happened?”

Not able to speak past the lump in your throat, you burst into tears and Anne’s nervous hands fluttered over you. “Okay, okay – Mark, go call my sister. Tell her she needs to come back now.”

It was all a stupid joke. Of course, he didn’t want to come to some stupid dance. Not with you.

You called out of work for the week. At this point, you didn’t care if Keith fired you.

For the first few days, like clockwork, Steve and Robin took turns calling your house. Your sister had made it her job to speed to the phone before your mom, letting them know that you were sick and couldn’t come to the phone. She’d been too little to remember your middle school Homecoming but, you promised you’d make it up to her.

On the third day of your self-imposed quarantine, your mom brought you up some lunch midday. “You know,” she said quietly, her hand coming out to rub your calf. “The supermarket was looking for someone to work morning shifts. It’d give you enough time until you start your semester next year.”

“Thanks mom,” you said quietly, still wrapped in your comforter. “I’ll check it out.”

With a soft sigh, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and nodded. “I’m here if you want to talk.”

On the fourth day, you finally decide that you’ve moped for long enough. This was something you needed to move on from. How pathetic to still be upset over something that had happened in middle school?

Except it mattered to you, your mind added helpfully, because you really like him.

“Shut up,” you hissed at yourself.

“We didn’t say anything yet,” a voice behind you said.

Squealing in surprise, you instinctively threw the socks you’d been folding at the sound. The cotton bundles bounced off Robin’s chest and you brought your hand up to your face. “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”

Robin rolled her eyes and walked into your room like she always did. Steve, a little sheepishly, waved and sat by your desk.

“How did you get inside?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Your mom when she was leaving for work,” Steve said, shooting Robin a look.

“I live a house down, I can see that you haven’t left yet,” Robin huffed. “Keith has us all on double shifts until you’re back Sunday, the least you could do is look happy to see us.”

“Well,” you grumbled, “I’m busy.”

“Super busy,” she said, motioning to the laundry on your bed.

“Robin…”

Her indignant expression softened. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you both hated each other over some stupid high school clique stuff.”

“To be fair I didn’t tell anyone.”

Robin’s arm shot out too fast for Steve to avoid it. He grunted as her knuckles hit his sternum. “You told Dingus!”

“To be fair, I was drunk and a little stressed post-Vecna win,” you turned to Steve for corroboration and he nodded.

“She was,” he snorted, “she puked in my mom’s rosebush.”

A flash of that night echoed in your mind. You winced. Jesus, you really needed to stay away from tequila. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you told Robin, “I asked Keith to keep me on closings. Just for a while.”

“You both can’t avoid each other forever. Eddie-”

Not wanting to hear his name, you put up your hand. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Robin huffed. “But he said-”

“I don’t care what he said! He can date whoever he wants to date! This is such a stupid thing to be upset over anyway. I’m over it. It’s ancient history.”

You could see Robin turn to Steve. Catching his gaze with yours, you watched his eyes soften at whatever he found. God, you must look really pathetic if Steve looked like he wanted to wrap you in a blanket and hide with you. He shook his head. “Leave it alone Rob.”

She sighed, exasperated. “We can’t let this go on like this Harrington. They have to talk it out!”

“Robin.”

She sighed and flopped down onto the bed. “Fine. You’re both idiots.”

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Robin frowned but let you change the subject to Keith’s newest blubber.

You’d made it an entire week of shifts without running into Eddie. Robin still grumbled when his name was brought up but she kept her word and let it go. Or so you’d thought.

Honestly, you should’ve known better. She was like a dog with a bone.

“Hey,” Robin bounded up to you as you locked the front doors. “Wanna see if we can catch the last of the festival?”

Checking your watch, you frowned. “We’re not going to make it. Doesn’t it close at eleven?”

“Yeah, but some rides stay open a little later. It takes a while for everyone to clear. Besides, it’s only in town for a few more days!”

You turned to Steve, who was swinging his keys around his fingers. He shrugged, his expression a little too casual. “We could pass by on the way home. I don’t mind.” Considering he was your ride, you nodded.

“Sure?”

It took you three another thirty minutes before you were all in Steve’s BMW, cruising down towards Waverly.

The entire park was dark, only a few rides lighting up what was clearly a deserted clearing. Robin, not one to ever be deterred, hopped out the car. “I think the Ferris Wheel is still on! Let’s see if we can grab some funnel cake.”

“Go ahead, I’ll follow,” Steve said, motioning towards a quickly disappearing Robin.

Wincing at the dark. “Am I the only one who’s retained a healthy fear of what hides in the dark after all our escapades?”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I don’t think Russians are hiding in there. Go on, you’re gonna lose her,” he nodded towards a bouncing Robin.

Hopping out the car, she beamed and immediately started towards the rides.

“Robin, I think the festival is closed now,” you huffed, trying not to lose her from your sight. She barreled forward, quick, and you were struggling to keep up.

“They said some rides stay open late,” she insisted, turning a corner.

Grunting, you jogged to catch up. “Jesus, what is the hurry-” your voice trailed off as you caught sight of the only illuminated ride. Robin was standing off to the side, her expression apologetic.

Eddie stood by carousel, his hands tucked into his pockets and his shoulders up by his ears.

“No,” you said, already turning around to head back towards Steve’s car. Robin’s hand caught you quickly, her grip surprisingly tight. “Is this a prank? Do you guys think this is a joke?” You asked Robin, feeling beyond hurt this time.

“Hey, no,” she said quickly arms coming to yours. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear. You know me.”

You did. Robin didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Just, hear him out? You don’t need to forgive him but he’s got an explanation. A stupid one,” she said loudly, and you watched as Eddie winced, “but I think you need to hear it to move on from all of this.”

“Robin…”

“Yeah, I’m not buying your whole – it was middle school, I’m over it, bullshit. Please? I’m going to be over there with Steve probably eavesdropping if you need me or want to leave at any moment,” she said, “Steve said he’s open and ready to punch anyone you need him to.”

“I punch harder than Steve,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Dustin punches harder than Steve,” Robin said, “it’s the thought that counts.’

You rolled your eyes, tears building at the corners. Glancing back to Eddie, you nodded. “Okay.”

Catching sight of Gareth, he waved weakly at you. Lifting a hand back, you ignored Eddie’s hand and climb up the steep stairs by yourself. “What’s he doing here?” You asked Eddie, your first words to him since that day in at the store.

“He’s doing me a favor and keeping it open for a little while later. I know you said you had wanted to come here,” Eddie explained, nodding towards Gareth who had moved towards the control station. You climbed into a carriage instead of a horse and sat.

Eddie, for a moment, looked like he was going to sit next to you but the withering glare you sent his way gave him pause. Instead, he made his way towards the horse next to your carriage and awkwardly stood by the pole.

“How long is this ride?” You asked.

“Three minutes.”

You checked your watch. “You’ve got three minutes Munson. What the hell is so important you orchestrated all this to get me here?”

He opened his mouth and you felt your anger flare all over again. “You know you really have some nerve,” you huffed, not letting him speak.

Eddie sighed. “Lightning-”

“-don’t call me that! I can’t believe you’d-”

“-I’ve been in love with you since middle school!” He shouted over you, chest heaving.

Shocked into silence, you felt your eyes widen and watched Eddie as his skin flushed.

“You were the nicest seventh grader I had ever met,” Eddie started, his voice straining to be louder than the music. “You were the star of the soccer team, fast as lighting. Anytime someone was mean to me, or my friends, you were always the first to come to my defense. You never said anything about my nail polish, our club, about the band t-shirts, or the shaved head.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “When we were sophomores and they announced that the Homecoming was going to be a Sadie Hawkins theme, I was crushed. It was the first dance we were allowed to attend and I had spent the entire first semester determined to finally ask you to go,” he said and ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought, there’s no way you’ll ask me. We’d done that project together but after all that time, I didn’t even think you knew my name. Then, that day afterschool, you came up to me and asked me to the dance. I couldn’t believe it. I think I must’ve told Wayne about it like a hundred times that week. He’d worked a few extra shifts to get me my first suit. I wanted everything to be perfect. Then, a week before the dance, Gareth and Jeff had overheard the soccer team talking about you betting over your dates to the Homecoming dance.”

Your brows furrowed and Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d decided I was going to confront you – because, there was no way you’d made a bet. You were nice – you wouldn’t do that. I had barely gotten to the field when I heard your friends mention how it was all a joke. ‘I can’t believe she took the bet to ask Eddie out to the dance,’ they all laughed and I got pissed. I wanted to find you and call you out on it.”

What? Why the hell would your team say that?

“Eddie, I-” He held up a hand and you frowned.

“Before I could find you, I ran into Brittney. Who, after realizing I was looking for you, told me that you’d never meant it. That it had all been a joke. So, as a completely and utterly heartbroken fifteen-year-old, I avoided you after that. You’d slipped that note into my locker about meeting me in the parking lot before the dance and I couldn’t believe you’d be so…well, cruel. I stayed home the entire night, playing video games with Gareth and Liam. You never said anything the next day after the dance, Jeff didn’t either – he says he’s sorry by the way - then you started dating the men’s soccer captain so I assumed…”

What the fuck?

“Wait Brittney?” You asked, confused, he nodded. You briefly remembered how much she’d hated you. “Brittney Johnson told you I had been joking? That bitch.” Oh my God, you were going to fucking strangle her the next time you saw her. Eddie looked more confused at your outburst but you urged him to continue.

“While I managed to avoid you successfully, you were always in my peripheral and you’re so fucking beautiful it hurt. So, when you popped up in the shack at Rick’s house with everyone else, it was just the safer option with what was going on to fall into the constant arguing. You argued back so I thought, this was safe. We could both let stupid high school shit go?

Then…well…you believed me. When I told you about Chrissy – when we went back down there, you fought next to me. You were there when I woke up,” Eddie cleared his throat, eyes flashing.

“Then the whole best employee thing happened and uh, then it became apparent to me that maybe you had a different recollection of that week.”

Holy shit. You rubbed your temple as a headache bloomed at the base of your skull. You’d realized that the ride had long been over, both of you facing the lit Ferris Wheel.

Rubbing the tension building in your temples, you nodded. “Uh yeah. My friend Molly - the only other freshman on the team, had been bet by the other junior girls on the team that she wouldn’t ask out her crush, Teddy - a junior. She asked and he accepted but everyone was worried he’d find out it was a bet because they actually liked each other. That had nothing to do with me. Brittney was a jealous bitch because I'd managed to get captain over her and she knew how much I liked you,” you thought back to all those times in the locker room you’d spent with Jessica urging you to ask Eddie to the dance. “I'm going to rake her fucking eyes out,” you said to yourself.

Eddie blinked, looking dumbstruck. “So what you’re saying is that I stood you up for no reason. Because I’m an idiot?”

“An eavesdropping idiot,” you said through a disbelieving smile. “Although, to be fair, having Brittney confirm it for you probably didn't help. You should've...come to me. I don't - I didn't think you thought I was capable of something like that.”

“Right,” Eddie said faintly.

A little hurt, you kicked at the edge of the carriage you sat in. “I wouldn’t have done something like that – to anyone. I don’t… know why you thought I would’ve. I always saw how people treated you and hated it. I never let anyone on either soccer team mess with you or your friends. Even after...I was so excited to go with you - I thought you were really cool and sweet.”

“Sweet?”

The memory of the first time you’d talked to Eddie floated up to the front of your mind. “Yeah. After what you did in seventh grade…”

“What?”

You sighed. “I tripped in gym class and smacked my head into the goal post. I was mortified but you took me to the nurse’s office and stayed with me the entire period. You told jokes and made me laugh. I don’t know, I always sought you out afterwards. Besides, you know,” you said pointedly. You didn’t want to say it – he had to know.

He took a step forward, as if that would draw it out of you. “I really don’t and even if I did, I’ve had enough assumptions to last a lifetime.”

Not able to keep it to yourself, and tired of the misunderstandings, you shrugged. “You’re beautiful Eddie, how could I not have a crush on you? I thought…you did too until I was standing at the dance, in my new dress, with your friends letting me know you weren’t coming. That you’d never taken my offer seriously. Because who would want to go with some stupid jock?”

Eddie smiled before groaning and clutching at his temple. “Oh my god, I’m a fucking idiot.”

You shrugged, the lump in your throat growing. What a fucking mess. “Listen, its history, at this point. We had a massive misunderstanding, for years, and now we’ve cleared it up. I promise to try and stay out of your way-”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, “I don’t - I like being friends.”

“Is that what we were? Have we ever been?”

Hurt flashed across his face before he ducked his head and scuffed his shoe against the metal. “Do you think we could-”

“No,” you said quickly, your walls coming back up.

You had officially given up on this. This, whatever this was, between you two was too difficult to try and make work.

“Right,” Eddie nodded, eyes on the horse to your left, “that was a stupid question, sorry.”

Feeling the urge to comfort him, you clenched your hands into fists. “I’m not - I’m just, it’s a lot to process. I need to get my head on straight for Spring semester. I’m starting school and it’s been a lot with everything going on. I just…I need time. Maybe we can be friends for once.”

Eddie nodded dumbly, his eyes following you as you stood and made your way towards the steps. You turned to him and ask. “Why the festival?”

A ghost of a smile twitched at his lips. “You said you’ve been dying to go but had closing shifts almost all month. I thought, I might as well.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’ll…see you later.”

“Yeah, right,” he ducked his head and waved his hand. You stumbled towards the red BMW waiting for you in the parking lot.

“So…” Steve started. He grunted when Robin smacked him. “What? We're just going to sit in silence and pretend we didn't all hear that?”

Robin turned to look at you. “I'll egg Brittney's house with you if you want.”

Steve perked up. “Holy shit yeah, her brother is a piece of shit.”

You smiled, touched by their offer. “Let's just go to your house Harrington, you promised me a movie night.”

Steve huffed. “Does this mean you two are finally going to stop attacking each other?”

“Or that maybe you'll go on a date with him?” Robin perked up.

“Robin.”

“What? Like you weren't wondering the same thing!”

“I always knew he liked you,” Steve said.

“Yeah okay,” you snorted, finally joining in the conversation.

Robin laughed with you. “I did!” He insisted. “You should see the way he looks at you. It’s like he comes alive when you walk into a room.”

Your heart stumbled and you sighed.

“Dingus! You’re not making this any easier!”

“She asked!”

You let their bickering fade into the background, your conversation with Eddie swirling around in your mind.

“So,” Steve said, dragging out the vowels.

You glanced at him from where you were using his mom’s fancy mixing bowl for the cake you were baking. El had shyly asked you for the chocolate cake you’d made last year for Max’s birthday. Not one to ever say no to El, you’d set up camp at Steve’s.

Watching him struggle to figure out what to say, you sighed.

“Spit it out, Steven.”

“That’s not my name,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair, “now that we’ve all sort of put this whole Homecoming business behind us – I was thinking-”

Steve’s voice faded out as you thought back to the past week. It’d been incredibly awkward for the first few days, both you and Eddie avoiding each other as much as you could. On the third day, your regular shared morning shift, he’d brought you a coffee from your favorite bakery. The ice hadn’t completely melted, but it was warming up.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Blinking away your busy thoughts, you shot Steve an apologetic look. “Sorry Steve, what’d you say?”

“I was saying,” he huffed, “since we’re all over this now, how’d you feel about going on a date?”

“What?” You said, completely taken aback.

Steve shrugged. “The girl I’m seeing asked me if I was interested in a double date. Her best friend, Sam I think, said he was up to it. I was going to say no but…thought maybe you’d want to?”

“I don’t know Steve,” you started.

“I just wanted to ask, especially considering that it’s been almost two years since you broke up with that meathead,” Steve snorted.

Rolling your eyes, you shot him a look over your shoulder. “You were friends with that meathead. It makes you a meathead adjacent.”

“I- don’t appreciate having my past drudge up that way,” Steve said, crossing his arms. You huffed a laugh.

“Where are you going?”

“Osteria da Fortuna,” Steve said, shrugging. “You and Eddie forfeited the dinner. I’m pretty sure it’s going to Robin who said she’d give it to me if I would go with her to a band party. I think her and Vicki might finally be going somewhere. Did she tell you about-”

You waved your wooden spoon in the air, effectively stopping Steve’s rambling. “What?” You said, some of the batter splattering onto the kitchen counter. “Did you just say Eddie forfeited the dinner?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, like a week ago.”

“What.”

Why the hell would he do that? You know why, a tiny voice inside your head said.

With a narrowed glance in your direction, Steve groaned. “Are you really not going to give him a chance?”

Not this again. “Steven.”

“Okay, hear me out,” he put his hand up, “I know. I know you’re hurt that he thought you’d be the type of person to prank him over Homecoming. I know you’re annoyed at this whole mess that could’ve been cleared up if both of you had managed to get your heads out of your asses earlier. But you didn’t.”

“I-”

Steve waved his hand. “Eddie was…is not everyone’s favorite. You know that. You’ve seen how the people we thought were our friends treated the people they thought weren’t worth it. He was fifteen. Are you that stubborn that you’re going to hold onto this from over five years ago? We’ve been through so much since then.”

“I don’t know,” you said, uncertain.

“Don’t kill me but, I think you’re holding on to this hurt because you’ve realized it’s easier. It’s always been easier to hate him, to do your little bickering thing. It’s easier to keep him at a distance because if you never let him in close again you won’t get hurt. But it’s been this long, you’ve both dated other people, and you both haven’t moved on. What does that say?”

You frowned. “That we’re stubborn immature idiots?”

“Yes and?”

You blinked.

Steve sighed. “You’re both so obviously into each other. Even when you’d fight, it was like foreplay or something. You both believed you had the right reasons to hate the other but you’ve both been hung up on each other. That means something. That’s not nothing.”

Letting Steve’s words sink in, you realized that he was right. Even when Eddie thought you’d pranked him, he’d always stuck by you. In the Upside Down, after every earthquake, he’d reached for you – arms steadying you as you fought your panic attacks.

He’d let you use his leather jacket when you were shivering from the lake water. He made sure you went through the gate first, his steady hands on your hips as you climbed. He’d made you eat a sandwich while you were all waiting for the party to get back from the gun store.

“Coming down from adrenaline is a bitch, trust me,” he said, nudging the milkshake in your direction.

He dove for you when the bats attacked, his body curled around yours as you both tried to buy your friends more time.

You thought of Eddie in the hospital bed, your hands interlocked. The way the dread in your chest wouldn’t lift until you saw his eyes open. Until you knew he’d make it through.

Jesus Christ, you still liked him. And you were doing what you always did. You were pushing him away. Even after he’d apologized and you hadn’t. Even after everything.

“Fuck you Harrington,” you said, standing and grabbing your keys off the table.

Steve’s eyes widened at your sudden departure. “Where are you going?”

“To the store!”

Barely taking a moment to lock your car, you stomped into Family Video. As usual for Thursday mornings, it was dead. Eddie was draped across the counter as Jeff and Eddie talked to him animatedly.

Slamming the door open, all three of them jumped and turned in your direction. Dustin, seeing your thunderous expression, darted away from the counter as you stormed up to it.

“What the fuck Munson?”

Eddie blinked at you, eyes wary. “Um?”

“Why the fuck would you forfeit the dinner?” You hissed, seeing Robin’s head pop out from behind the Comedy shelves.

“Because it wasn’t right,” Eddie stammered, “I didn’t want you to give it to me.”

“Are you serious?”

Eddie’s nervous expression morphed into indignation. “What did you want me to do? Go and enjoy it when you basically handed it to me?”

Throwing an arm out, you felt a headache starting. “Isn’t that what we’ve been fighting over? For almost two months!?”

“It didn’t feel right!” Eddie insisted.

What the hell did that mean? “Munson.”

Annoyance flashed across his expression. “I’m not – I don’t – I wanted to go with you. Okay? Every time I picture the stupid fancy Italian restaurant all I do is think of you. Everything all the time always reminds me of you. It reminds me of your stupid smile, the stupid way you give me shit for everything, the way the scent of your stupid shampoo is engraved into my brain,” he shouted, “going alone would be pathetic. At least Steve will get some use out of it.”

Your brain slowed. Your shampoo? Shaking your head, you got back to the point. The idea of that dinner going to anyone but one of you felt wrong. “Go with someone else, the grunge girl.”

Eddie looked like he wanted to throw something at you. Livid, his eyes flashed. “She doesn’t matter. That ‘date’ we were going on was her ex-boyfriend’s wedding. She was invited and didn’t want to go alone.”

Ignoring the way that made your heart flip, you crossed your arms and gave into the petty feeling swelling in your chest. “Well, I saw you two at the bar. Clearly, there’s something there.”

Eddie’s hands shot up into the air, exasperated. “I wanted to make you jealous! She knew, she was in on it. That night at the bar, she was teasing me about how into you I was – because even she could tell. Everyone else besides you is painfully insignificant. Okay? You’re the only one that matters. Since I was twelve. I’m pretty sure the reason me and Amy broke up junior year is because even she could tell I was gone on you. Give me more than a week to try and get over that.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession, and unable to ignore that, your arms dropped to your sides. “Are you…trying to get over me?”

Eddie shot you contemptuous look. “Well, considering that I didn’t realize I was the asshole that stood you up all those years ago and you’ve hated me since then and the likelihood of you ever loving me back is close to nothing, yeah, Lightning, I’m trying to get over you. So, excuse me, if I don’t want to go to a stupid fucking restaurant and think of you the entire time.” His chest heaved like he’d just run a race and all you could think of is how much you wanted to kiss him.

“You love me?” You echoed, like a broken record.

“Oh my god, is that all you heard?” Eddie started a verbal rampage, his arms flinging around for emphasis. As you watched his animated speech, you realize how stupid this whole thing was. Steve was right. You were so used to being guarded, to the traumatic events that seemed to never end after Starcourt, that you were pushing away something important. Something that could good, and you were risking it over your own stupid fear.

This was it, you thought, the second chance you’d always secretly hoped you’d get despite your anger and hurt. You weren’t going to let this one slip away too.

Before Eddie could start on another tirade, you grabbed the edges of his vest, hauled him across the counter, and towards you.

For a beat, you could feel his confusion radiating off of him. You pulled him tighter to you, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips. As if struck, he surged forward to meet you, his own arms coming up to your forearms. He whined as you softly bit into his bottom lip before pulling back.

“Fucking finally!” Dustin cheered. Jeff shushed him.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked dazed as his eyes darted around your face. “Please tell me you aren’t messing with me.”

“I don’t know about love just yet,” you said quietly, “but, take me to dinner and we’ll talk.”

Eddie blinked twice before a slow grin grew on his face. “Italian restaurant? Tonight at eight? I heard some place called Osteria something is meant to be great.”

“I thought you forfeited it to Keith,” you said, laughing when he vaulted over the counter and settled his arms around your waist. He pulled you into another kiss and, this time, snipped at your lip. You couldn’t hold back the shiver it caused. The mischievous glint in his eyes let you know that he’d noticed. “Shut up.”

“I’ll give it back to you two!” Robin said eagerly, her eyes lighting up.

Eddie, without taking his eyes off of you, pointed in Robin’s general direction. “I’m naming my first born after you Buckley.”

Robin snorted. “Hear that, Lightning? Your first kid’s my namesake.”

Eddie flushed, his neck turning a little splotchy. “That’s not what I meant.”

With a swift, quick kiss, you couldn’t help but place a second kiss to his neck. You watched in fascination as his jaw clenched. “I mean, there’s no harm in practicing,” you teased, smiling when Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

“You’re killing me Superstar.” Eddie lifted his head after a beat, his eyes catching yours. “So, what do you say?”

You watched his eyes dart around your face, as if committing this moment to memory, and you let your own hand trail a line across his stubble. He leaned into your touch, his lips coming to kiss your palm. Your heart fluttered, threatening to break free from your chest. Steve was never going to let you live this down. But, as Eddie ducked down to catch your gaze, you raised yourself up higher to catch his lips a third time. That was going to get addicting quick.

“It’s a date, Munson.”

AN: I am so sorry the ending is so weak lmao but I had the first 75% of it in my drafts for months. It was starting to haunt me.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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milswrites · 1 month

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The Trials of Aphrodite Part Two

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You find out exactly how difficult playing wingwoman for Azriel is going to be.

Warnings: Lil angsty (pining and unrequited love)

Your mother had once told you that to love was to hurt. That once you gave your heart to another, their burdens were yours to share. That true love was to share in each other's loads no matter how heavy the weight may be.

It was that true love, that all-consuming desire to see Azriel smile, free from the weight of his burdens, that had led you to say yes to his proposal. It had been your unrequited love for your best friend that had cursed you with the misfortune of sacrificing your heart if only to allow his to beat for another.

Love could be cruel and unforgiving. Your aching heart and troubled thoughts were evidence enough of that.

Yet love could also be beautiful. This can be seen in the way it can persist in even the darkest of times. At how even when you are alone, the feeling never fails to fade. To love is to never forget someone, to never allow them to suffer in silence.

To love was to live. It was just unfortunate that for you, it felt as though you had only started living after you had met Azriel.

Love was a feeling to be reciprocated and despite the fact Azriel didn't feel the heart-stopping way you did about him, there was no denying that the male loved you in other ways.

In the way he had sought comfort from you last night, choosing to share his troubles with you as he valued your company and opinions. Even now, as you greeted the male the next morning, Azriel showed his love for you by wrapping you in a bone-crushing embrace. His tense wings, easing at your familiar touch.

Yet while Azriel's love for you gifted him comfort and security, it was your love for him which only brought you pain. Your tender heart aching at the recognizable scent of night-chilled mist and cedar as it flooded your senses, pained that the scent you find so comforting belongs to a male you couldn’t have.

And whilst your dearest friend excitedly rambled on about the object of his affections as the two of you walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, his words of adoration begging to be heard.

It was only when you began to close your eyes and dream that Azriel's heartfelt words were directed towards you, that you had to shake yourself from your lovesick stupor. Reminding yourself of the reason you had joined him on this stroll, of the person the two of you had met to talk about. Grateful of the cooling breeze which aided in focusing your thoughts and quelling your rising distress.

Azriel had often said that he needn't resort to poetry in order to win over women, yet the way he spoke about Elain was lyrical. Every word of praise and compliments was recited as though it had been a piece of sacred literature written by the gods.

The worst part about it? It only pulled you deeper still into the tempestuous ocean that was loving Azriel. If you were a helpless victim to his thoughtful prose, drowning in the words of his affections, you had no doubt that Elain would be just as hopelessly trapped in his gravitational field as you were.

Azriel was magnetic, you had always known that the male's love for his friends was enough to topple mountains. But the way he described his longing for Elain was earth-shattering. It was the type of love that every little girl dreamed of one day having, the same love you still chased after.

You hung onto every word he said, allowing the force of his emotions to consume you in your entirety. Only being drawn from your hypnotic state upon registering his final worrying sentence which caused you to stop in your tracks due to your shock.

"Wait. . .wait. What do you mean Rhysand said no?" you panicked, hoping you had misheard your friend.

"Well, he kind of said that I weren't to see Elain anymore" Azriel said casually as though not to scare you anymore than he already had. His worried eyes meeting your own, the male afraid that you were about to back out of your promise to help him out of fear of upsetting your High Lord.

"And you were going to tell me this when?" you hissed at Azriel who’s face now wore a mask of guilt, his shadows skittering at the intensity of your words, "You were just going to let me go behind his back, against his will and help you get together with someone he's said you're not even allowed to be around?"

"He's just worried about how Lucien will react that's all" Azriel reasoned, begging eyes telling you to let this go. Asking you not to give back the heavy burden you had opted to share with him.

"Oh cauldron boil me!" you exclaimed, obviously having accepted this task knowing Lucien would be a factor, yet your love for Azriel had blinded you from seeing the consequences that would come with this pairing, "Az, this could mean a blood duel. I won't - I can't see you get hurt, get killed."

"You truly think that is a fight I could not win?" he asked in hurt, voice cracking at the assumption that you may not believe in his capabilities.

You sigh as you tried to ignore the pestering voice inside of you which told you to trust in your friend, in the man you loved. A spark of hope igniting in Azriel's eyes as he noted your swaying opinions.

"I love her" he announced, saying the words aloud for the first time, speaking them into reality, "I love her so much it hurts. From when I first wake in the morning to when I go to sleep at night my thoughts are only of Elain. I have never been more certain that she was made for me, that she is intended to be mine. Lucien wouldn't call for a blood duel if he saw she felt the same, he’d let it go. But please I need your help, I need you. Surely you can understand that every day without Elain by my side is agony, that my heart will know no peace until she is mine."

Tears stung in your eyes at his confession, a painful lump beginning to form in your throat as you swallowed the words you so longed to scream at him. Because you did understand, more than anyone. Because just as much as Azriel believed Elain was his person, you believed he was yours.

"No blood duels" you ordered, once more falling victim to the love you held for Azriel, "And no upsetting Rhysand, if he tells you to stop perusing her once more that's it. You have to let her go."

"I can't let her go" Azriel solemnly stated as you swallowed down the lump in your throat harshly, heart pounding at the realization that you knew that feeling all too well, "Which is why your help would mean everything to me. I may always find a way to mess things up but you never do. You always know exactly what to say and do. You never fail to make me feel seen, feel wanted. I trust you. I need my friend for this, I need you."

You weren't sure how he did it, how he managed to lace each and every word with the same poetic beauty of which he spoke about Elain. Yet he did, each syllable working to thaw the icy shield you had risen in retaliation to Azriel's confession.

Your walls melting, you release one last hopeless sigh as you begin to walk again, moving away from Azriel to continue on your stroll, "Come on we better get started, there's a lot of work to be done if we're going to pull this off."

And if only you knew how true those words would turn out to be.

Part three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa08 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @eve175 @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months

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Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part two! Writing was all I could think about today. Thank you for the love. It's been a hot minute since something brewed in my brain. 🤍✨

warnings: blood, violence, past trauma,

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Finding a way to focus had been hard the past couple of weeks. Azriel felt like a ghost who had pledged the sanctuary. He barely got out of his room, and if he did, he twirled around in the shadows. Watching. Hacking. It was an unsettling feeling at times. Feeling those golden eyes burning holes into your back. Listening in on your conversation. Yet every time you would turn towards where the phantom feeling of him lingered, you were met with nothing. A space where you had hoped to find him.

"Invite him to the communal. It sure must not feel nice to be left behind", Padme, the high priestess, casually said just the other night when you brought her all the paperwork you had sorted through. "He is free to come, P. He ain't a prisoner", you stated blankly. Focusing solely on the piles of papers as you arranged them. "You're being neglectful, my dear", those words made you look up as you frowned. "He is not my responsibility. I'm not assigned to him. I don't...", you stuttered on, crossing your arms around your chest defensively. "And yet... Our high lord had called for you specifically", she trialed off. A knowing, ancient smile painted her lips. You knitted your eyebrows as hard as you could, trying to look frustrated, but that only made the high priestess chuckle. You had wanted to find a strong enough counterargument for her statement, but your words failed you. So you bowed your head to her before walking away.

"Is he an ancient spirit?", Zofie, the young fea girl, asked as she looked up at you, making you crack a smile. Some of the kids have been more than observant. But then it was hard to miss a male of Azriel's size. And while grown women didn't spare him a second glance, the kids had grown curious. "That's an Illyrian soldier, Zo", Axel said, rolling his eyes at the younger girl. You questioned your choice the closer you got to the spymaster's room. He might very well not even be there. And even more so, he might have another outburst. And you had brought kids with you...

"Well, how would I know? I'm only little", Zofie stomped her little feet, making grabby hands at you. You shook your head at them. "Why don't you two ask him all of your questions yourself?", you suggested, right as the wooden door at the end of the hall came into view. You halted once more, but your lingering steps were outmatched by Axel, who had sprinted down the hall before you could even open your mouth.

Azriel had been trying to summon a bottle of whiskey for over an hour now. He was tired and frustrated with the lack of communication Rhys was willing to engage in. The only thing the high lord was willing to say was that Elain had gone with Lucien. She was in autumn. That had made the spymaster curse Rhys in all the languages he spoke. He was about to list all the reasons why that trip was not a good idea when Rhys shut him off completely.

Now he was sitting on the floor. Shoulders slumped. He looked ahead of himself. One of his shadows had flustered before moving towards the door, ripping at the handle. "I'm not going anywhere. So drop it", the spymaster had muttered. But the shadow didn't budge, nudging the metal tightly as a knock sounded, making Azriel look to the side. He was ready to ignore it. The last thing he needed was to deal with more nonsense, but then the thought struck him. What if it was you? What if this was his chance to get you to tell him how to get out of this place? If he caught you here, he would still have time to interrogate you spymaster style, and then...

Azriel grabbed the handle, spreading his wings behind him as he frowned. Yanking the door open. No one met his eyes. There was nothing there. Azriel was almost sure of it. Until a loud gasp filled his ears and something light hit the floor. "Axel", the sound made Azriel peer into the hallway. That's when he noticed you rushing towards him. That's when he noticed a tiny frame curled on the floor. Tiny leathery wings draped around the shaking body.

Azriel's wings sagged. He reached his hand out, but you were quick to stand in between them, your eyes wide as you stared at the spymaster. "Are you insane?", you said through gritted teeth, turning to look back at the trembling body. "Hey, Ax. It's all okay. No one will hurt you", Azriel watched as you carefully moved to brush your fingers through the boy's hair. A tiny, trembling hand reached out towards you. You took it without hesitation. The girl whom you had carried up to this point stood slightly to the side, her tiny palms pressed into her eyes. She was hiding. Scared because of... Azriel quickly shook his head. "I didn't mean...", you turned his way, his soft gaze replaced by a burning anger. "Who even opens a door like that?". Azriel was about to bite back when the boy looked up at him, muttering, "Wow..."

"Axel...", you questioned him, worry lacing your features as you watched him. "You're big... and your wings", the boy said, his eyes now fully on Azriel. You bit the inside of your cheek. Pulling Zofie closer to your embrace. The dark twirl swam towards the boy, and you were about to seize it with your magic until it ruffled Axel's hair softly, nuzzling against the boy's cheek, making him chuckle.

You swallowed thickly before turning back to Azriel and saying, "We came to invite you to the communal but...", to the sound of which both of the kids perked up. "We learned a new song", Axel said, "Zofie dances with the ribbons. Right, Zo?", He pulled at the girl's skirt, but she didn't lift her head from your shoulder. Something ached deep within Azriel. He craved fear. At this point, he was convinced that no one would ever learn to look at him any differently but watch kids shake at the sight of him... He had watched them for some time now. A part of why he had stuck to the shadows was because he didn't want to scare the younglings. He doubted seeing a big, bulky male��there were no other males here, as Azriel had noted—would make them feel safe.

"I'll come", Azriel said, thinking about reaching for the girl but choosing against it. She looked so small, clinging to you. He had made a child frightened. He had never... Azriel felt a small palm wrapping around his two fingers. "I'll show you the pool we have; well, it's not a pool, but... you'll see", Axel chirped, already dragging Azriel down the hall. You were about to protest. As it was, you had a long list of reasons why Azriel shouldn't come at all. He met your gaze. You watched him. Was he silently asking for your permission? You gave him a tight glare before nodding.

The kids were in their element, as always. Singing loudly as they danced together. Axel was up in the front lines, his eyes not leaving Azriel. Zofie had slipped off your lap midway through the third song and was happily twirling with her pink ribbon in hand. Azriel sat beside you. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. You doubted he watched the children much. You even doubted that he understood just how important it was for Axel that he was here. Azriel's eyes were scanning the place. Memorizing faces. You let out a sigh, and that seemed to have done the job because the spymaster lowered his gaze toward you.

"You know, you're an asshole", you said while plastering a smile on your face. Azriel huffed, "Says you", crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, I'm sorry, but out of the two of us...", you trailed off, shaking your head.

"You brought kids as backup", Azriel snarled once more. Now these words made you look right at him as you growled, "You wanted to break my neck". Azriel gave you a puzzled look. "Oh, don't look at me like ancient Mother Sun; you think I'm that stupid? You would have leaped at me once more", your words had come up more like an accusation than you would have liked. "For the record, I wasn't going to break your neck", Azriel muttered. Even more frustrated by your last statement now. "Oh, my apologies. Locking me up? Hanging me up from a ceiling? A bit more your style?", you rolled your eyes at him. Azriel gritted his teeth. You were getting on his nerves slowly, but then the fact that you thought he might break your neck... Oddly enough, he hated that. Azriel wanted to be far away from being a predator. He didn't want to inflict harm or fear. Slowly, he started to wonder about how much he still didn't know. Not just about this place, but himself. Another stab ripped past his chest, and Azriel let out a tight sigh. Clapping erupted around the room. Azriel joined in mindlessly, turning his head slightly your way and saying, "I'm so...", but he was met with an empty chair. Azriel's eyes darted around the room. He searched for the two kids as well but was met with a crowd of faces that didn't have any meaning to him. Azriel let out a frustrated growl, tightening his fists.

The candlelight was barely visible. Your eyes were burning from tiredness. You knew that you weren't going to get anything more done, but you refused to leave your study. It was the only place where you didn't feel him. And heaps of paperwork had managed to shove him out of your brain. It was bad enough that Axel talked about him until he eventually fell asleep. Padme, however, had given you a dissatisfied look. And you knew she was right, but you too had your reasons. You weren't a babysitter. There were no direct implications that it had to be you who monitored Azriel's behavior here. You knew that Rhys had eyes of his own here. He didn't need weekly reports. You blew out the last remaining candle. Not having enough energy to care about the scattered papers all over the table.

Rubbing your eyes, you moved towards the door. Opening them up with a spell. And you wished you hadn't the moment you did. A mortified scream left your lips. A hand clasped over your mouth. Flickers of your magic sparked, cracking the solid wall of darkness. "It's just me", you shoved your palms against Azriel's chest. "You're a sick bastard", you said, pointing an angry finger at the spymaster. To your surprise, he let out a low chuckle, making you huff. "How dare you laugh?", you moved to fix your dress. Trying to hide the tremble in your palms. "You're running away from me", Azriel stated calmly. You gave him a daring look and said, "I am not inclined to see you".

Azriel watched you. Even in the dim hallway, there was no way he could deny that there was something about you. The way you carried yourself You had proven your point that night in Azriel's room when you drew his consciousness away from him. He knew you had magic lurking deep within. But even that didn't seem like something that would call to him. "But you can answer some of my questions", he stated blankly. You shook your head in disbelief. "You did all of this so you could ask me a question? Under what rock have you been raised?", you stepped closer to him. Here. Here it was. That daring glare made something deep flick within Azriel.

"You'll have to forgive me. I was the one to wake up in a place I knew nothing of", he snarled back. Taking the last step towards you. Fully towering over your frame. Your head was now drawn up, so you could keep eye contact with him. "But I wasn't the one who went for a mated...", You cut yourself off. A bitter taste coating your mouth. The fire in your eyes died down. "Say it", Azriel muttered through gritted teeth. You watched him. You had no right to judge, and you didn't. "Everyone knows about it, don't they? You tried to make a fool out of me by dragging me to that circus today?", Now his words were drenched with venom. You had nudged a sleeping tiger. "That was not a circus. Communal is for children", your voice was small. Azriel let out a bitter laugh. "Is that what Rhys wanted? To humiliate me", there was pain so deep within him that even your bones ached.

"And you... you're here to orchestrate it", he snarled, stepping away from you. You suddenly felt so little. You had no intention of making Azriel feel like a fool. He shook his head one more time before he turned to step away. "Azriel...", you called out, stepping forward to grab his hand. Forgetting all boundaries. Losing control over your mental shields. The moment your hand touched his, all you managed was to take one more inhale before a ray of vision flashed right in front of you.

Azriel felt as if he was trapped in a never-ending nightmare. As flashes and flashes of what seemed to be memories glimmered through his mind, he saw the sanctuary. An elderly lady. Coldness and pain. Something that reminded him of the basement he had been locked in. Then there was Rhys. Illyrian camps. Angry males. A fire. Shouting females. Scattered wings. Blood. Shrieking children. He tried to move. He was unsure if it was real or just in his mind. But when he lifted his hands, bloody palms met him.

You yanked your hand back. Breathing heavily. Azriel was panting too. He blinked a couple of times. Eyes darting to your trembling frame. Your cheeks glisten with tears. Void grew deep within the spymaster's chest. Azriel moved to step closer, but you put out an arm in front of yourself. "I won't hurt you", his voice was the softest you had ever heard from him before. Yet you still shook your head, muttering a quiet, "I'm sorry".

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel acotar imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger

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nyoomerr · 6 months

Note

For a prompt:

If you could take one scene from svsss to 'fix-it' what would it be?

my favorite place for fix-its is as a jin-lan city divergence, just like half the population of this fandom, LOL. i've done fix-its there a couple times now, and i want to try my hand at a "the trial happens" fix-it fic sometime in the future, but there's no way i'd be fitting that into a drabble length ahaha 💦

so in the meantime, here's a shorter thing, set when lbh is trying to cure sqq of the sower's rash!

---

In Shen Qingqiu’s defense, he’s had a very, very stressful day.

Meeting Luo Binghe two years too early, getting accosted by a bunch of no-good Huan Hua upstarts, getting infected with the sower’s curse - there’s just been a lot, okay! By the time he’d made it here, cornered in a dingy alleyway with Luo Binghe looming over him, he’d already used up a large amount of his daily rationed tolerance for bullshit! His face had already started to crack!! He wanted a break!!!

He did not get a break. Instead he got Luo Binghe, suddenly larger than Shen Qingqiu himself, shoulders broad in a way that made his height look far more becoming on him than it had when he was 17 and on the edge of the abyss, a beanpole that had just recently grown tall enough to look Shen Qingqiu level in the eyes.

Instead he got Luo Binghe, as observant as ever but with far less respect for his Shizun, catching Shen Qingqiu’s wrist and running his thumb over the rash caused by the sower’s curse.

Instead he got Luo Binghe, his ears a bit too pointed for a human and his teeth more like fangs in his mouth, raising his own hand to those deadly teeth of his and tearing into his flesh, and -

Shen Qingqiu had a defense, remember!! Stressful day, no breaks!!

- and Shen Qingqiu can’t help himself, and raises his free hand up to Luo Binghe’s mouth, too, pressing the pad of one thumb up into one too-sharp canine.

“They’re so much sharper than I thought…” Shen Qingqiu mumbles to himself, as if he’s making a simple field observation and not sticking his hand in his future murderer’s mouth.

The hand Luo Binghe has wrapped around Shen Qingqiu’s other wrist tightens, and Shen Qingqiu freezes.

“Haha,” he says, and then very quickly tries to extract his hand from Luo Binghe’s mouth.

But then - stressful day, no breaks, very good excuse!! - Shen Qingqiu doesn’t actually drop his hand all the way back to his side. Instead, he finds himself hovering useless fingers over the bleeding wound Luo Binghe had torn into the palm of his hand.

“...Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, sounding a bit like a lost kid and not at all like a blackened emperor on the path to revenge.

Shen Qingqiu lets his fingers make contact, sliding gently through the hot mess of blood dripping from Luo Binghe’s palm. Luo Binghe shivers under his touch.

“...You shouldn’t let it bleed like this,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe’s blood is precious, after all - watching fat crimson beads of it fall to the ground beneath them feels like a waste.

Beneath Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, the wound knits itself back together. He supposes that makes sense - there’s blood all over Luo Binghe’s hand and wrist, and Shen Qingqiu’s fingers as well, now. There’s no need for him to keep the wound open; he can use any of the existing blood to force down Shen Qingqiu’s throat.

…Fuck, Shen Qingqiu really forgot to be scared of that, just then!!

(In front of him, Luo Binghe is thinking very, very hard. He’s remembering every moment of his childhood when his Shizun had made an ill-advised move to get closer to some beast or another just to get a better look; he’s remembering the feeling of his Shiun’s fingers in his mouth, curious and testing.

Luo Binghe… perhaps has a better idea than his current plan. After all, if his Shizun won’t take him back willingly, then Luo Binghe will simply take his Shizun back, himself - and what better way to attract Shen Qingqiu than with a beast?)

Beneath Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, Luo Binghe shifts his hand, moving it to be palm-down. Shen Qinqgiu frowns, watching Luo Binghe’s blood drip onto the ground faster, now, but -

But then Luo Binghe’s fingers do something - odd. They were human looking just now, Shen Qingqiu was sure of it, but now Luo Binghe’s nails are black and pointed and curled like claws, and his fingers are shaped oddly up to the first knuckle. It almost looks like…

Shen Qingqiu slides his fingers down from Luo Binghe’s palm to his fingers, taking a couple of them firmly in hand and pressing gently at the base of the claws there.

Fascinatingly, Luo Binghe’s claws extend out like a cat’s.

“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu says, unconsciously tugging Luo Binghe’s hand up to his face for a closer look. He doesn’t remember the Luo Binghe of PIDW ever having this feature. “Where do they go, normally?”

“If Shizun comes back to this disciple’s rooms with him, I’ll cut off a finger for you to dissect,” Luo Binghe says, as if that’s a completely normal and sane thing to suggest.

Shocked, Shen Qingqiu drops Luo Binghe’s hand and rears backwards, pressing into the dirty alleyway wall behind him. Luo Binghe stares down at him, expression twisted up.

“Is this disciple so despicable that Shizun doesn’t even want that?” Luo Binghe asks, voice bitter. “Which part is so undesirable to Shizun? Following me anywhere at all, or being made to inspect any part of this disciple so closely?”

“Obviously that isn’t what’s wrong, here!” Shen Qingqiu gasps, offended and terrified in equal measure. “What kind of - don’t cut off your fingers to use as bait!”

“Ah,” Luo Binghe says ruefully. “So I couldn’t fool you after all. Was that it, then? Shizun took offense to my attempts to lure him in? Or was it all of it, after all?”

Shen Qingqiu gapes at him, then finally remembers he has a fan and very quickly snaps it open to hide behind. What kind of person wouldn’t take offense to being lured into a trap, ah! If a rabbit knew it would be skinned and eaten once caught, it also wouldn’t like any sort of bait, no matter how tasty!

Aloud, Shen Qingqiu says nothing. Luo Binghe’s expression grows more pinched, his lips pulling up in a sneer, and -

- and ah, his teeth are even sharper, now! Shen Qingqiu hadn’t even noticed!! Had that happened when Luo Binghe had released whatever sort of glamor made his nails look human, too? Was it a physical modification, or only an illusion? Did it break if someone tried to touch it? But, no, Shen Qingqiu himself had touched Luo Binghe’s teeth, and they hadn’t seemed out of sorts, so -

“Do your teeth retract too?” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but ask.

Luo Binghe lets out a frustrated sigh. “Shizun can experiment with this one all he wants, if he would just -!”

Shen Qingqiu peers out over the edge of his fan carefully. Luo Binghe has been acting seriously, seriously OOC for a blacked demon lord this whole time, and it leaves Shen Qingqiu feeling off balance. Should he try to talk his way out of this? Should he just go back to trying to run for it?

Luo Binghe narrows his eyes at Shen Qingqiu. “If Shizun tries to run again, I’ll release the whole glamor and stand in the middle of the town until you come get me.”

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu exclaims. “Don’t be foolish, you - this master hasn’t told anyone about -”

“I know,” Luo Binghe says. “So either Shizun would be able to see a demon that is willing to let him dissect it, or someone else would come along and do that very thing but with far less precision.”

Shen Qingqiu raises his fan higher, nervous. “Don’t talk about being attacked like that,” he scolds.

Luo Binghe hums, pressing in closer to Shen Qingqiu’s space. “Shizun’s right, of course - anyone but him would ruin this disciple if they tried to take me apart. They wouldn’t be delicate enough; they’d ruin all the best parts to study.”

“That’s not -”

“So Shizun should be the one to take charge,” Luo Binghe says. “If you won’t follow me back to my room, I’ll follow you back to yours.”

Shen Qingqiu hesitates. He doesn’t really want to dissect Luo Binghe, of course - he has enough trouble as it is repressing the feeling of Xiu Ya slicing into the flesh of Luo Binghe’s chest from years ago. But he - he does want to know how Luo Binghe’s teeth work.

Shen Qingqiu’s room… is in the same building where Liu Qingge is staying, too. Hadn’t Shen Qingqiu first wanted to hug that battle-obsessed idiot’s thigh to get a strong protector for the future? If Luo Binghe tried anything, couldn’t he just call for help from his own room?

…This is very, very stupid. Shen Qingqiu is glad he has his very excellent and reasonable excuses from earlier.

“If Binghe wants,” Shen Qingqiu says aloud.

Luo Binghe grins at him wide enough that Shen Qingqiu can make out the odd way Luo Binghe’s teeth sit in his mouth, as if he has a second row of them.

Fascinating, he thinks, and reaches up to once more stick his hand into the mouth of his most deadly disciple.

Luo Binghe opens wider, letting Shen Qingqiu look, and starts quietly herding them back to the building the Cang Qiong delegation is staying in. It’s… ah, it’s probably fine, if Shen Qingqiu could just look a bit more…

#okok i'm killing it at the “keep these drabbles short” thing now im killin it #ty for the prompt!#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #bingqiu #fic drabble

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harmonysanreads · 10 months

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giving many kisses to 🕯️anon for their neuvillette masterpiece xx If 🕯️anon has anymore thoughts on yan!neuvillette, I’m begging for more. please allow me to add my own brainrots in the conversation <3

Imagine if neuvillette put on trial someone from a foreign nation. Maybe a sumeru scholar traveling to fontaine for their thesis or a liyuean opera trope performer recently gifted a trip to fontaine. someone deeply engrained with their nation’s culture.

Only to be imprisoned under false charges all under neuvillette’s direction. Once under false charges, they’ll never be allowed to leave fontaine again, either imprisoned and under guard or in debt in neuvillette and reliant on his word to maintain their innocence.

Imagine being forced into a perpetual cycle of Fontaine’s latest fashion trends, their old thin silky robes being traded for layers and layers of billowy skirts. To engage in daily rigid suffocating etiquette every second rather than the causal and loose atmosphere of their home. Listening to fontaine’s ballet and opera rather than Nilou’s free spirited dancing or traditional Liyuean opera.

All the cultural whiplash and rigid etiquette of both neuvillette and the public watching their every move with no support, no family would break anyone.

Perhaps while they feel as if they are alone, burning the midnight oil to polish over a mistake neuvillette harshly critiqued earlier, they hum a little melody. Something reminiscent of their homeland, a lullaby passed down from parent to child. Humming turns into small sobs until their tune is a cohesion of broken choking and nostalgic memories, crumbling under the weight of neuvillette’s now very present shadow next to their desk.

They say, home is where the heart is and you've never resonated with a sentence more in your life.

Before, the meaning of home used to be simple, mundane, something you wouldn't even consider that gravely. Home used to be the buzzing of the busy populace at the ports and streets, it used to be dishes dashed with spices of all kinds, it used to be the reassurance of familiar faces. These blurs of happenstances once made your heart flutter with solace, solace that home was at your fingertips. Now, they only torment you with regret for not cherishing them more — because as it is, humans only understand the value of something once that has been snatched away.

Your ears almost don't pick up the soothing hushes leaving Neuvillette's lips, his arms pressing you further in his embrace. Your tears stain his night-robe but he doesn't seem to mind. You allow it as well, your mind too broken to think, your body too numb to push and your being too desperate to let go of this gesture of affection. You should be furious at him for the things he's done, you should scream, kick, curse, hit —and he'd agree that you wouldn't be guilty of that. Normally, he'd take initiatives to harshly criticize this ungraceful behavior and then the lengthy programs to correct it and it'd go on and on til one of you broke (it's always you).

Even when Neuvillette initiates affection, it's never to actually comfort you. They're delivered as rewards because you followed his wishes. But at this night while the rest of Fontaine slumbers and you break, his arms feel secure for once. So you don't struggle and let him coo and hold you tight, you wonder if he adjusts his intentions precisely because you offer no resistance.

Your words sink in his clothes, only a ‘I want to go home’ escapes with enough coherence for it to catch the judge's attention. He lifts your face up to meet his gaze, fingers brushing away stray tears.

“You are at home, this is your home now.” you expected the words to be plain and stern, but they come off as whispers as well. You would've known even if he didn't bother to say, because he's inscribed them in your heart time and time again and tonight, at last, you've accepted it.

#i feel a fever incoming but the words just came to me sooo #the things i do for 2d men #neuvillette brainrot #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette #fontaine #yandere genshin imagines

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thesassypadawan · 3 months

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Still Hungry (Knight Anakin x PadawanFemReader x Master Obi-Wan)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to share living quarters with your new, roguishly handsome, master and his former, insufferably good looking, padawan… Well, let’s just say, that after everything is said and done…you’re still hungry.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Threesome and Ani and Obi’s big dicks. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: A little something for @cacti5539! I tried my very best to get in all your wonderful details! Hope you like it!

- If things weren’t bad enough already…

- First your now former master had decided to abandon the order in the middle of the night. Leaving you, well, masterless and in need of a new one.

- Then you were, as the council classified it, temporarily reassigned (pending a trial period) to the infamous Obi-Wan Kenobi. That wasn’t entirely all bad, considering how intelligent and cunning...very charming and very handsome…he is.

- After which led to you having to move in with him. Not that you are complaining since you do have quite the crush on the older man.

- And finally, the not so little matter of…Obi’s previous, insufferably good looking, padawan refusing to leave. Meaning the two of you are stuck sharing a tiny room…meaning you have zero privacy…meaning Anakin (or someone else) could just barge in on you at any given time.

- Today just so happens to be that any given time…

- “Both?” You whisper, a look of surprise on your face. You had been lounging on your sleep couch. Fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing more than your slightly damp towel. You thought you were alone, for once, in your shared quarters, when the door suddenly slid open.

- “Yes, both, padawan of mine,” Obi-Wan mutters, his hand cupping your cheek affectionately. “We both desire you.”

- “And we both need you badly, angel,” Anakin adds, brushing his oozing tip against your other one. “So what do you say? Want to give it a go?”

- You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want this. Ironically enough that was what you were about to do before they came storming in, in all their naked glory. Fantasize of all the filthy things the duo would have and do to you. “All right,” you bite your lip, letting the towel fall from you body. “Let’s do this.”

- Turning your head towards Ani's massive cock, you dive right in. Licking a trail from his heavy balls to his fat head. Your small hands circling and grasping the base. Slowly stroking him and suckling on his tip. Moaning at the taste of his salty pre, while gazing up at him innocently.

- At the sight of you, Anakin let’s out a low groan. His hips stutter as his organic hand laces through your hair, guiding your movements. His mecho hand fondling your breast, your nipple hardening under his cool touch. “That’s it, right like that.”

- “Come here, little one. Your master has something for you,” Obi coos, leading your free hand to his own colossal dick. Blindly you begin to pump him, setting a steady rhythm between them.

- Ani growls softly as you hollow your cheeks. Bobbing up and down, you take a bit more into your mouth with each stroke. Your hand attends to the inches that you can’t manage to fit.

- Swirling your tongue around his tip, you feel him start to twitch. His fingers tugging on your hair hard, forcing you to take more of him. “So good, hatari. You feel so good.”

- Shuttering, Anakin shot his hot cum down your throat. Curses falling from his lips as he jerks his hips into you. Filling your stomach more and more with his sticky seed.

- “Kriff,” Ani moans. Pulling out of you, he hooks two fingers under your chin. Tilting your head up, he flashes you a small smirk. “Can’t believe you drank it all up. Must have been hungry.”

- You give a tiny smile and nod. “Was delicious, Ani.” All the while still slowly pumping Obi-Wan.

- “Then I know you’ll absolutely love mine,” Obi mumbles, turning your face towards him.

- “I bet your cum tastes so sweet, master,” you purr. Placing a tender kiss to his drooling tip, you greedily take him into your mouth. One hand massaging his big balls, the other squeezing and stroking what you can’t manage to fit. Trying your best to not gag.

- Caressing your cheek, praises spill from Obi-Wan’s lips. “Wonderful. You’re doing so well. But, come now, I’m sure you can do even better.”

- With a snap of his hips, he thrusts himself the rest of the way in. Making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat over and over. Your nose pressed flushed against his abdomen.

- You can feel the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, while you will yourself to remain still for Obi. Reveling in the delightful burn as he thoroughly stretches out your poor, abused throat. As you begin to struggle to breathe.

- “Master is sorry, dear one,” he says sweetly. Wiping a tear away. “I just couldn’t resist feeling your velvety walls clench around me.”

- His hand comes to rest on the back of your head as his pace speeds up. “Now be a good girl and be sure to not waste a single drop.”

- You hum in ecstasy, lips vibrating around his cock. As he pumps wad after wad of his heavenly cum into you.

- Releasing his hold on you. Obi-Wan slips himself out of your mouth. Groaning at the sight of your messy, blissed out face. “Perfect, darling. You were absolutely perfect.”

- Dazedly you look up at Ani and Obi. Seeing that they are both painfully hard, you lick your swollen lips…hands rubbing your slightly bloated tummy. “You know, boys, I think I’m still hungry.”

- “Good,” Anakin says smugly. Stroking himself, staring at you with that damn wicked grin.

- “Because we’re still very full,” Obi-Wan chuckles. Sliding behind you on the sleep couch, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Text

ñuhus prūmӯs (my heart) │Chapter 9: Reconciliation (NSFW!)

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 │Chapter 11 │Chapter 12 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Childbirth is the duty and dismay of all highborn women. Together, you and Daemon experience the trials, tribulations and triumphs of expectant parenthood. You mend a broken bond.

(Set post-episode 7, though Daemon never married Laena or Rhaenyra.)

Thank you to @angelqueen04, @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @ajthefujoshi for holding my hand throughout the drafting, teehee!

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of pregnancy, discussion of abortion, medieval beliefs on abortifacients and contraceptives.

You leave under the cover of darkness.

So scattered and stunned are you that you do not think to question being roused by a wide-eyed Bethany and dressed by a yawning Jeyne, led slowly from your chambers with Daeron all but nodding off at your side, conveyed down the stairs and out to the courtyard where Daemon and the wheelhouse await. The particulars seem unimportant. You drowse on his shoulder all the way to the harbour, where the ship is docked and ready. When you are brought aboard and borne to your quarters for the journey, you fall immediately back to sleep.

It is as though some kind of spell has lifted when you awaken once again. You blink as you take in your surroundings: the wood-grain slats spanning up the walls and along the ceiling in shades of tawny richness; the light streaming brightly through the windows adorned with damask curtains of crimson, in complement to the vast rug of Targaryen red and black rolled across the floor; and the subtle signs of Daemon’s presence, from the overcoat carelessly tossed across the back of a chair to Dark Sister placed in her sheath on the table, belt and all. It is the first time in days that you truly see the world around you.

There is something cursed about the capital, you muse absently to yourself. Something strange and unnatural that seeks to steal the joy from all who enter it.

You startle slightly at the sound of your name. “You frightened me.”

Truthfully, you are more than a little relieved to have Daemon in your presence, wanting little else but the surety of your husband by your side. He smiles as he approaches, gentle steps rather than the strident thud of boots against the floor that you are so used to. Your mournful mood has unnerved him greatly.

Poor, poor kepa.

“How do you feel?” he asks, obligingly slotting a hand behind your back as you struggle to pull yourself upright. You wince at the catch and snarl of fabric over your nipples, the sensation of something sticky being ripped from flesh too quickly, sharp and stinging. At the sight of your grimace and the sound of your frustrated huffs as you try and fail to find a comfortable position to sit in, he settles himself along the pillows behind you and coaxes you to lean back against him. He is warm and firm and smells of all the things you love, of smoke and leather and something intrinsically masculine and safe. His lips find the shell of your ear. “Hm?”

You had forgotten to answer. “I am well,” you say.

Grabbing for his hand, you lead him to the place where one of the babes has decided to make themselves known, kicking indignantly out at the side of your belly from within. He laughs at the sensation, pressing back against the assault and engaging in a tussle with the audacious little rascal.

You elbow him gently, frowning up at him. “Do not encourage his behaviour, kepus! He is being terribly rude.”

“She’s just being her father’s daughter, little girl.” Using his free hand to cradle beneath your chin, he leans down to kiss you. It is a soft brush of lips upon lips, barely there, the heat of his thumb tracing a line across your jaw. His eyes glow like vivid spring in the morning sun, vivid beneath his browbone. “No harm in that.”

“They are both free to be their father’s children after they come into the world,” you say, though it is more of a whisper than anything else. “Not while they can use my insides as target practice.”

“Of course.” It sounds distinctly mocking, but not quite insulting. You roll your eyes.

With the heaviness of your middle making it taxing enough to move about on land, it seems all but impossible to take the fresh air while on board a steadily rocking ship. Thus, Ūlla decrees that you are to stay abed for the sennight’s voyage back to your island home. The thought of hauling your body—rife with aches and pains across your spine, your chest, your knees, and swelling unpleasantly at the ankles—around such unstable terrain sounds positively exhausting, and so you submit to her directive with little fuss. You cannot claim boredom, however, for your temporary apartments are a revolving door of visitors come to break up the monotony of each day.

Your new ladies are a near constant presence, which provides you the opportunity to get to know them better. It had grieved you greatly to dismiss Senna, especially so soon after the passing of Miriam, but you knew you could not keep someone capable of such treachery in your service. You had asked Helaena to make enquiries to the court; Bethany and Jeyne were the very first parties to express their enthusiasm for the role. Being from minor Houses, their families bear no particular allegiance in the strife between Green and Black. Your initial meeting with the girls proved them to be every bit as guileless and courteous as you would have hoped.

Mayhaps they are a little dull, you think as you listen to them chatter about the new gowns their fathers had paid for as going-away presents, but there is time to remedy that.

You are gladdened to have Ser Alton also make an appearance, scarred and limping heavily with the use of a cane. He will remain in your service, perhaps as guard to your babes’ nursery when the time comes. Whatever use Daemon finds for him, you are insistent that he be given a worthy stipend for the remainder of his life, though it will be but a mere pittance compared to his great sacrifice. You feel guilty when he grins at your pronouncement of this, for he would not be in such a predicament were it not for you.

You cast the thought aside. What is done is done.

Daeron is your favourite guest of all, though. He reads to you in halting Valyrian, childish cadence shaping around unfamiliar sounds. Though he struggles so, his stubborn perseverance is adorable. He babbles about the ‘tricks’ Athfiezar has taken to the skies to perform, your boy dutifully flying back and forth from his roost to observe your progress home. Your heart aches at the fact that you are missing his little routine, that you are unable to get up and see him as you have craved since first hearing his almighty caterwauling from the highest parapet of the Red Keep, your devoted mount always protecting you from afar. But mostly, your young brother lays about with you, cheek to your belly so that he can feel the babes’ kicks upon his skin.

“Ouch!” He jerks back, glaring at your middle and looking so comically outraged that you cannot help but to laugh. “That one hurt!”

“I am sure they did not mean to,” you say, hand reaching forth to card through his hair fondly. “They just want to say ‘hello’.”

In truth, the sensation is inexplicable. You understand now why it is so difficult for mothers to describe it to one who has not experienced the same. At times, it feels as though your body has become a host to something foreign and frightening, an arcane entity that saps your energy and threatens to burst out from within. But you are strangely relieved by the oddness of it, the bruising signs of lives that are thriving in spite of all that has occurred.

“There’re better ways to say that,” Daeron mutters, bringing you forth from your musing as he returns to his previous position. His next words are muffled into your gown, the sounds vibrating through to your skin and making you giggle. “Be gentle, baby.”

When you arrive on the shores of Dragonstone, it takes everything within you not to cry at the familiar sight of sharp stone contours looming from grey mist, the salt and smoke in the air filling your nostrils with the scent of home. You have missed this place more than you realised. You are guided from the ship to the rowboat to the shore by Daemon and Harwin both, the latter taciturn to the extreme since the discovery of his brother’s crimes. He cannot be faulted for this. You convey what gratitude you can in your silence, leaving him to his thoughts. The sway of the boat makes you queasy, and you are forced to a standstill upon reaching the dock so that you may bend as far as you are able to retch into the sea.

Daemon does his best to soothe you, patting your hip as you grip tightly to his arm for balance. “The worst is over, sweetling. There we go.”

“Ugh.” You wipe the bile from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Never again. Never—never again.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. Hardly a loss. I’ve always fucking hated sea travel.”

You side-eye him irritably. How infuriating he is with that grin stretched joyously across his face, his silver hair ruffling in the wind, expression gleaming with amusement and something wicked.

He is so handsome, you think. You despise him. No, I do not. I cannot.

Suddenly, there is a voice on the wind. You hear your name being called, high and frantic. You cast your gaze down the dock to see a cream-and-scarlet shape advancing quickly toward you, pale hair white and streaming in the weak light. Rhaenyra.

“Sister!”

She is wan and tearful when she reaches you, all but barrelling into you and folding her arms around your shoulders. The smell of her perfume—of jasmine and sandalwood and childhood and simplicity—transports you to another time, a time when you were small and she was so big and not just in stature, but in temperament too, and her embrace was the safest place in the whole entire world. In this moment, you cannot recall why you ever had cause to feel anger, why you had not spoken to her in what feels now like an age. You have missed her, you have missed her and she is with you and all is right and good. All the rest is ash and dust upon the breeze.

“I am here,” you murmur into her shoulder, or perhaps you weep it, tears wetting the fabric of her gown and belly crushed to hers. “I am home.”

“I wanted to come, but Father…” Rhaenyra’s nostrils flare.

It is a profound relief to find yourself in familiar chambers, the rooms where you feel safe and most at ease. Little has changed. The same grim dark walls stand etched with screaming dragons above a stately bedframe swathed in wine-dark velvet, the same bookshelves are stacked with tomes shared between you and your uncle, the same balcony carved from stone is lit by the setting sun. The babes’ eggs remain warmed in their braziers by the hearth, chasing the chill from the room and bringing a merry glow with the crackling flames. You take this all in from your place on the chaise.

“I know,” you say quietly, uncertainly. Despite the fact that your hand is clutched in hers and her eyes are ringed red and raw with worry, you do not quite know where you stand. “Daemon told me.”

She had tried to bully her way to King’s Landing, or so you had been told. Having both witnessed and been on the receiving end of her temper, you do not envy the poor souls who had been made to inform the Princess that she could not mount Syrax to venture forth to your aid.

That she had made such fuss is encouraging, you think. A sister who means to break ties would not threaten to have her staff executed or destroy countless priceless artifacts or scream loud enough to wake the dragons on the other side of the island in her desperation to come to you.

Rhaenyra’s grip tightens to the point of pain, her eyes shadowing with malcontent and the polychromatic thunder of untapped wrath.

“I cannot believe Larys fucking Strong. That he is capable of such—such—” She cuts herself off after a glance at you, huffing in lieu of what would no doubt have been an impressive string of profanities. Shaking her head, the corners of her lips curve up weakly. “I’m surprised Uncle allowed the cunt to live. And Father’s sent ravens, you know—he’s rather put out by the manner in which you left.”

From what you have gathered, Daemon had readied your household with extreme discretion, taking only days to collect what he deemed essential so that he may deliver you from the city without so much as a by-your-leave in the earliest hours. Save for a cursory message passed along to the servants, there was no proclamation made of your departure to the King or the court.

“Yes, well.” What arrogance he has to be wroth after the manner he had discarded my right to justice! “As for Lord Larys… I do not think Daemon intends to let the matter lie,” you say. “He is going to… well, I do not know, exactly. I did not ask. I just—wanted to come home.”

At that, her countenance lightens. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says, as though it is some great secret wrested from deep within her. You could have guessed such from the way she is looking at you like you are returned from beyond the veil.

And yet, it makes you frown. “Are you?” you ask, the memory of the garden threading through your mind, that terrible argument that had shaken the foundations of your bond with your sister.

You can almost hear her echoing words again, vicious and biting. You don’t even realise how spoiled you are.

Rhaenyra closes her eyes and swallows, and you catch the faint shakiness to the exhalation that follows as she prepares to answer you. She extricates herself from your hold, though it carries no air of rejection, and gazes pensively down at her lap where her hands now lay. You notice that she is turning the ring upon her middle finger with her thumb over and over. She is nervous, you realise. You wonder how it is possible that you are able to elicit such uncertainty in one so unwavering. She suddenly scoffs, though from the brooding set of her brow you suppose she directs this to none but herself. “I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I—hated myself the moment I said those awful things…”

“Why?” This is far kinder than she had been last time you spoke. You do not want to incite her displeasure now. “Why were you so cruel to me?”

As the days have passed, you have found this to be the query of paramount importance. It is not as though you had not known her capable of rage. She is a creature of passion, of fire, and she had rained flames down upon you for a reason. But you cannot—will not—accept the blame for it.

“I was angry. Jealous, even.” Rhaenyra sighs at the expression on your face. “I know. It’s horrible of me.”

You are sure you appear every bit as bewildered as you feel. “But why? You’re Rhaenyra.”

“And you’re very sweet, darling.” A beat, then two; she hesitates, staring past you for a moment before refocusing, eyes returning to yours with steely resolve. “You… you know that Laenor is not like—other men. He prefers those of a… particular persuasion. Of which I am not.”

Here, she pauses. You grasp for her hand again, squeezing encouragingly. She takes a breath. “We tried. Of course we did,” she says. “But no child would come. I needed heirs if I was to ascend the Iron Throne one day. So, I… sought assistance elsewhere.”

“Harwin.”

She flushes at your prompt declaration, glancing down. “Yes, Harwin. And he’s been good to me. They were both good to me. He and Laena.”

It grieves you still to hear your cousin’s name, but you keep yourself from lingering overlong upon the thought of dark skin and silver coils and merry laughter.

A wry, pained sort of smile curves Rhaenyra’s lips as she speaks, drawing you further into the present. “But I always knew—I’ve always known, in the back of my mind, that the gossip is true,” she says. Her eyes shine like polished glass, but you know she will not break. “My sons are the best part of my life, but they are not Laenor’s. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows it. It’s so… draining, living that lie.”

Your sister is a proud woman. After having spent so many years denying your nephews’ illegitimacy to the court, the people, the Greens, to Father, to the gods themselves, it must be dreadful indeed to admit to this truth, even if it is only to you.

“And you…”

She lifts her chin to look at you, forehead wrinkling with the drawing together of her brows. Her tone is not quite accusatory, though the hurt of past wounds brings a weak rise of defensiveness rushing over you. You pull away slightly.

Her countenance gentles. “You have a husband who can give you children. Children whose blood will never be questioned, never be whispered about or mocked or insulted. No one will ever dare accuse you of being a whore. I… It finally became too much for me.”

You do not feel guilty for your response to Rhaenyra’s malice, for the venom you had voiced in that argument from what seems like so many moons ago now. Despite this, you cannot help but to pity her.

‘Tis the folly of youth to think her unmoved by the slander bandied about across the Realm, you chide yourself. You ought to have considered this. “I did not know,” you whisper, regret bitter and tickling in the back of your throat. “I didn’t realise. I thought—”

‘I thought you wanted my husband.’ You let the implication hang in the air. A swooping sensation in your gut heralds the uncomfortable reminder that you still—still—have not told him of this argument.

“Yes.” She nods, anticipating the statement before it has even been made. “And I told you before, when first you were wed. That prospect died long ago. I have no need for Daemon.” She rolls her eyes as though the idea of desiring your uncle is some great folly. You might be insulted on his behalf were it not for the relief that it brings. “None of this was your fault. My own recklessness has led me here, I realise that. I know I do not deserve it, but… please. You’re my sister. If there is anyone I need, it is you. Please forgive me.”

“Oh, ‘Nyra.” Your belly gets in the way, forcing you to contort awkwardly to the side as you move to wrap your arms around her. Her chin falls to the dip between your neck and shoulder, her laugh gusting across exposed skin at the sensation of the babe that is snugged between you kicking out against her body. You giggle with her, angling yourself toward her ear so that she may hear you fully. “Next time you are feeling this way, talk to me. Stop shutting me out. I can handle it, I’m old enough now—”

“I know, I know.” Tugging out of your embrace, she lets her hands fall to your middle.

It is the first time she has truly felt the change in you of her own volition. You remember when you had forced her to touch the burgeoning swell upon first announcing the lives you bear, how reluctant and feather-light her palm had felt, how the strain had unveiled itself at the corners of her eyes and in the weak tilt of her mouth as you had chattered at her in excitement.

“Gods,” she says, fingers mapping the span of flesh in interest, “but you truly are a woman grown now, aren’t you? Look at this!”

“They are already unruly. I feel as though I am perpetually seated in the privy, such is their insistence on entertaining themselves with my insides.”

And once my ablutions are complete, you think ruefully, I am not capable of seeking other locales until someone deigns to find me and help me up. It had not been the best task with which to induct your new ladies—but needs must.

“They’re strong. That’s good. Father must have been pleased.”

“Hm.”

“I’d love to have seen the look on Alicent’s face when she first saw you.”

You shift uncomfortably at the mention of your stepmother. I do not wish to think about her. Not here, not now.

Rhaenyra does not seem to notice your recalcitrance, persisting along her chosen avenue of oration. “She never could stand it whenever I announced another babe. Worried about her precious Aegon, no doubt…” She stops. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I—I—”

At the sight of her concern, so warm and welcome after moons of silence and avoidance, your terrible secret spills forth like water breaking through a dam, unstoppable, rushing torrentially and obliterating everything in its path. You trip over your confession in your haste to get it out, to purge yourself of the burden of carrying it alone.

When you are done, the stillness lingers unnaturally, so quiet that you can almost hear the sound of your blood pumping through your veins.

“Alicent—she… what?” Rhaenyra’s eyes are wide, horrified, face blanched.

“Yes—do tell.”

You turn to see Daemon standing in the open doorway to your chambers, stiffer than the draconic stone carvings that man the entrances to the Keep. Scarcely stemmed rage emerges thunderous beneath the cracks in his control. It seems to vibrate out of him like the dust that quivers on the air after Athfiezar’s landing, deceptively calm until you look closer. The forbidding cross of his arms and the violence that looms in the shadow beneath his brow is enough to tell you without risking inquiry that he has heard you. Has heard everything.

Oh. Your heart twists anxiously. Oh, dear.

“I—”

Speak, for the gods’ sake, you urge yourself, but the sounds refuse to shape themselves into words. Your mettle has fled, leaving you all but a quailing child sitting silent before her elders, awaiting the burn of remonstration.

He advances like a soldier upon enemy territory. “Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps my little wife did not just say that that whore of a Queen has been dosing her with moon tea since who fucking knows when. Perhaps I’ve been struck with madness, or I’m hearing things.”

The last time he was this angry with you…

A blast of inappropriate hilarity washes through your mind as you consider it. Does the instance where you had ignored him for days and danced with Lord Serrett at Helaena’s wedding count? He had certainly been rather put out. You are unsure if it matches with the near tangible ferocity contorting his face into something bestial, barely suppressed and weathering severe hollows into his forehead.

He is already cross, you think. I could tell him about the fight with Rhaenyra. You have been meaning to. Now seems as good an occasion as any.

“Daemon—” Your sister jumps in her seat when he barks at her.

“Quiet!” he hisses, rounding back on you.

You discard your notion, deciding to not to bother divulging that particular secret here. Another time, then. No need to send him to his grave early. He is positively apoplectic. It cannot possibly be good for his heart.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “I’m your husband! You don’t answer to Rhaenyra. You answer to me!”

“Excuse me—”

“I wanted to prevent bloodshed,” you say, cutting your sister off. You reach for the arm of the chaise, preparing yourself for the arduous task of rising from such a low surface. You keep your voice soft and light like one who is soothing an agitated stallion. “Kepus—”

He lets out a humourless chuckle, scowling and derisive. Standing in the middle of the room, he makes no move to close in upon you. You think you might prefer it if he would.

“Oh, so you’re protecting her? Excellent.” He laughs again, wild, as though it is a great joke. “She’s murdered how many of our ba—”

You watch him break off at the end, swallowing convulsively.

“Shit.” His eyes are bright and his teeth grind together beneath closed lips. “I cannot even say the words, and yet you’re defending her? You’d better have—”

“I was not protecting her!”

Grunting, you gratefully accept Rhaenyra’s mutely offered arm of support to hoist yourself up, her other hand pushing against your back. Daemon steps forward, arm outstretched as though to assist you in place of your sister, a rote movement borne from days and weeks of doing the same. It is not needed. The business of getting to your feet winds you for a moment, the uncomfortable bend of your upper half forcing the babes into your lungs and the breath from your body.

“I was protecting us!” You rub your belly with a grimace. “I was protecting you!”

“Protecting me?” He hangs frozen, fingers twitching. A battle rages plain upon his visage. He wars between the need to cosset and the desire to castigate, your loving, hot-tempered dragon of a man.

Sensing a shift in his disposition—or even a fissure through which you may slip through to gentle him with sweet words and a light touch—you make your tentative approach. “I know you,” you say, wincing with each step as the weight pulls low in your spine. It is becoming far too difficult to move about in your current state. “If I had told you when I first found out, you would have slaughtered her.”

“Too fucking right, I would have—”

“Stop. Listen to me.” You lay your palm on his chest. He tenses under the contact, then releases, much larger hand coming up to blanket yours against his body. His chin dips down, eyes closing and brows contracting as though in great pain. “You would have stopped at nothing to take her life in recompense for… for what she has done. You would have killed her. And what then? The Queen dead, and the slayer in close quarters. Papa would have had no choice but to take your head for it.”

You drop your volume low, too low for Rhaenyra to hear, letting bitterness suffuse your hushed tone. “Only a King can kill a Queen, after all.”

It is an old hurt, a terror from so young an age that you had scarcely the words to describe what it was you dreaded.

Mama, whimpers the small, frightened girl locked away in the corner of your mind, snivelling to the echo of dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes in the barest shape of a woman, a shade of a memory. Is this stabbing pain in my chest what betrayal feels like? Is this how you felt when Father held you down and let them cut you apart? Must I forever wish, hope, pray that he will choose me for once?

You shake your head. This is not the time nor place for such thoughts.

“And I… I would be alone. With child. Forced to contend with the world as a widow not yet twenty summers old. Without you. Without my kepa.” A sharp, plaintive tremor colours your cadence, fear of the picture you paint too real and near to remain impassive. “And do you think Papa would allow his second daughter to remain unmarried with the others wed, even with a womb already full? I was protecting you. I am not sorry for it. I am only sorry that I had not yet had the occasion to tell you myself.”

The world is still as he absorbs what you have said, gaze stormy and troubled and not quite meeting your own. Then, Daemon leans down, presses his forehead to yours, and you believe in this instant that the worst of it is over.

But he bears down harder, and for several moments it is too much, too forceful, and his hand upon your cheek feels less like love and more like punishment, stinging, branding. He shoves himself from you bodily. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, he strides away with his back to you.

“Daemon?”

“I—I cannot,” he says, so low that at first you are unsure if you heard it. He does not turn to meet your stare, just tosses the words over his shoulder like you are someone unimportant, distant and detached.

This is not rage, you realise. This is something else. This is worse.

“We’ll speak later.” With that, he walks to the door, out, footsteps echoing along the hall outside, fainter, fainter, until they are wholly gone.

The first thing you proceed to do after Daemon’s exit is invite Ser Lorent into the room.

You had not expected him to accompany you to Dragonstone, given the self-evident vocation of a Kingsguard to swear himself to the highest man in the Realm. However, he refused to return to his Commander upon discovering Daemon’s intent to take you home, being entirely possessed of the belief that it was his sacred duty to defend those whom the King deems fit. Given that your father had named him your shield in the wake of Ser Alton’s maiming and had not un-named him, it seems he had little desire to forsake this assignation when learning of your impending change in locales.

“Please make sure that my husband is not allowed to take to the skies,” you tell the knight, ignoring the sound of Rhaenyra murmuring your name behind you. “He is not to mount Caraxes today.”

He frowns. “With all due respect, Princess,” he says slowly, “I don’t think I am the one to tell Prince Daemon that—”

You wave him off impatiently. “I am the second-born of King Viserys. He is the brother of the King. Tell me, Ser—which of these is the higher station?”

It is a crass comparison to make, but effective. Ser Lorent’s countenance smooths and he sighs, genuflecting before you in recognition of your case. He offers a cursory farewell and a solemn vow that ‘it will be done’, spinning on heeled boot to march himself off to his task. His golden armour gleams with each movement of limb.

“Sister.” Rhaenyra is insistent.

You turn to her with as patient a countenance as you can muster. She is pallid, carved out to her core, and it plays out in the abrupt weathering of her face, supple-skinned youth mirroring the bone-deep weariness of a thousand summers past. Making your way to her, you decide not to risk sitting on the seat this time. Instead, you lean against the arm of the chair, from which lifting yourself will be a far easier undertaking to perform.

“Alicent is not—the Alicent I knew was not so vile as this,” she says numbly, frozen.

You reach out to lay your palm upon her hunched back, the river of moonlight spilling from her head catching soft between your fingers. Her gaze is far-off, like she is not truly seeing what is before her, instead watching a mirage from another time play out upon the stone floors of your chamber. She lets out a chuckle, but it sounds more like a cough or a sob.

“When I was a girl, all I wanted to do was fly away with her. Far away, where babes and Lords and thrones and kingdoms meant little. I think she would’ve done it if I truly asked it of her. She was my best friend. Sometimes I wonder…” Her voice fizzles like the flame that has burned down to the very last of the wick.

You hush her. “The Alicent you knew is gone. She is not the girl from your childhood, Rhaenyra, not anymore. She… she is something else. Warped.”

“She is the Queen.”

It is all you need to hear to know that she understands in a way so few do.

Power destroys the goodness in people, even those upon whom it is forced. The promise of it had turned Maegor to madness; had made your father a coward content to spurn the needs of his children for the sake of satisfying others; had created a villain of the woman who had once helped you learn your letters from history books. It is slow-eating poison consuming its prey, unseen, unnoticed, until it is far too late and the person it has claimed is no more.

Rhaenyra’s expression changes as she sits up, nostrils flaring and skin tightening around her eyes, flinty and dark.

“For now. Not forever.” You marvel at how something delivered in such hushed volume can sound so much like a proclamation. She looks to you, taking your hands in hers with a rancorous glimmer in her stare. “Lo Sīkudo Dārȳti jemēban, ziry gūrotrir mazemilza. Drīvī aemilā, kese kīvio isān.” When I rule the Seven Kingdoms, she’ll get what she deserves. You will have justice, I swear.

You nod shakily, the tightness in your gut easing. Truthfully, you had been unsure if she would support you after having ignored you for weeks. The attack had served at least one good purpose, you think. It does not bring you much joy to consider for all that has come to light in its wake.

She leaves you with a kiss to the temple and a promise to return to your old routine. “I’ll have dinner relocated to your solar until these two arrive,” she says, stroking your cheeks with her thumbs and glancing down at your belly. “You won’t have to go far, that way. Alright?”

You smile gratefully, acquiescing to her suggestion. Traversing the Keep in your condition just for the sake of a meal hardly seems worth it.

In the silence of your rooms, you contemplate searching for the caps you are stitching to protect the babes’ heads in the cooler weather. They are among the luggage still being brought up from the ship, you remember. Damn.

You ponder upon seeking a tome from your solar next door—within which your ladies are currently installed for the sake of privacy with your sister—but you do not fancy carrying further weight for any measure of distance. Your books are far too heavy for the enterprise to be worth it. Sighing, you shuffle to the bed, always in eager anticipation of a nap to replenish the energy the twins sap for themselves.

Awakening an indeterminate amount of time later, you are bleary and fatigued, gown damp and back aching and stomach rumbling. Thankfully, your ladies seem to have ventured back into your rooms during your slumber.

“How long until the evening meal?” you ask through a yawn, using both arms to push yourself upright and bracing yourself for the rush of blood spotting your vision. You refocus a moment later upon the pair seated by the hearth, the fire lit and crackling merrily behind them.

They both startle lightly at the abruptness of your waking. “There are—some hours yet, Princess,” Jeyne says nervously, eyes darting between you and Bethany.

I make her nervous, you realise. You do not wish to contend with fearful companions. Smiling, you try to settle her, though the learning of such unfortunate news as having to wait so long brings tears to your eyes. You are starved.

She begins to stammer at the sight. “If—If you’d like, I can ask for the kitchens to prepare you something small?”

“That would be lovely, Jeyne,” you say, sure that the trails spilling down your cheeks coupled with the wide-set gleam of your teeth has only served to further frighten her. You must seem positively deranged.

You try to distract from the picture you make by requesting scones spread thick with honey and raspberry conserve, a staple in your diet as of late. The longing that arises at very thought of it speeds the trajectory of the moisture sliding down your face. You hurry to ensure she passes on a further request for honey-glazed goat with mashed turnips for supper.

I may just sprout black-and-yellow fuzz at this rate, you muse. You almost consider asking for a jar of honey to be brought with a spoon to consume by itself—but you are certain the imbibing of so much sweetness will only send you rushing to heave into a basin.

As Jeyne speeds off to fulfil the task you have set her, you turn to Bethany and petition her to arrange for a bath to be brought in. The relief at having something to do other than make stilted conversation with her new mistress appears to relax her greatly. She quite happily consents, placing her book of prayers upon her empty seat to make the necessary enquiries.

Soon enough, you are cleansed and steeped in warm water laced with milk and rose oil, leaning happily over the side of the tub to partake in the buttery desert. Your ladies leave you in peace after helping you into the bath before the hearth and scrubbing you down with soap, and so you are able to enjoy the simple joy of it without unfamiliar company to encumber you.

The scent of flowers and berries and floured goods swirl together in a haze of saccharine richness, calming you greatly and easing the last of your worries. Daemon could burst in this very moment and scream loud enough to be heard in the capital, and I do not think I would care overmuch.

You ought not to have.

“Looking rather pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

Eyes widening as you slosh about to face your uncle, you brace yourself for the fulfilment of your most recent deliberations. Instead, your gaze alights on his form leaning against the wall, relaxed in a manner that contradicts your suppositions. His lips curve at the display you make, crumbs strewn across the small table beside the bath and collected in the corner of your mouth. The smile does not reach his eyes.

“I was hungry,” you say by way of explanation. “And sore.”

“Hm.” Daemon pushes himself forward, sauntering over at an unhurried pace. You watch him cautiously, attempting to gauge his mood through the mask of inscrutability. He reaches forward to—

“Hey!” You squawk in outrage as he swipes the last of your scones from the plate and lifts it to his lips, hand darting up to try and snatch it back.

“Ah-ah.” He holds it up and out of your grasp. “Consider this payment for being barred from riding my own dragon this afternoon. Care to explain that?” His brow raises even as he stuffs the treat into his mouth, chewing smugly while you flail with indignation.

You pout up at him. “I was worried you would… fly to King’s Landing,” you say, scowling. To murder Alicent Hightower. The implication hangs heavy in the beat of silence after your sentence.

“I thought about it.” Sucking the remnants of conserve from his thumb with obnoxious emphasis, he keeps his tone light, though it is belied by the piercing intensity of his stare. “I wasn’t able to actually do anything, though, thanks to you.”

“Good.” That scone was mine. You sigh, resting your chin upon your hands over the rim of the tub. “I know you are angry—”

“Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it.” That performative gaiety in his voice persists, carrying with it the threat of heated censure should you misstep and say the wrong thing.

You swallow, measuring your words carefully as you grip onto his hand. “I know.” You are encouraged when his fingers fold over yours. Despite the severity reflected in his eyes and the hard line of his lips, his touch is soft. “But you cannot touch her while she is Queen. When Father dies, Rhaenyra will rule, and then we can ensure that she will pay. Justice shall prevail, Daemon—when the time is right. Leave her be. Please?”

His hold tightens and he lets out a harsh breath, wrinkles forming between his brow as they contract. Peering up at him through your lashes, you wait. Then, a minute dip of his chin, a barely-there jerk of assent.

He does not like it, but he agrees.

“You shouldn’t have kept it from me.” There is no utterance of acquiescence. You had not expected it. His voice is low, cross, vibrating through your joined flesh, and the pale hairs on your arms stand upright at the sensation. “I shouldn’t have had to eavesdrop on you to learn something this important.”

“I know. I am sorry,” you whisper.

He grunts. “I know you are.”

“I will be truthful from now on.”

“Good.”

“And you will stop running from me each time we argue.”

At this, he frowns. “I don’t—”

“You do,” you say firmly. “You get upset and walk out, and I have to sit about wondering where you are, if you are well, when or even if you intend on returning. I worry.”

Daemon glances toward the fire pensively, clasp slackening around your hand. When his gaze returns to yours, it is serious, violet so deep that it is like lifting your head to look up at the night sky, profound and unknowable. “I’ll try,” he murmurs, palm ghosting over your cheek, callouses scratching comfortingly. “For you.”

You allow the corners of your mouth to turn upward, cupping his hand with both of yours and turning your head to press your lips to his skin. He smells warm, like the salt-smoke of the isle and something earthy, wild. He smells like home.

You startle when he pulls away to fumble with the buttons on his doublet. “What are you doing?” you ask blankly.

“What does it look like?” Grinning, he tosses first his outerwear and then his undershirt to the floor. He kicks his boots off haphazardly, a movement so thoroughly ungainly that you cannot help but laugh as he stumbles a pace or two. He wiggles his brows, gesturing at you. “You’ve a large bath there. It so happens I’m in need of one, too.”

You hesitate, glancing down at the opaque water, beneath which is your body thick with the weight of carrying two babes and scrawled dark with the evidence of skin forced to stretch too quickly. You do not feel attractive right now. “But—”

“But what? Are you in pain?” He stops for a moment with breeches at his knees, concerned, shaft half-plumped between his legs and ruddy with the rush of blood attending to its rise.

“No, I just—I am not at my most… inviting, currently.”

“What utter shit.” When he shucks off the rest of his clothing and bares his undressed form proudly, you bite your lip at the view, at wide shoulders and corded arms and firm thighs, skin swirled with old burns like a brand of savagery. He makes toward you. “Go on, there—there we go, sweetling. Ah”—he readjusts you to his liking, settling in before you—“not your usual temperature.”

“I cannot have it hotter.” You grumble as he tugs you to him, tilting you to the side so he can press his face to your bared neck. “The babes.”

“Yes, don’t want to roast the little dragons,” he says, greedily caressing your belly below the water. His nose drags across your jaw. “Mm, you’re soft. Smell good.”

You shiver. “Daemon—”

“Nervous thing tonight, aren’t you? A silly little girl with silly little thoughts.”

He chuckles, mocking and mean, grasping at your wrist and drawing you down, down. His tongue laves a line up your throat even as he coaxes your fingers around his cock, using you to bring himself to full mast.

“Feel that? Fuck. Keep fucking going.” His forehead presses to your temple, his length twitching in your grasp, iron, steel. “Doesn’t feel like someone repulsed, does it?”

“No.” Your eyes water, mortified and desperately aching. Why would I doubt him? Why is he not touching me ? Your breath comes quick like a rabbit’s, puffed little exhales, frantic with desire.

“No,” he says, roughly cupping and squeezing your breasts. You cry out, nipples tingling with a strange heaviness that you are unsure if painful or pleasurable. “Up”—he is already hoisting you by the waist—“show me your tits. There’s a girl.”

You gasp, scrabbling at his hair with your free hand as he dips down to swirl his tongue around a nipple, sweep the flat of it across your flesh, fix his lips over you and suck, hard pulls that shoot straight to your gut, pulsing. It feels good. It hurts. There is a tension climbing, climbing—

“Uh!” A foreign release clenches in your cunny and in your chest, not a climax but something intuitive, primordial, extending from your breast and radiating inward to the very heart of you.

Daemon pulls away with a noise of surprise. “How long has this been happening?” he asks lowly, quivering against you as though poised to strike, wild and barely restrained.

Glancing down perplexed, you spy the moisture collected in the corner of his mouth. You wonder why he has reacted so to the taste of the bathwater until you see the beads of gold-cream collected thickly right at your nipple, too dark to possibly be anything but mother’s milk.

It is too early, you think, but in the same token you are also thinking my gowns, the stickiness on my gowns is from this, from my body preparing the way for the babes to come.

“I—I do not know, I—”

His cock lurches in your hand as he leans back down to collect the slow amber trickle from your skin, shuddering full-formed at the pooling of it on his palate. He mouths leisurely, covetously at you, tongue-tip tracing and prodding droplets from the hard peak. Your untouched breast hangs impossibly heavy, throbbing.

“If you taste like this now”—his lips scarcely leave your flesh to shape the words—“I’m hiring a fucking regiment of wet-nurses. They can feed the babes. This’ll be for me.”

You can do naught but keen as he returns to his task, taking great pulls to eke out the scant fluid. Each suck throbs molten in your core, as though someone has seized your pearl between thumb and finger and yanks in tandem with Daemon’s avaricious swallows. His insistent fondling and gusty snuffles and obscene slurps ratchet you beyond the point of speech, feeling so much more than you recall.

He draws back with a slick pop, mouth as rosy and glistening as your flushing chest. “Gods, you’re sweet all over, aren’t you? I don’t know which I prefer to sup from—your tits or your cunt.” His voice is slurred, prompting memories of little Joff each time Rhaenyra had removed him drowsed and milk drunk from her own breast. Daemon looks the same now, eyes drooping and dazed as he stares up at you. His knee pushes between your thighs and knocks your grip away from his shaft, hands angling you to seat yourself firmly over him. “There. Ride my leg like the fucking slut you are. Go on.”

You squirm in his hold, lips parting shakily as he proffers one final wet kiss to your cherry-tip nipple and abruptly switches tack, latching onto the other with a wordless growl. That same sensation akin to the bursting of a bubble radiates through your skin. The renewed greed in his nursing drags tells you that he has lured forth a fresh supply.

With a tremulous whimper, you brace yourself against his arms and slide your core over him, rutting mindlessly and allowing instinct to take over as the sparks coil hotter inside you. The wiry hairs on his flesh rasp against your bud like whetstone across a blade, a pure unadulterated sting that somersaults, swooping, between throbbingpoundingpleaseneverstop and something darker, a bite of agony that feeds into the mounting end. You slide, sticky, viscous, too thick to be water alone, helpless vocalisations escaping as you coat him in your wet. The bathwater splashes about with every movement, spilling over the edges of the tub and onto the floor.

“Kepus!”

Your entrance tightens and your belly tautens, convulsing and contracting with the intensity of a powerful crest, eliciting a roiling heat in your breasts and thighs and cunny. His eyes flick up to yours and dance roguishly in the firelight, his leg bouncing into your pearl so that you can ride out the waves of ecstasy.

Daemon’s teeth graze over your nipple as he pulls away, crowding you back against the edge of the tub as he stands swiftly, sending bathwater careening wildly and swilling over the sides with a slick splatter. He drags you up by your braided hair, giving you clear access to the sight of his hand stripping frantically at his cock.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snaps, crouching slightly to dig his thumb into your mouth and force your jaw wide. He leers down at you with teeth bared, the head of his shaft burbling pearly white that he spreads across your open lips. “I’ve got my own milk to feed you with. No point dirtying the water when I’ve got a perfectly good hole to spend in right here, hm?”

You beam, rising up on your knees and batting his hand away so that you can take hold of his manhood, welcoming the familiar heft of it with a firm pump and glide of lips along the vein running underside. From the way it tremors at your touch, a flower reaching desperately for the sun, he is not long to finish.

“Uh-huh.” You stick out your tongue and feed him into your mouth, wiggling happily into his groin as far as you are able. It is only when you gag hard enough to incite nausea that you withdraw, taking a breath even as you tongue the stray droplets of seed from the tip, hot and bitter. “‘M all for you. All my holes—they’re all yours.”

He grunts, fingers twisting in your hair tight enough to hurt and cock spasming between your lips. “Fuck!”

You smile, fisting vigorously at the base and suckling over the head in draughts that mimic his earlier movements at your breast, moaning with delight as the syrupy astringence pumps onto your tongue in thick spurts. Daemon’s head tips back above you, eyes closing and hips juddering into your face reflexively. You swallow it all, obedient and eternally eager to please.

“Fuck,” he repeats emphatically, loosening his grip and nearly wheezing, winded and depleted.

You laugh. He hisses as the vibrations travel through his sensitive flesh, extracting himself with a weak groan. Flopping back into the tub with a huff, he seems to care little for the amount of water he has wasted in his endeavours.

“The bath is half-emptied now,” you say, pressing your lips together to stave off the grin that tries to overtake your expression.

Daemon snorts, folding you against his chest like a child cradled by her father. He is firm and warm beneath you, so warm that the water seems cold by comparison, and you rub your cheek over his skin in contentment. “You’ll live,” he murmurs drolly, petting your belly once more. Mercifully, the babes are still.

“I have half a mind to get out and leave you here in this half-empty bath,” you tell him, softening the blow of your snobbish tone with a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He smiles, angling his head to capture your lips more fully, tongue stroking against yours and blending the flavours of his seed and your milk in a strange, sweet-tart amalgamation. “Stay,” he whispers into you, breath mingling with your own. His eyes shine, soft and affectionate in a manner he allows so few to see. “For a little longer, at least.”

When he looks upon you like this—like you are a god incarnate, like you are a miracle brought to life, like you are everything he has ever wanted in all the world—you are hard-pressed to refuse him.

“Very well,” you say, your hand joining his over the place where your family grows. “I will stay.”

Read it on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44058132/chapters/116372530

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